CH 29

May 11, 2023

When Stella returned to the store from her morning exercise, Rye was waiting for her with the same troubled expression as the day before. I’m too spent for this, Stella thought. She pretended to be a customer in an attempt to slip past the new guest unnoticed, but unfortunately, he caught her in the act.

“Good morning, Lady Stella,” he said. “You’re the owner of this establishment, I believe?”

“Owner? Who, me? Sorry, you have the wrong person.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Varrell said, grabbing Stella by the shoulder before she could leave. “Come on, Stella. Rye did all she could to stall him until you came back. Now it’s up to you.”

“And why didn’t you help her?”

“Because I’m an adult, and my interference here would have made things worse. I’m supposed to stand and watch, like a good bodyguard.” He folded his arms indifferently.

His sword was the only part of him that was useful, apparently.  “Where’s Typica?” Stella asked.

“I sent her out to do some shopping. This is a tight enough knot as it is.”

“You gain some points for that, at least.” If Typica were here, she could have easily doubled the amount of effort necessary to resolve this issue.

“All right. Good luck.”

“Good morning,” Stella said to the mysterious guest, who stood in the same spot as before and with the same placid smile. “How may I help you?”

He was wearing a brown cloak and hood. Stella could see nothing but his smile—his friendly, yet unapproachable, smile. Stella would have taken him for an assassin from one of the other gangs, but Varrell’s silence implied he was not an immediate threat, and Stella couldn’t see any indication that he was armed. He looked to be in his thirties, but it was hard to tell.

“I just came into town, you see,” he said. “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t introduce myself to the locals.”

“I can’t have an important conversation covered in sweat. You wouldn’t mind if I changed first, would you?”

“Not at all. I stopped by your restaurant before I came here and bought a glass of tears of falling stars. It’ll keep me company while I wait.”

“All right. I’ll be back soon.”

In her room, Stella wiped herself down and put on her usual purple cloak. The hat she left behind. On her way back to the store, she splashed her face with water.

“I apologize for making you wait. I’m Stella Nordus, the owner of Glenn’s General Store and of the restaurant next door.”

“You run two businesses? Impressive. This continent is full of hard-working people like you. I wish the same could be said about my own country.”

Yes, I get it. You’re not from around here. He must be a Liberican. They were currently present in great numbers in the southeastern region of Mundo Novo.

“So, did you come all the way across the ocean to talk to a child?” Stella smirked. “You must have been really bored.”

“I have a greater purpose, of course. I come bearing the light of the Sun to shine upon this land of blood and gore. I wish to disseminate the teachings of my god.”

He reached into his cloak and fetched a shiny sun necklace.

“A noble goal, to be sure.” Was he a missionary of sorts?

“I’m glad you see it that way. It’s a dangerous job that I take very seriously. To tell you the truth, I shouldn’t be dallying, but . . .”

“But?”

“I’ve decided that meeting you would be a worthwhile use of my time. You’re the one pulling the strings behind the Stock Company. I cannot fathom how, but that’s no small feat.”

Varrell immediately grabbed the hilt of his sword. Stella raised a hand to stop him. This was the good part; the fun was just getting started.

“Me? Please. This must be a misunderstanding, Mr. Missionary-From-Across-the-Sea. Or is it Mr. Spy-From-Across-the-Sea?”

“Oh, I’m no spy,” he said, chuckling. “You were correct the first time. My duty is to promote a deeper understanding between our peoples. Ah—but I haven’t introduced myself, have I?” He ungloved a hand and offered it to Stella. “I’m Sebor, a missionary of the Sun God. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Stella took it. “The Astral Church would have us believe that the Sun God is a demon worshipped by inhuman heathens. If that is the case, you’re quite the mannerly inhuman heathen.”

Sebor sniffed. “The Church labels us as heretics, yet it is guilty of the very things which it condemns. The wretched fools.”

“Now, would you mind telling me where you got that idea about me and the Company? I think you’ll agree that I’m not impressive enough to be a criminal mastermind.”

