Chapter 168: Strangers on a Trail

Viv felt very much like her young self sitting before her high school principal the day after the soap incident. As in, when she’d beaten someone in the changing room with a bar of soap wrapped in a nylon sock. She’d been terrified, because she thought the police might be involved. It might be even worse this time.

 

Sangor sat by her side in a state of apparent relaxation, though there was something very contained about his posture that evoked the calm before the storm. Maybe it was his impeccable doublet, maybe it was the bloodshot eyes, or maybe it was the fact his scarred fist clenched and unclenched like a beating heart or like a sword half-drawn. He made no effort to hold back his tremendous aura. As the undisputed king of one of the major powers of the continent, one who’d gained that right through blood and guile, his presence weighed with an intensity that bordered on the physical. Only Viv’s own achievements protected her soul from its dominating presence. In front of them, the High Priest of Maranor glared.

 

Except for the three of them, the room was empty.

 

“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” the high priest said.

 

He was the same one who officiated the summit. Viv didn’t expect him to act so soon or so brazenly. Actually, this was a private meeting so maybe nothing was out yet. He could just be fishing. The thing was, Sangor looked like he was ready to bite the hook, the line, and also the fishing boat for good measure.

 

“I have called you here because a mysterious incident happened last night. Someone disappeared from the heart of our temple, without trace and this despite fully intact wards. Evidence points towards outsiders breaking in, very well prepared outsiders. Of course, this is a blasphemous act of unprecedented proportions that should horrify everyone. Someone clearly has no fear of the Goddess of Order and her clergy. A terrible development…”

 

The unspoken accusation hung in the air between them.

 

“I am sure you see where I am going with this.”

 

“No,” Sangor said. “I do not. Please tell me how this… break-in relates to me?”

 

“A person is missing. Your son Gil.”

 

“Are you telling me that my son has been kidnapped?”

 

The high priest briefly mulled over his options. He looked increasingly furious to the extent that his forehead was turning a nice shade of tulip. It was clearly not going the way he expected, Viv thought.

 

“Because if he was kidnapped, I would like to know why the city is not in an uproar at the disappearance of the heir to the kingdom of Enoria. One would think this would be considered a priority, would you not?”

 

Viv thought the only thing missing was a ball of energy crackling over the table where the two glares met.

 

“It could be that Prince Gil has been duped by outsider agents claiming to act for someone he knew. There are few outsider agents capable of such an incredible feat, however, though I read reports that a bank in Helock was breached with a similar, mysterious group of peerless capabilities, a group famous for having disabled their golem so thoroughly that it went missing. Our own golems were shut with unusual means that betray a great understanding of their functions. That bank heist also served to undermine Archmage Elunath as part of an ongoing feud with… was it not you, Empress Viviane?”

 

Said empress was doing her best to melt into the background. Sadly, the back of her chair remained entirely too solid. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the high priest.

 

She was afraid of Sangor’s reaction to that high priest.

 

“Let’s go back to my son,” the Enorian said between gritted teeth. “You said he was, what, kidnapped?”

 

“It seems possible.”

 

“How can you tell he is not merely in someone’s bed sporting a hangover as people his age tend to do? After all, yesterday was a day of celebration in Mornyr, with the summit in full swing? Is there a reason why you would think him abducted?”

 

“The servants of Maranor do not overstay parties because they drank themselves under the table, King Sangor.”

 

“Ah, but youth, you know how wild they can become. Is there, say, a specific, a VERY specific reason as to why my son could not leave that would explain your certainty?”

 

Sangor leaned forward over the counter, hands balled into fists upon which he pretended to rest his head. If this was a bar, Viv would have picked her handbag and fucked off before the chairs started flying.

 

“He is a young man of extraordinary faith.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

Sangor reached for his breast pocket, slowly removing one of the letters Gil had sent him. Viv recognized the paper as the one he’d shown her during their secret meeting at the border, the one where bold letters formed a message asking for rescue. Surely, the temple didn’t leave its best paper to its apprentice but only one thing could explain the ratty, cracked appearance of the missive. Someone’s nervous and constant attention. Sangor had read his son’s cry for help a hundred times, a thousand times. His fingers had held this lifeline with the powerless intensity of a deprived father and now, he delicately placed the open piece of paper in front of the priest with the slow motion of someone who didn’t dare go quickly lest they lose control over their emotions.

 

“Got a message here. From him. Long ago. Now, some of those letters, those. Those. That one too, you see? Yeah, that one as well. They form a cry for help. See? So perhaps, just perhaps, I am being fearful with no cause. But perhaps he was also held in a secure facility as a, haha, HOSTAGE. Now that would be hilarious, right?”

 

“What a shocking assumption, King Sangor.”

 

“I admit that when spoken like this, it appears unthinkable. Who in their right mind would think they could control a kingdom by kidnapping the king’s only son, denying them even a visitation and believe, how unthinkable, that they could get away with it?”

 

The table groaned under Sangor’s fingers. Incidentally, that table was made of stone.

 

“Because that would be insane. Yeah. Mad. Dangerously so. Now, I am sure my son is fine and that he will eventually resurface, probably somewhere south of here, perhaps closer to Enoria. Let us say he would be taking a break from his knightly duties. Perhaps it could happen. Of course, you could cling to the belief that he was kidnapped but then perhaps my son would hold a different opinion and I, as his father, would perhaps be tempted to resort to… drastic measures. You know. The hostile, retaliatory kind.”

 

“That would be dangerous for Enoria.”

 

“Maybe so. Maybe so… and maybe I don’t give a single flaccid fuck.”

