Only Villains Do That

Privacy was surprisingly easy to find for being the aftermath of a revolution. Minutes later we were shut in the back office of a nearby shop which had long since been abandoned and looted, my people (plus Rizz and Rhoka) occupying the front room, and Sneppit’s security detail standing guard at the exterior door.

“There’s one thing I keep meaning to ask,” I said as soon as the door was closed. “What’s with the job titles? Like, sure, Zui’s a killer hairstylist but that’s not the only or by far the most important thing she does. And the hell Gizmit is a maid.”

“Oh, that?” Sneppit grinned at me, hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk in whoever’s office this was. It was goblin-sized, so she had no trouble reaching, and I couldn’t help but notice that she did that instead of planting herself in the only seat, which was behind said desk. Positioning had implications, as she well knew. “It’s a bit of goblin tradition. That’s where they started; like most bigger companies, I make a point of recruiting raw talent and then cultivating skills within my organization instead of trying to hire on experts, which is more expensive and carries risks. People who come up through the organization are more loyal to it. It’s just the job title that remains the same on their employment contracts, regardless of the responsibilities they take on.”

“Hang on. Are you telling me Gizmit’s making a maid’s salary?”

She snorted. “Oh, hell no. Nor are those contracts coercive; a Judge would climb up my ass and swing their stabbin’ stick in figure eights if I did that. Nah, it’s a holdover from the bad old days when that was the policy. People would get basically trapped forever by their bosses, doing specialized work for unskilled wages. Kzidnak doesn’t have that problem anymore, but we’ve still got the custom. These days, it’s actually a matter of esteem. Youda, for instance, is a damn fine alchemist, but he started with my company slingin’ slop in the canteen. I provided resources for his training, but he busted his ass learning the skills he did, and getting to introduce himself as the cook is a brag: it shows how far he’s come. An operative who gets to call herself the maid does so as a point of pride.”

“Huh.” It made sense, especially in context with everything else I knew about goblins, even if it was counterintuitive. “They don’t just want the more impressive job titles?”

“You’re thinkin’ like a human,” she chided gently, grinning. “Goblins care about results, not preening and strutting. ‘Sides, this little custom of ours has the side benefit of confusing people and obscuring our real abilities when we gotta introduce ourselves to outsiders. Really, though, with everything goin’ on, this is what you so urgently wanted to ask me about in private?”

“It’s just a final piece of the puzzle I’ve been putting together,” I said pensively. There was nowhere else to sit in the room save the goblin-sized chair, so I leaned against the wall and folded my arms, Biribo drifting away to buzz around another corner of the room. “So, Sneppit. Do you wanna be the Goblin Queen?”

She grinned, an expression that was both wholesomely jubilant and viciously triumphant. Sneppit in a nutshell. “You won’t regret this, Lord Seiji. I—”

“Hang on.” I held up one hand. “That was a question, not an offer. I am asking, do you want to be the Goblin Queen?”

Her smile had immediately faded, of course, but now she tilted her head to one side. On a lot of people the gesture would have suggested confusion, but Sneppit gave me the distinct impression she was keenly analyzing me from a new angle.

“Well, sure, I’d think that question was good and answered but I respect wanting things laid out in exact terms. Yes, Lord Seiji, I want to be Goblin Queen.”

“Why?”

She narrowed her eyes. “This is definitely a trick question, but I can’t spot the trick. Well played, it’s been a while since somebody put me in that position.”

“The trick is that you’d naturally assume it’s a trick question, but no, I’m actually being serious and straightforward here. I’m asking why you want to be the Goblin Queen, because I’m keenly interested in hearing your answer.”

“All right.” She hopped up to stand atop the desk, flicking her arms once and flexing her fingers as if in preparation to perform a quickdraw. “Because where other people see problems, I see opportunities. We’ve just lived through the greatest disaster to befall Kzidnak in my lifetime, so what’m I gonna do? Curl up and cry, or find a way to win? That’s what I do, Lord Seiji. That’s brought me as high as I can go within Kzidnak, and now this crisis has broken that ceiling. I’m gonna put this place back together, better than it ever was before. And with you? Hell, who knows how much higher I can go? You and me, Lord Seiji, we’ll take on the world and kick its ass.”

“The numbers must go up,” I murmured. That was exactly the wrong answer, but I wasn’t sure how to explain that in a way that would make any sense to Sneppit of all people. For goblins, ambition was a cardinal virtue. “Let me ask you this, then: how much is enough? At what point would you like to just…quit?”

