Only Villains Do That

When I found my voice, it was quiet, controlled, with a low-key menacing quality which I’d perfected over the last few months and which I strongly suspected did not impress him much.

“Blackmail seems like conduct unbecoming a paladin.”

“When confronting a putative bandit lord of significant power and uncertain but surely grand ambitions, I suppose you think I ought to kill him on sight,” Rhydion answered in perfect calm. “Is that not what you would do, Lord Seiji?”

“Hard to say,” I replied evenly. “I don’t know anybody like that.”

Not anymore. Because I killed her.

“It would be an understandable impulse,” he said. He didn’t move, his posture remaining relaxed—as much as it could be in that armor—but the implicit threat made me instinctively shift my own weight. I didn’t go for my rapier; the non-artifact was definitely not my strongest asset. Shit, I’d never tried any of my spells on someone in full artifact armor before. I had Shock now… Wait, would metal armor make that more effective, or less? If I understood the physics, it would depend on whether the metal parts were directly touching the ground. Did those boots have leather soles?

“Understandable,” I repeated. “Doesn’t make it the wisest thing to do.”

“It is a great relief to hear that you understand that, Lord Seiji,” he replied solemnly, and I realized I’d just been conversationally kneecapped while I was distracted worrying about physical threats. This asshole was really starting to get under my skin. “The trial and error by which I learned that lesson had many unfortunate consequences—for far more people than just myself, to my shame. I have learned since that the bedrock rule of villains is that there is always another. Kill one, and you will quickly learn which had been lurking in wait to take his place. To kill them all, even in a small area, is as impossible as exterminating roaches one at a time. More come, and more, until finally you are forced to realize what you have done. By creating an environment of slaughter, you teach even the innocent and vulnerable to survive by tooth and claw; you raise both the risk and the reward of evil, creating a harder breed of villain while nurturing a wider pool of talent from which they recruit. Water the soil with the blood of the guilty, and more guilty shall grow.”

“How…poetic,” I said coldly, careful not to reveal any of the multiple ways this discussion was making me uncomfortable.

“Rare is the problem that can be solved by killing the person who caused it,” Rhydion stated. “As someone who has tried, I assure you that the issues of corruption and abuse by those in power are not among those few.”

“All right, I see what you’re saying. And it even makes some sense, as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough. You’re avoiding the obvious other half of that dilemma: there are some problems that cannot be solved without getting rid of the people causing them. The contemptible state of Fflyr Dlemathlys isn’t just some event that happened. It is actively maintained by the people profiting from it—people who won’t relinquish their hold until they are forced to.”

“And supposing you managed to wipe out the highborn, Lord Seiji. Is that your entire plan? What do you think will happen to all the innocent once the guilty have been punished? Will retribution feed them, organize them against the dangers of the world?”

“I didn’t say it was the entire solution,” I evaded. “Just that it’s a necessary part. That any solution which tries to avoid it is pointless.”

“Then we are back where we started. We were, after all, not initially discussing the highborn.”

Belatedly I realized I’d just presented a compelling case for him to stick a sword in me. Fucking hell, wasn’t I smarter than this? How did this guy keep running circles around me?

“I guess the question,” I replied carefully, “is how big a threat do you think deserves to be met with automatic violence?”

“Above all else,” Rhydion said quietly, “I fear a man driven by righteous anger, but not constrained by moral scruples. An assiduously moral man has inherent limitations on what he will or can do—the self-imposed bindings that make him safe, to point. At least for those who are not the targets of his wrath. Conversely, a self-interested man can be dealt with in countless ways. He can be bought, reasoned with, intimidated, recruited…the possibilities are endless. But. A man driven by principle, yet not constrained by it? Nothing will dissuade him; he will not stop until he is stopped. He will drown the realm in fire and blood and never question for a moment the justice or necessity of his actions. If such a man is unwilling to listen, to talk, and to reach compromise… Then that is the only kind of person who must, by necessity, be met with decisive force.”

