Conflict is the fuel that drives the Law of Fae, it was said. Conflict drove the powerful to kiss the surface of the slumbering world, and from the mist create substance. The Fae were ancient, as old as time itself, but only conflict had driven them to greater and greater heights. From near savagery, small warlike bands, to the massive powerful courts that contested and drove the heights ever higher came the Fae, from all kinds.
Conflict is the fuel.
And yet, while some ascend ever higher, those who fail plummet and fall. Always more were needed to increase the Seelie Kingdom's prominence.
And sometimes, the young Lordling Elswith had laid awake at night, haunted by the question: What happened to the ones who failed? How long could the base become wider and wider, like a phrymaid growing taller by adding ever more broader lower levels? What would happen when finally the weight atop was too heavy? What would happen when there simply were no more Fae left to subjugate and stand atop their fallen forms?
Would the vertical growth of the Seelie Kingdom be stopped? Could it be stopped? Or would it continue until it was building upon air?
Standing in front of the Surmount Butler, name spoke, the Servant Branch engaged in a conflict most sharp. Conversation with a Fae who had a centuries-spanning career as a Servant, who had elevated himself forward and forward until he stood near the top of the Servant hierarchy. Who not only had the reigns to Daniel's bindings but who would know how to use that to his advantage.
Best to do this carefully.
"You take yourself too seriously, Surmount Butler. You forget yourself and think you even dream of the inner workings of the higher class." Daniel insulted him.
Carefully. He did not misuse Sialton's name again. The Servant was not speaking in third person, so he was more rude and abrasive than before, but no more name dropping. He could not afford to misspeak and give more than he could afford to lose. But he would lose something.
The Servant Branch needed to offer a piece of himself that could break.
The Surmount Butler shifted, slightly, clearly calculating the words. There was a slight pause before he nodded to himself. "Hall Attendant Branch, you are not known for speaking without thought. What brings forth this line of discourse?"
He did not take the bait.
Fine. It was low-hanging fruit anyway.
The Surmount Butler may have experience.
But Daniel had arranged the time and the place. The Lesser Banquet Hall of the O'Tells. Empty and devoid of all fine fixtures, furniture moved away, and huge doors that let into and out of the back gardens. And to an unexpected Guest. Other entryways were nearer to the place Daniel had in mind to defeat the Golem. But they would all be adorned with priceless items and ancient placements. Here was the place.
And what Daniel needed to win was not obvious. As long as Surmount Butler just permitted him, he would be able to do what he needed. Although...he may damage his uniform...
Before this, when Lordling Elswith had come to the O'Tell's Estate, the Surmount Butler seemed small and insect-like, reserved, like a beetle that scurried away when big feet appeared. But here and now, as Butler over the Servant Branch, standing in his power with the chance to reclaim some lost face, and away from those who may report him, he seemed to undergo metamorphism into a different kind of creature. Something with a stringer and pinches. "I find it questionable what brought you here." he clicked his black teeth together. "Where is your partner? Why is a hall attendant assigned to open a door here by himself?"
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"I am practicing opening a single door, as per the Lren Style."
The Butler frowned at that. Daniel wished he knew what the Fae was thinking.
"The mere fact that you dare invite yourself to practice in the main parts is a questionable offense." The Surmount Butler hummed.
The bindings around Daniel quivered uncomfortably. "As a forward-facing servant, I am well aware that I must be perfect in all my actions, lest I anger the very powerful. And did you not instruct me to improve my skills, that I must take stride to find opportune moments? Was that not an invitation?"
The Surmount Butler had uttered those very things, hours and hours ago.
The small g game around them coiled and circled the Surmount Butler, watching for his response.
Time to push. Just a little. Just enough for a swat. Afterward, he would start to push his real aim. "I am here to improve myself. And should I be discovered by one of my betters, they will discover me a very discrete Servant, in proper dress and uniform. Should I be asked what task I attend, I will say I open the words and orders of the most patient Surmount Butler."
"What Task could you attend in this Lesser Banquet hall? Everything has been put away, even the table and chairs."
"I can practice opening the door."
"There is but a single door, large though it may be."
"The Lren Sytle has an adaptation for single door opening, as well as opening two doors with only one attendant."
The Surmount Butler blinked.
Daniel pushed forward. ng across the Game to those watching. "What should outsiders think, should they seek to gain entrance, but the door be barred? What should I do if there was such a knock, and I am the only servant ready to open the door?"
"What kind of guest would come into a door this large?" The Surmount Butler interjected. But he held up a hand before Daniel could answer. "You are well-learned in the Lren style," he said. "I would like to see it."
"I am happy to show you my door-opening technique." That was almost permission...Almost...
"Not that. Afterwards, perhaps. But first. Show me the Lren Style of Begging." Said the Surmount Butler. The bindings on Daniel's arms and legs began to twitch.
Daniel blinked. "Please respeak what you uttered, truest Surmount Butler."
"The Lren Style is more than opening doors. Surely, one as educated as yourself must know that."
Oh.
Oh.
That's not good.
Daniel hadn't considered that angle.
Begging was dangerous for the Fae. It was easy for a misplaced word to increase one's debt. Sentences such as I beg your pardon, I beg your forgiveness, and I beg your kindness. All these words were forbidden by anyone who dared try to gather Power. When one felt a debt and spoke it, authority, favor, and influence could easily be snatched by others. Even if a Servant was ordered to Beg, any real feeling may slip out and create a debt.
And the Lren Style had a format for begging. The Lren style was old, some said that it outdated even the first King. And with all things that span the gulf of thousands of years, its history was deep and very dark.
"Perhaps you were not listening to my lecture this afternoon. Poor on you for not valuing my time." The Surmount Butler began to hedge.
Daniel could feel a wisp of power being stolen from him. Dare he interrupt and address the Law of Fae?
No. Daniel held himself back, uncomfortable with his vulnerability. All that time, risking so much for so few scrapes, and now watching it being taken away...
Interrupting and cutting to the heart of the matter was the privilege of Lordlings.
He needed to be a Servant at this point in time. Do something only a servant could do.
A Servant with permission to open the door.
"Begging is a classical art. You were educated, were you not? Surely you know the history of begging." The Surmount Butler seemed a thousand feet tall with his smugness, greedy eyes bright against the darkening room.
The bindings insisted the Servant Branch obey.
He would obey.
He had to.
But not because the bindings made him, he insisted to himself as he found his body going to the never-practiced form of Lren begging.
Because Daniel had decided that he wanted to win.
Because he would open that door.
Daniel moved his body, feeling the terrible tightness in his muscles and the terrible impulse. He was merely demonstrating the position of begging.
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The Surmount Butler watched this unfold, thinking, thinking, always thinking. What was the fallen Lordling doing? Was he submitting himself without a fuss? Why? What was the angle? He had said it to challenge the child, but the child did it without flinching. What was the angle? Had he truly gotten those wisps of influence from the new Servant, or was this just a trap?
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"That's enough." the Surmount Butler ordered before Daniel finished.
"I need to finish," Daniel said, finding his own blue-grey eyes glowing as the Law of Fae was attending. "I want to be a good Servant, after all."