[40th Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 17]
A rapping cut through the hushed conversations of the room, each thud against the door sounding like a boom.
Knocks? Hilman didn’t bother when we entered the first time, nor Rochefort when he returned. Someone new is at the door, then.
Some in the room stopped their movements, a few of the attentive - Barons Telesen, Ulesn, and Baroness Burkens - quickly coming to the same conclusions as Renner, a rapid-crossfire of knowing looks between them and the knights. Climb noticed it too, bristling at the sound before turning to Renner. He had been released by the physician a few minutes prior, side mended and chocked full of tonics and tinctures. She feigned fear, starting at the noise before twitching to him. He was standing to the right side of her chair, breaking away to the door along with two knights, his hand dancing along the haft of his blade.
Wait, it was two, then two again. That’s one of the battlesigns that-
A sharp crack as the door bulged inward then buckled. The falling wreckage was blown through before it could collapse to the ground, a swiftly moving figure charging through it. They moved with speed and power, seeming to be entirely unfettered by the bulk they were carrying along with them. An instant later, they touched the ground, an impotent spray of wooden shrapnel scattering across the space in front of the door. Their frame was cut by a number of thin horizontal lines, each one glimmering in the candle light. Their stance was low and intimidating, projecting an aura of indomitability. They bore a long and wicked blade, one that looked as if it was carved straight from the night.
“Lakyus?”
—
The strategic council room was jam packed; knights-officers, other men-at-arms, the high nobles that led them, marshalls, lords, adventurers, warriors, royalty, and otherwise setting it near to capacity. The space was tight, and its conversations had reached a frightening din. Over half in attendance bore blades at their side, even noblemen fit enough to do so strapping on swords. Dozens of men were left outside the room. Between them, the Blue Roses, the Vice Warrior-Captain, the Royal Guard, and those in the service of Bolloupe, Raeven, and Urovana, Re-Estize had the highest density of strength in living memory. Jelka could feel none of the moment, only focusing on what he was to say.
Alright. Gods, I can’t believe- I- I need to do this. I need to do this. This is my responsibility.
“Attention! Attention! Attention!”
By the third cry, the noise had died completely, the whole of the room turning to face the speaker. A shaken Jelka cleared his throat before continuing.
“The sweep of Valencia Palace and the outlying fortress is complete. There have been no additional reports of violence for an hour, and no additional bodies have been found. We believe we have destroyed or driven out the entirety of the enemy force. Reports of violence in the city pertaining to a rogue pyromancer are also believed to be resolved, and it is believed that the force that caused such havoc has been defeated.”
“We are unsure how enemy forces obtained entry, however, we believe it may have been through a hidden passage. Their assault was coordinated, and consisted of a multipronged intrusion into the quarter-wing on the third floor, an assault on Marshalls Theiern and Helgrave, and general actions to block reinforcements from moving through key-junctions and halls. In addition, they provided false reports of violence in the city to draw away the Warrior-Captain. As to the identity of the enemy, Lady Aindra has spoken to them being men in the service of Eight Fingers. This is the result of an interrogation she and her fellows conducted. Of those that assaulted Valencia, three were casters; we have no confirmation if they were or were not Academy trained. In addition, it is believed that the so-called ‘Dark-Adventurer’ team Six Arms was also among the enemy’s number, and that it was they who the Warrior-Captain fought and drove off. We have no confirmation of the assistance of any other countries, organizations, groups, or individuals. We have no confirmation if Baharuth was or was not involved in tonight.”
It was a perfect assault. I don’t know how we would have stopped it. I should have been able to fend them off, right? Elias was always the better fighter of us. Had Lady Aindra not intervened, I- I don’t know what would have happened.
“There are still many missing, and until we can contact all who fled the palace, and the sanctity of their houses, it is impossible to give a sure accounting of the dead. There are a number of absent men at arms, including four of Count Lytton’s men, a pair of the Palace Guard, and the Adjutant to the Crown Prince. Rough totals are twenty four of the enemy dead, and…”
Jelka’s voice choked and died, his eyes drifting downward. He swallowed, visibly doing everything he could to keep his composure.
