by Pirateaba
“We invite you to join our personage in the gardens shortly. We shall deliberate on a suitable reward tonight. Now onto more pressing matters. Nereshal, summon the commander of the palace guard. Failure must be met with appropriate punishment.”
Like that, I’m ushered out of the throne room. I walk away as another man, pale and sweating, takes my place. Some of the people in the room disperse, and once we’re outside and the massive doors to the room have swung shut, I hear them cheering.
I wish they wouldn’t. But I’m still glad. My friends cluster around me, slapping me on the back, congratulating me. For killing the Demons? For being sane while doing it? I don’t know. I don’t really care. I’m happy enough for the praise, whatever the reason.
After that, I go to the gardens for lunch. I was dragged before the Blighted King before I could get anything to eat and I am starving.
—-
Politics. Intrigue. Wait, are those the same words? They’re here even in Rhir, in the Blighted Kingdom. People vie to become the most important person, the most valuable asset to the Blighted King, or to control more power. Naturally, my friends and I are all small fry, but again, saving a [Princess] is usually a big deal no matter where you go.
That’s probably why I got the fancy new room. Richard, Emily, and the others certainly didn’t get an upgrade. And that’s also why I was invited to the gardens. Again, no one else from my group was. And finally, that’s how I ended up sitting with a bunch of the nobility of Rhir, listening to them gossip and talk over matters of the realm while the Fool performs for their children, some mages display illusions, and a [Bard] plays soft music in the background.
I don’t care. I’m here for the food. The servants offer me a cut of meat from a weird, long tongue. I take it and chew the soft meat without a second’s thought. It resists in my mouth for a second, then it’s soft, juicy. Succulent. I’m too hungry to quibble about the tongue bit.
“—Naturally we must retaliate in kind. I am not debating that point, Lord Yebior. But I assert that it would be a mistake to use [Assassins].”
There’s a light debate raging on at the moment. I’m sitting in a circle of about sixteen nobles, one of many groups in the gardens. Others are strolling about, talking, and the Blighted King has his own group of course. Since I have bad allergies I’m staying far away from the flowers and whatnot as possible. The people around me are some form of important, and my only input to the conversation has been to nod when everyone else does.
The woman who’s speaking is Lady Zekryia, wearing a pink and red outfit that looks a lot more practical than the dress I saw her in last time. As in, you could probably run in this one without tripping. It’s a cross between a riding dress and trousers, which looks great on her. I try not to stare.
Red. It’s the color she’s wearing, as is her sister who sits next to her, chewing on some tongue, and quite a few other ladies in the gathering. It appears as a splash of color whenever I see it.
Miscarriages. I wonder if the corruption on Rhir causes it? But Lady Zekryia is fierce, even in mourning.
“It is a fact that Rhir cannot field the same quality of [Assassins] as other continents. Purely because there is no Assassin’s Guild in our nation. Infighting of that sort is too detrimental of course, but it leaves us with a deficit of such killers in moments like these.”
Lord Yebior, a big guy with a beard and a scimitar at his hip, frowns. I take a plum tart from a plate and bite into it. Yum. I wonder what he’s gonna say? I have no idea.
“I don’t disagree, Lady Zekyria. However, how else would we send a message to the Demon King other than by stealth? I am not proposing we send low-level [Assassins] either—but surely we could contract the Assassin’s Guild on another continent?”
“For a suicide mission into Demon territory? And to send one of their best across the sea? Assuming it could be done, think of the cost!”
Zekyria scoffs openly and I nod along with some of the others. Good point. Hey, is that a fruit drink I see being served? I could use a glass.
“And what do you think your reward from his Majesty will be, Sir Tom?”
A voice speaks and I nearly jump out of my skin. A [Lady] leans over to me, elegant, eyes on my face. I start sweating as I realize I’ve lost track of the conversation.
“Me? I uh…I have no idea. I don’t really need a reward.”
