Author's Nightmare: Chapter 135 (Patreon)

Shango POV: Day 105

Current Wealth: 221 gold 18 silver 30 copper

I woke up to knocking on my door. A heavy knocking, the sort that came from hammers rather than fists. Given that I did not live with any pathological vandals- at least since Solitaire’s capture- that narrowed it down to Argar.

“They’re here.” He growled, finally losing patience and barging in just as I got out of bed. He wasn’t bothered by my near-nudity, and neither was I. 

“Let him wait.” I said. “I’ll be down quickly- but don’t tell him that.”

It was one of Solitaire’s old tricks. Leave someone to stew, let their emotions multiply. He was so much better at playing that than me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t pick up a thing or two. And I’d need all I could get now. 

I got dressed, and thought while I did. Then I made my way downstairs at a brisk enough pace to be quick, but not so brisk that I’d seem disheveled or out of breath when I arrived. I found Lord Byror at the head of what was almost an army when I finally reached the blockade my men had set up just within our own walls. 

They were encircling most of the mansion, and watching the rest. Outside the outer fence, for now, but pressing in dangerously close. If Solitaire were here he might’ve given me a headcount with one glance. Instead I had to turn to Alora.

“Have you estimated how many there are?”

“Close to five hundred.” She replied, face tight. Five hundred. That seemed small, somehow, for the amount I thought I was seeing. 

“He didn’t have anywhere near this many guards.” Elizabeth added. “He can’t have. Byror, I mean.”

“So other members of the Coalition are here.” I concluded. Good, if anything that would make this work better.

I didn’t need to ask where Byror was, because he made himself very easy to pick out as he stormed through the gate and hurried towards me.

Lucky he didn’t try scaling the fence. I noted, right before he was in my face spitting and snarling. No guards came after him, I noticed, and none of my own moved to cut him down. Everyone was worried about escalation? 

Perhaps.

“YOU FUCKING FUCK!?” Byror screamed, practically frothing at the mouth as his own guards hurried to catch up with him. He wasn’t in control at all. Good. “MY SON.” He roared. “GIVE ME BACK MY SON.”

I kept my face as neutral as I ever had in my life, and found the task remarkably trivial. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about my Lord.” I told him. “Your son is missing?”

“BASTARD!” Byror was halfway through his first step when I realised he was going to hit me. That wouldn’t be good. If we attacked back, it might escalate things with his men. If not we looked weak. I spoke fast, and quietly. Waiting until he was within arm’s reach and moving in before the blow could come. 

“Touch me and Byror blood will coat my grounds.”

I might have encased him in concrete and not frozen him as thoroughly as that sentence did. His face paled, like the blood was running out of an opened artery, and I waited for his response to come. Sluggish as all the others, I really did miss Solitaire. 

“You…You…” He was stunned, disbelieving, desperate and with his thoughts scattered by all the cognitive ripples I was going without. So I chose then to speak again. 

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pressed. “Why, just ask anyone. I’m the calm and reasonable brother. You captured the mad one already.”

He wasn’t lost for words this time, if anything he had them in excess, stumbling over his own tongue before speaking.

“I demand to see my son.” He whispered, grabbing me and earning a cautious hand towards every weapon present except my own. With a slight gesture I had my men standing back and waiting. 

“I’ll drop him off under the bridge at the outskirts of town.” I murmured back, keeping my voice low and letting body language imply I wasn’t speaking at all. “Come alone to pick him up, or I’ll kill him in front of you. We got into your mansion, we’ll know if you try a double-cross. If you want to bet your son’s life on us missing it then feel free.”

He held his courage, but not for long. There was no courage when you got a threat like that. 

“Threats do not work on me boy. You will give me my son back in two hours or I will storm this mansion and level it in the searching. If you kill him, I’ll have your whore wife raped by every man in my garrison and dump her head outside your gates.” He hissed, pitiably. Quietly. There was menace in his eyes but mostly…This was just an attempt to hurt the one who’d hurt him.

There was no courage when you got a threat like that, but for me there was no fear either. I just stared at him as he turned around and shuffled back to his men. 

Beam watched him leave for a moment before closing in at my side, face almost folding in over its frown. 

“What was that about?”

He hadn’t heard, and that had been intentional. I needed everyone to not hear this. Everyone except Arthur, who I’d pressed into complicity before he got the chance to flee so that he’d have no choice but to help beat the man whose son he’d kidnapped. Elizabeth had been brought in by unfortunate necessity, and Helena…Well, she seemed strangely, fiercely loyal to Solitaire. And she had a certain iron to her which I’d- rightly- figured would make her okay with it. 

But not Beam. Never Beam, no matter what. 

“No idea.” I frowned, as if I were anyone other than the culprit to a kidnapping. “Bad luck, I’d guess. Poor bastard’s son went missing and…Well, given the timing I guess I’d probably assume we had something to do with it, too. I can hardly blame him.”

Beam nodded thoughtfully, looking concerned but not even flashing a moment of worry about the events. It was nauseating, sometimes, the faith he had in me. I should have taken it as a sign of his friendship- and I did, sometimes- but right now it was just a reminder that everything truly was on my shoulders.

Though even that was distant compared to the simple pragmatics of everything. 

We all took cover, and we all waited. Tempers frayed, but everyone was too busy being miserable to vent them. Corvan sat with us- which surprised me. I’d expected him to bolt whatever I did, apparently he’d decided to bet on the long odds for better returns later. Didn’t look like he’d get to see his money back with how things had gone though. 

My only hope now was that two hours was enough time for Byror’s doubt to fester. 

Slowly, though, the change came. Men shuffled about their ranks in the surrounding army and we all tensed and prepared for boots to hit the ground and explosive violence to come.

Instead, their formation parted and some figures came striding out. Two figures; one short and trembling, the other tall and…Also trembling, but for very different reasons. Solitaire and Phelia hurried as they headed over to us. 

“Solitaire!” Beam grinned, his face almost splitting as he stared at our brother. I turned to Phelia, surprising myself by hugging her, and being surprised as she hugged me back. I looked up just in time to see Solitaire squirming. 

Dangerous move on Helena’s part, hugging him like that, but she won the game of Solitaire Roulette and didn’t get bitten this time. He still looked properly miserable as she stepped back. 

Solitaire turned to me then. He was friendly, of course, pleased to see me. Thing was, Solitaire’s friendliness looked very much the same as a bulldog’s. His smile showed a row of the world’s most dangerous teeth, and his face had a sort of naturally angular shape which made his eyes just a little bit too wide whatever he did with it. 

No wonder we got along so well. I was no more perturbed by that than I’d been by anything else over the last day. 

“You got me out.” He said at last, having taken an uncharacteristic pause. I shrugged. 

“You gave yourself up.”

I understood why, and he understood, in that instant, the exact nature of my understanding. I wouldn’t embarrass him by letting everyone else know he’d done the right thing. However irrational, he wouldn’t want them to be told. But I needed him to be aware that his goodness had been noticed. 

Needed him, but not with any emotional pull. It was all purely cognitive. Morality, not decency. Correctness, not rightness.