Her eyebrows shot upward. “Do what now?”

“Well, take me for example. I had it all planned out—no shortage of ambition, in fact an unreasonable amount that I was realistically never gonna pull off, but there’s no harm in aspiring, right?”

“Hell no there’s not,” she agreed, grinning.

“I was going to go to California and make it as a rock star. Just like every other idiot who tries that and fails; the only angle I had was my shamisen. There are a few rock groups in Japan that use them, but they’re practically unknown in the States. It’d be a real novelty there.” She was smiling and nodding even though all of this was a nonsense word salad to her, which told me something about the level of sincerity on display here. “Yeah, I wanted it all. The fame, the recording contracts, world tours, groupies, my own bus with my face on the side… But also, retirement. Y’know? Rock stars either die at twenty-seven from the shit they put up their noses, or linger until their eighties, getting more desperate and pathetic with each passing year. I wanted to quit, just take my money to a mansion in the hills and spend my time laying around the pool. No admittance to anyone but the most fuckable fans—and a personal assistant on staff whose whole-ass job was to scout fuckable fans. Indulgence and excess, that was the dream. Don’t get me wrong, I have never wanted a handout—I aspired to earn it, to be acknowledged for being good at my craft. But then, at the end, the idea was to be able to enjoy it all in peace.”

“That’s quite a dream,” she said, still smiling. “Wow, this whole Dark Lord thing was really not what you had in mind, huh.”

“What I had in mind is very much the issue here.” I could hear Rizz’s warning about Sneppit echoing in my head. Gizmit’s had been apt, if self-serving, but it was Rizz’s perspective that made me fear creating a monster. Unlimited ambition was not something I wanted to feed with double Blessings and other miscellaneous monster girl powers, but that argument was obviously not going to impress Sneppit herself. That was the problem with being turned into a monster by power; not everybody was against it. No, in fact, Gizmit’s take was more salient to that. “I think we have a…disconnect in expectations here. You are thinking of the role of Goblin Queen as something like Jadrak was trying to be—the uncontested ruler of Kzidnak, and of all future goblins brought under my aegis.”

“Is it not?” Her smile was gone now.

“Why would Blessings and powers help with that? Goblins won’t respect or follow someone who tries to lead them by force, you told me that when Jadrak’s future prospects came up. We’ve got to take the opportunity created by this disaster to turn Kzidnak from the mess it’s always been into a single, unified nation, under one leadership and with all its energies pointed in one direction. That’s going to require an absolutely top notch administrator…which is basically the opposite of what I’m looking for.”

Sneppit narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“What I need is…a figurehead. Someone the goblins can admire and aspire to be like, and feel represented by—but from a distance. Not the person actually organizing them, because what I don’t need is competition for loyalty. Furthermore, the weakness of Enjoin is the vulnerability it creates to curses and similar effects. I need to keep my magically endowed lieutenants—my queens, so to speak—close to me. And that means they’ll be the first into the fight. Because I usually am, and I do a lot of fighting.”

I gave her a moment to consider that, watching her face lengthen.

“You’re an administrator and negotiator, Snep. Maybe the best there is, certainly the best I’ve ever known. You’re neither a front line fighter nor a people person, those are the tasks you’ve very wisely delegated to the talent you’re so skilled at recruiting. This just isn’t the role for you.”

“Well.” Her voice was quiet, but without outward resentment, which I knew didn’t mean much. “You might’ve told me this was a job interview before I flubbed it.”

“I would not presume to interview Miss Sneppit,” I said, grinning. “Anybody who needs your qualifications explained to them has no business being here. No…on the contrary, I believe that Kzidnak and even goblinkind are too limited a scope for your abilities. I know this isn’t what you expected, but what I have in mind for you, I believe you’ll like a lot more.”

“How’s it look out there?” I asked as we returned to the front room. This was more spacious than the back office, which was good, as Sneppit’s and my own core entourages were all gathered here. The furnishings were all built to goblin scale but fortunately the ceilings were tall enough for the rest of us. I had noticed Madyn and Ydleth among the group Sneppit had brought. While I wasn’t best pleased at her dragging them this close to the fight when I’d left them in her secure headquarters on the other side of the island, it was handy to have everybody together again.

“Pretty much the chaos you’d expect,” Gizmit reported. “It’s being handled as well as it can be, Lord Seiji. Judge Rizz is the only one who’s stayed here to keep an eye on you, since you’re acquainted; her colleagues are out there restoring order. It’s worth noting that the only order they know how to restore is the old one. I presume you’re planning to consolidate your authority over Kzidnak, so…the window of opportunity on that is finite. Best to make yourself known and take a hand in the process.”