The others make polite scoffing sounds. Lady Zekyria tosses back her hair, which makes me sweat harder. Beautiful women talking to me is not a normal occurrence, and all the women around me are [Ladies]. Steady on, Tom.
“Surely there is something you desire? The Blighted King’s gifts are no trifles. I imagine he might present you with a dagger from his armory, perhaps a powerful artifact? Do you have a preference for enchantments, Sir Tom? I’ve always been a fan of ward enchantments myself, but for a knife specialist, perhaps you prefer contact enchantments?”
I stare at her blankly. What is it with people in this nation? The nobles are bloodthirsty. I guess being at war for thousands of years makes this kind of thinking normal. I cough.
“I’m not an expert at uh, enchantments. All of my knives are non-magical.”
“What? Then you surely need better equipment. All of the King’s champions have artifacts of their own—I shall petition his Majesty that you be awarded a blade worthy of your accomplishments tonight!”
“What? No, that’s really…I wouldn’t want to take a valuable weapon. Not when someone else might need it, you know?”
The others laugh. Lord Yebior gives me a pitying look.
“Sir Tom, his Majesty has enough arms to outfit an army. He has opened his armory in the past in times of need, but in safer times…it is an honor to receive an artifact from his vaults, not a burden, I assure you.”
“Oh? There’s a lot of artifacts?”
“Of course! This is Rhir, after all. We have accumulated treasures for generations. Each champion is accorded items worthy of any Named Adventurer if they did not have one already. Consider Sir Hesseras, over there. The Naga. You see him? He holds the Battleaxe of Caxel. A fascinating weapon—if held, the blade doubles in size but swings as fast as any hatchet. And Lord Meliore? The Shortsword of Weeping. Poisoned, obviously, which is why he has to keep it sheathed at all times. But my favorite artifact is perhaps the King’s own blade, Blightbane, which has several enchantments. I haven’t seen it drawn in years, but it is a sight…”
Lord Yebior begins talking enthusiastically about the artifacts around him, the others chiming in their examples. I blink and stare from person to person in the gathering. And I’m going to get a weapon like that? Well…it would be cool.
One of the people in the gathering is the old woman who dueled Richard earlier. When I ask about what she got, the others laugh. Zekyria leans over to me and whispers.
“Before she became a [Marchioness], Lady Xersia was known far and wide as a Named Adventurer. She was called Xersia the Scorpion. She has her own spear—I believe she was gifted with an amulet from the treasury for her service.”
“Oh. Named Adventurers can become nobility?”
Zekyria looks puzzled.
“Naturally! For their services against the enemy, famous adventurers are often granted lands and wealth. It is one of the things that draws them here. Alas, we lose them to age or battle too frequently.”
I look over at the old woman. She’s happily chewing on a tart. I don’t think she has many teeth.
“She looked pretty good when she was dueling the others last night.”
Zekyris sighs.
“A Named Adventurer never loses their Skills of course, but age is a limiting factor. Lady Xersia can only fight at her best for a few minutes before tiring, which is why she seldom returns to the front. If only Lord Nereshal could halt the aging of multiple individuals in our realm…”
“Does he do it for only the Blighted King?”
“Him, and perhaps the Queen. I believe Nereshal uses the spell
on himself, but his mana may not extend beyond that.”
The [Lords] and [Ladies] nod. One of them clears his throat.
“Speaking of warriors, Sir Thom, her Majesty was a famed warrior on the battlefield before she became the Blighted Queen. No doubt it was one of the reasons why his Majesty was so enamored with her.”
I glance at the Blighted Queen. I can imagine her smashing someone over the head with a mace. Yup, yup. Next to Zekyria, her sister, Lady Theras sighs longingly, her eyes on her King.
“Ah, if only I had become a [Lady] suited to the battlefield, rather than the manor…far better to die with a sword in hand rather than waste away in old age.”
“There’s many uses for your Skills outside of battle.”
Zekyria reassures her twin, smiling. Yebior nods.
