The Negotiation Room had a similar aesthetic to the Judgment Hall– a long room with a clear focal point at the end opposite the door, but this time the ornate chair of the Highlord was stationed at the head of a long, rectangular, stone table, with various other chairs of both less ornateness and comfortableness set at intervals along it on both sides.
The dawn light was a bit harsh through the many windows there, set at similarly regular intervals along both sides of the hall, and I had to take a moment to adjust my vision a second time.
There were presently six figures seated around the stone table– Highlord Rufais, of course, seated at the head, and then the High Inquisitor directly to his right, in the place of highest honor. Next to him was the red-haired northern girl in the lava armor. Then next to her was the Aeron Ambassador, with two of his attendants standing a little behind him and keeping their heads bowed. On the other side of the table, sitting on the Highlord’s left, was his son, Lord Heir Callian, and then Lord Ennis.
“Captain,” Rufais greeted me in a surprisingly stoic voice and with a lack of malice that I rarely heard from him. “Have a seat.”
I followed suit and similarly didn’t give him any sass back as I did as I was told, taking a seat next to Lord Ennis. It was clear on which side of the table I belonged..
Inquisitor Dahl fixed me with a stare almost as soon as I sat down, and a part of me said to keep my head down and play at being complacent. But where was the fun in that? Besides, he wasn’t hating me for anything I’d done; he was hating me for being Turyn, which, in a semi-rare turn of events for me, meant that he wasn’t justified.
I met his gaze and smiled charmingly.
“Now that the Captain is here, do you have any objections to beginning talks?” Rufais asked, directing his question to the Aeron Ambassador, “or is it your preference that we wait still further for the rest of my servants to fetch the Major Guildmasters?”
“I think we can begin without issue,” Ambassador Cathain said, smiling that slimy smile of his.
“Excellent,” Rufais said, “then perhaps you would like to start by telling us what in the Abyssal Depths you people are doing in my Houslends?”
I barely managed to keep myself from snickering out loud. It was a strange feeling not to dislike the Highlord, but it turned out his competency at the game of politics and tendency to lose his temper weren’t such irritating attributes when they were pointed at someone else.
Cathain was clearly taken aback by the highly aggressive opening. “Ah… yes, Highlord, of course. I am here on behalf of Aeron in order to negotiate the terms of the trade deal we have at present with Ildanach, specifically regarding tariffs and transportation fees for the redwood deliveries.”
“And why should I care?” Rufais demanded.
Cathain continued to look very caught off guard by the Highlord’s incredibly forward mannerisms and apparent lack of any diplomacy. He glanced a few times at the Lord Heir and even at Lord Ennis as though waiting for them to jump in and make the Highlord “behave”.
Poor kid. He had no idea yet that no one was capable of making Rufais behave.
“We have been offered many enticing incentives to ally ourselves in the next Skirmishes against Ildanach.”
“How lovely for you. Does Aeron intend to break its streak of peace?”
“We could perhaps be persuaded to do so, unless there were a stronger incentive to maintain our trade ties–”
“The incentive is that we haven’t lost a Skirmish yet,” Rufais interrupted, loudly. “Which I assume you know, since you asked the moron getting all the credit for it into the room. You fight against us, you don’t get anything from us, quite obviously, and you won’t get our lumber any other way, as we’re not going to lose. Are you just here to waste my time, Ambassador?”
Cathain clenched his jaw, and the expression on his face was so priceless that I even forgave Rufais for calling me a moron and implying I was getting the credit for the victories unjustly. It was worth it.
“You are terribly arrogant in your ability to win against a combined force,” Cathain said a bit sharply.
Rufais smiled coldly. “Now we’re getting somewhere. No more fancy words; now you’re just threatening me. But then, you always have been, haven’t you? I’d much prefer you be straightforward about it.”
Cathain pursed his lips in frustration. “Call it what you like; an informal confederacy would take down Ildanach.”
“And do what with the spoils? Oh, I’m sure you can divide the lumber on sight in a way that satisfies all parties, but what of the land? The trees themselves? Or will you simply take all your prizes now and raze the breed to extinction?”
“That hardly seems to be your concern, considering that by the time that were to become an issue, you will have lost, your land would have been forfeited, and you would be dead,” Cathain pointed out sharply.
