Bonus 14: In Which the Captain Treads Lightly (Patreon)

Security at Caer Aelthwyn was tighter than on the city walls or the Kingsguard’s headquarters itself, but Norovena still walked right in.  These were, after all, his men on duty.  His best men, because enemies and criminals getting through the city gates was just a cost of doing business, but if the Archlord’s peace was disturbed even momentarily, heads would roll.  At the palace’s front entrance, one of the elite guards saluted him while the other opened the door.

Inside, as usual, he barely had time to come to a stop on the polished mosaic floor before a butler glided up to him, folding down his hands in a way that managed to seem supercilious.  The man himself was upper middleborn; lowborn servants did work here, but not in any public capacity where they might be seen by important guests.

“Good day, Captain Norovena, and welcome.  How may the household be of assistance?”

“Is Lord Llewthron available?”

“The high steward is presently in his study attending to affairs of state.  No formal visitors are expected this morning.”

As always, the fellow wielded subtext like a rapier, obliquely rebuking Norovena for just dropping in whenever he felt like it while also indicating that the steward was not doing anything which couldn’t be interrupted, if the matter were important enough.

“I need a word with him.”

“Very good, sir.”  The butler folded down his hands again before turning.  “If you would follow me, please?”

He did, though Norovena knew the way to Llewthron’s study without any help.  There was never anything to be gained by pissing off a butler—as a general rule, and specifically in this case.  Such a high-ranking servant would be aware that any unplanned visit by the captain of the Kingsguard should go directly to the Archlord, not the high steward.  Reporting this breach in protocol could cause a lot of trouble for both him and Llewthron.

Not that he would, even were he annoyed enough to sabotage Norovena.  All the staff in Caer Aelthwyn, as well as most of the upper officials of the provincial government, quietly did their part to help manage the Archlord.  Even so, everything went more smoothly when you were in good with the servants.

“Thank you,” Norovena politely told the butler in observance of that principle once they stood outside the requisite door.  The man folded down his hands and turned to depart in the same stately glide.  Left alone, the captain rapped on the engraved akorshil paneling.

“Enter,” said a voice from within, as brisk and terse as his own knock.

He slipped inside, shut the door behind himself, and folded down his hands toward the room’s sole occupant.

“Captain Norovena.”  Lord Mainder Llewthron was an upper highborn whose hair was that lucky shade of pale blond which tended to obscure how much of it had turned to gray; it was the lines on his face, too numerous and deep for a man of his middling years, which betrayed the constant stress under which he labored.  Right now, though he of course concealed it skillfully, Norovena knew he had to be displeased to see the captain of all people.  He knew what such a sudden visit meant.  “How may I help you?”

“Apologies for the interruption, lord steward.  I have a report to deliver to the Archlord, as ordered.  Unless he is…indisposed?”

“This report is pursuant to his Lordship’s recent special interest?”

“Yes, lord steward.  I would not disturb him or you otherwise.”

Llewthron was even better at it than the butler.  His face barely shifted, but for just a moment he let the full weight of it all peek through in his expression and bearing.  Only for a moment, and then he was rising from behind his desk, brisk and businesslike as ever.

“I see.  Then we must not keep his Lordship waiting.  He has indeed been preoccupied this morning, but I believe it may have been long enough that he will welcome an interruption.”

Norovena did not grimace or otherwise react, just nodded diffidently and held the door for the steward.  Hell’s revels, he did not need to see what he was now about to, not today…

The steward strode through the halls at a rapid yet even pace, as always concealing any sign of distress, as did Norovena.  Of course, any passing servants would be aware of what their presence indicated and would take whatever action they could to mitigate the repercussions that were sure to follow.  Everyone in this palace was an old hand at this song and dance.  Those who did not develop a knack for it did not last long.  Definitely not long in service, and possibly not long upon the mortal coil.

