A MATRIARCH’S RAGE (PART 3)
“With wrath in her eyes, Paladin Marilla leveled her lance against the folk of Dar-el-Kar and cut through their lies. In a voice like a trumpet, she spoke the truths they sinned to hide, and her words burned like hot iron. Men fell to their knees, weeping, women tore their garments and children looked upon their elders with disgust. As the ringleader held his hands for mercy he asked ‘How? How did ye know?’ the Paladin answered. ‘Thy lies cling to your soul like mud on swine. I see enough to judge you but the gods see all!’ Eyes alight with righteous fury, the paladin struck off the cultist’s head and put his flock to the flame.- Testament of Tehika the Bard, witness to Marilla’s judgment.
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“What do you mean we have two banshees!” hissed Duchess Cleo Conrad as Cole and her brother finished relaying events to her. After resealing the vault, Cole and the rest had left the dungeon and assembled an interim council of crisis. They’d returned to the same meeting room from earlier in the evening but now only a fraction of the great table’s seats were filled. Aside from the royal siblings and the Vindabon detachment, four trusted advisors were present. Three had to be roused at this late hour but the fourth was Captain Ortmeier, the paragon officer who led Heinrich’s personal guard and been part of the dungeon excursion. The others were the house chamberlain named Norrich, Lydia the court magi, and the same dark-haired footman who’d given Cole the note that started all this.
Head in his hands, Heinrich shrugged at his sister’s outburst. “That’s what the Paladin says.”
Cole nodded. “It would explain the haunting’s strength. Banshees are creatures of tragedy and draw power from their pain. A mother and child trapped together like this… they’re feeding each other’s sorrow and I honestly don’t know how dangerous they can ultimately become.”
Magus Lydia drummed her fingers on the table. “I always heard banshees were faerie undead, does this mean elephants are actually some faeborn species like goblins and elves?”
Thinking about the emotional storm he’d seen down in the cell, Cole twitched slightly and shook his head. “Possibly, but I don’t think so. Being fae or faeborn isn’t actually a criterion for becoming a banshee, it just helps. The sidhe and elves have more intense and lasting emotions than most other humanoids. To become a banshee a soul has to be utterly drowned in levels of grief and pain that aren’t easily found in humans or dwarves. I’m guessing elephants are capable of similar emotional heights… or what’s been done to the mother and daughter is bad enough to force them there. “
Letting out an annoyed breath, Cleo said. “Are you saying our emotions aren’t as strong as the fae’s?”
Making a noncommittal gesture Cole replied. “I’m not an expert on this, but humans don’t usually stay in states of emotional extreme for long. Like we might weep or rage for hours but those moments where the world falls away or turns red are measured in seconds, not days like for elves and perhaps elephants.”
Heinrich spoke up then. “Back to the matter at hand; how do we dispose of these meddlesome wraiths? You say removing the stargent is necessary to free the souls, but doing so might trigger another earthquake. Could the exorcism be done quickly enough to prevent the banshees from getting out of control?”
Argentari and Cole exchanged looks, and the Paladin answered. “Perhaps, but it would be risky. Even if we could free them before they could shake the castle apart they’d still be strong enough to do significant damage, whoever was near it would probably…”
Cole trailed off as an unpleasant solution entered his mind. With the cold of entropy strengthening his flesh and Argentari covering him in protections he might, might be able to free the banshees before his organs burst from the scream. But the odds weren’t good, and even if Cole succeeded he might just keel over from internal bleeding the moment it was done, which would cause all sorts of questions he’d rather avoid answering.
It seemed the others understood what Cole meant, or at least part of it, and none seemed eager to sacrifice someone on such a gamble. Captain Ortmeier broke the awkward silence. “Why not just burn it? Couldn’t we throw some oil and tinder into the vault, light it up, and shut the door? Burning a ghost's remains frees them, right?”
