Richard sits calmly across from Alexios. “Thou canst always give in,” the younger of the two offers his old friend. Well, friend is a generous term, one reserved for only a few of those this old. Companion, perhaps, though they rarely act in concert. Rival would be too kind to Richard. No, perhaps something more akin to compatriot, though of a global organization rather than a country.
“Richard,” Alexios replies, “I can’t. You know I can’t. I’ve got a psychopathic eleven year old breathing down my neck.” Cruel of my old friend. And we are friends, no matter what unkind words he uses to describe me.
“The boy is no psychopath,” Richard respectfully counters, “He merely cares not about any of us. Nor our well being.” Unfortunate. That means he may well realize I’m listening.
Alexios shakes his head and gives a half-hearted sigh. “I disagree. Well, about one third of that opinion at least. But I don’t want to talk politics. Not now, and certainly not without your wife present. That would be improper.” The ancient man takes a look at his cards, then shrugs and smirks. “I’ll call and raise you two.” The Greek gentleman moves three strange, rectangular tokens into the center of the table. This better work. Alexios is confident it will help in the coming game, but I don’t trust the right hand of the Rite to actually be able to hold up his end of the deal. But I know Gadise to be correct, if we are to affect change we need the minor factions to side with us over the Mythic.
Richard looks at the smirking man before him. “I see. No, doest thou have a full house or a mere trio of alike?” he asks Alexios, clearly trying to cold read a man who lived hundreds of years of secrecy before the younger man was even born.
Alexios shakes his head. “Come on, we’re alone and you’re not Ed. Why are you doing the whole old timey affectation?”
“You wish the truth? ‘Tis fun, and one must hold true to their fun whenever they may get the opportunity, lest it run away to join another. As in life, so in death. Call.” The English man tosses two of his hexagonal tokens into the pot as well.
“Well then, you can have your fun,” Alexios says with a smile, flipping over his hand of four sixes and a Jack. “But I’ll be taking the pot.”
“Fuck,” Richards demeanor momentarily breaks as he tosses down his hand. Queens full of jacks. He was right to be confident. That’s the kind of hand that should win most of the time.
Alexios smiles and pulls in the pot. “Sorry,” he says, as though he did something wrong by being lucky.
Richard recognizes the ridiculousness of the apology as well. “‘Tis unnecessary. Thou won thy ‘bout honest.”
“Yeah, but I pressed more than I probably should have,” Alexios countered, refusing to concede his apology.
I shake my head as I turn my focus away from my old friend’s attempt at diplomacy. He has his mission, I have mine. And while his diplomatic job is one of apparent revelry and quiet politicking, I doubt that is what will be called for here. Fortunately, neither of those are particularly my strong suit. I walk calmly towards the compound. The chill in the air sets my hair on end. And that’s not all that does so. Two strong looking, heavily scarred people try to stop me at the gate. “Who is it, approaching this place they don’t belong?” the one on the right, a man with long, black hair braided loosely around his neck, demands of me.
“No one important,” I lie. Humility always helps when dealing with those who cling to their belief in their own honor. “But I desire words with the Knightslayer.” I do not slow my approach.
“If you don’t stop, we’ll have to stop you,” the one on the left, a rough looking woman with very shortly cut blonde hair, adds.
I stare her down, a cold, empty stare. I continue to walk forward. “If you believe that is what you must. I am going to keep moving. I am going to enter your camp. I am going to speak with your Progenitor. These are not the tested variables in the coming events, but controlled ones. All that is to be tested is your response.”
The Knightslayers, to people not in the know, would think they are some kind of cult. A group of people in the caves of Scandinavia, constantly drilling combat under a strong and powerful leader they all see as a father figure. They aren’t. They aren’t really a faction, either, though that is the title they hold in the Game. No, the Knightslayers are an army. An army that is built, trained, and grown for the sole purpose of killing some hundred and fifty people who’ve been dead for more than a millennium and by all accounts cannot be killed permanently. And the funny thing about armies, they aren’t like most people when it comes to me. It tends to not matter as much that I’m small and weak looking. I suspect they will still try to stop me. And fail, of course, but try.
Before they can, a voice speaks, echoing through the cave. “Hold.” It is the Fin’s voice. He noted my approach, it seems. Good. The gates open and a massive mountain of a man steps through. “Young Marcellus, I would greatly appreciate it if you did not kill any of my warriors.”
“If you ask, of course,” I reply with a cold smile. “But I do wish to speak with you. May I come inside.” It’s good to be polite, but both the Knightslayer and I know that I’m not actually asking. I already told the man’s gate guards: I am going to enter the camp and speak with the Fin. I’m just giving the Fin a chance to make it his choice.
“Of course, anything for a friend of the old King with no Kingdom,” he says with a smile. Behind his smile sits the rage, held at bay by a hard-earned wisdom and respect for his enemies. And I hold no delusion that we are anything but enemies in his mind.
