Tavern Song

Jon Chess sat in the common room of the Pig & Whistle tavern, theoretically working on his case notes.  Papers and notes covered the table in front of him, along with a tall pewter tankard of Gilnean Sparkling Water.

His mind was not on his work.  It was on her.

The strains of an itinerant bard's song ((and Gloria Estefan)) caused him to wish the Gilnean Sparking Water was Hearthglen Ambrosia.

To be completely honest it scares me to imagine

What life would be without you

And for this very reason, I ask you to forgive me

For what I'm putting us through

Although there are so many things against us, I've decided

That I'm not giving you

Thinking back, I see what we have is something different

I think we've known all along; so how fair would it be

To divide this love's existence between what's right and what's wrong.

And you, always wondering if we'll make it - time will tell you

That I'm not giving you up, no, no...

We'll find a way to be together however long it takes, wherever

If it means having you for only a moment

A moment just might be enough...

I'm not giving you up, no

No, I'm not giving you up, no

Screaming in the silence the promises we've spoken

Come back to haunt me, false

And broken quiet desperation to see we're lost forever

Searching for water in this dessert

No! I refuse to have to do without your kisses

I'm not giving you up

I'm not giving you up, no, no

We'll find a way to be together, however long it takes, wherever

If it means having you for only a moment

A moment just might be enough...

I'm not giving you up, no:

No, I'm not giving you up

Jonathan had never even contemplated patronizing any of the "soiled doves" of the Stormwind alleys.before, but he thought about it now.  Had the sparkling water actually been Abrosia, he might have followed through; as it was, all he felt was self-disgust that the thought would occur to him at all.  Jonathan knew a number of Old Town whores as people, not defined by their profession.  None of them sold their bodies because it was a chosen profession,  There were many things worse - starvation.  Debtors prison.  Many of them had children - and Stormwind had enough orphans.

Thinking about it put things more in perspective for Chess.  He may be broken-hearted, but others had many problems which were much worse.

Client Report: Missing ship investigation

At the request of the client, Rook joined an investigative team formed by operatives of the Achor Trading Company. The team assembled at Menethil Harbor in the Wetlands region. Alleged Bloodsail corsairs were observed on the dockside, claiming to be awaiting a late sailing vessel. A local man repairing a sandbag wall indicated that disappearances recently bear a resemblance to those perpetrated by an Admiral Duraine.

In the Deepwater Tavern, a Captain Irene was drinking heavily, and claimed that her ship and crew had been taken by attackers wearing the tabards of the Anchor Trading Company. She named an Admiral Thomas as particularly responsible (no direct confirmation). Irene extorted a bribe from ATC (a compass of some personal value to Ellie) for information. Searchers have headed south looking for wrecks but always came back again, and headed north. People who have headed north have not come back.

The investigative party traveled north through the wetlands, encountering murlocs and crocolists. The team entered a deep fog, which had a mentally disconcerting effect. Shortly thereafter, the investigative team came to find a ship beached in the mud, with a spectral figure on board. The ghost challenged us to depart or join his crew, presumably in the lands of the dead as there were no other presences.

Combat with the spectral figure (identified as one Captain Tilden Swalles) occurred. Operative Thule and Operative Ellie distinguished themselves, with Ellie performing the kill shot with a borrowed firearm.

The ship encountered was deemed salvageable by the ATC team, needing what was called minor repair. At this point, the team went their various ways. Rook continued reconnaissance alone further north for some time, with no result.

Outstanding issues:

• What was the cause of the corrupting fog?
• Was the mystical nature of the fog responsible fro the ghost antagonist?
• Was the cargo intact?
• What happened to the ghost's crew?
• What is the connection between the missing ATC ship and the abandoned ship?
• Has anyone investigated the pirate cove due north of the wetlands area, in south Arathi?

Lies and Indiscretions

"She lied to me!"  ranted Jon Chess, pacing across the chamber, careful not to disturb any of the alchemical arrangements. 

"Jonny... you are hardly one to talk.  Have you given her the keys to your kingdom?" asked Phred, his gnome alchemist and forensics mage.  "And really... was she lying to you, or just continuing her lie?  is it any different for when you go out with a cover story?"

"I... don't know, actually.  That's a good point, Phreddy"

"Oh Jonny... of course she's going to break your heart.  She's a human, and a mage, and belongs to the Kirin Tor" continued the mage.  Jon let those assumptions hang in he air, uncorrected.  Lynesia was not human, but a Quel'dorei, using illusion to pass for human, but it was not his secret to share with his friend.  "She belongs to a different world. "

"Yeah, she belongs in Dalaran, where I belong in the alleyways and sewers of Stormwind..." Jon answered, a bitter tone making Phred wince.

