Season of Bloom - 28. Governing Grievances

New Year’s Eve. Normally a time of celebration for Lapis. But instead, he was dealing with supplicants. Again. At least most of his advisors were here, along with an unexpected guest. Jubilost had come to see this petitioner personally.

Lapis fought the urge to look out the window. If he took one more glance at the snow that fell from the angry skies, he would not be able to resist the urge to run outside and start a snowball fight with any who would return his icy throws.

“Your Grace! I demand justice!”

Looking at the bard that stood before his throne was barely any better. His shirt hung open slightly, revealing a chest with a dusting of golden hair that made Lapis want to run his fingers over it. More than that, his face held the appearance of one who was no stranger to scholarly pursuits and adventure alike. Blond hair sat on his head in a foppish mop, and again the amurrun wondered what it would be like to pet that fur. Even better, his body held a layer of padding that Lapis just knew would be perfect to rest his face against.

The man’s clothes ruined the visage though. Muddy and torn, they bore the stains of the road poorly, and even his boots left clumps of mud everywhere he walked. Still, if Lapis could just get him out of those clothes, all would be forgiven.

“Crime in your barony is on the rise! In bold daylight, I was robbed, tricked! A band of thugs found out about my possessions and treasures, and stole them away to Candlemere! I offer a wealthy sum as a reward to see these scoundrels brought to justice!”

His voice grated on the amurrun’s ears, high pitched in indignation, and Lapis fought the urge to fold his ears over.

“Who are you exactly?” the baron asked, pulled out of his admiration of the man’s body.

“Willas Gunderson, my lord. I’m a scholar, scientist, explorer, and an expert on ancient artifacts of nearly every era,” the bard said proudly.

“So, a tomb robber,” Lapis summed up. “We get plenty of you people down in Osirion.”

“So many titles for a single piece of mediocrity,” Jubilost agreed, looking the bard up and down.

Willas blushed, and Lapis’ lust skyrocketed. The amurrun took a deep breath, calming himself. The full moon was tomorrow. Perhaps he could celebrate with the bard. Just because he didn’t like Willas didn’t mean he couldn’t love Willas.

“S-sir Narthropple! You’re here!”

“Oh don’t pretend like you weren’t eyeing me during your entire speech,” Jubilost scoffed.

“Well… I see your manners haven’t improved since we last met. Joke all you like. I am above such discourse,” Willas sniffed.

“The only thing that puts you above me is your height, and even that falls short for a human.”

The bard’s mouth worked furiously, but nothing came out. His face darkened in anger.

“You do not seem like a local. Why stow your possessions in the middle of a haunted lake?” Lapis asked.

“Well… um… you see, they aren’t exactly my possessions yet…” the bard muttered.

“Moon damned grave robbers,” Lapis muttered in Osiriani. “Let me get this right. You believe that a bunch of treasure from a cursed island that holds an ancient temple to an unknown god belongs to you. By what right do you have to claim this treasure?”

“By the right of finding! I did all the research, I put together a team of diggers! Besides, there aren’t many who would volunteer to explore a cursed island,” Willas snapped.

He took a look at Lapis’ face, paling himself.

“I… I mean, it’s nothing really. Just a bunch of nonsense about a temple filled with ghostly lights. Some rumour about sacrifice too…”

“And what deity was this temple, and the treasure within, dedicated to?” Lapis asked coldly. “What god are you asking me to help rob?”

“Who cares what go-” the bard catches himself and waves a dismissive hand with a sigh. “I don’t know. I never asked. Just some locals worshiping some ancient deity.”

“Ah, now these are the details I live for,” Jubilost smirked. “Some locals, some deity. You could write an encyclopedia about this island. Call it ‘Some Encyclopedia.’”

“You are not helping your case at all. Who did you send to that island?” Lapis demanded quietly.

“Just some locals…” Willas gulped. “Took my money, hopped in the boat, and whoosh, they were gone across the lake. Had the nerve to call themselves a paladin of Irori and a cleric. Oh, and a ranger.”

“Who was the cleric devoted to?” Lapis asked.

“That two faced god… Nethys. That one creeped me out considerably.”

“You would dare disrespect the god of Pharaoh Khemet, the Ruby Prince, in my presence?” Lapis snarled.

“You named your pet tiger after a pharaoh?” Jubilost asked incredulously.

“Willas Gunderson, you will get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I will have you arrested for grave robbery and sacrilege,” Lapis hissed.

The bard took one look at Lapis, and sped out of the room, nearly slipping on a mud puddle near the door.