Sebor laughed. “Please, Lady Stella. I’m not making guesses; I know it for a fact. I’m here to meet with the leaders of this town, to prepare the ground for the harvest to come. I’ve already met with His Excellency Mr. Greggs, Mr. Banias in the East District, and Mr. Rocco in the South District.”

When he said that, Sebor’s face twitched almost imperceptibly. His negotiations probably weren’t going as planned. That didn’t necessarily mean he was incompetent; the people of this town—leaders included—were tough nuts to crack.

“That must have been rough,” Stella said.

“Please, no need to pity me. In any case, where were we? I went to meet Mr. Mace next, but he was very . . . indecisive.”

“Indecisive?”

“He acted strangely for the duration of the meeting, as though he were being watched. I could not reconcile him with the man who had supposedly killed his own father and destroyed an enemy faction all in the same night. Intrigued by this, I decided to investigate the matter—it’s a habit of mine. You can imagine how perplexed I was to learn that a minor general store owned by an infant girl was regularly visited by Company messengers. I became immediately suspicious, of course.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

“Here’s what I think,” Sebor said, leaning in. “You have some kind of leverage on Mr. Mace—a secret he doesn’t want out, or perhaps some other way to make him bow to your will. He’s just a puppet on a string; you’re the reason the Stock Company has been making rapid progress lately. Am I wrong?”

Stella put her left hand behind her back as naturally as she could and gave Clever a sign to stand by. All she needed to do was make a fist, and Sebor would die.

“What happens if I say you’re right?” Stella asked.

“Nothing, really. I’m just preparing the ground, remember? Still, puppets are not worth my time. I must talk with the leaders, make them see the value of my gospel. If only that weren’t so difficult.”

With a friendly smile, Sebor drew back his hood, revealing a strange tattoo on the back of his shaved head. A mark of his faith, perhaps? Stella didn’t know much about the religion of the Sun God, but she’d heard of a certain related relic that had once been used to conquer an entire continent.

“For the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you,” Stella said. “Would I be of any use to you?”

“Of course you would,” Sebor said. “Once we’ve inevitably conquered this land, it must fall under Imperial law, and its people must accept the teachings of the Sun God. This could be achieved much more effectively if you and the others were to assist. I understand that this city is in a somewhat special position, which is why I’m taking all the necessary precautions.”

Rumors claimed that the Khorshid Empire was mobilizing its forces to invade the rest of the continent. If spies and operatives like Sebor were already on the move, those rumors would suddenly become a lot more believable.

Sebor might be lying. This might all be just a veiled threat. It was an effective one regardless. The lands formerly controlled by the Dollbucks Confederation lay outside the Astral Church’s sphere of influence, meaning that few of the locals would have shunned the Empire for purely religious reasons. With faith out of the way, all that mattered were personal interests—and, as it turned out, many were eager to surrender.

The principal reason the Imperial Expedition had been so successful in establishing a base of operations in Verdant was because the local landowners had rushed to take its side. That was clear to Stella after hearing what Varrell and Mace had to say on the matter.

“I understand,” Stella said, “but I’ll need some time to consider. Keep in mind that I wouldn’t be able to support you openly, since this town is ostensibly controlled by the Astral Church. You know it has a branch here, right?”

“I do. My request stands.”

Sebor looked straight into Stella’s eyes in what looked like an attempt at intimidation. Stella simply smiled and said, “Hey, there’s no rush. I’ll let you in on something: I currently believe in no gods. How’s that for an answer?”

“Yes. Yes, that is quite enough for now.” Sebor paused, stroking his chin. “I’ve talked with every one of your leaders, but you, Lady Stella, are by far the most intriguing. A resolute young girl such as yourself? You show a lot of promise.”

He offered his hand again. The left one. Seen right through me, have you? Stella showed him a toothy grin as she took it with her own left hand.

“Now, at the risk of sounding overbearing, I have a friendly word of advice for you before we part.”

