Chương 121: Chapter 142: Roguish

Last night I had scoured out traitors, demoted an entire swathe of aristocrats, threatened horrible violence, and (verbally) thrown grenades all over the royal family. I had shocked the community, disrupted some important peoples' Big Night, I had lobbed deadly accusations, vile insults, open mockery and emotional manipulation with equal enthusiasm. Big swings.

And this morning I was putting on a peachy little pinafore, pinching an early breakfast, and bounding across the land to Skydown Crossing to attend church like I'm not actively building a reputation as the woman you do not want as an enemy. My plan is to completely bend the social order of Hearstcliff around my gravity well over the next year, shifting decades of tradition and inertia and crushing anyone who can't fit into that scheme.

That image is hilariously at odds with the prim and proper church-going prophet who donates lavishly to charities and volunteers for fundraiser dunk tanks and still hasn't had her first kiss. Intentionally.

If I can get half of Hearstwhile convinced that I am the actual devil, a malicious sorceress-tyrant with a tamed dragon in the basement, and the other half convinced that I am the savior sent from the gods, whose every move is virtuous whether the world understands or not- then I might just save this whole world and keep us all alive past Nathan's wedding. Boy it's a good thing I don't put too much pressure on myself! I chuckled to myself while I pinned up my hair.

Yesterday in Nurvedvu I had spent some time just tallying up all the different massive psychological traumas I'm still carrying around. It's worth remembering that these are not accidents or coincidences, these are the necessary sacrifices to fulfill the mission that got me sent to this world. To save it all by myself, using methods I can't even explain to any of my potential allies. All this pressure and trauma and stress and pain- this was done to me. And I owe her an ass-kicking. Time for church!

Elica was still in the shower, so there was nobody to complain when I opened the portal and stepped in. Emerging in Skydown's main crossroad was a breath of fresh air. I felt a smile push its way out onto my face from within me, and that felt nice. I spotted familiar faces and I waved, they waved back, and I capered over to chat with them before services started. The weather had finally gone warm, the deep winter had kept its hooks into a chill spring long past its welcome.

And now, finally, we were back in light-fabric weather without me needing to doctor up the air temperature. It's a welcome relief to be able to make temperate air in a radius around me, but nothing compares to real nice weather. Authentic spring beats hell out of conjured clemency. I was so buoyant that I found myself giving a side-hug to the minister's wife without thinking about it, and she did not even seem surprised. I didn't realize that we were there until I did it, but she seemed to roll with it.

My family is a hugging people, and last night half the folk I'd spoken to had given at least a one-arm-around-the-back embrace. So I just rolled into it, and found myself relieved that I could be a hugger with other people too. A little gossip circle accreted around me, a handful of women who I would see every weekend and who saw each other far more often than that, all cheerily sharing the events of the past week, who was up to what in the town of Skydown Crossing, everything that I should know as a resident.

This is that kind of town: it does not matter that my bed and table are a month away by horseback because I'm here every week for church and that means that I live here. And if I live here, I better know that Saria's youngest has been skipping on his chores to go swipe apples out of the orchard, and that the town's leadership was thinking about diverting the brook for more field irrigation and the local hobby-fishermen were grumbling about it. Normal. Welcome. Easy. A weight off my shoulders, once again.

I think that I can make it through everything that happens every week, if I just have this to sustain me. It gives me a core of normal that I can build upon. Yesterday I needed to channel void just to keep my emotions from exploding and costing me access to a vast criminal network. And if I had to do that, or other desperate measures, over and over... I would melt down for sure. But this place rebuilds me. Replenishes me. Familiar faces, sun-tanned and wind-burned, laughing together before we sat for services.

This town, these people, the stories they share. It gives me a solid place to stand on, after a week of feeling quicksand under my feet. Especially today- I think my face shows that I need some extra reassurance and support today. After recent events, I'm feeling pretty vulnerable and these ladies are sensitive enough to notice. We were an odd group I'm sure. There's the spindly-thin thatchwife, and the baker with forearms like pony-kegs.

A handful of women from the outlying farms with their hands scrubbed clean of all soil but with the scratches of green wheat-sheaves on their fingers. The dressed-down duchess with snow-white skin and lean wiry muscles. The sweet young seamstress with thimble-tough fingertips and the wheelwright's wife trying to corral a half-dozen laughing children at play.

All the husbands lined up in the shade of the pub's awning, talking awkwardly amongst themselves and wondering what could interest all of us this much about ordinary town gossip. On the days I'd brought Nathan with me, only a handful, he had been out in the street engaging with the people like me, instead of lounging awkwardly at the side with all the tag-along husbands who just wanted to get on with their day. But when I stopped bringing him, hardly anyone had ever even asked after him.

