The Auction: Part 1
((This tale is based on Chaosium’s Call of Cthulhu adventure “The Auction”. Thank you to Jon’s player for the excellent RP collab.))
“Baron, then?” Jon asked, looking down at his Beloved.
“Name our son after a title? No way! Besides, what if they earn a barony? Are they going to be called Baron Baron Chess?” Alia was chuckling, nibbling on a piece of chocolate that she had in her hand.
The Magna and the Rook were curled up together in bed; Alia propped up against Jon’s bent knees, so her back was leaning against his thighs, while Jon did the same with hers. An unhealthy amount of blankets and pillows cradled them, supporting the places that their legs couldn’t quite bend to reach in this odd human knot they had formed. Sunlight streamed into the second-story windows to warm their skin, and both smelled solidly of bed. Jon had been able to reach Alia’s chocolate stash from his position and had made a game out of it. Taking turns, they’d ask each other a question, throwing chocolate into the other’s mouth; catching it meant it was your turn to ask questions. A lifetime of rat hunting with throwing knives left Alia asking most of the questions, and more chocolate on the floor than in either one's mouth, but neither seemed to really mind. It was a lazy late morning, and they were enjoying the pause between responsibilities to the Lord Admiral’s call and world endangering events.
“Alright, how about Bishop?”
“I like Bishop…” Alia thought for a moment, shaking her head after a time,” No, the same problem.”
“Baron Bishop works.”
“But what if he joins the clergy?” She whined, “Jon, our son should have the world as his oyster. He can’t do that if his name is also a rank name! Plus, it is clearly a pun off of your last AND working name. No, I’m putting a ban on names based on chess pieces.”
“Very well-“ Jon was hit in the eye from poorly thrown chocolate,” Give me that!” He ripped the bag from Alia, tossing it to the side away from her reach, causing her to whimper and pout.
“My chocolate!”
“You’ve been complaining about not being able to stop for an hour now. I merely… helped you regain control.”
“Rat-bastard!” Alia huffed.
“By name and trade.”
“I’m putting a ban on cheese names as well then!”
Jon grinned that insolent grin that always made Alia’s heart swoon just a bit. He took her hand and kissed her fingers gently, then her palm, then the soft delicate skin on her wrist before letting her go. “Shall I ask the questions for a time, my Beloved? My heart's own? My second soul?”
Alia’s face was a deep pink, “Please do.”
Jon sat there for a moment looking thoughtful and then sighed. "Nah, I got nothing... but instead of trying to come up with names for a scion which hasn't happened yet, shouldn't we be about the business of actually doing the work to get it done?" Jon grinned and leaned forward to nip and nibble the hollow of her throat gently to make his point very clear.
“Hmm, you do have a point there.” She leaned back a little farther, arching her back as she readjusted, with a knowing smile as she gave Jon something of a show. While clothed, she had forgone any underthings, and it showed in the glint of hunger in her husband’s eyes. She took her husband’s lips eagerly, teasing his tongue out to play with the tip of her own. "But there's no harm in imagining, is there?"
"None at all", said Jon as he moved down to the swell of her exposed cleavage. "Please, let your imagination run free... I'll keep myself busy somehow," The last bit was muffed, as nobody had ever taught Jon not to talk with his mouth full.
Alia grinned, and was about to chastise him for such rude manners when there was a sharp knock on the front door below them. She froze stiff and planted a finger against Jon's lips for quiet. Her intent was to fool the newcomer into assuming the couple was not home, so they could return to the downward spiral of lust in peace. A moment passed... and then a longer moment still... until the silence was interrupted by another sharp knock, louder as the hand hit the wood door with more force now. The visitor's response was clear; he had not been swayed by the ruse and would have to be engaged with.
Jon untangled himself from their nest. "I'll get it love... you stay comfortable." He went over to the door and opened it.
In front of him, arm half-raised to knock once more was a man dressed in typical messenger attire, who visibly backed away upon laying eyes on the shirtless, scar-laden rouge.
“Ap-apologies sir. I did not mean to wake you.” The messenger gave a short bow, avoiding looking at him and the three, impressively long scars across his chest for too long.
