[41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 4]

Climb looked ready to break under the weight of her comrades’ stares, and as impressed as Lakyus was, she couldn’t help but pity him.

"With Ampetif Doll and Succulent in hand, the two marched on down to the guard post in Rine, and threw those men right into the gaol. Of course, those poor women needed aid too, and so they have to be left there for now. That said, I’m moving them to the protection of a mercenary band. With time, I should be able to bring them to my demesne and find housing for them; I’ll need to speak with Magistrate Elrec on that point, but he dare not refuse. In any case, having done all that, Brain went on to the Warrior Captain's residence and Climb returned here."

"You gave him a hero's welcome, right?"

"I don't think the kid could take one. He'd get all teary eyed, start whining about how he doesnt deserve it."

Can’t you two keep your mouths shut for one-

"Mm. If only. No, I didn't get to see him immediately."

Lakyus’s chide died in her mouth, Renner embracing her comrades’ jests in stride.

"Why?"

"Our new defensive coordinator decided to make a show of things. In all his heroics, Climb had failed to repair. Nominally, I would simply march down to Ro-Lante and sort things out with a few prying words. As much as our dear Sir Jelka served to hamper Climb in the day to day, he would never obstruct him. Helgrave, however…"

Renner’s tone was biting, stressing the first syllable in Helgrave’s name as she flicked her eyes off to the side. Lakyus saw an opportunity to tease.

"Y'know, Renner, I've never heard you sound so disdainful."

"Disdain? Fair, though perhaps a better word would be ‘despisal’. I've rarely felt so insulted by the actions of a man."

Renner’s wore a mock hardline expression for a time, before it collapsed into a general weariness.

"No… my troubles with him aside, Helgrave is Vellen's toy, and Vellen is Boullope's."

What?!

The mood split: Renner’s words were only understood by Lakyus, Climb, and Evileye, the three stiffening to the confusion of their compatriots. This, in turn, annoyed Lakyus - she still had not managed to drill the intricacies of palace politics into their heads. Renner's implacability made this all the more baffling, her tone - though low - had a tired quality to it.

Why isn’t she in the least concerned? She’s speaking like this is a routine ill. It’s as if she’s resigned herself to being surrounded by traitors.

"You think he-"

"No, I don't. Not wittingly. He lost men on the Black Night, and to that he seemed genuinely devastated. By a stripe, so did Vellen. Information has a habit of floating to the top is all. In any case, Climb said the correct things, protecting both Brain and this Sebas character… I've gone and put you on edge, haven't I?"

"It's fine."

"I do apologize."

"It's fine."

"Right. All correct then."

Lakyus immediately regretted the tone of her rejection, though Renner gratefully remained unmoved. Gently pivoting her head to look at Gagaran, she raised an eyebrow and quizzed.

“Miss Gagaran, did you have something to say?”

“Your Highness, are you sure about him? Er, Brain, I mean. Considering the fact that Eight Fingers was willing two months prior to hire his band.”

“It was never his band per say, but that’s getting pedantic; consider the negative perspective, Gagaran. What sort of grand conspiracy would that be on the part of our opponents? Hiring Unglaus only to have him kill half a dozen of their men, wound Succulent, then help capture Cocco Doll?”

“I don’t get it. Wouldn’t that make sense?”

Tina silently nodded along with her sister’s question. Gagaran seemed similarly plexed. Renner clicked her tongue and cocked her head to the side, resting her lower lip on her teeth as her eyes danced back and forth between the Blue Roses.

“Mm… how would I explain? While yes, it’s possible, I wouldn’t by any means call it plausible. It sounds like the beliefs of those loquacious noblemen that insist they’ve pieced together the exact way in which the Black Night came together. In a sense, incoherent. Unbelievable.”

It feels like there’s a story there. I should push.

“You speak with a little bitterness.”

“My sister has fallen to that talk. Her letters have grown somewhat inane. ”

“Oh?”

“I won’t speak ill of the Ryle- redact that, the Vaiself matriarch, but her supposition that the Noble Faction, Baharuth, Zurranorn, Eight Fingers, loathsome merchants, and villein villains are all conspiring together to undo the kingdom is a little… stretched. Irrespective, my darling Twin Killers and Woman of Mystery, you understand, yes?”

“Got it-”

“-Got it-.”

“-Got it.”

“All three of you are slow.”

“Shut up, runt. I could punt you out that window.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Please do, it sounds-”

“Entertaining.”

All four of you?! By the will of the Gods!

Exasperated by the banter, Lakyus opened her mouth to reprimand the group as a whole, pausing only as she heard a muffled giggling from Renner. There was a chirp-like quality to it, a gentle beat that seized the moment and Lakyus along with it. Climb was caught in the same trap, frozen by that same sound, though likely in a completely separate fashion.

I have no way of knowing what that sounds like to him, do I?

"Oy oy, virgin-"

Renner’s laughter died instantly. Lakyus, finally seeing her opportunity, smacked Gagaran upside the head.

"Ow! What did I- oh, right. Sorry, Your Highness."

"I just wish you would stop calling him that infront of me."

"Right. Uh, anyway, Climb, do you think he could take me on?"

"Who, Sebas? Um… I wouldn't be able-"

"Brutal. You're eviscerating her, kid."

"No, I-"

"Yeah, just say ‘yes’ next time. Still, not bad, cherry boy.”

