Chapter Text
It was important to note that Mathias Shaw- Spymaster of the Alliance, leader of SI:7 and the Stormwind Assassin’s Guild- was not nervous. The obsessive mental rehearsal of his upcoming meeting with King Anduin Wrynn was a manifestation of his dedication to detail. There was no reason to be anxious, tense, or any other word one could use to describe the man’s hunch as he paced in his empty office. If Shaw were a paladin he would’ve driven every agent within SI:7 Headquarters to madness with the steady drum of metal against hardwood. Since he had never lumbered a day in his life, everyone else in the building remained blissfully unaware of the not at all nervous pacing.
There was nothing of great importance being discussed. Only a summation of the events from the previous night in Duskwood; the necromancer, the missing and recovered artifact, and the report from the Night’s Watch. Between the former king and his successor, Shaw had conducted hundreds of mission briefings. This one had been unexpected, but rousing success. The issue, if one were to call it that, was what Mathias wanted to request after.
The spymaster contorted himself into knots thinking, rethinking, and rethinking the prior rethinking. He knew what he wanted to say, but lacked the proper vocabulary to say it as deftly as he desired. Shaw had spent his decades-long career carefully crafting his words. Now one stray swashbuckler had undermined his eloquence. Steeling his resolve, the spymaster gathered his parchment and made his way to the Keep where the young Wyrnn king waited. There was no point in further delays. The words would find him.
~*~
“It seems trouble finds you rather reliably, Master Shaw.” The golden haired king said with a hint of humor in his voice after Shaw finished his recap of the impromptu mission in Duskwood. Anduin was well aware he had been the source of a fair amount of the spymaster’s trouble.
“The Titans have cosmically bound me to clean up others' messes, Your Majesty.” Shaw replied evenly.
“Ever modest.” The king set the parchment down at his desk. It was an elaborate piece, carved entirely from a single elder oak. Lions adorned each leg as though guarding Anduin. The woodwork was impeccable; a relic from an elder in the Wrynn line. Somehow, through all the fires and devastation Stormwind endured, this heirloom had survived. One could view it as a reminder of how easily a seemingly all powerful ruler could be struck down while dead oak lingered on. Shaw simply saw it as a masterwork of wood carving. Sometimes history didn’t offer a lesson.
“You have more than enough advisors and nobles content to prevaricate. I see no reason to join their ranks.” Shaw said.
“Indeed. Was there anything else Master Shaw?” It wasn’t said unkindly, but it lacked any noticeable warmth.
The two had never been on especially amicable terms. When Anduin was a child, Shaw and SI:7 were- in the boy’s eyes- his jailers. Anduin yearned for a freedom that was never his. When his father, Varian, disappeared before Anduin had even reached adolescence it ensured constant supervision to prevent the young prince-turned-king from being captured as well. When Varian returned, the boy dared to dream that he could roam the city uninhibited by his security detail. Anduin had once managed to slip into the shadows and outmaneuver the SI:7 agents watching him. Impressive for his age, but Shaw wasn’t going to be outdone by an eleven-year-old. The young prince was dragged back to the keep by a spymaster-turned-babysitter. The escape attempts had grown more defiant when he became a teenager and his newly acquired talent as a priest manifested.
Now Anduin was king again, but his father wasn’t returning. The young man still insisted on attempts to feign normalcy. Shaw allowed the occasional jaunt to Goldshire, though Anduin was unaware Shaw knew of his escapades. The older rogue had a few agents on rotation there in case a dark-haired man named “Jerek” wandered into the Lion’s Pride Inn for a drink and idle conversation.
The crown weighed heavily on a man who had barely entered his second decade of life. Under the veneer of compassion there was an anger that threatened to boil over. Shaw and Jaina Proudmoore had caught a glimpse of it in the secluded hull of the zandalari ship. The shadows that effortlessly coiled forth from Anduin’s form, poised to strike as viciously as vipers. It only lasted a moment, but Shaw would never forget the chill that filled the cabin as long as he lived. The Alliance had put an end to corrupt Horde warchiefs before. Now, Mathias Shaw worried that there was a future where he might have to do the same to the High King of the Alliance. A king without an heir or kin to pass the crown to. The thought lingered in the back of the spymaster’s mind during their meetings. Anduin and himself had succumbed to corruption in one possible future, Shaw would do all he could to ensure it wasn’t this one.
