#monetarist

Rosette stood in front of the full length mirror, smoothing the midnight blue silk across her abdomen and hips. She turned to the right, checking her side profile and then did the same for the other side. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, twisted up in a knot at the base of her skull with ebony ringlets falling from it.

She carefully adjusted one that fell in her face, her kohled cerulean eyes following her movements in the mirror. She took a deep breath and began to pull on the white silk gloves that went with it. It was an important night: she had to gather as much information as she possibly could about the business partner Alistair was working with now - both of them taking aim at her.

She had a part to play, people to flirt with and palms to grease. She hated doing this and, at this point, she was grateful that Landon was away. She would be incredibly tempted to bring him with her, to fend off the appraising looks and the salacious leers. Like she was a prize to win, a ripe peach to pick from a tree to add to their fruit bowl.

Her high heeled shoes resounded against the stone path leading up to her home, reaching for her keys to let herself in. She let out a gust of a sigh, just wanting to sink into a hot bath with a glass of scotch and a cigarette to soak away the two weeks worth of stress that had built in her. It had just been insane with the amount of negotiating she had been having to do for contracts and to replace the amount of income she had been earning versus what she had lost from the contract in Ala Mhigo. Her brother had gotten wind that she was in Gridania and had been asking about Myrriah...and she still had the bruises from that confrontation on her arms and back.

Nearly a half dozen times she felt she had been watched in her travels or was being followed. She had taken multiple different ways home -- even tonight, she had taken the long way. A ward over was when the watchful, malevolent presence had disappeared and she still couldn’t pin point whom nor where it was coming from. She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, considering she hadn’t seen enough of her friends lately to tell them.

Arik was in and out, busy with handling Vanguard missions and personal business. Saphyra was absent, off in the wilds of the Black Shroud and doing whatever it was that she did. She knew Emeline had enough of her own problems to handle at the moment and she seemed far to absorbed into whatever issues she and Jun were having to even broach. Mafrea seemed to be as embezzled in whatever was happening with Jun as well. The last thing he needed was yet another problem laid at his feet.

There was no need to hit the hornet’s nest, especially when they were already swarming over another crisis. She would handle her shit, as she always did. Rosette opened the door to her home and stood in the doorway, eyes widening and her mouth dropping open.

It looks like a hurricane had hit her apartment. Everything was upturned and tossed around, items broken and shard of glass all over the floor. The lights were out, only the light from the setting sun seeping in through the windows. She walked inward in a daze, looking at the broken furniture and drawers overturned on the floor. Her dining table was broken, her chairs and couches flipped, her plates were broken and shattered on the floor in the open kitchen. She winced as a glass shard pierced the bottom of her sandals and she looked down, seeing the vase shards and flower petals beneath her feet. She pulled out the shard and started down the stairs to her living area. 

Once more, books were scattered everywhere and shards of glass from her fish tank were on the ground. The fish lay dead on the soaked carpet where they had fallen, bottles of liquor and wine smashed on the floor. Her bookshelves were emptied, her desk flipped and drawers rifled through. A quick peek into her bedroom and bath saw her clothes strewn everywhere and feathers all over the place from her down pillows. Her make up was scattered, mirror cracked, and plants ripped to shreds.

She reached down, picking up the now headless stuffed Namazu she had kept on her bedside table from where it had been tossed. She hugged it to her chest and turned, speechless as she slowly sank to the floor in middle of the living room. Confusion, fear, and the feeling of being exposed ripped through her. 

Rosette sunk down into her chair and sipped her bourbon, embracing the burn as the amber liquid went down. Her head rested back against the tall chair as she examined the shipping manifest, eyes half-closed from exhaustion.

It wasn’t adding up. There was a pattern here that she just wasn’t seeing. She knew that the Tradewinds Company was smuggling - she knew that they had mercenaries hitting randomly on the trade routes through Thanalan. She just didn’t have the evidence to pin them down.

She spread out the manifests from the company’s most recent shipments, staring at them until the words blurred. Her brain was disconnecting from the task at hand, her mind wandering to the frustrating amount of gil that she had to use to grease the palms of the dockmaster...

Like a crossword puzzle, a word came into focus on the paper. She straightened, looking at the manifest and every other letter. Grabbing her quill, she began to cross out words, letters, and numbers.

Nearly three hours later, she grinned as she looked over the manifests and all the markings on them. Pride surged through her: she cracked the bastard’s code.

Inside of the Gold Saucer at the Manderville Tables, an exclusive meeting between the progressive Monetarist and mercantile investor, Padama Padma, and the progressive Reformist, Corrina de Haillenarte, takes form in discussion of future investment plans…

“It is little wonder why you wish an audience with Lord Lolorito. He was the first of his ilk to seek the shores of other nations for opportunity, you know?” The pampered Lalafellin woman stands upon her stool at the tables, her fan waving the heated air of the Gold Saucer away from her painted features. Richness oozes off of her countenance, from the bejeweled earrings to the pearl necklace that hangs off of her dainty throat – captivating the attentions of all who were near. “If the Jolly Raptor hadn’t signed along with the East Aldenard Trading Company, why we’d never grow from a humble shop to the organization we have become.”

The Elezen offers a gentle laugh from her end, her tall splendor draped in black and gold to allow for her old, Noble wealth to speak for her before words ever formed. It is not her normal garb, but it is what is selected tonight – for money lured money, and power emanated from those who wore it boldly upon their person. She nurses a crystallized glass of brandy, her eyes watching the tables as bets are formulated between other, wealthy patrons of the gathering and gil is won and lost in ample heaps.

“Ul’dah has taken the charge in broadening their investments far from Eorzean shores. I commend you,” the Haillenarte compliments with a raise of her glass. “It is no secret as to why I wish to work with one who has built their company from the ground up and expanded it to such heights. There is a market in Kugane that I seek to tap into, and I’ve a diverse array of businesses that can add to the East Aldenard Trading Company’s portfolio.”

“Yes, but are you able to really contribute to Lord Lolorito’s overall vision for Ul’dah as well?” That’s a question that comes with a pleasant arch of the Padma’s brow. She scrutinizes the Elezen’s response, a tentative tone taking over her tongue. “We understand your position as House Seat and a member of one of the Founding Families brings you quite close to your Parliament’s Head.”

Ah, and there it is, Corrina thinks to herself as cheers erupt around the table. One of the patrons has won a particularly large gamble, the gold Saucer point chips raining down upon him in a glorious wave. The eyes of Corrina meets with the eyes of Padama, and there’s a whisper that glides between the two. It is an unspoken understanding that isn’t lost in the roaring praise. The challenge that had been set in stone between them spoke just as stark as the one that had been made in the House when she’d join the Lords for the first time and met the divisive line down the middle. The Traditionalists versus the Reformists. Only, in this case, it was the Royalists versus the Monetarists.