Grimacing, Cole replied. “It wouldn’t be fast enough and might not even work. Normal fire is enough to free a soul from its corpse but wraiths are a bit tricker, especially ones as hostile as these two. Think of the difference between breaking a prisoner’s chain and slowly cutting someone’s lifeline to understand the problems involved.”
As the growing complexity sunk in around the table, Argentari proposed. “Perhaps we should simply remove it from the dungeon? If it’s transported somewhere remote we could avoid collateral damage if things got messy.”
Disliking the role he was being forced to play, Cole again shook his head. “The stargent foil is in tatters and probably wouldn’t survive being jostled.” Hesitating, he added. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if moving it out of storage is what caused all this. Hauling something that big is never easy and I could imagine it wouldn’t take too many bumps or scrapes to knock loose most of the fragile foil.”
Prince Heinrich winced. “Well if we can’t burn it, move it, or exorcise it, then what options do we have?”
Silence reigned across the council chamber and eventually, the dark-haired footman who was most certainly not a footman spoke up. “Why not acquire more stargent? We could reinforce the bindings and then plan from there?”
All eyes flitted to Cole, clearly expecting him to have some new objection. Instead, Cole simply shrugged, he wasn’t used to having an entire kingdom’s resources available during a hunt. Simply strengthening the seal hadn’t even occurred to him, but it was a good suggestion and he said so. “At the very least it will buy us time. Can you access stargent foil that easily?”
Magus Lydia and the footman who was probably a spymaster, conferred for a moment before the magi said. “I can get some within twenty-four hours, less if fortune smiles upon us.”
The Elector-Prince let out a relieved breath. “Good, good, send for it as soon as possible.”
One of the lions then put its huge head in Heinrich’s lap, clearly sensing the fading tension. Petting the beast, the Prince asked. “After that’s done, what next?”
Norrich the Chamberlin spoke up, seizing the focus before anyone else could. “If I may, Prince Heinrich; why must anything else be done? The original seals lasted for a century without us doing anything to maintain them. Couldn’t we simply make a record of all that’s transpired and ensure future generations know to check and restore the bindings over the decades?”
Both Heinrich and Cole started to object fiercely. In a display of court decorum, Cole bowed his head and let the prince speak first. “House Conrad is done leaving problems for its future generations. We will handle this here and now!”
Nodding, Cole added. “Plugging the dike will prevent immediate disaster but that’s no guarantee against future calamity. Being trapped together as they are is making the banshees extremely powerful and I fear how far things might escalate. Even stargent has limits to how much magic it can nullify. Besides, planning for every eventuality is impossible and it would take one wrong move or tiny mistake and the maelstrom is free to shake this castle to dust.”
Duchess Cleo made a noise of agreement. “Yes, we can’t keep up the old tradition of shoving things in boxes and hoping the problem goes away.”
A meaningful glance was exchanged between siblings and Cole wondered which of them had suffered such a fate in their childhood, if not both. Sitting tall in his chair, Prince Heinrich addressed the Paladin. “Sir Cole, when we’ve acquired the stargent would you be willing to install it? I don’t think anyone else could do the task safely.”
Without hesitation, Cole nodded and said. “Once that’s done we can make plans to move the harpsichord. There has to be some remote place where we could pursue riskier options.”
Clapping his hands together, Heinrich smiled. “Good good, I think we can be done for the night then. It’s late and we have a day of my idiot court awaiting us tomorrow.”
Turning his focus to Argentari, the Prince added. “Do put on a good performance for us. I intend to honor our deal but if you can help me convince some more of my vassals it would make things easier.”
The Quicksilver Player rose and bowed. “My pleasure, your majesty.”
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Back at the temple, Cole got little sleep and none of it good. His bed felt simultaneously too large and too small; with his feet nearly hanging off the end and Natalie’s absence leaving lots of empty room. But as someone who’d slept in a dozen types of wilderness and more than a few dungeons, the bed alone wasn’t what kept Cole tossing and turning. Bad memories were the culprits, but not even the usual suspects. It wasn’t dreams (waking or sleeping) of red eyes and pale flesh that haunted Cole, nor the sharp blades and sadism of his former captors. No, what haunted Cole was the torment he’d seen beneath Conradbau Castle. Two banshees, bound together and forced to witness each other’s suffering; growing ever more damaged as mother and daughter silently screamed at the evil inflicted upon them.
