by Rick Field
Milor seemed to pull comfort from it, and finally looked back at her. “My Lady,” he said, this time stronger. “It has come to my attention that you have recently been granted a substantial amount of leave.”
She blinked, not having expected that. It seemed her friend was keeping a far closer eye on her than she was comfortable with. Before she was able to say anything, he had continued, “I find myself worrying that our friendship has deteriorated, as I believed you to still be engaged abroad. Instead, I find you back in the country and with a substantial amount of spare time, without a word to me.”
Another flash of ice-cold rage welled up from the depths of her core. Her mouth actually opened before she managed to beat down the initial reaction, and through the haze of emotional turmoil she failed to notice the widening eyes of her friend.
Her hand was shaking when she drank deeply from her tea, ignoring the heat of the drink as it burned its way down her esophagus. “My Lord,” she finally said, when her temper was firmly back under her control. “You are my best friend, and you have been since the day we met at the Academy, so long ago. However, I wish to remind you that I am neither your possession nor your servant.”
“I apologize, My Lady, I meant no offense,” he hurriedly apologized, but it seemed Liane did not hear while she stared at the trembling surface of her tea.
“That you would keep such close guard on me that you know when I have been put on enforced leave, worries me.” Finally, she looked at him. “If you must know, I returned yesterday morning and worked extremely hard to be able to finish my report and enjoy a few hours to attend my former Assistant’s graduation. Instead, I find myself put on enforced leave for the next two weeks. And within 24 hours I find you on my doorstep, claiming to be the injured party in that I did not immediately contact you. Tell me, My Lord, how did you not wish to cause offense?”
“Enforced…?” Milor whispered, paling, suddenly realizing what he had said and done. “My, Lady, I apologize-”
“Yes, enforced, My Lord,” she stated categorically. “Apparently, worries came to my Overseer that I was working too hard. Did you, per chance, express your concerns? I am well aware that I have risen quickly through the ranks of the Pillars. I find myself assigned solitary investigations when Pillars half a decade my senior are still assigned in teams of two. Did this, too, arrive because of your… concerns?”
Milor was as pale as she had ever seen him, his eyes big. “My Lady, I wish to reassure you. I did not pressure the Pillar Service, nor did I voice my concerns for your well-being. I will not deny having access to the service; I am crown prince after all. I have merely requested information regarding your status. I am well aware of your abilities and about your ethics. I would never do anything that would take away from your own accomplishments. Everything you have gained, you have gained by yourself.”
“I wish I could believe you, My Lord,” Liane said, regretting it the moment she said it.
“Once the seeds of distrust have been sown,” Milor whispered, glancing at the painting once more. “Please allow me to defend myself, My Lady.”
She finished the last of her tea. “Very well, My Lord.”
“The Pillar Service is but one of the many services that I overview on a daily basis. I merely, occasionally, ask the Overseer for the status of the service. In the five years since you started working for them, your name has popped up more and more often. It is my belief that the Overseer did not initially like you being placed in the service by order of the Emperor. Your work ethics and your skills pleasantly surprised the Overseer, resulting in your rapid rise within the Pillar Service. Everything is down to your own accomplishments, My Lady. At no point did I express my concern about you, or voice opinions regarding your career.”
He fingered his glass nervously. “Had I voiced concern, or enquired more deeply, I would have been aware that your return was yesterday and that your vacation was enforced rather than voluntary. As it was, I merely posed an innocent question to the Overseer, who informed me of your return and vacation. No further details were exchanged.”
Her fingers drummed the armrest again. It seemed her Overseer had tried to protect her privacy by providing only the barest amount of information to a person who was her superior. That it had backfired was not the woman’s fault.
It was Milor’s ability to over-react that had been at fault. She interlaced her hands, and leaned back in her chair. “And what have you learned from this, My Lord?”
The man seated in front of her, the second most powerful man of Kiria, looked like a chastised school boy. “Once more, I have over-reacted, My Lady. I apologize.”
“I wonder how you would react if I told you that I would be sharing a meal with the Lord Afraim in exchange for the help I provided in some of his cases?” she asked, keeping a careful eye on him. She saw his face twitch, before he drew a deep breath.
“Your time is your own, My Lady,” he answered, managing to make it sound as sincere as someone asking for a root canal.
She smiled, leaned over, and patted his hand. “You must learn that I am your friend, not your possession, My Lord. Ever since we were at the Academy, you have disliked it when I spend time with other people. You needn’t worry, I won’t abandon you for someone else.”
He twitched again, then sagged. Finally, he nodded. “I know, My Lady. I’m sorry.”
She waved it off. “Let’s not talk about this again.”
“Perhaps I can offer recompense, My Lady. I was thinking about attending next week's performance of Sanca at the opera. From what I've heard, it will be an excellent performance,” Milor said, sounding vaguely hopeful. “Perhaps you would like to accompany me.”