“And twelve of our own. Their identities were as follows. Of the Royal Guard, Sir Nunic, Sir Galdra, and Sir Brendle. Of the Palace Knights, Sir Illira, and Sir Seychen. Of Marshal Theiern’s force, Sir Ynnvra, Sir Conner, and Sir Jack. Of Marshal Helgrave’s force, Sir Quinlin. Of the Palace Guard, Keldan Ehkan, Delmar Gregor, and Petel Honar.”
I let them down. I let all of them down.
“Although there were wounded, there were no dead among the guests in attendance, nor among the civilian staff of Valencia. We should count this not as a miracle, but as the result of the valor and bravery of the fallen. This is an outcome won by the heroism of your men and mine, the personal deeds which many of you conducted, the arrival and shock counter-assaults of the indomitable Blue Roses, and those broader attendees which fought, harried, misdirected, or otherwise hindered the attackers. Of note are the actions of Lady Aindra and her companions, who personally came to the aid of His Majesty and Lord Urovana in a time of desperate need, doing so via Teleportation spell from twelve leagues distant to reach us in time. Of significant valor were Counts Rochefort and Keveleos, leading men personally to rescue His and Her Highnesses Barbro and Renner respectively. Of similar bravery are the acts of Baroness Telsa, who personally conducted the orderly evacuation of seventy-one of her fellows, then safeguarding their exit by fending off an attacker with a blade she had retrieved one of the slain.”
“I find this night to be my failure; it was my responsibility to protect the royal family, their servants, and all those in attendance, and I have failed in that endeavor. To that end, as of now, I am no longer the Defensive Coordinator for the palace. Sir Macnamera will be filling that office immediately, until a proper successor to that position can be named.”
“To now speak not of the details, but of the broader outcomes. This is a horrifying event, and shows the wicked and cowardly nature of our enemies; that they would choose to employ assassins into their ranks; that they would launch ambushes on valiant men because they know they could not claim victory otherwise; that they would choose to engage in reckless and destructive acts against King and Country. We must endure tirelessly to ensure such a thing must never happen again. We must strengthen our vigil and take care to prevent any knowledge of our composition from falling to the ears of evil men. That is an absolute objective. That the Kingdom of Re-Estize will always remain radiant and glorious. That His Majesty will always remain safeguarded and upheld. That this black night may never be repeated again.”
I’m sorry Parheli. I’m so sorry.
—
Three dozen dead? That’s… two dozen of those men Bolloupe procured. Were they such incompetent fighters that they would be slain two to one? Infuriating! How is that even possible? How much coin did I give him?! Did she say they were from Eight Fingers? I didn’t know we were hiring through them.
What of those that man Doll provided? How could they not defeat Gazef?! Wasn’t he sent out without any magical armorment? Just how peerless of a fighter is he? That Gazef survived; in the care of one of the Six-Gods churches, I can’t imagine it. He was left alive! I ought to rip my coin back from that man; that he took so many standards of platinum and failed in his duties. I’ll need to find him, I’m sure a coward like that would flee after such a failure.
Barbro tightened and released his fist. The night had slipped from his grip entirely, and he couldn’t understand how. He was standing in front of a floorplan for the palace - sans hidden passages - that had been dotted with wooden markers and pushpins. Exactly across from him was Lakyus, examining the third floor corridors closely, tracing her eyes across the route from the quarter to one of the reception rooms.
How did that rogue Aindra even know to come tonight!? Bolloupe assured me he would make sure those adventurers would be busy doing other things. Godsdammit! That Marquis has failed me twice tonight. It's unacceptable. I’ve provided him so much. Those men were certainly incompetents; even provided with the entrance to a secret passage, they couldn’t conduct a successful assault?
He eyed her closely. Next to her were two; a tall and broad woman, standing even higher than him, muscles rippling out of her maroon armor; on her other side, a small crimson robed and masked figure barely half his height. The image was a strange contrast, and he could vaguely guess that they were the brute and sorceress of the team respectively.
