[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 4]

At some point, without Renner noticing, time had broken into a flat-out sprint and carried her from one end of the war to the other.

Ninety-three days. How much have I done in ninety-three days?

It was a black question, the sort of topic she reserved for nights spent wide awake, not mid-mornings, and never minutes before a tribulation. To it, she could offer up material evidence: count of enemies incapacitated, killed, or captured, the total losses in gold the Blue Roses had inflicted, the likely strategic consequence of their disruption to their opponents’ organizational cohesion - but none seemed meaningful. Her actions would only have weight if she could convince Raeven that they did, and though she had felt so sure before of the method’s efficacy, her confidence grew frailer every minute. Her self-assurances did little, and despite an hour spent silently reciting her words, drilling interactions and conversations, she felt no safer for the effort. She was stuck waiting in her room, the rest of the Blue Roses in some way scattered about the rest.

Lo, Raeven refuses. Recourse? Less than a tenth of my capital at the outset, a deeply overwrought combat force, and exposure that would guarantee retaliation or assassination within a week. I ran out of ground, and am now headlong over the edge.

Renner moved to refill her cup, and upon grasping her teapot, realized that its magics had already expired; given that it would no longer keep heat, she resolved herself to finish it quickly. In a quick motion, she raised her serving back to the brim.

What hospitalities should I have arranged? Some food… cake perhaps? Too little time, I’ll need to resort to pastries. Meats, cheeses, candies, glazes, I should have studied his tastes more deeply. This isn't a meaningful oversight, is it? Likely not. Ah, actually, it may be more prudent to offer something against his taste, enhance an image of a Golden Princess desperate to help her people, little matters like food slipping through the cracks. Offer him marriage, and impress upon him the morality of my actions. An act for the benefit of all citizens. Something the rest of the nobility can look up at him for- Wait, problem. Keveleos. Per the worst outcome, Lakyus and her fellows encounter, arrest, and force him to speak. He must be slain when seen.

“Lakyus, a last point. If you encounter-”

A knock.

Curses. I’ll discuss this later. So it goes.

The door handle clicked as it turned, Climb's white greave emerging from the other side as he opened it. He popped 'round, standing out of the way to reveal a pallid Marquis alongside an impish second prince. Renner felt as if the room imploded.

Him? Him too? Here already? This is completely out of order.

The Marquis was not yet supposed to be here. For a nobleman, each minute spent in Re-Estize - away from one’s demesne - was a precious expenditure. Often, schedules would be full up with matters only resolvable in the city, be it guild meetings, political maneuvering, or base mercantilism. Though - by the privilege afforded by august subordinates - the Great Six could make the weeks-long journey with frequency, this did not free them from the endlessly churning lives of high nobility. A deferent response from Raeven would have him returning Climb with an offer in hand for lunch. Coming along immediately was an act of outright submission.

I’ve read things wrong. I knew they'd moved their partnership out into the sunlight, but for the both of them to move in twain to my summons? I'll need to revise. A greeting. Show surprise.

Renner and Lakyus sprung from their chairs in tandem, the rest of their comrades a moment later.

“Igana!”

“Oy. If it isn’t my half sister. You look well enough.”

Chardelon, hold fast. ‘Half-sister’? He, too, is attempting to appear more calm than he actually is. Is he here at Raeven's request or by his own will? Considering how he's marked me, the Marquis wouldn't ask this of him. That… Zanac came of his own volition. This is extreme.

Renner silently thanked her performance for holding together. She was deeply off course.

“Oh, and if it isn’t an Heiress Alvein and the renowned Blue Rose. What wonderful company. To think we’d run into half a dozen adamantite adventurers here.”

I missed a detail. They returned too quickly for Zanac to have been informed separately and then retrieved. Curse the gods! This was all coincidence? How could I have known he was going to sneak off and play politics with Elias on this specific day, at this specific time?

“Your Highness, Your Lordship.”

Lakyus curtsied to them both. Zanac waved off any further formality from her in response, in contrast to Raeven, who, for his part, was bowing to Renner.

“I heard your message to the Marquis, and it seemed just too intriguing to avoid attending myself.”

He was there to hear Climb's opening, and likely heard the rest in the journey here. Assumptions? Both have the same information but separate perspectives; they'll leverage off each other in conversation. Everything I’ve practiced is useless. Revision would be a mistake. Abandon everything and improvise.

“I’ve come as per your Highness’s summons.”

Standard opening. Play to court hierarchy.

“Mm. Indeed, thank you for coming all this way, Marquis. Please, raise your head.”

Raeven raised himself from his bow, Zanac upturning his head slightly as he cast his gaze to her.

“Then, may I trouble you to dismiss the others to an adjacent room?”

‘No’? Impossible; they’re well ahead of me, and may simply let their jaws go slack as they refuse to speak. I won’t be able to parry with tales of an Aindra’s valiance. Also, shame I must send Climb away. Accept.