From the corner of my eye I saw Aster slowly reach up to grasp the handle of her greatsword protruding over her shoulder. That was where she stopped, though: staring at Rhydion, feet braced, ready to draw. I decided it was a defensive posture and didn’t admonish her. Rhydion, for his part, had to have seen this, but he did nothing to acknowledge it. Man, nothing beats an all-covering suit of armor to preserve a guy’s poker face.

“But,” he continued in apparent calm, “there is always the all-important mitigating factor. If a man is driven by righteous fury, impelled to fight on behalf of the weak and strike down the guilty… Then he and I have common ground on which to meet. That will always be my preferred approach. As I have said, to attempt to solve problems through murder is pointless in the rare best outcome, and usually counterproductive to a vast degree. What does work to beat back the advance of evil is to prepare the ground on which it seeks to tread. To uplift and encourage people, to inspire their spirits and help instill virtue among the hearts of men and women. It would be a very great loss to destroy someone who is already willing and eager to take action for justice, merely because his methods are wrong. Such a person needs guidance, not punishment. Provided he is receptive to it.”

“Wow,” I drawled. “You sure think a lot of yourself.”

“When I consider my own mortal fallibility and decline to insert myself into everyone’s business,” Rhydion said in a gently wry tone, “I am called cowardly and weak. When I dare to assert that I possess any moral insight, I am called arrogant. And who knows? Likely both perspectives are right, in their way. We are certainly, all of us, imperfect in comprehension.”

“Nice philosophy. Seems to give you a lot of wiggle room to act in whatever way you damn well please in any given situation.”

“No doubt that is only the beginning of the issues you would take with my view of the world,” he answered smoothly. “I am sure I would find myself with many…opinions about your own, Lord Seiji. For all our assuredly numerous disagreements about the best path to achieve it, however, I think you and I are largely of one mind concerning what must be achieved. I would be very interested in having more conversations with you; I, at least, am humble enough to believe I could learn from your perspective.”

This whole time he had stood rather like a talkative statue, his relaxed posture serving to keep the tension at a low simmer even when he said things that were overtly threatening. Now, he finally moved, reaching out one open hand toward me.

“So let us go on an adventure in the forest. It will give us plenty of time to converse and compare perspectives—and even if we cannot find agreement, in the worst case we will accomplish something positive for the people of Dount. In the likelier outcome, I think you and I stand to learn a great deal from each other, Lord Seiji.”

Then he paused, and while I was still annoyed at having my own tricks used on me, I respected the pause. It’s not like I invented dramatic timing.

“Or,” Rhydion said in a quieter, deliberately calmer voice, “we could engage in the kind of contest that only determines who is left, not who is right.”

For a moment I was distracted being surprised that that bit of wordplay worked in Fflyr, as well. Maybe I shouldn’t have been; it probably had a similar etymology tracing back to the general tendency of humans to be right-handed. But I had more important considerations to think about right now.

He was right, damn him. And he also had me over a barrel, damn him even more. Besides, there was still my own inherent need to monitor any King’s Guild activities in the beastfolk’s territory. Making first contact with the squirrel tribe was certain to be complicated by having to play the role of adventurer alongside Rhydion his lackeys. This was altogether not ideal…but for multiple reasons, it wasn’t as if I had a choice.

I heaved an ostentatiously annoyed sigh and tucked my thumbs into my belt. “When do we leave?”

Rhydion lowered his hand finally, nodding his helmet once. “Fortunately, my preparations have been underway for some time and were nearing completion to begin with. The supplies with which you arrived were the last thing I required to support both an expedition into the forest and a longer-term presence by the King’s Guild patrolling its perimeter. Your information has raised some complications, but only of a good kind. Our updated plan of action requires coordinating with the Guild and the Convocation concerning support for the revised strategy, but this amounts to little more than sending and receiving messengers from Gwyllthean at this point. As soon as I receive the confirmation for which I am waiting, we will be ready to move out. I would not expect it to be more than an hour from now.”

“An hour. All right, then. I have been told in no uncertain terms that I am no longer welcome on this estate.” I grinned broadly. “So obviously, I’m going to go poke around a bit and be seen doing it. I’ll be at your camp well before then.”