“Yes, Your Majesty. With the near-loss of the Torch of Holy Flame I think it best that I venture out to the larger continent and personally check on other artifacts and my contacts. The current armistice,” and the Banshee Queen’s silence, “would allow me the rare opportunity to traverse without prejudice. Our world is ever changing and it has, regrettably, been years since my logs have been updated.”
Anduin leant back in his chair, hand hiding his mouth. The furrow in his brow aged him. He looked so much like Tiffin in contemplative moments like this. Sylvanas’s absence was an ill omen- the calm before the storm. They both knew there were those within the Alliance better attuned to smoking her out of her rat’s nest. Namely her elder sister: Alleria. Shaw, meanwhile, could meet with his informants across the Eastern Kingdoms to find out if any had heard whispers, seen ghosts.
“Alright. I’ll draft a letter allowing you access to the coffers as you travel. I’ll also enlist Baine’s aid in writing one that allows you free movement within Horde territories. We’ve already tested their goodwill with your release from prison and we can’t afford to add more strain to this tenuous peace. It will take some time, but I'll impress upon him that we have little of it.” Things were never quiet for too long on Azeroth.
“I would also request that both your letters allow me to travel with a companion," Shaw began, “given the length of time I’ll be gone and the dangers that can arise when journeying in solitude.”
“A reasonable enough addition. Did you have anyone particular in mind? With your upcoming absence I would need Renzik to remain within the city to handle SI:7. Beyond that, I can accommodate any of your agents.” Anduin said, already drafting a preliminary letter. It was chicken scratch. His tutors would be disappointed to know he shirked their teachings in his private writings.
“Captain Fairwind is skilled with a blade and his wit. Given the success of our prior missions together, I feel he's the best candidate.” Once the words were spoken they couldn’t be revoked, but they could be denied. Shaw waited. It was all he could do.
Anduin raised a brow inquisitively, “The captain has proven himself a valuable asset to Kul Tiras and the Alliance, but a landlocked mission hardly seems the best use of his skills.”
“I need someone I can trust.” The spymaster paced his words carefully. Neither rushed nor staggered.
“And your own agents can’t be trusted?” The king’s tone was playful. For once Anduin looked his age. Shaw wished it wasn't at the expense of his own pride.
“I would prefer Captain Fairwind’s company on this mission.” The word choice was obvious, unsubtle. It made Mathias's skin crawl.
“Yes, that’s becoming increasingly evident. I must confess, Master Shaw, I was rather curious about what was occurring between the two of you.”
“The court will be delighted you’ve taken to vapid gossip in your limited leisure time.”
The king hummed. “Vapid gossip doesn’t usually result in such an improper request from the High King of the Alliance.”
Shaw remained in place, standing with his ever rigid posture and neutral expression. He studied the portrait of Queen Tiffin holding Anduin as a newborn- small and frail- then turned his attention to the young man the babe had become. “Is that a refusal, Your Majesty?”
“You’ve lived through three generations of Wrynn kings- two of whom you personally served. You’ve dedicated your life to Stormwind and the Alliance.” Anduin began. “I’ve known you my whole life and, while it hasn’t been an exceptionally long one, you’ve always been a solitary figure in it. We have had our… disagreements and I don’t always approve of your methods, but I do consider you a valued member of my counsel. Captain Fairwind may accompany you, Mathias.”
The spymaster had been prepared to argue his case further. The king’s words, however, left Shaw speechless too long to pass off as anything other than mild shock as his quick acquiescence. “Thank you. Anduin.” It was jarring, being viewed as more than the underbelly of the Alliance by its peace-seeking king. Compassion was the boy’s greatest strength and most exploitable weakness; boon and bane.
