Sweat dripped down Dalton’s brow, slowly inching closer to his eyes.
Cornelius could tell his apprentice was struggling not to wipe it, but he was keeping his cool so far.
Cornelius’s instructions had been very clear. Dalton was not to move a muscle until he ran out of magic or lost his balance.
So far, he was doing surprisingly well on the balance front. The teenager was currently standing with one foot on a narrow stone pillar. Said stone pillar was slightly smaller than the boy's foot, making balancing a tricky proposition.
On top of balancing, Dalton had to keep the stone pillar up with his aura. Usually, when you raised a spike or pillar from below, you'd fill the ground beneath it. Dalton wasn’t allowed such an easy task. Instead, he had to keep the earth from filling back in beneath his pillar while keeping it raised and supporting his own weight. Which was constantly draining his magic.
It was important for the boy to learn channeled tasks. Far too many young mages spent their time focusing on making one fireball or one blast of wind. Often ignoring channeled effects until it was too late.
“Why,” Dalton started to ask, only to cut off as his balance wavered. Then, after a few seconds, he started again. “Why do I need to be doing this on one leg? I understand learning to keep up a constant effect, it’s freaking hard, and I need the practice, but on one foot?”
Cornelius smiled. When they trained in magic, his apprentice would complain and bicker, but he did it while doing exactly as he was told.
“Why do you think I’m making you do it on one foot?” Cornelius asked.
Dalton glared. “Because you like to make things more difficult and seeing me suffer.”
“While that’s not untrue, it’s also not the right answer.”
Dalton sighed, then grew quiet as he thought it over. "Because it splits my focus? It's distracting me since I have to focus on balance and keeping the pillar up, not to mention the muscle pain."
Cornelius smiled. "Exactly. In a fight, you have to keep track of a lot of things if you want to survive. Using a channeled effect will be very distracting until you get enough practice. Eventually, it's going to become second nature, like lifting your arm. But you're not there yet."
Cornelius paused. “All of that is true, but there is a more important reason I'm making you train like this.” He started walking circles around the pillar. “What is the most fundamental skill a mage needs?”
Dalton grunted. "Control."
"Why?"
Dalton had the correct answer. Cornelius had drilled the importance of control into the boy's head before he'd taught him anything else. But he wanted to make sure his apprentice understood why it was important instead of just knowing that it was.
"We can't do any magic without control. At least, not reliably." Cornelius nodded. "That's true. But that isn't all of it. It's deeper than that.”
He stopped. “Control is everything, Dalton. It's the reason why I don't light the room on fire when I'm angry or freeze it over when I'm meditating. It's the reason I can defend myself when a slavering monster is bearing down on me, and everything is going to hell. Control is the difference between someone who has magic and a mage.”
He stopped and met his apprentice's eyes. “I'm making you do all of this now because one day you're going to have to do something similar while your life is in danger. And if you can't control your emotions when the time comes, you're as good as dead.”
Dalton took a deep breath, then nodded. “Got it. I- ah. I need to keep a clear head, regardless of how uncomfortable I am.”
Cornelius smiled.
He waited for Dalton's leg to start trembling before telling him to switch feet. The young man began to lower the pillar when Cornelius stopped him. “I didn't tell you to drop the pillar.” Dalton sighed but nodded.
Cornelius's phone rang as Dalton tried to switch feet. Cornelius answered the phone just as Dalton, predictably, fell from the pillar.
Cornelius already had a wind split running, and he quickly used his aura to push against his falling apprentice. He softened the boy's fall enough to spare him from anything worse than a light bruise. He wasn’t in the mood to go looking for a new apprentice.
The familiar voice of his clan's patriarch blasted into his ear. "Cornelius! How are you doing!" He winced and moved the phone slightly further away from his ear. Alexander had always been aggressively cheerful. "Hello Alexander, what brings someone as mighty as you to call me?"
The patriarch chuckled. "Maybe I just wanted to talk to an old friend. I mean, we do have clan business to discuss, but that doesn't mean the first part can't be true as well." Cornelius snorted. "We can get a drink when you get here, assuming this town has a good bar. Now, what do you need?"
Alexander gave a nervous chuckle. "About that."
