Published at 3rd of October 2023 12:04 pm

Chapter 4.11 In Which the Dark Lord Ruins a Party

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Rhydion remained as inscrutable as only a man encased in metal can be, but his companions were not so sanguine about my proposed bargain. I thought it a good deal for all: he’d throw his weight behind getting relief supplies properly distributed, something a paladin ought to be in favor of anyway, and then I’d come along and heal his zombie-hunting expedition.

Apparently not.

“You dare?” Sister Dhinell seethed. “You presume to dictate terms to a paladin of the faith, for complying with the Goddess’s will? And the obvious best interests of all?!”

“Why is killing zombies the Goddess’s will and the best interests of all, but feeding the poor isn’t?” Aster asked.

Dhinell rounded on her, bristling. “You will know your place, lowborn. Show that mouth to the wrong person and you will be reminded of your role in creation.”

“I am under standing orders to punch you, Sister. Are you sure you want to extol the virtue of obedience to me?”

The priestess looked absolutely aghast at being backtalked like this. Harker was clearly enjoying the show, but nonetheless felt the need to add his own two discs.

“Why do you care so much about relief supply distribution, anyway?” he asked me while the women stared each other down. “You don’t really come across as the do-gooding type. And even if you are, that’s an awfully political place to start.”

“Yeah, I’m a real bundle of mysteries, ain’t I. In any case, that’s the deal. What do you say, Rhydion?”

“Your concern for the needy does you credit, Lord Seiji,” he said. “I am heartened to see you attempting a strategic approach, rather than attempting to simply impose your will upon the assembled highborn.”

“Come on, how would I even do that? They’ve got an army here.”

“They’ve got a dozen teeny-tiny armies of varying degrees of competence,” Harker corrected, “who probably couldn’t all fight in the same direction even if they decided to try.”

“Do not encourage him!” Dhinell barked. He just smiled at her.

“I ask your pardon if I presume,” said Rhydion, ignoring them. “The men I have known who were most inclined to solve their problems with brute force have consistently been the least inclined to pause, first, and consider whether their forces were sufficient to succeed.”

I did not risk looking in Aster’s general direction. “Yeah, well, some people are stupid, it’s true.”

“It is also true that, in our admittedly brief acquaintance, you have consistently leaned toward aggression. I applaud your restraint, Lord Seiji, but let me ask: have you truly considered the consequences of pursuing this course of action?”

“If the main consequence is that a bunch of people don’t go hungry, I have to brush off any quibbling over piddly political repercussions as pure moral cowardice.”

“How dare you—”

“It’s quite all right, Sister Dhinell,” Rhydion said in a tone that might have passed for soothing, were it not echoing ominously from the depths of his helmet. “Words do me no harm, and no one should consider himself above reproach. Lord Seiji is not without a point, as a matter of broad principle. But I was speaking of the specific practicalities of this situation. Suppose I were to demand of those highborn present that they properly distribute their allotment of relief supplies, on pain of my displeasure. What would happen next?”

“I’m guessing ‘the supplies would get distributed’ is not the answer you’re fishing for.”

“Indeed, that is only one outcome—and I can all but guarantee that even that would not occur in every case. For another, all those highborn know me, know my business here, and know my reputation for impartiality. They are already on edge because of my recent intervention on behalf of the orphans of the Gutters, wary of what else I might suddenly do. Be assured that at least some have also marked your arrival, and most if not all will be aware of it ere long. If I now force their hand, through any combination of my reputation, connections, or personal strength, they will know why—that is, who impelled me to action.”

“Just because I’m not eager to pick a fight with an army doesn’t mean I can’t deal with them at need,” I said, allowing myself a small smile. “I have seen your highborn, Rhydion, and I am not impressed. I suffer their existence because striking at them would cause repercussions for the vulnerable people under them. Please, let one of these piddly little Clans give me a pretext to claim self-defense.”

“So close,” he said, shaking his helmeted head. “You came so close to understanding, and then veered away. You are a sorcerer of uncertain but obvious means even beyond your considerable magical strength. These are politically-minded, self-interested schemers. If they decided to attack you, it would not be directly. And in this hypothetical scenario, you would have not only riled them, but revealed that you care about the plight of their vulnerable people. So tell me, Lord Seiji. Who would suffer most for your intervention—not only immediately, but every time in the future the Clans felt the need to express displeasure with you?”