Thus, he wasn’t worried about anyone betraying their breach of protocol to the Archlord.  Norovena should have gone directly to Caludon with this, as ordered; reporting to Llewthron first was a compromise that helped them all survive this place.  He’d have liked it for both their sakes if he had dared divulge the full news to the steward first, but Caludon had forbidden this in such explicit terms as to raise the suggestion he was well aware of how they all handled him and was joining in the…well, to him, it was a game.  Neither Norovena nor Llewthron dared defy him that explicitly, but made do with this arrangement: Llewthron gained forewarning of anything that might agitate the family, and Norovena had his assistance and supervision when making his report.  In most other royal or even noble courts they would have to worry about someone reporting on them to the Archlord, but Caludon was simply not the kind of person with whom one curried favor.

The family’s chambers had their own discreet entrance, embedded in a deep nook at the end of one upper floor hallway which was almost its own foyer.  There, they found a maid on duty, a young middleborn woman standing at attention by the door and staring at nothing with the hollow expression of someone who knew the full details of this job.  Her thousand-stride stare didn’t waver as she turned to them and folded down her hands in a precise gesture.

“Lhaenit,” Llewthron greeted her.  “Have the family any outstanding requirements?”

“They have made no requests since receiving their guest this morning just after breakfast, my lord steward,” she said in a monotone.  “It has been relatively quiet for the last half hour or so.”

“What fortuitous timing.”  The steward stepped up to the double doors and leaned carefully against them, pressing first his ear and then one eye to the crack between.  The maid continued gazing blankly into space and Norovena idly admired the carved akorshil paneling which made up this hall.  This was the purest example of highborn architecture he had ever visited, massive pieces of khora all worked into organic shapes; this hallway didn’t even have a ceiling, per se, merely a rounded wall which curved up to an egg-shaped arch above.  Not that he was all that interested in architecture, but it wouldn’t do to stare at the lord steward while he was engaged in something improper.

A bit of impropriety was crucial for survival around here.

Evidently satisfied by what he saw (or did not see), Llewthron drew back and rapped once on the door.

There was a pause.

“Yeeeeesssss?” a voice from within finally drawled.  Lhaenit’s blank stillness subtly changed tenor as she went utterly still, the learned reaction of a rabbit which had heard a wolf’s call.  Norovena liked to think he revealed no outward sign of the shiver that ran down his spine.  The voice was…replete.  Relaxed and satisfied.  Which suggested its owner was safer at the moment than otherwise, but he only sounded like that in the aftermath of something…

Something they were now going to have to see.

Llewthron pulled the door open and, pausing only to gather up Norovena with an authoritative glance, stepped inside.  The captain followed him, closing the door after.

It said something about the Aelthwyns, the first ominous hint about their…issues…that they had rearranged their suite so that their bed was in the large antechamber just inside the door, right where anyone entering would come upon what should have been the most private part of their residence.  He very much did not want to know what they had stashed away in the actually private rooms beyond.  Now, this space was brightly lit, pleasantly aired out, and in fact rather cold due to one of the windows being cracked despite the frigid weather, an unpleasant breeze fighting against the asauthec braziers.  That seemed incongruous, to him.  Maybe it was just that narrative cliches ran thick in his Fflyr blood, but this place felt as if it ought to have been dark, dank, and stuffy.

Archlord Caludon Aelthwyn lounged in his bed, disheveled and languid and thankfully half-covered by a rumpled blanket.  There were fresh scratch marks on his bare chest.  Neither of the two highborn women—equally undressed and fortunately covered by the blanket—tucked under his arms were his wife, but there was nothing scandalous about that in and of itself.  It was perfectly normal and proper for a powerful nobleman to be in bed with his wife’s maedhlou.

Less normal were the women in question, who were…  More or less as Norovena remembered them from previous encounters.  He knew they could both act normal during proper social events, in fact better than the actual couple themselves, but now?  Ilnyth was, as usual, giggling quietly, constantly, and for no apparent reason, while Myrrynit just stared—currently, to his carefully-suppressed displeasure, at Norovena himself.  Expressionless, wide-eyed and with nothing behind that gaze; it was like making eye contact with a snake.  As usual, he thought she looked hungry. Not in a sexual sense, but as if she might sink her teeth into his throat if he stepped too close.

