Chapter 76: Queen's Gambit (Patreon)

Despite Willem’s concerns, it hadn’t been especially difficult to arrange a meeting with the princess. As it turned out, his name had a lot more weight now that he had become one of the Six Drakes. It wasn’t even so much as half an hour before he was sitting in front of her.

“Do you remember, Your Highness, when you mentioned the possibility of engaging in diplomacy with Avaria?” Willem asked, his hands arrayed before him.

“We believe that her Highness remembers,” one of the ladies in waiting said. “Do you have something more to add on the subject?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Willem looked between the two ladies before finally settling his gaze on the princess, who watched impassively. “Ordinarily, opening diplomatic relationships is quite a significant barrier when the two nations have historically been rivals at war. However, there is a way in which you can reach the very top of the hierarchy. There is a way in which your words can reach directly to the ear of the oligarchy that runs Avaria.”

“You’re talking like my father,” Clara said. This was the first time that Willem had heard her speak. “Get to the point instead of rambling.”

Willem was greatly insulted to be likened to her father, but did his best to suppress that indignity. “The fact is, you need a back door. Front door’s just not open—and the back door will arrive only through the Red Raven.”

There was silence in the table that they sat at. The ladies in waiting didn’t dare speak for their master when such a gravely important matter was involved.

“You know, you’re the last person to approach me regarding this matter of the espionage efforts,” the princess eventually stated. “And hearing what you say, you’ve already given me a great deal of valuable information that I could impart to the other contestants. Why, I might give it to the candidate I most favor.”

“Well, I have a bit of insight into your character.” Willem smiled pleasantly. “My brother, Hans, can’t sing your praises enough, Your Highness. He’s been going around telling everyone that you’re way better than me, and that you have all of your father’s intelligence but none of his foul nature. Considering our previous conversation, I don’t think that this is an opportunity that you’d be willing to pass up.”

“Are you telling me that you already have contact with the Red Raven?” Princess Clara raised one eyebrow. “If so, that’s…”

“She hasn’t revealed herself to me, no,” Willem said, shaking his head. “Nevertheless, I’m very confident about the way that she’ll behave, Your Highness.”

“Why?”

“We’re… friendly. I’m something of a Hag Whisperer,” Willem explained. “I know the ways of the hag. One does not simply approach a hag—one must present oneself, and allow the hag to emerge from its lair. Do I fear the hag? No. I revere her. I tame her. I ride the hurricane of passive-aggressive—ah, never mind.” Willem was getting quite into it, but he paused and shook his head. “I’m wasting my jokes. She’s not here to seethe at them. Suffice it to say, Your Highness, I’m quite vested in ensuring that she makes it through this. And you’re the only route I see to make that happen.”

The princess stared at him in puzzlement. “You’re giving me quite a lot of information. I would think that this is the kind of thing that you would be infinitely cautious about revealing.”

“Like I said, I like to think that I have some insight into your character. What you did for Hans was very nice,” Willem conceded.

“And… he mentioned me?” The princess asked. “What did he say?”

“It would be quicker to say what he didn’t say.” Willem looked exhausted. “All I ask is that you show mercy upon the poor fool when he inevitably disappoints.”

The princess glanced at her ladies in waiting with a silent command.

“The princess wishes for you to know that she will consider every course before making a decision,” one of the ladies said. “Now, you’re dismissed.”

***

Levente had gone through great pains to arrange a secluded meeting with Arend, the disgraced royal knight serving Willem as his bodyguard. The man was exceptionally diligent, and he even slept in the Verdant Spring Guesthouse to better guard Willem. The only time that he parted from his employer’s side was to go to a peculiar place that sold milk alone. Now, Levente stood just beside Arend as he sat at the milk bar.

To be frank, this was one of the biggest shots in the dark that Levente had. The only thing that he’d probably achieve from this was letting Willem know that Levente was watching. Chances are Willem already knew—still, shots in the dark did sometimes land solidly. He was hoping that this would be one such case.

“You’re Arend, aren’t you?”

The knight looked over. “Who’s asking?”

Levente gestured toward the seat opposite his, asking for his permission to sit down. The man gave a nod to allow it.

“How do you enjoy working for your new employer?” Levente asked.

Arend drank his milk. “I think I’m having fun.”

“No complaints?” Levente pressed.

“Hmm.” Arend fell into thought. “I suppose… I suppose I often get headaches by the end of the day. Willem’s said a lot around me, and it can be hard to wrap my head around it.”

“Headaches?” Levente leaned in. “Maybe I could help alleviate some of those headaches of yours. Maybe I could help you wrap your head around some of the things that are said.”

The knight looked somewhat suspicious of the offer. “What incentive is there for that? Why are you even here? I dislike anyone interrupting my sacred milk-drinking session.”

Levente brushed past the peculiar comment about milk. “I’m very good at making sense of things. I enjoy the challenge. As for incentives… money, prestige, you name it.”

