“I think not,” Elyr says hotly.
The words crack through the room before anyone else can respond, her stare pinning me in place.
Rurin merely raises a hand.
“It ain’t your deal, my love.”
Elyr’s glare shifts immediately toward him instead.
“And you would bind the Stonewood to some vague future war at the request of a girl you met less than an hour ago?” she asks sharply.
“Maybe,” Rurin says easily.
She stares at him, then seems to deflate with a sigh.
“...You are impossible.”
“And yet you married me anyway.”
Her expression somehow grows even flatter.
Bella coughs suspiciously into her hand, very clearly hiding a laugh. Cari doesn’t even bother trying, her giggle filling the space for a second before she realizes that she’s invited the attention of those present.
I decide, very wisely I think, to remain silent.
Rurin turns back toward me, folding his thick arms over his chest.
“Before I agree to anything, I need more information,” Rurin says, stroking his beard.
I don’t feel any instinctual aversion to the idea, so I nod slowly.
“Good. First, how old are you lass?”
I frown at the question, but answer truthfully.
“I’m twenty. Why’s that matter?”
He nods slowly, but doesn’t answer. “And what clan are you from?”
Ah. I see now. He wants to put together my motives... not that I had any intention of hiding them if he’d asked.
“Ken.”
Rurin stiffens, and Elyr’s glare somehow turns sharper.
“...Aye,” Rurin mutters. “That explains a fair bit.”
I blink. “How’s that?”
“That old fox finally decided to meddle in foreign affairs, then?” he asks. Then, in a mumble, “To think she’d sic a fey on it, though...”
I stare at him blankly.
“...Who?”
Now they both look confused.
“The Matriarch,” Elyr says slowly.
I tilt my head, still thrown off by the shift in topic.
“What about her?”
Rurin squints at me. “You say that like she didn’t put you up to this.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never even met her.”
The room falls silent.
“That’s impossible,” Elyr says after staring at me for a moment.
I shrug awkwardly. “I mean... apparently not?”
The Headmaster finally speaks up from behind his desk, the Headmistress now at his side, one hand resting on his shoulder.
“Emilia lost contact with her clan when she was very young,” he says carefully. “Certain... circumstances prevented her from being found again.”
Elyr’s expression shifts instantly, and I immediately wish she would return to her previous suspicions.
It’s the look I’ve seen on many, many faces before.
Pity.
“Oh,” she says quietly.
Rurin frowns deeply. “You were Faulted?”
I almost recoil at the question, but I refuse.
The word still stings. Not enough to truly hurt anymore, but enough that I immediately dislike where this conversation is going.
“Can we not dissect my life in the middle of negotiations?” I ask dryly.
To my surprise, Bella immediately steps in, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I agree,” she says coolly. “That seems unnecessarily invasive.”
“More like it’s none of their damned business,” Cari says cuttingly.
Elyr actually looks faintly embarrassed at that.
Rurin just grunts.
“...Fair enough,” he says. “What’s this plan of yours against the Empire, then? How exactly do you believe you’ll use this favor?”
Shit.
Even Cari and Bella give me expectant looks.
I still haven’t told either of them what I knew about the Empire. Mainly because I still have no idea where to even start, except for growing stronger.
But that’s exactly the problem. All I know is that I need to be stronger, and that I need allies. Or at the very least, favors I can reliably call in later.
The planning stage had admittedly ended a little early. Or rather, there hadn’t actually been one in the first place.
I straighten slightly, desperately trying to look more composed than I feel.
“Well,” I begin carefully, “the Empire is big.”
Rurin blinks.
“...Aye,” he says slowly.
“And powerful,” I continue.
“Aye.”
“And heavily entrenched politically and militarily.”
One of his brows starts creeping upward.
“So...” I say, trying to sound as though this is a perfectly reasonable train of thought, “it would be irresponsible to rush into action without preparation.”
The room falls dead silent.
Cari squints at me, easily seeing through my bullshit.
Bella’s crimson eyes narrow ever so slightly, amusement replacing interest.
Elyr, meanwhile, looks to be developing a migraine.
Rurin simply scratches at his beard.
