Chapter 78: One Job

Chapter 78: One Job

Argrave stared out beyond the hedge maze. He was just tall enough to see over the well-trimmed bushes. Night had fallen, bathing Count Delbraun’s estate in pearly moonlight. The wind had grown colder yet, and Argrave was glad of the golden fur lining his lapel and collar. He pulled his gloves a bit tighter and turned around, watching the last of his company for the banquet take their seats. Count Delbraun sat at one end of the table, back straight as an arrow.

They had moved to a marble terrace just beside the banquet hall. An abundance of greenery made it quite the secluded place, though the plants were kept well enough that the privacy appeared deliberate. The tables and chairs were a gray stone and had been marked with hand-carved floral designs.

Argrave pulled back the chair opposite Delbraun, taking his place at the head of the table. His gaze quickly jumped between Elaine, Stain, Elias, and Helmuth, finally landing at the Count. The man reminded Argrave of Duke Enrico, somewhat—a cold, business-like atmosphere, though Delbraun seemed to lack what little warmth the Duke had.

“To begin with, I’d like to thank you for giving us your time,” Argrave began amiably.

Delbraun stared at Argrave in silence, only blinking and waiting. Stain tapped his nails against the stone table, biting his lips in the quiet terrace. Elias seemed to wish desperately to interject, but he only watched Argrave, eyes pleading.

Being met with all the response a statue might offer, Argrave shifted in his seat. Delbraun was not especially involved in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ so it was difficult to get an accurate bead on his personality. The player had but a few brief interactions, most of which were insubstantial. In the game, he had remained neutral with Elbraille until the war was all but finished. That told Argrave only of caution.

Argrave tilted his head, meeting Delbraun’s gaze. “Perhaps you would like me to skip the niceties and get to the point, Count Delbraun.”

This got more reaction, but only just—the Count raised an eyebrow.

“Doubtless you’re curious about why Elias would come here. He has no good reason to accept your invitation, ostensibly.” Argrave leaned forward and laid his arms on the table. “I’ll lay it out plainly. This civil war is rather concerning. With Mateth crippled as it is, Jast stands to be the primary military power at the edge between the north and the south.”

The Count held up a hand, a spell matrix swirling about. Argrave knew the Count was a B-rank mage, and so tensed, prepared to move at but a moment’s notice. Looking at the spell, Argrave quickly deduced it was a warding spell. A bubble expanded outwards, enveloping them.

“Some letters of mine were missing,” Delbraun’s gaze fell on Stain. “Something would come of it, I knew.”

“Ahah,” Argrave laughed awkwardly. “I hope you won’t pay that any mind. A necessary act.”

“Is your intent to coerce me, Argrave of Vasquer?” Delbraun’s orange eyes switched back to Argrave, not a hint of fear on his expression despite his words. “You bring an S-rank spellcaster into my domain. As a mage, you can’t be ignorant that people would take notice of a veritable monster walking about. You arrive at my banquet unannounced. If you do intend to coerce…” he closed his eyes and shook his head. “…Imprudent.”

Elias reacted strongly to the word ‘coerce,’ adjusting in his seat and looking urgently to Argrave. Perhaps contrary to Elias’ desires, though, Argrave did not immediately deny it.

Argrave rubbed his thumb against his palm. “You’re taking a course that’s against the best interest of the realm. That’s why Elias and I are here today.”

Using the phrase ‘the realm’ made his words ambiguous, and deliberately so on Argrave’s part. ‘The realm’ might mean Vasquer, or it might mean Jast. Argrave trusted that uncertainty would get under Delbraun’s skin.

The Count took a deep breath and exhaled, gaze now locked on Argrave unblinkingly.

Argrave proceeded after a moment’s pause. “Perhaps ‘taking a course’ is the wrong term for this.” Argrave held his hands out, open-palmed. “You stand at the beginning of a path. Or, better yet, a crossroad,” Argrave amended quickly.

“Your liege lord, Elbraille, fears the might of Vasquer, and has decided to accept the meagre benefits thrust upon them by King Felipe III. As of now, you obey the words of your liege, unheeding of the righteousness of the situation. I cannot fault you for this—you swore an oath of fealty, and you are a man of honor.” Argrave gestured towards Delbraun, expression serious. “Elias, however, has a proposal for you.”

Elias opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed on account of his prolonged silence. He cleared his throat and continued, saying, “Correct. I believe it would be in everyone’s best interest to forge a union between House Jast and House Parbon, by way of myself and a woman of your house—your sister, Ridia, perhaps.”

The Count did not relax, but Argrave thought some of the tension in his face fell. He looked to Elias, letting the silence hang once more. Argrave waited patiently.

Delbraun spoke evenly. “Noble houses rise and fall with the passing of time. House Jast is five centuries old. We are the oldest house in Vasquer, barring the royal family itself. Over centuries, this place rose from a barren wasteland of black stone into a city of magic famed across the realm. Why?”

Delbraun leaned in. “As one house of wizards surrounded by a thousand others in this land of dense magic, my house learned well when to fight and when to endure. Powers great and small all fell, but when the king chose a Count of this burgeoning city, he named it Jast.” Delbraun leaned back. “I see no need to stick my neck out. In times like this, it makes it only easier to cut.”

“In a war of honor and righteousness, you’d eschew your duty to your people to retain your position?” Argrave criticized. The words were mostly for show—Delbraun’s resistance was only ceremony, Argrave suspected.

“Who is to say who is right or just?” Delbraun questioned coldly. “Vasquer has ruled for 872 years. The realm has only prospered during this time, growing and expanding ever further.”

“And yet it falters now,” Argrave countered. “Vasquer’s king is ruthless and uncompromising, sowing misery where he treads. Its heir is worse yet—cruel, taking pleasure in suffering.”