Aren’t there supposed to be another two? The twins, I think. Who knows what they're off doing. Jelka said they teleported. How is that even possible? I need a wizard by my side to explain such things. I would appoint one to the court… I would’ve appointed…
Barbro’s chest drew tight, suddenly struggling to breathe. He was stuck by how small the room felt, and he shifted in place, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. He blinked several times, pulsing his fist faster.
That merchantman and his fellows; I’ll have Teloran run the lot down, when he… Dammit! I forgot. Where is he? Did he run off? Did he turn away from me? Is that how the Blue Roses knew to come? Gods, no, that doesn’t make sense. They were still… Fuck! It doesn’t make sense. What of that bitch? That bitch and her dog!?
Barbro turned his gaze to his left. His sister was near, only a few paces distant. So was her adjutant. Barbro looked at him closely. His armor was sundered, and though the wound had been mended, what had spilled had yet to be cleaned. Renner kept casting furtive glances at him.
Is she unable to restrain herself? I… That no-blood actually fought. Jelka didn’t make mention of it, but that Count said he was responsible for driving off an attacker. Did he dare raise his sword against my man?
Barbro took a step forward, then another. Pushing past a knight, he caught Climb’s eyes. His face twitched, quickly turning into a grimace. Renner noticed Barbro’s approach a moment later, turning her gaze low, gripping Climb’s right forearm as she slunk behind him.
“You engaged in combat tonight. Who was it with?”
Climb remained silent. His face twitched more, right eye fluttering. An odd clinking noise filled his ears, one he could not place.
“Tell me boy. Whom was it you fought?”
Barbro realized that Climb gaze was not simply angry, but baleful. His eyes moved slowly down Climb’s form, he realized that the sound was from the plates of his armor; Climb’s entire body was shaking, quaking badly enough to be audible. Drawing his eyes leftward, he realized that his sister’s knuckles were bone white, and that her arms were shuddering from exertion.
She’s holding him back as hard as she can. She knows, they both know. He would draw his sword? He would attack me here?
“Your Highness, I have already spoken to the Adjutant Guard of the Princess. He protected her highness from an assassin.”
Barbro snapped his head back. Lakyus had turned up from the table entirely, burning holes in him with her gaze. Not only that, but her two companions were doing the same.
“The assailant was robed, Climb did not see his face.”
Is that true? Then… no. Did a separate Eight Fingers man come for her? That doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.
“I want to hear that from him.”
“Your Highness, I would not pester your sister any more. She has seen enough tonight, do not make her a target of your ire.”
“I am allowed to ask any question of my sister or my sister’s-”
“And I am of my rights to admonish you for any such action or outburst.”
“I am the Crown Prince.”
“Do not think me ignorant of the order of succession, Your Highness.”
“You would dare-”
“I would. Leave her be.”
Barbro’s words died in his throat. He tried to summon a retort, but simply couldn’t. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that she had driven him off from the princess, and turned back to the table.
I don’t understand any of tonight. Is Climb just angry because I struck her? She- She deserved that! She and her- her useless crying. She has done nothing with her life and yet- and yet she constantly draws the attention of those around her. Even the attention of a warrioress like Aindra. I don’t understand it! On this night of death and… and…
The room shrunk further, Barbro not understanding why things suddenly felt so tight.
Twelve men. Five Knights of the palace. Three of the Royal Guard. Illira. Galdra. Nunic. Brendel too. I remember when he first taught me to swing a sword. This- this isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted my father to- to… to give up his crown. I just wanted the crown. That’s all I wanted. This isn’t my fault. There’s no way- this was Bolloupe’s fault! He… He tricked me! How could this happen?!
He wanted to leave the room. He took a step, but was overwhelmed by his nausea. He gagged, trying his best to hold back vomit. Despite himself, he started to shake slightly.
I can’t be blamed for this. Gods. I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this. I’m a loyal son- I’m a loyal son who would never betray his father. I am the Crown Prince. I am the Sword of the Kingdom. I am a loyal son!
Barbro keeled over and vomited.
—
Zanac watched his brother empty his stomach onto the ground. He did not feel disgust, nor shock. Only envy, for he wished desperately to do the same.
