Chapter 223: There We Have the Salad

Once again, I found myself flying out of Astrye, sizzling snowflakes in my wake. Anxiety? Check. And… that was the prevailing emotion, really.

Half a dozen sources all warring for attention and keeping me locked in a struggle to just keep my mind where it needed to be: the sky, the ground, and the summit ahead of me. Metaphorical—though I had plenty of literal options to choose.

I’d almost like some of Envy’s minions to fight.

Almost.

Fortunately Linthel was only a short flight away, and I landed at a familiar fort outside the city with several hours left before the summit. I considered dropping into Bourick’s workshop to see if he liked the durian I’d left; I also considered visiting Abby’s grave.

Instead, I marched straight toward the castle without preamble, stuck in human form to keep everything nice and easy. I was immediately glad I’d done so, as the city guard was swarming like a kicked ants’ next. More than once, I spotted signs of damage to buildings—or the street itself. Waves of anger swelled through the city like a whelming tide, and my jaw tensed.

By one such damaged place, next to shattered glass and with the faint, familiar scent of blood in the air, I stopped.

“What happened here?” I asked the two guards standing nearby.

“Move along,” came the curt reply. Even if the speaker’s eyes widened at my general size, he held a firm, tired gaze on me.

I pulled just a bit of his anger, and pushed just a little. “I’m from out of the city, but I used to live near here.” Not completely a lie, but it might as well have been.

“The same Ordia-sponsored ruffians the king’s warned about. Please be on your way.” The cut of his jaw suggested this was no suggestion.

The “please” in that sentence was carrying a heavy, heavy burden. I considered replying that I was a marchioness, that I did in fact have a right to know. Except I was traveling on foot, without escort, and dressed as a common traveler. Well, more a particularly well-off common traveler, but the point still stood.

Women of nobility rarely favored trousers. Much less a complete lack of the sort of defensively-crafted image and posture one needed to thrive amongst nobility. Marchioness of a small, rural region or no, I appeared like a noble the same way a durian did a turnip.

So instead, I gave a curt nod and turned my course for the Gelles Company headquarters in the city. Even if I weren’t part of the company any longer, I had a sneaking suspicion they’d welcome an exchange of information.

Doubly so as a discreet glance with aura sight picked up lingering traces of magic in more than one of these sites of disturbance. Either a gang of rogue mages was indiscriminately harassing the city, or this was Envy and Avarice’s doing.

Though I did suppose there was an outside chance King Carvalon was playing some sort of propaganda campaign. The “Ordia-sponsored” line from the guard was clearly an intentional fabrication. Though I hoped the king wouldn’t harm his own subjects directly to advance his goals. If the Great Linthel Fire was less a result of overconfidence and ignorance and more of malice, then I supposed Edath would quickly be short a king.

Still trying to excise thoughts of regicide, I arrived at the company office to find a buzzing hive of activity. Armored mercs and freelancers of various cut milled about the strained entrance. Let me guess, the city guard pressed you into this like they’d done the Linthel branch against Garvin?

Unfortunately, seeing over an entire crowd does not in fact make the line go faster. And while I did in fact have more ways to skip ahead than I could count on my fingers—even without my human guise—tipping the pot about to boil over was not something I intended to do.

Continue to force analogies while I waited, however? Yes, absolutely.

At least here, I blended in… more. The looks changed from “huh” to “whoa,” and I managed to smalltalk my way through the blob of a line just a little faster. Soon enough, I arrived at the reception desk, where the exhausted-looking clerk took one look at me and failed to suppress a groan.

“I’d like to see the branch master, Arden,” I said as politely as I could.

“Of course you would,” they muttered. “And I suppose I ought to grant this request despite your status as a former member?”

“That would make this a lot easier,” I agreed.

One eye twitched as they thought in silence for a long moment. Then, in a tired cadence they gave directions I half remembered, finishing with a half whispered, “I didn’t send you. You just barged in.”

“As I am wont to do,” I agreed, as though I’d not just waited patiently in line the last half hour. Good thing I’m still early for the king’s summons.

One short walk later, and I rapped politely on Arden’s door. I could hear the scritch-scritch of someone writing furiously on the other side. It didn’t stop.

So, I waited.

Then when I heard a pause, I knocked again, harder.

This time, the sound of writing stopped.

“It’s Zarenna,” I said before I could be told to leave.

The response took a moment, and sounded very tired when it came.

“Come in.”

I did so quickly, shrugging out of my human guise before I’d even closed the door, magic-made clothes adapting in a way I’d have thought impossible months ago.

“Thanks for seeing me on literally no notice.” I didn’t bother sitting—not that the chair had any room to sit with the pile of requisition notices stacked up to the top of its back.

Behind the desk, Arden looked a little less haggard than I’d imagined, though he definitely still had bags under his eyes. He fixed me with a glare and a twitch at the corner of his mouth ticked twice before he spoke.

“What do you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on in the city. And if it has anything to do with the same demon attacks you were worried about in Astrye when you last barged into my office.”

He sighed heavily. “That’s what I’d like to know. And I suppose I was overly optimistic to assume you knew.”

“I… might. And I don’t mean who’s behind it.” I furrowed my brow. “Wait, no I mean that I might know who’s behind it—what I don’t know is literally what’s happening. Is it demon attacks?”

Another long exhale. “Not just demons. But yes, demons and a seeming madness upon the city. From what I hear of other branches, it’s sporadic in the countryside too—the roads are getting dangerous.”

“A seeming madness?”

“A spike in murders and acts of violence over the most petty of reasons that’s seen the guard drag us into city affairs.”

I nodded. “That sounds like Envy’s doing.”

“Envy? I believe you’ve mentioned the name before, but please remind me.”

