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It caused a lot of speculation when Khalid "Claude" Riegan decided to leave the Barbarossas, and the Almyran League entirely, to take up the offer he'd received to play for the Golden Deer, on the other side of the mountains in the League of the Eagle and Lion.
Was it tension among the Barbarossas? His Riegan Grandfather's failing health?
Well they were both factors, though neither of them were the final argument. His half-brother was captaining the Barbarossas and was resentful of his position there, that certainly caused enough problems, but he could handle them. Oswald Riegan was beginning to grow a bit frail, and Claude was his heir (if grudgingly on the old man's part) but there had been no demand that he relocate to Fódlan, to take on the family holdings.
That said, Claude knew his time as an athlete was limited. Even if an injury didn't take him out before his time, he was still going to be much too young for retirement when his rugby career ended. By most standards he was probably still to young to be worried about it, but he had always been the type to have contingencies in place -and contingencies for the contingencies. Plus, there were things he wanted to do, points he wanted to prove, with his "day job".
He just hadn't quite yet figured out how to go about them.
And then, right then, as the offer from the Deer was made, he saw the boots. The boots that appeared on Felix Fraldarius's feet a week after his legendary interview following the Faerghus victory over Adrestia in their Five Nations match.
Vintage Eisners. Burnt orange with white laces and stitching.
If he had to guess just based on the stills he'd seen, they were from the 1172 line -the one immediately after Captain Jeralt had dominated the Five Nations cup for Faerghus and set every record worth breaking for the next decade.
There was only one person in the world who could have sent those to Felix.
And Claude had just been reminded that her five-year exclusive arrangement with Seiros Inc. was up for renewal.
It'd be a shame if some Almyran upstart convinced her not to. To try a new venture instead.
So, he took the deal with the Deer, and started working with his Grandfather directly.
~o~*~o~
He hadn't been able to resist scandalizing the airport security agent. When asked if he was coming to Fódlan for business or pleasure he'd winked and answered "Well, I am a hooker."
Luckily the poor, flustered girl's colleague was a fan. He stepped in to smooth things over for an autograph, and Claude put his serious face back on.
If he was going to get a meeting with "The Professor" he needed to play this smart.
~o~*~o~
The Deer were… something else. Although he had sort of known that already. A good third of the squad played for Leicester in the Five Nations, so he was already familiar enough with them from previous matches. If Nader didn't find someone else to fill his spot on the Almyran National team in the meanwhile then he'd be competing against them again the next year; yet they were all…
They were all showing perfect sportsmanship about it. Maybe they'd play against him then, but now, in this league, he was part of the team. The only person who rubbed him wrong was Balthus Albrecht and that had a great deal more to do with his choice of teasing material than the intent behind it. A slap over the back of the head from Captain Holst and he got the hint that Claude's mother was not to be brought up in locker-room banter.
It was a small world, despite what people on both sides of the border seemed to think, and the proof of that was in finding himself squeezing into a restaurant booth after training next to Raphael Kristin of all people. The big guy barely even batted an eye when he figured out Claude was one of those Riegans, shrugging it off immediately to ask if Claude wanted another plate. The scrum-half, Ignatz Victor, seemed much more aware of the history between the two families, and was equally awkward because of it. But even he warmed up soon enough.
He hadn't really expected it, even though they had invited him, but the welcome from the Deer gave him hope that the road to his vision wouldn't be so hard after all. For the first time in, well, ever, Claude felt like he had stable footing.
~o~*~o~
He had reckoned without Seiros Inc.
Byleth Eisner hadn't folded her father's company after his untimely death, hadn't sold any of it off, retained the majority share and so on, but she had let go of the office space, letting Seiros supply her with a floor in one of their buildings and to see to all of her telephony needs.
To a woman grieving it must have seemed like a life-raft, to hand over so many of the mundanities of her "sporting exit strategy" to someone else when Jeralt wasn't around to make use of it all himself.
Claude was hoping that these days she saw the partnership more like a takeover-by-stealth, killing her with kindness, and suiting the Eisner brand to their own uses.
Not that he was much better in that regard, if he were honest. He was also planning to use her. The difference being, he intended to let her use him in equal measure.