Norovena believed both of them had learned to play the part of madwomen when in private with their lord and lady, to facilitate whatever relationship the four had.  He chose to believe that, because the alternative would force him to wonder just what Highlady Nazfryn had been doing to them since their shared childhood that had left them in this state.

“Captain!”squealed the highlady herself in almost childlike delight.  It wasn’t too hard to contain his unease at this; he’d known exactly what to expect.

Unfortunately, Nazfryn was less dressed.  She actually wore a formal and very expensive-looking thyffyl robe of what appeared to be shimmersatin, but with none of the lacing or undergarments that were normally worn with them, and not even pulled shut.  It concealed nothing, especially when she twirled to face Norovena and sent the light fabric flaring about her.  Well, she had nothing he hadn’t already seen, anyway.

The man at her feet, bound in a fetal position, was lowborn to judge by the shade of his skin, at least what wasn’t covered in bruises and welts.  It was a cruel relief to Norovena that his head was concealed by a bag, sparing the captain from learning what his expression looked like and having that haunt his sleep.  There was nothing he could do about any of this; he just had to keep his head down and get out without being the next plaything.  The guy was utterly silent, but still alive; his labored breathing was visible even if the sound was muffled.  And he flinched at the impact when Nazfryn dropped the object she’d been holding right behind him.

It was a phallic-shaped object of carved and polished akorshil, and it landed with a splatter that was at least partially blood.

Okay, he knew the routine, knew how to do this.  Norovena went through the motions with care, focusing fully on keeping his expression exactly right in every detail.

He let his eyes dart across the nude Archlord and both maedhlou, lingering just long enough to let it be noticed that he’d noticed.  Looked deliberately at the bound man, making his eyes dart to the toy Nazfryn had flung down, and drew his eyebrows very slightly together in a carefully crafted expression of puzzlement.  Just a stupid soldier, unable to parse exactly what he was seeing here or what it signified.

Then he looked the mostly-nude Highlady over, eyes lingering in all the right places, and concentrated especially hard on his facial performance.  The challenge was mimicking the customary response to the sight of a gorgeous woman in a state of undress; like her husband, Nazfryn was a full-blooded elf and thus impossibly beautiful, but there was no amount of attractive she could be that would make him feel anything but fear and revulsion toward her.  Following that up a split-second later with embarrassment and aversion of his eyes was easy by comparison.

You could not show them disgust, fear, or any unhappiness.  Any sign of discomfort would be like trying to run from a coursing hound.  They’d be off in the chase; it seemed they simply could not help themselves.  It was safer to actually piss them off, as the Aelthwyns expressed anger in the same dangerous way most highborn did.  If they smelled weakness, though, they became…playful.

And you had to ogle Highlady Nazfryn.  Her husband didn’t mind, and she would take great offense if she didn’t get a typical male response to her nude beauty.  Her anger might be safer than her predatory interest, but that was far from the same as safe.

Norovena glanced at both of their faces before lowering his eyes in clear embarrassment at his “lapse,” because that was the expected action in the role he was playing.  It did at least reassure him that he’d pulled it off.  Caludon smirked in cruel amusement, while Nazfryn preened.

Okay, so far, so good.  Just had to keep it together, make his report and get the bloody hell out of here without setting them off.  Fortunately, he had an ally.

“My apologies for intruding, my lord, my lady,” Llewthron droned.  He had more practice at this than anyone and was able to slip into a sonorously boring delivery instantly.  That was the trick with the Aelthwyns.  As long as you were dull,they were more likely to leave you alone.  “I intercepted the Captain when I was informed of his approach to the household.  As his report is for your Lordship I invited myself along.  It is much more efficient for me to learn your Lordship’s orders directly.  If I have overstepped…?”

“Nonsense, Mainder, we have no secrets from each other,” Caludon said lazily.  “Isn’t that right, girls?”

