#hilaremont silmontaix

Prompt 29: Debonair

Hilaremont sat in waiting, book in hand and a rather mundane looking walking cane by his side. Feeling much better than he had been he did a much needed outing for some fresh air and also personal matters. He was mending well and despite still a broken leg, he was exceeding mobile despite doctors orders.

This was a more frivolous sort of business but required in his mind all the same. Plus in needing a walking device, he realized he had taken for granted how actually long it took to move across Ishgard. There were other means indeed, but sometimes you need to simply walk the streets.

“I am near done if you would like to do a final check to see if it is to your liking.” Hilaremont’s book closed quickly as he was somewhat excited for this purchase, and gets to his feet. “Ser, please let us bring it to you. You are in need, I simply make the items.”

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth he nods before glazing back at the door. “I trust discretion is in order.” Statement rather than question. With a nod the craftsman produces a beautiful dark hazel wood walking cane. The wood finely lacquered to protect and enhance the natural beauty of the wood coloration. The head of the cane is what required the discretion. The bust of a dragon made from hardsilver, attached at the top. Green shimmering diaspore in place of the eyes, bearing a resemblance to he and his children.

“Excellent. I assure you none shall know who crafted such a piece for fear of targeting.”

“Thank you Ser. As a shown of thanks, I present this.” A second cane similar to the first one is given, just without the dragons head and bust.

“Wonderful. Your discretion is only outdone by your talents.” Producing payment he sets it down and with a quick bow, he walks out with the dragon head cane still wrapped and using the discreet one. He walked with pride and joy with his new items, taking pleasure in the fact he needed a cane, and now he has one which suits his style and charm. Devout be damned, he cannot wait to take it to church.

Prompt 25: Silver Lining

Hilaremont sat up in the bed he was recovering in. Sore, bandaged and unable to walk as his leg was broken, at least he was in the relative comfort of a house he was proprietor of. Plus hospitals and chirurgeons may ask questions he would not answer and that’s no way to spend a recovery.

Elphanse had yet to awaken, her injuries less severe but her massive expenditure with the portals and barrier left her in a more precarious position in her recovery. Despite this, the care they received was top notch and while there was some worry, he was confident all would be well in the end.

One thing which was not well was Hilaremont’s need to be up and moving. Staring at his broken leg he called to a nurse to see if there is anything that could be done about getting him mobile. At least around the house. While instructed bedrest was his best option, he retorted with a ludicrous amount of money and promise of a vacation to where ever she wanted, as long as she could get him out of this bed.

A wheelchair was out of the question as the halls weren’t friendly to such a device and he assured her a cane would suffice. Finding a suitable one for him was simple and while at first he was reluctant to accept help in getting up, he realized he needed it. He didn’t feel like a man in his 60’s until a house comes crashing down over him. Getting used to shifting his weight properly was a bit more frustrating than it perhaps should have been, but Hilaremont has endured worse than learning to walk with a cane. Finally mobile on his own he huffed a sigh of relief when he was able to leave the room. Part of recovery is mental well being as well. Passing by a room, he caught his reflection in a mirror and stopped. Still bandaged, and in nothing fashionable, he found himself staring at his reflection and how he stood.

“Son of a bitch, why do I like how this looks?” He always seemed to fit in with a younger crowd, his peers of similar age looking down on him for his actions, the company he kept, etc. He was not young anymore and knew this. And looking at himself with a cane, he found the look something he could appreciate. “I will have to find one which is more suited to me though.” He smirks and continues to hobble down the hallway.

Prompt 18: Devils Advocate

Hilaremont sat across from a older man, older to him by many turn. Lord Silmontaix would have to be on point for this conversation. His younger colleagues and targets were easy pickings in comparison. This would be an actual challenge. And nearly the entire discussion, Hilaremont was on the defensive.

“So you believe your establishment should allow employees to run their own schedules and act freely. How do you get them to work without risk of them escaping? Or worse, pulling back the velvet curtain you so painstakingly fashioned?” Lord Cleabert sipped his tea, tea he brought himself. He knows Hilaremont’s game.

