Chương 172: Chapter 193: Favor

I was quite wrong. There are people here that make me much more uncomfortable than Casser Swamman does. Some of them don't even have to try. The next house on my rounds is the Kinghand. If Nhullit is the House known for bloodthirsty ambition, tyrannical domination and vicious aspiration, then Kinghand is the House known for cruelty. For the most part it's an unearned reputation. Almost any member of that House would be very normal and reasonable people who would see no purpose in extraordinary cruelty.

But the exceptions are the ones that stand out. It has only taken a handful of extreme cases for Harigold House to get a reputation for violence and impulsive behavior. My story is not the greatest of those, but it is the most recent. Idnelps Daria was a boogeyman for generations because he had his wizards sink the enemy castles into the earth.

The normal method of wizardly warfare is hurricanes or lightning or firestorms- threats that are deadly against an army in the field but do not really endanger a fortified stone castle where the nobles bunker down for safety. He turned that upside down and disrupted centuries of tradition about gentlemanly warfare. Kinghand has some similar stories. What Idnelps was to abrupt and decisive violence, so does Kinghand have a dozen examples known for graphic, stomach-turning, and above all inventive torture.

Spanish Inquisition level stuff. I won't elaborate. None of us need that. There is no reason to believe that Csen Kinghand has any part of that, or that he would ever condone the family's fabled penchant for pain and horrifying despair. I just wish he'd fucking blink.

"Lord Kinghand," I said, inclining a nod. He gave a deep nod back, his eyes on me the whole time.

"Lady Harigold," he said. He was doing everything right to demonstrate trustworthiness. He was making eye contact, he kept his hands where I could see them, he did not put my back to a wall. But his steady unwavering gaze, the way his hands clasped each other tightly over his chest, his eerily upright posture and the shadows melting together behind him... He was either one of the most effortlessly, naturally creepy people in this world, or he has deliberately practiced that act until he can fake it fully.

If he smiled at me I was quite ready to nope out of there. This is the most tense I've ever been in front of someone who is doing nothing wrong, who has no bad history with me, who I am pretty sure is already on my side and the game status indicator states I could defeat easily. On every count I should not feel even slightly threatened, especially with so many witnesses in this room. But, I am aware of his family's reputation. And he just won't blink.

He stood tall and straight, with his heels together and his posture quite rigid. His manicured fingers were motionless and unfidgeting, like wax replicas. His chin was tilted downwards at an angle that I'm sure he had chosen based on specific degrees of orientation. I saw plenty of people in my day-to-day that were very affected in their mannerisms. Every gesture coached, calculated, chosen for effect.

Csen looked like he was still taking classes in how to be a human being, and it was likely he would need to repeat the course.

"I am here to make the rounds and see that certain fundamentals are understood. Purely a formality, to make sure there are no unanswered questions," I said, with conspicuous politeness. He stared at me for a long second. Then, "What is it you wish to be understood?" His face is very expressive, showing clearly the play of emotions. Compared to Csen, I'm a closed book written in code. But I don't think the emotions he's feeling are something I would recognize.

I know I sound judgmental and shallow, but the wrongness of him is palpable. Looking him in the eyes feels like someone is watching me from behind. I tried to push away those distractions and mentally composed my reply.

"Just the current state of faction leadership In an informal and unofficial sense, rather." He stared at me for another long second, and I felt my scalp start itching. Then he spoke again.

"That is not a question." Ah, he's making this difficult then. I mustered my dignity.

"I currently stand acknowledged as the spokeswoman for the Development faction. Is this also your understanding?" And again that pause like he was translating my speech into something else. Something with a lot of rustling and clicking in the dark. I waited for him to speak. His head tilted to the side, and I almost jumped backwards.

"I understand," he said.

"Yes."

