Dignitary Lounge 1, Temple of Kringle - Greendale

Village Lord Bethshe blew out a thick ring of smoke from pursed lips, watching the smoke drift apart into the unfamiliar room as she savored the rich blend of herbs. Harald’s assistants had been very gracious in her welcome to the Temple, and had ushered her to this room in a timely fashion. The room was a bit sparse for her tastes, but it was luxuriously decorated so she had no complaints there. Case in point, the table beneath her crossed feet cost thousands of gold, and the ambient mana in the room was enough to impress someone of her cultivation level.

To top it off, her assistants and guards had been quartered and fed like they were minor dignitaries themselves. Unfortunately for the Grand High Priest, she was not so easily placated. He had involved her in his latest power play despite knowing how she would react to the disrespect. For one, Harald had declined meeting her at the Temple gates as proprietary dictated. Instead, he’d sent his apologies, citing extenuating circumstances which she would have been willing to accept, were it not for the second message that followed.

The poor Priest that had delivered the message had been a nervous wreck, as he informed her and her scowling retinue that a squad of Temple Guards had been assigned to escort her to his holiness. This was simply not done! Greendale’s branch of the Luminous Temple, while a separate entity, still answered to her as the Village Lord. Not the other way around.

The optics of Bethshe and her honor guards being shepherded by Temple warriors, could only be seen as a slap to her face by the various Village factions. And although Harald acted the bumbling fool, she knew better. Underneath that facade was a brilliant mind who she was sure understood the retaliation she would be forced to initiate in order to maintain the delicate balance of power. But that begged the question—why’d he do it?

Taking a deep drag from the pipe, she let the question percolate within her mind, just as the heady smoke filled her lungs. She had her suspicions but in the quietness of the lounge, she set her mind to the puzzle anew, curious to see if she’d come to a different conclusion. Alas, everything pointed steadily at the likeliest possibility. Last night’s attack on Harald’s district must have been more damaging to his interests than she’d thought. Whatever he had planned had to be of immense significance for him to willingly take on her wrath.

‘Another coup?’

Bethshe snorted at the thought, pulling deeply from the smoke-pipe as she enjoyed the rare moment of solitude. No, he wouldn’t dare. Closing her eyes, she let her pores take in some of the ambient Mana, as her Meridians churned with powerful Qi. A slight creak and draft of air informed her that the door to the lounge had been opened, and from the cadence of steps, she knew exactly who it was. A smile spread across her lips as the steps grew closer, and then a thick arm wrapped around her waist just before a gravelly voice whispered in her ear.

“I thought you quit, my love.” Soft lips pressed against hers and she leaned into it with passion only to realize that the smoke-pipe had been snatched out of her hands.

“Not fair, Drogo!” she protested as her husband chuckled, carefully placing the pipe on the far end of the table. He leaned back in and kissed her deeply before holding her head in his huge hands, placing their foreheads together.

“The guards are settled in and ready. I have stationed a group at your door and they will follow you everywhere,” he kissed her again to stop the coming protest, before continuing. “I know you don’t need them Bethshe, but you are the Village Lord. Some appearances must be kept. I have another group running patrols around the Temple grounds, and the last group will act as quick response teams, supplementing either groups as needed.”

Drogo released her head and walked over to the bar in one corner of the room and poured a drink for himself. Bethshe took her legs off the table and grabbed the smoke-pipe again, laughing at Drogo’s exasperated sigh, when he noticed the pipe back in her hands.

“Don’t be like that. You know I would never do this in front of the kids. I just need something to help me retain my sanity from dealing with all the fools and their politics.” Bethshe drew in another mouthful from her pipe, sighing in pleasure as she exhaled. “How’s Jorey?”

Drogo snorted. “You know how he is. High Priest Jorey is running around like Harald’s lapdog.”

“Drogo, don't speak of your fellow husband like that.” Bethshe interjected, trying to placate her First Consort before he got really wound up on this sore topic.

