Published at 3rd of October 2023 12:01 pm

Chapter 2.45 In Which the Dark Lord Wears the Pants in the Relationship

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“Now then,” I said, exercising my full stage presence to make my tone even more condescending than the question inherently was, “what did we learn?”

The lesser nobleman—lesser apparently because he was running errands for Clan Olumnach in the Gutters, though he was as pale and blond as any man I’d ever seen—struggled back up to one knee, breathing heavily and glaring pure hatred at me while his clothes smoldered. I had to give the guy credit: most people were crying and begging after one Immolate, but this chap had some actual spine.

“None of this is going to get you what you want any faster, foreigner.”

“Well, you’d better hope that’s not true,” I said reasonably, “as that would mean all of this has happened to you for no reason at all. If I were in your shoes, I feel like that’d make it all worse. Or such is my best guess, anyway, I’m not really sure how you see the world. It’s hard to project myself into the perspective of such a loser. But to answer my question, the lesson you should take back to your pals is that nobody can cast spells or swing artifacts while on fire.”

I gave him my biggest, most insufferable shit-eating grin.

“Coming at me with Blessed is not going to help, because I am better than you. You, and everyone you know.”

The effort of self-control was visible on the guy’s face; he made the most fascinating series of grimaces for about four seconds before speaking, but when he did, his voice was impressively even. Impressive for an amateur, that is. Not just anybody can perform to my standards.

“Right. Are we finished, then?”

He rose stiffly to his feet and I let him, smiling, before I answered.

“Not quite. As your master’s dithering continues to waste my valuable time, I am instituting a new policy with regard to his low-level lackeys. Congratulations! You are being robbed.”

The highborn curled his lip in well-bred contempt. “Of course. It’s always about money with you sticky-fingered dregs.”

“Oh, I don’t need your money,” I replied with an airy gesture. “Nor, before you ask, any heirlooms or valuables you might happen to be carrying. Nothing so…prosaic, no.”

I grinned hugely, widening my eyes to look deliberately insane, and paused for a beat to nail the comedic timing.

“Gimme your pants.”

Behind me, Nazralind made a choking noise only mostly muffled by her mask.

The aristocrat’s face lengthened into an incredulous expression.

“You cannot be serious.”

“You may keep your boots, of course,” I said magnanimously, “because I am a civilized person. I realize that’s a challenging concept to what passes for the nobility in this ruin of a country, but now you have me here to set an example. Come now, chop chop, we all have places to be. Drop ‘em.”

Eyes widened, he took a step back as if contemplating an unwise attempt to flee. “You—you’re not serious!”

Five minutes later I had his trousers draped over my arm and we watched the nobleman stalking away through the twilit streets, bare-assed and dangling in the breeze.

“That was incredibly juvenile,” Aster stated. “I’m not saying I disapprove, it’s just something I felt needed to be pointed out.”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“Please tell me you have more of a plan for this than just humiliating that guy?”

“Humiliation is the plan,” I said. “I am increasing the pressure, and for guys like him? This is the way to do it. Nothing enrages people like being humiliated. The lower classes are accustomed to it; they learn to duck their heads and repress, which is why in countries as badly run as this one you get peasant uprisings every so often. It builds and builds until the people can’t take it anymore. Nobles never learn that skill. Highlord Olumnach doesn’t care about what’s happening to the bandits working for him, much less how they feel about it, but he depends on a layer of these highborn middle managers to run his criminal empire. He will start to notice if they demand action be taken.”

“Is ruining that guy’s night really going to be enough pressure to shift him?”

“Oh, Aster.” I shook my head. “Aster, Aster, Aster.”

“Stop that.”

“Surely you didn’t think we were only going to do this once?”

She clapped a hand over her eyes, and ruined the gesture by smiling. “Oh, no.”

“Welcome to the Dark Crusade,” Nazralind said cheerily.

Olumnach kept me waiting for another week, during which I pantsed his rich, well-bred lackeys nine more times. By that point I was pretty familiar with all of them; there weren’t so many men of good breeding who were desperate enough or sufficiently under Clan Olumnach’s control to serve as bandit shepherds. They sure as hell got to know me. I suspected it wasn’t on the Highlord’s orders that they started trying to ambush and assassinate me with their gangsters, but between Biribo and my own combat capabilities that never went anywhere except to give me another opportunity to humiliate them in front of their own lowborn servants. Whom I then sent on their way with a proverbial pat on the head, trying not to laugh at the mortifying retreat of their half-naked overlords.

At this point, I wasn’t sure Olumnach was actually going to grant me the audience I wanted, but I was prepared for him not to. My preferred strategy still involved coming to an accord with him, but I had learned not to count on Plan A working out. Even though I was risking the opposite by deliberately antagonizing his principal servants this way, I could live with the outcome if he tried to double down harder.

