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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 60
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 13:00:04 +0000 UTC“And have you found the alliance to be in your favor?” the noble asked Tibs. They stood by a table lined with finely crafted crystal glasses
“And have you found the alliance to be in your favor?” the noble asked Tibs. They stood by a table lined with finely crafted crystal glasses filled with varying drinks. Cynta was in the center of the large room, entertaining the nobles there with tales of their travels. Or some such thing; Tibs had no interest in trying to listen.
“It lets me indulge my passion while she deals with the minutia.” He didn’t have to act the stiffness of his reply. He didn’t want to be anywhere near these people. He wanted the roofs. He wanted to go take on the Master’s people, or an adventurer, all of those in the city.
That would be more to his liking that standing next to this noble, among yet more nobles, and having to act like he was one of them.
The man smiled knowingly. “Oh? And what is this passion of yours?”
*
“I can’t do this,” Tibs complained, while Herns and Charlie helped him dress.
He’d argued he could very well dress himself and had already done so once. The tailor had countered that this wasn’t him parading in the streets, where any misaligned fold could be excused by the walk, or the time in their wagons waiting to arrive.
This would be him at his peak and under scrutiny. Any errors would be noted and used to diminish his worth. Gossip was as much part of the nobles’ lives as counting their coins, and there was only so much wrongness one could get away with before becoming unworthy to associate with.
“I hate them,” Tibs had replied, remaining still and letting the two dress him.
“You play one well enough,” Uzoma commented from the wall he leaned against. He’d managed not to get roped into helping by Cynta having the two women from the theater help her.
“I don’t have to talk with anyone then,” he’d countered. “I show the crest, pay the coin, and find the books I want to read. What am I even supposed to say to these people?”
“Tell them about the money holders,” Cynta said, seemingly having no trouble staying still as the two women stepped around her, arranging the fabrics of the dress.
Herns had arrived with them, each dressed much better than at the theater. A proper tailor and his helpers, as requested by the nobles, since the servants couldn’t be let into this part.
Tibs snorted. “I do that, and they know I’m no noble. I only dealt with the holders common folks do business with.”
“Then fall back on your interests,” she said, and added, “the kind even nobles would have.”
“Stealing should work,” Uzoma said, smirking.
“I was thinking of reading,” she countered. “Nobles have libraries and many of them actually read the books filling it.
“I doubt they read about dungeons,” Tibs muttered.
“No one reads about dungeons,” Charlie stated.
“Nobles will read about anything that interest them,” she said. “Even dungeons.”
*
“Dungeons,” Tibs replied casually, and the man choked on his drink.
He considered letting him suffer. He considered making it worse. He was already choking, so who’d know the water that made it into his airways hadn’t come from the drink? It would be one fewer noble to bother the population. And hadn’t someone told him that no noble party was considered proper until someone died there? Or almost died?
He slapped the man on the back harder than needed.
But he had a role to play.
Nobles might stab each other in the back, but the lord hosting them couldn’t openly let one of them suffer this indignity.
It would reflect badly on him.
“That is not what I expected,” the man finally managed.
“I have my lady,” Tibs said, fully knowing what the man meant. “Why would I care for anyone else in my bed?”
The noble turned his speculative gaze on Cynta.
She could deal with the advances better than he. He might have no interest in what was expected the couple they were did in bed, but he could ensure they impression there was no lacking of it was there.
“And what is your arrangement regarding the bedroom?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Cynta.
“Presenting,” Gerald announced from the large room’s archway, and saving Tibs from having to answer. “The lord and lady Fyrbrend.”
Tibs excused himself. As the host, he was required to greet the arrivals.
As soon as Cynta was at his side, he whispered, “You do the talking this time.” He’d wanted her to do all the talking, but it was his family’s name they sought to establish, so he needed to be seen doing his part. People would wonder why he didn’t have her name otherwise.
Nobles and their games, he’d mutters more than once.
