MACHIAVELLIAN

For @deshoneste

        “A mite of familiarity… though, your face and soul I’ve never been acquainted to before.” Shadows murmur. “I wonder why that is?” Steps are taken, some form of echo with heels tap, tap, tapping with each drawing step. Ah, it has been so long since last the atmosphere had been painted in such a way to comfortably conceal one as his species. A playful croon keeps company with him, his posture poised, lacking threat to spite the very nature of him. “Mind indulging me to your origin?” 

            It is almost recognition that sinks its teeth into him. Not quite though, shy of it by this bit of knowing or the other--fathoming just what it is that lies beyond that comely facade is not easily done in that split second of tapping heels and charming words. Some wiser part of him raises its hackles still in the company of what he knows is older, stranger. His smile, however, tells of nothing when he turns his bronzed face toward that crooning somebody stood suddenly close. “Familiar? Well, I certainly regret that I haven’t the pleasure of saying we’ve ever met...” Formalities and all. The chief sets his unfinished wine aside. “But then, I should like a name to put to a face that I would disclose any idea of an ‘origin’ with, if you’d be so kind?”

          “Very well, I thank you for your assistance in that case. It does relieve quite a bit of stress from musician’s nerves, in that case.” But no doubt at all, that even if they would found themselves lost without any accessible aid, there would be a multitude of people quite willing and eager to lead them around and back to ‘safety’ when only the request would be uttered in shy voices. A colourful troupe, amicable and attentive, but Jaron rather has himself knowing that they could find help if needed in a person of someone trusted. He would likely also introduce some of the older ones, to the man who just admits that he would be delighted upon visiting what normally finds itself off limits. 

          Nothing to mention right now, with eyes to follow those deft and distracted hands of Lilium’s own while thoughts rummaging around his mind would be brushed aside for just a breath longer. “Be free then, to simply announce your presence whenever you are around to whoever looks fitting to work for me.” Such a strange invitation - but no doubt, there were certain looks and visuals that hold no short reassurance that they were to be seen as those under the violinist’s care. “I do have a question, if I may.” Unfurling the knot inside the conductor’s thoughts. “Why is your country, aside from certain parts, open to our visit? I heard from colleagues of mine, that they had trouble to find invitation here before.”

             “You can rest assured that they will be in the most capable of hands, especially in a kingdom that aspires to peace and the safety of both its citizens and its visitors so greatly as ours.” The promise is easy and confident, as are the promises that always come from great powers and influences that wield some might to their name. Guests that are met by his country are guests that are met with the utmost respect--however charitable their kingdom would treat its visitors besides. Sunlight fans past him as he slips back into the silkier comfort of the shade behind his desk and laces his ringed fingers across the lap of his folded legs. The question asked is a simple one, perhaps one that ought to be expected of curious newcomers.

I have my sincerest doubts! Family is certainly prioritised above comrades without question, though even then it’s uncertain how much a dent in his selfishness that makes. His good qualities in the face of company on any less of a pedestal, however, are nearly entirely fabricated. He thinks nothing of twisting other people around his finger to repurpose them for his own ends, which is entirely what his front of affability and professionalism is meant to perpetuate in the people surrounding him. He dresses it up as camaraderie, but Lilium is certainly no-one’s comrade at the end of the day.

While he can be a charming and even seemingly agreeable, helpful presence, if he is going out of his way to befriend, guide or help another person beyond what is required of his call of duty, it is guaranteed to be in pursuit of something that will personally benefit him. Being loyal to no-one and nothing except his cause and his own district, he is not to be trusted and exhibits very few redeeming qualities in the presence of people besides.

               “If I’m to be frank, I smell a rat in our midst, Father Hiraga. The sudden infatuation with engineering of this sort is not unknown to me, though I never imagined its seduction would drive our nation to chaos like this. I have my guesses, but...” The gilded clock ticking overhead chips away at the silence that Lilium leaves behind in the shadow of his smooth voice. His tone is carefully measured, appearance groomed for business as usual, immaculate in his stand by the window stretching its endless shine from beyond his thin silhouette. The vase he inspects gleams full with the purity of flowers dressed all in white, fetching to the chief’s thoughtful eyes. There is another man in the room, called here for glorious purpose, that Lilium does not yet again turn to see. He swiftly shrugs the burden of quiet from his shoulders once the air warms with the rest of his declaration.

             “Cleaning up is a matter that is growing swiftly out the control of what humble forces we can currently employ, and the situation isn’t getting any prettier out there. You two are something of a legend though, I hear--people can’t give enough glowing reviews for your expertise. That is why we’ve brought you here to Badon.” His smile is cunning, but empty. It does not reach his hooded eyes and their questionable sincerity as they pan across the paler vision across from his desk, a finger tapping pensively at his chin before a palm leans down upon that wooden shine splitting them both apart.