The time-wasting still chafed, but the only other thing I could reasonably be doing around Gwyllthean was talking to Rhydion, and it would be a mistake to pull that trigger too early. I did not need his tin-plated ass underfoot while I dealt with gangsters, and it would be best to involve him in the redistribution efforts once a clearer picture had emerged of what Clans were doing what hoarding.

During this period, my gambit with Clan Yviredh really started bearing fruit; theOlumnach Clansguard were making increasingly ham-fisted efforts to chase down and engage my mobile bandit gangs, with no result save to irritate the other Clans whose territory they were stomping through. When I visited, Lady Elidred smugly informed me that multiple complaints and petitions had been sent to Clan Aelthwyn about his behavior. A united bloc of smaller Clans would have raised the suspicion of an organized campaign, but her ploy had succeeded: by seeding the rumor that this was already happening, she prompted them all to jump independently on the bandwagon, resulting in a seemingly unconnected string of complaints. I knew Archlord Caludon didn’t give half a shit what was happening to anyone in his province, but a pretext to pounce on Highlord Caldimer’s neck was one of the few things that would definitely prompt him to move.

The pressure was mounting on Olumnach. I was becoming an ongoing hassle he could not afford. I kept the stakes of fighting with me low even as I constantly pestered him, creating a single opportunity to remedy his problems by coming to terms with me. If he took the bait, finally, I could proceed with my next plan.

If he decided he wanted to throw down, I was confident I could win the city gangs over to my side, and killing off his Blessed enforcers in the Gutters wouldn’t create the kind of pretext that had prompted the Clans to move in unison as when Gray had been ousted, because everyone knew what Olumnach was doing and nobody was happy about it. Breaking Clan Olumnach’s back would cost me an opportunity I wanted and add to my problems in the short term, but I was laying plans to make do if it came to that.

Just as I started finalizing the details of that hypothetical campaign, one of the Blessed highborn surrendered at the first sight of me—visibly bitter and angry about it, but following his orders. He gave me a time and place at which the Highlord was willing to meet.

I let him keep his pants.

“You are quite late, Lord Seiji,” Caldimer spat upon our first face-to-face meeting. “I would think someone so adamantly determined to prevail upon my valuable time could deign to appear at the appointed hour.”

He did not react save to narrow his eyes slightly when I conjured a Firelight over my palm to see his face clearly in the darkened storehouse, though all three of his guards put hands to the hilts of their rapiers. The Highlord of Clan Olumnach was sharp-featured and the shade of very pale blond that would tend to obscure whether he was starting to go gray. He was a passably handsome fellow, middle-aged, with the beginnings of lines around his mouth but not so prominently at the corners of his eyes. A face more accustomed to scowling than smiling, that suited what I knew. I could definitely see the resemblance to Arider.

As agreed, we each had three guards; mine were all masked, but this did not conceal the fact that they were women, which may have prompted the sneers from Olumnach’s trio of attendants. Or maybe they were just unhappy to see me; I’d confiscated trousers from all three of them over the past week, one of them twice. I’d brought Aster, Nazralind, and Adelly, my most dangerous hand-to-hand combatants. Not that I was planning on having a fight, here, but I was done taking risks. Adelly’s hands were full with the package, so she currently had the Lightning Staff slung over her back. I’d thought people wearing staffs on the back that way were an invention of video games, but Kasser had rigged her up a shoulder strap with akornin clips that held it securely while enabling easy retrieval.

“I humbly apologize for my rudeness, Highlord Caldimer,” I said smoothly, bowing, which was paradoxically both out of politeness and disdain for Fflyr customs. “Truly, I regret keeping you waiting, but I was unavoidably delayed. I am sure you of all people understand how responsibilities can suddenly spring up with unplanned demands upon one’s time. Indeed, were you a less busy person, perhaps I wouldn’t have needed to subject myself and your men to frankly undignified antics to merit a moment of your attention.”

All three of the armed men glared at me, but Caldimer just made an impatient gesture with one hand, his gaze fixed on the object in Adelly’s arms. “You’ve brought her, as agreed? Show me.”

I nodded at Adelly, who stepped forward and set down the heavy jar, then whisked off the cloth covering it. She was in great shape but I wasn’t going to make her carry that thing any longer than necessary, even if it meant Highlord Caldimer had to bend over to properly examine the guest of honor.

It was one of our good jars, made of the clearest glass, which had previously contained a light slime helping illuminate North Watch’s mess hall. The khora-based brine within was remarkable stuff, likewise crystal clear, and had done its job perfectly. Lady Gray’s head floated in the liquid, hair drifting with the motion, preserved without a speck of decay and with features perfectly visible.

