Adarin noticed a dozen scarred men pushing forward or slipping away. Interesting, he mused while keeping his eyes narrowed.

  Duchess Viola spoke in outrage. “See, Kelvin, this is why we can’t just stand by. We must keep the peace.”

  But Kelvin merely shrugged. “Way I see it, we just poked up a hornet’s nest, eh?” He looked at the corralled group, across whose faces sudden hope was playing, then sneered. “Unfortunate. Guess they shouldn’t have thought they’d be welcome here. Should’ve stayed home.”

  Duchess Viola gasped and turned to him, but the half-goblin just shrugged. “You misunderstand me. I’m not here to make Greens happy. I’m here because it’s the best thing I can do. Count, you already seemed rather reluctant to engage. How about we just leave?”

  He leaned hard on the last word, and Adarin smirked.

  Count Marquardt stared intensely into the crowd—no, at the men who were moving.

  “Count, what’s your opinion? Doesn’t it fall to us to keep order in the city?” The acid in the Duchess’s inquiry was quite clear.

  He shrugged. “If the citizens want justice, they should get justice.”

  “Ah, but I believe that was not what the constitution said about how justice was to be administered. Something about it being the monopoly of the state and juries doing so. I don’t quite remember anything about lynch mobs. You might refresh my memory on this should I turn out to be wrong.”

  The Count bristled and glared, then drew his sword. Murmurs rose in the crowd, but he merely held it to the ground. He spoke up loudly:

  “Good people, this is not the way. I, Count Marquardt, Consul of War, am already working on evicting the green filth from this city. You’re weakening my position by doing this. This is a disgrace to civil order.”

  Murmurs grew louder in the crowd, and Adarin felt that for a moment the situation would turn truly ugly as hands tightened on rocks and cudgels. But then several of the men who had moved suspiciously earlier began speaking up. Adarin heard murmurs of “not worth it” and “better get back to work.” Soon the crowd dispersed.

  Count Marquardt turned to the Duchess, who was still gaping at Kelvin’s last words. “Duchess, if you promise the people what they truly want, they will listen to you.”

  Adarin smirked. Or if you have your own agitators within your ranks to manipulate the crowd. You play a mean game, Count. Well, this will be interesting.

  The crowd dispersed, and soon a patrol was found to escort the greenskins and half-bloods to safety.

  They again began walking toward the Spire again, and Duchess Viola found her voice. “Kelvin, you cannot just give up on your own people like this. It is your duty.”

  Kelvin spun around and hissed, pointing a sharp fingernail at her. “My duty is to survive. No one ever gave a shit about me, and I for sure won’t give a shit about fuckers who were too cowardly to run or fight.” He emphasized each word by jabbing a finger. “It is not my problem.”

  He shrugged and held his hands up between himself and the Duchess. Her face darkened, disappointment mixing with anger. Count Marquardt chuckled loudly, and the Duchess reddened even further. Adarin kept his thoughts to himself. So she thought she had found an ally here. But he’s an ice-cold pragmatist. Well, well, well.

  Soon they reached the Spire and Adarin handed off Kelvin to a sergeant to get him a meal. Duchess Viola excused herself, and Count Marquardt attempted the same. But Adarin snapped out a root whip—subtle, quick, and thirstily fluid with his new upgrade—and bound his wrist.

  The Count hissed. “What are you doing, creature?”

  Adarin responded, “My dear Count, we have to talk about matters of treason to the State.”

  The Count’s face paled. “Ridiculous,” he fired back, but he stopped resisting as Adarin pulled him into a side corridor, around a corner, and into a dilapidated room.

  Adarin stood there stock still, pulling the Count in like a fisherman reeling in a catch. “Count, I come from a nation where manipulation of the public was as easy as breathing for those in power, where their will and consent was merely a matter of engineering. Do you think it escapes me what you are doing with those agitators of yours and how you used them to conveniently disperse a crowd once I turned it into your problem?”