It was the conversational equivalent of plowing face-first into a wall. He was right: the immediate, obvious result of my grand plan here would be another crackdown like the pogrom I had accidentally kicked off in my hunt for Lady Gray. I had to force myself to breathe evenly, avoiding the eyes of everyone present except Rhydion, grateful for once that his eyes were hidden.

“I take your point,” I finally managed. “Well. I guess if we don’t have a deal—”

“Let us not act in haste, either to strike or to retreat,” he said, holding up one gauntleted hand. “I am declining to pursue your ill-considered plan, because it is unlikely to accomplish its goal and certain to massively backfire.”

“All right, I said I get the point! No need to harp on it.”

“But the goal,” he continued, “is itself praiseworthy. If that is the price for your aid in my own quest, it is one I consider well worth paying. If a better, more effective way of executing it can be found.”

I shrugged. “I’m all ears.”

He shifted, turning to point his helmet toward the larger camp between us and the village, where I could see the rich and powerful in question gathered, many of them clearly watching us now. The highborn were all bundled up against the cold, of course; their heavy winter clothes showed the same blend of jewel toned fabrics lavishly decorated by intricate accents that stood out against those colorful backgrounds. Gold and silver embellishments were common, but so were white, black, and gray. Interestingly, they were all bare-headed in the winter air, putting their various spiky coifs on display, but men and women alike seemed to favor heavy scarves that concealed their faces from the nose down.

“Tell me, Lord Seiji,” Rhydion said after a ruminative pause. “What methods have you considered of motivating the highborn other than by pummeling them into compliance?”

“It’s not that I don’t see what you’re hinting toward,” I said skeptically, “but I’m not in a position to apply anything else. These people understand nothing but greed and violence, and bribing them isn’t exactly applicable when the whole problem is they’ve seized what isn’t theirs.”

“Greed and violence,” he repeated. “Of all the people I have known, both great and small… Even among the very worst, there were hardly any who had nothing more to them than that. Such a mean, petty creature would barely be able to exist within a society. Indeed, the very few examples I have met to whom I would grant that description had been reduced by their own perfidy to little more than scuttling vermin eking out a mere survival on the outskirts of civilization. People, any people, are far more complex than you seem willing to allow, Lord Seiji. I do not contend that they are necessarily better, though I suspect many are better than you believe. But even at their worst, they have attachments, passions, predilections, fixations, and a thousand other traits. Most, even among the truly depraved, possess virtues of their own as well. If you attempt to shift these canny, sophisticated people using a strategy designed to work on a hungry wolf, they will demolish you.”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone is a unique and beautiful little snowflake. That’s fine and all, but what is the use of it? I’m sure they can maneuver among their own class with all the subtlety and tact you’re suggesting, but by the time we made any headway pursuing that strategy, people would have starved. Not to mention that, redeeming virtues or not, these are assholes leaving the people they’re responsible for to go hungry in the snow, just to cling to windfall assets that they already don’t need. Imitating them is not a path I’m willing to take.”

“Good points, all,” he agreed. “Then we are left with the underlying truth that attempting to forcefully apply simple solutions to complicated problems will not work. Philosophical considerations aside, what is called for is a strategy.”

“I think they’ve forgotten we’re here,” I heard Dhinell mutter.

“Shh, don’t distract them, this is great stuff,” Harker replied jovially. “Better’n a tiltbox show.”

“Did you just shush me, you obscene little man?”

Much as I hated to give Sister Dhinell credit, I sort of had forgotten them. In fact, the interjection had broken a spell that I hadn’t noticed falling over me, and now I suddenly realized this conversation had turned into Rhydion lecturing me like a damn schoolkid. Well, the guy didn’t lack for charisma despite being wrapped up like a militant burrito, I had to give him that.

I re-focused my attention on the paladin, preparing to serve up a piping-hot piece of my mind, but he preempted me.

“If you would, Lord Seiji, there is someone I feel you should meet.”