Cynta bowed. “Lord Fyrbrend, lady. It is a delight and a surprise to have you grace our presence.”
Tibs bent at the waist in the appropriate equivalent for men. Cynta had spend the hours waiting for the first arrival while fully dressed, torturing him by getting him to do it over and over.
The Lord gave nothing more than a nod in return. The Lady didn’t even bother, her eyes filled with judgment.
At the fact they hadn’t received an invitation? Or that they’d still been compelled to come so another couldn’t snatch what might be a promising alliance away from them?
Her tone, however, was polite. “It is simply courtesy that we get to know potential residents.” She took Tibs’s arm in hers, and he barely kept from stiffening. This had happened often enough since the start of this event he might be getting used to it.
He hoped this wouldn’t be another offer for a ‘private’ alliance. From those that came before, it seemed like every noble took every other noble to their bed.
“And to find out if you will be rivals,” the lord said, the smile also polite, as the lady led Tibs away.
Cynta laughed. “We are only getting used to the city. It’s far too early to say if we will stay.”
*
“But the story is that we’re staying,” Tibs said once Cynta had coached him on how to answer specific questions about the Hollomeir. “Isn’t it?”
While she hadn’t made any large changes to the plan, there had been enough small ones Tibs was no longer sure of anything.
“Of course, but we don’t want them to know that.”
He rubbed his temple. “And why not?”
“Because nobles don’t just tell each other things like that. They manipulate them into making the offers.”
“Every noble’s a con-artist, by the sound of it,” Charlie said, munching on vegetables arranged among the meats and soups and other things Tibs had no idea what they were. One of the small changes Cynta had made was to include an entire kitchen staff worthy of the best noble in the city.
Gerald had cleared the dining room as soon as the tables were set, keeping Charlie and Uzoma because he needed them to move some items not quite where they should be.
“No,” Cynta said. “They do it, knowing full well the others are aware of what is happening. It’s a game for them, not a crime. And stop eating, Charlie. That’s for the guests. You’ll have plenty to eat later.”
“Like anything they do is a crime,” Uzoma spat.
“You,” the fighter said, “are going to have to tell us what your problem with them is, one of these days.”
“No.”
“But it is how it goes,” Cynta continued, preventing Charlie from pressing. “Nobles never admit to what they are up to, especially if it involves acquiring coins they lost.”
*
“Of course,” Lord Fyrbrend said. “Then I might be able to explain the benefits of this city, as well as some business you can venture with.”
“Seeing an ally?” Cynta replied.
“I am better as such,” he replied, “instead of….”
They were far enough the other conversations made hearing them impossible.
“Knowing my man,” the lady holding his arm said, “he will posture for your lady.” She smiled. “Such boring thing.” She snatched two glassed from a passing tray one handed, holding them by the thin crystal stem, and offered one to Tibs.
He wished he could afford to let the corruption in the drink affect him. A numb mind would be comfortable after hours of this. But that would lead to costly mistakes.
“I must say,” she said after a sip that barely let any liquid pass her lips, “that your Forsterain is surprisingly good. It isn’t often foreigners bother learning it. They’re always here, demanding we, somehow, know the language of their kingdoms.” The following smile gave Tibs the impression there was more to it than an opinion.
“It puts the common folk at ease.”
Her startled response might be at the brusqueness of his.
“I suppose that is true. The commoners do love to think more of themselves.” She pulled him to a group. “Eltral. It is such a pleasure to see you here.”
By how he stiffened, the pleasure was one sided.
“Lady Fyrbrend. I didn’t expect you to be here.” Worry crossed his eyes. “You are so busy,” he added.
“I couldn’t let such fine people put together such a gathering and not attend. It would be disrespectful. Just what kind of Lady do you take me for, Eltral.”
Tibs kept his expression forcefully neutral as the man studied him. Tibs had been the one to welcome the two lords when they’d arrived. Eltral had offered the minimum of courtesy, while Jurden had been enthusiastic.