“You have two weeks to prepare your route and gather supplies. Give the captain my regards.” Anduin said dismissing him.
Mathias bowed his head in acknowledgment, mind swimming and heart pounding. Two weeks until many months on the road with only Flynn Fairwind for reliable company. It wasn’t as unappealing as it might have been a year ago. One could almost call the spymaster giddy if they were bold, and foolish, enough.
~*~
“You look positively giddy.” Flynn said to the stone-faced spymaster. “I assume it went well with His Highness?”
For a man ostensibly trapped in a foreign port, Flynn Fairwind was making himself right at home. When he first arrived in Stormwind, it had been by one of the Lord Admiral’s portals. As far as methods of travel went, it was quicker than a ship but the sickness that followed made him yearn for the erratic waters of a storm. Flynn hoped to never use one again and that meant the only way to reliably return to Kul Tiras was by sea. Stormwind Harbor had a handful of ships making the journey regularly, but it took nearly a fortnight to make it there and back. At present, the captain didn’t have the luxury of excess time.
That wasn’t to say that he had no idle time- far from it. With both of his ships harbored elsewhere, Flynn had no work to speak of. So, slowly, he’d been learning to navigate around the colorfully-roofed capital of the Alliance. He’d even found a favorite hangout, ensuring he at least had others to talk to when the ever busy spymaster was busy as ever. The venue was a small hole in the wall on the docks. It lacked a name, but Flynn had found a kindred soul in the bartender with a less than lustrous past. To call it a tavern would’ve been fanciful. No, the alcove was less an establishment and more a gathering of shipwrights and sailors. Liquor was shared as easily as their tales and if Flynn closed his eyes for a moment he could imagine the briny air of Kul Tiras. Only a moment though. Any longer and his pockets would be noticeably lighter. He'd do the same if he caught a sap lost in a daydream.
Now, however, Flynn sat in a proper tavern with a name and walls and tables and a nearly-finished plate of bear sausage and potatoes. The Golden Keg was surrounded by a sea of smog outside, but thankfully runes at the door kept the miasma at bay. The only powerful odors the man could stand were the funk of low tide and the stench of sweat.
Shaw rolled his eyes and sat beside Flynn. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe the sentiment.” He motioned to the barkeep. They disappeared into the back and returned with a second meal for the older rogue.
“Believe what you will. I know you would’ve come in with a much more severe look had you been denied the pleasure of my company for this upcoming trip.” Flynn said confidently before his bravado faded slightly. “It was a ‘yes’ though. Right?”
The spymaster’s cold exterior warmed slightly. “The king and Baine Bloodhoof will be drafting letters to allow us safe passage in both Alliance and Horde territories.”
“Baine Bloodhoof?” Flynn furrowed his brow and fanned the spark of recognition the name ignited in his memory. “That’s the- that’s the big bovine guy right? Leader of the tauren?”
“His official title is High Chieftain, but yes. Of all the Horde’s leaders he’s the most fond of the king. They’ve been friends for some time so he won’t deny his majesty’s request.” Shaw said as he took a bite of his meal.
“Letting the spymaster of, well not the enemy faction, but a… historically adversarial one roam about Horde territory seems ill-advised even with their supposed friendship.”
“Bloodhoof owes me a favor as well. He has pride and honor alike, so I imagine he wants to square the debt sooner rather than later.”
“Now that’s a juicy piece of gossip, Shaw. Care to elaborate or will you be forced to kill me if you share anything else?” Flynn asked, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Have you finished your meal?” The older rogue moved his half-eaten bowl of food to the center of the table and tilted his head towards the door.
“Couldn’t eat another bite." Flynn said with an empty plate and a crooked smile. Shaw allowed himself a small smile in reciprocation before returning his face to its stony stoicism.
