Chương 251: Chapter 272: Stop the Bleeding

On Oneday morning, our homeroom classroom was cold. Not quite arctic winter, but still bitter and uncomfortable. The room had been rather comfortable for a while, the past four months. The last time that it was really cold in here was when Nathan had last fucked me over in a bad way and I brought the cold shoulder to remind him who he's messing with. After he and I tackled Gharie together during Fall Fashion, it's been mild and moderate in here. But today, the bite in the air is back.

A short girl in a new school uniform with dark hair, one of our classmates I've never learned the name of, came through the door and groaned loudly. She wrapped her arms around herself, and turned to the right corner of the room.

"Dammit, what'd you do this time?!" she yelled at Nathan. There were a few laughs, and some glares. Everyone here was aware what had happened, in a general sense: the prince fucked up again. They did not know what he had done, we kept our business too close for that. He wasn't going to confess to anything. If confronted, he might not know which of his current bastard plots I've found out about. And I'm not going to say anything directly, that's what the cooler is for.

Also, Nathan had better be careful because his actions were now putting Josse at a real risk- this was the year that she starts to look at Nathan with something akin to a crush. And a cold room and "forgetting" a jacket is leading to her cuddling rather closer to Nathan than would have been normal. And the more familiar Josse got with Nathan, the more acidic grew the glare in Skeici's eyes. That yandere abductor/murderer might accelerate her plans again, she's already acted ahead of schedule once before.

I can tell already: at some point Nathan's going to approach me and ask why I'm mad this time. Might even imply that spontaneously becoming angry at him for no reason is something I do periodically. And if I say anything about his new career as a fashion designer he's going to play innocent, that this doesn't mean anything, that it's not something I should feel threatened by, that it's not related to me at all. Except that it will be. And we both know it. In one way or another, everything he does is about me.

That's what a [Rival] is all about, after all. He held that fashion-designer-turned- assassin in his custody, outside of my control, for months, before returning him to the crimelord that has been controlling him. And I caught him at it, and he tried to talk his way out of it, and I told him at the time that I could only believe his innocent intentions if he would tell me things before I learn about them on my own.

And he had already gotten himself a position as the new feature designer, and did not say anything about it at that time, when I was telling him that he needed to tell me things in advance or I would have to assume it's in bad faith. Gods dammit. Well, for a few months things were cordial. For a few months it was like having a brother that wasn't going to backstab me again. I guess, technically, things are back to normal now. Quarl walked in, and flinched when he hit the cold.

His eyes widened, then narrowed, then slid to the right. He walked up the risers to sit next to me, back inside the warm-air bubble big enough for two.

"What did he do this time?" Quarl asked, sounding Done With This already. He knows how to identify Harigold Drama.

"He took a part time job as a feature designer at Fashion Week," I grated, glaring daggers into my brother's head. Quarl blinked.

"Yes? And then what?" Ugh. How to explain to someone like Quarl? He's aware of the intricacies, he's aware of the depths and nuances... he just doesn't actually understand them. He knows that the houses have this whole secret language, this invisible war, fighting for stakes he can't decipher using weapons he can't perceive. He knows these are true, because when those methods break down the courtiers rectify the imbalance by having one of his relatives kill someone.

He doesn't know about the vendeuses, about the scorekeepers that turn individual favors into a tally for the High Council. He doesn't know why Fashion Week matters. And I don't want to be the one to explain it, frankly. This is a scenario that I have hashed through before, it's been a while since I discovered the vendeuse system and I've had time to ask myself "what if I just tell all the men about this?" (1) The women of Hearstcliff would lose control over the soft power of society, as well as the hard power.

(2) Lady Hanje would be super pissed at me. (3) Either the men would barge in and demand that they get equal access and that the vendeuses start also covering haberdashery and suit-fittings that they are not trained for, or the men would compensate by starting a network of suit-fitters that double as spymasters and the behind-the-scenes sotto voce bullshit of this kingdom gets exponentially worse.

(4) We can barely keep secrets as it is and if twice as many people know about it, the vendeuses' identities and locations would be leaked and they would be targeted by assassins. (5) Every woman in Hearstcliff high society would simultaneously lose the only person they can truly confide all of their secrets with. (6) Someone would have to explain to the newspapers and the people about the secret society of tailors that are controlling all inter-House conflicts, and I don't want it to be me.

