[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 3]

Renner greedily gulped the bulk of her lukewarm cup; setting it down, she snatched up her tea pot to restore its warmth, only to find it was far too light to contain anything.

Only a hack bard would dream up such heavy-handed imagery. I'll have the maid put on some water- No, it's Nunia on duty tonight. Anything she says will make it straight back to Keveleos. This day is cursed.

Returning it dejectedly, Renner shoved the whole tea set - saucer and all - to the other end of the table. She was alone in her room, having retired after giving her speech; the words she had spoken then had locked her to a course of action, one she knew to be treacherous and uncertain. She was fraught with unease, the sense that the work to be done far overran the time in which to do it. Similar things had occured in her past, but never at such scale nor at such stake. Her hopes, her desires, and her continued existence depended on what she did from now to the dawn on the fifth; depended on the reliability of her fellows, comrades, and sisters-at-arms; depended on the dispositions of her contemporaries and the attitudes of her siblings. It was terrifying. She forced herself to exhale, push her fears out of her mind, and return to the task at hand.

Whom to send where? This depends on travel time. In order of speed, Evileye, the Twins, Lakyus, Gagaran. Include the warrior captain, and what remains of his band. The actual ending of lives will be easy, but one person cannot conduct mass arrests; they’ll need to lead squads. Size? Depends on location, both probable enemy force size and compositions; variable fighting-power… shouldn’t take that long, I have that information.

Still, we’ll need hundreds. City Guard are right out; there are certainly a few honest commissars - Genra, Tilene, and Rau come to mind - but if any men in their squads have, say… gone just a little too long without Black Dust, then the information leaks. Ah, Chardelon, this is what you get for deprioritizing the excision of disloyal elements. How was I to know I would need to close this war in Lower Fire?

The Palace Knights are also an impossibility, as is the Royal Guard. Had I been able to force Theiern as Jelka’s replacement, this would not have been an issue, but with Vellen’s mark as Defensive Coordinator? Words cannot express my sheer loathing of that man. He dared to keep Climb from me? Make him sign some confession as if it were a shameful thing? Climb did something so pure, so valiant. How vile a rat. A worm, really. The sort of thing you regret grinding to bits underneath your heel for how it ruins your shoe. I hate him.

Her ire at Helgrave's actions was not a euphonic thing - a simple emotion she could ride, exhaust, and let drift away. Two of its insults were basic enough, in order of ascending importance: he had implied wrongdoing on the part of her bodyguard, thus implicating her; he had delayed Climb, preventing him from reaching her in a time of grievous need. Had this been all, she would have ate the injury and dismissed it, but Helgrave struck a third time: to escape his clutches, Climb - for whatever reason - had found cause to lie to him in writing; as this was those of Climb's words that had reached her first, this meant - by extension - that Climb had lied to her. Helgrave had forced an act of disloyalty from her dog. She had no coherent way of processing this; she only knew cold hatred.

There’s one worthy grain in all this. I mentioned my disappointment in Helgrave weeks ago; this will only drive my dog closer to me. I ought to start keeping a list of those to send below. No point in thinking about it; my machinations will have to deal with a tabling, at least for now. Whom else? The Warrior Band? Perhaps, but they’re depleted, and those they’ve brought on have no guarantee of reliability. Adventurers, Dark Adventurers, or any other of their ilk are impossible; guild regulations and general unscrupulousness make this impossible. Azuth, why aren’t you here? The amount I’d pay for your services. I suppose after that, I’m flat broke.

No, none of those options are viable; I will need the men-at-arms of House Raeven. Still, even he will be stretched thin. A complete victory requires overwhelming superiority in the quality and quantity of forces; say, sixfold. Eight Fingers has… oh, lets see: at a ratio of one member to hundred fifty citizens out of a total populace of one hundred three thousand, that’s about six hundred and eighty… ah, just call it seven hundred men enemy men. As many will be mobilized as possible, but most are petty criminals or street gangsters, not soldiers. The actual number of effective fighters brought to bear? No more than one hundred.