They moved through the smog-filled lungs of the Dwarven District; the rhythmic hammering of the blacksmiths' anvils its heartbeat. Flynn easily fell into step beside the spymaster, letting Shaw herd him through cluttered alleyways. It was masterful maneuvering- a nudge here, a hovering hand there. The captain appreciated the gesture, especially since it had prevented him from bumbling over a gnome carrying a crate of bombs. Well, pieces of soon to be built bombs. The people of Kul Tiras were almost exclusively human, as opposed to the melting pot on the mainland. To say Flynn was unfamiliar with casting his eyes down to avoid gnomes and dwarves was an understatement.
Shrouded in the smoky crowds of the Dwarven District, Shaw was like a ghost. Untouched and untouchable. Until Flynn needed to alter his course. Flynn seemed to be needing more assistance the longer they walked. And thus a game formed, an unspoken levity made manifest. It was unlikely the spymaster hadn’t noticed, but he also never addressed it. His guiding hand became an increasingly present feature on their walk.
Flynn elected to tell Shaw about his most recent adventure in Stormwind. His already booming voice amplified by the desire to be heard over the blacksmiths and tinkerers at work. He wasn’t quite shouting, but he wasn’t far off.
“-and so I’m stuck wandering over the grassy terrain, straining my ears to find the source of the enchanting voice offering free drinks at the Blue Recluse. I turned the corner only to find it wasn’t a corner but another branching pathway. I swear, tree roots have more order than those streets. He kept crying out about his drink vouchers and I kept searching, but I never did end up finding the bloke.” Flynn said with a pitiful shake of his head.
“A great injustice.” Shaw agreed with a neutral tone.
“I’m glad you agree. I knew you were the sensible sort. I propose SI:7 investigate the not so insignificant possibility that there are spirits taunting handsome sailors with drink in the Mage Quarters. Had I been less discerning, I may have succumbed to my thirst and withered away amongst the daisies. Imagine it, me spread across the soft grass with the petals kissing my sallow skin.” Flynn recreated the pose he would, assumedly, take as the life left his body. It was suitably melodramatic- head reclined, eyes skyward, and arms raised at his side. Submerged in the theoretical field of flowers. The supposedly haunting image was ruined by Flynn’s inability to muddle his smile.
Shaw diverted his gaze from his path for a moment. “There’s a lovely morbidity to it.” His attention returned as quickly as it left.
The captain’s poorly restrained laughter broke free. “Of course!” He said, throwing his arms up before assuming a more casual posture. “It stands to reason that if a person is lovely- as you so astutely stated- then even the stain of death can’t diminish their effervescence.” A flourish of his hand adorned the final word of the sentence.
A noncommittal hum echoed between them as Shaw paused their conversation. His hand fled from Flynn’s form, retreating behind his own back. The duo approached the guards stationed at the threshold between the Dwarven District and the northern outskirts of the city. Shaw received a polite nod of the head; Flynn a curious look. A new topic of speculative discussion for the guards once off duty.
The white stonework of Stormwind’s interior gave way to a pastoral scene. Lush green grasses, young oaks, a farmhouse, and a glittering lake. The only reminder of its location within the city was the presence of the embassy that loomed imposingly over the otherwise quaint landscape.
They continued on in the silence Shaw created until they reached a more secluded area. With the mountains at their back and a tree canopy to shelter them, the spymaster spoke. “I helped rescue him from a rather precarious situation.” His sharp eyes scanned the area, looking for interlopers. He leant his shoulder against the tree and crossed his arms. It was a casual pose for the man, even if it looked anything but.
“Hell of a way to start a conversation. Want to try again with a little lead up?” Flynn asked with a raised brow.
“Bloodhoof. You asked why he owed me a favor.”
A small chuckle bubbled from Flynn as he mirrored Shaw’s pose on the other side of the tree. He easily achieved the casual posture Shaw was attempting to evoke. “Wasn’t expecting you to be forthcoming with it. Thought I’d have to beg. Was preparing a speech too- it was all very theatrical.”
“Save your energy and temper your expectations. I can’t share much more than I have.”
“Not much more, no. But some more, yeah?”
