Chương 304: What Now

I really need not have worried about Byeview. It turned out that there was already plenty of agencies and companies to facilitate an aristocrat from one district to set up a business in a far-off city. It was a basic infrastructure of the House system as we know it. They were used to setting up based on mailed correspondence or an authorized solicitor, and having me able to arrive in person when needed was more consideration than they usually got.

I live in a kingdom of absentee landlords, after all, most of the lands are technically owned and administered by titled nobles that have never set foot on that ground. At the advice of my butler I also employed a separate agency for a related task, and the reports came back. Kralcit had six different spies in my workforce, all reporting back on any unusual events or discrepancies, as well as delivery schedules and waybills.

I made sure that they were all in positions where they could see everything they wanted to see but were not in a position to create any sabotage, and let things be. After all, if I root out her spies and fire them, she'll hire better spies, and then I won't know who's spying on me. If Kralcit is hiring spies, that means she's in watch-and-wait mode. She is cautious, after all, not just a dangerous enemy, but a difficult one as well. A braver foe would be easier for me to pin down and destroy.

So if she is keeping an eye on me, she's still planning her moves against me. And cautious people take a long time to turn a plan of action into planned action. I am already feeling better about my time at the fire temple. I can be careful without losing my boldness. Not everyone manages that. There was no chance of my activity there going unnoticed, Princess Natalie Harigold is a very big presence and it seems like every move I make winds up in newspapers.

The revelation that a huge industrial project is under my ownership definitely qualifies for the local dailies. Kralcit does not necessarily know that I'm aware of her. I've never called her out in public since my first trial, when I identified her bank account as belonging to a conspirator. And that was quite a while ago. But there's plenty of incidental contact more recently for her to point at. Her various associates being picked off one-by-one, everyone associated with the burning of Harigold Manor.

Sightings of a white-haired sorceress before her own sorceress henchwoman disappeared. A series of attacks on her businesses by a suspicious but quite separate sorceress, various organizations associated with Meadowtam presenting a more hostile front against several businesses that have nothing in common except their connections to Kralcit and her organization. So she is trying to figure out how much I know. How likely it's a coincidence that I'm in Byeview to do business with the ironworkers.

After all, if I knew where she was, wouldn't I have wiped her off the map? I am famous for my dedication to a vendetta, after all. Kralcit doesn't know that I need her alive for six more months. She only knows that my actions don't make sense. That makes her suspicious, and she wants to understand before she commits to a plan. Or maybe she's just really damn busy and doesn't have time for my bullshit. Maybe I'm not the center of her attention, after all.

But whatever the reason, she is sending spies instead of sorcerers. That suits me well enough and I'm keeping my eyes on the situation. Belisa has started spying on my brother. She came to me a few days later to tell me she had checked out Nathan's belongings, and found a lot more writing material than was justified by his penmanship lessons, as well as handwriting samples and notes from dozens of influential figures.

They had been well-hidden, but her enhanced senses apparently included a bloodhound-like sense of smell that was hard to hide from. That has put enough doubts in her mind that she's started watching him during downtime to see what he gets up to. Cousin Petunia tells me that she's started getting more leads on her investigation, apparently the kidnapping rings associated with the Cerulean Circus have had a bit of a shakeup recently.

About the same time that the Marquis Ebonder started tearing things apart looking for Meadwhite's local contacts. That's... troubling. Most of the other love interests have come along somewhat, and I've been picking up some breadcrumb XP from that. Trazom has started learning new dimensions of showmanship now that he's got an instrument you can walk with. The professor is a lot happier with my answers during our impromptu therapy sessions, apparently I'm not sounding as fatalistic as I had been.

Kimothy and I are nearly done with a list of temples to visit, we've had to scrap and remake the list twice now. Rabert and I have been gradually talking through the structure of my agreement with Pynut's people, in our own way. I've done another Debt Collector job for Quarl, for once not using the character as cover for other work but actually collecting on a debt owed the Duskare family assassins. Nux and I are still refining the locomotive design, testing small variations and shapes for the boilers.

A couple of the right sigils in the right place can eliminate the need for dozens of moving parts and dozens of points of failure; this design is mutating further and further from what I know of trains. Kurumi is not happy about the revisions I've made to my balance sheets now that I'm employing humans that need a paycheck, she really likes Numbers Go Up more than Number Went Down. It's not even her money, it's just the principle of the thing.

But, we're getting better-quality product rolled out faster and with less errors that need to go to scrap now that professionals are on the job, and also it's hard to run an ethical business that has a zero listed for total employee disbursements. The Snairlin House still has not come into the open that their actual unofficial leader is dead and his heir is missing. I'm not sure how long they can hold that facade.