Liane thought for a few moments. “I believe that performance was sold out within half an hour of it being available, My Lord. It's highly doubtful that you would be able to procure tickets for us,” she said, vaguely regretting not being able to see the opera. She'd heard a lot of good things about the performers, and the opera itself was brand new, based vaguely on the life and death of a long-dead Emperor.
At her words, he looked amused. “I am the crown prince of the nation, I have access to the Imperial box at the opera, My Lady. As always, I am both amused and grateful when you seem to forget that fact.”
Looking vaguely put out, refusing to pout, she spoke with as much dignity as she could muster. “In that case, I would be honored to attend.”
Her friend looked relieved and happy. “I will notify the opera to prepare the Imperial box for our use that evening, My Lady. I should, however, let you know that my father is planning on attending as well.”
Liane's mind froze. Elija, Emperor of Kiria, would be attending as well? The most powerful man in the nation? The one who's word was absolute law? She remembered him from when she had rescued Milor, the power that had been contained within him, the ability to tap into the entire nation's magical reserves.
“Please do not be alarmed, My Lady. Father speaks highly of you, and is well pleased with your performance. When you rescued me, you managed to ingratiate yourself, and you have honored the trust he showed in you when he appointed you to the Pillar Service,” Milor spoke, his voice soothing. “You needn't worry.”
Liane drew a breath. She was a Pillar. She was expected to be cool under pressure, to be quick of feet, magic, and mind. It wouldn't do for her to freeze at the mere thought of meeting the Emperor once more. The last time she had seen him, he had been kind toward her, despite her fear of him. There had been no reason to fear him then, and there would be no reason to fear him now.
She nodded. “I would still be honored to attend, as long as the Lord Emperor does not disapprove.”
“He would not, My Lady,” Milor said with reassurance. He leaned back in his seat, looking a lot more comfortable all of a sudden. “Now that we have the unpleasantness behind us, how was your last mission, My Lady? All I've heard is that it involved your old friend, the Lady Mariam of the Volcanoes, our Consul in the Unit
ed States.”
Liane ordered her thoughts for a few moments. “I know that, strictly speaking, you have unlimited clearance, My Lord. I also believe you're simply enquiring and not requesting a full report, so I won't divulge excess details,” she answered. Milor nodded his agreement, and the Pillar went on, “The Lady Mariam was under an erroneous impression that I helped to alleviate. She was of the belief that one could think about migrating the Kirian political system to one that is based upon a popularity contest, and that one could do so without triggering full-scale revolution.”
Milor was halfway out of his seat before he realized he was doing so. A steely look from Liane kept him in place. “Please do sit down, My Lord. I did say the belief was erroneous and that I helped to change it. The change of belief was confirmed using Truth Serum. The Lady Mariam has been cleared of all charges.”
Feeling rather embarrassed about his uncharacteristic display of emotion, Milor sat down, trying not to look sheepish as he did so. “That could not have been easy, My Lady,” he said, trying to cover his outburst. “The Lady Mariam is a trusted friend of yours, and from what little you have said, she was dangerously close to crossing a line or a Pillar would not have been dispatched to investigate.”
The hazelnut-haired woman nodded, and glanced at the painting of the fisherman. She understood why Milor had drawn comfort from it earlier now. “It was not, My Lord. Although I requested the assignment myself, and the results were satisfactory, I did not enjoy it. I took it, thinking to find a clearly innocent woman and to have the opportunity to spend a few days with my friend. Instead, I find her with conflicting thoughts and borderline behavior. I was lucky to both have been able to convince her otherwise, and that she did not wish for full revolution.”
As if realizing that she had said more than she had wanted to say, she looked back at Milor. “You have become rather good at getting me to reveal details I did not wish to disclose, My Lord. Please treat this with the utmost confidence. The Lady Mariam has been cleared, after all.”
Milor tugged his lips into a small, amused smile. “Of course, My Lady. I am merely your friend at the moment, wishing to share in your burdens. Nothing you say to me will be treated as official or unofficial.”
Her breath was a bit louder and longer than she had anticipated, and some knot of tightly woven emotion seemed to loosen itself in her gut. Ever since leaving Mariam, she had been tightly wound, and her being able to share her worries with Milor helped. “How about you, My Lord? Is there anything you could share with me?”
He seemed amused. “There is a lot going on in my life, as you no doubt know, My Lady. Father is pressuring me to find a wife, the ruling council has been inundating me with reports, and I find myself stepping deeper into the leading role with each passing day. Father truly is preparing me for his eventual passing, and there are days that I hate him for it, just as there are days that I appreciate him. Unfortunately, most details are rather sensitive, and while I trust you as much as you just trusted me, I truly should not reveal them.”
Part of Liane was annoyed, but the larger part of her respected him for it. He had told her what had been going on, yet also clearly stated his reluctance to share any sensitive information. While she had said something that could potentially damage one Mage's reputation, he had access to secrets that could potentially destabilize the entire nation. She truly loved Kiria, she did not want it to come to harm.