 

Viv didn’t think she’d seen someone so angry since she verbally lashed Octas’ avatar and that woman had been unhinged. Right now, Sangor was another kind of angry, the ‘send ships across the Aegean’ kind of angry.

 

“Guess we’ll figure out what you choose. Now I’m going to get out and take a breath before I do something we both regret. Let me know what you decide. Oh, and just in case you believe I should extend my stay? I left instructions with my paramour and if you think I’m being unreasonable, you really don’t want to meet her. Witches, you know? A good day to you.”

 

The smoldering volcano of Sangor’s presence radiated like an angry sun as he moved around the table, his footsteps strangely loud in the oppressive silence.

 

Viv was left in her seat alone with the High Priest and the vein pulsating on his forehead. She slapped her lap.

 

“Well! This has been fun and all.”

 

“You play a very dangerous game, outlander. And to think I believed you when you came, garbed in protocol and decorum with your heroic declamations, but it was just a ploy to have me lower my guard. Once a revolutionary witch, always a revolutionary witch is it?”

 

“There is no need for name calling. You know why you’re really mad, and it’s not because of me. As for decorum…”

 

She shrugged.

 

“I didn’t break it. I’m merely playing the same game as everyone else. You just didn’t expect me to have such a good hand.”

 

Viv stood up, making her way out.

 

“I’m already pledged to Neriad after all. One cannot be friends with everyone these days. Just remember… your side started it. See you at the summit.”

 

Viv followed after Sangor, though she was much less deliberate about it.

 

Left alone, The High Priest simmered in his resentment. Anger and outrage warred with shame and a deep sense of having failed his duties, his faith, and his goddess. He turned to a secondary set of doors. A minute later, it opened, letting in a woman in a dark robe, the hooded symbol of Enttiku the only visible ornament.

 

“Mornyr’s sanctity has been defiled,” the high priest said.

 

“You called this upon yourself. This sanctity depends on our neutrality and our sense of ethics, something your kind has had difficulties with for the past century.”

 

“Do not presume to lecture me, you old crone. I do this for Param.”

 

“Sometimes, people bind their essence to a cause to such an extent they end up seeing their own wellbeing as serving that cause. Such people tend to take shortcuts.”

 

“I did not call you here for a lecture. I request surveillance on the King of Enoria on suspicion of burglary.”

 

“Is that so? What was stolen, besides your dignity?”

 

“Breaking. And. Entering,” the high priest forced out of his clenched jaw.

 

“Better. My guards will keep an eye on the young fox, if you insist. We will report what we see but we will not intervene unless we find evidence of a crime having been committed.”

 

The message hung between them. A father reuniting with his child was not a crime.

 

“Report it to me and I will handle the rest.”

 

“Be careful of what you try. Mornyr may never have fallen but some of its leaders have.”

 

“And of the girl as well.”

 

A susurrus sound escaped from the hooded form. It might have been a very quiet chuckle.

 

“If you wish. Goodbye dear. Try not to let it get to your head.”

 

The woman left with the second half of the sentence left unsaid but the high priest could taste it in the eddies of her soul. It was something along the line of ‘or you might lose it’.

 

***

 

Param had no meddling kids, so Viv had gotten away with it! Again! She had honestly thought she would not even be suspected but she was being naive. The law, or indeed figures of authority here didn’t need proof to make accusations. There was only one person both stupid and competent enough to reverse heist Gil and that was her. Period. The only good thing was that the high priest had zero proof so he couldn’t exactly put her on trial or send the rest of the temple after her, so he had to just sit down and take the loss. She suspected the other leaders didn’t much like his machinations. That didn’t help with the sensation of having Maranor’s fury hanging over her neck by a thread, ready to fall at the first mistake.

 

“Say, Solfis,” she said after returning to the manor that night.

 

//Your Majesty.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

 

“You’re pretty fast, hmm?”

 

//I believe this has been proven beyond the shadow of a doubt.

 

“And you have a perfect memory.”

 

//As provided by the superior form of the machine.

 

“So you left the fucking buckets on the golem’s head on purpose.”

 

There was no embarrassment module in Solfis’ programming. Viv thought it was unfair.

 

//Sometimes, one must make a point.

 

“And that point is that we’re mocking our very powerful enemy for no purpose? Is that it? They would have searched longer if it wasn’t obvious there were intruders in!”

 

//The point was not that.

 

“What then?”

 

//The point was that the entities those pathetic, half-brained dimwits at the local college of magic call golems are but poorly designed parodies of what a true golem should be.

//They are oversized toys designed by deluded buffoons who are too stupid to even realize the extent of their own mediocrity.

//Their programming is a joke rolled in a travesty.

//If my creator Irlefen were alive, the arrogant, decerebrated meatbags who made them would not be trusted with a mop and bucket of soapy water.

 

“Solfis. Did you leave the buckets because those pieces of shit being called the same term as you made you extra salty?.”

 

//Those are not golems.

//Those are pathetic automatons.

 

“I didn’t call them that, I just want to know if you left the buckets out of anger, thus endangering all of us.”

 

//…

 

“I’m waiting.”

 

//It also served to intimidate our adversaries.

 

“You’re banned from attending the next heist.”

 

//That would be suboptimal, Your Majesty.

 

“I can’t believe you just tagged us as the culprits for your own amusement!”

 

//Irao thought it was funny as well.

 

The nearby window opened and shut as a so far invisible shadow slipped out to avoid some unwanted attention.

 

“I’m surrounded by idiots.”

 

***

 

“I suppose this concludes our discussion,” King Erezak of Baran said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

 

Viv nodded then stood from the table, the few documents signed and ready.