10-30-2017, 01:47 PM
He woke foggy and cold. Like an unfortunate cat finally let in after a night wandering lost in the rain. He sat up and realized why. A wet mountain of clothes were abandoned on the floor and he'd crashed on the narrow, too short trundle of a bed without drying off. Rubbing out his eyes and the shoulder didn't do much good. The shoulder was left-overs from an aggravating present from falling off Fate's prized Razor. Suppose it was better than being blind. Barely. His head rang like a bell being hammer. Kidneys chanted their unified rebellion with his legs to stand up and be of much use. A few splashes of water helped clear the fog of too little sleep, but he'd ran in worse shape before.
To get dressed was a chore though. Battling saidin's strength without being swept away with it was a bit of an effort; but undoing the ward on the room's sole wardrobe was thankfully all he had to do with it. The soft sheen of black waited clean and pressed within; a task he'd taken care to finish the first day in town. It slid wonderfully easy over his back. Tar Valon tailoring fit like a glove. It was warm and breathed and smelled infinitely better than the regular clothes he was donating to the floor. And felt right, again.
Pack over one shoulder and Asad's sword belted on. He could have done with a mirror, but made due with feeling around his face. As nothing seemed too tender, at least not so much as the rest of him, he was willing to wager he didn't look like he'd gone through the meatgrinder. Which was a good thing. Being rather attached to his face and all. He flattened his hair out with the palms of his hands and called himself good enough.
The common room was absurdly packed with tenants working through breakfast. He paused in the doorway, weakened by the aroma of hot meals on everyone's table. The smell of sausage was enough to freeze a charging trolloc off target. First one person noticed him. A short statured man with a ring of thin hair around an otherwise bare scalp. He set his fork down altogether and stared. Then the guy next to him, whom Jai diced with two nights ago, lifted his brows in confusion. As though he was trying to remember if the fellow whose coppers he'd acquired had been in black the entire time. Jai nodded their direction, and looked elsewhere with a generic "good morning" for anyone else that noticed. Which, in case anyone was too lost in thought to notice the equivalent of a stark raving mad executioner in their midst, walking to a table in the middle of the room caught their attention.
As soon as his pack hit the floor and himself in a seat, the inn owner herself slid a plate of food in front of him. She eyed the Asha'man's packed bag warily. "You'll be leaving us today, then?" She was a smooth cheeked woman with big brown eyes and rich brown hair that she wore tied back. Her stout wool dress was covered by a working-woman's apron. Her arms were folded expectantly across her chest. She wasn’t pleased she’d been misled.
He smiled gentle as cupping a kitten up at her, heartfelt apologies setting the curve to his brow. If he hadn't put on the uniform, she'd never known she harbored a weapon of the Dragon under her roof these last two days. Nor laughed at the jokes of a killer that first night when dicing was the order of business. He lost hours worth of coppers in that fun. Statistically, dice were harder to predict than cards, but even randomness had patterns to it. He could count it if he’d wanted. But Jai'd sat at the tables for the entertainment, not for profit.
"Yeah. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."
She started to turn away, but Jai caught her arm. His grip a hundredfold more gentle than it had been on that Brown yesterday. "Do you mind sending one of your lads to fetch a carriage. I could use a ride to the Inner City?"
She slid a tense hand from his and nodded. Perhaps a touch more understanding softening the lines around her eyes. He thanked her sincerely, produced the money to pay for the hassle and inhaled the food. He really didn’t want to walk back to the Inner City again.
Six stubby sausage links, as many biscuits smeared with headcheese, and two bowls of creamed corn later he left the tension behind. And felt renewed as the rain-washed streets outside. The clouds were still around, but no longer threatened rain. Scent of morning flour from a bakery hung on the air. People hustled along huddling packages. Farmers directed mule-led wagons bound for market. It was still early, then. But not as early as he'd prefer. Still, walking into combat on little sleep was not a good recommendation. No matter who you were fighting. This was definitely going to be a battle, not a hard one, but a he needed his wits about him.