The simple cruelty of it beggared belief, and Cole wished he knew some method to free them quickly and easily. But the old elector-prince had made sure that wouldn’t be possible. Even if they got the harpsichord safely out of the castle, Cole couldn’t afford to be gentle with what came next. He’d need to use his full power and anything Argentari could offer to exorcise the ghosts before their screams started killing people. Breaking their anchor to the Mundane would be an ugly affair, with the banshees fighting him the entire time.
Normally, Cole tried to soothe a restless spirit, hoping to find ways to help it peacefully move on. The easiest way for any wraith to be free was for them to surrender their anchor and enter the Beyond willingly. But at the best of times, banshees weren’t the sort to accept that offer, and Cole didn’t even know if he could successfully communicate with these two. No, the only option available to the Paladin was to break the elephants and send them to whatever domain their souls were destined for.
These thoughts swirled about Cole as he tried to sleep, joining with the flashes of inhumanly strong emotions he’d glimpsed in the Aether. They melted into his dreams filling them with piles of severed tusks and screaming whirlwinds that made his ears bleed. More than once he woke up with a half-formed cry on his lips clutching at his blankets like a sailor’s lifeline. Only when he collected a familiar skull from his bag and held it close did Cole achieve anything close to good rest.
After that long night and a too-short morning spent going over what scant records the Lowanburg Temple had on non-human wraiths, Cole was not pleased to be back in the council chamber. Debate had started up again nearly the instant he and Argentari entered the room and every moment of it made Cole wish for a nice clean death to refresh his body.
After the previous day's events, most of the pretenses were gone and the salt subsidy became just another battlefield between the different court factions. Only a scant few beyond Cole and Argentari seemed to actually care about the military implications of matters, even many of those arguing in Vindabon’s favor seemed to be doing it more to score political points or gain economic leverage. So naturally after the second hour of it, Cole was no longer considering suicide, but homicide; a fact he wasn’t particularly proud of. With some effort, Cole pulled himself from murderous thoughts and musings about the elephants waiting below to refocus on the debate at hand. Something he very quickly regretted.
“Vindabon is one of the wealthiest cities in the entire league! If they are so concerned about this, then they can cover the cost!”
“Perhaps we could put this to a vote? Those in favor agree to sell their salt at the traditional war rates.”
“Of course, you’re in favor of it, your lands don’t have any salt!”
“We could always just not sell to the south. The herring fleets will be charting their routes soon enough and they never have enough salt.”
“Oh, and I’m certain the dwarves of Hliuni will take kindly to us impinging on their market.”
Barely listening to all this hot air, Cole watched the different nobles, judging their body language and trying to get a sense of how the unseen debate was going. Every argument and accusation was merely part of the grand show meant to hide the actual discussion happening through more subtle means. Servants scurried about the table, bringing fresh drinks and snacks that were rarely consumed, while also ferrying messages through sleight-of-hand. Deftly handed notes were slipped from one aristocrat to another, earning cursory glances and subtle alterations before finding another courier. Cole guessed there was some local code or system involved with all this but couldn’t even start to interpret it. But even without seeing the message’s contents, he could make good guesses based on the receivers' reactions.
Of course, most of the nobles were old hands at this and rarely showed any expression which is why Cole was cheating. He’d been meaning to practice peaking into the Aether subtly for some time and now seemed as good a chance as ever. Skimming his mind across the Aether’s surface, Cole picked up flickers of emotions but not much else. Oily clouds bloomed off the council members, changing hue, texture, and flavor hinting at their mental state. Learning to stay in this state without giving away his powers through frost or light was proving tricky, especially without any proper training.
