Chapter 430: The Theory About Weakness, The Strength of a Puppeteer, And The Weapon That Is Deceit

Chapter 429: The Theory About Weakness, The Strength of a Puppeteer, And The Weapon That Is Deceit

Lyria’s POV

I frowned.

"That is quite i-impossible," I said. "How does one r-remove every weakness entirely? Surely even the s-strongest among us must possess w-weaknesses of some kind."

Duke Valenridge nodded.

"That is true enough," he said. "But two truths may exist at once, may they not?"

I shook my head.

"I d-do not understand this l-lesson, Your Grace. If it is i-impossible to possess n-no weakness whatsoever, then why do y-you tell me I ought to s-strip myself of a-all of them?"

He smiled.

Then he asked, "What, then, is my own weakness?"

I paused.

I blinked rapidly, for I knew not the answer.

Truly, I did not. I had spent sufficient time in his company by now to have some understanding of his character, his habits, his particular manner of speech. I knew him to be cunning, that he moved through court with a confidence suggesting he feared neither soul nor circumstance. I knew him to be wealthy beyond all reasoning, so much so that even the Crown resented the extent of it. I knew him to be clever, that he perceived what others failed entirely to see.

But his weakness?

I could not name it.

Just then, Zephyr approached Duke Valenridge and gave a meow.

We both turned at once. Zephyr had made swift work of his snack, leaving nothing upon the napkin but a scattering of crumbs. He scratched at the leg of the Duke’s chair, then stretched, arching his back most elegantly.

I regarded him a moment.

"P-perhaps you ought t-to take him up, Your Grace," I said.

Duke Valenridge laughed softly.

Then he bent and gathered Zephyr into his arms. The cat settled there without the least protest, curling against the Duke as though this arrangement were the most natural in all the world.

"It would seem he has warmed to me at last," Duke Valenridge said.

I only smiled.

He ran a hand through Zephyr’s fur, and the cat purred in satisfaction, which drew a soft laugh from him.

Then he gestured towards me.

"Come, then. Tell me my weakness."

"I d-do not k-know," I admitted, for nothing at all came to my mind.

I was tempted to name his territory, though something within me doubted this to be the answer. He cared a great deal for his people but I could not see his love for them being a weakness, for the crown would have already found a way of turning it against him.

He nodded, as though this were precisely the answer he had anticipated.

"What, then, is Lucian’s weakness?"

I paused, considering once more and again, nothing presented itself.

"I d-do not know."

"And Alistair’s?"

I shook my head.

"Benedict’s?"

"His f-family, perhaps?" I ventured.

Duke Valenridge’s lips twitched.

"Perhaps so. Though it is a weakness not easily turned against him."

He paused, considering further.

"And Julian’s?"

"His t-territory?"

Duke Valenridge laughed.

"Near enough. But again, this is a weakness that cannot readily be used against him. His people remain loyal to him precisely because his loyalty to them runs so deep. To threaten his territory would serve only to unite them all the more firmly against whoever dared make such a threat."

I frowned.

Then I asked, plainly, "What i-is it you mean to t-teach me, Your Grace?"

He regarded me a moment.

"Your own weakness may be turned against you," he said. "Can it not?"

I paused.

"Yes," I said quietly.

"And it has already been so turned, has it not?"

I nodded.

"The sole reason," he said, "that your weaknesses have ever been used against you, is that your foes know precisely what they are. They know where to strike. They know what may be taken from you. They know what threat will make you bow before them, what will cause you the greatest pain."

He gestured towards himself.

"I do not believe a single soul knows my own weakness and I say this not to boast, but merely as fact. And since no one knows mine, I should wager they know neither Alistair’s, nor Lucian’s."

I gave him a look.

"But y-you know theirs, do y-you not?"

He only laughed, which I understood to be the whole of the answer he was prepared to give.

"Consequence carries weight," he said, "only where something dear to the one affected is at stake. I told you as much before. And I told you, too, that you must either strip yourself of every weakness entirely, or else render that weakness so formidable that it withstands whatever assault may be brought against it."

"You a-also said it was i-impossible to strip away every w-weakness," I pointed out.

"Just so," he agreed. "But one may keep one’s weakness known to oneself alone, and hidden from one’s enemies. Is that not so?"

I merely frowned, listening closely.

"If a foe holds your weakness within his grasp, he shall wield it against you without fail. He shall toy with you as he pleases. He shall pull upon the very strings that make you dance, and you shall dance forever to his tune, a puppet beneath his hand as Puppeteer — whether you wish it or no. Why, then, should matters not be arranged so that your foe never comes to possess your weakness at all?"

He paused, then added:

"Why not place some falsehood within his hands, and permit him to believe he holds your weakness, while it is you, in truth, who directs the whole affair? Why not fortify your weakness until it withstands any direct assault your foe might venture? Why not ensure, above all, that he can never choose to play the game at all?"

I nodded slowly.

"Earl H-Hawthorne’s supposed w-weakness cannot b-be turned against h-him," I said, the realisation dawning upon me, "for it has grown t-too powerful for that. The s-same holds true of Baron R-Redwick."

Duke Valenridge nodded.

"Precisely so."

I turned my thoughts to my own weaknesses. There was my mother, whom the Queen had already used to wound me numerous times — she was one, and perhaps my greatest.

And then there were the commoners, who now depended upon me. The Queen had already turned them against me once, and I did not doubt that, though she had failed this time, she should attempt it again before long.

I returned my attention to Duke Valenridge.

"Is it p-possible to possess b-both?" I asked.

He tilted his head.

"Both of what, precisely?"

"Weaknesses c-concealed, and w-weaknesses made s-strong?"

"The greater part of persons possess both in equal measure," he said. "It is never one to the exclusion of the other. It is, rather, a matter of ensuring that no single weapon may ever be wielded against you twice."

I nodded.

Then he spoke once more, his voice taking on a graver note than before.

"The court, curious wolf, is a game played entirely within the mind — a contest of deception, waged in silence beneath every courtesy and smile. And in this particular game, you contend not with some ordinary adversary, but with the very orchestrator of it all. Perhaps," he said, his gaze steady upon mine, "something nearer a god than a mortal foe."

I understood him at once.

The Crown.

They were the orchestrator. They dictated how I moved, how I reacted, in what manner I bent and broke. I had been dancing to their design all this while, without so much as perceiving the strings that bound me. Every punishment, every threat, every act of manipulation, each had been engineered with the sole purpose of provoking from me precisely the response they desired.

Duke Valenridge continued, his voice low, as though he pressed some great truth into my very hands.

"To challenge a god, however diminished that god’s true power may be, one must first become exceedingly strong oneself. And since this is, above all, a game of deception, you must learn to play it with a countenance that betrays nothing whatsoever. You must remain always a step ahead of your adversary. And little by little, you must seize the very ropes that once made of you a puppet — not merely to become the Puppeteer in their place, but to ascend higher still, beyond even the god who first pulled those strings."

"Let them dance, then, to your tune. Let them react precisely as you will them to react. And it shall be you, at the last, who writes the whole of the play, their every reaction, their every movement, the entirety of it. They shall obey you without ever once perceiving that they do so. For deceit, curious wolf, wielded with sufficient skill, is among the most powerful weapons one may ever possess."