“Noted,” I said, turning to the goblin in question. “Rizz, your thoughts on that?”

“All precedent and tradition acknowledges the role of the Dark Lord,” the Judge replied. “If you start cracking heads and trying to rule with an iron fist, you’re gonna get a lot of pushback. But after that display this morning, you’ve got major support. A mandate, I would venture to say. So long as you rule by consent and treat the goblins as well as you reasonably can, the Judges will either help you or go about their business and try to avoid you; none would stand against you. Any other resistance you can handle as you deem necessary, though I advise a light touch.”

“Agreed. If you’re willing, Judge, I would like your help. I’ll need advice and perspective on building an organization for goblins, but beyond that, I believe I have a lot to learn. Give me a few days to make it known among my existing organization, but once the orders are relayed I want the Judges to feel free to visit North Watch and circulate among my people—my other people, that is—performing their function. By which I mean, they’re welcome to arbitrate and settle disputes; authority is mine and that of my chain of command. If we mesh well, I’m open to granting Judges a more formal place and more of the privileges they’re used to, beyond Kzidnak.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I will relay that. Gotta say…that is a lot more than they’ll be expecting.”

“It’s a general thought at this point, not something I’m willing to put in writing. I would like everyone to keep in mind that it’s something to work toward, however. I like the Judge system and if it can be integrated with the Dark Crusade, I want to make it happen. Now, more immediately, it’s my understanding that according to precedent, the rise of a Goblin King and/or Dark Lord is considered to dissolve established institutions and contracts?”

“Not automatically or by default.” Rizz narrowed her eyes, studying me closely. “But your authority to dissolve such things as necessary is a matter of precedent.”

“Good. Gizmit, Youda, I’m glad you were both brought along on this trip.”

“Am I about to regret that, Lord Seiji?” Sneppit asked with a distinct bite in her tone.

I ignored her, to her visible annoyance. “I have specific need for your talents in particular. I’m not going to draft anybody who’s unwilling, but I’m making you the offer now: if you want it, a high rank in the Crusade is available to you both. I need someone to both build and lead an actual intelligence agency, and likewise for a division of alchemists and scientists. Youda, you’d ultimately answer to my head of facilities, Kasser. Gizmit, you would report directly to me, with a rank equivalent to Aster’s—she’s my chief military commander—but at the top of your own separate chain of command.”

“What…kind of stuff would I be doing?” Youda asked carefully, risking a glance at Sneppit. She had on one of those expressions that was so obviously not an angry scowl that it would have been softer if it had been.

“Two main lines of work: production and research. I’ll want a whole system to provide the alchemical supplies we need, and also one to develop new solutions. We owe a lot of our success so far to goblin alchemy and I want to stay ahead of the curve; as soon as our enemies adapt to one of your unconventional weapons, I want three more waiting to be deployed.”

“Wait, a whole R&D division? With a budget?” Youda suddenly looked like I’d just invented Christmas and put him in charge of it.

“That’s the job, Youda. You in?”

Both of them were frozen for a moment in thought, and the contrast between them was amusing. Gizmit, as always, remained aloof and contained, while Youda was practically vibrating. He glanced at her as if for input, though she didn’t return the look. Instead, they both chanced peeking at Miss Sneppit. Her expression was an icy blank; her arms folded, shoulders tense, one finger tapping rapidly against her pink-clad bicep.

“Aw, fuck it, I gotta,” Youda finally groaned. “I have to. I’m in, Lord Seiji!”

“All of this, I presume, is contingent upon a proper contract of employment being drawn up,” Gizmit said far more calmly. “I would certainly not begrudge you the input of a Judge on it.”

“Naturally,” I promised her. “We’ll have everything in writing, in terms everyone agrees is fair.”

“Pending that, then… I accept. Sorry, Snep,” she added, looking actually rueful for once. “But… You understand.”

“You gotta grab opportunity when it pops,” Sneppit said in an impressively calm tone, belied by the twitching of her left eyelid. “I’d expect nothing less of any goblin I respect.”

“Welcome to the team, both of you,” I said, smiling warmly. “And don’t you worry, I’m taking this with the utmost seriousness. I’ll have your new contracts drawn up by the Chancellor of the Dark Crusade in person.”

Everyone in the room stilled, turning to frown at me.

