H - 139: I Am Not Sticking My Nose Into That (Patreon)

As life kept changing, so too did Kaln’s morning routine.

Rather than chatting with the Commander while he walked first thing after waking, today he found himself seated behind the desk in his study, with Clarent and Sharamin standing before him and his new ghostly secretary, Lieutenant Wirven, quietly taking notes in the corner.

At least he already had the study, though he’d originally intended the space to be a reading room; it was lined with shelves loaded with Kaln’s personal collection of books, a blend of gifts from his family, orders via the Silver Hound Trading company, interesting tomes from Atraximos’s hoard, and impulse purchases from their shopping trip in Shamissar. Naturally it was nothing compared to Emeralaphine’s library, but they were his. In fact, he now owned more books than he ever had in his life.

That was a more satisfying feeling than owning a giant fortune and ruling a nation.

“It was indeed a lapse,” Clarent was saying, “but not a catastrophic one. I concur that sentries should not have allowed me to get as far as I did without direct orders, but it’s not as if I was granted free reign. The soldiers kept me under strict guard until I was directly in the presence of Lady Emeralaphine, who of course is capable of controlling any potential interloper.”

“How did you persuade them to bring you inside?” Kaln asked.

“By exploiting uncertainty, my lord. The Phantom Legion are members of a now-extinct culture, operating in a land whose culture and history they barely know, at the behest of a brand-new polity with scarcely any historical precedent. There are gaps in their understanding; their awareness of this provides levers which a skilled talker can pull to induce confusion. Fortunately, this is a problem which proposes its own solution.”

He looked over at Commander Sharamin, who nodded and took over delivering their report.

“Proper procedure is how we avoid situations like this, and I assure you the Hegemony had them. The Legions, however, are trained to be flexible and responsive to local needs, and the tension between these two goals created the gap Monsieur Clarent was able to exploit, as would any similarly skilled agent. I have ordered Clerk-Captain Maravan to conduct a review of Legion procedures, identify any points of conflict with Dragonvale’s needs, and draft revised procedures on which the troops can be trained. I expect to have it on your desk for approval in three days at the latest, my lord. Should any delay arise, I will give you as much advance warning as possible.”

“An impressively quick turnaround,” said Kaln, “but I have no reason to doubt you. Very good, Commander. Since we are on the subject, do you foresee any significant cultural tensions arising from the difference between Darashi and Vale traditions?”

Sharamin shook his head. “It would have been harder to integrate with the Valeri we knew, my lord. Now… Well, in a very real sense, we find ourselves being incorporated into one of our own descendant cultures. Your own policies and values have been shaped by the works of Empress Izayaroa, and my review of Rhiva jurisprudence has revealed that she took a great deal of direct inspiration from the Hegemony’s codes and practices.”

“Fascinating,” Kaln murmured, frowning. “I actually did not know that. It embarrasses me to say I was broadly ignorant of your culture until I unsealed that scroll and you became relevant to my interests.”

“That is true of most people, my lord,” Sharamin said with a smile.

“The fall of Amaar-Darash has become a cautionary fable,” said Clarent, “repeated by unworthy rulers, against the risks of excessive benevolence toward their subjects. A transparent ploy, but over the centuries, an effective one. Her Excellency is not alone in having divined useful lessons from Darashi history while distancing herself from their name.”

“I see.” Still frowning, Kaln leaned back in his chair, letting his gaze wander to the distance. “Well, then. We shall see what can be done about that.”

Clarent cleared his throat diffidently. “A concern for the future, my lord. For now, I was most flattered when Corporal Mivrin delivered your invitation to join your family for breakfast.”

Kaln blinked. “Corporal who?”

“Spooky, sir,” Sharamin said with a smile.

“Oh! Of course, right.”

“By your leave,” Clarent continued, “might I ask for a…rain check?”

“Of course,” Kaln replied. “I simply didn’t want to make you feel unwelcome.”

“Most kind of you, my lord, and I shall gratefully take advantage another time. But for my first full day, I would like to begin by chowing down with the troops.”

Slowly, Kaln tilted his head to one side. “The… You mean the trainees? The Legionaries don’t eat…”

“Just so, my lord.”

“If…you like? Provided Tiavathyris does not object, I don’t either. Clarent, I have to warn you, quite a few of those people specifically despise agents of Vale state intelligence. None of my people are clinging to a specific grudge against Boisverd, or if so it is of such minor importance that the Storyteller didn’t even bring it up, but still…”

“I consider it good exercise,” Clarent said smoothly. “I’ve been ingratiating myself with those who want to kill me for my entire career. The thing, my lord, is that I will need agents, and I’m afraid that for my purposes, ghosts won’t do, no matter how capable. I have a specific need to get acquainted with our only human personnel… And also butter up their General, some of whose troops I fully intend to poach.”

