RE: Monarch
Chapter 35: Enclave V

To be fair, I had seen far worse examples of opening diplomatic relations. Granted, all those examples came solely from my father, and usually ended in minor genocide.

I stiffened, about to speak up before I remembered Nethtari’s warning and glanced in her direction. It was like a switch had been flicked. Nethtari wasn’t looking at me. She was staring down the three council masters, and it was actually working.

“You see this?” Her voice was sharp and ringing. “This is why I wanted him censured. Whatever the outcome of today, I would think, after the last month, the intention is to finally be productive.”

Ralakos had the air and build of a knight, similar to some retired men my father kept around as advisors. He spoke in a deep rumbling baritone. “Indeed. You’ve done nothing but stonewall for the last two meetings, Guemon. If you cannot be bothered to contribute, you are welcome to leave, and have Taupe fill in your stead.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You old bastard.”

Ephira cut in. Her nose was slightly flattened at the end, lending her a bookish look. “Regardless of who is in the right, this is getting tiresome. Every moment this takes me away from my work is costing us gold. Let's try to end this as expediently as possible.”

The gears in my mind started to turn. This was a bad situation. In my limited experience, the worst decisions in politics were made when the critical parties were either exhausted or rushed. And the council was both. They weren’t angry at each other, they were tired. We needed to widen the gulf between them, reinvest them in the conflict. Otherwise, said conflict would end as soon as Ephira said yes.

And there was something wrong with Ephira.

I couldn’t put my finger on it. Something about the way her lips quirked in a subtle smirk when she said she was losing money.

Damn it. I didn’t have enough information. Didn’t matter. I’d improvise. I needed a narrative, but what?

“Lets hear from our guest. Prince Cairn, please step forward,” Ralakos said.

Donning the mask of the noble I walked forward smoothly, standing directly in the center of the room and bowing as Nethtari had taught me. “Greetings, Master Ralakos, Master Guemon, and Master Ephira.” I put a subtle emphasis on the last name. The ordering was also intentional. You may know this, but in case you don’t, the most crucial parts of a list are the first and last things listed. That’s why, when you try to memorize something chronologically, the middle is most difficult. From my first sentence, I was snubbing Guemon.

Ephira’s expression shifted slightly, too subtle to read, but she was minutely more focused on me than she had been a moment ago.

“Firstly, I would like to thank you for saving my life. Though you may have not acted directly, it is thanks to your mercy that I still draw breath.” I bowed once more, as was proper for appreciation.

“Please.” Guemon rolled his eyes and set a fist down on the lectern a bit too hard. “Wasn’t he supposed to have a mortal soul event? And now he’s up, walking around like nothing happened?”

I smiled, my face still hidden in the bow. Guemon had interruptedme in the middle of my introduction. So, as was proper in infernal custom, I ignored him completely, rising from my bow.

“I would like to thank you specifically, Master Ralakos,” I continued.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Guemon’s face turn beet red when he realized why I’d ignored him in turn.

“Oh?” Ralakos said, amused. “And what have I done to earn this gratitude?”

“Upon my arrival, my clothes were in a state of disrepair. It is thanks to your generosity that I am able to appear before this court in attire befitting the institution.” I made a sweeping gesture towards my robe. “For that, I thank you.”

“It was the least I could do for a visiting diplomat.” Ralakos nodded. I decided against mentioning his lobbying for my release—it doesn’t matter what court you’re in; no one likes an openly biased arbiter. Guemon snorted as I returned to Nethtari’s side. The corner of her mouth tugged upward, ever so slightly.

Ephira’s arms were crossed. She tapped two fingers against her left side. “Though my esteemed colleague,” she glared at Guemon, “appears to have forgotten the rules of the council, I am interested in hearing an answer to his question. We were told the prince’s condition was dire.”

Nethtari stepped forward. “It was, Master Ephira. That much is verifiable through the physician and the priests.”

“And yet, he is here. Presented with such aplomb and circumstance. As if he was never injured at all.” Guemon added.

“Are you disparaging the quality of services performed by the church, Master Guemon?” Nethtari asked, arching an eyebrow. “It was a combination of their excellent care and Cairn’s natural fortitude that made such a timely recovery was possible.”

Ephira tapped three fingers on her arm.

After a moment of silence, Ralakos cleared his throat. “Yes, Cairn, perhaps it would do to hear the details of your recovery.”

I looked at Nethtari, and she inclined her head ever so slightly towards Guemon. Go Ahead.

This time—as previously instructed—I remained in place, arms behind my back, mirroring my solicitor.

“Of course. From what I understand, the success of my recovery was largely thanks to Master Guemon—“

“What are you playing at boy?” Guemon hissed. Tap, tap, tap. Ephira tapped three fingers again. There was a certain saying about idle hands. But I was beginning to suspect Ephira’s tick was anything but idle.

I ignored him, and he looked like his face might spontaneously combust, continuing to address Master Ralakos directly. “The kind master oversaw my recovery, making sure I did not over exert myself. He—“

“He’s lying!” Guemon interjected.

Tap tap tap.

