The Unholy Alliance

My office had officially completed its transformation. What was once a quiet sanctuary of sloth, then a tense den of suspicion, was now a full-blown, top-secret, conspiracy-fighting command center. Which is to say, it was even more crowded and annoying than ever before.

The crucial, treasonous documents provided by Princess Marie were spread across my desk, a beautiful mosaic of high crimes and misdemeanors. My nap pillow had been unceremoniously shoved aside to make room for a map of the Holy Kingdom. A map! On my desk! The desecration was absolute.

My new "team," a collection of misfits that would make any sane adventuring guild weep, was gathered in what could only be described as our first official war council. Marie, having shed her spy-cloak for a more regal but no less intimidating dress, was presiding over the meeting.

“The evidence is damning,” she began, her voice crisp and clear, “but it is also circumstantial. If we present this to my father and the Royal Council now, Alistair will deny everything. The Holy Kingdom will claim these documents are forgeries, a pretext for war. We would be playing directly into his hands. He wants us to panic and start a conflict.”

She was right, of course. The scary princess-spy was always right. My internal monologue was already groaning. I knew where this was going. This wasn't the part where we handed the problem off to the proper authorities. This was the part where the main characters decide to do something stupid and heroic.

“We cannot act officially,” Marie continued, her gaze sweeping across the room. “Which means this task force, which my father created on a whim, must now become a covert unit. We will operate outside the official channels. We will gather the direct, irrefutable evidence we need to expose Alistair ourselves, without plunging our kingdoms into war.”

She looked at each of us in turn, her expression deadly serious. This was it. The big, dramatic, fellowship-forming moment. I leaned back in my chair and tried to look invisible.

“I pledge the full resources of my household, my intelligence network, and my personal authority as a princess of Lysvalde to this cause,” she declared. “For the peace of the kingdom, Alistair’s plot must be stopped.”

Eliza, who had been silently analyzing one of the ledgers, looked up. I could see the conflict in her eyes. This was illegal. Unsanctioned. An auditor’s worst nightmare. “My official mandate is to investigate irregularities that threaten the financial and structural integrity of this kingdom,” she said, her voice a carefully controlled monotone. “Grand Cleric Alistair’s conspiracy is the single greatest irregularity I have ever encountered. To ignore it would be a dereliction of my duty.” She gave a curt, precise nod. “I will lend my analytical skills to this… unofficial investigation.”

One down, I thought. The nerd is in.

Justus, who had been standing rigid in the corner, stepped forward. His crisis of faith had been replaced by a cold, hard resolve. He placed a mailed fist over his heart. “My sword and my life were pledged to a lie. Now, I pledge them to the truth. I will be your agent within the viper’s nest. I will root out this heresy that has poisoned my homeland, or I will die in the attempt.”

Two down. The tin can is so in he’s practically the team mascot.

Everyone then turned to Edgar, who squeaked and dropped his quill. He frantically picked it up, his face flushed. “I… I will… I will do my best to keep accurate and detailed records of all unofficial, top-secret, and potentially treasonous activities!” he stammered. “For… for the kingdom!”

Three down. The intern is in, bless his terrified, paper-pushing heart.

And then, like a row of dominoes falling in slow motion, all eyes turned to me. They were all looking at me. Expectantly. Waiting for their slacker hero to give a big, inspiring speech.

Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening. I am not pledging anything. I didn’t sign up for a secret society. I signed up for a paycheck and a nap pillow.

“Alright,” I said, breaking the heroic silence. “Sounds like a solid plan. Great work, everyone. Very inspiring.” I picked up my nap pillow and fluffed it. “But just so we’re all clear, my involvement is purely on a consultant basis. My fee is extremely high and is payable in high-quality snacks and a minimum of eight hours of uninterrupted, guilt-free nap time per day.”

The epic, fellowship-forming atmosphere in the room instantly evaporated. Justus looked confused. Edgar looked horrified. Eliza just made a note on her slate. Marie, however, just smiled.

“Of course, Hero,” she said smoothly. “Your… unique contributions are invaluable. We will ensure your compensation is adequate.”

“Good,” I said. “Now that we’ve formed our little ‘Unholy Alliance’ against the church, what’s next on the agenda?”

Justus bristled. “‘Unholy Alliance’? Sir Hero, that is an inappropriate name! I would suggest something more fitting, like ‘The Holy Order of Truth’s Vengeance’!”

“Too long,” I said immediately. “Sounds like a bad heavy metal band. I was also considering ‘The Annoyed Hero and His Unwanted Sidekicks,’ but it doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Let’s keep it simple,” Marie interjected, ever the diplomat. “We are the King’s Special Task Force. Let our actions, not our name, define us.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, much to my relief. I had successfully avoided being part of a team named after a bad fantasy novel.

“Now then,” Marie said, turning serious again. “Our first steps.” She looked at Justus. “Sir Justus, you must return to the Holy Kingdom. Use the compromising orders you received as your excuse. You will pretend your mission here continues, but you will be our eyes and ears. Find out who else in the Grand Order is loyal to the Pontiff, and who might be sympathetic to Alistair. Be our agent.”

Justus nodded, his face a grim mask of determination. “I will not fail.”

“Eliza and Edgar,” she continued. “You two will remain here. Tear these documents apart. I want to know the meaning of every code, the destination of every coin, the name of every shell corporation. Find me a pattern.”

Eliza and Edgar both nodded, their sense of purpose renewed.

Finally, she turned to me, a sly smile playing on her lips. “And you, Hero Sukebe. Our trump card.”

Uh oh. I don’t like the sound of that.

“You will stay here in the capital,” she said. “And you will… continue to be yourself.”

I blinked. “Continue to be myself? What kind of mission objective is that?”

“Alistair knows of you, but he thinks you are a lazy, lecherous fool with more power than sense,” she explained. “I want him to keep thinking that. You are the perfect distraction. Be loud, be lazy, frequent the gambling dens and the bathhouses. Act exactly like the ‘Pervert Hero’ everyone thinks you are. Make him underestimate you. Make him ignore you. You are the weapon we will keep hidden in plain sight. We may need your… unique talents at a moment’s notice, and we cannot afford for our enemy to know what you’re truly capable of.”

My mind slowly processed her words. My mission… was to do nothing? To laze around, go to bathhouses, and generally be a degenerate? All as part of a clever, top-secret plan?

This is the single greatest mission I have ever been assigned in my entire life.

“A difficult and burdensome task,” I said, my voice filled with fake solemnity. “But for the good of the kingdom, I will accept this heavy cross I must bear.”

Wait a second, a small, suspicious part of my brain whispered. Why do I feel like this is a trap?

But the bigger, lazier part of my brain told the suspicious part to shut up. The scary princess-spy had just given me a royal decree to slack off. Our Unholy Alliance was officially in business, and my primary role was to stay out of the way. I could definitely work with this.