Everyone except Gizmit, who froze for a half-second, then closed her eyes, the breath leaving her in a long, slow release. Attagirl, that was exactly the perceptiveness I needed in my new spymaster.

“Uh…” It was Nazralind who broke the confused silence. “The who?”

“The reality is,” I admitted, “I lead by charisma, not by any kind of organizational competence. Don’t worry, I’m not handing over the actual rule of the Crusade to anyone else. All decisions will go through me and I will be kept appraised of everything of note. In fact, I’m looking forward to working with a professional administrator if only for the benefit of learning how to…administrate. Ultimately, though, I’m a lead-from-the-front kind of Dark Lord. I’m often away from headquarters, and actual governance just plain isn’t in my skill set. My Chancellor will set up and manage the organization—they will be, in effect, the chief executive in charge of everything under my reign. Sneppit.”

I turned to her, bowing, then tilted my head toward Gizmit and Youda.

“These two are moving into very important roles; their privileges and compensation should reflect the value of their skills, and suffice to encourage loyalty. However, they did just jump ship on their previous employer during a crisis. I think it’s reasonable that the final terms reflect that.”

“Oh, don’ t you worry, my lord,” Chancellor Sneppit said, beaming happily and looking as fully relaxed and smug as she was entitled to, now that our little charade had wrapped up. “I’ll hammer out something that’s fair to everybody.”

“Run it by a Judge, too. I want to encourage their involvement, and make it plain that goblins and their traditions will be valued in my organization.”

“A good idea, Lord Seiji. I’ll see it done.”

“Not bad,” Gizmit said. Rather than looking put out, she gave me a deep nod and one of her rare smiles.

Youda actually laughed out loud. “Oh, nice. That was slick. You sure you’re not part goblin, Lord Seiji?”

“I’m increasingly willing to entertain the possibility. Now then, Zui.”

“Oh, what?” she said wryly, folding her arms. “The Dark Crusade needs a hairstylist?”

“Well, I mean…actually, yeah, our hair situation is kind of dire. Just look at Nazralind over there.”

“Why am I always the example?!”

“Because Flaethwyn left,” I said sweetly, then turned back to Zui. “But no, I had something rather more important in mind.”

“Must be,” she grunted, “if I’m not getting the Seiji/Sneppit deluxe runaround. I don’t mind telling you, seeing the two of you so in sync is pretty goddamn terrifying.”

“This matter is too serious for such games,” I said. “How would you like to be the new Goblin Queen?”

“DAMMIT!”

I turned in annoyance at this new interruption, to see Nazralind grudgingly hand over a few coins to a grinning Adelly.

“You sure you don’t think Gizmit’s a better pick, Lord Seiji?” the elf asked hopefully. “I mean, she’s obviously the best fighter, and you can’t beat those looks—”

“Nazralind, silence yourself or I’ll have Aster do it,” I ordered.

“Elves have really slender necks,” Aster said pleasantly. “I’ve always thought they must be extra susceptible to headlocks.”

“Anyway.” I turned back to Zui. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re outta your damn mind,” she exclaimed. “Me? What? Me? Like…fucking what? In Virya’s name, why?”

“It’s simple.”

I stepped forward, and then lowered myself to one knee in front of her, bringing my face nearly to the level of hers. To judge by her faint scowl, Zui shared my private opinion that there was something fundamentally condescending about this position, but we’d have to bear it for the moment; blocking is very important in showtime. I gave her my most solemn, open expression, and spoke in an even and serious tone.

“It’s because you’ve got the biggest boobs.”

I was expecting it, of course; between that and Goose’s coaching, I deftly caught the punch in one hand before it broke my nose. Still, though, even with my lowered center of gravity it made my balance wobble. That goblin strength was no joke.

“Just kidding,” I said, grinning and still holding onto her fist, just to be safe. “It’s because of that.”

I stood up, and Zui stepped back, now squinting up at me in suspicion.

“Certain nay-saying party-poopers would tell you that trying to sucker punch a man twice your size who can set you on fire with his brain is an…unintelligent thing to do. What you know and I know, Zui, is that they would be missing the point. Sometimes… Sometimes you have to weigh the pros and cons carefully, and decide whether to fight based on the probable outcomes. But sometimes, a bastard just needs to get punched, whether or not you can get away with it.”

I paused, and lowered my tone slightly, watching her expression.

“Sometimes, you have to respect the chain of command and know when to cut your losses…and sometimes you’ve gotta steal a tram car and rescue your stranded comrades.”