Eyes fixed on it, Caldimer stepped forward, and then knelt. I obligingly approached as well, lowering my hand with the light over it to afford him a clearer view. His guards objected to this, surging forward and half-drawing blades, which caused Aster to pull out her greatsword and Nazralind to nock an arrow. There they all stopped, though, eyeing each other while Caldimer and I ignored them all.

He stared fixedly at Gray’s floating face for several protracted seconds before he curled his lip in a sneer and stood. As he straightened his coat and stepped back, his men eased back as well, re-sheathing their weapons. At a gesture from me, my guards did likewise.

“Not a countenance I am like to forget, for all that I met her only rarely. Somehow, I always knew our last meeting would be much like this. Since you have denied me the chance of vengeance with my own hands, Lord Seiji, tell me this: was it a clean death?”

I shook my head. “My grievance with this hag was different than yours, but no less personal. She suffered terribly, and for as many minutes as I could drag it out. That, after being broken, humiliated and weak before I began. I think even you would have been satisfied.”

His face clenched in a terrible rictus, rage and cruel glee mingling, before he brought his features back under control. “Indeed. For that, and on behalf of my son’s memory, I give you my thanks in truest earnest.”

I nodded, silent. Previously, I had considered one day tipping him off that his son had actually been killed by my assistant cook, maybe when I was almost done using him. Over the last two weeks, though, I had discarded the idea. I’d spent that time simultaneously growing impatient with Caldimer’s nonsense while laying plans to deal with the much greater powers who would soon be closing in, and I just didn’t have enough interest in this fool anymore. Let him think whatever comforted him for whatever time he had left. He wasn’t worth the effort of tormenting.

“And now, you’ll be wanting the bounty I placed upon this very head.” Caldimer straightened his coat again, unnecessarily, and raised his voice. “I regret that this transaction may not proceed as you hoped, Lord Seiji.”

He looked smug. His enforcers looked smug. I let them.

“Yes, matters are somewhat complicated by…well, by the entire rest of our relationship, aren’t they?” I gave him a very bland, polite smile. “In point of fact, Highlord, I don’t intend to claim the bounty. Not yours, I mean; there are three others I’ll aim to collect, but allow me to open our negotiations by offering you relief from the sum you promised. Not to imply that such a monetary trifle should be of consequence to a man of your prodigious means, you understand. It is simply a gesture of good faith.”

I’d talked long enough that they all looked notably less smug. Caldimer kept his eyes fixed on me, but his tagalongs were glancing furtively around the storehouse, specifically at its two doors and the windows near the ceiling. They were hilariously bad at this. To be fair, this guy and his closest cronies probably preferred to do all their skulduggery from a safe distance; I bet they weren’t very practiced at being so up close and personal with the enemy.

“Yes, well. That is a courteous gesture, my lord, but we must consider how it weighs against the multiple insults and injuries you have inflicted upon my Clan.” He cleared his throat, then raised his voice again until he was very nearly shouting. “I regret that the prospects for an amicable relationship between us are quite diminished.”

I regarded him with a calm smile for another two seconds. Then cleared my own throat and called out into the night.

“Ahem! I believe that was the secret signal word.”

The doors at both ends, behind his group and mine, opened in unison, and armed figures stepped in. Cloaked, masked women carrying crossbows, which they raised as they spread out along the walls, taking aim at Caldimer and his escort. All four had now grabbed swords, but were staring around with expressions of grim realization. Rapiers weren’t going to help them when they were covered by that many crossbows.

I kept my smile subdued, despite the temptation to give him my meanest grin, the one his buddies had all seen multiple times by now. I had something different in mind for the Highlord.

“And now you understand what urgent business made me late to our meeting.”

It hadn’t been a bad plan, I’d give him that. He’d positioned his forces in a loose ring around the chosen warehouse, far enough out that I could easily get through the perimeter without knowing they were there. He’d even had the sense to use Olumnach Clansguard rather than local gangsters who were already more favorably disposed toward me than him. Presumably, they were to watch till I entered the storehouse, then close in so they could hear the signal when he gave it and finish me off.

That obviously didn’t work on someone with a familiar who wasn’t stupid enough to walk into the trap, and whose followers carried stingers with sleeping darts. Locating and neutralizing every one of his ambushers had been trivially easy, thanks to Biribo. Every quiet shot caused a pang of grief for Kastrin, but that was by far the hardest part. It took me barely half an hour to circle around, locating every hidden household guard and having my girls send them off to dreamland.

All this served as a reminder that I was tying up a loose end, here, not facing off against a legitimate enemy. Soon enough I’d have to fend off foes who knew what they were dealing with, and it wouldn’t be this easy.