“You know I respect him as a man but he has no backbone. No initiative! He has the same cultivation as Harald, and would make a better Grand High Priest. But what does he do? He just lets that slimy bastard continue to use him without any compensation.” Drogo downed his glass in one gulp, an irritated frown marring his ruggedly handsome face as he got up to pour another for himself.

“If only Jorey saw him for who he really is,” Bethshe replied with a shake of her head. “You and I both know the number of prostitutes that have gone missing after experiencing Harald’s deviancy. Or worse, the state of the few who have survived the ordeal. But for all his faults, he is a useful pawn.”

“Unfortunately,” Drogo grumbled, eliciting an eye roll from his wife which he promptly ignored. “Knowing all that, I am not surprised someone tried to kill him. It’s a shame they failed.” Walking back with his glass cup in one hand and the bottle of liquor in the other, he dropped heavily into his seat. The chair groaned under his weight, but the muscular man ignored it and gulped down his second glass of liquor. Grimacing, he placed the empty glass on the table, leaned back into his chair and waited for his wife’s thoughts.

“I doubt the organizers of the attack seriously expected to kill him,” shrugged Bethshe. “Maim him? Absolutely. I don't even discount the possibility that their primary goal might have been to simply weaken his political power. Harald is many things, but a weakling, he is not. What has your investigation found?”

“Nothing solid yet,” he shook his head. “One thing we know for sure is that someone paid an absurd amount of gold to pull this off. We also found out that the attackers were not native to Greendale, so they had to be smuggled in. Finally, the level of coordination displayed throughout the operation indicates that a lot of influential people had to be bribed to look the other way. With all these factors considered, our preliminary suspicion is that this was an inside job. The overall scope of the attack narrows down our list of suspects to a few Noble factions.

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“Figures,” the Village Lord ruffled through the papers on her desk, before grabbing one, skimming through it and handing it over to Drogo. “My contact in the Syndicate sent that over a few hours ago. They are officially requesting amnesty and promised to increase their monthly tribute by 5%.”

Drogo swore furiously, taking his eyes off the document. “Why don’t we just clear our Village of the Syndicate filth? I told you not to expect loyalty from criminals!”

“Calm down handsome,” Bethshe smiled wryly at him. “The Syndicate do a good enough job controlling the underground. Removing them will cause unnecessary turmoil and the next group to take over might not be easily controlled. Anyway, they claim to have accosted a rogue group of their members who were involved in this plot and they are willing to hand them over.”

“And you trust them?!” Drogo yelled in frustration.

“Don’t be silly Drogo!” Bethshe admonished, getting up to stand before his chair. “Of course I don’t trust them. But it’s in their best interest to come clean at this point. I expect you to extract everything from the captives. I want to know what they had for breakfast that morning and which families need purging. I want to know who paid them, when and why. I want to know which Assassin Guild was brazen enough to take the job in MY village! Don’t disappoint me, First Consort!” she barked in fury.

The man stood up, towering over his wife and saluted grimly. “As you command, Village Head!”

Bethshe stared into his eyes for a few silent moments before reaching a hand up to caress his stubbled cheek. She pushed off her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, a small smile gracing her face afterwards.

“I have a couple more reports to go through before the Memorial ceremony. Make sure I’m not disturbed and come for me a few minutes before it begins. Dismissed” she commanded and watched as her husband bowed, and left her alone in the temporary office. Sighing to herself, she turned back to the papers waiting for her on the desk as she walked back to her seat. There was no use in delaying it any further.

—

“Oy! Watch where you going, maggot!” Ren felt strong hands try to push him away as he bumped into someone on his way to the class exit. He turned to apologize and be on his way, when he noticed who it was that was yelling at him. It was Aylona’s Pimp.

“My bad. Didn't see you there,” he said distractedly, still focused on reviewing Priest Keta’s lessons.

“Oh? So am being a nobody, is it?” The man reached out and grabbed Ren’s wrist, applying pressure to exert his dominance. Ren looked at the hand holding his wrists for a second before yanking his hand free and continued making his way out of the class. The Pimp briefly lost his balance from the force Ren used to free himself from his grip.

