Only Villains Do That - 4.32 In Which the Dark Lord Receives an Invitation

“You remember the squirrels?”

“From yesterday, and the day before? My memory is not so feeble as that, Lord Seiji.”

“Well, it’s been a big day since then, lots of revelations. Makes it easy to gloss over the fact that our visit to squirrel town was pretty revelatory in its own right.”

He nodded once, apparently willing to indulge me in this rhetorical tangent. “I feel the Seer’s insight into your own motives and methods brought me great reassurance.”

That brought me up short. “Wait… Reassurance? Did you…perhaps not hear what I said?”

“It wasn’t what you said, and come on, Lord Seiji. What part of that did you think would be surprising to anyone who knows you? In fact, I meant her offhand comment to your bodyguard. That the thing she most believes in is you. I have taken the liberty of inquiring about Delavada Aster around the King’s Guild. The fact that she would put such faith in you when your relationship is clearly not romantic says…a great deal.”

“Hm. I suppose so.” Damn it, this guy had an absolute genius for derailing me. “But I was thinking, specifically, about your bright idea to send me to talk with their leaders alone.”

“It did seem to work to our mutual advantage.”

“Yeah, I have a way with people when I need to. Surprising as that may be.”

“For someone so overall prickly, perhaps,” he concurred. “I think it matters which people, though. You seem to engender an instinctive and powerful sympathy among the…aggrieved.”

“Congratulations, that’s the politest way I’ve ever been called an asshole. My point was that, regardless of how it turned out, we both know there were layers of motive in you asking me to do it.”

Rhydion tilted his head very slightly to one side, just watching me in expectant silence.

“I’ve been trying to puzzle that out,” I continued, staring at him with the full force of my intent. “This whole expedition was supposedly a means of reconciling our…differing opinions about how to address this country’s problems, at least as a secondary goal to the zombie thing. Since you were, allegedly, very concerned about the havoc I might cause if left to run around unsupervised, right? So it seemed like a strange move to encourage me to potentially expand my own power base while you weren’t watching. Don’t even pretend you weren’t aware of that prospect.”

“And what do you make of that?” he asked mildly.

“Oh, it makes perfect sense now. I was confused at the time, but then I didn’t realize your whole plan for the zombies and their source was to distract the attentions of the highborn. And if they didn’t pan out as a suitable threat… Well, we know of another, better alternative, don’t we?”

Moving with slow care, clearly to reassure me that he wasn’t going for a weapon, Rhydion shifted to parade rest stance, folding his hands behind his back.

“And so it would seem the question of your own plans for the witch is more relevant than ever.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll talk to me, without goons in Sanorite colors swarming all over her house. Especially if the alternative is me finishing what I started with her front lawn. As for what I might do with her… Honestly, I question how much she’s good for. Clearly she’s a brilliant alchemist, which is doubtless worth something if she were supplied with proper resources that don’t involve bartering with bandits and beastfolk. Keeping her fed would be…an issue. But most importantly, we’ve learned that vampires aren’t as big a physical threat as I feared, not if Dhinell can fend her off solo.”

“Worthy points of consideration, all, but none answering the question.”

“Are you familiar with the concept of a loyal opposition?”

“And to what, Lord Seiji, are you loyal?”

“My principles,” I said, surprised at how swift the response popped out, and especially at how sincerely I meant it. “I won’t pretend I don’t still have major qualms about your approach to dealing with the corruption of this kingdom, or that the reverse isn’t true. But…I think we have learned some important things about one another. Come…closer to reconciliation. Mostly, I just needed to know that you actually do intend to do something to achieve the necessary change.”

“And I,” he said quietly, “that you possess far more restraint and patience than I gave you credit for. After seeing the aftermath of your attack on the undead in that courtyard… The fact that there are any highborn left alive on Dount since your arrival, much less nearly all of them, shows exactly the awareness of consequence and the need for strategy which I feared you lacked.”

It was funny because he was right, just not for the reasons he thought. I couldn’t have unleashed that caliber of destruction until minutes before I went and did it, but the fact remained, I understood very well and had been struggling with the need to act slowly and carefully rather than bringing the unmitigated wrath of the entire Sanorite world down on my head.