The corners of Mathias’s mouth quirked upward for a moment before returning to a neutral expression. “It was a rescue mission during the height of the Fourth War. Despite the conflict, the High Chieftain had proven himself an advocate of peace. His death would have ensured the only end to the war was a prolonged and bloody one. The Alliance secures stronger ties with a Horde leader and Slyvanas’s iron grip on the Horde loosens. Two birds, one stone.”
“Since you’re here, Bloodhoof’s alive, and Sylvanas is no longer warchief I’d say it was all rather successful.”
Shaw nodded. “In and out.”
Flynn rubbed his chin with a contemplative expression. “An alright story by all accounts. Very factual and to the point. Could use a bit more energy. Let’s see- what was your job in the rescue?”
“I’m a rogue.” Shaw said as though that was the only answered needed.
“Leaving all the wordsmithing to me? How cruel. I’m likely to get some details wrong with my speculation.”
“I’m curious how you’ll expound on a story you’ve just heard about an event you never witnessed.”
“I’d add some action for one. ‘In and out’ makes it sound like a subpar one night stand, not a grand rescue. Say you fought off three combatants single-handedly because your other hand was lock picking Bloodhoof’s cell.” Flynn said, throwing out ideas.
“Lock picking generally requires two hands.”
“Well yeah, but it’s a story mate. Have a little fun with it.”
Shaw raised his brow at the suggestion that he would allow such a thing to occur.
“Oh come off the high horse. You asked the king's permission to take an extended vacation with me.” Flynn said flippantly.
“This isn’t a vacation Fairwind, it’s official Alliance work.” The spymaster warned.
“Can’t be all work if you’re bringing me along.”
“I’m bringing you because I trust you and-” Shaw sighed, “because it's a moderate reprieve from my duty. Moderate being the key word.” The word felt foreign on his tongue.
The kul tiran let a triumphant smile march across his face. “I’ll call the town crier. Let them know that Master Shaw is going to learn how to have fun and that an ex-pirate will be his tutor.”
Shaw gave Flynn with a raised brow. “I suspect they’d call you mad and throw you in the stockade.”
A barking laugh erupted from Flynn. “Aye! I’ll keep it between us then. My own little secret with the spymaster.” He slid down the tree to rest at its base, giving Shaw a wink once he settled. A breeze moved languidly through the fields, setting the captain’s auburn hair adrift for a moment before it settled. Mathias watched with silent admiration. A small smile rested on his lips, uninhibited by the façade of the unmoving, uncaring spymaster.
“When do we leave?” Flynn asked, watching a fisherman row to the center of the lake in the distance.
“A fortnight. I’ll need to plan our route and start gathering supplies. We’ll be packing light to ensure easier movement. Food will primarily come from foraging, hunting, and the like.” There would be few ways to reliably store perishables.
“Roughing it then? Fine by me. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.” Flynn said easily. “How long’s our little honeymoon lasting?”
Shaw bullishly continued the conversation, refusing to acknowledge the captain's word choice. “Anywhere from six to ten months depending on how favorable travel conditions are.”
The captain had expected, in all honesty, using a mage to teleport from one landmark to another. The idea of spending so much time with Shaw was as compelling as it was frightening. He liked Shaw. A lot. More than he should at this point. That was the problem. The kul tiran was a charming and boisterous man, the kind viewed favorably in short encounters. As time marched on, however, charming became grating and boisterous turned oafish. Fairwind evolved into something wholly unpalatable.
Instead of warning Shaw about what was to come, the captain simply said, “I’ll have to make some arrangements for my ships.”
Tension had overtaken Flynn. It was fleeting, but Shaw spotted it as easily as smoke in an open field. “You don’t have to accompany me for the entirety of the venture. If you’re more comfortable with something short term we can part ways at an Alliance safe haven of your choosing.” They’d never discussed the finer details of the journey, too delighted by the idea of it to think with entirely clear heads. Now that reality was setting in- well Shaw couldn’t blame Flynn for thinking it was all a bit much a bit fast.