“Dragons like gifts,” Kaln said somberly, “but Tiavathyris, in particular, hates being buttered up. She responds well to sincerity. I think you would have better luck telling her outright, up front, what you are doing, and trusting her to see that it is in Dragonvale’s best interests.”

“Ah! Now that, my lord, is the kind of crucial character insight that is the lifeblood of my craft. My deepest thanks for the perspective.”

“You are welcome. If that’s all, gentlemen?”

“One other thing,” Clarent said with a small frown. “Nothing urgent, my lord, but I wanted to make sure you were aware as soon as possible, before laying any plans—just in case you haven’t already been forewarned.”

“Oh?”

“The great risk posed by Legionaries being persuaded to escort someone inside the vault is that they might then be incapacitated and leave the intruder free to act, and this is a concern that will also apply to any overt conflicts that occur between our forces and those of any Vale states. While the Dread loomed largest in the public consciousness as the great threat of the Evervales, remember that the Cryptlands are also located here. In fact, they are near the center of the region we consider the Evervales.”

Kaln leaned forward, resting his arms upon the desk. “It’s been mentioned to me that there are known counters to undead soldiers…”

“Yes, sir,” Clarent said somberly, nodding, “and the Valefolk are the foremost experts in them. We deal with hostile undead as a matter of course. When major undead events occur anywhere, experts and sometimes armies from the Evervales are usually hired to address them. In a sense… The Phantom Legion may be a devastatingly effective force in their own right, but the Evervales are the most disadvantageous ground possible for their deployment.”

He glanced back and forth between Clarent and Sharamin. “How severe is the danger?”

“We must assume,” Clarent answered, “that any adventuring mage, any priest of any religion, and the majority of military units will be prepared to swiftly neutralize undead.”

“Many of those are universally applicable,” the Commander added, “but the Legion are also a fundamentally different kind of thing than comes trickling out of the Cryptlands, sir. The most important difference is that our curse makes us, in a sense, a single collective entity for magical purposes. We can’t lose individuals to banishment or containment; any Legionary who is lost can be regenerated from the remaining whole with their personality and memories fully intact. That takes time and energy, however. The only way for us to permanently lose soldiers would be if the Legion in its entirety were destroyed.”

“Hypothetically,” said Kaln, “how probable is that?”

“I am reluctant to dismiss anything as truly impossible, but that is not an event about which I worry, sir. It would take overwhelming magical power on the scale of at least a creature like Emeralaphine, or more practically, a complete set of Hegemony spell control artifacts. And since, thanks to Lady Cora, we now possess one of those, even that would not work.”

“The concern is temporary incapacitation,” Clarent said, nodding. “We rely on the Phantom Legion for defense in detail. Valefolk enemies are particularly well-suited to neutralizing them. Properly training troops takes time, but once we have the forces, my lord, I strongly recommend that no defensive point be manned exclusively by phantom soldiers.”

“I see,” Kaln said. “Very well, gentlemen, your advice is noted. It will indeed by some time before we have the personnel to act on it, but I will make it known to Tiavathyris that this is a priority.”

Clarent bowed and Sharamin saluted.

“If that’s it for today, gentlemen, thank you for your report. You are dismissed. Lieutenant, I’ll call you when I need you again.”

“Yes, sir!” three voices chorused.

***

Kaln stepped outside his front door to find Vanimax loitering about his house in his smaller form. Of all the dragons, Vanimax seemed overall least inclined to walk on two legs, but apparently the draconic etiquette still held; this vault was Kaln’s territory and not to be encroached upon in the greater form.

“Hey, Max, good morning,” Kaln said. “I didn’t see you get in last night.”

“Yeah, I… Well, after the flight back, you’d already turned in. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I appreciate that,” Kaln said solemnly. Dragons did not seem to have many sexual taboos, or to be uncomfortable around the topic, but he’d had Izayaroa in his room last night—in fact, she had coaxed him to retire early. It was in everyone’s best interest that Vanimax had not interrupted. “How did your mission go?”

“Perfectly, I think.” The drake fell into step alongside Kaln as he began making his unhurried way toward the front entry of the vault, drawn by the appetizing smells of breakfast. “The guy was exactly where Emeralaphine said he’d be. Perfectly displayed, they were having some kind of party on the roof. All I had to do was land there.”

“Nice! Once in a while, things do work out conveniently.”

“Yep. I read him your message and didn’t hurt anyone—well, they were all terrified, but that’s just sense when a surprise dragon lands on you.”

“Indeed.”

“I opened with a joke, like you suggested,” Vanimax added, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. “I’m…not sure how well it went over.”

“I think we can forgive that audience for not being receptive,” Kaln reassured him. “The attempt was the important thing—a group of Vale nobles would above all be baffled by humor from a dragon. We don’t need to impress them with your comedy stylings, we need to make them nervous about how little they understand you.”

“Well, mission accomplished, then,” Vanimax said with more confidence. “Nobody interrupted me reading your letter, and the fool in question was about as pissed off as we expected. He actually insulted me after I finished.”

