H - 103: We Did the Thing (Patreon)

The stillness was momentary, and seemed born entirely of shock. And then Kaln could feel the rising surge of draconic anger on all sides like a flood filling the room.

“You presumptuous little—”

“Emeralaphine,” he interrupted her incipient tirade. “I have been clear on this. Messengers are not to be mistreated. That law is sacred, and universal!”

He was surrounded by ancient, prideful beings who were not accustomed to being blatantly told things they didn’t want to hear by strangers in their own home; the surging torrent of outrage Kaln could sense from all of them was pressing on his own mind to the point he began to fear it would show on his face. No—not all of them. Tiavathyris was a rock of dispassionate focus that served as a lifeline. Of course; she had witnessed, served, and been served far too many declarations of war in her long life to take one personally.

Vanimax snapped his jaws so loudly that the two diplomats below flinched and three soldiers grabbed their swords, thrusting his neck forward. “You step into our home and dare—”

“ENOUGH.”

Kaln slammed as much divine force into his command as he could conjure on the spur of the moment, and his will seized every dragon present in a grip that shocked them out of their emotional reactions.

Below, the Missari dragonborn diplomat twitched in reaction, eyes bulging with shock, and Kaln swiftly withdrew his will from that direction. He still could barely sense the dragonborn, whose presence was more like a shadow than a body to his dragon-related perception, but apparently it was enough for him to sense the exercise of Kaln’s power.

Which, he realized too late, had to be exactly why this one in particular had been sent on this mission, and now would convey this valuable data back to his master. Well…damn it. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that Savasmittar had so quickly put one over on him, as old and wise as the Sovereign had to be, but it still stung.

“There will be no discussion on the matter,” Kaln stated aloud, releasing his hold on the dragons after giving them a moment to feel its pressure. “No one here will shame this household by lashing out at a messenger.”

“Aside from the fact that the head of this family has spoken,” Tiavathyris rumbled, arching her neck, “I would expect all of you to recognize that he is right. If it is to be war, it is all the more important that lines of communication remain open. To come here and deliver this message was a brave thing, Ambassador; you represent your master most honorably. I hope he values your courage appropriately.”

“You have my humble apology for this harsh reception,” Kaln added. Ambassador Mashamet was utterly frozen in place, clearly clinging to outward poise but also clearly stricken by animal terror, which was the reasonable and correct response to being surrounded by angry dragons. “I fear most dragons are not as sociable as your lord; they are proud beings, and not accustomed to being given unwelcome news. I swear that you and your companions are in no danger here.”

“I…thank you,” she said weakly. Then, seeming to remember herself raised her hands again, mutely urging him to take the scroll.

Well, there was really nothing else for it; Savasmittar wasn’t likely to relent if Kaln just refused to read his mail. He accepted the parchment roll in one hand, unable to repress a small sigh of resignation. It was an exceptionally fine piece of work, backed in deep blue silk and with embroidered edges.

At least the Sovereign was taking him seriously. Unless this was some sort of Missari insult he didn’t understand their culture well enough to grasp.

“If you will bear with me for a few moments, Ambassador,” Kaln said, “while I peruse this and prepare a response—”

“I humbly beg your pardon, my lord,” she said, bowing and recovering her composure, “but my master’s instructions are most explicit. The Sovereign of Shamissar also values the sanctity of a messenger’s person, should you care to send one, but I am instructed solely to deliver this missive and depart with all haste.”

“I…see,” said Kaln. That was odd… Wait, or was it? It wasn’t as if he’d ever been involved in international diplomacy before. Or war, for that matter. Damn it, he badly needed Izayaroa here for this!

There was no way this timing was an accident.

“What’s the point of giving us a formal declaration?” Vadaralshi demanded, slapping her tail against the floor for emphasis and causing the Missari delegation to twitch again. “Since when are we even a…a government?”

“One of the more important criteria for statehood is formal recognition by other states,” Kaln said wryly, “so…since right now, I suppose. I’ll have to thank Savasmittar for that. If I cannot offer you and your colleagues hospitality, then, Ambassador… I acknowledge that I have received your declaration, and wish you well upon your journey home. Commander, have them escorted to the border of Dragonvale.”

The Commander materialized at his side, saluting, and then pointed one spectral, skeletal arm at the group below. The Phantom soldiers encircling the Missari delegation saluted in response.