“So,” Caldimer grated, baring his teeth at me.

“Your men are unharmed, Highlord,” I said, keeping my tone even and mild. “They’ll be awake in a few hours, quite embarrassed and otherwise none the worse for wear. Needless to say, arranging that was significantly more difficult than just killing them all. Consider it another gesture of good faith, since as you pointed out, I have more amends to make before approaching your good graces. And I have more, still.”

I reached into my coat and pulled out the signet ring I had taken from Lord Arider’s corpse, contemptuously nudging Lady Gray’s jar with my toe and making her head slosh about. “She was carrying this. I’ve asked around and been informed that it is the Clan Olumnach sigil.”

Caldimer’s eyes fixed on the ring, glinting in the glow of the Firelight, and his face twisted again in pain and fury. “That is—you will give that to me!”

He lunged forward, gripping the hilt of his rapier; instantly, all the women surrounding us surged forward themselves, raising their crossbows and taking aim directly at him. The Highlord’s guards, to their credit, tried to arrange themselves around him, but their bodies couldn’t possibly block every shot.

“Please!” I raised my voice and one hand. “Ladies, enough. A little consideration for a grieving father, please. It goes without saying, my lord; a Clan sigil belongs with its clan. I brought this to return it, not to taunt you.”

I stepped forward, holding out my open palm with the ring upon it. Slowly, as the Highlord breathed heavily in his struggle for self-control, my forces eased back, lowering their weapons—not fully, but no longer directly aiming to kill. Caldimer gathered himself and reached out, taking the ring. He managed enough self-control not to snatch it in haste, simply gathering the signet from my palm before stepping back.

He stared at it for a second, then closed his fingers, squeezing so tightly his fist trembled. Only then did he tuck the ring gently away inside his coat, raising his head to meet my gaze. The man couldn’t bring himself to thank me, for which I couldn’t entirely blame him.

“That makes…” I made a show of counting on my fingers. “Three kindnesses I have done you in the last handful of minutes, Highlord Caldimer. Four, if we consider the fact that I hold your life in my grasp and have refrained from squeezing. Please understand that I am only so gauche as to point it out aloud because you seem like the sort of fellow who mistakes mercy for weakness.”

Caldimer was still staring at my face. His shoulders lifted and fell in a deep, slow breath; I was getting the impression that he was better at regaining control than maintaining it. I got to see the process yet again as he slowly straightened up, smoothing out his expression, and finally favored me with a cold, cunning little smile.

“I see. You want something. Something you cannot simply take by force. Ahh, I understand. You seek legitimacy! A place within the hierarchy—the one thing a foreign lord cannot seize with swords, magic, or coin.”

“A reasonable guess, my lord. Not correct, but not entirely wrong. In fact, I think you and I understand one another better than you realize.”

“You begin to interest me, my lord. Very well, since it seems I am your guest in any case, do elaborate.”

I gave Gray’s final resting place another disdainful nudge with my boot, setting her aslosh once more. “This grasping, venal creature never understood the value of money the way you and I do, Highlord. Even as she devoted her entire existence to scrounging and hoarding it, never showing more than a kind of base animal cunning in its pursuit, she failed to grasp what it was: nothing more than a means to an end. Such a low specimen has no means of comprehending a higher purpose than satisfying base, animal desires. But you and I, Caldimer Olumnach, understand what it means to have a legacy. To be part of something—a greater cause than survival or greed. The value of a name—a heritage, a reason for being and for acting that impels us to become something greater than what such a common thug, no matter how jumped-up, could even envision.”

What a bunch of bullshit. Luckily I’d forewarned my people that I was going to go full ham on this guy and pander heavily to his sensibilities, or I’d probably be costing myself loyalty with this speech. Caldimer, of course, began to look thoughtful, as if I were really making sense to him.

“Perhaps I have misjudged you, Lord Seiji. I confess I entertained doubts that your title was legitimate, but you speak as one who indeed understands the meaning of noble blood in a way that even the common folk of this country do not.”

Yep, called it.

“I would hardly blame you, Highlord. Circumstances have compelled me to conduct myself in a manner rather unbecoming a gentleman of good breeding. Perhaps that, too, you understand. After all, why else would men like us become involved in crime, if not toward a greater purpose? It is my understanding that Clan Olumnach rightfully holds the fief of Dount—or did, once, before it was usurped by the Aelthwyns.”

He curled his lip in distaste. “Terms such as ‘rightful’ are loaded, Lord Seiji. It would not be politic of me to say such things where they might be overheard. After all, there is no more effective way to steal power than by working through rather than against the system.”

