Chapter 924: Arc 9-35

Unfortunately, there’s not enough time to really “reward” my competent captain; playing around for a few minutes would just be torture for the both of us. Exchanging kisses is as much as either of us can handle and only for a few short minutes. My saliva isn’t as powerful as some parts of me, but I’m designed to tempt. When she gets that look in her eye, I leave her to the tender care of Fox Ears, closing the door on the smaller woman’s giggles as she’s dragged into the insistent arms of Shake.

A part of me hopes that I’ll be stopped from entering the Grand Hall; it’d be a nice excuse to return or, even better, seek out my lovers at home. That doesn’t happen. The acolytes in charge of the platform eye me with suspicion and repressed fear, but send me on my way after I pay the small fee.

The Grand Market is just as I remember it, though the colorful signs and multitude of glass amaze me the same way it did a year ago. Back then, everything was new and full of possibility. Now, it’s only a reminder of what could have been. I don’t regret the choices that led me away from the school. Far from. Doesn’t mean it isn’t a little sad.

The first stop is the Casting Hall, the heart of the school and where most of the learning happens. It’s as busy as ever, the crowd of colorful acolytes forcing the carriage to a crawl. That, and people’s reluctance to part for a vehicle bearing my crest. I only catch glimpses of their faces peeking through the shutters but it’s more than enough to understand their contempt. I’m not popular here.

Thankfully, bad attitudes are nothing to fear. Far more concerning is what I plan to do. It only occurs to me while standing on his front porch that it’s unbecoming to demand a meeting with Dunwayne; I suppose I’ve gotten a little irreverent. I should have sent a letter requesting a meeting. It’d be a waste to leave without saying anything but showing up unexpectedly could appear needlessly aggressive. The old man doesn’t need more stress.

On the other hand, it might be good to unsettle the group looking to unseat a hero. I assume they’re the brash and self-important types who would do well to understand from the beginning that they can’t control me with the usual rules and expectations.

In the end, I step inside the building, though I send Geneva ahead to do the talking. I expect she can navigate the minefield of propriety successfully while I enjoy the clear sky and warm sun, indulging in placid nostalgia.

At least, for a few blissful minutes. Then the chaos of my life intervenes.

“Good morning, Lady Tome.”

The greeting is respectful, but the tone that speaks it doesn’t carry a single trace of warmth. I turn toward the source of trepidation to find a prince facing me.

These days, little remains of my paralyzing fear of nobility. That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable around high nobles; if anything, I’m nervous around them for new reasons. Powerful men and women remind me of anthills; they aren’t a threat but if I step on their little dirt mounds, they’ll swarm, forcing me to stomp them, dirtying the bottom of my shoe with gunk that I’ll end up tracking into the estate. Messy and disgusting, that sums up my relations with nobility fairly well.

Prince Samuel kor Harvest isn’t the worst of his kind, though that is a recent opinion. When I first met him, he was apathetic and arrogant, dismissive of someone he saw as beneath him. It didn’t take long for him to become aggressive, but, in his defense, the man was under a lot of stress, given his closest confidante was planning to assassinate him. There was also the matter of his childhood sweetheart being taken with me, though not as romantically as he might have assumed.

After a demonstration of the differences in our abilities, a scolding from his father, and witnessing a little massacre, the prince treats me with a lot more respect when he can’t avoid me entirely. Because of that, he’s found that I’m not unpleasant to be around. There’s tension between us, but there’s nothing hostile beneath it, his caution subdued and his shoulders relaxed.

Beside him, Cecilia Rosefield doesn’t have the slightest hint of reticence. She stares at me curiously, as if watching a predator kept in the Sanctuary. Logically, she understands that I’m dangerous, but she can’t imagine me hurting her. Could be my reputation of being soft against women proceeding me. Or maybe it’s the lunch we shared; Geneva’s cooking is hard to forget.

“Your highness,” I return, offering him the shallowest of bows, barely a recognition of his title. “Lady Rosefield.” A brief nod. “Good morning.”

We lapse into silence; I can tell he wants to ask me questions, but I refuse to do anything to encourage him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take the hint.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his tone just short of demanding the answer.

“I thought to visit the Summoning Hall. The bottom floor is open to visitors.”

“Ah. That is…”

I shouldn’t. “Something wrong?”

“I believe he’s too shy to comment on you indulging in your interest so soon after plunging the city into turmoil,” the noblewoman answers for him with a chuckle. She looks different. Not…better, per se. Just more comfortable. With herself? Before she had poise, but now there is something supporting it. Confidence, maybe. Or just plain experience.

Her smile is as pretty as I remember. Almost pretty enough for me not to take offense at her calling summoning an interest, like it’s a hobby I do in my basement instead of a lifestyle.

“A good leader should always try to better themselves, don’t you think?”

