Chapter 65. What Would You Do For A Sweetroll?
The rest of the trip out is spent hashing out the details. Abraham, thankfully, keenly grasps that there is a limit of people who can be taken on the airship at a time and wisely limits the delegation to people who are vitally important. And support staff, of course. So, the final roster is me, Bridgit (because apparently no one even thought that I would travel anywhere overnight without a maid to attend me), Abraham, his personal manservant Giacomo (The guy is positively ancient - and ridiculously spry for his age. He was recruited as a runner boy by Abe's grandfather during the war, came back to become his manservant, was passed on to Abe's father and finally to Abe himself. And if my take on him is correct, he has pretty good chances to be Alexander's manservant as well. Which is easily explained by the fact that he is half-elf and will likely live to two hundred years before he starts to really feel the age.), Hiram, his personal manservant Jacub, father plus whoever he takes along and last, but not least, Mihel van der Klaas and whoever is his manservant. Ten people. I thought the diplomatic party would be more extensive, but apparently this is an "inner circle only" kind of meeting. The positive sides of a feudal monarchy - committees aren't really a big thing up top.
Speaking of the last. I was wondering where'd Marceu went. He was supposed to be in Academy...... Wait, no. He was initially thought to be the secret route character because he does not make an appearance until the winter holidays, and by that time, it takes a truly dedicated player not to be already deeply embroiled in another route. Huh, I wonder if Selene is going to remember. Van der Klaases can be a problem. From what I remember from the game, they're pretty ruthless for people who do not believe in armed conflicts as a viable diplomacy option. His daddums is actually more moderate of the two, Marceu is far more willing to set people up for... unpleasant consequences. Now that I know where Mihel is going to be, I'm going to "bug" him and spread the "bugging" to Marceu as soon as they're in the vicinity. Because of all the game characters, Marceu is only beaten out on his willingness to do underhanded tactics by Klaus. Which is pretty damn memorable, and I'm going to watch him until he goes senile.
I also inquire about adviser van der Klaas because, well... I have legit reasons to ask why the hell this is the first time I'm hearing about a supposedly important dude in the kingdom's power structure. As it turns out, he is a fresh appointee. Weird, the game sort of implied van der Klaas was a trusted adviser... Oh, it's an elective position from merchant guilds and he just won it? Huh. Oh? An emergency election? You don't say... and the old head was..? ...Phew. For a little bit, I was afraid Konistan's name is going to pop up. That would be weird. No, apparently the previous adviser was a really old geezer by the name of Antoine Gaspar, and he had inconveniently kicked the bucket in early autumn. That... explains some things.
Anyway, aside from muted adulation from the courtiers, the rest of trip is fine, and we do land in the plaza properly this time. Of course, I'm not about to leave an airship unattended for every Tom, Dick and Harry to prowl over, so I split off an instance... Well. Sort of. I've foreseen the situation, so I placed a couple of inconspicuous grates on the floor. They're even serving ventilation purposes, so no one pays much attention to them. But they're also conveniently spread all over the floor and I can always inconspicuously step on one of them and "leak" some of my mass into the ventilation shaft in order to do all sorts of covert things. A set of controls on the inner side of the control panel is placed there precisely so I could "remotely" control a ship simply by splitting off a small instance to control it from the crawlspace controls.
As the rest of the guests disperse, me and Abraham detour to the guard barracks to discuss the matters with the kid. I have my suspicions on who was so rankly stupid to put him up to this, but I need a confirmation. And we get it. But by all the gods, the kid is stupid. One would think that getting your king cross with you would be more than sufficient to make one reconsider their stance on the idea. Not so with this kid, no. He also refused to believe guards would whip him right until the point where he did get whipped. This is the point where we get all the story out of him. He is the third kid of one marquis de Brege (Abe promptly summoned a runner to fetch the marquis at this revelation) and he fully expected the guards to let him go "any second now" because all the earlier mischief he ever ended up in had ended like this.
Abe pointed out rather reasonably that he really should have mentioned his name if he expected the guards to be impressed with his credentials, and the kid had a face like he just had a revelation. Apparently, he's sufficiently stupid to not realize palace guards might not know his face the way local constables do. He also mentions rather proudly this is the first time he went "so far", which turns out to mean so far from home, not so audacious as we initially assumed. However, sadly, he is very recalcitrant to provide us with the name of whoever put him up to do this. At this point (the back and forth negotiations and clarifications had taken whole lot more time than I care for, to be honest, but I'm pretty sure Abe's going to be cross with me if I eat the little shit's brains to accelerate the process of investigation), there is a great deal of noise from the outside, and I'm faced with a middle-aged man that... ehhh. If he was more even, it would be rotund. As is, he looks like a pregnant frog. Vast belly, spindly limbs.