“Oh, to be sure, I assumed it was something of the kind. Forgive me, I might be projecting my own history a bit onto yours. The theft of my legacy was less legal and more brutal. Still, I have only to look around this island to see that Clan Aelthwyn are inept and unqualified guardians of the land.”

“I gather a similar fate befell…Clan Seiji?”

“Clan Omura,” I corrected gently, smiling. “But yes.”

He nodded, still watching me with a knowing glint in his eye, the expression of a man who greatly overestimated his control of the situation he was in. “And now you desire my help. But not, it seems, to reinstate your Clan on Dount?”

I shook my head. “Like you, I mean to begin by avenging myself against those who have wronged me, and reclaim what is mine. Obviously, I require certain resources to do this. And I will have to take those resources on a long journey in order to achieve it. My ancestral lands are… Well. Farther from here than you suspect.”

“I see. Regardless of the feasibility of that, there remains the matter of what has passed between our Clans already, Lord Seiji. You have cost me more than the current generation of Aelthwyn scum, in material resources and respect, if not formal prestige. Step by step you have stolen what is mine, and now you threaten me while begging for my help.”

“I think you’ll find me too prideful to beg—as, I note, are you, even with crossbows aimed at your heart.”

Caldimer half-smiled with the right side of his mouth, and inclined his head momentarily in acknowledgment.

“Indeed. Begging does not become men of good breeding.”

“Precisely. And I could argue over who has stolen what from whom, my lord. After all, it was my efforts that ousted that beast Gray from Gwyllthean, and you lost not a moment in swooping in to seize all that I had liberated.”

“You snatched a final victory over her after I had spent years softening her grip!”

“That’s one way to look at it, surely. Another is that you had years to break her, and failed to, while I achieved it in weeks. Please!” I held up one hand to forestall his angry rebuttal. “We both know we could argue this all night, Highlord, and it would be nothing but wasted breath. The point is that it would be an argument; there are cases to be made for both sides. It is not so clear-cut as one of us having unilaterally wronged the other. Rather than dwell on fruitless questions, let us instead consider the matter of where we stand now. And how we might, together, achieve both our goals.”

“Oh?” He raised one eyebrow. “You wish to help me, now?”

“I’ve already said I am too proud to beg; I am also too intelligent to imagine I could get the level of cooperation I need from you by threatening your life, my lord. So let me lay it out. You need for Clan Aelthwyn to be brought low, while you simultaneously regain the prestige and resources to regain the fief of Dount. As I understand the system established under your King and Convocation, dislodging a ruling Clan from governorship would require them to have failed in governance so utterly that not only do their superior and subordinate Clans agree on the necessity of removal, but also that they haven’t the means of forcibly resisting their ouster. Do I have the general shape of it?”

He grimaced, but nodded once. “There are…nuances, but in broad strokes, yes. The strict prohibition of Fflyr highborn fighting one another always favors the incumbents, unless they begin the hostilities.”

I nodded in return. “Then it seems to me that it would spell the doom of Clan Aelthwyn if the Archlord were to, say, instigate an unjustified attack upon Clan Olumnach, and in the process so cripple his ability to govern that all order on the island collapses. Then, if Clan Olumnach were to decisively vanquish Clan Aelthwyn’s forces and go on to restore order on Dount, the King and Convocation would have, effectively, no choice but to acknowledge you as the rightful Archlord of Dount.”

Caldimer nodded slowly, making a pensive expression as if this hadn’t been his entire plan all along. “Indeed, that could work. And such a crisis could be both instigated and easily resolved by whomsoever controlled all the bandit and criminal activity upon the island, is that it? Then it does raise the question of why I need you, Lord Seiji.”

I gave him my politest smile, again. “Why, because I control those bandits, Highlord. And those I haven’t already taken from you, I easily can. Within the week.”

His expression hardened.

“What I think you have not considered,” I smoothly continued, “is what would happen in the aftermath of such a successful coup. Presumably you thought to continue business as usual, with yourself in control of both the formal government of the island and all its criminal activity. And perhaps that could work—but there is a better way to go about it, Highlord. What if you could establish yourself as Archlord of a province with no organized crime?”

“Hah!” He expelled a short bark of derisive laughter. “Your people must be even fonder of fairy tales than we Fflyr, if you think the elimination of crime is remotely possible.”

“Oh, to be sure—once removed from Dount, it would begin to crop up again. That vacuum will always be filled by someone, and it would fall to you to deal with it in whatever manner you choose. But think of it, Highlord. For that very reason, to expel all banditry and crime from a province under your control would be an unmatched achievement. No one would expect it to be perfect, or to last permanently. Simply by doing it at all, you would gain prestige and favor well beyond that afforded to the governor of one island. The kind of political clout a man of ambition and wit could parlay into far greater power than the fief of one outlying province. After all, why content yourself with restoring the honor of Clan Olumnach, when you could advance it beyond the greatest achievements of your forebears?”