The carriage was unadorned but sturdy as he disappeared inside it. Now that he thought about it, and had a belly full of warm food, he really could have walked the miles back into the Inner City. In fact it'd feel good to stretch the legs a bit; carriages were never built for the height. But surprise was the element in his favor, and as he brought no cloak, it left a guy with few options.
He emerged from cover in a whole new part of the city. He paid the driver with a Tar Valon mark as a tip much to the lad's appreciation and ascended the same steps with much more fanfare than yesterday. Lynn Bank House was truly a house in design, being originally built as League Headquarters for Andoran Trading Merchants. It was surrounded now by impenetrable, spike-capped iron fences. Not to mention lined by a number of heavily armed guards. Only the highest caliber of thief had a chance making away with valuables today. Jai would wager for every non-uniformed guard in sight there were at least two others under cover of civilian clothes he could not see. At least, that's how he would design the security.
The grand frontage was a centered by a statue of Jacobar Lynn: the House's original founder, investor, and in whose name the bank still operated. The interior grand hall was turned into a spectacular showing of fortune. A medley of magnificent windows, chocolate brown and moss green walls, pink velvet and polished wood. If not for the moneychangers, any royal subject would at home.
His dramatically back-lit silhouette came into clearer focus as the doors shut behind him. "Sir, we require checking of all weap-" Jai turned casually toward the posted guards, thumbs hooked on the belt. One of them was on duty yesterday. A beast of a man, stout enough to knock over a charging boar in a single blow. It was obvious why he was the one with the enormous task of disarming clients as they thought to enter. The guard tacked on the end of his orders, voice heavy with confusion. He clearly recognized the tall foreigner with a curved sword from the day before. "-checking of all weapons before entrance." A smart dressed staffer immediately approached before Jai could answer, waving with authority that the guards stand down. It wasn’t like relinquishing his sword was going to do anything to disarm an Asha’man anyway. Jai smirked. Inside the doors less than a minute and already it was a different party. The guard didn't go away empty handed, though. Jai left his bag under house care and strided off in the company of escort.
Up a couple flights to the executive offices, he was shown into one with an enormous desk set before a window. Pale drapes, a small sofa and a terrific view across the square completed Chairman Ellis' writing office. ”Jai Asad Kojima for you, sir. His arrival announced, Aharon looked up from his work and Jai stepped around his escort, "Asha'man Kojima, actually,"
adding on the title. He clapped the guy on the shoulder and urged him out on orders to send up a contract drafter. Aharon rose to his feet, speechless, and looking him up and down. Stunned enough looking to think he witnessed the Lord of the Grave himself standing there. In a way, he kind of was. Depending on how this was going to go.
Seeing his old friend so honestly shocked was almost enough to second guess the plan. Maybe he’d misread Winther’s papers. Maybe Aharon wasn’t involved in all this conspiracy at all. Until Aharon made the foolish move for something out of sight. Whatever he thought he was going to get that was going to defend himself was laughable. Jai raised his good arm forward, fingers all curled like he were about to pluck an apple off a tree and lashed Aharon to his chair with ropes of the Power. "No need to get up."
He watched him struggle with vague guilt for having to resort to this. Jai clasped his hands behind his back and strolled around much as he had in Winther's place the night before. Ignoring the Chair's cursing as he did, "Nice set up you have here. You know Zakar was going on and on about how they just couldn't live without you when I left."