“That is not necessary,” Ambassador Mashamet said hastily. “My people are capable—”

“Excuse me, Ambassador, but this point is not up for discussion,” Kaln interrupted as politely as he could. “As you likely observed on your way here, Dragonvale has something of a bandit problem. We have not removed them because they are no threat to us and we were not expecting legitimate visitors. It would be a great shame upon my household, not to mention a provocation against Sovereign Savasmittar, if you came to harm trying to traverse my territory. And besides,” he added more coolly, holding up the scroll, “since it appears we are now at hostilities, un-escorted Missari will not be walking freely through Dragonvale.”

***

While the Missari delegation marched away, Kaln unrolled and attempted to read Savasmittar’s declaration. It was difficult as five enormous heads attempted to read over his shoulder, which immediately resulted in their physical jockeying for position, not to mention what the breath of five such humongous creatures did to the parchment he was trying to peruse.

He would have shouted at them in exasperation, except the Missari were still in earshot on their long trek to the front door. Kaln had to contend himself with mentally grabbing every dragon by the neck, forcibly separating them, and turning to give them all an exasperated stare.

At least that worked. The drakes subsided, sulking, while his wives re-positioned themselves with more care to be able to look down at the scroll without bumping into each other or literally breathing down his neck.

He was just finishing his second careful read through the text when the Commander materialized before him.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Kaln said. “Our guests have left the lair, I take it?”

The Commander saluted.

“Thank you. Well, this raises a question which has an obvious answer. Savasmittar knows my full name, he knows I am a godling with an aspect related to the control of dragons, and he names me and all three of my consorts in a plot against himself and all other dragons. I am willing to believe we first attracted his attention by visiting Shamissar, but I don’t see any way he could have extracted this information from either that or the follow-up snooping on the edge of Dragonvale that Emeralaphine disrupted. Which leaves…”

“The shadow,” Pheneraxa hissed, lashing her tail.

“Yes, precisely that thing’s modus operandi,” Emeralaphine agreed. “It will use proxies in its campaign against us, as it did against Atraximos. An event of this type, right down to the fact that the specific form it took was a surprise, is not unexpected.”

“So,” said Vanimax, “he’s in the right, then.”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Savasmittar,” the drake clarified, “not the shadow. He is right. We did the thing he’s upset about.”

Emeralaphine and Tiavathyris both arched their necks, staring balefully down at him.

“Yes, you can take turns walloping me for saying so if it makes you feel better,” Vanimax said. He kept his own head low, neck outstretched parallel to the ground and wings drooping to either side in a posture Kaln had learned was meant to be unthreatening but not outright submissive. “Just remember I was in the room when you figured out what Kaln is. All of us were, and we all saw the greed light up all three of your faces at the prospect. We don’t have a leg to stand on with Savasmittar.”

Emeralaphine curled her lips back and inhaled in preparation for what was hopefully going to be a tirade and not a breath attack.

“Enough,” Kaln stated. “Leave him be, Emeralaphine. Vanimax, I suggest you take a politer tone with your aunts, but… Well, you have the right of it this time.”

“Oh, shit,” Vadaralshi whispered, wide-eyed. “Are we the baddies?”

“It goes without saying that we should wait for Izayaroa to return before we discuss plans in detail,” said Tiavathyris, “but that does not mean we should dither. In broad, husband, is it your desire to defeat Shamissar, or sue for peace?”

“Peace,” Kaln answered without hesitation. “Vanimax is right—Savasmittar’s grievance is legitimate, and it would be unconscionable to devastate Shamissar because of it. Besides… I don’t actually believe he wants to fight. My read on this is that he wants to…to be talked down. Think about it—it’s like Vadaralshi said, this shouldn’t have been an affair of state between Shamissar and us. It’s dragon business. Savasmittar’s logical move if he really deemed us a threat to be vanquished would be to rally other dragons and attack us before we knew he was coming.”

“I agree,” said Tiavathyris. “Your conclusion is supported by more than you may realize, husband. What Vanimax described as greed was more…”

“Dragons are either solitary or hierarchical,” Emeralaphine said when she paused for thought. “I would hope by now, husband, you have discerned that none of the three of us desire dominion over other dragons. What dragons like us therefore crave above all else is surety that we will be impervious to attack by other dragons, ideally without having to constantly fight everyone for our own peace and quiet. It’s what made us willing to tolerate a wretched beast like Atraximos for so long. Vile thing that he was, he enabled us to enjoy our seclusion and raise hatchlings without anybody coming to contest us for hoards or territory.”

