by Eric Ugland
“Oh,” I said, finally realizing the problem. “You think I don’t answer to anyone. That’s—”
“You have some foreign master you bend the knee before?”
“Not like that. See that guy down there on the wall?” I pointed down to one of the guards huddling under a torch.
“What of him?”
“I answer to him. And his family. If he dies of cold because I forced him to stand out in this weather without proper gear, that death is on me. If his family doesn’t eat because I have inadequate stores, that’s on me too. I answer to my people, because we have made a pact. They swear their loyalty to me, and I swear to protect them. That’s not something to take lightly. Nor do I. I have far more sleepless nights now that I am waited on hand and foot, wondering how I can ensure the safety and happiness of the thousands of people who have come to me.”
“How quaintly noble of you.”
“I don’t know what it is, man, but I don’t want that pressure. I don’t want to worry about how my vote on the Emperor might affect their lives. I don’t want to wage war or have to defend against invading armies. I don’t want to worry about monsters or what horrors lurk beneath my lakes. I don’t want to go back to the valley full of sapient spiders capable of possessing humans as puppets, but I have to, or else an entire group of thinking beings will overtake my valley and puppet my people. I have to decide who joins us, why they join us, and I have to defend that decision to asshats from Osterstadt who think humans are the only beings in the world who deserve freedom. If you think this is a simple job, you either don’t realize what it entails or you’re a sociopath who doesn’t understand that there are two sides to a loyalty oath.”
He blinked a few times and then took a long look at his fingernails. He refused to meet my eyes. Pointedly.
“I do not like spiders,” he finally said.
“Don’t go that way, then,” I said, pointing to the oddly warm valley full of spiders. “It’s pure nightmare fuel.”
“Whatever my father or sister has told you, I had no part in what Caticorix did. And perhaps I have been blind to things. I wanted to be angry with you because my father was angry with you. He expected to take this whole western land for our family. Perhaps find his way to a dukedom, and make his grandchildren archdukes. You and your father interrupted that, and I,” he paused and took a deep breath, and then shook his head.
It was a stark reminder at just how young he was. Barely more than a boy. Maybe I had been a little harsh.
“And when I first met you,” he said, “I thought, I mean—”
“You thought you were hot shit,” I said.
He let a tiny smile cross his face.
“That might not have been the language I would choose to describe myself, but, yes. I thought highly of myself. I had come from the capital. Magnificent fighters trained me, and I foolishly thought I had the skills they had. In the months since I have been with Duke Ginsburg, my abilities have come into contrast.”
“He’s a real fighter?”
“Yes. He is similar to you in that regard. I doubt there are many who seem to care as you do for your people, not to that level, but he will face down any threat in his realm before he asks his soldiers to. He is a true knight.”
“Sounds like a good person to learn from.”
“So far.”
“Kid,” I said, “I’m going to have to be honest here and say that I have completely forgotten your name.”
I felt the fucking groan from my stupid etiquette book in my hand.
The Northwoods boy smiled. “Justin.”
“Justin Northwoods, Montana Coggeshall. Nice to meet you.”
“It is nice to meet you again, your grace. I’m afraid I have no title to add to my name.”
“Yet. There’s still time.”
“I daresay there are few who seem to collect titles as you.”
“I may have some extras.”
“Are you offering me a title?” he said, suddenly serious.
“Tell you what,” I said, “how about you get back to me once you’ve completed your squireship? I’ll seriously consider it. I promise.”
He gave me a head tilt and a squint. “You are serious?”
“I am.”
“I will hold you to it.”
“Do well, become a knight. Then we’ll talk.”
He shook his head, then tentatively held out his hand.
I grabbed his hand and shook it heartily.
He smiled.
“Thank you, your grace,” he said.
For a moment, Justin lingered next to me, and then he walked back inside.
I scooped some pristine snow off the balustrade, packed it into a ball, and launched it out into space, watching it soar through the air before disappearing into the drifts down below.
The music inside had changed tune and tempo. It sounded really fun and exciting. I watched the balcony empty as everyone rushed inside to see what was happening. I lingered though, happy to have some alone time. I enjoyed the snow. And the cold. It reminded me of winters back home. Hell, most of the happy memories I had from growing up were outside in the snow.
Inside, the dance floor had cleared somewhat, and my minotaur guard were involved in something that looked kind of like fighting but also like dancing. The entire crowd gathered around to clap and whoop.
I really wanted to see the dance happening in there. Unfortunately, I had my own dance starting outside.
44
A figure dressed all in black dropped in front of me.
I looked up and had to shake my head.
“Where the hell did you come from?” I asked.
The figure said nothing, just stood there.
I reached out with tremorsense, but with the vibrations from all the music and dancing, I couldn’t get a firm grasp on anything. I noticed some reflections in the windows, as more figures in black came to the party.
I didn’t want to react with violence, mainly because I didn’t want to think it was going to end in violence.
