by Eric Ugland
I nodded, and walked around the desk before sitting down.
"I'm mostly here for information," I said. "There's a lot I don't know about the situation here, and I prefer knowing things."
"Do know that the slightest rise of my voice will bring guards running, and they will not hesitate to run you through. Or worse.”
“Can I choose or worse?”
“If you are a fool.”
“I broke in here, I can’t be that smart.”
“So you would prefer my guards draw and quarter you?”
"I mean, I think something like that might put a real damper on our burgeoning friendship, but, you know, it is your house."
I spread my hands out and put them flat on his desk, making it quite clear I didn’t have a weapon on me. At present, at least.
He sighed.
“You seek information, then, not to harm me?"
"No harm. At least, not yet. Preferably never — I’m not really in the harm business.“
“What business are you in?”
“I’m thinking of baking.”
“You have a very strange way of going about that.”
“Consider it gathering ingredients.”
“What am I? Flour?”
“Yeast. Feed you and see how you rise.”
“Ha,” he said, barking out a single syllable of laughter. “I appreciate the candor. In that case, because I am feeling generous, or foolish, I'm not sure which, what is it you want to know?"
“First, you should know that I know about you and Tollendahl."
"Congratulations! Nearly everyone does. Barely a secret at this point."
"And I read through your journal."
"This one?" he held up the one on his desk.
I nodded.
"Did you find it interesting?"
"I found it at odds with who you say you are."
He frowned. "Explain."
“Everyone thinks you killed your brother, right? But I think that's a lie you've cultivated."
"People think I killed him?"
“Well, that you had him killed. I don't think anyone actually imagines you were there, pouring poison in his ear in the garden and hoping to, uh, you know whatever."
"Oddly specific."
"I come from a strange, uh, hamlet."
"Your rural accent is apparent."
“Regardless, what's written in your journal does't jive with the whole bad-guy-trying-to-usurp-the-throne thing."
"Oh? Perhaps you’re reading it wrong."
"One, don't think I am. Two, if that's the case, I know some people who are going to really push against you getting the crown."
"That is, without doubt, the dumbest threat I have ever heard. Even if I was the greatest man in the history of the Empire, there would be people pushing hard against me getting the crown."
"Okay, yes, admittedly, that was bad. I just, I mean—“
He held up his hand, and I shut up.
Valamir took a drink from his glass. It must have been something strong, because tears started to form in his eyes.
"I do not understand why you are here," he finally said.
"Look, man, that makes two of us. I'm here because a friend of mine thinks you're a piece of shit who had his brother killed. He wanted me to find evidence of that. But I didn't find anything like that here."
"Perhaps you didn't look in the right place."
"Possible. You want to give me a hint?"
"No."
"Worth a try. But I still don’t think I’d find anything, since I'm starting to think you weren't really in on it."
He took another sip of his drink.
"And what if I wasn't?" he asked. "Would that change anything?"
"I mean, it changes everything. You'd probably have an easier time getting the—“
"Stop with that," he snapped.
"With what?"
"The throne nonsense."
“It’s kind of a big deal," I said.
"It's a foolish thing."
"Sure, but also important?"
"I wouldn't take the throne if it was offered to me," he shouted.
"Mind keeping it down?" I asked. "You know, guards about."
Valamir grunted at me, then stared at his drink. In one quick motion, he upended it and gulped down what remained. Then he stood up and walked over to the fireplace, and stopped in front of a golden tray with a crystal decanter, what looked like a thick bowl of sorts, and several glasses. I heard something clink into his glass. And then another glass. He poured the amber liquid into two glasses, then brought them over to the desk, setting one in front of me. There was an ice cube in it. A big cube, seemed to fill up the bulk of the glass.
"Hey, ice," I said.
He just shook his head, and walked over to the window with his drink.
I took a sip.
It burned, but not in a good way. It was rough. I resisted the urge to cough.
"My brother and I had a—“ he started, then stopped. "Whatever anyone else may think, I loved my brother. And I think he loved me. Something came between us long ago — a girl. A woman, really — but still. We were family.”
He turned back to look at me, then frowned.
"Keep up," he said, pointing to my drink.
I noticed his was half gone, whereas mine was, uh, not.
"Right," I replied, and took another sip.
"I never wanted the crown. Or any of that. I barely wanted this. But that's the thing about royalty, there's never a point where you get asked what you actually want." He finished the drink and walked back to the decanter. He poured another, and while he did so, I emptied mine out into my pouch of holding.
He turned around, I think to say chastise me for not drinking again, but he saw the empty glass, and nodded in appreciation. Then he filled me up with a generous family pour. He set the decanter down on his desk, went back to the window, and stared out into the darkness beyond.
"I wanted to, I don't know what I wanted. To be honest, I suppose. I liked the idea of adventure, but is that because of the stories my father told? Or the stories I heard told around my father? My brother only wanted to be Emperor. As second born, obviously I knew that wasn't going to be my future. I thought I might have a chance to follow my own desires. That lasted until," he sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. A thief who has come into my home, and you sit here listening to me bare my soul. How has my life come to this?"