“A warrior is not all that is needed in service of the realm. Consider the role the Lady Reinhart occupies in her lands for instance….”
Theras scoffs openly.
“The Flower of Izril? Hah! That brazen hussy—”
Zekyria tsks softly.
“She’s an ally of the kingdom, Theras. Remember that.”
“Nominally. She’d be far better off halting her squabbles for power with the Drakes and sending support here. But her complacency is costing her. Did you know I heard she was being targeted by [Assassins]?”
“Surely not. I’d heard they were under her thumb.”
“So you might think. But it seems her manor was attacked. Now I don’t know the details, of course…”
The talk turns towards some woman I’ve never heard about. I settle back into my chair, and hear a cheer going up. I look over and see the young children gathering around the Fool, who’s just performed a triple backflip, much to their amazement. I see heads turning, and the faces of the nobles around me are pursed with disapproval at the break in decorum.
“Tactless as usual. I suppose the Fool is recovered if he can move around like that…”
“A waste of a healing potion if you ask me. Why use such high-quality items on him?”
“He is a guest of the palace and entertains her highness. Still…I can understand given his level, but a [Fool] is nonetheless a fool, is he not?”
“His level? Is the Fool…a high-level?”
“One would imagine so, but his performances are usually decidedly lacking.”
Theras sniffs and the other nobles seem to agree. Zekyria explains as she eyes the Fool juggling twelve balls this time. As if that’s easy.
“Before he came to Rhir and pledged himself to his Majesty, the [Fool] was an noted entertainer who travelled across Baleros and Terandria, putting on performances. There are tales of the grand feats he would perform. However, these days he seems content to entertain children. Worthwhile of course for her highness’ sake, but if he cannot even repay his debt to our king with his life…”
I cough, feeling obliged to defend the Fool.
“He was taken hostage, right? And he tried to warn me when the Demons attacked.”
There’s not much sympathy from the others. Zekyria tosses her head dismissively.
“His injuries are of course regrettable. Still, he would do well to learn from your example, Sir Tom. You two are akin, are you not? But he was taken prisoner while you fought. Most admirable.”
Is she…hitting on me? She leans over and I do my best not to edge away. I know Zekyria has a husband. She had a kid. But I’m getting a vibe—then again, I’m not good with picking things up. But it seems like—
I’m saved from any thoughts in that direction by an interruption. The people around me rise and I hastily get to my feet as none other than Erille and Isodore approach. We all bow as the [Princesses] stop before me.
“Sir Tom.”
Isodore’s voice is polite and her smile appears genuine. But it’s probably fake. She nods towards me, and Erille.
“Erille wished to thank you personally for saving her life yesterday.”
She nudges her sister, and Erille steps forward. Her hands are in her dress, and she twists them together nervously. She looks up at me, and mumbles.
“…you.”
I can’t hear the first part of the sentence. Erille curtseys quickly, looking upset at being the focus of all this attention. I see the Fool grimace as he stands, juggling across the garden. He’s watching her sadly. I bow towards Erille, not wanting to draw out the moment.
“I’m honored to serve, Princess Erille.”
She nods at me and then flees. Isodore curtseys quickly and follows her. I hear a sigh from the other nobles.
“So young.”
“It was a stroke of fortune that the Demons did not kill her, truly. I fear she has so many years to grow, though.”
“Lady Isodore is promising, if young. A few years and she might…”
Zekyria turns to me with a bright smile.
“I’m sure Princess Erille is truly grateful. And perhaps we shall learn what reward will be bestowed on you tonight? I would be most grateful to sit with you at the banquet.”
“Ah! Lady Zekyria, I would put myself for the same honor!”
Yebior interrupts. The other nobles turn and begin fighting over me like one of the snacks. I try to excuse myself. Jeeze. Save a [Princess] and suddenly everyone’s your friend.
I wait for a reply in my head and hear none. I smile.
—-
After more conversation, more talk and eating and a good deal of time, it’s late in the evening. Just before dinner, which makes me regret eating so much in the gardens. But I can get away at last for a little bit before then, so I make a beeline to my room. There’s something I have to do.