"Well, I should go... lots of work to do," Jon said with a sigh. "I'll be at my 'office' if you need me for aught"

"Alright... and Jonny"

"Yeah?"

"Leave the Hearthglen Ambrosia on the shelf."

Chess grined as his gnomish confederate.  "I promise"

================== later that evening ==================

Jon watched Lynesia walk back in the doors of the Pig & Whistle, and head for his table.  He left the charming little Corgie named Duncan had had given permission to feed a treat, and settled back to his table,

She had returned.  After Jonathan had told her what he had found in her SI:7 file, she had walked out, saying "I need some air", he was unsure if he would ever see her again.

Lynesia sat back at Jonathan's 'office' table in the Pig & Whistle, and said one word, her voice betraying her internal tensions.

"Why?"

Jonathan lowered his voice so as t not be overheard.  "You'll have to be specific, milady.  Why what?"

"Why did you find those files? What benefit? What ..What did they say?" the mage asked, her voice demanding answer.

"They said you were not human, but Quel'dorei.  They said you were developing a harmful fascination with Dark and Void magics.  They said you made frequent trips to the Void fields.  They said that you might be subject to sanctions from the Kirin Tor."  Chess proclaimed, his voice quiet, almost too quiet.  "The files said nothing you had told me about yourself was the truth, milady."

Lynesia found herself gazing at the wooden tavern table top.

"And why?  Why did I look?"  Jon continued.  "Because I am a spy, milady.  An assassin.  Finding things out and killing designated targets for the Alliance is what I do, aside from my civilian job,"  Chess paused, and Lynesia could hear a little pain creep into his voice before he continued.  "And I told you.  I told you what I am, what I do, and apparently you didn't believe me."

Lynesia looked  at her feet. "I'm sorry... but.. wait..." She cast him a worried look. "Is someone trying to kill me?" she asked in a soft, hushed voice.

"If there were any kill orders, they would have been replaced with different orders.  Did I mention, besides my other sins, I am an accomplished forgerer? And any assigned operative would be a pile of ash in the fires of Blackrock Mountain; I know the limits of forensic magic, milady."  Jon's voice sounded bitter as he recounted any theoretical things he would not admit to, except as speculation.  "But you must learn to be more....circumspect."

Lynesia looked back at her feet and finally looks back to Jon, her expression betraying her vulnerability, tears welling up in her eyes.

Jon leaned in closer.  "I am not your enemy, milady.  You are safe," he said softly.  "Your choices are wide open, and solely up to you."

Lynesia sighed softly, and spoke, her voice hardly above a whisper.  "I'm sorry... that I lied to you."

Chess's expression manifested a tiny smile.emembering what Phred had said.  "Those lies predate me, milady - what else should you have done, really?  Trusted a self-confessed buttinsky and snoop?"

"You have a good heart, Lynesia Ashcroft.  That is more than many can say."

Ly,esia sighed softly and bit her bottom lip. "You have a point," she mumbled and looks at him. "So.. what happens to us?"

"What do you want to happen with us?  If you like, I will vanish from your life like a Shadow demon in the Cathedral courtyard,   If you want more, we move on,  Maybe you trust me, maybe you don't - That is nothing I can help.   If you need assistance, I will help - if I can,"  Chess paused bwefore continuing "My silence you shall have, in any event. "

Lynesia stared at hime a moment, then nodded. "I don't want you to go... I need to think about what happens now.   May I have a few days?"

Chess' voice was soft with compassion.  "Of course you may.  Take as much time as you like, really... you know how to find me."

Lynesia nodded. "Thank you, Jonny."

Chess bowed before Lynesia.  "Ande'thoras-ethil."  Jonathan had hoped he had said the farewell correctly in Darnassian.

Lynesia eyed him warily.  Taking a few steps backward, she cast her spell and teleported away.

Queen Defense

Chess left the Royal Gardens next to the Royal Library, his feelings in turmoil.

Lady Elaianna

"Rook... Mr. Chess... I need for you to do something for me" Elaianana had asked.

Part of Jonathan's past included a stint working for the Azeroth Ale Society, a company whose purported purpose was to promote and provide Kul Tiras beer, ales, and other spirits to the citizens of the Alliance.  Jonathan had been loaned to them as Elling Trias' personal consultant on matters of cheese.

Under the floorboards, the Azeroth Ale Society, headed by the redoubtable Craft Ramsey, had been a front for the Kul Tiras espionage service.  Elling Trias had his own reasons for loaning them Jon Chess, but co-operation with SI:7 was not one of them.  One of the reasons was that Jonathan had worked for Universal Exports, the cover organization for the Theramore secret service, and had been personally destroyed by the death of so many friends when the Horde had cratered his home.  For several years Jonathan carried out assignments for the Kul Tiras throne, mentioned only in reports by "The Rook", the name he had used when working for Theramore.