Cornelius frowned. "About what?"
"I won't be arriving in Silver Spruce, not until after the summit. I’m going to one of the decoy sites. So Jacks will be representing me for –" Cornelius cut him off with a groan.
"You're going to make me deal with Jacks?"
“I'm not making you deal with Jacks. You are the one who asked to be a diplomat.”
“I thought that would involve dealing with people outside the clan!”
“You are! You're just going to be doing it with Jacks.” He wanted to complain more, but Dalton was watching. He didn't want to set an example of talking back to your boss. Dalton did that enough already.
“Fine. What am I going to be doing exactly?”
“I knew you'd come around. It's simple, you and Jacks are to meet with house Larouta. They want to discuss a potential deal.”
“House Larouta? I'm assuming we are to meet with Oriana?”
“Yep.”
“…I see.”
“Hey, you can always pick a different job. You can go be a librarian for all I care.”
“I don't think the heads would be okay with me taking such a passive role, especially right before a war. It was already a fight to get this one.”
“The Branch heads can come to me if they have a problem.”
Cornelius smiled. “No. As much as I appreciate the thought, I'm not comfortable taking too passive a role either. I picked this one because I can still help, even if I'm not fighting.”
Alexander sighed. “Very well. Jacks will give you the details, the meeting is at 6 o'clock tonight. And Cornelius…” the patriarch paused, a note of tension clear in his voice.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. Oriana has been making some big moves lately, and I don't need to tell you what she’s capable of.”
Cornelius closed his eyes, the memory of cold, dank stone pressing against his skin.
“No. You don't.”
~<>~<>~
Cornelius wasn't taking Dalton to the meeting. He’d considered it since it was important to let a young mage make connections with the other factions. And sitting in on a somewhat high-level meeting would be useful for his education.
But the Larouta was not a connection he wanted the boy to have.
And giving Oriana information on his apprentice was something he wanted to avoid until the boy could adequately defend himself, magically and socially.
Cornelius stepped into the driveway at the sound of a car horn.
Jacks was driving a tiny red car that looked more like an expensive toy than a vehicle.
He raised a brow at Jacks. “It was not my first choice, alright!”
Cornelius shook his head as he squeezed into the toy box on wheels.
“Are we even allowed to drive on the roads with this thing?”
“Har har!” Jacks scowled as he put the thing in reverse.
Cornelius noticed a spider waving goodbye in a second-story window. He waved back. “Alright, Jacks. Debrief me.”
Jacks was a short, slim man with close-cut brown hair and a permanent scowl. Though the scowl may have just been because he was around Cornelius.
“They want to discuss a potential deal before the summit. And you were asked for specifically. I do not have any more details. Oriana was rather stingy with those.”
She probably didn't want to give them time to prepare. That was just like her.
“Okay.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence as Jacks navigated the confusing mess of cul de sacs.
As they left Biggin Drive, Cornelius broke the silence.
“Got any tips?”
Jacks stared at him, taking his eyes completely off the road. They drove straight through a stop sign.
“The road, Jacks.”
The mage snapped his eyes back to the road with a yelp.
“You are asking me for advice? Seriously?”
Cornelius nodded. “Yes, seriously. You're an experienced diplomat, and I'm not. I could use some advice.”
“Well. I did not think this day would ever come. The great Switch Shot asking me for advice!” He glanced up, then shook his head.
“Just had to make certain the sky was not falling down.”
Cornelius scowled. “Don't call me the Switch Shot, dammit! Are you going to give me some advice or not?”
“Do not begrudge me a little fun, Cornelius. As for my advice…be the opposite of yourself.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“I mean it. Think before you speak, listen to what others are saying, and try to grasp what is behind their words. As for this meeting in particular, just follow my lead and stick to your role.”
“Which is?”
“The brute,” he said plainly.
“My, this little talk is reminding me why I don't like you.”
“I mean it,” Jacks said. And some of the arrogance faded from his voice.
“They expect you to be the Switch Shot, and they have a very specific view of how the Switch Shot is going to act. So I want you to lean into it.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Cornelius paused, another barb dying on his tongue. Jacks had solid reasoning that was actually free of insults.
