Private the First Rung

[Volter]

Down the street at a brisk step went a man. He had to thank the cold weather for how appropriate it made a hitched up pace, for he would’ve rather died than been caught in public actually hurrying.

But he was hurrying, undoubtedly. Had the high collar of his overcoat and the wrap about the lower half of his face not covered the tightly pressed line of his mouth, it might’ve been all the more evident. He’d misremembered how far the coffee house was from the office, the blocks seeming to go on forever as they did once one realized having reserved a little too tight of a schedule for traversing a distance. If only he hadn’t gotten caught by his mouth as he was leaving, hovering about the doorframe as Miss Doris told of her cat’s birthday party or something. Or was it a boyfriend’s— Who would name their actual kid Jeremy—

But then again, himself had been given two first names. Proper unnecessary that, though where he was from the second was generally in honour to the father or grandfather. Being the second son, he’d inherited from the latter.

Not much else, but in that he could call himself lucky. There were worse things than nothing to gain by inheritance; debts, grudges, destitution. He’d seen the accounts of such people, kept them even as long as he got paid. When they no longer could, and his was the privilege to known, that would’ve been the end of it. And his freedom to forget.

At the end of the street, a familiar sign next to a decorated door loomed. A fourfaced clockpost kept the time, ticking on like so many of the shroudworks about the city. Well, would you look at that — He allowed himself to slow down just so, as it wouldn’t have been faithful to his habit nor dignity to arrive early. A little late, sure, but on the dot was most preferable wasn’t it.

He turned at the steps. instantly collided with someone who exited just as he entered, strafed wherein they brushed shoulders anyway, both launching to the ceremonial mutters of apologies all the while he hung onto the doorhandle. Not a terribly graceful affair, all borne of poor choices, but wasn’t that the theme of the day now.

Drawing breath wearily, he hooked an index into his scarf and pulled it loose, advancing into the warm space. Catching sigh of whom he sought, already sat across the room and yet so recognizable, he approached expressionlessly.

“ Young Lord Cartegena. “ He greeted, adjusting the spectacles he only now realized had fallen askew on his face, and planted his coat on the back of the seat across from the man.

“ It has been a while. Last we beheld each other you were in the immediate company of your father and much less inclined to speak business, rather diminutive in stature and vocabulary as you were. “ And time has definitely treated us both a certain way since then.

“ How fares your family? “

 

[Cardinale Cartegeña]

The Viscount arrived not more than fifteen minutes ago. Business nearby saw him earlier to his appointment than anticipated and that was seemingly to Cardinale's benefit. The reasons being twofold. First, it was generally considered against etiquette to keep a noble waiting. This could potentially provide him leverage in the dealings to come. The Viscount, however, expected the advantage gained in this particular instance to be minimal or entirely non-existent. More importantly, he was given further time to collect himself.

It was an especially cold day and that meant his...ailment was acting up. Those damnable barbarians still sought to trouble his every waking moment with this spiteful curse. As if dealing with the frigid weather wasn't bad enough. He'd leaned heavy on his cane when entering the shop, not that any of the patrons would've noticed.

Pain subsided to a dull ache by the time his guest arrived. As the spectacled man took his seat, the noble tapped his cane once with a low but audible clack. The shop's remaining patrons, including the staff, all stood up and left. Cardinale was fine to leave them to their business to this point but this particular dance was only for two.

"It has indeed been some time, I'm glad to see you doing well." The noble's expression remained impassive at the mention of his father; a man whose uselessness was second only to Cardinale's grandsire. The scion limped back from the north to find their family title demoted but also with news of his father's death. A silver lining if there ever was one. It had been a few years since then but Cardinale took every opportunity to curse the man's name.

"Those barbarians failed to kill me but sometimes I wonder if my siblings antics will finish the job." A small but genuine smile touched the corner of his lips, disappearing as quickly as it came. "And you, Sir Volter, are you still seeking to elevate the finer arts?"

 

[Volter]

Doing well? He almost spluttered, composing himself in the nick of time to elicit but a little grunt at the remark. His look rowed about the departing people, lightly dismayed at the realization he’d not be getting any service here today. Surely the business could’ve waited until — No matter. He was a capable man, was he not.

“ Anyone with siblings, am sure, wonders such a thing on occasion. “ Tapping the back of his seat decisively he unmoored from it towards the little counter at the end of the room, mirroring the young man’s smile with a blatantly fabricated one of his own. All manners and no feeling.

“ I may be. “ He responded on his way, marching through the little partition gate that’d been left open and seizing charge of the professional stove hugging the wall. Set on a squat trivet on top of it was a copper pot, which he took by the handle and shook on instinct. It gave a heavy slosh, inspiring him to peek beneath the lid.

