thefeywood | why don't you figure my heart out?

He nods.

"Some of the townsfolk informed me that they had spoken to a 'young sod' of House Durendaire the first time this problem arose. It sounds as if it was brushed off as merely being delayed."

He crosses his arms, his lips forming into a disapproving line.

"Additionally, they see little of any local knights - they only arrive when there are goods to be exported, apparently." That in particular disgusts him. That they are only worth protecting when they have something to hand over.

Aymeric crosses his arms as well, frowning a little as he absorbs the information Estinien presents. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it lines up with what he has gathered as well.

"Afrort had said it was some time since they last had a knight on regular duty. Back when he was a boy, long enough that half of Hemlock does not realize the protection they have lost other times."

That was upsetting enough in and of itself. And while Aymeric understands the logic of having someone be present when retrieving materials form the village, that the lumber Hemlock provides is being treated with greater care than her people is not something that they can stand idly by. Not while they have something to do about it.

"So...we find ourselves wondering why the Highest House of Ishgard has been so inattentive to those under its watch."

"An important question... and one we must have answered." There really seems to be no hesitation on Estinien's part. Of course, in some ways, finding the official answer seems like only a formality. "Though I could easily draw my own conclusions. Greed, for instance. Or perhaps sloth."

Of course, walking up to House Durendaire and claiming as much is hardly a simple task. Yet, Estinine has locked onto this concept as an inevitability. They were unlikely to change their ways from suggestions or polite conversation.

"They would kill these people by half measures."

As if he could not already sense the growing frustration and desire for action, it is an audible undercurrent in his voice as well. It is a grim subject and situation, to be sure, yet Aymeric is also well-aware how delicate it can be when the most powerful body in Ishgard--sans the Temple itself--is potentially involved.

(Nay, is involved. Even if it is simple negligence.)

"We must tread carefully, Estinien. One wrong step and we could put more than our careers in jeopardy."

His gaze is pointedly out towards the villagers as the last of the carriage is emptied. Pettiness and retaliation are commonplace. It would be no surprise if it were not just a lack of supplies that suffered this settlement.

Warnings chafe against him, implying there is a boundary he must not cross out of fear. He knows that isn't Aymeric's intention, but he refuses to accept it as truth. He had long since resented Ishgard's failure to save him from his face, and so the idea of propagating that same system feels caustic.

Still, he controls himself, for the moment. He is accustomed to holding such venom inside, given how he does it every day on matters concerning his other quest for vengeance. Still, his fingers grip at his own arms more tensely than before.

"Then we must determine what the right step is," he says, though the edge of his impatience is obviously present. Estinien had always remarked on the fact that Aymeric was more suited to these tests of restraint, and that continues to be true.

As much as Aymeric prefers to be on the frontlines, he is finding that he is becoming quickly adept at working with his colleagues behind them. There is still a widespread mix of curiosity and trust about his heritage and his skills, but one by one people are beginning to acknowledge him for the former with less concern for the latter.

This next step will be his new battlefield. One that Estinien will be, unfortunately, stuck watching from the sidelines.

"...I may have a place to start." He turns his gaze to Estinien, though it's no less serious. "I was amicable enough acquaintances with Jannequinard de Durendaire before he left for Sharylan. He is not a Knight for the House, but I may be able to drop his name with the right people."

And it just so happens that Aymeric has some degree of success. It takes several weeks, unfortunately, and a willingness to put his nose in places it really does not belong. His squadron does accompany the latest shipment despite the fact that this one (suddenly) did not suffer being sidelined as it had in the past. Aymeric is growing confident that it has to do with the attention that they have been giving Hemlock's allotment. How many other settlements are suffering?

Too many, it seems. That is why after he feels he has sufficient evidence, he finally makes the call to Estinien. Though he tried to keep his friend lightly updated, Aymeric had mostly been unwilling to fully share his findings until he had confidence in them.

Alfred is familiar enough with Estinien by now that he is keen to show Estinien in and direct him up towards Aymeric's office on the second floor--his old bedroom. There Aymeric sits at his desk, fingers steeped as he rests his lips against them. Ser Croquembouche sits on the edge of the desk, licking his paw.

Edited 2020-12-03 00:05 (UTC)

It's probably for the best that Aymeric is cautious with his findings - with the mood that Estinien is, he would be inclined to latch on to whatever evidence he hears, even if it were in dispute. He has enough time to start falling into the rhythm of dragoon activities, with distances all of it from his mind for a while, but it's quick to rush back when it's mentioned.