I found myself wondering about that. And immediately after, found myself remembering Dean Krasp's advice. It rarely hurts to ask.

"Without dragging in the question of why it happened," I asked the muscular baker.

"Because admittedly there's no way to talk about that without me being utterly mortified- is there a reason that nobody has been concerned about my brother's absence? Some thing that I just have not been privy to?" She chuckled and patted my wrist. Her hands were incredibly strong but soft and well-cared-for, dough and butter are easy on the skin but kneading them is a hell of a workout.

"You'd not see it I suppose," she said.

"Your brother has a great measure of roguish charm. Which is properly charming, and we're all happy to see him for a chat or a laugh. But it's also roguish, if you take my meaning. And not many folk miss a rogue when they're absent. He's wonderful to have around, but he's not missed when he's away." Knock me over with a breeze. Other people didn't like Nathan as much as I assumed they did? He's not as popular as I assumed? But his Charisma score is so much higher than mine! Holy shit.

Is this why nobody in Harigold Glitter ever comes looking for Nathan? Why nobody ever initiates contact? Why every character in the game is going about their own business any time they're not being interacted on screen? Is it just that nobody ever cares about him when he's not around? Fuck. That sounds lonely as hell. I know my life is pretty isolating, but that sounds worse. I covered that all with a laugh.

"Well roguish or not, I do envy his charm." Soft strong hands patted me again.

"You've got your own, princess." The woman who wove the thatches spoke up. She rarely did, but she was always close by.

"From the day you figured out how to help folks you done it and always had a smile. Charm can lick fieldstones to river rocks and never earn what you got, milady." Well shit, now I've got to hug her too. Somehow she knew that was exactly what I needed to hear today. I was deeply touched, and I stayed smiling for the next five minutes of local news before the doors were thrown open and the town was welcomed inside.

I made sure the baker and her family, the thatcher's family and the wheelwright's whole brood all sat in my row with me. When I first returned to Skydown I had found the minister's wife sitting in my family's old pew. Now I shared it with her and a dozen others, all way up front and all comfortably companionable. There are some very serious storms coming. I need to set down deep roots. Getting back to classes on Oneday was an experience, to be sure. Woke up, cleaned up, dressed up, makeup.

Walk with Elica, Vancy, Rinnie and Larianne down to the dining hall. We chatted about the weekend, about Nurvedvu and flying and plans for the future and what we got up to on Sevenday. Elica had been attending a different church service each weekend, and was keeping notes regarding snack quality, seat comfort, and presence of cute boys. Vancy on the other hand would sleep through until lunch, wake up to eat and wash up, then go back to bed- she spend pretty much the whole time asleep.

Larianne would sit with one small candle and read at her desk, and she told us she treasured those hours with nobody talking and nobody bothering her. Their views of weekend activity made them surprisingly apt roommates. Rinnie of course did not give anything away. I genuinely do need to take lessons in mute, cryptic reticence from her. We got to the student center and there was a shift in atmosphere that cut our conversation off. A tone, a feel, a vibe. We glanced at each other. Now what?

And as we moved down the hall, turned the corner, entered the dining hall, it was only getting stronger. There was a change in the texture of the crowded dining facility, mostly around knots of students that were all facing inwards and downwards in rough huddles, then breaking away to go move to some other group or some of their friends. First impressions? This looks bad.

My second impression was when someone noticed we had walked in, and I saw the shock in their eyes, the hitch of breath, the burst of recognition, and then dart their gaze over to one of those huddles. A ripple moved around, people spotting the five of us and either staring openly, or quickly turning away to prove that they are not just staring at me, or quickly turning away to call someone else's attention to us so they can all stare together.

Honestly it would have been more subtle to have everything freeze on a record scratch. Vancy's feet dragged, she started to freeze up when she saw everyone staring, but Larianne and Elica smoothly hooked her elbows and helped keep her on pace. I think Vancy comes from a different school of aristocratic sensibility- she tends to react more when she's feeling self-conscious. Larianne and Elica and I were all taught that when something catches you off guard you immediately pretend this is all part of your plan.

It's bad enough to get caught out, but you must never let anyone see that you've been caught out. Looking embarrassed will only make things wore, and being seen off-balance just invites opportunists to pile on.

Rinnie on the other hand was under no obligation to put up with whatever shit we were in, and she peeled off at the door and headed for a small gathering that I supposed had to be some friends of hers but I will probably never know for sure because she always fought so hard against even the friendliest curiosity on my part. The rest of us headed for the serving line and tried to decide what to get so we would not be floundering.