“What you represent, husband, is the only possible escape from that dilemma,” Tiavathyris agreed. “No dragon can threaten you. This, I think, is also the answer Savasmittar seeks. He would much rather bring himself and his country under your protection than destroy you. This,” she pointed one huge claw at the scroll in Kaln’s hand, “I interpret as his gambit to establish a bargaining position.”

“It’s a good one,” Vanimax opined. “If you’re not planning to beat him compliant, he’s got some cause to insist on major concessions.”

“We’ll see,” Emeralaphine sneered. “That’s exactly the kind of thing we should wait for Izayaroa to discuss in detail. Whatever we have to do about Savasmittar, I think this angle speaks well of him. At least insofar as he absorbed information from the shadow without committing to an outright attack. He is…playing the angles while he learns the truth of the situation. We can deal with someone like that, one way or another.”

“True enough,” Kaln mused. “In fairness, the Entity is probably the most obviously shifty, untrustworthy thing anyone has ever seen, and Savasmittar isn’t a desperate, doomed victim shivering in a cell.”

“You followed that thing around for almost a year,” Vanimax pointed out. Both his sisters thumped him with their tails, which he bore without complaint.

“Yeah, revenge will mess up your head,” Kaln agreed. “I don’t recommend it. Anyway, with regard to the here and now. Even if we can avoid open conflict with Shamissar in the end, we are at a state of declared hostilities now, and it would be reckless to just ignore it. Commander.”

The ghost, who had remained standing silently by all this time, saluted him again.

“There’s only one sensible move for me in this situation,” Kaln said gravely. “Tiavathyris: take command of our troops.”

She inclined her head deeply to him, then turned to the nearby ghost.

“Commander, are your ghosts able to conceal themselves from view and magical senses?”

The Commander saluted.

“Show me.”

As far as Kaln could tell, every ghost in the room vanished completely. Tiavathyris looked around, an approving expression upon her muzzle, before turning back to her counterpart. “Emeralaphine?”

“I can still perceive them,” the white dragon rumbled, “but if I did not already know they were there and there were not a large number of them concentrated upon us, even I might conceivably miss their presence. No magical stealth—no magical defense of any kind—is absolute, but unless the Missari have recourse I haven’t yet imagined, the Phantom Legion should be able to slip by any scouts they send.”

“Excellent,” Tiavathyris said with a broad grin. “Thank you, Commander.”

The ghosts re-materialized, saluting.

“I want the lair locked down,” she continued briskly. “All doors which can be shut are to be kept shut until further notice, and staffed sufficiently to repel any conventional attack. That includes the door to the baths—seal it and keep the bathing chamber fully occupied.”

“Aw, come on,” Vadaralshi whined.

“We’re at war, you twit,” Pheneraxa exclaimed. “If you’re so desperate for a soak you know where all the hot springs are in the mountains!”

“None of those are in my house!”

Tiavathyris whacked her daughter to the floor with her tail and continued speaking. “Increase patrols of the Timekeeper city and particularly the mountain rim surrounding it. Those patrols and the forces securing the lair are to remain visible. I want a second, lighter patrol rotation in both locations. Intensify patrols in Dragonvale under full stealth—I realize you have been deliberately intimidating the bandits against venturing here, but it is now time to switch our posture with regard to them. Do not let them perceive your presence. After doing all that, can you spare further scouts to patrol in a tight ring outside our territory under full stealth?”

The Commander saluted.

“Good, do so. That will suffice for now, Commander, thank you. Emeralaphine, it’s obvious their curse is preventing them from communicating directly and effectively, and that will not do. The majority of what we need from them right now is to gather and report information. Is it possible you can…tweak their condition to let them speak? Or at least write?”

“Of course it’s possible,” Emeralaphine said haughtily. “The problem is that you have us locked down, and that task requires archaeology, not experimentation.”

“How so?” Kaln asked.

“To actually probe and pry at the curse directly, using the specimens under my control, would risk damaging it in its entirety and almost certainly cost several research specimens,” she said with a disapproving grimace. “These are the immortals souls of sapient beings, husband. I am opposed to sacrificing them in the name of knowledge, and not merely on ethical grounds—to do such a thing would contradict several of my pacts and cost me access to valuable magics.”

