CHAPTER 622: BITTER BLUNTNESS OR DELICIOUS DECEPTION
Argrave finished explaining what had happened with Durran and Garm to Anneliese, and leaned back in his chair with quite the sigh. She sat on the edge of his desk, listening patiently for her chance to interject.
“I would be very interested to know what kind of person Llewellen was,” Anneliese commented. “Garm… I suppose we might change the name of our first son, if he’s returned.”
Argrave laughed. “I already said that.”
“If it’s any consolation, I got Artur to agree,” she said with a subdued brightness. “Given the trouble with Durran and the fact the research team assembles tomorrow morning, I suggested that he hold off from consuming it. Still, he’s ready, and he has conviction.”
“Thank you.” He looked up at her, nodding with a smile. “Thanks.”
Quiet set in between the two of them, and then there came a knock at the door. Argrave came to focus, then asked, “Who is it?”
“Knight-commander Orion, Your Majesty.”
“You don’t need to knock,” he called out. “It’s an office, not a bedroom. Come on in.”
Orion opened the door. From the way he carried himself, and the strangely formal greeting he had offered, Argrave could tell that this was something that warranted close focus. He stood up from the chair.
“What’s bothering you, Orion?” He asked intuitively.
Orion shut the door, then walked up to Argrave’s desk. “When were you going to tell me?”
“About the lottery?” Argrave guessed. “I’m sorry, but a lot came up today. I was intending on letting everyone know as soon as possible.”
“I know.” Orion nodded seriously. “I spoke to Elenore. She told me everything that came up today.” He leaned in and placed his arms on the desk. “Did Your Majesty even ever seriously consider my offer?”
Argrave’s jaw tightened uneasily. “Of course I did.” He nodded.
“Then why did you decide against, Your Majesty?” Orion’s voice was calm, but it still unsettled Argrave.
“Orion…” He softened his eyes as he looked upon his brother. Orion remained firm and unshaking in waiting for an answer. After casting a glance at Anneliese, he looked back at Orion. “It was my judgment that requests made in the throes of grief might not reflect the true desires of, or the best option for, the parties involved.”
“And making that decision, did you not feel any grief, Your Majesty? Or rather, do you not?” Orion asked.
“I do.” Argrave held Orion’s gaze. “But I was considerably less affected than you and Elenore. I spent less time with her.”
“If you do, then why do I hear word that, rather than Vasquer’s attacker, you would continue to put the vast majority of our efforts forth into tracking Traugott?”
“Traugott is within reach. Gerechtigkeit is not,” Argrave defended. “We can’t reach him. While we can build up our defenses, if this was a distraction intended to divert our intention away from Traugott, we might miss our opportunity. Then, everything could be lost. I have to use the fruits in this way.”
“And in the end, you made the decision that random chance was a preferrable method to distributing the Fruit of Being than listening to my request born of heavy-hearted conviction? Regardless of the enemy we were fighting, you would prefer it be given to me only if chance dictated it?”
Argrave felt a wave of uncomfortable emotions at the direct confrontation. “It was done in such a way that I allowed the Fruit of Being itself to choose who best it suited. Anneliese can attest to the fact that it wasn’t chance.”
Orion didn’t even spare a glance in her direction. He simply kept his gray eyes fixed forward, right on Argrave’s face, in total silence. Then, he stopped leaning on the desk.
“I would like to request a weeklong leave of absence from my duties as knight-commander of the royal guard, Your Majesty.”
“A leave?” Argrave repeated. “What?”
“If Your Majesty does not permit it, I am duty-bound. I will stay and perform my duties as best as I am able. However, I desire a leave of absence.”
Argrave grasped the implications immediately. Orion was indicating he would do anything that Argrave needed of him while expressing his desire to be granted a break. He was demonstrating his displeasure without displaying any intent to jeopardize their common cause.
“…enjoy your leave, then.” Argrave nodded.
Orion turned on his heel and walked toward the door.
“Orion.” Argrave walked out from behind the desk. “Where are you—”
“If you command me to return, I shall,” he interrupted. Then, he opened the door and walked out. He nearly bumped into someone, but gave her a nod and walked by. Elenore walked inside, a question on her face.
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“He requested a leave of absence,” Argrave explained, shaking his head and scratching his forehead. “If you could, it would ease my mind if you check in on him. Maybe just talk through the mental link. He’s not happy about how I handled the fruits.”
“Few enough are.” Elenore also shut the door.
Argrave looked at her. He could tell from the look on her face that she had similar things on her mind.
“Elenore, you were there when I gave it to Durran. You—”
“As you’ll recall, I only ever voiced protest at the idea.” She walked into the room. “Now, Durran is forever changed.”
“It’s all going to work out,” he assured her. “Garm is already thinking of ways to separate himself fully from Durran’s body.”
“Sure. Yes.” She nodded dismissively. “But was that on your mind? Did you give the fruit to Durran knowing this would happen?” She shook her head. “I know you didn’t. You put on this little display to avoid the responsibility of the choice being yours, because you didn’t want to be perceived as denying others.”
Argrave couldn’t muster a response immediately. Perhaps it was because this all came out of left field, or perhaps it was because he couldn’t deny what was true.