When Cole asked Morri about this ability he’d been surprised to learn it was a paladin specialty. While all spell weavers could touch the Aether, few could see emotions with such clarity. Sure, sages might touch minds and comb through unprotected thoughts, but being able to passively see other’s emotions wasn’t a common gift. It seemed to Morri and Cole alike this was just another example of how being touched by the divine altered a paladin. It would explain the old tales that you couldn’t lie before a paladin. While Cole didn’t know if he could detect every lie, he could certainly see the simmering outrage and confusion among the assembled nobles.
While the faction supporting the salt tariff outwardly seemed composed and focused, they were really shocked by their rapidly collapsing position. The tides of politics had turned against them literally overnight and they were quickly becoming isolated and exposed. Nobles who’d before been neutral or even receptive to the tariff idea were dismissive at best, and hostile at worst. Cole wasn’t arrogant enough to even consider his words the previous night were responsible; this smelled of Prince Heinrich’s doing.
Looking towards the throne and its occupant, Cole dipped into the Aether and saw the elector-princes emotions. Boredom, annoyance and tension dripped from Heinrich, creating a great puddle of nervousness that his sleepy lions lounged in, their own simple minds giving off vague impressions of lazy contentment. All three souls were linked, their essence woven together by frightfully strong magic. House Conrad had been keeping lions as familiars since their founding and they’d clearly gotten very good at it. Again, Cole wondered at the boy-prince’s childhood and what forged both him and his sister into the shockingly competent rulers they were. By every metric Heinrich’s position seemed tenuous and yet he still managed to uphold his end of the bargain, applying subtle but unmistakable pressure to the salt issue.
Even with the prince offering his support, the conflict wasn’t over as the pro-tariff faction had only doubled down in the face of growing opposition. A fact that concerned Cole and brought his attention to that faction’s leader. Once again Countess Lutisha Luitpold wore fantastic clothing and excessive makeup but all of it clashed, giving her a vague sense of mismanufacture. But strange fashion choices weren’t what stuck out to Cole today, that honor went to the ugly mix of anger and spiteful glee filling her.
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Sitting silently, letting her cronies speak for her, Lutisha seemed perfectly calm, radiating that disinterested air perfected by her ilk centuries ago. This was a well-crafted illusion that hid the low refrain of rage and cruel excitement thrumming within her being. As if sensing Cole’s gaze, she glanced at him and a spoiled-berry-sweet smile spread across her over-painted lips as their eyes met. Something about that sent a note of disquiet up Cole’s spine and he got the vague sense he was missing something important. This feeling grew as Lutisha refused to break eye contact, a rare experience for the Paladin.
Staring into those dull grey spheres, Cole tried to guess what her game was. From where he sat it seemed like her sponsored price increase was a losing bet, one that would alienate Baiuvar from their allies for a petty short-term gain. Now that Heinrich was clearly moving against her, Cole couldn’t understand why she wasn’t dropping the idea and saving her political capital for another opportunity. With every passing moment of meeting her gaze, Cole became more and more convinced something wasn’t right with the woman. He was even starting to wonder if Argentari’s original theory of vampire corruption might have some merit.
In the seat next to Cole, the spymaster in question finished pulling apart one of Lutisha’s minion’s arguments. Glancing at Argentari, Cole wished he had some way to share a secret message like the nobles could. There were multiple levels to this conference and Cole felt he’d just stumbled onto another one, one that might contain a trap. Time dragged by as the debate continued, slowly meandering to the conclusion decided earlier through passed notes and princely intervention. Yet Cole couldn’t convince himself that something wasn’t amiss, especially with the almost maniac excitement bubbling off Lutisha.
Even as it was decided Baiuvar would implement the traditional price decreases until the summer solstice, and the official paperwork was being drafted, Cole felt like they were about to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. He’d tried to think of a way to warn Argentari but the Quicksilver Player was deep in his element and any distraction by Cole would be suspicious. There was also the worrying possibility that Lutisha was trying to goad Cole into doing exactly that, she’d broken character only to smirk at him and that couldn’t be an accident. Once again, Cole desperately wished Natalie was here, so she might help make sense of all this and pull him from his rapidly spiraling paranoia.
