The Midnight Sun

Marshal, huh? Well it made him some sort of official within the city - that was good news. Perhaps he could answer a question or two. But his curiosity for the position itself had his attention for the moment.

"Sun Marshals. I can't say I'm familiar with the name. Might I inquire as to what the marshals are, and what they do in the city?"

Adamar listened intently, ears perked forward to pick up every word. At least he had been correct in this man being someone to speak to about matters. But it seemed he was certainly a grade higher than the average soldier of Isra... well, two if he answered to very, very few. Nay, just one woman.

The High Lady. Was she on the arm of the lord to the city, or the actual leader? That was another question, but for another day.

"Ahh, that's quite a command. Might this be the place where striking individuals of rank such as yourself come to relax? Enjoy a drink?"

From the other end of the bar, Alan and Elin glanced over at the newcomer talking to the High Marshal. There was someone they hadn't seen before, and they'd seen an awful lot of people. They chattered quietly, much to the annoyance of Allan and Ellen, who were still working. Alan turned to Elin, with a whispered question.

"Who is that woman the Marshal is talking to?"

Elin elbowed him.

"That's not a woman, you idiot. That's an elf. A male elf. Quite an attractive male elf, too...look at those eyes, the hair..."

She watched the elf dreamily, unconsciously adjusting her hair and tugging the already-revealing front of her corset just a little bit lower. Alan frowned. While he certainly didn't mind Elin's little adjustments, he wished that they weren't for the elf.

"Come on, Elin. You know what they say about male elves. There's a reason all the elven women prefer human men. Elves might be tall, but only in height."

Elin laughed, shoving him away.

"You're just jealous. I've never heard anything like that."

However, she couldn't help but think that perhaps Alan was on to something. She didn't have much experience with elves, but the ones that she had been with had both been rather...diminutive. Still, maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe Alan was making things up to mess with her. It wouldn't be the first time. Putting on a flirtatious smile, she walked over to @adamarwysaren .

"Hello, sir! Welcome to the Midnight Sun. I'm Elin, one of the head bartenders. What would you like today? One of our signature drinks, perhaps, or something a little more...familiar?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at him and leaned over a little further than was strictly necessary, as per usual. There  was a reason she was the highest-tipped bartender in the Midnight Sun.

"I understand," was his only answer as he eyed the food. Torrin piled an appropriate amount of everything onto a single plate, not seeming to care what mixed or touched in the process of doing so.

"I have no issues being in charge of a force loyal to you rather than the city, and I am assuming if we are here then you have considered and accepted the likely political repercussions of having such a force. I like this city, and I respect what you have done with it, but who pays my salary only matters in so far as it determines the loyalty of me and my boys, but unlike less...scrupulous mercenary companies, we honor a contract no matter how much is offered to change it."

@adamarwysaren wasn't annoying the high marshal at all, Alden didn't really think much one way or the other about the man. He was being as friendly as he could be though over the years his personality had reached an odd equilibrium between its two factions. He'd never really had a split personality exactly but Wrath, the assassin he had been had been nearly emotionless except for overwhelming anger. When he'd lost his memories his other emotions had bubbled up and his anger had been suppressed, hell all the bad ones had been suppressed, making him friendly to the point that some thought him creepy. Now he had a balance between those two extremes, but it turned out a lifetime of killing made you a poor conversationalist.

While listening, Lady Naoki polishes off one of her hors d'oeuvres. After wiping her face, she nods once in acknowledgment, before speaking to clarify further.

“I am not necessarily talking to you in the context of intending to hire your mercenary company. I mean to speak primarily to you as an individual, with an offer of a job as - technically - a part of Isra’s army. As the leader of a Legion independent from the command structure of the military, obliged only to my personal authority.”

“Accepting my offer,” Naoki continues rather bluntly, “would mean ending your current occupation as a mercenary.”

“If you do, I would be quite willing to consider any candidates you might suggest, but I cannot promise to employ anyone else at this moment. It is of the utmost importance to me that I can trust the members of this force with those things I value most. As such, in addition to the other requirements it is my intention to speak with any applicants deemed worthy myself, and only allow those who pass my judgment. I am aware that this will not result in a large force immediately, and will disclude some otherwise perfectly capable candidates, but this is the course of action I have chosen.”