❝ You are absolutely right, officer. In an organization like ours it’s important that things are as peaceful on the inside as we try to make them for the rest of Dowa. We’d just be terrible hypocrites if that wasn’t the case, don’t you think? And of course, the safety of an entire kingdom can’t rest on the hands of people that can’t even keep their act. That would be… Truly tragic. ❞ Once again there’s a different meaning in his words hidden behind what appeared to be concern, but he’s aware it’s no secret at all for his superior. It’s what the darker skinned man says next that makes him take a step back and think for a moment. That was a threat. That was definitely a threat and it shouldn’t be taken lightly, but sadly for him, Lilium isn’t wrong. His current situation is not favorable, he has to stay lower on the radar and away from danger as much as possible, if he wishes to stay safe and not have that happen to him again. ❝ Worry not, sir. Like I said, I do know my place. I’m just a sidekick, or a fly on the wall like you said. All I do is watch and report, nothing else. If something were ever to happen… I’m sure you’d be the first one to know. ❞

             “Hypocrisy would be only the slightest of our crimes, Agent. The squabbles of higher powers never end prettily--now, you know what kind of hand a strong influence can deal. They’re never pleasant business. Any man’s game can be folded at the blink of an eye. No, we wouldn’t want that getting out of hand. But now don’t trouble yourself, I told you--there’s nothing to fear, so long as we all pay our dues and stay in line like decent gentleman.” Though there’s hardly anything decent to the cloying suggestion of the chief’s honeyed spiel, full of implication, like his eyes that spark with a smug breed of contempt. The warning in his voice is pointed and keen as he leans near to make sure it sinks home. He smells retreat, and knows it when he sees it. Lilium chases after him with his words and with that same hand teasing boldly now at the collar of the agent’s shirt.

♤          And that newcomer, that shadow of a man shining in all sultry colours of wealth this very little world he came to visit, seems to strive and bathe in, was only so much here because work and profession command it. Because there are suitable ’affiliates’ to be found, but who was to say that he couldn’t simply waste a bit of time in the dawning hours of a dying day? It matters not quite that those around him had chimed to whispers and murmurs, and quiet exclamations of awe whenever money would change hands in that everlasting back and forth the young male all but controls { with an authority unmatched and unexpected for that juvenile age of his }. Not a single game lost in this tiresome arrangement of noises and lights and a grand casino that had all but shrunken down to the table Jura now does share with another few brave ones in the last rounds of a well-placed poker game.

♤           He’s a gambler { playing with more than just the discardable mass of funds in front of him }, smiling with the common mirth of someone knowing of upcoming win.

♤           Sleeves rolled up over sleek cut of forearm, fastened around his elbows to reveal hands, to reveal no hidden cards { they had demanded he do so after winning the last string of set bets }. To show how truly honest he would play, with cigarette in hand placed on shining green of prepared round-table. Gambling was a hobby { and how dangerous it all but was }. The cards before him turned around, placed hidden and invisible in no correct order that permits assumption upon fitting turn to be made, memorized them all, before a drag of toxic vice in between his fingers was taken anew, the ashes neatly discard in marble tray. This little world was interesting, entertaining { so many customs he did not know about } before eyes caught the stranger in mild tilt of his head and he all but smiles with the beckon of his head to come just a bit closer. “You seem quite out of place, dear Sir, just like myself. Care to join me for the game~?”

               And goodness only knows there are few men quite like this, and few men quite so eager to make themselves known when there are. Lilium does not lay eyes on a sight very much like this one every day, and almost never simply by chance. Stood at the head of the crowd like he is, there is a certain hum to his blood with the sense of the unknown that has wandered into his world all of a sudden, between bright lights and roaring voices and clattering dice that clink in the air. Though ths is simply not his game--he shuffles cards and pulls strings from the shadows with men that dance at his fingertips like the puppets they are. It’s so close to being ironic that he should gamble with his politics and yet not even once with cards and chips. It’s amusing all the same to watch a master of their own craft work wonders for an audience. It’s even more amusing to be summoned out of the many awed and unknown faces that shroud him on either side. The chief laughs. The sound chimes smoothly to the air as he saunters neatly toward this yet nameless someone with a wave of one thin hand in a simple, gracious dismissal. “Oh, well now, gambling I think is a practice better left up to craftier hands than mine. Not precisely my forte, you see.” There’s that taste of irony again. Those hooded eyes of his gleam with intent nevertheless in their patient wander to and fro on the stranger’s face. “Wouldn’t be particularly wise besides--to pit my wits against a man that’s making quite a name for himself with his talent at Yakkara’s tables, now, don’t you agree?”

              The rumour mill tonight is abundant with noise. And then again, Yakkara’s entirety is a district of noise upon noise, and vices in the delightful numbers beyond which Lilium even cares to count. The place is nothing like the quiet, floral resplendence of his home, or the lazy urban world of Badon he has left behind--but he sees there is true value, sometimes, in toeing the lines of more unfamiliar, more unvisited lands. He stands out here, and doesn’t mind a bit that he looks quaintly unfitting for a city of neon lights and loud voices and endless rolls of the dice--it sounds to him like there’s someone else in and amongst the unseen crowds that stands out even more, all of a sudden.

❝ I’m more than glad we’re on the same page, then. You know… ACCA would be certainly done for, if it started to crumble down from the inside. Trust is our best ally here, specially in the sort of situation we’re currently caught on. ❞ He was avoiding the officer’s eyes at first  –  there’s only so many lies he can say with a straight face. But for the second part, he aimed for direct eye contact. He was convinced his message would be more efficiently delivered that way.

❝ No, no… I’m not humble nor valiant. It’s more the other thing you just said… Being aware of my place. I’m nothing but a quiet observer. I’m neither hero nor villain. Though in this one story… I have a rather close relationship with both. Kind of shameful that the three of us work in the same organization. ❞ He might have talked to much… But it’s too late to take it back now.  ❝ Like I said before. Trust is important. Things would be better if there was more… ❞

                “Ah, quite right, dear Agent Crow. There is no breed of safety quite as sterling as a unanimous trust, especially for a company like our precious ACCA. We are an advocate for peace, after all; I would so hate for it be threatened by untoward behaviour.” Their eyes meet, a fiery approximation of a stare no matter the deceiving tenderness of the officer’s eyes that lie with their conceited, sleepy softness, no matter the smile that warps his mouth very nearly to a grin. He inches forward in long, easy strides that click across the polished floors with deliberating intent.