Penitent-Chapter 227 Book 4 Ch 8: Foreplay

"Good evening," said King Matthias, his voice had a rich booming quality and carried easily across the room. Those few people who hadn't noticed the king's entrance were now completely focused on him and his unsettling companion. "I appreciate all of you being here at this celebration, this… turning point in our war with Tusynia. I know that things have been hard for many of you. You have lost sons, brothers to this conflict, or even fathers and grandfathers. In spite of that you have continued fighting, supporting our nation, growing its strength."

The King paused, taking a deep breath, and Michael could see his insectoid companion scanning the room. He debated trying to avoid her gaze, but felt that it would be more suspicious than just staying where he was. Her emerald gaze passed over him without pause as her head turned.

"In spite of all we have done though, all we have sacrificed, the Tusynian dogs have the advantage now. Their low cunning and the rich blessings of their stolen land have allowed them to push us to the brink. I know that I have projected confidence in our victory, but even I must admit that things have grown dire." He shook his head in a practiced motion. Michael thought the speech was a bit rote, and had already guessed its trajectory, but looking around the room he saw a number of wet eyes and concerned faces.

"It is lucky then, that in our darkest of hours, we have gained a new ally." King Matthias gestured to the humanoid figure with him, she curtsied with unnatural grace. "I know you have all heard reports of the rifts that have been opening. Fewer here than many other places, but I have good news. Those that have opened here are not the sign of a new enemy, but of a new ally."

Michael quickly focused, sensing all the rifts he could at once. He'd gotten better at judging their distance and location with all of the practice he'd had with Old Hume cartographers, and could sense seven rifts in Stent, all of them near the Tusynian border. That was a manageable amount for Stent to close especially with overall rift activity slowing after the battle of Lataxia. They were the same rifts that Shreve had already provided the locations of to Stent as a gesture of goodwill. A gesture that may have put them in danger by showing themselves to be enemies of the rifts with more information on them than was expected.

"The Empire of Chitin, a mighty nation that resides on the other side of the rift, has seen our claim to Tusynia and has agreed that we are its rightful masters." The King smiled. "They have agreed to fight by our side in this conflict. They have begun to send allied forces to join us and once certain disruptive elements among our own have been stamped out we shall march on Tusynia until we have reclaimed my birthright." He clenched his fist in front of himself at the last word to emphasize it and there was applause from the gathered group.

Michael noticed a few obvious problems with what the King was saying. The most obvious was what the Empire of Chitin had asked for in return for their support. Though it was possible that they really had offered him the deal as he presented it. The main goal during the buildup to the battle of Lataxia had been to bring as many forces through the rift as possible. If Stent guarded their rifts for them, and allowed them to mass their forces long enough, it wouldn't really matter what deal they had made. Once the force reached critical mass they could sweep through Tusynia and Stent without issue.

With the speech concluded the king and his companion had moved to mingle. They had to move toward the nearest group, because no one seemed particularly eager to approach him or 'her'. The music started up again and Michael gave a polite excuse to his dancing companion before moving carefully through the crowd to where the others had gathered around Shreve. Bayle was still conspicuously absent.

As he walked, he did a scan of the king's Titles and Deeds while also opening his Eyes of Love and Eyes of Judgement. He tried to put himself in the place of the king, his decisions, his connections. Why he was the way he was. The feeling of legacy that rested on his shoulders, the pride that came with a crown atop ones head. When he felt himself in that mind-state, the King's Titles and Deeds were brought forward with full clarity.

Titles:

Mathias Barbarossa

King of Stent

Lord of the Western Sea

Champion of the Westmarch

Deeds

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events I

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events II

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events III

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events IV

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events V

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Victor of All Festival of Blades Events VI

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events VII

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events VIII

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events IX

Victor of All Festival of Blades Events X

Victor of the Stent Wargames I

Victor of the Stent Wargames II

Michael gave up on going through the numerous deeds and focused on the highest title.

King of Stent

Grants:

Very Major Strength

Very Major Durability

Major Recovery

Major Concentration

Major Reaction

Middling Magicka

Middling Speed

Very Major? Michael didn't even know there was a level beyond Major. He looked quickly through the other titles, noticing another two Major Strengths and more even beyond that. His Deeds had all come from tournaments or safe events far from the battlefield, but they were numerous and all situational for combat in some way. He would be a tremendously powerful opponent, but his lack of real fighting experience made Michael think they had a chance, at least working all together.