He regarded me through narrowed eyes, face now a mask of contemplation. “You sing a pretty song, Lord Seiji. In this scheme you have laid out, you take on the lion’s share of the work and the risk, while I reap all the benefits. That raises the opposite question of my previous one: why do you need me?”

“It comes down to what happens after. I require a replacement for my Clan’s forces, and I have found them in the bandits, gangsters, and miscellaneous dregs of Dount. Doubtless they are an unimpressive set of specimens to you, but you will have already noticed that bandits you previously controlled with ease have suddenly been running circles around your Clansguard. I am capable of shaping them into a fighting force to be feared—one more dangerous than Clan Aelthwyn will understand, I promise you—and once my ancestral holdings are retaken, I can reward them as one does one’s best vassals, with lands, prestige, and a comfortable life once the fighting is done. However, all of these efforts will mean nothing if I cannot get them home.” I hesitated, then put on a grimace. “It’s a long journey to my country, and to begin it, we must go north.”

Caldimer’s eyebrows lifted. “I did wonder what country you hail from; your features and accent are like none I recognize. Are you truly from Viryan lands?”

“Let us say…I am from beyond Viryan lands, and know how to get through them. Viryans are predictable folk and easily impressed, if one understands how they think. No, my problem is far more immediate.”

“Ah.” Expression clearing, he nodded. “The eternal gateway to the north. Godspire does not suffer armed forces to pass through their domain.”

“Precisely. To the rulers of Godspire, I am nothing but a minor warlord leading a horde of bandits—precisely the kind of person they will not allow through their gates. To get past them, I require…legitimacy, as you said. The kind of prestige and formal acknowledgment I could be lent only by a legal and recognized ruler, able to negotiate on my behalf with the notoriously, stubbornly neutral city-state to grant me safe passage. And for that, Highlord, I need you. I can’t work with that imbecile Caludon—in addition to being incompetent, he’s apparently some kind of warped, sadistic cretin. Regardless of how much it would benefit him to have the bandits removed from his domain, he derives more pleasure from knowing they are here, keeping life…interesting for his subjects.”

Caldimer sneered in contempt, nodding. Obviously, any trash talk directed at Caludon would earn sympathy from him, and it had the benefit of being true: by all accounts, the Archlord was a fucked up piece of work even by Fflyr standards.

“And it’s not as if I can establish myself as the ruler of Dount. Even if that wouldn’t defeat the purpose of going home, all the bandits on this island combined aren’t enough to face down its unified Clans, which is what I would face if I tried to take Gwyllthean by force, never mind what the King would send from the mainland. No, Highlord, the reality is that in order to realize our ambitions, you and I need each other. I have taken control of your bandits, yes—but I need them more than you do, and if you’ll work with me on one last, grand plan, you will end up better off for them being gone. With your political acumen to maneuver Caludon where we want him and then cut a deal with Godspire, and my strategy and training to turn these bandits into a respectable force to win our victories, we can achieve together what neither of us has managed to accomplish alone.”

I grinned, putting just enough anger and malice into the expression to mirror the faces he had been making all night, and held out my hand toward him.

“Join me, Highlord. Let us put aside our quarrel, crush our shared enemies, and part as friends.”

Caldimer looked down at my hand, then back up at my face, not making a move to take it.

“It should go without saying, but as the entirety of this plan rests upon my ability to direct our actions, I will expect my orders to be obeyed.”

“Just as I expect control of the remaining gangs to be turned over to me with no more fuss,” I said, smiling and not lowering my hand. “My plan is explicitly not to darken your lands one moment longer than I can be of service to you. It is no affront to my pride to submit to your leadership until then.”

He considered me a moment longer—just to keep me hanging, I knew. I bore it without complaint, because I respect showmanship.

Then, finally, the Highlord smiled a cold little smile, stepped forward, and clasped my hand. “We have an accord, Lord Seiji. Let us discuss terms.”

“Clear, boss,” Biribo reported some time later, as we stood in the darkened storehouse. “They’ve retrieved the last of their boys and moved out of the area. We got privacy.”

I inhaled deeply, and blew the breath out, letting it puff my cheeks and not caring how undignified it was. In fact, deciding I was done standing up for the time being, I slouched over to the jar and sat carefully down on Lady Gray’s head. The wide lid on the jar was just barely big enough; it wasn’t comfortable and I’d have to move soon, but for the moment it just felt right. Welcome to my ass, you rotten old bitch.

