Brewing Bad Ch. 176-177

Ch. 176 - Muted Celebration

No matter how much neither of them wanted to let go of each other, eventually they did, if only because Lucas was absolutely dead on his feet. Together, they went inside where Lucas was given porridge and tea. That’s when he broke the news to Danaria, Kar’gandin, and every servant that happened to be nearby: The Dragon that had burned down Parin Manor was slain.  

The reactions were mixed, to say the least. Kar’gandin erupted in a cheer, even if he had some harsh words for Lucas afterward about how foolhardy and stupid it was. The servants and guards were, by contrast, in shock, which only grew as Lucas gave them the quick version, telling them about the metal horse and the poison lance almost in passing. 

Danaria’s reaction, though, was closer to outrage. For a little while, she looked like she was going to deck him. “How could you risk your life like that!” she cried out at one point.

Still, Lucas countered just as quickly, “As long as she was out there, it was her or you, and I made my choice. Better my death than yours.” 

While she wasn’t happy with that answer, she didn’t storm out of the room or slug him. Instead, she settled for sitting right next to him and clinging to his arm, since it would have been improper to embrace him in such a public way. 

Lucas was bombarded with questions when he was done with his story, but he ignored most of them, vowing to give everyone the blow-by-blow version later. That was as much because he had no wish to tell that story in front of Danaria as because he needed to crash. For now, he just said what he needed to say, which was pretty succinct. 

“The dragon isn’t important. She’s dead,” he told them, “What matters now is the Prince, and he’s going to be pissed with he finds out what I’ve done, so we’ve got to be ready to move. Like, today.”

“But Lucas, this is our home,” Danaira insisted. “Our house is still being—”

“I know, and it looks lovely,” Lucas agreed, brushing her off, “And I hope someday we can come back to it, but for now, we need to be anywhere but here.”

While his appearance and initial news sent a wave of excitement through everyone, his second declaration sent an even larger wave of panic. Still, he couldn’t be around to babysit them after that. He needed sleep. So, he ordered them to start packing the essentials and wake him in three hours, then he promptly went to a bedroom and passed out.

Lucas slept like the dead, and when he woke, he was surprised that only a couple of hours of sleep had done him so much good. He was even more surprised, though, when he found out he hadn’t just slept a couple of hours. He’d slept the whole day away. 

“I told you to wake me up after three hours!” Lucas said as he devoured a very late lunch of sliced meat and fresh bread. “Don’t you understand how serious this is? There would be troops on their way here right now, like right fucking now!”

“In the time it’s taken you to fall asleep and wake up again, one piece of critical news has reached the community,” Kar’gandin said somewhat somberly. Lucas registered the strange emotion, even if he didn’t understand it; everyone should be celebrating. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m the one who let the cat out of the bag, remember?” Lucas sighed. “The dragon is—”

“Not the dragon,” Hura’gh interjected. Lucas gave him a questioning look, and regretted it. The half-orc had never been pretty, but the burns he’d survived had turned him into a monstrosity. “The Prince died last night. Messengers delivered the news to every village and crossroads, shouting it. If you’d been awake, you would have heard it.”

“He’s what? Dead? He can’t be. I’m not that lucky,”  Lucas answered, grappling with the news. 

“Please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with that,” Danaria said. “Please tell me that isn’t why you wanted to flee the city.”

Lucas shook his head. He really wasn’t sure what to say to that. While he had no idea how the Prince of the city had died, or why he’d died now of all times, he was sure there had to be a connection. 

“The only things I’ve killed this year were a troll and a dragon,” Lucas mumbled distractedly. “No people, and certainly not royalty.”

Danaria did a double-take when he mentioned the troll, and he cursed silently as he realized he’d let that detail slip, but for now, he ignored it. That was a later problem; the Prince’s death complicated things significantly, and he no longer had any idea what their next move should be. 

Did Heisenburgle send an assassin instead of a messenger? He asked himself. That was the only thing that made sense. 

Lucas wasn’t sure how that changed things, though. The King, decrepit as he was, should still be alive, and if not him, the man was old enough to have sons, legitimate or otherwise. One of the dukes would step in as regent. 

“I think we need to go over our customer list,” Lucas said to Kar’gandin finally after he spent a few seconds parsing all of those thoughts. “If we aren’t running, then it's time to start picking sides and counting allies.”

“Aye,” the dwarf agreed. “Just let me get my ledgers and we’ll see what things look like.”

Lucas planned to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening making plans and sending a few of their own messenger boys into the city to make contact with the Knights of Brass and set up a meet, but that’s not the way that things worked out.