“Understood, Zanac. Lakyus, Climb, apologies, but would you and your band please retire across the hall?”

“Done.”

Lakyus’s clipped response signaled her team, and they filed out in sequence; Climb and Lakyus bowed to Raeven and Zanac, something that Gagaran then awkwardly mimicked. The twins were either entirely aloof or uncaring, ignoring etiquette without comment; Evileye was much the same, though she made the subtlest of flicks with her dexter hand. The space shrunk, and Renner felt another mind brush up against hers.

“Renner, do you want me to scry?”

And hold me accountable to two groups without advantage? Refuse.

“I must decline. As much as I desire your aegis, clandestine conversation between members of my house and another is not something I can let slip. Further, you may move to retrieve Gazef now. Inform me when he arrives.”

“Understood.”

The link snapped shut along with the door, and Renner was left alone with the two men she had selected for her plot three months prior.

There’s a hidden boon here. Absent Lakyus, I may politick in more vicious fashion. Hm, and pursue the marriage bargain with ease.

“Please, sit.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”

“Sure.”

The two drew down into their seats, Renner setting down a saucer and cup for Raeven, before pouring what tea she could. With that settled, she topped off her own cup, and returned to her chair.

“I am honored that Your Highness would personally pour a cup of tea for me.”

“I’m ashamed to say it may have chilled. I must ask you to forgive the mistake.”

“No matter.”

“Oy oy oy, where’s mine?”

Brother-dearest, need you make this so difficult?

“Eh? Apologies, I believed tea wasn’t to your taste. Am I in error?”

“Mm, true, I’m not really a fan of stained water. Still, I feel like I’m missing something if I don’t have anything to whet myself with.”

I’m uninterested in your games, not to mention the time needed to satiate them. Effect a consequence for his ‘nags.’

“I’ll have the maid fetch something then. Will fruit juice do?”

Renner made a preemptive reach for her handbell, her inner face smiling as Zanac scrambled to reverse his words.

“Tea will be fine. There’s no need to let word of this conversation slip out.”

“In fairness, if we resolve this matter today - whatever it may be - there’s no reason to believe it’ll make it back to their houses.”

“There’s no reason to believe it won’t. Women speak, after all. And, to be particular, the maids in this palace of ours are downright frightening in how quickly they spread gossip.”

He’s referencing a specific piece of information. My conversation with Nunia last night? She wouldn’t have let that slip, would she? Prod him.

“Mm. Keeping our ear to the ground for maids’ talk, are we?”

“What do you mean?”

That tone of voice is honest confusion, not smug contrition. Perhaps he simply heard about the movements of the Blue Rose on the way in. Retract the topic.

“Ah, nothing that matters.”

Renner once again repeated her actions for Zanac, using the silence to assemble a basic strategy for the conversation to come.

I must drive this conversation to two subjects. One, tonight’s violence. Offer fame in the House of Lords, offer freedom from the syndicate; take his men, take his might. Two, tomorrow’s matrimony. Offer Vaiself blood, offer my lifelong service; take the march, take my pet. Open with the former to intertwine us, and then shift into the latter. “Marquis, I must request your assistance for the coming dusk,” “To what end does your Highness desire the aid of your servant,” “I require you”- no, Zanac would interfere. By the will of the Four, why must he be here?!

She stifled more of her frustration, increasingly agitated by Zanac’s hypothetical intervention. Several more half-strung interactions came to mind, each time her brother intercepting her thrusts and cracking her ripostes. The typical levers she would think to use on a man like Raeven - the charitable words of the Golden Princess, made all the more tragic by her impotence - simply would not hold in the presence of the second prince. His loathing was an insurmountable barrier, and any emotional appeal she could issue was likely to be questioned and disassembled.

Chardelon, you’re undoing. Frustration is of no use here. Be cold. Be unrelenting… So, then what? A softer persona will not work here; brother-dearest will call me a pit dweller and that’d be it for the Golden Princess’s little game. I need a new way of approaching this.

Finishing the pour, she was finally able to rest, setting down both her teapot and herself. The three took sips, Zanac’s face scrunching at the taste.

“Ack, this is a bit bitter.”

Keveleos as an example here. He only broke and gave in when I spoke of things beyond my rightful knowledge. An open cut. Was I not anxious when Zanac marked me an unearthly thing? That works for others, no? Further, his fear was not that of the witless, but of those with half. Those descriptors certainly apply to my brother and Raeven, this ought to ply them.

“Still, your Highness, what matter could require discussion so early in the morning? Not to discount my presence, of course, your servant will rush to your side at any time; you have but to give the word.”

The crux. Do as I did for the count. Choose aggression.