He pivoted from studying himself in a mirror. Didn't look too bad, all things considering. He tilted his face toward the light, there hadn't been time to shave; it left a sheen of random growth across his neck. Oh well. He had no kit with him anyway, and shaving with the One Power was rather time-consuming. Still watching himself in the mirror, he observed his own expression downgrade to still waters upon finding focus in the Oneness. In there, saidin was sharper, easier to conquer. The colors and scents cleared their path. He turned about to see how Aharon was faring. He was sweating a dark ring around his powder blue silk collar. Then Jai understood the shock, "Ahh. They didn't tell you where I went, did they? Well let me answer your questions before you even ask them. Yes, I’ve met the Dragon. No, I don’t particularly like the guy. Yes, I’ve killed people. Yes, I could decorate the walls with your brains if I wanted. No, I had no idea I could channel until I was tested."
There. What a proud black-sheep he was.
That was a good feeling. His family didn’t even tell people that he went to the Black Tower. What did they tell everyone? That he interned at a partner bank in Illian or something? Oh well. Thankfully the Oneness saw those warm and fuzzy feelings curl up dead as a winter leaf on a camp fire. "Nothing to say?"
Aharon glared back. The gracious host of yesterday's reunion fled from his face entirely. Left behind a snarl of bitter disgust, though Jai might guess that vehemence was self-directed. Probably wise he kept his mouth shut.
He slapped down the parchment from Winther's strongbox under Aharon's eyes. Jai braced for the shockwaves, but the guy didn't seem surprised at all. Likely first thing this morning the unconscious henchman left behind in Winther's office raised quite the alarm. If the Lord were sharp he likely knew exactly what was taken as soon as he saw the melted hinges on his strong box. If left to a bit of a loss as to the identity of the thief. At least, until the hat-wearing fellow could be roused. "Get into the office late today? Did he summon you or you just show up on your own?"
He shrugged. The details didn't matter. Then laid out the case against Aharon's involvement with Winther. The guy didn't even try to defend himself. The proof was in the math. And smeared all over Aharon’s face. ”You’ll not breathe a word of this when the drafter gets here. You do and I’ll take you to the Crown.”
Jai turned on the sound of someone coming in. The gentleman was thin as a reed with gaunt face. His notary instruments were in a cracked leather case clutched in gout-knobbed hands. He went about his work and didn't seem bothered in the least by the Asha'man's direction. Nor Aharon's near sick reaction to what he would be signing. That, or given how close he stooped over the high grade contract parchment under his nose, his eyes lost too much far sight to notice.
Jai's name never adorned the contract. Not even so much as a witness. All he did was dictate what it would read. With it, Aharon was going to make a sizeable contribution. Charitable. And anonymous, of course. Twenty thousand gold crowns, or fifty percent of his complete assets, whichever was the greater amount. Then take a nice vacation back to Tar Valon for a little reunion with the Kojimas. But first, he was to call the Board of Directors together for what was to be a disturbing and eye-opening confession concerning their honorable client, the Lord Matias Winther. And the resignation of one particular Chairman, of course. Unless the Board voted to terminate the position first.
Ah. Board rooms. Filled with curmudgeonly old men who worked their entire lives to gain the authority to win such powerful seats. Then once they get there, are too beset by experience to ever be rattled by the small things any more. Like finding out their institution was the filter for a client to funnel money back and forth across cities. Or that one of their own was embezzling. These guys didn't care that the man bringing it to their attention could turn them simultaneously into piles of pink, soft as the velvet curtains spanning their magnificent windows, for the sake of his own amusement. They didn’t care about Jai’s title. They only cared about his last name; that he was a member of their competition. And the reputation of their own secure facilities remained in tact. A business position Jai actually respected. He wouldn't press charges, and signed on behalf of the executive position he still held to such an end. A title if only in name. Zakar wouldn’t be pleased, but he could exact his own justice nonetheless. So long as they pursued legal action against Lord Winther and the matter taken all the way to the Crown. From there, it'd be left to royal negotiators to sort out the mess between their two institutions. And therefore not bringing this to the public's attention. One word to the right person and all security in their favor would be lost. And banks thrived or toppled on public interest.