After a few minutes of thought, he spoke up. “Oriana knows me. Not well, but enough that my reputation alone isn't going to fool her.”
“True, but she will not be the only one there. It may not work on her, but her opinion is not the only one that matters.”
Cornelius wasn't sure he agreed with Jacks on that. Oriana was the head of the house and was responsible for most of their recent success. If she made a decision, few in the house could stand against her, much less choose to.
But Cornelius would take the man's advice. Lean into their assumptions? That was nothing new to him. And despite Jacks being…himself, Cornelius was glad to have someone experienced with him. And at the very least, he didn't have to face Oriana by himself.
~<>~<>~
The meeting was taking place at a property the Larouta had just bought. Said property was a modern mansion in the Overlook, the wealthiest neighborhood in town.
The road up here had been freshly paved and painted, and even the trees lining the road looked prettier. Though not even the obviously rich could escape the blanket of strangeness that hung over the town.
Roads that lead to nowhere split off from the main drive, and while most of the mansions seemed relatively tame, a black sheep would rear its head every now and then.
Cornelius took special note of one house that was just a giant stone tower, painted brown and green to blend in with the trees.
It looked like a mage tower of old dressed up in camouflage.
They pulled into the Larouta’s drive, and Cornelius took in their newest mansion.
It was a little worrying. While an obvious display of wealth was hardly out of character for them, buying that mansion was a clear signal that they intended to stick their claws into the town.
Jacks pulled to a stop, and Cornelius unfolded himself out of the car.
The mansion was a sleek mix of glass, wood, and stone that stretched up at least four stories. It was capped with an arched roof that cast the front steps in shadow.
It was a little modern for Cornelius’s taste, but he couldn’t deny its beauty.
And it gave off the exact kind of casual wealth he expected from the Larouta. The front door was made from a rich black wood that looked like it had been freshly painted, and an ornate iron knocker that sat in a fox’s mouth hung in the center of the door.
Cornelius knocked three times. The ambient magic trembled ever so slightly.
Odd.
The door opened immediately. A tan man stood on the other side, his black hair slicked black and his butler’s uniform spotless.
Of course, they had a butler.
“Please come this way.” The man's voice was quiet, and Cornelius had to strain to hear him. Nevertheless, he followed the butler inside. The entryway led to a long hallway dotted with expensive-looking paintings. There were no side doors or intersections, but he noticed a few slits in the ceiling.
This hallway… Oriana couldn’t have been in town for more than a handful of days, but she had already made defensive alterations to the house. This hallway was designed to funnel attackers, limiting their effective numbers and giving the defending mages a clear line of fire.
He’d bet the walls were reinforced with something stronger than plain wood, and those slits in the ceiling probably hid a steel portcullis.
A team of spooks could work fast, but this was still impressive.
The walls and floor were the same mix of dark wood and grey stone as the exterior, and there were plenty of tasteful design choices that Cornelius promptly ignored.
Instead, he scanned for danger while trying his best to appear relaxed.
He didn’t think they’d attack them. Two emissaries of the Knull clan arriving in good faith? If the Laurota attacked them now, with war looming on the horizon, not only would the other factions not want to have dealings with them, but they might take up arms against the house.
If that happened, their own clan would be forced to hand them over or risk war.
No, he knew they weren’t going to attack them. But he knew Oriana. And that meant he was never going to feel comfortable around the woman. Especially not with his aura veiled.
Having it pulled so close to his skin was suffocating. It felt like walking around with a bag over his head. And the discomfort would only grow worse the longer he was veiled, like a cramp that just kept building.
He’d been told that the discomfort did eventually level out, but he had never left himself veiled for long enough to find out. He hated how vulnerable it made him feel.
They exited the hallway into an intersection. He noted that each branching hallway was an identical copy of the others. Yet another design to confuse attackers. He wasn't surprised, but he was impressed.
The butler turned left, and the two of them followed a few steps behind. Jacks sped up till he was walking beside Cornelius. “Remember, let me do the talking when you can,” he whispered. “You're the intimidating muscle today.”
Cornelius nodded. “I remember, Jacks. Just make sure she doesn't get you to agree to something you shouldn't.” The man's scowl deepened. “I know what I'm doing, Cornelius.”
