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MT 189 - Allies Close, Danger Closer
🕑 Added 2024-10-19 10:19:13 +0000 UTCMT 189 - Allies Close, Danger Closer
The king and I continued our discussions for another hour. His focus with the party’s upcoming meetings with the Littans was to establish some expectations for what he believed we’d encounter. Fortunately, I didn’t detect any of the animosity I’d expected in his attitude toward the Littans, especially given that Celeritia was himself a slave under their thumb. That was about one hundred years ago, but some scars never heal. It didn’t seem like he was holding a grudge, but he was cautious.
“I expect they’ll try to recruit you,” he said.
“Recruit us? In what capacity?”
“Training consultants would be my bet.” He poured himself a fresh cup of tea. A servant had brought in a new pot thirty minutes into our meeting. “The Littans have spent the last century trying to overtake Hiward as the most prominent Delver society. I hate to admit it, but in some limited ways they have us beat.”
“That’s surprising to hear.”
“We come at the problem in different ways,” Celeritia said. “Hiward regulates Delvers through Central, but the goal of that organization is to minimize inter-Delver conflict, enforce taxation, and ensure loyalty to the crown. For the most part, Delving is privatized. Each House jealously guards their secrets to preserve their competitive edge. This leads to a lot of strategic diversity, but no one is working with complete information.
“Delving in Litta, on the other hand, is entirely state-controlled. The vast majority of Littan Delvers work for the government, mostly through the military. This allows all of the collective knowledge to filter upward to a single, cohesive entity. However, they’re strict with their Delvers, and having such tight control discourages experimentation.”
“But when they do experiment, they can bring more resources to bear,” I added.
“Certain resources, yes,” said the king. “Litta is poorly positioned when it comes to magical materials, and Hiward still has twice as many Delvers, even if they are divided.” He took a sip of his tea, eyeing me while he did so. “Your group has given Litta the capacity to start skewing that figure in their direction,” he added. “Especially if they secure another nation’s Creation Delve, which I expect they’ll try to do.”
The air hummed with tension for a moment. Celeritia smiled and waved a hand, as if to drive off the feeling like a rogue mosquito. “Anyway, part of how they compensate for a smaller Delver population is by trying to attract foreign talent. They offer generous rewards to exceptional Delvers willing to work as contractors training certain personnel, submitting to detailed interviews, demonstrating techniques, and so on.”
“I assume it’s frowned upon for Hiwardians to accept such an offer.”
“We call it treason,” he said. “If you plan to start training Littan soldiers, you’ll be doing it without Varrin.”
“Fair enough.” I considered my words for a moment. The conversation had always been a minefield, but I felt like I’d just heard a click beneath my boot. “Are you asking us not to take such a deal?”
“No,” said the king. “All I’m asking is–once you’ve heard their pitch–consider coming to us for a counteroffer.” He gave me a wily grin. “I’d be surprised if you took any sort of deal that locked your party down for an extended period, though.”
“We do like to stay mobile,” I said. “And… unattached.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Some would call that a lack of oversight.”
“And I like to think somebody out there is happy they can’t be blamed for the messes we make.”
“So long as that mess is helpful to them, it’s probably true.” The king gave me a knowing look, then stood and stretched. “Master Xor’Drel, this has been great, really. Sadly, my time is limited, and I’d love to meet individually with the rest of your party. There will also be other petitioners to see me, I’m sure.”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasure, King Celeritia.”
I offered to give the king the lounge for the day. He agreed to use it for meetings with the rest of the party but preferred a less relaxed atmosphere for any Hiwardians who insisted on a one-on-one. I offered him the use of the study, instead.
“It’s easier to seem imposing from behind a desk,” he’d admitted. I somehow doubted he needed the boost.
We shook, and I exited the lounge feeling pleased with the discussion. Celeritia was another easy-going head of state, all things considered, and I was beginning to wonder if Arzia simply trended in that direction.
However–unlike Zura–Celeritia’s cheerful presence also carried a looming weight. I hadn’t realized how potent it was until I’d walked out from under it the moment I was outside the lounge. It was a hard thing to put into words, but talking to Celeritia was like talking to a friendly man standing beside an M1 Abrams main battle tank. One with its barrel pointed straight at me, and everyone I cared about. He was pleasant enough, but I knew that any moment the man could have me reduced to a chunky paste.
Not that Celeritia was individually more powerful than Zura. I just didn’t get the impression that Zura would point all of Eschendur in my direction and pull the trigger the moment I did something she didn’t like. Maybe the feeling came from an aura or other magical effect, but I didn’t think so. The way he slipped from jovial and joking to deadly serious… It was unnerving.
