As to be expected from a bard of Count Hiolh's calibre, the strength of his composure is second to none and he recovers like his brief show of indignity were an illusion glimpsed from the corner of the eye. He stares balefully down at me as he rises from his chair in turn, sneering, "Do you think me so easily cowed? I can see your words for the empty bluster they are - offended as she might be, her Ladyship would have acted upon it in the space of a heart's beating without giving quarter. For what reason was her hand stayed, I wonder?"

It comes as no surprise that my bluff was easily seen through. My skills as an actor are mundane at best, and in front of a man so inundated with Charisma and a Perception leagues ahead, there was little hope of me successfully lying to him, even before we take into consideration his experience and Skills.

However, that is not to say that I am lying, exactly. And further, the situation hasn't really changed in my favour. My delirious cry for assistance only drove off the overt manipulation of my mind and body, the passive attraction he exudes remain and the root issues linger. I must have been out cold for a good few minutes though, as I can't seem to hear Lady Jannis anymore, so I can't count on her advice. Just my own wits.

"Who are you to question a Goddess, I wonder?" I scoff, roughly smearing the back of my hand across my top lip, "And to complain you weren't slain by them at that, no less."

"Enough prattle, the will of the Empire is absolute, and I will complete my mission," his hand is suddenly clenched around my throat, lifting me off the ground effortlessly, "Thus, and therefore, I do not care for the words of a worm hiding beneath the shadow of a figure worthy of my respect. You think yourself invincible by dint of your ressurective trickery and divine patronage? I am well-equipped to make you curse your inability to truly die, should that be the case, without resorting to such methods as were used a second time. And it will not cease until you learn to recognise and accept your place."

"I'd dare you to try and surprise me," I chuckle uncomfortably through the pressure on my throat, "Except, I've been subjected to as much and worse, so I can assure you, you will not get what you want through force. Instead, might I suggest exercising a truly 'soft' touch and reaching an agreement through talk? "

His fingers exert a little pressure and pierce through the skin like wet tissue, digging into the underlying flesh like maggots, "Pray tell, with what leverage do you think you can negotiate?"

"My cooperation," I smile openly, probably with bloodstained teeth, ignoring the burning sensation of his fingertips in my neck as best as this weak Vessel allows with all the composure I can muster.  The excitement I also feel at being touched by him and being close is also palpable, I must admit, much as I wish it were otherwise.

"You speak of a concept you have already been ordered to demonstrate," Count Hiolh seethes, "Out of consideration for the haemorrhaging your brain experienced, I will temper my disdain and allow you to elaborate. Beware, should you speak of anything other than what is required of you, you will know my displeasure."

If I were in my prime I could fold him like a deck chair, I lament privately before speaking, "If you'd bothered to learn where I stood beforehand this unpleasantness wouldn't be necessary. In truth, I do not wish to stand as equals to the Councillors. Not least because I lack the means to do so, and as such don't have a great attachment to the title of 'Lord' - in that regard you might have found me willing to assume the title of Pilor or somesuch, so long as my position as the head of House Fander and nobility were preserved. What I would not and vehemently refuse to accept is this thinly disguised attempt at enslaving me and mine. 'tis disgraceful conduct of the highest taboo, and not at all foolproof, as you will quickly find my 'people' as you call them in full and open revolt against the Empire itself, as opposed to an insignificant internal feud."

Admittedly, the claim is a bit of a stretch, but most RPG players are predisposed to reacting in certain ways to certain tropes, and historically speaking Imperialist philosophy has ever been the marker of a villain in fantasy literature. The local playerbase is already on edge. If word gets out that their freedoms would be restricted systematically, that would be a black stain that would never leave. They might not act on it for now, but they won't forget it, and one has to remember that the Empire of Stone already fell once to belligerent players with less of an ideological incentive.

It's not really in my best interests to spread the word to the community, but I need to manage the Empire's treatment of Truthseekers and the other Newborn through whatever means I can muster. I've invested too much to change course any time soon.