Alright. Copies of the contracts went into the ledger holding the rest of his paperwork and Jai stuffed it all securely under one arm. He trusted the Bank would file legal action with the Crown by the end of the afternoon. Aharon, who just sat there without so much as raising a voice in his own defense, accompanied Jai back to Tar Valon after they shared a hearty lunch. One he generously paid for.
That just left one piece of business. If the White Tower was anything like the Black, Nythadri's mail would likely be searched, but he intended on finding a higher class courier than the last one he'd hired. Unlike his choice for Fate Sedai, there was no message behind this guy. In fact, the fellow had no idea who hired him at all. Only to deliver a well-padded, palm-sized box to one Accepted Nythadri Vanditera in person. Her brother's keepsake was sealed anonymously within.
All in a day's work. Though, to be fair: two day's work.
****** Tar Valon ******
Suffice to say, security working night shift at the Banking House with a certain surname chiseled above the entrance fresco was rather puzzled, more or less, as to how exactly what appeared to be a surprisingly calm, well-dressed and completely unarmed man came to be sitting inside the main foyer as though he appeared from inside. Although to be honest, he was sitting, but only because he was tied to a column, and he wasn't without any property. A satchel of some personal things was dropped on his lap. Perched atop like some impromptu lap desk lay a slick leather folio brimming with documents. Most curious of all was the parchment stuffed inside a script case clenched between the gentleman's teeth bound with a gag like a man biting down to endure some gruesome operation in the field. Upon discovery, security wisely read the note's contents before releasing the unusual guest from bondage. Delivery for Zakar Kojima, it read. As it took a significant amount of time to not only deliver such news to the Bank's general manager, the gentleman was looking rather irate by the time he arrived. More so that security who stood in guard over him did not pull the gag so he might mount a defense as they had released the note from his teeth.
Zakar arrived by carriage some time before dawn. His stride amid the gilding and marble magnificence was as sure as the sunrise over the ocean. He was as tall as any of his brothers, but being the eldest, he had a stature to him as though constantly waiting for something to go wrong that would require his attention to correct. Like many eldest sons, he was born into responsibility of his rank in the lineage, but he adopted that responsibility with absolute seriousness. If he recognized the handwriting summoning him at this unworldly hour, familiar only to soldiers with unfortunate watch duty or professions most active under cover of darkness, then he hid the recognition behind a thin lip and a frown.
It was not the sort of reunion with their former apprentice he intended given Aharon's original parting on good terms, but Zakar did not need to pour over the contents of the folio for long before sending the apparent thief to a secure location until it was decided what should be done with him.
It was one of those times of night when it was futile to return home only to about-face and march back to the office an hour later, so the immaculate Zakar ascended to his carved out penthouse, folio tucked under one arm, to watch the sun rise. He scrawled out a message first thing for his wife and children, apologizing for the abrupt departure. Likewise for the impending absence from his eldest daughter's debut concert singing at the Commerce Chamber's city breakfast this morning as it seemed an emergent situation would detain his arrival. The strict block lettering barely depicted his sincerity as his heart was struck with disappointment. He’d looked forward to this breakfast for some time. Ever since she first serenaded her parents and they realized her talent. She'd worn a yellow dressing gown and clutched a porcelain doll at the time. How she’d grown since then.
He poured over Jai's handiwork until mid-morning. Long after the patter of loafers shuffled up and down the hall outside his door. His early breakfast was well worn into pangs for lunch by then as well. His baby brother was nowhere actually credited with the chaos strewn across the crumpled sheafs, but Jai was more mathematician than accountant, although that was not what he would call himself, and accountants prefered bound, orderly, consecutive ledgers. Not random piles of papers that seemed to make no sense except to the mind that scrawled out the equations. Zakar recognized the patterns, and handwriting, immediately, of course. He'd been the one who sat over Jai's arithmetic when the boy was young enough to still be wobbly with his walking.