“If we treat them as products and not people they have no respect for us, and in turn no respect for the craft, the profession and ultimately the client.” Hilaremont sipped his own tea. Tea he already had here. Can’t have a tea house front without actual quality tea.

“Not to discredit the profession, but-” He peers around the room before leaning in, his old bones almost creaking like the chair. “-the women are here for the clients enjoyment. Not for-”

“If you enjoy your work and those you work for, performance is vastly improved.” Hilaremont cut Cleabert off and stared firmly at him. Yes this was a Courtesan establishment. Lewd and lascivious acts done by women, and men. Hilaremont knew the clientele. But that said, he still actually cared for those under his employ.

“Mind yourself Hilaremont. You care too deeply, you’ll feel the hurt when it all falls apart.” Lord Cleabert smirked and finished his tea, setting it down and tapping his cup, looking expectantly.

“At least I know I will have felt something for my fellow countrymen, no matter their place and role in this world.” He stands up abruptly and staggers as soon as he is upright, clutching his head and stumbling onto the table.

“Get ahold of yourself man. That whole ‘care too much’ seems to have taken its toll on you.” A smug look and another tap of his teacup. He was making sure Hilaremont knew his place.

Exhaling shakily, he nearly shot a glare at the insufferable prick of his 'guest’. Standing upright, he lifted the teapot, and with proper etiquette poured a new cup of tea with one pot and set it down, taking the second pot of tea and pouring one for himself. Two separate tea pots.

“Better to care too much than not at all.” He slid a small pouch from his coat, and poured the powder from it into his tea, stirring it. Lord Cleabert watched on smirking and sipping his tea.

“Medicine for your dizzy spell?” Cleabert chortled and sipped again.

Hilaremont tried not to be too hasty to drink his tea, but he did empty the cup in a mere few sips, before exhaling slowly. “Antidote.” He cleared his throat and pulled a handkerchief from his coat and wiped his brow as Cleabert eyed him and then his tea. “It cost me quite alot coin to procure your favorite tea. But no price is too steep when you care as deeply as I do.”

“You son of a bitch.” He glares from his seat and extends his hand. “You will give me that antodote right now. Should I fall here my sons will have your head.”

Hilaremont looked down at Cleabert and handed him a parchment. Looking between the two he opens it and color drains from his face. “Your sons should hide contraband better. Thankfully they’re much more careless then you. Will be a shame to lose the last powerful leader of a once powerful hpuse. Worry not, I will show everyone under your employ what caring looks like.”

Cleabert tries to stand but being much older and in worse health, the poison hits him much harder. “You poisoned yourself… to trick me… Amazing. I almost… feel honored. Know I… think highly… of you… in this moment.”

Hilaremont takes the parchments back from him and doesn’t even look at him. “I don’t think of you at all. May your memory die with you.” Taking steps out of the room, he tears a page from a book and crumples it up and places it in an ashtray. “So sad, appears age finally caught up to you.” Taking a candle and placing the flame to the paper, he torches it and returns the candle before exiting.

Prompt 14: Commend

“You truly are my daughter, Elphanse,” he finally said.

The embrace from his daughter was welcome. And in that moment he had come to realize how few ane far between they had been. There was no doubt he loved Faustine and mourned her passing, but the rift in the family had begun to close and the similarities between father and daughter were far more than either had realized.

“Elphanse…” He pulls a book, the same one with various family names in it and took one, a specific one out. “It’s purely a personal symbolic act, but it’s one which instills a sense of wrongs finally done right against those who consider our house weak or irrelevant. Please, when all is said and done, I leave the symbolic burning of another of the enemies of our House removed, to you.” Handing her a page with various names they both know painfully well, their House Arms and name, House Lemmieux.

“Mayhap it add an additional sense of closure you yearn for as well.” He reaches out and embraces his daughter once again and places a fatherly kiss upon her brow.

@eaotheelfmentioned