I’ll need more. Raeven should be able to leverage the forces of the entire faction, but time for mobilization becomes an issue. It’s not as if he can whisk away his villeins ‘cross forty leagues in a day. No, he’s limited to what he has near the city, and that’s a figure I do not possess. He should have his ex-adventurers with him, though their strength is not a given. Put simply, I will need to ask him what he can provide.

Renner lifted herself in her seat, sitting up straight and looking out the window. She struggled to see the stars, the magical replacements to her old oil-lamps far brighter than the old mantled luminance. Instead, she was greeted with her reflection, which made her notice that she had lost her human guise.

Anyone else? The Warrior-Captain’s support is a given, and it may be that the Vice Captain and some trusted survivors from Carne can be looped into the fold as well. What about Brain? Why not? Whatever compelled him to help Climb may happen again. I still have no explanation for my darling’s actions; the moral imperative, yes, but the impetus in the moment? It’s a mystery.

Support… Who as support? Could I rope in the temples to all this? Surely some priests would be willing to set aside any resentments to work on such a virtuous cauterization. There’s a practical element too: the less power Eight Fingers holds, the less dust-decohered or street-slenderized will come to them for charity. By the same token, the Magicians Guild would give us their aid. How often have they cried at the smuggling practices of Eight Fingers bypassing their mechanisms? Thus, we will have casters of both the vault and chasm of magic.

Ah, and if I am not so invested in winning more, why not one more element? If I may not have the red, lo, the black. Darkness is in E-Rantel, but with timely word and that mage of theirs - the “Beautiful Princess” as it were - they should make the eighty-odd leagues come nightfall. Even if in weakened condition from the trip, they can be restored and sent in. I’ve been meaning to extend greetings to them anyway; any adamantite adventurers as an unknown quantity are undesirable, but I really ought to thank them for the slaying they’ve done. I cannot add them to the total yet, but that is a decision I may make come tomorrow evening.

Where does that leave my count? Six squads, each led by one of the Blue Roses or Climb; each with mages and medicæ. Gazef stays in reserve; wherever Six Arms shows its head, we snap them. He did run through the gamut of them last time after all, imagine the devastation in his full panoply. Say what you will about the chaff men we’ll be sending alongside, our heroes will be at full fighting strength. No surprises like the Black Night, a scramble to divine the turmoil and slay it. Tomorrow will be us at our best.

Renner blinked, clearing her thoughts and tallying again. The total was staggering, and though she attempted to dismiss her work - a wild, overoptimistic flit of a tired mind - she could find no holes. The loyalty of the Blue Roses was certain. Gazef would only reject her request on the orders of her father, something she could prevent only with words to him. The temples would find no cause to reject Lakyus. The only two uncertain elements were the mage guild and Raeven’s acquiescence; the latter would require tactful negotiation, but she was flush with assets for just that cause. The moment was electric.

Selection of targets, then? Lakyus has the best leadership capacity and thus can lead the largest squad; she gets the Dalenoc manor; not too distant, near the port on Kerene. Ah, the panic they will feel through to the next dusk - like rats fleeing from a torch; every syndicalist will alight from the ground only to be yanked back down by the weight of their take. Clandestine channels will be jammed; every single intra-divisional route out of Re-Estize will be filled to capacity, significant spillover will occur. Smuggling will absorb that surge, and that’s what we hit. Likely a third of their wealth will be there. Wonderful. Further, she’s a noble woman; it would be unseemly for anyone else to surpass her on the battlefield. Yes, Dalenoc to Lakyus.

That leaves me with five remaining teams and five remaining targets. In this way, Climb’s actions contain a blessing. He's already scorched a target, saving me a shortfall. Wonderful. It’s my understanding that Evileye possesses the powers of flight and sightlessness… Perhaps I’ll send her to the location that requires the most discretion, the Black Bank - if only for the sake of nearby citizens. Then, the Syndicalists’ Game will go to Tina, Wetworker’s Grotto to Tia, Highwayman’s Stockhouse to Gagaran, and the Bruiser’s Villa to… to Climb?

Those thoughts set something alight in her. A taste in the air, a tinge in her mouth. Her senses ramped.

