Chapter 70: The Divine Comedy (Patreon)

Willem stared at the lineup that had come through the final gate in the royal talk. There was Raphael and the king, obviously, but four others joined beside them. They seemed like quite eccentric personalities, and each had notable appearances. As Willem wondered curiously, Raphael sidled close to his ear.

“I know each of the four that made it. Some of them I predicted, some of them I didn’t.” Raphael cast a glance over at Willem. “Do you want me to tell you about these candidates?”

Willem was tempted to say no, but he had met his quota for random acts of cruelty today. Any further would doubtless give him a karmic imbalance. He indulged Raphael and said, “Sure, hit me.”

“One of them is the most prominent mage in the Cabinet,” Raphael said, pointing at the tall, gaunt man with dark hair and strange green eyes that resembled a pool filled with algae. “Harmon is his name. There was a lot of chatter about him being Galahad’s successor, but it always seemed to me that his ambitions were a lot deeper than that. Anyway, it seems like your sister got that role.”

“Not if she keeps leaking state secrets to her brother,” Willem said.

Raphael looked as though he had something he wanted to say, but he kept his opinions to himself and continued on toward the next candidate. “Next is Jurre,” Raphael said, pointing to the man that looked like he could play a linebacker in a college football team. He kept his head shaven, making him look older than he was. “The man always wanted to be my equal in a duel, but he’s always been a lot more suited toward military theory.”

It was rare for Willem to see someone that was taller than himself, let alone someone that dwarfed him so handily. It brought back unpleasant memories, and he longed to bully Dirk to recover from his own feelings of inadequacy.

“Then, you’ve got Levente,” Raphael continued, pointing out someone that was paler than most. “The man was a student in the Academy alongside myself, but his parents supposedly came from Avaria—escaped slaves.” Raphael looked at Willem seriously. “The man lives up to the reputation of treachery and deceit that his people have earned. I’ve never met a man more calculating or more cruel than Levente.”

“I could introduce you to the king,” Willem said, though he had tact enough to do it beneath his breath.

“Lastly, this one surprised me a little,” Raphael said, having not heard Willem. “That man over there, Rolof van der Heiden, isn’t exactly a fighter or a general. He’s a specialist that creates magical artifacts. He’s supposed to be a genius of some kind, but I would admit that it’s far out of my field of expertise. He’s something of the black sheep of the craftsman family.”

Willem sized up the competition. To translate, they had a turbo nerd, a jock looking fella, someone that perpetuated the stereotype, another turbo nerd, and then Raphael and Willem. He kept a close eye on the turbo nerds. In his life back on Earth there had been a nerd revolution. The nerds had taken over all of the big businesses in the world. Willem theorized that was part of the reason why everything was going so poorly—as revenge for being called nerds, they had invented social media. Social media was a terrible, unholy creation which made everyone socially stunted, incapable of happiness, and perpetually convinced that the world was going to end every day.

“And of course, there’s you.” Raphael rubbed his hands together. “This is shaping up to be quite the competition,” he declared.

Willem had thought there’d be quite a few more over on this side. He might’ve gone too far in a few places… but who was keeping score?

***

“Six Drakes?” Willem complained, sitting with Viviene. She looked utterly aghast. “How the hell am I supposed to spin that into an advertisement about soap? It’s so… self-aggrandizing, so lame. Usually I can roll with some punches, but this is like a kidney shot. When I picture clean, I definitely don’t picture giant lizards that eat people and live in cluttered hoarder homes.”

“Willem, do you have any idea what you’ve unleashed on this family?” Viviene said, leaning forward and grabbing Willem’s hands.

“Yeah, I’ve unleashed at least one out of six drakes,” he said uncaringly.

“No, you unleashed the fires of the hells,” Viviene said, digging her nails into Willems wrists. “Couldn’t you have had some sense? Couldn’t you have stopped at the gold gate?”

“What did you expect me to do, just not win?” he asked incredulously. “It’s not in my nature. I’m a winner. All I do is win. If you wanted a loser for a son… well, actually, you could just walk into the other room. Hans is right there,” Willem said sarcastically, putting his feet up on the table and his arms behind his head.

“This is no time for your condescending jokes,” Viviene insisted. “A lot of people are going to stand up and take notice of the results of this contest, and what you’ve done has put us in the center of attention.”

“That’s why I hired Arend. Not much purpose in spending money on a bodyguard if they don’t guard your body,” Willem pointed out, tapping his chest.

Arend poked his head in. “Did I hear my name?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t a summon,” Willem dismissed.

Viviene went silent, massaging her forehead in stress. Willem looked over with a measure of guilt, and decided to assuage some of her concerns.

“Come on, look at the bright side. Sybrand said that the better I did in the contest, the more likely be able to secure a fitting match for Hans. At the very least, my promise to reform Hans into the perfect layabout is well on track. Nothing quite like a big brother swooping in to be the wingman for their little bro. I guess at least in this metaphor, calling me a drake is fitting.”

“Drakes don’t have wings, you moron,” Viviene reprimanded with quick and deliberate speech.

“You’re just worried about having to deal deeper with Baptiste,” Willem pointed out immediately. “Now that I’ve proved myself in the eyes of gods and men, he’s going to be on us like a fly on horse dung. You don’t want to associate with him.”

Viviene looked at him bitterly, but didn’t contest the point.