“What is it?”

“Next time the Empire attacks, it’ll deploy elite troops—troops that have proven their mettle against fiends. Whatever you do, do not resist. They cannot be reasoned with; fighting is everything they know.”

“Anything else?”

“Once the negotiations are finished, it may come to bloodshed,” Sebor said. Then, in a kind tone, he added, “Should that happen, please leave town immediately. You’re too young to die.”

I suppose that’s his way of showing concern where none is due. Humans liked to do that sometimes. It was fascinating.

“Thank you for the advice,” Stella said. “You’re a good man, Sebor.”

“What kind of missionary would I be,” Sebor said, “if I didn’t practice the mercy that I preach?” Then he bowed and took his leave.

After Sebor had left, Varrell walked up to Stella and said, “I could sense at least ten people hiding outside. And trust me, that ‘missionary’ is a trained soldier. I know the type.”

“I thought as much,” Stella said. “His hand had the calluses of a swordsman. That was probably why he wanted me to shake his hand in the first place. One of the reasons, anyway.”

“Why did he come, though? You think he was telling the truth?”

“It makes sense that he would want to meet me. The Empire must have heard about my elixir. If they’re planning to take over the drug trade in this town, they’ll probably want it too.”

Stella doubted the Empire would legalize drugs—at least openly—but Sebor’s visit suggested it wouldn’t ignore the potential of the trade either. There were indirect ways to profit from it, like designating specific merchants and landowners to conduct the business in secret.

Human politics was a white veil covering a dark truth. Rulers obtained power through corruption and used it to force their views upon others, ultimately creating their own perfect world. This wasn’t necessarily a bad system—quite the opposite, in fact, if the ruler in question knew what he was doing.

Religion was an excellent tool to brainwash the masses, creating a paradise where everyone had the same opinion on everything. (Or most people, at least, but the exceptions were labeled “heretics” and executed.) Would that be a happy world? It didn’t matter, because it was not a world Stella would ever want to live in. The Astral Church wasn’t that extreme in its views, fortunately, but things could change.

“War and politics, huh,” Stella said. “The kind of things I’d enjoy watching from a distance, but up close and personal? Not so much. I can smell death coming our way.”

“Yeah, me too. So, what are you going to do? Sorry, but Typica and I—”

Stella interrupted him with a chuckle. “You two have a brother in the Astral Church, right? Don’t worry, I’m not going to get you involved. I want nothing to do with this mess. I mean, do I look like I can fight? No. Just keep me safe, as always.”

Just because Stella could cast a few spells didn’t mean she could hold her own on a battlefield. She’d be killed in a matter of minutes.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Varrell said. “I just couldn’t help imagining you standing at the head of an army, laying waste across the land.” He looked at Stella as if she were the devil king.

“Your jokes keep getting better. You think I could survive the march with this body? With these noodle legs?”

“. . . Yeah, good point. Sorry, forget I said anything.”

“Anyway, they know who I am now, but that makes me valuable, which is a good thing. It means I probably won’t get stabbed in my sleep by an Imperial assassin. Let’s enjoy this while it lasts.”

Varrell frowned. “Things are not looking up, are they?”

“No, they’re not,” Stella said. “We need to stay out of this. I was too focused on my immediate surroundings, and lost sight of the big picture. Now we don’t have much time. Bother.” Well, better that than having no time at all. She would just have to use it wisely.

Rye was just standing with her mouth open, so Stella asked her for a cup of coffee. “If you need help on how to make it, ask Marie,” she added.

“Do you think another war is brewing?” Varrell asked.

“Definitely,” Stella said. “But this town could be spared if Greggs makes the right move. This time he’ll need to rely on something other than his infinite charisma and disposable income. And if he doesn’t actually do something, this town is doomed. I’d love to see him negotiate his way out of this one.”

