by Andrew Rowe
I gave Meltlake a nod, which she returned. If she wanted me to approach, I trusted she would have gestured as such. Instead, I walked past them and toward the next area — the crafting hall.
The “crafting hall” actually referred to a whole section of the building with several different rooms, each dedicated to a different purpose. One looked like it was made for weaving, another for brewing potions, one for making weapons and armor…
I was seriously tempted to go loot the whole place, but I restrained my instincts. Barely. I didn’t even know if the items here were real; it was likely that some of the things would be, but others might be illusions or constructs designed for the test itself that would simply vanish. And rampant looting was encouraged in some spires, but not this one. The Tiger Spire required a higher degree of calculation when looting was concerned, and I didn’t want to get kicked out or face some sort of fate worse than death for pocketing an extra healing potion or two.
I found some other people working in the rooms already, all of which were attuned. Presumably, these were other spire climbers, but I supposed they could have been more constructs for the scenario. I ignored them for the most part, instead focusing on anything I could glean from the rooms in terms of clues.
I wasn’t big on clothing, but I noted the weaving room had some unusual garb hung up in one of the corners — long black coats, cloaks, and masks. Blackstone Bandit garb, or something approximating it.
Are some of the Blackstone Bandits here in the spire, hanging up their outfits or making duplicates as gifts? Or is this another extension of the strange theme of the books in the library?
I frowned, moving on to the alchemy lab. I scanned over the available supplies.
Willow’s Wail…Redbane…Crimson Thorn.
These are poison. Literally all of them are poison.
I rubbed my forehead. What have I gotten into here?
The weapons and armor room had a full forge — which seemed a little dangerous, honestly, given the lack of ventilation. There were some runes on the wall that might have served for air circulation, but I didn’t recognize them. I wrote them down to check later, then took a look at the existing weapons on the walls.
Daggers. Knives. Stilettos. Almost all short-ranged stabbing and slashing implements. There were a few other things, like a hand-held crossbow and some suits of black leather armor.
I was beginning to sense a strong theme and I didn’t like it.
“We going to make anything?” Patrick asked.
“No, not yet. I think I’d like to focus on getting information before we make any gifts. It’s probably been close to an hour — let’s swing by the library again and see if the others are back.”
We checked. They weren’t.
“Back to reading the books, then? Maybe we missed something,” Patrick offered.
“No,” I shook my head. “I have something far less pleasant in mind.”
“Such as?”
“My least favorite thing.” I shuddered, only half-exaggerating the motion. “Meeting new people.”
***
In spite of loathing social gatherings, I wasn’t entirely foreign to them. I’d attended a number of fancy parties when I was young, mostly with my mother. I’d even seen a few of these high society debut style events. Admittedly, none of them had been in a fake spire-created Edria, but I had some idea of what I was doing.
My first order of business was figuring out a few key things about the people present. Who was important? Who was a potential threat? Who was a potential ally? Who was missing?
In order to gather that information, I needed to get in there, act like I belonged, and ask some questions — or, in some cases, prompt people for information without directly asking.
I headed straight to the room with the music playing. As I’d guessed, it was a ballroom, with a number of people dancing and others simply standing off on the side of the dance floor. Some were watching and listening to the band, which was playing some Tyrenian instruments I didn’t think I’d ever seen, including what looked like the world’s largest harp but turned sideways. Others were seated in groups, chatting while eating some sort of appetizers. There was a bar with alcohol in the back, as well some serving staff handing out small plates of food to the seated guests.
Immediately, I scanned the room for anyone of interest.
Again, I caught the eyes of that blond-haired military officer. I noticed his hand drift toward his rapier for a moment as his eyes darkened, but he was quickly dragged away by one of his companions.
Well, I found enemy number one, at least.
The reason for his animosity was clear enough — he must have heard my family name. House Cadence was famous for our role in the Six Years War…which, during this time period, must have been a relatively recent event. I wasn’t sure exactly how recent, but that military uniform meant he might have fought a Cadence personally, or perhaps his family had. Or maybe he was just bitter about our role in ending the war.
I didn’t have enough information to say what his specific grievance was yet, but it seemed like a good idea to find out at some point — or, at a minimum, watch my back.
There were several other groups and individuals that caught my attention.
Near the band, I saw a pair of red-haired people in their twenties that were animatedly discussing something. Their particular shade of red was rare enough in itself, but even more notable was that their eyes were a matching color. Aside from that, they looked human, but I couldn’t recall seeing any ordinary humans with eyes like that. They still had visible sclera, but barely. I wondered if they might be related to those “rethri” that Keras was talking about from his homeland, or possibly some kind of elementals or half-elementals.
I saw only a single other group of people that looked Valian, although it was possible that some others were of Valian descent and simply didn’t stand out to the same degree. The Valian group were mostly wearing the traditional whites and blues of our nation, making an obvious (and possibly dangerous) statement about their national allegiance.