Three hours into the conference, when all seemed said and done, Lutisha cleared her throat and pulled all eyes to her. Cole felt a simultaneous mix of relief and dread as anxiety melted into anticipation. She’d been waiting for this exact moment, now the only question was what exactly did she have planned.
“If I may, my Prince, there is a factor to all this I believe has gone undiscussed. One of great importance to the legitimacy of this negotiation,” she said, voice clipped and even.
Raising an eyebrow, Heinrich made a gesture of assent. “Yes, Countess?”
Both lions perked up their heads, and that was the only sign of the slight concern Heinrich felt, at least the only one to those without a paladin’s senses. Even without magical awareness, it seemed Heinrich knew something was amiss, but he couldn’t dismiss such a potent member of his court out of hand.
Standing from her chair, Lutisha bowed to her liege and said. “It pains me to say this, my Prince, but you are not a fair arbiter of these preceding.”
That got a stir from the assembled nobles and Lutisha continued with an apologetic gesture. “Of course, this is of no fault of your own. As you are clearly trying to do what’s best for our kingdom; a fact these foreigners have taken advantage of.”
Argentari quickly interrupted with a loud scoff. “I’m flattered you’d think us capable of gaining the upper hand over a sovereign Elector-Prince within his own castle while coming to his court as supplicants.”
Smiling at the spymaster, Lutisha replied. “Normally you’d have no power here, but everyone knows Vindabonites never hesitate to take any advantage they can. Like for example bringing your pet paladin here as both a threat to us and a bribe for our prince.”
She knew. She knew about the harpsichord, this was her game. Setting his jaw, Cole listened as Lutisha played her highest card. Gaze sweeping across the assembled nobles she said. “It has come to my attention that Paladin Cole’s expertise was offered by Vindabon to our Elector-Prince in exchange for his support in undercutting our economy. I’m sure many of you received word or request from dear Heinrich to back the Alidonar price cuts sometime today when previously he’d been staunchly neutral on this matter. Didn’t that seem curious to you? Well, it should have, because it was the price demanded by our new friend Alexio Argentari here.”
Voice barely above a growl, Cole spoke. “You seem to mistake me for a mercenary, Lady Lutisha. I am a not sword hired to chase off a troll or dispatch troublesome ghouls, I am a chosen agent of Master Time, entrusted with his power to protect the living and the dead. I do not demand favors or compensation, I will help those I can because it’s what’s right.”
Smile widening, Lutisha let her venom drip free. “Very true, Sir Paladin, but I’m not hearing a denial in those words. Are you admitting to helping dear Heinrich with a ghost problem?”
Cole shut his eyes as he realized his mistake. He’d tried to head off accusations of bribery and instead offered tacit confirmation of his involvement with the Elector-Prince. Taking his silence as an ascent, Lutisha gestured widely. “Even if the Paladin is above such petty concerns as wealth and power, his masters in Vindabon are clearly not. They control the river trade and extract coin from every ship sailing down the Alidon; which would include all those hurrying back and forth to move our undervalued salt. They come to us wrapped in holy duty but seek gold while chastising us for merely protecting our interests.”
Lord Jindrich, one of the more asinine members of Lutisha’s faction spoke up then. “What is this haunting, you speak of, Countess? Surely our own priests and magi are more than qualified to handle any wraith hiding in the prince’s closet?”
Glancing at Argentari, Cole looked for direction but found the spymaster looking simply bored and annoyed. Things weren’t going well and the Paladin couldn’t tell if this was an act or truth. Ironically his ability to see emotions was useless on his own ally, as the Hierophant’s mind was a solid-iron vault of wards and psychic discipline. Deciding he’d made enough mistakes, Cole kept his mouth shut, waiting to follow Argentari’s lead.