Ilnyth let out a particularly shrill squeal of unhinged mirth before subsiding again into constant, quieter chuckles.  Myrrynit blessedly transferred her blank, soulless glare to Lord Llewthron, finally granting Norovena a breath of relief.

“Enough chitchat, the Captain has brought news!” Nazfryn trilled, literally bouncing on her toes in girlish excitement and clapping her hands.  “Tell me!  Tell me all about my boy!  Oh, wait—waitwaitwait, I have to get ready.  Let me bring him out!”

Her entire body language instantly switched, from innocent glee to a vampish demeanor slightly more befitting this appallingly tawdry scenario as she sashayed across the room to where a square canvas stood upon an easel just out of arm’s reach from the bed, covered by a pristine velvet drape.

Nazfryn carefully whisked this off and tossed it aside, revealing the hidden artwork.  The canvas itself was some painting or other, currently serving only as a particularly unfortunate backdrop to the piece of paper which only mostly covered it, secured in place with pins at the corners driven right through the original artwork.  By contrast, the paper was a simple sketch brushed in ink—simple, but accurate enough to be clearly the work of a skilled artist—depicting the face of Lord Seiji.

Norovena managed not to stare.  It was relatively easy because he was always in the mindset of carefully not staring at anything when in this place, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen this.

Seiji’s easily recognizable, exotic features were set in a deep, malicious smirk which made Norovena really admire the skill of whoever had drawn this.  He had never actually seen the man make that expression in person, but it just so perfectly suited his features and captured the essence of him; the painter had clearly seen his subject more than once, and heard some pointed descriptions of his demeanor.  The white paper was mostly clean, preserving the likeness, but mysterious smudges and stains bedecked the edges of it, their substance inscrutable though a few were recognizably fingermarks.  As if someone had been tenderly caressing the paper in the aftermath of something which got their hands extremely sticky.  Only a couple of spots were imposed on the actual drawing, an obscuring smudge across Lord Seiji’s lips which hinted at repeated contact, and a somewhat smaller one on his forehead.

Now, Nazfryn leaned forward and very gently kissed that spot, tenderly grazing the edge of the portrait with her fingers as she straightened.  Then she twirled back to face Norovena again, bright-eyed and eager.

“Now!  Tell me, Captain, tell me what my dear boy has been up to!”

He was pretty sure she’d never actually seen the man in person, even from a distance.  Nazfryn was usually disappointed by the objects of these obsessions she picked up from time to time.  The truly terrifying thing was that this time, he suspected Lord Seiji was going to prove far more interesting than even she imagined.

Norovena cleared his throat, settling more firmly into his persona.  Awkward and somewhat befuddled, dutiful and out of his depth.  Just a soldier reporting as ordered, nothing to see here.

“M’lord, m’lady.  Well, yes, Lord Seiji did pay me a visit this morning.  Less than an hour ago; I came to report to you as soon as he left, as ordered.  This is the first I’ve heard from or about him since the last…incident.”

“Spit it out, you—”

“Hush.”  Caludon’s cold tone made his wife clamp her teeth shut with an audible snap.  He looked very flatly at her for a second before relaxing into a droll smile again.  “Let the man talk, kitten, you know he’s not the best with words.  Just savor the anticipation.  Do go on, Captain.”

“Ah, yes…thank you, m’lord.  Well, most of the visit seemed to be social in nature.  He’s definitely cultivating me as a contact and dropped in to say hello.  There was something of substance, though, after all the pleasantries.  Two points, actually.  Most importantly, he referenced the next stage of what I think is his actual plan.  Lord Seiji suggested that I should begin pinning the blame for any and all bandit activity on Clan Olumnach, implying that if actual evidence didn’t present itself, it could be fabricated.”

“Oooh!  Oooooh!  Oh, now he’s going after Caldimer, I knew it.  I knew he would!”  Nazfryn turned to her husband, doing a mincing little dance in place.  “Didn’t I tell you, my love?  Oh, but what was he like, Captain?  How did he say it?”

