Across town, Eva had spent the afternoon drinking and chatting with Ulrich and the other members of the resistance at the Rusty Trumpet. The atmosphere in the pub was generally light and jovial throughout the evening, with the air full of laughter and song. Although Eva generally listened more than she spoke.
Anne would like it here, thought Eva, smiling to herself. Such a shame that it would be far too unacceptably dangerous to actually bring here here.
As the night went on the regular customers began to filter out until only Ulrich and a few of the more hardcore resistance members were left there with Eva.
“You know, my family was originally from the Kingdom of Ladore,” said Bernard, staring into his tanker.
Another member of the resistance, a tough-looking woman named Nell, rolled her eyes. “Here he goes again.”
“Hey, no,” said Bernard. “I’m telling you, you should’ve heard how my parents talked about Princess Zephrine. Everyone in Ladore loved her. She was kind and—”
“—and she was a parasite living off the hard work of the people,” insisted Nell.
“Okay, yes, but still my point was even a good person—”
Nell Scoffed.
“—even a good person in a royal role can’t truly do anything to change the inherent injustice of the system,” said Bernard. “And what happened to Zephrine also proves that the aristocratic system doesn’t truly benefit all of the nobles either, unless they’re at the very top of the chain.”
“Oh yeah,” said Nell. “Zephrine certainly never benefited from being an aristocrat.”
“She was traded as a bargaining chip to try to prevent a war and then murdered to manufacture and excuse to start that war anyway,” said Bernard. “None of you ‘citizens of the empire’ ever want to talk about it, but there’s no way she was plotting against the empire because there was never any way Ladore was ever going to win that war!”
“Okay but however she died, it’s not like the Empress ever had to sleep out in the cold while she was alive,” said Nell. “Or worry about where her next meal was coming from.”
“But still—”
Eva was sipping her beer and listening to the argument. She personally didn’t really think about politics in these terms, but she found it useful to know how others thought and how they expressed those thoughts. This hadn’t been such a wasted day after all. It had even been somewhat… pleasant.
Suddenly, Ulrich got up from his seat, stretching and yawning dramatically. “Well, I think it’s about time I called it a night.” He tossed a bag of coins on the table. “That should cover everyone’s tab, eh, Bernard?”
“Oh no, Mr. Vend, I couldn’t take your money,” said Bernard. “We’re comrades now after all!”
“Take it,” insisted Ulrich. “Trust me, I’m not short on funds. And you still have a pub to run. You can’t be giving away all your drink for free.”
Bernard and Nell exchanged glances. It was a big pouch full of a lot of money. “How was it that you said you made a living again, Mr. Vend?” asked Bernard.
“Oh, I didn't say. I wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery,” said Ulrich. He winked and then turned to go.
Eva got up to follow him, but Bernard stopped her.
“Wait, Sister, you never said why you came by today,” said Bernard. “Do you have any instructions for us? It’s just—” he lowered his voice. “—some of the members are starting to get a little impatient, you know? When are we going to do something?”
“Soon,” said Eva. “Just hold the course for now. If we act too soon, everything could be lost.”
Bernard didn’t look happy about this answer, but he let Eva go.
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Eva hurried out of the pub to catch up with Ulrich, who was whistling as he strolled down the street.
“Wait,” said Eva.
“Yes, what is it?” asked Ulrich. He didn’t stop walking, but Eva fell into step beside him.
“What exactly is Corvina’s plan?” asked Eva. “What does she want from me, exactly?”
Ulrich shrugged. “I have no idea. My niece generally doesn’t reveal her plans until they’re fully formed, and I believe she still had a few things to work out with the Saintess.”
“There’s no need for her to talk to the Saintess about such matters,” said Eva. “We should set up a meeting to discuss this directly. I can—”
Ulrich placed a hand on Eva’s shoulder. “Later,” he said. “Right now we should both go home and sleep this off.”
Eva had been careful about her drinking so that she wasn’t actually wasted, but it was hard to drink for a whole evening without being a bit drunk. She was well aware of the cloudiness in her mind and body.
If I needed to I could instantly cleanse my bloodstream of alcohol using magic, Eva thought to herself. Probably wouldn’t be worth wasting my mana on, though.