“Well, that seems a bit harsh if you ask me,” Jubilost frowned.

“Then it’s a good thing you weren’t asked,” Lapis growled. “People like that make my skin crawl.”

He let out a shaky sigh, the emotions washing out of him.

“So much for a full moon celebration…”

Faes sat in the Beer Mug Inn, watching a halfling chug a mug of ale nearly the size of her head. Every inch of him wanted to reach over the table and throttle her, but the hollowborn held back. There were certain sacrifices that had to be made.

Even her dress made him despise her. So gaudy, with dyes that spoke of a disregard for wealth. Large gem encrusted rings sat upon her hand, the faint aura of abjuration magic making Faes want to laugh. She had come expecting a physical brawl. That was cute.

“You understand Restov made a few… minor miscalculations, right?” he said quietly.

“And this concerns me how? I have nothing to do with Lord Sellemius’ edicts or trade agreements,” the halfling countered.

Faes bit off a retort, taking a deep breath.

“Look, Baron Cassiel made an arrangement with Lord Sellemius. It is an arrangement that Baron Lapis no longer finds acceptable. Surely you can understand that Brevan carpenters are overcharging what amounts to a twenty five percent increase on all Ellesmeran buildings, and that is bleeding this barony dry.”

“Sounds like Baron Cassiel should have read the conditions before agreeing to this arrangement,” the halfling scoffed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t speak for all the carpenters in Restov.”

“No, but you have Lord Sellemius’ ear, and that’s just as good,” Faes pointed out.

“And what’s in it for me? It would take a lot of favours to get an audience with the lord mayor. Favours that I have been saving up for something important. Convince me that your barony is important.”

Faes’ hands clenched under the table, a breath of enraged air escaping his nose.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear. I brought you here to help me change Lord Sellemius’ mind. That is the given outcome. It is of no concern to me whether it takes you two arms to do that, or just one,” he said quietly. “So, miss Ardael, convince me that all four of your limbs are important.”

The halfling sighed, setting her mug back down.

“Do you really want to threaten me? Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Idgon Ardael, head of the Wanderers’ Guild, a guild who fancies them as rivals to the Red Mantis,” Faes scoffed. “I’ve met the Red Mantis. You are nothing to me.”

For the first time, doubt cracked the calm veneer of the halfling’s face.

“And who are you that you think you can make demands of me?” she snapped.

“Someone who could make your life miserable if you don’t get Sellemius to call off his financial crusade against our barony. Now, do we have an understanding?”

“You can expect to hear from my associates,” the halfing said, rising from her seat.

“Oh, I look forward to it,” Faes leered. “Perhaps they can get through where you have so clearly failed. I tried being nice, Idgon. Remember that. And remember that I know the Red Mantis. It would be a shame if they were to get a description of the leader of a rival guild somehow. I’d say you’re playing in the big game now, but let’s face it, you’re barely even a contender.”

The halfling scowled at him. She turned abruptly and stormed out of the tavern. Sighing quietly, Faes stood up and set a gold coin on Elina’s counter.

“Sorry about the hassle,” he muttered. “The wench stuck me with her tab.”

“Oh no, that was fun to watch,” the tavern owner chuckled, taking the gold. “We haven’t had that kind of entertainment since the baron decided to groom his tiger in here.”

“Khemet was shedding. It was a necessity.”

Faes sighed as the amurrun spoke up behind him.

“How in the hells do you manage to just appear like that?” he demanded, turning to give Lapis an appraising look.

“Cat’s secret,” Lapis shrugged. “I need you to gear up. We have a group of adventurers that needs rescuing.”

“I’m a little busy fighting the Restovan halfling mafia, in case you hadn’t heard.”

“Oh. Should I be worried?”

“Not unless they have evokers,” Faes shrugged. “Some good news though, Ioseph is about to make an edict telling his builders to lay off us for a while. Should fix what Cassiel fucked up.”

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. I’ll… figure out how to get those adventurers out of Candlemere myself,” Lapis frowned.

“Valerie, Tristian, Linzi, the ranger… Ekundayo? And Regongar. There, you have three types of magic and two types of weapon. Should be good enough to handle most problems,” Faes said. “Send Jubilost with them, and you can sit back while your lackeys fight for you instead.”

“No, I need to go with them. It’s a Nethysian temple I think. Best to have an Osirian with them.”

“Suit yourself. If you die, can I have the barony?”

Lapis scowled at the hollowborn, and a small grin split Faes’ face.

“It’s a joke,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you when you get back.”