Brogan pushed open the door to the seedy pub with greasy floors and even greasier patrons. The air smelled of cheap liquor and… pine incense. Old Yoric tried, didn’t he? In short, no better place to meet a shady contact, if secrecy wasn’t essential.
What a mess. Reastera had been in complete chaos since the attack. Luckily, Sistilla had only suffered a non-life-threatening wound, and Conroy had already summoned the saint. Even luckier that he, as chief security officer, had avoided blame; his duties didn’t extend into anti-espionage, and the auto-carriage went well outside his zone of influence. Regardless, he took it personally. He had spent years building his reputation as a man who never failed. And, as the man responsible for security, he had failed. They might not attribute it as his failing, but his goal had always been to cultivate a supernatural degree of competency, an impregnable palisade of security.. But someone had breached it.
He pulled a chair out from the table, opposite a blue-haired woman with a lighter complexion, noting her Northern heritage. She sipped on the tavern’s ale, an array of Rank cards face down in front of her. It surprised Brogan that anyone would drink this swill, but it was expected that you order something. He gestured to the barkeep.
“I was surprised to get such an urgent request from you, until the news came through,” she said, turning over a card.
He stared out through yellow lenses, fingers interlaced, resting on the table. “So you are aware? Good, I don’t have to explain.”
She flipped another card after some deliberation, not looking up. “I suppose you want to know who is behind the attack?”
“How astute of you.”
She ignored the sarcasm. “Well, I’m sure it will come as no surprise that the Toualas were involved.”
“Suspicions need to be verified. Do elaborate,” he said, canting his body and leaning back in the chair with an arm resting over the side.
She flipped two different cards, a red card and a black card, and moved them to a pile on her right. “They are not the only party involved, but certainly the most influential. And the one who arranged the attack, in agreement with the others.”
He leaned in. “Oh? And you wouldn’t happen to have the names of these players, would you?”
“House Mederhilm, Batome, Henketer, and Frenkot. Perhaps some other influential individuals as well,” she said, pondering her next move.
“I assume they wish to prevent the alliance between House Eltroy and Uvlad?” he said, eyeing the sporadic gaps in the cards.
The beer arrived. He let it sit there, as he had no intention of drinking it.
“That would certainly be the main reason, though I suspect Touala has some,” she said, looking up at him for the first time and casting a sly eye, “personal reasons as well.”
Just the faintest eyebrow twitch from Brogan, who propped up his head with a hand. “Do go on.”
She flipped another two cards, both black, and turned them back over. “There is at least one spy in Reastera. From what we can tell, they have some pretty extensive access to proprietary information.”
He had figured as much, but loathed to admit it to himself, as it meant somebody had gotten past him. Or had they…
“Do you know anything about a yutsuukitsuu?” he said, squaring his body back up, not hiding his personal interest.
Her eyes flashed, but just for a moment. “The only yutsuukitsuu of any proximity would be the one purchased by Conroy at the Finfare Fair, but you would know all about that.”
Another two cards flipped. He suppressed an irked twitch, such an erratic play style. Surely, she knew better.
“What do you know about him?” he said, eager for an answer, despite the distraction.
“Oh? Why do you ask?” she said, with an inquisitive tone that lacked sincerity, turning another set of cards and moving them to another pile.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he has been hiding the fact that he is an expert swordsman!” It came out more forcefully than intended, plunking a hand down on the table, setting the cards askew.
To his chagrin, she pulled out a small notebook and started jotting something down. “Good to know.”
Halls, she had just tricked him into giving free information? Well, fine. It’s not as though he was footing the bill, though sometimes information had more value than money.
“Could he be the spy?”
She closed the notebook. “Mmm... That seems unlikely, since he thwarted their plot and all.”
He cocked his head. “If you know that, how didn’t you know about his sword prowess?”
With the notebook tucked away, she went back to her card game, straightening the cards back into that ragged assembly. “Perhaps I did know, and I am just messing with you. Or perhaps we didn’t know the specifics.”
Despite her teasing, he couldn’t turn his eyes away from the disjointed card segments. “But they were all dead...”
“True, but that doesn’t indicate that he killed them directly, or by what method. The reports were vague on the details,” she said, taking a swig of ale, while eyeing her next move.
