The Referee

Fedal stumbled back towards his friends, his legs failing him. It wasn’t mere exhaustion or muscle pain—it was his nerves. Have you ever been so nervous that, upon completing the task you set out to, your legs immediately start to feel weak and numb? It is almost a sort of relief, as though you finally allow your body to be as weak as it had been trying to be after forcing it to remain strong for a few critical moments. When Fedal reached his end of the piste, he smiled weakly, raised a hand to greet his friends, and then he started to fall.

Shit. This is not really cool of me…

The man closed his eyes as he fell, but to his surprise, he didn’t hit the ground. Carr caught him just before the impact, dropping to one knee to catch him. “Hey there,” said Carr, smiling. “How you feeling, Hero?“

“Spare me the name,” Fedal spat out, laughing. “Just today.”

“But today, you really deserved the name,” Carr replied softly. “I don’t care what anyone says—today you really were the goddamn MVP. You got that lead for us and we’re going to win with it. I promiseyou.”

Many feelings went through the young man’s head at that point. Surprise that he was being praised, for one. But also a quiet sense of relief, like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. Shit. I want to cry, he thought. Instead, he bit his lip and said, “Thank you.”

Kat and her sister approached the two and helped set Fedal down on a chair. It was very odd for him to have Kat around after just having a furious match against her, but considering how it was probably worse for Carr, he decided against voicing his opinion.

“Damn good match there,” Kat said. “Didn’t think you had it in you to pull that off, I’m impressed.”

“T—thanks,” Fedal managed. What was it that you were supposed to say when people complimented you? He wasn’t used to it! “It was close, didn’t know I could pull it off either.”

For the first time since Katherine had come to their side of the piste, her sister—the young girl that Roger had managed to sneak out alive hidden in that briefcase—approached Fedal. “Thank you for—for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Fedal replied. His voice was hesitant at first, he wasn’t used to being thanked that often. Then, with more confidence, he smiled and said, “I still don’t know what to call you.”

“It’s better this way,” said the young girl. “My sister has a new name now, and we have to be on the run from Lord Johan, so...maybe I should find a new name for myself too.”

“When you pick a name, please let me know.”

“I will. You will be the first one to know. After my sister, of course.”

Johan

Roger’s most creative new system was functioning perfectly. Watching the match from the comfort of my tower and not having to deal with the outside elements was simply phenomenal. Winter was not nature’s greatest mistake, but it ranked in the top three. Most of all, it was this cursed time at the end of autumn and before winter’s heart truly started beating, thick coats still too heavy and gentle coats now too light, a most cursed transience meant only for the ordinary.

“Ah, would you look at that, Roger? It appears like the Hero managed an upset!” Though my eyes were fixated on the portal, it was clear that Master Roger was paying closer attention to me than the match—as he should. “Max always had an issue with team matches, he’s far too selfless. A man like that needs his lonely back against the wall to show his true potential, you understand? Still, fair is fair—what a wonderful display by the Hero!”

“It was most unexpected indeed,” Roger replied calmly. Yet, the pause that followed was noticeable. “Does it not concern you that their team has taken the lead?”

“Why should it? The real Carr is the one who wins the anchor bout.” This was enough to make me laugh. “Now, here is something I have never seen—Carr in the anchor position! He was always content letting me take the leading role in tournaments. To be able to witness two of him going at it—oh, this will be most fantastic!”

“Lord Johan, I mean not to infer anything about your emotional stage,” Roger said in a lot voice, as if censuring me. “My meaning lies elsewhere.”

This was why I had never killed Roger.

His motivations were, at times, confusing—but the man would speak his mind without stepping out of his lane. It was rare to find a creature capable of both independent thought and discerning when such thoughts should be shared. Silence and verbal sparring were both invaluable qualities, but knowing when each was preferred was what set him apart from his peers. “What do you fear, Master Roger?”

“I fear little. But the Hero’s team will acquire access to the Harlock mansion if they succeed, will they not?”