(7) I would get killed because twenty-eight espionage agencies with hundreds of dedicated assassins would all know I'm the one that fucked it up for everyone. So, instead of doing all that, I decided to skirt the truth somewhat.

"Look, Quarl, Fashion Week is already the prime season for assassination plots. It's a tradition at this point. I don't want my brother to be in charge of when, where and how opportunities for assassins crop up." He gave me a suspicious look.

"That's not all, is it?" he said. Because I'm a terrible liar. He measured me up, considering.

"It's because he took the job you rejected? Like he stole the job from you?" If I answered that, he would know whether or not that was in fact my hidden issue here. So instead -"He's just some guy that hasn't even been in the gala circuit that long! He basically blew off the last six months. He's been to like four events this year, and everything before that was just local events in Meadowtam!" I let him see that this is a legitimate complaint of mine. But also that it's not the whole story.

So he should conclude that this partial answer, and the other partial answer, are the whole answer. I can still mislead by intention, and ironically it's easier if people think they know how and why I'm misleading them. Most anyone would trust this story rather than suspecting that there is a mysterious and shadowy cabal of clandestine couture conspirators. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Quarl looked at me with obvious suspicion, and he was visibly working out what I wasn't saying. The silence drew out a bit. Then he shrugged.

"All right. This has clearly gotten under your skin, and based on an abundance of previous experience, he's doing this to mess with you. By showing you up, by upstaging you at the big event, and possibly by positioning himself for advantage during the busiest week in murder. So, you're worried he's going to come after people close to you?" It had occurred to me, but I had not really stopped to put a lot of focus on that idea.

"I really should be, shouldn't I. He probably would not try to come after me directly-" Quarl scoffed.

"Because whatever this business is between you two is far too twisted for either of you do something as normal as killing each other." He is correct that murder plots are rather trite compared to most of the conflicts I have with my twin.

"-but that doesn't mean that those around us aren't fair game," I continued thoughtfully. Because of the nature of the Glitter game, I should think. The nature of the story tends to use other characters as assets and game pieces. To weaken your Antagonist, you could just pick off their allies. Pawns, rooks, knights.

"That," he acknowledged, "and he does still hold you responsible for the death of Lachel Freckentop, doesn't he? He's never managed to settle that score, as I recall." There've been a few times that I thought he was lashing out at me because of the princess. But each time, I've slipped the net and come out fine. And when that happens, Nathan implies that this was his intention. Which would mean in turn that I owe him a debt of gratitude for all of my gains and advancements.

But none of those events would mean that he could not still also be trying to pin his own revenge onto me. And killing one of my love interests would definitely be, if not fair, then at least symmetrical. When I had first learned about Nathan's fashion design appointment, I had mostly been thinking in terms of how he could hamstring me politically, socially. How he would or could strip me of support and alienate me from allies.

The connection to assassinations had not been apparent to me at first, but the more I discuss this with Quarl the more feasible it seems. I should talk to Rabert next. It could very well be that I'm only seeing shadowy murder plots right now because I'm talking to my shadowy-murder-plot guy. If I talk to my schemes-and-intrigue guy and I am more certain it's all about schemes and intrigue, then I can chalk this up to influences and re-evaluate with a clearer head.

"Oh yes," Kurumi said, looking up from her workbook.

"He actually borrowed some of my drafting tools for his designs. You know what a one he is for precision in these things. He cleaned them thoroughly, re-calibrated the measures, and tightened the screw on my drawing compass." She paused, her lips pursing slightly.

"Did you not know that he was getting into clothing design?"

"I did not," I said stiffly. God dammit. I could have been ahead of this if I had just asked the right questions. She tilted her head, not quite a nod.

"I just rather assumed he had told you. I know that you and he do speak to each other sometimes."

"Not about anything useful," I said. Mostly just veiled threats and sinister insinuations.

"That makes sense," she sad, giving a little more of a nod. Slight increments.

"Explains why he has to ask after you." Something inside me grew a little more tense.