“I’m with musclemounds on this. Apprehending a member of Six Arms is a pretty big deal.”

The twins took this as permission to launch into their analysis of Six Arms’ capability, Tia listing each member off dispassionately.

“Davernoch the Undying King; Peshurian the Void Cutter; Edström of the Dancing Scimitars; Malmvist of the Thousand Kills; Succulent the Phantom Devil; and then their leader, Zero, The Battle Demon.”

“Davernoch is an undead. Peshurian has a whip blade to attack at a distance. Edström is adept with several magic weapons. Malmvist is a fencer: poisoned blade, adept at lunges. Succulent is, well, already down. Zero is a brawler, hand-to-hand master. Combat ability of each is likely adamantite.”

“Mmm. Catching one is a… well, it’s a big help to us.”

This intelligence had been a dual effort: half came from a conference with the Warrior-Captain, in which he described notable aspects of their physical appearance, battlegear and its likely enchantments, and the diverse fighting styles of each; half came from a stolen communiqué Renner had cracked which had netted names, availability, and pricing. Synthesizing those two sources had given the Blue Roses and company a rich image of their adversaries, and they had steadily divined measures, countermeasures, and countercountermeasures to defeat their opponents. Renner was - as usual - worried about code names, fretting about swaps or scrambles that she had missed.

She always misses the most obvious things. I find it funny that she thinks that any adventurer, dark or not, would ever operate under a pseudonym.

“Climb, this was good work. I mean, it was good fortune that you met Brain Unglaus and fought by his side, but still.”

“The fact that he could gut Succulent in a single draw proves that Unglaus’s ability wasn’t a myth. I mean, I knew he fought nearly on par with Gazef, though hearing about it from someone who did combat with him is a different matter. That said, I’m more interested in that old butler. What sort of man does he have to be to earn a shrug and preemptive surrender from Brain?”

“I didn’t get Mister Sebas’s address.”

“Hm, Climb, did you not ask because you knew you shouldn’t have, or did he not tell you because he was wary? Which one?”

“Er, both, Lady Evileye. I mean, maybe he would have told me if I had asked; but Mister Sebas volunteered his help anyway, even though I was the one who involved him in this. I did not want to learn anything which might cause him difficulty.”

“You’re a good kid, you know that?”

“Yup, what the runt said.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me, why have we never heard of him?”

We’re getting off topic.

“Perhaps it would be best to leave Sebas aside for now. If not for him, we would not have found the accurate location of the brothel and we would not have captured the head of Slavery, Cocco Doll. Both Climb and ourselves are indebted to him. We can bring this matter up later.”

“You’re right, Lakyus. Then, your Highness, you said you wanted to revise your plans for the next few days. Does that mean we’ll be attacking another place besides the Syndicalists Game?”

“Quite correct, Miss Evileye. It is my sincere wish that we do not trifle with a single target, rather, as many as we can spare. All at once, I wish to strike six places. Time is not a resource we have to burn.”

Renner’s words were followed by a moment of silence. The day suddenly seemed to be standing on the edge of a chasm.

Does she mean that? I think she does.

“Er, but Your Highness, I believe we’ve had discussions before about this. It’s a manpower issue. Did you- did someone agree to help us last night? We can’t go through the guild for this, can we?”

“The most stupid thing we could do is to involve the city guard in order to bulk up our numbers. Those bastards have the guards in their pocket. I mean, we can use then for cleanup duty, I guess, but otherwise you’d be begging for trouble.”

“The same with borrowing house troops from the nobles. We can’t ask them for help, too many of them are in bed with Eight Fingers.”

“Hmph. The only people we can trust are Mister Stronoff and the men loyal to him, his warriors… well, no, I guess that’s not a guarantee either. His warriors that is.”

That’s a terrifying thought. What is she thinking, suggesting we go after every base at once? Agh, it doesn’t matter. This is going to be bad for morale if I let this go on. Take control, then pass it to her. She’ll reason this out.

“Your points all have some truth to them. It all comes down to the same problem: we don’t know how far the rot goes. We can’t predict who’s trustworthy and who’s not. Still, we can’t stand by and examine the Kingdom out of its disease. We can’t excise and expunge the problem while being torn in eight separate directions. Renner-”

“Exactly. Therefore, I thought to ask a reliable noble for help.”

Lakyus felt a mote of relief. Renner was - at the very least - a friend who knew how and when to come to her aid.

“You know of trustworthy nobles, Princess?”

“I do, Miss Evileye. Not to disparage those consanguine to me, but there simply aren't many. However, I do know one of repute.”

“Oh? And who is that, Renner? I don’t doubt your judgment, but if we’re talking a barony out in the hinterlands, it's not like it matters. There’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to muster up enough men from his domain either.”

“I very much doubt that will be a problem. Ah, since he was brought up, the Warrior Captain will be alongside us as well.”

“Good, that’s understandable.”

“Mm, he’s a reliable man. Or rather, if even he’s in bed with Eight Fingers, then we’re finished.”

“Climb, please go and send summons to Marquis Raeven. He was present at the last session of the House of Lords, so he ought to still be within the city.”

Lakyus’s confusion returned again.

What does she want with him? She isn’t going to seek aid from him, is she? He’d be able to force almost any terms on her, if she had anything to offer at all.

