Tohl hadn’t reset the automata board. He was curious if there actually was a way the half-human could have won. Cole the Wanderer. He reminded Tohl of the boys back at the village, particularly the privileged ones that could afford a broad education. He might have to use his network to identify where the boy was staying and have Billis beat him to death in the street while he watched. It would be a nice bit of stress relief after the last two weeks.

Losing Solind had left Tohl feeling hollow. Solind’s death had always been part of the plan, but not without Tohl ordering it. Now the barbatus were retreating to their fringe colonies and could no longer provide the pressure to the smaller villages. Tohl still had his raiders on standby. If ordered they could simply ransack villages, but it lacked the monstrous terror the barbatus had provided.

Corban was being difficult, as always. He didn’t want to act until the Emperor’s Clash had provided him with fresh research materials. After a long, terse, debate Corban compromised by allowing some of his older undead to freely wander the Spiral countryside, visible to all coming in, but not attacking. Tohl had half a mind to threaten revealing the location of his tower hideaway. He was tired of having access to a necromancer and no undead army to show for it. At least the developments in Ramuf and Sráid had given the people new monsters to be afraid of, but both of those stories came with their own complications.

Yes, the murder of the Eldest cleric of the Vulture Mother was fortunate, bless whichever soul had done it, but it was difficult to keep the narrative that a diablan was the culprit. Spreading the rumor was as easy as having his agents tell the news at Ramuf’s many taverns. A diablan murderer was more dramatic than a coatlmade one, so the story overshadowed the original testimony.

The Vulture Clerics were performing their own investigation into the matter. Clerics were the hardest group to bribe, especially when their domain was death. What material goods could you offer someone who’s life centered on the wisdom that you can’t take it with you? Tohl’s best move was to forge contacts with the Order sympathizers among them and convince them to sabotage the investigation. The Goddess of Death might be impartial, but her followers weren’t, no matter their claims. If an Order loyalist became the new Eldest Cleric, then they could issue an edict on what races truly had souls. What powerful propaganda that would be.

As for his intended martyr of Diablan evil? He had sent a messenger to Engañar this morning with a gift of strong tequila for him and his followers. Keeping the Bandit King drunk and rowdy kept Diablans in the public eye, even after the eclipsing news from Sráid.

Kelmin had always proven to be one of Tohl’s most...difficult agents. When given strict orders to follow he proved a dutiful pawn, but if he had to improvise it usually turned into a debacle Tohl had to clean up. That was how the Ruaidrí Princess wound up captured. Kelmin panicked that she would expose his connections to Athshin’s underworld. At least it had resulted in the lucrative silver ransom that kept Tohl from digging into his personal coffers. When she was returned by an orc it seemed too serendipitous. Cuixmala and Chamela had done hit jobs for Tohl before and could be trusted to make the kill look like the orc had done it. Even if they botched the job it meant Tohl could push the narrative that the tecuani were dangerous.

A truth to every suspicion. That was the message Tohl intended to push.

He decided that the game really was hopeless and reset the pieces. He ordered Billis to acquire him some xocolatl. Difficult to think with a dry throat. Loud thudding came from the staircase. Tohl looked up and gave a sigh. The person he intended to meet this afternoon had finally arrived.

“Hail to you White Seer.” Ghetsis bowed to Tohl once he and his four guards had reached the roof.

Two of the guards, a chinless human named Gustave and a dwarf named Khomyak, bowed as well. Tohl knew all of Ghetsis’ inner circle. Zam sneered rather than bow. His white feathers shuddered in the wind. The final guard was a Finis man named Chehara Veen. He always wore a thick ornate helmet that covered his face. Tohl wasn’t certain how he could even see out of it at most times.

“Hail to you, Caballero Reballo, King of Finis and Master of the Order of Suffering.” Tohl did not stand, but he bowed his head. The five warriors approached the table, with Ghetsis sitting right across from Tohl.

“Where is your guardian?” Gustav asked nervously. The first time they had met, Gustav had attempted the fool’s errand of trying to seduce Billis. Tohl had allowed Gustav to creep close enough to whisper in her ear, then had Billis break his hand. Gustav had been afraid of her ever since. Good.

Tohl pointed to the xocolatl bar, where Billis was queued behind three elderly coatlmade arguing over their orders. Billis didn’t force her way ahead, but stood still with Tohl’s money held tightly in her hand.

Tohl bowed again. “I appreciate your respect for showing at the exact time. No earlier; No later.”

He kept playing his automata game while conversing. His meetings with Ghetsis never required much brainpower.

“I would never go against your requests, not after you have provided so many visions that have come true.” Ghetsis looked at the board. “Do you wish a partner?”

“No no. I’ve recently found it much easier to play both sides.” Tohl remarked. The current game he had arranged was a three-way clash between the Molochan King, the Honorable Soldier, and the Pashindra Cleric.

Ghetsis looked at Tohl with the same wonder he always had. “You have given me so much White Seer. You spoke true when you told me the death of King Fernnal had been the work of molochans, and you gave me the guidance of how to spread my message to the Confederacy. For this meeting I have three questions. Will you answer them?”

