[40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 12]

Renner was lonesome. Seated adjacent to the window, she cast her gaze down onto the court yard below. Although three stories up, she was able to see with adequate clarity the object of her affection, Climb. He was nestled in a formation of troops, dashing down the lawn in a mock charge. It was a rare occurrence that the residents of Valencia allowed a training regime to be held outside, this on the basis of the health of the greenery. Groundskeepers did not let this happen without contention, but Jelka could not stomach his men going more than two months between outside exercises. For the men itself, it was a treasured field-day, and even though the work would become grueling as the sun rose to and fro its zenith, it was a day of activity far divorced from the dreary tower where they usually bettered

How boyish they all are; taking their fill of the wabe. I suppose I cannot look down on those desires. It seems to be a fun thing, a joyful movement. Jelka tries his best to keep this a serious affair, but the grins on their faces seem otherwise. What an existence. Eh? First place in that dash Climb! What an accomplishment. I’ll need to find a way to reward him later.

Renner was cheering internally for Climb. Watching him exercise was, to her, pleasurable - even if not in competition. There were other onlookers, mostly the staff of the palace, almost all female. Particularly so for the plateless exercises, maids in the palace always found their excuse to end up by the north end, and to cast their eyes upon the flurry of men. This was not an idol consideration; the socially demanded status required to enter Valencia being so high, even the maidstaff being highblood from lesser houses, those women were watching Knights for the traits of suitorship. Renner would soon find her excuse too, and descend from her room onto one of the small sitting spaces cloaked from the sun on the palace lawn, this at a distance none too close as to inspire talk nor too far as to let the intelligibility of the scene fade into the day. This was not to pretend as if this didn’t serve baser needs for those women (and perhaps a man or two) involved, and they watched not only in evaluation, but in hunger.

The way his legs move, the musculature rippling under the skin. What flesh you have. How effective and controlled it is. It must hurt to move like that, to build your body in such a way where its strength bulges from your form. Ah, enthralling! I cannot help but wonder what it would be like to be male?

Renner idly considered the thought, and dismissed it. She had little interest in the topic of gender besides how it had so subjected her to her father's wills. She knew of some diversity of thought, and that the empire had itself long possessed a group of individuals who were not so cleaved to their physical manifestation of sex as those of Re-Estize were ought too. Renner ticked up one more checkmark on her list of cultural ignorances, resolving herself to read more Tutulic literature once she finished brute-forcing El-Nix’s gift cross ploy. At a particularly impressive leap from her puppy, she let her feelings become audible, and gave a little squeal. It was a rare reveal of her inner thoughts, one borne only from her absolute confidence in her privacy.

Ah if only I could drag you in here and mount- oh? An arrival. An unexpected one at that.

There was a scramble by the north gate, a quad of watchmen rushing to it. Striking the lever, the gate shot upward opposite of counterweights. In rode a dozen on horses at full gait, but the riders rapidly bayed the horses from their gallop.

That’s Gazef, his lieutenants Unera, Opiclus, but I don’t see Yinervel. No, I don’t see Gerhart, Kilijen, Forthrast, Welldon. That private there, Jal, his squad sergeant isn’t present, yet he’s riding in with a motley group of the rest. The rankings are full of holes. They aren’t returning in triumph. No, they aren’t victors, but survivors.

Many of the riders were wounded. Splints, red-soaked linens, and tourniquets dotted the men. Gazef was no exception, his breastplate seemingly pierced in over a score of places.

Why haven’t they restored their wounds with potions? Surely that would have been the sensible thing to do; unless they ran out.

Renner’s eyes started to widen. Her last interaction with Gazef had been over a month prior, him framed in between the rows of flowers in the palace garden.

Did he truly encounter the Theocracy, or perhaps that traitor of theirs? I doubt anything but the most cunning of Imperial planners could have so laid waste to him and his men as this - in an ambush at that. This is concerning. To see the Warrior-Captain brought so low in his domain of expertise.

Gazef halted his horse at the head, and began to dismount. He struggled, bandages and weariness gripped him. The scene played out silently for Renner, distant enough to be muffled by the window and air between them. She caught many of the men training on the field breaking ranks and running to Gazef. Jelka made no move to stop them, and he was charging flat out. A rush of knights to Gazef’s side, and to the sides of the entire warrior band, and the Warrior-Captain was pulled from his horse. Dried blood matted its fur, and Renner knew her day was to be interesting.

—

Time slipped painfully slow, Renner found herself pacing her room. Six hours had passed since Gazef and what remained of his company had arrived. He had entered behind into the chambers which were so reserved for such martial and strategic matters, along with her father, Jelka, and a number of other highblood officers. Renner saw a fleet of runners depart soon after, and within an hour, began to trickle back alongside those who they summoned. She counted those who arrived at the palace in Gazef’s wake, for the most part a smattering of military officials; interestingly, representatives for Marquis Blumrushm, Marquis Pespea, and Margrave Urovana.

