H - 102: Matters Great and Small (Patreon)

“I feel like I’m wasting your time,” Percy said ruefully, grimacing and rolling her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not like I’ve got any appointments,” Vadaralshi assured her with a grin. “And this isn’t training or anything. If we were training you’d already be cussing me out.”

“That’s not how I express displeasure,” Percy said automatically, and stretched again. “I think if we were training, you might be the one cursing. I mean…well, you saw how that went.”

“I’ve gotta say I have never met someone who falls down so easily,” Vadaralshi agreed. “Look Percy, no offense—”

“No, I know,” Percy said with a sigh. “I’m hopeless.”

“That’s not where I was going,” Vadaralshi said seriously. “I know this may come off kinda condescending, so please don’t take it too hard, but I think the problem is in your head.”

“Most of my problems are,” Percy agreed.

“I just mean… Well, you walk around here just fine. I haven’t noticed you, like, dropping stuff or anything. But as soon as you agreed to let me show you a few moves, suddenly all I have to do is touch your arm and down you go. I mean… You’re a princess, right? So you must know how to dance. If you can dance, you can fight. Not saying they’re the same thing, but there’s some decent overlap.”

“I…have consistently failed at that, too,” Percy admitted, looking away. “They sort of…gave up trying to teach me to dance around the time Mother had me recused from royal duties.”

“Hmm.” Tiavathyris had been lying stretched out, looking almost asleep if not for her open eyes watching her daughter and the princess, but now raised her head. “Might I ask what training method your tutors used?”

Percy blinked. “I’m…not sure how to answer that. Are there different methods?”

“Permit me to hazard a guess,” the elder dragon said with a grin, which caused Percy to instinctively step back from her. She had gotten fairly comfortable around the fangs and claws of the younger trio, and also Izayaroa, but displays of danger from the two much larger elders with whom she wasn’t as familiar still seemed to trigger that instinct. “You were repeatedly drilled on the proper movements, and berated whenever you failed to execute them perfectly?”

“Yes, exactly,” Percy said, nodding. “Is that not how it’s usually done?”

“It is how I would train soldiers, which you are not. I have noticed that the nobility of many cultures teach ritual and etiquette to their children in the same manner, perhaps desiring to imbue them with martial discipline alongside the intended virtues.”

“Is there…a better way to train soldiers?” Percy asked hesitantly.

“Soldiers, no,” Tiavathyris shook her head. “It is done that way for good reason. Warriors, though? The martial arts are like all the other arts, in that their greatest practitioners are often…peculiar individuals. Many received unorthodox instruction.”

“I just meant,” Vadaralshi interjected, “you’re not a klutz most of the time, Percy, you just get that way when you’re doing something that you’ve got into your head that you aren’t good at. It’s a block; such things can be worked through. If you’re interested in doing the work, I mean.”

“I think…that would be good,” Percy said slowly, frowning in thought.

“I am firmly in favor of this idea,” said Tiavathyris with a nod. “The greatest way to learn is to teach; this is a gap in your own training, daughter. A mortal martial artist your age would have trained legions of students by now, and thereby gained many insights which you have not. However, I recommend tabling the subject until Izayaroa can be included.”

“Yep, we don’t wanna step on Aunt Izzy’s tail,” Vadaralshi agreed, grinning.

“That,” Tiavathyris agreed mildly, “and it is foolhardy not to consult an expert when one is at hand.”

Kaln smiled, watching them, and made himself turn back to his books.

His idea to move the dining area outside his lair had succeeded beyond his wildest hopes, even if it hadn’t yet achieved the intended goal of coaxing Emeralaphine out to participate. Literally overnight, this had become the social hub of the entire lair. Currently, he had his study materials spread out on the table, Pheneraxa was perched in another chair a few places down with her own book, and of course Vadaralshi and Percy had been lightly exercising a few paces away. Tiavathyris was present in her larger form, having draped herself fully up one side of the stairs dividing the great central vault. Even Vanimax had decided to hang out with them—he was in his larger form and curled up in the corner as far away from the rest as possible, watching silently and not speaking, but as far as Kaln was concerned it represented a great success that he wanted to participate at all. He seemed afraid to call attention to himself in Percy’s presence.

“We at a stopping point, then? Grand!” Zhiiji came trundling in from the great tunnel to Kaln’s lair proper, for once pushing the serving cart herself with Spooky nowhere in evidence; she was leaning to one side as she could barely see over the top of it. “I have some tasty homework for you lot.”

“What an unusual combination of words,” said Percy.

“Here.” Zhiiji uncovered one of the serving dishes on her cart, grabbed a fork and speared a bite of its contents, which she then stretched up toward Vadaralshi imperiously. “Try this, please. Lemme know how the spice level is. You’re the only one I haven’t got a good read on yet.”