If Six Arms is there, he will die. He will absolutely die. Or… or perhaps they take him as a hostage. It would be a simple matter to break down negotiations; slip my tongue to slit his throat. Would they destroy his corpse? No, no they would see its value. He of the Babbling Brook has favored Lakyus, and given unto her the power to restore life; they know that. Even then, they would attempt to barter with his body. Loose Gazef then, let the vault fall upon them. Six Arms will be rendered unto He of the Winding Narrows, and Climb unto my arms injured, deathlike, and pliant.

The air seemed to hum. Her heart's pace quickened, bringing little plooms of heat.

Cause? “How could I have known?! I was certain they would be at Dalenoc! Gods above, Climb, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Hics, sobs, and cries all intermixed. “I’ll make this up to you; I’ll stay by your side until I can bring you back to health, I promise!” The look on his face… too weak to talk. His eyes apologizing to me for daring to die in his mission. It's perfect.

There were now sparks in the corners of her vision. She shifted her legs.

“Eh? Why may I not stay by him through the night? He needs my aid! What if he were to fall out of bed, or need to relieve himself in the middle of the night?” “No, no, I refuse to leave him. The maids cannot handle this matter as well as I can. I know his needs better!”

“Is it safe for you to leave bed? I don’t believe it is, but if you insist… I don’t want you walking. Let me have a wheelchair made for you.” “Eh? Is it safe for you to be eating meat? Won’t it overburden your stomach? Perhaps we put you on a lighter diet for the sake of your health.” “You’re continuing to vomit? I suppose we’ll have to swap out the tonics, cycle through them until we find one that keeps your meals down.”

“How gaunt you look! I can’t stand the sight. Oh Climb, won’t you let me keep you warm at night?” “Mm. They say skin to skin contact is the best medicine. I don’t mind doing it for you.” “Climb, these bruises. Have you been fitting at night? That can’t be! It will only impede your recovery. I’ll need to fetter you if you’re to be kept safe. Here, let me put them on you and lock them so they won’t come loose. After all, I just want you to be comfortable and safe. So safe.”

Perhaps it was the phlogiston in her tea, the tension she was under, or any other number of things she considered in those precious moments. Whatever it was, she made to stand, leaving her chair and striding toward her bedroom. A knock at her door caught her midstep. She felt her visage coil, a full smile blooming across her face.

Fiendish timing! Damn the Gods!

She opened her mouth to speak, seizing as she did so.

Chardelon, your mask. Lo, to simmer.

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and forced her face into a neutral expression. A second knock came, her countenance springing back a moment later.

“Enter!”

The door opened, and the most wonderful thing in the world stepped through and bowed.

“Forgive my late return.”

He's here! Gods, how I wish I could drag him into my bedchambers this instant. My puppy, I promise you that come tomorrow evening, the world will right itself. The performance here? Veiled anger.

“Climb! I was so worried!”

Her words rippled across him, his bow deepening. The light was bright enough to reveal little pools on the sides of his eyes. Renner let out a shallow breath, this to give the sense of immediate regret at her previous tone. Climb’s body shifted again, loosening as he raised himself.

He looks positively exhausted. Press him, but not too much.

“I really was! When you didn’t return earlier, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind that you were in danger… Perhaps- perhaps an Eight Fingers ambush catching you unawares. I… Apologies, I’m scattered; what happened exactly? I read your account, but to be honest, I couldn't make much of it. Could you go through in detail?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I must say that-”

“Aren’t you going to sit?”

“I… um-”

“Climb, sit.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness. Thank you.”

Good boy.

Climb, after some fretting, finally made to sit, pondering over and plopping without grace into the chair across from her. This seemed to jostle his eyes shut, and though he opened them a moment later, he did so sluggishly and with little pep. Renner proffered a slight smile, tilting her head with a chuff.

“Climb, you’re spent. Do you need something made?”

“I do not wish for any, Your Highness.”

“Teas? Coffees? A supper?”

“I must refuse, Your Highness.”

“Eh? You would take such a firm hand against your mistress on such a matter of the preservation of your person?”