“The Marquis? I did see him in the company of the Prince.”

“Oy, oy, Princess. Are you sure you can trust this Marquis guy?”

“They say Raeven’s a bat.”

“A bat who flits between the Royal and Noble factions. Considering that, then I don’t see how Eight Fingers’ filthy lucre wouldn't move him.”

“I don’t want him leaking intelligence about us, Princess.”

I can’t stand this.

“That’s enough, all of you! Ahhh, Renner, Marquis Raeven has never exactly left a good impression on me. Are you certain he’s trustworthy?”

“Certain? Not in the slightest. And - to my knowledge - he has taken money from Eight Fingers.”

At that, the day finished waffling and promptly leapt off into the abysm. More silence followed.

“Is… are you trying to spread false information to manipulate the enemy?”

“We did that before some assassinations. Spread news about blades coming from elsewhere to divert attention of security personnel.”

“That’s not it, Miss Tina and Miss Tia. Taking money is a promise, and promises among the great six are never unbreakable. One may simply choose to take the money without providing loyalty. I was always waiting to discover my Ryle’s vice, I suppose I’ve now found it; gambling. If his relationship with Eight Fingers is closer than I thought… ah, no matter. Climb, I repeat my directive. Summon the Marquis. If he hesitates, confirm the destruction of the brothel and the capture of the head slaver - I’m uncertain if that news has made it back to them.”

“Should I speak about capturing the head of the slave trade? I- Your servant believes that it might be better to keep it a secret, at least for now.”

“We need to approach with open arms and upward palms if we want him on our side. Doing so is the best proof that we trust him.

“Your servant understands. Then, I’ll depart now.”

“Please do, Climb.”

He stood, bowed, and left the room. The door closed with a punctuating click.

“Now, since this will take some time, shall we have tea?”

“Yes. For all of us. The rest of you aren’t allowed to refuse.”

Lakyus pivoted around in her chair to sweep her gaze across her compatriots.

“That’s an order. Anything in particular?”

“I’m feeling something exotic, Karnassus White?”

“A little much, no? Shouldn’t we save something like that until after we crush Eight Fingers into the dirt?”

Renner again giggled in that special way of hers.

“I have a jar of Bloodleaf for just that purpose.”

Bloodleaf?! Here? How much is she willing to spend on refreshments? First the milk and now this.

“How did you even… where did you get it from?”

“An elf vendor of the Dark variety. Or so I believe - I’m not good with their kins. Anyway, that would mean deep south… maybe. I did do a test brew, and I can speak to its properties first hand; it really does turn the water the color of blood. It’s a bit macabre, but it does taste quite wonderful. It made me feel positively vampiric.”

“R-right.”

Crap. We still haven’t told her about Evileye, have we? Though, I don’t think that will ever happen.

Lakyus sighed inwardly. The obligations of adventuring life often come into collision with the tenants of her faith, but very rarely did that intersection continue along and blunder into her friendships as well. Though she had absolute faith in Renner’s ability to keep silent, the identity of Landfall was a thing of myth, and Renner - for all her wit and cleverness - was merely a princess. Magic could rip her will away from her, put her in coercive agony, or draw the words out of her corpse. Often, secrets only needed to be kept within a lifespan, but Evileye did not have one, and thus that unspoken caveat all living beings applied to their guarded thoughts simply did not apply. Renner could never be told. Time passed without anyone speaking, Renner’s practiced tea-making routine smooth and unyielding. Soon, she finished, and presented the five women cups of a flax-colored beverage. Lakyus took a sip, and memories of the floral yet nutty flavor flooded her. It was as good as she recalled.

“I haven’t had this in years; the last time I did was here, I think.”

“That’s what you said the last time, down to the word.”

“How do you remember that?”

Renner shrugged as she took her first taste.

“How does the sea rush to shore?”

“The will of He of the Crashing Wave.”

“Indeed. It’s but a product of another will. No matter. I’m going to shift to practical talk if that’s alright.”

“You’ve never needed my permission; go ahead.”

“All the following is contingent on Raeven lending us his house forces. We will be striking the six remaining targets in the seized note: a bank, a manor, a storefront, a hideout, a warehouse, and a villa. You will strike the sites, fight their forces, arrest as many as possible, and seize evidence. This necessitates that you lead squads of men, each to assist you in your assaults. We will need to scout each location, confirm that its description matches what we believe to be there, and confirm the presence of Eight Fingers on site. How you do that is at your discretion.”

“Tia, Tina, Evileye.”

The three women nodded, accepting the reconnaissance assignments.

“Raeven’s forces include a number of professional soldiers, which he supplements both with adventurer teams and levy. The latter won’t be of use to us, but his forces are designed to excel in demesne security and battlefield skirmishing. Excepting the adventurers, expect them to be at a comparative dearth of experience and equipment compared to Eight Fingers enforcers, though with higher organization and cohesion. As such, they do not possess significant numbers of casters, be they heavenly or chasmic. Thus, we have two organizations I wish to seek assistance from.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Those being?”

“We’ll contact the Magicians Guild and request the presence of retained staff, specifically abjurers and evokers. Any magic that can successfully batter, bind or blind the enemy is advantageous to our mission. For them, they’ll be able to cut down those who bypass their channels for magic items, and strengthen their business. The second group is somewhat… sensitive.”

“What would that be?”