Thirty-six dead. Gods. Thirty-six lives snuffed out. Thirty-six families absent their sons, brothers, and fathers. What the fuck have I done? Why didn’t I speak?
Zanac struggled to piece together his reaction earlier in the night. He had simply walked to a common space and sat there until the violence had bid him away. He had not spoken to anyone the words of his brother. He had not alerted the guard, he had not cried danger, he had not warned his father.
It was cowardice. Cowardice plain and simple. I, Zanac Valleon Igana Ryle Vaiself, am a coward. Better than being a traitor, but the distinction tonight is mute. Had I spoken to Jelka, I could have prevented this, or put the palace at a greater alert. I could have saved lives.
Barbro drew himself up, fighting back another wretch. He failed, doubling over and loosing its contents a second time. In error, he covered his mouth, only serving to backsplash his bile onto his shirt. Zanac turned his head slightly, mind snagging on the detail. Barbro was not expelling food, or drink, but only the raw fluids of his insides. He had not partaken in any of the latter part of the feast, and then again failed to do so in the interim between that and his warning to Zanac.
How the fuck can he… Is he disgusted with himself? I don’t understand. How the fuck can he have the gall to feel guilt? To regret this, after he caused the deaths of thirty-six? You dare to feel regret!? Remorse, after you conspire to kill our father? After you plot to seize this nation and sell off portions of it to your conspirators? You killed those men! They are dead because of you, because you chose to conspire with Bolloupe and his rats. To think I am your sibling! To think I share a mother and father with you! That the same blood runs through our veins. I hate you. I have never felt hate like this in my life. You, brother, are an evil man; are a wicked thing befitting every spat title one could place on your head. You are no demon or devil, but Gods know you are one of their lackeys. Call me a coward, and by all rights I am, but I do not find myself ill at my own treason.
He broke forward, hobbling out of the room with a smattering of confused Knights in tow. Vena had been standing at the side of his father, and seeing Barbro’s sickness, sighed and followed after him. Somehow, through the turmoil of the night, she had managed to maintain her hairdo.
She seems immune to the course of the night. She’s stronger than me. She always has been. I have no doubt about that with how she manages to push around Pespea. Here she is, the first night of a return to her first home, one that had been bathed in blood. Somehow, she manages to sustain herself. To chase after and run down our brother. Maybe it's something in the character of women that allows them to do that. What of her, then?
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Zanac rotated his gaze slowly, finding his younger sister still attached to the side of her bodyguard. He watched her start to move forward, before halting herself. It was hard to blame her.
To think that he struck her. As if you were to take every oft-repeated trait of cruel men and combine them. How hard is it to control such an outburst? She just ran to you, correct? He’s never heeded my warnings about her. There’s no way he saw through her act and did so from actual defensive posture; that was simple, straight malice on his part. I wonder what she thinks of tonight, what that inner world of hers has constructed from this event. That's what she is, right? A masked being. Something that pretends to be whole. It's as if, one day, she decided to be a person. I wonder how deep that persona runs, if she has become her mask; if what she did to herself was more holistic than I thought. Wait, she was a target of Barbro’s wrath too.
It had slipped his mind, another terrifying and foul part of the proceedings. The thing snapped into being immediately into his mind, and while he could understand his failure to notice, he could not forgive it.
Does she know it? What would she do if she knew? It would be what she always does when she knows things, act as if she doesn’t know. It's impossible to tell, then. Back to the starting position with her every time. If doesn’t know, then all the little movements of hers make sense. A perfectly caring and forgiving princess willing to throw herself into the arms of her brother even as he scorns her. If she knows, then she’s a horror beyond reckoning. How can she stand there and pretend otherwise? This can’t be an act, it's too clean. Too raw. The jumps of her posture, the way she hides behind others. I don’t understand her.
A figure approached Renner from the other side, one Zanac recognized as LordKeveleos.
He was the one that saved her, dragging her and Climb to safe haven. He’ll earn accolades for that. I wonder if father will hand out titles for tonight? Likely not, but words, yes.
“Your Highness, as to what we discussed earlier.”
