This cry came from a young half-elf woman, a cleric of the Valkyrie. She wore armor that looked more like underwear beneath an outer garment of sheer silk, and she was present on behalf of the chief cleric of the Valkyrie’s temple. Word was that she used to be an adventurer, or perhaps still was, and that some of those standing guard outside the room she counted among her friends.
King’s Sister heaved a sigh, having at least escaped the paladin’s immediate attention. She leaned back in her chair. She was sweating and so, so tired.
“They show a lack of respect toward women. Are they not the outfits of gladiators? Truly, a symbol of barbarity.”
“They are a sign that anyone can rise to sit with our god, even if they began as a slave!”
However, the paladin (was he really a servant of the Supreme God? King’s Sister couldn’t believe it) continued to expound. “The whole problem is that we have so many stories lauding slaves! Take the barbarian king in the north…”
Oops! Good thing she’s not here, King’s Sister thought. The letter she’d received from her friend recently had been full of praise for the warriors of the north.
“The saga of a man who kills and rapes and conquers territory, all in order to become king? Such base material should be thrown out like the trash it is.”
“That’s ridiculous!” A slow sigh came from the young woman present on behalf of the temple of the God of Knowledge. “Is that how you see those heroic tales? As nothing but praise of murder and violation?”
“It’s wrong to disseminate materials so readily susceptible to such interpretations…”
“Those stories were born in a land that worships the Smithy God and the sadistic god. They come from a worldview with a completely different outlook on violence from ours.”
At the calm young woman’s feet, King’s Sister caught glimpses of a strange white creature. It met her gaze, and of all things, it winked and pressed its forepaws to its mouth.
Don’t worry… I won’t say anything.
It seemed all too clear that if she did, it would only set the paladin off afresh.
“Say what you will, but their land is an ally of our kingdom now. They’re going to have to reform their thinking.”
“So you place limits on knowledge and culture and go back in history to pass judgment on the past? You must be a far greater being than I can even imagine. How hopeless.” The young woman, beloved of the God of Knowledge, shook her head, and King’s Sister nodded along. She couldn’t have agreed more, from the bottom of her heart.
“Perhaps I might offer a word?” came a firm voice from the cleric of the Trade God, who had been watching silently until that moment. A silver-haired woman with eyes like ice, she raised her hand to speak with a glance around the table. “There are, in fact, many words I would like to offer, but I shall start with one.”
King’s Sister caught sight of her brother, who smirked and nodded.
Does he know her?
It was possible. The woman was absolutely lovely, but King’s Sister couldn’t seem to recall having seen her before. She almost felt like the wind, as if she might slip past and disappear as easily as she came.
“You said that we should cease paying salaries to the padfoots, because this is not a zoo, did you not?”
“I did indeed!” the paladin said, bursting with fresh zeal. “Observe the costumes servers wear in the gambling dens—modeled after harefolk! If that’s not exploitation, I don’t know what is!”
“Many enjoy dressing that way. It makes things livelier, and it keeps the silver flowing. Which I certainly appreciate.”
The paladin’s expression took on a contemptuous cast. The young woman’s even smile never faltered, however, as she continued: “And what do you propose to do about all the padfoots your policy would put out of a job?”
“They can find any kind of work they like! Such is freedom!”
“You seem to think that money and employment are things that arise like clouds or mist.” The woman snorted, a sound of derision. “But you know, even the wind does not come from nothing.”
Ignoring the paladin’s nonplussed look, the cleric of the Trade God adjusted her spot in her chair. Somehow, she made it look elegant. Then she held out an open palm as if to say, Please, continue. The paladin of the Supreme God growled.
If King’s Sister had been in his place, she would have been very nearly lost for words. Such, however, was not this man’s problem. “Race itself—race itself is a bizarre idea. Are we not all people alike? All should be treated as humans and—”
Oops. Here it comes.
“At this rate, I feel like you’re going to say I should be succeeded by a woman.”
“Erk…”
The paladin almost choked at the unexpected remark from behind him, delivered in a low, silky murmur. He glanced back to find a man standing like a shadow, a man of vigilant mien wearing a tuxedo whose every line and angle seemed to fit him precisely. One might describe him as like a butler, but no butler had the shocking self-possession of the figure standing there.
To King’s Sister, who knew who he was and what he did, it all seemed a little much.
“…Aren’t you looking a bit too nice for the occasion?” she said.
“I’m good enough to get away with dressing like this.”
The silver-haired woman seated behind King gave the man a sharp look that seemed to contain a warning: Don’t bait the king’s younger sister. Of course, this woman had a less-than-expressive face, but even King’s Sister could read what she was thinking from time to time.
“Oops, the boss is angry. And here I just rushed back from the water town as fast as I could.”
“Your efforts are appreciated, I’m sure.”
“I didn’t even sleep on the job!”
No doubt he’d started at least one fight big enough to fuel a good story or three.
With a motion so smooth nobody noticed it start—well, perhaps the cleric of the Trade God did?—the flashy man stepped forward, most likely to report to King.
King’s Sister didn’t have to think to know who this man was, whose face was different each and every time they met.
“…Ahhh…”
At the umpteenth sense that she was going to yawn, she finally decided to let it out. She was so very tired. Her body was heavy and her head felt dull. She was hot all the way through, until she suddenly got cold.
I’m exhausted…
Yes, that had to be it. How could she not be, with the discussion going in circles around her for so long?
So King’s Sister dismissed the fatigue she was feeling and forgot about it. She had no idea how much longer the attendees at this meeting were going to continue their little dance.
She thought, though, that she caught a smell—a terrible odor of ash.