“No! I-”

“Ah, I apologize. You must have none of the stamina about you for my fretting right now… fine. Then, as your third order for the evening, after we are done here you are to go straight to the guard’s mess, tell them that the Golden Princess has specifically requested that you be given a double portion of the night’s fare, eat it in its entirety, then go directly to bed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

There was a wistful look in his eye, gentle jerks of his body rattling his chair. His breathing was ragged, and he moved to brush the rounds of his eyes.

He’s been deeply affected by today. There’s no need to prod, just gently tug at him.

“Climb, Tell me what happened.”

He swallowed, before launching into his tale.

“After I was dismissed from our meeting this morning I made directly for the Platinum Horde to deliver Lakyus’s message.”

“And you made it there safely?”

“Yes, I did. I wasn’t… well-”

“You’ll get to your combat in a bit; right.”

“We talked for a bit, but I left before noon to return to the palace. On the way back, I ran into a crowd gathered on the north-south main road. A group of some men - I think it was five - were attacking a kid. A boy, I guess. They had him down on the ground, were kicking him. He was out cold.”

“Oh, that’s horrible! Was the City Guard not present? There should be patrols that run along there.”

“There were two guardsmen there, but they weren't doing anything. Just watching from the side.”

“And you compelled them?”

“I did, but they wouldn’t listen. So I moved in to break it up myself, but, before I could, a… man stepped in to intervene.”

He was left lost for words, only to pick “man?” I was right about a third party, but I suppose I was off the mark as to what. How strange.

“You’re speaking as if something extraordinary happened. Ah, apologies, I’m bombarding you with dull interruptions.”

“It’s fine, Your Highness. It- it did. Er, it was extraordinary. He- he was older, dressed like a butler-”

A male attendant? It’s not unheard of. Older… perhaps a third son who had worked his way into the miasma of maids long ago? Odd.

“-I didn’t see him move through the crowd, but he made his way in somehow, working to the center and confronting the men inside. He asked- er, commanded the leader of the gang to stand down. The leader refused, and tried to punch the butler. It didn’t land. The butler knocked him off his feet in one strike. He just moved so fast, I’ve never seen anyone that quick; I could barely see it, it was a blur.”

“Did the rest flee?”

“Yes, they did. I ran in a moment after and gave the boy my healing potion. Er, if that’s ok, Your Highness.”

Why? It’s not as if he was identifiable as my bodyguard. He wasn’t donned in his tabard, just a plain outer layer. If anything, the bystanders thought of him as a sellsword, or perhaps a dark adventurer. I suppose the act would lead to this whole quest to topple the brothel in the first place - however it happened - but from the information he had in the moment, he thought it would earn nothing for himself or for me. Just charity for the sake of charity? What am I to say? Something witty?

“Well, it was earmarked for a pauper boy after all. There’s nothing to be done if it was used on another.”

Renner lightly giggled, leading into a warm smile the moment after. The light caught his blush with sharp relief. This was a topic of continual confusion for her, she was never quite able to grasp the decision making of others in these moments. Often, when pressed for a cause, she could tie it back to some element of a courtly conspiracy or palace politics, but not here. Climb’s actions were a complete non-sequitur.

“I was… well I was amazed. I followed after him, I just had to know how he did it. When I caught up, I asked him to show me how to do what he had done.”

“Really? How to punch like he did?”

Climb opened his mouth to speak, tilting his head slightly and dancing his eyes.

“Or am I misunderstanding?”

“It’s less punching, Your Highness. More his movement in general. There was a sort of power to it… it’s hard to describe to… er-”

“To a laywoman?”

“No, Your Highness! Not at-”

“Climb, pay it no mind. I’m someone who has never pursued martial matters, it’s only natural you would have no words to describe what is intuitive to you.”

“Right.”

“I’ll trust you on this.”

Verily. I haven’t a clue.

“He-”

“What was his name?”

“Mister Sebas, Sebas Tian.”

A commoner and yet a butler? Such a strange name, too; I’ve never heard anything like it, even among foreigners. Perhaps someone from the north? I suppose conventions around names change the farther one travels, and it's not unheard of for high blood frontiersmen to only have two names. That would perhaps make sense.