“Lakyus, could you beseech the churches for aid?”

The moment hung. Of the many millions of kingdom faithful, none had been granted greater divine favor than Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra. Discounting the exceptional women of Roble, and the rumored individuals of Slane who mixed proper worship with unspeakable blasphemy and idolatry, she was the greatest servant of her God alive. That this unique aegis had been not granted to a high priest or a paladin, but rather to an adolescent girl turned runaway adventurer had been a snub to the churches the Gods never cared to explain. This, along with her tendency for private worship, had made her relationship with the organized faithful exceedingly complicated, and this ask of Renner’s less than simple to fulfill.

“To be sure, but for what, specifically?”

“We have few healers among us, and while we can perhaps rope in a few pharmacists to our cause, I simply don’t have the coin to outfit each squad with an alchemical suite.”

They wouldn’t refuse me, would they? How could they? This isn’t for me, but for the good of the Kingdom. They’ll assent; I’m almost certain.

“Then, I believe so.”

“Wonderful! We would need one priest per squad, someone capable of blade and bolt wounds.”

“Poisons as well.”

“Eh? Oh, quite right, Miss Tia.”

“Magic and alchemical burns as well, probably someone specialized in the handling of undead.”

“Ah. Forgive me, Lakyus; those things as well.”

Lakyus cracked a warm smile.

“Doable.”

“All correct, then. That's all for support personnel, next is target selection. Lakyus, I’m sending you to Dalenoc Manor; it's the nexus of the Smuggling Division, and I’m sure the implications of that are obvious.”

They aren’t, but I think I can guess what she’s aiming at.

“It’s the hardest target?”

“By far. Every rat in this city is going to flee, but none are willing to part with their take. The infrastructure will be strained well past its limits. There may be over a hundred on site. You’ll get the largest portion of the forces Raeven provides. I’ll leave the battle planning to you, but expect a high quantity of varied enemy forces. If we’re lucky, they won't have tactical cohesion, but I wouldn’t count on it.

Evileye, you’re getting the bank; the matter requires a certain level of discretion that your magic provides; invisibility, silence, and the ability to bypass or incapacitate large numbers of bystanders; you should just need to capture a few managers - the rest on site are unimportant. Tina, you’re flipping a cards table; the space is tight, no civilians will be present; simply act as vanguard and waylay their soldiers in advance of your force. Tia, you’re getting the second hardest target; the assassination division has a hideout buried deep in the sewers underneath the city; the space is tight, lights will be out; you’ll leave your men on the surface and go in alone; everyone present is a wetworker, you’re free to be indiscriminate. Gagaran, I’m sending you to a warehouse. You’ll catch it as it's being emptied. Resistance should be light.”

“Oy! That’s not fair! How come I’m getting the easy job?!”

“Eh? I don’t believe it was that… forgive me for this, but I hazard that smashing crates with your warpick would be entertaining. Feel free to break everything.”

Gagaran broke into laughter, the entire group following a moment later.

“Forgive me for my jest, I- ahh, I’m feeling electric.”

Wait. Six targets. Doesn’t that mean the person getting the villa is Climb? Isn’t that the property of the Security Division?

Lakyus’s thoughts halted, and despite herself, she swallowed.

What is she thinking? I don’t understand. It’s not a guarantee that they’ll be there, but if they are… Yes, he faced down Succulent, but by no means would he- Gods even I wouldn’t be able to face down all six at once. He lost his duel against Succulent. Why would she do that?

Images of black things came to Lakyus; vivid imaginings of his mangled corpse, slain in any which number of ways. It was easy to imagine him getting killed. In the last two months, he had come close to the brink twice, relying on luck to save his life both times. Death was not something she was averse to; it was a constant in her line of work, the steady knowledge that a request might be too much to handle. For herself and for her comrades, she was able to accept that risk: she knew she belonged to the Gods and that at any point they could choose to end her life and take her back. This was not the case for Climb nor Renner. Her reaction would simply be unimaginable.

“Lakyus, is something the matter”

“Renner, are you sending Climb to the Villa?”

Lakyus’s timbre had turned low, a cold and even manner of speaking. Renner cocked her head in confusion.

“Eh? It’s the last target, is it not?”

“Isn’t that the property of the Security Division?”

“It is.”

“Renner, what are you thinking?”

“What do you mean?”

Is… is she really going to make me spell this out? How… how do I even say this to her?

“What if Six Arms is there?”

“What?”

Renner’s question had been unvoiced, a whisper that had been spoken so low and so quiet, Lakyus was certain it was an unintentional exhalation. Her eyes widened, and a horrified expression spread across her face.

“For the love of the Gods, no! I- forgive me- I… No, I’m certain they’ll be at Dalenoc in force - too much money and manpower to leave unguarded. That’s why I gave it to you. You can zone. You can heal and bolster. You can lead. Everything necessary for the rest of the team to come to your aid in time. Gods, I would never send him-”

That all makes sense. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that?

Lakyus immediately felt like a fool. She had gone and terrified her friend for no good reason. Renner fell apart almost instantly. Before Lakyus could track, Renner was in tears, her words spilling over into others as her pace became more hectic and overwhelmed. She sprung forward in her chair, reaching out to grab Lakyus’s hand. Her grip was tight.

“Please believe me. I would never-”

“It’s alright.”

