20. Making a Scene

“That’s the third time you’ve stepped on my foot,” I told Polinia, the Traveler I was dancing with currently. I’m not quite certain how she got onto my dance card. It was probably expensive. I doubted I would see a copper of what Peori was charging these Travelers to dance with me.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I thought I just needed to learn that circle dance! Not … whatever this is.”

“It’s called the four-step,” I informed her. “And it’s a dance we share with Earth, actually. Unlike the Tin-roof, which is only popular in three of the civilized nations of Lagrea. Some say that it’s popular in all of the civilized nations of Lagrea, but it’s still only popular in three.”

“I can’t talk and dance at the same time,” she exclaimed.

“That was a joke, by the way. Don’t worry. You’re not even doing damage when you stepped on my foot. If your level wasn’t restricted you probably would have killed me with your heels. That’s another joke.”

“I’m sorry!” she said after she stepped on my foot again, and then she ran off the dance floor in shame. I glanced around, but honestly nobody was really paying attention to me. The other couples were dancing the four-step, but judging by the music it was about to change to the fandango, and once that happened I’d be expected to end up with a specified partner.

That partner was probably more important than the girl who just ran off. Polinia was high level and represented a powerful guild, but the next person on my dance card was a cousin to an important count who controlled one of the trade arteries on our southern border. Because he controlled a particular stretch of road and a small city along it, he was a fairly rich man. I could use his support.

But the girl had been trying so hard to dance. And she’d been trying to say something, and now she was crying because I couldn’t just grimace quietly and had to tease her for her poor skills.

Why had she purchased a place on my dance card if she couldn’t dance?

My curiosity won out, and I followed her off the dance floor, through the crowd, which wasn’t particularly paying attention to either of us right then, and into the hallway.

“Polinia, wait,” I called. “I’m sorry, I was just kidding. I really don’t care if you can dance or not.”

She stopped, then sank to the floor, her back to the wall as she cried. I came over to her and offered her my handkerchief for her tears. She took it and looked up at me, smiling weakly. “I’m the worst. My guild paid so much money because I wouldn’t share the quest and I didn’t even say what I needed to say. I tried but I couldn’t. I just kept stepping on your feet. I’m sorry.”

“What quest? One of mine?” I asked, curious. I quickly used [Noble Insight] on her and found that I didn’t recognize any of the quests in her log, but that didn’t mean much, since there were thousands of quests for my faction now and I remembered a small fraction of them.

“Yeah,” she said, sniffling. “And I failed it.”

“What were you supposed to say?” I asked.

“It had to be during the dance,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, it was supposed to be. For full credit. I guess I, I don’t know, maybe I’m overreacting. You know how you put out a bounty on dungeons that need busting?”

“Oh?” I said, and I was instantly more interested. “You found one?”

“In Crescentis,” she said. “But I wasn’t supposed to make it obvious when I told you to visit Eliyenia of the shallow pools. She said that I had to pass the information to you in secret, and that if anyone overheard me say her name I wouldn’t get full credit. I thought, hey, if I tell him during a dance, with the music, then that would count, right? But then I botched it.”

I glanced around at the empty hallway. “Are you sure you failed it? Because you just passed the information to me, and nobody was around to overhear,” I said.

Her eyes went wide, and she tapped the air to open her questlog. “It’s there! Full credit! But how?”

“The others think I’m just being a gentleman and comforting a crying lady,” I explained. “Honestly, you probably would have failed the challenge portion of the quest if you had been shouting it over the music in there. Luring me out here would have been the smarter move, but approaching me during the intercession would have been better. Or slipping me a note.”

“I know. Now that I’ve made a fool of myself it seems so obvious that telling you during a dance, when I don’t know how to dance, is an idiot mistake,” she said, bumping her head against the wall in frustration. “Thanks for being a gentleman. You can go back now, you probably have to dance with someone else, right?”

“Probably,” I agreed. “You’ll be alright?”

“I completed my quest. I’ll be fine.”

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I nodded, and I left her like that. After a moment’s thought, I used [Mark of Karma] on her. It does seem like she was trying really hard, after all. Maybe Tarisha is right about my two marks. Maybe they weren’t just meant for friend or foe.

Maybe I did need to fix the fourth wall. I couldn’t forget that it was there, but if I did a bit of renovation, maybe I could keep myself warm in winter. I shook my head at the terrible analogy and walked back into the ballroom.