“And I appreciate that. Then, you’ll forgive me for doing away with the rest of the pleasantries and skipping to the point. Marquis, I wish to borrow your insight.”

“My insight? Since it is Your Highness that asks… your servant fears he will not be able to live up to your expectations.”

An admittal of my wit? A strange failure on his part. Better, he sounds unsure. Stir unease, then escalate.

“I have no doubt; you’ll do fine. After all, I doubt anyone is your equal in affairs of the court, Elias.”

“And what would you have your servant tell you?”

“I wish to lodge a request. That if you - the single man who corales, coordinates, and commands the Royal Faction - could activate and mobilize its forces for combat after dusk tonight.”

Expressions akin to shock tinged with hesitation came over the faces of both men, one Renner had finally learned to mark as fear. The usually immovable Raeven seemed to break, his lips parting without a word. Zanac adjusted himself in his seat, pulling back into it with back straight.

“…What?”

Escalate again.

“Hesitancy? A shame, I would have asked your three- scratch that, two contemporaries, Marquis, but… well, the less that can be said about Blumrush’s fidelity to King and Country the better. How often does a man sell the skimmings of his nation to the enemy, doubly so for one like El-Nix? It comes as a matter of course that-”

“Wh-what did you say?!”

“A moment please, Your Highness!”

Panic, already? Continue pushing until he rallies.

“Marquis Blumrush!?”

“Why shock? Didn’t you know? After all, you certainly made moves to insulate him from things further west. Am I wrong?”

“You…”

Raeven lurched in a way Renner couldn’t help but find amusing.

“How did you find out what-”

“Oh, it’s simply a matter of attentive listening; that, and, it’s always helpful to make a habit of speaking with the maids.”

“...Monster.”

That word again. I’m starting to enjoy it, if only for its value. Whenever one proclaims me as such, I then tend to force whatever I want from them. It wouldn’t be a half-bad echo, either. I can see it propagating throughout the nobility, so wholly unbelievable. Who would believe the Golden Princess, as so proclaimed by both her own brother and the head of the most powerful free-standing house, a monster.

Raeven, so strained by the last exchange, paused and rallied. Closing his eyes, he coughed into his fist, sorting himself quickly. Zanac seemed completely scattered, his regular reaction to stressful matters of drinking whatever was nearest served him wrong, and he brought his cup back to his lips to down only to burn himself in the process. While her brother hacked, the Marquis finally seemed back in order, speaking his next words with intention and a deference he had not displayed before.

“Your servant… Your servant believes he better understands this conversation now. Apologies for before. Then, let me drop all pretense. My Prince, do you have any objections?”

Zanac hastily shook his head.

“However-”

Raeven paused to press the back of his hand to his mouth and swallow.

“Before that… before that, your servant wishes to address the real Princess Renner. Is that acceptable?”

Eh?

“What do you mean?”

Raeven lagged for a moment, seeming to hesitate with his next words.

“A girl whose words taxed the understanding of others. When… when your servant first saw this girl, he found her completely incomprehensible. She was a person who for a time- no, for a fleeting moment, seemed overwhelmingly… dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

Again, I find myself being called a beast of yore. Do I have claws? Perhaps a tail that has eluded me all this time? What fearsome thing must I look like to beggar such description? I suppose I never learned the right lessons from my encounter with Keveleos. With this, I feel near certain in my inhumanity.

“Yes. Your servant had merely seized upon a hint of it, and when he opened his hands and saw nothing, dismissed it as a baseless fear. However, for that window in time, your servant was struck by one specific thought: ‘those eyes have nothing behind them but contempt.’”

He’s asking me to drop my act.

With this, Renner was able to grasp the entire morning thus far.

He suspects well enough that I am not my surface. Zanac does too. They both came with haste because of that fact. They are speaking to me now for that reason, not simply Climb’s actions. They know what’s under my skin. This discussion was meant to drive me out.

“That said, when your servant next saw that girl, she had the aura of a child about her, and… well, your servant believed that he had been mistaken ever since. Therefore, your Highness, I - in the most modest of terms - merely wish to speak to you.”

Her heart’s pace exploded, her breath catching as her composure seized. She stilled her face by instinct, instantly recognizing it as a lethal error.

Jink. I must- No, I’ve already frozen, any attempt to shrug this off will ring false. Anger? Righteous frustration at the interruption of my cause. “For all my goodwill, that’s what you’re accusing me of” No, it would be too disjoint with my previous words. Confusion has the same problem as deflection, my guise has already been torn. A dead-eyed stare? Cold burning rage beneath the surface? Same issue again. It would be wholly unbelievable. What about finding the whole matter humorous? Laughing and belittling him in the process. If he’s so convinced, he’ll end the conversation on the spot, offended beyond measure.

Whole seconds had passed since Raeven’s words, her mind dashing flat-out, aping for a solution. She had squandered too much time to issue a counter, and the Marquis’s thrust had struck home. She felt the need to scream.

