people_two

Reimond

December 6th, 8:50 AM.

“Father,” she said, quiescent venom bubbling. “What do you truly hope to achieve by sending Samantha to Northpoint? Do you expect her to stay?”

He rested on a throne. ‘Rested.’ He… posed… no. Personated. He personated on a throne. Throne? Throne. “No, darling, I expect her to die.”

The woman failed to stifle flaring nostrils. Her dwarf notetaker noticed. “How you test me, father,” she stated. Half-spat.

She never exhausted of poison, but it always tantalized the venom. She never bit.

“How I test you? How is this in any way your trial? Don’t misunderstand, I don’t forecast with elation. I simply believe it most likely. Through her own negligence, no doubt from the new tools she has at her disposal. I hope she proves us wrong.”

‘Us’. Ha.

“…Fine.”

She didn’t bite!

“That’s not why I’m here, anyways,” she continued. “There is a far more pressing matter to attend to.”

“Oh, no need. ‘That matter’ resolved thirty-one minutes ago.”

“In whose favor?” she cloyed.

Nictate. “Favor is the wrong word. But, if any, mine. It isn’t your concern, and that should be enough.”

“Are you going to…” she caught her tongue. Yes, I am playing dumb. Pounce!

“What do you want from me, father?” Resigned. No! The game is not over until you win!

“I don’t want anything from you, darling. What you’ve achieved with your life is more than enough. Be proud, and hang your head high, for all you’ve achieved.”

“You’d say that regardless of what I’d achieved,” she ventured.

“Well, perhaps. I may be prescient, but I’m not alterscient.” He was not prescient, oh gods he was not prescient. He was trying.

“Anything is enough for you. I should, I should know my place. There’s nothing more for me to achieve. I’ve exhausted my telos.”

“How you twist my words, darling!” — and how I twist my words! — “Your telos is for only you to determine. It’s not my place to proclaim it for you.”

He’d shown his hand. Fie. But, no, she’d bite regardless? Hmm.

“Not your place… you’re the fucking king!” Her dwarf was shocked.

“And that gives me the right to tell you how to live your life?” She was breaking, oh, oh.

“Father…” she growled breathily, and slowed her speaking to a crawl, “as scion of Felkner, I have a duty to both myself and my people to, at the bare minimum, understand the state of the country. At the moment, I’m asking for nothing more. Who, pray tell, is to inherit your throne? Or is it no one at all?”

“We’ll consider that if the next heir disappears,” he said. “Agarma.”

And her face was filled with relief. Nictate. Damn. Oh, no, not relief, she was thinking.

The throne was 5 meters above the ground where she stood, in the center of a radius 10 meter semicircle of stairs. She stood at the bottom, looking up.

It’s unlikely she could kill him if she tried. She was physically weak. She didn’t have practice casting spells, besides her gravity. Her bones were weak, she’d die under her own weight if she stopped channeling. Her dwarf would’ve been more of a challenge, if he was concealing something below his beard, or even just had a knife in his satchel.

He’d give it to her if she tried. But she wouldn’t.

“And if he’d abdicate?” she said.

“He will be disowned, stripped of his title, property, and slave.” He couldn’t do that, not really. Definitely title, maybe property, definitely not slave.

“Father.”

“Yes, daughter?”

“Why choose him?”

“Honestly? He’d kill me if I didn’t.”

She slowly marched up the stairs.

He had a sword hilted on his right. It’d been 2 years since he’d really swung it, but he trusted his dexterity enough to miss her.

She paused 2 steps up. “What is any of this? This arbitrary capitulation, this lack of principles? Who are you to say your death isn’t preferable to puppeting his telos?” She continued ascending. “You’re in ill spirits, father. Possessed. If I were to threaten to kill you, would that justify my rule?”

“Yes.”

And she stopped. “Of course it would,” she muttered. “That’s all this is. Don’t think I’m blind, father, I see exactly what you’re doing. But you, you don’t. You flood the crown with hypocrisy to drown its legitimacy, but it can never die. Nothing will change the overthrow of Casse and the destruction of Holomorpheus. You and the Vanguard did good. You did very good. You, too, should,” she swallowed, almost gagged, “should hold your head high.”

“We’re just people, darling.”