Interlude: Laera

Laera sat back in her chair and put a hand over her eyes as Charlie finished speaking. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she said.

“Err,” said the lion-like doctor who despite pretending they were nothing but a cute fuzzy pussy-cat was the biggest wrecking ball of a person that Laera had ever met.

She wasn’t unhappy that Charlie had dropped into her life, having a doctor as good as they were in the town was a boon unto itself, to say nothing of their ability to rapidly map the dungeon and the fact that they were just a really nice person. She didn’t even, truly, think they’d been wrong to break out those slaves when given the opportunity—not that she could say as much as Guildmistress, even if the situation with Mercia was rapidly deteriorating into open conflict. It was just that they made everything more complicated, whether it was by having telepathic chats with an apparently intelligent dungeon, or by causing rifts between Laera and her best friend by suggesting annoyingly good courses of action.

“Giants of cloud and lightning that wrecked an ancient version of Guildport built by Caith?” said Laera. “Are you sure you weren’t just hallucinating? You were in the desert for days.”

There might have been a pleading note in her voice.

“I’m sure,” said Charlie, wiping some dust off their gauntlet. “I could tell the difference.”

Of course they could. They were an empathomancer who rather than plateauing as most did was rapidly hurtling towards becoming an actual full-blown telepathomancer—something that the dungeon no doubt sensed, which was why it was singling them out.

“OK, well… that’s something to think about,” said Laera, shaking her head. “At least you managed to figure out that stupid puzzle. Thanks Charlie, I’ll get the notes distributed.”

“Make sure—”

“—People know about the ‘Shai-Hulud,’ yes, I’ve got it,” said Laera with a half-smile. “Now go to bed, you look like the walking dead.”

Charlie rose wearily and turned to leave, before pausing. Laera tensed. Oh no, what more terrible news were they about to impart?

“Laera… does this world have a problem with warlordism? Politically, I mean.”

Laera took several seconds to process that a. this wasn’t some kind of complication, and b. that Charlie somehow had the mental space to worry about politics while beyond exhausted and covered in sand and goop.

“Warlordism?” said Laera, cocking her head. “What do you mean?”

“People with mana-cores taking over,” said Charlie, tapping their sternum. “Sorry, it was just a thought… it’s just, we’re so much stronger than people without them. How is that dealt with, err, politically?”

“Well, lots of royal houses were originally founded by people with mana-cores,” said Laera, trying to remember her history. “Warlords, as you put it. But unless you’ve got blood from one of the other Planes, like me, it’s totally random whether or not a child will have magical ability. From what I know of history, there was a time when most people and places were ruled by those with magical power, but I guess it was… ‘brittle.’ It collapsed the moment that they died. The ones who did better were those who set up institutions, made sure their dynasty would endure.”

Charlie considered this with far more focus than an exhausted enby should have.

“I see,” they said after a moment.

“Also, before the rise of the Guild, most people with magic weren’t nearly as strong,” said Laera, glancing back at Charlie’s rather messy notes.

“What?” said Charlie.

“Oh, yes,” nodded Laera, sifting through the pages and staring at a diagram of some kind of serpent made of stars that looked like a three-year-old had drawn it. “Before the Guild, before we had systems to share information and make sure delving was safer, few people lived long enough to get to the equivalent level of strength as an Iron. The Guild did a study on it, found that in the past fifty years the average strength of a Guild member, as far as it can be measured, has increased two hundred and twenty percent. There were always outliers, Fey and those like me who have the lifespans to get really powerful...”

Laera glanced up when she was met by silence, cocking her head when she saw that Charlie was looking very, very, very worried. Laera opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but then decided against it. No, she had enough on her plate without making more of Charlie’s neuroses her own.

“Well, goodnight,” said Laera.

Charlie nodded absently, and stood, murmuring a response before stumbling out of the office towards where Velevir was waiting, closing the door behind themself.