The only exception was a blonde-haired woman who sat at the head of the table, wearing a dress of bright crimson. That was an Edrian color, so I might have mistaken her for an Edrian herself if not for the brilliant and eye-catching harp-shaped amulet around her neck. Between that and her perfectly braided blonde hair, she was an absolutely iconic representative of House Haven.
House Haven was one of the handful of Valian archduchies, with their line stretching back before the nation’s founding. House Haven owned Haven Securities, the largest banking organization on the entire continent. They funded numerous projects, including the train we took from Valia to Caelford and the famous expedition in the Unclaimed Lands that Keras and Lars had taken part in.
Of course, many stories claimed their line could be traced back to Aayara Haven, better known as the legendary thief Symphony. Obviously, that had to be an exaggeration.
The Valians were sharing a table with a group from Caelford and talking excitedly about something in the center — a glowing device I could barely see from a distance. I overheard a snippet that sounded like, “electric, not magic” and thought I caught the gist of it. These people were delighted by what I could only assume was, based on the time period this scenario depicted, an early demonstration of an electric lightbulb.
There were a few other groups from Caelford present, including a couple of kids playing with what looked like a toy golem controlled by a hand-held cane. I was half-tempted to go take a look at how that worked, but I had higher priorities.
Beyond those few potential allies, I noted the vast majority of people present were Edrian, which wasn’t surprising given the apparent locale of the event. I was still scanning through the crowd when I froze, processing a face that shouldn’t have been possible. His dark skin, his almond eyes, even the wry grin on his face…
Jin?
No. As he turned, apparently noting my stare, I noted small differe
nces. His hair was cut shorter, his chin was a little more square-shaped, and his left cheek had a distinctive curved scar. His arms were more obviously muscled, and I’d never seen Jin wearing anything like this man’s bright crimson tunic and trousers.
Perhaps even more notable, however, was the two-handed sword on the man’s back. It was nearly as tall as he was, worn in a back scabbard that couldn’t have possibly been practical to draw from, with a scarlet hilt shaped to evoke the image of a flame and a brightly burning scarlet crystal in the place of a pommel.
I recognized it almost instantly, and Patrick must have as well. His eyes widened and he whispered a word too quiet to hear, but I knew what he was saying.
Which was why I stood a little taller and headed straight in the Jin-lookalike’s direction. Patrick followed right behind me, seemingly awestruck.
I wasn’t quite as affected by the sight as he was, but I knew this was someone we absolutely needed to talk to. There was no chance someone like this would appear in a scenario without being significant.
The Jin-lookalike saw us approaching. His eyes flicked between us, then he made a little startled jolt when he saw Patrick’s hip. Then he excused himself from his group, bowed deeply to them, and turned to approach us at a rapid pace.
When we came closer, I opened my mouth to speak, but he was faster…and he ignored me entirely, bowing deeply to Patrick.
“My forgiveness for not sensing your presence sooner, Wielder of the Sword of Dawn’s Bright Light. That you would come to this place is a keen demonstration of the bravery that earns you the right to carry your blade.”
“I…uh…” Patrick paled. “I am so sorry to say this, but it’s not the real Dawnbringer.”
The Jin-lookalike’s expression contorted in confusion. Then he stood up straighter and his eyes shut briefly. When he reopened them, he had a briefly perplexed look, then he bowed to Patrick again.
“My forgiveness for not sensing your presence sooner, Wielder of the Sword of Dawn’s Bright Light. That you would come to this place is a keen demonstration of the bravery that earns you the right to carry your blade.”
The same line. The same tone. The exact same…well, cadence.
Patrick looked briefly at a loss, then I whispered. “Scenario. You’re the wielder. Act like it.”
To his credit, something clicked in Patrick’s face immediately, then he returned the bow. “You needn’t ask my forgiveness for anything, Wielder of the Sword of Burning Life. The humility and charity in your demeanor reflect well on your own qualifications. I have only just arrived, and unannounced. I am Patrick Wayland-Cadence, retainer of House Cadence. I am greatly honored to meet my brother wielder.”
“The honor is mine, Patrick Wayland-Cadence.” The Jin-lookalike turned his eyes to meet Patrick’s directly. “It is good that you have come. I am Dalen Mitsurugi, of the House of the Unbroken Queen. These are difficult times and…if I may be forthcoming, I am pleased to see there may be another I can trust in this den of hydras.”
My heart skipped a beat when I heard his name. He was using the traditional Artinian naming order, meaning “Dalen” was his surname, not his personal name. Perhaps that was a point of pride; at this earlier time period, East Edria — which would have still been Kelridge in living memory — would have been less thoroughly incorporated into Edrian culture. And, of course, some Edrian people used that naming convention as well; Edrians usually just adopted Valian-style naming simply to avoid confusion at school.
The most important part of that wasn’t the naming order, though, it was what his name signified. I was currently staring at the entirely too attractive face of one of Jin’s ancestors. Or, at a minimum, a member of a branch of his house — he’d mentioned that various retainers used the house name.
Given their similar looks, I found the former more likely. This was probably his…weirdly hot grandfather or something. I was more than a little conflicted by that line of thinking.