I get lost on the way. I went back to my old room before Richard reminded me where I’m staying now. He grins at me as I throw up my hands.
“It’s a gift, Tom. You should enjoy your new place.”
“I guess. Is anyone else upset? I don’t want them to think I’m asking for special treatment. I could ask the King or Nereshal…”
Richard shakes his head.
“Emily’s salty, but we all know you deserve it. Besides, we can’t complain. And you did nearly die.”
“I guess. I’ll see you at dinner, then? I’m supposed to sit with some of the nobles, but I think I can get away.”
I turn to go. Richard stops me.
“Hey Tom.”
“What?”
“You did it. You saved a [Princess]. And you did it…without having a problem, right?”
He looks at me. I look back and nod, slowly.
“Yeah. I guess I did.”
His grip tightens a bit on my shoulder. Richard smiles.
“I’m glad.”
I smile as well and walk away without another word. It takes me twenty minutes to find my rooms, and they’re not that far away in the palace. So many corridors and so far to walk…you could get all your exercise just going from one part of the castle to another. When I finally get to my door, I walk in, a bit tired, elated, and thinking of a nap.
But my eyes are drawn to one thing in the room besides the bed. The dresser. It’s much like the one in my old room and is, in fact, decorated with my possessions from my old room as well. I stare at the perfect mirror and get out of bed to hobble over to it. I touch my fingers to the cool glass and stare into my eyes.
“I win.”
The Tom in the mirror doesn’t respond. After a minute he raises his hand. I press it against the glass.
“I killed them. Me. It was…I had to do it. And it was terrible and it hurt. But it was me, get it? I did that. Me.”
I finish speaking, stare at myself. I stare back, looking a bit tired, a bit triumphant. I wait, but I don’t reply.
“I won’t be afraid of you anymore. I won’t listen. You’re in my head. You’re a part of me. But you don’t control me. I control myself, and I’ve taken responsibility for my actions.”
At last, he stirs. The other Tom looks into my eyes, and his lips grudgingly move.
“I will.”
“Shut up, you idiot. You don’t know anything. You killed two Demons and everyone’s praising your name. But you know you’re not in the clear yet, don’t you?”
I stare as Tom steps back a bit. My hands go up; he adjusts his shirt.
“It’s not over. Do you really think it is? Don’t be stupid, Thomas. I might be insane, but I’m not an idiot. Neither are you.”
“What do you mean?”
He stares at me, and then walks out of the mirror’s range. I sit on the bed, hearing his voice, my voice, in my ears.
“Think about it. Demon soldiers, appearing in the middle of the night? How? And they just so happen to know where the [Princesses] are sleeping? That’s hard to do, even for assassins. If they were assassins.”
I remember seeing the dead guard out of Erille’s room and shudder.
“They seemed pretty intent on killing to me.”
I feel my eyes roll.
“Yes. I guess they did. All two of them. And there were two for the other princess. None for the Blighted King, his Queen, or anyone else. Why’s that?”
No response. I get back up, go back to the mirror. Tom stares at me. The black pits of his eyes are dark. Fathomless. I look away.
Someone organized my belongings, such as they are. I glance down at my tin of grease paint, play with the freshly laundered clown suit as he talks.
“This is just the start. You know that. And you might have killed two Demons, but you know you’re nothing without me.”
“I’m me. You’re in my head. And you can’t control me. I proved that just now. Yesterday, I mean.”
“Oh yeah?”
He laughs. I look up and glare at him in the mirror. He glares back, and then grins. And then the grin freezes. It slides off my face and I study myself. I shake my head.
“It’s all me. See?”
I wait. The reflection doesn’t respond. I go on.
“Me. I pretend. I get it now. I’m doing this. And I can stop. It’s my choice. Maybe I like thinking I’m insane. But I’m not. And if I don’t let you have a thing, you can stay a voice in my head for all I care.”