“And what of it?”

Long pause, yet little hesitation followed. This was a meaningful silence, not a concerned delay. “You might be implicated in the events of that winter night, Lord Johan.”

“That will not be the case—hear my assurance and trust it.”

Roger bowed in response. “My trust and loyalty are yours forever, my lord. I ask you not to satisfy my concerns, but rather my curiosity. Why do you not fear the accusation?”

“Quite frankly, because it will not go very far—any amount of doubt can be erased by the tip of my blade.” Trial by Combat was most useful in this world. “You needn’t worry about it, however. Do you truly think anyone will go up against me once I win the Battle for the Crown?”

“Yes.” Roger’s voice was now firmly in the realm of a harsh, but not unkind headmaster. “My lord, phenomenal as your reforms have been for the public, the nobility is still not wholly convinced. Your ascendance to your current ranking troubles them enough, but recent events—forgive me, I misspeak.”

I understood his concern but waved it off regardless. “No, it is quite the fair point you bring up. My tastes grow ever more exquisite and the secrecy of the Academy is at a risk. It is fair to say that perhaps indulging in my desires has slightly worsened my already precarious position.”

Oscar had been rather subservient about his punishment—but rumours spread, as they often do, and others had not seen it such. His daughter had surprisingly not taken my invitation to work for me, though she would soon enough. If I ruin his noble house’s coffers, she will have no choice. There were others dealt with in the same manner as Oscar had been, and though it had been supremelyentertaining there was an argument to be made that it had gone too far. It won’t do to lose myself to vice.

*“*Complain as they must, the Battle for the Crown shall happen within the week and I will not fall. Once the crown is mine by right, they will kneel—an assassin’s blade is not enough for a man with my abilities.”

Roger opened his mouth, but closed it again. Good man! He knows I do not want to hear an argument right now. Yet that the man knew his place made me more keen to allow him to step beyond it. “Speak, my good man! It is only with your guidance that this foreigner from another world may know this world’s customs. Any blind spots?”

“You have seen them all before, my lord,” Roger said, carefully. “It is simple—if lords do not agree with your rise to the throne, they will revolt. If not openly, then through inefficient taxation and lack of provided troops, weakening the Empire until such point that an open revolt might be possible. While the capital’s army would remain with you, seizing upon every individual noble city or province would be most difficult, my lord.”

“And you fear neighbouring countries would attack while we’re weakened?”

“Inglaterra would.”

“And those noble lords would, you argue, place the Empire in that weakened position even so? To weaken the Empire they love so much out of pure spite?” Carr had taught me long ago—spite was a powerful emotion.

“Not spite,” Roger replied slowly. “Honor. They would rather see their cities salted and burned than to see them follow an honorless path.”

“Honor! Ah, the old favourite…often misunderstood, that one.”

The well-done fillet before me was prepared to such perfection, blame could hardly be placed upon me for methodically working at it with a knife instead of replying. There was something oddly soothing about bringing the knife back and forth a number of times, across that nearly burnt texture. Each motion the same, yet it produced different results as each effort mounted on top of the last. It was so satisfying to see the texture change with each repetitive motion.

Roger watched me without saying a word, waiting for the followup.

“Honor is not a principle, it is a transaction.” It was hard to avoid a small laugh here—truth this was, yet few acknowledged it. “It is a precise equation of distaste against practicality. Some creatures have born inherent distance than others, but enough practicality will, by the verifiable laws of the universe, cause them to listen. My presence offends them, yet they allowed me in the army—why? Because my magic was desirable. My common birth offended them more, yet here too they relented and gave me a high ranking—why? Because my accomplishments were undeniable. My popularity was unwelcome by the former Emperor, yet he allowed me in his inner circle—why? Because he needed the common people to approve of him. I am a man of difficult tastes, yet they will bend to my will—why?”

Here my eyes turned to Roger meaningfully and he studied me for a moment. After a pause, he closed his eyes, bowed and said, “I do not know, Lord Johan.”