The figure said something in a flowery sort of language.
Smashing! You’ve learned a new language, Koäðemaarian.
“You have been sentenced to death,” the figure in front of me said. Sounded like a man, had the form of a human. About six feet tall, broad shouldered.
“By who?” I asked, then held up a hand. “Whom. I should have said whom. Do you know?”
I glanced over my shoulder, as if asking friends behind me. Three figures there. All dressed identically in black with fine mesh over their eyes. Just minor differences in height and weight, and no sign of hips, so I assumed these were probably all men. Likely all human.
“Death,” the tallest man, the one in front of me said. “Now.”
He came at me, fast. A slight glint of moonlight flashed off the blade hidden in his fist.
I backed out of the way and immediately felt a sharp pain in my back. I shot my elbow rearward and connected with someone. That someone cursed.
Tall Man took another step forward with his lunge and stabbed me in the gut.
Another hit from behind.
Then a fourth.
I dropped to a knee, feeling blood running out of my body, in genuine pain. Burning. Being stabbed sucks. It hurts. A lot.
I grabbed Tall Man’s wrist and held tight.
He struggled to get free, and I tightened my grip, feeling his bones grinding against each other. He grunted in pain. But — and I’ll give him credit on this — Tall Guy made no more noise, even when I crushed his wrist until it felt like slightly sandy play-dough.
I leaned back and pulled the man with me. I rolled on the ground, causing him to stumble over me, and I let him go right into one of his buddies.
I got to my feet and made sure all four men were in front of me.
They were.
Tall Man was still picking himself up, but Medium, Short, and Other spread out, trying to get into flanking positions. They all had daggers in
their hands, longer and more menacing ones than what they’d already hit me with.
I thought it odd they were holding back a little until I felt a burning heat flash through me. I glanced quickly at the corner of my vision, and saw the icon.
I’d been poisoned.
That second of distraction was enough for Other Man to lunge at me from the far right.
I had no weapons, just a book.
“Big book!” I shouted, while swinging the book across my body.
“Due apologies, but—” the book started. But then I smashed Other in the face with my rather unimpressive book.
It was more a slap than a smash, but it did the trick. Other Man was so surprised at being hit in the face by a small notebook that his attack missed my torso. It sliced my jacket open, but missed my shirt.
“What are you doing?” the book shrieked.
“Get bigger!” I shouted.
“I will do no such thing!” the book replied.
“Then you’re going in the fire.”
The book started growing.
In betwixt this stupid argument, Short lunged forward, keeping low to stay under the book swing.
I summoned a prinky right where he stood. Short tripped and swore.
More prinkies arrived. Yay magic! I kicked one into the face of oncoming Medium Man.
He stabbed it with his dagger, and the poor prinky exploded in a mess of glitter.
“My eyes!” the man exclaimed.
I stepped into the cloud of glitter and slammed the spine of the book into the man’s throat. Then I head-butted him.
The man’s nose crunched under his mask.
I jumped back, and the prinkies somehow moved out of my way, knowing where I would go.
We were back to a mild stalemate. Tall had a new dagger in his left hand. But this one was on fire, which, you know, not going to lie: pretty impressive. A good look for an assassin.
Medium rubbed his eyes, but seemed unwilling to take off the mask.
Short was up from the ground, but still kept low and tried to crab-walk further to my left.
Other had changed blades, and now held a very thin knife that—
Thunk.
A throwing knife.
Bonus? Now I had a weapon.
Downside? It was mostly inside of me.
Other pulled another blade out.
I kicked a prinky at him, but he’d learned from his buddy’s mistake and just batted the fluffy creature away from him.
“Hug him,” I commanded. The prinkies swarmed, all doing their damndest to hug Other Man.
He tried to get away, but there was only one way off the balcony.
I jumped at him, swinging the etiquette book. It looked kind of like an ornate bible with beautiful gold filigree work across the cover, as well as a heavy-looking lock over the pages.
Other Man couldn’t move, so I got a beautiful hit on him, just perfect across the jaw.
I dropped my shoulder, keeping my charge going, and hit Other Man in the solar plexus.
“Release!” I cried. The prinkies let him go.
The figure in black stumbled back, his arms windmilling. His back slammed against the balustrade, and he bent way over. It looked seriously painful, but he recovered enough to grab the stone railing with his hands to keep from falling.
I was still right there, though, so I smashed him across the face again with the book. Then I ripped his knife from my chest and stabbed him through the eye with it, letting his body slide down the balcony as I turned to face my other three attackers.
Only to be met with fire.
A flaming blade was coming right at my face.
I leaned back as far as my spine would allow. I felt the stone balustrade on my shoulders and kicked a leg out.
I wasn’t sure I’d connect with anything, since I’d been slightly blinded by the light, but my foot stopped on something soft. Then I heard a grunt of pain and the sound of someone vomiting.
I caught a metal glint coming in from the left and got my book up in time to catch the blow.