Oh gods WHY. Why is his voice just as ungainly? "...and I do not know who do you think you are, lady Gillespie, but you would do well to remember I still outrank your father! Now, I expect to hear why did you think it prudent to detain my son, and what do you intend to offer as restitution for this affront!" - he finishes, more due to being severely out of breath than anything else.
"Daddy, daddy! She also ordered me whipped!" - the little shit helpfully tattles. His aforementioned daddy purples and...
"Ahem." - offers Abraham with an expression of irritated bemusement - "I see you're holding true to your tradition, marquis."
He whirls around, pales and starts stammering apologies. Apparently, marquis de Brege is infamous for managing to overlook the presence of the king in ridiculous number of social engagements.
"Enough of that. Now, to the matter at hand." - Abraham interrupts him impatiently - "Your son had attempted to interfere in my affairs today, and I want to know who put him up to it and why."
"I'm terribly sorry your highness, but... I mean, Lady Gillespie..." - he attempts something.
"Marquis, take a look around. In case you haven't noticed it yet, this is MY PALACE. Not Lady Gillespie's manor. One would think it stands obvious it was on MY orders your son was detained and interrogated." - the king grinds out - "He had, for reasons we were unable to discern yet, elected to stand UNDER the descending airship and scream at it instead of attempting to flee. Furthermore, once the ship's descent was halted, and about five minutes passed, he remained under the ship, continuing his vocalizations. Ship at the time was at the height of three touse, well out of reach even if one were to jump up in the air, much less walked out from under it. Finally, once my guards went in and bodily removed your son, he had ducked right back UNDER the ship as soon as it began to descend again, and started screaming once more. Tell me, what conclusions am I supposed to reach about this event?"
Marquis gapes like a fish for a while, then snaps out of it with... "Why does she want to hurt my son!?" - apparently, a choice idiocy.
Abraham facepalms. Turns to me. "You see what I have to work with?" - he asks of me rhetorically - "No middle ground. All the nobles I have are either blisteringly brilliant like you and your father or.... like this."
I have to admit, I don't even know how to console him. Promise a genetic program to weed out the gene of stupidity?... Yeah, well... No. I might be a monster, but not quite THAT monstrous to introduce this world to the idea of eugenics. Elementary schools, perhaps? Nah, too... "oppressive", I'll have to introduce those to commoners first to make nobles go "the fuck are we missing out on this?". Hey, i-dea! "Have you considered social clubs for youths? Detail a couple of your knights and scholars to be present in the club providing their expertise on basics. The first steps of fencing, the proper handwriting, the intricacies of etiquette and tactics, the critical reasoning and observation? Maybe invite a couple acolytes and healers, both to introduce children to divine rites and to take care of possible injuries in situ. Or maybe even answer medical questions, if it so happens a specific child takes interest in medicine. Not as a school, we're well covered on this ground already, but as a more informal place where youth ages, hm... six to fourteen can mingle and recreate and get qualified advice on the topics they might be in need of extra helping on? Make it mixed, might as well get kids some practice on proper interactions with the other gender, under the watchful eyes, of course."
Abraham blinks. Pauses. His expression changes from irritated to intrigued to calculating. "That... sounds like an interesting idea, lady Gillespie." - he retorts - "You're right, children need all the help they can get. But, that does not help us at the moment." He casts a jaundiced eye over the shaking marquis, and continues darkly - "Marquis de Brege appears to be rather... slow-witted. I wonder if viscount de Brege would show more alacrity. After all, the lands in question had been steadily shrinking...."
"Mercy, my liege!" - de Brege yelps - "Julien, why don't you tell us everything about this? I'm certain once the truth comes out the guilty will be punished and the deserving rewarded." He is glaring at me rather intently during the second line. I wonder why. Does he sincerely believe there is any wrongdoing on my part here?
"But father! I will not get the sweetroll if I..." - and the stupid kid trails off. So... he does have some... rudimentary semblance of a brain, I suppose.
"A sweetroll, huh?" - I offer - "That wouldn't be a sweetroll from the Sweet Dream shop, would it?"