My results were mixed, but I was trying, damn it.

“You mentioned your hope of gaining Khariss’s active cooperation,” I continued, watching him carefully for the tiniest tell. It took that kind of close regard to pick up anything from under that all-concealing armor. “In fact, I’d venture to say you were very eager to achieve that outcome, given how insistent you were on getting her to sit down for a talk.”

And here it was. As showtime went, this was very subdued, but absolute control of this presentation was no less important than any bombastic speech I’d ever given.

“I am asking you, Rhydion, to leave her to me. You’ll have the threat you need to hold over the highborn. In the worst case… Exactly the situation as it exists now, including the headache of keeping them fixated on the vampire long after a reasonable person would have realized she’s mostly harmless. But in the best? A threat with which you can discreetly coordinate. One operating under a more…cogent authority than Khariss herself seems capable of.”

“In short,” he said quietly, “you are asking for a great deal of trust.”

“Trust is earned, and that takes time. I am asking for, and offering, a mutual opportunity to earn it. This is the best deal you could hope for, Rhydion: there’s basically no risk to you. If I tried to turn around and use Khariss or anything else against you…well, that just gives you exactly what you need to go forward with your original plan, without me.”

Very slowly, he nodded his helmet once.

“Understand that there are others for whom I cannot speak, Lord Seiji. But your proposal is, in many ways, an ideal outcome. After we emerge from the forest and reconnect with the King’s Guild, I must travel to Fflyrdylle and report. I am confident that, if I present the situation you advocate, your plan will meet with approval.”

“And I will trust,” I said with a pleasant little smile, “that you’ll do what you must to persuade the relevant parties toward that outcome, and extend me the courtesy of a little forewarning if you fail. Not because you don’t want to find out what happens when I am extremely pissed off, but because you appreciate the value of developing closer cooperation. You being the big-picture guy, and all.”

“They are both excellent motivators,” the paladin said gravely. Finally releasing his rigid posture, he took a step forward and extended his armored hand. “Trust, then. In the hope that it will grow in the days to come.”

I met his approach, clasping his cold gauntlet firmly.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”

The way back was less interesting, but less fraught.

We were met the next day by our old pal Vylkher, who very politely informed us that the squirrel tribe was fully occupied in discussion about the community’s future which were strictly private, and as such they would not be hosting any visitors for the duration. It wasn’t exactly mysterious what they must be talking about, but as curious as I (and doubtless Rhydion also) was, there seemed nothing to be gained by pushing the issue.

Escorted openly by Vylkher, and more discreetly by a rotating roster of squirrelfolk scouts who remained out of view, we passed through their territory over the next two days. Our route took us close enough to see the village as we went past it, since it was pretty hard to miss for kilometers in every direction, but Vylkher led us on a course that did not bring us into proximity. As always, Biribo kept me surreptitiously appraised of the movements of the squirrels and also goblins passing through tunnels close to the surface. It was a little harder to assign meaning to the latter, but he was of the opinion they represented heightened patrols in the vicinity. That stood to reason; they wouldn’t have any way of knowing exactly where I was, and Gizmit’s orders had been to stand by for my call, not send scouts up top to find me.

Our guide left us with his usual blend of mysterious, laconic affability once we were close enough to the edge that Harker seemed to know every trail and landmark. We picked up our pace for the last stretch of the hike; tired and cold as we all were, more than anything we were eager to be done with this and enjoy some of the comforts of civilization before the inevitable consequences of our mission began to set in.

It came as more of a relief than I ever would have imagined when we emerged from the forest almost exactly where we had entered, with before us a wide field and beyond that the still-intact fairgrounds surrounding the village and looming structures of Caer Ardyllen and its adjacent barns. Evidently they were keeping eager watch for us—not eager enough to actually send scouts into the forest, but almost as soon as we passed out from the shade of the khora an outcry went up that was audible all the way across the field. King’s Guild adventurers began trotting through the snow toward us, intercepting our group halfway and slowing us down as they clustered excitedly around Rhydion.