“Oh, horse riding instruction Count? Yes, I would love to! A casual jaunt in the countryside would be lovely, though now that it comes to me, we may need to replan the date. All else ‘cept ‘scape stands as well.”
“Yes, o-of course.”
How does she have the capacity to socialize? To… to speak so casually. No wonder she so often finds the company of Lakyus. She’s indomitable. What does it say that she- no, both my sisters seem to be handling this better than I? That Renner remains conversational with our contemporaries, and maintains her duties as Princess. She’s soaked in the blood of her darling, and yet she speaks like it's nothing. Her brother struck her across the face earlier, continues to harang her for no clear reason, and yet she bears it all the same. She’s like Vena in that regard.
He turned, and for a moment, Zanac caught his gaze in the way that one risks when they stare at another. His eyes were filled with terror.
He’s scared. Why is he scared of her? Is she truly acting? What double meaning could those words possibly have? How do you even manage to scare your own rescuer? She is acting. That’s the only way his fear makes sense. She is what I think her to be, something afield of sense and rational thought. When the Gods fashioned the world and began to entome the souls that would populate it, one must have spilled their ink bottle on her page. She’s soulless.
Zanac had a sudden urge to not look at anything at all. He closed his eyes, and did his best to drown out the rest of his senses. The faces of the dead he knew, and the accountings of others stood at the forefront of his mind. He slowed his breathing, which over the course of the last few minutes, had grown to near hysterical pace. He found himself filled with a sense of purpose, one he had not known before.
I can’t let something like this happen again. I must prevent Barbro from taking the throne.
—
Two score and a shallow dozen bound for the grave. The mind boggles, no? The undertakers are to be busy tonight then; perhaps burial is too consumptive of their time? They might as well drag out the dead onto the palace lawn and raze the lot at once. Let's throw a few more onto the pyre. Tac one for brother-dearest’s man, another for his image; speaking of images, we might as well set alight the whole of Re-Estize; add to that my decrepit act which fell apart an uncountable number of times and we tally… forty? An auspicious number, surely the Gods are kicking themselves laughing at the brilliance of their infusion. Oh! Count another for my innocence; after all, what princess could bear seeing an empty vessel? Thus, forty-one.
Renner suppressed a laugh, knowing it was the worst of times to let one slip.
Ah, no more time for jest. What happened tonight is completely nonsensical, at least on its face. Valencia is supposed to be secure, layered walls and staggered defenses, with three - often four - distinct custodial forces crawling in every nook. Yet, with a sequence of stout jabs - and a modest handful of traitors - this fortress broke at the knees; without the intervention, it would have been decapitated. I suppose everyone supposed security in these halls. Interesting.
Change to material concerns. Brendel dead? Shame, that. Out of any loss, that will sting the most. Having to rebuild a relationship will be time consuming, and courier is a difficult job to say the least. That sort of work requires vigor, cunning, and a suspicious nature. I wonder who will get promoted next? Maybe Theiern would transfer one of his men; one of them would be ideal to say the least. Theiern in general ought to reap the spoils of tonight; alas, he won’t. Won’t escape the gaol that is Urovana’s demesne. If only we had more men like him, I doubt tonight would have occurred as it has even with Barbro’s treason. I don’t see why Jelka is so consigning himself to failure at this. I suppose it's a shame on his part, but I haven't the faintest idea why. There was nothing he could have done. Talent seems consigned to throw itself out. There was no one else of note.
Ah, no there was. A pretention of royalty creeping round and covering my vision. Keldan Ehkan died. That will have consequences for the cohesion of palace staff and its defensive readiness, but more importantly, Climb. He seemed to shield Climb from the worst abuses of his fellow low-bloods. After I got him his room, they became far crueler to him; my undoubtable favoritism promoting jealousy and discord. With this, they’ll force him out entirely and deeper into my grasp. How lucky.
That such a thing could come to pass in the first place, what does it speak to the strength of the Kingdom? Surely some of it was previously assumed to be false, but now it feels like the whole structure will come down with a swift kick. That’s what Barbro’s ascent would be; a final, fatal, creep of mold and rot up a beam. House Vaiself to twist in on itself and fold over. That’s almost what happened, but the foulest of our blood managed to take nothing along with it when it collapsed.
