Disclaimer: The character of Jarlaxle, the Underdark, Faerûn, the drow, and other aspects of Forgotten Realms are the creations of R.A. Salvatore. I seek not to steal from his creation but only to humbly expand. The character of Jarian however is my creation.

The dark elf dipped the feather quill into the ink then brought it to parchment. He scribed the last calculation of his most recent Surface trade then placed the quill to the side, leaning back in his chair for a well deserved break. In a swift movement he placed his boot clad feet on the desk and then set his feather-plumed hat aside, revealing a bald top. He clasped his hands behind his head and sighed theatrically even though there was no one in the room. Calculating figures usually put him in an irritable mood, however the prospect of his awaiting bed slaves caused a smirk to peek at his lips.

He softly mumbled, "Mind will be eased with the easing of body."

A gem at the corner of his desk flashed, indicating someone wished to speak with him. Blinking away his light reverie he spoke his door's trigger word, "enter."

A door materialized in the wall and a vibrantly dressed drow entered his study.

"Greetings Jarlaxle," the drow said flashing a wide smile.

An amused Jarlaxle nodded to the drow, not bothering to place his hat back atop his head or set down his feet. "Greetings Jarian, what brings you to my study?"

"Many a thing Jarlaxle," Jarian said walking over to him. He picked up Jarlaxle's hat and sat at the edge of the desk crossing one leg over the other. Jarian nitpicked over a stray seam in the hat for several minutes until Jarlaxle cleared his throat.

"Pray tell then Jarian, what are these things of which you speak?" Jarlaxle said folding his arms, feigning a serious expression.

Jarian burst out laughing and set down the hat, whirling to fully face his leader. "That may work on females and the like, but I know you far too well. I have completed your new outfits and I daresay that they are my best work yet. Females will salivate, males will look upon you in jealousy, and mithril will rain down from the gods and goddesses with your passing."

Jarlaxle chuckled. "And I daresay Jarian that you are prone to exaggeration."

Jarian gave a mock look of hurt. "Come now Jarlaxle, perchance my words will come to light." He suddenly smirked, "but since we are in the Underdark, in the belly of Faerûn's black heart perhaps not."

"Indeed," Jarlaxle said chuckling again, "but either way I prosper."

"And I shall make sure that you look good doing it," Jarian said. He quickly chanted and from the confines of his form-fitting outfit he produced a new feather-plumed hat, from one of his pockets.

Apparently large items can be stuffed in small places. Jarlaxle grinned as he took the bright green hat from Jarian. "You always did have a flair for presenting new things," he said.

"But of course," Jarian said. "The purple feathers are from a bird on the Surface and can change to a blue hue depending on the light. But the color can change to any you wish by a mere thought. That way it can be versatile and match colors with various other outfits that you own."

Jarlaxle nodded looking at the hat before positioning it on his head. He always did appreciate Jarian's talent in the magical arts. It was fortunate that they had met when they did. It was centuries ago when Jarlaxle learned of Jarian's "uniqueness" and his finesse in designing outfits. Jarlaxle took a liking for the colors seldom seen in the Underdark and the style. Deep down he knew Jarian would have a place in his organization. Jarlaxle was only too willing to have him as his personal tailor and a valued member of Bregan D'aerthe.

"Nicely done Jarian," Jarlaxle said admiring the hat in approval.

Jarian brushed a stray strand of his immaculately sculpted hair back behind his ear as he nodded. "The females will envy you. They seem surprised at your brashness, but deep down they desire you."

Jarlaxle cast his gaze from the hat to Jarian briefly when he heard the word desire. Leaning back in his plush chair even more he said, "must be my natural charm."

"Perhaps," Jarian said standing, absently putting a hand to his hip.

Jarlaxle placed the hat on his head and once he adjusted it to a perfect fit he changed the colors of the feathers with subtle mental images, "you've clearly outdone yourself. I have complete faith that the new outfits will be pleasing to the eye and will serve many uses." The mercenary leader paused for a moment, "oh yes, before I become distracted, are you enjoying your new servants?"

A mischievous gleam appeared in Jarian's eyes and he replied slyly, "At first they appeared to find their dominant roles being reversed quite the conundrum, but they have learned to please me and they seem to enjoy it now."

"That's grand," Jarlaxle said. "A new shipment of slaves came in this morning. You may have your pick now if you wish. I have chosen the new recruits accordingly."

Jarian struggled not to squirm in excitement as he bowed to Jarlaxle. "I thank thee. I shall take my servants and have them help me retrieve a new one. They need a playmate."

Jarlaxle watched his tailor exit and gave an amused shake of his head. "I myself prefer females," he said quietly and slyly to himself.

Adjusting his hat at a jaunty angle, Jarlaxle swung his legs from the desk to the ground. His various pieces of jewelry chinked in synchrony at that movement, but he silenced them as he walked over to the full-length mirror visibly displayed in his office. He admired his own muscled form, enhanced further by his outfit, and then smirked to his own image before heading to his chamber to gain the pleasurable benefits of being the leader of Bregan D'aerthe.


Author's Note: This story was originally a one-shot ficlet…but then it grew. Jarian appeared when I was working on an RP with a friend and his creation and antics brought on fits of giggles whenever I mentioned his name, due to my oh so subtle insinuations. In a way it does make sense. :Shrugs: Anyway, I was up late one night and inspiration struck and I would not cease on this little story until nearly four in the morning. It is a small glimpse into the daily happenings of Bregan D'aerthe that grew and grew. Please review and tell me what you think. I thank thee. :Smirks:

Next chapter, an assassin enters the fray...