Like with Aymeric inviting him to speak of it, for instance. Coming to visit his friend at the manor is habitual at this point, at least when timing allows it, and he enters without any of the awkwardness he used to display around Alfred. Instead, he accepts the direction with a nod and a thank you, and then easily heads upstairs.

He arrives to find Aymeric in a very serious and contemplating pose. Estinien is not wearing his armor on this occasion, so the quirk of his eyebrow in response is easy to say.

"You look troubled," he comments, watching his carefully. He knew there was news, but this does imply something about its nature.

He hears Estinien's footsteps--a sound he feels he can place even without knowing he would have company soon--but does not raise his head until his friend enters the room. Ser Croquembouche looks up from his paw, casting his ever suspicious gaze towards Estinien, but makes no indication he will be moving.

"I have reason to be. Unfortunately."

Aymeric exhales slowly and drops his hands. There is no speech prepared that he could give that would afford the impact of what he has to share. So instead, Aymeric pushes forward several pieces of parchment forward towards the edge of the desk for Estinien to view if he pleases.

What they are is something of a mess. Small lines stacked on top of one another written in ink, careful in some places and careless in others. The first piece is littered with shorthand for different supplies, but they indicate amounts, route numbers, schedules, and funding. The next piece of paper is much like the first--almost too much. Except, in his foresight, Aymeric has attached several small sips of paper indicating the curious and seemingly random placement where schedules are updated or changed by one month or more. Such a small thing could easily be overlooked.

Estinien leans his lance against the wall to rest, and comes over to see what Aymeric is indicating. The weight behind the display is obvious, and so Estinien goes in apprehensively.

Shipping routes, he gathers easily - except one has been altered? He squints at the information for a few moments longer, trying to ensure he understands.

"Edits, are they?" he asks, though he doesn't seem completely sure. "By whom?" Is this how the shipments were missed? Last-minute updates to the schedule?

Aymeric nods solemnly.

"Yes. There are several pages like this over the last few moons. Each only has about three or four changes in total, enough that it would be easy to overlook, especially as often as these must be shifted to accommodate changes to routes. Except the changes herein are almost never to a settlement lost."

He slips forward another short stack of papers--these all having been notarized by the treasury.

"You will see here that rather than a redistribution of funds to new allotments or programs, the amounts of the skipped shipments are all being sent right back to the See, coin for coin."

Surely enough, the marked gil on a shipment meant for Hemlock, for example, shows the exact same deposit back into the treasury.

Estinien straightens up, crossing his arm as an increasingly sharp frown comes to his face. He already had his suspicions, but this seems to confirm it. Yet, it is even more blatant and widespread than he'd assumed.

"Yet, I expect these funds do not actually return to the See," he says. That much seems obvious. "Who made these changes? Was it as we suspected?"

If Aymeric even knows for certain - regardless of whether there is proof, however, the conclusion is unavoidable.

Aymeric bows his head. "I can only assume as much. Understandably I was not able to garner any entry to the records of the treasury or that of the Holy See herself, yet every settlement affected is under the protection of House Durendaire."

He shakes his head as he looks up. "And the signatures and stamps of approval themselves...do not come from a single person of House Durendaire."

Which, by all accounts, should be an issue. Yet Aymeric pushes forward a small notebook of his own and flips to a page he has marked.

"And yet, Ser Dreauttont Grelert has been invited to several of their balls of late."

He indicates the corresponding signature on the first sheet, then each time after.

"Ser Ophette de Boumaut's sister married into House Muirefins, which has served House Durendaire for centuries. Ser Igraux de Braifopoux received a promotion not long after his signature was found on these papers thanks to the good words of Setteux de Durendaire. And lastly, Ser Zennie Loulault had lost a duel to a Knight from House Fortemps, suffered some public ridicule, and yet has taken up to training on the Durendaire grounds."

Aymeric settles back into his seat. "Not a single person of note or member of House Durendaire, yet all by varying circumstances, have a faint connection."

Estinien's eyes narrow as Aymeric explains, each indirect connection just making his chest burn hotter. It's the helplessness, more than anything. Despite his bold assertions up to this point, to some degree, Estinien knows that a house like Durendaire has the power to do this. They have the power to commit and a crime and use only the dogs that would follow them as their pawns.

