Chapter 45: 45. Pointed Debate

Excerpt from Pruii Depthcharter’s ‘Structures of Respect: A Journeyman’s Guide To Politics.’

“Winning is not always possible—nowhere is this more true than in political maneuvering. Instead of focusing single-mindedly on victory, on having your voice heard over all or your opinion or position recognised as truth, consider the middle-ground, the process towards your goals. If you cannot find victory in this interaction, there is no reason why you should give up. Because, if you can’t win, you can at least ensure others will lose.”

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Yenna’s hands moved faster than her mind.

An emphatic, instinctual blast of wind knocked the floating sword completely off course, giving the mage a moment to think. It careened halfway across the room before it righted itself and turned its point straight at Yenna. With all the surety of an expert swordsman, it lunged across the room straight for her chest.

Time slowed. If Yenna had the time to think it, she would have praised whatever mage dreamed up the mental discipline techniques that allowed one to activate their mental acceleration by hijacking the fight-or-flight fear response. As it stood, she only had time to think of an appropriate spell.

The convenient thing about being attacked by a magically animated sword, Yenna thought wryly, is that it could be approached from the angle of spellcraft. The spells that animated weaponry weren’t far removed from the same kind of magic that allowed golems and other constructs to move—from motive force telekinetics to decision-making anima, the complex system of interlocking spellcraft made for a daunting thing to build from the ground up. It ironically made them very easy for mages to defeat, as any serious protection would make the spells involved orders of magnitude more complex to cast.

With that in mind, Yenna went for a fairly brute-force counter-spell. Disruptive waves of unordered magic simulated a metaphorical gale-force magic wind, stripping away at the enchantments that powered the sword. It wobbled indecisively in mid-air as it lost its ability to ‘see’, decision-making pathways crumbling and causing it to erratically over-correct its flight-path. Yenna ducked low as the sword flew over her head, losing its telekinetic propulsion and lodging itself in the wood of the wall just beside her.

“D-Didn’t expect it to f-fly off like that…” Yenna squeaked out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Nearby, Eone and her mother were winning their respective battle—one of the beast-men had grown cocky and ducked into a feint, Aroearoe’s jewel-encrusted rapier now stained with the man’s sickly black blood. Evidently not possessed of the bird-like beast-man’s exceptional regenerative abilities, the assailant had a rather predictable response to being run through—Yenna chose not to observe the rest of that encounter, and turned to help Narasanha.

“Narasanha, I’m going to deactivate them! But they’ll fly off, so, uh, be careful!

“What? Mage, wait–”

Yenna held up her good hand and channeled an overwhelming wave of disruptive magic towards the other dancing blades. It felt good to have a living flow of magic in the area again—the spell tore up the room’s supply of magic to do its work, and would have caused all sorts of problems for the kesh back in the realm of stillness. Now, it caused issues for her targets as all of the dancing weapons failed dramatically.

Narasanha moved herself in between the bulk of the twitching weapons and Yenna, all four arms desperately redirecting the erratic weaponry. A long dagger lodged itself in the roof as it bounced off the bodyguard’s mace, while a slightly curved scimitar boomeranged awkwardly past all of them and out through a window. A duelling rapier continued valiantly in its fight, but with all the grace of a habitual drunkard—Narasanha smashed it out of the air with such force that it crumpled against the floor, leaving a nasty gash in the rug.

One of the weapons arced with comical slowness over the top of the bodyguard and towards Eone’s ongoing duel. The captain took a step backwards to avoid it—this prompted her assailant to duck in, to seize the momentum, only for the hefty blade to dig itself into his back. With a betrayed yelp, the man fell to the ground alongside his late ally.

“Is it quite safe yet?” Shen Stormsea’s meek, ‘don’t mind me’ expression peeked around the corner of the doorway, his false smile dropping as he locked eyes with the Deepstar head. Aroearoe wiped her rapier clean of blood on her dress with a flourish. She lifted the tip of her blade and pointed it at Shen.

“Grab him.”

Shen gave a squeak of fright and turned to run—a nod from Eone had Narasanha yanking him through the doorway before Yenna could even blink. To his credit the man didn’t struggle, though he complained vigorously.

“U-Unhand me, you demon! This is a violation of the rules of hospitality, and of our non-aggression pacts! I ate at your table, y-you can’t harm me!” The man looked around frantically for a sympathetic ear as Narasanha frog-marched him to stand before Aroearoe.

“If I’m wrong,” the Deepstar head sheathed her blade, “Then you shall have every right to complain. However, if I’m right—and I usually am—then you shall thank me for not executing you on the spot.”