I nodded to the King’s Guard, noting that there were now four of them outside. I moved off at a relaxed pace, taking a moment to recover before throwing myself to the rest of the sharks. The hallway was empty, save for the guards, but several Hiwardians were waiting just beyond. How many were there for me, and how many were trying to use this opportunity to get easier access to the king, I didn’t know.
[I trust your meeting went well.]
“You weren’t listening in?”
[The guards deployed four separate skills to ensure the conversation’s privacy.]
“So your surveillance within the Closet can be foiled.”
[I felt it would be needlessly confrontational to circumvent them. Please stand still for a moment.] I paused a few feet from the end of the hallway. One Hiwardian gentleman looked like he was trying–politely–to get my attention. [There are, of course, ways to hide from my considerable abilities. Before you commit yourself to another lengthy discussion, I would like you to join me in the control room.]
“What’s up?” I intentionally kept myself from making eye contact with anyone in the hallway. The Hiwardian cleared his throat, looking impatient.
[I believe there is someone hiding from my considerable abilities. I thought that would be clear from context. I’ll teleport you momentarily.]
“Director Aprogar asked us to refrain from teleportation.”
[I have informed him of the matter. So long as we give advance notice, I may teleport you and myself at will.]
“Master Xor’Drel,” the man said. “If I could have a moment.” His tone betrayed a touch of irritation.
“Okay. Let me disengage–” The world stuttered, and I was in the cramped room Grotto and I had used to spy on the Littans during their Delve. “–From this guy,” I finished. Grotto was back in his c’thonic octo disguise, hovering next to a panel glittering with flowing text. I crossed my arms and scowled.
“Really?” I thought to him. “You couldn’t let me tell him I was indisposed? Now he’ll think I’m rude. I swear, I can’t tell if you’re trying to help or just fuck with me through this whole thing.”
[I–]
“I mean, first it’s like [ha ha Arlo, Varrin’s bringing the king over, it slipped my mind tee-hee.] Then it’s [whoopsie, Varrin’s ready to come in and there’s no time to put on PANTS, har har.] Next thing I know it’s [this is Master Xor’Drel, leader of the free-fuckin’-world over here.] Seriously! Why?”
Grotto weathered my psychic tirade without twitching a feeler.
[I delivered all of Varrin’s messages in a timely manner. I do not dress you in the morning. Esquire is a useless title.]
“You’re gaslighting me right now.”
[I am not. Our discussion of my Public Service Announcer evolution prompted me to check in with Varrin–early, I might add–at which point he delivered to me the information that I then delivered to you in real-time.]
“I asked you if you were forgetting anything else, and that’s when you said Varrin was bringing the Hiwardian horde for a house call.”
[Yes, the choice not to dispel that misperception was a bit of an indulgence. You were being very cranky at the time.]
“Do you see, though? Do you see why I might be cranky with you sometimes?”
He ran a feeler over his head in thought.
[I do not.]
“This fuckin’ squid,” I muttered aloud to myself. “I like Esquire,” I thought to him. “I do not like Master.”
[You are no longer in a position where you can pretend to be some nameless boulevardier. The charade is so obvious as to be absurd to all who meet you, and your resistance to accepting a title comes across as false modesty.]
“Then let’s workshop something else,” I ground out. “Instead of randomly deciding on your own what my name is.”
[Very well, but there is no time for that at the moment.]
“Not even enough time to politely excuse myself, it would seem.”
[The man awaiting you in the hallway was Leon Heronwyte. He was there to delay you by levying false accusations of a serious crime.]
“Speak, and he shall appear,” I psychically grumbled. “The king just told me that family was out for us. Still, what’s the point of falsely accusing me of a crime?”
[I believe it would invoke item four of Varrin’s conditions on when to deliver justifiable violence.]
“That’s dumb. These people are dumb. There’s a four-pronged test to determine whether that scenario applies, and a transparent lie fails to satisfy three of them. I wouldn’t rise to that bait.”
[That would make you appear weak. Either way, any interaction would have served his purposes.]
“And what are those purposes?”
[To distract you from the person who has infiltrated your bedroom.]
“That’s– Well, that’s discourteous, but is that an emergency? There’s nothing there for them to find. I don’t even have clothes in the wardrobe.”
[I do not believe they are looking for your personal diary wherein your schemes and impure thoughts about Varrin are documented.]
“I don’t document those. The schemes, that is. My thoughts are pure, and also undocumented.”
[Allow me to show you what I have observed.] He waved a feeler toward the mini-obelisk at the center of the room. [Simply grasp my–]
I held up a hand. “I know what to do.”
I gave Grotto the stink eye as I stepped up to the small pillar and gripped it.
Gently.