Ralakos’s head slowly turned to face Guemon. “If you interrupt these proceedings one more time, councillor, I will uphold solicitor Nethtari’s injunction, and you will be ejected from this council on grounds of hostility to process.”

Guemon slumped in his chair, muttering something hostile and unintelligible.

I waited for a beat, letting Guemon boil, then continued. “When I awoke, it was difficult for me to move. I was in constant agony. I found myself in a simple room with black floors and black walls.”

There was a murmur from the lesser councillors.

“Now, as you already know, I call Whitefall home. We are a magic poor society. We have lumen lamps, and the occasional mage, but their numbers are few. Thus, I know very little of magic or the application of it. But I can only assume the recovery room was magic-adjacent, as I no longer needed to eat or drink. I imagine that was its purpose, to keep me stabilized with as little stimulation or movement required on my part.”

Ralakos stood, a cold fury in his eyes, and leaned over the lectern. The man was an incredible actor. If he hadn’t prompted me initially, I would think he was genuinely discovering all this for the first time. “Did anyone come to check on you, in this room? To check your status and administer medicine for your pain?”

I blinked in surprise. “No, Master Ralakos. I assumed that was part of the recovery period.”

A gasp from the crowd.

Tap tap tap.

Guemon looked like he might leap over the lectern and strangle me at any moment, but held his tongue.

Ralakos shook with iron and fury, addressing Guemon directly. “You put an injured child into a magus cell for weeks with no attendance.”

“He wasn’t in pain.”

“So you admit it!” Ralakos thundered.

“The measures are extreme for certain, but the prince represents an unknown variable.” Ephira said. Then she tapped her arm twice.

“It is my duty to maintain the security of the enclave,” Guemon said. Casually, I leaned over towards Nethtari as if I was going to whisper in her ear. As I’d suspected. The spot where nethtari stood made it impossible for her to see the motions Ephira was making.

Ephira steepled her hands. “It’s been a long few weeks, and tempers are running hot. I think it might be best to take a short recess and return to this matter.”

Nethtari shook her head vehemently, about to speak. Shielding the movement from view, I tugged at her robe once.

She looked at me, blinking. Then made a decision. “Very well. As our guest is still recovering, a break would benefit him as well.”

Nethtari practically dragged me to an empty conference room.

“Why?” She asked, the moment we were inside, her voice furious. It was the most emotion I had seen from her. “That was a criticalmoment.”

“Trust me, I know.”

I stuck my head out the door to make sure no one was listening in, then returned to the table and sat down. Then I swore and stood up again, pacing the room.

“Our time is limited,” Nethtari said slowly, as if she was speaking to a child. Then again, she technically was. “It would behoove you to speak.”

“The outcome of the meeting was decided before we ever stepped in the room.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Ephira’s sandbagging!” I exploded finally, running my fingers through my hair. “Her and Guemon cut a deal and now they’re just playing out the pageantry.”

“How do you know?” Nethtari asked, unimpressed.

“How do you not know?” I snapped.

Nethtari stiffened and I immediately felt guilty.

“Sorry.” I said.

After a moment, the tension between us dissipated. I sat down in the chair across from her and pressed my hands to my temples. “You’re working off imperfect information.”

“Then by all means, inform me.”

Yeah, piss off your legal counsel, that never goes badly.

I let out a deep breath, centering myself. “For one thing, they’re signaling in your blindspot. That’s the piece you’re missing.”

“That is… a serious accusation,” Nethtari said slowly, “are you certain?”

“Yes, plain as day. I thought it was a nervous tic at first. Two taps for follow up, three taps for shut it down. They’re almost taunting us with how basic it is. At least use some magic or something, assholes.”

“The room is warded.”

Ah, well that made slightly more sense. It still felt insulting.

“You’re saying they’re both doing this?” Nethtari asked.

“No, it’s one way, Ephira to Guemon. The rest is all subtext, but without the signals you might just be perceiving it as slights. Ralakos refers to me as a diplomat, they call me a prince—reinforcing with every iteration exactly who my daddy is. The way Ephira keeps reinterpreting Guemon’s statements in much more reasonable diction, as if that was clearly what he meant to say in the first place. The fact, in and of itself, that Guemon is acting like such a blatant ass—unless you can get to the position of prime councillor by being an idiot. He’s going at me hard to get me to lose my temper, and he doesn’t have to worry about making himself look like a prick in the process because, at the end of the day, he doesn’t have to convince anyone.”

Nethtari thought on that for almost a full minute.

“How old are you again?”

“Old enough for a bad-faith trial, apparently,” I muttered.

“My daughter trusts you.” Nethtari said. “Far more than I think you know. And while she is frustratingly impulsive, she is not naive. If you’re certain, I may be able to get the hearing dismissed, giving us a week or so to come up with a strategy. You wouldn’t go back in the box.”

I leaned back in the chair, balancing on two legs. “No. That gives them time to come up with a better plan and all our cards are already on the table.”

“That was my thought as well, but if Ephira is lost, we are at an impasse.”

“They’re cheating. So, we cheat.” I steepled my hands together, lost in thought. Then something clicked. I snapped my fingers. “She’s your trade person, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is she on a fixed salary or percentage?” I didn’t know nearly enough about their government and system.

