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“Gone is the day,
Long is the night.
So long you’ve been gone, yet still I wanna say:
You were right.
Would you forgive me?
If I asked?
Would you forgive me?
If I went to task?
Would you forgive me?
‘Course not.
Nobody’s left but my flask.”
- Old-Man Jones, Farewell Lucy, (303, 3rd Era)
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“A pleasure, King Crisimus,” Rochester said, bowing low; he felt remarkably light. No gun at the hip, his people and car tucked a long way away. Of course, they could always find trouble, but they should be on good behavior. Still, having none of his Pack behind him always sucked, especially since this place was decked out with armored and weaponed Knights.
The room itself was extravagant. Unlike the hotel suites of the Arch-Magi, which Rochester had the pleasure of exploring a few times in his many trips through Vega, compared to there, this place had a much more refined and elegant touch.
That might be natural; Vega was dramatic and overt—so its leaders were, too. There, the gold gilding of furniture and the excessiveness of their seats of power had a simple reason: show wealth. The point was to smash your face into the conclusion. To scream that you had money since chips bought power.
But in this room, the wealth bought luxury and beauty from the refined artwork and the trim of the throne on which this King sat. The money here spoke that it was, of course, expensive. It was quality. The result was the resources they could afford in the kingdom and its refined culture. A depth of culture somewhere like Vega filled with a bunch of wanderers and scavengers couldn’t come close to.
To an untrained eye, the dull king filling the throne would look nearly wrong. Or get lost in all of the culture. The man had grey hair, his deep blue eyes empty as he stared at Rochester. An almost unremarkable presence to most; there were no waves of overwhelming power that radiated off him. Unlike an Arch-Magus, the image this man presented didn’t bring to mind the word danger.
It would be easy to mistake him as a figurehead. An uncalculating puppet on a throne born into the role.
A mistake that from the first or second Rochester met this man, he knew was unintentional and carefully cultivated. It is a trap meant for the heady and egotistical sorts of people born into a position of power within a society like theirs.
“You all may leave, aside from Oak and my guards.” the King said, his voice soft as he dully looked over the rest of his court—a handful of nobles and an accompaniment of other Knights.
These people no doubt had important titles. Had curried favor in this court for most of their life to their appointment. And within their ranks were rats and spies aplenty. Ones that this seemingly uninspired man had pegged years ago and took advantage of. The nobility filtered out without much protest since the King’s word was law.
Why wouldn’t they? How could they refuse an order like that, much less be concerned about leaving the King with his royal guards and an unarmed outsider? They might not trust Rochester, but he was scarcely a threat to the King, even if the King didn’t appear all that strong.
Once the room cleared, the King cleared his throat. His signal to begin.
“Your message has been delivered. The council was surprised by the announcement so soon after opening your borders and is contemplating how to distribute the news.” Rochester reported.
“As long as it doesn’t stay within their sphere of influence, their response is scarcely the top of our concern. I’m sure they’ll send participants and spectators. How could one not when such an opportunity to view such a great potential ally or enemy presents itself freely?” the King replied, resting a head in his hand.
“On the account of it not being suppressed, as I said before. There is no need to worry. A couple of the other Packs met up with me in Vega. I spread the word, and they were willing to let the rumor fly. Even if the Magi wanted, the news is out.”
“So the world will know of our tournament. As I hoped, your lot proves to be a stalwart alliance and a dependable relationship.”
“Aye, a welcome boon in times like this,” Oak announced, slapping Rochester back.
The Pendragon leader couldn’t help but contain his grin. “I mean, your lot has been generous. And to drop this event? Hell, what kinda man would miss it? Dunno if I told you about Vega’s history with soccer and how big the cups get, but this. This is gonna be way bigger. To think the boogeymen of the wastes would break out of their wall and open them wide to welcome contestants and viewers to a competition? Nowhere else I’d wanna be.”