Cornelius looked at the shorter man. The other mage was over a hundred, though he only looked forty. He had decades of experience as a diplomat and negotiator. He wasn't going to be manipulated into a lousy deal…hopefully.
He wanted to tell himself that he was too on edge, but he couldn't make himself relax.
The butler eventually led them to a small study. It was darker than the rest of the house he’d seen so far. A small fireplace crackled in the corner, and a row of lit candles lined its mantle.
There was a desk on the wall opposite the fire, its surface shadowed as the window behind it was smothered by dark red curtains.
The only light source in the room came from the candles and the fireplace, and sitting next to it in a brown leather armchair was Oriana.
She was a striking woman who looked to be somewhere in her thirties, though Cornelius didn't actually know her actual age.
She wore a sleek black dress and had her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, blending in with the dress. She raised a wine glass to them and gestured to the couch across from her.
“Cornelius, Jacks, please, sit.” Her voice was smooth and practiced, like a radio host, and touched with a faint Italian accent.
They sat, Cornelius never taking his eyes off the woman.
She took a sip of wine and met his eyes over the glass.
Her eyes were not human. There was no iris or pupil, not even a white. Instead, he stared into two black, faceted gemstones.
It was her family's bloodline. All main house members had eyes like hers, though they varied in color. Aside from their striking appearance, they gave the Laurotas incredible sight. Not only could they see the mortal world better than normal humans, but their vision of magic was unrivaled amongst the clans.
Lips marked with dark lipstick quirked into a smile as she lowered her glass. “Cornelius. It's been too long.”
He gave his best fake smile. It wasn't very good. He could go the rest of his life without seeing her again, and it still wouldn't be long enough.
She laughed, the sound rich and full. “I see you're still not much of an actor.”
She turned her faceted gaze to Jacks. “Jacks, it has not been nearly as long since I saw you last, but it is a pleasure all the same.”
Jacks inclined his head. “The pleasure is ours, Oriana.”
She swirled her wine, gaze drifting between them. “Can I offer either of you refreshments? Drinks, perhaps?”
“Please,” Jacks said. Her black eyes shifted to Cornelius, and her smile grew, a hint of white teeth showing through. “I’d offer you one as well, but I don't think you’d drink anything I gave you.”
For a moment, the floral scent of the candles was replaced with mildew, moss, and blood.
“No. I wouldn't.”
Jacks cleared his throat. “I was under the impression that there would be other members of your house here?”
So much for putting on an act, Oriana knew him well enough to see through any ruse he tried to put up.
“Something came up, and we decided that I would have to take this meeting by myself. I apologize for not informing you of the change earlier.”
Jacks fake smile was much, much better than Cornelius’s. “It is no trouble.” He crossed a leg. “But let us get down to business. Why did you ask for this meeting?”
“I am on something of a time constraint, so I will get to the point.”
Her eyes settled on Cornelius. “I want you to duel a member of my house at the summit. Before we get to the matter of the Barrow King, of course.”
It was a struggle to stay quiet and let Jacks speak.
“Why would we agree to that? And why do you want a duel in the first place.”
Her smile didn't waver. “I will not be dueling personally. It will be my cousin, Alex. Cornelius insulted him a few years back at a gala. This will be the stated reason for the duel.”
Cornelius had to fight to avoid clenching his fists. This was what he hated about the clans and the factions in general. They were two weeks away from declaring open war, but that didn't stop any of them from jockeying for any advantage they could get their hands on.
They treated it like a game. And used the people under them as pieces.
He took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was exactly why he had wanted this position. So he could try and make sure the Knull made the right choices.
And despite how much he hated this jockeying, he couldn't just say no out of hand, especially when he hadn't heard what Oriana was offering.
“So, you want a duel for your cousin,” Jacks said. “What do you have to gain? You know Cornelius will not lose on purpose.”
She nodded. “I am aware. But I do not need my cousin to beat Cornelius or even draw. You see, my house has not put on any great showing of magical might recently, and it is starting to hurt our reputation.” She shifted and took another sip. “We are known as schemers. Plenty will listen to us when we propose a plan, but other factions do not have much confidence in our ability to protect shared assets.”