“...Lass,” he rumbles, “are you tellin’ me you asked for the aid of the Dwarven Holds in a future conflict without actually havin’ a plan yet?”
For a moment, I think about lying, but there’s no reasonable way I could bluff my way through the political mess of this whole conversation.
“...Maybe?”
Rurin barks out a laugh so sudden and loud my ears lay back on instinct.
Heat creeps into my face despite my efforts to mimic Bella’s noble composure.
“I have ideas,” I defend weakly.
Bella hides her mouth behind a hand and looks away.
Cari outright groans. “Emi.”
“What? It’s not like I was going to start a war tomorrow!”
“How reassuring,” Elyr says dryly.
I try to throw my hands up in exasperation and can’t, as both are still locked down by Cari and Bella.
My tail lashes behind me instead, expressing my frustration in the only physical way I can manage.
“Look, I know I’m not ready yet. That’s the point. I wanted options before I started... doing things. I don’t even know where to begin, but I figure this is as good a place as any.”
That seems to settle everyone somewhat.
“Hm,” Rurin grunts. “So this ain’t revenge you’re seekin’ tomorrow. You’re thinkin’ long-term.”
I nod quickly. “Yes! Exactly.”
That part, at least, is true.
The Empire isn’t something I can just punch until it stops being a problem.
I pause.
Well... if I were as strong as Bluebell... maybe?
As satisfying as that might be to imagine, I wasn’t going to depend on it.
“So you’re gatherin’ allies before you know how you’ll need to use ’em,” Rurin muses.
“...Yes,” I say, dragging the word out slowly.
He grins smugly. “Sounds a fair bit smarter that way, don’t it?”
The warmth in my face intensifies.
Elyr rolls her eyes at him, taking some of the sting of embarrassment away.
After he gets another good chuckle out, he looks me up and down.
“It’s true that I’ve no love for the Empire, especially with their stance on non-human races,” he says finally.
My ears perk up at that.
He’s actually considering it?
I could feel the nudge from my Fae Ferocity to push for it, but I could also feel that it wasn’t truly the goal. It’s like... a starting price that’s meant to be haggled down.
But if he’s actually willing to accept it, that’s even better...
He cuts my optimism short a breath later.
“But I will not be givin’ you an open favor.”
I let my ears droop once more, leaning on Charisma to make myself seem as dejected as I can.
It’s not hard, given that I am, genuinely, a bit dejected. Him agreeing to an open favor would have been huge.
Still, I’m not too surprised that he shot the idea down outright.
Cari squeezes my hand gently, trying to offer some comfort.
Maybe my acting worked a little too well on her...
“Then... what?” I ask.
He watches me for a moment, tugging on his beard.
“How about this: I’ll personally help you give them a good whoopin’ when the time comes, but only if you manage to reach my Tier.”
For a moment, I’m almost annoyed by the offer.
Not just anyone can reach Tier One. Much less Tier Two. Tier Three is... widely considered impossible—despite the three Tier Three’s in the room with me right now.
It’s such a rare achievement that those who actually manage it are widely considered the pinnacle. Like the Headmaster, who can snub entire nations without much repercussion, or literal Kings and Queens of said nations.
Still, I play the part of ignorance, letting my instincts guide me.
I frown at him. “And what Tier is that?”
He grins, perfectly polished gold and silver sparkling from his mouth. Unbeknownst to him, the Headmaster and Headmistress both hide their exasperation behind their hands.
“Tier Three.”
Elyr notices, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
But it’s too late.
Under normal circumstances, this would be a terrible deal for me. But I’m anything but normal, anymore.
If he thinks I won’t make it that far, he’s in for a surprise.
A slow grin blooms on my face, Fae Ferocity roaring in the back of my mind with pleasure as the feeling of a deal well made almost overwhelms me.
“I accept,” I purr in the same instant Elyr opens her mouth to speak.
Bands of mana snap into existence between us, silver-blue light winding into our cores before vanishing into skin and soul alike.
“Wai—oh, by the ancients, Rurin, could you possibly be any less observant?!”
Elyr rounds on him instantly, one hand shooting out to seize his beard and yank his head upward hard enough that even I wince sympathetically.
Rurin sputters. “Woman, what in the—”
“What did you think was going to happen?” she demands. “You practically handed her the bargain!”