That night, he sent carpenters to his parent's estate to repair the damage inflicted in the recent confrontation with his Asha'man brother. The only message back was that nobody seemed to have any idea what became of the brother in question, although his wardrobe was emptied over the previous night despite the lack of disturbance at the front door. The only news of note was an honest plea from Jaslene Basinthe to protect the half finished portrait now hanging in the Kojima's gallery from destruction.
To get dressed was a chore though. Battling saidin's strength without being swept away with it was a bit of an effort; but undoing the ward on the room's sole wardrobe was thankfully all he had to do with it. The soft sheen of black waited clean and pressed within; a task he'd taken care to finish the first day in town. It slid wonderfully easy over his back. Tar Valon tailoring fit like a glove. It was warm and breathed and smelled infinitely better than the regular clothes he was donating to the floor. And felt right, again.
Pack over one shoulder and Asad's sword belted on. He could have done with a mirror, but made due with feeling around his face. As nothing seemed too tender, at least not so much as the rest of him, he was willing to wager he didn't look like he'd gone through the meatgrinder. Which was a good thing. Being rather attached to his face and all. He flattened his hair out with the palms of his hands and called himself good enough.
The common room was absurdly packed with tenants working through breakfast. He paused in the doorway, weakened by the aroma of hot meals on everyone's table. The smell of sausage was enough to freeze a charging trolloc off target. First one person noticed him. A short statured man with a ring of thin hair around an otherwise bare scalp. He set his fork down altogether and stared. Then the guy next to him, whom Jai diced with two nights ago, lifted his brows in confusion. As though he was trying to remember if the fellow whose coppers he'd acquired had been in black the entire time. Jai nodded their direction, and looked elsewhere with a generic "good morning" for anyone else that noticed. Which, in case anyone was too lost in thought to notice the equivalent of a stark raving mad executioner in their midst, walking to a table in the middle of the room caught their attention.
As soon as his pack hit the floor and himself in a seat, the inn owner herself slid a plate of food in front of him. She eyed the Asha'man's packed bag warily. "You'll be leaving us today, then?" She was a smooth cheeked woman with big brown eyes and rich brown hair that she wore tied back. Her stout wool dress was covered by a working-woman's apron. Her arms were folded expectantly across her chest. She wasn’t pleased she’d been misled.
He smiled gentle as cupping a kitten up at her, heartfelt apologies setting the curve to his brow. If he hadn't put on the uniform, she'd never known she harbored a weapon of the Dragon under her roof these last two days. Nor laughed at the jokes of a killer that first night when dicing was the order of business. He lost hours worth of coppers in that fun. Statistically, dice were harder to predict than cards, but even randomness had patterns to it. He could count it if he’d wanted. But Jai'd sat at the tables for the entertainment, not for profit.
"Yeah. I'll be out of your hair soon enough."
She started to turn away, but Jai caught her arm. His grip a hundredfold more gentle than it had been on that Brown yesterday. "Do you mind sending one of your lads to fetch a carriage. I could use a ride to the Inner City?"
She slid a tense hand from his and nodded. Perhaps a touch more understanding softening the lines around her eyes. He thanked her sincerely, produced the money to pay for the hassle and inhaled the food. He really didn’t want to walk back to the Inner City again.
Six stubby sausage links, as many biscuits smeared with headcheese, and two bowls of creamed corn later he left the tension behind. And felt renewed as the rain-washed streets outside. The clouds were still around, but no longer threatened rain. Scent of morning flour from a bakery hung on the air. People hustled along huddling packages. Farmers directed mule-led wagons bound for market. It was still early, then. But not as early as he'd prefer. Still, walking into combat on little sleep was not a good recommendation. No matter who you were fighting. This was definitely going to be a battle, not a hard one, but a he needed his wits about him.
The carriage was unadorned but sturdy as he disappeared inside it. Now that he thought about it, and had a belly full of warm food, he really could have walked the miles back into the Inner City. In fact it'd feel good to stretch the legs a bit; carriages were never built for the height. But surprise was the element in his favor, and as he brought no cloak, it left a guy with few options.