Acknowledging her minon with a gracious curtsy, Lutisha explained. “That is the crux of the issue and why our dear prince’s judgment on this is clouded. The ghost in question is the one within the Bomilar Harpsichord, a infamous artifact long thought lost, but recently found by our good prince’s little sister. Out of a clear desire to avoid any scandal or a potential catastrophe like what struck Vollenschloss, it seems young Heinrich sought the aid of foreigners over his own subjects. A regrettable choice that has opened him up to Vindabonian influence and possibly even blackmail. Something we of his outer council are duty bound to help with, as we honor our oaths to House Conrad and Heinrich’s dearly departed father.”
In a sick sort of way, Cole had to almost admire Lutisha’s plan. She was basically blackmailing Heinrich into renouncing his support by claiming to be protecting him from blackmail. Despite his earlier decision to stay quiet, Cole muttered something without even realizing it, but unfortunately, Lutisha did.
Whirling on him, she asked. “What was that?”
Sighing, Cole censored and repeated himself. “You’d make a very good vampire, Lady Lutisha.”
Sneering at him, the noblewoman replied. “Cease your attempt to guilt or threaten us into compliance. Besides, I am Countess Lutisha Luitpold, and you should address me as such.”
An annoyed twitch went across Cole’s face. Only one woman in his mind held the title of countess and it surely wasn’t the badly-painted short-sighted schemer before him. But thankfully he managed to keep that comment inside his head.
Turning from him, clearly basking in her victory, Lutisha addressed Prince Heinrich. “I motion to eject these two from our council and city so we might continue this discussion without foreign ears and lips present.”
Propping his head up with one hand, Heinrich weighed his options and suddenly looked very young. Even Cole could see this new trap before the prince. If he didn’t eject him and Argentari then Lutisha’s claims of being unduly influenced by them would be supported. If he did then he lost much-needed expertise in stopping the elephant banshees. It didn’t take Heinrich long to reach his decision which was naturally what any good leader does: seek compromise.
“Paladin Cole, Minister Argentari, I thank you for your insight into these matters but you are no longer needed for this meeting. Please return to your accommodation within my city so we can discuss this shortly.”
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“Well that couldn’t have gone much worse,” muttered Cole as he paced back and forth before Argentari. They were at the temple after being ejected from the meeting and Cole genuinely didn’t know if there was a way to salvage the situation. “Lutisha obviously has spies within the Prince’s service and they told her everything.”
Argentari sipped his cup of tea and offered no response. Looking at him, Cole’s brow furrowed. “I’m hoping you have some ideas on how to fix this?”
Staring at the brown liquid, the spymaster replied. “I have some notions. But we must wait and you need to calm yourself.”
Cole’s back tensed and Argentari elaborated. “You stepped into her trap, true, but that barely changed our situation. So stop whipping yourself mentally and find your focus, you’ll need it soon enough.”
Finding a chair opposite the corpulent trickster priest, Cole let out a sigh. “What are you expecting?”
A short knock came at the door and Argentari’s lips quirked in a tiny smile. “That.”
Standing up, he went towards the door and explained. “Even if negotiations over the salt are soured, that doesn’t change the fact we, and I mean mostly you, are needed by House Conrad. They have a pair of elephants that need dealing with, especially now that this Countess is making them a known factor.”
Reaching the handle, Argentari pulled the door open while saying. “So naturally the Prince will send a messenger to-”
Pausing mid-sentence, Argentari looked at whoever was in their doorway and started to bow. A small figure in a page’s uniform bustled past the spymaster and into the room. In some cosmic joke, the page started pacing the same route Cole had been earlier, a steady stream of curses escaping her lips. “The jagged hearted, cock-biting, lead-bellied, troll-faced, pus-blooded bitch!”
Staring at the newcomer it took Cole a solid three seconds to see past the dirty hair and drab uniform to see Duchess Cleo Conrad. Meeting Argentari’s eyes, Cole caught an almost imperceptible shrug. Licking the inside of his teeth as he tried to think of what to say, the Paladin settled on. “How bad is it?”