“He said yes. Looked at my hands, then my sword, and… well, he got down into a fighting stance, pulled back his fist, and… threatened to kill me.”

“Eh?! Climb-”

I mean, it's not as if it wouldn’t be a nice surprise, but I would like such a thing to occur in a controlled fashion.

“No! No, Your Highness, it wasn’t like that. Er, I mean, it was, but-”

“It was?! Gods above! Climb!”

“He didn’t- he uh, he just… threatened me with his body language, I guess.”

“Eh? Like pantomimed killing you?”

“No… he just got down into his stance and… I was just certain he was going to.”

I haven’t the faintest idea what he means.

“Climb, I’m boggled.”

“He said he was going to kill me, or that I would die if I was not prepared. He told me to think of the most important thing in my life… and, uh-”

“And what was that?”

It’s me, isn’t it?

“Ah… er… my duties.”

Wonderful.

“What then?”

“Sebas punched, and… well, I was certain I would die. I didn’t flinch, though. I didn’t flinch, didn’t run, and he missed me. I think I overcame something in myself, figured out a way to outdo the mind with the body.”

He’s speaking with such reverence. I don’t understand, yet, once more understanding is not required. This is not my world.

“Harrowing.”

“I think he’s the strongest man I’ve ever met.”

Renner lurched and cocked her head.

“Are you discounting the Warrior-Captain?”

“I’m not.”

Climb shook his head. Renner turned her head more and - still in disbelief - asked again.

“You speak in verity?”

“Your Highness, I don’t think… I don’t think Captain Stronoff holds a candle to that man. Brain said the same thing; actually, Brain said he didn’t think they could take Sebas down together.”

Another ax taken to the roots of the world. How can such a thing make sense? Gazef’s strength is one of those inviolable things. Hm, perhaps not the world; rather, the world of mankind. It feels as if many of those blows have been struck recently. Perhaps it's delusion, but it feels as if the ground is trembling.

“I… alright. I trust you. Still, those are the evaluations of others-”

“Well, mine too. I dueled with the Warrior-Captain this morning.”

Climb, you’re going to make your owner sick. A match between you and Gazef? What if word had got out?

“I trust you have an explanation for that?”

“It was Sir Stronoff who approached me. I, well, I was going to refuse. But it was early enough this morning that no one was around.”

“Then I trust it went well?”

“It did. We had a good spar. Um, anyway, Sebas and I did the training in an alleyway, and after that, another man came out.”

“This being Brain Unglaus?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Lo, out of the warrens comes the paramount bladesman of the land. Climb, you had quite a day.”

“I guess. We got into a fight right after.”

“You and Brain Unglaus?”

“Er, not like that. A group of five assassins had tailed Mister Sebas, and we fought them off together. Sebas took three, Brain took one, and I took one. They killed their foes, and I managed to down mine. Sebas then took him and… charmed him, I guess? He called what he did ‘Palm of the Puppeteer.' Some technique with his ki. He’s a monk.”

“A monk? Oh, a pugilist.”

“Yes, unarmed fighter is the term.”

“Why was he being hunted by assassins?”

“It was because of a girl he rescued, Tuare.”

“Oh! We’re to the matter of the brothel, aren’t we?”

“Exactly, Your Highness.”

He got the location from the interrogation of the skulk. The girl, Tuare, was a slave bound to that place. In that case, the wetworkers were a Security Division team.

“And you three headed there immediately? Er, Brain came along because he was so affected by your training with Sebas? Witnessing such skill and power - as you put it - drove him to join you on some quest for… redemption on his part? To my knowledge, he was a sellsword and a bandit till now.”

“That’s… exactly it, actually.”

Ah, a new paradigm then: I will simply parrot the wildest of bardwork and Climb will confirm every last detail. Trite. I wonder if this Sebas stands up to the heroes of yore. Rigrit and the like.

“I knew there was something off in your report. I had guessed the existence of someone else, but never something like this.”

“I apologize for lying, Your Highness.”