During his time with the Azeroth Ale Society, Craft had often reported to the Stormwind Ambassador at the time, Lady Elaianna Nesbitt.  Jon had immediately been smitten with the Ambassador, but Craft, seeing the sparkle in Jon's eye, had warned him away.  "She's married, she's an ambassador, and she's ... well, let's just say that she's as capable as one of our own," Craft had warned.  Jonathan had sublimated his crush by stealing the SI:7 files on her and destroyed it.  It had made for interesting reading, however, and had done nothing to curb Jonathan's feelings.

He had made contact with her after reading about her latest misadventure in the  Stormwind Courier.  She had asked for a meeting.  At that meeting, she had asked him for a favor - prepare a bolt hole for her daughter, in case something might happen to her.

Jonathan had agreed, at once.  He felt that helping to safeguard her daughter would be the least he could do for a lady who had unknowingly held his heart.  if he could not give her anything else, perhaps he could at least give her some peace of mind.

His mind recalled the song he had heard in the alleys and shadows.

Blood on the cobblestones,
Blood on the door.
Don't go out to Boralus
Don't go on your own.

Devil on the cobblestones,
The Devil's at your door.
The Devil hunts in Boralus,
Don't go on your own.

Jenny's got her eye on you,

Jenny's got a knife.

The Devil's got her eye on you

Don't go out tonight.

Blood on the cobblestones,

blood on the door.
Don't go out to Boralus
Don't go on your own.

Maybe, just maybe... Jonathan could give Elaianna some peace of mind.

Morning After

Jon Chess felt like a thousand dwarves were conducting practice for the annual Winter Veil Anvil Ringing concert in his skull.  He could barely remember what he had done to earn such pain - and then he remembered the night before.  Eight bottles of Hearthglen Ambrosia.  About six over the recommended limit of smart people who knew better, like Chess did.

Someone had tucked him into bed in the upstairs spare bedroom at the offices of the Allied Detective Agency last night; Jonathan sometimes stayed over in Stormwind if the hour was too late to return to Dalaran.  Whoever had seen him safely to bed had removed Jonathan's boots, bracers, and weapons, setting them neatly on the chair in the corner.  Jonathan winced.  One of the assets which made him such a good investigator is that he had a remarkable memory - not perfect recall, as such, but not far short of it.  Lynesia had been the one to tuck him in.

Chess groaned as he sat up, feeling every small discomfiture and pain as dressed and set himself straight for the morning.  He thought about breakfast, but the roiling of his stomach indicated that to be a poor idea.

"Right then," he mumbled to himself.  "Alchemist before breakfast."  Fortunately for Jonathan, he had an associate to whom he could turn.  Just as fortunately, the alchemist lived in the Dwarven District nearby.

Unfortunately, his alchemist associate - a mage whose area of specialty focused on arcane forensics - was not in the mood to help Jonathan mitigate the consequences of his indulgence the night before.  "Ha!  Serves you right, you idjit tallard!  Suffer, and maybe the memory of it will preclude repetition!" crowed the gnome loudly, taking satisfaction in Jon's subsequent wince at her volume.

"Fel-farts!  How does such a tiny slip of a woman like you make such a large sound?" whined Chess miserably.

"Wassamatter, Jonny-boy?  Head a mite painful?" answered the gnome alchemist.  Phredaria Lunafarea - "Phred" to her friends - looked around for something metal to bang against to create an even greater cacophony.   "I keep telling you - next time you are feeling sorry for yourself, come see me!  I'll put you to bed and you'll have nothing but a satisfied smile the next morning, not a hang-over!"  Phred had long since made it known that she'd take Jonathan to bed in a Goldshre minute.

"I might not survive it, Phred!"

"Oh, you'd live... I have potions that can raise the dead... so to speak.  I mean I can get you to rise again and again,..."

Chess smiled in spite of himself.  "I'm sure you do... but not even a little something for the pain?  Are you going to make me beg on the steps of the Cathedral?"  It was an old joke between them - how Jon maintained his faith in the Light while being a thief, an assassin, a forgerer, and a con artist was beyond Phred's comprehension.

"Well... OK, maybe a little something... but only because I love you, not because I have any sympathy at all when you do this to yourself."  The alchemist opened a small set of vials from a belt pouch.  "Here, drink this, and drink it fast... I don't flavor my own stuff."

Chess slammed the contents of the vial without question.  Phred was right - the concoction tasted like a distillation of rotted gymnasium socks.  On the other hand, he almost immediately felt much better. "Thanks, Phred... oh, that tastes horrible."

"Yeah, that's why I keep it in a vial.  Vial, vile?  No?  Gash, you have no sense of humor sometimes!"
Phred muttered.