"And in turn, all future negotiations and agreements for the factions should be directed from your representatives to my representatives?" And never ever for you and I to interact directly. This was a longer pause, he was parsing out my meaning. I was being obtuse and obscure for him, speaking too Rabert for someone who was already having trouble distinguishing between people who have good taste and people who taste good. I assume.

I'm not in his head and for that I thank the gods because there is something in his eyes that he can't hide because he won't blink.

"Ah. Plans. The future. Agreements. I remember." He did not smile, but I could see him mentally sort me into a different category than I had been. Something with a more friendly connotation. I wanted to rush out of there, but I instead made sure to observe every polite social form as I closed out our conversation, leaving no room for offense or misunderstanding. I wanted to flee, but first I wanted to make sure nothing would follow me. God that guy is creepy as fuck. I was glad to get away from him.

He didn't even do anything but I feel like I'm lucky to have gotten away. I saved Grennick for last. Others may disagree but I consider them the worst of the worst. The Houses of Hearstwhile are a thriving garden of sleazy seedy corruption, sure. More of them are nasty than nice, in most cases you're just asked to choose between what specific varieties of underhanded depravity are found in the Houses. Violence, cruelty, profiteering, decadence, tyranny, ignorance, subversion..

but the shortest summary of Grennick methods is "deception". Greifir is known for its churches and its curse, its armies and honor. Pinking is known for being odd and unpredictable, but always somehow coming out ahead. Grennick is where trust and confidence and conviction go to die. All of the houses traffic in lies to some degree. Keeping secrets, manipulating others, covering for their crimes. It's pretty universal. But as a means to an end. With Grennick, there's just no end to the lies.

They spiral out into the darkness and each mistruth is connected to another untruth, every shadow theater is just covering up another shadow theater. It is probable that nobody outside of Grennick will ever understand exactly what their goals and methods are. Only that it is not what it seems. Or to put this a different way: it's like if the Harigold Glitter spy run was an entire House. So absolutely everything that annoys me about Nathan, multiplied hundreds of times over.

The confusion, the double-dealing, the doubts, the second-guessing, all of it. Nhullit house was morally disgusting to me, Kinghand makes me queasy and anxious. But I've spent months now getting steadily more pissed off at people who make their way with layers of lies and legerdemains. Also, I am always at a disadvantage against the expert tricksters, I can never meet them on their own terms. I'm savvy, I can usually tell if someone is lying to me, anything short of a real expert like my brother.

Grennick is full of those experts. And someone does not need to be particularly adept to tell whether I'm trying some subterfuge. Not that I haven't considered fixing that. I've spent enough time rolling my eyes and bemoaning, and pledging to take some skill levels in Deception. But there's a fear holding me back from that. Skill levels are rare and hard-earned. I cannot afford to waste them So, I ask myself, what if I were to spend my skill levels on Deception and it didn't help?

Strictly speaking, skill levels only help in a skill challenge, and those are fairly rare. Impactful, but rare. Only a handful of the occasions I would want to trick someone would be considered a skill challenge. And what if taking those skill levels doesn't fix me? Picture me as an expert fencer. A dozen skill levels, plenty of training by great teachers. And losing every bout because despite all that practice and training I'm just making mistakes.

Lunging high when I should parry, giving ground when I should challenge. Allocating skill levels cannot make up for someone being, fundamentally, bad at something. How many skill levels could I cheat myself out of, just to learn that lesson? So, I have held off. I've focused elsewhere, I've practiced other abilities. And for the most part, it serves me well. Until I have to walk into the nest of vipers. And up close it looked more and more literal.

Bands of black and green fabrics, with repeated themes of tessellating patterns. Diamonds, quatrefoils and scallops, all of which looked like shimmering scales. Most of the women wore long draping shrugs or boas, the men's jackets were fringed, everyone seemed to favor long scarves and ascots. Boots, belts, bands and bodices alike were made of actual snakeskin. The look was not subtle. It was not discreet. Some people say the Grennick do this to warn away the faint of heart.