Renner suppressed a smile. Her dog had made up for his wrong, the evil Helgrave had forced him to commit brought into relief and expunged. She dismissed her turmoil without a second thought.

“Eh? There’s no cause for shame. No… no, what you did was the right thing. Had you spoken of Sebas in your report, it only would have jeopardized him and Tuare. Er, I’m assuming they were trying to make an escape, hence the assassins.”

“Er… yes.”

“Right. Describe the raid.”

“We got there quickly - just north of the river. Sebas went through the front door, Brain and I through a secret entrance. I slew one, he took down a few others. We moved deeper inside, and found a room full of storage crates.”

“What of?”

“It was clothing, maid outfits and stuff like that. To be honest, I’m not sure why they had it.”

I don't know either. Clothing for the slaves? To what end?

“Odd.”

“I held back in case there were secret passages, Brain went on ahead, and while I was inspecting the boxes, two men came out of one. It was a secret tunnel disguised as one.”

“Those men being the Phantomancer and the head of the Slavery Division.”

“Exactly, uh, Succulent and Cocco Doll.”

Amptief “Cocco” Doll. Fourth son of the now defunct Doll merchant family. No surviving parents or siblings after the family manor burnt down - except his sister. Possessions passed to him. I suppose it’s good to have it confirmed that he was the head and not the other two of his blood.

“What then?”

“They were trying to escape, so they tried to go around me. Cocco Doll wanted to take me as… um, a prisoner.”

“Prisoner? Was he able to identify you?”

“As your bodyguard, yes.”

“I suppose it's possible I might have met or been seen by him, I have gone to the exchanges from time to time.”

Or worse, he was pulling together information on me as a plot to end my life. That’s the most likely reason for him being able to identify my dog. I’ll keep a close accounting of him and his location. Once he stands trial, I’ll need him quietly killed.

“Though… well, nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

What is he talking about? This is reminiscent of this morning with Lakyus. This isn’t another one of… those matters, is it?

“Climb, what are you talking about?”

“He said, um, that he… uh, wanted me taken… for… um.”

What?! Twice in one day I am confronted with others’ proclivities in relation to Climb. A man though… that’s a quandary in its own right. Yes, I will definitely need Cocco Doll dead. I’ll let Lakyus do that.

“Ah…”

“I yelled for help and managed to bait them by backing into a door, pretending like I was luring them into an ambush. It forced Succulent to stop and fight me.”

“And- and how did that go?”

Succulent is a member of Six Arms, the same one that nearly lured Gazef to his death. Cunning, sharp, and dangerous. Thought to be of the same skill as a member of the Blue Rose. A de facto adamantite adventurer. Yet, Climb dared to face him? My dog is brave.

“Well, we came in close a few times, and he got off a few swipes before I could tell what was happening. He was using illusion magic to disguise his sword arm, creating a fake one.”

Storybook villainy.

“That’s treacherous!”

“It- it was. I got off a few strikes, and a killing blow. I thought I had managed to take him down, that was a trick too, he just made an illusion of himself dying, turned invisible, and stabbed me from behind.”

“Gods above, Climb- I, oh my Gods. Climb, oh my Gods!”

“Princess- I-”

Renner immediately broke into tears, Climb’s assurances dying in his mouth. Before he could rally, she had sprung from her chair, rounded the table, and went to wrap him in her arms. Climb half grabbed, half caught her, standing to make the position more comfortable for her.

He would have died as he would have the night of the sixteenth, yet without my control. Had that happened, word may not have made it back here, yet Eight Fingers would have known all the same. Once again, a threat would be levied against my life; once again, one I was not prepared for.

She cried for a time, letting her stresses pour out onto his shoulder. He resisted at first, before his muscles seemed to unwind their tension, and he slipped his arms around her. Eventually, her lamentations slowed to whines and hics, and she slowly pulled back and returned to her chair; Climb did the same.

Chardelon, you really are a fool, aren’t you?

“I’m sorry, Your-”

“Don’t dare say ‘Your Highness.’ Say my name.”

“I’m sorry, Renner.”

