Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 535
🕑 Added 2024-01-10 22:35:55 +0000 UTCThe rest of the week flew by. Three days of training should have been terrible, but I was so desensitized to the pain from the second day that it almost seemed easy in comparison. I also stockpiled more wishes, granting six a day for Camden, bringing my total of usable extra wishes to four. When Saturday rolled around we all gathered at the tent where Bethy dressed us in new clothes (we didn't want to keep wearing the same fancy outfits) and went over the details before meeting Camden.
"Alright." I said, looking around. "Benny, Celine, Callie, Chelsea, and Nat." I counted off, just making sure I had everyone. "You're all coming along, everyone else is heading back to Saltzburg to visit Zeke and Cass. We'll meet up with you after the banquet."
We'd all been outfitted in matching black and silver color schemes, albeit in differing shapes, because they were apparently neutral colors. Some houses had specific hues associated with them, so we'd had Bethy set us up in something that wouldn't state any allegiance. We were representing Camden, but only as mercenaries, and that gave us a bit of leeway, where signing on with a Viscount as an actual vassal would be picking a side.
Everyone agreed, and those of us going to the banquet filed out, meeting up with a transport heading to the Clairdon estate. Clairdon's eldest son, Sutton, was being 'honored' for his most recent win against Highgrave's forces. In reality, Sutton hadn't done much, and it was a badly disguised fund raiser for Clairdon to hit people up for 'gifts'. People would give Sutton money, and Clairdon would pocket the donations, keeping a ledger of who to pay back once he beat Highgrave.
Because of the underhanded nature of the exchange though, Clairdon needed to invite everyone nearby, claiming to be hosting a formal event. It allowed all the sharks to circle, making notes of clandestine alliances in order to exploit the support later if things fell through. Sometimes overtly or sometimes just as leverage to blackmail their own 'donations' in case of emergency.
I, of course, had figured NONE of this out, and had it spelled out for me by Callie and Celine. I think what really bothered me most about politics was all the unspoken arrangements. So much of it was based on 'trust' which was just a devious way of saying conflicting and coinciding interests and your knack for reading them, as well as your information sources and their ability to keep you in the know so you could read the nonsense a bit better than the other guy.
Not that I couldn't DO those things if given the chance, but my nature was more transactional. I liked my relationships codified into hard terms. Contracts were one aspect, but even wishes were like that. I give someone A and get back B. Simple and straightforward.
In fact, I suspected recursion was partially to blame for my political blindness. The perception of Wishmasters as being direct and to the point was ingrained in our image. We could and would give you whatever you wanted if you asked and could pay. We were seen as above the petty bullshit, at least at the higher end of the spectrum. Of course, the candidate's competition gave lie to that pretty overtly, but recursion was based on perception, not reality.
That particular realization had mostly been brought about by some careful reviewing of my own thought processes. Whenever politics came up, something in my head told me 'you're not good at this'. It was something I'd repeated to myself so often it was almost a mantra, and something about that behavior didn't seem natural.
I'd tried to ferret out any other mental ticks I had that were similar, but nothing came to mind. It only drove home how insidious recursion could be, and how even the smallest bit of perception could worm its way into my worldview and shift it just enough to be a problem. I was pushing back against it with these political lessons, and I hoped to try to counteract more of the harmful effects as I noticed them.
The transport to the banquet was an odd thing. It was a magical vehicle, obviously, but it had clearly gone through quite a bit of refinement. It reminded me of a mixture between a fancy carriage and an old fashioned car. It was dark metal with gold filigree along the panels on the sides, and the engine was some sort of magical alchemical creation (I'd convinced the driver to show it to me while we waited for everyone to get aboard). It was strange to see a machine swirling bubbling blue glowing liquid through what looked like steam chambers, but it was interesting to look at.
Camden was waiting inside for us, the interior being larger than the outside, obviously, and he poured us each drinks and chatted until we arrived at the Clairdon estate and we all disembarked. When we came to a stop, he addressed us. "Alright. My last advice to you is this. Do not agree to anything. Do not disagree with anything. Speak often and say little. Flattery is useful, but don't overdo it, or they'll sense weakness, don't be insulting or they'll take offense."
I blinked at him in confusion. "So...what the hell are we supposed to actually TALK about? Aren't we here to make friends."
"Friends?" He said with a laugh. "You are here to be NOTICED. Do not make friends. Friends come with obligation, and establishing those limits your options. Don't express too much interest in anything anyone says, or too little. Don't ASK for anything or offer any gifts. Taking a favor implies a debt, and granting one suggests an alliance. I'll feel out Prentiss while we're there and you can leave that bargaining to me. Any questions?"
I had a dozen, but none of them seemed important, so I just shook my head, taking Callie's arm as we stepped down from the transport.
