Don’t Take Life So Seriously; Only Villains Do That

Bodies... bodies everywhere. But I could still hear men shouting and the clang of metal weapons along with the thoughts of my kinsmen; I still had time to save some of them. Smoke billowed out of some dens, while fires blazed in others. The smell... not all of them had been unoccupied. Keep moving.

I turned the corner to find a legion of soldiers in that magic-hating plate: a gleaming white, emblazoned with complex sigilry. The point man lifted a sword towards me; they had spotted me. I dug in my heels—just one of these guys could match me blow for blow and then some. Still, my kinsmen lie behind them. I needed to get around.

I could go above. After that, I just needed to outrun... They rose up right behind me, keeping pace. How could they move so fast in that armor? *Clank, clank.* Other armored soldiers appeared from other directions, some with crossbows. No choice. I would have to jump to a lower platform. *Thud* Ouf! What was this? A barrier? Hadn’t they left some space between the platforms and the enclosure?

“You think we aren’t wise to your tricks, you little rot!”

Damn... No place to go.

“Why did you come back?” a voice came from the tree. A shaggy man with long black hair slanting hard to the right as if blown by a hurricane leaned against the bark. “I gave you the perfect opportunity to escape.”

“Perfect opportunity...”

The two charging parties froze mid-stride.

“This… isn’t really happening, is it?” I asked.

“Of course not. It always surprises me how mortals can’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy,” he said with a snort.

Of course, this was THAT day. This already happened. I therefore concluded that this must be a dream. With that revelation, the world seemed to shift. A pride rose up in me having realized it. However, I felt my grip on the world become tenuous. Who was this figure? The Deity knows he wasn’t there in the original rendition of the event.

“What do you mean, you gave me the perfect opportunity to escape?”

“I mean just that! You could have escaped without incident!”

“Without incident? What about my tribe!?” I shouted, feeling the dream dissolving. “I couldn’t just leave them!”

“Fat good that did,” he countered. “They are still ash, and you are a noble’s pet.”

A flare of rage flashed through me. I wanted to hurl pejoratives at him, but he wasn’t wrong. I had accomplished nothing. What could I say?

My heart rate increased—I could feel it—and with it, I became aware of my physical body, but I still had questions. “What did you do to give me the perfect opportunity!” I yelled, feeling like the figure was becoming distant.

“It was cloudy… And….”

I lost grip on the dream, and my consciousness returned to my body. My eyes drifted open.

I blew my chance. My golden opportunity. Everyone would have thought me dead—if they thought of me at all. All the concern would have been about the two daughters of Uvald. I could be well on my way to New Praven by now, without even a scintilla of regard given for that strange pet of Amillia’s.

I reached up to my scratchy eyes and cleared away the dried rheum—that’s eye boogers for those of you in Rio Linda. As I did so, my hand brushed against something soft. I no longer wore the coat or waistcoat, just the shirt and... the scarf. Surely, if they took the coat, they would have taken the scarf. It wrapped around as if done with great care, while my white shirt hung disheveled and ruffled. I closed my eyes, gripping onto the simple garment. I see. That would be like her.

“Oh, my!” a woman in white with a triangular cap exclaimed. “He is awake!”

“Well, I’ll be. He is,” said another. “How are you feeling, deary?”

“Umm...” I groaned, my voice coming out dry. “I wouldn’t mind some water.”

“Of course, of course,” she said, turning to grab something before looking at her colleague. “Well, don’t just stand there! Go and fetch Lord Conroy!”

The younger lady jumped up in a start before sprinting off and out the door. A simple door at that, rather uncommon for the chateau. In fact, the entire room had a much more practical aesthetic and looked ready for a mass casualty event. I would say it looked like a mid-20th-century military hospital, replete with bunks and dividing curtains. I couldn’t help but wonder if all these beds were ever filled. But now that I thought about it, I couldn’t be sure that this was Reastera.

“Is this the chateau?” I asked, after taking a few sips of water to hydrate the vocal cords.

“Why yes, of course it is. Ah, but this is the first time you have been awake in two days. No wonder you are confused.”

Certainly a chipper one. “Would it be asking too much for you to fill me in?”

“I can’t say I am well acquainted with the details of before you arrived. Apparently, there was an attack made on Sistilla’s life and, if Lady Amillia is to be believed,” she said, giving me a sceptical look, “you save the day….”

I blushed and looked away.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but when that upstanding chap dropped you all off, you were unconscious, and Sistilla had a nasty stab in her right oblique. It punctured her liver, but luckily, it was not lethal. After the saint got through with her, she did handsprings out of here,” she said, getting a starry twinkle in her eye. “I am still amazed at how they can perform such miracles.”

“I see... So I’ve been unconscious for two days.”

“Oh yes, right. I examined you as did the saint, and we could find nothing wrong with you, though he said you would probably awaken in a couple of days.”

Saints… weren’t those people with supernatural abilities to heal people? If he had found nothing wrong, why had I passed out? What had happened that night? That moment passed by in a flash of adrenaline, and I couldn’t say I had a clear recollection, but I had felt a surge of strength I’d not felt since…

“Well, he awakens at last,” came a deeper voice. “I was starting to think you would sleep forever.”