"Bad luck?"
"Ha," he barked out, and took another deep pull.
I poured my drink out again. Valamir could get drunk, but I needed to make a clean escape at some point. Probably not a great thing to do inebriated.
"I did not want my brother dead," he suddenly said. "I spent my life trying to keep him alive."
“I don’t want to be that guy,” I started, “except, maybe I am that guy, so I was there the night you told Tollendahl about your plan. That you were ready to depose your brother.”
“You were there? What do you mean?”
“I was in the room. In the office where you agreed to Tollendahl’s demands so he’d fund your coup.”
“How were you—“
“Trade secret. But if you don’t mind, I’d like an explanation.”
“Fine. When my brother married Elise, I was not in the best place. Elise was the woman I had loved with all my heart. She was my entire world, and when she chose my brother over me, I was broken. I felt betrayed. I felt angry. I didn’t trust myself or my family, so I moved to this home, and I stopped visiting the Imperial Palace. I sequestered myself.”
“Is this going to get around to answering my question?”
“It needs some background, thief,” he said. He wasn’t slurring, but there was a certain looseness to both his posture and his words that made me think drunkenness was around the corner. “Everyone thought I hated my brother. And maybe, in a way, I did. But when someone came to me with a plan to take my brother off the throne, I wasn’t tempted for even
a second. I met with my brother, in secret, told him who the traitor was, and what the plan would have been. My brother saw the benefit to me being considered his enemy. There is no better or closer ally for a coup than the crown prince. So it was decided I would play that role in public. And in private, really. And it is a role I was forced to play from that day until now. Now when it’s clear no one will believe me.”
“Sounds a bit like something your brother would do.”
“You have some knowledge of the Emperor?”
“I met him once.”
“Oh? Do you make a habit of sneaking into the homes of royalty and making strange conversation with them?”
“No, but that would probably be fun. I went to warn him about you. And Mahrduhm. And now I see why he was unconcerned. Because it was a nonsense thing. And then he died. Right there, in front of me.”
His eyes shrank as he glared at me. “You had been telling the truth up until now, and I was actually starting to value who you might be. But lies are—“
“I’m not lying. I really was there.”
He walked to the fireplace, and snatched a poker. He turned, and had the poker at my throat, ready to drive it home.
“Do not lie to me. Your life is already forfeit—“
I pulled out my arm and flared my indicium.
Valamir grabbed my arm, and pulled it closer to the candlelight so he could see it.
“That’s something only the Emperor could give me, right?” I asked, using my other hand to point to the Imperial Favor mark.
Valamir rubbed his thumb over the lines of the indicium, I suppose on the off chance I’d faked it.
“And how would I know about the, uh, the Coggeshall guy if not for being there?’
Valamir shook his head, “I don’t know.”
“And I was there in the room with you and Tollendahl. I know you’re organizing a tournament for him. An arena tournament. And that you had to get a bunch of the White Hand freed—“
“Enough,” he snapped, and he threw the poker, hard, right through one of the windows.
Wind and rain blew in with a surprising fury. We were tossed into a darkness as all the candles went out at once.
“Perhaps you are who you say you are, and maybe you have done the things you say you’ve done,” Valamir said, his face uncomfortably close to mine. The alcohol on his breath actually burned my eyeballs. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Exactly what I said,” I replied. “I was here to find evidence of your betrayal. And now, I mean, I guess you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Is there proof?”
“How would you like me to prove I didn’t do something?”
“I don’t know. Alibi?”
“What would it matter where I was if someone else did the killing for me?”
“Okay, yeah,” I said, nodding, “once again, I’m, I mean, I’m just really out of my depth here.”
“It would seem so,” Valamir replied. He released me and walked towards the fire. “Tell these friends of yours that I am not the man my brother forced me to play. And I would happily not partake of the throne, though I fear there are few other options available.”
“Isn’t there a princess?”
“For the moment.”
“Well that’s ominous as hell.”
“Not for anything I would be doing. She has gotten it into her head that she needs to join this group of fools. She is willing to give up everything to help them.”
“So she’s in a cult.”
“Not yet, but that is the direction she is heading. I can see what you are about to say, that I should step in, help the girl out. Perhaps. She is my niece, and yet, her actions nor her demeanor are appropriate for the ruler of a nation, let alone an Empire.”
“Hey man, I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to. It has been said before, and it will surely be said again.”
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “I really liked your brother. He seemed like a stand-up guy.”
“He was always well-liked. It was a particular strength of his. He got the high charisma stat, I got high wisdom. Sometimes I think about how much easier it would be to be happy if I could have the same stats as him.”
“I mean—“ I stopped myself from finishing the terrible joke about his brother having the stats of a dead man.