He moves back from the desk, beginning to pace as he tries to think of a recourse. It's beyond him, of course. He wasn't skilled enough to find out the information that Aymeric did, and he certainly isn't skilled enough to deal with this. Not above the table.

"And so, if we were to bring it to light, they would lose nothing," he says furiously. "Even if any of these fools were possessed to listen." Which fools? He isn't even sure at this point. Any of the men and women he can already imagine turning away their case, blocking Aymeric's attempt to take action.

He held no false hopes that Estinien would take the news well, nor would he ask him to. It's a upsetting situation and a more tangled web than Aymeric imagine becoming stuck in. Yet there they are, frustrated and indignant as the haves feeds themselves off of the have-nots.

"If it we were to present this to the Lord Commander, what we lack is a clear motive. Why would the most powerful House in Ishgard feel the need to subvert funding so duplicitously?"

Estinien can't help but wonder if they are already under Durendaire's watch for the amount that they've done so far. The shipments accompanied by Aymeric's soldiers made it to their destination safely, and no further attempts seem to have been made there, but is that because their attention to the matter has scared the orchestrators away from that particular location?

He knows at least one Durendaire that would easily notice and take offense to Estinien's contributions to this. He swears, of the mantle of the Azure Dragoon itself has been corrupted...

"Does greed need a reason?" Estinien snaps back, too frustrated to watch his words. None of this is Aymeric's fault, and yet he is the only one present to witness his anger. "For some arrogant highblood to line their pockets... it could be a hobby to them for all we know. I could think of none more suited to it!"

Were this earlier in their relationship, it might have caused more concern, but Aymeric knows that Estinien's ire isn't intended for him. If anything, he sympathizes--it's a damnable situation, whatever the reasons for it. But reasons there are, there has to be.

Aymeric folds his arms, holding onto his elbows loosely as he leans back in his chair.

"The effort taken to conceal their potential bribery and theft go give reason to believe there is more to lining their pockets, moreso than a mere hobby. Durendaire is the most wealthy of the High Houses and has never the worry to prove otherwise. Were this perhaps the doings of another..."

He shakes his head.

"No, this is not merely funding a party or flaunting coin. I have attended their last two soiree--there has been no grand renovations to the manor, now new showpieces. Wherever that coin is going, it is not to gilded robes and goblets."

"Then what are we meant to do?"

It comes out desperately, and Estinien realizes that he's let himself slip. It isn't truly about what they will do... rather, it's more about what he can do. Aymeric has already shown himself capable of taking action, even if he may now be at an impasse.

Isn't this what he wanted, though? Estinien had always shrugged off the need for working with the ways of the city. He isn't suited to it - he isn't willing. So, what is he meant to do?

His face falls a moment after he asks the question. No, he's... he's just throwing a tantrum now, isn't he?

He hates seeing Estinien like this, notably infrequent as it is. The closest was, mayhaps, after the destruction of Sweetbrier the previous year, but that had been after the fact due to the losses and his own conceived inadequacy. Aymeric's brows turn upwards where they meet in sympathy.

"...I know not." He hates to admit it, but he must be honest. His gaze drops to his desk. Ser Croquembouche's tail thumps against the wood, sensing the tension in the air.

"Other than try to explore any avenue where we see an increase in activity or acquisitions under Durendaire. 'Tis not the proactive approach I would prefer to take, but the trail I was able to follow ends here. I hold no rank or influence high enough to wield entry to the Vault or to the High Houses."

He'd been arrogant, hadn't he? To assure those townspeople that they'd see to it. Foolish. He'd made an empty promise, just like so many others, just like every official of Ishgard he'd known-

Estinien realizes that his thoughts are beginning to run wild with self-loathing, and so he tries to channel it forwards. What can he do? He needs the next step.

"What of the Vigil?" he says. "It is the base of operations for House Durendaire in that corner of Coerthas. If there was something to be found..."

He's not sure what piece of evidence could be compelling enough to publically put Durendaire in the wrong, but it's all that comes to mind. He's even been there himself, on occasion, when following Ser Draneux's orders.

Aymeric looks up at that. "Dusk Vigil?"

Hm. It is true that the Vigil is a location that typically only Durendaire would have access. Each High House had their designated Vigil that only they oversaw, rarely asking for involvement of the Temple Knights. It may seem like an odd dispersement of military powers, but it allows the Temple Knights to be the mobile military.

"It would be a convenient place to store it," he agrees with a nod. "However, neither you nor I have clearance to enter. We would needs seek permission from House Durendaire..."

