BOOK 11: CHAPTER 37: SOCIAL NICETIES

37 – Social Niceties

Victor checked himself in the mirror. His outfit was fancier than he liked, but he thought it fit well, and the tailor he had on staff at Iron Mountain had used muted colors as he’d requested. He especially liked the boots—polished black and so light and cushioned that he could swear he was walking on clouds. His slacks were straight and cut to emphasize his height. “Not too bad,” he muttered, straightening the lapels of the black blazer, embroidered in sullen, red-hued golden threads, that he wore over a soft purple shirt—one of the colors of the Iron Mountain crest.

After checking his teeth and running a brush through his stiff, short hair, he walked out to the sitting room where Arona sat, perusing a manual on spatial manipulation. She was working on a spell design that she hoped would allow her to teleport greater distances. She closed the book and looked up at the sound of his footsteps. “Are you leaving?”

Victor looked outside, noting the dark sky streaked with crimson. “I guess it’s almost time. You sure you don’t want to join me?”

She clicked her tongue. “Kynna had dinner with me just two nights ago. She specifically invited you.” Victor frowned, hesitating to broach an awkward subject, but Arona saw the look on his face and laughed. “What?”

“You don’t think she’s going to try to, you know, convince me to stay or try to make some kind of, well, um—”

“Are you trying to ask if she’s going to seduce you?” She laughed again. “Would that be so terrible? Last I checked, she’s quite beautiful and the most eligible lady on this entire planet.”

Victor groaned. “Come on, Arona. She’s an empress, and I don’t have that kind of commitment in me right now. Besides, my heart—”

“Is somewhere across the universe with the lovely Lady Tes?”

Victor tilted his head at her. “Hey! I don’t think we were that obvious. Besides, that’s a complicated situation, too.”

Arona snorted, her raspy voice growing even lower than usual. “I wouldn’t know much about that. Romance wasn’t on my agenda back in my old life. I suppose there were a few times my heart might have skipped a beat, but I pushed those sorts of feelings aside.” She sighed and stood, coming around the couch, looking him up and down. “You look nice. Anyway, don’t worry about Kynna’s motives. I’m fairly certain that she just wants to ensure she maintains a friendship with you. She doesn’t want years to slip away without seeing you.”

Victor sighed, nodding. “It’s mostly political, I’m sure. She wants the kings and queens to know she’s still on good terms with her champion.” Arona surprised him by grabbing the flesh on the inside of his elbow and pinching. “Ow!”

“Oh, hush. You hardly felt that. You should be ashamed, though, saying that about Kynna. She doesn’t have a scheming bone in her body. By the way, it was I who said she ought to dine with you publicly. She wanted to meet you for something quiet here at Iron Mountain. I told her it would be better if you were seen with her at the capital. So, if you want to blame someone, blame me!”

Victor had conveniently let it slip his conscious thought that Arona had been advising Kynna on politics while he’d been gone. He rubbed the spot where she’d pinched him, even though, as Arona had said, it didn’t really hurt. “Fair enough. I don’t mind helping her, by the way, I just… Yeah, you’re right; I should be a little ashamed. Kynna’s not like that.”

Arona nodded. “She really isn’t, which is why I got defensive for her.”

Victor walked over to his portal array, already set up and charged. Holding the destination orb in his palm, he said, “Sure you won’t come along? You could have a drink with—”

“No, Victor. I’ll be here when you’re done. I’ll expect you sometime tomorrow, but let me know if she needs you to stay longer.”

Victor nodded. “I will.”

With that, Victor concentrated on an image of the great hall in Kynna’s palace in Gloria. It had been remodeled since he’d stayed there, thanks to his destructive clash with Kynna’s old chamberlain, Thorn, but that work was long done, and Victor had visited the new palace several times since. The portal crackled to life, splitting the air in a magenta oval, and Victor picked up the components, then stepped through.

In hindsight, he supposed he might have thought of a less populated spot to make his appearance. As it was, when he stepped out of the portal, several guards were charging his way, halberds held threateningly, and quite a few dignitaries and palace staff were in full retreat. Victor held up his hands, announcing, “No need to be alarmed! It’s just me, Victor.”

“Champion!” one guard called out, sliding to a halt.

“Your Grace!” one of the passing dignitaries said, also stopping in his tracks.