“Two, if I may be so bold.” Patrick gestured to me. “This is my liege lord, Corin of the House of Cadence.”
“Cadence.” His eyes shifted to me. “A relative of Alaric Cadence?”
I nodded in confirmation. “I am. It is a pleasure to meet the Wielder of the Sword of Burning Life.”
“It pleases me that you use the proper name for my weapon. As for your house…” He frowned. “I cannot say I am pleased by it.”
“I appreciate your honesty, but why?” I scanned the room briefly. We were definitely getting attention from other nearby groups with this discussion, but I didn’t really care. “We were allies. We helped end the war.”
Dalen Mitsurugi gave me a strained smile. “No. You did not. You ended Valia’s involvement. For some of us,” he glanced around at the room, “the war never ended.”
“I…forgive me for my presumption. My house only sought to save as many lives as possible.”
“Valian lives.” Mitsurugi shook his head. “Such has always been the way of your people. But understand that I mean no disrespect when I say this. I would do anything for the lives of my own people, and though we were abandoned, it is not your house — or your nation — that I hold to blame. You are not the ones who brought knives to the throat of my home.”
I was beginning to think this conversation was going in an extremely unwise direction, but Mitsurugi paid no attention to the reactions of the crowd around us.
In fact, I suspect he was inviting them.
Is he here to pick a fight? Oh, no. What have I gotten into this time?
I cleared my throat. “Perhaps we can discuss these matters somewhere more private?”
Mitsurugi’s expression darkened. “I see you lack the courage that your retainer has, but I suppose I cannot fault a noble for lacking the strength of a warrior.”
I bristled at his response. “You mistake me, sir. I am a duelist first, a Cadence second, and a noble third. I speak only of strategy and polite conduct. Does such a simple concept evade you?”
He gave me an appraising look, then nodded. “Well-rebuked. You are more than I first gave you credit for. I decline your offer for privacy, however. If you would speak to me at all, it will be in the center of things. Patience is a virtue of his sword,” he nodded to Patrick, “not mine.”
I usually heard the three virtues of Dawnbringer described as including insight, not patience, but I supposed that there were some translation or interpretation issues with those as well as the different names used for the swords themselves. Regardless, his point was clear enough. I took a breath as I heard someone else approaching, and I knew who it was going to be before I even turned my head.
Apparently, even a fake House Dalen was sufficient to instantly get me into a near insurmountable level of trouble.
“House Cadence. I thought I heard the woman at the door speak the name, but I told myself ‘no, no one from that house could be so foolish and arrogant as to come to this place’. It would be such an obvious and unbearable insult.” The speaker was the blond-haired man with the moustache and the military uniform.
I turned to him. “We mean no insult. We simply came to pay our respects for the archduke and his daughter.”
“Of course. You came to pay your respects.” The man laughed. “The war is over, after all. Your family made quite certain of that. And now, we can simply dine and dance and pretend nothing ever happened!”
I frowned. This was delicate, and I wasn’t good at delicate, but Sera was nowhere nearby. “We cannot undo the past. We can simply move forward and be grateful that no further lives are being lost.”
He sneered at me again. Big on sneering, this guy. “No further lives. Yes, I suppose from the perspective of a Cadence, my father’s life was quite sufficient, wasn’t it?”
I blinked, then gawked in horror. “Wait, then you’re—”
“Ah, yes. Allow me to properly introduce myself.” He stood up straighter, eschewing a bow and instead putting a hand over his heart in what looked like some sort of
military salute. “Captain Jerome Schmidt, son of the General Kaspar Schmidt.”
My blood ran cold.
I knew both names. Kaspar Schmidt was one of the most famous men in military history — an Edrian commander who had led their forces to success after success in the Six Years War.
And, more importantly, he had been killed by my great grandfather, Alaric Cadence, in a war-ending duel. The blood of Kaspar Schmidt had given birth to my family’s noble title and reputation.
His son, Jerome, had been orphaned at a young age by this act. He became a professional duelist, killed numerous rivals, attempted to drum up support to resume the war. He ultimately disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
This scenario would be many years before Jerome disappeared, but likely during the height of his dueling career.
And so, I had a feeling I knew exactly what was coming.
That didn’t mean I had to play along. Offering condolences for his father’s death would simply infuriate him, so I tried to take a simpler approach. I returned his salute. “I understand your grievance with my family, then, but I have no personal quarrel with you. I would hope that we can attend this evening’s festivities without doing anything to disrupt the party.”
“Oh, on the contrary! I believe everyone here could do with some entertainment, and I’m confident that the archduke would be most pleased to see the prowess of a young scion of the famous Cadence dueling family. And I just heard you mention being a duelist yourself, did I not?”
I internally groaned at my previous words. “You did indeed, sir, but this seems an untimely event for such a demonstration. This is a celebration of life, not of death.”
“It’s funny that you should speak of death, Master Cadence,” Jerome looked me in the eyes, “when Alaric Cadence killed my father in a non-lethal duel.”