“Bears thinking about for you, though, doesn’t it?” Rufais pointed out with a harsh laugh. “Or do they just pay you to talk pretty while your master does all the thinking?”
Cathain ground his teeth slightly. “This is not a productive avenue of conversation, Highlord; I’m beginning to think I should just pack up my things and head back to my Lord with the answer that war is inevitable.”
“If that were an option on the table, you would have stormed out already,” Rufais scoffed. “You can’t turn around and leave without even making your pitch. Aeron doesn’t want to go to war; they enjoy peace; their people enjoy and expect peace. If Highlord Killough sends your people to war, he will be the first Highlord in over a century to do so. I don’t think history will look so fondly on his decision when he either loses– a very likely outcome considering our track record– or becomes victim to a squabble over the spoils immediately after the skirmish concludes. He just wants to bargain from a position of power to cheat us out of our earned wages for providing a supply and service you can get nowhere else, and, frankly, I think it’s despicable. You’re welcome to report to him that I said that when you contact him tonight to cry about how mean I was.”
“Are you at any point going to hear our proposal, or do you intend to just keep listening to yourself talk?” Cathain rebounded.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to stuff it down my throat one way or another,” Rufais muttered, and then abruptly turned to the High Inquisitor. “Inquisitor, forgive me, this has turned out to be a far more exciting morning than I was anticipating. What brings such a highly esteemed servant of Isaria to our gates?”
Dahl smiled slightly and inclined his head. “No apologies needed, Highlord. The Chantry understands the needs for the practicalities of life to be handled, as do I. My business here involves the Bishop of your Great Cathedral. He has been doing most excellent work for Isaria, and we have come to speak to him of that work and of the potential for his promotion.”
Rufais nodded slowly. “It will be unfortunate to lose Bishop Friel, but I am glad to hear of the work he has been accomplishing in our city in the name of the Righteous Fates. Is it certain that he will be moving on from us?”
“It is, though the timelines is not yet fixed. I wish to see some of his work first hand and perhaps sort some other things while I am in the city.”
Rufais’ eyes darted to me for barely a half a second, but we were both thinking the same thing. Now Rufais was caught in a bit of a corner. While normally I was sure he would have loved to deliver me on a silver platter to the Chantry, he had just invoked my prowess and track record in defending Ildanach multiple times to Ambassador Cathain. If he lost me, his position would be far less strong.
Judging by the smirk growing on Cathain’s face, he knew it.
That’s why I was here. I was here to put Rufais in a corner between House Aeron and the Chantry.
But why had Rufais conceded to bring me then? It would have been an easy refusal to simply say that I was a Captain and had no right to be in the room.
I looked at Rufais, trying to understand the man for maybe the first time of my two years in Ildanach. What was he trying to accomplish? I was a loose canon, and now I was being used against him. Why would he allow me to be here?
Rufais was still engaging the Inquisitor in polite conversation. “Do you have any idea on when we would receive a new Bishop to man the Cathedral?”
“It certainly won’t be long. We hate to leave any city without a Bishop for longer than a week. I’m sure they’re already holding meetings about the position in Isaria.”
Rufais nodded. “Wonderful. I have long been a proud follower of the Chantry, and Ildanach does not abode heresy within its walls.”
Apparently that bait was just too strong for the Inquisitor not to take. “I cannot help but notice a stark exception to that statement,” he said, voice still fairly neutral but growing a bit of an edge to it.
“Captain Kazere has not broken any of our laws. Surely the Chantry would not expect me to condemn him on pure basis of his faith. Heresy as an institution is not the same as heretics.”
He said my name correctly. He said I hadn’t broken any laws. That was almost certainly impossible; everyone broke some laws sometimes, and there tended to be a lot of laws that people didn’t even know existed in any given city, leftover from somewhat archaic times. And he said my name right.
But there it was. The Chantry could not legally advise that I be punished for my faith alone. Ousted from society, sure, but I already lived on the outer ring of the city. Prevented a place to worship, obviously, but those laws were already on the books. Put in the most dangerous situations, absolutely, but I didn’t need any help with that. According to Rufais, I was beyond reproach, and now I knew why he had wanted me here– to hear that. To know what gambit he was playing right now. And to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the second I stepped out of the line he drew again, he would feed me to the Chantry– even, perhaps, if he didn’t want to do so.