Gala Kralcit, my retained scrivener, has pushed for and received a raise while she's working on the puzzle provided by the Iron Book that I got from Digger Jdim. I've been able to make more time to spend with Gedes, and he's relaxing a little bit. When we first started with him as my employee he was particularly stiff and reserved, rather different from when he was essentially my caretaker in prison. There's just so many things that are always moving all the time!

For example, there's another significant event that kicks off at the last week of Springopen, just two weeks ahead of Fashion Week. The opening of camogie season: the first games that shape the road to the championship. Practices this year have gone well, most of the girls I played alongside last year have been moved up to the varsity team with me this year, since all of our varsity players graduated last year and our junior-varsity team took the city championship last year.

We've been doing skill-drills almost constantly, because that's been our weakness all around the board. Last year I had the strength, stamina and speed for the varsity team, but I didn't have the handling skills to justify the move up. Even in a rouchneck league like ours, it takes more than a concerning capacity for violence to make the varsity team in intramural camogie.

And it looked like I was going to be held back while Egnul, Byfen, Framkis and Wimley all moved up, until I relented and invested my latest skill point into Athletics. It felt like a waste of a skill point. I only get one per level, mage-types don't get the proliferation that rogue-types do. We get magic instead.

So skills are a valuable resources, and I've been sinking mine into Disguise and Awareness, because making myself hard to recognize has far too many uses for me, and Awareness lets me perceive small trouble before it's big and immediate. But the rule is that to move up a tier, I have to demonstrate improved skills and stats. It's a very forgiving arrangement over all, but even those small concessions grated my nerves. What am I going to do with Athletics, away from the camogie field?

I can already fly, create shields, throw fire, and bench-press a pony. I don't need a skill that lets me run faster, dodge better, throw further and climb higher. And I hardly ever get my powers canceled or suppressed any more. Though, if I'd had Athletics when the king's security detail fucked up my egg-race, I probably would not have twisted my ankle, sprained my wrist and broken my fingers climbing that pillar. On the other hand, those injuries did save the day for me.

That's not a good enough reason for me to be content with getting hurt, and besides the varsity team gives me more opportunities for stat boosts. Losing a skill point but picking up more Strength and Stamina is a good trade. Besides- I was really starting to make friends on the team, and I didn't want to be held back while they moved to varsity. So there's a higher level of difficulty this year. I could hold out hope that there's not going to be too many more Suthie Vanderbolts out there.

"The good news is there's no Vanderbolts on this team," the coach was saying as we unloaded at the sport field at Cliffside Conservatory. Our first game, an away game. Not an auspicious start. She was addressing us while she grabbed a stack of hurleys and handed them off to Wimley, then a huge canister of water and handed it to me. I almost activated my essences too slowly, the coach makes it look easy but she is impressively strong.

I hauled the water to our benches while the coach toted the big bag of medical gear.

"So I know you'll be glad to hear that, Killer."

"Yes coach," I said. I use a little bit of flight, the weight of this water is pushing my feet down into the ground. There's a reason that we normally get two girls to carry this thing.

"You say that like there's bad news," Egnul said, burdened down with towels.

"There is," the coach said.

"Cliffside Conservatory is sponsored through the royal grants for musical arts. And their entire field-sport division is recruited out of the dance program."

"I don't get it," Framkis said.

"Why is that bad news?"

"I get it," Byfen answered her friend.

"It means we're competing against full-time dancers, their entire class schedule is physical, but we're from an academic school. They spend all day practicing body control, agility, endurance, balance, and athletic movement. If they've got a ballet program, they're also strong enough to carry another person over their head while they do it."

"There's a ballet program," the coach confirmed, her face stormy and dark. I set down the water jug, and at my request the water inside chilled itself almost ice-cold. I straightened, and looked across the field at our opponents- [Cliffside Conservatory Camogie Team: Strength 20, Damage 7] -and then I trained my observant eye on my teammates. [Hearstcliff Academy Camogie Team: Strength 10, Damage 6] and while that does sound bad, I've learned that my team analysis does not include my stats.

And I've got a Strength of 11 currently.

"Good news," I said, watching our opponents stretching and limbering up. The muscle tone on display is impressive.

"We're gonna win. We've got this." Simple math. Our 21 beats their 20. Straightforward game mechanics.

"You're guessing?" Egnul prompted.

"I'm seeing it," I answered.

"Unless something interferes, some other factor, then our team will defeat their team." Framkis was looking over my shoulder towards the viewing stands. We had more spectators than we used to, the benefits of being the varsity team.

"Hey Killer?" she said.

"What kind of interference?"

"I dunno, just anything that affects the nature of the game," I shrugged.

"This isn't one of my big visions that is guaranteed, it's the kind with a bit more wiggle room. Like last year I would have guaranteed that Stutin would defeat us, but the mutiny changed everything. Stuff like that." Byfen looked over my shoulder too, towards the stands.

"Killer, why is your brother here?"