Do I run? How? Flight would take me nowhere. I would shatter everything built thus far. Curse the Gods! Curse them, curse them, curse them! May I scald them with oil, sizzle their skin ‘till it sloughs off and their forms sag. May they cry in agony, wailing for mercy with all the forces of the Godhead until their throats, too, melt. May they never again dare raise an anguished eye against me. Damn them! There’s only one option. Complete ruin. Chardelon, release yourself.

Against every instinct of her existence, she let her act drop. Releasing her eyebrows and eyelids, her eyes narrowed and gained definition. She let her jaw recede, her chin sinking into her face. For her mouth, she let her purse go slack, letting the far corners of her mouth draw farther apart. This combination of motions caused the crest of her cheeks to retreat. As one final surrender, she let a nervous smile spread across her face, expressing herself exactly as she would when she was alone. The transformation in Raeven was immediate.

“Ah, as I thought, you're- you’re actually… Princess, your eyes- your…it feels as if no time has passed at all. Have you hid your loathing - so total for the world - ever since?”

My voice? No reason to hide it, I suppose.

“Loathing?-”

Ah, it sounds odd. It seems as if I’ve fooled even myself with my timbre. With my visage, I could always capture glimpses of it in the mirror, but one never does that with their voice. No matter. Why does Raeven think I hate all fashioned things; isn’t that so obviously false? I may simply tell him that. The sword above my head has fallen and missed.

With but a word spoken, Renner felt herself given unto a complete renewal. It was a relief: the absence of a danger that had been, until now, ever present. There was no longer threat of exposure, for such a thing had already come to pass. Renner was past the brink, and in her fall, felt free.

“-Only of a kind, Marquis Raeven. Things never became ‘totally’ anathematic. I, after all, have found a source of some satisfaction.”

“Your Highness, are you referring to your soldier?"

“Yes, without a doubt. I suppose you have him to thank for me.”

The trills! Oh, how foreign they sound!

“Oh. To think that you would find him so completing. I thought of him as nothing but a- a child of sorts; a pauper whom you… What strictly is he to you, Your Highness?"

“My Climb?”

Renner paused, cocking her head. It was a question she had never thought to answer, for she had never needed to ask. Climb was an end all to himself.

Climb is my reason to wake. Climb is my reason to stir myself from bed. Climb is my reason to ready myself. Climb is why, every day, I bear the world. He is the reason I last through every afternoon, even those when I must long for him. He is the shape of my mirth, every moment of good that I have ripped from my penance. He is my suffering, the great task that I exist to complete. I exist to devour him; to watch, memorize, and consume him. Climb is my reason to eat. Climb is my reason to breathe. Climb is all things at once.

“Marquis, you have asked me something beyond my capacity to answer; description evades me, and thus I have the need to resort to rote terms and base fantasy. If I could join with him, fetter him - collar, leash, and all - and keep him as one would a puppy-dog… better yet, bring him to heel and keep him there, either by lead or… by chaining him to the spot; yes, perhaps I would prefer that.”

“That’s it? That’s you? I…”

What’s that look on his face, no, the both of them? Wouldn’t me revealing my desires as something so minor put them at ease? There’s no grand conspiracy here to split the kingdom, just a woman describing her beloved.

Renner sagged. For some reason she couldn’t place, her words seemed to have inspired greater fear in both Zanac and Raeven.

“I see. Your true nature. Gods, how do I say this… when you were young, I could tell something was disjoint. I had the constant sense that I had forgotten something around you; something incorrect that I couldn’t place. This… It’s… it’s revelatory! You are aberrant, you’re aberrant!”

“Aberrant? Why such strong terms, Zanac? Am I so ‘abnormal’ on this point?”

“I- Your Highness, if that’s what you so desire. I’m sure no one would object- er… uh… I’m clueless on this… no, there’s no way, unless you had some leverage far beyond your station now.”

I haven’t a clue what Zanac is on about, and Elias seems equally skeptical, but at least his assessment is correct.

“My thoughts exactly. It’s wholly impossible in a setting such as Valencia, with a title such as Third Princess of House Vaiself. And in any case, it voids the purpose, no? I simply wish for him in his doggish existence to look up at me from the ground, and that ground can never be here.”

“‘Doggish existence,’ you speak of him as an animal… does that mean Your Highness that you do not love him?”

Renner's chest flared with rage. It was indescribable

What?! By what- How dare he. How dare he! Scrap the Gods, I’ll grind you into a paste for such words!

“Of course I do. His… his eyes. The way he looks at me, and how he clings to me. It’s precious.”

“Fuck me, I’m completely lost. That’s not love, Chardelon.”

I’ll strike you dead for those words, brother-dearest. What about my care for Climb is not love!?

“And are you the purveyor of such things?”