Victor bowed shortly as the portal snapped shut, then, looking around, he announced, “I have a meeting with the empress. Where will I find her?”

One of the nearby attendants said, “She’s in the Audience Hall at this hour, Your Grace.”

Victor smiled at the woman, nodding his gratitude. “Thank you.” With that, he stretched his legs into long strides, leaving behind the gawking staff and nobility. He found his way to the closed, gold- and ivory-inlaid doors of the Audience Hall, a relatively small space where Kynna sat each day with a select group of nobility, hearing their concerns and pleas, and rendering judgment.

When the guards saw him approaching, they straightened, their knuckles turning white on the ornate polearms they held upright before them. When Victor stopped before them, eyeing the closed door, the one on the right said, “Will you be attending the hearings in progress, Your Grace?”

Victor nodded. “Yes. I’m meant to join the empress for dinner. I thought I’d wait for her to finish.”

“Of course, milord!” The second guard made a show of shifting his polearm to his shoulder, then he about-faced and took hold of the left-hand door. As he pulled it open, Victor was given a clear view of a dimly lit chamber dominated by a long, polished table that sat beneath a single chandelier. Overdressed nobility sat around the table. On either side, more high-ranking officials crowded close on tiered benches. On the far end of the table sat Kynna, resplendent in her crystal crown and perfectly smooth, pale-gray flesh. Her fiery eyes blazed in his direction, and he knew he’d been recognized.

The guard thumped his polearm on the marble floor and cried out, “Announcing His Grace, Victor of Iron Mountain!”

Kynna stood, and everyone hastily followed suit. The attention would have alarmed Victor if he hadn’t fought armies a hundred times larger than the crowd of peacock-like fawners. Kynna’s voice rang out, “You do our guest a disservice, leaving off so many of his titles. Come, Champion. Will you sit by my side while I hear a few more cases today?” She gestured to her left and, as if by magic, an aide appeared, face strained as he pushed an ornate chair close to the table, displacing Kynna’s current neighbor.

Victor stood tall, surveying the room with a slight smile. After a moment, he bowed, then straightened and started around the table. “My pleasure, Empress,” he replied for all to hear.

###

“So, Thoargh, I understand my sister has roped you into a visit to our homeland.” Warin-dak sipped his dark, red-tinged liquor, his golden lips slurping slightly to pull the liquid past his overlong fangs. He was an imposing man—larger by half than his cousin Chal-dak, whom Thoargh had met several times. More than that, he was adorned with crimson spines and horns that stood out from his gold-tinted flesh like they were drenched in fresh blood.

The man towered over him, but Thoargh wasn’t bothered by that. He’d killed ten thousand Degh in his day, and they were all considerably larger than the Ridonne. Their overlong legs and bulky waistlines hadn’t saved them, had they? Thoargh could feel the heat of Warin-dak’s Core; he could feel the potency of his infernal fire attunement, but he had a handful of hard counters to an Energy like that. If the newly minted steel seeker wanted to test Thoargh’s strength, he’d wind up regretting it.

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The thoughts came to him in a rush; he’d been dreading the meeting, mostly because he was still playing a role and couldn’t be himself. Still, with that dread had come many thoughts, including worries that the competitive brother would want to test him somehow. Before his mental deliberations made him seem awkward, he responded, “Actually, Warin, I’ve been looking forward to a visit to your homeworld. Fanwath, yes? I’ve heard it’s quite beautiful and that you and your kin have gone to great lengths to keep it sheltered from the greater network of System worlds.”

“That would be true, though I’ve had little to do with that. I’m here on Sojourn to stretch my wings and pursue greatness. I’ve no desire to travel back to that backward little rock, nor do I particularly care what happens there. All the greatest of my people have left. The ones still there are pitiful in their desire to lord over the small, ignorant populace.”

Thoargh arched an eyebrow. “Strong words!” His tone was approving, and he honestly felt that way. Here was a man unafraid to speak his mind—someone who didn’t hide behind veiled threats, hints, or innuendo, like so many of the “great masters” of Sojourn.

Warin-dak shrugged, his great shoulder spines shivering with the motion. “I say what others think and are too timid to voice.” He stepped back, appraising Thoargh with his golden eyes. “I understand you’re close to piercing the veil.”