Greggs’s choices were limited. He could declare his full support for the Astral Church, request reinforcements, and hold back against the Empire. The problem with that option was that the Astral Church’s army was spread too thin across too many fronts, and Peasbury—as far as Stella could tell—was a minor town with little strategic value. His pleas might be ignored. Then it would be a matter of time until those elite troops Sebor mentioned arrived and razed the town to the ground.

Alternatively, Greggs could turn his back on the Church and declare for the Khorshid Empire. The Imperial Army would probably leave this town alone and march further east. By handing Peasbury over to the Empire, however, Greggs would be branded a heretic, which would make him a target for the inquisitors and their many assassins. He would never sleep soundly again—and his fate would be tied to the success of the Imperial campaign.

And then there was the third choice. To stay on the fence, begging the Church for reinforcements while keeping the friendly act with the Empire, and to submit to the firstcomer. He could probably come up with a million excuses when pressed for an explanation, which might be enough to keep his head on his shoulders, but any officer with half a brain would see the truth and strip him of his land and titles.

Stella believed that Greggs was already cornered. What would he do about it? Well, she would see soon enough.

“And that about sums it up,” Stella said. “Isn’t it exciting? His choice is going to affect so many lives. That’s one of the greatest privileges of being a ruler, don’t you think?”

“I shouldn’t have listened,” Typica said. “How can you see this crisis as entertainment?!”

“Back already? Weren’t you out shopping?”

“I’ll go once you answer my question!”

It would appear Typica had only pretended to leave and listened in on the whole thing, disrespecting her master’s privacy for her own selfish ends. Suddenly, Stella liked her a lot more.

“I suppose I enjoy seeing people as they really are,” Stella said. “When you corner them, they reveal their truth. And whatever it might be, pretty or ugly, pristine white or smudged with dark spots, it is the truth, and it is precious. I’m really curious what Greggs’s truth is.” After a laugh of heartfelt joy, Stella took a sip from the cup of coffee Rye had made for her, and immediately choked on it.

“A-Are you okay?” Rye asked.

Stella clutched her own throat, trying to keep herself from wheezing. “W-What is this, poison? Are you trying to kill me?”

It was unbelievably powdery—it felt as if there was actually sand or something in it. Stella’s throat was raspy. A new sensation she could have done without.

Rye looked at her, confusion plain on her face. “What do you mean? It’s just coffee.”

“How much powder did you use?”

“You said you like it strong, so I just used all of it.”

“Have you ever made coffee before?”

“No, but I’ve seen other people do it. I added my own personal flair. I was gonna bother Marie, but then I thought better. It’s the midday rush hour right now.”

“I see. Yes, I absolutely understand.” Stella turned to Varrell, her facial muscles twitching. “Varrell, go tell Marie to make me a cup of coffee immediately. This is urgent.”

“S-Sure. Got it.”

Rye looked at Stella in disbelief. “What about the one I made you?!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Rye,” Stella said. “So much so that I think you deserve a taste of your own creation. Come on, don’t be shy.”

Stella forcefully poured the liquid down the girl’s throat. Rye’s eyes filled with tears as she started gagging. “Agh! Stop— You’re getting it all over my face! There’s . . . powder in my mouth!”

“We’re bonding. Marvelous. You’re such a good friend, Rye. We’re one and the same, you and I; our friendship will last the test of ages.”

“I’ll get you back for this!”

No, Stella thought, this is me getting back at you. No need to say this out loud, though. Not when Rye had given her such an amusing show.

“This is serious, you two!” Typica said. “Behave yourselves!”

“You’re one to talk,” Varrell said under his breath. No one paid him any mind.

Stella shrugged. “Well, it’s up to Greggs to decide. If he makes the right choice, good. If he doesn’t, we have the perfect scapegoat.”

“So this is what they mean by the burden of power . . .” Typica said pensively.

Stella snorted. “It’s called responsibility. One should only rule over others if one is willing to pay the price. It’s as simple as that.”

Then she grabbed the new cup of coffee Varrell had brought her and sipped. Rich flavor. Sharp bitterness. Strong—but not too strong. Perfect.