Book 3, Chapter 13

13. Drinks After

The witnesses from the army all cheered at the outcome’s pronouncement.  My few witnesses were more subdued, as they had just witnessed me fail in my goal.  I hadn’t meant to duel Keithan to a draw, but to defeat him and earn an audience with the Marquise, his true father.  It was a setback, but one that I had planned for.  I was not so confident in my skills that I would view a duel with one of the top-rated duelists for his level as an easy win.

“Do both sides accept the outcome of this duel?” the judge asked formally.

“I do,” I declared, for there was no point in fighting it.  “I have no enmity towards Captain Keithan.”

“I do as well.  My grudge was minor, and I have assuaged it,” Keithan answered.

“Then I pronounce this matter closed.  Both of you are bound by honor to let any matter of hostility between you rest for a year and a day before you may address it in a second duel,” the judge reminded us.

“But we are not forbidden from socializing, correct?” I clarified.  “Keithan, the entire reason I challenged you today was that I believed it was the swiftest way to make your acquaintance.  Might we not become friends?”

The young man cocked his head to the side, then shrugged.  “Let us bring our seconds with us to the officer’s bar around the corner.  If you pay for drinks, then we may discuss various matters regarding friendships.”  He turned to the judge, who eyed him suspiciously.  “It will be a friendly discussion, or else we will require your services again in a year and a day, and the terms may not be to thirty percent.”

I swallowed, and renewed my determination not to offend the proud young man.  “Might I also bring my witnesses, and my healer?” I asked.  “We are smaller in number, and they may contribute to the conversation meaningfully.”

Keithan shrugged his indifference, and we followed him away from the arena, where the audience who had gathered for the spectacle of the duel were returning to their duties.  Keithan and Grives entered a nondescript building, and my party followed close behind them.

The insides were decorated with metals and pennants on the wall, donations from the officers who had frequented the place in the past.  Many had retired and left their honors behind.  Others had fallen, and this was their comrade’s way of remembering them.

We all took a seat at the bar, with me next to Keithan.  “So then, the Bastard of Yuikon wishes to get to know the Peori Cuckoo.  Or perhaps it is simply a way to reach my father?  I hate politics, but I enjoy duels.  I enjoyed our match, so speak plain.  I’ll decide whether we are allies, acquaintances, or enemies based on your candor.”

“I did approach you to reach your father,” I admitted.  “But you are a man of consequence yourself, and I thought a friendship with you was a wise investment in my future, even should the Marquise refuse to see me.”

“Ah, it is nice to hear someone speak it plain,” Keithan said.  “Too many tiptoe around it.  I bear the Selmy name, but I was kicked out of the house when I turned nine to be a page for a knight in the army.  It was the absolute minimum that Baron Selmy could give me and still save his own face.  But Jorva Peori does not forget even his illegitimate children, and he saw me trained properly in martial combat.  I bear more gratitude to the man who sponsored my rise in the army than the one who raised me and forced me into it.”

“I thought you might, although that was pure speculation on my part,” I admitted.  “Tell me.  Has word reached the royal army that a group of freelancers are in open revolt in North Shire?”

Keithan laughed, and the bartender began delivering drinks.  Mine glowed faintly when I cast [Detect Poison] on it, but it was so faint that I drank it anyway.  I gained a point in [Poison Resistance], and a ten minute status effect entitled [Loosened Tongue].

“We know of the Northridge Freelancers.  Have for some time.  The king, Thedum bless his soul, was gearing us up to rid the land of them just before North Shire was given to you.  When he made you an Earl, he put a halt on those plans to allow you to lead the charge.  Then Nial Kingslayer happened.”

“Then Nial Kingslayer happened,” I agreed, sighing.  “What is the situation now?  Can I call upon the royal army to squash the rebels?”

Keithan scoffed.  “You may call them rebels while they are on your land, but they are not recognized as such by the nobles surrounding your territory.  They are saying that you are overreacting, and have been lobbying the military to stay its hand to allow a lawful brotherhood to continue their charitable business unimpeded.  Without a king, there’s no hand at the helm, and the army won’t act without an overwhelming majority vote from the nobles.”

I nodded.  It was much as I expected.  “But nobody will stop me from eradicating them myself, will they?”

Keithan shrugged and quaffed his drink, signaling for another from the barkeeper.  “They’re your lands.  If you say they’re in revolt against the crown, then you need the crown to agree with you.  If you simply say they’re in revolt against their rightful lord, then that lord has the right to put them down.  Using only their own power, of course.  And what you can beg or borrow.  Is that why you wished to speak with the Marquise?”

“I have my own plans for eliminating the freelancers.  I don’t need the Marquise’s forces to help me with that.  I need to speak with him regarding the means I intend to use.  They are legal, I have had a scholar confirm that, but normally I would require royal permission to employ them.”

All of the Natives in the room froze as the implications of my words sunk in.

“I see,” Keithan said.  “And just how many of these ‘means’ do you have at your disposal?”

“I destroyed Mikal Mines in Eolstree at the behest of my step-father.  I gave one of the resulting cores to the royal family of that land as a gift, but I was given all of the remaining cores for my personal use,” I explained.

“A level 30 dungeon, complete destruction.  So you have between four and nine cores,” Keithan muttered.  “If you were smart, you could conquer the nation with that sort of fortune.”

“If I wanted the throne, I would challenge the ruling that labeled me a bastard and throw my weight against Storm as next in line,” I argued.  “I can swear by Thedum that I had nothing to do with the assassinations of my other uncles.  I suggested a while back that he do the same.  I haven’t heard, has he?”