“Another sovereign demon. A very malicious one who can push people’s, well, envy into horrific impulses.”

Arden’s tired eyes slowly widened. “Envy… That could fit. Blast, that does fit. Can we do anything about this ‘Envy’ demon?”

I swallowed. “Well… I don’t know. I know they can be hurt, and I’m starting to get an idea of what they’re planning, but I can’t take them on myself.”

Arden slumped in his chair. “Envy’s proxies then? That means they’re against more than just you directly?”

I thought about how fast they could move, but I doubted they could be in two places at once. “Yes, I think so.”

“You… think so?”

I blinked. “Yes.”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“Oh.” I coughed. “Well…. as it stands, I don’t believe they can be in multiple places at once. Though Avarice is working with them. My guess is that they’ve got a few demons in the city manipulating people. These may be the same causing the attacks.” I thought back to Lockmoth. “It’s also likely they’ve been giving resources to bad actors.”

Like summoning, but I didn’t want to open that can of worms right now.

Arden frowned. “That makes sense… and is also easily inferred. Alright, we will try to target the citizens—find people who’d be prime targets for an envy or avarice demon. Get information on the demons from them, and send in anyone in the Church who’s still willing to work with us.

“In return, I expect you to move against them, for your own sake if nothing else.”

I kept my mouth firmly shut about that even as questions about the literal Church army that must have moved through the area twice recently yearned to break free. That was a question for the king, and not for someone else to know what and who they’re after.

He took my silence and slight nod as an excuse to continue. “You wouldn’t happen to be the demon the Church was after with that army, would you?”

Shit. “I was.”

I could have lied. I’m certain most people in my position would lie. But the Church knew my name and I doubted they’d keep quiet about who and what I was. Plus, Arden was an ally.

“I’ll assume their ire was unfounded.”

I blinked. Was Arden just… dropping it? Was he trusting me? That felt… really nice actually.

“Please don’t make this room any warmer.”

“Oh, sorry.” I flushed crimson as I turned down the heat I’d been unconsciously putting out. “Could… you tell me what happened, with the army that moved through here?”

He inhaled sharply. “I don’t have time for the whole story, so I’ll give you the short version. They claim that they aren’t violating the Treaty of Gedon, under the clause that Edath is ‘under the sway of demons’ and ‘cannot govern itself effectively.’”

“Are those clauses… word for word?”

“Not quite—this is the fast version, remember? There’s a laundry list of caveats and proof standards, involving correspondence between the King of Edath and the Empress.”

“That still sounds unfair.”

Arden shrugged. “I think that was the point. Autonomy for Edath, but easy conditions to revoke it. After all, the war was more a standstill than a victory for either side. But I’m not here to discuss politics and I really do not have the time to get into the weeds.

“What you need to know is that the Church is claiming Edath cannot function independently, the Empress hasn’t yet announced a decision, and the Church moved in under the assumption she would take their side.”

“King Carvalon must be furious.”

“Oh absolutely.” Arden pointed to a stack of folded papers spilling out across a nearby table. “That’s all royal correspondence. And a good chunk of that has been announced to the people as well.”

A pit started forming in my stomach. “You don’t think he’s advocating war, do you?”

Arden shook his head. “I hope not. But I will give him this much: I believe, regardless of your guilt in the matter, that the Church has overstepped the bounds of the Treaty. The best hope to avoid war is the Empress siding against the Church.”

“How likely is that?”

Another long sigh. “I don’t know, truth be told. I’d say perhaps a coin flip at best. I worry what would happen should she decline to exercise her authority. Ah, I said I wouldn’t get into this. You should go—unless you have any more information about Envy?”

I nodded and gave a brief description of their form and abilities that I had seen, along with the general characteristics I’d seen in envy demons. Arden thanked me, then summarily kicked me out of his office.

Back in the hallway, my mind was reeling. Not just from the Church quite possibly causing a war over my existence out of sheer zealotry, but also from the implications of Imperial inaction. I’d gotten the fast-track version of a noble’s education, to put it mildly. But it was enough to know one very important thing:

If the Empress doesn’t reign in the Church, then the Church might as well run the Empire.

Now that was a scary thought. Almost as scary as the thought that perhaps Envy had a hand in manipulating the Church on the whole as they had Mordwell. It was distantly possible, I supposed, though I somehow doubted Yevon was in Envy’s pocket, and if Envy had the whole Church it begged the question why Finley and Mordwell had gone the direction they had.

All in all, it was a fine mess.

“And there we have the salad,” I muttered under my breath as I left the Gelles Company.

And I hadn’t even made it into the inner city yet. The old walls were, of course, guarded and gatekept in a way I’d never seen. And the line wasn’t terribly short either. I wasn’t in exactly a fine mood by the time I made it to the front.

“Marchioness Zarenna Miller. I’ve been summoned by the king.” Did I just hiss? “Sorry, long trip,” I added in what I hoped was a less acerbic voice.

Predictably, one of them passed the message on to someone inside. I tapped my foot while I waited and the guards recovered enough to look as annoyed as I found myself becoming. Yes, I considered myself a citizen of Edath.

As such, I currently considered King Carvalon my king, and that I was bound by the rules and laws of the land. Or at least the laws; the king… maybe. Astrye would gain no benefit from any further violence, nor would it be safe to my people were I to be asked away on some errand.

Nor would I fight purely for King Carvalon; I’d been over the reasons, and they painted me an awful hypocrite trying to have my cake and eat it too. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to a fight.

“You may enter.”

Let’s hope there’s no drama in the castle proper. I wanted three things: a long bath, a hot meal, and a written guide to what in the demonic plane I was supposed to do.