He inclined his head again. “Truly, you are a man of distinctive style and idiom, Lord Seiji. I shall see you again shortly.”

With that, the paladin turned and strode away, and this time I made sure to watch him. Watch, and listen. And wow, yeah, those metal-plated boots were far quieter on snow than they had any right to be. I narrowed my eyes against the glare of sunlight on the white blanket, making sure that he was actually leaving footprints, before finally turning to Aster.

“Am I crazy, or did that parting shot sound an awful lot like that lowborn sarcasm of yours?”

“Mm.” She was also staring after Rhydion and only now, finally, lowered her hand from her sword. “There was a lot about that exchange which unsettled me, but I think that part was the worst.”

“Really. Really? Worse than all the threats, and the risk he could doom our entire organization by muttering a word in the right ear?”

“Pfeh, somebody’s always trying to kill us, I’m used to that. A fancy well-spoken highborn paladin who knows how lowborn think well enough to imitate us… What little peace and security we’re able to cling to in this rotten country comes down to what we can get away with right under the bastards’ noses. Someone like him inserting himself into that is a less severe threat than a lot of what else he could do to us, but it feels more…personal.”

She finally turned to face me directly, expression serious.

“This is getting more and more complicated, Lord Seiji.”

“I suggest you make peace with that,” I said, giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Something tells me that trajectory is going to continue more or less forever. But meanwhile, to business. Biribo?”

Aster shifted as before, hiding the pocket on that side of her coat between her body and mine, and Biribo poked his head out again. It would’ve been more convenient to have him with me, obviously, but I had chosen for political and social reasons to adopt the local style of clothing, and the cut of highborn coats was both tight and open-fronted—to the point that in this weather they wore thicker undergarments and scarves, rather than a coat that could actually be buttoned. According to Naz it was a flex, showing off that they didn’t need to be outdoors if they didn’t want to, or even carry anything of their own when they had servants to do it. I’d had some small pockets added to the inside of mine, but nothing big enough to contain Biribo without creating a suspiciously visible squirming bulge.

Besides, Aster had built him a whole nest with fabric and stuffing in there. He was actually rather fond of it.

“What’s up, boss? You wanna chase down and persecute some more servants?”

“Biribo, if I ever ask you to regale me with your comedy stylings, it means I have been possessed by an evil spirit and should be killed immediately. I need your senses; as we’ve moved around this town today, have you detected any goblin tunnels running close to the surface? Specifically, any entrances.”

“Goblin tunnels?” Aster asked, frowning. “Are you planning to skip out on Rhydion?”

“Hell no, the kind of threat he represents would only get worse if we stand him up. Biribo?”

“You got it, boss. Yeah, there are tunnels nearby, mostly concentrated under the cleared space over there between the village and the forest, but this place seems to be laid out on the standard plan. Most parts of Dount we’ve visited, the goblin tunnels have been slightly removed from the main areas of human habitation, but with a discreet entrance close to but not inside any of the big enough populated areas. I spotted it coming in. At least I think so; I can’t say whether it’s sealed up or what, but there was a point where a tunnel dipped up near the surface in what looked like an akorshil storage structure on the outskirts, pretty close to the road where we came in. There should be a discreet way to approach, but there’s an awful lot of activity around here, boss. Could be tricky.”

“Probably will be, but we won’t learn anything standing around here. All right, Aster, let’s move out. I’m eager to find out whether Gizmit remains as competent as I believe she is.”

Gizmit, like most of the goblins I’d brought on, continued to operate so far beyond my expectations it really put into perspective the importance for the regime here of keeping goblins oppressed; in any kind of actual meritocracy they would clearly be running the whole place.

Biribo was able to guide us to the hidden tunnel entrance, tightening up his directions as we drew close enough that he could sense the details of the underground architecture. It was a very smooth approach, the only real difficulty coming from keeping him concealed while still being able to hear his directions. The actual concealed entrance came out in a trapdoor in a tool shed built up against one outer wall of the barn-like structure in which cut akorshil planks were stocked. While the storage depot itself was very solidly built, securing its valuable contents, the shed was rickety and full of cracks.