The night air nipped at my skin as I took in the entrance to the massive mansion. Where Camden's manor was luxurious, it was also defensible, with plenty of hidden (and not so hidden) defenses. Clairdon's mansion, however, was a sprawling study in largesse. A series of real gold hedges highlighted the open style of the estate, showcasing a series of high rank statues made from precious gems of multiple colors.
I assume they were going for fancy and impressive, but honestly it mostly just came off tacky and badly designed. My eyes hurt just from looking at the terrible decorating. "Well, this is...unique."
Camden snickered from beside me. "Yes, Clairdon is well known for his eclectic tastes. It's my first time here, but I've heard stories. It's just as interesting as described." I made a mental note of all the ways he'd just politely stated that Clairdon was a dumb asshole with bad taste, because it was pretty impressive and then we advance to the open doors where a pair of hulking guards in thick metal helmets were standing stock still holding giant spears.
From behind them stepped a small, weaselly man with a thin mustache and overly large spectacles that made his eyes look huge. "Names?" He drawled in a snooty voice.
Camden stepped forward, doing his whole formal announcement thing. To my relief, he did ours too, introducing us as his vassals and letting me skip the rigamarole. The weaselly man checked a list (a scroll he unfurled about three feet as he ignored us) until apparently locating Camden's name.
"You may enter." He said officiously. "Be welcome in the home of his grace, Baron Alexander Clairdon, on this, a day of celebration of his lordship Sutton Clairdon, hero of the realm."
Camden smiled tightly at him, nodding before escorting us past the guards. Once we were inside, he scoffed loudly. "Hero of the realm. As if this pissant backwater counts as a realm. In civilized parts of the Empire they have men hung up and beaten for making claims like that. I hate frontier showmanship. We're inside now, so just remember my advice. Be friendly but superficial, and don't commit to anything."
We nodded, then headed off to mingle, though we stuck together in groups of two. Nat and Chelsea stayed together, my sister clearly being more comfortable around family than on her own.
Callie and I ended up in a small gathering of E-rankers, all conversing quietly about the local economy. When they saw us, they smiled politely, and a tall woman with dark skin and plaited green hair smiled kindly at us. "Ah, newcomers. Greetings, my name is Baroness Natalia Danvers. Who might you be?"
A short man with an olive complexion and neatly trimmed red hair beside her snorted. "You know who they are Talia. They're the Tolbert brats new retainers. Introduced with use names, as I heard it. Solomon and Nightstrike?" Part of the reason Camden had introduced us was so we could keep my name a secret until we actually hit E-rank and came out as Barons. We didn't want the other nobles figuring out his plan too early.
Natalia glared at him. "I was being friendly, Lucas. You should try it. Perhaps if you adjust your bahvior your next wife won't leave you like the last six."
The pompous man stiffened. "Those marriages were mutually dissolved." He gritted out. "We'd grown apart."
"A bit of advice." She said patronizingly. "When you 'grow apart' from six different women in a row, many of whom went on to have happy successful marriages with other people, it might perhaps be time to address the common denominator in all of those failed nuptial arrangements." She gave him a sweet smile, and he turned and stalked off, trailed by a pair of younger nobles with similar features I suspected were his kids.
Natalia, now one of the only two remaining people in the small crowd, smiled apologetically at us. "My sincerest apologies for Baron Myers. He's unhappy about the Tolbert boy's insertion into our little slice of heaven. He fancies himself a bit of a spymaster and he's been gathering information to leverage the mess between Clairdon and Highgrave for a few years. Tolbert's entrance shook up the hornets nest and rendered his work up to this point moot."
I wondered if he knew Anna, but it didn't seem relevant at the moment. I offered a hand. "Solomon, as he said. This is my girlfriend Nightstrike." She took our hands one after the other, shaking firmly as she gestured to the last remaining noble from the original group.
"I already introduced myself, and this is Lady Marcella Winfries. My personal attendant." I'd been so wrapped up in what was going on that I'd missed that the pale girl with metallic neon orange hair was F-rank like we were. Her bright orange eyes lit up as she smiled at us, dropping into the same sort of curtsy I'd seen from Celine.
"Milord." She said formally. "Milady. Greetings from the nobility of Stratholme. Be welcome to our home. I hope your stay is most pleasant."
I nodded back, because that was apparently the protocol for curtsies. Happy with the pleasantries, we started making conversation, following Camden's instructions as best we could. It turned out that talking alot and not saying anything was actually really hard. I was impressed so many politicians throughout history were so good at it. Making meaningless conversation and committing to nothing at all took serious concentration.
Luckily Natalia seemed to know how the game was played, and she was able to guide us through an entire discussion where no one said anything relevant or meaningful at all. After about ten minutes we were out of nonsense to chatter about, and we were about to say our goodbyes.
I was just settling in for hours of unmitigated boredom when the music and chattering stopped. With only that split second of warning, the lights went out, and the entire banquet was consumed by darkness. As the screaming started, I just sighed. Of course even the boring parties had to go wrong.
Comments
CringeWorthyStudios
No, no, this is just the mid-party entertainment!