I paused, watching him for a moment as he had halted to reassure everyone that we were well, that our mission had proceeded favorably and that he wished to report to the Guild proper and the Convocation as soon as possible, then decided none of this really required my presence. I had my own things to get back to as quickly as could be arranged, starting with a return to Gwyllthean from where I could catch a tram back to North Watch. And, assuming Highlord Lhadron would deign not to throw a fit about it, starting before that with a brief visit to his hospitality tent to drink something hot and at least wash my face and hands. Nothing’ll leave you feeling quite as grimy as a week spent stomping through the forest with a big zombie battle in the middle.

I left the rest of the team behind, beelining toward the big tent with Aster in tow, singularly focused on this goal. As usual, I did not get what I wanted.

“Lord Seiji?” someone had the absolute gall to interrupt me before I even made it into the shelter of the brazier-heated tent. I turned, not bothering to keep the impatience off my features, to find myself confronted by a lowborn man in a warmer coat than most of them I’d seen in this town, thrown on over what looked like servant’s livery in what I assumed to be Clan Ardyllen colors. He folded down his hands at me, breath misting on the air. “Welcome back, and the Goddess be praised for your safe return. A banquet has been prepared in your honor in the manor house, at which your presence is respectfully required.”

I blinked at him. What?

“I was…not under the impression that the good Highlord was so kindly disposed toward me, last time I was here.”

The man cleared his throat diffidently.

“Your pardon, my lord, but it is not at my master’s invitation, though of course it will be a great relief to him to see you present and hale. Clan Ardyllen has had the honor of hosting no less than Archlord Caludon and his wife the Highlady Nazfryn of Clan Aelthwyn for these past three days. They insist upon the immediate presence of yourself and your party upon your safe return.”

“And they just happened to have all this prepared right as we got back? What downright miraculous timing.”

He managed a thin, tired approximation of a smile.

“The Archlord has commanded that a reception suitable to celebrate your triumph be ready and waiting upon your arrival, my lord. The feast has been continuously in progress. For three days.”

In other words, this assclown had been sitting around eating Lhadron out of house and home since we left Khariss’s house? I did not much care for Lhadron, but I couldn’t help sympathizing with him in this case.

“I see. Well, I’ll be along shortly, I just need to freshen up.”

The servant folded down his hands again. “My lord, my humblest and most sincere apologies, but the Archlord’s command was explicit. You are to be escorted to the banquet hall immediately upon your return.”

“My guy, have yourself a look at me,” I said irritably. “I have been hiking through the zombie-infested forest for a week; you can plainly tell that I look and smell like it. I guarantee Highlord Lhadron does not want me tracking mud across his carpets in this condition. The Archlord can wait another ten minutes.”

“My lord,” he said, cringing, “I beg your forgiveness with the utmost humility, but… Archlord Caludon does not wait.”

“Well, he’s about to—”

“Lord Seiji.” Aster placed a hand on my upper back; I turned an annoyed glare on her and then checked myself at the intense look in her eyes. She leaned close enough to murmur at a very discreet volume. “Caludon Aelthwyn is dangerous in a way that none of the highborn you’ve met come close to. If you piss him off, it won’t be you who pays for it.”

Her golden eyes flicked meaningfully toward the servant, and I took a closer look at him. His hunched posture and widened eyes I had initially taken for symptoms of cold, but now that I paid attention, this man was terrified. And not of me.

“That is a salient point.”

I barely managed not to jump as Rhydion, preposterously stealthy in that armor as usual, materialized right behind us.

“I will remind you further,” the paladin continued, “that any attack against an Archlord, for any reason, will be deemed an attack upon the power structure of this kingdom as a whole and beget immediate reprisal from every legal and religious institution it hosts, both independently and in unison.”

I heaved a sigh, scowling at him. “Man, you really think I’m some kind of rabid dog, don’t you.”

“I think,” Rhydion said in an unnervingly even tone, “that upon meeting Archlord Caludon Aelthwyn after he has been kept waiting for three days, we are likely to see something which would drive a man of normal or even mellow temperament to violence. I would not personally condemn any reaction you produce, but I will remind you that whatever is about to happen will have consequences which spread farther than you know. Dealing with his ilk demands the utmost restraint.”