“You’re our leader.” Elenore stepped forward. “You’re intended to guide and direct us. These difficult decisions are left upon you to make. And if you make the choice and some of us feel wronged, we’ll know that we were wronged because we chose you as our leader. It would be our fault as much as yours.”
“I did make a choice,” Argrave pointed out defensively. “And I think… no. I made the right choice,” he rephrased, showing conviction. “Without the die, I probably wouldn’t have chosen Durran, if I’m being frank. And if I hadn’t, we might’ve never had access to the sort of knowledge that Garm opens up to us. I made the right choice,” he repeated.
“Did you?” Elenore asked him. “Maybe you did. I can’t deny that Garm will bring us incredible utility. He might even grant us all the opportunity to know what Vasquer thought in her last moments, to grant us some peace.” She stepped forward, staring up at Argrave boldly. “But you didn’t make the right choice.”
“What do you mean?” He stood his ground.
“You could’ve let the fruits choose quietly, without letting anyone know. You didn’t need us to draw numbers. You didn’t need to make up these ridiculous excuses to each of us. You could’ve done it in peace, then acted like it was your own choice.” She shook her head slowly. “But you had to do this show, had to let everyone know what you were doing. You didn’t want anyone to think less of you. You didn’t want anyone to think you had chosen others before them. But as a result, all of us ended up bearing witness to…” she trailed off. “I’m upset, and I’m tired, and I’m riddled with anxiety, so perhaps I’m being cruel. But this? I’m disappointed, Argrave.”
Leaving that wounding assessment behind, Elenore walked back to the door. She turned around and leaned up against the wall.
“I’ll keep tabs on Orion, make sure that he doesn’t do anything that might get him hurt. On top of that, I’ll prepare everything for the research team tomorrow. Everything should go flawlessly, but contact me if you have any questions,” she said, like it was business-as-usual. “Goodnight, Argrave. Anneliese.”
She exited the room, shutting the door behind her. It was only when Anneliese put her hand on his shoulder did Argrave realize how terrible those two conversations made him feel.
“Give them time,” Anneliese suggested.
“…she’s right,” he said. “She’s right. She saw right through me, Anneliese. I made a show out of it. I made a damned show out of it, because I didn’t want anybody not to like me.” He laughed sadly. “Lottery. What was I thinking?”
“Hoping to be liked is not a terrible thing, I should think,” she comforted. “You did as you ever do. You did something you found amusing, hoping it might uplift downtrodden spirits, including your own. Unfortunately, jokes after funerals often fall flat, doubly so when they’re especially pertinent.”
“I do think I made the right choice,” he looked at her. “I do.”
“Amusing and practical can align, but in their alignment, they seemed to have collided ungracefully.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But they love you. So long as you give them time and do not err further, they will see your intentions. I’m sure of it.”
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Anneliese stood in the parliamentary hall, occupying the podium that typically addressed all of the seats. Typically spellcasters occupied a third of the seats. Now, though, they occupied all of them—though they varied in origin, from the Hall of Enchantment to the Order of the Gray Owl to the more militantly-dressed spellcasters loaned from the Great Chu. Even Rowe the Righteous was taking part, though he and a few other Veidimen stayed isolated.
“I intend to keep this matter somewhat formal,” Anneliese called out, looking between all of them. “It’s my intention that all of you should have an equal voice. You’re here because you’ve already earned the right to an equal voice. Even still, for progress, there must be a hierarchy. At Argrave’s order, I will be occupying the position of chairwoman for this team. Though I may be queen, you may address me simply as Anneliese so long as we’re working together.”
Anneliese pointed. “Artur has cleared out ample space in his Hall of Enchantment for any and all of our needs. Furthermore, I’m designating him vice-chairman.” Artur and her locked gazes, and the former Magister gave a curt if proud nod, floating atop his crimson cloak. She looked to the right. “Garm, who is… of yet absent,” she said, trying to mask her annoyance, “…is also designated vice-chairman, due to his specialized knowledge on the field we’re researching. Lastly, Tarah, the Tower Master, will occupy the role of vice-chairwoman.”
A woman whose hair was blonde yet graying surveyed the crowd—Tarah, Castro’s designated heir. She seemed to fit the role much the same way he had. Though low-key, none seemed willing to defy her calm authority.
Someone near the front raised their hand, and Anneliese pointed. “Yes?”This content is © .
“What is the objective of this research team?”
Anneliese nodded at the natural question. “Our objective is to prepare for the possibility of full-scale mental attack from Gerechtigkeit, something we received evidence for some days ago after the attack on Vasquer. Her death was likely an assassination intended for Argrave. In the future, we believe the minds of all people could be at risk.” At this sobering declaration, Anneliese’s amber eyes swept the crowd. “Our role is very important. Hence, the rewards will be commensurate. We’re to follow a collection of disparate leads searching for ways to ward the mind from malign influence. If it should be a patchwork solution, so be it… but I estimate that we will instead forge forth into an entirely new field of magic.”
Anneliese smiled so broadly and purely that everyone recognized the spirit of scholarship brimming out of her soul. It was the smile of a child’s joy, of innocent curiosity. It was the spark so many of them had that spurred them toward the pinnacle of magic.
“I’m looking forward to this,” she concluded. “And I’m looking forward to working with all of you. Now, let’s begin by reviewing notes from one of primary sources.”