A Meeting and a Decision

– Do come with me, Derak. Let’s get back to the right side of the river. We can have a nice dinner somewhere, wash it all down with the best wine the city has to offer. Just like in old times.

There is really nothing I wish to say to him at the moment. And just as soon as that, the moment passes.

– Very well. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.

Daag leaves with formal gestures of departure, such just like anyone would extend towards a friend or a relative.

How foolish a notion is that. What are friends here more than a leverage to a higher position? What is family but a resource to burn and wager when one tries to plot his way upwards, even if it just means a tad taller letters in your crypt when you finally die.

The calm and leisureous atmosphere in the vestibule is in grand contrast with my thoughts as I sluggishly observe the people chatting away in around me. All of them wear the same mask that Daag had. They extend every bit of courtesy that is expected of them, yet their gestures are hollow and soulless. The meeting of the Dhole Men, no matter how crude in comparison to the ways of the city, still holds endlessly more because there is sincerity and intention behind them. Whether the city has something like this to offer, the old me wasn’t interested in it and the new one feels tired to the bone. Digging through all that filth to find true companionship and it is all for nothing.

I sit there, drifting to and fro from between the vestibule and the hazy realm that resides between sleep and awakedness. The line of people that came before me shortens slowly as the morning sidesteps from the way of the afternoon. Finally a page enters the chamber and calls out for my name.

I step from the calm vestibule into a corridor and the page leads me through. The building is made of stone, as usual, but has intricate holes in the walls that lets the daylight seap through here and there, creating a maze of lights and shadows. There are also carvings on the walls: a fine craftmanship, as they continue and enhance the play of light and shadow everywhere around me. I’ve been in many manors, but this is an interesting mix of new and old. Definitely bold in style, yet sophisticated. This building also seems to be quite new, compared to the parlors of other Virtuous Men that I have been in during the years.

The page leads me to an entrance to the prince’s official parlour. Few sharp-eyed guards are there and they order me to relieve my weapons. Detangling my hand-blades is a task I would rather not do here, yet the guards seem to be eagerly performing their duties. I am about to be escorted back with few of these burly dudes as a clear voice from the parlor proper interferes.

— Let him come. You can strike him down if he tries anything.

The man is dressed in blue silk, and just stands there, next to the door, inspecting the scene. He is a vigorously-looking, thin man approaching his forties. The hall is exquisite, but I get a vague impression that the man doesn’t really fit in here. His eyes are lively and he stares, as I extend a deep bow. I wait for his formal inquiry, which he delivers immediately.

— Be greeted, citizen Derak. May your troubles be relinquished.

— Most Honored Gilo Tassava. This humble servant has arrived to your presence with an information that might be vital to your well-being.

He frowns, making me haste in my words.

— I am in a line of work that gives an opportunity to pass through lots of information. For a while I have been aware of a certain sinister plot that is targeted to few Virtuous Men. But their goal is not only to destroy some of the city’s first ones, but rather to shake the foundations of serene Scarlet itself. To open up possibilities for foreign powers.

His face does not reveal any inner emotions, but I would be surprised if it did. A man in his position has already passed countless obstacles of which many must have been revolved around keeping your inner motivations hidden.

— That sounds interesting. Do tell me more.

— Well. You were among the one of these Honorable Ones, that were targeted. And behind all of this is one Vansittart Gabaldon, a rising man of Longax-clan.

— I see. Where is this going to take place?

– At a festival in Kalends of Midsummer. A celebration held by the Unbroken Circle.

— I am glad you delivered this information. What are your plans then, Derak the Easterner? Why did you do this favor for me?

I am about to interject, until I realize that he doesn’t want me to answer, but instead just keeps on going.

– I let you in on a little secret, Derak. Most of us, Virtuous Men, as you call us, are just bunch of old, filthy-rich clowns. We live our lives doing our best to keep everything just as it is today. Then there are few of us with … let’s say a vision. A vision of a grander future. Where tomorrow is a greater day than today. But I see from your face that you do not undestand what I mean, so we’ll drop that. I know you, Derak, by reputation. It is a custom of mine to know people who are among the top of your profession. If nothing else, it is a good thing to know who will be the one that delivers the final message. The final move of the lost game. And you, my friend, you are among the most interesting ones.

– I came to you, because I thought you could be interested to make a move against…

– Yes yes, against Vansittart the Cocky One. I am more interested about you, Derak. Or to be more precise, the mechanisms you use to be on the top of your game. From the stories I might guess you possess knowledge of metallurgy and springwork that is beyond of anything we can comprehend. This knowledge is something I would be willing to pay a lot of money of. If we could form some kind of an arrangement, starting with the gear you must have currently on you…

A shocking suggestion. To this day, I have never parted with any of my gear, or secrets voluntarily.

– Honored one, I have to decline for now, as my life depends on the gear I have on me and I do not wish to share my secrets or part with my gear for the time being.

I break the etiquette by heading for the exit. He doesn’t seem to mind and the page leads me back out the same way I came in.

The carved walls are ever closer. Their presence and power overwhelm me and what was curiosity when I arrived is now loathing and … fear.

Derak the Puppet. I am not the puppet, but they are, all of them. Puppets in the same, sick play. I will have none of that anymore.

I will attend Vansittart’s Masque. I will extend every bit of courtesy as required. And when the time comes, I will stab him through the heart, and I will wrench the black crystal from his dead hand. And if I am to die there and then, it is much better fate than to linger away as a pawn in the plays of these men. I was wrong to think Plotkin could help me. He is nothing but a pawn himself, maybe an oddly colored piece but if the same board nonetheless.

Rolled a ‘4’
Hero dice: 4, 4, 2, 6, 2, 4
Monster dice: 4, 4, 3, 1