I studied him for a second, then nodded once before turning back to the servant, who was nervously dry-washing his hands.

“Well, I guess we’d better go entertain his Lordship, then. Lead on, my man.”

The banquet hall of Caer Ardyllen was the second such I had seen, discounting the small private dining room in Caer Yviredh; this one was laid out so similarly to the mess hall in North Watch that I had to assume there was a cultural significance to the design. It resembled a school auditorium in shape, with an elevated stage at one end, upon which the higher nobility and their esteemed guests were seated, to loom over and be admired by the hoi polloi down below. Here, it was all highborn at the public tables, which really said something about those in the high seats.

And about the Fflyr as a culture, but that was nothing I didn’t already know.

“Rhydion,” a dignified servant in different livery than Clan Ardyllen’s greeted us, folding down our hands even as he lifted his chin to stare down his nose. “Lord Seiji. Clan Aelthwyn bids you welcome. Seats have been prepared for you in the company of your hosts at the high tables. The lowborn will wait in the gallery.”

He swept a disdainful gaze across Aster and Harker, then pointed with his nose toward a shaded area along one side of the room, separated from the main banquet hall only by pillars. This was an architectural feature North Watch did not have, doubtless signifying the difference between a noble household and a military facility. Servants of various Clans stood there, alongside tables of food and drink, watching for the needs of their respective masters.

Aster and Harker ghosted away in that direction without another word. The servant, however, stepped forward, planting himself directly in front of Dhinell when she took a step after Rhydion.

“Lowborn to the gallery,” he sneered.

Dhinell, with her light tan complexion and brown hair no darker than his own, went wide-eyed with shocked outrage. “I am—”

“Sister.” Rhydion gently interposed himself, lowering his voice. “You are aware that the Archlord has a contentious relationship with the Radiant Convocation. Please be mindful that any insults given by Clan Aelthwyn are likely deliberate provocations for political purpose, and remember the Goddess’s teachings.”

She swelled with a deep breath, then let it out slowly, deliberately marshaling her expression. “Patience and endurance in the face of those who would subdue us. Yes. Thank you, Rhydion, for the timely reminder.”

With a final, scathing glare at the servant, she turned on her heel and stalked off to join the others. He ignored her, turning back to us and folding down his hands. “My lords, if you—”

“Oh, just shut up,” I snorted, brushing past him and deliberately jostling his shoulder with my own. Frightened servants being bullied by their irrational masters had my sympathy. Petty, unctuous little toadies borrowing others’ power to inflict vicarious cruelty were another matter. Fuck this guy.

I was aware of the stares and whispers of everyone in the banquet hall, of course, and ignored them with all the aplomb of a Dark Lord in his own domain. Swaggering very much as if I owned the place, I strode toward the dais and bounded up the steps to it three at a time, reaching the top in two strides.

“And here, at last, he is! Lord Seiji, I belatedly welcome you to our dismal, muddy, sheep-infested little smudge of an island. It shames me that you have been so lacking for diversion that you felt the need to wrangle zombies in the forest.”

I think I would have hated Caludon Aelthwyn at first sight even if I didn’t already know what a twisted monster he was. The man was sprawled so lazily in his dining chair that he made it look almost like a bed, and had his shirt unlaced halfway down his chest in a way which showed off an awful lot of skin for the season and which I knew wasn’t customary fashion for Fflyr highborn. His hair, too, was rumpled as if he’d just been asleep, rather than meticulously combed up in those spiky styles the highborn seemed to favor. He had that relentlessly smug expression of a trust fund baby who not only thought he was better than anyone, but knew he actually wasn’t and was enjoying the unfairness of it. Being an elf, of course, the man was impossibly good-looking, which just made it worse.

“Sometimes, Archlord, people do things for reasons other than wanting to be entertained.”

“Yes, so one hears,” Caludon said lazily, flicking his fingers. “Mostly those who lack imagination, however. I am quite certain that is not a failing of yours, my lord. In fact, I feel very confident we shall find ourselves to be kindred spirits.”

“Oh, very much so,” purred the gorgeous elven woman seated to his right, leaning toward me. “I just cannot tell you how I have anticipated the delight of your company, Lord Seiji. And at last, here you are! Our very own Moonlit Messenger, passing through the fields of Asmiradh.”