Zui pursed her lips at me, her eyes still narrowed. It was quiet in the room and I didn’t bother to look around at how everyone else was reacting to this, keeping my focus on her where it belonged.

“When I use the term Goblin Queen, I think you’re imagining something along the lines of Jadrak, and that’s the important misconception here. Kzidnak does not need another one of those. What I need from a Goblin Queen is someone to stick with me—someone fit to be augmented with two entire Blessings, plus additional racial magic as the core group grows, and above all someone I can trust and rely on.”

“You make it sound like you’re building some kind of super strike team,” Zui said warily. “Naz isn’t wrong, if you want a fighter Gizmit’s a better bet.”

“Thank you!”

Aster took a big step toward her and Naz tried to hide behind Adelly.

“Three months ago, I was no fighter at all,” I replied. “Today, you saw me duel a Void witch. Fighting is a skill that can be learned—and one of the first things I learned about it is that ludicrous superpowers give you kind of an advantage even over people who’re objectively better at it. Which is why all of that is the least important consideration here. Regardless of how Jadrak did things, in the Dark Crusade the Goblin Queen needs to be a representative, not a ruler. Someone goblins can respect, admire…someone they know has their interests in mind and is close to the Dark Lord, because there is only one final authority in this institution. Just as importantly, if not more so, I need someone with me who understands goblins, thinks about their interests, and will make sure I have to think about them as well, no matter how many other directions my attention is pulled.”

I had to pause again. It was a good moment in the speech for a dramatic pause, fortunately, but this time… I also needed to gather my own thoughts, and double down on my composure. It wasn’t often that I had a need to discuss personal vulnerabilities in front of this many people, but I had that need now. This had to be sincere or none of it would work.

“And there’s the important matter of what I need from the people I keep closest to me, all of them. I don’t want to lie to you, Zui: I am offering to hand you a live bomb. Power is… It fucks you up. It gets into people’s heads and makes ‘em crazy. I can feel it happening, and even so it sometimes sneaks up on me. The best thing I’ve done in building this cockamamie Crusade is to surround myself with people who have spines and hearts as well as brains. They’re the only thing that makes this work at all: I have people near me who’ll argue when it’s important, who aren’t afraid to tell me ‘no,’ who can recognize when I need to be called out on my bullshit and do it.”

I looked over at Aster, then at Nazralind, both of whom smiled.

“That’s what I need from any addition to my core group. Someone who’s capable of doing the smart thing, and the right thing, and has the moral judgment to know which to do, when. Someone who understands the difference between obedience and loyalty and when to apply each. Someone who’ll help hold me, and each other, accountable.”

The skepticism had mostly melted from Zui’s eyes; right now I couldn’t quite interpret her expression. Her mouth hung slightly open, working in small movements as if she kept trying to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

“When I lay it all out like that, logically, and consider all the angles… Well, it ended up being pretty obvious. I need you,Zui. There’s no one else who fits the whole bill. Kzidnak needs you—hell, Ephemera does.”

I held out my hand to her.

“You in?”

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” she whispered. “Why would you put it that way? That’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a sigh. “It’s some bullshit, I know. Sorry. None of this crap is fair to any of us, we’ve just all gotta do what we can. That’s what I’m asking of you—the same thing I do from everyone. I won’t deceive you about how rough it’s gonna be, I’m pretty sure you can see that coming. All I can promise is we’ll all have each other’s backs.”

Staring at my still-outstretched hand, she slowly shook her head. “You are…the most ridiculous asshole I have ever met. And I think the worst thing is how much I believe that you actually are trying your best, to do the right thing.”

“I am,” I agreed simply. “And I am straight up not very good at it. Help me out?”

“Fuck it, I am going to regret this,” Zui groaned. “But nobody’s ever going to say I didn’t do my part. I’m in, Dark Lord. I’ll try not to screw this up, if you’ll do the same.”

“Deal.”

Zui finally reached out, holding my gaze with her own, and clasped my hand.

Enjoin.

I saw the golden light flash in her eyes, and it was done.

“All right! Goblin strength! Oh, I’ve been waiting for this!” Nazralind cheered, then turned and punched the wall.

A second later she was yowling like a stepped-on cat, dancing about and cradling her hand against her chest.

“That is solid rock,” Aster said without sympathy. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I don’t know! Give me a break, I’m used to akorshil walls!”

“So you were gonna wreck the wall just to see if you could? Shit like this is why the goblins hate us, you know.”