“Oy! Come back here! You and me are having words!” Ren ignored the man and the incredulous looks being sent his way. What use was there to arguing with ants? Aylona made her way towards her Pimp, careful to keep her eyes glued to the floor. That did not stop the man from backhanding her though.

“Stupid bitch. Don’t just stand there, go fix me a plate.” he fumed, diverting his impotent rage towards the helpless young woman.

Ignoring the drama unfolding behind him, Ren left the class and made his way back to his room. The streets were unusually packed today. It seemed like a lot of the devout were making their way towards the Grand Temple for the memorial ceremony. From the looks of things, his best bet to having decent seats was to head directly there.

However, he wanted to take a shower before heading there. Come to think of it, he could use some of Big Zainab’s garlic-knots right about now. Licking his lips in anticipation, Ren couldn’t wait to get some more snacks from the established baker after such a hectic night. He hoped she had survived the night raid and had opened up shop today. As he turned to avoid a particularly deep crater on the road, a result of last night’s events, Ren spied movement out of the corner of his eye.

‘Oh?’ He turned around but all he saw was a sea of people going about their business. There should have been no way for him to identify someone out of the bunch, especially when said person was doing a great job at blending in. The man was nondescript, wearing plain robes like the majority of the people on the streets. His only mistake was that Ren recognized him from the Cultivation class. He’d been sitting a few seats away from Aylona’s pimp, and his face just happened to have been captured by Ren’s sight.

Ren continued moving, giving no indication that he had caught on to his new tail. As he moved, his lips twitched in amusement. He had the utmost respect for other professionals in the business. From specialists in item procurement, to those specializing in disposal. Even to specialists like himself who excelled in mortality adjustment, he always enjoyed watching them work. The only thing he liked more than that, was beating them at their own specialities.

With that thought in mind, he worked on a plan to slip this stalker while looking at his mental map of the district. Whatever reasons Aylona’s pimp had sent this man after him would have to remain unfulfilled because he’d decided to toy with him and see how hard it would be to escape from the man’s trained eyes.

The stranger moved with a practiced stealth, maintaining a calculated distance that would make it difficult for most to notice his presence. Ren's senses prickled as he picked up the rhythm of the man's pursuit – a rhythm that mirrored his every step, a shadow that elongated and contracted with his own movements.

Two dozen steps later, Ren turned down a street leading away from his actual destination and shortly thereafter the man followed. This section of the district contained laundromats, churning day and night to cleanse the myriad garments of the faithful. The air was filled with the smell of lavender, anise, cinnamon and other scents his nose could not place. Lye was a very multipurpose compound and he idly wondered if this world had an equivalent. However, unwilling to end his game to investigate further, he quickened his steps, darting between two ancient walls of the closest businesses, to the huge courtyard beyond.

It was a shared space used by the surrounding laundromats for drying their more delicate fabrics. The hanging garments, swaying gently in the breeze, formed a patchwork of colors and textures that concealed the paths beneath. Here and there, a worker with a drum of wet clothes stood, affixing pieces to the drooping clothes-line to dry. Footsteps from a couple dozen paces behind him jarred him into action.

He quickened his pace, weaving through the maze-like alleys of the billowing clothes. The scent of damp fabric and distant incense mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere both familiarly claustrophobic and liberating to Ren. However, the sound of ripping fabric behind him drew a disappointed tut from him.

"Oh come on! I thought you were better than that. You can't handle a few clothes?"

There was a pause as the man realized he'd been made. Separated by yards of fabric and with no clear sight of Ren, he made a decision and discarded all thoughts of subtlety. The sound of clothes-line being sliced through filled the air, followed by annoyed shouts from the workers. Ren doubled his pace, but he was no longer enjoying the game. The man had let slip the caliber of hired hand he was by giving away his position so easily. But in honor of his attempt, Ren chose to let him live.

All that was left now was to complete his escape.