Arc 9-01
“Is it too much?”
I don’t turn, my attention firmly held by my reflection. It’s been seven weeks since an agent of the crown delivered a royal writ declaring me the new governing noble of Quest and its surrounding territories. Nearly a month since I began my efforts to rebuild the city I shattered.
With my clan’s overwhelming competence supporting a multitude of talented people with the singular goal of rebuilding their home, New Quest has seen a lot of progress. So much anyone that fled the city after the destruction wouldn’t recognize it today. But progress comes with work, even from me.
I loathe the idea of ruling, of being responsible for hundreds and thousands of lives. I’m not meant for it, but I’ve come to accept that the world is very interested in the idea. With every passing day, I understand the elven belief that the strong will always conquer wherever they pass; even if you want to be left alone, the people making decisions aren’t going to make any calls until they know the creature that can level cities is okay with it.
And if I have to be in charge, it’s a disservice to leave my responsibility to rot. One day, when I’m making a home for my clan that we plan to stay in for more than a year or two, I’ll pour my heart into a city. New Quest isn’t that home. What I owe them, the survivors of my rampage, and what I owe my fickle heart is the bare minimum; a safe place for them to build a future for themselves.
A simple task made more complicated by a tight timeline; I have no intention of sticking around the city. My reasons are manifold but chief among is to remind the king that I am not his servant, no matter how many titles he throws at my feet. I’m not stupid. My sudden fortune was not done out of goodwill. Fear must have something to do with it, but the highest noble in the land and the men that advise him are crafty creatures with a long history of pacifying the powerful. I know they’re hoping that the authority they drape me will chain me down and make me manageable. As if.
Before spring ends, I’ll be beyond the walls of New Quest. Luckily for my new citizens, I intend to see them settled by then. As the one with the least to offer when it comes to rebuilding the city, my main contribution is running around, checking progress and prodding people to keep their ambitions focused on my agendas first.
It's tedious and time consuming, the exact work that makes me hate the idea of ruling, but at least there’s one member of the clan enjoying the numerous appearances. Talia has fully taken over the aesthetics of the clan and enjoys dressing me to make an impression. With the recovery efforts finished and trade trickling back into the city, there’s plenty of material for the creative flower to work with. She enthusiastically keeps adding to my closet with each needed appearance, her designs getting more outlandish.
At my request, she’s limited her designs to colors on my personal crest, though, to reflect the Temple serving as my new guard and match the theme of the city, she’s leaning heavily into green and gold. The jacket and trousers are fitted to show off my figure, but the embellishments are loose, an attempt to soften my hard reputation. The collar of the jacket if left open to show off a white scarf and a golden half cape hangs from my shoulder, matching the large, polished buttons of the jacket. I roll my shoulders, making the cape swish. My hair, long enough to reach past my shoulders, is tied in a single braid, the lack of gentle framing making my violet eyes seem sharper than usual, but no less beautiful. Saints, I feel like I’m about to attend someone’s coronation. Maybe mine.
Talia seems pleased with it, though no one unfamiliar with her could tell. Her face remains as emotive as slowly melting ice, though her practiced expressions are getting smoother. She doesn’t bother at home; we’re familiar enough with her to read her and I find the faint twitches of emotion charming.
Her long, delicate fingers trace the wide collar. “You don’t like it?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I smirk as I take in her minimum sky-blue robe, the simple design elevated by her natural grace. “Just seems…elaborate.”
“Leaders should stand out. Capture attention.” Her hands trail down the front of the jacket.
“I stand out plenty.”
“Your clothes should too.” She nods to herself and steps away. “Simple but loud. Sharp and authorative. This will do.”
“Er…for what?”
“A uniform. A visual signal to those who wish to approach you when you’re willing to entertain them and an clear boundary when you’re not.”
“People don’t approach me, Talia.”
“Not now. Not yet.”
“Well, it’s not a terrible idea.” I glance at my reflection; I really can make everything look amazing, can’t I? “You want to do a bunch of versions of this? Can I get one in purple?”
“Of course.”
“Anything to add?”
“Mm.” She walks over to the dresser, returning to pin an open book brooch to my chest. “Ready.”
I lean down to peck her on the lips…then linger a little longer as I taste her, my arms slipping around her as she melts into me.
“Lou,” she asks between breathless kisses.
“Mm?”
“Remmings…travel with…us.”
I release her lips from my teeth, pulling away so I can focus on her properly. “The head interrogator? That Remmings?”
“He is the only one I know.”
I scoff. “Me too. Our last meeting didn’t go well.” It went so badly I had to erase a bit of it from his mind. “Why?”
“I informed him that we intend to return to the capital. Knowing him, he wishes to use the journey to try convincing me to return to the interrogators again. Or, at least, lend them my services.”
“Are there part-time interrogators?”
“Exceptions can be made.”
“True.” I place my chin on her head, fingers trailing through her soft hair as I think. “He won’t be an issue, though he’s going to have to be flexible with travel arrangements.” This won’t be like the trip north with the Squiddies; I did the acolytes fighting in Victory’s annual war the courtesy of traveling with them at their limping pace, but there’s too much to do to tolerate any delays. Once we’re moving, I want to be at the capital inside of a week, which means traveling through the night. Standard beasts of burden would die under that kind of stress.
“I will inform him.”
“Why is he so insistent again? I know you’re amazing, but this seems a bit much. You’ve already rejected the position several times. A reasonable man would cut his losses.”
“He is...” She pauses, considering her response carefully. “Worried. About me and the kingdom. “
“Something about you not having agendas?”
“Which is far more valuable than you think. King Sebastian isn’t a bad king, but he isn’t too good of one either. He’s not clever, strong, or particularly well-liked. There is only one means that the crown has of keeping the powerful in line and that is the thought of the interrogators finding their secrets. Therefore…”
She pauses, looking up at me with expectation and utter faith.
“Therefore, corrupting them is high on every villain’s list of priorities.”
“Yes.” She pats my chest in silent encouragement. Saints, I know it’s a technique, but that doesn’t stop it from working; pride suffuses my chest for the admittedly simple deduction. “And they have been successful. He knows that a few interrogators have deals to trade information to certain nobles. It is a small concession, but small things lead to bigger things. Leave it be and soon there will be another group like the Grimoires, breaking minds at the order of any house powerful and wealthy enough to employ them. An uncorruptible head interrogator would be a significant obstacle to that future.”
“No one’s uncorruptible.”
“But the lords of this kingdom don’t have the means to tempt me. I am as close as he can get.” She shrugs, the gesture so juxtaposed to normal reactions that it pulls a giggle out of me. “Besides that, he is a father to me. Working for the king is, supposedly, safe and stable.”
“Supposedly?”
She doesn’t elaborate, instead linking our arms together. “You’re going to be late for your work.”
“You want to come? I’m warning you, it’s mind-numbingly boring.”
“Mm. Then it’s good that I can give you something else to focus on.”