"Son of a bitch," I hissed, spinning around. There he was. He was holding a pennant and waving it. The pennant was in Academy colors, but instead of the school name the text on it was just 'Killer'. My immediate impulse is to storm across the grass, right up to him, and demand an explanation. Goddammit Nathan why are you here?... but he's not wearing the right face for that. It's not the cheeky grin of a man who has already screwed up my plans and is daring me to do something about it.

It's a very steady look, an acknowledgement. This alone gives me pause. Also, it's just a little easier for me to master my temper right now. I came out of the fire temple without two Natalies fighting inside me. And now that I'm not working so hard to repress my anger, I find I'm not dealing with such compressed anger. It doesn't have that pressure that pushes me to do things. My anger is a feeling that I experience, not a need that drives me.

So I set down the ash-wood hurley that I had gripped up on, and walked calmly over to the stands. I smiled to the spectators on the front rows and excused myself as I walked up the bleachers and wove between small knots of people. There's not a proper crowd here, it might be varsity but it's still just school field-sports and it's the first game of the season, the weather's still a bit more chill than is comfortable.

My Athletics is only rated at a 1, but my Awareness is posted at 6, I'm much better at noticing things than I am at batting a sliotar downfield. And I notice the association between my brother and the plug-uglies seated next to him. They're not sitting adjacent just by chance.

"Good afternoon, Nathan," I said, politely dipping my head to the second heir of Meadowtam.

"Who are your friends?" The plug-uglies stiffened up.

"Witch," one of them hissed.

"She read my thoughts!" No, dipshit, I don't need magic or miracles to tell that all three of you are sitting in a row positioned to keep my brother in your peripheral vision. There's several tells in your body language that let me know where your attention is. Elica would laugh for an hour if I could not pick up on basics like that. The three of them were dressed in something cheap and hard-wearing that would look respectable enough.

Jerkins that have been re-seamed instead of let out, a thin coat over a stitched gambeson. They had rough faces and careful hands, I would put them as shady but not violent men. Honestly, they would fit right into a room with Pynut and Co. And they don't look happy to be here. And apparently they thought they were being discreet and not associating with Nathan. They needed practice. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Nathan smiled politely.

"Natalie," he said.

"As I'm sure you're aware, numerous regulations restrict players from placing bets on themselves. But there are very few regulations on family members betting on sporting events. These gentlemen are a group of oddsmakers that I extended a line with, regarding your game."

"What?"

"Yes, I invested one hundred crowns in your success," he said guilelessly.

"With the Kanten group. It was even odds. After all, the first game of the season, and they've never taken a bet on intramural camogie." That's the same pack of bookies I had reserved for that egg-race plan. I know these guys. I had to lecture them three times about how this was all just in fun, there's no real sense of competition, do not cheat the customers. No matter how easy it would be. They really really wanted to. They took it as an assumption that it's how the system works.

It was hard for them to understand that I wanted not only the illusion of fairness, but actual fairness. They eventually understood me, but I did get a very strong sense for how naturally they took to criminality. The gambling circuits of Hearstwhile are not any less corrupt that any other segment of this society. Consider: if he bets 100 crowns, then they stand to gain 100 crowns if I lose, and they stand to lose 100 crowns if I win. That means that it is worth 200 crowns to them that I lose.

So if they invest 199 crowns into rigging this game, that's just good business to them. He's figured out how to double the efficiency of his money, really. And he's tapped into a much wider net of criminal contacts than he had before, bookies have contacts everywhere. I've investigated way too many criminal networks recently to miss that detail. I have no idea why they would take an even-odds bet on a new sport like that, it's very much against type for them, something is very fishy about this.

And the bookies don't look any too happy about this, I think they got rooked by my brother too. I can't be sympathetic for them right now, I've got more immediate problems, and I don't even know what they are yet.

"Really?" I said, absorbing this information without letting it impact my expression.

"How kind of you to show your support like that, brother."

"More than you know," he said with that usual cryptic grin. God dammit. Here we go again. I knew things were too quiet, but I expected I would not get caught up in another Nathan Scheme until Fashion Week. I had presumed he'd be too busy to throw any new complications my way. I thanked the 'gentlemen' for their participation in our field sports competition, gave Nathan a less chilly send-off than he deserved, and headed down the stands to my teammates. Egnul saw my face as I approached, and smiled.

I grabbed up my hurley, and she clapped me on the shoulder.

"So, it's good news, eh?"

"Hmm? Oh, no," I corrected.

"This is my fake smile. There's terrible news." Byfen was drawn to bad news as if by magnets.

"Why, what's so terrible?" she said, in a voice that carried much further than my own and drew the attention of our whole team. So everyone was staring at me.

"My predictions break down every time my brother is involved," I said, for my team to hear.

"And, he's involved. Something is about to go catastrophically wrong, and I don't know what."