Instead, only an hour into their discussion, before they’d even gotten all the way through the list, a rider appeared, asking for him by name. Lucas’ men knew well enough to tell the gray-cloaked man that he wasn’t there, but he insisted that Lucas was, and eventually produced a talisman that pointed right at him from where he sat on his horse near the road. 

That was enough to make Lucas emerge from the farmhouse. Not only would anything less than that would be cowardly, but if this was a mage he might well have blown up the whole house to make his point, and any time spent talking would be time where he wasn’t pulling out a wand to nuke some shit. 

Just thinking about that made him mourn Arissa a little. She’d almost taken his head clean off with her wand, and when the owlbear had made the damn thing explode… Well, it didn’t bear thinking about, and he pushed it from his mind as he approached the mystery rider. 

Who’s looking for me? he asked himself as he approached the man. If he’s a mage, that means what? The guild? The palace? No, those were both valid options, but if the Mages’ Guild had cause to seek him out, he’d probably already be a smoking crater. Restraint meant something more subtle, which probably meant the Whisper’s.

That instinct proved prescient when the messenger said, “Lord Torvin sends his regards and has instructed me to escort you to dinner at his manor this evening after you’ve changed into something appropriate,” as he handed Lucas a letter.

“Well, you can let him know that’s very thoughtful, but I have to go back to Blackgate after I finish visiting with my associates,” Lucas lied, curious about what kind of pushback he would get.

“I think you’ll find if you read my master’s letter, it’s not a request,” the messenger said, “Though he would of course allow you a few minutes to get changed into something more appropriate.”

Lucas bristled at the idea that this asshole thought he could tell him what to do, but said nothing, and instead, opened up the letter, and read it silently. It was about what he expected and layered together threats that were both said and unsaid. 

‘My dear Mister Blue, though I do not know if this letter will find you with that gnome or in some other rat hole, by now you should have already heard that your prime benefactor is no more, and a great many things are afoot. I require your immediate presence to discuss these matters further. Should you decline, it will mean open warfare for obvious reasons, and while your fiancée might be as dead as my daughter, there are still a great many ways to force your compliance, if necessary. Thank you, Duke Torvin.’

Lucas fumed silently at the man’s threats; it was especially pointless considering he held the man’s leash with Blue. For a moment, Lucas was tempted to twist that knife and see what happened, but instead, he kept his cool. 

He took a deep breath and said, “Alright, I need a minute, though. It was a rough night.”

The messenger didn’t answer. He just dismounted and watered his horse while Lucas went back inside to explain things to everyone else. 

“The bleedin’ Whisperers?” Kar’gandin cursed. “After all this time? Why? Why now?”

“Because it was Prince Raston who was holding him back this whole time,” Lucas sighed. “I’m surprised the asshole didn’t try something when his daughter died.”

“That wasn’t ye’r fault,” the dwarf said, but Lucas just shook his head. 

“It doesn't matter whos fault it is,” Lucas sighed, “not with shit like this. All that matters is finding someone to blame.” Those words unsettled him, but only because he felt like he was talking to himself by the end.

Lucas promised Danaria that he would return by morning, just before they set out. He even took a quiet moment to kiss her again, but truthfully, he wasn’t sure he could keep that promise. Killing the dragoness was supposed to solve his problems, and theoretically, the death of the Prince should have been good for him, but things were starting to spin out of control, and during the ride into the city, Lucas considered the fact that running probably wasn’t a very good solution.

If the Whisperers can track me to a place I’ve never been before, they can track me to another city or another land, he thought with a quiet sigh. That means the Prince could have done the same thing. 

He hadn’t thought about that before, but he should have. He beat himself up over that belated revelation the whole way to the dinner party he was being forced to attend. 

I should be planning a wedding, not getting tangled up in even more shit that’s not my fault, he complained mentally as they arrived at their Garden Distract destination where he was quickly escorted inside. 

While the invitation might have been threatening, the servants were unflinchingly cordial, and they escorted him politely and efficiently to the dining room, where the man of the house and several other guests waited. No one seemed surprised by his arrival. 

“Welcome to my home,” the Duke said, standing and offering Lucas his hand to shake. “Before we get started, please know that it is my earnest wish that we are able to come to an arrangement and you’ll still be breathing when you leave in the morning.”

Lucas swallowed hard, trying not to look unnerved. He did not like the sound of that one bit. 

Ch. 177 - A Banquet of Chaos

Lucas considered telling him off for the threat then and there, but decided against it. The duke had couched his words in just enough pomp and politeness that it was more of a warning than a threat, strictly speaking. Between that and the fact that there was probably more to be learned by listening than by speaking, Lucas let it pass. 