“Well… I’ve got some good news for you.” Willem leaned in deep into the table, entwining his hands. “It may just be that I’ve got someone on the inside. Someone who’s more than willing to set fire to the house just to watch it burn.”

Viviene sighed, more than a little skeptical of Willem’s claims. Despite all she knew of Willem’s tremendous aptitude, Baptiste was still a Dubois. “Do you know what happens next in the contest?” she asked, changing the subject.

“No, only that the king told us to report back after we rested for a day.” Willem shrugged. “I’m sure he has another long lecture for us planned. Junior and I were in that little spiritual realm for months, but it still feels like the king’s monologues are longer.”

***

Sybrand, as good as his word, was immediately able to arrange commitments from several of the most prominent houses in the Kingdom of Ravenveld. Just as Willem was eager to reach out and contact them, so too were they eager to do the inverse. Somehow, Sybrand also managed to secure commitments from the other Six Drakes. Willem didn’t know what was in his playbook, but that jovial drunkard had a way of getting the right words in the right ear at the right time. The man was like a Santa Claus who drank spiked eggnog instead. A ball was arranged two weeks from now.

Willem received that news on his way to the royal palace to hear the next instruction from the king. The Six Drakes that had obtained the dragon mark were summoned separately from those that received only the gold mark. The king assured that they were separate but equal, but Willem had read enough of American history to know that was hardly ever the case.

Before long the six had gathered in the king’s study, where Willem had once told Arnoud that he had much to learn. They all had composure befitting their nickname, even as they they stood before the king of all Ravenveld and Galahad, the King’s Hound.

“I have summoned you separately because the task I am requesting of you requires a measure of secrecy,” Arnoud said, resting his hands on his desk. “We will no longer be doing simulations or reliving the past any longer. This task is of the utmost importance. I want to assess how each and all of you overcome a genuine problem that the kingdom is enduring right now.”

Willem was secretly glad that he was proven right; the king’s preamble promised to be long and exhaustive.

“Espionage from our enemies, the Avarians, has been a persistent problem for coming on a decade now,” the king explained, giving context to the situation. “If any of you are to take my place, it seems to me that this problem will extend past my reign. Hence… a taste of what comes. I want you to find and isolate the agent of Avaria known only as the Red Raven.”

The king seemed to stare directly into Willem’s soul after he had finished speaking, as if this was something that had been specifically tailored for him after his conversation with Galahad.

“You will need to find her. She’s a trueborn chimera, and among the best at what she does. Once you do find her, you need to deal with her. I caution you; she is a warrior that has stood up against Baron Tielman. Even if you are capable of isolating her network of espionage, finding a way to deal with her will be as much a challenge as simply finding her.”

Willem paid attention to the specific wording used; not kill, but ‘deal with.’ Willem didn’t know if this was something that the king had always intended, but it seemed that he had taken at least some of Willem’s advice to heart. Now, he was giving Willem the opportunity to prove his execution was as good as his theory.

“From now on, you will be acting as agents of the king.” Galahad said. “if you fail, there will be consequences for your actions. If you succeed, there will be reward. If you succeed tremendously, you will be lavished in whatever you can wish for.”

“Will we receive any funding from the royal treasury?” Willem asked. “I mean, if we’re acting as agents of His Majesty, it stands to reason that we’d be able to call upon his resources.”

“You will be able to call upon the services of any of those that have been marked with gold,” the king said at once. “Allow them to be the instruments through which you root out the corruption that has taken root in the kingdom. It is in this fashion that their performance, too, shall be tested.”

Willem was a little impressed. He’d secured countless top-quality unpaid interns, or at least cheap labor—the king would make a mighty fine businessman if it ever came down to it. Nothing quite like exploiting broke college students for free labor.

“Even your daughter?” Levente asked.

“She will help,” Arnoud said. “But you will respect her all the same.”

“And what about external help?” Raphael asked. “Can we rely upon people outside of those that obtained the gold mark?”

“You can,” the king confirmed. “All of you have achieved renown enough that I have little doubt you will be able to call upon the many factions that have gathered in this city. But I would advise that you think very carefully about who you talk to. The person that leaks this to the wider world would likely cause the Red Raven to flee. She is a ruthless survivor, and I have no doubt the moment that she’s aware that she’s being hunted, the hunt will be over, with the prey having escaped. Whichever fool alerts her… I won’t let off easy,” the king declared.

***

“So, the king has us looking for someone called the Red Raven,” Willem told the person that was probably the Red Raven. “It promises to be a very difficult task to find her. After all, the Red Raven, that famed spy master, wouldn’t be so foolish as to approach me almost immediately. She would surely understand that to do so would virtually be a death sentence.”

Eleanor squirmed in her seat at the restaurant.

“The thing is, the king had a very particular wording,” Willem said. “He didn’t say kill, he didn’t say exterminate, but he used the words, ‘deal with.’ Now, considering he’s not the ringleader some organized crime band, I’ll assume that he’s not being coy. I’ll assume that he means we can deal with this person in whatsoever way we wish. I suppose the only question would be… how, precisely, would she like to be dealt with? Do you have any idea? Is there a vague fluttering in that undoubtedly giant brain of yours?”

Sometimes, Willem had a strange suspicion that he was part of some divine comedy.

<Previous      -Table of Contents-     Next>