Crap, of course she wouldn’t just let him get off with the basics.  Norovena squinted and screwed up his face, making a show of thinking with a generous hint that it wasn’t his strong suit.

“Well, he was…suitably oblique, my lady.  Lord Seiji’s good at it, he speaks as carefully as any highborn or judge.  He made his meaning clear without every saying anything outright I could safely arrest him for, were I inclined.”

“Of course he did,” she cooed.  “He’s so very clever, is my boy!  Far too good for the company he keeps.”

“And a validation of your earlier theory, Captain,” Caludon said idly, twirling a lock of Ilnyth’s hair between his fingers.  “It does seem he means to set up poor old Caldimer to break his teeth on our walls.  What a courteous guest Lord Seiji is, my pet, don’t you think?  He brings us such entertaining diversions.”

Nazfryn squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lower lip and produced a moaning noise that was uncomfortably sexual.  At least she didn’t actually start groping herself this time.  That had been a particularly uncomfortable meeting, even by the Aelthwyns’ standards.

“You indicated a second point of interest, Captain,” Caludon prompted when his wife failed to do so in her bizarre state of distraction.

“Ah, yes, m’lord.  It was how he ended the meeting—rather abruptly, in fact.  He mentioned Rhydion and I informed him of the paladin’s activities out by Caer Ardyllen.  At that he went haring off toward the King’s Guild to try to intercept him.”

“Ugh.”  Nazfryn pouted.  “Rhydion. What in the world does my sweet boy want with that tedious boor?”

“Rhydion is among the parties most pointedly interested in Lord Seiji’s activities, aside from yourselves, my lord and lady,” Llewthron answered in that stupefying drone.  He was so good at that; his delivery would probably make even Norovena sleepy, were he not so tense at this moment.  “Specifically, the paladin wants someone capable of healing magic to accompany him on an excursion into the forest to investigate undead activity.”

“Healing magic!  Zombies!  Just, ugh!” Nazfryn stomped her foot in childish pique.  “What a waste of my boy’s talent, his wits, his everything! He’ll be so uncomfortable out there in the forest, with no one interesting to talk to.  There’s nothing there but beastmen and undead.  Just so dull!”

“The poor lad,” Caludon said, giving his wife a heavy-lidded smile of catlike amusement.  “Perhaps I should give you to him when he returns.  What do you think, Captain, would Lord Seiji appreciate my dear Nazfryn as a gift?  We’d put her in a proper whore’s dress, of course, with a nice wooden collar and a leash.”

Fuck. Everything became exponentially more difficult when they directly involved you in their insanity.  Once asked specifically, he couldn’t just feign incomprehension and disinterest, as that would only provoke them and then he’d spend the rest of the day being verbally tortured.  Hopefully only verbally.  Now he had to engage, walk the incredibly delicate line of coming up with an answer screwy enough to satisfy Caludon’s sadistic streak without sufficiently catching his attention to make Norovena the focus of his full interest.

“Uh…  Well, seems like a waste, m’lord,” he said, scratching at his head and thinking as rapidly as he ever had while feigning general slowness.  “After the whole Cat Alley…thing, Lord Seiji must be mostly accustomed to lowborn whores.  I’m not sure how ready he is to appreciate a lady of quality.”

The elf smirked in visible satisfaction, and it was all Norovena could manage not to openly display relief.  “I rather think she would educate him, but you are not without a point.  So our guest was suddenly in a hurry to meet Rhydion, hmm.  Now, why do you suppose that is, Captain?”

With the arm draped about her shoulders, Caludon pushed down the blanket to bare Myrrynit’s entire torso and began casually fondling her breasts.  She had switched her horrifyingly empty stare back to Norovena and didn’t appear to notice.