“Well, hey, look at that, I regret this already,” Zui muttered. “That was fast.”

“Seijiiiiiii,” Nazralind whined, holding out her hand. The knuckles were already turning red. “Heal, please!”

“Sorry, Naz,” I said gravely. “After performing extensive tests, I’ve determined that I can’t Heal stupidity.”

“I hate you! You’re so mean to me!”

“Really, though,” Sneppit drawled, tilting her head to give me a long look over the rims of her shades. “My hairstylist?”

“Executive assistant,” I corrected, “and also a pretty decent security guard.”

I winked at Zui, who rolled her eyes.

“Heads up, boss, we got incoming,” Biribo reported. “Noncombat but y’might wanna get everybody in socially defensive formation.”

Fortunately, everyone present understood what that meant; the group immediately clustered together along one side of the room, arranging themselves with admirable efficiency so that I was framed in the center, bracketed with my human (and elf) allies with the goblins in front. I also fired a quick Heal at Nazralind, because as much as she deserved the scuffed knuckles this was no time to have her more distracted than usual.

So when the door opened and the dark elf stepped into the room, she was immediately facing a united front. Well, mostly. Rizz and Rhoka were still lounging against the wall separate from the rest of us, ostentatiously neutral.

Up close, I could see more details of her bodacious body art. The glowing white sigils inked all down her left arm were intricate and pretty cool visually, but my eyes were drawn to the rest. Her skin was tattooed entirely purple along most of her right arm, the right shoulder, and diagonally down her torso from there, cutting across her exposed abdomen and entirely covering her left leg. The purple segments had a border of black that, now that I looked closer, was actually intricate braidwork. And it wasn’t just flat purple, but textured. The detail was incredible for how much skin it covered, and especially the way the pattern flowed realistically along the contours of her body. It was marked to make her look like she had a swath of purple snake scales.

I still needed to have Biribo explain in detail the significance of Savin tattoo work, but even at a glance I could tell how this much high-quality body art indicated she was rich, and had (or use to have, at least) the free time to lie around for days on end getting needled. Also, Viryan culture being what it was, her ability to endure that much pain over that much time was probably part of the flex.

Also, there was her weapon, that artifact treasure of Shylverrael Biribo had told me about. The bow was beautiful, of course, delicately carved of some gleaming white substance, with no visible string. Most interestingly were the silver wings affixed to its arms in front, curling outward at the tips, carved in the shape of feathers, and clearly sharpened to a murderous edge. Huh, a bow with attached blades, that you could swing like a quarterstaff to slice people up. That probably wouldn’t work with anything that had to function on purely physical principles, but artifacts were bullshit.

“Wow,” Sneppit said in her most unimpressed tone, folding her arms, “my security really just let you walk in here, huh. No announcement, no nothin’. I see somebody’s gettin’ paid too much.”

“Pray do not condemn your guards,” the elf said in a smooth, cultured alto that reminded me of a less curt Ozyraph. “After arranging the resistance within the Goblin King’s own headquarters, I have accrued a substantial following amongst the goblins. They knew me for an ally, and exercised judgment.”

“Oh, honey, what’ve you done to your hair?” Zui burst out.

Now that I noticed… Previously I’d thought she just had a short, deliberately scruffy hairstyle such as I’d seen on a lot of girls in the music scene, but on closer inspection it looked like someone had hacked it off in uneven chunks with a dull knife. There wasn’t enough length left in those white locks to tie back or pin or do anything to conceal their ragged state; a couple of them kept falling across her eyes.

The elf drew herself up, raising her chin, and stared down her nose at Zui with an oppressively neutral expression. It was an impressively wordless royal rebuke, and it made a prickle of dislike travel all the way up my spine.

She turned to me without bothering to address Zui or her question out loud, and bowed deeply.

“It is an honor to be in your presence, Dark Lord Seiji. I am Velaven Amica Avarisien, rightful Queen of Shylverrael.”

Oh. Well, that would explain the markings of status. Not from Savindar after all; that was both a relief and a disappointment.

“Finally,” I said in a mild tone, “you deign to introduce yourself.”

Velaven straightened up, meeting my eyes without a hint of shame, and opened her mouth to answer. I cut her off.

“’Rightful’ is a…complicated word. I’m guessing the other sister snaked the throne out from under you?”

“I have the good fortune to be an only child,” she said, her tone faintly wry but devoid of anger. Good; this conversation was going to go significantly worse if this woman had the nerve to get pissy with me. “No, my lord, I was the reigning Queen for years, and a successful one. Until I was betrayed and cast out by a conspiracy.”