Bow or you will be destroyed.
Obey, boy.
Kneel.
Yeah, no, that wasn’t happening.
“As exciting as this is to be pushed around as a pawn for both sides of the game here,” I began, every head swiveling towards me in a varying arrange of emotions and a somewhat amusing fashion, “I cannot help but notice that the Chantry has no official standing to make laws here in Ildanach, or really, anywhere at all besides Isaria. And, as the Highlord so kindly pointed out, Ildanach has no laws against heretics.
“As a result, you have no right to be using me to threaten anyone at all, and whether or not I have broken other laws and been punished or not is really between myself and Ildanach’s actual government. No offense, Grand Lord Inquisitor, but I have more right to be here than you do. That being said, I’d like to invite you to partake in the wonderful engagement of silence.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
There was a collective murmur around the room, but I wasn’t done yet.
“Highlord, I am well aware that you and I cannot stand one another, but don’t forget that I’m standing between you and the destruction of your city just as firmly as you pretend to be standing in front of me and the Church. You can exile me, but you’re the one who really loses from that arrangement. And, finally, dear ambassador. You can go feed the sows. I could take your army by yourself if I were so inclined, and you can report that back to your master like a good little dog.” I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the silence, and propped my booted feet up on the stone table while interlacing my fingers behind my head.
It was Rufais’ enraged gaze that I ended up meeting.
I will not kneel for you.
Even if my outburst had accomplished nothing else, he, at least, seemed to have gotten the point.
Dahl, though, Dahl was smiling. “So you have some spirit after all. I was beginning to think I was going to be terribly disappointed after all the rumors I’d heard of you, Hand of Cyren.”
I turned to meet the Inquisitor’s gaze levelly, but when I saw amusement and enjoyment in those cold blue eyes, I realized that my initial impression of the man may have been wrong. He wasn’t just in his line of work for the perks and the religious reasons; he enjoyed it. Both could be equally dangerous but in wildly different ways.
“Well, I’d hate to fall short of all the stories. I might have to start working overtime just to live up to the reputation.”
Dahl smirked and fell silent again.
It was Cathain who cleared his throat eventually. “Perhaps we should return to negotiations concerning–”
“Do you duel, Ambassador?” I asked, because Rufais looked like he was about to explode in my general direction and I didn’t really want to give him the chance.
Cathain stopped, paused, and slowly turned to face me again. He had barely looked at me throughout the proceedings, even during my little impromptu speech, outside of the initial shock. He seemed to think I wasn’t worth looking at, lowly Captain heretic as I was. But after a brief flash of annoyance crossing his face and upon realizing that no one was going to tell me to be quiet, he finally met my eyes. “I do not.”
“Pity. I was hoping we could wrap this up in thirty seconds or less.” I smiled.
Cathain narrowed his eyes at me briefly before turning back to the Rufais. “Are you going to hear out the neg–”
He was cut off for the second time. “No,” Rufais said bluntly, “but my Guildmasters will. Speak to Ennis. I warn you though, Ambassador, Ildanach will not be slighted in these deals. You want to renegotiate the trade terms, fine. But they will balance in the end, or my armies will be happy to have a challenge for once, little as it may be. Ambassador. Inquisitor.” Rufais stood, eyes flickering over his son, Ennis, and then me. “I will speak with you later.”
The words were ostensibly addressed to everyone on his side of the table, but we all knew that he was mostly talking to me.
Highlord Rufais exited the room.
Lord Ennis stood. “Ambassador, perhaps you would like to accompany me to the lounge? The other Guildmasters should be arriving any minute now, and we can discuss the trade agreement.”
“Inquisitor,” Callian said as the Ambassador nodded, also standing. “If there’s anything more my father or I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let us know. We’re having quarters made up for you here in the Citadel, and I can show you to them now if you please, or any servant will be available later.”
Ennis and Cathain made their way out of the room, but Dahl didn’t budge. “I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Ildanach, and if you would like to wait for me just outside, I will take that escort. First, however, I would like to have a word with the Captain.”