“…I apologize sincerely, Your Highness, but I have difficulty following you.”

Did I not describe in proper fashion what I desire from him? I desire a puppy-dog, a darling boy to lead round, to play with, to hold, cuddle, and keep warm in the eve.

“Follow me you need not. Understanding is not required. All you need to know is that I love him and that I cherish him.”

“Not to disparage a proclivity-”

Don’t you dare use qualifying words to frame such a deep insult! Isn’t that the dream of any person?

“It is not a proclivity! It is simply love.”

Perhaps I am cleaved to him a little more by circumstance, but that’s merely a matter of scale, not content. Is this an ill of menfolk? An inability to grasp a woman’s love? Or… perhaps the error is with me. Another element of my monstrosity, as it were. If what I feel for him is not the love of mankind, but something other, then I have no desire to mimic that kin and their lesser feelings.

“I make no further claim to the contrary… love it is then… right. Although under your current condition, a union between Your Highness and… Mister Climb is a little-”

“Impossible. Absolutely impossible. Word gets out of your - let’s call it - ‘love’ of Climb, you’d be engaged by fall and married by the spring. And this is with father! If it was… our older brother, I’m sure you could count on a matrimony with any of the many wonderful members of the Noble Faction, bonds in which you would have nothing.”

She gave a slight sigh, the shift in subject tearing her from her spiral.

Right. The topic at hand. The three of us linked our arms and trod right off the path and into a pit. Ah, how could I not with such vicious cruelty on the part of my opposites? A matter, but one I don’t care to resolve. If they don’t understand my affection for him, fine. I ought to show a little gratitude; speaking any of the previous alongside Lakyus would’ve been disastrous. This is much more convenient in a way, I may simply speak without pretense.

“Indeed. If he took the throne, my marriage would be the first point of courtly order. Obviously, the matter has already been discussed. I’m sure I’m nothing but a possession to whomever he’s promised me to, and I’ve seen lecherous eyes on a few.”

“Likely a three way pact. Your servant is aware that one Margrave Larousse is willing to flip factions with an inducement.”

Larousse, along with Dumont. Ah, this method of speaking has many benefits. There’s a blanket assumption of truth on their part. I can speak the most egregious of lies, and they’ll believe it because I’m doing so with an unpracticed face. Omit greater truths then, test what they know. They won’t dare lie.

“Certainly. Besides, a woman cannot marry her dog, no? Climb is a no-blood. Imagine, if you will, some grand elevation to a name and title. Picture, ‘Baron,’ and then picture, ‘Baroness Vaiself.’ Mm, ‘Countess,’ ‘Marchioness?’ It’s comic. No, brother’s words are right. Impossible.”

“I concur. Given the state of things as it is, such dreams are unreachable.”

“Fine, then. This conversation was initially meant to be a negotiation, so why not a deal? If I gain the throne, I will match you - in whatever manner you desire - to your Climb.”

Oh! He stumbled upon the point. Wonderful!

“I accept.”

“I-I didn’t even get to share my terms! Aren’t you being a little hasty?”

“To what end would I refuse? Am I somehow enigmatic again already? What terms could you levy that I could buck? I’m positively boggled. As would an evoker say, it’s surefire. When you entered lockstep with the Marquis, I decided then and there. Ah, brother, your promotion to the throne is a goal of mine.”

“You already anticipated this? Of a stripe, I mean. I… I’m speechless.”

Zanac smiled bitterly, slightly tilting his head as he did so.

And there, my goal in the open. So… the topics of Climb and my fervor for Zanac struck, onto the matter of Reese.

“Also, Igana- er… no, Marquis?”

“What does Your Highness request?”

“Marquis, it’s my understanding you are the father to a wonderful little boy, no?”

“I- I am. My little- my child turned five this year. Is something about him at issue?”

A little nervous, are we?

“Mm, then I suppose we know my husband to be.”

“Absolutely not! How could I ever let him near a woman like you?!”

Raeven jumped from his seat, shouting as he did so. His animation was so unexpected, Renner couldn’t help but find his behavior comical. With a single sentence, she had completely shattered his composure, destroying what had held through a much more spirited discussion before.

Ah, considering his horror, I should have anticipated this. Shame. I have so little practice with that emotion. I so rarely encounter it. This is dangerous. If I handle these next words wrong, I’ll put myself at further risk.

“Your Highness, forgive my- your servant’s outburst, but could you speak your cause?”

He can’t mean that seriously, can he? His child is far too a tender subject. I’ll need to measure my prods on that point, but I believe aggression is the best path forward here. Belittle his response, but not his indignation.

“Again, witlessness. Will you really compel me to explain?”

How satisfying it is to say something like that.