He emerged from cover in a whole new part of the city. He paid the driver with a Tar Valon mark as a tip much to the lad's appreciation and ascended the same steps with much more fanfare than yesterday. Lynn Bank House was truly a house in design, being originally built as League Headquarters for Andoran Trading Merchants. It was surrounded now by impenetrable, spike-capped iron fences. Not to mention lined by a number of heavily armed guards. Only the highest caliber of thief had a chance making away with valuables today. Jai would wager for every non-uniformed guard in sight there were at least two others under cover of civilian clothes he could not see. At least, that's how he would design the security.
The grand frontage was a centered by a statue of Jacobar Lynn: the House's original founder, investor, and in whose name the bank still operated. The interior grand hall was turned into a spectacular showing of fortune. A medley of magnificent windows, chocolate brown and moss green walls, pink velvet and polished wood. If not for the moneychangers, any royal subject would at home.
His dramatically back-lit silhouette came into clearer focus as the doors shut behind him. "Sir, we require checking of all weap-" Jai turned casually toward the posted guards, thumbs hooked on the belt. One of them was on duty yesterday. A beast of a man, stout enough to knock over a charging boar in a single blow. It was obvious why he was the one with the enormous task of disarming clients as they thought to enter. The guard tacked on the end of his orders, voice heavy with confusion. He clearly recognized the tall foreigner with a curved sword from the day before. "-checking of all weapons before entrance." A smart dressed staffer immediately approached before Jai could answer, waving with authority that the guards stand down. It wasn’t like relinquishing his sword was going to do anything to disarm an Asha’man anyway. Jai smirked. Inside the doors less than a minute and already it was a different party. The guard didn't go away empty handed, though. Jai left his bag under house care and strided off in the company of escort.
Up a couple flights to the executive offices, he was shown into one with an enormous desk set before a window. Pale drapes, a small sofa and a terrific view across the square completed Chairman Ellis' writing office. ”Jai Asad Kojima for you, sir. His arrival announced, Aharon looked up from his work and Jai stepped around his escort, "Asha'man Kojima, actually,"
adding on the title. He clapped the guy on the shoulder and urged him out on orders to send up a contract drafter. Aharon rose to his feet, speechless, and looking him up and down. Stunned enough looking to think he witnessed the Lord of the Grave himself standing there. In a way, he kind of was. Depending on how this was going to go.
Seeing his old friend so honestly shocked was almost enough to second guess the plan. Maybe he’d misread Winther’s papers. Maybe Aharon wasn’t involved in all this conspiracy at all. Until Aharon made the foolish move for something out of sight. Whatever he thought he was going to get that was going to defend himself was laughable. Jai raised his good arm forward, fingers all curled like he were about to pluck an apple off a tree and lashed Aharon to his chair with ropes of the Power. "No need to get up."
He watched him struggle with vague guilt for having to resort to this. Jai clasped his hands behind his back and strolled around much as he had in Winther's place the night before. Ignoring the Chair's cursing as he did, "Nice set up you have here. You know Zakar was going on and on about how they just couldn't live without you when I left."
He pivoted from studying himself in a mirror. Didn't look too bad, all things considering. He tilted his face toward the light, there hadn't been time to shave; it left a sheen of random growth across his neck. Oh well. He had no kit with him anyway, and shaving with the One Power was rather time-consuming. Still watching himself in the mirror, he observed his own expression downgrade to still waters upon finding focus in the Oneness. In there, saidin was sharper, easier to conquer. The colors and scents cleared their path. He turned about to see how Aharon was faring. He was sweating a dark ring around his powder blue silk collar. Then Jai understood the shock, "Ahh. They didn't tell you where I went, did they? Well let me answer your questions before you even ask them. Yes, I’ve met the Dragon. No, I don’t particularly like the guy. Yes, I’ve killed people. Yes, I could decorate the walls with your brains if I wanted. No, I had no idea I could channel until I was tested."