It was genuinely impressive to watch the man work. I’d never actually seen Rhydion fight—that is, put all that fancy armor to its intended use—but he was remarkably smooth in social situations, and proved it on the way through the nobles’ little fancy-ass fairground. Obviously, they came swarming around as soon as we stepped into their domain, chattering and cooing and generally demanding his attention. Also mine, somewhat to my surprise, but I guess after all I was exotic foreign nobility about whom rumors were no doubt swirling. If these idiots though the front lines of an incipient zombie apocalypse was a good place to come amuse themselves, it stood to reason they’d be fascinated by Lord Seiji.

But I barely had to do anything, thanks to Rhydion. He was a master at work, swiftly but gently deflecting overtures without ever stepping on toes. His ability to engage and then disengage someone in mere seconds, freeing us from their attention without leaving them any cause to feel snubbed or affronted, was…well, frankly, it was amazing. I’d still not had the slightest hint who was under all that armor, but he had to have been highborn, unless paladin training involved a lot of etiquette. We sliced through the crowd like a hot social knife through twittering aristocratic butter.

Rhydion escorted me to one of the larger pavilions, one with heavy canvas walls on three sides and the fourth open to the winter air. Heavy braziers of blazing asauthec added light and heat; it was far more comfortable inside than it had any right to be, at an expense in fuel that I didn’t even want to think about. He made a beeline for one rear corner of the tent, where someone was holding court surrounded by other nobles.

By women, specifically, by well-dressed ladies who had very deliberately relaxed their scarves and outer garments in his presence. Was this guy the host of this gathering, the person on whose lands we were presently squatting? I was both increasingly curious why Rhydion wanted me to meet him in particular, and increasingly annoyed by this whole business.

“Why, there he is!” exclaimed the man at the center of this miniature party within the party. “Lord Paladin, again you grace us with your presence! Absolutely smashing, the honor is entirely mine, to be sure. Goddess knows my humble self has little to offer a chap of your standing.”

This set off a truly obnoxious storm of cooing and twittering from his entourage.

“It is just Rhydion, my lord,” the paladin said mildly. “While under my oath, I have disavowed all other titles of privilege.”

“Of course!” The new guy dramatically clapped a hand to his forehead. “And you even told me so before, I remember now. Terribly sorry, old chap, it’s just that one prefers to err on the side of respect when addressing such an august personage, eh?”

“An admirable instinct, my lord,” Rhydion replied. “Pardon the interruption. Lord Ruell, may I present Lord Seiji, who has only just arrived. I believe the two of you will find common ground for much interesting discussion on matters quite apart from both being guests in our country.”

I didn’t need the verbal prompt to tell me this guy wasn’t from around here. One of the side effects of learning languages via Blessing of Wisdom was that I tended not to notice different accents, though Lord Ruell’s was decidedly not local, once other cues prompted me to pay attention. His whole presentation was definitely not Fflyr, from the hair on down. He was an elf, so blond and fine-featured with black eyes, but he had his hair slicked back tightly into a high ponytail; given the stiff texture of elven hair, it was a ponytail with plenty of lift and volume, but that was still a far simpler style than any Fflyr highborn, who all coiffed themselves like Yu-Gi-Oh characters. The style of his clothing was different, too, with a doublet and trousers in muted colors totally unlike the jewel tones over black that was popular with the highborn. Muted in color, but so richly brocaded that there wasn’t a centimeter of un-textured fabric on him. And unlike the ornate, almost metallic embellishment of Fflyr garments, his were accented by…ruffles and lace. Spilling out of his collar, cuffs, and even the tops of his boots.

“I say, a fellow traveler!” Lord Ruell turned his enthusiastic attention on me, giving both me and Aster the once-over. I took note of that; on our way through the camp, most of the highborn had ignored her like furniture, just as they did the various lowborn scurrying around with food, drinks, and fuel to keep their ridiculous party going. A few men had leeringly looked her over in a manner that honestly struck me as more aggressive than appreciative, but there was none of that with Ruell. He was just taking note of a new person confronting him. It made him rise slightly in my estimation. “What ho, old chap! Lord Seiji, was it? Did I get that right? Smashing, and where do you hail from, might I ask?”