I was just…tired. There had been a lot of details to hash out—particulars of the transfer of authority for the last gangs, percentages and quotas of plunder to be handed over to Clan Olumnach, procedures for him to send us orders and me to contact him at need. A bunch of minutia like that, all of it very necessary but extremely tiresome.

“I hope I don’t need to point out that that guy’s gonna betray us first chance he gets, Lord Seiji,” said Aster.

I snorted. “Oh, he’s not going to betray me. He thinks he is, but he’s not. Caldimer thinks my plan is to leave Dount. He thinks I think a feudal lord in this rathole of a country has the authority to negotiate with Godspire. He thinks he has me in a bottle, unable to leave or pursue my own goals until he opens the gate for me, which he will never actually have the power to do. I’ve already got control of most of the bandits and can get the rest without him, and he knows it; the only way he can turn on me is to rat me out to the Archlord or the King. And doing that before I get him control of Gwyllthean will lose him everything and gain him nothing. The gangs would all be destroyed and there’d be too much attention on him afterward to rebuild them. No, he’ll wait till I get him what he wants and then betray me. That’s the only moment it would make sense for him to do so. Once he has Dount, mobilizing the Clans to crush me and the united bandits will just secure his position. He will never get the chance to do that, because I’m going to betray him first. Needless to say, ladies, we are not putting that fool on the throne in Gwyllthean. Once he finishes picking a fight with Clan Aelthwyn, we’re gonna pull back and let him lose it, and good riddance.”

“This is all a really roundabout way to kill somebody, Lord Seiji,” Nazralind pointed out. “I’m just saying. We’ve got contacts among the servants of a lot of Clans, including his. The girls and I can get into Caer Olumnach in one night’s work and put an arrow in his eye. Zip zap, problem solved.”

“Naz, you know better than anyone what would happen next.”

She grimaced and lowered her eyes. “Yeah, I know. If bandits kill a Highlord, there’ll be a complete purge of the island.”

“Exactly.” With a grunt, I stood back up; Lady Gray’s briny tomb was already beginning to hurt. Even dead, she was a pain in the ass. “Caldimer is our meat shield. Everyone knows him as the bandits’ not-so-secret leader, so leaving him in place and giving orders keeps attention off us while we make preparations to deal with all the other attention that’s going to come our way soon enough. Then, once he goes down fighting Clan Aelthwyn in Fflyr politics as usual, there’ll be no reason for a bandit purge. It buys us some breathing room to maneuver. That means, for now, I need Caldimer happy, and to think he’s in charge. Unfortunately,” I added with a grimace, “that means we’re gonna have to bow and scrape a bit. I’m really sorry to ask it of you, ladies, after we’ve made so much progress in getting out from under the Clans’ collective thumb, but for the time being I need everybody to play the good lapdog. Caldimer needs to believe he’s got us firmly under control until the very moment it’s time for him to die. Can I count on you all to play along?”

Adelly cleared her throat. “Lord Seiji… Did you really just ask a room full of whores if we know how to manage a useless man’s ego?”

They braying of laughter from every corner of the room was damn well therapeutic, a sudden lightening of the mood that I hadn’t realized how badly I’d needed. I found myself grinning right along with them.

“Well, fair enough. All right, girls, let’s ditch this depressing hole and go sleep in the forest like the civilized scum we are.”

Dount wasn’t mine, not yet. My initial goal of taking over the criminal underworld was in the bag, but I still didn’t have a direct path from that to overt control of the island, and now it looked like I wouldn’t even have time to finagle one before I had to deal with powers on such a scale that control of one island was barely a factor.

I needed to get someone to teach me more about the history, geography, and politics of Ephemera. Nazralind probably could, she had the right education. I’d leveraged Godspire into my plans already, but all I really knew about that city-state was that it was a notorious geopolitical nuisance.

Currently, four days after my negotiations with Caldimer, Naz was busy with ink brush in hand and surrounded by discarded papers, carefully drawing on the most recent sheet in front of her. We were back home in North Watch, loitering in the quiet mess hall long after dinner. Kasser and Harold had crafted shades to put over the bottled light slimes, so it was dimmer in here but not completely dark. I rather liked the effect; it was cozy. A few groups of people were still hanging out and chatting at some of the tables before bed. Closer at hand, Minifrit puffed away at her pipe while Aster lounged against the table next to me and Biribo hovered lazily above Naz’s art project, watching it take shape.

“Better deal with the beast tribes first,” I mused, repressing a yawn. “After the Inferno they’re gonna need the help, and also they’re in a weak enough position to be easily taken over. That, and I owe them something.”

“I’ve no idea how many beastfolk there even are on Dount,” Minifrit said, blowing smoke. “There are three native kinds of them, but I think there are multiple tribes of the wolves and squirrels both. That is a lot of additional mouths to feed, Lord Seiji.”