There. What a proud black-sheep he was.
That was a good feeling. His family didn’t even tell people that he went to the Black Tower. What did they tell everyone? That he interned at a partner bank in Illian or something? Oh well. Thankfully the Oneness saw those warm and fuzzy feelings curl up dead as a winter leaf on a camp fire. "Nothing to say?"
Aharon glared back. The gracious host of yesterday's reunion fled from his face entirely. Left behind a snarl of bitter disgust, though Jai might guess that vehemence was self-directed. Probably wise he kept his mouth shut.
He slapped down the parchment from Winther's strongbox under Aharon's eyes. Jai braced for the shockwaves, but the guy didn't seem surprised at all. Likely first thing this morning the unconscious henchman left behind in Winther's office raised quite the alarm. If the Lord were sharp he likely knew exactly what was taken as soon as he saw the melted hinges on his strong box. If left to a bit of a loss as to the identity of the thief. At least, until the hat-wearing fellow could be roused. "Get into the office late today? Did he summon you or you just show up on your own?"
He shrugged. The details didn't matter. Then laid out the case against Aharon's involvement with Winther. The guy didn't even try to defend himself. The proof was in the math. And smeared all over Aharon’s face. ”You’ll not breathe a word of this when the drafter gets here. You do and I’ll take you to the Crown.”
Jai turned on the sound of someone coming in. The gentleman was thin as a reed with gaunt face. His notary instruments were in a cracked leather case clutched in gout-knobbed hands. He went about his work and didn't seem bothered in the least by the Asha'man's direction. Nor Aharon's near sick reaction to what he would be signing. That, or given how close he stooped over the high grade contract parchment under his nose, his eyes lost too much far sight to notice.
Jai's name never adorned the contract. Not even so much as a witness. All he did was dictate what it would read. With it, Aharon was going to make a sizeable contribution. Charitable. And anonymous, of course. Twenty thousand gold crowns, or fifty percent of his complete assets, whichever was the greater amount. Then take a nice vacation back to Tar Valon for a little reunion with the Kojimas. But first, he was to call the Board of Directors together for what was to be a disturbing and eye-opening confession concerning their honorable client, the Lord Matias Winther. And the resignation of one particular Chairman, of course. Unless the Board voted to terminate the position first.
Ah. Board rooms. Filled with curmudgeonly old men who worked their entire lives to gain the authority to win such powerful seats. Then once they get there, are too beset by experience to ever be rattled by the small things any more. Like finding out their institution was the filter for a client to funnel money back and forth across cities. Or that one of their own was embezzling. These guys didn't care that the man bringing it to their attention could turn them simultaneously into piles of pink, soft as the velvet curtains spanning their magnificent windows, for the sake of his own amusement. They didn’t care about Jai’s title. They only cared about his last name; that he was a member of their competition. And the reputation of their own secure facilities remained in tact. A business position Jai actually respected. He wouldn't press charges, and signed on behalf of the executive position he still held to such an end. A title if only in name. Zakar wouldn’t be pleased, but he could exact his own justice nonetheless. So long as they pursued legal action against Lord Winther and the matter taken all the way to the Crown. From there, it'd be left to royal negotiators to sort out the mess between their two institutions. And therefore not bringing this to the public's attention. One word to the right person and all security in their favor would be lost. And banks thrived or toppled on public interest.
Alright. Copies of the contracts went into the ledger holding the rest of his paperwork and Jai stuffed it all securely under one arm. He trusted the Bank would file legal action with the Crown by the end of the afternoon. Aharon, who just sat there without so much as raising a voice in his own defense, accompanied Jai back to Tar Valon after they shared a hearty lunch. One he generously paid for.