Grinning, Vadaralshi obligingly leaned forward and down, biting the chunk of well-sauced meat right off the fork. “Mm! Grea stuff as alwaysh, ‘iiji.”

“Really?” Zhiiji peered up at her, eyes narrowed. “Not too much?”

“Course not, what do you take me for?”

“Just as a reminder, you’ve got skin in that form, which means I can see it when you flush from cheeks to ears.”

Vadaralshi attempted to grimace while chewing, the result of which was undoubtedly more cute than she meant, and decided instead to continue mumbling around her mouthful. “Iss not—”

“Kid,” Zhiiji said sternly, “this is not a time for you to puff your chest out. I am not impressed by a high spice tolerance. It’s like…perfect pitch, or eidetic memory: a neat little knack that doesn’t reflect on your essential character at all. I have fed way too many soldiers and warriors to think spice tolerance correlates in any way to actual toughness. I’m collecting data here to help me serve you food you will actually like.”

Vadaralshi blinked down at her, cheeks slightly puffed out with food. Behind her, Tiavathyris lifted her head again, a smile stretching her huge muzzle. Kaln, who was within Vadaralshi’s field of view, laboriously kept his expression neutral.

“Uhm… This is maybe a smidge too much heat,” the drake said after a short pause, slightly sheepish. “I, uh, I really enjoy the flavor of spicy, but not so much the actual…burn.”

“Ah, now that is a good response,” Zhiiji said with clear satisfaction, turning back to her cart. “Thanks, kid. Yeah, that’ll be no problem—helps me pick what spices to use, as well as how much. Okay, Percy, you’re up!”

“I am?” Percy stepped forward inquisitively as Zhiiji selected a second dish and whipped off the cover. Her face immediately fell. “Oh. Is that…?”

“Yeah, string beans,” Zhiiji said sympathetically. “I know, hon. I’m trying an experiment—I just needja to try one little bite, here, and then I’ve got a treat for you for bein’ brave.”

“Hey!” Vadaralshi protested. “How come she gets a treat?”

“Treats for everybody,” Zhiiji said with amusement, “once it is time to uncover the treat dish. C’mon, I can’t have you disordering my courses.”

“If it’s in the name of science, I suppose,” Percy said, wrinkling her nose. She delicately picked up the small fork from Zhiiji’s dish, speared a single peace of steaming green bean, and paused to grimace before lifting it to her mouth.

A moment later, her expression transformed into surprise. “Oh! Why that’s… That isn’t bad at all. However did you do that?”

“I boiled the shit out of ‘em!” Zhiiji said proudly. “You said your problem with string beans was the texture, yeah? It’s considered the done thing to steam ‘em just enough so they still have that nice crisp snap, that’s what most folks like, but it’s easy as fallin’ off a chair to cook ‘em a bit longer til they soften up. Also I cut ‘em lengthwise instead of into segments, see?”

“I did see that! You know, it doesn’t seem like that should matter at all, but it does!”

“Right? Changes the whole mouth feel! Anyway, don’t worry, I’m not gonna just feed you over-boiled beans, I’m not some kinda sadist. But if you’re okay with these, that opens up my casserole and stew options enormously.”

“It’s not bad at all,” Percy agreed, nodding.

“That’s my girl!” Zhiiji said, changing dishes again. “Here we go! Snacks for everybody for bein’ good sports.”

The smell of some baked confection of honey, nuts, and pastry filled the air as soon as she whisked off the largest dish cover. Vadaralshi and Percy received small serving plates of the confection eagerly.

Behind and above them, Tiavathyris responded to Zhiiji’s questioning gesture with a smile and a shake of her head. “Another time, perhaps. I am not in the mood to shift just now, and have little sweet tooth anyway.”

Kaln cleared his throat, smiling as Zhiiji turned to him with a plate. “I promised Emeralaphine I would have food nowhere near these books as a condition of bringing them to the table. Can you put mine in the box for later?”

“A man’s gotta honor his word in matters great and small, I respect the hells outta that,” Zhiiji said, nodding in approval. “Think fast!”

The next slice she actually plucked off the plate and chucked. Pheneraxa had to lean a bit to the side, but succeed in snapping it whole out of the air, prompting a cheer from the chef.

“I kinda wish you hadn’t shown her we’re good at that,” Vadaralshi commented, licking honey from her claws. “Dunno why she thinks it’s so damn funny.”

“Hey, gimme a break, I’ve never gotten to cook for apex predators before! Max, you want in on this? Only if you change, I’m not wasting my baking on a form that can barely taste it.”

Vanimax was lying half-curled, with his neck outstretched toward the front of the vault. He made no response, continuing to stare ahead as they all turned to regard him. The tip of his tail tapped the floor once.

