With Sérignan and the Masquerade Swarm in tow, I headed to the back of the restaurant, where we found the manager’s room. This was the place for sure.
“Just don’t kill them, Sérignan. Capture them alive,” I reminded her.
“Understood, Your Majesty.” Sérignan swung her leg to kick the door open.
“Aah!”
“How did you get in here, you bastards?!”
Inside the room, we found a hulking bald man—and one other.
“Hey there, Ventura.” I greeted the familiar face. “Fancy running into you in a place like this.”
The chairman of the Senate, Ventura, was in the assassins’ guild’s headquarters.
“So, what were you discussing?” I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Picking the method for your next attempt on my life?”
“N-No!” Ventura stammered. “I came here on...on business! Other business!”
Oh, Ventura. You can’t hold a poker face to save your life.
“Well, I’m sure this bald guy here can back up your story and tell us what business you have with this guild. You’ll talk, won’t you, big baldy?”
“Who’re you calling bald?! I won’t say a word! The assassins’ guild takes pride in—”
A severed head rolled in front of him, and he immediately fell silent. The moment my question had left my lips, Sérignan had pitched it his way. Old Baldy stared at the disembodied head of his comrade, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Your scummy friends are all dead,” I told him. “Keeping your mouth shut won’t get you anywhere. If you won’t talk, we’ll force you to talk. And then we won’t lend an ear to your circumstances, and you’ll end up being a severed head, just like this.”
I’d have loved nothing more than to kill this guy where he stood, but he was just a tool, a means to an end. My real target here was the man using him. If I wanted to take revenge for Lysa, I needed to get back at both the assassins’ guild and the man—or rather, the dwarf—who had hired them. Ventura.
“You can keep quiet, and then Ventura will foist all the responsibility onto you. Only you’ll end up hanging if that happens. If you’re fine with that, you can stay quiet.”
“Goddammit,” the bald guy cursed. “This guild’s done for anyway... Fine, I’ll talk. He hired us to assassinate you.”
I’m glad you catch on quick.
“Th-That wasn’t what we agreed on!” Ventura squeaked. “You promised full, unconditional confidentiality!”
“Well, you’re out of luck. Nothing more I can do for you,” the bald man replied matter-of-factly.
“Let’s get going, then, Chairman of the Senate. We’ve got so much to talk about.”
He’d pay after what he put Lysa through.
♱
“Ventura got arrested?!” balked the members of the Senate.
Thanks to our “investigation,” Ventura and Old Baldy—who was named Kinnit—were apprehended by Khalkha’s local militia. Their charges were homicide, being an accomplice to a homicide, et cetera.
“That’s right,” I replied. “Ventura’s behind bars. I mean, he tried to get me killed.”
“Ventura tried to have you assassinated? What was he thinking?!”
“Oh, that’s simple,” I explained. “In his mind, teaming up with the Arachnea was such a bad idea that he preferred to join forces with Nyrnal instead.”
From what he’d said, Ventura hated nothing more than the idea of joining forces with the Arachnea. He didn’t believe an alliance between humans and monsters like us was possible, and the moment it failed, Nyrnal would take over. He preferred going turncoat for Nyrnal and securing their position as an ally over that.
There was some logic behind his actions. The Arachnea were inhuman monsters. We didn’t quite count as a nation, and allying with us made him anxious. But if that was the case, he should have just refused our offer outright.
However, there was a reason he didn’t. After investigating his estate, we discovered a letter from Nyrnal addressed to him. He’d probably forgotten to dispose of it. The letter said that if Ventura were to successfully assassinate the Arachnea’s queen, the Nyrnal Empire would accept the Eastern Trade Union as their vassal while allowing him to govern it under favorable terms.
In other words, he decided to have me assassinated in the name of securing his status in this country.
“That conniving bastard! He tried to sell the Union off to Nyrnal!” Konrad shouted.
Keralt sighed. “And we believed him without suspecting a thing...”
At first, I’d thought Keralt was behind the assassination. She had accepted the alliance begrudgingly, and her guild’s adventurers had died while trying to investigate us. It wouldn’t have been strange if she’d tried to get back at us for that. But my suspicion was off the mark, and I felt guilty about it.
“Now, then. We finally get to meet, Honnoson Alphtel,” I said, turning to face the one person I didn’t recognize here.
“Yes, a pleasure to meet you, Queen of the Arachnea.”
Like Ventura, Honnoson was a dwarf with a bushy mustache. He was a banker and president of the major Alphtel Bank, which granted him a great deal of influence over the Senate. With Konrad and Keralt willing to ally with us, I only needed Honnoson to agree, and I’d basically have the Senate’s approval that our alliance was in effect.
“Honnoson, is there anything you’d like to ask? I’m sure you have your doubts about us and what kind of creatures we are.”
“There’s a lot I’d like to ask, yes.” He nodded. “Despite appearances, I’m very much a bookworm, and I’ve read quite a few books on insect biology. I’ve read that insects live in caste-like societies. Is that also true for the Arachnea?”
“Well, to an extent,” I replied. “I, the queen, stand as their core. Each strain of Swarm has its own skill sets and aptitudes, which gives them different roles within the collective. Some Swarms act as builders, while others are optimized for different kinds of battle. I’m not sure if this division of roles counts as a caste society, though.”
“So they have no freedom of choosing their professions,” Honnoson said pensively. “I suppose that alone makes it close enough to a caste system. I wonder how the Swarms regard that...”
“All Swarms are born into their roles. But they’re not denied future possibilities per se. They simply use the abilities they’re born with. The Arachnea isn’t one to deny individual freedom.”