Whirling on him, Cleo offered a surprisingly withering glare for a fifteen-year-old. “Bad, very bad. That wretched countess is making a play for a regency and through it the jagging throne!”
Casually, Argentari found the Duchess a chair and started pouring her some tea. “That isn’t good, how can we help?”
Teeth bared, Cleo suddenly reminded Cole how vicious female lions were. “You’ve helped more than enough. Lutisha’s been looking for an opening for years and now she’s gotten one thanks to all this!”
Argentari handed the Duchess a cup and returned to his seat. “That might be true, but it doesn’t change the fact you’re here. So, how can Paladin Cole or myself aid you and your brother?”
Calming slightly, Cleo looked at Cole over her glasses. “Was what you said true? Will you really help us even if we can’t help you?”
Without hesitation, Cole nodded. “Of course; it’s my duty.”
Meeting his gaze for a little bit, Cleo slowly nodded. “Good… that’s good. Lydia says she’ll have the stargent ready by the morning. You’ll strengthen the seals and then we’ll move the harpsichord out of the castle. After that… well, we will see.”
Even though finality dripped from those words, Cleo didn’t get up from her chair and instead stared into her tea. She seemed to be marshaling herself to say something but before the words could be set free, Argentari asked. “What about me?”
A smile halfway between jovial and hungry split the spymaster’s face, bringing to mind a fat cat sighting a foolish mouse. Seeing this, Cleo wrinkled her nose and spat. “What about you?”
Setting his cup down, Argentari gestured between Cole and himself. “Coincidence is the God’s domain and it seems to me there are several overlapping ones defining these events. The paladin and I came here for multiple reasons, some of which we weren’t even aware of until now. Cole here, is a specialist in dealing with strange and dangerous undead, the exact sort of person needed for your banshee. While I am a senior member of the quicksilver players, the exact sort of person you need for your unscrupulous countess.”
Frowning, Cleo looked between the paladin and the priest. “What are you saying?”
Smile widening, Argentari shrugged. “I came here as a trade minister to do this the polite civil way, but if that won’t work, well time for me to slip on another mask. Now tell me two things, what has the Countess and her faction been opposing in council; also how is she related to you?”
Cleo was clearly confused but after a moment answered. “She’s been fighting us on almost every bit of foreign policy to enter the outer council, even things that should benefit her. Heinrich thinks it is a tactic to make him look weak and to set herself as head of the opposition. This fiasco with the salt is just the latest, and my brother thought he could force his way through it like he’d done all the others.”
Slowly nodding, Argentari muttered. “I see… and my other question?”
Looking towards the door and windows, Cleo wore an uncomfortable expression. Getting up, Argentari collected a strange rope from his belongings set it on the ground surrounding their chairs, and made a simple loop. Tapping the two ends together, he whispered words and a pulse of multi-hued sparks ran along the rope. Returning to his seat, Argentari said. “Speak freely, there will be no eavesdroppers tonight.”
Eyeing the rope, Cleo muttered. “Useful trick.” Shaking herself slightly she swallowed down a lump and refocused. “House Conrad is related to every family in Baiuvar, they’re all technically sixth cousins or something, House Luitpold included. It’s actually so bad we keep a genealogist just to ensure there isn’t inbreeding.”
Leaning forward, Argentari pushed. “I’m sensing a but.”
Head lowered, Cleo sighed. “Officially Lutisha is a distant relation, unofficially she’s my father’s cousin. Her grandmother was a favored mistress of my great-grandfather, the monster who started this whole mess.”
A soft chuckle escaped Argentari and he said. “Oh, no wonder she hates you.”
Cleo bristled and Cole held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I feel like I’m missing something.”
Nodding Argentari explained. “Correct me if I’m wrong Duchess, but wasn’t Lutisha your father’s fiance before your mother?”