“They’re skilled hunters and foragers, Minifrit. Giving them aid will be an initial investment, but it’ll start paying off quickly. Not just in food; with their wilderness skills and knowledge of the land, bringing them into the fold will give us effective control over the wild khora, which is going to matter once major powers start coming here and poking at us. We need places to retreat to. Even fully restored, North Watch won’t be able to hold against a major military push.”

“Just so,” she said, smiling. “Forgive me, my lord, I was merely making sure this was a strategy you were executing, and not a sentimental gesture. A guilty conscience can cause nearly as much grief as the lack of one.”

“Oh, come on. Me, sentimental?”

“Don’t worry,” Aster said, gently nudging me with an elbow. “We won’t tell anyone.”

“You’re all a bunch of backstabbing ingrates. Anyway, the other thing is that it’s a natural progression. Bringing in the tribes will be easier than bringing in the goblins, and I still don’t even know where to start with the dark elves. I can’t even get a handle on the one we’ve got, much less the whole city of ‘em.”

“Okay!” Nazralind said brightly, straightening up. “I think I have it! Come have a look, Lord Seiji!”

I stood and stepped over, leaning past her shoulder to examine the sigil she had painted in accordance with the traditional Fflyr folk art of sigil crafting. Supposedly you needed one of these to be taken seriously as an institution in this country, so it was past time I had one. Traditionally, they were created by noblewomen, and I’d only recently acquired those, so I reckoned I could be pardoned for being a little late to the party.

“I like it,” I said, examining the abstract pattern of lines. “Can’t tell what the hell it means, but it’s…hm…aesthetic, that’s the word. It’s got a satisfying sort of look to it.”

“I’m glad you approve,” she said, grinning up at me. “So I started with the two glyphs you wanted, and once I got them arranged in a way that looked pleasing I picked two embellishments. There were any number of those that might be applicable, but more than this made it look all…busy, and cluttered.”

“Is that a crown line?” Minifrit inquired, leaning forward from the other side of the table. I quickly averted my eyes from the risk of looking down her dress; the fact that I had explicit permission to stick my hands in there only increased the potential for a debilitating flashback.

“It is!” Nazralind pointed at the top part of the sigil, looking up at me again. “It’s the horizontal line along the top there, Lord Seiji. Traditionally, the crown line indicates royalty; displaying a sigil like this while not associated with the King signals your intent to challenge and replace him. So, of course, it’s almost never used, but I thought it was…apt.”

“Good instincts,” I said approvingly. “Is the other embellishment that cross thingy in the middle there? That doesn’t look like part of either glyph.”

“Exactly, yes! The ascending star—with the long line coming from the bottom—is a symbol of the Goddess, used to signify devotion and allegiance to her. Well, there’s not one in the traditional Fflyr arts for the, ah, other goddess, so I improvised.”

“Ah, and that’s why it’s upside down, with the long tail on top.”

“Precisely! Now, this is just plain ink, but in terms of heraldic colors I think red markings on a black field is appropriate.”

“Black is neutral, right? That’s what you told me. But then you also told me people saw your black cloaks and thought it meant you were Viryans.”

“Lowborn did, Lord Seiji. Most commoners don’t know Virya’s actual colors; that’s the kind of education the Convocation prefers they not receive. So, yes, the fact that black is commonly used as a neutral base against which Clan colors stand out doesn’t do the highborn’s reputation among the lower classes any favors, but… Well, with the way the highborn govern, it tends not to end up mattering all that much.”

“I’ll bet.” I patted her shoulder. “Nice work, Naz. I like it; this is the design we’ll go with. Make a few copies, please. We’ll give one to Kasser and have him start applying it to stuff. I guess I should have a flag, at the very least.”

“It’s just…” She hesitated, sighed, and twisted on the bench to be able to look up at me without having to crane her neck back. “With more complex sigils made from multiple glyphs, it can quickly become impossible to tell what the original words were. With one like this, made from just two… Well, anybody with a grasp of Fflyr heraldry—in fact, potentially anyone who can read Fflyr will be able to tell your personal sigil says ‘slimes and whores.’ Are you…certain that’s the face you want for the Dark Crusade?”

Minifrit and Aster were both grinning.

“I am absolutely certain,” I assured her. “I want my enemies to not take me seriously. I want them to laugh and not realize what they’re dealing with until it’s far too late—and in the bitter end, I want them to perish knowing I never respected them. This is the one, Nazralind. This is what I’m about.”

I gave my absurd new personal logo another long, appreciative stare, then heaved a sigh and stepped back.

“All right, ladies, let’s all get to bed. Tomorrow comes early, and our enemies are closing in. We have a lot more people to disappoint before all’s said and done.”

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