“Saa.” I almost answered him truthfully, as I had Lord Arider way back when, on the grounds that the truth would be meaningless to him, but thanks to Yoshi’s warning I was now aware that there were people on this world who knew what Japan was, and I was not yet in a position to draw their attention.

“Saa, how positively smashing! I do believe I’ve heard of it. Rather famous for the food, is it not? I’ve always wanted to visit.”

Okay, this guy was an idiot. I shot a questioning look at Rhydion, which of course availed me nothing; he might as well have been a decorative suit of armor when he wasn’t talking.

“And what a day this is!” simpered one of the gathered noblewomen, hiding her lower face with a hand fan so she could smile at me with just her eyes. It was a good trick, and reminded me to be grateful it was too cold for any of them to be showing cleavage. People like this would aggressively flirt as a default method of social interaction and the last thing I needed was to have a flashback in front of this school of sharks. “Finally, the enigmatic Lord Seiji graces us with his presence. Truly, my lord, you have become the gleaner of the moon wheat on our fair island.”

“I would describe him more as Althesene’s silver lion,” countered another well-bred lady, prompting a chorus of giggles.

“Now, now, ladies, nothing so grandiose,” I demurred with a vague smile. “I’m just Musashi showing up late with an oar.”

“Oooh!” Rather than the irritation I’d expected at being confronted with a reference they didn’t know, this gaggle of hens seemed absolutely delighted by it. I had a funny feeling they would be no less pleased if they realized I’d just threatened them.

Lord Ruell brayed a laugh, actually applauding. “Oh, capital, sir! I say, good show indeed! Clearly you’ve been here far longer than I, to have picked up on that trick. Positively bewitching, isn’t it, how these clever girls can have a whole conversation in nothing but allusions? Not that such lovely maidens require embellishment, but one does appreciate an intellect on a lady, what?”

That earned him major points, of course, and I took advantage of the cover provided by all the ensuing giggles to shoot another pointed look at Rhydion.

Or at least I tried to. He wasn’t there.

Two seconds of frantic peering around revealed the truth: the son of a bitch had ditched me. How the fuck did someone that large, flashy, and heavy manage to sneak away? Something to ponder while I was making plans to test the durability of fancy artifact armor versus a speeding truck.

“So tell me, Lord Ruell,” I said loudly, cutting across the inane tittering, “from where do you hail?”

“Ah! Do forgive me, Lord Seiji! Give me a bevy of lovely ladies to distract these silly eyes of mine, and I lose sight of my manners right along with my purse and boots. One of these days I’ll leave my head in a carriage somewhere. But yes, I have the honor of being a humble citizen of Lancor, may She smile upon our blessed Emperor.”

“Ah, is that so? You’re the first representative of the Empire I’ve had the privilege to meet.” Finally, a hint why Rhydion had wanted me to meet this character.

“Oh indeed? Well, that’s a shame and no mistake! Alas, there are so many more fitting bearers of our standard than my own scurrilous self, but I shall try my utmost to keep the disappointment down to a minimum.”

That set off another round of witless noise as the assembled biddies bought the bait, hastening to reassure him of his good qualities in a great torrent of coquettish giggling and obscure literary references. I had the passing thought that it was downright funny how a group of back-alley whores seemed composed of individual personalities while the same number of rich women turned into a uniform puddle of useless fluff.

“So what brings you to this of all places, and now of all times, Lord Ruell?” I inquired. “I understand Dount has benefited greatly from Lancor’s generosity in the aftermath of that…strange disaster the befell recently. Are you perhaps attached to that effort?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” he said, airily waving one hand. “Good heavens, could you imagine? Me in his most august Excellency’s service? No, no, dear fellow, I’m just a layabout with too much money and an interest in seeing the world.”

Bullshit. This was the last place someone like that would show up. I was definitely onto something here—whatever game he was playing, Rhydion wasn’t one to waste my time without purpose.

“Well, that’s a shame,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I was rather curious about some of the particulars of how the distribution was going. I’ve heard troubling rumors, but in the end, rumor is all an unimportant person like myself is likely to hear. For a moment I dared hope to get an official position.”