“Imagine my surprise,” I muttered faintly.
Callian glanced briefly between me and the Inquisitor and I waved him off, not really thinking about the action until after I had already done it, or how it looked, considering he vastly outranked me. Oh well. “I’ll endeavor not to take up too much of either of your most valuable time,” I said somewhat blandly, well aware that the time for me to come across as polite had long since passed.
Callian gave me a look that was full of caution before he inclined his head to the Inquisitor. “I’ll be just outside, then.” The Ambassador’s aids followed him out, as did the redheaded woman who had been with the Chantry group.
And then it was just me, alone in a room with the High Inquisitor of the Chantry.
This was, I mused, not how I had imagined myself to be spending this day when I had been thinking about it last night.
“High Inquisitor,” I greeted, keeping my tone casual.
“Please, call me Armond,” Dahl smiled at me, something about it reminiscent of a shark. “May I call you Leon?”
“I think it best that we stick with official titles, actually,” I rebuffed. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about the relationship between the High Inquisitor of the Chantry and a follower of the Sisters, now, would we?”
Dahl laughed. “I think it unlikely anyone will be getting the wrong impression. You are very hostile.”
“The Chantry is very murdery.” I smiled.
Dahl didn’t deny it, inclining his head slightly. “I will admit, my predecessors have at times been a bit… shall we say, zealous?”
“I would say “fond of egregious persecution and genocide”, myself, but yours flows better.” I shrugged.
“It does, doesn’t it?” he mused, apparently utterly unfazed, pouring himself a glass of wine from the provided pitcher and into one of the glasses. “Wine?”
“I don’t drink.” The words slipped out on automatic, before I could adjust them to make them less personal. I cursed mentally for the slip-up and felt, as though it were a tangible thing, disapproval from an outside source– not from Teris, though. This wasn’t coming from outside of my mind, exactly, just from someone who was not me inside of it. Great; I had an audience.
Dahl arched an eyebrow at me at the comment, mid-sip. “Really,” he said thoughtfully as he replaced the chalice, lips stained red. “A tennant of the Turyn religion of which I was not aware or…?”
Well, it wasn’t like I could just lie. “Personal taste. Perhaps I haven’t found the right liquor yet.”
Dahl laughed. “Most don’t drink for the taste, or, at least, not purely for the taste.”
“Even wine?”
He shrugged. “Wine is a bit of an exception, I will admit. Tell me, Leon,” he smiled at me as he simultaneously ignored my stated preference as to how he refer to me, “what does your mask represent?”
The question took me too much by surprise to keep a neutral expression, the inquiry hitting me like a punch to the gut. That wasn’t a thing people asked– either they knew enough to know its significance and why they shouldn’t be asking it, or they didn’t know anything about it at all. Dahl was the rare exception where he would be, undoubtedly, intimately familiar with the teachings of the Turyn and yet view them with the necessary disdain to disregard them with asking such a blatantly disrespectful and personal question.
I suddenly felt bare, naked in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. The mask didn’t feel like it was protecting me. I felt instead like I was broadcasting my identity and weaknesses to the man in front of me, something I had not felt in years.
I leaned back in the chair a bit more, pushing it onto its back legs, using my feet on the table as leverage and anchor simultaneously. “You know I can’t tell you that,” I scolded him lightly, smirking.
You’re losing.
Ah, the spectator speaks.
Well, you seem like you need help. The voice slid into my mind subtly, like a snake, but it was faint and small, traveling as though from a great distance.
I’m out of practice.
And you underestimated him.
I’m fixing that. Now hush.
I felt amusement through the link, but he did indeed hush, which was fortunate because he wasn’t wrong— I was losing, and I needed to keep my attention on the man in front of me.
“Then, let’s see if I can guess, hm?” Dahl smiled that shark-like smile again and leaned forward, analyzing my mask and everything it said about the role I was playing, the identity I had chosen to wear.
Turyn masks were more than a concealment. They were a new life, a new name, a new face, new motives, a new way to live. The Turyn vows were a rebirth and an abandonment of all that came before. A frightened boy had walked into that temple years ago, and someone else had exited. The Turyn Code said I would not speak of either of them, for neither were now me.