“We all swear fealty to the king,” Delbraun shook his head. “I bear the title of Count only by his grace.”

“And the king swore to protect you in turn. At this, he fails miserably—indeed, he actively harms your people and your realm in vainglorious grasps at power to strengthen House Vasquer.” Argrave leaned in, entwining his hands. “Nothing is black and white, Count Delbraun, but do you recall a history where a villain won? Never, considering who writes it.” Argrave unwound his fingers. “Furthermore, should a new king be enthroned, with Parbon as the sole decider, doubtless that new king would bestow you a title with equal—if not greater—grace.”

Their heated back and forth slowed for a moment as each stared the other down. Finally, Delbraun asked, “You believe House Parbon to be the victors?”

Argrave was tempted to confess that things looked dire without Jast’s aid or neutrality, but doing so would damage his position in the exchange.

“Unnecessary death is always a tragic thing. Whether it’s Veiden attacking Mateth or Elbraille supporting Vasquer, both create only havoc. You won’t experience much of it. The people will, though. Your soldiers, your civilians… they’ll bear the brunt.” Argrave pursed his lips. “I stopped what was beginning in Mateth before it could spiral out of control. I cannot stop this civil war. I hope that, by facilitating this, the war can end quickly with a crushing victory.”

“Yet Parbon cannot protect their own. Word came today that five men under prince Induen stormed a castle and killed its lord. This was in House Parbon’s territory no less.” Delbraun waved his hand.

Argrave frowned, ignorant of this happening. Realizing his mistake, he smoothed his face and deflected quickly, saying, “An assassin can achieve much if the receiver is unprepared. If this does not illustrate Vasquer’s treachery thoroughly, I am unsure what will.”

Delbraun returned to the silence he’d cultivated at the beginning of the conversation, staring at Argrave. His gaze was lost in deliberation, and Argrave waited for him to process things.

“You wish to speak of coercion?” Argrave continued. “Vasquer has practically forced Elbraille into support. The Duke fears reprisal on account of being so close to the bulk of Vasquer’s power, and Vasquer has leveraged that fear well with minute rewards.” Argrave shook his head as though disappointed. “I believe that, in times like these, it is a vassal’s place to advise their liege to take a different, more mutually beneficial course of action.”

Elaine placed her hand on the table. “The Order of the Gray Owl presently maintains its politically neutral stance under the leadership of Master Castro. Individual mages, however, are free to hold their own allegiances. As are the nobility of Jast. Something you might wish to consider, Count Delbraun.”

Delbraun did not look at Elaine, eyes staying locked on Argrave.

“Another matter,” Argrave held Delbraun’s gaze. “Your brother, Veladrien of Jast. I am well aware there exists some hostility between the two of you,” he pointed two fingers at each of them. “Elias, though, is rather impressed by his talents. Should this betrothal occur, perhaps Veladrien might, as a show of good faith, renounce his family name and enter into service under Elias?”

“Hah.” Delbraun laughed once, a smile splitting his stern demeanor for the first time in the conversation.

Stain had been watching passively throughout the whole conversation, but that brief laughter made his face shift. It was like watching some last holdout fall—some last hope that, just maybe, his brother still had some love for him. The teenager’s gaze drifted to the floor, as though his triumph was stolen from him.

“You came well prepared, Argrave,” Delbraun watched Argrave, uncaring of his younger brother’s plight. “You wear your House’s colors, yet you work against their interests. A rather baffling thing. I do not like proceeding with uncertain variables. Where is your stake in this?”

Argrave touched the gold fur on his coat. “I merely like these colors. There is no deeper meaning behind it. This outfit is rather nice, by my estimation.” Argrave adjusted his clothing.

“As for my stake…” Argrave searched for an answer, brows furrowed. “I was being genuine earlier. A loss of life is a tragic thing, to be prevented by any means necessary. If war cannot be stayed, let it end quickly. The war has not yet begun and both sides seem even, but should Vasquer keep power, things will be… unpleasant for the populace, largely. If those ruling are unjust, it is the people’s duty to step up and remove them from power. There are others more suitable to the throne, with a claim to it or no.”

This was his true position on the matter. Should the rebellion succeed and should Argrave possess a pivotal position in said rebellion, he would be in a good position to enthrone a new ruler without significant unrest. He might achieve a better end than existed in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ Not all deviations from the normal course needed to be negative. Even a game as dynamic as ‘Heroes of Berendar’ was not without limits in terms of options, and now those limits were gone.

Delbraun nodded. “If you phrase it like that, I think I see.”

“I am glad to hear it. Now, then, unless you have more questions, all present are very eager to hear your answer.” Argrave placed his elbows on the table and leaned against it.

Delbraun shook his head. “This is not something I, alone, can decide. I must consult with my vassals, few though they may be, and ensure that everything is considered before making such a decision.”

“If you can’t decide here, we’ll take your answer as a ‘no,’” Elias spoke up, and Argrave hid his smile upon seeing Elias’ disappointment. Evidently the young lord of Parbon did not like that Argrave’s advice had been accurate.

“I do not like being forced to answer.” Delbraun raised a hand to the table, gripping the side.

“Need I remind you that you are, nominally, our enemy?” Argrave smiled. “I have read the letters. We came here in good faith to try and pull you away from the path you’re about to tread at the risk of Elias’ life. I believe this is the least that you can do,” Argrave stated seriously. “You hold the most authority in Jast—any decision you make will be followed.”

Delbraun’s gaze locked on Argrave, resuming its silence. After a few moments, he looked to Elias and asked, “You would give me, at the very least, until the end of this banquet?”

“That…” Elias paused, “…should be fine, I think.”

Argrave hid his expression with his hand. Jesus, Elias. One job.