"Mm, yes!" - he exults, somehow managing to forget both his circumstances and a rather recent bout of corporal punishment - "The best sweetrolls! No one else makes them well, anyways. Must be some kind of kitchen magic!"
"Ahh. Well, yes, there are certain tricks to making those." - I admit blandly - "Out of curiosity, would you happen to know that I'm the OWNER of Sweet Dream?"
Kid STARES at me. What's more worryingly, his father's stare is maybe a notch less in hungry intensity, but still very... obvious.
"Further out of curiosity, did you happen to realize that if you fail to tell me the name of the person responsible for this, I just might respond by banning you and your family from my shop for life?" - I continue, intentionally keeping my voice at it's most bland and apathetic.
"It was lord Ambercrombe!" - he squeals immediately, quite literally shaking in his boots - "He said that if I get the airship to fall on me, he'll give me a sweetroll!"
I exchange incredulous glances with Abraham.
"Julien, my airship weighs close to six quintals unladen. I use magic to make it fly." - I explain slowly - "If you actually managed to be landed on, you would be quite dead and Ambercrombe wouldn't be able to give you a sweetroll even if he tried. He wouldn't be able to even put it in your casket, because your remains would have to be scraped off the pavement with knives in order to remove your gibs from the plaza. And, honestly speaking? I rather imagine Ambercrombe counted on you getting yourself killed and didn't even bother to buy the sweetroll to begin with."
He visibly remains unimpressed, likely unable to grasp the concept, though his father does pale a lot. Oh well. I think I'll just... resort to bribery here. So, I pick up a piece of paper, and start to write on it.
"Very well. I'm going to make you a deal, Julien." - I offer, as I slide the completed contract across the table - "If you keep quiet about mentioning Ambercrombe to us, you get one sweetroll in the end of the week. If you also honestly report all times Ambercrombe tries to talk to you to the head of the palace guard over here or honestly report he did not approach you during the week once the week is over, you get two sweetrolls."
He grabs the paper off the table and hands it over to his father. Marquis de Brege squints at the paper suspiciously, as he reads it through. "...It is really just a contract for two sweetrolls." - he mutters finally - "Was that truly necessary?"
"Of course, marquis. I'd like your son to have a physical memento of who delivered and who welshed on their promises once he is all grown up, after all." - I tell him with a smile.
Chapter 65. What Would You Do For A Sweetroll?
The rest of the trip out is spent hashing out the details. Abraham, thankfully, keenly grasps that there is a limit of people who can be taken on the airship at a time and wisely limits the delegation to people who are vitally important. And support staff, of course. So, the final roster is me, Bridgit (because apparently no one even thought that I would travel anywhere overnight without a maid to attend me), Abraham, his personal manservant Giacomo (The guy is positively ancient - and ridiculously spry for his age. He was recruited as a runner boy by Abe's grandfather during the war, came back to become his manservant, was passed on to Abe's father and finally to Abe himself. And if my take on him is correct, he has pretty good chances to be Alexander's manservant as well. Which is easily explained by the fact that he is half-elf and will likely live to two hundred years before he starts to really feel the age.), Hiram, his personal manservant Jacub, father plus whoever he takes along and last, but not least, Mihel van der Klaas and whoever is his manservant. Ten people. I thought the diplomatic party would be more extensive, but apparently this is an "inner circle only" kind of meeting. The positive sides of a feudal monarchy - committees aren't really a big thing up top.
Speaking of the last. I was wondering where'd Marceu went. He was supposed to be in Academy...... Wait, no. He was initially thought to be the secret route character because he does not make an appearance until the winter holidays, and by that time, it takes a truly dedicated player not to be already deeply embroiled in another route. Huh, I wonder if Selene is going to remember. Van der Klaases can be a problem. From what I remember from the game, they're pretty ruthless for people who do not believe in armed conflicts as a viable diplomacy option. His daddums is actually more moderate of the two, Marceu is far more willing to set people up for... unpleasant consequences. Now that I know where Mihel is going to be, I'm going to "bug" him and spread the "bugging" to Marceu as soon as they're in the vicinity. Because of all the game characters, Marceu is only beaten out on his willingness to do underhanded tactics by Klaus. Which is pretty damn memorable, and I'm going to watch him until he goes senile.