But I had known what Dahl was playing at as soon as he asked, so I just smiled and waited for his reading as he stared at my face, analyzing the pure white and the spiraling designs of thin gold threaded throughout.
“A hero,” he said after a very short amount of time, but then, he had known what he had been going to say before he ever asked. It wasn’t like this particular mask was hiding its intent. “You decided to play the hero, the protagonist, the righteous one.”
“I think righteous is a bit of a stretch. I fight wars for a living.”
“Ah, but you picked the underdog. You’re a hero to these people! Embrace it. You’re living the life you promised when you made the mask. That’s more than many can say.” He raised his glass to me.
“I assume you have a point here, Inquisitor? Or did you just want to compliment me on my craftsmanship?”
“You know,” Dahl continued as though I hadn’t spoken, “It’s very interesting. See, in the past five years or so, there have been two prominent Turyn who have made their reputation in wars. You are obviously one of them, but do you know of the other?”
A cold feeling began settling into my gut.
What was that about not underestimating him anymore?
I didn’t spare the concentration to respond to my little commentator, this time maintaining perfect composure despite my surprise. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Dahl smiled. “His name was Kallish. They said the mask was blood red with tendrils of black around the eyes, almost like a disease. He made his reputation in the West, fighting for the Akuma Empire during the War. He obliterated towns for the Emperor with the intent that troops would refuse to leave their hometowns to fight to defend their houslends, fearful that if they did, the Akuma Blood Knight would arrive to burn their families while they were away. It was a very effective strategy, some say instrumental in Akuma’s victory. You sure you haven’t heard of him?”
“I haven’t been out West in some time.” I shrugged.
Dahl hummed. “That’s interesting, because, see, the Blood Knight of Akuma vanished. About two and a half years ago, in fact. When did you start working for Rufais, again?”
“You know, I’m finding it a bit insulting that you seem to think I’m the only Turyn who can fight,” I pointed out. “We don’t all look alike, either.”
Dahl laughed. “Oh, of course. It’s just such a fascinating connection because most Turyn don’t fight. They tend to be pacifistic, investing in the arts, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“Don’t and can’t are not the same thing. Maybe something snapped for this… Kallish.”
“Perhaps. Did something snap for you?”
“I’m not running around murdering innocent civilians. I feel like this would be a very different conversation if I were.”
“Of course, of course. Tell me, where did you get those swords of yours? They’re quite unique.”
“They’re katanas. Not that unique.”
“But they have an energy field around them instead of a pure energy blade. That’s different than most. It’s somewhat difficult to find authentic metal blades these days.”
“They’re old. I’ve enhanced them.”
“Interesting that they didn’t set off the Highlord’s security alerts then, isn’t it? Or does the Highlord make a habit of allowing assassins into his court with real weaponry?”
I leaned back and sighed. “First of all, Inquisitor, I’m not an assassin; I’m a Captain. Secondly, are you implying that I somehow manage to win every Skirmish for Ildanach with normal, antique, unenhanced blades? Because that seems rather far-fetched, although I suppose if you’d like to start adding those rumors to the stack, I’ll take the reputation boost.”
Dahl narrowed his eyes at me. Evidently that response had finally managed to annoy the man, but the expression only lasted for a moment. “Just curious as to how you’ve come to wear them despite the rest of us being unarmed at the door.”
“Guess they got missed. They were in a bit of a hurry to get me here so that they could move on with the negotiations and all.”
“Of course,” Dahl said softly. “Of course.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Inquisitor? Because I do in fact have other responsibilities.”
“Ah, yes, naturally. Forgive me for keeping you, although I may reach out at a later date. Hopefully we can find a time that’s more convenient for us to talk in great detail.”
“And your purpose for that? I am very busy, as I’m sure you are as well,” I said bluntly, standing.
“I have a proposal for you, Captain,” he said, standing with me and wearing that same unflappable smile. “But we’ll have to discuss it later. As you said, we are busy men.” He headed for the door, beating me to my own exit. “Have a good day, Hero.”
He exited with the slightest mocking bow, and I stared after him as the door closed.
“What a massive prick,” I muttered faintly before heading for the exit myself.