"We're fucked," said Ollie as Michael reached them.

"A shrewd assessment," replied Shreve. "Considering I'm here under the guise of gaining support to fight against the rifts in Old Hume, I can't see any benefit to this change. That said, I imagine this deal was in place before the king agreed to the personal meeting. Perhaps there's still a chance."

Shreve didn't mention the regicide explicitly, not in the middle of a ball, but they all picked up on the implication.

"Any idea where our contact went?" asked Michael.

"No, and that's my greatest concern," said Shreve, frowning. "It's possible this took him by surprise. I'd have to hope so in fact. The alternative with them not telling us in advance would mean we're in even greater danger," said Shreve, carefully observing the room as he spoke.

Michael hadn't considered that. He didn't think it was a setup. There would've been better times to spring things on them, and Bayle had done a lot to make sure that things would go smoothly with their plan that would've been unnecessary if it had been a trap.

"We don't have a lot of options either way. I say we keep trying our negotiations and if they don't work we take our leave early," said Shreve.

Stick to the original plan until they knew more was what that meant. Michael and the others nodded, then began to make their way back to where they'd been before the King had entered the ballroom. Their aside had likely been noticed, but it wasn't as if everyone didn't know why they were there and the situation they were in, nor were they the only group having hasty meetings.

Michael went back to the table he'd been at before and decided to continue the work he'd been doing with Bayle before he'd left. He went back to his scanning, going through each of the people he hadn't yet done so to. He didn't memorize all of them, as many did not have anything worthy of noting, but those that possessed a particularly powerful secret or surprising connection he did his best to hold onto.

He began to gaze at the king, who was speaking with two high dukes. They seemed animated, but as the king spoke they began to calm. Michael reviewed what he'd seen about the man through his Eyes of Judgement and Eyes of Love. His sins were greater than King Marlo's. More casual cruelty and heartless decisions for the sake of power, but nothing so personally evil as a number of the nobles at the gala.

As he was staring at the King he felt eyes on him. He looked toward the source of it and saw the tall insect creature wearing its false face. Its multifaceted emerald eyes were on him and it seemed to be smiling, though he knew it was only an approximation. It reached the table and held a hand toward him.

"Dance with me," it said in a voice that sounded disturbingly human.

Michael hesitated. All eyes were on him, even the Kings.

He took the creature's hand, finding its 'skin' to be as firm as iron, and stood, allowing it to lead him onto the dancefloor. They interlocked the fingers of their right hands and he placed his hand on its falsely feminine waist. Its dress felt like a thin living membrane and he swore he could feel the movement of some kind of liquid just beneath its surface. Had he not been so familiar with infirmaries and battle it may have caused him to withdraw in disgust, but he held strong.

The music started up again and Michael kept his eyes on the creature in front of him, hoping he was masking his disgust. He didn't feel the waves of anxiety and dread that came off the scorpion like creatures, if he had he would've been more prepared for her appearance, but he did get the impression that she was strong as they began to move. She took the lead, and he felt that he could've pulled back and put her on the back foot, but he let her keep control. He wasn't meant to be Michael here, and she'd given no indication she knew who he was.

They moved to the beat, and she was surprisingly adept, perhaps some of the insects communicated through dancing like bees did. He looked up to her smile widening, opening those gaps he'd noticed on the side of her face to reveal the barest hint of sharp mandibles hidden behind it.

"You are of Old Hume, yes?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Michael simply.

"You must think that the worst is over. That you and those you love are safe."

He stayed silent.

She drew him closer. "All you've done is buy time. You managed to fight off a few horned fools and some of our weaker forms. In only a short while our young will be bursting from the flesh of those you care for, and all the survivors will know is servitude."

She squeezed him, hard, it would've been enough force to crack a regular man's ribs, but with his durability it caused only minimal discomfort. He considered, for just a moment, the satisfaction he would feel if he squeezed her back. If he coated himself with divine fire and ended her right then and there. He didn't though. The mere fact that she had risked getting this close meant she didn't know who or what he was. That meant they could still pull everything off as long as things hadn't changed on Bayle's end.

She released him and there was some polite clapping from the sidelines as they left the dancefloor. He went to Shreve and the others.

Shreve looked at him expectantly.

"She just wanted to be cruel. To play with her food. Nothing more." It was a trait he'd noticed among the insects ever since he'd seen one cut off Jakub's head what felt like a decade prior. They were a cruel species, they enjoyed causing fear. Michael was looking forward to returning the favor.