Laera looked through the notes again, before standing and moving to where she had a small space to make tea set up. She snapped her fingers, conjuring some of the pink flame she’d inherited from her good-for-nothing father, and putting in enough leaves for her and Ritah. It would be a long night if they wanted to get a guide out for tomorrow, but they’d manage—

There was a high-pitched beep from the corner, and Laera frowned, snuffing the flame as she crossed to the somewhat spindly, telescope-like aetherscope, which had a blue gemstone pulsing atop it, indicating an incoming connection was trying to be established.

Huh, she hadn’t been expecting a call from the board today. They’d spoken just yesterday…

She adjusted her clothes and did up another button of her shirt, smoothing her hair down between her horns and making sure she looked presentable before flicking the switch.

There was a crack and a fizzle that Laera suspected the device was not supposed to make, and a moment later a projection appeared in the middle of the room, showing twenty-four people, shrunk down to fit. There were slightly more than half beastkin, a handful of kobolds, three dwarves, as well as some dhampir. The former, and most of the latter, were all stormy looking.

“Good day,” said Laera politely. “I wasn’t expecting you. How can I help you?”

“Just a quick one today, my dear,” said Director Sava, who was sitting at the centre of the table, his huge bulk towering over even the other large men and women around him. “We’re contacting all of the branches.”

Laera blinked rapidly. Wait, what? “Why?”

“Because Mercia’s gone totally fucking feral,” said a beastkin with racoon-like ears and a scar across his lips—Kren, one of Laera’s allies on the Board, and part of Sava’s dominant faction. “They’re fucking seizing our branches, arresting members—all across their territories. Accusing us of ‘abolito-terrorism.’”

“That… what!?” said Laera. “Is- is the Empress out of her mind!?”

It was one thing to attack ships heading to a far-flung branch of the Guild that had admittedly done a little bit to set themselves at odds with Mercia, it was quite another to attack the branches that existed back on the mainland and arrest Guild members totally and utterly unaffiliated with Laera or the branch here on Rorrovia.

“There is worse,” said Sava, steeping his fingers. “We have reliable sources that tell us that two battalions and an entire squadron of Mercian destroyers left Glivmouth for Port Imperial two months ago.”

Laera’s eyes widened. With good winds, they might have already arrived: a squadron was two dozen warships, and two battalions was over one and half thousand troops.

“They’re going to attack,” said Laera weakly, putting a hand to her mouth.

She’d known things had gotten bad—that the new Empress was a maniac who had little to no regard for the subtler methods of rule, and that tensions had been bad, but even attacking ships carrying Guild members had seen like an insane escalation, to attack Guildport directly…?

“Obviously, this makes your already precarious position worse,” said Director Sava. “We aren’t sure what help we will be able to send you, and we don’t know for sure what they might be planning for Guildport—it might just be a show of force, an attempt to intimidate. but we’ve voted, and we’re authorising you to take whatever measures you deem necessary to defend Guildport and its inhabitants from Mercian aggression.”

Laera tried to reply, but found her mouth had gone dry. She carefully reached over and picked a half empty glass off her desk. ‘Whatever measures necessary?’ They were giving her the ability to suspend the Charter? To flout the laws that Guildport theoretically respected? She’d already been doing that, but she’d never have expected the Board to authorise that; never expected them to give her a free hand; to make her a dictator of the Branch in all but name. There was provision for it in the Charter, and she would still be held to account if she did something really outrageous, but, as far as she knew, no Guildmistress or master had ever been given such discretion.

“That… yes, Director,” said Laera, once she’d recovered her ability to speak. “I understand.”

“We’ll talk soon,” said Sava.

“Be safe, Lae,” said Kren. “Don’t let the fuckers fuck you.”

The link died, leaving Laera standing alone in her office, her entire body trembling, her grip on her glass growing tighter and tighter until with a creak and a crash, it shattered between her fingers.

“Oh no,” she whispered to herself.

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