The King shrugged. “Better to make a splash to one’s arrival than to appear in quiet without an impression. Besides. Such an event can be a key facilitator. Once word has been let fly, we can make the same announcement internally. News takes time to travel outside of our walls, but inside, I don’t doubt it will have a much more profound effect.”
Rochester couldn’t tamp down on the smile as he stared at the seemingly dull man. For a King in a world like this, his presence wasn’t the overwhelming image one might expect. But, his actions, and underneath that surface, it was clear from the start.
King Crisimus was the type of person who wanted to shake the world.
He was the type of man who wore such a disguise to keep others from suspecting just what he might be capable of so they couldn’t stop him when he shattered the curse of familiarity.
— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —
The education Robin provided… It turned out to be a lot more hands-on and social than Erec anticipated or was prepared for. By the minute, Boldwick’s ominous warning that this path would be difficult for someone like him began making much more sense. After introducing him to her friends, Basil, and his husband, she brought Erec to more of her ‘friends.’ The first couple of people were also farmers on the outskirts.
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Then, after meeting them, she brought him to the middle of the city on the surface—talking to a few merchants she’d known for years.
She called him her student the entire time, telling them she was showing him around. As taxing as the back-to-back conversations were, they were all pleasant people. And they’d had a fond opinion of Robin—she was known to them as compassionate and always willing to lend a hand or give a favor. Friendly, cordial relationships.
When she first mentioned that these were the sorts that kept eyes in places Knights couldn’t see… The nature he’d pictured was very much cloak-and-dagger. But that was so far from the truth.
None of these people thought of themselves in any way as spies. Nonetheless, they were full of information, mainly as Robin steered the conversations. Asking about their lives and the going-on. Eventually, the topic would turn to the things they saw with a natural flow, and that was the source of information she needed.
With Basil alone, he told them that the Order of Silver Flames had been running drills more often lately. A selection of nobles Basil rarely saw before making more trips to the surface and the walls than he’d seen before.
Robin didn’t pay for this information. The nature of the relationship wasn’t transactional at all. As she said, they were friends. And the conversation flowed like that—she, to them, was a warm and welcome break in their day, a breath of fresh air for a time of year so consumed with heavy fieldwork. Or for the merchants in dealing with shipping logistics.
Erec wasn’t sure what he was supposed to take out of it as they went from person to person, and Dame Robin made introductions, then talked, and talked, then talked some more.
Those conversations had a lot of information. A lot of it was, frankly, uninteresting. Try as he might, and he did try, after the third friend of Robin, his battery for social conversations ran dry. From there, it was a struggle to track everything since most of the content that Dame Robin was after came in the cloak of investment and detail in the mundane lives of people she knew very well.
Were it not for a small tap on the side that Robin gave him during the conversations—a signal she gave for him to pay close attention—he would’ve started to miss some of those tidbits of information she flagged as useful. Things like merchant sons deal with particular houses or all of the small little bits she let slip by after parsing only to fill him in afterward for why there was significance.
Unfortunately, remembering these details wasn’t the only thing she would quiz him on after they left the conversations. She made sure to bring up those information points and have him infer connections or fill him in—but she also quizzed him on the people. On their personalities. What he thought about them, what they thought about others—all so exhausting.
By the time he was walking back to the Academy, his brain felt like mush, and he’d instead burn himself out on Fury fighting an army full of monsters instead of the pressing migraine that had built in his exhausted head.
“You do this every day?” Erec asked after Dame Robin gave him fifteen minutes of walking in quiet to build some of himself back into a functioning human again.
“People are power, and your connection to them is precious. Maintaining those connections takes more concentrated and directed effort than one might think.” Dame Robin said as she walked, “But no, even this much would be too much for me. Besides, there are other ways of gathering information. Different methods of looking into details to pursue will be covered in due time. This way, I just happen to be on the better end of what works for me. Others, you might find, are more suited to you. Regardless, the more ways you have, the more things you can learn, and you’ll learn that one piece of information at the right time can make all the difference. But I’ve never regretted making more friends. They can always surprise you in ways you’d never imagine.”