The book screamed.
I twisted the book, and the dagger came with it.
Tall Man looked less than great. He still had his flaming dagger at his side, but he was limping. Medium pulled another dagger from somewhere in the folds of his dark clothes. Small was a blur of motion coming at me.
I hit his wrist out of the way with the spine of my book. Then in quick succession I slammed said spine into his nose, under his chin, and across his face.
I grabbed him by the throat, picked him up, and threw him across the balcony. Right into the path of Medium.
I took the second of time I’d gained to check the poison status: still there. My HP was dropping, but not by much.
Maybe it was a stamina poison.
I smiled.
They might have smiled back. No idea — they had masks on.
“Shall we finish this?” I asked.
I saw Medium glance quickly at Tall Man.
Short responded by lunging at me.
I quickly threw the book at Tall Man, hitting him in the head.
But otherwise I didn’t move, letting Short Man stab me. I grabbed his arm with one hand and pulled him in close. Then I grabbed his head and pulled.
He struggled against me, stabbing at me several times.
I kept my eyes locked on my other two opponents as their friend struggled. They started to come to his rescue, but I had a new weapon.
Short lost his head, and I angled the fountain of blood right into the path of my oncoming opponents, painting them, and most of the windows behind them, with the guy’s gore.
It’s hard to keep your bearing in a shower of blood. It’s certainly something I’ve had to learn the hard way, after plenty of experience. Now I hardly blink twice at it.
These guys blinked. At least figuratively, stopping a little.
Medium slipped in the dreck and fell to the ground.
I threw the head at him, and Medium and Short had a quick tête-à-tête.
“Hold him down,” I ordered the remaining prinkies.
They launched themselves at Medium. I summoned more for good measure, and they joined the dog-pile. Or prinky pile, I suppose.
Tall looked at me, then at his downed comrades.
Then he glanced quickly in the balustrade's direction. I knew what he was going to do.
He sprinted for the railing.
I sprinted for him.
He dove.
I dove.
My shoulder hit his soft midsection, and my weight beat his. Probably by a lot, but let’s not body shame. I’m big-boned.
We flew sideways until his face hit the balustrade. Then we spun a little, skidding across the blood-soaked snow.
I managed to twist until I was kneeling on top of him. I threw a few quick punches into his mask until his face was pliable and his body unresponsive. Then I leaned back.
Medium was still struggling under the prinkies, despite a staggering amount of glitter floating around.
I reached my arm into the pile and felt the rough cloth of the man’s dark clothing. I grabbed it and pulled him up until he could look me in the eye.
“You will die,” the man struggled to say.
“Sure will,” I said, “but not today.”
Then I pulled his mask off.
It seemed like his face came with it — the cloth of the mask somehow tore all the flesh off the man’s face.
There was a lot of screaming, and even I took a few steps back away from the foul imagery on display.
I shook my head. How are you supposed to react to that?
The man dropped to his knees and held his hands up to his ruined face, still conscious for half a second before he passed out and fell over. The prinkies immediately lunged back onto him.
“Enough, enough,” I said, pulling the prinkies off before remembering I could just un-summon them.
So I did that.
I was back to being al
one on the balcony. At least mostly. Soft noises came from Tall Man, so I was reasonably confident he was still alive. On the other hand, I knew the noises coming from Short’s remains were basically just his last bits of liquid being pumped out into the snow.
I leaned back and looked up at the clouds that had moved in.
Snow started to fall.
I noticed a knife in my side, so I pulled it out and dropped it onto the ground. It clattered on the stone.
Across the balcony, I saw the etiquette book standing on its ribbons and watching me.
“Thanks for the help,” I said.
“I hate you,” the book replied.
“Book, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
45
I may not know as much etiquette as Book, but I am sure of one thing: when attending a formal ball, you should not be covered in any sort of substance. Most certainly nothing pungent. I was, to put it mildly, disgusting. My clothes were soaked, sliced, and hopelessly stained.
I stayed on the balcony, tying to figure out how to return to the ball looking like an extra from Dead Alive. In the meantime, I sent prinkies with messages for Nikolai and Nathalie.
“Oh, book of etiquette,” I said, “what should I do in this situation?”
“I am not speaking with you,” the book replied. It turned around in my hand so I could only see its spine.
“Seriously? Your entire existence is predicated on helping me.”
“Still not talking to you.”
I seriously considered throwing the book off the balcony, but that seemed cruel considering how much he’d helped me in the fight.
“Can you go back to a smaller size so I can put you in my pocket?” I asked.
“Are you going to spin lies about birds flying around the ballroom?” it countered.
“You don’t know I was lying.”
“I don’t see any birds.”
“That’s because we were in the dining room when the birds were around.”
The book turned one of its eyes all the way around and peered at me.
“There were birds in the dining room?” it asked incredulously.
I thought back to dinner and distinctly remembered seeing a roast chicken.