“All right, no worries,” Zhiiji said equably, placing the small plate in her hands back on the serving tray. “It all keeps beautifully in the stasis box, drop by for your slice whenever.”

Mist streaked past her, resolving swiftly into the translucent form of a ghost holding up a book next to Kaln’s chair.

“Commander?” He blinked in surprise; it was most unusual for the Commander to approach him out of the blue like this, particularly when he was in the middle of something. Kaln squinted at the regulation manual; by now he knew the Darashi alphabet well enough to be able to sound out any words he saw. These, though, were unfamiliar. He glanced once at his study materials—he was still working through the book of children’s fables. If the Commander deemed this matter important enough to interrupt him, it was probably best not to dither about trying to slog through it himself. “Pheneraxa, can I borrow you, please?”

She was already rising to her feet, and now glided around the table to join him; the Commander helpfully angled the manual to show her as well. Pheneraxa’s eyebrows drew together in consternation at what she read.

“This lays out procedures for first contact with foreign diplomats.”

Everyone had been watching this exchange, and now went on alert. Tiavathyris and Vanimax both got to their feet; Zhiiji paused in pushing her cart back toward the archway.

“Are you telling me,” Kaln said to the ghost, “we have visitors? Emissaries from a… From a nation?”

The Commander saluted. Behind him, Percy watched with wide eyes, rapidly tapping her thumbs against her fingertips.

“Are they from Boisverd?” Kaln asked.

There came a moment of utter stillness, in which the ghost for a brief fraction of a second ceased to fade and ripple as normal. Then, slowly, in tiny, jerky motions suggesting it was laboriously difficult, he shook his head back and forth once.

Countless hells, it required him to strain against the bonds of that curse just to indicate no? Kalne knew the Phantom Legion were being punished, but it was awfully inconvenient that the metaphysical chains upon them seemed intent on forbidding them to communicate at all. He resolved to ask Emeralaphine to study their curse to see if something could be done about it. Here and now, though…

“Thank you, Commander, I appreciate the effort.” Kaln got to his feet, glancing swiftly around at the group, and settled his shoulders. “All right. Pheneraxa, please go inform your mother we have formal visitors. I’ll need someone to return my books to the library and tidy up this space to receive guests. Percy, I’m sorry to ask it…”

“No, you’re right,” she agreed as Kaln’s materials went swooping away toward the library door in a cloud of mist and several spectral maids and butlers began running very corporeal brooms and dustcloths across the area. Percy curtsied once before turning toward the archway. “It’d be complicated if foreign diplomats saw me just…hanging around.”

“And if they’re not Verdi, then you’re none of their business,” Kaln agreed with a smile. “Thanks, Percy. Everyone…larger forms, please. Also best manners, let’s not start a fight, but our best hope for coming out on top of any formal discussion with anyone is to make is clear…as gently as possible…that they are dealing with a family of dragons and had better be commensurately courteous.”

Vadaralshi shifted as he was talking, and Vanimax rose and stepped over to join the group. Tiavathyris nodded deeply to him in approval, then deliberately rearranged her huge form to display herself behind Kaln, relative to the front of the vault, while both drakes stepped forward to flank him.

It loomed large in Kaln’s awareness that Izayaroa was by far the best member of the family to support him during an engagement like…whatever was about to happen. And that she was, at that moment, far from here making her first public appearance in many decades.

This did not feel like a coincidence.

“Commander,” Kaln said, willing his voice to be firm and calm and relieved to find it so, “please show our guests in.”

***

By the time their visitors were escorted into the vault, Kaln stood at the head of the huge staircase, with two elder dragons looming over him from behind and three drakes arranged out to either side. The Phantom Legion had deployed themselves in a full honor guard throughout the chamber, bracketing every doorway as normal but in twice the usual numbers, and with a row of ghostly soldiers holding upright lances forming a single, wide aisle down the center of the great vault.

It was a very good thing, he reflected, that he’d had this place cleaned up. The unadorned Timekeeper architecture was breathtakingly impressive; the centuries of decay he’d found here at his own first arrival would have sent a most unbecoming impression.

More Legionaries escorted the delegation, floating alongside them at a respectful distance. The diplomats had clearly brought their own escorts; more than half their number appeared to be soldiers, who were now watching the surrounding ghosts with visible alarm. They moved smoothly, though, and were too disciplined to grasp at weapons.

One person walked in the head of the group, a human woman in her middle years, with clothing noticeably finer than that of her companions. Two others strode one pace behind her and to either side, one an elf and the other a dragonborn with skin almost as dark as Izayaroa’s and scales fading from midnight purple to lavender. A dragonborn, Kaln found he could tell, not a full dragon. His power sought a faint resonance with this individual’s being, but he knew he would not be able to control him as fully as he could a true dragon. Needless to say, he filed away this perception to discuss later with Emeralaphine and firmly refrained from reaching out with his power to touch the emissary. A fourth member of the group walked behind those two, making them a diamond formation, and carrying the staff of a banner. Six soldiers formed a double column flanking them, their phantom escorts moving outside that.