I walk with him inside, taking careful note that he keeps me in his eyeline the whole time. “So,” I ask as we walk, “Have you spoken with Nkoci recently?”
“Why do you ask?” he replies calmly. Not polite, no one would ever accuse the Knightslayer of being polite, but not upset about the question either.
I smile. “Because when I last spoke with him, I found his new legs to be much too rude, abrasive, and opinionated. In my humble opinion.”
The Fin laughs at that, a booming, earnest laugh. “It is as though she thinks, being the King’s legs, she can act with the old man’s power.”
“Sometimes, I miss Farid. Or at least Tariku.”
The Fin shakes his head. “I must admit, I always found Farid a bit boring. Tariku, however, knew how to have opinions without forcing them on anyone but the King with no Kingdom. You never knew Nit before, but she, too, did that. Though she didn’t hold any true beliefs.”
I smile a wicked smile. “I did know Nit, in fact,” I say calmly, “But you were well awares. Else why mention her lack of earnest beliefs.”
“I had suspicions,” he replies, “But I did not know. I could never find her to ask, but from what I understand, that merely confirms her lack of moral character.”
Together, we enter his war room. A large map with pins sticking out everywhere sits in the middle of the room. No chairs, no signs of comfort. Merely a map, filing cabinets, and weapons. The Fin waves his hand, and the three warriors who were escorting us nod and walk out of the tent. “What do you want, Unwavering?”
“Aid, of the sort you are able to offer,” I answer. I can see a hint of irritation enter the corners of his face, so I elaborate. “Something is going to occur in the next game. Gadise hopes I can convince you to stand with our mutual friend. On the sidelines.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “I generally do. Why do you believe I would not?”
I continue to look him in the eyes, unblinking. “I do not believe anything of the sort. I know you will stay on the sidelines. Gadise believes you might waver in your well-established independence due to the coming announcement of a reunification of the Conquerors. She recalls that your Knightslayers, before you there were Knights to slay, did hold an alliance with the Conquerors.”
“Why would Oighrig ever agree to that?” the Fin insisted.
This time I choose not to elaborate. “So, can I tell the wise Gadise her fears are unfounded?”
The Knightslayer shakes his head. “Why do you care? Why do the actions of the Embrace matter to you?”
“You are not answering my question.”
“No, I am still thinking. You also did not answer my question.”
I smile and shrug. “No, I did not.”
“I see,” he says with a sigh. After a moment, he adds, “But I believe our fight against the great threat is more important than the petty squabbles among our people.”
“I agree. Here, this may help your cause,” I reply, placing a flash drive on the corner of the map table. One of my research facilities had a fresh perspective that may well have found a way to track the re-emergences of Knights. Probably won’t help them find the ones who are still here, but whenever one returns it should reveal their location. Not that I will tell the Fin that. He and his men can figure that out on their own. “I do look forward to our next meeting.”
The Fin nods. “If you see the King before I do, tell him we need to talk.”
I smile and nod. “Very well,” I say as I turn around and head out of the war room. It went better than I thought. Good. I need to check back in on Alexios, make sure his side of things is in order.
I head through the camp and out the gate once more. The gate guards bow slightly. The woman stands back up and adds. “I apologize for our behavior earlier. We’re young, and did not recognize you by appearance, Marcellus the Unwavering.”
I smile at her. “There is no need to apologize, Larisa of the Knightslayers. You did what you believed necessary. Never apologize for doing what you feel you must do.”
The man hastily adds, “Of course, that’s exactly right.”
I turn my gaze to him, my smile dropping. “Do not suck up. Saying what you believe someone wishes you to say when you need not say anything shows even less strength of character than falsely apologizing to be polite and appease your own ego.”
“I apologize for my compatriot, we are trying to teach him good character, but he is yet to learn,” the woman says for her weak willed companion.
I turn back to her and nod. “If he does not learn, he weakens you all.”
She nods silently, showing more character than her fellow guard. “Announce yourself next time. While many of us have never seen you before and do not know your face, we know you by name.”
I smile. That is what she’s actually feeling. Good. “I like the honesty. But no. If I announce myself, that adds a new variable to the mix. One I would need to find a method for controlling. The fewer variables one needs to control, the easier it is to see how the independent variable changes the dependent ones.”
“Then next time our Father might not make it in time and you might die.”
“I won’t, but I appreciate the concern,” I reply with a smile. Then, before she can reply any more, I walk away. Listening to them, of course. Always listening.
The guy shoots at his fellow guard, “Why’d you have to insult me like that, man? I was just trying not to piss off the crazy guy.”
“I just told him the truth. Not my fault you’re an idiot.”
I can’t help but chuckle as I gaze in on Alexios’s progress. Richard’s wife, Margaret, has joined the room. Good. We need both of them if we’re going to convince Edward to do anything.
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