“Ah, your sister does me a disservice! My quiet bragging had more to do with gaining her favor than anything else.” Thoargh was on the very cusp of breaking through, but this potential rival didn’t need to know that!

“Well, I can feel the strength of your Core. If you do break through before I do, I hope you’ll pass along any insights that might prove relevant to me or my sister.”

Thoargh smiled, sipping his smooth, nearly impotent whiskey. “Naturally! I’m quite fond of your sister, and she’s said nothing but complimentary words about you.”

“Hoho! Now I know you’re lying!” Warin laughed and threw back his drink. He gestured toward the bar. “I’ll get a refill. Shall I get you something?”

“You shall not,” Vessa-dak said, gliding up behind Thoargh. She rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning close, pressing herself against his wings. “We’ll manage our own drinks, big brother.”

Warin didn’t reply, waving a hand dismissively as he walked unevenly over to the bar. Thoargh turned to Vessa, ensuring his smile felt real before she saw it. “Made your rounds already?” They were at a gathering hosted by a former mentor of Vessa’s and a current sponsor of Warin’s—a great master named Lord Roil. Thoargh had seen him from a distance. He was a strange, smallish fellow who wore black silken robes and obscured his face within a cloud of black smoke that billowed inside his dark cowl. Still, Thoargh had felt the potency in the glare of the fiery red eyes that lurked in that smoke.

“Yes, Lord Roil tried to convince me to commit to another tour of study at his institute.”

Thoargh raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I begin planning for your absence?”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Not yet. I’m still resting from the last bout of research I did. It’s only been ten years!”

“You're very close to that man, though, yes? Lord Roil?”

“Oh, yes. I broke out of the iron ranks in his service. He’s taught me a great deal.”

Thoargh nodded, hoping his fishing wasn’t too apparent. “And what about Fanwath? Is he one of the great masters helping you to keep wandering great powers from dominating your homeworld?”

“Roil?” Vessa bit her lip, narrowing her eyes in thought. “I think so! My aunt Sasda is the one who introduced me to him, and she’s the one who maintains so many of those agreements. She’s ancient. Anyway, he’s been a friend of our family for centuries.”

When Vessa had first told him about the natural beauty of her homeworld, he’d made the comment, thinking himself clever, that it would be a shame if some warlord like himself happened upon Fanwath and laid waste to it. She’d chuckled and replied that it would be the last thing that the warlord did. Of course, that had led him to learn about the pacts the Ridonne had made with some of the more powerful veil walkers of Sojourn.

It wasn’t an unusual arrangement, apparently. “Great masters” on the various “world hubs” often sold their “protection” to less powerful or newer worlds. Usually, the threat of a veil walker’s protection was enough to dissuade even other veil walkers; when two great powers fought, it was rare that any given outcome was a certainty. Naturally, Thoargh’s interest was purely self-serving. If Fanwath turned out to be Victor’s home, then he had a great desire to conduct something of a massacre.

“Well, if he has the time, I’d love to meet the man—”

She looked away, smiling at someone across the room. “No, no, pet. He’s a very busy man, and I believe he’s already left the party.”

Thoargh frowned, some of his irritation bleeding into his voice as he scanned the patrons in the upscale tavern, “A shame.”

“What is it with you lately? Since you’ve returned, you’ve been so cryptic and irritable. What’s on your mind?” She shifted to his side and moved her hand away from his shoulder, gently smoothing his soft, white feathers.

Thoargh felt a shiver run through him at the touch. She knew just how to get to him. His affection for her was certainly feigned, but he wouldn’t lie about enjoying their physical relationship. “It’s nothing—curiosity and a desire to know the people who are important to you.”

Vessa pulled his arm, steering him toward a small table that they’d earlier claimed. It was a high table with stools—far more comfortable than standard chairs for people with wings. When they were seated and she’d signaled for a server to bring them more drinks, she looked up at him, her bright golden eyes, far prettier than her brother’s, peering into his. “I want to take you seriously, pet, but I feel like you’re not being honest with me. Why were you so disappointed to find that Lord Roil had left? Did you want me to make an introduction?”

