Aaaand again. Another short piece of fiction based on a scene that took place in RP back on gw2. This one newly written though, just got it done. Seyda is my own character but all cred for Darun goes to his awesome player, all I have done here is written down my interpretation of the events that took place in roleplay.
“Miss Agathon, you have a moment to speak?”
Darun’s steps were heavy in the stairs, Seyda knew who had come even before she saw his face. A warm smile crept onto her face as she turned to greet him. Darun Moorwatch, this one she liked. Powerful as Norns tend to be, yet short for his kin. The silent type, at least around her, never flinching. It was only a couple of months since he had been hired in this very room, and Seyda had never regretted that decision.
“Good evening Darun! Good to see you back.” Seyda stepped forward and leaned her head back to look up; the top of her head didn’t even reach his waist. “Work has gone well? And of course I have a moment to spare, what is on your mind?”
“I’m afraid my time in the city must end,” Darun spoke plainly, in such a matter-of-fact tone that it drained the smile off his employer’s face. “Meaning I’ll be unable to remain in your employ.”
“What has happened?”
“Certain circumstances have changed,” he explained calmly. “I’ll be preoccupied elsewhere… Maguuma, and not the good parts.”
This was wrong. Seyda let her expression turn cold, her voice calm.
“Might I have a better explanation than that?”
There was no simple explanation to be made, so he spoke of Lion’s Arch. Of the Aetherblades attacking, of the friends he had lost. The mere mention brought a flood of memories but Seyda pushed them away.
“Did you know all three Orders were based inside of Lion’s Arch, Seyda?”
Wrong, so very wrong.
“The Priory, the Order of Whispers, and the Vigil, you mean?” She quirked a brow, willing her tone to reveal nothing but the most neutral interest. “Yes, I was aware.”
“I was working under one when the attack happened.”
There it was. So very wrong. Dangerous too.
“The Order of Whispers?”
He didn’t respond, but it made sense.
“You’ve said this much, you might as well go on.”
“I’m going to Maguuma, Miss Agathon, and I won’t be working for you any more. That is all you need to know.”
Had he not towered at more than twice her height she would surely have been tempted to slap him. Keeping information from her? That last comment turned her insides cold. Of course, the Order of Whispers. It would not be the Priory, this Norn was not cut from scholarly cloth. Vigil maybe, but then he wouldn’t have been there, wouldn’t have come to work for her of all people. It had to be the Whispers.
“Did you come to work for me on your own accord, or as part of an assignment?”
“My own accord.”
She wished she could believe that.
“Well,” she said. “I suppose if you had betrayed me, you wouldn’t be here now, telling me this. Yet I must ask, have you reported back to the Order, about us?
He didn’t respond, just looked down at her with those sharp, clear blue eyes and let silence speak for itself. Not even denying it. Traitor.
“That is a yes then,” she went on, calmly and thoughtfully as if her insides weren’t being torn apart by rage. “How much does the Order know of my business?”
The Norn wrinkled his nose and looked back at the stairs, still not responding. Never speaking plainly, never answering straight.
“I will contact you if I’m ever back in the city,” was all he said.
“Do you think you will be?” Seyda sighed deeply, looked up at the now former employee with both sadness and warmth. Traitor, was all she could think, her internal voice far colder.
Their size difference seemed even more ridiculous as she stepped closer. The revolvers holstered by his belt were like small cannons to her, his fists were the size of her head, his thighs as wide as her chest.
“I have trusted you,” she said. And she really had, now she wondered why. “Please consider the value of trust. I need to know what you have reported back. I do not blame you for doing your job, I just need to know.”
“They care little about a less than legal business in the Reach, Miss Agathon” he grumbled, polite again. “I have already said enough to warrant your death, so I shall say no more.”
Beyond wrong, this was disastrous. Did he not understand what he was telling her? Or was he simply that arrogant?
“I will not hinder you from leaving,” she said. “If you must go you must go. But I want to know if I can still trust you, even as you leave us.”
Words that grew sour in her mouth, of course she could not trust him. Darun nodded a single time and looked the little woman up and down, fine silks covering a core of steel.
“You can trust me, should you still feel able to,” he confirmed. “No one outside of… them, know of your business, none shall.”
“But the Order knows, then.” She lifted her chin up and looked closely at the strong, weathered face.
A heavy, giant hand came to rest on a dagger hilt. Darun gave her a cautious glare, grasped the weapon but didn’t draw it. At this distance a simple kick would toss her across the room, easily. A slash of that blade would sever her head from her shoulders, no doubt.
“I trust you will give the rest of the Company a fitting excuse for my leave?” he asked carefully, and got a nod in return.
It was all a game now. A risky dance of words. Would he be able to stay in touch? Was there potential for… co-operation? Words, just words.
If the Order required her assistance they would know where to find her, he explained in an emotionless tone.
“Just know this,” she said. “If it would come down to that, I would rather be on the side of the Order than against it. I respect their work, I just can’t have them interfering with our business.”
“They interfere where they need to.”
For a little moment they just stared at each other. A silent mockery of the frazzled tension and the fury within. In the end, Seyda was the one to end the moment. She would make appropriate excuses, his co-workers would never know.
“While I detest this deceit…,” she explained slowly, “I would still rather have you with us than against us.”
The big man offered only a slight nod as he turned to leave. “Farewell, Miss Agathon.”
“Good luck, Darun.”
Traitor. The Norn took his hand off the dagger and turned to leave, started down the stairs. Before he had taken more than two steps Seyda had drawn her revolver and raised it in a single smooth motion. His head turned sharply at the familiar snap of the hammer, but before he had time to act it was over. She fired without hesitating, a well aimed shot that struck the back of his head and splattered the wall with blood and brains.
The heavy body went limp in an instance and tumbled down the stairs, dead.
A foolish call, and she knew it. But there was no option, not really. Traitors had to die.