I believe they make themselves obvious because it's more fun for them to tangle someone in their subterfuges if the warning signs are there from the beginning. Taunting the world.

'We are clearly labeled as poisonous but you put your hand under my fangs anyway, you deserve what you get'. So, knowing that, it's even dumber for me to walk right in like nothing could go wrong. And yet I do. Marquis Girhan Grennick was the man to see here. I could see him through the gathered throng of his family, his House, his people.

But it was hard to see a way through, the Grennicks were scattered about in tight conversational groups pressed close, I had to find a lane that was moving partially in his direction, then move through a gap and double back, trying to find the way to get to him. I could see him periodically, usually glancing my way with a satisfied smirk on his face.

I looked around at the Grennicks forming a seemingly-accidental barrier, innocuously ignoring me as their bodies casually strung a fence for me to navigate around and through. These bastards have me running a maze here. One they can reorganize in a moment. The realization hit me like a bad taste, and I realized how much I did not want to engage with Grennick bullshit on Grennick terms. I needed to cut through and do this my way.

This was easily the most low-stakes I've ever seen the Grennicks fucking with someone just for the sake of it. By their standards I'm being invited in with open arms and the warmest welcomes. But it still annoyed the hell out of me. Fortunately, I've got the mermaid skirt on underneath. I rose up, until my dangling feet cleared the height of even the top hats that some of them affected. I drifted forwards, to the Marquis, bypassing the stupid maze they had set out for me.

A meaningless waste of time, a test of my patience, concealed as just normal party chatter. I lowered myself to the ground, in front of the marquis. I offered him a curtsy, he returned with a bow.

"Lordship," I said with my voice tight from annoyance.

"My lady," he said, insufferably. Out on a limb, everything he says and does is insufferable.

"I'm here to announce myself as the new decision-maker in Development faction," I said. I was in no mood. He smirked.

"What, just this? No welcome, no prologue, no finesse? You just stumble in and blurt out?"

"I may as well," I snapped.

"It's playing to my strengths. I do honesty and directness well. I do not excel at the reverse. So I choose to be direct and honest." He sighed as if I had kicked over a game of Monopoly in the first round of play.

"Very well. But I ask a favor." I felt a spring winding inside, a new tension flowing through me out of nowhere. My anti-Nathan training is kicking in.

"What favor," I asked, watching him like he had a knife at my throat.

"Don't do this anymore," he said, waving vaguely.

"It's demeaning. And watching you diminish the office diminishes mine as well. Going forward from this day, please do sit still. Do not walk about. You are a leader, and from now on people come to you. Send a messenger if you need a meeting. You should not be wandering about running your own errands. You intend to make yourself a fixture of these events, do you not? To be a fixture you must be stationary. That is literally what it means. A fixture cannot be a moving target.

Get comfortable, ensconce yourself, and behave like a leader does." I found myself straightening, mulling this, looking at him speculatively. This sounded like good advice offered in good faith. Which means I'll be running myself ragged trying to figure out his angle and intent later. But for now, all I can afford to do is take it at face value. Also, it really feels like the kind of thing I should have figured out for myself.

After all, I look around and I don't see any other major leadership figures running around doing everything on their own. I think I've still got fetch-quest habits, gamer instincts are not appropriate to all situations.

"I... had not regarded this. I will consider your advice."

"I didn't offer advice, I demanded this as a favor," he corrected.

"Never tell anyone you got advice from Grennick. It makes both of us look bad. Now get back to your people. The stupid fashion show is about to start." He shooed me away, two hands flicking fingers in a scooting motion. Everything I know about them tells me that I've misunderstood everything about this. All the signals seemed clear to me, like I was being dealt with in a direct and forthright manner. But it's not rumor, it's canon that the Grennick cannot be trusted. What the hell am I meant to do now?

Whatever I do, it better start with getting back to my own people and immersing myself among the Harigold house. I am feeling very much at sea right now, and I need the firm foundations under my feet again.