“I said Tier Three!” he protests. “That’s hardly a simple feat!”
“Yes, but you didn’t bother to look around.”
She gives his beard another sharp tug, forcing him to look toward the Headmaster and Headmistress.
Both are doing a remarkably poor job of hiding their expressions.
The Headmaster looks one step away from laughing into his tea.
The Headmistress outright pinches the bridge of her nose, somehow managing to seem exasperated and sympathetic at the same time.
Rurin’s confidence falters.
“...Ah,” he says slowly.
“Ah,” Elyr repeats mockingly. “Yes. Ah.”
To his credit, he at least looks mildly ashamed now.
“I thought she was just bein’ ambitious!”
“Clearly,” Elyr snaps. “But she’s also grinning like a fox who’s just found the chicken coop.”
Bella coughs suspiciously into her hand again.
Cari outright snorts.
I want to feel offended at the analogy, but... annoyingly, it actually fits.
Rurin finally looks back toward me.
I’m still grinning.
His eyes narrow.
“...Why do I suddenly feel like I just got swindled?”
“You offered the deal,” I remind him innocently.
“Aye, but you accepted it way too fast.”
“Well,” I say carefully, “you did seem very confident.”
Elyr makes a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
“Gods help us, it’s another Bluebell,” she mutters.
“Thank you,” I say happily.
For some reason, being compared to her makes me almost proud. Even if they don’t intend for it to come across that way.
Elyr ignores me, instead opting to berate her husband for a while longer.
Eventually, though, their attention turns back to me. By then, Fae Ferocity had long since faded, and I’d already tucked my Oathstone back into the strange space between spaces it normally resides.
I wonder how that even works...
Before my mind can wander into the confusion that is anything fae related, Rurin speaks up.
“Well, you got me, lass. Fair and square, too,” he grumbles.
I smile.
“Bah!” he huffs, waving my happiness away like it’s a buzzing gnat. “Enough smugness, you overgrown cave squirrel.”
My smile vanishes instantly, the comment somehow digging right under my skin.
“I am not a squirrel,” I say flatly.
Rurin snorts. “Aye, and I’m not short.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
Cari immediately folds in on herself, shoulders shaking with barely restrained laughter.
Bella is somehow managing to look both horrified and dangerously close to joining her.
Elyr just sighs tiredly. “Rurin.”
“What?” he says defensively. “She was gettin’ smug.”
“You can’t call a foxkin a squirrel.”
“A very large squirrel,” he corrects.
I stare at him in betrayal.
“I have a tail, not some fluffy rat rope!”
Rurin wheezes loudly enough that I realize, with dawning horror, that he’d been trying to get a rise out of me the entire time.
And worse, it worked.
“Using your power like that is petty, dear,” Elyr continues, flicking the back of his head.
The strike lands loudly, as if a boulder had been struck by a hammer, and his head is actually nudged forward a smidge.
“Aye, aye,” he grunts, rubbing the spot he’d just been flicked. “It’s just a bit o’ fun.”
“His power?” I ask.
Rurin grins slowly, and Elyr buries her face in her hands with a long-suffering sigh before apparently deciding she’s suffered enough. She abandons us entirely, moving to her father’s side instead.
Rurin chuckles as she leaves, then turns back toward us.
“The Roastmaster title ain’t just about coffee and cookin’, lass,” he says. “It’s about knowin’ where to poke.”
That sounds mildly horrifying.
“Watch.”
He points at Cari first.
“Lass, I can practically hear you takin’ attendance. You’ve got the eyes of a woman who knows everybody’s business and the restraint of a paper left on the floor.”
Cari makes a strangled choking noise.
Bella immediately looks away to hide what is very obviously the beginning of a smile.
Rurin’s grin widens.
Then he points at Bella.
“I’ve seen statues less tense. Careful, Princess—if you loosen up any further, the whole buildin’ might collapse from shock.”
Bella stiffens instantly.
“...I am suddenly less amused by your jabs, your Majesty,” she says flatly.
“Aye, that’s better,” he says smugly. “Had me worried for the roof a moment there.”
She visibly bristles, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Rurin looks back toward me triumphantly.
“See?”