“But surely Urchins and Beggars has something on him? It is, after all, a strange thing for one of them to be among polite society.”
“We only know what leaks out of Reastera. It’s not as though we have regular informants in the chateau.” Another disjointed move.
Her play style had him so tweaked that he almost missed the added qualifier: regular; he’d keep that in mind. “I would like to contract Urchins and Beggars to look into this yutsuukitsuu.”
With a card in hand, she looked up and beamed with a sincerity that unsettled him. “We are always more than happy to take your money.”
“Well, you know where to send the bill,” he said, standing and tossing a few coins down.
“Are you going to drink that?” she said, pointing.
He raised an eyebrow.
She flipped and removed the last several cards from the table. “I have another client to meet.”
He stared another moment, but waved a hand. “Knock yourself out.”
“By the way, nice job dealing with the Toualas,” she said, through stilted eyes.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” He turned to go.
“Not sure how you pulled it off, but managing to get the Toualas blamed for that outbreak of food poisoning...” she trailed off.
“How unfortunate for them. Couldn’t have happened to a more honest broker.”
She crossed her arms. “Hee, they even lost their contract with the WWP after they discovered that second tainted batch. It will be a huge setback for both parties.”
Brogan’s head snapped around. “Wait! When did this happen?”
“Oh? You didn’t know,” she said, a flush coming over her cheeks. “I guess we are even now.”
He scratched his chin. Well, at least that operation had gone off perfectly. It would help offset his recent failure. Not that anyone other than him regarded it as such. As he contemplated, she started setting up the cards for another game.
“I would think an agent of U&B would be above such childish games.”
“It’s a distraction, and many of our clients can be uncouth. Keeps me from focusing on them,” she said. It wasn’t lost on Brogan that she applied this to him as well.
“The sequential method is the superior method of play, if one is to engage with such frivolities.”
“That’s what they say, but really, it is just more orderly.” She flipped two cards at random.
She caught him glaring at the cards. “Oh? Did you want to play a game of Dissenters?”
He shifted his face to one side, turning once more to go. “…Just make sure to look into Olavir.”
She frowned. How strange.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Is that his name?”
“Yes…” He shot her a final sidelong look.
“No, it’s nothing.”
Oh, it was definitely something. Still, they had concluded their business, so he shrugged and walked out.
“Beg my pardon, Princess Lucial, but you wouldn’t have seen Lady Sistilla come by here?” asked a nervous-looking nurse at the doorway to Lucial’s quarters.
“I’m afraid I have not,” she said, showing just a hint of concern. “Is she alright? I have been terribly worried about her since I first heard.”
“She is fine, or at least she will be if she listens to proper medical advice!”
“I see. That’s good to hear. I’ll let you know if I see her.”
“Please do, princess,” she said, and scurried off.
She closed the door to her suite and walked over to the sofa, heaving a sigh.
“Is she gone now?”
Lucial couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Yes, she is gone now.”
“Halls, she is persistent,” Sistilla said, emerging from a closet. “I couldn’t stand being cooped up in the medical ward another minute.” She strode across the room.
“I am glad to see you, Sistilla. I was worried. But do you really think you should be roaming about against the doctor’s orders?”
“It will be fine; it’s nothing life-threatening,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa. “Besides, they sent out for a saint. I’ll be good as new once they get here.”
Lucial looked at her, arms forming wide angles on her hips. Sistilla still wore the same pants she had during the attack, judging by the bloodstains. The medics had stripped off upper layers, and her torso remained bare, save for the bandage wrap covering the wound. It extended above the chest, probably to protect her modesty.
“Sistilla… You have a hole in your chest. And don’t you think it’s disrespectful to be so irreverent of the saint’s time? They are a precious resource, and there are not nearly enough to go around,” she chided.
Sistilla’s posture slumped. “The saint was going to be called regardless... ‘If it’s a bleeder, call a healer,’ that’s my father’s motto regarding injury, though I think that only applies to his daughters.”
Lucial's expression softened. “Really?”
“Yeah, he once tried to call for a bloody nose, but they turned him down on principle for that one, regardless of the donation he offered.”
“Still, it would be better to rest...”
“I can’t even do that! Father keeps popping in and out, constantly asking for more detail, not to mention all the well-wishers.” she complained, crossing her arms, but then winced and clutched her side. “Mff... Besides, I would have thought you would be worried about me. You didn’t come to visit...”