“Excellent. I am pleased to have your support. … Don’t think of it as the army, however. An army, perhaps, but not a component of the army.”

Pausing for a moment, Naoki had another of her miniature kebabs.

“But! On to the details. This group has yet to be formed in any substantial capacity yet- all that I have done so far has been to set resources aside and earmark potential candidates. Most of the details will be worked out between you and me, but allow me to elaborate on what I have established thus far…”

Over the course of the next hour or so, Naoki and Torrin discuss various specific aspects of the group that will become known as The Imperial Sentinels. As their discussion concludes, Naoki places her empty mug down on the table for the third time.

“I believe that to be all we have to discuss as far as business is concerned for the time being. Again, I’m pleased that you’ve chosen to accept my offer; I believe this will be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Extending her arm across the table, Naoki offers Torrin her hand, presumably to shake.

Knowing nothing of dragonborn traditions, Lady Naoki follows through with the handshake and observes with polite interest. But she has her own 'traditions' when it comes to sealing deals. Nodding amicably, she acknowledges his statement and subtly shifts away from the professional toward more playful, suggestive tones as she opens a new line of discussion. “If I might, have you already made arrangements for tonight? If not, I would insist upon showing you a room here at The Sun. The beds here, you’ll find, are most comfortable.”

Holding his eye and giving Torrin one of her winning smiles, Naoki slides her hand across the smooth tabletop to brush her fingers ever-so-delicately across the runes, slowly disabling all but the ward of privacy.

Leaning backward in her chair, Lady Naoki fixes Torrin with a look, one eyebrow raised. She’s unsure whether he’s flawlessly maintaining his professional attitude or just hasn’t caught on. Might be both. Regardless, that’s the answer she was looking for. Rising from her seat, Naoki makes a grand, sweeping gesture toward the other side of the building.

“Leadership in my case is in large part forming and maintaining relationships. With foreign leaders, with the soldiers of the army, local politicians, my lieutenants, and especially with people like you.” (Semi) subtly, Naoki casts a glance toward the front of Torrin’s pants.

Leaving the remainder of her meal and her mug there on the table, she strikes a path from their table in the back toward the double doors that lead into the inn portion of the building. Those patrons standing in the way move swiftly, not wishing to create an issue with The Empress and an eight-foot tall dragonborn. Through the double doors, Cecil the innkeeper sits on his stool behind the counter.

Naoki greets him by name as she proceeds around the side of the desk to stand behind Cecil, in front of the key rack. Putting a hand to her chin, she considers the keys that are present- the rooms that are unoccupied. After a moment she selects one: the number twelve key, and daintily plucks it from its hook before turning to leave. On the way out, she thanks Cecil, and accidentally-or-not trails her tail along his back as she passes.

Cecil, for his part, seems somewhat amused by the whole exchange, though he doesn’t express as much audibly. Looking from Naoki’s retreating behind to Torrin, he smirks, and offers Torrin a thumbs up before taking his pen to the ledger before him and marking room twelve as “Occupied.”

After checking to ensure that Torrin is behind her, Naoki leads the way up the stairs. She twirls the key on its chain as she turns immediately to the right at the top of the stairs, and a few paces more to a door bearing a plaque reading, “12.” As Naoki unlocks the door, Torrin would be able to see that the key is a finely made, an elegant thing bearing a gemstone; a gem that seems identical to one embedded into the surface of the lock.
i.imgur.com/KaknLW1.jpg

In any case, the door opens, and Naoki proceeds inside. The room is a large one, specifically, intended for guests that wouldn’t easily fit into furniture designed for humans. The ceiling, for instance, is significantly further overhead than one might expect. But perhaps the most obvious thing is the bed, which is much longer and wider than any other bed for two might be.

Turning around to face Torrin, Naoki speaks and steps backward. “Have this room for as long as you need, until something more permanent can be arranged. For anything to do with it, you can speak to Cecil down there.” She gestures with one hand in the direction of the stairs as she uses the other to place the room’s key atop the bedside table. However, she doesn’t stop backing up there and indeed continues all the way up to seat herself on the edge of the bed.

It may at this point become relevant to know that this evening, Naoki is wearing one of her sweater dresses with a pair of sandals that have straps up her ankles. Eyeing Torrin with a smirk, she draws one foot partway up and begins to untie the straps on her shoe.