I’ve killed a fucking dragon, he told himself as he sat two seats from the duke, next to a fat man he didn’t know, and across the table from an elderly woman he’d seen around. The dowager of something. He couldn’t remember what. The five of them were all there were, though, and when the servants started to serve them the first course, a light garden salad, Lucas decided that he was pretty sure that there was all there was going to be. 

The other four seemed to know each other pretty well, and their conversation flowed easily enough. Lucas was the odd one out, and though he didn’t know anyone besides Lord Torvin, it was obvious from the way that they looked at and spoke with him that everyone else had heard of him. So, even though he called Lucas Lord Parin, everyone else almost certainly knew he was Mister Blue. 

What everyone else was called only came out slowly over three courses, and as it did, it explained why they all looked at him like they were better than him. It was because, technically speaking, they were. Not in Lucas’ mind, of course, but certainly in the eyes of the kingdom. Although he hadn’t known it at the time, he was sitting at a table with three Dukes and a Duchess, all of whom had apparently dressed down and brought a very minimal staff with them as they met in secret to dice up the kingdom. 

Though there were many other nobles in and out of the city, these four ruled over vast swaths of land that surrounded the city in every direction but the sea to the west. Lord Torvin controlled the farms and vineyards to the northeast, Lady Morana controlled the shores and forests to the north and northwest, and Lords Jaravik and Loffel divided the lands of the south and southeast between them. All together, the four of them likely had a hundred Barons and counts between them that swore allegiance to them. 

While that wasn’t all of them, it was certainly enough to decide the fate of the city, though they didn’t seem to agree at all on who should be next to wear the crown. That disagreement, Lucas understood. This was a power struggle being waged with words instead of weapons. What he didn’t understand was why he was here at all. 

He wasn’t the only one, either. Several times, Baron Loffel made some snide comments about how they’d “Agreed to leave their underlings at home,” or that “the meal would be better if the company matched.”

Lucas thought about flipping him off, but he didn’t. Finally, it was the Baroness who said, “You really must think of the man as sort of an unofficial Duke, Earlvin. He’s a sort of Prince among the city’s riffraff, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he were the richest man in the city without a title, and that was before he claimed Skylara’s horde.” 

Oh, that’s it, he realized. They think I’m loaded. While that might technically be true if he were to lay claim to the dragon hoard, he was pretty much broke since he’d purchased a certain fancy fireproof cloak. 

He didn’t reveal any of that, though. He barely acknowledged that he’d killed the dragon. Lucas just finished his mouthful and said, “There’s more to life than a title.”

“Oh really, like what?” Duke Jaravik asked. “This I’ve got to hear.”

“Well, nobles like you… You’ve got someone for everything. You’ve got guards and artisans. You have people to fight and people to create for you. You’ve probably got a whole house full of cooks,” Lucas said, pointing his salad fork at the man’s ample belly. “Me, I just skip the middle man and do all that myself. If I need to kill someone, I don’t issue an order, I just draw my sword.”

“Some of us prefer not to dirty our hands directly,” Lord Torvin added in a way that Lucas felt was very ironic. 

Unfortunately, that little exchange was one of the only direct ones that came out before the main course. After that, everything else returned to pattern, subjecting him to an endless series of word games and subtle allusions that he found insufferable. 

What were everyone’s plans now that the Prince was dead? No one would say. 

Who would they push to assume power? The only clear answer was anyone but themselves. For this one, they each put up the names of minor nobility he didn’t recognize that were supposed to be related to the royal line, but it was obvious none of those barons or viscounts were ever in the running. Instead, the four of them were circling each other like sharks, and all but ignoring him.

How had the Prince died so suddenly? Some of them seemed to know, and some of them obviously didn’t. 

Finally that frustrated Simon enough, that part way through the main course of roasted lamb, he blurted out, “If no one’s going to tell me why all this happened in one fucking night, then I’m going to bounce.”

“Why?” the duchess across from him asked. “Ironic. How very droll.” That only deepened Lucas’s consternation, and he very nearly got up. 

Only the voice of Duke Torvin stopped him. “What Duchess Morana means by that is that it’s ironic that you of all people should ask, since you’re the man of the hour.”

“I’m the man of the... What? I didn’t kill him,” Lucas protested, suddenly wondering if he was about to become the fall guy for all of this. “The only one I’ve killed, well, they weren’t even a person, not really.”

“See?” the duchess said. “He admits it. He’s the reason we need to decide who the next ruler will be.”