  The Count glanced from side to side. Sweat began running down his brow. “Those are groundless accusations. You have no—”

  “Great,” Adarin drawled, finally feeling his heartbeat quickening with something like pleasure. “Then you won’t mind if I hunt them down and skin them alive in the square. I think Rüdiger has quite the interesting spell, if you’ve heard reports of how he dealt with the adventurers there.”

  The Count gasped, but Adarin raised his hand. “I care little for the greenskins. What I care a lot about is security and stability. And you are stupidly endangering those in a place where the State is fragile. Tell me, Count—are you an enemy of the State?”

  Adarin yanked hard on the leash. The Count stumbled forward, crashed into Adarin, who pushed him back hard into a wall. He advanced menacingly.

  “Are you an enemy of the State?” He spat each word like a verdict.

  The Count gulped, his eyes finally wide with fear.

  Good. I have him where I need him.

  “No, no, I merely did what was prudent.”

  “Prudent? In your narrow little perspective? Politic all you want. Organize lynch mobs all you want. But do it again in a manner that causes public chaos,” Adarin hissed, “and it will be your neck in the noose next time.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The Count’s eyes widened even further. He’s rattled enough. That’s all I need.

  “Now, I believe we can help each other. As per your suggestion, I believe I can be persuaded to take the Duchess with me. So you can build your power base while undermining hers.”

  Utter confusion played over the Count’s face. “Why? Why would you?”

  “I am not your enemy, Count. I am merely a party interested in the success of this project. Stability comes from unity—of purpose, of race, of faith. The Empire knew this.”

  “Unity of race? Then why—”

  “Because every cog in the machine has to be made useful. Killing off people because you don’t like them is plainly stupid. Rearrange them. Relocate them. Place them in positions where they do what you need them to do. Don’t let your hatred blind you, Count. You’re useful—I and Rüdiger recognize this. But overstep your bounds again…”

  Adarin scuttled forward again, looming over the Count. “…fail to do exactly what I tell you to do in exchange for my little favor, and you will wish you were back in this little meeting of ours. Yes?”

  Adarin spent the next few hours scurrying about the spire, organizing, prodding and extorting people to gain the resources and information required for the expedition to Dreyrivers. A messenger found him with a missive inviting him to a ceremony of citizenship in the evening.

  Adarin was among the first to arrive. I don’t care where I park this body while I do the real work. He was sitting in his mind space, dozens of tables, maps, lists, plans and plots swirling about him in a hurricane of chaos that made perfect sense to him and would to no one else. The engrams encoded in his mind made sure of this—a basic security measure against enemy data hounds. He shook his head. Probably a habit I no longer need.

  Soon the previous mix of bureaucrats, mages and soldiers assembled, and one by one the other consuls trickled in, taking the seats in the first row while making snide remarks at each other. The way Rüdiger is running this, I can’t decide if he’s enjoying this chaotic shit show, or if, given the materials he has to work with, he simply has no other option. He’s playing all of them beautifully against each other though. A craftsman got to appreciate another craftsman’s work, after all.

  Adarin nodded to himself as just what he expected, played out before him. Kelvin stepped up and Rüdiger gave a long-winded speech about harmony, unity, a new age, new opportunities. Then, under the murmur of the crowd and some widened eyes, Kelvin was made the first external green-skin citizen of the Republic. The half-goblin smiled all the while—appreciative, meek, agreeable. What a cute little wolf cub.

  Adarin allowed himself to smirk and steepled his fingers in anticipation of what was surely to come next. Rüdiger floated off the ground again and now he drew the words out like an archer drawing tension on a bowstring.

  “I shall introduce you all to the final consul, the missing Consul of Land, the esteemed counterpiece to our dear Guildmistress Jacqueline. Consul Kelvin Greenpike, take your place alongside your fellow consuls and repeat this oath after me.”