Erec scratched the back of his neck, hoping that what she said was right. While Garin might excel in a place like this, even with practice, he doubted he’d ever get close to that level of endurance for social interaction. “How did you even start?”
“Like we did today. A mentor of mine brought me to some of these people; I made an effort to continue that connection, which will be your homework. You’ll continue some of the connections you made today.”
“Homework?”
“You thought that this would be any different than your coursework? Of course, there is follow-up. I’ve heard you dropped out of Courtly Mannerism, but this game you want to play, unfortunately, has a very human and present connection if you’re going to play it correctly. There’s more to it than that, but I’ve found that working on your weaknesses and learning them first is the best way to improve. Your lessons with me will be more demanding and asking than most in the Academy because they will be real-world lessons. Field lessons, much in the same way that fighting monsters has taught you to be stronger, and once you’ve gotten better, there will be stakes. You asked for this. And after having your first brush with it, I’ll ask you if this is something you’re willing to commit to. If you don’t, then that is fine; I’ll make sure Boldwick understands. This path isn’t for everyone, and neither of us will think less of you.” Dame Robin continued; her voice was soft and welcoming.
There was no judgment there. She knew this work was not the sort that naturally lent to him; she’d known it from the start. He’d asked for it and wanted to see how it might suit him. And, frankly, he didn’t have a clear picture of himself ever becoming the type of person as Dame Robin or Garin.
He wanted to see the board, the pieces, and how they’d moved.
But to get there, it would require skills he was not good at. Push him in ways that made him uncomfortable—but her words. Working on and learning your weaknesses was the best way to improve. He wanted to improve.
Why, for example, had the Silver Flames been diligent about drills?
It could be simple training, but the more he thought about it—the fact they were doing so on the outskirts of the Kingdom instead of near the Academy Grounds or down below. They didn’t want people to know they were making extra preparations.
Then there was the bit that Basil said about nobility heading out to the wall; he didn’t imagine that said information couldn’t have been followed up on. If he went to the wall or had a ‘friend’ in the Azure Tower, those little pinpricks of people's movements could be followed.
Maybe he wasn’t good at this sort of thing. But seeing someone like Dame Robin and what she could do—the difference was in skill. He could learn to be better. He couldn’t learn to be Garin or her, but he could learn how to do this his way as long as he was willing to push through the uncomfort, to set aside the exhaustion, to fight his way to claim the skills that weren’t handed to him in a silver-flame coated Fury.
“I appreciate that. But I’m willing to go through with this. As long as you want to keep teaching me, I’ll take as many lessons as you can give. I can’t promise I’ll be the best at it, but I can swear I will try my best.” Erec said, knowing already, based on this homework alone, there would be times soon when he might regret this decision.
But growth, especially fast growth, demanded a bit of suffering.
Dame Robin gave him a warm smile. “Very well. If you’ve survived a brush with the demands of this path, then we shall continue. For the specifics of your homework, you are to follow up with five of the people I’ve introduced you to today within three days. You will approach them independently and try your best to spark your friendships with them. After that, I will expect a report on my desk. You are the detail of your conversations with them—as much as you can recall. The contents must include whatever information about their life you can gleam, along with a summary of how the interaction went and five new things you learned about them.”
Erec worked his jaw. That did not sound like fun at all. Already, his mind was turning over the overwhelming number of encounters and how to approach them on his own, trying to pick which of them would be the best to… talk to. How would he even introduce himself? What would they think?
A shudder went through him.
“Will do,” he said, firming his resolve. If he could face down monsters, making new connections should be simple in comparison. No matter how taxing it might be mentally. Though he promised himself that he’d keep these lessons from Garin for as long as possible.
The last thing he wanted was for his best friend to roll his eyes after hearing the news and saying the dreaded words, “I told you so.”