He poured another drink for himself, but it seemed like he’d forgotten about me drinking. Which was fine for me.
“There is one thing you can do for me,” he said. “Before you leave out the window that is. I fear the guards will be here any moment.”
“What’s the thing?” I asked, standing and moving to the window, ready to jump just in case.
“I don’t know how much of my family you know of—“
“The Glatons? A bit.”
“There is a girl who I consider my niece. A darling who is precious and intelligent and someone I consider the best among us Glatons. And yet, she has somehow become infatuated with a commoner of ill repute.”
I had a bad feeling where this was going.
“Hey, man,” I said, “I’m no assassin. I already told you that.”
“I am not asking you to kill this commoner. I am asking you to find out more about him. See if you might scare him off. Show my niece the true nature of the commoner she decided she loves.’”
“Loves?”
“I know, it is ridiculous. But if you could do this for me, I would be most grateful.”
You have been offered a quest Valamir:
The Nature of Love
Show Valamir’s ’Niece’, Nadya, the true nature of the commoner she decided she loves.
Reward for success: ???
Penalty for failure (or refusal): ???
Yes/No
I was a bit taken aback by the quest, hence why I didn’t ask for clarifications, nor what the reward might be. And it, more or less, seemed like an easy quest to complete, at least by the parameters as outlined by the game world.
“Sure,” I said. “I think I can do that.”
“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow of his head. He then tossed back the entire glass of fire-water-whiskey-whatever the vile stuff was, and made a strange sort of face in my general direction. “Now, if you don’t mind, I believe I’d like to throw up alone.”
Chapter 173
Getting out of Valamir’s estate wasn’t super difficult, especially since all the guards were running into the building. I just scooted through the landscaped yard, leaping the occasional hedge, and then climbed right up the wall. I made short work of it because it was so easy to get good purchase on the wall — one of the rare bonuses of having bare feet.
I landed on the sidewalk, right in a puddle. So much for bare-feet bonuses. And of course it was still pouring, making me miss my cloak just as much.
“Well shit,” I said, wiping the rain off my face.
Time to start the long trudge home.
It was a pretty terrible walk, but at least I wasn’t super concerned about monsters anymore. It seemed like they avoided the rain when they could as well. Why would they love being cold and wet just because they were monsters?
I had gone to Valamir’s thinking the man was one of the big bads of the world. That he’d killed his brother to take the throne. Yet all the evidence I found pointed the other way. That Valamir was a devoted brother who’d taken on a terrible role just because it helped him protect his brother a little. Basically, his brother ruined Valamir’s life, and Valamir let him.
Of course, that could all have just been an act. There was no hard evidence. Nothing written by the Emperor’s hand pointing out the deception, clearing Valamir’s name. There was still the money taken from Tollendahl, and the fact that Valamir seemed to be willing to bend over to make Tollendahl’s wishes come true, for the money. And the army he hired. Why would he need mercenaries unless he was preparing for a coup? I wished I had thought of these questions in
the moment, when I could’ve actually gotten answers. I always figured out the best things to say when I had no chance to say them. I bet Matthew and Godfrey would’ve been quicker.
It didn’t take long for me to get well and truly soaked. Or to start shivering. I was in a particular brand of misery, and it really made me worry about what winter was going to bring. We were barely out of summer.
“Something for tomorrow,” I said to myself.
“You won’t have a tomorrow,” came a soft and vile voice I recognized immediately.
I looked around for where Insidious was hiding. “Really guys? Can we not tonight? It sucks out.”
I got no reply.
I took a heartbeat to really study where I was: back in Old Town, at a small square with a fountain in the middle. The streets weren’t that big, probably wide enough for a single carriage or wagon at a time. One of the storefronts was probably a greengrocer, judging by the empty crates out front. Likely filled with fruit during the day. There were no lights on in any of the homes there, and no sign of the City Guard having come through recently. Four streets came in at the corners of the square. And the statue in the middle of the fountain was a baby with wings holding a sword aloft. It was certainly a statement piece of sorts, the statement being, at least in my mind, "Why?"
There wasn’t much terrain to worry about, but there also wasn't an easy way to escape. If Insidious was smart — which I don't think he was, but this was pretty obvious — he’d make sure he had backup down every road, so I’d be trapped. No egress. Fight it would be.
Maybe I'd die.
But, you know, that would only be a temporary inconvenience.
The bigger issue was making sure I inflicted pain on my attackers. I wanted any interaction with me to be a horrible experience for them. I slid my sword free from the scabbard and gave it a little twirl. Just a little flourish for good measure.
Finally, Insidious emerged from the shadows, strolling forward with his face obscured by a big hooded black cloak. His fingers were dripping with rings, all of which glowed. I wasn't sure how he'd managed to keep the glowing covered in the darkness, but he had. I'll give it to the man, he cut an imposing figure. Sort of. It was ruined because I knew him and understood he was a useless asshat.