Things will breed in the wake of tonight. There has been turmoil in the reign of my father, but not this character - not since his assent, at least. Skulkwork violence against the crown, disconcerting. It's as if we’re bidding forward the dark places of the world, no?
There is luster in the black, shining specks in the depths of the sky. Motes of joy, advancements found from tonight. Barbro’s hands will never touch the crown; mine will find their way to Zanac. I was not wrong earlier, though perhaps absent a truer characterization. Honest men will reap gains tonight, but it is those like me that will find harvests. Those like Keveleos. What a wondrous thing. The dawn will be warm, but there will be no light.
Renner cast her gaze back to Climb, admiring the wonder of his form. He had defended her, throwing his person into a mortal duel to prevent hers from being threatened. He was still slick with his exertion, hair furled and completely unkempt. His breathing was labored, still reeling from the encounter with Barbro. Her eyes drifted down his side, spying the skin of his flank through the gap in his armor. She watched it flex as his chest pumped air in and out, visible cuts in his muscle. In this moment, he was not simply attractive, but was devilishly so. She could prevent herself from biting her lip, but not from blushing. After a moment, she twitched her mouth and inhaled in realization, another fruit of her drunkenness returning to her.
I told him I loved him, didn’t I?
—
Daybreak cast the world in hues anew, the yellow halo of a sun ripe for the breaking coloring the sky as umbra was forced west. The beauty of its rise would become apparent in a few minutes, setting the vault of the heavens ablaze in oranges, purples, and blues alike. Yet, Hilma could not think to admire it, nor could she be bothered to so much as care, not turning to look at it. This, for she had failed.
Eighty. Fifty in armor alone. Another one per each set of equipment and armament. That’s just the average, deploying those magic casters took three each, four if you count the scrolls. Other costs included paying off the death spreading brigade, running intelligence on personnel and positions. Transit. Eighty. Eighty fucking standards.
Her arms were resting on a railing, her leaning over it and looking at the water below. She was on one of the stone arch bridges that crossed the river cutting through the Capital. This particular bridge was around a hundred paces end to end, and ran nearly directly north-south. Flotsam washed by, a branch with leaves still attached drifting into and out of sight.
That can’t include everything either. Lost training, talent. Who knows what they’ll pull out of the prisoners they've taken. My losses from this will probably be double. That’s… a five figure total in gold. Seventy-thousand, Gods above. Only about twenty of that is liquid expense. The rest will come in capital and lost revenue. If the Blue Roses get the locations of fields or hubs and Greed Kings know they will, inflow will be cut bad.
Hilma pushed herself off the railing, turning in place to watch the clatter of horse drawn carts behind her. Most wagons were half empty, wholesale suppliers having already sold their stock to merchants. Bundles of barley and wheat, raw ore and cut stone, even ice-traders looking to capitalize on the heat of the day to come. She pulled her mouth to the side, the sight not helping to assuage her fears of economic devastation.
I probably won’t hit half of my usual revenue. I’ll be crunched, need to limit outflow before things can recover. I’ll run rolling delays on payments and bribes, make sure no mark goes without a month of- no, if I’m shrewd, I can cut that down to three weeks. Of course, that just leaves everyone pissed at me, so maybe I keep some going and cut others off entirely. Loans are going to be an immediate stopgap. I’ll force Banking to lend to me even if I need to do it at swordpoint. What the fuck went wrong?
She looked to her left and saw a man approaching. Around his neck he wore a verdant blue symbol. She clicked her tongue. The events of the night made no sense to Hilma. All the parts she had fretted the most-for went without a hitch. Jelka had bought their reports without question; Gazef had left the side of Ramposa; her forces had avoided discovery entirely, and entered Valencia without raising an alarm. News of their entry was the last progress report she had received. As the night drew on without contact, she had gone from elated, to tepid, to nervous, to panicked, to depressed. Now, seeing her enemy approach, she felt only resignation.
I name you… Alac Resenen Pell Keveleos. Count. Leader of the Eight Fingers Council.