“The busy kind,” he said, the smile mildly mocking, now. “After all, you already have so many…interests. Is it really wise to seek to add one more to them? Can you really satisfy those you already have as it is?”
When he looked at Tibs again, he didn’t miss the warning in the Lord’s eyes, and he nodding in acknowledgment.
“You, Eltral, are simply sore that I passed on your offer.”
“Presenting,” Gerald called, “The Ladies Kimcolial.”
Tibs hid his relief as he excused himself and joined Cynta to the archway.
“If you’re interested in becoming a respectable person,” she whispered, “I can arrange a lucrative gem trade agreement.”
“I want nothing that puts me in the Fyrbrend’s presence after this, not even as a pretense.”
They bowed tot he Ladies, and they returned the greetings.
“You did so much in so little time,” Iliose said, seeming genuinely impressed.
Cynta had given him everyone’s name to remember, and she was one of those he hadn’t forgotten yet. Fortunately, with the instructions to remember, had come the warning to never use a noble’s first name until he’d received permission.
“The advantage of sending a servant ahead,” Tibs answered.
“You will have to introduce me to them,” Iliose’s woman said. “Someone able to arrange this without any of us learning until you are basically here is someone I need to steal from you.”
Cynta laughed. “Then I’m certain you’ll want to visit again.” She motioned them toward one of the groups. “This is not the setting for such a personal bargain.”
Tibs enjoyed the momentary solitude, wishing he could be with Charlie and Uzoma instead of enduring this.
*
Charlie hadn’t stopped fidgeting in his armor. “I don’t like leaving you two alone with them.” There was still something thuggish about the fighter, but now he was covered by expensive protection.
“This is a social event,” Cynta replied. “There’s no need for guards in the room.”
Until there was an assassination attempt, Tibs thought, trying to remember who had told him that. It wasn’t like he’d known many people with knowledge of nobles.
“Then why are we wearing these?” Uzoma complained.
“Because if I’m going to suffer,” Tibs replied, “You will too.”
Cynta glared at him. “There are expectations to be met. Those don’t go away just because you’ll be with our guests’ guards. You remember your stories?”
“You hired us as part of a larger retinue in Krestira,” Charlie said.
“Twenty of us,” Uzoma continued. “We lost a few to attacks, but most because you,” he pointed to Cynta, “are an impossible woman to deal with, and you.” He pointed to Tibs. “Don’t have the spine to keep you woman in check.”
“I’ve grown to hate your guts,” Charlie added.
“And I can’t be bothered to care anymore,” Uzoma continues. “Not even if someone were to plant a knife in either of your back.”
“Could be why they sent us to the kitchen with the other guards,” Charlie said, smirking.
“Don’t make it easy to pull the story from you,” she said.
“Don’t drink,” Tibs warned them. Charlie enjoyed his ale too much, and while he didn’t drink as much, Uzoma preferred stronger stuff. There shouldn’t be any of those in the kitchen, since they were reserved for the noble guests, but he didn’t put it past the archer to bribe a servant.
“If I don’t like you,” Charlie said, “why wouldn’t I just tell them whatever they want?”
She smiled and stepped to the fighter. “Because you might not like the Lady Hollomeir, but you are certainly terrified of what her saying something bad about you to this crowd will do to your chances of finding a different employer.”
Charlie backed until he was against the wall. “Got it.”
“Remember,” she said, returning to Tibs’s side. “They’re going to expect you to ask questions about their lords and ladies. And they are going to do the same. Just make sure you give them information slowly and after they’ve given you some.”
“I thought being a guard meant we wouldn’t have to do any of that,” Charlie complained.
Uzoma’s mumble was barely audible. “Shows what you know.”
*
“Loris tells me that you have an interest in dungeons,” the man stepping next to Tibs said while he wondered if any of the drinks could make this tolerable while not making him drunk.
