The Solveig Playbook, Pt. 5

SOLVEIG

“Tutoring. Tutoring!” Isolde pressed a hand to her chest as if the very concept had wounded her. “Cain, Cain, Cain… do you think we're all idiots?”

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, uncertain at first, then gaining confidence the way laughter always did once enough people had already committed to it.

“A ridiculous name like Solveig,” Isolde went on, turning to address the courtyard rather than Cain now “Who do you take us for?! Seriously, is this some kind of revenge plot?”

“Isolde—” Cain started.

“You just wanted company, didn't you, Cain?” Solveig sensed something there in that voice now, some unscripted part of her soul leaking through—she could tell. “What does she have that I don’t?!”

???!!!!

Solveig’s jaw hung agape.

What is this?!

She thinks… wait… no way!

She’s admitting I’m better than her?!

Finally, quality recognizes quality after all…!

“You’ve always hated me!” Isolde cried. “That’s the greatest insult, isn’t it?! You’d bring a total stranger to be on your side on the biggest stage just to embarrass me!”

That’s… that’s right…!

She spread her hands toward the crowd, inviting them in.

“See how quickly he replaces me!”

…

Oh.

Oh!

Ewwww…!!!

“I am not his lover!!!” Solveig blurted loudly.

The courtyard went very quiet.

Before subsequently erupting. The crowd took her outburst and ran.

"Oh, wowwww..."

“Not even Cain can pay to get a girlfriend! How… weirdly pathetic!”

Principal Mackenzie was onto his feet in a flash.

“ORDER! ORDER!!!”

Wait, what the hells was he doing when all of this transpired?!

There on the desk sat the evidence, damning and shell-strewn.

HE WAS EATING PISTACHIOS?!

He brought a small ceramic bowl too, the bastard! At least share!!

“This is quickly deteriorating from the spirit of the Debate,” the old man said firmly into his Resonator. “Now, I’m terribly embarrassed to even have to say this, but I must ask you all to seize this immediately. No matter how entertaining it might be to watch two teenagers quarrel.”

The crowd didn’t quiet down.

In fact, it only got worse.

Solveig wanted to die, to disappear and leave not a trace of her existence behind.

She experienced worse, theoretically, during her old campaigns.

But for some reason…

This felt more painful than it ever did before…

Her skin started going clammy.

Nay, worse than clammy.

It was glowing.

Nononono!

This isn’t how it’s meant to go…!

But her body wasn’t obeying. Why couldn’t she just compartmentalize like she usually did, all those eras ago? Was it because the Demon King was just a distraction? No, can’t be…

Maybe I just… maybe I just can’t do anything right!

Maybe I’m the failure the Demon King claimed me to be!!!

But!

Whether by some miracle or some boast of courage or seeing her pathetic back curling into itself…

Cain found it within himself to intervene.

“ENOUGH!”

\\

CAIN

It was wobbly, uncertain, tame—really, it sounded like he was using his emotion for the first time to make a point.

Yet the shock of it all made the whole courtyard quiet down.

“Squabbling like this, giggling like children…?” Cain spat. “It’s an insult to Hrafen himself! He would never have wanted bickering like this!”

Cain pointed a finger at the audience.

“Now either control yourselves, or my father will become involved in the goings-on of Hrafen for threat of damaged reputation. What will our international students think of us?”

Not even night crickets dared to make themselves known after his efforts.

Solveig whispered to herself. “T-Thank you… Cain.”

“I cannot believe it took Cain of all people to state the obvious,” the old principal said finally. “But the boy has a point. There’s a certain standard we must all emulate, and tonight, we’ve failed even that.”

The principal looked at Isolde darkly.

“And Isolde…”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t forgotten how you instigated this whole ordeal to target a new student who hasn’t done anything to you. Therefore, we will deduct 10 points from your overall today.”

The noble girl hitched.

“I… but she…” Isolde swallowed. “Understood.”

The Principal sighed. “Now go take center stage, leave this behind us… and State your Debate. You have five minutes to make your opening statement.”

Isolde nodded.

She strided forward, her close little Companion following her dutifully.

With a strained cough, Isolde of House Blackmore began.

“We live in desperate times,” Isolde began. “We are currently being cornered from all sides by an Empire the Concordat is fundamentally ill-equipped to handle, and let us be entirely honest—also does not possess an adequate answer militarily.”

The audience gasped. A fair few scoffs resonated in the courtyard.

His fingers tightened into balls. Where's she going with this…?

“Our much-lauded adventurer’s guilds? The legendary heroes who have defected to us over the years? I don't doubt their capabilities; after all, we have by far the better and more handsome Wintereise twin.”

The crowd laughed.