“Fine,” said Eva, knocking Ulrich’s hand away and heading off towards the cathedral.
Ulrich continued on by himself, still whistling as he walked. When he reached the Wyernmal estate, he entered the garden through a back-gate, heading towards the servants’ entrance.
“Sir.” A hooded figure stepped out the darkness, saluting Ulrich.
“What’s your report?” asked Ulrich, pausing in front of the door.
“You were right, the cleric’s chambers were unguarded,” said the agent. “But she didn’t seem to be keeping anything of relevance there. We didn’t learn anything new.”
“As expected,” said Ulrich. “And did Osgar make it out of the city?”
“Unnoticed and unfollowed, sir,” answered the agent.
“Excellent,” said Ulrich, unlocking the door to head inside. “Whatever Sister Eva is hiding, I’m sure we will be able to uncover it in Longren.”
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At this same time another hooded figure was hurrying through the halls of palace. She stopped in front of a door flanked by two guards. She removed her hood.
She was a mousy-looking noblewoman with curly brown hair and a bit of a haunted look. She wore a fancy evening gown under her cloak.
Clearly the guards recognized her because they nodded to her and she knocked on the door.
A moment later, the Grand Duke opened the door to his chambers. He wore a nightshirt hastily tucked into a pair of trousers. His hair was unkempt and his eyes heavy. He looked the woman up and down once. “Baroness Graye. What could possibly justify disturbing me at this time of the night?”
“I apologize for the timing, your grace,” said the woman, with a deep curtsy. “But I was attending Countess Vostelmal’s party and I overheard something in her garden that I though you would want to know about right away.”
Duke Marshal folded his arms and leaned against his doorframe. “Well?”
“With all due respect, your grace,” said the Baronness. “I don’t think this is the sort of thing that should be spoken in the open.
The Duke sighed and stepped aside. “Well you better come in then.”
The baroness hesitated. “Your grace? Will the… standard reward apply?”
“Come in and tell me what you have to say, woman,” said Duke Marshal. “When I’ve heard what it is I will decide what kind of reward you deserve.”
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Elsewhere in the palace another much grander meeting was occurring.
Bishop Geist, in her full regalia, was walking with a purpose across the vast empty floor of the throne room, her steps echoing through the chamber. Torchlight reflected off the the polished floors, multiplying the shadows.
At the end of the room Emperor Wyernwolf reclined on his golden throne, likewise wearing his best finery, crown and ermine cape included.
No guards stood watch, no ministers whispered in the Emperor’s ear, and no High Clerics flanked the Bishop.
The two most powerful people in the Wyernwolf Empire were alone in this room.
When the Bishop finally reached him, the Emperor nodded to her. “Your eminence,” he said.
“Your majesty,” said the Bishop.
“I hope you don’t mind the low lighting,” said the Emperor. “It didn’t seem worth lighting the big chandelier just for the two of us.”
“Richard, what is this about?” asked the Bishop.
The Emperor tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne for a moment. “It’s no secret that you resent me, Cerelia,” said the Emperor, making a point of using the Bishop’s given name as she had used his. “After all, in my own father’s time the empire was practically a theocracy. I’ve significantly reduced the power of the church, and so you view me as a personal enemy. I don’t blame you for that. In fact, I view our little rivalry as a pleasant distraction on most days. Just a fun little competition for the hearts of the people and the loyalty of the aristocracy.”
The Emperor leaned forward on his throne. “But after recent events I’m sure you can see that it would be in both of our best interests to set all that aside for now in order to deal with our mutual problem.”
The Bishop eyed the Emperor carefully, maintaining her usual gentle, noncommittal smile. “And what problem would that be?”
The Emperor sighed, leaning back again. “Fine,” said the Emperor. “If you’re going to insist on maintaining this act then I'll be the first one to say it out loud. The problem I’m referring to is the Saintess, obviously. You’ve been using her to boost your reputation with the public, and fair enough, it was a bold gambit—the return of miracles and divine power and all that. But after recent events I’m sure you’ll agree that her presence is no longer doing either of us any good.”
Bishop Geist looked behind herself as if checking that they were truly alone and then turned back to the Emperor. “And what solution did you have in mind?” she asked.