She blushed, embarrassed, putting a hand to her mouth. “I was worried. But I thought it would be better if you rested.”
In truth, more than just worry had occupied her mind, and now that they had exchanged pleasantries, some of her curiosity leaked through. Being unskilled in hiding her emotions, Sistilla naturally picked up on it.
Sistilla smirked. “Go ahead and ask.”
“What happened!?” she said with more of an outburst than intended. “I mean... I know you were attacked, but that’s it.”
“Yeah, four guys attacked out on the road. Real pros too. If boss Gyle hadn’t drilled into me countering from a dead sleep...”
Lucial put a finger to her lip. “Countering from a dead sleep?”
“Basically, he would just sneak up on us while we slept and smack us with a stick,” she said, then shuddered. “Rough days, those be.”
“That sounds... abusive.”
“Yeah, but in the end it saved my life, so I guess I can’t complain… anymore,” she said. Sighing, she leaned back on the curved rim of the sofa, and then winced.
Lucial angled to face, pressing forward. “But that is impressive. You defeated four trained assassins single-handedly.”
“Nah, I only got two of them, and one only because he turned his back to me,” she said, brushing off the comment with a lazy sweep of her hand. “The real hero is Olavir.”
She pulled back, eyes going wide in disbelief. “O-Olavir?”
She chuckled, “Hehe, yeah, can you believe it? In a matter of seconds, he had taken out two of them, though I guess in all fairness, the first guy never saw it coming.”
“But... How?? I thought he had an anti-scribe collar?” she said with some alarm.
“Yeah... he used a sword. Quite proficiently, but I guess that goes without saying,” Sistilla said, with an unreadable expression.
“But...” she started.
The incident from several terms back still pressed on her mind whenever she saw the young yutsuukitsuu. She had grown even more suspicious of his presence here. They did, after all, make perfect spies... or would if they didn’t stick out like a scribe’s finger. However, being able to read and influence minds was more than enough to make up for that shortcoming. That’s saying nothing of their telekinesis. The collar should prevent that, but he could still manipulate minds, even though that shouldn’t work either. Was the whole thing a sham?
“What happened after that?” Lucial asked, eager for more details.
“Not much. Olavir passed out, and eventually somebody came by who gave us a ride,” she said with a shrug.
“Wait, he passed out?”
“Yeah, Amillia freaked out... I was also worried at first, but his pulse was strong. I figured he just overexerted himself. The sword was taller than he was.”
“Where is he now?”
“He was in the infirmary with me. Still out cold, though the doctor says he will be fine.”
Interesting. She wasn’t an expert in mana, but this sounded a lot like acute mana drain. Still, he shouldn’t have been able to leverage telekinesis. Unless…
Shouting came ringing out from the other side of the door as staff charged past. Sistilla snapped her head around, pulling in her lips.
“I should probably go before you get into trouble.”
“You should go back to the infirmary and rest before you reopen that wound and give the healer more work,” she reprimanded.
Sistilla returned a guilty smile. “Oh! Before I go, your father wanted me to give you a letter. I remembered to grab it from my satchel before I bolted.”
Lucial eyed the letter with smoldering disdain. No chance it couldn’t bear any good news, dare she hope for neutrality? In light of recent events—the attempt on Sistilla’s life was a blatant attempt to thwart the double union—perhaps she should do her part. Sistilla was putting her life on the line. She, by contrast, was merely being asked to undertake a purely political marriage. And outside of keeping up appearances and producing an heir, she could probably conduct herself as she pleased; Vaas de Uvald would not object. He, too, wanted nothing to do with this marriage, hence his flight to the Gelcic Republic, with the aid of Lord Fraldario. She didn’t much like Lord Fraldario, but he opposed her marriage, so she considered him an ally in this despite her other misgivings.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the letter between two pinched fingers. “Now, to the infirmary with you!”
She shooed away a weary-looking Sistilla, leaving her alone in her rooms. The sound of somebody shouting, “They found her,” echoed outside the door as Lucial plopped down onto the sofa, turning the letter over in her fingers. A letter packaged in a regal envelope with an ostentatious red seal and in remarkable shape considering assassins had mauled its bearer. The attack had left her friend Sistilla wounded and Olavir in a coma, though that would probably prove fleeting.