He just had to get past the Seiros receptionists first.
He wasn't the only person to have figured out that Byleth had sent those boots. He wasn't the only person who read that act as condoning the things that Felix, the bluntest man in Faerghus -nay, Fódlan- had said in that interview. Byleth hadn't made any public statement to go alongside it and every journo in the sports world was after a quote.
The ladies at the front desk were perfectly polite and perfectly robotic. No, Ms Eisner was not available. No, there was no comment. No, Ms Eisner's actions were not a reflection of Seiros Inc's stance…
Claude hung up and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
Well. He could make a start on the rest of the plan…
~o~*~o~
Whenever he hung out with them, they were just Hilda and Lorenz.
The moment he considered them in the context of Fashion, even within his own head, they were Hilda Valentine Goneril and Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. There was cachet in those names, they had each seen to that.
And Claude was going to bank on it.
Hilda was an easy sell. All Claude had to do was suggest she'd be able to draft all the designs she wanted and then pass actually making them and marketing them and selling them on to other people. People he recommended. That just left Lorenz.
The trouble with Lorenz, was that he was a qualified ref.
Not that he'd ever made any calls that Claude didn't, in hindsight, agree with, but that he had such a holier-than-thou attitude about it.
The other trouble with Lorenz, was that he was fabulous. And he knew it. He wouldn't simply agree because Claude said he had a plan, he'd want to know the plan, to deign to decide if it was worthy of him, and Claude wasn't quite ready to explain it all, to verbalise it to someone so naturally unsympathetic, before he had that last, significant, part in place.
So he recruited Lorenz by not recruiting Lorenz. He just made sure to collect his Grandfather from the country club a few times a week until Gloucester Senior was there at the same time. A little polite conversation, a few hints that he'd be restructuring Crescent Moon Outlets and Lorenz was practically ordered to involve himself; to "keep tabs" on Claude.
And then some capricious God decided to make a miracle. Because Judith, owner and proprietor of the club Claude's Grandfather and his cronies had their regular cigar-and-whiskey sessions in, had contacts within Seiros Inc. She could set up a meeting with Byleth for him.
And Claude's stars were just a little luckier than he'd give them credit for.
~o~*~o~
The office space was very… white. White and steel and frosted glass. Byleth's personal office wasn't much better, but at least she didn't invite him to the utilitarian looking seat in front of her large (frosted glass) desk, but to the much more comfortable sofas (cream, rather than pure white) at the other end of the room by the window, a low coffee-table between them as they settled across from each other.
She was much as he remembered her. Seven years ago (and was it really that long? Stars!) she'd been the only person to stop and take pity on him when he'd gotten lost in the warren that was the Loog Stadium in Faerghus while he was playing gopher for Nader. And though the charcoal/black skirt-suit, stockings and pink blouse were about as far from the muddy, sweat-and-grass stained uniform and bright blue mouth-guard she'd been in then, the smile was the same. They way you felt all of her attention centring in on you as she listened was the same.
And whether she remembered that incident or not, she certainly knew him well enough by reputation now to lead the polite small talk by asking how his transfer was going and commiserate over the trials of needing to get used to the little quirks of a new gym.
"I didn't actually receive any note on what this meeting is in aid of." She began, when the politesse was out of the way.
"Well, as it happens, I have a proposition for you." Claude answered, settling back comfortably into his seat with a smile and casually tapping the binder he'd brought with him.
"Proposition?" she prompted, crossing one leg over the other and linking her hands atop her knee, her whole demeanour shifting from pleasantries to business in a single motion.
"I'll cut straight to it; I'm taking control of Crescent Moon, doing some re-branding, and as a part of that, rather than simply stocking Empire and Dominic, I want to start our own house brand. Do some exclusives. Now, in and of itself I don't expect that to interest you, the sports gear market in Fódlan is already pretty well saturated just by those two and a few specialists like Pegasus, Purple Abyss -and Eisner, of course. If that was the plan then you'd be wise to turn me down without any further thought, but, there is a market doing very well in Almyra which Fódlan is sleeping on. With me, you could get in ahead of the curve, even set the trends yourself, while diversifying your range beyond just boots."