Before Lucas could whirl on her and tell her to shut up, Duke Torvin continued. “His heart stopped when hers did. Whether he or his father felt the blows up to that point, I can’t say, but I know their lives were braided together. Why do you think he was so against you killing her?”

“I… Wait, what?” Lucas asked. “What in the hell? How was I supposed to know that? If it was going to kill him, then why did he have Hisenburgle working on ways to kill her? Why did the damn gnome help me if—”

“It was a closely guarded secret,” Lord Torvin answered, nodding. “I doubt that he knew. I doubt that more than five people in the kingdom knew, including the Prince and his father. The Prince never wanted to kill her. He wanted the means to kill her to force a fairer arrangement, but the old wyrm was never going to stop squeezing. This would have had to be done eventually, if not in his lifetime, then in his sons.”

Lucas was vaguely horrified. While he didn’t mind killing the Prince since he might have done that on purpose one day anyway, the idea of killing his entire line bothered him. He hadn’t just killed Skylara, he’d probably killed at least half a dozen people, including kids. All he could manage at that was, “That’s completely fucked.”

“As you say,” Lord Torvin answered while everyone else merely smiled, and Lucas looked like he’d said something ridiculous. 

The conversation became ever so slightly more direct after that, but only about the topics that concerned the Prince’s death, the Dragoness’s, or Lucas's. Dessert was in the process of being served when Lord Jaravik finally stood and said, “Enough of this. I came for your endorsement because your letter implied that you might be willing to back me in the days ahead. This, though? This is just a waste of my time.”

That duke was a rail-thin, nasal man, and easily the most unpleasant of the three. Duchess Morana was smart at least, and occasionally funny, while Lord Loffel was merely affable and fat. Lucas would not be the least bit upset to watch him leave. 

“What? But he told me the same thing!” the fat duke said, rising next. Lucas looked to the duchess next, wondering if she’d be the next to reveal Lord Torvin’s game, but she merely laughed and waved them away. “And you believed him?” she cackled. “Our host is the consummate gamesman. Always more wheels within wheels.”

Duke Torvin waited for the commotion to die down, and then said, “Once, perhaps, but today it’s just the opposite of what you’ve said. I’ve decided that I won’t be making a play for the throne at all. I brought the three of you together, plus our duke of the lowlives here, in the hopes that you three could work something out so that Lordanin need not be torn apart by further violence.”

“What? Why?” Duke Loffel asked. 

“Stay for dessert and I’ll happily tell you,” Lord Torvin told the man as he sank his fork into his cake and raised the bite to his mouth. “My heart simply isn’t in this anymore. Not since, well, you know…”

What happened next was right out of a soap opera. While the other two Dukes sat themselves and tentatively ate, Duke Torvin unfurled a long and well-rehearsed sob story about his daughter, who’d been burned alive so recently by the dragon. He laid it on thick, too. 

He didn’t just paint Adin as a neglectful addict; he also told them all about the baby, which seemed to hit the Baroness especially hard. She'd acted heartless all night, but Lucas could see that Lord Torvin had struck a nerve there. Lucas didn’t buy the line of bullshit for a minute, yet by the time it was done even he felt sorry for the man, and was sure that everyone else believed that his desire to step aside from their infighting was at least a little sincere. 

This went on for some time, and finally, with his desert done, and his sob story about his personal tragedies and the good of the kingdom at an end, the duke said “A toast then, to a new order,” as he motioned for a servant to bring a tray of glasses. “Despite what you’ve said, I’ve learned one thing from this evening, and will not fight any of you for the crown. In fact, I don’t think we should fight at all, and would prefer that we not part as rivals.”

While Duke Torvin’s words seemed sincere, Lucas didn’t buy it for a second, and when his glass was set in front of him, he noticed that it contained Blue immediately. He said nothing, but he shot the duke a look, and the man smiled tightly and gave him a small shrug. 

Brew of Mana Intoxication (dilute) (1 dose): Euphoria 5, poison 2, intelligence -1, mana regeneration decreased by 50% for 1 hour. 

That annoyed Lucas, but not as much as the fact that the glasses of the man’s other three guests held the same drug. Lucas knew what he was doing then and opted not to warn them. While this evening may have started as an attempt to win people over to his side, recruitment was quickly becoming mandatory. 

Lucas had mixed feelings about that, but given that he’d pulled the very same stunt not so long ago, who was he to judge? There were smiles then, and a toast to the next King or Queen. Lucas even pretended to drink with them, though he was careful not to let the wine touch his lips. The duchess sitting across from him noticed that, but too late, and before she had the chance to ask him a question, her glass was already slipping from her thin fingers to shatter on the tile floor.