She’s under a lot of stress, isn’t she? I don’t know why I didn’t realize that.

“Do you think they would be there? If they are I’d-”

“No, they won’t.”

She always seems so calm, so even keeled. I guess it's an act; a way of keeping morale up for all of us.

“But if they decide in the final hour the coin isn’t worth the effort and-”

“Renner, calm yourself.”

She paused, eyes darting and lips quivering. She slowly slipped her hands from Lakyus’s, drawing fully back into her seat. She brushed her face, clearing away moisture and recomposing herself. Together again, Renner took in a deep breath, slowly released it, and continued.

“A-apologies, I'm doing my best to keep myself put together in front of him.”

“I understand, I think-”

“I send him away once, off into the blue, and look at what happens. He puts himself in peril, and though his accomplishments were no small feat, he nearly died trying to do them. Stabbed through the small of the back by an invisible sword. How does one defend against that? How does one counter that? It’s impossible for me to grasp. There, out of nothing, the air grows thick and one dies. They simply die. A point that breaks the skin, presses into the body, and leaks out everything. I keep thinking about it. So random, so capricious.

It’s moments like that that make me question my role in all this. Am I not just a princess? No, just a girl in the summer of her youth watching her servant go off to war? No, saying that is deceptive. I’m sending him into it. At least, I’ve let him chase his heroics; that wild sense in men that conflict is a glorious thing that death makes all the sweeter. How am I to save him from that? Do I even have the right? I don’t know the answers to these things. I suppose… I suppose I can only do that thing immemorial. Sit and wait.”

“He’s in your service. You can keep him from this fight, Renner. We can afford-”

“And let one more base go unstruck? Let more one band of evildoers slip into the black with ill-gotten things? No, selfishness like that is unacceptable - one step down from treason. I refuse to betray this kingdom; I refuse to betray its people. Climb has sworn service to me. Thus, no matter how much I wish otherwise, no matter how much I wish to to scream, grab him, and hide him away, he must go into battle. Lakyus, we're at the crux. There is no room for indecision. No room for weakness or flaw. We must be sanguine, we must be stalwart, we must be insurmountable, unbreakable, and impossible foes. I will not compromise on that. Though, perhaps I may be allowed one indulgence.”

“What indulgence?”

“What would it be, Lakyus?”

“For what?”

“To bring him back.”

“Nothing. Not for-”

“Don’t. I’m not interested in your charity. What would it be?”

“Five hundred trade coins. About.”

“I understand. I’ll set that aside.”

—

[41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 4]

Raeven took a sip from his glass, relishing the burn as the whiskey slipped down his gullet.

“So what does this plan of his mean for us?”

“Boullope’s or Lytton’s?”

“Lytton’s.”

“If I were to hazard a guess, not much. He’ll stick by his master for now, accept his defeat in the election, and quietly pamper himself on whatever kickbacks Blumrush gave him.”

“Alright. That makes enough sense to me.”

Raeven and Zanac were once again in Raeven’s city manor, the two occupying a drawing room nestled in the east side of the house. That they were able to do this was the result of a revelation the pair had shared: there was no longer any objective in secrecy. All their clandestine meetings had been to disguise their inter-evaluations from others; now that they were both certain of each others’ character, hiding would only be a detriment. The sooner they became a known element in court politics, the sooner people would begin to bargain with them for things they actually desired. After Raeven’s offer of fealty, the pair had thus jointly decided to share the news of their new alliance as openly as possible, decorum permitting. This meeting was one of those proclamations, a wordless shout from the rooftops that the second most powerful house in the kingdom was now aligned with the second prince.

“Either way, this bolsters the position of the Noble Faction.”

“Why? No, wait, I have this.”

Zanac paused, a quizitive look coming over his face.

“Because… because it makes the Prime Ministership look like something worth fighting over.”

“Quite right, my prince. I see you have a keen grasp of the obvious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I have a loving wife for that.”

“The House of Lords is inaccessible to me - can’t risk legitimizing the body any further. It’s a small wonder I understand that enigma as much as I do.”

“Perhaps so.”

“Besides, isn’t it just a numbers game?”

“Your Highness has a brutal way of invalidating my life’s work.”

“Ha! As if. You’re single handedly responsible for our four to two majority. I ought to thank you for that… though I won’t.”

Ah, right. The subject of Blumrush.

Zanac chuckled at his own joke, and Raeven forced a smile in response. The moment was bitter. Raeven had yet to share the treason of his contemporary, having avoided it since he had first sworn service to Zanac. This was nothing but cowardice on his part, little more than unfounded fear of the Prince’s reaction. As far as Raeven knew, he was the only soul in the Kingdom to know of Blumrush’s betrayal. With another sip of his drink, he pulled in a breath, exhaled, and began to speak.

“My prince, there is an uncomfortable matter to discuss on that point.”

“Uncomfortable matter, or horrible truth?”

“Horrible truth.”

‘Horrible truth’ was the term the two men had settled on when discussing matters of grave import, great danger, and gruesome consequence. It was a flag to the other that what was about to be spoken was not jest and by no means should be taken lightly. Zanac gave a heavy sigh, and waved his hand.

“Alright, let's hear it.”

“Blumrush is in the pocket of El-Nix.”