That just left one piece of business. If the White Tower was anything like the Black, Nythadri's mail would likely be searched, but he intended on finding a higher class courier than the last one he'd hired. Unlike his choice for Fate Sedai, there was no message behind this guy. In fact, the fellow had no idea who hired him at all. Only to deliver a well-padded, palm-sized box to one Accepted Nythadri Vanditera in person. Her brother's keepsake was sealed anonymously within.
All in a day's work. Though, to be fair: two day's work.
****** Tar Valon ******
Suffice to say, security working night shift at the Banking House with a certain surname chiseled above the entrance fresco was rather puzzled, more or less, as to how exactly what appeared to be a surprisingly calm, well-dressed and completely unarmed man came to be sitting inside the main foyer as though he appeared from inside. Although to be honest, he was sitting, but only because he was tied to a column, and he wasn't without any property. A satchel of some personal things was dropped on his lap. Perched atop like some impromptu lap desk lay a slick leather folio brimming with documents. Most curious of all was the parchment stuffed inside a script case clenched between the gentleman's teeth bound with a gag like a man biting down to endure some gruesome operation in the field. Upon discovery, security wisely read the note's contents before releasing the unusual guest from bondage. Delivery for Zakar Kojima, it read. As it took a significant amount of time to not only deliver such news to the Bank's general manager, the gentleman was looking rather irate by the time he arrived. More so that security who stood in guard over him did not pull the gag so he might mount a defense as they had released the note from his teeth.
Zakar arrived by carriage some time before dawn. His stride amid the gilding and marble magnificence was as sure as the sunrise over the ocean. He was as tall as any of his brothers, but being the eldest, he had a stature to him as though constantly waiting for something to go wrong that would require his attention to correct. Like many eldest sons, he was born into responsibility of his rank in the lineage, but he adopted that responsibility with absolute seriousness. If he recognized the handwriting summoning him at this unworldly hour, familiar only to soldiers with unfortunate watch duty or professions most active under cover of darkness, then he hid the recognition behind a thin lip and a frown.
It was not the sort of reunion with their former apprentice he intended given Aharon's original parting on good terms, but Zakar did not need to pour over the contents of the folio for long before sending the apparent thief to a secure location until it was decided what should be done with him.
It was one of those times of night when it was futile to return home only to about-face and march back to the office an hour later, so the immaculate Zakar ascended to his carved out penthouse, folio tucked under one arm, to watch the sun rise. He scrawled out a message first thing for his wife and children, apologizing for the abrupt departure. Likewise for the impending absence from his eldest daughter's debut concert singing at the Commerce Chamber's city breakfast this morning as it seemed an emergent situation would detain his arrival. The strict block lettering barely depicted his sincerity as his heart was struck with disappointment. He’d looked forward to this breakfast for some time. Ever since she first serenaded her parents and they realized her talent. She'd worn a yellow dressing gown and clutched a porcelain doll at the time. How she’d grown since then.
He poured over Jai's handiwork until mid-morning. Long after the patter of loafers shuffled up and down the hall outside his door. His early breakfast was well worn into pangs for lunch by then as well. His baby brother was nowhere actually credited with the chaos strewn across the crumpled sheafs, but Jai was more mathematician than accountant, although that was not what he would call himself, and accountants prefered bound, orderly, consecutive ledgers. Not random piles of papers that seemed to make no sense except to the mind that scrawled out the equations. Zakar recognized the patterns, and handwriting, immediately, of course. He'd been the one who sat over Jai's arithmetic when the boy was young enough to still be wobbly with his walking.
That night, he sent carpenters to his parent's estate to repair the damage inflicted in the recent confrontation with his Asha'man brother. The only message back was that nobody seemed to have any idea what became of the brother in question, although his wardrobe was emptied over the previous night despite the lack of disturbance at the front door. The only news of note was an honest plea from Jaslene Basinthe to protect the half finished portrait now hanging in the Kojima's gallery from destruction.
Only darkness shows you the light.