He sent only for the Royal Faction, meaning that this is a faction politics matter. This was no threat like a dracokin or any such sepulcher brimming with this world’s monstrosities. It seems a threatening matter. Has the Noble Faction gone far enough to collaborate with the Theocracy on the matter of Gazef? It would be absurd, such a betrayal of King and Country simply to waylay one man; which is why I think it true. Verily, how can it not be?

Renner continued to pace. Walking to the window, she marked the last of the representatives mounting his horse and departing at a brisk trot. She drew in breath sharply, bracing herself for what she would need to do. Her face had already been donned in makeup, for she had rigorously constructed her appearance hours earlier.

I need to be proactive. Go to my father's side and play the role of a worried daughter.

Renner had attempted and failed to do this earlier, driven off by the knight at the door. This was what had confirmed her suspicions that this was a factional crisis, not a national one. She was invited as a matter of course to war councils, strategy sessions, and any other such events as part of Ramposa’s retenue to show his support for the matters being discussed. She was blocked from ever interjecting, serving simply as something sweet for noblemen to gaze upon between arguments, but merely being able to listen sufficed for her. Renner walked to the outer door of her sitting room, her flats clacking against the ground.

Do they see me as a risk of information leakage? No, probably just dismiss me for my gender alone. They don’t see me as fit to know what they’re discussing. How boyish.

Opening the door, she stepped out into the corridor and made her way to the throne room. Valencia palace had three of such, and Renner followed the path to the smallest. It was a two minute walk, Renner using this dead time to give herself a proper expression of endearing fear. Winding through hallways and corridors, she tweaked her face in the moments she was out of sight of maidstaff or other personnel. Rounding a corner, Renner approached the entrance double-doors, the two knights watching her proceeding to open it. Entering into the throne room, she observed the light of the now descending sun as it cast the shapes of windows across the ground. Walking to the far end, a third knight saw her and opened the door to the strategy room, itself on the wall stage-right to the throne. As the frame before her widened, she observed what she saw inside.

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My father; Gazef and his two surviving lieutenants, Unera and Opiclus. Knight-Lord Vellen, Knight-Marshals Helgrave and Theiern. Palace Defense Coordinator Jelka. Oh, that’s one of the servants of Margrave Uruvana’s representative Elijah, ahh what was his name? Lakane, no, Lagann. Barbro and his Adjutant Teloran too. Even Zanac?

Renner felt her soul chafe. This was a stunningly poor showing of information security, and a complete failure to keep information tight. She tiredly pieced together her father’s thought process, cringing as she did so.

This is a military matter by your reckoning, so you figured Jelka wouldn’t be enough and wished Vellen and his men here. They of course have expertise, but Gazef himself can provide you all the details you need to know, and you can simply diffuse that information to the Knight-Lord at a later date. You suspect factionalism is at play, so didn’t invite any of the Royal faction representatives for what is outwardly a matter of national defense, yet you let your allies send you their second and third rate men. Further, you want Barbro here, not only because he’s a failure of a son whose head you need to set the crown upon with the gentlest of efforts lest it cave in, but also because of his activities in the borderland with Harlink and Bajan. The one smart thing you did was invite Zanac, but you probably did so begrudgingly as you’ve so expertly twisted your evaluations of your offspring. This information defense of yours is so perforated and run through as to collapse at the slightest breeze!

It took much of Renner’s patience, effort, and self-control to avoid exposing herself at that moment. She held her derision internal, under a mask which felt to her to be thinner than a strand of her golden hair. Barbro and Zanac failed to do likewise upon seeing her, their faces twisted in a fleshy visage she found to be in the kinship of gargoyles.

If someone from a station like Lagann’s was here, then that means without a doubt that Blumrush’s presence in the capital attended too. So the Empire will know the results of this meeting. Further, Knight-Lord Vellen is a political pawn for Boullope, so even guarding yourself against the machinations of the Noble Faction has fallen apart. All that aside, the half of you, including my brother-dearest, are all taking money from Eight Fingers. The maidstaff of the palace will have already sent word back to masters of this meeting. Everyone in Re-Estize will know of its holding by nightfall, most will guess or outright know its contents in a week, and even El-Nix will be aware in two. Unbelievably foolish.

Completely unaware of the rage that Renner felt toward him, Ramposa III saw her, his face lighting in the presence of his daughter.

“Renner, how my eyes have ached to see you.”

Gazef’s head jerked up from a map spread across a table, clearly not expecting the Golden Princess to arrive. She saw him swallow at the sight of her, and seemed almost nervous at her approach.

That feels almost enjoyable. I’ll speak to you in earnest later, Warrior-Captain.

“Father, I've been worried all day, is something the matter?”

“Yes. My precious daughter...”

Renner was now close enough for Ramposa to place his hand on her cheek. His eyes watered, Renner softening and lowering her voice at this.

“What is it father?”

“Disturbing plots against the Warrior-Captain. A blatant move from the Noble faction. From now on, I don’t want you going anywhere without a bodyguard, or without Adjutant Climb. I need you to be safe.”

To think he would give me such a leniency in time with Climb, what a boon! When I figure out who orchestrated this attempted killing, I ought to thank them.