“Based on context alone,” he answered slowly, giving this display the requisite disinterested glance and moving on, “I have to assume he was interested in taking Rhydion’s deal and felt the need to seize the opportunity before it disappeared.  Which suggests he’s been stringing Rhydion along all this time.  It’s the why I can’t figure, my lord.  Nothing I know about Lord Seiji suggests he would want to participate in such a project.  That tells me he must want something from Rhydion, but I’m afraid I’ve no clue what.”

He turned a curious look upon Llewthron, who just shrugged expressively.

“Mmmm,” Caludon purred thoughtfully while Nazfryn paced around Lord Seiji’s portrait and made inscrutable high-pitched noises in the background.  “And you haven’t connected him conclusively with the goblin development?”

“Not in a way that’d stand up in court, m’lord, not that that matters.  There wouldn’t be conclusive evidence anyway, Lord Seiji’s shown himself too sly to blunder like that.  Given everything else I can’t imagine he’s not behind it.”

“Of course he is!” Nazfryn trilled, clasping her hands and fluttering her eyelashes for all the world like a lovesick schoolgirl.  “He’s so clever, my boy is!  Imagine!  Whores and goblins, who else would even think to use such absurd tools, much less create such success with them!  Oh, Caludon, I want him!”

“Ah, ah, kitten.”  Caludon lifted his hand from Myrrynit’s chest to wag a chiding finger at his wife.  “Patience. Honestly, what did you ever do without me to rein you in?  We must let the tension build.  Savor the anticipation. It will happen in time, and it will all be so much the sweeter for having been built up properly.”

Myrrynit, still staring holes through Norovena, slowly formed her hand into a claw and raked it deliberately down Caludon’s chest, leaving a fresh set of scratch marks.  Two of them started to lightly bleed.  The Archlord didn’t appear to notice.  Ilnyth still hadn’t stopped giggling, not for even a second.

“And is that all, Captain?” he asked lazily.

“At this time, m’lord, yes,” Norovena answered, nodding.  “I don’t have direct eyes on the King’s Guild or Clan Ardyllen’s estate, and one or both of those is where I’d expect Lord Seiji to turn up next.  I can try sending a man or two…?”

“No, no.”  The Archlord waved him off, yawning.  “You are entirely too blunt an instrument for such a delicate task.  Mainder, see to it.  Lord Seiji so rarely graces the civilized parts of our isle with his presence, we must not waste the opportunity to watch his antics.”

“I shall see to it immediately, my lord,” Llewthron answered dully.

“Good man.  You’d best toddle off, then, gentlemen.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“As you command, my lord.”

She waited until they had turned and each taken two steps toward the door.  It was possible she was just distracted, but it was a certainty that she was cruel, and knew exactly the social rhythms to exploit to turn relief into renewed discomfort.

“Wait.”

Both men paused, then turned back in response to Highlady Nazfryn’s command.  Oh, this was bad; her eyes were boring directly into Norovena.  Worse, she looked happy. Avidly so.

“How do you think he did it, Captain?” she asked in a sultry whisper, slowly swaying from side to side as she ground her thighs together.  “I know you weren’t there.  Guess. How did my boy kill Lady Gray?  Ohh, it must have been so sweet.  So cruel.”

Hell’s revels, and he’d been so close to getting out of here unscathed.  Norovena inhaled, forcing himself to calm, to consideration.  Remembering his role, his strategies.

“Well…”  He tilted his head and squinted, reaching up to scratch his hair again.  “I’m pretty sure he didn’t nail her to a wall, m’lady.  He doesn’t seem the type to use the same trick twice.  I do think,” he added, slowing down his delivery in performative pensiveness, “it must’ve been something slow, and detailed.  After their back and forth I reckon he was quite angry with her by the end, and well…  We know how he acts when provoked that badly.  I, uh, sorry, m’lady.  Afraid I don’t have as much of an imagination as Lord Seiji, or yourself.”