Behind him, Alia padded down the stairs, out of sight of the door, and toward the bath.
"Unfortunately, my sleep had nothing to do with the matter at hand. How may I help you?"
The lad straightened himself, righting the weight of his bag on his shoulder, “I come with two letters for a... Ms. Atherton?”
"She is indisposed but I am... Mr. Atherton. I will give them to her when she gets out of the bath. No, you may not come in and wait."
The messenger hemmed and hawed, before shrugging and handing the letters over to Jon. “Mr. Asheton will expect a response promptly.”
"Well, he can damn well wait upon my wife's leisure... I do, and if it's good enough for me it's good enough for him." Jon tipped the messenger with a small pouch of silver and closed the door while the fellow dropped his jaw at the generosity, which generally warranted copper and not silver. Jon never forgot his origins as a street rat in Stormwind's Old Town, living on Rat Kabobs or starving.
“So who do I have to condemn to life as a sheep for ruining our peaceful morning this time?” Alia, bathed and clothed, came around behind him with a cup of Thistle Tea in one hand and her own coffee in the other.
"Me? The plot thickens!" She set her coffee down, propping herself up on the table as she read the first of the two. She didn't make it two lines before visibly becoming perturbed, "Light almighty, it can’t be... No, that's certainly his handwriting."
Jon's arching left eyebrow noted his mute interest.
Alia's flickering gaze caught Jon's, and she sighed heavily. "Magus Joshua Asheton and I were apprentices at the same time, though we were under different Archmages. He’s sort of the last of the Dalaranian old-bloods, and they usually don’t take kindly to outsiders, like I am...or people who make trouble, like I.. also did. He was kind to me when I was younger, ‘till it wasn't socially advantageous. Without reading it, I'm going to guess he wants something from me- Which he can very well wait for." She tossed the parchment aside onto the table, taking a long-drawn-out drink from her cup of coffee. Jon waited while Alia pondered; he had no facts, so he would do what he always did - he would let Alia set the goal, and then Jon would devise the plan to get her what she wanted, regardless of who or what stood in her way. Jon didn't know much, but he knew the truth of the old saying "Happy wife, happy life." Alia, meanwhile, was swallowing the bubbling feeling of resentment.
To be precise, Joshua Asheton was one of the few other older kids who didn’t pass their time menacing the other, more vulnerable orphan kids that had been “recruited” by the Kirin Tor. While in times of adventure and excitement, the floating city of Dalaran was a welcoming beacon of hope, happy to serve those who come to Azeroth’s defense, underneath the stone and marble-like walls were the same backbiting and competition that plagued almost every human society. Asheton might have been better than the rest, but that didn’t exactly make him a perfect saint either. Not once could she recall Joshua actually standing up for anyone, and he certainly was never interested in deepening the friendship both before and after Alia made herself a social pariah. They briefly reconnected during the Legion’s final invasion so she could help him with translating the ancient Shal'dorei texts coming in from fleeing Nightborne rebels.
She would read and answer his letter in time. But he was going to wait on her for once. Alia picked up the second letter, deftly opening it and scanning its contents till her lips twisted into a grin, “Ah, love, I think this one is actually for you. It’s got ‘secret spy for the crown’ written all over it.” Her tone was dripping with sarcasm.
"Then why was it addressed to you?"
"Likely because whoever sent it knows the best way to get your attention is for me to be involved, if only in your retrieval. And you're less likely to refuse if I ask you to hear them out first."
Jon chuckled; whoever had that thought was not wrong, Jon read the second letter.
"Ms. Atherton,
We humbly request that you grant leave for Mr. Jon Chess to answer the accompanied summons to Stormwind Keep. We need his services."
Indeed, below the short words was a more strongly worded, official summons.
"Mommy, can Johnny come out and play?' Really? They couldn't just ask?" Jon chucked. "What about it, Beloved? May I go play with the 'Big Boys' down the street?"
"When the 'Big Boys' down the street know your address and have the power of the crown behind them, I think you better." She sighed, "I can only assume, of course, since they're dragging you all the way back to Stormwind instead of somewhere reasonable... like the Curious Octopus." The idea of all this for a meeting in what was already known as Jon's "office" from his private investigator days was comical to the mage.