“I always thought that amulet meant you were a member of the church.”
“That was the idea.”
“What, so you're a heretic hiding behind a faith? All those times you cited scripture in meetings was bullshit?”
“I hold my beliefs dearly and sincerely.”
And yet you use them to deceive others? Fucking hypocrite.
Hilma could not help but feel baleful, feeling an anger that was only half-performative. She was incensed, thinking of all the money she had spent not only on raiding Valencia, but on trying to identify the shadowy head of their organization. Now, on the worst dawn of her life, he came out of hiding. It was as if he was taunting her. She broached first.
“I don’t want a war.”
“We’re of a mind then.”
“I need territory, I don’t want no middling bullshit where my requests for land get rejected on the basis of stability. Four hundred additional acres in the south.”
“You think you’re in a position to bargain?”
“I don’t care if I am. I’m going to be crunched hard from every direction. Who knows what sort of retaliation is going to be coming from that Aindra will mount?”
And Theiern, too. How the fuck did he survive?! After the king, the largest contingent went after him! Gods above. He’ll run my men right through. I’ll have his rangers crawling up my fucking walls if I’m not careful.
Keveleos chuckled despondently, before looking out over the river.
“You’re delusional.”
“Say what you will. I fold, you can’t possibly repossess my assets in time. The entire Division would fall apart. Maybe, just maybe, my capos don’t disintegrate into a mess; but their underlings? You’re going to have a hundred separate local organizations in a month. Distribution networks would fall apart. You talk about not wanting a war? You would have a gang in every fucking town running each other through on the street. You’re talking thousands turned out and leaderless. Worse, you think the crackdown coming now will be bad? You don’t want to fucking imagine what would come in the wake of this. Do you know how much I manage? No one, not a damn person is capable of running this business like I can. I have suppliers from every end of this fucking country. Hell, from beyond too. I need capital to bear this shock. I need fields that I can sow now. They need to be fresh, they need to be clean. Everything I have now is hot. Do you understand that? Everything, fucking everything. Every single Laira field in the whole of the Kingdom is hot.”
“So what do you want to do about it?”
“You’re going to release the holdings you’ve been safeguarding for Banking back into their possession, and I am going to lend from it.”
“I don’t know how much you think that is.”
“Not enough, but you’ll do it. That means confidence in the whole division. Other leaders will do the exact same. I will too. Then, that pool of coin will be enough.”
“And what if you can’t pay it back?”
“Do you think I would make that mistake? No, actually, do you think you could force me to make repayment anyway?”
“I thought you said you didn’t want a war. Why are you threatening to start one?”
“I’m not, and I don’t. These are the terms, you want a unified syndicate, this is the only way you’re going to get it
Silence hung between them for a time, Hilma pulling a puff from her pipe.
“I have terms of my own.”
“Fine.”
“Twenty-percent of your net come fall.”
“Ten.”
“Twenty.”
“Ten.”
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen.”
“Eighteen.”
“Seventeen.”
“Done. Seventeen. That’s separate from your loan payments.”
“Whatever.”
“Further, cut payments to the Crown Prince.”
“Why? He’s a mark we’ve worked for years.”
“He’s a toxic asset. One we need to dump immediately.”
“Are you suggesting we throw our weight behind the second prince? Not that he needs any more of it.”
“You must understand, as a noble, I’d much rather serve under a King Valleon than a King Andrean.”
“That's it?”
“Do you assent to that?”
“What?”
“Do you agree to cut payment?”
“Gods above, what are you going to do? Fund another coup? I just did that and it didn’t fucking work.”
“I need assurance on this point, Cygnaeus.”
He’s offering more resistance to this than he did for a cut of my profit. Why? I can’t think of a reason. It’s not a bad idea to stop anyway, that man is a fucking idiot.
“Fine. I’ll cut payments to Barbro. Permanently?”
“Yes.”
“Let me ask again, is that all?”
“Yes.”
Keveleos turned back to her, and extended his hand, palm open.
“To peace in our time.”
“That’s from the scriptures?”