Conroy emerged from the door the previous nurse had dashed through and pulled up a stool next to my cot. “First, allow me to thank you for saving my daughters.”

He gave me a tired bow, with bloodshot eyes and heavy bags underneath. For all the time I had slept, it seemed like he had not. His clothes had fared little better, a disheveled mess, and he had lost the coat at some point. I guess if your daughter had been grievously wounded during an attempted murder, you might not sleep too well either.

“I could hardly believe it. If it were just Amillia, I wouldn’t have, but Sistilla insists that it is true,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

For the first time since I’ve known him, he looked at me, really looked at me, as more than just a thing. I might have found myself ingratiated, but I could feel his eyes trying to bore down into me. Not malicious, but certainly with a demand for answers.

“I have spared little thought regarding you or your involvement in a, frankly, surprising number of projects, I’ve come to learn, over the last year. And in light of recent events, it occurs to me you have a rather broad array of proficiencies. In fact, one might think you are of noble birth, going by skill set alone. I never thought to question just how broad those skills might be. Tell me, where did you learn to wield the sword?”

Despite his well-mannered approach, it felt like an interrogation and that would certainly be in alignment with the universe’s policy of leaving no good deed unpunished. Should I lie? I couldn’t see any benefit in dishonesty, and I’m sure the yutsuukitsuu would disapprove of the subterfuge. Still, the details of my past belonged to me, and I had no desire to share. But I guess I had to offer him something.

“Every society needs warriors…”

“Yutsuukitsuu have a society?” he said with marked surprise.

I cast him a sidelong glance.

He coughed into his closed hand. “That was rude of me. Still, to take down two highly skilled assassins without complication... That speaks to an uncommonly high degree of ability.”

I turned a pinched and sour expression towards him. “It turns out it’s easy, if they don’t see the attack coming.” I hinted at deeper implications, but he only twisted his head, confused. Well, to be expected; he knew nothing about the sneak attack on my people, and I had no intention of enlightening him.

He scratched his graying beard. “I see... Perhaps I should have asked this long ago, but… where are you from?”

“…South of Atol.”

“South of Atol...” he said, looking away. “Well... even still, it speaks highly that you didn’t flee from danger.” Not from danger, but I did initially flee. He didn’t need to know that, however. “Tell me, what other skills do we not know about?”

What other? A great deal, though most wouldn’t apply in this world. Hmm... I did have one skill they were not taking full advantage of, or any advantage for that matter. But should I show my hand?

“I’m pretty good with fox magic,” I said, deciding I had little to lose.

“Fox magic?”

“Umm, yes. That’s what I call it, anyway. It’s the inherent yutsuukitsuu magic. Though I haven’t been able to use it since...” I said, pulling aside the scarf and tugging at the metal ring around my neck. Not subtle, but I was sure he could forgive my intentions. Who wants to walk around shackled?

He stroked his beard, looking up. “Hmm...”

He pondered it. Could it be? Was protecting the Sistilla and Amillia not a trade-off, but just the all-around correct decision? Euphoria surged through me as I considered the possibility of finally getting this collar removed. I just needed to play my cards right…

“Lord Conroy,” spoke a reviled voice. “If I might have a word with you.”

His head swivelled to the door. “Ah, Brogan. You have returned. I assume you have spoken with all your informants?”

“I have. If you don’t mind, I would speak with you away from prying ears,” he said, shooting me an icy stare.

“Very well,” he said, turning back. “We will continue this conversation later.” With that, he stood, straightened out his waistcoat, and made a swift departure out the infirmary door.

“Of course, that bastard Marvril is behind this,” Conroy growled, after Brogan reported his findings. “But I never suspected Lord Frenkot to be a snake.”

The two men had made a swift retreat to one of the chateau’s many parlors. Being something of a sensitive conversation, they had made sure to close and lock the door.

Conroy paced the length of the room, grinding his fingers into his palms. Brogan had expected nothing less. If anything, he expected a little more outrage, but this would do. As a noble, Conroy couldn’t express the full breadth of his emotions.

Even still, as he galumphed around the sunlit parlor, his amiable demeanor had dissipated as Brogan brought him up to speed. Other than revealing unsuspected betrayers, the spearheading of the assassination by House Touala shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, except for…

“I would never suspect one of Alocast’s own nobility to stoop to the level of a Londanian. This is absolutely outrageous!” he squeezed his fist. “And now I will really have to put my foot down with Sistilla’s adventuring.”

Conroy let out a long sigh as he dragged his hands down his face. “You said you have other news?”

“Yes, you will be pleased to hear the Touala Transportation Company has lost its contract with the WWP,” Brogan said, with just the faintest upward curl of the lips. “As it stands, the company has not only taken a serious financial blow, but a reputational one as well.”

Brogan beamed over the success of his operation. He always felt a sense of satisfaction for a job well done. A sense that he had developed over long, hard years back in his adventuring days.