“Oy, oy, sister, you were the one who brought this up! Would it-”

“You would marry your servant’s son, yet bear Climb’s child. Your servant’s son would then bear a child with the woman he loved, and that child would carry on the family name. Your Highness would then be the mother in name to the heir. Am I correct? I mean, it all comes together. Your Highness… you get everything you want, the… man you love, a child too. And, although it would be deception, I would continue the Raeven name and its blood.”

Renner fought off the urge to swallow. Here, Raeven had just spoken what she had dreamed of for months on end: her future; her victory. His words felt unreal, a culminating moment assembled via scores of anxious days, sleepless nights, tireless decoding, intelligence assembly, indexing, target selection, tactical and strategic theory, wargaming, study for every personal weakness she could think of, conversations in backrooms, steady manipulations of others, violence committed afield, violence committed near, violence committed against her, deals with allies, bargains with the enemy, mornings in careful consideration of appearance, evenings spent drilling interactions, and nights spent staring at her ceiling piecing together a scheme that would at once liberate her and Climb. All that, and suddenly, it was in the past. All that, and one final conversation was all it would take to step over the line.

Things are so close now. Stay together.

“I have no interest in domains or succession. All I mandate is a stipend for I, my Climb, and when the time passes, the family we make. I will not make a claim upon your house’s estate.”

Of course, if you two have met your ends, then by no means would I keep such a promise. Should a defeat in the east come, it will be better to be a Raeven than a Vaiself. Hm, on the subject of motherhood- Chardelon, again you’re scattered. This moment is overwhelming. Do not attempt to escape it. Table that subject for another time and focus. Little stands in your way now.

“In that matter, I feel the utmost faith in Your Highness’s word. Actually, in all of your words thus far.”

“Father wouldn’t be able to refuse an offer from you, Marquis. You are an independent - ostensibly - but better a bat than a bear. The March intertwines royal blood, Renner has her puppy-dog to love, and in my claim for the throne, it becomes two of five. Everyone stands to gain; mutual benefit, mutual liability. Ah, this fits together just too perfectly. Still, why run this by both of us at once? Doesn’t forcing his hand first mean you can both lever me.”

You speak too highly of your will, Zanac.

“Some things require surety of presence, Zanac. Besides, I doubt you’d want to know after; am I wrong?”

A moment passed in silence, Zanac seeming to introspect about Renner’s words. Renner waited absently for one of them to break it, Raeven eventually spurring to action.

“Now then, I think we can shelve this matter for now and move to a more pressing one. I hear Your Highness has clashed with Eight Fingers, and captured the head of their slaving enterprise?”

A strange happening that these deals would be made backwards. In this way, alliance forces action, not the other way round.

“Indeed, all true. Climb told you no falsehood. This was only the latest action in what I choose to call a war. Thus, I wish to escalate, to squeeze, to crush. Driving rats into the light is only useful if you then dash them. I now have knowledge of Eight Fingers and their activities in this city, and I wish to reap them, all today, all at once. I can call upon a few of the very finest fighters, but the finest fighters are never many. Lo, I too call upon you, Marquis Raeven. I wish to borrow your strength.”

The two men looked at each other quizzically, before Zanac turned back to Renner and spoke.

“And, what specific locations do you plan to assault?”

Silently, Renner reached for a piece of parchment on the table - the decoded transcription she had written the morning previous. She had readied the prop an hour before, and now handed it to Zanac. The pair read over it for a time, Zanac huffing as his eyes swept lower and lower.

“And this information has been verified?’

Eh? It’s all there, no? I hazard they may not believe me if I mention that this communique wouldn’t contain false information. A white lie, then.

“As a matter of course. I ordered Lakyus and her fellows to scout these locations, and, indeed, in the time it took you to arrive here, I received reports from her confirming just that. These properties are owned and operated by Eight Fingers. Though, and this is the issue, they've been so meticulously spread throughout the non-crown lands.”

Renner gave reference to one of the more enigmatic elements of the capital: the fact that - despite being surrounded by crown lands - much of the city proper was in the rightful possession of other houses; these were entire neighborhoods, far more than the actual footprint of their estates. This was a fact dating back to the founding of the Kingdom; Andrean the First had handed out parcels of land in the newly proclaimed capital to the sixteen lords that had marched alongside him. This was - if the histories were to be trusted - meant as a method to ensure unity by “entwining all houses major in a ‘scape of common cause.” In times when swarms of demons dimmed the sun, such a provision was prudent, but Re-Estize had long since emerged from that ruinous age, and the division had soured into a source of conflict. Consolidations, commodifications, and collapses had scattered the deeds, with later members of House Vaiself snatching up portions whenever possible. The last of these acquisitions had occurred in the current rule of Ramposa, the collapse of House Nunia rendering the last of the city’s southern neighborhoods unto the King, but just over a sixth of the city remained in the hands of the remaining five founding Houses Major. Eight Fingers had wisely chosen to base in those portions; only the assassin’s hideout was inside Vaiself bounds.

