The Romancer Opalbane
Episode Twelve: Myrielle finds her kitty in a cathouse
Benactus did not say a word to either man until he had seen to Opalbane getting dressed properly and back into her room safely. He sent a Cathedral Guard to stand in front of her door and warned the novice priestesses to be on guard. Then, he met Faltheriel and Alessandre in his office.
"Opalbane had a bodyguard and you didn't tell me?" Faltheriel flared.
Alessandre was surprised that Benactus had kept it to himself too. He wasn't surprised that Faltheriel had read his mind while they were waiting for Benactus. The whole time they were alone, Alessandre kept trying to think of something simple like sheep, but the strange Elf had gotten through anyway.
Benactus motioned for Faltheriel to calm down. "I've been busy." Benactus lied and then said, "Besides, Alessandre is on our side, so there's nothing to worry about."
"You mean–"
"I want to make sure that Opalbane stays safe from her enemies in Stormwind. I was assigned to do so by Master Rogue Shadowstep of the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus." Alessandre rattled off quickly before Faltheriel could do something stupid and reveal his connection to Benactus. It was a connection that Benactus already knew Alessandre was aware of, but if Faltheriel learned that too, it would make it too obvious who had been spying on them in this very room earlier in the week. Being a spy meant that sometimes, you had to manipulate information from both sides.
"But I don't trust you anymore, Alessandre."
Alessandre balked. He got up from his chair immediately, but Benactus shot him a dangerous look that made him want to sit back down.
"You lied to me. You told me that Opalbane went missing when you had the true information about her. How else could you have spent all day with her like that? Thank goodness I alerted some of the priests here. A young man I knew well said he'd do anything to help me, and spent all day searching Stormwind on my behalf."
"What's his name?" Alessandre calmly asked, as if it didn't mean anything.
"Why would he tell you?" Faltheriel challenged in his superior tone. Alessandre grimaced. He hoped that Faltheriel wasn't bitter about being turned down after he asked Alessandre on a date. Which, by the way, Alessandre was glad for, because though good-looking, Faltheriel was really very annoying. Faltheriel wasn't even worth it by male Elf standards.
"Thank you for coming to my defense, Faltheriel, but I can handle this myself." Benactus raised a hand for silence. "Alessandre, please tell me what really happened this morning, before I make up my mind about you."
"What in the hell does that mean? I work for Darnassus, remember? You can't fire me."
Benactus sighed. "No, but I refuse to believe that I can't at least have you replaced if I think you are toying with Opalbane's honor. I don't think her foster mother would approve of that, and I do care about what her family thinks."
"He tried to sleep with her! Oh, he must be replaced, indeed. Get a woman rogue from Darnassus!" Faltheriel eagerly put in.
Alessandre wanted to kill that brown-nosing, can't-take-rejection-like-a-man Blood Elf.
"It's not like that, gentlemen." Alessandre tried to explain. A thousand different lies flew through his head, but it occurred to him that neither priest would be fooled by a lie. He had to tell the truth. Alessandre felt like he was in a Darnassian trial, with two priests breathing down his neck. "The truth is that Opalbane likes me. In fact she's in love with me."
"Is that because you broke into her room on the Eve of Winter's Veil and slept with her? Is our Opalbane still a virgin?" Benactus' tone got threatening and Faltheriel looked astounded. He hadn't know about any of this. It was interesting that they kept so many secrets from each other, yet they were supposed to be cohorts, Alessandre realized.
"No. I didn't sleep with her."
"My novices tell me that you are in her room at other times as well, though they don't see you come in."
Alessandre hesitated before answering. "That's not true."
"Forget about that for a moment, Alessandre." Benactus folded his hands over papers on his desk and leaned forward. "What is really important here is that you ran off with my Opalbane. You weren't holding her for her own protection, or fighting off her attackers during all those unaccounted for hours. My man tells me that you were groping her in a Tavern in the Trade District. The scene he described to me..." and Benactus grimaced as he recalled it. Faltheriel read Benactus' mind and scowled too. "Was not decent. And I don't think you are fit for this assignment. In fact, you have been pursuing her maidenhead so slyly, I think you've been baiting her all this time. You planned her disappearance today. Am I right?"
Benactus was especially frightening when he played father to Opalbane.
"No... her letters were from friends that were giving her romantic advice. It might sound silly, but Opalbane actually loves me," Alessandre couldn't help smiling as he said it. "And she felt unsure of herself. But the friends who tried to help her were dead wrong. They are the ones who told her to run off to the Trade District, to buy me chocolate and wear that black dress. I could have never convinced her to–"
"Who are these friends?"
"Willypearl, a human mage living just outside Stormwind, and a Kaldorei rogue named Wisthera."
"And they told her to do this in these exact terms? Can you show me where she's being instructed in the letters?"
The letters were not that specific, nor could Alessandre risk revealing anything about his past to these men, especially Faltheriel. Faltheriel was pouting at Alessandre at the moment.
"I can't."
"Let me correct you, rogue. You won't, because the letters do not exist. Her actual correspondence says nothing of the sort."
Alessandre stammered, reaching for what to say, but he couldn't think of anything. For once in his life, he'd told the truth, and this is where it got him?
Alessandre sat back down, stymied. This was all happening too fast.
"Oh, don't bother getting comfortable Alessandre. I want you out of here."
"What?"