“Ha! I would feel a little guilty if they hadn’t just tried to kill my daughter. As it stands now, I won’t rest until I have crushed Marvril!” he said, grinding his fist into his palm.

“There is more,” Brogan continued. “There seems to be a spy who has embedded themself into Reastera.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. It would be nearly impossible to be completely free of informants,” he said, hand waving it away.

“Not just an informant trying to earn a little extra pocket money, a full spy! Capable of acting, not just reporting.” This issue had pressed on his mind since he first received it from the information broker. He knew they must have slipped past his watch and itched to right his past mistakes.

Conroy dropped onto a sofa, exhaustion on full display. “Hmm... You are implying that they were involved in that attempt on Sistilla?”

“I am. And I have my suspicions...” he said, folding his arms behind him. “Don’t you think the yutsuukitsuu seems out of place?”

Conroy looked up, bewildered. “You suspect Olavir?”

“I do.”

He rested his head on a supporting arm as the noon sun poured through the large window. “He just saved my daughter’s life. That would directly oppose Marvril’s objective.”

“Perhaps, but it’s also true that we don’t know his objectives,” Brogan argued, continuing to stand unmoving like a stone sentinel.

“Is it not to prevent the double union?”

“That would be the most obvious, but it could be a feint.”

Conroy scrunched his brows.

“For instance, who’s to say his real objective wasn’t to further ensconce his agent into a deeper position of trust?”

Conroy shifted his mouth. “To what end? What would having an agent in a more privileged position get him?”

“Who can say? Maybe to be situated to carry out more clandestine sabotage.”

“Mmm...”

Seeing as Conroy wasn’t convinced, Brogan offered another possibility. “Or maybe they got greedy and thought they could kill Sistilla with a slow-acting gut wound, and make Olavir out to be a hero who just acted too late.”

“That seems—”

“Or he could serve a different master,” Brogan cut in.

He had assumed that Conroy would have been more receptive to the idea, maybe not fully accepting, but enough for him to allow a proper investigation. As of now, he just stroked his beard in disbelief. But there had to be more to this yutsuukitsuu, and he would find out, one way or the other.

Conroy, however, only grew further from the idea. “And how would that work?”

“You are well aware of the complex web of intrigue. It could be as simple as the Toualas acting on information from a third party that went against that third party’s wishes,” he said, but feeling he needed more, added, “House Fraldario has employed the services of a yutsuukitsuu.”

“Hmph...” Conroy grunted and whipped himself out of his seat. “Lord Fraldario is a man of subtlety and care. The notion that he would endorse an assassination or slip up and accidentally facilitate one is preposterous.”

Walking over to Brogan, he rested his hand on his shoulder, an act that Brogan found deeply patronizing. The privilege of nobility. He would just have to endure it... for now.

“Don’t you think you are taking this just a little too personally?” Conroy said with a weak smile.

Brogan’s statuesque posture broke as he stepped back. “What do you mean?”

“You resent the young Olavir for succeeding where you failed.”

The world went black. The one thing he wanted to avoid: taking blame for the attack. Its failure had mitigated the damage, but now it looks like he had just inadvertently drawn attention to that fact. No, if he brought it up, Conroy already had it on his mind. However, that little runt had highlighted his failure by doing what he couldn’t, and in doing so, stole some of the prestige that he had worked so hard to acquire. How many more years would it take to achieve his goals now? How many years had that rodent stolen from him!?

“Perhaps you are right...” he said, changing tack. “But don’t you think he is just a little too inquisitive?”

Conroy returned a tired look.

“Just look at all the extra tasks he takes on, not to mention all that time spent in the library.”

He still wasn’t convinced. He would just have to acquiesce.

“Just allow me to investigate him more fully. In the meantime, all I ask is that you don’t give him any special privileges.” His last desperate plea and debasing, but sometimes when low of birth, you had to stoop to such levels.

Conroy let out a brief sigh. “Very well, since you are so insistent. I wasn’t planning on giving him any special privileges...”

He trailed off as a thought seemed to occur to him. “Well, there was one thing, but I guess I will hold off on that for now, until you complete your investigation. But Brogan, don’t spend more than a term on this. There are plenty more concerning matters.”

“A proper investigation would take more than a term. There will be many distant parties to contact and leads to follow up,” he said, knowing full well he spewed complete rot. “It would take at least four terms.”

“You try my patience, Brogan, but very well. You did a good job handling the WWP issue, so I suppose I can spare you some latitude in this. However, be sure to figure out how this whole debacle went down in the first place, and that means finding this spy, whether your suspicions turn out to be true,” he said, shooting him a look, “or not.”

Conroy made for the door. Brogan had gotten what he wanted, at no small reputational cost. Still, Olavir was involved, and once he proved it, he would get back that reputation and prestige with interest, rung from Olavir’s rotting corpse if necessary.

Wait, one more thing he shouldn’t forget to ask. “What about next week’s party? Have you cancelled it?”

“The party is still on!” Conroy bellowed like a gust-fed fire as he turned the door handle. “It is more important now than ever to show strength!”