“I can truly understand your reasoning, My Lord,” Liane told him, before gaining a teasing little note to her voice. “I believe that the Lord Emperor's requirement of you taking a wife would be the most pressing matter.”
He gave her as disgusted a look as he could get away with under Decorum. “Most marriage proposals are either to air-headed upper Nobility, or from Mages that desire nothing but money, power, and the title.” Milor's voice managed to sound just as disgusted as the look he sported.
Liane fell silent, not having considered that point. It would be attractive for the power-hungry to propose marriage to the crown prince. She sighed. “I apologize, My Lord. I did not consider that,” she said. He waved it off with a delicate motion, but she could see that he was still agitated. Soundly regretting her comment, she thought of a way to make it up to him.
“Perhaps, My Lord, some physical activity would be in order to rid ourselves of stress, both recent and past?” she offered. Her friend perked up immediately at her suggestion. They didn't have a lot of opportunities to engage in the mock battles they had enjoyed regularly while at the Academy, and they both enjoyed the opportunities when they arose.
He agreed rather eagerly, to the point where he actually drew himself back into his emotionless Decorum state with a visible effort. Smiling slightly, she preceded him. While crossing the entrance hall, she glanced at the weapon's rack holding both her staff of office and Milor's permanently enchanted sword, yet neither she nor Milor made a move to retrieve the weapons.
They descended in silence, until they arrived in the sub-basement that Liane used to maintain her magic. Drawing a wooden sword from the weapon's rack, she casually tossed it to him, while drawing a practice staff for herself. Milor caught the weapon easily, flicking it casually through the air to get a feel for the weight and balance.
“I am ever surprised that you have excavated the area around the ward anchors, My Lady,” the Warlock commented as they walked to the area in between the rune-covered cubes that seemed to hold up the ceiling. Liane just smiled mysteriously, waved her hand to toss the pillow she used to sit on to one side.
As they were both present in her little area, she brought up one hand, and focused. Hazy, smoky, runes appeared in mid-air. Her lips whispered words he did not catch, and the ethereal lettering lowered itself to the floor, seemingly connecting both anchors together; one string of writing on each side of them.
The symbols flashed brightly before vanishing into invisibility as they activated. A solid blue glow sprung up around the two Nobles, protecting the ward anchors and preventing any spells from escaping their improvised combat square.
Milor smiled faintly, and saluted her with his practice sword. Liane returned the salute with her staff, then stepped back when he did the same. For a few moments, they studied each other, years of experience teaching them the other's tricks and tactics.
Liane's magic sight activated subconsciously, the tightly wound ball of energy in her chest vibrating with excitement at the prospect of battle. Her magic truly loved action and over-the-top displays of power, and it left no chance unused to remind her of that fact. Her eyes narrowed, refraining from immediate action. She knew Milor, knew how he thought and fought; if she dove straight in, he would deflect her first strike with ease, leaving her wide-open to his retaliatory strike.
They circled one another, neither wanting to be the one to make the first strike, both waiting for the other to move and capitalize on a mistake. Just as she started to wonder how long they would stand off and stare at each other, he barked an acceleration spell, pumping as much power into the spell as he could.
Immediately, he blurred in a direct charge. The magic in his spell betrayed him, and Liane barely managed to dodge. Her staff came up slowly compared to him, and it just managed to deflect his follow-up strike. She'd lost the advantage, was purely on the defensive now. Her lips started to form her own acceleration spell when the floor underneath her waved and bucked her off her feet.
The breath was knocked out of her lungs when her back hit the ground, the spell aborted before it could be fully formed. Immediately, the blunt tip of his practice sword was at her throat.
Just as quickly, it was removed and brought up. “First point goes to me, My Lady.”
Liane resisted the urge to grumble as she heaved herself to her feet. “Good work, My Lord.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You lost focus, I capitalized on it, My Lady.”
The Pillar thought on that for a few moments, accepting his well-earned criticism of her perfo
rmance. She had lost focus, thought about something other than battle, and it had cost her the round. This time, it was in a mock battle and had only hurt her pride. Next time, it may kill her.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, bringing up her staff. He tensed, lifting his training weapon into an attack position.
The tip of her staff struck the ground at the same time a spell was barked over her lips. The air thickened noticeably and Milor was forced to jump aside in a hurry to dodge the patch of ground that suddenly liquefied. He cast his acceleration spell without incantation, and made to charge her.
The tip of her staff struck solid ground one more, the thickening air washing over him like a giant wave. The acceleration spell broke, a ball of fire racing toward his face. With no time left, all he could do was drop to the floor to avoid being burnt by her attack, and that was precisely what he did. He arrested his drop with one hand, pushing off and incanting his acceleration spell once more.
Just as he was about to push himself back to his feet, the ground warped, trapping his left wrist. A hard sensation against the back of his neck. The head of her staff…