Disgust and exhaustion played across Cleo’s face. “Yes… yes, she was. But the rumors about her likely ancestry got too much and she was set aside. It’s another mess my family has left for Heinrich and me. Lutisha was engaged to my father from the time they both could walk, and she’s never forgiven my mother for stealing her place. Which is what comes back to all this, she wants revenge and to take my brother’s crown for herself or her children.”
Listening to all this, Cole could almost understand the Archduke’s argument for having immortal rulers. It should in theory avoid succession crises and maybe force people to think a little more about the long-term consequences of their actions. But theory was rarely praxis and despite all the baggage that came with it messy mortals were better than monstrous immortals.
Looking a little worn out by having to share such an ugly family secret with almost strangers, Cleo rubbed her face and asked. “Why do you want to know these things?”
Setting down his empty teacup, Argentari chuckled. “Because they confirm and discredit a few of my different theories. Which in turn shapes our strategy going forward.”
Finding a bit more of her fire, Cleo snapped. “Are you going to share any of this with us?”
Nodding Argentari explained. “That the Countess has been fighting you on all foreign policy, not just this matter makes me think she isn’t beholden to the vampires. To me it seems your brother is half-right, this isn’t just an effort to weaken him but also alienate any outside power that might intervene with a court revolt. I did some reading on your kingdom’s trade as preparation for this meeting and while Prince Heinrich has managed to keep coin flowing, there have been hiccups and setbacks. Which I assume are born of fighting the countess’s faction?”
Cleo made a noise of confirmation and Argentari continued. “While it hasn’t been massively successful, I think her efforts are meant to prime the other crowned heads to be more… palatable to a shift in leadership. This matter with the salt is a great example, by pushing for the price increase she looks to line her and her allies' pockets while drawing ire to Baiuvar’s leadership. It hurts the prince’s prestige but gives her more resources to topple him when the time is right; which unfortunately Cole and I seem to have helped her reach.”
Most of this was flowing over Cole’s head but Cleo seemed to be getting it. Nodding slowly the Duchess offered a few more curses then asked. “What about our genealogy? Does knowing why she’s set on toppling my brother help stop her?”
Argentari shrugged. “Yes, but more importantly it answers a question that’s been nagging at me all evening. See, in my profession knowing who knows what and how they know it is an incredibly valuable skill. So when someone has a bit of information they shouldn’t it makes me start to think.”
Arms crossed, Cleo growled. “Captain Ortmeier and Hans, our whisperman are both looking for the spy. They’re both trustworthy and will find whatever rat dares enter the lion’s den.”
Almost brushing this off, Argentari replied. “I have no doubt, but that’s secondary in my opinion. See, I find it unlikely your inner council or personal guards have betrayed you. If that was the case you’d long ago have lost power. Most likely one of the servants or soldiers mildly connected to the harpsichord matter is your suspect. Which is where things get interesting because I find it unlikely someone of that station would learn the secret at the heart of all this. They might know about the harpsichord and its ghost, or have an idea where it’s being kept, but not the crime you fear it is responsible for. How many people have you told your theory the harpsichord caused the Vollenschloss Tragedy?”
Cleo’s already pale face lost color as she understood. “Oh… you think she knew about that independent of her spy?”
Smiling wickedly, Argentari nodded. “Yes, and considering who her grandfather was, I think that has all sorts of interesting implications. Duchess Cleo, you and your brother inherited many unfair burdens from your ancestors, but not all of them it seems. It looks to me like your cousin Lutisha also has access to some of the family secrets, a fact she really shouldn’t have let me sniff out.”
Both Cole and Cleo stared at Argentari, each clearly unsettled by the slightly maniacal energy radiating off him. Speaking slowly, as if she suddenly remembered exactly how dangerous a skilled follower of Uncle Trickster could be, Cleo asked. “Why?”
Lacing his fingers together, Argentari’s smile grew broad enough to nearly split his cheeks. “Because I’m a better storyteller than she is.”