I also inquire about adviser van der Klaas because, well... I have legit reasons to ask why the hell this is the first time I'm hearing about a supposedly important dude in the kingdom's power structure. As it turns out, he is a fresh appointee. Weird, the game sort of implied van der Klaas was a trusted adviser... Oh, it's an elective position from merchant guilds and he just won it? Huh. Oh? An emergency election? You don't say... and the old head was..? ...Phew. For a little bit, I was afraid Konistan's name is going to pop up. That would be weird. No, apparently the previous adviser was a really old geezer by the name of Antoine Gaspar, and he had inconveniently kicked the bucket in early autumn. That... explains some things.
Anyway, aside from muted adulation from the courtiers, the rest of trip is fine, and we do land in the plaza properly this time. Of course, I'm not about to leave an airship unattended for every Tom, Dick and Harry to prowl over, so I split off an instance... Well. Sort of. I've foreseen the situation, so I placed a couple of inconspicuous grates on the floor. They're even serving ventilation purposes, so no one pays much attention to them. But they're also conveniently spread all over the floor and I can always inconspicuously step on one of them and "leak" some of my mass into the ventilation shaft in order to do all sorts of covert things. A set of controls on the inner side of the control panel is placed there precisely so I could "remotely" control a ship simply by splitting off a small instance to control it from the crawlspace controls.
As the rest of the guests disperse, me and Abraham detour to the guard barracks to discuss the matters with the kid. I have my suspicions on who was so rankly stupid to put him up to this, but I need a confirmation. And we get it. But by all the gods, the kid is stupid. One would think that getting your king cross with you would be more than sufficient to make one reconsider their stance on the idea. Not so with this kid, no. He also refused to believe guards would whip him right until the point where he did get whipped. This is the point where we get all the story out of him. He is the third kid of one marquis de Brege (Abe promptly summoned a runner to fetch the marquis at this revelation) and he fully expected the guards to let him go "any second now" because all the earlier mischief he ever ended up in had ended like this.
Abe pointed out rather reasonably that he really should have mentioned his name if he expected the guards to be impressed with his credentials, and the kid had a face like he just had a revelation. Apparently, he's sufficiently stupid to not realize palace guards might not know his face the way local constables do. He also mentions rather proudly this is the first time he went "so far", which turns out to mean so far from home, not so audacious as we initially assumed. However, sadly, he is very recalcitrant to provide us with the name of whoever put him up to do this. At this point (the back and forth negotiations and clarifications had taken whole lot more time than I care for, to be honest, but I'm pretty sure Abe's going to be cross with me if I eat the little shit's brains to accelerate the process of investigation), there is a great deal of noise from the outside, and I'm faced with a middle-aged man that... ehhh. If he was more even, it would be rotund. As is, he looks like a pregnant frog. Vast belly, spindly limbs.
Oh gods WHY. Why is his voice just as ungainly? "...and I do not know who do you think you are, lady Gillespie, but you would do well to remember I still outrank your father! Now, I expect to hear why did you think it prudent to detain my son, and what do you intend to offer as restitution for this affront!" - he finishes, more due to being severely out of breath than anything else.
"Daddy, daddy! She also ordered me whipped!" - the little shit helpfully tattles. His aforementioned daddy purples and...
"Ahem." - offers Abraham with an expression of irritated bemusement - "I see you're holding true to your tradition, marquis."
He whirls around, pales and starts stammering apologies. Apparently, marquis de Brege is infamous for managing to overlook the presence of the king in ridiculous number of social engagements.
"Enough of that. Now, to the matter at hand." - Abraham interrupts him impatiently - "Your son had attempted to interfere in my affairs today, and I want to know who put him up to it and why."
"I'm terribly sorry your highness, but... I mean, Lady Gillespie..." - he attempts something.
"Marquis, take a look around. In case you haven't noticed it yet, this is MY PALACE. Not Lady Gillespie's manor. One would think it stands obvious it was on MY orders your son was detained and interrogated." - the king grinds out - "He had, for reasons we were unable to discern yet, elected to stand UNDER the descending airship and scream at it instead of attempting to flee. Furthermore, once the ship's descent was halted, and about five minutes passed, he remained under the ship, continuing his vocalizations. Ship at the time was at the height of three touse, well out of reach even if one were to jump up in the air, much less walked out from under it. Finally, once my guards went in and bodily removed your son, he had ducked right back UNDER the ship as soon as it began to descend again, and started screaming once more. Tell me, what conclusions am I supposed to reach about this event?"
Marquis gapes like a fish for a while, then snaps out of it with... "Why does she want to hurt my son!?" - apparently, a choice idiocy.