“I feel your pain, my good fellow, truly I do,” Ruell chuckled. “It may be safest to stay out of politics, but it does leave a body dashedly uninformed, eh? Oh, but I’ll tell you what, I have somebody who keeps on top of things for me. Arrkeen, what say you give Lord Seiji an update? And me, too, whilst I’m here. Not quite my cup of tea, but it never pays to be ill-informed, eh? What say you, ladies, have you an interest in logistics?”

At his summons, a new person approached the corner in which Lord Ruell had set up shop, and her arrival was like a bucket of dirty slush thrown onto the mood of the assembled noblewomen. For my part, I just barely managed not to gawk.

Ruell’s associate, this Arrkeen, was a beastwoman—and like himself, clearly not from around here. I could tell that just because I’d been asking a lot of questions about the local tribes lately, from people in a position to know the answers, and I was certain that Dount was not home to a fox tribe. The shape of her long, pointed face was unmistakable, as was the bushy tail; her fur was mostly a dusk reddish-orange in color, though it shifted to gray with black flecks starting under her chin and presumably running down the front of her body, with her ears and tail tipped in black. The fox woman also wore clearly foreign attire, a sleeveless green vest that hung halfway down her thighs, with a knee-length kilt below that, and nothing on her large footpaws. Beastfolk really were at an advantage in the winter, with that built-in fur coat.

But even her appearance was less interesting than the effect it had. The gathered noblewomen’s expressions went sour so abruptly it was like a switch had been thrown. They were instantly murmuring excuses and drifting away. While I watched in delighted bemusement, the last of the highborn departed, only a few still having the spirit to flirt with Ruell in their terse goodbyes.

“Sorry about that, ol’ girl,” the elf said to his companion. “Hate to put your dignity to such poor use, but it’s just so dashedly effective!”

“My feelings are not hurt by the rejection of Fflyr nobility, my lord,” she said impassively. “Their existence would have to matter to me before their opinions could.”

That wrung a bark of laughter from me before I could fully suppress it. “Oh, burn. That was a good one. I’ll have to use that myself!”

Arrkeen bowed to me, her vulpine face mostly blank, but somehow vaguely mocking even in its composure. Amazing, this guy had his own Aster.

“Sorry if I accidentally busted up your little harem, there,” I said out loud. “I hope that didn’t disrupt your plans for the evening, Lord Ruell.”

“Absolutely not.” Suddenly his expression was deadly serious. “A little spot of flirtation among a loudly public crowd is just a bit of fun. Matters become different if one focuses one’s attention on a particular lady. One must always remember that a lady’s reputation is her livelihood and security, and do nothing to impugn it, least of all for one’s own callow pleasure. That is true anywhere, but particularly in a place like Fflyr Dlemathlys, a well-bred woman can lose far more than her prospects if her family deems her no longer profitable. A gentleman must never make himself an imposition upon a lady. Do you not agree, Lord Seiji?”

I have to say, that little speech took me aback, so much so that it was a second before I could formulate a response. “Well…honestly, I don’t think I would have put it quite like that. But yes, I like the general direction of your philosophy, Lord Ruell. A great deal more than the sentiments of any Fflyr highborn I’ve met, at least.”

“Capital!” His sunny smile returned. “I do so appreciate the company of like minds. A fellow with a proper respect for the ladies can’t be all bad, what? But anyway! Arrkeen, Lord Seiji was curious how the distribution of Imperial aid is proceeding here on Dount.”

“So I heard, my lord,” she said, impassive. “In short? Variably. The King of Fflyr Dlemathlys exerts almost no control over his island governors, and they have only slightly more direct influence over the Clans. Perhaps more here on Dount than most, as the local…Archlord, as they call him, is much feared even though he is not respected. In his case, however, it scarcely matters as he has shown complete disinterest in the entire affair. Thus, each Clan has received an allotment of said supplies and done with it as they see fit. Some have even distributed them amongst their suffering people.”

She paused, and then repeated a single word dripping from its dip in a deep reservoir of disdain.

“Some.”

