Who: Aisling Wilde & Duke Reinholdt What: An offer she can’t refuse Where: The Snuggly Duckling When: December 23rd, after midnight Rating: PG Status: Complete!
The summons could only be one of two things: either she’d done something right, or the Spymaster was going to off her. Faram fuck, as if she didn’t have enough problems with her life at the moment, one more thing needed to be added. She hadn’t told Cian, of course - no point in worrying him if it was nothing, and if she ended up dying… Well, not like there was anything he’d be able to do to stop it.
The headache she was getting just thinking about translating Reinholdt-speak to normal speech was just going to get worse. She took a potion to try to kill the worst of it, and then headed off to the appointed place. She’d be early, but better early than late, all things considered.
It had been stupidly dangerous to forget that the Spymaster had some strange interest in her. Silly her, she’d thought shit going down and him marrying Albrecht would have been preoccupying his mind. But no, go fucking figure. She’d come in through the back, unseen. Aisling sighed and opened the door to the dining area to find a completely empty Duckling - go fucking figure, not that she should have been surprised, considering it was Albrecht’s establishment, and it was after midnight.
She took a seat in the corner to wait.
“Terribly troublesome tales I must muse for a lovely lady to as yourself to have habitation in some creepy corner.” Reinholt couldn’t help the smile that had sprung to his face once the woman had found her way in and settled down. Of course, he’d been here all along, what good host would he be if he hadn’t made it there before his guest?
“What would you find fantastic for improved ingestion? A well age wine? A wise whiskey? Perhaps a pleasant port? Or may you find fancy in water tonight?”
To her credit, she didn’t jump out of her fucking skin when he started talking, mind immediately going to translate mode. Why the fuck couldn’t he just talk like a normal person? How the fuck did Albrecht - Reinholdt, whatever - put up with it?
When he started offering her drinks, however, she looked down at her slightly protruding stomach, wishing for a brief second that she could take the damn wine, and sighed. “Water is fine, thank you.” She’d be a fool to tell him nothing. And if he was offering her a beverage, maybe he wasn’t going to off her.
Unless he was going to poison the damn thing. And she wasn’t going to think about that at the moment.
“A wondrous wish, for a delightful damsel.” With that a slight bow was given as he turned and made his way back behind the bar to fetch a glass and begin filling it up with the water she desired - the entire time he allowed his actions to be clearly watched - and another glass with scotch for himself. After a few moments of fiddling around Reinholdt made his way around the bar and easily offered the glass out to his guest.
“I heartily hope this cantankerous city, and wicked weather has treated you well as of late?” With that he took an easy sip of his scotch before gesturing towards a table they could both sit at, and making his way towards it.
He didn’t just invite her here to talk, but this wasn’t her turf, and she couldn’t just tell him to hurry the fuck up and get to the point. Instead, she took the water and stood, making her way to the table he indicated. She took a sip of the water - he’d carefully exaggerated his motions to put her at ease about poisons, at least.
“Well, shit keeps trying to tear the city apart, but my house is still standing this time, and I’m not dead. So I figure I’ve got it good. As for the weather…” She shrugged. “Typical winter in Emillion.” A pause; she would have to play pleasant. Fuck. “And yourself? How has married life been treating you?”
“Certainly, you wouldn’t wish for ill fortunate to fall upon it. I am astounded, but graciously grateful that things seem mostly in your capable control.” His words were sincere enough given the situation at hand, and another sip of his scotch was taken as he debated leading into the next stretch of converstaion.
“Well, wonderfully really.” Reinholdt smiled fondly at the thought of Genevieve. He really ought to assure this discussion not take terribly long as to allow him time to get back to her tonight before it was too late. “That is part of the precise reason I am here tonight.” He smiled. “To pursue persuasion of you.”
Ash frowned. What the hell did she do to Albrecht that would require pursuing persuasion from her frustrating and terrifying husband? “I’m not sure I understand, Spymaster,” she said, carefully choosing her words. She was trying to think of her last interaction with Albrecht, which had been asking if she knew an enchanter who could enchant the wedding bands she’d bought for herself and Cian. (Fucking stupid that she couldn’t buy pre-enchanted ones; perverting tradition her pregnant ass.)