Thoargh recognized the tone in her voice. It heralded the inevitable moment when someone began to realize he didn’t really care about them. She’d come to it more quickly than most of his other playthings, but, to be fair, she’d had his earlier abandonment to speed her along in the process. Knowing what was at stake and realizing she was likely going to cut him out of her life soon, Thoargh endeavored to double down on the charade, mixing a bit of truth into the lies.

“Of course, I did!” He sighed, shaking his head, feigning difficulty in making eye contact. “It’s embarrassing, Vessa, but I’m struggling to make connections in this world. Sure, Yon has been helpful, but it seems many of the great lords of Sojourn don’t take him seriously! I thought that, with your family’s connections, I might at least put my face and name into the minds of some of these powerful people.” He looked away, frowning, and then moved to stand. “I’m sure you’re disgusted. I’ll leave you—”

“Don’t you dare leave! There are others here you can meet!” She took his hand in hers, warm and soft. “I didn’t realize you were struggling so! I thought things were going so well for you!” She looked around the room. “How about Lo’ro the Grim? Have you heard of him? He’s a man of great personal power, though he’s lacking in the political sphere. Still, he’s closely acquainted with Ranish Dar.”

“Ranish Dar?” Thoargh took her hand in his, gently caressing her jewel-bedecked knuckles. “That name strikes a chord. How have I heard it?”

“He’s one of the most powerful people in Sojourn. He rivals Lord Roil. Still, he’s no friend of my family, not that we’ve any reason for animosity; it’s just that he doesn’t socialize.” She scanned the crowd. “I don’t see Lo’ro.” She squeezed Thoargh’s hand again. “I’ll throw another party when we return from Fanwath. How does that sound?”

Thoargh nodded, feeling as though he’d made up some ground with her. She was still talking about traveling with him, and even making plans for afterward. Perhaps he’d been too hasty to think her affections had turned. Still, the time was drawing nigh; he couldn’t maintain the ruse much longer. “Perhaps another drink or two, and then we should head out? I’d like to make some small preparations before we leave.”

She watched as the server deposited two fresh drinks on the table. As she took a sip, she grimaced. “I don’t know why I drink this stuff. I’ll feel it tomorrow.” Thoargh sipped his whiskey, amusement and irritation warring for dominance in his expression. Apparently, amusement won because Vessa smiled. “Yes, we can leave soon. I was mostly here to speak to Roil. He’s a great man, but the more I think about your earlier question, I’m not so sure he warrants the respect we give him. Where was he when the System invaded Fanwath a few years ago?”

Thoargh’s eyes flew wide, and he almost choked on his whiskey, mild as it was. “Pardon me? The System invaded?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Yes. I suppose that was a secondary concern, though, if you’d listen to my relatives there. There was something of an uprising among the lesser races. They raised an army to confront the System invasion—something my kin didn’t even know was happening—and, in the process, they slew quite a few Imperial soldiers and two of my relatives.”

Thoargh narrowed his eyes. “And you think Roil should have helped?”

She shook her head, sniffing. “No, that was the alcohol talking. Any of us could have helped; the invading forces were merely iron-rankers—the upstarts, too. Still, they were off-worlders. It seems we should have had some sort of notice.”

“Wait.” Thoargh shook his head, trying to connect the dots in her booze-laden rambling. “Who were off-worlders? The System invasion or the upstarts?”

“Both. Well, not all, but some. The uprising was led by some off-worlders. Or, at least, an off-worlder. He, apparently, thrashed a pair of my cousins, though they were acting against the orders of the Ridonne Empress, so…” She trailed off, shrugging. “It’s all in the past. They settled some stretch of the frontier, and my cousins will eventually build up an army and destroy them.”

Thoargh nodded, genuinely smiling as he began to make some rather hopeful connections in his mind. “So, there was no need for intervention by the likes of you or Roil!”

She chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“Tell me, sweetling”—Thoargh took her hand again, leaning close as he sniffed a hint of spice on her lips left over from her drink—"do you remember the name of that off-worlder who led the uprising on your homeworld?”

“How could I forget? He came here afterward and made a show of disrespect to my cousin, Chal-dak.”

“Disrespect?”

She nodded, shuddering as she took another drink. “Let’s just say there was more than one social gathering where invitations were either not made or ignored!”

“And his name?” Thoargh coaxed, gently stroking her wrist.

“Victor.”