“Before she gives you the wrong impression, Lord Seiji,” Sneppit cut in, “it’s worth knowing that in Viryan and especially Savin cultures, usurpation is enshrined in custom and sometimes law as a valid means of transferring power. Just because she was removed from the throne by force or subterfuge doesn’t mean her successor will be regarded as less than legitimate.”

“Your advisor speaks truth, my lord,” Velaven agreed. “What matters with regard to your interests is that I have a legitimate claim to the throne, allies in useful positions who will back me given the opportunity and motive, and popular support among the people. My…successor can be removed far more easily and with less disruption to the city-state than I was.”

“Expand on that,” I ordered.

“I was an effective and popular ruler,” she stated with understated pride, lifting her chin again. “Shyverrael prospered under my hand. I streamlined its bureaucracy, instituted a series of reforms to taxation and the distribution of resources, cultivated more effective governance of our outlying territories and thus income to the city. As a result, my people enjoyed more freedom and prosperity under my rule, and I made certain that the fruits of our productivity trickled upward as well, enriching the upper class and my functionaries to ensure their loyalty. I was—am—loved by my people. Parades and festivals were held in my honor, which in a Savin culture is a thing no ruler would dare arrange, and arises only as spontaneous support from the public.”

She paused, lowered her eyes for a second, then just as quickly raised them again to meet my gaze with determination.

“And so, I committed the gravest sin a Viryan can.”

“You got complacent,” I said softly.

“To my everlasting shame,” Velaven nodded. “I brought prosperity to all under my reign, and discounted the obvious fact that some of them would hold ambition that exceeded their due. What befell me could have been avoided had I simply been careful, and planned for it. I was cast down because I deserved to be for that failure alone, and I do not dispute it. Instead, I have learned from it, and grown stronger.”

“So,” I mused, “you want to leverage my forces to restore your throne.”

With a suddenness that startled me, Velaven went down to one knee and lowered her head deeply, exposing the back of her neck. She set the bow against the floor, leaning her weight on the hand still pressed over its grip. It wasn’t quite kowtowing as I was used to it, but something told me a Viryan would sooner open their own throat than prostrate themselves fully on the floor.

“I desire vengeance against those who wronged me, and the restoration of what is mine,” she said fiercely, her voice too strong to be muffled by her downcast position. “Grant me this, Dark Lord, and you may regard me as your slave. I will serve your cause to the utmost extent of my power and expend the last drop of my ancient blood in your name, and bend my people to the same purpose. Only aid me in this one goal, and I am yours. All that I am, all that is mine, is yours.”

I had to blink twice, taking that in. She’d been hanging around North Watch, invisible; how much had she bothered to know about me personally? There was no ignoring the symbolism and subtext of that offer, but my organization was rather notable for specifically not putting women in positions like that, and I personally did not need a scantily-clad “slave” making suggestions that would trigger a flashback. Fortunately I was too annoyed with this woman to suffer one right now; I have a hard time thinking about the fuckability of people I want to throttle. Since Velaven was currently staring at the floor, I chanced a look around at my allies. Most of them looked slightly perturbed at this display, though Sneppit had an analytical expression. She caught my eye and nodded once.

“That mess you created with the cat tribe,” I said pensively, watching her. She did not flinch or move at all, just kneeling there receiving my judgment. “When I think about it, that came down to one mistake in what was otherwise a solid plan. A plan none of the rest of us could have executed; it needed your specialized knowledge to even think of, and your skills to carry out. There seems no reason it wouldn’t have worked if you only had access to naga feathers. And then there is your performance here, in Kzidnak. Doing what you did, as fast as you did… I can’t imagine any happenstance that could account for that. Only extreme competence could have achieved those results.”

Velaven finally raised her head. Her expression was still controlled, but I could see traces of the avid hope barely held back from her eyes.

“You honor me, Lord Seiji.”

“Our entire strategy,” I continued in the same slow, even tone, “was to avoid putting Jadrak on the spot until he could be weakened further. Because we learned that he had the ability to sacrifice the souls of his loyal followers to his devil in exchange for more Void powers. We moved with great care not to force him into a corner, so as to avoid that outcome, because there is simply no way we could have defeated a Void witch powered by sacrifice of that magnitude. He was reluctant to do it, for obvious reasons; we just had to stall him until his momentum flagged and with it the fanatical loyalty that would have made this possible. And then you went and played your trump card too early, forcing him into exactly that corner I did not want, whereupon he summoned his devil right in front of us.”