Speaking of Olavir, he wasn’t uninvolved in this either. If not for his intervention that night, she might have found herself in her family’s cryocrypts instead of frowning at her father’s letter. She shuddered to think, but he had spoken sense. It was cowardly to end herself. Better to take his advice and run away if she actually planned to go through with it.
She sighed. She did not want to read this letter and half considered throwing it into the fire. But no, that wouldn’t do anything, except perhaps deprive her of information. Well, ignorance had a pleasure of its own, but voluntary ignorance was unbecoming. And so, with a rapid inflation and deflation of her chest, she broke the seal, pulled out the letter, and read:
Dear Lucial,
I hope you are enjoying your time at the estate of your betrothed. I was reluctant, but having thought about it since, I am glad I allowed you to take the initiative and acquaint yourself with our new family. As you know, the marriage of Prince Orland and Lady Sistilla is set for the end of the year, and I couldn’t be happier with how things have progressed on that front. The girl is unruly, but Orland absolutely adores her. As long as she is fulfilling her wifely duties, I’ll have no complaints.
However, your nuptials are still pending, through no fault of your own; you have stepped up to your duties. The problem lies with Lord Vaas and his extended “study” with the hozenlo of the Gelcic Republic. As you are aware, it has been several years since he first absconded and has since refused to return, justifying it as “bringing the modern world to Alocast.” Putting aside the clear implication that Alocast is “lagging behind,” it is becoming increasingly salient that Vaas is trying to extend his carefree bachelor days instead of accepting his familial responsibilities, as you have so obediently done.
I have pressed Lord Conroy to take a firmer hand with his errant child. However, he isn’t unsympathetic to his son’s wishes. Even more so, he supports the technological advance of Alocast, which I can’t fault him for, and therefore seems content to allow Vaas to spend as much time as he wants among the hozenlo. But this is indulgent. Once the Scholars Act passes, we will have no shortage of technological influx. Certainly more than one man with important dynastic responsibilities can bring, but I digress.
Many nights have I ruminated over this dilemma; the kingdom won’t tolerate an unwed princess forever. But then I remembered that same princess had already ensconced herself into that very house, and by extension would have the ear of Lord Conroy. I began thinking, couldn’t this intelligent and beautiful daughter of mine put some pressure on this intransigent lord and garner some sympathy for her unwed state? Certainly, the tears of a young maiden have been known to start and end wars. Surely, they could bring a stubborn father to recall his wayward heir.
As a future queen, you will need to learn the subtle art of cozening men to your cause, and this will prove to be a suitable start on that venture. Take care, as it wouldn’t behoove you to earn your father-in-law’s ire, especially before the documents have been signed. I look forward to good news on this front. Until then, may you go with Hall’s blessing.
Your loving father,
Lelemier
Lucial had crushed the edges in white-knuckled fists, nearly tearing the several-page letter in half by the time she finished reading it. How presumptuous, how brazen! Though she had capitulated to his demands to marry Vaas, she had clearly done so under duress. And now, to just pretend that her hand hovered above the marriage certificate, only waiting for her far-off betrothed to return and seal the other half was just too much. Now, he even tried to assert his authority over her very thoughts and feelings through sheer assertions!
That was bad enough, but to instruct her to facilitate a quicker exchange of vows through less than scrupulous means. To impeach her moral character for an end she had not only no desire for, but active contempt. All the while denigrating women, reducing them to disingenuous manipulators. He didn’t even respect her enough to allow her to have her own feelings!
Well, that was it! She would show him cozening! She didn’t feel she would have the wherewithal to run away, but she could do one better. Killing herself was out of the question, but making everyone think she was dead? Now that was a deception worthy of her father. Not only would she be free of his royal wrath, but any grief he suffered would be well deserved by such an imperious man.
Of course, she had no plan for how to pull off such a feat. People had tried before—there were records. All failures, but that’s to be expected; you don’t hear about the successful ones, they would just be regarded as dead, though maybe some memoirs existed from people who had succeeded and then came out about it later in life. Perhaps she would make a more thorough examination of the library.
here.
We're Not Gonna Take It - Twisted Sister
Do you ever write physical letters?