A sigh. "Of which I could seek, but I doubt I could gain even had I not begun my recent investigations or personal involvement at Hemlock."

"If one arrived with their blessing, they would only run you in circles," Estinien growls. If by some miracle they actually allowed Aymeric to enter. When Estinien had been there, it had been under the Azure Dragoon's orders, and without much time to go searching.

Importantly, he doubts that Ser Draneux would desire a one on one meeting, given their current relationship.

Estinien falls silent, still trying to come up with solutions. Yet, no matter how long he lingers on it, nothing comes - nothing except one option. An option that Aymeric cannot be allowed to know of until it's over. Aymeric has his hand in important matters, Estinien thinks - and that hand must stay there.

Estinien himself, though? He has one set of skills, and if it can't be of use...

Finally, his restless silence transitions into a stern one, like he's decided something. He glances up at Aymeric one more time and then turns to the door.

"...I must allow this news to settle," he says rigidly.

It's a fair point and Estinien more than likely has the right of it. What trust Aymeric has earned would surely not stretch his far and his own recent bout of snooping has not gone entirely unnoticed. A calculated risk.

But the way that Estinien suddenly goes silent, brooding, and excuses himself to leave...does have Aymeric worried. Certainly his friend is one who needs ample time to himself under most situations and Aymeric is not at all surprised that he would also desire solitude to process the new information as well as vent some of his own frustrations upon something else, yet there is a part of him that cannot help but worry. There is something...almost resolute about his posture. His aura.

Aymeric's gaze narrows slightly.

"I understand."

But...he trusts him. Perhaps more than anyone else in Ishgard at this point, other than Alfred.

"Should I uncover aught else, I will send word."

"My thanks," Estinien says, a bit more softly, as he cracks open the door and makes to leave without any more hesitation. That's how he leaves - and after he does, Aymeric won't hear from him for a few days.

More accurately, he won't hear from him at all. After Estinien disappears into isolation, it isn't actually him that will break the silence regarding his whereabouts. Instead, it's a knight of the Tribunal.

The knight will arrive at Aymeric's manor three days after his last conversation with Estinien. When he introduces himself as being there on behalf of the Inquisition, Alfred will have little choice but to bring him in. He finds Aymeric in his office, and keeps a stony face as he issues the charges.

"Ser Aymeric de Borel, you are being summoned to the Tribunal to defend yourself from charges of heresy and conspiracy against the High House Durendaire."

There is no preamble. It is expected that Aymeric will come along peacefully, and if not, there are more knights waiting outside.

Well.

That's certainly one way to end an afternoon.

Estinien's silence was hardly surprising, so he did not pay it much mind. He felt that when his friend was ready to speak again or had come up with new information on his own, he would seek Aymeric out. But it was not the familiar footfall of his dragoon in the hallway--nay, something else entirely.

Ah. Yes, well...here they are.

Aymeric's heart leaps in his chest, his eyes widening in a moment of betrayal of the calm he has been practicing. Yet he summons it back and stands, offering no resistance--not yet, anyway.

"Understood."

To cause a scene now would be folly and put himself at a worse position. He knows well that justice in Ishgard is not often balanced. Best play the game as needed for now.

He rounds his desk to stand with the knight, but not before nodding to Alfred.

"Croquembouche has yet to have his dinner. See that he does not go without on my account."

Unarmed, Aymeric then turns his attention to the knight. "I am ready."

The Temple Knight will nod, and while there seems to be no need to threaten or bind Aymeric given his calm reaction, he does keep a hand near his sword. These particular charges have the man somewhat on edge - while plenty of frivolous claims are thrown around Ishgard, to have them issued by such a high authority lends them credence they may not have otherwise.

Aymeric will be greeted by a small troop of other soldiers once he gets outside of the manor, though again, it seems that his lack of weapon and patient demeanor causes them to mostly leave him be as they move to escort him to the tribunal. It's a bit of a spectacle, of course - seeing a man being led in that direction by a group of Temple Knights. Of course, it'd be impossible to be sure whether he is being summoned as a witness or as the accused, but even now, rumors are beginning to spread.

First and foremost, that House Durendaire and the Azure Dragoon himself are backing the accusations. The same knight that came to fetch Aymeric, one Ser Tuyent, sees fit to mention as much as they walk. Maybe it's a warning, or maybe he's just curious to see a reaction.

"They already have one in holding," he adds, still watching Aymeric's face. "Your alleged accomplice."

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