I bowed to her, mostly because Fflyr didn’t seem to like that, and was annoyed when it actually made her smile. “You do me far too much credit, my lady. I’m just Commodore Perry arriving in his little boat. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?”

“Not yet,” she drawled with a heated look that would have set off warning bells in my head even if her husband hadn’t been sitting right there. “I am the lady of this blighted little demesne, to my eternal disappointment. Please, you must call me Nazfryn.”

“Must I?”

She let out a peal of delighted laughter, clapping her hands, and I took a quick glance around at the others present in the high seats. There was an elf I didn’t recognize in Radiant Convocation robes more heavily embellished with gold than most, and to my surprise, Lord Ruell. The Lancoral elf nodded upon catching my eye, his expression far less jovial than seemed to be his habit. And, of course, I recognized my hosts, although I had already forgotten the Highlady’s name.

“Highlord Lhadron,” I said, inclining my head toward him. “My sincere apologies for darkening your door again, and especially in this…disheveled condition. I’m given to understand this is something of a command performance.”

“We have all our superiors to appease, Lord Seiji,” Lhadron replied, nodding back. “I never judge a man for yielding to inevitability, but only by the grace with which he does so.”

The air here wasn’t hard to read at all. This guy didn’t like me any better than when we’d parted, but right now, we weren’t enemies. At the moment we had a problem in common.

“Isn’t it lovely that we can all be friends,” Caludon said in a tone of saccharine sarcasm that caused a spike in my baseline state of wanting to Immolate him. “Already, Lord Seiji, you fail to disappoint—in fact, I daresay you exceed my already lofty expectations. Truly, your arrival is a blessing. Finally, a man so much like myself.”

And there was that again.

“You think so?” I mused, putting on a bland smile. “I’ve gotta tell you, Archlord, I don’t see the resemblance.”

“Oh, but surely you do,” he drawled, actually hooking one leg over the arm of his chair and sprawling against its winged back so aggressively I thought it might tip over backward. With a languid wave of one hand, he dismissed the banquet hall and everyone in it. “I can see it in your eyes, in every shift of your bearing. Your…impatience with the patent absurdity of all this. The polite games of these ravening dogs who presume to deem themselves high society, as if they don’t rut and gorge themselves like any other beast the instant eyes are not upon them. You and I know the difference between their pretensions and true power.”

Highlady Nazfryn leaned toward me in a posture that was such a deliberate invitation to look down her dress it almost seemed rude not to, which was only part of the reason I didn’t. Never mind my…cleavage-related mental hangups, there was something about her wide eyes and their pinprick pupils that set my teeth on edge. The fact I could see that at all was telling; like most elves she had black eyes, but there was something off about their texture, as if she was…focusing in a way they weren’t designed for. I could smell the crazy wafting off this woman like thick perfume.

Everyone else on the dais, meanwhile, just looked uncomfortable.

“Sure,” I said quietly after a moment. “I get it. You can have everyone in this manor killed.”

Caludon and Nazfryn, clearly of one mind and heart, smiled widely at me.

“I,” I continued, “can kill everyone in this manor.”

Their smiles faded. After another pause, I put on one of my own, and shruged.

“Yeah, we’re the same. A lion is a cat, so every cat is basically a lion, right?”

Caludon’s expression slowly faded into blankness. Nazfryn bit her lower lip, giving me the most aggressive bedroom eyes I had ever seen.

And then the Archlord smiled again. This time there was something far less amiable behind it, and I reminded myself of Rhydion’s warning. Gratifying as it was to get under his skin, I wasn’t performing for my own sake, here. This was a man who amused himself by making starving peasants fight for scraps of bread. If I gave him any of what he actually deserved, he would either inflict that misery tenfold on thousands of uninvolved people, or the entirety of Fflyr Dlemathlys would come after my head.

“Truly,” the Archlord mused softly, “a breath of fresh air in this dank pit. Please, my lord, be seated. I have so eagerly awaited the pleasure of your company. I think you will be most diverted by what I have prepared for you.”

Oh, yeah. This was going to be the worst dinner party ever.