Easier to figure out what's going on after the fact than to try to recover momentum if we need to maintain image. The lessons have been taught: never let 'em see you sweat. I got a bowl of oatmeal with slices of peach and a dusting of brown sugar with cinnamon, and a glass of milk. We sat down as if nothing were out of the ordinary, and as soon as we had closed ranks Elica turned to me to hiss "what the fuck is happening today?"

"I don't know!" I insisted. Why does everyone have to assume it's me, every time? I mean, other than the fact that so far this year it's almost always me. Or Nathan. If something big happens at this school, it's usually one of us. Vancy was less coy than the rest of us about craning her neck to see what is going on, and she muffled a sound and turned back to us.

"It's the broadsheets," she said.

"Everyone's reading something." Larianne arched an eyebrow.

"Easy," she said, and stood up. She left, walking to one of the huddled knots of students, leaving behind her plate of- dammit, Larianne, are you eating blood sausage? For breakfast? Really? Some of my friends really can't help being who they are, I guess. I tipped some of my milk into the oatmeal to soften it a bit more, I like it a little runny, and started stirring it. Elica had a stack of buttermilk pancakes with pomegranate preserves and a well-displayed serving of thinly-sliced very lean meat.

Vancy had the oatmeal too, but hers had more peach and less sugar than mine. Larianne walked back with a folded broadsheet in her hand, and a pinch-mouthed glare for me. Whoops, it is my fault again. She sat down at her plate and tossed the folded pages into the middle of the table, where they bounced once and then unfolded to the front page. Royal Family Denies Unfounded Allegations of Necromancy"Awesome," I said, smirking.

"They've already made a statement."

"What the fuck," Elica said, running her finger down the page.

"Natalie, this was you? I was there and I remember those rumors but.. they mention you by name, and-" Vancy raised a hand.

"I would like to know what's happening?"

"All right, remember when I told you about the necromancy blight that's infesting my duchy?" She nodded. She remembered. It was kind of big news.

"Well, it all ties back to the Freckentop House," I added, and she gasped in reaction.

"Specifically, the royal family," I continued, and she gasped again, louder.

"And I announced this during the last day of the Fashion Week event," I said, and she immediately interrupted me again.

"You didn't!"

"I really and truly did. I wasn't loud about it, but I made sure that everyone heard about it." Elica looked up from the paper.

"Well, you may as well have raised your voice, because they are not being quiet about the fact that convicted felon and known saboteur Natalie Harigold is the one that originated the unfounded and unverifiable story. They're really tearing into you, that this story has no credibility and the crown and throne will not dignify these allegations with a rebuttal."

"And yet they did dignify them with a rebuttal," I pointed out.

"They made an official statement denying it but also claimed that the accusation is too ridiculous to bother denying." Larianne shrugged.

"Is it true?"

"One hundred percent," I said firmly. Now I know why I can feel a couple hundred eyes boring into me from every angle. I'm being painted as a seditious hoaxer.

"And they're gonna have a lot of egg on their faces when I prove it." Elica scowled.

"Well that's just fine. I suppose you can tell me when that will happen?"

"Summerhigh," I said.

"Only a handful of weeks." She groaned theatrically.

"Great, now I just have to spend the next several weeks with my roommate singled out as the treasonous fraudster that everyone hates." Thank gods my roommate is so loyal. I raised an eyebrow, she was unimpressed. She glared at me, one finger raised.

"This better not come back against me Natalie because-""What's happening over there?" Larianne said, straining to look over the heads of others seated at nearby tables. Vancy grimaced a little.

"It sounds like-""- and I told you that you can't sit with us anymore!" someone said, her voice raising at the end. There was a scuffle as someone was ejected from a tight-knit knot of students. The girl that walked away tried to keep her back stiff and acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary. As if nobody were staring and she were not being humiliated. It was the same reaction that Elica or I would have, anyone raised with certain-stationed expectations would have been taught.

She was unbowed despite being told to leave her circle of former friends. Princess Lachel Freckentop was having a bad morning already. Peripheral vision: I could see dozens of people glancing from her to me and back, drawing the connection, looking for reactions. Lachel studiously did not acknowledge anyone at all, and she ignored my corner of the dining hall the hardest of all. She moved to a vacant space and sat down.

Of the people seated nearby, some of them waited a few prudent seconds before they stood up to turn in their platters as if they were done with breakfast by complete coincidence and not just because they wanted to leave her table. I was unabashedly staring, I really had to see this and I was not ready to be absolutely circumspect about this. After all, it was public knowledge that I had called her family out, I don't need to pretend that I have no idea what's going on.

From here I can't tell if she's taking this really badly, but it sure seems so.

"Shouldn't have published," I said, and I felt a little smug.