All he remembered of this noble was that Cynta was who had greeted him and his lady.
“I do.” He grabbed a random one. He couldn’t afford to be drunk, so it didn’t matter what he drank.
“Have you even seen one?” The question came with mild challenge.
“I visited the purity one.”
“You entered it?” the man barely masked his surprise.
“They only let those joining enter. I watched the procession.” Tibs didn’t remember if anyone had spectated, but nobles wouldn’t care what was allowed, or not.
The man leaned closer and lowered his voice. “What did it look like?”
Tibs shrugged. “An opening in a stone wall. Nothing worth speaking of, really. They aren’t interested in making things pretty, there.” He paused, glass to his lips.
This being the noble neighborhood, and with the celebration happening, people had been walking the streets from well before it started. He’d considered pulling his sense in until all he sensed was the room, but if he heard of such an event, and wasn’t busy with a job already? He might decide to make use of everyone’s distraction.
And the decision was paying off. Where everyone passed by, someone had stepped to the stone wall.
The noble was looking at him expectantly.
“Excuse me?”
“Am I boring you?” There was threat in the voice.
Yes, certainly crossed his mind.
He looked at his glass and placed it down. “Maybe I’ve had too many, I apologize.” He focused on the man while keeping track of the thief, who was now atop the wall.
“I asked if you intended on visiting other dungeons.”
“Most certainly.” He motioned to the room. “All this is so I can eventually make a trip to one.”
“Why not settle in a dungeon city, then?”
Tibs scoffed. “And have the Adventurer’s Guild always telling me what I can do?” he didn’t bother minimizing his disgust. The thief was now to the wall, searching it for finger holds. “It’s better to go in, do what I intend, and leave before they know I’ve been there.”
“And what do you intend?” the man asked, tone speculative.
Intend? What had he…. “Only to watch, of course.”
He smiled. “Why, yes. Of course.”
While the man studied him, the speculation becoming amused, Tibs etched lightning along the windowsill under the thief.
“I would like to accompany you,” the noble said. “If you’ll have me when you go. To watch as well, of course. Your lady seems more interested in contracts and exploring…other things. Such a trip would be better with company, don’t you think?” that smile made it clear what kind of company the noble was offering.
Was sex a currency to them?
The thief touched the windowsill, and the etching triggered. He smiled as the thief fell.
The touch on his arm was light. “I shall wait for your message.” Then the noble stepped way.
Message? Had he agreed to something?
The thief wasn’t moving. He’d broken bones, but wasn’t losing essence. He almost told Gerald to have them gathered, but remembered he couldn’t know what had just taken place.
“Archebald,” he told him when he reach the archway where the man stood. “Can you see to it someone does a round of the house? I’m worried such a crowd will attract unwanted attention.”
“I’ll send a man immediately, my Lord.”
Tibs faced the crowd. Couldn’t he simply burn the lot and be done with it? What city wouldn’t benefit from fewer nobles in it? And in the chaos that created, he could gather all the coins from those no longer occupied houses before the city got to it. The team would be set.
He rubbed his temple.
And his anonymity destroyed.
Something on that scale would get the guild’s attention. Brand or no, they’d track down the one responsible and… to put an end to this torture, that chase didn’t seem so bad. It wasn’t like the adventurers they set on him would know what to expect. Someone with Fire as his element, because of how they’d died. He’d surprise them and escape.
Which would make the guild hunt him even harder.
After all these years, he was able to move about and not have every adventurer who laid eyes on him give chase. That would end. It’d have to run at the mere sense of an adventurer around him.
He didn’t need that kind of aggravation; he had dungeons to find and runs to plan for. Maybe once he could suffuse himself again, he’d be able to attack the guild, but until then, he needed to remain unseen.
And being unseen by one meant being seen by these people.
He’d survived the guild.
He could survive these nobles
Author's thoughts
Addition of Tibs remembering something about no noble party being complete until someone was attacked.