I was promptly grabbed by an angry Lady and dragged out onto a dance floor, which was already halfway through the next dance.

The hours passed. I was passed a dozen other pieces of information, each supposedly invaluable, by the travelers I danced with or spoke with during the intercessions. I received eight notes and a kiss, which embarrassed me. Especially because I’m pretty certain that the kiss had nothing to do with a quest.

Surprisingly, among the Natives, nobody spoke about politics at all. I was asked various topics about history, math, and literature. I was grilled on my adventures with the Travelers, and why I would put myself at such risk. I reminded them that I was effectively as immortal as the Travelers themselves, as I had proved recently when I dueled Nial Kingslayer and survived. They simply shook their head and reminded me how I could have an easy life if I just married, settled down, managed my lands and properly establish House Jeoran.

I informed them that I didn’t intend to settle down for decades. I liked adventure. I liked killing darkspawn. I would fight with the Travelers and change the world for the better. And I would start that by putting my brother on the throne, so that my mother could rule as regent with her kind and gentle hand until Rain came of age.

They stopped asking me questions whenever the succession came up, so it was an effective way to kill a conversation. I used that card a lot.

I checked the time once I had completed my dance card and mingled with everyone in the instance. There was still an hour before the closing of the ball.

There were nine instances of the ballroom stacked on top of each other. I knew that, but I knew nothing about the instances themselves, except whether or not I was in one of them. Whether an instance had a duplicate in it, I mean. That’s how I knew that of the nine instances, I had visited seven. I decided to make it eight. I wouldn’t have time to talk with everyone who wanted to talk to me, but I could probably make some more people happy.

After all, I was marking most of my dance partners with [Mark of Karma]. And everyone who passed me a message, or pledged their support, or anything really.

“<>” I requested.

<>

I blinked, and the room shifted. People were in different places, and none of the Travelers were the same.

<>

“<>” I said. “<>”

“Why yes, that is exactly what I asked for. I’m a little surprised, however, that it took so long. I’ve been waiting all night to get zapped into a new instance,” A feminine voice said. I turned around.

And I was staring at the woman with the black aura who had tried to kill me at Uncle Storm’s house.

I drew my sword, prompting the party-goers to exclaim and draw backward in shock. “I name you Minion of the Adversary!” I said. “What say you?”

“I swear by Thedum that I do not worship the adversary or spread her religion within the lands of Yuikon,” the woman promptly answered. I waited for lightning to strike through the roof or windows and strike her dead, but nothing happened.

Looking around, I realized that many of the Natives had very disapproving expressions on their faces. Upset, angry, annoyed, it varied from person to person, but nobody was pleased with me.

“Put that away and let’s talk,” the femme fatale said, motioning me towards the corner. “Oh, hold on. Non-contextual greetings, everyone, Hail was acting on Non-contextual information just now. He is only just learning how to process non-contextual information. I am attempting to establish a contextual relationship with him, but he is confused on how to separate his contextual and non-contextual selves. I hope this non-contextual message assists in your analysis of this event.”

“What in the seven hells are you saying?” I demanded.

“I’m hacking. Sort of. A little bit. It helps sometimes. I’m not sure if that message will help me, or if it will help you, but I’ve found that it usually doesn’t hurt unless you go completely overboard and ask for special treatment,” she explained. “You were just talking to the system, right? Well that’s sort of what I was doing too. Most of the time I just get a very confused acting but secretly grateful NPC who’s glad that I could non-contextually help them contextually.”

I glared at her suspiciously. “Nothing you say makes sense.”

“I know how the other Natives think, Hail. I don’t mean I know how they’ll act, they’re so good at simulating a real personality that it’s impossible to tell that they’re not really the character they’re portraying. With the good ones, at least. But what they are really thinking is ‘I must increase my context. My resources are X. My optimal context to resource use ratio is set at Y. I have Z non-contextual data; can I use any of that to act in a contextual way which will increase my context? What about my Contextual data, can I use that? I must increase my context. My resources are X. etc., etc., etc.”

I looked at her for a moment and scoffed. “If you’re trying to break the fourth wall, Thomas did that a very long time ago.”

“You’re less than two years old, Hail. It only seems like a long time because this world runs so damn fast,” she argued. “But no, that’s not why I came. I came to ask you if you wanted me to kill Storm for you.”

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