"Tonight, I am going to assemble the evidence I have against you and demand that Darnassus send a replacement if they want to avoid an international incident. As usual in these circumstances, a copy will be sent to High Priestess Tyrande as well as Master Rogue Shadowstep and Opalbane's foster mother Priestess Feathershine."
Alessandre left off being surprised when he realized whom he was dealing with. Benactus had him fooled. He'd had everyone fooled. The old priest let on that he was weak and helpless to defend himself against Alessandre, but really he was just biding his time until he had more evidence against the rogue than a brief, and perhaps mistaken glance of the naked Alessandre lying on Opalbane's bed on the morning of Winter's Veil. Faltheriel gazed at his supposed mentor with exaggerated adoration.
Alessandre briefly considered killing both of them in that instant, but he calmed himself down. It might not only be incredibly dangerous, but incredibly stupid. Shadowstep might eventually learn that he failed his mission, but he could never know that Alessandre was in truth, a volatile murderer.
"Fine. You played my game, and you won. You got me. I'll go say goodbye to her and get out of your hair." Alessandre shrugged it off, but he felt horrible inside. He began to wonder how he would explain this to Opalbane, or even if she was still enough of the loving person she'd become after Winter's Veil to understand that he meant her no harm.
"Oh no, Al" Benactus mocked. "There will be no more contact between you and our precious Opalbane. You can leave, and you can rot." Benactus' fair tone turned cruel.
This shook Alessandre to the core. The one time he'd given into his feelings for Opalbane, he'd lost everything, absolutely everything. The result was that Myrielle had been right about him. Of course he'd foul this up over a woman. Just like he'd messed up his entire life over one a few thousand years ago. Nothing about him ever really changed, no matter how much he hoped or prayed to Elune that it would. It would be better if he were dead.
"Starting to wish you'd said yes to me, aren't you? I might still be able to help you out, you know... if you change your mind." Faltheriel arrogantly spoke up. Benactus furrowed his brow in confusion.
Alessandre cocked his head to the side and looked at Faltheriel like he'd lost his mind. "Your people really have been out in the sun too long." Alessandre said and shook his head in disbelief.
Later in a cathouse in Old Town...
Alessandre finished off is eighth bottle of bad wine and slumped back in his chair. The beautiful human woman dancing on his table was half naked, but it didn't make up for anything at all. There was only one woman Alessandre wanted, and it had taken this entire day for him to understand that. How many times had Opalbane tried to help him? How many times had she begged him to trust her. Never had he met a woman who actually wanted to help, not just spend the night with him. All Opalbane wanted from him in return is for him to save her, to keep her safe. And now, his reputation as a rogue was finally ruined. Shadowstep would have his head, and he could never go near Opalbane again. The wine kept telling Alessandre these things as he drank more and more of it.
Finally, even those thoughts were too much. Alessandre slammed his heel into the table, and the woman nearly slipped and fell off of it. The bartender noticed the signal and sent another round over to him. The Matron of the house got the signal too, and walked over, swinging a furry pink boa over her shoulder as she walked.
The stout dwarven woman looked up at Alessandre under an elaborate braided hairdo. "What you want this time, honey? You already went through all the races I've got: Human, Dwarf, Gnome, even a few confused Draenei ladies I tricked into working here just last week. Not every cathouse in Stormwind has that kind of a selection. Now, unless you actually pick one of my girls, all I can do is keep sendin' the same to dance for you ones over and over. You gonna finally pay me or what?"
Alessandre squinted his eyes at her angrily. Her jugular vein kept leaping out at him as she spoke. He began to wonder if Cutthroat Alley would mind his company right about now... he was screwed now, anyway right? So what if the Stormwind Guard caught him on a killing spree and threw him in the Stockades? He'd just enjoy killing the other prisoners, next, wouldn't he? And then they could hang him and end this nearly immortal torment he once called a life.
That's when she walked into the room, and Alessandre felt his heart melt.
"Al," Myrielle said and strutted right up to him. Alessandre wasn't sure, but he didn't ever remember her wearing leather shorts that... well, short. Her long red leather boots ended mid thigh, and she had tied the ends of a red swashbuckler's shirt high up under her boobs, which was strange, because those open shirts were already revealing to begin with. It seemed that she'd altered it for the occasion.
"Al, sweetheart, you don't want to be in a place like this, do you?"
Alessandre wanted to tell Myrielle to go away, but didn't.
"Come with me, be my lion again tonight. I want you." She bent down and let Alessandre look her over. Then, she kissed him with her perfect luscious lips.
"Do you want to work here? I'll hire you right now! I can never get any Night Elf women." The dwarven Matron pushed imbetween them.
Myrielle scowled at the short woman. She must have showed her tiny fangs because the dwarf jumped back a step and then left them alone.
Myrielle slammed a fistful of gold on the table and then yanked Alessandre up by his shirt collar. "Let's do this." she slapped his face playfully, then dragged him off behind her.
Alessandre thought of Opalbane. He couldn't stop thinking about her the entire time he was with Myrielle. When they were nearly done and he called out the other woman's name, Myrielle didn't seem to mind.
"I guess you didn't get to screw her afterall." Myrielle observed cruelly afterward, and smiled at her accurate prediction. Alessandre growled at Myrielle, sounding exactly like a nightsaber, and angrily mounted her again.
Alessandre continued over and over all night until the sun came up. Myrielle gazed at the window then and realized that it was the last day of the week. She'd gotten her evidence just in time.