“Oh?” Kaln tried to sound curious and not wary.

Vanimax nodded. “Pretty much exactly the way you and Mother said he might. These creatures really are predictable, aren’t they?”

“Humans with too much power and privilege tend to get that way,” Kaln agreed. “The scripts they follow can be complicated, but they are scripts. It’s fundamentally not unlike hunting game, you just have to know the nature of the beast.”

“Hm. Well, I hit him with as many of the put-downs Mother suggested as I could remember. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person shut up so hard without being killed. That felt…” He hesitated, scowling. “It felt like cheating, to be honest. I don’t think I could’ve been as…verbally clever, without help. Makes it feel like not as much of a victory.”

“Now, I don’t think that’s fair,” Kaln mused. “Not many soldiers are also blacksmiths; there’s no shame at all in using weapons created by the best craftsperson you can find. And when it comes to wordplay, your mother is very hard to beat.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” Vanimax grumbled. “When she’s really mad at me I’d honestly rather she come at me with claws and teeth rather than a tongue-lashing.”

Grinning, Kaln nodded. “We agree. Fine work, Vanimax; thank you for your help. It’s a great reassurance to know I can count on you.”

The drake broke out in a smile and visibly straightened his posture, which made Kaln both satisfied and vaguely sad. Vanimax had not grown up unloved, he knew, but he clearly was unaccustomed to praise and validation.

“Sounds like a job well done,” said Clarent, materializing alongside them nearly as abruptly as Sharamin did; it was all Kaln could do not to startle like a deer. “My congratulations, Lord Vanimax. If I might make a suggestion, Dragonlord, perhaps we should attempt to have the course of his mission reviewed by the Storyteller?”

Vanimax came to a stop, turning a dangerous scowl on the spymaster. “Do you think I not only bungled such a simple task, but then came back here and lied about it?”

“Very much nothing of the kind, my lord,” Clarent said soothingly. “In fact, the suggestion has nothing to do with your actual mission—I find it unlikely that there’s anything to be learned from analyzing a retreat of nobles at the Castle Under. This is about the Storyteller. Its great weakness is that to use it, we must have the subject physically present and placed within it, which has confined its use to the purely defensive. I believe it could also be used offensively, however, if we ask it careful questions. If the device is able to produce detailed and accurate images of anything a subject has done, then we would have the capacity to analyze at our leisure and in impossibly thorough detail any place one of our people has visited. If it proves to work as I hope, Dragonvale could use any personnel as expert spies, just by reconstructing the places they have been.”

Kaln had already stopped walking when Vanimax did, otherwise he would have now.

“That…had…never even occurred to me,” he whispered.

“This is what you pay me for, my lord,” Clarent said with a bow.

“If this does work,” Kaln continued, frowning deeply, “it must be kept absolutely secret. Otherwise no one from Dragonvale will ever be tolerated anywhere, which would cut us off from all diplomacy and trade. And if we betray suspiciously thorough knowledge of any location where one of our people has recently been, anyone who knows about the Storyteller will put it together and a universal boycott of Dragonvale will ensue.”

“Indeed, sir, well spotted,” Clarent agreed gravely.

“All right,” said Kaln, “if Vanimax is willing, then I’ll agree to the test. But thereafter, you are never to do this, except in cases where the specific need is extreme and we can be assured of secrecy, and even then only with my personal permission.”

“Very good, my lord,” said the spymaster, again bowing. “A wise precaution.”

“Sure,” said Vanimax with a shrug when they both turned to him. “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with Raxa for a bit, even if it’s just for work. She’s been awfully busy with that thing lately, and she and the girls are off to Boisverd… Wait, was that tomorrow or today?”

“The plan is for them to depart this evening,” said Kaln. “Thanks, Max, I appreciate your time. And…let’s not mention this over breakfast, especially in front of Nashma. I’ll bring Raxa and Captain Tirial up to speed later.”

“Got it, good call,” Vanimax agreed. “There are other things to talk about, anyway. Like when Raxa and Percy are going to stop helplessly flapping about and kiss already.”

They had just started moving again; at this, Kaln and Clarent both came to a sharp halt, turning to stare at him.

“I fully approve, for the record,” the drake clarified. “Just…from a safe distance. I am not sticking my nose into that. Hard to guess which of them would be more furious.”

“Wise,” Kaln said emphatically.

“You two should think about meddling, however,” Vanimax continued blithely. “Kaln, you’re great with people, and I assume this character is a conniving manipulator.”

“One of the worst,” Clarent acknowledged with a benign smile.

“The point is, they’re gonna need some help,” Vanimax insisted. “Neither has any idea how to flirt and at least one is completely impervious to social cues. Unless somebody rattles their cage this is going to go on long enough for Percy’s mortal lifespan to become a problem.”

Kaln turned to Clarent, who smiled, held up both hands, and took one step backward.

“I must demur as to the running of your household, my lord.”

“Yeah,” he sight, “I was afraid you would.”