“Not public information, but if you’re asking if she’s wealthy, she’s wealthy.”

“If they want me to be a prince, I’ll be one. I need a problem that I’m uniquely equipped to solve for her.”

For the first time, Nethtari smiled. “I have just the thing.”

We reentered the room and a choir of whispering voices were immediately silenced. Guemon and Ephira were conversing in hushed tones while Ralakos fumed, watching from the side. So, he’d picked up on it as well. He cleared his throat, loudly.

“Shall we continue, solicitor?”

“We shall.” Nethtari’s eyes furrowed, watching Ephira and Guemon scurry back to their places. She began to speak the moment they stopped moving. “It is clear that Cairn is a victim in these matters. He came to the enclave with no other intention that to restore the dimensional gate, and instead of being lauded and welcomed, was abused and imprisoned.”

“Other than not dying, you mean.” Guemon said dryly.

Tap Tap Tap.

How nice. Ephira and I had found something to agree on.

“An injury the human institutions could have handled easily enough, albeit not as thoroughly as ours.” Nethtari said. “The proposition is simple. He is the first human to approach us in a show of peace. Allow Cairn into the Sanctum, so he can acquire training from someone familiar with the dantalion tradition. Perhaps that seems too high a price to pay for you Master Guemon, as, unlike many of us, you do not have family on the other side. It would be the start of reparations, for both sides.”

Ephira sighed dramatically. “Ad hominem helps no one. What it comes down to, solicitor, is the simple fact that it is not a good time. May I remind all of you that we still have an ongoing demonic insurrection on our hands. The Asmodial Legion has still not been brought to heel, and as such the chances of other rebellions and in-fighting are much higher, meaning the sanctum itself is more dangerous than usual.”

“And where would he even stay?” Guemon said. “There’s not an inn in the enclave that would give him a room.”

Nethtari’s eyes burned at the insult. “My daughter invoked the Rite of Shaliat. My family is his family. His crimes, my crimes. His banishment, my banishment. He will stay with me.”

There was so much weight in that statement it was overwhelming. A bead of sweat dripped down my back. I was awed by Nethtari. She had just put more trust in Maya in one moment than my father had put in me over a lifetime.

The time was now. Steeling myself, I looked at Nethtari, asking a silent question. She nodded and I stepped forward, maintaining my silence.

Ephira did not address me.

Finally, shooting her an annoyed look, Ralakos spoke. “You may reply, Cairn.”

I closed my eyes. Everything was riding on that one, singular moment.

Then, I spoke.

“That’s the one thing I agree with my father on, Master Ephira.”

An angry murmur rose amongst the lesser council. Ephira locked eyes with me, and I did not blink.

“That there is never a good time for peace. And while King Gil takes this as an excuse to oppress and wage proxy wars, I take it as a challenge. “ I struck my chest with my fist, pausing for a moment, letting the words sink in. “There will never be a good time for peace because there is always an excuse to deny it. An insurrection one day, a territorial dispute the next, a trade dispute after that, and on and on the list goes, until the cycle of violence is never quenched, and we all, burn, to nothing.”

“You-“ Ephira started, but she interrupted me and a rolled over her unimpeded.

“I am the son of the enemy, yes. An enemy that mortally wounded so many of you.” I panned the room, looking at their faces. They studied me silently, flashes of emotion on their faces. Anger, loss, sadness, and perhaps even hope. “You have all lost grandparents, siblings, fathers and mothers. I cannot bring them all back. I wish that I could. But in my hand, I hold the key return a precious few of the fallen. A gift, freely given.”

I opened my palm for a moment, then closed it into a fist and prowled the floor, my mouth turned downward.

“But I understand the fear. The fear of hope. That creeping horror, the damning trepidation, the utter dread that comes with allowing yourself to believe, even for a moment, that things could be better, will be better. Because the moment you believe, you open yourself to the possibility of hurt and betrayal.”

I remembered Sera, plunging the knife into my chest. I felt the flames as Annette burned in my arms.

“So instead of opening yourself to the chance of alliance, the chance of being hurt, instead, you rationalize. These are all just words I’m speaking, just pretty words with nothing behind them—and you’d be right.” I smiled. “If I wasn’t willing to put these words into action. The Sanctum is a precious resource, for which access should not be offered freely to outsiders. In that case, do not offer it freely. I ask for no special treatment. Allow me to earn my place, as so many of your children have done. I will take no trophies—those I do replace will be given to my wonderful hosts. If they must share responsibility for my misdeeds, it is only right that they share in my glory. Allow me to work with your apothecaries, to share the knowledge so many humans have miserably guarded.”

I turned to Ephira, focusing solely on her.

“Allow me to clear the route to the west, so you may reestablish your trade with the dwarves of Val Thurim once more.”

Ephira’s eyes turned dark and greedy. Guemon looked between us, frantically.

I stopped, until my words no longer echoed across the room, then spoke in a much quieter voice.

“Let me return that which was stolen.”

And then, staring at Ephira, I reached slowly towards my shoulder.

Tap tap.