“Never leave my side or the safety of my purview again, never without my permission. You did a brave thing, and… I see the heroism in it, but the thought of losing you to such random chance… it’s unbearable. I suppose… duty will occasionally call your name - and I suppose tomorrow will be one of those days - and you will have to fight and risk your life. When it does, I will not stop it, but I do protest. I’m sorry, Climb, you’ve been granted such a weak willed mistress.”

One who failed to guide you. One who left room for error in your commands. You’re loyal to a fault, and I keep letting you fall victim to it. Tomorrow should fix this; yes, perhaps with tomorrow, I can kill every adventurous and heroic urge in you.

“Yes... Renner.”

“Thank you. I can no longer bear to hear talk of violence. Were you rescued by your fellows?”

“Brain.”

“Right. And then?”

“We rescued the enslaved women. Brain and I took Succulent and Doll away to the nearest guard house along with them.”

Survivors; that’s a problem. Exactly what I feared when I struck the brothel from the list of targets this morning. Hopefully not too many.

“Those women… the count of them?”

“Sixteen survivors… and three dead.”

Unfortunate. Ah, there’s nothing for it. They’ll have to go.

Over the last three months, Renner had warranted the deaths of many, either at the hands of the Blue Roses, or after the fact through Climb. She had done so again less than an hour prior, authorizing through use of her name and blood the end of those who Climb, Brain, and Sebas had slaked their blades and fists on. It was a permission or command she had given dozens of times, and she found cause to do it once more. For the first time, however, it would be not against a ne’er-do-welling criminal, one of their corrupt allies or marks, nor an enemy out of the black; rather, it was to be their victims.

I can’t use Climb for that purpose, nor Lakyus. They’ll balk, turn against me in their horror. I’ll need another channel. Pull a little information from Climb.

“And they’re at the guardhouse now? You said the nearest, so Rine?”

“Yes; I believe they’re still there.”

“Hm, it shames me to say, but the city guard is so stuffed to the brim with unreliable elements, I feel it would be hazardous to place these women under their protection. I may hire a band of sellswords for just that purpose, and with time, find demenses for them to go to. Send them there in secret.”

“I think that would be a wonderful idea, Your Highness.”

He seems fascinated by them, why? The same look in his eye when he spoke of that boy earlier. I don’t understand it.

“Of the women, what did you think of them?”

Climb seemed to hang for a moment, blinking in apparent disbelief. Renner immediately realized she had said something unbecoming; worse, she wasn’t able to tell why.

“I felt sorry for them. If I were more capable, stronger - had we moved faster through the brothel - I could have saved these people from their suffering.”

Why does it matter? I don’t understand. He said there were only nineteen women in total. The numbers are large enough to dull the senses anyway, so what if it was only sixteen alive instead of the full count? The action still sounds as impressive. I don’t understand.

“Really now... I guess you really do feel sorry for them, Climb.”

“Felt sorry for them,” is that not simply an expression? A way saying that you think a person is pathetic? Pitiful? Is there a distinction between those two words?

“I do. I really do.”

“To feel sorry;” sorry as in guilt, as in shame. Shame on the part of another? Isn’t that embarrassment? Someone else does something cringeworthy? No, those are separate descriptors I think, at least they’re used differently. Is there a second meaning to the word that I'm missing?

“Is that so? Climb, you’re a good person.”

This is a hole in my act. I need to mend it.

“Princess, if you need me to protect them, I’ll go anytime. I’ve already decided.”

And there it is laid bare. What additional favor would he earn by doing so? I already specified that the act of moving people out of the city would be clandestine, and yet he wishes to assist in it all the same. I’m missing something fundamental, aren’t I? This warrants further exploration; alas, later. Close this out, then lure in the maid.

“...I’ll call on you when the time comes, let’s leave that aside for now. I have something to tell you. Tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, Lakyus and I intend to assault the Eight Fingers bases indicated by the parchment we acquired last night. Their defenses will only strengthen with time, and undoubtedly some will flee thanks to the attack on the brothel.”

“My apologies! Your Highness, I’ve made a lot of trouble by acting on my own.”

