Karp
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Diplomacy 101: Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2024-08-04 21:40:12 +0000 UTCWaking up before the crack of dawn, Varrus sat at his work desk in his room, and tiredly went through his routine of crafting more Mana Stones, and grinding out levels.
He needed to create enough to support the population, prepare for emergency situations, and stockpile for the restoration of the Sunwell.
It was a boring, mind numbing task like most jobs, but it had to get done. Slacking now would be begging for failure.
“Care for some pancakes, my love?” Syra walked in, carrying some flapjacks and scrambled eggs.
Varrus paused in his casting, then took the plate from her with a kiss.
Stretching his arms, Varrus dug into his food with a smile.
He never asked his wife to cook for him, but what man would say no to a wife who cooked?
Besides, Syra was surprisingly skilled when she put on a chef's hat. Varrus had assumed that she put all of her time into training with her blade and the Light, who knew there was more underneath that beautifully smiling exterior?
If the reveal of her skills at managing poisons was anything to go by, then his wife was full of surprises.
Varrus slowly chewed his pancakes at that thought, then shrugged his shoulders. They all had their secrets. Not like Varrus was going to tell anyone he was a soul from another universe! Especially not his wife, who had an obsession with him!
If she found out any discrepancy, Varrus was worried she would murder him! Fortunately, from the memories he inherited when transmigrating over, he didn't recall ever meeting her before the day of their wedding. So he should be in the clear.
If queried, he would simply keep up the facade he had presented to the wise, that the playboy personality was all his father's political scheme. It wasn't a bulletproof story, but it would have to suffice.
Varrus added some syrup to his pancakes, and gave Syra a thumbs up.
“Is good!” Varrus said between bites, as he hungrily devoured the fluffy goodness.
It was better than any box mix, that's for sure.
A slow smile blossomed across Syra's face, and she leaned down to peck Varrus on the cheek.
“I'll be back later, I have a meeting with the Vanderguard, and some gardening to attend too.” Syra explained before turning to leave.
Varrus rubbed his chin in thought, the chef's apron his wife was wearing at the moment, and his idea about the chef hat could make for some fun cosplay.
A beat later, there was a knock on his door.
Hurriedly wolfing down the remainder of his food, Varrus searched everywhere for a glass of water or juice, but found he was fresh out of luck.
“Enter.” Varrus said, with an epically dry mouth.
Rho'dan entered the room, and quirked an eyebrow, but made no remark.
“Report, any word on the assassin? Did you deliver the letters?” Varrus enquired.
“We are scouring the city, but my resources are limited given the vast reduction in population. As of yet, there has been no indication as to who the assassin is. However, given the strength of the attack, it must be one of the Heroes who accompanied us on the beach. I have a list of possible suspects, but there is much to be done, and little time to do it. I fear we may never know who this assailant is. I did, however, deliver the letters as per your request, Highlord.” Rho'dan bowed, looking slightly worn out and sleepless. Dark circles formed around his eyes, indicating long nights.
Varrus doubted his stalwart guard had slept much or at all since the Scourge outbreak. While he was worried, he hesitated to order him to stop. Rho’dan was Varrus’ sole link to the outside world, should he cease carrying out his duties now, all of Varrus’ plans would come to a crashing halt. Though it pained him, Varrus refrained from commenting on the elder Elf’s current state, and was determined to force his stalwart guardian into sleep after the funeral if at all possible.
“We shall find the mastermind in due time, that isn’t as much of a concern to me as the replies to the letters. What did they say? Were there any demands?” Varrus said, coughing between bites of pancake to clear his throat, wishing he had something to drink at that moment.
“They have all agreed to attend the funeral as your guest, however, two of them may be a problem.” Rho'dan explained.
“Hoh? Go on.” Varrus gestured with his hand.
“Thaladred was quite…how should I put it? Out of sorts. The man almost brained me when I delivered the letter, and seemed to jump at my shadow. I fear he is not what you are looking for, Highlord.” Rho'dan said, frowning at Thaladred’s behavior.