Abraham facepalms. Turns to me. "You see what I have to work with?" - he asks of me rhetorically - "No middle ground. All the nobles I have are either blisteringly brilliant like you and your father or.... like this."
I have to admit, I don't even know how to console him. Promise a genetic program to weed out the gene of stupidity?... Yeah, well... No. I might be a monster, but not quite THAT monstrous to introduce this world to the idea of eugenics. Elementary schools, perhaps? Nah, too... "oppressive", I'll have to introduce those to commoners first to make nobles go "the fuck are we missing out on this?". Hey, i-dea! "Have you considered social clubs for youths? Detail a couple of your knights and scholars to be present in the club providing their expertise on basics. The first steps of fencing, the proper handwriting, the intricacies of etiquette and tactics, the critical reasoning and observation? Maybe invite a couple acolytes and healers, both to introduce children to divine rites and to take care of possible injuries in situ. Or maybe even answer medical questions, if it so happens a specific child takes interest in medicine. Not as a school, we're well covered on this ground already, but as a more informal place where youth ages, hm... six to fourteen can mingle and recreate and get qualified advice on the topics they might be in need of extra helping on? Make it mixed, might as well get kids some practice on proper interactions with the other gender, under the watchful eyes, of course."
Abraham blinks. Pauses. His expression changes from irritated to intrigued to calculating. "That... sounds like an interesting idea, lady Gillespie." - he retorts - "You're right, children need all the help they can get. But, that does not help us at the moment." He casts a jaundiced eye over the shaking marquis, and continues darkly - "Marquis de Brege appears to be rather... slow-witted. I wonder if viscount de Brege would show more alacrity. After all, the lands in question had been steadily shrinking...."
"Mercy, my liege!" - de Brege yelps - "Julien, why don't you tell us everything about this? I'm certain once the truth comes out the guilty will be punished and the deserving rewarded." He is glaring at me rather intently during the second line. I wonder why. Does he sincerely believe there is any wrongdoing on my part here?
"But father! I will not get the sweetroll if I..." - and the stupid kid trails off. So... he does have some... rudimentary semblance of a brain, I suppose.
"A sweetroll, huh?" - I offer - "That wouldn't be a sweetroll from the Sweet Dream shop, would it?"
"Mm, yes!" - he exults, somehow managing to forget both his circumstances and a rather recent bout of corporal punishment - "The best sweetrolls! No one else makes them well, anyways. Must be some kind of kitchen magic!"
"Ahh. Well, yes, there are certain tricks to making those." - I admit blandly - "Out of curiosity, would you happen to know that I'm the OWNER of Sweet Dream?"
Kid STARES at me. What's more worryingly, his father's stare is maybe a notch less in hungry intensity, but still very... obvious.
"Further out of curiosity, did you happen to realize that if you fail to tell me the name of the person responsible for this, I just might respond by banning you and your family from my shop for life?" - I continue, intentionally keeping my voice at it's most bland and apathetic.
"It was lord Ambercrombe!" - he squeals immediately, quite literally shaking in his boots - "He said that if I get the airship to fall on me, he'll give me a sweetroll!"
I exchange incredulous glances with Abraham.
"Julien, my airship weighs close to six quintals unladen. I use magic to make it fly." - I explain slowly - "If you actually managed to be landed on, you would be quite dead and Ambercrombe wouldn't be able to give you a sweetroll even if he tried. He wouldn't be able to even put it in your casket, because your remains would have to be scraped off the pavement with knives in order to remove your gibs from the plaza. And, honestly speaking? I rather imagine Ambercrombe counted on you getting yourself killed and didn't even bother to buy the sweetroll to begin with."
He visibly remains unimpressed, likely unable to grasp the concept, though his father does pale a lot. Oh well. I think I'll just... resort to bribery here. So, I pick up a piece of paper, and start to write on it.
"Very well. I'm going to make you a deal, Julien." - I offer, as I slide the completed contract across the table - "If you keep quiet about mentioning Ambercrombe to us, you get one sweetroll in the end of the week. If you also honestly report all times Ambercrombe tries to talk to you to the head of the palace guard over here or honestly report he did not approach you during the week once the week is over, you get two sweetrolls."
He grabs the paper off the table and hands it over to his father. Marquis de Brege squints at the paper suspiciously, as he reads it through. "...It is really just a contract for two sweetrolls." - he mutters finally - "Was that truly necessary?"
"Of course, marquis. I'd like your son to have a physical memento of who delivered and who welshed on their promises once he is all grown up, after all." - I tell him with a smile.