"Well, I suppose I should see what Shaw wants... lazy bastard never leaves Stormwind... Love, if I could trouble you for a portal to Stormwind?" Jon would never forget Mathias Shaw's efforts to woo Alia away from Jon in revenge for Jon having stolen Shaw's lover early in their working relationship. (Though rigorous discussion between the two parties did bring about a conclusion to such petty games, but that was a memory for another day.)
"You could, but it is going to cost you." Alia was already up and reaching into the ley-line for the strength to conjure such a thing.
"I will gladly pay whatever you demand... even without the portal," said Jon, an impish grin on his face.
"I promise to drop you into the middle of the North Sea if you don't leave right now."
"And Stormwind, here I come!" said Jon as he grabbed his shoulder bag of "cheese samples" and entered the shimmering portal.
Stormwind City is not like the other cities of man, but despite this, there is a distinctly... human feel about it. Humans tend to have problems trusting one another, and rightly so - especially when they send agents to follow the guests they had summoned. Jon had just exited the Mage Quarter when he felt almost obligated to acknowledge the eyes on him. Watching him certainly, following him only when he took a path through the city that was not expected. Some things never change. Jon grinned, tempted to take the Thieves' Path to the palace, ascending to the rooftops, but while tempting, he did not want to spend that much time away from his home. Instead, he took the path that led into Old Town and waited until the rats came to nest.
He did promise his wife, after all, and the North Sea is particularly cold this time of year.
Like clockwork, it was not a long wait before Mathias Shaw, Head of SI:7, stepped out of the shadows.
“Chess. Glad you could come so quickly.”
"Shaw," Jon said, nodding almost respectfully. "You rang?"
The Spymaster directed him to follow as they made their way together to the Keep through the paths less traveled. “Only because I was asked to do so. How is Ms. Atherton?”
"Alia is fine, and resents every moment I waste with you, as opposed to making her coffee and perhaps something as sweet as her smile."
“I’ll be sure to offer my apologies next time I see her. But Greymane and I both agreed this was a matter suited to your skills.”
"Greymane? Genn, Tess, or Mia?" Jon had relationships - widely different relationships - with each of the Gilnean royal family.
Shaw cocked his head, letting out a short breath before saying, “All of them, in theory. In practice… This is strictly between you and their majesties.”
"... gee, a super secret confidential mission so far off the books that you asked for me." smirked Jon.
“They asked for you. I just passed along the message.”
"Well, let's not waste Genn's time, then," Mia would have asked Jon to meet her at the Cathedral, Tess would have ambushed him at one of Jon's usual haunts. Jon did wonder why Genn came all the way to Stormwind, as the King of Gilneas spent enough time in Boralus to where a visit wouldn’t be seen as out of character. Neither Tess nor Mia would have asked Shaw, in any case. Maybe his presence here in the capital had something to do with the still absent King Anduin. Jon just hoped his reason for being here didn’t have something to do with the absent King.
They spent the remaining trip in silence, and did not share parting words when Shaw left him in the small room where King Greymane, and a handful of others; staff, dressed in the dark tones of Gilnean colors, were standing around a table with maps, papers, and other intelligence spread out in all directions, and the guards, whose hands went to the hilts of their swords when the two enter, and only relaxed marginally when they saw Shaw. Notably, Chess did not kneel when he met eyes with the King.
“Jon Chess, your majesty.”
"Thank you Shaw. You may go." Shaw did so, departing with a curt bow of respect. To the guards and staff, he gave an affirming nod before motioning away as well. "Give us the room."
The shuffling and curious glances were deafening on the stone floor.
Jon waited for the door to close before he spoke. "You sent for me?"
"Yes." Greymane seemed to hesitate. "Chess, I know you resent me for... a great many things, I would guess. That I sacrificed north Gilneas to preserve the rest of us from the Plague of Undeath being one of them." He started pacing, choosing his words carefully, with pauses to gauge Jon's reaction. "I know you are loyal to the Alliance, and to Jaina. Your file screams of it, and Tess.... Tess trusts you with her life, and she is slow to trust; that says much about you. You served me well while Jaina suffered her... troubles, and after."
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| Babington House Seal |
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