Tohl met Ghetsis’ eyes. For most, it was difficult to make eye contact when lying. For Tohl it was easy. His Mistress had commanded nothing but eye contact when speaking to her so it was a matter of adapting or being flogged. “I will, new King of Finis.”

Ghetsis shook his grey locks. “I am not the King of Finis. I abdicated to Linel so I could pursue the Middle Cities.”

“If you gave orders to Linel, wouldn’t he follow? Who truly commands a country, the named ruler, or the one that ruler obeys?”

Ghetsis chuckled. His laughter was self-satisfied and graveled. “There is truth in what you say. If our campaign in the Confederacy fails then there is no doubt Linel would allow me back on the Finis throne.”

His laughter ended as soon as it began. “I don’t wish to delay my time or yours, seer. My first two questions deal with the true fates of King Fellior Ruaidrí and the Eldest Cleric of the Vulture Mother. Is it as the rumors say?”

Tohl kept his smile internal. He had to look like the answers were difficult to say. “Were they committed by a bloodthirsty orc and a mad diablan respectively? Yes. I cannot deign the reasoning behind the diablan’s actions yet, but I can tell you the orc did his out of simple, primal, hatred. The hatred his God had instilled for all the children of the Grand Pantheon.”

Gustav and Khomyak shuddered. Ghetsis did the same, horror and displeasure welling in his beady eyes. Tohl was feeling bold. He could twist this lie further. “--However, my most recent dream showed a silver thread connecting these two crimes. This thread coursed and split in all directions, tying to many similar sins.”

“They’re all connected?” Gustav looked to the others in shock. “What does this mean?”

Ghetsis hardened his face. “It is true then, the dark races of Athshin are conspiring to sow chaos amongst the decent. Perhaps they are scared of the Order, or perhaps they have heard prophecy from their vile makers. How has this once proud empire allowed them to fester like this? I should be terrified, but this revelation will only make the grip on my sword stronger. Seer, for my next question, can you portent the outcome of the Emperor’s Clash? Will I sit on the Cracked Throne?”

Billis arrived with Tohl’s drink. Gustav subtly put himself to the end of the row to keep himself out of Billis reach. Tohl looked into the cup of steaming dark brown water with half-lidded eyes. It was all an act of mystery, but it was one that worked as Ghetsis and his cronies leaned closer to watch him work.

“I have attempted to see the outcome of the Clash many times in preparation for this meeting. I regret to say it is still as unclear as the steam rising from this cup. There will be a victory you find favorable, but perhaps it won’t be you who sits on the throne.”

“Blasphemy!” Zam roared. “You dare to say that Ghetsis Reballo will not be strong enough to achieve victory? I should remove your lying tongue.”

He as he moved towards Tohl, drawing his greatsword, the other guards stepped away. Billis grabbed Zam’s wrist then punched him twice with her shield gauntlet. Once in the gut to stagger him, then in the face with enough force to knock him flat and dazed. The commotion drew the attention of the three coatlmade playing patolli, who realized they were in the presence of Ghetsis Reballo for the first time.

Billis marched on the stunned Zam, her falchion ready for the kill.

“Enough violence!” Ghetsis cried. “We are neither enemies, nor the enemy. Turning blades on each other for sleights weakens our formation.”

Tohl recalled Billis. Seeing Zam sprawled on the ground gave him satisfaction. Zam was the most zealous of the Order, the keenest to enact the purge of the dark races. He was quite important to Tohl’s plan. Ghetsis was old and lacked a particular fire. The fact he had to ask Tohl for confirmation that Diablans and Orcs were the cause of all his nation’s woes was a step too many for Tohl’s liking. Zam knew in his heart that “dark races” were the cause. That’s why, if Tohl’s plan succeeded, Zam would sit on the Cracked Throne.

Ghetsis sighed. “We best move on. As always, your counsel has been most illuminating. What was it you said? ‘When the Order’s banner is flown from the Keeps of two kingdoms, then you will finally stand by my side as my personal oracle.’ Perhaps the moment of that union is coming closer.”

“Perhaps.” Tohl smiled. That was the endgame, but he wanted to be certain the Order of Suffering could sustain outside of Finis. He reached out to the aged general. “A final piece of advice, free of charge: When the evil reveals itself, and it will soon, don’t hesitate. Don’t let it speak a word. Act quickly in reprisal. The city will stand behind you.”

Ghetsis dwelled on this information, slowly internalizing it as he did with all of Tohl’s dire warnings. It was remarkable how easy it was to lie to this man. This aged veteran. Had he wasted his life building no amount of wisdom or recognition for when he was being manipulated? Ghetsis reminded Tohl of his Mistress. Both were ready to believe any lies so long as you confirmed their worldview; That they are justified in believing themselves superior to those they looked down on.

Tohl spent hours studying accounts of diablans drinking infant blood and molochans crafting leather of human hide. All certain lies, but useful lies. So long as he repeated these useful lies as a “seer,” it was seen as fact. Was it really lying if so many believed it? Tohl noticed he had unconsciously arranged the pieces of his automata game into the shape of a web. He always saw webs and worms when The Matron was watching him. Checking in that he was not failing her vision.

“Who truly commands, the named ruler, or the one that ruler obeys?”

Maybe Tohl was an oracle. After all, his direction came from a higher power.