Zanac went still, despondently staring into space without saying a word. It felt wholly inappropriate to notice, but Raeven was reminded of Ramposa; both father and son shared the same reaction to bad news. Eventually, Zanac swallowed and nodded, speaking in a somber tone.

“What does he do for them?”

“Provides intelligence. Some market cooperation.”

“Market cooperation?”

The prince tilted his head slightly, clearly not understanding.

“He skims off the top of his production, builds reserves of steel stock, then dumps it onto the market late each winter for Baharuth to buy.”

“I haven’t heard of cyclical prices in steel.”

“That’s because it doesn’t get shipped east. It’s only sold in E-Rantel.”

Zanac huffed, which, for some reason he couldn’t pin down, made Raeven feel inadequate.

Damnit, he’s skeptical. How do I explain this? Gods, I’ve never had to put this into words before, have I?

“Even so, any opportunistic merchant would simply-”

“Notice the pattern and buy it up, exactly. That’s what happens, except Blumrush seeded brokers along the highway. In the beginning, they bought steel at slightly above the going rate, and this drove local commodities dealers out of business. After three years of this, he had his men start negotiating much harder positions, dropping the purchase price-

I should mention a specific figure.

“-to eighty-five silver on the standard.”

“Gods above! Eighty-five?!”

“On average. In some towns, his men went as low as sixty-eight.”

Silence again, Zanac so stunned, he stuttered his followup.

“A-are you telling me he formed an upside-down cartel?”

“Actually, he formed two. One in E-Rantel, and then this upside-down one on roads east. Believe it or not, he somehow made a profit on all this.”

“How is this even sustainable? Wouldn’t this whole scheme have collapsed the year after?

“Well, merchants are shrewd. Many - even if they weren’t able to make sense of the accursed conditions - could at least tell that it wasn’t worth moving west. Thus, the glut propagates east and over the border.”

“B-but even then-”

“It would be more profitable to his demesne to simply have this sold at the going rate, right. The pregnant words there, my prince, is ‘his demesne.’ Taxes are high in the March of Re-Blumrushur; but they are not that high. Further, some of that tax income ends up in the hands of mayors, knights, other gentry, and magistrates. Blumrush doesn’t need to split a bribe from Jircniv. Whatever he puts in, he can get out. The rest of the operation is lean: brokers are paid on a commission basis; he doesn’t hire a transit concern, he ships to warehouses in E-Rantel during the summertime using levy; enough new merchants enter the trade each new year thinking they’ve spotted an opportunity to ship west that he makes a consistent profit taking them for all they’re worth; and so forth.”

“How do you even know this?”

“Teething problems with his operation. My March is the demesne between him and the Duchy. Margins on all this are thin, taxes will push him into unprofitability; that along with his attempt to avoid the notice of the warehousing and shipping guilds in E-Libera means he must route around highways. His shipments have to pass in the shadow of the Azerlisian range, and in his first two years of doing this, some of his carts came just a little too close to the foothills and were assaulted by frost giants. The trouble in the steel market never reached me, but the increase in requests made to the Adventurers Guild did. It took me four years to piece it all together.”

“Godsdamnit.”

“I know. I can’t bear it either.”

“Godsdamnit!”

“I know.”

“How could he-”

A knock cut them off. Given that they had dismissed the maids, and that there was no childish giggling filtering through the door, this could only be one person.

“Come in.”

Both the Prince and the Marquis quickly collected themselves to greet the entrant.

“Marchioness, how good of you to join us.”

“Please, call me Gerena.”

“Darling.”

“You two sure are having a calm and collected discussion.”

His wife’s sarcasm was entirely unwelcome, insulting the moment in a wholly irreparable way for Raeven. He snapped.

“I don’t need you to chastise me!”

He immediately regretted this - for Gerena did not know the content of his talk with the prince - but before he could apologize, she issued a comeback.

“You’ll wake up Reese.”

Cheap blow.

“That’s- that’s not fair. We weren’t making that much noise.”

“Elias, is that all it takes to make you squirm?”

“Not typically, your Highness. And besides, he’s on the other end of the manor. So there’s no cause to reprimand me, much less the second prince!”

“No offense to his highness, but neither of you are acting your station.”

“There is truth in that. Elias, you chose a good woman to marry.”

And just like that, he’s back to joking. There’s something to be said for the Ryle resilience.

“A fact I will never stop lamenting. Darling, what is it?”

“A messenger from Valencia.”

At this, the two men froze. This was entirely out of order; Raeven was completely unable to imagine a good reason for a message. It was likely a reprimand and a recall from the King to his son, a chastisement and castigation to him, or a summons to both about the somber emergence of some new crisis - events which Raeven was growing tired of. Gerena raised an eyebrow.

“What? Whom?”

“You two look like boys caught snatching candy out of the guest’s serving bowl.”

“And by every right are we boys! Isn’t that right, my Prince?”

“For the sake of my health, I choose to stand out of marital squabbles.”

“Ah, will you take the same attitude to court politics?”

“Ouch! I see this alliance of ours is already in jeopardy.”

“Indeed, so fickle are the hearts of men. Honey, who is here?”

“The Princess’s toy.”

Huh?

Raeven blanked. This was entirely offbeat.

“What?”

“That blond pauper knight of hers. You know the one. Climb… Climb something.”

“He has no family name.”

“Eh? Isn’t he a member of the Royal Guard? I didn’t know no-bloods could even enter the palace, and that armor of his… How strange. Anyway, he delivered a summons from her highness.”

