Traded Barbs

The melody filling the banquet hall felt muted.

Discreet conversations, restrained laughter, and the clinking of glasses drifted through the air where Castra Devana’s elite formed small circles of intrigue along the balconies. None of it mattered now.

Daniel Grace and Spiuso Onius Prebito finally stood face-to-face.

The senator’s eyes gleamed with calculated coldness beneath his mask, as if there was nothing in the hall beyond his control. Daniel, for his part, kept a neutral expression behind his own mask, a glass of wine taken from a servant’s tray in his hand, his gaze steady.

There was a measured calm in the traveler’s posture.

Noticing the scene, the musicians slowed their rhythm almost instinctively, and nearby guests stepped back a few paces, forming an unspoken circle around the two men. The tension, though silent, gradually filled the hall.

A servant approached Prebito, offering him a glass as well. The senator took it with a brief nod, never taking his eyes off Daniel.

“Master de Lio…” His tone dropped, and in his eyes, the Custos Tecit saw a faint smile. “Or should I call you Daniel Grace? I imagined I would find you here.”

Several glances turned toward them, but Daniel was unmoved by Prebito’s sudden revelation.

Of course, he knew. An enemy this formidable…

“Judging by the hospitality, I suppose my name is no secret to you — or to Vel’Shaad” Daniel replied in a low tone, countering Prebito’s discovery with privileged information of his own.

The senator laughed, but there was no warmth in the sound.

“Secrets are like coins” he said aloud. “They’re worth more when few possess them. When they spread, they lose their value.”

A few polite laughs rippled among the guests.

“And yet” Daniel replied, aware that Prebito still didn’t know he had already lost tonight’s true battle, “some secrets carry enough weight to destroy fortunes. Or topple families.”

The hall held its breath for a moment. Prebito sipped his wine, unshaken.

“Dangerous words, Fidenzio Crisci” the senator said, his voice so calm it bordered on friendly. “But we’re not here to talk about families. We’re here to discuss ideas, aren’t we? Isn’t that what you stand for, Master de Lio? A world guided by commerce, by free competition, by this golden dream of the Coins party?”

Daniel raised his chin.

“A world without tyrants” he said slowly. “Where people aren’t crushed under the weight of a few men in tall towers.”

Prebito’s eyes glinted behind the mask. He stepped forward, beginning a verbal duel Daniel readily accepted. His voice rose, clear and cutting, so all could hear.

“And to replace these few men, what do you offer? Bankers? Faceless merchants? The mob in the Outer Ring who can’t even govern themselves?” He raised his glass in an ironic toast. “Ladies and gentlemen, behold the future promised by the Coins: a world where everything is for sale — even honor itself.”

Some aristocrats laughed; others murmured in approval. Daniel felt the weight of the stares around him and drew a slow breath before responding.

“Better honor for sale than freedom in chains. What do you offer, senator? A militarized city under the Swords, where every dissenter vanishes, and every ally obeys — or is destroyed?”

Prebito swirled the wine in his glass, as if weighing the words.

“I offer order and security!” He gestured broadly, his voice deepening, encompassing the grand hall, the gilded columns, the crowd of masked elites. “The Empire is in ruins. Rebels, sorcerers, mercenaries… and the Coins, with their greed, are nothing but vultures fighting over the scraps. It is the Party of the Swords that will prevent its final collapse.”

“A shield that crushes innocents as if they were guilty — that is what your Excellency speaks of” Grace countered, his tone low, unwavering. “A shield that silences voices, buys magistrates, and —”

“Ensures” Prebito cut in, raising his hand, his voice swelling, “that Castra Devana will not end like the northern cities, like Versagënn, burned to the ground by starving mobs.”

He took another step forward, now only inches from Daniel.

“It’s easy to speak of freedom, Master de Lio. Harder to keep a city like this standing, with thousands of mouths to feed and enemies at every corner.”

The crowd murmured approval. Some clapped softly; others raised their glasses. Daniel sensed the hall’s favor tilting against him.

Thanatos, standing near the banquet table, frowned behind his mask. Lais stopped dancing and moved closer, ready to intervene, but Daniel raised a hand to stop her.

“And the price for all this, senator? How many murders? How many alliances with criminals? How many bloody rituals?”

A brief silence followed, pulling a cold smile from Prebito.

“Baseless accusations, my good man. But as you can see, there is no proof. Only rumors. And, let’s be honest, the people cannot feed themselves on rumors. The people need bread. To have bread, there must be order. And for order, we need strength!” He raised his glass once more to the guests. “And that is what the Swords offer.”

A collective toast answered his words.

Daniel felt the defeat before the sound of clinking glasses had even faded. But Prebito wasn’t finished.

“Ladies and gentlemen” the senator continued, turning to the crowd, “behold the contrast. On one side, the Coins, with empty promises of freedom and trade, while the streets teem with beggars and rebels burn grain depots. On the other, we Swords bring stability, security, and discipline. Ask yourselves: which of us ensures your families will sleep safely tomorrow?”

The impact was immediate. Many nodded in approval.

Prebito’s oratory had the perfect rhythm to lead the audience, each phrase sharpened to strike pride and fear alike.

Daniel tried to recover ground.

“Security without freedom is only another form of prison” he said, looking directly at some of the nobles before him. “And make no mistake — when all voices are silenced, yours will be next.”

“Better silenced in the name of duty to the Empire” Prebito replied in a tone like iron, “than by the deaths that come with chaos.”

This time, the applause was louder. Longer.

Thanatos hid his frustration behind the jester’s mask. Perhaps if it had been him instead of Daniel challenging Prebito, the senator wouldn’t have enjoyed such an easy victory. But a jester could never debate a senator of the Empire seriously.

Lais looked away, her expression tight with anger. Grace stood motionless before his opponent and host, but inside, he felt the weight of defeat.

Prebito stepped back, turning to the crowd with a theatrical gesture.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s not allow the evening to grow too heavy. There is still music, wine, and dance ahead. But remember this: the future of Castra Devana will be decided by those with the courage to act — not by those who hide behind pretty words.”

With that, he raised his glass in a final toast and withdrew, surrounded by supporters and onlookers, leaving Daniel and his companions isolated.

The music swelled again, but the atmosphere had shifted. The hall now leaned toward the Swords, the Coin’s political defeat written in the whispers, the glances, the subtle gestures of approval for Senator Spiuso Onius Prebito and his speech about order and security.

“He played us like a lute” Thanatos muttered, stepping closer.

“I noticed” Daniel replied, his eyes locked on Prebito, who was laughing with nobles near the staircase.

Lais folded her arms.

“We need to turn this around. Fast.”

Daniel stayed silent for a moment, feeling the sting of overwhelming defeat — but also a cold spark of determination flickering to life in his chest.