I casually glanced about, making sure we were alone. Not all the highborn had fled the tent at the beastwoman’s arrival—after all, she had been here before, just lurking in another corner—but everyone including the servants was as far from us as they could get without being outside in the slush. Also, now that the distracting display of overdressed, overbred femininity was gone, I could really take in the spectacle of this place. Elaborate carpets covered the ground and Ruell was lounging in a leather-upholstered wingback armchair flanked by two small tables, one piled with snacks and one with books.

Yep, highborn were still ridiculous.

“That’s about what I would expect,” I said. “Brazen of them to tempt the Empire’s anger that way.”

“Sadly, I do not foresee his most august Excellency taking a further interest,” Lord Ruell replied with a grimace. Without his audience loitering around, he was like a completely different person—or a more serious one, at least. “Lannitar gained everything it wanted in political capital simply by sending presents to a less fortunate Sanorite ally in their time of need; any further action would just be further expense, not to mention being an overt intervention in another nation’s internal affairs. The Gray Guard takes great pains not to be seen doing that.”

I studied him thoughtfully. Just who the hell was this character? He was two-faced, at least to an extent, though no more than myself. Why had Rhydion wanted to link me up with him? What was his interest in this matter? How much could I afford to risk revealing?

“That’s distressing to hear,” I responded after a momentary pause. “It almost seems as if the only hope of getting that food to the people who are actually hungry would involve spilling highborn blood.”

I gave it a beat of hesitation, just enough of a pause to let the idea hang in the air between us, before continuing just quickly enough not to interrupt my flow.

“But anyone willing to do such a thing would hopefully have the good sense not to. If the highborn are so affronted, they’ll make sure it’s the lowborn who feel their pain.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Aster give me a sidelong Look. I ignored her.

“Ah, yes, the eternal way of the world,” Ruell said sagely, nodding. “It’s an intriguing prospect nonetheless, eh? One does hear the most fascinating stories about bandits here on Dount.”

I raised an eyebrow, carefully revealing nothing. “Oh?”

“Surprised you haven’t heard, my lord, if you’ve lived here long enough to pick up some of the local patter. I bet they’re even talking about it up in Godspire—which means it’ll have spread to whatever ears might care in Savindar and the Imperium by now. Dount’s always been notorious for banditry, but in just the last several weeks the blaggards have taken to using sophisticated traps, including some rather fancy alchemy. And they seem oddly reluctant to spill blood, of late! Why, it’s almost enough to make me nostalgic for home,” he added with a wistful smile. “In Lancor, even the criminals have at least a spot of chivalry in their souls. If Dount’s worst element have taken it upon themselves to act with a touch of honor… Well, even if they won’t repent of their ways entirely, that’s a step in the right direction, eh?”

“You may be the newer arrival, Lord Ruell, but I’m getting the impression you have a better grasp of how the highborn think. The politics of my homeland are…extremely different. Had you the means, how would you go about ensuring those relief supplies got where they were needed?”

“Why, it’s simple, isn’t it?” he said with a genial smile. “One simply has to create a situation in which it’s more advantageous for the Clans to distribute food than to hoard it.”

I stared at him. “That’s your idea of simple?”

“Simple in concept, but dashedly tricky in execution, what? I’ve noticed worthwhile endeavors tend to be that way, Lord Seiji. Applying it here would mean creating some new source of pressure on the Clans, something to entice them toward generosity above self-interest.”

“I see your point,” I grunted. “That’s simple enough, you’d just need enough swords and enough hands for them. It’s arranging a pressure that doesn’t cause them to vent their hurt feelings on their own people that makes it… Tricky, you said? Yeah, that’s a good word.”

“Indeed, old chap, there’s simply nothing else for it. Such a task would call for circulating among the highborn, developing a nuanced grasp of the situation, building connections. Learning—and I speak purely hypothetically here, you understand—vulnerabilities.”

Exactly as he had been doing before I butted in.

Okay, maybe Rhydion had been onto something after all.

“You’re quite the savvy fellow, Lord Ruell. I’m very interested in your thoughts on how to expedite—”

“Lord Ruell! Lord Seiji!” boomed an unfamiliar voice from behind me.

Goddammit, I could never catch a break.

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