Reinholdt couldn’t help the smile that increased at her frown.
“What wonderful and nuanced news!” His normal cheer remained. “I would be a terrible tease to not embark upon enormous elaboration.” Another sip of the drink was taken. “I have had some terrible trouble with our current council you surely see.” A hand absently waved off to one side. “And it’s now my difficult duty to fancifully fix their superb shortcomings post haste.”
Oh no. Oh no. She was a smart girl - she could see the writing on the wall. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Must be a terrible trifle,” she told him. “I can try to contact Lea, if that’s what you need me to do.” The Councilor had taken off in the dead of night over a year ago, but there were ways to get a hold of her if Ash needed to.
Because she’d rather do that than what the sick feeling in her stomach was trying to tell her was going to happen.
“That.” He started before giving an intentional pause. “Will not be…” A smile began to cross his face that was far more dangerous than anything he might have ever offered before. “nearly necessary.” A beat. “And I fancifully fear far more a daunting dare than you readily realize.” Reinholdt had never truly taken to deserters well.
Well, this was going well. “Then I’m not sure I understand what you need me for.”
Reinholdt simply smiled. Something crossed between deadly, and deeply amused.
“You see dear Aisling,” He started without the normal hint of humor and cheer that was always ever present in his voice to the general public. “the current council has failed me in many respects. Many respects which I do not forgive. This has left me with…” He paused drawing out the silence for a moment. “A few positions open which I am looking to have filled.” The general banter, rhyming and alliteration was gone from his speech to assist in driving home the seriousness of the talk currently at hand.
“With my circumstances, and that of our guild, I would like them filled immediately.”
Go fucking figure - he could talk like a normal person. And she wasn’t liking what he was saying. “Well, I wish you luck in that endeavor,” she told him. “I can’t say I know anyone who would be suited.” Especially not me.
“Then it’s to my benefit to be the one in the position of making this choice and not you.” He raised his glass in a toast like gesture, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. “You’ll start Monday.”
Ash blinked; it was a damn good thing she hadn’t taken another sip of water, because she couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t have sprayed all over Reinholdt’s coat. “This is… a generous and unexpected offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. My current condition” and she motioned down to her clearly pregnant (and fuck, why couldn’t she have been taller to at least hide her pregnancy a little longer?) stomach “prohibits me from taking on too much. And with Ruby and the syndicate, my plate is already pretty full.”
“It’s cute you think this is an offer.”
She swallowed back the growl of frustration. At least she tried. And fuck, now she was going to have somehow break the news to Cian. This was just fucking great.
A neutral expression settled over her features; she didn’t bother to ask why her, because she wasn’t stupid. And neither was Reinholdt. And if he was appointing her to fucking Council, then he knew she wasn’t, either. He’d played along with her attempts at playing the fool, but there was no point in pushing her luck. “I will report in Monday, then.”
“Ten AM.” He smiled, finishing the last sip in his glass. “I normally require first meetings at eight, but…” He paused, his eyes dipping down to her stomach before rising back up to look her in the eyes. “Your condition.”
“I can make eight. I’m used to meetings that early.” She usually was getting back from Ruby around that time, and had morning strategy meetings as soon as she walked in the door. She was going to have to figure out how to re-prioritize her obligations, and fuck, how the hell had her life gotten this complicated.
She placed her cup of water on the table, mind already whirling on who else he was suddenly appointing. Maybe if she played the barely competent… Mathieu hadn’t seemed to do a whole hell of a lot, but then what the fuck did she know about a councilor’s responsibilities? For all she knew, he’d done a lot more shit in the background.
Fuck.
“Is there anything I should bring with me?”
“To start? Just you.” The smile remained as he picked up both of their glasses, deposited them on the bar, and began to head for the backdoor they would both need to go out.
“I do desperately desire that you have an extraordinary eve.” Was the only thing he said as he smiled, pushed open the door, and held it for her to step through first back into the freezing night.
“Same to you. Give the Countess-- Duchess” she corrected herself quickly “my regards.” And then she disappeared into the dark.