“Hmm. That is a problem. I have need of a warrior to act as a representative. Thaladred-loud mouthed braggart he may be-is characteristic of the generic warrior. Vain glorious, self assured, he was the perfect fit. Those who share a similar disposition as him look to Thaladred to lead them on the front. Elves capable of wielding heavy armor are few and far between, it is imperative that I have someone of his standing on my side. I’ll have words with him later.” Varrus said, nodding his head.
He took another few bites of his meal, and pushed the plate to the side, giving Rho’dan his full attention.
“And the other one?” Varrus questioned.
“Lor'Themar Theron was reluctant to say the least. He claimed his loyalty was to the Ranger Corp. That until his Majesty released him from service, he would hold that post for the good of Quel'Thalas.” Rho'dan said, looking at the floor, like a child telling their parent their misdeeds.
“Raise your head, my friend, you hold no blame in this. It was expected for the old ranger to be stubborn. However, he is respected by most everyone in Quel'Thalas. With Lor'Themar by my side, the legitimacy of the Convocation will be rock solid.” Varrus clenched his fists in anger, knowing recruiting him would not be a simple task.
“Perhaps you could enquire with His Majesty?” Rho'dan suggested.
“I will, of course do so. However, I fear it will not be so simple. Lor'Themar has served as number two for the Windrunners all his life. Now is his chance to finally fill the chair of Ranger General. A seat traditionally out of the grasp of any save a family member bearing the name Windrunner. Who is to say that isn't his life long ambition?” Varrus said, rolling his hand on a nearby desk in thought.
“Then what of Halduron Brightwing? He is Captain of the Farstriders, and a well respected figure. He contributed in the battle against the Deep One as much as anyone else.” Rho'dan suggested.
“That is a thought, but I had hoped to place him as the next Ranger General. Apparently he owes my father due to his current position. Should he sit on the Convocation as an equal, I fear any sense of gratitude may disappear in favor of political intrigue. Unlike Lor'Themar, Halduron strikes me as the ambitious sort.” Varrus said in concern, and shook his head from side to side, indicating his disfavor at the thought.
“Brightwing is a..cautious figure. You would be wise to monitor his actions closely. I have seen many an Elf turn on your father as soon as he had elevated their station in life.” Rho’dan said, scribbling something on his notepad, and confirming Varrus’ worries.
“Haaah~ Very well, I’ll simply have to convince Lor’Tjemar myself before the funeral service later today.” Varrus sighed to himself, and knuckled his forehead.
“Very good, sir. I do, however, have more to report.” Rho'dan said with a salute.
“Dispense with the formalities, Rho'dan.” Varrus tiredly waved, it was too early for this shit. In fact, he enjoyed the respect, but when he was in his private quarters, he didn't want to be treated like some Korean manager in a manhwa.
Rho'dan clicked his heels, and saluted again.
“You are Highlord. If even I, your chief protector do not honor you so, what message does that send to the rank and file, much less the common citizenry?” Rho'dan said in a serious, almost chastising tone.
Varrus sat up straight, then met Rho'dan’s gaze.
“Very well, I am, after all, still a ‘child’ and have much to learn. Thank you for your reminder, Rho'dan.” Varrus replied seriously in turn to show his friend and chief guard the respect her deserved, and that he took the sentiments to heart.
“Now dispense with the report.” Varrrus stated commandingly.
“Highlord.” Rho'dan saluted.
“The entire civilian population that you had given an ultimatum to have migrated out of the mansions boundary.” Rho'dan said, pulling out a folder to share with Varrus.
Accepting the folder, Varrus saw that it listed the number of employees, and such directly under House Vandercross.
343 House Guard
122 Crafters
22 Farmers
Total: 487
Daily Expenditure: 974 Mana Stones
It was an abysmally low number of people that had decided to stick around.
Varrus couldn't really hate those who had left, but it did leave him feeling a little bitter.