“Do you know on what grounds?”

“That was the strangest part. He spoke specifically about conducting a raid on her orders.”

“W-what?”

“My reaction exactly. Apparently, she had him assault a brothel that dealt in slaves, and aparently captured a man of some import. Ampetif Doll of Eight Fingers.”

Ampetif… Cocco Doll? He was in with Eight Fingers?

Raeven swallowed. One of the critical duties of the high nobility was maintaining contacts with merchants. Though administrators, servants, and assistants could handle most meetings in his stead, he had still made an effort to learn the names and business of the twenty most significant traders in his demesne in terms of tax income. Cocco Doll had made that list just barely two years ago, running a transit and shipping concern that stretched from the duchy of E-Rantel all the way to E-Libera. Raeven had met him on several occasions, each time a petition on his part to improve road quality. Things clicked together instantly. Cocco Doll, after the ban on slavery, had opened the opperation as a front to traffic slaves from Baharuth and Slane. He had paid taxes and fees to avoid inspections, kept a legitimate business transporting travelers and valuable goods as cover, and issued grievances in the same manner any other merchant would. Raeven realized he was badly exposed.

“I-I see.”

“Frankly, I’m somewhat impressed. I always thought her efforts against slavery started and ended with charity. Not actual kinetics. It feels like she’s setting standards for womanhood. In any case, what should I tell him?”

I’m in no position to refuse. Shit.

“Tell him yes.”

“I-I’ll come as well.”

“My Prince?”

“I insist.”

This action was equally surprising, Raeven attempting and failing to divine Zanac’s reasoning. He shelved the thought for now, instead deciding on his immediate response to his wife.

“Alright. Darling, inform Climb we’ll be coming now; clear my schedule for the next few hours… hm, maybe for the full day.”

“Including the one with Benra?”

“Yes. Apologize in my stead, and explain that I received a royal summons. It’s a valid enough excuse. We’ll finish our drinks and depart.”

His wife remained silent, waiting.

“Please.”

“Of course.”

Gerena nodded, and left the room. Raeven took another sip of his drink, but Zanac downed his glass in a single stroke. This showing of vulnerability piqued Raeven, and he couldn’t help but prod.

“Why do you wish to come?”

“No one should have to face her alone.”

I… what? How can he even say something like this.

Already strained by the previous discussion and his wife’s interruption, this comment on the part of the Prince sent Raeven over the edge.

“My Prince, there’s a point here I’ve never understood.”

“What is it?”

“Your relationship with your sister.”

“What about her?”

The Prince’s tone was icy, exasperating Raeven further.

“What about it has degenerated so deeply to inspire you to speak like that? I know you mentioned yesterday that you thought she was faking the effort behind her policies, but to be honest, I was just humoring you on that point… You see, even now, you freeze.”

“I don’t take kindly to being jerked around by-”

“And there, offense. You see, I don’t understand it. What has she said to you? What has she done to inspire such ridicule? Even your brother hates her, and I haven’t the faintest clue why.”

“I don’t think it matters, she-”

“It absolutely does! Say what you will about her faculties, her word carries significant weight with those of lower stations. You can’t simply ignore that.”

Zanac scoffed.

“Raeven, there are many things in this world that I do not know, some things I cannot know, and even fewer things that I dare not know. What goes on behind that face of hers is one of them.”

“You’re scared of her?”

Zanac stayed silent, a silent assent to Raeven’s question. It was a half-sensical answer, in that Zanac’s reactions certainly aligned with fearful behavior, while giving no hint of the actual cause of his emotions. It was frustrating, and despite himself, he wished to lash the prince for his words. Raeven talked himself down from issuing a retaliatory response, and as he calmed down, remembered an odd moment from years prior.

She always did have the most odd manner of speaking, didn’t she? She would break things into distinct yet inscrutable blocks, weirding the weirdest things at the weirdest times. What happened to that? Didn’t she just… stop?

Raeven lifted his gaze, tracing the top seam of the drapes with his eyes.

We had a council that rainy summer evening, the king and the great five- no, four, neither Pespea nor Lytton had achieved that moniker by then. Actually, it was the first strategy meeting on the topic of El-Nix. That was the last time I saw her like that; I recall her mentioning something about Jircniv’s ‘coming decisions,’ or was it ‘coming excisions?’ Ah, if only I could remember the details. I left for E-Libera that night, and didn’t see her for another three months, not until the fall equinox. By then, all those qualities in her were gone. She was a copy of Lulara… How did I forget about this? It’s as if-

Zanac suddenly spoke, interrupting Raeven’s thoughts.

“People have gotten this impression of my father from the behavior of my brother, her, and - to be honest - myself as well, that he’s an oversoft man in his personal life. And, well, it's true. He was a soft hand, particularly after my mother passed. Hm… A-anyway, for some of his inner circle, Jelka, Macnamara, Brendel, he allowed them certain excesses with us, perhaps not befitting regal behavior.”

He’s speaking with candor. I can’t let this go to waste.

“Those being?”

“Play. Games. Occasionally sport. All of it together in a sort of intimate way, the sort of thing he kept out of the view of the maids. I remember one time Jelka threw my brother and I genuine steel, made us promise not to injure ourselves, and taught us both to spar. Of course, we never landed a blow on him and he was using a practice stick, but the fun of it… H-have you ever played any of the games of the Gods?”

