That night, Venetim and Xylo were drinking away their cares in the barracks.
“This is bad,” Xylo said, groaning and draining his cup of wine. It was a line Venetim often heard from Dotta. He also used it from time to time, but tonight, it was Xylo’s turn. “That high priest is a real pain in the ass.”
“…Yes. At this rate, he won’t even be in the running.”
“How are the other candidates doing? Sometimes the votes get split down the middle and they can’t decide. Then they have to hold another election, right? Maybe then we’d have more time to convince him.”
“That seems unlikely. There are three front-runners right now, and one of them already has a clear advantage over the other two.”
The Temple currently had twenty-eight priests. Three among them were strong candidates for archpriest, and of those, High Priest Mirose was favored to win. Rumor had it that her support was only growing, and barring any upsets, she seemed a shoo-in to win.
Venetim recalled what he’d heard at the Adventurers Guild.
“That old lady Mirose is killin’ it.”
“She’s good at stayin’ neutral and keepin’ things balanced. Plus, she’s loaded. She’s funding the Temple’s academies and loaning cash to the Craftsmens Guild right out of her own pocket. Everyone owes her money, and the one with money always wins. That’s just how the world works.”
Lending money was a very effective strategy. Most people used it. Nicold was the oddball for giving money away unconditionally.
“Even Verkle Corp is backing her. There’s no way the old broad is gonna lose.”
It would be impossible for Venetim to undermine Mirose’s faction and to persuade or bribe a majority of the other high priests. He lacked the patience, the motivation, and most importantly, the necessary funds.
There has to be an easier way to do this.
Venetim always sought the path of least resistance, avoiding difficulties and taking shortcuts whenever possible…and that was why he always wound up telling lies. He had no intention to repent, of course. After all, remorse was tedious and unpleasant.
“All I can think of is to threaten the guy. But I doubt it’d work on a guy like Ibuton.” Xylo took a swig of his drink. He sounded resigned. “I guess we’ll have to take a more direct approach. Maybe we could get Teoritta to ask him… On second thought, even a goddess probably couldn’t sway that hardheaded high priest.”
The fact that Xylo was referring to him as a high priest and not as an asshole was a compliment and a rare sign of respect.
“What do you want to do?” he asked Venetim. “If I have to hear Adhiff say, ‘I knew you’d fail,’ I might lose it. And Kafzen said the coexisters have their…”
He began to say something, then stopped midsentence, lowered his gaze, and fell deep into thought. After a moment, he poured himself another glass of wine.
“Whatever. Venetim, you got any ideas? I’m close to giving up.”
Venetim couldn’t complain. He knew Xylo wasn’t good at this sort of thing. The man was far too detached from politics and worldly affairs. Even when he put his mind to it, he could only come up with painfully simple, straightforward ideas.
In other words, I have to come up with something!
It was a daunting task, but at least he had direction. If he wasn’t even sure what to do, he might’ve been stuck, unable to move forward. But right now, he knew exactly what his task was.
“At any rate, we need to use any means possible to make High Priest Ibuton run for archpriest.”
“Yeah… Though I’m a little concerned by the phrase ‘any means possible’…”
“If he won’t run on his own, then our only choice is to make at least five other high priests nominate him. I’ll pick ones who don’t belong to any faction and bribe them.”
“‘Bribe’? With what money?”
“I know of someone with the necessary funds.”
In general, Venetim liked to have others do whatever he couldn’t. Perhaps that was why he was best suited to the role of commander. What’s more, while he was generally useless, he’d never once gotten in Xylo’s or Jayce’s way.
“Who?” Xylo looked at him with suspicion.
He could only think of one person with the power to buy off a majority of the high priests and secure their votes for Ibuton: the head of the First Capital branch of the Verkle Development Corporation.
That person was Fidius Verkle, the eldest son of the Verkle family and Venetim’s older brother. He was the front-runner to become the next head of the family, and one of the clan’s most talented entrepreneurs.
“My older brother, Fidius Verkle.”
“…What?” Xylo’s jaw dropped. “Your brother…is who? Verkle?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I may not look it, but I’m actually a member of the Verkle family. I was exiled, though. Incidentally, I’m the fourth child. I have one older brother, two older sisters, and one younger brother.”
“I have no idea how much of that is true,” Xylo muttered, tossing a handful of nuts into his mouth. “But if we can get Verkle Corp on our side, then bribing five priests shouldn’t be an issue. That said…”
Xylo was suspicious of Venetim’s claims, but he didn’t have any better options.
“Can you even convince your brother to do that?” he asked. “I mean, I’m sure you don’t get along.”
“It won’t be a problem. My older brother loves me dearly.”
“…Be straight with me. How much of this is true and how much is coming straight out of your ass? Please don’t tell me you made the whole thing up.”
“It’s all true. Why are you so skeptical?”
“Because you’re Venetim.”
What a terrible thing to say, thought Venetim. He already knew where Fidius was staying in the First Capital. All he had to do now was stake out his brother’s route home. Luckily, he’d scraped together enough money to hire some collaborators, and he’d already set them in motion.
“Either way, we don’t have a choice. We have to succeed, right? Or are you going to give up just because you don’t trust me?”
“Like hell! Fine. You’re the boss. This is just another one of your big cons anyway. What do you want me to do?”
“I have a favor to ask of you…but it’s going to be rather dangerous. Are you up for it?”