“From the Aquateuch. Book of Clarity, Five-Seventeen.”
A sliver of light appeared crept above the horizon, mixing layers of air causing its form to shimmer and bead. Hilma thought for a moment, before extending her arm to grip his. Their hands slipped into each other, palms touching. They shook.
“To peace in our time.”
—
Book of Clarity, 5:15
When He of the Clearwater arrived in the valley, he found a great many people spread between the cities of the land, in wide fields clear of obstruction and demi-human. Its fields were plentiful, the orchards abundant in apples and other sweet things. He traveled the places of the land. Of the rivers of the land, there were two. The first was great, and plentiful of fish. The second was small, the earthworks of irrigation that it fed cracked and desiccated.
He turned to his followers and spake unto them: As one river recedes, the other must grow. As the enemies and monsters of the world recede, humanity must grow. This world is given unto you. Take its bounty and guard zealous your waters. Take heed. Wise is the man who does not abandon his fields at the sign of its receding. The lands of man and beast will change hands again and again. Keep patience, and you will keep your lands.
Of the forests of the land, there were three. First was a grand forest, its trees strong and so wide around that ten men would need to hold arms linked to circumscribe it. Second was a lesser forest, its trees were smaller, yet would not sway in the wind. Third was a small grove, its trees young and immature. They let themselves become battered in the wind.
He turned to his followers and spake unto them: The foolish man will harvest only from the first forest, and tend only to the second. Harvesting from the strongest and oldest of trees. He will live out his life, and when he gives over his ax to his son, his son will harvest only from the second forest. His son will hand over his ax to his son, and when he comes to harvest from the third forest, he will see that it has died, and that his harvests are empty. The wise man will tend to the third forest. He and his lineage will know prosperity.
Book of Clarity, 5:16
Of the cities of the land, there were four. First was the city of Jedeth, its people great miners and workers of stone. Second was the city of Kirakul, home of six great wonders. Third was the city of Grin, its astrologers keeping great and detailed accounts of the stars and their meanings. Fourth was the city of Zekzel, a place of only wickedness and vile things.
When He came to the city of Zekzel, He saw their ways and marked them as vile and wrong. On the first day of His coming, He walked into the city square, and spake unto the crowd that gathered:
You must stop your doings, for you sin against I. These laws are those which are required for the dark powers to never again take this world. You must keep clarity of mind and spirit. Do not allow darkness into your midst. For those of you who deal in secret things, who make deals with monsters, thou shalt become monstrous. Thou shalt be cleansed at all times. There are many types of peace to be found. The land will know peace either when its people are valiant, when their souls are clear. The land will also know peace when it knows no people.
They said to Him that they could not change their ways, for it was those that brought food to their mouths and provided them prosperity. They laughed at Him, and called him a fool. He left, and on the second day, returned, and gave His warning again. They laughed again, refusing to change from their path of wickedness. On the third day, He came again, and spake again. This time, He said that this would be His last coming, and that all those valiant and clear should leave the city. Of all the people of the city, only one heeded His warning, a girl. Her in arm, He left the city.
Book of Clarity, 5:17
When He reached the hill outside the city, He stepped upon its highest ridge, and turned to Zekzel. He raised His arms high above His head, and snapped his fingers. The city, all its inhabitants, even the animals in the air and those in its river turned to salt. He snapped His fingers again, and a great storm brewed in the sky. It rained so hard and so terribly that all the salt melted into the water and washed away. The river of the land was filled with salt, and it became unto those who tasted it like the water of the ocean. When the storm broke, the city of Zekzel, all its inhabitants, even the animals in the air and those in its river were gone. He turned and spake unto those who had gathered:
To peace in our time.
—
A taloned hand finished scribbling its notes, and closed the cover on the book in front of him.
Most certainly beings on the order of those that our master fought. It is one thing to destroy a city of humans, it is another entirely to do so in such a poetic fashion, to inscribe it in scripture and grand tales such as this. I will need to obtain an older copy, to cross compare; see what they’ve edited and removed. Perhaps I will write such destructions anew in his name. What a wonderful thing that would be.
He reached his hand up and adjusted his glasses.