Well, at least it got him out of danger.  Nazfryn’s eyes rolled up in her head and with a low groan, she actually slumped bonelessly to the floor.  A second later she reappeared, crawling up onto the bed like a cat, where she dragged herself onto the pile of people already there, groping and slurping at Myrrynit as if trying to devour her.  The maedhlou finally broke off her soulless glare at the interlopers, instantly twining herself around her mistress and reciprocating, their squirming and pawing threatening to push Archlord Caludon to the other side of the bed.  Norovena didn’t particularly want to see any of that, but so long as it wasn’t directed at him,he’d take it.

“Well, that’s all, gentlemen,” Caludon said lightly, sticking one arm between both gasping and clawing women and groping at…something, it was honestly impossible to tell.  “Either join in or move along.  Unless you have any other relevant insights about our guest, Captain?”

Nazfryn lifted her face from Myrrynit’s throat to stare expectantly at him, flushed and panting.

Captain Norovena blinked, squinted in thought, shook his head and calmly committed the first open, treasonous defiance of his twisted Archlord in his entire career.

“Afraid not, my lord, my lady.  Nothing else to report yet.”

“Off you go, then.”

He folded down his hands, did not glance at the poor boy still bound on the other side of the room, and turned to follow Llewthron to the door.

It shut behind them, and Norovena finally permitted himself just the faintest hint of relief.  It was only a tiny sigh, but it would have been deadly if they had seen it.  The steward and attending maid just gave him fleeting glances of sympathy before mastering their own expressions.

“As always, Captain, Clan Aelthwyn honors your discreet and diligent service.”

“I merely aim to serve in what little way I can, my lord steward,” he replied, folding down his hands again.

As he made his way out of Caer Aelthwyn, Norovena felt…giddy.  Light-headed, terrified, and ebullient.  He’d done it; he had defied the Archlord.  Deliberately withheld the one, all-important fact that changed the entire situation.  The thing he had learned only by chance, right after Lord Seiji’s departure, when one of his men happened to comment that Seiji was wearing boots and a rapier he recognized as having belonged to two of Lady Gray’s top enforcers.

Artifact boots, and an artifact rapier.

There were, of course, other explanations for why a sorcerer might carry artifacts.  The big one, the one Norovena was most inclined to dismiss by reflex, though…  Well, upon reflection, he had to acknowledge that there was nothing specifically counter-indicating it.  Just that it was statistically improbable to be happening here and now, because a rare event by definition was unlikely to happen in any one particular time and place.  But it had to happen somewhere, and as for the time…  It had been a century and a half since Yomiko.  It could indeed be any time now.

And that one, big, unlikely explanation wrapped up every other mystery swirling around the enigmatic Lord Seiji far too neatly to be ignored.

Now, Norovena had deliberately withheld that insight from his liege, preserving the strange kind of parity that existed between Caludon and Seiji: neither truly had any idea what they were about to be fucking with.

It wasn’t even a question of who would win.  Norovena would be far from the only soul on Dount who would breathe a sigh of relief and then get stumbling drunk in celebration when Lord Seiji finally slaughtered those fucking freaks.  It was that…  Caludon Aelthwyn wouldn’t even try to win.  He didn’t truly consider himself to be in conflict with anyone, didn’t regard winning as a meaningful concept.  Caludon just wanted to entertain himself to death, and take out as much of the world with him as he possibly could.

He wouldn’t defeat Lord Seiji, not even close.  He was just going to hurt him unimaginably in the process of dying.

Norovena strode back through the city toward his barracks, deep in his own mind as he began laying plans to survive whatever absolute terror was sure to befall Dount soon—and indeed, all of Ephemera.  The thing was, even if his new theory was correct…  He still couldn’t be sure what to plan for.

He’d read enough histories to have read between the lines, knew that Yomiko had fed the poor with the spoils of her conquest and that Satoshi’s comrades had learned never to leave their wives alone with him.  Heroes, villains, good, evil…  If there was one thing Norovena understood, it was that power was power, and power did the same thing to everyone when they got their hands on it.  Even so, personal inclinations aside, there were things forced upon the Hero and the Dark Lord by their roles, by the very goddesses.

And a man who protected women and children, but also nailed men to walls…

Which was he?