"He asks about me? You talk about me with him?" Kurumi looked a little defensive.

"Well, you never asked me not to!" I mustered the capybara. I let its fluffy, compact energy settle into me, the cocoa-brown essence that made certain emotions more tolerable.

"I see," I said.

"Would you be willing to speak with me about his affairs?" She looked uncomfortable.

"He has sort of asked me not to speak with you about most things." Gods fucking dammit. I paused, and without making a big production out of it I took a long, long breath in through my nose, held it for a few seconds and then let it out slowly.

"Going forward, Kurumi, I should ask that you do not discuss any of my matters with my brother unless I have asked you to."

"Sure, that sounds fair," she said, without looking up. Well, that's frustrating. Apparently I've been bleeding secrets into Nathan's ear just because I did not bother specifically asking Kurumi not to keep things in confidence. I should have been closing that channel months ago, or grilling her for news about his doings. Capybara thoughts, calmer and more moderated. I have not been making proper use of resources. Kurumi is the split difference, half mine and half his.

Well, more like sixty/forty right now, he's been slipping. He's recognized her value, and I did not. That's on me.

"I don't think that it would be out of line," I said, "if I asked about this though: what did my brother say to you that made you willingly go along with that contract that he and Pina whipped up?" That contract had several provisions in it that should only be wished on one's worst enemy, not on a love interest in good standing. And she had known about that. Hell, even if it was just the money. She had a damn good idea how much money I had made that year.

The contract in question had stipulated a decent percent of that be paid to the magisters. And I know that she knows the pain of even a single golden coat-of-arms coin slipping away. Spending money to get something, or to invest in something, in exchange for something- those are all fine. That's what money is for. But to see money just vanish in exchange for nothing? I've seen her flinch and gnash her teeth.

Even if she knew so damn little about magisters and their dealings that she saw nothing untoward with that contract, then at least the money should have been a sticking point. She knows about money. And she was wincing now.

"That. Um. Well, first of all they did not show me much of it until they had already gotten some real momentum. It would have been awkward and- no, I'm putting that wrong. There was no logical time for me to intrude my own thoughts, after they had already agreed to so much so quickly. And they were both just so assured. I was sitting in a room with two people who were going fast and had a head start on me, and they were both nodding along like 'of course, this is reasonable, no problem, next!'

and I did not think that I knew enough about the matter to contradict them. Well, that is, until..."

"The money," I said, nodding.

"What? No. The necromancer." She set down her pencil and gave me her undivided attention now.

"They wanted you to relinquish all claims to having killed that necromancer, Catechism or whatever. Now, I had not been doing any kind of dungeon questing with you at the time, but I had no doubt that you had done what you said you did. I was sitting right here across this desk when you were calculating angles, architecture and timing. I saw the output kinetic energy, so I know that necromancer died instantly. Anyway, it was the fact that they both just blithely agreed to create and enforce a lie.

Not even a very important one. You weren't strutting around and demanding payment or genuflection for this. You did it all during a free period from class and then got back to work. You did throw it in the face of some people, but it... it wasn't the kind of thing that someone should be trying to silence you for. And that was when I started to speak up." First of all, I am realizing that my opinion of Kurumi has been rather unflattering to who she is.

Secondly, I am realizing that I really need to be more careful when I diagram my attacks, if my classmates can idly look over and see me calculating the burst damage of my implosion attack. Especially since, apparently, I had never asked her not to tell Nathan everything she knows about me.

"And after that, I looked closer," she said.

"Like the money. A percentage is not the normal format for a fee. A percentage is... punitive, in this context. It's normal enough to contract for a percentage, for someone who's a manager, a broker, assistant, seneschal... all jobs that continue to grow with the client over time. But a percentage pulled all at once for a single effort? That's not a fee, that's a fine. So they were falsifying information, demanding a lie be upheld, structuring a fee like it was an assessed taxation... things started to stack up.

I did eventually speak up you know... but I wish I'd spoken up better, earlier." I gave a weak smile, the best I had right then. I patted her wrist with one hand.

"At the time, I did too. But now, in hindsight, it seems to have actually worked out for the best." After all, the contract is struck down, and I've got a full listing of what the magisters really want from me.