“With respect, Your Grace. Just tell him what you want,” Ser Fidelity Brand sighed.

The Constable was sitting on a short stool behind Rhode. The left curl of his mustache was cut short and his doublet was torn at the shoulder. Exhausted, he leaned against his sheathed sword.

“What the freaking heck,” Rhode shouted. He kicked at the floor and fell back onto his elbows. “Brand, what are you doing here?”

“Goodeman Irving, you punched the Prince of the realm in the nose,” Brand groaned. He leaned his chin against the pommel of his sword, and narrowed his eyes. “You can’t do that.”

“Goodeman Irving, you will –”

“Your Grace, I beg of you,” Ser Brand raised one hand. “If he doesn’t remember what he did, it’s just going to happen again.”

“Whoa, Brand,” Rhode denied. “I wouldn’t do that. Your Grace, I’d never do that,” he insisted.

Brand’s sheath tapped against the floorboards with a menacing thud. “No? I believe you would have if he’d threatened to hang ten people just to make a point.”

Rhode’s mouth closed. He frowned.

“Constable Fidelity. Shall We have you relieved? Warrant Officer Seng would not speak so flippantly.”

“Forgive us, Your Grace. Nor would I, if it were not so clearly necessary. Yan, look at him, you’ve got the boy stuck on loop.”

Rhode’s knees folded back underneath him, and his eyes widened. “Who’s getting hanged? Wait. Your Grace, I wanted to ask you about some of the goblins. There were a lot of people who got caught up in stuff tonight which I am not entirely sure was their fault.”

“You see?” Brand snorted, “Looping.”

“It is not your place to question Us. Constable Fidelity, you have been undermining Our will at every turn.”

“And I beg your apology for it, Your Grace. But you are pushing too hard, with leverage you don’t have. And don’t you dare call in Seng either. You’ll just get Goodeman Irving killed.”

“Brand. The formalities exist for a reason. Just because this creature is incapable of respect, does not mean you may allow yourself to become infected with his laxities.”

“Uh, Brand,” Rhode asked.

“Keep your mouth shut, Goodeman.”

“Sure, Brand,” Rhode complied.

There was a sound which was rising from two locations at once. Twinned whining tones, from either side of the veil. Brand withdrew a [Relay] fork from his breast pocket and held it up besides his ear. He listened until the warbling noise crisply ended.

“Just ask him, Your Grace,” the constable implored. “That is my professional advice, offered in good faith. If you wish for me to kow-tow, I shall.”

The voice on the other side of the curtain did not rebuke Brand. It did not demote him, nor condemn or ensorcel him either.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

Brand rubbed at his scalp with his kerchief, with vigorous frustration. “Thank the Gods that most of them were locals. Lord Mourint was getting nosy, which we knew. We just hadn’t realized how many of his people were assigned here. Ser Reliance believes the worst of the partisans were domestic criminals. Undesirable, but my understanding is that few of the syndicates would set out to commit treason. Once we announce, they’ll fall in line. The Diving-Bird Lake fellows can dance the gibbet for all I care. I don't know their grievance, but they knew your colors were here. There’s no excuse for that. A few flashpoints which we hadn’t accounted for. A [Revel] that wasn’t on record. The Wailer acting up. A [Call To Arms] which should not have reached its conditions. A [Dread] that we can’t seem to pin down. Some woman who’d been sacked, and her son manifested an [Arson] level.”

“Anything useful?”

“Do you mean the boy? We’ll pass him off on Pyre. A page’s income would tide his parents over until we let them rehouse.”

“And the [Call to the Void]?”

“No word yet. We’re thinking of putting that seer on it: the College magician. What about the [Dread]?”

“Ignore it.”

“Understood. Rhode,” Brand beckoned. “Your friends downstairs are refusing to surrender to His Grace’s people. That’s who’s on the [Relay]. They claim they will only treat if The Dreadlung is there to advocate for them.”

“I didn’t tell them to do that,” Rhode said. “I told them to turn themselves in.”

“Nevertheless. That is their demand. Will you trust me when I tell you that His Grace is willing, in his mercy, to extend a certain amount of lenience in this matter?”

“But he said that–”

“I would ask that you set aside certain things which may or may not have been said. His Grace understands the goblin nature of frenzy. There is precedent for a certain amount of flexibility in the sentencing of those pitiable souls caught up in such events.”

“No, but he said–”

“Your Grace, I believe that you offered Goodeman Irving a chance to win clemency for certain parties who are at hazard for your Justice?”

“A point system.”

“Don’t do a point system, Your Grace.”

“It’s logical. It’s systematic.”

“And overcomplicated, and there’s always a loophole, Yan. Fine. Goodman Irving, if you help us negotiate the peaceful surrender of your rioters, His Grace will grant you one hundred points of clemency. To be used according to your own discretion.”

Rhode tucked his knees against his chest, and flicked uncertain glances towards the veil. “What is a hundred points worth.”

“I don’t know. Can we figure that out tomorrow?” Brand smiled. “But there’s one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“Just one last favor I’m asking you to do for His Grace. Then we can get you off to bed. Just two favors total.”

“You’re kind of making me feel worried the way you’re building this up, Brand.”

“Nothing to worry about, Goodman Irving. In fact, I think you’ll be pleased to hear it. The Third Hero is alive. How would you like to help us bring him in safely?”