Let's Work This Out by Talking

“Oh these are lovely,” the Mayor Hardstone peered into the box Pivoine offered.

“Yes, they are an Amber Island Specialty,” Pivoine said with a smile, “We have very close access to pastries from Minstral, and a number of Minstral-trained pastry specialists do work at the guild Mess Hall.”

Mayor Hardstone’s lips formed a thin frown. A bribe?

“Please, this is just a souvenir. After all, you are playing the part of the host and providing my room and board. This is just a display of politeness and sincerity,” Pivoine clarified.

Hardstone continued to frown, but accepted the box of sweets. It took Pivoine two weeks to discover the mayor’s sweet tooth—and wouldn’t have even known if she hadn’t gone asking around the local stores in Cedar. It was fortuitous that she’d taken the detour to Cedar after her last job. And Pivoine was thankful that Ambassador Johann accepted her request to spend a few days in Cedar to gather information. Otherwise that would have cut into her pocketbook quite a bit. That said, a week spent on what was ostensibly a ‘vacation’ was pushing it quite a bit.

“Let’s skip the formalities, Miss--”

“Corbeau. My name is Pivoine Corbeau,” Pivoine continued to smile, using nearly all of her willpower to avoid fidgeting during the conversation.

“Miss Corbeau,” Mayor Hardstone repeated, “I’ll be blunt. Dies Irae’s reputation leaves a lot to be desired.”

Pivoine nodded, listening intently as Mayor Hardstone listed off her issues, and various rumors, about the guild. If she thought about it, Pivoine could dismiss a number of the rumors out of hand, they simply weren’t correct. That was the issue with Fiore Politicians to some extent, there was no responsibility on their part to actually make factual statements. In the motherland, Pivione recalled that stating things like that could be considered manipulation of the public for personal ends—and that could end with one of your fingers cut off and a jail sentence.

“Ah, the incident you’re referring to—I thought this might come up,” Pivoine said, pulling a few files of paper out of her bag.

“I brought the official records—these copies are for you. But, I think you’ll find that Mr. Blanc’s worries are grossly exaggerated, Mayor.”

Mayor Hardstone flicked out a pair of reading glasses, perusing the reports as soon as they were in hand. Well, the reports certainly appeared to be in order. They had all the right stamps and signatures, at least. Hardstone took her time to read carefully. It didn’t matter if she kept Pivoine waiting, because any impatience may as well be a sign that Dies Irae lacked the right sort of people to send on a job such as this. And that would only speak volumes about just the sort of people that populated Dies Irae.

To her credit, Pivoine remained quiet and patient—at least on the outside—as Mayor Hardstone read through each report. That much was a small victory. If the Mayor was willing to give her time and attention to the reports, then they at least had their foot in the door. Mr. Blanc might have been a powerful politician, but he had a certain reputation himself for sensationalism. Most leaders with any experience could at least guess that Mr. Blanc was exaggerating at any given situation—and that anything he spoke of was likely more complex, less cinematic, or both, than he lead others to believe.

Mayor Hardstone sighed and took off her reading glasses after finishing the reports Pivoine gave her.

“It seems I let Mr. Blanc’s exaggerations cloud my judgment, at least about these particular incidents,” she admitted.

The Mayor steepled her fingers together on her desk. Pivoine had at least debunked the worst of the rumors surrounding Dies Irae though proper paperwork and investigation. It turned out most of that was rumor-mongering—and possibly Mr. Blanc’s nervousness about his connections to a few corrupt individuals within the government. It made sense that he would want to keep Dies Irae from getting any further contacts that could help them investigate him. It did make Mayor Hardstone wonder.

“And what opinions does Dies Irae have on some of the recent council positions?” Mayor Hardstone asked.

Ah, there it was.

“Within the current leadership of our guild, we consider ourselves a force against dark mages first and foremost. The point of Dies Irae is for a force to exist that has the ability to strike against criminal mages. The origin of those mages is irrelevant,” Pivoine said with a steady tone.

“If some unfortunate information comes to light regarding some...individuals in high places, we cannot consider ourselves associated with them and must act against them. We are, above all else, a force for the greater good and not a private army for any single or small number of individuals,” Pivoine poured herself another cup of tea, then made a motion towards Hardstone.

The Mayor paused, but pushed her cup forward with the very tips of her fingers.

“If you have concerns about certain eccentric individuals, we can allow you the privilege of interviewing and selecting each guild member that serves here. It would take up more of your time. But, it could also grant you greater peace of mind,” Pivoine offered.

Hardstone paused, pressing her fingers together once more as Pivoine poured her a cup of tea.

“And I would be granted assignment records for these guild members before the interview?” Hardstone asked.

Now that would be the general decision-maker. It was a test of pride. Some guilds considered themselves above the law, and wouldn’t deign for a mere mayor to access any records on their members.

“Naturally. But, we may not have extensive records on guild members from their time before entering Dies Irae. Some, like myself, are foreigners to Fiore and our nations might not be able to provide detailed reports. I hope you will be able to understand this inconvenience,” Pivoine smiled.

The Mayor cleared her throat with a few coughs. She hadn’t expected that answer.

“Thank you, Miss Corbeau. This has been a most enlightening meeting. I will send my response within the fortnight,” She said.

“It has been my pleasure,” Pivione answered, then curtseyed, and left.