  An outcry erupted all over the hall. Count Marquardt was no longer sitting but standing. Adarin grinned. Poor man is having a really bad day today. Mathilda seemed utterly unsurprised—too unsurprised, actually. Francesco and Jacqueline, on the other hand, were doing well hiding their expressions. Interesting. Is she truly his closest confidant, or just utterly imperturbable?

  Liora reached out over the noospheric link. ‘Why did he do that? We just met that guy today.’

  Adarin chuckled. ‘And why exactly would that stop Rüdiger from making him one of his highest political officers?’

  Silence. Then a shy chuckle returned to him. ‘Fair point, I guess. Can you explain this to me?’

  ‘Factions,’ Adarin said. ‘He doesn’t have a unified power base here. He needs to grow quickly in terms of land and people. But if he relies too much on one group, his power becomes fragile. So he lays the foundation out of many stones and balances them all against each other. He had not yet come to use the greenskins. Kelvin is a cold pragmatist. He’s perfect.’

  A warmth spread in his stomach as Liora hummed in appreciation, considering his analysis. Am I developing fatherly feelings for her? Well, no matter. Time for my part of the show.

  Rüdiger, instead of waiting for the ruckus to die down, extracted the oath under protest and then simply increased the volume of his magically amplified voice.

  “As for the final event of the evening,” he spoke, grandeur and showmanship in one, “I present to you my new Envoy of Special Affairs, Sir Adarin.”

  Whereas the reaction to Kelvin’s citizenship had been politely raised eyebrows and his elevation to consulship had caused a public ruckus, the hall was utterly silent. Adarin scanned the looks that were exchanged and allowed himself a canine smile. Well, at least I’m not the only one here who doesn’t truly understand what that means.

  “His first act in his new office—which in all respects carries my direct will and intent—is to lead the expedition to reclaim our first satellite colony, the old city of Colliers and Lumberjacks: Dreyrivers.”

  Captain Ashfield stepped forward—the same captain who had captained the warship Adarin had traveled to the island with. His face was as imperturbable and sour as ever.

  Rüdiger began searching his pockets, while floating over the crowd, murmuring to himself. “Now where is it? I must have put it somewhere. Ah, yes, here.”

  He drew something out of his pocket. It was an apple. Rüdiger studied the apple, turned it about. Murmurs and whispers erupted in the crowd, and one could mark veterancy in the order by seeing how surprised people were about this performance.

  The captain, to his absolute credit, didn’t even seem to register the whole affair going on in front and above him. Then Rüdiger snapped his fingers and grasped into a pocket in an obscure part of his cloak. He opened a box and got out a brooch.

  “My dear Captain, I hereby promote you to Commodore for this expeditionary fleet. Do you accept the promotion with all the accompanying duties and honors?”

  “I do, sir,” the captain growled, his voice dry and raspy.

  “Very good.” Rüdiger pinned the brooch onto the man’s uniform of white linen with blue edges and a naval-grey waterproof cape.

  Rüdiger dismissed the man with a gesture and turned back to Adarin. “Now, Envoy of Special Affairs. Who shall be on your inner team.”

  Adarin walked to the middle between the Obelisk of the Constitution and the City Crystal and began speaking.

  “It would be my honor to take the Archmagister of Inscription, Devin of the Black Scale, and the Archmaster of Alchemy, Gavin, Son of None. And finally, the Honored Priestess and your disciple, Liora Iskara, if you would permit me to take them into my service.”

  Rüdiger waved his hand. “Yes, yes, granted.”

  Adarin heard the next sentence loud and clear—behind him, Guildmistress Jacqueline, whispering to no one in particular but loud enough for the first row and the other consuls to hear:

  “The little girl keeps stumbling upward. I wonder what she’ll stumble into next.”

  Less than polite chuckles were the response, and Liora’s face reddened—anger turning to shame and sadness as she saw Francesco chuckling there in tacit assent.

  Well, Jacqueline, it seems you just made my decision for whom else to take on this expedition with me.