“It shouldn't be too much of a hindrance. This is the sort of operation that can justify itself mid-stroke; evidence of collaboration shouldn't be too difficult.”

“Even if we don’t find any on the first go, a thorough search can reveal anything. Unprepared individuals have a tendency to dispossess themselves of devilish documents in rote ways when panicked.”

The three issued false laughter. Renner knew her opposites’ was false, and knew that her opposites knew hers was false, and that all were aware of this, but none bothered to comment.

“Then, Chardelon. I have a question- er, rather, a suggestion. An important one.”

Zanac shuffled his gaze around the room, checking - presumably by instinct - for others watching. Considering what had already been discussed, it was a completely absurd image.

“You see, our brother Barbro has been less than honest. He's taking money from an Eight Fingers’ division.-”

Eh? They know about that. That… ah, this was the cause for such a sudden and public alliance, wasn’t it? Do they suspect Barbro’s involvement in the Black Night? It’s possible.

“-Elias and I were hoping to use this fact as leverage in the coming contest for the throne, to oust him from the succession. In any case, we deployed a group of adventurers for the purpose of tracking down their headquarters, and we believe we may have found it. We now have confirmation of its presence here in the city outskirts. I wish to suggest adding it to the list of targets.”

A place on the outskirts? There are a few locations where that could be. Push, see if I know it.

“Certainly. Who can bemoan completionism in an action like this? After all, who knows when we’ll have another opportunity? Pray tell, which division?”

“The- uh, drugs division.”

That would make it… Hilma Cygnaeus, no? It was always a standing question if she or Eidra Calhoon was the division head. This confirms it's her. It’ll be pleasant to finally run her down. Another space for a half-truth, a way to pressure the two infront of me.

“Narcotics? Fiendish timing. I had Lakyus attack three of their Laira plantations three days ago. Therefore, I urge urgency; we'll need to move and we'll need to do it quickly. They will slip away otherwise. This goes not just for Narcotics, but the whole organization.”

“What? Shit. I see. Elias, can we act immediately?”

Good, he’s spurred.

“I'd say impossible, but given that this is a matter of my House's secure future, I will acquiesce to very difficult. I'm aware of my vassals whose hands are clean, but one can never be sure. When accounting for those who can field men in time, those that are clean, those that are tightlipped, and those that had competent fighting forces… I'm ashamed to say I can only rally two. Persuading them isn't an empty matter either, but… well, there is another problem.”

“What is it, Marquis?”

“Our forces might not be enough to overcome Eight Fingers.”

Hesitation. Why? Doesn’t he know our forces would be superior to-

“Princess, Gazef is here.”

“Wonderful, I’ll have you send him in soon. Would it be too much of a burden to continue the spell until then?”

A scoff filtered into Renner’s mind. Somehow, she had said something offensive to Evileye.

“Not a problem.”

“Thank you.”

“Your personal guard ought to down some challenges without too much struggle. Am I wrong, Marquis?”

“Well, it is true that they are retired adventurers, and that all of them are above mithril rank. However, the enemy has a superb fighting force of its own, Six Arms. The kinetic hand- no, digit of Eight Fingers. Rumors would place them as equivalents to an above board adamantite-ranked adventurer. If and when they deploy, things will go very badly for us. If we could play a numbers game, this would be easier.”

“Adamantite-ranked…”

Zanac was baffled. Clearly, this was a point that Raeven had not made clear to his comrade. Renner clicked her tongue.

Well, that’s the issue. Fear over the enemy’s bruisers. Fortunate then that Gazef has come so swiftly.

"Lakyus can split her team, each taking their own location. Actually, I worked on the assignments for this just over an hour ago. As long as - and this assumption is quite certain - that the enemy is not a fighting unit but is instead split into groups of one or two, all of this will proceed without issue.

“Forgive me, but speaking numbers, Six Arms - being six - are in point of fact up a man- rather, woman, over the Blue Roses. That being the case, having them conduct individual actions feels like a classic tactical blunder. I suppose… well, actually I doubt all are present in this city at this moment. If Lakyus and her comrades feel adequate to the task, then we can attack five locations at once.”

“I’d like to take them in tandem, but that would perhaps push us past the point of viability. A boundless shame; excision et al would be the best possible move.”

“It's maddening. We’ll have to let three targets go, and for nothing, too."

“Well, we can simply redeploy our forces after each successful strike, no? After the shock, we switch to rolling raids.”

“Alright, you may send him in.”

“Understood.”

A hiss came out of the air as the spell died, punctuating the moment for her.

“That ought to be the least poor solution, though, this brings up another point. Your Highness, mobilizing troops in Re-Estize itself will be problematic at best. How are we to handle that?”