That worked out perfectly for our purposes, as it spared me having to do anything so openly suspicious as breaking into Lhadron’s tool shed. Instead I was able to just loiter next to it, lounging indolently against the warehouse wall with my arms folded and smirking at passersby on the adjacent road while Aster stood a couple meters away looking ostentatiously long-suffering. It perfectly suited my cover story of pointedly not leaving Clan Ardyllen’s grounds, for the combined reasons that Highlord Lhadron had told me to and that I was an asshole.

Biribo had sensed the goblin inside the shed and the three guarding the tunnel below the trapdoor; well before we were within speaking range, he had recognized him specifically.

“What’ve you got for me, Maizo?” I asked quietly, not glancing at the cracked akorshil planks of the shed wall at my side.

“Damn, you are good,” the familiar voice answered from within, only slightly muffled. “Not to suck up or nothin’, boss, I’m just not used to working with Blessed with Wisdom. I’ve been wrackin’ my little brain, here, trynna figure out how I was gonna get to you with a message.”

“I assume Gizmit sent you. How’re things on her end?”

“Right. Yeah, Giz was leery of putting watchers too close to the King’s Guild itself but once our people saw you leavin’ the city gate on a wagon she put it together and took steps to get ahead. Zui’s gone back to North Watch to update Sneppit and Minifrit, and Gizmit’s changed her own plan to go there in favor of stayin’ mobile in the tunnels as close to your position as she can keep up a mobile command post. She’s also got your artifacts, boss, and can get ‘em to you on quick notice if you need. Aside from that, we’re waitin’ for updates and orders.”

Attagirl. “Good work—you and Giz both, and tell her I said so. Okay, top priority: send word to North Watch to cancel the job Kasser and the wolf tribe are on. I want everybody away from wolf territory until further notice. The King’s Guild will probably be sending people to investigate the area and I want them to find the village damaged and abandoned. Keep scouts out to watch for any adventurers snooping around, with orders to observe and not be seen or engage under any circumstances; once they’ve been and gone we’ll resume the repair program.”

“Got it! What else?”

I winked at a small group of passing highborn ladies, to mixed reactions; thankfully none of those included approaching me.

“I’m going to be moving into the forest in the company of Rhydion and a couple others. This has to be discreet, obviously. We’re heading into squirrelfolk territory. Are there any goblin tunnels that come out in that area?”

There was a momentary silence as he processed that.

“Uh…I mean, they exist, but they’re all firmly shut. Some goblins do gather and hunt in the forest, but never on squirrel turf. The cats and wolves’ll rough up a gob if they catch ‘em, but those fluffy-tailed fuckers are scary. You get caught in squirrel lands and you get one polite warning; after that, you’ll never know what killed you.”

“Hm. Can those entrances be opened?”

“Well, sure. They weren’t fortified or anything, we’ve never had to worry about beastfolk invading. They don’t like the underground any more’n the Fflyr, and don’t have the Guild motivating them to do occasional raids. Nothing can go wrong with a lock from decades of neglect that a decently equipped engineer can’t bust open in five minutes, tops.”

“Good. I want those tunnels unsealed and people ready to move out, just in case there’s a need. To be clear, that is not going to be Plan A, I don’t want the squirrels provoked. But this whole affair is built on an uncomfortable amount of necessary improvisation and I want backup available just in case.”

“You got it. Uh, just to be clear, boss, when I talked about not fucking around with the squirrels…”

“I know, I’ve been forewarned about them. They’re a lot less likely to court the kind of trouble they’d get for sniping a party of high-ranking King’s Guild agents who left word where they’d be going—and I am along as a healer, after all. In a lot of ways it might be ideal for my purposes if they just refuse to talk to us. Rhydion thinks he can get them to meet, however, and he is…worryingly competent. The point is I can’t stop this from happening so I’d rather be along to supervise. I’ll feel better if there’s discreet backup available at need.”