"That's just damage-control 101. Making a statement always raises the profile of the accusation. When everyone sees the accusation, they need to decide if I'm lying or if they're lying. That means a fifty-fifty chance of someone deciding her family is necromancers. Last week, that was zero percent. So overnight, they've gone from being innocent by default because nobody knew the allegations, to being half-guilty. If they'd stayed quiet, that wouldn't have happened."

"Oh," Vancy said, staring across at the princess.

"And, it's me versus the royal family. They're known for being greedy, conniving and manipulative. I'm from the provinces and most folk assume I'm too quaint and pastoral to have that kind of shrewdness. The ones that know better also know that it's a matter of court record that I have extremely reliable visions of mysterious knowledge. Also, it's juicier gossip if I'm correct. And, on top of that, their harsh comeback on this issue pitches a conflict and I'm the obvious underdog.

That's extra sympathy for my cause. But lastly, there's the stakes of this thing. If I'm in the wrong, I'm a liar. If they're in the wrong, they're in league with necromancers. The magnitude alone swings hard in my favor." Elica glanced around. She was noting the proportion of people who were glaring my way with suspicion and the number that were gazing my way with support. The seats near us were filling up. We were getting quiet nods, even some small smiles.

If the mood of this room was a pendulum, it had swung in my favor. Maybe the rest of the kingdom follows suit. Lady Elica Dandston picked up her knife and fork.

"Well, it certainly is fortunately for me that my roommate is so popular. It behooves me to surround myself with stars that are on the rise." Thank gods my roommate is so loyal. I have an appointment, and I don't need to make a good impression. It's a relief. I've been so beholden to people's opinions and my own image for some time now. It's actually fun to dress down for this moment. I am dressed for mucking stables.

Stained trousers, cracked boots, a rough tunic pushed up past my elbows, my hair in a single simple twining braid. I have neglected makeup, house colors, and I am wearing only my most useful and functional jewelry. Honestly, it's so comfortable. I'm wearing a bra. No corset. No lacing. No boning. No bustier. Fitted cotton, underwires, molded exactly to my body. It would be better if I had access to some degree of elastic, but I make do. It's nice to make a change now and then.

And I do not mind making a dramatically bad entrance. There's only one man in this office and I already hate him, and he already hates me. So at a carefully-calculated two minutes after our appointment was due to start, I threw the door open with a big brash whoosh, striding in like I owned the place. I had an owl sitting on my shoulder, fluttering as I stepped in. I kicked the door closed behind me.

"Ah," he said.

"The provinces have come to visit." He was Ediscod, and he was acerbic. A thin and joyless man who looked like life had been drained out of him to so that nothing could distract him from duty to his office. A permanent sneer, and a haughty cast to his eyes that he clearly learned from the same school that Elica had trained at. His robes were expensive and ornate, with a flair for ornamentation that spoke to someone else's good taste. He was wealthy, he could afford for people with good taste to buy things for him.

Gave him more time to shave his life down to a fine blade of austerity. And he was wonderfully sarcastic besides.

"Evening guv'na," I chuckled.

"Ya duke says I get five minute with ya."

"Three," he said.

"You're late. It counts off your time." Which is part of my plan. I had gotten well-briefed by Lord Inspector Nesdor on this man's habits.

"Aw, but reconsider!" I said.

"Five minutes. It's not so big an ask! Here, you're from House Eyellon, you all like a good bribe right?" I took off my leather gloves and brought my hands together, twisting off a decorated ring, dulled with age. The owl launched off my shoulder, wings nearly silent. He leaned away from its path, and stared up as it made its way to the rafters.

"I would think that even the provinces have enough grace to couch simple graft in more circumspect terms," he sneered.

"And I will not have your bauble. You've two minutes left."

"Naw!" I blurted.

"But it'd take me at least five minutes to explain how much you suck and how despicable you are! I know plenty about your role sending the Royal Cavalry Guard to spy on me, and I paid good to give you a piece a' my mind!" I thrust the ring across his desk, and he leaned back away from it, and from my dirt-stained fingers.

"A minute, no more," he sneered.

"You have some... substance under your fingernails. Dare I ask?"

"Jus' good clean mud!" I assured him.

"But we've got business to discuss and-""We do not," he promised me.

"Begone. I shall call the guards. If you resist them, they will rescind your Academy enrollment and confiscate all properties that house you in the city." I stood in a huff, and jammed the ring back on my finger. I snatched up my gloves, and whistled for the owl. And it, with devastating aim, released a single wet crap that splatted onto the center of Ediscod's desk, before flying down and perching on my arm. We walked out with our heads held high, and I was giggling when I teleported away. Like clockwork.

This plan could not fail.