“ Suppose it doesn’t hurt to admit — I was on the market for some property a time ago in the Theater District, as per my plan to perhaps host some production, but that option has since revealed its true nature to me. “ He put the pot down carefully and turned, beginning his methodical hunt about the shelves and cabinets for proper porcelain.

“ Impractical, as for the fire hazards and other disproportionate expenses. “ Popular area — crammed, even. And the aging construction, with most previous advancements just piled on top like icing on an already bloated cake.

It was, naturally, beyond him to admit the real impracticality in the whole ordeal was its price range. Astronomical, in relation to what the money would’ve got any which one. Perhaps he wasn’t a real artist, lacking the inclination to accept whatever trite asceticism he’d afford to suffer in.

“ Why do you ask? Are you looking to patronize the field, as is the wont often belongst to your estate? “ He spoke past his shoulder, inspecting another painted cup past his spectacles. Deciding it’d suffice, he put it down on the counter next to its twin.

“ Coffee, Lord Cartegeña? “

Without waiting for answer, he’d already begun pouring from the pot.

 

[Cardinale Cartegeña]

"Much obliged." The noble raised his now full cup in toast. He took a sip and found the blend to be more than respectable. Cardinale oft frequented this cafe whenever he stayed within the capital and thus quality was to be expected. "Well, should your plans ever fall through it would seem you have another vocation," he added with a sarcastic smile.

He allowed himself to mull over the other man's words as he enjoyed his brew. The dull ache in his leg seemed to fade with this accompanying peace. Too often was he hounded with matters of moment. Another stark reminder that much work was still left to be done at Bloodroost. Cardinale would never allow complacency, yet even he deserved a respite.

"It's as you've guessed. I very much find it a great shame that the people are deprived of true art due to mere...fiscal constraints." The noble's tone was hardly impassioned yet not entirely devoid of feeling. There was an importance here, though obfuscated.

Cardinale leveled his gaze at the sometime playwright. "As you've stated, it is often the whim of the noble estate to patronize the arts. I surely cannot have been the first to approach you."

 

[Volter]

Though he’d glanced at the bounty of savoury and sweet items in the displays, he’d elected to having none. With the young Lord properly served up, himself also finally took a seat at their shared table, indicating in not so much as a glance that he was indeed listening all the while. It was pretty much expected, despite his hassling with the drape of any which part of his attire and then his glasses that’d fogged up twice over. He’d only blotted them briefly earlier, but took now the time to properly wipe them down. A little square of orange cloth on crystal, rise of a hand checking the result against the dim indoor lights.

Atmospheric lighting. What did they call it— cozy? A bloody menace.

“ Perhaps not. But a man has his standards. “ And unnapproachabilities. Placing the spectacles back on the bridge of his nose, he spoke unaffected. Whatever those mentioned standards were usually fell upon a whim. I’ll know it when I see it.

“ As does nobility their inclinations — “ He paused to consider then, tasting his dark drink. The cup landed in a pointed click, decisive. “ Let us assume your good self would be of interest to me on a venture — Say— Some publication wherein arts be discussed, even exhibited. “ Culture. More or less. There’s names there to be mentioned, in the margins.

“ Your reputation as it is grants you much movement, yet. Yours to shape. “ And no risk to me, no assumed ulterior motive beyond that of all nobles. “ But what is my small pursuit to you? Surely, not just some wanton favour for old acquaintance’s sake. “

Though he did not smile, there was a hint of one in his tone. Out with it.

 

[Cardinale Cartegeña]

A rare grin crossed the noble' visage. "Such casual dismissal of pretense, this is why I find our conversations to be quite enjoyable."

The playwright was no fool, well, not in these matters at least. There was nothing given without something eventually being taken. That relationship was ever asymmetrical when it came to the nobility and others. Cardinale leveraged that disparity when necessary but such foundations were strained, uncertain, and altogether unstable. Sufficient for the moment yet not for the future. Mutual assurance while harder to attain was much more valuable investment.

"Your small pursuits have value to the populace, noble and commoner alike. Which means they have value to me. That is all I'm interested in, I'd not impinge nor stifle your creative liberties." For now. "Those in the capital simply must come to know that House Cartegena has a good eye."

Cardinale's ambitions soared the everblue skies same as any other scion yet he'd the benefit of temperance. Nearly losing a leg instilled patience, or the opposite as was the case for Baron Suicele. Too desperate to redeem his honor and now his house only remained in memory.

"I shall speak with similar candor, what is it that you require to see your vision whole?"