“And even still, this is not enough. Do you honestly think we can simply buy this victory? The Quadrant has a guild of their own too. It makes our defensive arguments completely moot. Even if we have a handful of individual adventurers who are, for the sake of argument, more skilled than theirs, the Empire's soldiers and the sheer volume of bodies they can throw at our borders easily override that notion.”

Isolde paused, letting the grim reality settle over the silent student body before turning her head slightly toward the right.

“Yes, we live in desperate times. But is it not better to frame this crisis, for the sake of argument, as a period of changing times? Consider our internal pressures. The demihumans—”

D’Igoll let out a visceral growl. Isolde didn't flinch and instead simply tilted her chin, her eyes locking onto his for a brief, cold second.

The demidog backed down.

“Ahem,” Isolde coughed. “As I was saying… The Beastkin demihumans and their many refugees have flooded through our borders, and they now seek a new life within Illustria. On paper, accommodating them is the obvious moral choice. For some it is either fleeing or being enslaved by those Quadrant Control devices. 

"However, the material reality of our situation is stark. Crime has gone up. The various business owners in this very room can attest to this daily reality. Approximately, eighty percent of all recent property crimes are committed by desperate demihumans. They have no money. They have no resources. They need jobs, but no jobs are currently available because our economy cannot supply them any. It is a simple matter of supply and demand.”

She leaned over her central podium, directly in the pathway of the benefactors, parents of children alike.

“We want better lives for every thinking, living being. Truly, we do. But we must clean our own house first before we can invite more guests. So, how do we bridge this gap? First of all, isn’t it good that we possess the ability to recognize that the Beastkin are people too, and not merely tools to be left rotting in the shed?”

Solveig braced. Now time for the rug pull…

“We should adopt a policy of human resources analogous to the Quadrant’s.”

The entire courtyard erupted.

Holy cow…

With how much Cain and his dad despise slavery…

This may as well be declaring war.

People intensely argued, among themselves, jeers, yays, everything in between.

“But tribals… human tribals are getting hit too! What do you say to that?!” a worried adult at the front spoke.

Yeah, what do you say, you incredibly charismatic villain?

“I do not ever suggest we treat slaves the way they treat theirs. It is immoral and disgusting. But adopting this brand of slavery will give them little reason to invade. Another player that is willing to use their version of economy will make them richer, not less. And that… is what House Blackmore is willing to provide.”

From Solveig's point of view, there seemed to be two camps: a set of people squabbling and throwing insults at her…

And a very sizable chunk watching silently with intent.

Some people are really considering this.

“We trade in their capital, but we reform it. Make it our own. Under the jurisdiction of the Blackmores, we will see that Illustrian families be legally mandated to care for, feed, and clothe them while they perform the labor our kingdom desperately requires. It is a mutually beneficial, entirely humanitarian system. A temporary necessity, of course, to stabilize our nation.”

“A little bit of slavery never hurt anybody!” a wealthy merchant from the upper balcony called out. “If it keeps the borders secure, of course!”

“That’s right!” a chorus of capital benefactors echoed back.

“All the demihumans do is take and take, when is the last time they gave us any mind? They expect handouts all the time!”

“It only makes sense, really!”

Isolde smiled, satisfied. “You see now… House Blackmore is made up of pragmatists who refuse to cow to sentimental delusions while our infrastructure crumbles. Letting in a little bit of the world's harsher realities is the only way to build a shield against our total destruction.”

“Principal.”

Cain looked to his left.

No…

I recognized this look of his.

Recognized it from when they were kids.

His teeth were showing. His snout was flushed. His eyes had narrowed to slits.

The Principal nodded, entirely oblivious. "R-Right. Isolde, time!"

Isolde was trying to egg him on.

"Please, D'Igoll, you're free to respond now." The principal sat back down, already reaching for his bowl.

It seemed she was the only one here noticing things were about to go down.

D'Igoll was going to do something he was going to regret.

"Do you mean all that you said just now, Isolde?"

"Every last word."

"That we were ticking time bombs?"

"Indeed."

"Well, then."

D'Igoll's claws dug into the podium, splintering the wood beneath his grip. His shoulders broadened. The fur along his arms began to rise, patch by patch, until it wasn't fur at all anymore but something coarser, darker, pushing up through his skin.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees, though nobody could have said why.

"I will show you exactly what I am,” D’Igoll said darkly, walking across to Isolde. “All that you fear, and more…"

C’mon, Cain. C’mon! Get a hold of yourself. I needed to intervene. And I needed to intervene now!

Cain was two strides into getting in the way when—

“NO!!!”

He double-taked. Huh?!

That ‘no’ didn’t come from him; it wasn’t his own voice!

Whoever screamed was the same rocket who hit D’Igoll square in the torso.

Indeed! It wasn’t him who ran to stop D’Igoll in his warpath toward Isolde…

No...

It was Solveig!!