“Understood. That’s a large section of territory; the squirrels patrol a lot more than they actually hunt, including way down into the southwestern peninsula where nobody actually lives. It’ll take a while to get to all of those doorways. All of ‘em should be reachable from underground before you’re in the area up top, but just to letcha know, the farther you travel the less certain that becomes.”

Interesting. That sounded like another potential piece of this puzzle involving squirrels, zombies, and the mysterious witch. I’d sit on it for the time being as I didn’t want to explain to Rhydion how I suddenly had more intel—and also I was increasingly reluctant to relinquish any potential advantage over him.

“Okay. Just keep somebody positioned at each one ready to receive and relay orders; Biribo will be able to find the doors from above whenever we’re close enough. We are heading right for the squirrel village first, so prioritize that area. I can’t say yet what’ll happen beyond that.”

“I’ll see it done, boss. Anything else?”

“That’s all I can think of for now. As always, Gizmit has my full authority to exercise her discretion with regard to anything that develops.”

“Hah, she’ll like that. Be safe out there, Lord Seiji.”

“You too.”

I came sauntering back to base camp with time to spare and found more or less what I’d left: Rhydion was inscrutable, Harker aloof and taciturn, and Dhinell grumpy. It was good that I hadn’t dawdled, as we were approached by a rider from the King’s Guild carrying acknowledgment of Rhydion’s updated plans even as the paladin distributed laden packs of supplies.

“Good to have Miss Aster along,” Harker said with laconic good cheer as he handed her one of the bundles. “Means we can carry more supplies, maybe prolong our foray if we need to.”

The priestess, wincing and shuffling her feet as she settled her own burden into place, shot Aster an even unfriendlier look than usual. “If we have an extra person, why can’t she just—”

“Carry yours?” Harker interrupted. “An extra person means extra supplies are needed, after all. Also, that big artifact sword is the single best weapon against zombies this group is packing, and she needs both hands to swing it. Bad enough her load’s gonna have to be unbalanced for her to be able to pull it out.”

“I’ll manage,” said Aster, who had already slung her pack over one shoulder like that one guy in every high school who is just too cool to be there. They were right; she had to do it that way or the sword would slice right through the pack straps if she drew it. “My right shoulder will be sore tonight, but I’ve lived through much worse. And I expect to again.”

“That’s the spirit!” Harker said, grinning. “The poor Sister was very disappointed we couldn’t bring a pack animal. Unfortunately, the only large creatures that can move quickly through the kind of terrain ahead of us are gwynneks, and those come with a host of their own problems.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Dhinell said impatiently. “I merely thought it was customary for adventuring groups to bring along a dedicated porter for long-term expeditions.”

“You want to bring a servant into zombie-infested squirrelfolk territory,” Harker said, deadpan.

“Yeah, you’d feel more comfortable with somebody to throw to them if things go bad, I’m sure,” I added in my sweetest tone.

“Do not put words in my mouth,” the priestess snapped, rounding on me. She ruined the effect by stumbling; sudden movements while burdened with a large backpack you’re not accustomed to carrying are not a great idea.

“That’s good advice for us all,” I said solemnly. “Especially you.”

“From this point,” Rhydion stated before anyone else could chime in, “we will be alone in hostile territory with no readily available backup. The people you see here are the only support any of us will have until we return. Much about this expedition is unknown; we have no way of predicting what will befall us, let alone what we must do in response. It is very likely that each of us will find ourselves depending on the others for our very survival. It behooves us all, therefore, to consider the impact of our words before speaking. To foster animosity within the group is to risk lethal peril.”

Well, for them, anyway. Aster and I had additional support. Not convenient or easy support, but better than anything the rest of them could claim. It did occur to me that for my own strategic purposes, the best outcome might be if this trio never made it back out. I didn’t devote any further thought to the prospect, only because I had a strong suspicion that nothing in that forest was capable of taking Rhydion down.

“Well put,” I said aloud, hoisting my own pack into place. “Off we go, then?”

“And may the Goddess watch over our steps,” Rhydion said gravely, nodding to me. His own heavy backpack was already firmly strapped on. With no more ado, he turned and strode off through the snow toward the dark line of khora rising up in the near distance, leaving the rest of us to follow.