She had met with “H” all of three times before this encounter and each time he had used his intimidating presence to establish the nature of their relationship. He was in absolute control, he knew her movements, he knew things she assumed she had whispered in empty rooms and the way he regarded the things she said with a questioning, imperious glare made her feel as though he could sense her innermost thoughts. It made her wonder if he hadn’t a student or two of Harith in his service as well.
Even still, there was something to be said for the way he deferred to her insight or recommendations about how to rally or connect with the pockets of elves who privately acknowledged Mularos as their patron. He knew that she was a lynchpin to Eryael and if Eryael accomplished nothing else he fostered a new era of Mularosian worship in the City-States. Politicians, nobility, commanders --though without leadership these silent proselytes were floundering. They were in need of a sycophant and “H” was just the type to take up the mantle or at least instill a puppet figurehead.
That’s where the necessity of Eryael’s fate came in. Too many of them were even still under somewhat of his spell, much like Uniana. They required closure before they could possibly consider accepting a new head of their sects. No one would have been more knowledgable or better equipped to discover the truth of his fate besides one of his soulbonds, Uniana. Uniana, who had spent years searching amongst the rubble of the Black Temple. Uniana, who had learned cartography to better understand the layout of the Dragonspine. Uniana, who studied under Lord Veythorne to learn more of wind currents and possible trajectories of debris on that day. Uniana, who still bore his mark with as much pride as one would display a wedding ring.
“The terms you had placed on my contract are complete,” she offered in the dark office that smelled of bourbon, velvetier and freshly-inked parchment. There was no lingering hint of roses in this room and she wondered if that would begin to dissipate from the other rooms of the estate as well. She reiterated to him the details she had collected and her own interpretation for him, “he is not dead but he is not on this plane. If you wish to commune with him I would recommend finding the best painters, vocalists and musicians and watching them. He will look for beauty and creativity as an anchor, only ones that are born of suffering and anguish. Though they have to be the very best, they would have to make Eorgina inclined to steal them away to build a second Li'aerion.”
“H” made no immediate reaction but drummed his fingers along a vellum that rested atop his desk. “Eager to have your new paramour buy you out from the Order hrm? And what of Eryael, will you try to lure him back? You’re artistically inclined or at least the documents suggest.” He paused his hand and regarded her with a cruel smile, “I’ve never had the pleasure.”
She opted not to address his second question and instead correct him on the details of his first, “the Order of the Lily does not deal in slavery or indentured servitude, I am free to resign at will. However, Lord Anduin is offering them a fair amount to ensure that we part amicably. Though my worth to them is obviously diminished along with my credibility.”
“H” offered her a dark smile. “Yes, a bit of a novelty now, aren’t you? No longer a main attraction. Still my contacts at the bank suggest that Lord Anduin is pulling together a prince’s ransom. At least someone still thinks you are worth that kind of trouble. Are you?”
Uniana didn’t respond, keeping her expressionless gaze on him.
“H” stood from behind his desk in a precise, clipped motion. He announced, “well then, there is one more bit of business to conclude. You will join me in the garden,” he gestured behind her towards the door and added with a barely suppressed maliciousness, “I trust you remember the way, if not, permit me to show you.”