My vision swapped to a view of the foyer, where a small crowd of Hiwardians mingled, attended to by several servants. One of the servants glowed red as Grotto highlighted the man for me. He was unfamiliar, which immediately made me suspicious. I’d familiarized myself with all of the Ravvenblaq staff inside the Closet.
[This servant arrived with the Heronwyte delegation. This is normal since nearly all of the nobles are accompanied by at least one attendant. However, while his dress was generic for a servant at the time he entered, a few minor alterations have been made which allow him to blend in with the Ravvenblaq staff. A close inspection will show he is not wearing a disguise, but a casual glance at the room would give the impression he is working with our own personnel.]
“Keeping him from getting called out for pretending to be a Ravvenblaq, but allowing him to take advantage of the crowd and become unconsciously associated with the people working for us.”
[Correct. Perhaps that method would be successful elsewhere, but here it is a futile endeavor. I have tracked this servant’s pathing around the estate. While his duties appear normal, his routes between tasks are inefficient. This could be forgiven as simple unfamiliarity at first, but he has done enough rounds to become well oriented, and continues to err in his course.]
A map of the mansion overlaid my vision, and a red line showed where the servant had been.
“Geez, he’s been everywhere. It’s been less than two hours!”
[Indeed. My suspicion is that he is creating an internal map of the estate. Most of the rooms are open to guests, meaning very few doors are literally closed. He has managed to ‘accidentally’ open all of them, aside from the door to the lounge. Once he completed a full run of the estate, he returned one additional time past the master bedroom. A napkin fell from the platter he was carrying as he passed.]
My vision moved to the hall outside my bedroom, where the floors were immaculately clean.
[That napkin is now gone. No one has passed through this area since.]
“Understandable, since we positioned it to be out of the way. Where’s the napkin?”
[I do not know.] My vision swapped to the bedroom itself. [I cannot detect anyone inside the room, nor any unusual phenomena. I would like you to take a look with your Sight.]
I mentally shrugged. Grotto was putting a lot of red string up on his corkboard, but I trusted he had a better handle on the situation than I did.
“Sha-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah…”
[Are you attempting to communicate something intelligible with that noise?]
“I’m letting you know I’m using my supervision, since we can’t see each other right now.”
[I can see you. I am currently monitoring the control room alongside all locations within the mansion.]
“Can you see yourself?”
[Of course.]
“That’s spooky.”
[It really isn’t.]
I did a careful pass of the room, focusing my Sight on every nook and cranny.
“I’m not picking anything up.”
[Hmm. Very well, we will need to recruit additional assistance.]
“You really wanna find that napkin, eh?”
[I wish to find the cretins who dare desecrate our abode with their petty attempts at skullduggery. I will find them. I will flay them. I will feed their corpses to the newest litter of hounds.]
Unlike Grotto’s usual rants, there was no manic enthusiasm behind this one. The man was making dark promises he intended to keep.
“No worries. It ain’t much to go on, but I don’t want to tempt fate and leave that stone unturned. Should we bring in the servant for questioning?”
[We have no valid justification to do so. It would be an affront to the Heronwytes that would demand recompense.]
“Sheesh. Fine, I’ll grab… Etja, I guess? She has the highest Wisdom paired with Reconnaissance. Hmm, maybe Nuralie as well, since she has all those Sense evolutions.”
[Etja is speaking with the king, and Nuralie is acting as Zenithar Zura’s personal attaché. I have a different pair in mind who are available and well-equipped for this task.]
I let go of the obelisk, orienting myself as my vision retethered to my body.
“Oh? Who would those two be?”
[Your ex, and one of Central’s lead investigators.]
“That sounds fun.”
The world blinked again, and I found myself in the smoking room, looking at a pair of surprised, but familiar faces. One was a heart-stoppingly beautiful woman with dark skin and hazel eyes. Next to her was a grizzled man smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.
“Arlo!” shouted Myria, who promptly leapt onto me in a full-body hug.
I gave her a gentle pat on the back. “Hey, folks. Long time, no see. Want to help me solve a mystery?”
Lito grunted and stuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “Better than sitting around here and doing shit all.”
Comments
yohan gu
I just want to point out every social norm is arbitrary. Every norm, really.
yohan gu
It’s a joke because he was thirsting on her at the beginning (probably due to a skill of hers)
Erik Leiden
Did I miss Myria becoming Arlo’s ex somehow?
Ers20
He's probably banking on some point of propriety to keep him from getting punished for doing so or something. Live by the arbitrary social norms, die by the arbitrary social norms.
ImYou
Arlo was really frustrating this chapter
yohan gu
Murders can be excused, rudeness can’t
John Anastacio
For someone seeking to kill Arlo, Leon Heronwyte has a weird dislike for just starting a conversation without being acknowledged first. Too much noble training I guess. He can plot to murder you but he can't be publicly rude about it.