Shen gulped. Yenna felt very suddenly out of her depth, the pain of her injured hand barely a distraction to the tension she felt flooding the room. They had transitioned so quickly from one form of combat to another that the mage had barely had time to adjust.

“R-Right about what, Head? I’ve done nothing to you or yours.” True. But misleading.

“Mhm.” The corner of Aroearoe’s lips turned up into the tiniest smirk, and Yenna pushed down the urge to wonder at the woman’s beauty—how dangerous she was in this moment, like a coiled viper, how it must feel to be under that predatory gaze.

For his part, Shen squirmed. “R-Really! If you’ll just allow me to call my sister, and bring her here, she can explain everything to you. Everything you’re worried about. Um. The thing you think we did, that is.”

Aroearoe arched an eyebrow—it appeared as though Shen had admitted a bit more than the woman had expected, though it didn’t clear up the mystery for Yenna. As though she sensed Yenna’s confusion, Eone sidled over to the mage. Yenna tried her best not to look at the blood on the captain’s clothes.

“Mother believes this is an assassination attempt by House Stormsea.” The captain had leaned right in to whisper into Yenna’s ear, making the motion look natural by reaching for the mage’s injured wrist. Yenna hissed in surprise—at the pain of Eone’s touch as much as the delivered message.

“A-Assassination?” The mage tried her best not to squeak in surprise. “But… but why?”

“House Deepstar is old, and powerful—though our power has been waning over the last hundred or so years. It’s no secret that I– the heir to the house,” Eone flicked a glance back to her mother, “Am pointedly absent. Mother is rather single-handedly keeping us afloat with sheer force of will and business acumen, but that weakness means that anyone wishing to compete with us has a very simple target.”

“House Stormsea wants to kill your mother… for business reasons?!” This time Yenna’s voice rose a bit more—she was thankful that Shen was busy sputtering out a long list of apologies and reassurances, her outburst unheard.

“Or maybe they don’t. But they’re up to something—frankly, Mother disagreed with my hunch until everything went to hell.” Eone gave a chuckle and straightened herself up. Yenna turned her attention back to the proceedings.

“...if your demon will just unhand me, you may all accompany me in locating my siblings, and then we can prove your assumptions to be mere paranoia.” Shen had evidently been disarmed, though removing his weapon felt more symbolic than anything—Yenna couldn’t imagine the man would last a second if he attempted to challenge Narasanha in close combat.

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Aroearoe looked over at Eone. Mother and daughter shared a look, followed by a similar glance between captain and bodyguard. Narasanha let Shen go without a word spoken, and the man nervously took a step just outside her immediate reach.

“O-Okay, well, as I said,” Shen rubbed at his wrists, all nervous energy, “My sister is no doubt somewhere within the manor, awaiting the all-clear. Let us go– Oh.”

Heads turned towards a sound at the doorway, to see Seve and Hjin Stormsea. Where Shen was a mess of nerves bordering on collapse, Seve was the figure of resolve, an island of tranquility in a raging ocean. Tall and slender with decidedly angular features, her blonde hair and colourful travelling clothes were speckled with droplets of dark blood. Slightly behind her, Hjin was a hawk-faced man similarly stained with the evidence of violence, nearly as stoic as his sister. Seeing the group—and the situation—Seve slowly sheathed her dagger and gave an exceedingly narrow bow.

“Sister! I feared for you, when everything happened.” Shen brightened up immediately. He took a step forward, only for his momentum to be halted by a red hand on his shoulder—Narasanha had let him go in only the most technical of senses. The man’s surge of confidence faltered once more, and he looked at Seve with pleading eyes.

“Unhand my brother, Deepstar.” Seve’s voice was a lot deeper than her narrow frame implied, laced with threat of violence. Yenna felt Eone tense beside her—her own back legs quivered slightly, and she took a step away from the door as slowly and subtly as she could.

“By rule of law, on this neutral ground, your brother is my captive until I am shown recompense or granted explanation.” Aroearoe’s voice was careful and measured, betraying no hint of fear or worry. “What part did you have in this grievous attack?”

“None.” There was a sharpness to Seve’s reply. “Sicking beasts on your rivals may pass for commonplace amongst the old Houses, but House Stormsea is not so crass.”

She’s not lying. That voice in the back of Yenna’s head was insistent, but nonsensical. If she’s not lying, then what could they possibly be hiding? Despite her apparent ability to hear the thoughts of others, the mage didn’t really have any control over it. Yenna couldn’t seem to dig deeper on that front—paradoxically, the more she tried, the less able she was to hear that voice.

