B6 Chapter 647: An Accounting of Dues, pt. 1

Kaius hiked up a lush boulevard, scanning the scattered manors and estates that lined the street. There were multi-winged monstrosities of garish marble cloaked by flowering vines, and there were stately mansions of rough-cut masonry with artfully wrought gargoyles perched on the corners.

None were as grand a testament to the possibilities of opulence as the palace that loomed at the top of the hill. The central building was immense, with staggered layers of crenulations and semi-domes that built up like the petals of a flowerbulb to a central dome of stained glass that had to be two hundred strides across. Fielding an intricate display of flowering vines, it looked impossibly fragile. Considering it glowed with enough mana to liquify one of the lesser estates that littered the hill district, Kaius suspected it could survive a dragon attack.

That was just the central building at the very peak of the hill. Five more encircled it just a little lower, with towering spires interspersing them — each artfully overgrown with a dizzying array of flowering creepers.

One of those lower buildings was their destination. The closest one, an over-large rectangular thing with large bay windows and a frankly pretty roof of oxidised copper. The ducal workshops.

A few short hours ago, Kaius had been drowning in a sea of runewrights, batting them off with a stick. It had been fun, diving into the inner workings of his art with some of his fellow craftsmen. Once he’d managed to stabilise Casso’s alternate glyph, he’d been eager to test it — but unfortunately, the only spell they devised was a low-powered one for a few seconds of dark sight. Not exactly the most exciting. Still, there had been plenty to fill his time.

Eventually, a runner had come for him, bearing a missive from the Ruby Crown. It had been forwarded on from the House of Flowers — Julian was ready for them that very afternoon. Thankfully, it also let him know that Kenva and Porkchop had returned from their outing, so there was little risk of them being late.

He’d made his apologies, and slipped out before any runewrights could think to chain him to the floor. Outside, there had been the crash of a thousand voices and the flowing currents of pedestrians making their way through the Plaza. Ianmus was already waiting for him in the all-consuming shadow of the central tree.

Walking back to the Crown, Kaius asked him about his time in the Spire. It had been similar to his own experience: a dozen experts, all with a hundred burning questions. Kaius wasn’t ashamed to admit that Ianmus had a far easier time answering them than he had his own. The mage actually crafted his first keyseal from first principles, where Kaius had been largely building off his father’s work.

In the spire, Ianmus had spent most of his time assisting the mages with testing a few variant ways to properly link his basic keyseal to the soul without the critical, near fatal collapse he had suffered the first time around. They’d made some strong progress, apparently.

Before long, they’d fetched Kenva and Porkchop from the Crown and set off again — all so Kaius could stare up at more building than any one family could possibly need.

“Who built this again?” Kaius asked as they closed in on the gate to the estate grounds. It had a giant flower wreath forged out of alchemically treated steel on the front of it, each bloom painted with bright enamel. Not quite enough to distract from the regiment of guards manning it, but it certainly tried.

“Marselle Flowers, remember?” Ianmus replied, shading his eyes to stare up at the massive glass dome of the main palace. “The same one with the riddle that Kanmost was so interested in.”

“Right.”

It certainly looked like the creation of a man so obsessed with himself to run off with half the duchy's wealth before he died.

“Halt!” a guard called as they drew a hair too close to the gates. Twenty halberds snapped into a lowered position. “Identify yourselves!”

“Kaius,” he said, before sharing his friends' names in turn. “Though I suppose it’s the Tidebreakers now. Lord Julian is expecting us.”

The guard nodded and raised a hand. Halberds clattered as they were raised once more. Judging by the lack of surprise, the man had known they were coming — which begged the question of why the guards bothered to react like that in the first place. Probably some obscure rule of propriety, they hadn’t gotten the same reception when they’d gone to Julian’s personal estate for dinner, so many weeks ago.

“A moment,” the guard said, before he turned and waved a hand.

A second man ran off, entering the grounds through a smaller side gate. They were left to stand awkwardly watching the guards who stared into space with practiced focus.

Soon, the guard returned joined by a man with neatly combed hair wearing a black suit with a matching tailed overcoat.

“Honoured guests!” the man beamed, striding over to them. “Allow me to welcome you to the ducal palace, my name is Charles, one of the assistant chamberlains. I’ll be guiding you to the workshop, where the young Lord Flowers and the artisans are waiting. If you would follow me?”

The assistant chamberlain beckoned them forwards.

Following the man through the side gate, they entered the palace. After a short walk up the main road that laid to the palace, they took a left and wormed their way through the grounds. There was very little in the way of grass — only small, manicured islands of calm amongst the sea botanic gardens that had swallowed the hilltop whole.

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It was like the entire ecosystem was replaced every ten minutes as teaming swathes of carefully maintained roses were replaced by towering ferns that released gusts of glittering purple spores in the breeze, only to be replaced again by great arches of jagged, rock like vines that hung heavy with citrus-scented flowers the size of dinner plates. Those orange blooms had tracked them as they passed, mana churning in their depths to release the soft warmth of a summer's day. Quite welcome given the mild chill of the Greenseed winter — stalking hearthblooms, the assistant chamberlain had enthusiastically explained.