The Crossguard were a paramilitary organization. Varrus was certain many of those people who left were either civilians, or already belonged to an organization. Ones such as the Ranger Corp under the Ranger General, or the Magisters, who fell under the overall authority of the Grand Magister. Both organizations answered to the Monarchy, and it would be silly if Varrus thought to retain them.
In fact, looking at it like that, he was lucky to have kept so many people. Who would want to risk their life for some uppity noble with a terrible reputation when you could go back to your peaceful life now that the Sunstriders have returned.
“It makes sense for the people to leave since the Undead threat is all but solved within the confines of Silvermoon. What I don't understand is why would they leave when Mana Stones are so readily available?” Varrus questioned aloud.
High Elves were a magically addicted race. If they didn't get their fix, they would transform into ugly, deformed, vampiric gremlins.
Varrus shook his head, it just didn't make sense!
“If I may? I believe rumors have reached the people about your generosity at Sunstrider Square. Many believe you will continue with this charity to secure your seat on the Convocation.” Rho'dan said with some embarrassment in his voice.
“Well, I suppose I've invited this upon myself then. So be it. Double the pay for my retainers. You have my permission to take the additional funds from the vault. Also, send a message to Lor'Themar, tell him I will meet him ahead of the funeral.” Varrus tiredly waved.
This was possibly going to delay the restoration of the Sunwell by a few weeks, but it wasn't like he planned on recharging it anytime soon anyway. Besides, all of the Mana Crystals he handed out were no larger than a fist. He could pay the entire cohort-and more-with one Master tier Mana Stone. It really was no big deal.
“I will do so. Furthermore, there is something I think you would be interested to know.” Rho'dan whispered conspiratorially, and looked left and right.
Varrus rubbed his temples. Every time Rho'dan did this, he would speak of his mother-in-law.
“My sources witnessed an armed conflict in the city involving what appeared to be a group of circus performers versus some Troll rogues.” Rho'dan lowered his head so he was barely audible, and double checked the muffling ward in the room while he spoke.
“And this involves my mother-in-law, how exactly?” Varrus raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“Precisely because they were rogues that I drew that conclusion.”
“Stealth and invisibility aren't unique to Faedra, do you have any direct evidence?” Varrus queried.
“You are still young, Highlord, and I understand your skepticism. However, with the Mistress of Murder Row, a lack of evidence is often all the evidence one needs.” Rho'dan replied cryptically.
“Riiiight.” Varrus half-smiled, and said in disbelief.
“If it helps at all, often when a mysterious circumstance, or death occurs, an Elf dressed in a strange costume is often behind the case. One century, the killers dressed in Troll skin, the other, they all polymorphed themselves as children. From my centuries of service to your father, I can confidently say that this is that group. They are a troupe of saboteurs, murderers, and spies under the explicit control of your mother-in-law.” Rho'dan confidently concluded.
Varrus pursed his lips, but chose to go along with Rho'dan's interpretation of events.
“Okay, let's say this group of killers belongs to Faedra, is there any significance behind her defense of Silvermoon? I seem to recall her leaving the Palace of the Sun to go deal with something, so that checks out. But so what?” Varrus pressed.
Rho'dan raised his hands in the air, and took a step back.
“It was information I thought prudent for you to be aware of. Faedra is a dangerous woman, and I hope you take her as the serious threat she is.
For millennia, your father quarreled with King Anasterian, yet Faedra seemed to always be meddling on both sides. It is my duty as your protector to inform you of possible threats. I only wish for the Highlord to be aware of the political situation, and the power-both seen and unseen-that Faedra wields.” Rho'dan brusquely explained his position, as if he was getting something off his chest.
Varrus tapped a finger on his chin, and couldn't help but agree with Rho'dan's take.
His mother-in-law was a conniving witch who flip-flopped her opinion of him at the drop of a hat. In fact, it was due to her intimidation, not his name, charisma, or power that gained them entry into the palace and an audience with the wise.