“What plots, father?”

“Don’t worry about it darling. This isn’t something you need to concern yourself with.”

“But father-”

“Enough, this is no matter for you to worry over.”

Renner huffed, giving her father a look part sorrowful and doubtful, the perfect image of a loyal and concerned princess. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but quickly ceded the point altogether.

He’s anguished. He must feel hollow at the state of things, feeling as if I am in danger. A noble plot however? Would they really be so oafish as to attempt to kill Stronoff? What possible need could that serve besides a runup to assassination? There’s no benefit in that besides a course of further violence, and I doubt the ability of Boullope or Lytton to commit regicide. Hm, yes maybe they would resort to such foolishness. Ah Lakyus, your words ring ever truer.

She raised her head to look at the Warrior-Captain, forcing her eyes to wet. She broke away from Ramposa III, stepped shakily over to Gazef. He was clearly taken by her interaction with her father, and was still unprepared to speak with her.

It's strange that he’s this wary of me. Unpleasant to reverse my earlier intonations on him, but is he truly that nervous of me? What an odd thing. Has he not just brushed with death? His plate was shot through, at least to my eye. To think my cognition would inspire behaviors of this scale is strange to me.

Renner ran her gaze down his chest, marking the pock marks of violence on his outfit. He was not wearing his plate, having been ditched in a corner of the room hours prior; but Renner could see tatters in his tunic. Four and six pointed starbursts dotted it, cut so cleanly as to all but ensure they were the work of magic. A stout table nearby was set upon by empty vials, and Renner saw clearly that he had been downing tonics and other restorative concoctions throughout this council. Close enough now to do so, she took his dexter hand into hers, squeezing it and peering into his eyes.

“Warrior-Captain Stronoff, you’re a sanguine and loyal servant of the Kingdom. Not only a hero of Re-Estize, nor the people you did battle to shield east of E-Rantel, but a hero of all mankind. To think that any ne'er-do-well would ever pine for a plot against your person is appalling beyond reckoning. You are a custodian of the Kingdom, verily so! Please stay ever in the light of our lands, and by the side of my father. I know not what machinations the Noble Faction brews, but please safeguard yourself! We cannot let you pass from our age!”

The room was speechless, her plea so impassioned, and yet slightly comical at the same time. Gazef himself was in the throws of a forlorn pride at declaration, a weak smile coming over his face.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Now for the intended cause of my coming.

“It is but a minor thing I can provide, but if you possess the want, come by my sitting room, and we could perhaps share an afternoon course.”

“An invitation from the Golden Princess herself is no ‘minor thing’. I must accept.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Renner let go of his hand, and proceeded to return to her fathers side. In this way, she had turned her back to almost all in the room, with those in her path not casting their gazes at her. Her eyes shot to her left, and she drank in as much as she could from the map splayed out on the long table Gazef had been sitting at.

Area map of the areas surrounding E-Rantel, tactical information mostly. Lots of sketching around Bajan’s domain, perhaps that is why Barbro received an invitation, but Carne village seems to be the focus of their investigation . I know little of that place; unfortunate. They’ve taken a protractor to it and drawn circles, ah I can’t see the map scale, but still that looks to be 10 miles. What is that name? “Ainz Ual Gown”? Looks like it's spelled separately there as “Ooal”. Strange.

The map slipped out of her line of sight, but Renner had forever trapped what she had seen. Her recall was near prenatural, and she had no difficulty in chewing over what her eyes had touched in her mind.

It’s obviously not the name of any noble, nor of any village chief, or villager for that matter. Perhaps the name of a demihuman or heteromorph giving the locals trouble. Was it what the Theocracy was hunting in the area? That may be too great a leap. Ah, so many questions left unresolved. There was a path drawn between village to village, the order was headed northward. There was an enemy squad marker by Carne. That must have been where the battle with Carne was fought. Hm, a squad size enemy doing such damage to the Warrior Band? That all but assures Theocracy involvement. I doubt that any but one of the six scriptures could do such; aside from the four servants of Jurcniv. No, he’s too vain to let them die in some border skirmish, this is definitely a doing of Slane.

Of all the ambiguity that enthroned the terrors of the theocracy, none were less concerning than the rumors of the Gods deep past. The scriptures made no mention of the relations of the Gods in their earthly existence, however, contradictory records existed. The Gods themselves, although deified by the froth-mouthed preachers of the church, were undeniably historical figures. Codices and manuscripts from that age were precious objects, and some pointed to the Gods themselves fathering offspring. The Theocracy itself considered such statements heretical, but for all their efforts, they had never eradicated that rumor.

It is hasty beyond reason to imagine the involvement of Godkin, but none-the-less my mind wanders to that place. If anyone would have the sons or daughters of such beings, it would be one of the six Scriptures.

Renner arrived in front of her father. She was prepared to depart back to her room, but found the time to make one last goodbye.

“Father, is there anything I can do to ease your worry?”

“Nothing more, my daughter. For all the crises we experience, you help me stand indomitable. I love you.”

Renner lied through her teeth once more this day.

“I love you too.”