"And what market is that?" she asked, playing along politely.
"Athleisure." Claude announced, placing the binder open on the coffee table so Byleth could flick through some of Hilda's concepts and the references from Almyran lifestyle magazines. "If anything it's still growing in Almyra; this isn't a fad that's going to phase out within a couple of years. Not there anyway. In Fódlan though, if you want to have success with anything new, you need an old name backing you."
"I see. And you want Eisner because your Grandfather is a celebrated golfer with all the heritage that entails. I don't think I've ever seen him out of an argyle vest and cap. Hardly the image you're aiming for with 'athleisure'." she replied, her nose wrinkling just the slightest (cutest) way at the term "And Crescent Moon itself…"
"Hasn't really had currency since my Uncle lost control of his car and killed three people, himself included?" Claude asked wryly when it was clear she was trying to find a polite way to say it. "It's certainly a significant re-branding, moving from outlet to high-street, and I didn't say it would be easy, but you don't strike me as the kind to be afraid of a little hard work."
"Of hard work? Not at all. Harebrained schemes however," she trailed, closing the binder over, and making to hand it back to him.
Claude stopped the motion with two fingers on the edge of the cover, pushing it back towards her "Check the signatures." He advised.
Byleth raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, but complied. That brow morphed into something much more considerate as she realised exactly who Claude had on-board.
"Alright," she confessed after a moment "you're on to something. Really, it's something. But you do understand what exclusivity means, Mr Riegan? If I were to put my name to this, I'd be ending a very comfortable deal with Seiros."
"Ah, comfort, the enemy of progress." Claude sighed "You know, my favourite boots, of all time, are the neon yellow from your 1178 range. They were practically impossible to get in Almyra. I begged my mother for those -I swear she was ready to strangle me, I went on about them for so long- and I still have them. But what have you done recently? Black, white and, hmm, more black. Eisner has always been a byword for quality; but you used to be off the wall fun as well."
"I am not my father. Black is just my colour." She answered, dismissively.
"Oh? Then howcome you were wearing the pink ones from that same range in all your at-home games for Faerghus?" Claude countered, lacing his hands behind his head and grinning toothily at her.
She looked up and caught his eye, surprised. After a moment a small, barely-even-there, smile pursed her lips, her chin lifting a little as though… as though she hadn't expected to be seen, as though she'd been playing the prim and proper spokeswoman for so long that even she had forgotten her small defiances.
As though, maybe, she had needed Felix to fight for her, because she'd just been sleepwalking through life these past years.
As though, maybe, she was ready to wake up.
Claude shifted forwards in his seat, leaning in across the coffee table.
"The market is ready for the taking. Sure, your match-day uniforms are all provided by Empire, but that's not what you walk the dog in. Or just run out to get coffee wearing. If Hilda and Lorenz have a hand in the design, then you know a Dorothea Arnault or a Manuela Cassagranda will be seen in it. One shot of Dorothea having her make-up done, on set in something comfy, something with Eisner quality, available all across Fódlan from Crescent Moon, online or in store? I know you can see how that would go."
She huffed a little, looking down at the binder again "This is crazy," she mused.
"Well, live a little crazy." He answered. "Laugh a little, dream a little, get out from these walls and see the other side, get a little colour back in your life. Now there's a deal worth taking." He leaned back into his seat again with a roguish wink "But I guess that's up to you…"
And there the offer was, waiting in that bubble of tense, electric, silence.
Suddenly Byleth shot up from her seat, moving towards her desk, taking her suit jacket off as she did and-
Oh. Damn.
Her shirt was backless.
Claude had not been at all prepared for the sudden expanse of toned back and silky skin on display before him. His mind was suddenly too occupied overlaying some of Hilda's concepts over the very pleasant image of Byleth's figure to realise what she was doing until she had returned. A bottle of something expensive and two generously filled tumblers clunked down onto the glass table as she retook her seat opposite him.
"Alright, Mr Riegan. Let's talk numbers."
"Claude, please." He answered with a genuine smile, because if they were discussing numbers it meant she was on-board.
And together, they could go anywhere.