“Of course. I think it’s admirable. You’ve done a remarkable job putting Quest back together in so short a time. Even more impressively, you did it without leaning on the crown. Something I doubt the king was happy about.”

Huh. Was that the plan? Did he think dropping the burden of managing a territory would be too great to bear and he would rescue me from a plight created by his own hands? That he and I, or more likely an agent of the crown, would bond when they took me under their wings, initiating me into the world of high nobles? Or perhaps he thought the woman with a reputation for mediocrity and rampant hedonism would prove a suitable figurehead while the crown usurped control over the territory that had strayed to far from its authority?

I wouldn’t be surprised. Being made a countess out of nowhere still doesn’t sit right with me; it stinks of hidden manipulation. This could explain it, though it’s a lackluster plan at best.

“All the praise should go to the people. They’re tough. Adaptable.”

“As expected of the City of Adventure and Magic.” Her smile stretches a touch wider. “Though I suppose they’ll have to change that. Perhaps the City of Wild Magic? I’m sure your supporters in the Temple would appreciate it.”

“They’re not ones for big gestures.”

The prince clears his throat, trying to hide a frown. Saints, what is his prob—oh. He still hasn’t done anything about his crush? Saints save him. If she isn’t moved by him trying to kill someone he thinks is slightly interested in her, she won’t be moved.

Or maybe that’s my wife talking.

“Then, you have no business with the Hall? Official business that is.”

I almost ask him why he cares. Or what he’d do if I did. But that’s no way to treat royalty. “I would like to talk to Dunwayne as the leader of the city tightly entwined with his school, but I’m here for personal reasons.”

“Good.”

Oi. I understand you think I’m a villain, but you don’t have to be so blatant about it.

My disapproval must show on my face as he averts his eyes and hastens to correct the misstep. “By that, I mean it’s good that there are no problems between you and the Hall. The school stands to benefit from your visionary mind and methods.”

Not bad. “Yes, I believe cooperation between the Hall and the Cosmian is key to the future. Assuming the Hall remains what it is.”

“Is there a reason that it wouldn’t?”

Would he not know? He’s a prince, he should be connected to these things. His body is telling me that he’s genuinely clueless. I would expect more, given his recent popularity.

This could be an opportunity to influence things without copious violence.

“I’ve heard talk that Dunwayne won’t be the Grandmaster of the Hall forever. Not for long either.”

“Men a decade younger have retired from their professional lives,” Cecilia said musingly. “I suppose it was only a matter of time. Even heroes have to lay down their burdens eventually.”

“The saints know he deserves the rest. I’m glad for him…so long as it’s his idea.”

Prince Samuel’s gaze sharpens, the expression of all who hold power and know that they cannot ignore brewing troubles. “What do you mean?”

The best I can do to remain nonchalant is weaken my words with a shrug. “As I said, I’ve heard rumors. Something like someone trying to take advantage of the city’s tragedy to make political moves. I wouldn’t put much importance on it without doing your due diligence.”

Whatever relationship the crown has with the Hall, everyone with a working brain should understand that someone who would sideline the best man in the kingdom’s history being in charge of an institution that churns out competent casters by the dozens is a bad idea.

“That’s troubling news,” the prince says, his body language screaming that it’s far worse than that. “Hopefully there’s nothing to it. A man of Dunwayne’s accomplishments deserves better.”

And he intends to get to the bottom of it. Good.

Better, Geneva is returning, the sea of acolytes parting before her like frightened sheep dancing out of the way of an aggressive dog.

“If you’ll excuse me, your highness, I’ll have to get moving. My days are hectic, as I’m sure you can understand.”

It’s his turn to frown at a small slight; normally, royalty dismisses those in their presence. “Of course. I wish you luck with your work.”

“Perhaps we’ll share another meal together soon,” Cecilia says, giving the prince another reason to frown.

“I’ll have to disappoint you. I won’t be in the city for long and the short time I do have doesn’t allow much room for social events. Perhaps another season.” Stop giving your pet royal reasons to despise me.

I don’t give them the chance to drag the conversation out further, reboarding the carriage; the four walls seem too cramped for such a nice day. Soon enough, I’m moving. How did it go?

{Dunwayne wasn’t present.} Her thoughts drift to me from the driver’s bench. {I left a message for them to arrange a meeting at his soonest convenience, but I have no hope that we will speak to him.}

Oh?

{The last thing the people conspiring against him want is for Dunwayne to receive support.}

I suppose. This aide who took the message. Are they working for the schemers?

{He is not, but receiving the message frightened him. He knows there is a conflict and now he will be forced to pick a side. I doubt he will side with the aging alpha. Even if Dunwayne manages to fend them off for now, he will not hold power forever and his detractors will remember all slights against them.}

Sigh. Even legends die.

{A fate you needn’t worry about, my summoner.}

Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.