Arend looked indecisive. Eventually, he leaned in and said, “Alright. I’ll start with something that’s been on my mind for days.” Levente leaned in close, eager to listen. “’How do you make holy water? You boil the hell out of it.’ Can you make sense of that one?”

Levente scrunched up his face in confusion, wondering if this is some elaborate analogy about the Red Raven in the church. On the surface, it sounded like nothing more than a simple joke, but no one could be dumb enough to miss that.

“See? It’s not so easy!” Arend said, holding his arms out. “But… well, I’ll give you another. This one time, we were walking up a flight of stairs, and Willem made me walk ahead. He said he never trusts stairs, because they’re always up to something. Then, we were walking past a building undergoing renovation and he said, ‘I would tell you a joke about construction, but I’m still working on it.’ Then, everybody laughed but me.”

Levente realized what this was, and leaned back in his chair. Willem knew that Levente would be sniffing around the people close to him, and so he instructed the man to demonstrate what this was.

Willem thought Levente’s approach was a joke so bad that it wasn’t even funny.

“Very clever.” Levente crossed his arms.

“You get it?” Arend raised an eyebrow.

“I do.” Levente nodded, and then stood up. He deposited a gold on the table. “For your… milk.” Then, he turned and left. If he looked back, he might’ve noticed a very perplexed Arend. Instead, his thoughts were elsewhere.

I’m dealing with an expert. Ought to pull out every stop that I have.

***

Days seemed to pass by as quickly as hours as Eleanor and Willem collaborated jointly in the effort of a covert hostile takeover of the Dubois family. It proved to be an excellent cover, because Willem’s soap business began to ascend far faster than a rocket. It had risen so fast that the local soapers guild in the capital completely broke beneath the pressure, pleading to the king to uphold the monopoly charter with no success.

On the business end, it was a very sensible proposition. The Dubois family cultivated the vast majority of olives throughout the entire kingdom. With the expansion of scented soaps, olive oil was a precious commodity to Willem’s people, and the guarantee of a robust and continued supply ensured that profits could rise higher.

On the magical end, Suzanne proved to be an ‘ask no questions’ type of person. She quickly helped develop countermeasures to the shape-shifting detecting wards in the Iron Stomach, almost without delay. It seemed to give her some special pleasure to work contrary to Harmon’s interests. The pair of Harmon and Rolof had seemingly disappeared, though, drawing Eleanor’s concern.

On the espionage end… Eleanor managed to arrange a meeting with her higher ups. It was a very unusual measure, especially considering the total secrecy required for this mission. She performed what was perhaps the most dangerous piece of espionage she ever had in her entire life. She called the whole of the espionage network of Avaria to a single location to propose a very bold plan.

***

Eleanor opened the door to the Broken Sign. The tavern buzzed with the usual blend of clinking mugs and low conversation, but a quiet thread of awareness ran beneath it all. Figures sat apart, each absorbed in their own subtle performance—a gesture too practiced, a glance too brief. They didn’t acknowledge one another, yet every movement was weighed, every silence measured. The air was thick with things not said, with eyes not quite meeting, with messages passed in stillness. Nothing happened, but everything was happening. Amidst that, Eleanor walked and took her place at a table, greeting a man she didn’t know familiarly. He was a part of this grand play.

A few moments passed with subtle messages conveyed and important verifications made. For such a public meeting, it was necessary to ensure the utmost secrecy. This meeting couldn’t be seen by any—and if it was, not a word of it could make sense to them.

“I thought I saw your friend, Berto,” the man across from her finally said. “Guess I was mistaken.”

The agent had confirmed that no one was listening. Nevertheless, Eleanor still spoke in code.

“You remember that romance advice you gave me?” Eleanor asked, just loud enough for most to hear. “It’s working out better than great. As a matter of fact, he’s thinking about coming to meet my parents,” she said excitedly, faking enthusiasm.

Eleanor was talking about Duke Baptiste breaking faith with the king. The man sitting across from her gave some banal response, but out of the ambient conversation all around, a question slowly formed: why?

“Well, the fact is that he’s not especially fond of his current employer. The man has made a habit of picking on his relatives. He thinks that it’s only a matter of time for the cudgel to fall down on him, too. He’s looking for a way out. I think he’s trying to find it through me. Imagine that. Me, eloping!”

Then, once again, a question was born from many voices all around her. They asked if her identity had been compromised in discovery of that information.

“No, he doesn’t have any idea what my parents do for a living. I don’t think that he’ll be scared by the fact that my parents are as wealthy as they are, but I haven’t taken the risk. Better safe than sorry, right?” Eleanor smiled.

Eleanor waited for the next words on edge. When it eventually came, it did nothing to abate her fear. It was a simple message.

Return.

Whether or not the plan would go ahead or she’d wake up to find that Avaria had sent its best to assassinate her, it was going to be a very tense few days, before things clicked. Not knowing was far worse. It gave hope. And for a slave of Avaria, hope was one of the most dangerous things they could have.

Like this, the days passed ever onward.

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