“Agreed!” he said fervently. “We will not be doing that!”

“Husband,” Tiavathyris said quietly, “there is a reality of war for which you should be prepared. Undead troops will be devastatingly effective against conventional forces which are not expecting them—once. Our army is not invincible. There are established ways to fight undead, and the armies of the Valefolk know them better than most. Remember that the Cryptlands lie in the Evervales. If it comes to true battle, we will lose forces. It is the duty of soldiers to die.”

Every ghost in the room turned to face her directly, saluted once, and then resumed position.

“I understand,” Kaln said gravely, nodding to her. “I don’t mean to belittle that, my lady wife. But Emeralaphine is also correct. If our soldiers have to fall in our defense, so be it. I will not sacrifice them to experimentation. Emeralaphine, you mentioned archaeology?”

“Yes, a matter like this requires research. Undoubtedly I have some of the relevant texts in my own library, enough to at least discern a starting point. Modifying the final revenge of the Amaar-Darash Hegemony will require the study of its mages’ methods and the acquisition of those of their artifacts which still survive. This will mean either contracting adventurers, which is problematic in our situation, or going out to scour the world myself.”

He winced. “I see… All right. Please do check the sources you already possess and see what you can learn, my lady wife. We’ll have to decide how to proceed from there. We must hope to reach some accord with Savasmittar before it comes to actual combat.”

“There is also the matter of the bandits of Dragonvale, husband,” said Tiavathyris. “I have a recommendation.”

Kaln sighed. “I suppose this means we’ll need to clear them out?”

She shook her head. “Very much the opposite. They are no threat to us, but will be a serious impediment to anyone seeking to attack us conventionally. Shamissar is in no position to land troops on this continent; Savasmittar’s likeliest vector of attack is to make alliances with Vale states and contract local adventurers to assault the lair. They may actually be willing to do so once they learn Atraximos is deceased.”

“At this point, some of them may have already figured that out,” Pheneraxa said, “and if Savasmittar has been talking with the shadow, we’d better assume he knows.”

“Oh, he definitely knows,” Vadaralshi agreed. “He’d never have sent people to this lair if he thought the old bastard was still in residence. That’d be like chucking them right into a furnace.”

“What we should do,” Tiavathyris continued, “is suspend our current plans to address the bandits. They will either serve as a passive deterrent to attackers, or our enemies will try to make contact with the gangs and leverage them at us. In either case, I advise using the Phantom Legion to monitor their activities.”

“I follow you,” Kaln said, nodding. “Very well, proceed.”

“Commander,” Tiavathyris said crisply, “see it done. If anything of import is learned from your patrols you must find some way to communicate it to us, if you can do so without imperiling yourself or your forces due to your curse. With regard to minor matters, employ your discretion insofar as you are able to repel incursions against the lair.”

The ghost saluted her, dissipated into smoke, and streamed away toward the front gates.

***

When she returned, it was from the door to her own lair, having apparently arrived back there via teleportation rather than flown bodily overland.

Izayaroa stepped out into the central vault to find Kaln coming to greet her with a tired smile, and the entire rest of the family still in their greater forms following him at a circumspect distance.

“Welcome home, my lady,” he said, taking both her claws in his hands and rising up to kiss her cheek. “I hope your efforts bore fruit?”

“It was a tightly controlled production, as the best political theater is,” she replied, bending down to nuzzle at his forehead. “The most important matters I will of course tell you about in detail, at your leisure, husband. All has been resolved—and that which could not be resolved outright, set decisively in motion. As I expected, the matter of addressing a gaggle of fractious princes and princesses of Zouzh proved more troublesome than it should have been. They simply cannot resist conforming to stereotype.”

“I’m sure they were no match for you,” he said, smiling up at her.

“It goes without saying. It is simply not in their nature to yield to inevitability without fighting, fussing, and flirting. I had to squash all three before the lot were forced to accept their expulsion from my domain.”

“Congratulations on your victory, then,” he said.

Izayaroa inclined her head graciously to him, then looked around at the expressions of the other dragons now gathered, and finally back at his.

“All right,” she said, her smile fading. “How bad is it?”

Vadaralshi barked a coarse laugh. “Well! You remember when Pants and the gang went shopping?”