“So having one of your members put up a good fight against the Switch Shot will look good for your house as a whole.”
“Just so.”
“And what would we gain from this proposal?” Jacks asked.
She held up a hand and raised three black-coated fingernails. “Three. In the next three dealings with your clan, we will ensure they lean in your favor, so long as that does not incur any reputation loss to us. We will also free up some of our main house members to help the Knull when you need our sight, free of charge. And lastly,” she dropped her hand, letting it rest against the armchair.
“I will give my personal advice once, and only once, on any matter, your clan asks of me. And I am willing to swear a Shrouded Oath that I will answer with the best interests of your clan in mind.”
The room was silent save for the soft crackling of the fire.
That was…a lot to offer. And that last point… Oriana had pulled house Laurota out of their downward spiral with a mix of careful planning, calculated ruthlessness, and startling insight. If she was offering advice, mages centuries her senior would listen.
“That is… quite a lot you are offering,” Jacks said, mirroring Cornelius’s thoughts.
Oriana set her glass down and straightened. “I am simply offering what I consider to be a fair trade. And like I said, I am rather pressed for time, so I would skip the haggling.”
“Gentlemen, do we have a deal?”
Cornelius stared at her, a numb feeling settling over him.
Agree? Or tell Oriana to go to hell?
He wanted to tell her to go to hell, wanted it so badly that he was shocked he had held himself back so far. But was that what was best for the clan?
While storming out of here and telling Oriana that he wouldn't play games with war looming would be gratifying, what would that actually achieve? Aside from his own satisfaction.
It would hurt the Larouta. He was sure of that. She would never have asked for this meeting in the first place unless they really needed the reputation bump.
But was he really okay with agreeing to this? A petty fake duel before the factions discussed the largest threat this century?
Was he okay with playing games before war if it benefited his clan?
He hated this. Calculating what his own values were worth to him, weighing the scale, seeing when it tipped far enough for him to discard what he believed for the greater good.
But how many terrible things had been done because they were for the greater good.
Sure, this wasn't so bad, as such things went. Just a duel at an inappropriate time. But that meant he was sliding. Maybe just a step. But sliding all the same.
Sure, it might not be too bad this time. But how far would it be next time? Or the time after that? How many steps would he move the line before he forgot where it was?
He took a deep breath. He was spiraling. Being near her was making him lose control, and a mage couldn't lose that.
Deep, smooth breaths. Water took what came, it adapted, and while it might roll and froth, eventually, it settled back to a state of balance.
As his mind settled into a water shift, he thought over the options in front of him.
After a minute of far calmer pondering, Cornelius made his choice.
Jacks had opened his mouth. “We will gladly—”
“We need more time,” Cornelius cut him off.
Jacks glared at Cornelius, but he ignored the man. He was the one who would be dueling, and they now had the same rank in the clan. They couldn't do this if Cornelius said no.
“You need time to think it over? What, exactly, do you need to think on? I believe my terms are more than reasonable.”
Cornelius met those coal eyes without flinching.
“I need time. To think if accepting will gain the clan more than it costs.”
Black gems studied Cornelius. For what he couldn't say.
After a few tense seconds, Oriana smiled. “Very well. I’ll be expecting an answer before the summit starts.”
She crossed a leg, and her smile grew sharper.
The two diplomats rose from the couch and nodded to Oriana.
“And I apologize for the lack of drinks. Our talks moved faster than Margo could.”
“It is no trouble at all.”
Jacks was managing to avoid glaring at Cornelius though he could tell the man was struggling.
As they said their goodbyes and turned away, Oriana spoke, “And Cornelius.”
He turned back to look at her. Her smile had lost any semblance of reserve or control. If it had been sharp before, now it was a drawn knife.
“Don't be a stranger. You're welcome to stop by whenever you like.”
Thanks to his water shift, his face didn't change, even when her words sent a wave of cold rage coursing through him.
He gave her a polite smile and inclined his head. “I will keep that in mind.”
Her eyes reflected the firelight like cracked glass, and he imagined they reflected the heat too, as the miniature fires danced in black crystal.
He felt that heat linger on his back as he walked out the door.