“Then what are you hiding, Stormsea?” Aroearoe tilted her head—Yenna couldn’t tell if she was genuinely confused or trying to probe a confession out of the woman, and her unnatural insight was providing no answer. “I went to great pains to keep this meeting under wraps. I had even thought to seek House Stormsea’s help with a problem of mine—yet it seems you went and brought that problem to my doorstep.”

“A problem you seemed to anticipate.” Seve’s eyes flicked towards Yenna, causing the mage to jump in fright. The woman then looked at a space a few steps away—Yenna traced her eyes, and jumped again as she realised the priestess Suee had been standing there all along. Placid and silent, just like the realm of stillness, her starry robes suggested she was nothing more than an out-of-place chunk of night sky. Even with her strangely enhanced senses, Yenna got absolutely nothing out of the priestess.

The noblewomen continued talking, though Yenna’s mind drifted. She could tell what they were doing, and why they were doing it, but the mage felt herself at a loss to truly keep up. It resembled a swordfighter’s duel, both of them carefully probing the other’s defenses—every question, every statement, even the cadence and intonation of their speech seemed to factor into the battle. 

Aroearoe was certain that Seve was hiding something from her, and her questions were laced with bitter traps—one misstep, and Seve would reveal some little thread to be plucked. Just like spellcraft, Yenna thought to herself, find the right thread to tug on and the caster is laid bare. Attempting not to linger on the idea of Seve Stormsea being laid bare, Yenna tried her best to follow along with the exact line of questioning, and the clues being thrown out.

Seve was not lying about having no part in the attack. With her senses tuned up into some ridiculous lie-detecting state, Yenna could tell that Seve was being very careful not to lie—possibly afraid that Yenna, or someone else in the room, could tell through magical means. What it did mean was that Seve was telling a lot of half-truths, omitting essential facts or downplaying the importance of key information—none of which escaped Aroearoe.

“You have never come into contact with these beast-men?” Aroearoe had gestured to one of the corpses on the floor—Yenna had to gulp down an uncomfortable rising in her stomach, having managed to block out the presence of death until now.

“Not once.” Seve shook her head, implacable. “House Deepstar has many enemies, and many covetous of its wealth—some of them may even seek House Stormsea’s downfall. Why continue this game of needling me for information when it is clear I have none? Our true culprit has likely escaped.”

“Or,” Aroearoe crooked a finger against her chin in mock thought, “I have just run through the only members of this plot willing to talk. Tell me, did you inform anyone of this meeting? Its location, even obliquely?”

Seve shook her head again, giving a little huff of for-show exasperation. “I informed the usual attendants and partners of our departure, and gave a false destination—we are believed to be out inspecting a new logging site. Perhaps it is your security that was lacking?”

Once again, Seve deflected to someone else—this time, her eyes locked with Eone. The captain opened her mouth to speak, but Aroearoe cut her off.

“Who did you tell about my request?”

Another pointed silence filled the air. Behind Seve, Hjin was beginning to look uncomfortable—Shen was a figure of absolute panic, and Yenna was worried he was about to do something drastic. Seve didn’t so much as flinch.

“What is it that you’re hiding, Deepstar? Why are you so confident that I’ve called this disaster upon us?”

“Answer the question, Seve.” Aroearoe rested a hand on the hilt of her rapier. “Unless you fear the answer would cost more than silence.”

There was a miniscule twitch at the corner of Seve’s lip, something so small that Yenna wondered how she had even noticed. Hjin had tensed up, not daring enough to reach for his dagger but clearly ready to grasp it.

“I spoke briefly with a traveller on the road.” Seve’s answer was nearly monotone, as though giving it caused her some measure of pain. “He claimed to be a fortune teller, and said I was going to meet you. He… said he knew that a great calamity would befall if we were to meet. He spoke your message, nearly word for word, to convince me of his power, and I was entrusted with a token of protection to prevent disaster.”

The hairs on Yenna’s arms stood on end. There was a sudden spike in tension, and the mage realised that a lot had gone unsaid just in the final part of Seve’s confession. She knew that this ‘token of protection’ was, at best, to cover herself and her brothers—at worst, a trap for which she had a back-up escape plan. If it hadn’t been for Yenna being sent to the realm of stillness to halt the entire operation, Aroearoe and Eone may well have died, while Seve and Hjin would have got away clean—political rivals dead to a tragic attack.

“Show me the token.” 

All eyes turned to Yenna, and the mage realised belatedly she had spoken aloud. There was a moment of silence, a round of shared, meaningful glances, before Seve reached into a pocket. Tucked away deep, deep enough to avoid even a thorough inspection, she withdrew a tiny, blackened coin.

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