“I said I’d do this with you and I’m a man of my word. Well, in this regard I am.” Flynn said with a slight chuckle. “Now if you get me talking while rolling the bones I can’t guarantee anything of value leaving my lips.”
“Still-”
“Do you want me along, Shaw?” Flynn interjected.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming along.” Flynn said with finality.
Mathias pried himself from his wooden perch and sat beside Flynn. They weren’t quite shoulder to shoulder, the eagle-headed pauldrons assured that, but the two sat as close as they were allowed. “Thank you.” The spymaster said it to the field before him as much as Flynn.
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re traveling on your coin and I can rack up quite the bill. Now that someone’s actually paying for my drinks I might try some top shelf liquors. And I enjoy the finer things in life. Silks and velvet- tailored to perfection.” He pulled the lapels of his tattered over coat. The leather had the same salt-stained look as the rest of the sailor; the wool matted through years of wear. A stalwart companion.
“I can indulge frivolity within reason.”
“How very judicious of you, Master Shaw.”
The angler made it to the center of the lake, leaving small ripples in their wake. The sunlight glittered atop the disturbed surface. Mathias watched the water settle into glassy serenity. “I have some things to check on in the city before we leave.”
“Asking me to come along or leave you be?”
Shaw cast Flynn a sidelong glance. It was a curious thing, how perceptive the man was. “This is my home, I’d like to show it to you. More than I’ve been able to thus far.”
“They say the best way to experience a new place is through the eyes of a local. Since you're a local with the most discerning eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering, I’ll be a certified stormwinder in no time.”
“Stormwindian.” Shaw corrected. “I admit it’s a bit of a mouthful, though dalaranian surpasses it in clumsiness.”
The sun attempted to beat down on the pair, but the oak offered a shade more powerful than the celestial body. At least for the moment. Flynn told the tale of how he'd narrowly avoided a bar brawl. The man was, from what Shaw had seen, a capable fighter. His technique was a bit sloppy, but the fights usually ended before that became a detriment. Something for Shaw to remedy in the coming months, perhaps. Regardless, he was thankful Flynn had defused the situation rather than provoke it.
Accusations of cheating were tossed out as easily as the dice themself. Flynn, in his own words, simply had a remarkable good run of luck. There was no crime in that. Or proof of loaded dice since they’d conveniently fallen into the gutter when the captain drunkenly stumbled back after a shove. With the offending objects lost to the sewers, Flynn suggested a coin flip to square the debt. Despite the luck that had blessed him the entire night, one wrong call ensured any silver the ex-pirate won was lost.
“Fun’s fun, but I prefer to avoid more breaks to the nose if possible. To be honest, I think at this point it would start to straighten it again.” He pulled the unlucky coin from his pocket and flipped it towards Shaw. The spymaster caught it, turning it in his fingers. Two heads.
“And if she picked tails?” Shaw questioned.
“Wouldn’t have mattered. I set the terms. Heads she wins, tails I lose." The captain answered.
“A cheat until the end.” Neither an accusation nor a reprimand. Fondness blanketed the words.
“Only if I’m caught.” Flynn shrugged. “Stroked egos and ample alcohol make for agreeable gamblers.”
The bell tower in the cathedral echoed distantly, marking the shift from midday to early afternoon. Shaw uncrossed his legs and hoisted himself up silently. He left a slight depression in the lush grass, but another breeze erased any evidence of the spymaster’s lounging. The calculating mask returned; eyes impassable as a mountain and distant as the stars. Flynn mourned the loss of familiarity.
“Meet me outside the gates of the barracks in two days' time. I’ll be able to escort you about the city once I finish reviewing my morning reports.” Then, as an afterthought, “Two hours before high noon.”
“I shall ponder a multitude of queries for the tour. For instance: which vendors are the most unsavory? I need to know where to idle away.” Flynn's grin would've made a wolf envious- all teeth and luring charm.
It was going to be a long journey. Not long enough, if Mathias was truly honest with himself.