With the exception of the elf and the dragonborn all appeared to be human, at least so far as Kaln could tell beneath their helmets. Within that species they were of diverse phenotypes, though, with a variety of skin colors and bone structures. He knew they would have been chosen deliberately for that, as a way of displaying that theirs was a large and diverse nation. Rhivaak’s diplomatic corps used the same tactic.

Moreover, Kaln recognized their origin as soon as he saw them. All were in uniforms save the woman in front—uniforms he recognized. As he did the banner they carried.

Shamissar.

Apparently his choice of shopping destination had been a…miscalculation. Hopefully the damage wasn’t great. If Savasmittar just wanted to open a dialogue…

The group stopped one pace before the foot of the stairs, soldiers and diplomats alike moving with military precision. The leader bowed first, the two to either side following her a half-second later and in unison. Soldiers and bannerman remained at attention.

“I thank you for permitting my party entry unnanounced to your presence,” the woman in the lead said as she straightened, in the smooth and powerful voice of a trained public speaker. “I am Ambassador Inshadi Mashamet, and it is my honor to serve at the pleasure of his Excellency Savasmittar Shimmerscale, the Sovereign of Shamissar. May I presume I have the honor of addressing Ar-Kaln Zelekhir?”

Kaln simply wasn’t well-trained enough at these maneuvers to avoid reacting entirely; he managed not to flinch or step back, and hopefully his distance from her all the way up the stairs meant his expression didn’t give away too much.

How could they possibly know his full name? A head of state like Savasmittar doubtless had access to a lot of resources, but how did anyone as far away as Shamissar know these details? Had he revealed… No, the port authorities had been too afraid of Pheneraxa to press for information, and none of the merchants had even asked.

“You have,” he replied. “Welcome, Ambassador. This is an unexpected honor.”

“Pray forgive any discourtesy,” she said, “but yours is a unique position among the dignitaries of all nations—I fear there is no established honorific or formal address for a divine lord of dragons. May I know the proper title by which you prefer to be honored?”

Again, he had to struggle not to wince outright. It was just surprise after surprise… If only Izayaroa were here.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a disadvantage, Ambassador Mashamet. We lack…formalities, here. Believe it or not, I have aspired to be nothing more than a family man. But I suppose I shall have to think about these things, given the, ah, particular nature of my family. I’m sorry if my ill-preparedness is off-putting. You’ve shown nothing but courtesy, and I assure you I have received and appreciated it. I’ll take no offense at any…um, inadvertent ambiguities.”

Was that all right? He felt like he’d spoken too long, waffled too much…

“I thank you, sir,” the Ambassador said gravely, giving him a single deep nod. “That being the case… Forgive me any indelicacy in asking, but as you do not regard yourself as the sovereign of a nation, may I humbly request clarification as to your position on the status of diplomats?”

Emeralaphine and Tiavathyris both shifted above him, as did Pheneraxa. Their movements were not aggressive, but the ambassadors instinctively drew closer together and the soldiers tensed.

Kaln didn’t need to feel their rising wariness to know this was a bad sign. The ambassador expected him to react poorly to whatever she was about to say.

“The person of a diplomat or messenger is absolutely sacrosanct,” Kaln said quietly. “This is universal among civilized people. Whatever you have to say, Ambassador, I guarantee your safety here. No one will treat you with disrespect.”

None of the party relaxed, but Kaln couldn’t hold that against them; it was hard to be anything but tense with five unhappy dragons looming over you. The Ambassador bowed again, however.

“My thanks for that indulgence, sir. I do hope my question gave no offense.”

“I have no cause to complain about your bearing, Ambassador,” Kaln said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “You represent your liege well. As surprised as I am to receive an overture from Savasmittar, I hope this signals the beginning of an amicable relationship.”

“Your pardon, sir,” she said gravely, “but I have not been granted leave to properly open relations. My Sovereign has tasked me with the delivery of a message, which I am to personally convey into your hands if possible. May I have your leave to approach?”

“You may.” Oh, that did not seem like a good sign, either.

The elf held up a long, flat, narrow wooden box, facing the Ambassador, and opened it. Within, upon a velvet lining, lay an ornately edged scroll. Mashamet lifted this delicately, and holding it with reverence in both hands, began climbing the stairs.

She paused two steps below Kaln and bowed her head, holding up the scroll upon her outstretched palms.

“The words of my Sovereign are contained herein—his reasons, thoughts, and all that he wishes to express to you, Ar-Kaln Zelekhir. I have only the honor of serving as his messenger. My task begins and ends with conveying this: Shamissar’s declaration of war.”