Keithan laughed.  “Oh, I really must put you in a room with the Marquise.  I would have been honor bound to do so if you had won, but I cannot simply let pass by someone he would find so interesting without bringing you to his attention.”

“I was surprised by your skill in the arena,” I complimented.  “If it were not for my magic, I would have been completely outclassed.

“And if you had been using your magic properly from the beginning, then I would have stood no chance,” Keithan countered.  “Why did you start with lightning instead of ice?”

“The damage is higher,” I explained.  “Normally that’s my primary concern, so I forgot about the slow effect of my ice imbue.  Once I remembered that, I remembered how water can complement both ice and lightning, and so I began toggling between the options.”

“If I had a slow effect I could apply every strike, I would always open with that,” Keithan argued.

“Ah, but the spell I usually use for that purpose was restricted by Thedum for the duel.  [Slow] is more powerful than the chill effect from my [Imbue Sword: Ice],” I explained.

“I see,” Keithan said, and we spent the next ten minutes discussing the duel from various angles.  I came away with several insights thanks to the discussion, and I paid him heavy compliments for his performance.  After fifteen minutes of drinking the spiced tongue loosening drink, he pulled from his pocket a silver coin and handed it to me.  I could tell immediately that it was not currency.

“Go to the Marquise’s home in the northern district and show this token to the first servant whom you find.  Not the guards, you must find your own way past them, but your name might be enough for that.  This token will do the rest.”

With that, Keithan got up and left, taking Lieutenant Grives with him.

“Thank you,” I called to his back, but he did not turn to acknowledge me further.  I sat back and exulted for a moment in having accomplished my goal, despite not having won the duel outright.

“So, mission successful then, right?”  Corinth asked.  “I was worried for a second when you lost.”

“I didn’t lose, it was a draw,” I said, growing annoyed.

“If you’re not first, you’re last,” he argued.

“What does that even mean?” I countered.

“It means that you didn’t win the duel, and therefore you lost the duel,” he explained.  He crossed his hands and nodded, as though that were the end of the discussion.

I sighed and gave up on the argument.  Instead I turned to Thena.  “Why did you choose then to intervene?  If I could have gotten my spell off and then dodged, I would have won for certain.”

“Because my ability doesn’t work like that,” Thena said, looking somewhat apologetic.  “Hail, the entire duel, I was channeling an ability.  A new one, one I got after I turned canon.  It wasn’t really me that intervened in the duel, it was Lumina.”

“Oh,” I said.  Then I cocked my head.  “Lumina?  Not Thedum?”

“I like Thedum, Hail.  But the fact that he exists in my world makes it a little weird to treat him a like a god, even if it’s just for role play,” Thena explained.  “When I met with Archbishop Luke, I also met with an administrator who went over exactly what I would and wouldn’t be willing to do for the sake of the game, in regards to religious matters.  I was tempted to say that I worshiped RNG, and the administrator actually took that seriously.  He was offering to develop an entire new subclass just for me, but it would have limited my healing ability.  I could have also chosen one of the major religions from my world, that’s a common option.  Instead I decided to venerate Lumina, so that I’d have a stronger link to the natives.”

“I see,” I said.  “Well, Lumina wouldn’t have intervened unless Thedum told her to, so I guess Thedum judged the duel to be a draw as much as anyone.  I guess it’s not that big of a deal, but we should get going.  I need to see the Marquise.”

“Hail,” Larissa began, “You should know, Thena and I, we’ve changed a bit.  Our combat abilities are all the same, but we have new abilities as your Court Mage and Court Priestess that normal players don’t have access to.”

“Like the ability to travel back through time to find me,” I suggested.

“There’s that,” she agreed.  “There’s also this.”

She began chanting a cantrip, and a mirror appeared in the air before us.  At first it looked just like a normal mirror spell, useful for correcting your hairstyle and adjusting your clothes, but little more.  But then she said a name.

“Malkios.”

And the image in the mirror shifted to show the good captain standing vigil outside of the villa where my mother rested.  I jerked in surprise.

“You can Scrynow?” I asked, amazed.

“Yes, but not very well.  Hurry, this spell will last two minutes.  If there’s anyone you want to spy on--”

“Storm Teoran,” I said immediately.

The image shifted from Malkios to my uncle.  He was sitting at a desk, reading reports and drinking brandy.  A few seconds after the image resolved on him, however, he went stiff.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.  “I can sense you.  I know I’m being watched.”

Larissa looked at me, but I motioned for her to continue the spell.

“Nyxandra, is that you?” he asked, and the spell fell apart seconds later.  Larissa looked confused.

“There was almost a minute left,” she said.  “I can’t cast that spell again for another game day.”

“It was worth it, I learned what I needed to,” I informed her.  “Thank you.”

“Who is--”

“Don’t say the name!” I shouted, drawing the attention of even the bartender.  More calmly, I amended, “If you must refer to her at all, call her the adversary.”

“Oh,” Corinth said.  “Oh shit.  You mean to say that Storm buddy has dealings with the god of evil darkness or whatever?”

“He said her name,” I explained.  “That’s meaningful.  It means that either he’s willing to draw her wrath, or he knows that he already has her attention and isn’t afraid to address her directly.  Only her followers, or those who wish to follow her, would use that name without hesitation or fear.

“Oh,” Corinth said.  “Oh shit.”