“Yes, Bridge, once or twice. Never was to my liking, I went back to Joust right after.”

“There are nine, my favorite of which as a child - hm, I suppose now, too - was always ‘Kingdom.’”

“That’s the one on the nineteen by nineteen grid, right?”

“You’re thinking of ‘Marcher.’ I was never witty enough for that, but Kingdom always served to capture my attention. Something about it always served to invoke me. Sending a knight or a tower careening through enemy lines, the clerics flying along the diagonals, throwing away the champion to earn a victory, even though it was just carved pieces on a board, I- I could always imagine it. These grand battles to decide the fate of entire nations. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Not really. Joust I just see the numbers - or, for games like that, just the pieces. How much I’ve put down, how much my partner has and so on.”

“I see.”

Zanac seemed disappointed, and Raeven couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt; he had unintentionally nullified the product of a child’s imagination, and that stung but a little.

Ah, I messed up. Something conciliatory?

“Besides… isn’t ‘Kingdom’ supposed to be about politics instead?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the King can only move slowly because he’s restricted by his station, the clerics can flit behind doors by way of their status as men of the Gods, knights can bypass particular court procedure by way of their particularity and so on.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that. The explanation I always came up with as a kid for why clerics could only move diagonally was that their flying carpets were broken… Anyway, it was Sir Brendel who introduced it to me. I remember one day he came in during his rounds, and when I asked him what he had brought for me, he pulled a folding wooden board out of his satchel, the thing flopping open immediately, and said he had a gift. He explained the pieces to me, played two games with me, then left me with the set.”

“You caught the bug, I’m assuming?”

“I did. I made a right circuit of the palace; I visited Sir Brendel a few more times, Sergeant Yinerval of what Stronoff would take and turn into the Warrior Band, Mister Ekhan who, uh, he was sort of the defacto leader-”

“Of the Palace Professional Guard, right. I remember him.”

“Yeah, so him. Gods, everyone I’ve listed off is dead, aren’t they? This isn’t supposed to happen to a man until he’s older.”

“Wisdom beyond one’s years is a curse more often than not.”

“To that I agree. No, uh… I stayed up late once and played the nightwatch, I went to the library and played a series with Yelta there - he even gave me a book of opening tactics; I played Urovana once; Pespea, right after he engaged my sister. I almost got to have a match with a delegation from Baharuth back before the wars started, but my father vetoed that. I played once or twice with him though.”

“Did you win?”

“Yes, but, he learned the game to play with me.”

“Huh. Amazing.”

Well, I've never felt so totally inadequate as a father. To think he has the burden of Kingcraft and do what I can barely give lil' Rii.

"But, well, it was only once or twice. There was never a time- er, rather, there was never enough time. The games I liked always dragged out for hours, but obviously the duties of adults prevented that, so I turned to my siblings. Barbro was interested at first, but he never quite understood it. Vena was mostly gone by this time, and Lulara was completely disinterested anyway. So… so in a moment of desperation, I asked Renner.”

“Turning to a four year old for help with a strategy game? Isn’t that a little backwards?”

“It- it wasn’t like that. I knew by then that she wasn’t… that she wasn’t like others. She was just different, especially next to Lulara. She wasn’t very interested until I mentioned it didn’t use dice.”

“Why?”

“She called it ‘rigid,’ whatever that means.”

“I wouldn’t have a clue.”

“Neither did I. I taught her the rules, what each piece did, how to win, and we were off. I’ve never been one to believe in giving others easy victories the first time through, and so I played just as I would against an experienced opponent.”

“A little mean, no?”

“I- I suppose. I won the first game, but it was much more hardfought than I intended. Actually, I had forgotten to mention to her that you could capture a soldier that double-moved by moving to the space behind it, and that was what allowed me to crack her line. She was annoyed, but surrendered when it happened. We reset, played again. It was a long game, it took us over an hour. In the end, she eked out a victory, a drawn out dance of kings and knights at the end.

The third game I lost, as with the fourth, fifth, and sixth. Each was about an hour, which honestly was mostly me. She would make her moves immediately after I did, but she let me take as much time as I needed for mine. The seventh game was… was when we stopped. We were in the middle of the game, everything mustered out in the center of the board, and I… I made a move that sent her over the edge.”

“Some winning blow?”

“No, I don’t remember specifically, but it was something completely innocuous. Shifting a piece around in the back. I remember as clear as crystal her grabbing and throwing the board, screeching at the top of her lungs. I had never seen her so mad before, so filled with rage. The veins in her head were literally visible.”

“What- what was the cause?”

“She yelled at me. Called me witless. Said I kept making the same errors again and again. She leapt out of her chair and toppled it, pacing around my room raving for a minute straight, before marching into the corner and collapsing in it. She said things then; things which, at the time, only scared me because she had shouted them. Now- now I don’t know what to think of her words.”

A bead of sweat fell into Raeven’s left eye, and he batted his eyelashes, trying to clear it away. This didn’t work, and soon more fell from his brow into his eyes. He was forced to wipe his face with his hands, wetting them both in uncertain fashion. Returning his gaze to Zanac, he bade him to answer one last question.

“What were they?”

“‘I hate you. I hate all of you. I wish to die.’”