Faedra was a dangerous woman, and it was time he treated her as such. He couldn't blindly rely upon the relationship he had with her daughter. For a calculating woman like that, who knew how important the bonds of family truly were?
Rho'dan was slightly fidgeting, looking like he wanted to say more, but also realizing Varrus’ patience for this report was growing thun.
“Alright, enough prancing around, if you have something to say, just say it.” Varrus tiredly waved towards Rho'dan.
“Some rumblings of rebellion have reached my ears. They claim that should you refuse to supply Mana Crystals to the people, not only will they see you stripped of your title, but they plot for all the possessions in your vault.” Rho'dan expressed in a casually serious tone, like someone reading off a grocery list.
“Good eye, Rho'dan. Keep me posted. Is there anything else you have to report, or on your mind?” Varrus asked, growing tired of managing his forces.
“As a matter of fact, there is. Per your instruction, we have gathered as many building materials such as clay, raw ore, and iron ingots as possible. There is a list, and a few pallets have been placed in the vault.” Rho'dan reported.
Varrus perked up, he liked the sound of that!
“If you don't mind me asking, Highlord, have you, perhaps, been hiding your talents as a blacksmith as well?” Rho'dan almost stuttered as he asked.
Varrus grinned at the awkwardness presented by his chief enforcer. Rho'dan was typically serious, and no nonsense, but it seemed Varrus’ ‘hidden talents’ had driven this stoic to endure a slight amount of madness.
Holding a Mana Stone in his hand, Varrus played with it for a moment, slowly drawing out his reply.
He swore he saw Rho'dan roll his eyes at Varrus’ childish antics, but he didn't mind.
"I've never forged anything in my life.” Varrus finally revealed.
Rho'dan seemed to sigh in relief, as the tension left his shoulders.
“But I wouldn't bet against my capabilities.” Varrus finished, then tossed the Mana Stone into Rho'dan's hands.
Before Rho'dan could respond, Varrus waved his hand dismissively.
“We all have to prepare for the funeral being held later today at Sunstrider Square. Before we head out, I want the entirety of House Vandercross assembled outside my balcony.” Varrus said with finality.
“Yes, Highlord.” Rho'dan bowed at the dismissal, and left to carry about his duties.
Now that he had a moment alone, Varrus started to leaf through the books in his room till he found what he was looking for.
[Basics of Conjuration] was the title he wanted most.
Consuming the book with the help of the Skyrim UI, knowledge entered his mind in a flash.
Now, not only could he cast the few spells inside, but he had access to the theory behind the magic as well.
Lifting his hands, Varrus began to cast a spell, then internally cheered when a leather sack appeared in his hands.
Uncapping the lid, Varrus all but chugged the water as fast as he could.
“Bleh! Tastes like faucet water.” Varrus complained to himself.
Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Varrus looked in a nearby mirror, and sighed.
Skin flawless like an actress, and hair that could put a shampoo model to shame, his new body was both tall, and thin as a rake. Compared to a human, he was frail, yet unlike a human, he could feel the magic course through his veins and flow all around him.
It was 6 days since he crossed over, and he still hadn't completely adjusted to his new life. Things had happened so rapidly, this week was but a blur.
He never imagined that he would ever be in a position to guide a country, or be married to a beautiful psychopath.
Varrus survived more horror in the last 6 days than he had for the entirety of his life.
Now that he had Master tier spells, and time to improve himself, he would never allow his city to be destroyed again.
Slinking into the room, Syra embraced Varrus from behind, and silently stared at him in the mirror.
Varrus leaned back into her embrace, and breathed in the scent of nature radiating off of her.
Smiling at her reflection, Varrus reached down to hold her hand.
War, politics, what did they matter when he had moments like this?
Comments
Darkanlan
Rather than try to placate the bastards who will eventually stab him in the back, he should cut them off and then slaughter them when they try to attack. Since it's definitely better to setup a trap for them to fall into than try to deal with assassinations for the rest of his life.