“Think nothing of the sort, Climb. This was always coming, we have simply come to a crux; a time to pick our way. Besides, Climb, what you’ve done is… well, amazing. You captured Succulent, a member of Six Arms, and brought in Cocco Doll, the head of the Slavery Division. That alone has shaken our opponents to the core. I just wish to capitalize on what you’ve done.”

Renner threw a light punch into the air.

“We’ll hit them again before they can get the word out of the city!”

“Yes, Your Highness! I think I will retire now, and gather my strength for tomorrow!”

“Please do. I think things might get quite exciting this next night. Perhaps keep that in mind.”

Climb, utterly overcome by emotion, stood, bowed, and made to leave the room.

“Have a good evening, Your Highness.”

“You too.”

The door unlatched, swung open, swung closed, and latched. Renner was once again alone.

“Thank you very much, Climb. And now-”

To deal with Nunia. There’s the question of how much she knows, what Keveleos has spread of me. I find it unlikely that he has, still, I ought to be careful.

Renner’s facade had already fallen apart, Climb’s presence the only thing that had kept it together. She was spent, realizing that she would need to rebuild her guise. She downed the remainder of her now cold cup, stood up, and wandered over to her vanity. Touching down with little fanfare, she set about fixing her face one last time.

“Ah, what kind of expression should I wear?”

Renner attempted a few faces, tugging at her face while testing a smile of hers.

“No, it’s over formal, as if I’m meeting someone.”

She chided herself, loosening some aspects of her face and tightening others. Finally arriving at something that looked nice, she stood.

“This is best.”

Returning to her sitting room, she snatched her bell and flicked it. A moment later, Maid Nunia knocked and entered.

“Could you do something for me? I’d like you to put on the kettle, if that’s alright.”

“At once, Your Highness.”

Just beam, she’ll take note soon enough.

Nunia drew closer, reassembling Renner’s tea set from its previous disarray, looking up and catching the princess's face.

“Is there something the matter? You seem quite lively. Have the happenings been good?”

“Mm, I don’t know if you’ve heard. Climb did something quite wonderful today! It was extraordinary!”

“Well, isn’t that lovely.”

There was a biting sarcasm to her voice, Nunia drawing out the “that” in a flat and breathy way. Renner at once realized she had the upper hand, dismissing any previous fears that she would speak to someone aware of her inner countenance.

Ah, she knows nothing. Blasé. If you could be struck dead on command, I would issue it without a second thought. Die. You should die. All who dare do what you just did should die. Climb is mine, and yet you would insult him? Look down upon him? Know your place. The daughter of a do-nothing who is only in this place by the good will of my father and a “crime lord.” And yet you would dare speak out against a princess? I will twist her, I will make this extraction of information agonizing.

“Yup! His actions have simply been astonishing! Climb waylaid scores of vile men, and then rescued a lot of people enslaved by those men! He sent them to... oh, where was it? A guard post, I believe. In any case, the whole operation has led back to quite a number of nobles in bed with Eight Fingers; it should be possible to expose them now!”

Renner’s conversation with Nunia had one objective: the murder of rescued slaves. She was only speaking to her as a proxy; her words not meant for Keveleos’s lackey, but to him. The mention of corrupt members of the nobility was a veiled yet blatant request, an admission that Climb’s actions had been an overextension that demanded correcting. Nunia, as was her wont, began to hunt for information, realizing the danger in what Renner had just said.

“Really now? Marvelous, that’s Her Highness’s Climb for you. Forgive me, could I trouble you to tell me of his heroic deeds?”

Reveal the women of the night, mention the force I’ll hire to guard them - I believe the Yellow Star mercenary band would work, they’re thoroughly corrupt - insist that their safety is the top priority. Payment? I’ll give them back Succulent, give them his location. Not Doll, however; considering I’m dealing with a “Traditionalist,” that ought to work well, correct?

“Indeed! Well, it all started this morning when I heard of the most awful thing from Lady Aindra.”

On the morrow, then, I will throw the iron-die. By the morning of the fifth, I’ll have read it and have my future set.