“But you trust me to have a reason, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Entertain me then! What do you think my reasoning is?”

“My lord proposes that enough leverage can make a man forget their honor.”

This was mostly correct, yet it warranted a correction nonetheless. “Not forget—but accept it. There is a difference. Bribery does not make an honest man feel good about their actions, you understand. No, it makes them accept it as they curse their circumstances. Leverage does not make them forget their honor, but the mathematics of sociality dictate that honor will take into account pragmatism. You follow me?”

“I believe so, my lord.”

“Then what troubles you still?”

Roger’s eyes were filled with his concern, but his voice was neutral when he said, “My lord, it is not a trouble, but rather a fear, you understand. Fear that there is no sufficient leverage.”

“Elaborate, my man.”

“If I do not dispute your equation, then the only question are its variables. War against Inglaterra was enough for the nobility to, barely, accept your rise to your current title. They were in position to defeat us, and that the Executioner had started his rebellion at the time certainly complicated things—but now our armies are better trained, organized, and our border is more heavily defended. Not to mention…well—perhaps…”

“You needn’t fear voicing your opinion when asked for it.” Fear only if you speak out of turn.

Long pause, and more hesitation followed. This was a careful silence. “Some of your heaviest criticism comes from the Terra Inglesa to start with.”

My fists tightened, but Roger knew this anger wasn’t meant for him. The Terra Inglesa, the collection of cities neighbouring Inglaterra—that the forsaken country had once possessed before the Empire took years before—was known to be, if not disloyal, then at least hesitant to die for their Emperor. Some of those cities would, and in fact had thrown open their gates when Inglaterra came knocking. Yet dishing out punishment was not a task the former Emperor was capable of, and the delicate situation would have made the situation difficult anyhow.

They were supposed to be loyal now.

Cresna had been offered province status and its future Lord was forgiven of his crimes at my discretion. And how did the Fiend With The Rapier repay such kindness? By taking Carr away from me.

Valle of Cresna needs to die.

Fortunately, this would happen soon when he duelled against the Sun Wolf.

“You fear that some cities, especially the territories in the Terra Inglesa would revolt at my appointment, yes?”

Roger nodded. “I fear that there is very nothing they would want enough to be content with your presence, my lord.”

Usually such unpopular candidates bowed out of their candidacy even if they had the largest stats of the group, for the good of the Empire. Never quite understood why they would be so idiotic as to give up that easily. “If there is nothing on this world that would make them support me, then all that needs to be done is for the world to change.”

Here there was a hint of concern in Roger’s voice. “My lord?”

“Fear not, Roger! That is for another time!” It was hard not to smile at the idea. Ah, Roger followed most of my plans—but this one he would object to, surely. Yet once it was put in motion, he would have no choice but to remain loyal. “More importantly, the Fiend With The Rapier’s match is up next, no?”

“You are correct, my lord.”

“And your invention is operating correctly?”

An affirmative nod from him brought an earnest smile from me. “Good. Then the Terra Inglesa will get to watch as its biggest Champion is defeated by Valder, the Executioner. Once he falls, then we will have the excuse to change the province capital from Cresna to Portna—surely they will not argue that Cresna should retain its title after Valle falls. Valder will be more loyal than the Fiend With The Rapier ever was.”

“Would he be loyal?” Roger’s voice was uncertain. “My lord, his history with you is—”

“He would see me dead if he could. But as he cannot, he will take what he can: relative safety. If he knows he can keep his sister, Princess Nevada safe from me in the Terra Inglesa, then he will be glad to send us taxes, troops, and what have you without ever leaving the forsaken place. Let him banish himself and brood forever if that’s what it takes.”

“My lord—what you mentioned earlier, about the world-changing to provide you with leverage—what did you mean, pray tell?”

Laughing was the only response to this. “Easy now, Roger! Let us enjoy this upcoming match. This I promise you: it will be clear by the end of the day.”