The entire journey, their guide had been a non-stop font of information, narrating what felt like just about every bloom and sprout that crossed their path — of which there were many thousands.

It was interesting, but the onslaught was so complete that Kaius had felt rather burned on botany by the time they’d hit the stretching shadows of the Workshop. It loomed high over the surrounding gardens, two stories visible over the low trees that dotted the side of the road. Closer inspection revealed the place had been built like a warehouse, with a massive, open air interior surrounded by circular layers of mezzanines.

The assistant chamberlain marched them right to a large set of doors set off to one side of the front of the building, just next to a massive barn-style door that could be swung open to expose the interior of the building. Deep within, Kaius could hear the low chatter of workers, but less than he had expected.

Through the door, Julian waited for them in the entry room, leaning on a high receptionist's bench. The blonde noble wore a simple attire of grey and black silks, lacking even in the faintest hint of overly-puffy shoulders or frilly hems. Kaius was impressed.

“My friends, you have arrived!” Julian said, throwing his arms open wide and grinning. A flick of his eyes and a slight nod was enough for their guide to vanish so quickly that Kaius barely even noticed their departure.

Kaius couldn’t help but return the smile — though he was aware that it was probably wise to watch his familiarity with the man while inside of his seat of power.

“Lord Flowers, it’s good to see you.”

Julian stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “None of that! After hearing what happened, Father has named the four of you friends of the House — now you’re breaking etiquette if you use honourifics. Besides, the men inside have seen the teeth marks on the carcass. They’d have to be fools not to put two and two together when you’re here to get fitted.”

“That makes sense,” Porkchop grunted sarcastically. “I miss the Dens. Much simpler when you just have to listen to someone bigger than you.”

Julian let out a genuine laugh. “If only. It would certainly shake up the drudgery of court, that’s for certain!”

Kaius was still stuck on being named ‘friend of the House’. That certainly sounded like something big and official. Sort of like the kind of thing that might be rather conspicuous. Although, it had taken the high-tiered delvers all of a second to guess that they had something to do with the dead dragon, so he doubted the local nobility would be any less observant.

“What does it mean to be a friend of the House?” Kaius asked.

“Nothing much, really,” Julian. “Just that, well, you’re considered a friend. Nominally, it puts you in our ‘camp’, but any rival duchy would have done that anyway. I did my best not to draw attention to you, but the court is packed with snakes, not fools. By tactically denying your involvement with the dragon-slaying, but outwardly drawing attention to our connection, it makes it clear that you’re not really a piece on the board while still extending protection and connections.”

Kaius took a moment to digest what he was saying. Gods, did court politics really have to be so opaque? At least it seemed like a good thing. Hopefully.

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome!” Julian laughed. “I doubt it’ll come up much, to be honest — but feel free to mention it to other nobles if you’re in need of legitimacy. It’s the least I can do after you helped me squash a few rats and slay a dragon. Now, the talk of the town is that you’ve earned yourself a team name? The Tidebreakers?”

Kenva groaned. “Shattered bloody axles, how fast does the rumour mill move in this city?!”

“Like lightning. It’ll do you good, believe me — especially with what I've been hearing about the Shardworld. The right reputation protects as much as any good breastplate or Skill.”

“It better, otherwise it’s just a whole lot of annoyance.”

Julian laughed at the joke. He really was the cat that caught the mouse, wasn’t he? The lord’s victorious return must have done something. Maybe he’d gained some standing in court, or with his father — or maybe he was just back around the creature comforts he so obviously enjoyed.

Julian asked them a bit more about how they were settling into the city. Satisfied that their lodgings at the Ruby Crown were ‘suitable enough’, and gladdened they’d finally ‘been socialising properly’ at the guild, the lord beckoned them to the door that led deeper into the Workshop.

“Come, let us get to what we are really here for! A fitting!”

The heavy oak crashed open, revealing Katarex’s half flayed corpse and the heavy stench of freshly butchered meat. The wyrm had been spread out over a massive steel table, as a dozen men in red-soaked aprons slowly teased the brilliant blue hide from the belly of the beast. Another duo were inside Katarex’s chest, carefully dissecting and storing organs inside of prepared preservation barrels — each metal container crawling with runic script. Yet a third group clustered around the beast’s head, cutting around the carcasses' neck scales with flexible knives that bent like bowstrings.

The butchers worked unceasingly as they approached as a group, but six other men watching on in decidedly less blood-soaked aprons turned. One of them, with calloused hands stained black and glinting with soot and metal dust, locked onto Kaius. His eyes roved, visibly sizing him up.

“These are the master artisans of the House of Flowers,” Julian said, spinning to face them as he walked backwards. “They’ll get you measured, and Fitzgard, our alchemist, will discuss the tonics you desire and assess the value of the sap you found. After that, we’re off to the palace proper for lunch. My father wants to meet you.”

Somehow, Kaius didn’t even blink at the news. Of course they were going to meet the duke. It would feel odd, outrageous, and moderately uncomfortable — so clearly it would be the first thing the Julian would have arranged on their itinerary.

“Let’s hope Duke Flowers makes a better first impression than his son,” Kenva said silently through their rings.

Indeed.