“I’ll speak with father. I'm unworried on the matter; I believe you should be, too. Besides, doesn't this all come down to the scales of life? I simply possess a little avarice in my heart. Nothing more.”

A knock cut right as Renner’s admission finished.

“He’s here.”

In respect to court etiquette, Raeven - as the lowest-ranking individual present - made to open it, but she stayed him with a light tug of his hand. She herself stood, walked over, and opened it. Confirming the imposing form of the Warrior-Captain on the other side, she snapped her act back together, and drawing the door back further, let him step into the room.

“We have someone who may help us in assaulting a sixth location.”

“Stronoff.”

“Warrior-Captain, it’s good to see you.-”

“Your Highnesses, Your Lordship.”

“Please, Captain, I don’t think any here require such formalities.”

Renner turned back to face her brother and the Marquis, both slightly off put by the restoration of her mask, stifling the signs of that a moment later.

“I-Indeed, I wouldn’t care at all.”

“The Marquis speaks for us both.”

“You have my deepest thanks.”

“Gazef, we’re about to ask you to once again face those same foes who almost laid you low. By every means it is we who should be thanking you.”

The Warrior-Captain gave an affable smirk, a silent admission that he had thought the same thing.

“Do you wish to sit? There is a cup in my tea set waiting for you.”

“I’m afraid I must refuse. I must return to my duties soon.”

Renner was caught mid stride, she having been in the process of leading Gazef to his seat. Turning around on the spot, she pivoted to face him.

A refusal? He- he feels he can refuse. He thinks he has a rapport with me - and by all rights, he does. Further, he was comfortable enough to say that in front of my brother and the Marquis. He trusts me. He trusts me as much as he trusts my father. This is… this is perfect.

“Ah, a lack of time. Such a common ill. Well, in that case, I’ll be right out with it. Gazef, for the last three months, I have commissioned Lady Aindra and her fellows in a war against Eight Fingers. Far from simply the Black Night, they have taken frequent and regular action against that baleful syndicate. Assaults, raids, attacks to reap their men, destroy their outfits, raze their stores, shatter their production, and crush their organization. The Blue Roses have waylaid well over twenty-score of their number, captured several dozen of their highest ranking malefactors, driven countless from their professions in wrongdoing, and saved many lives both directly and through the elimination of the vices peddled. It has been a long, and grueling slog, both for them and - in what limited capacity I can contribute - for me.

I intend tonight to be the end of this struggle. Two days prior, a scroll fell into our hands that described the sum of their activities in the capital. Yesterday, by degrees of happenstance, Climb, along with he you know well - and perhaps one other - served to shatter the first of such locations, seizing a divisional head and waylaying the others present. Though impressive, I dare not call this feat of his an end. It is merely an eighth of my goal. An eighth of what this Kingdom needs to cut off to live. Sir Gazef Stronoff, I humbly ask you in my capacity as the Golden Princess of Re-Estize, along with-”

“I, the Second Prince of Re-Estize,-”

“And I, the Lord of the March of E-Raevel-”

“To serve alongside the Blue Roses tonight in your capacity as a champion of the battlefield. I ask- no, beg this of you. That you would bear arms against the fearsome Six Arms yet again, that you would do so not alone, but with the support of I, my fellows, and all those others who choose to fight with us tonight, that you would unmake them, and in doing so, liberate the Kingdom from an evil of our time.”

Renner lowered herself into a bow, one deeper than she had ever made before. Her hair was pulled as well, some locks slipping from her back to point downward. It was an act improper in every way, and she heard the breath of her companions catch. Gazef, for his part, kept his warrior’s composure. Closing her eyes, she listened, enthralled by the promise of a response.

“It will be necessary for me to seek the approval of His Majesty.”

“And I will come alongside and seek it with you.”

“Then, come his permission, I accept, Your Highness.”

“Understood.”

Renner raised herself up slowly, slipping her left hand behind her neck to restore her hair. As his face came back into view, she saw his classic, unflappably confident visage. She gave a slight smile.

“I have things to finish here, and as soon as I am done, I will join you.”

“Yes, Your Highness”

“I offer my thanks. Please, return to the company of Lady Aindra for now.”

Gazef bowed, and though the gesture meant less than half coming from him instead of her, she found it nevertheless appropriate. Raising himself, he gave a nod to the two men in the room, before exiting the room as quickly as he had entered. The door clicked shut again, and Renner again let loose her performance.

“You could fool anyone, couldn’t you?”

“You understand the value of this, no? The words you may say to others, the valiant terms in which you may speak yourself. The fervor and loyalty you inspire in those around you. The looks in their eyes. The pride you swell in their hearts. I give this unto you now, a victory built by my own hand. Perhaps, as the years pass, I may teach you to do it yourself.”

“Are these the sorts of games you’ve played with all those around you for your entire life, sister?”

“No. Only for a time, and only with one.”