Velaven’s eyes had widened as I spoke, but she rallied impressively fast. “It seems that my gambit was what turned that against him, Lord Seiji. Seeing his own core army switch alignment, he must have believed he no longer had enough loyalty to enact that sacrifice, and so tried to order Ozyraph to attack instead.”

“Yes,” I mused, “I think you’re right. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened—it’s the only thing that makes sense to me. It certainly accounts for why a shrewd operator like Jadrak would fumble like that in the moment of truth, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.”

She didn’t quite smile, but her expression brightened slightly.

Then I leaned forward.

“And did you plan for that? Or did we all just survive based on the outcome of the luckiest coin toss in history?”

Slowly, Velaven lowered her head again, saying nothing.

“The problem here,” I said quietly, “is not that you aren’t good. It’s that you’ve been working without coordinating with us. All of these screwups could have been avoided and the same successes achieved, if not better, had you communicated and compared notes with me. Working together instead of anonymously in parallel. Worse, I am given to understand that the reason you did not was because you wished to approach me having achieved success on my behalf first. Am I wrong?”

“You are not, my lord,” she said, just as softly.

“Your jockeying for position has gotten people killed, Velaven.”

“More than you know, my lord,” she whispered.

I stared down at her, considering. Also letting the tension build, because she fucking deserved to welter in it, but legitimately considering, too.

The advantages were undeniable. She was a trained and clearly skilled shadow scout; stealth operatives were something I lacked. Even Gizmit didn’t have Velaven’s full abilities. She was a professional politician—an actual, sovereign ruler, if a former one. I had good sources of coaching on leadership in Minifrit and Sneppit, and the insight of Nazralind and her girls into the mindset of aristocrats, but none of them could provide me the caliber of advice and training I could get from an actual Queen. Perhaps best of all, Velaven was a giant in with the dark elves of Shylverrael. I did not have the strength to take the city by force, and didn’t want to do that anyway as it would deplete both my organization and the Shylver military, which I wanted intact and under my thumb. Having a ready-made puppet to plant on the throne after some careful espionage and politicking would be a major coup for me, in an unusually literal sense.

But.

There was no way in hell I was going to Enjoin this woman. Not right now; quite likely not ever. She was, I judged, worth giving the chance to prove herself. But as things stood, there was not even a fraction of the trust present that I would need for that.

“I do not punish failure,” I said abruptly into the tense silence. “I know well how the unpredictable world can spoil careful plans. More importantly, I would rather my people learn and grow than suffer. The problem here, Velaven, is not that you’ve failed, it is that you have made yourself impossible to trust. The dilemma before me is whether I should grant you the chance to earn that trust back.”

She remained still before me, head lowered, saying nothing. I considered her for another long moment.

“The next time one of your schemes blows up in my face,” I finally said, “it will be my own fault, because I will have authorized you to do it, after you thoroughly explained it to me beforehand. Am I clear?”

“Explicitly clear, my lord.”

“You’re a smart lady, so I assume I do not need to enumerate what will happen if we come to the gates of Shylverrael and find the situation there is not what you have led me to believe.”

“You do not, my lord.”

“You are, until further notice, on the hook to prove your trustworthiness and reliability, not your competence. There will be no repercussions if something you attempt doesn’t work, so long as you clearly made an effort in good faith. Go over my head or behind my back once more, though, and I’ll be forced to conclude that you are more trouble than you’re worth.”

“I understand, my lord.”

“Then rise, Queen Velaven. Do this for me, and I will grant you the vengeance you crave. This is the Dark Crusade, that’s pretty much what we do here.”

Velaven allowed her poise to crack so far as to draw in a deep, steadying breath as she stood up. She met my gaze again without hesitation.

“I will not disappoint you again, Lord Seiji.”

“Let’s hope not, for both our sakes. Just so you know, some of the folks back at North Watch lost friends to your antics. No one’s allowed to murder or assault you, but I expect you to accept the condemnation you’ve got coming with grace. Now then!”

Before she could say anything in response to that, I clapped my hands briskly and stepped forward.

“We have got a shit ton to do. We need to simultaneously put Kzidnak back together after this disaster, and also put the rest of Dount back together after the last disaster, which we were in the middle of when Jadrak decided to make himself my problem. And we’ve gotta integrate two whole-ass organizations of people who are not gonna see this coming and have a long, ugly history between them. It’s gonna be one of those days, people. Walk and talk.”