"And furthermore," I throw out a more terrifying piece of info, "In the next month, there's going to be far more undying Newborn adventurers appearing, no matter my fate. It's in both our interests to work together to keep things stable, so what I am offering is a source of information and occasional intervention. For appropriate compensation, so long as Truthseekers and myself aren't interfered with above the bounds of the law and ethics."

Agitated, he tosses me against the wall with a flick of his wrist, my health dropping instantly to 1 from the impact in a show of immaculate control. Charisma aside, I can admit to being suitably impressed through the pain.

"You are testing my patience, cur," he mutters gravely, wiping his fingers clean with a blue cloth produced from his intraspacial storage and spritzing a bottle of aromatics across the hand, "What cares the Empire for your bluster? It does not, for its might eclipses yours and any force you can muster upon the continent. Moreover, as I have already made clear, the will of the Empire is absolute. Even were I empowered to....negotiate...." he grits his perfect teeth in disgust, "I care not for your wheedling, only that the mission I have been bestowed is completed to the letter and promptly. Thus, in case the impact jostled the memory from your head, you will comply with the terms I have stated."

I cough weakly, and wonder if I should bring up some sensitive information that could break through his obsession with duty. If I do, that's a massive loss of future potential I'll be giving up. But I don't know what else I can do. If playing informant isn't enough to keep the Empire off my back, I can only turn to more drastic measures, even if it risks starting a war.

In truth, the information I'm ruminating upon will only be relevant in a few years time, and I need to be able to get that far in the first place to have a chance of capitalising upon it. Inconvenient or not, it's more valuable to me as a bargaining chip in the present than the intended use in the future.

Bah. A bird in the hand is better than two in a bush.

"Then, an alternative offer, one even you can't ignore," I pull myself up against the wall, aching, "An unclaimed 2-Star City Core's location."

The Count freezes mid-step, the bloody-minded glare replaced with surprise and suspicion, "Truly, you must be desperate, for your words become evermore ridiculous with each breath."

"Please, as if I could manage to lie," I slowly stand, shaking all over, knees unwilling to support my weight, "To you. Though, the terms I offered will naturally have to change to be more favourable to compensate. And don't bother asking the source of this information, because I can't be bothered to come up with an excuse and the truth is beyond even Lady Jannis' ken."

Unwilling to concede that I'm being honest he turns his head and whistles sharply through pursed lips. His manservant returns in an instant, already bowing and awaiting orders.

"Bring me Mattea to verify this man's outlandish claim and prepare an E.C.N keyed to the Iempern'ioll Cugosth Chambers," Count Hiolh instructs clearly.

"He speaks...truth..."

The declaration of the Prussian Blue-robed Silva woman with a bit of a finer cut and a white-gold patterned sash generates a heavy silence in the room as I sip cautiously from a healing potion passed to me by Orpen contained in an immaculately carved crystalline bottle. The precision in the cutting and angles is machine-like and the contents richly fruity. It may be a low-enough graded restorative that I can safely consume it without harming myself, but the quality is enough that I feel strangely self-conscious about the price.

It goes down like I'm swallowing a hot cactus with each sip, but my health recovers by several hundred each time.

The metal box in Count Hiolh's hand chirps. Placing a finger to a connected headband-like device on his forehead, he goes wall-eyed for approximately a minute before speaking aloud.

"Lord dun Ocri has revised my orders," he says matter-of-factly, "I am to extract the information by any and all means necessary."

"I take it that opens the floor for negotiation, then," I reply, placing the emptied bottle on the desk, "Considering force will get you nowhere fast. If I'm to take that statement at face value."

"Should I deem it necessary," he shakes his head, "I do not."

Stubborn. To get to his level both literally and figuratively, he'd need to be, honestly. All the same, I don't get the sense he's about to manhandle me again, as enjoyable as that might be. The sobering influence of the tea and Jannis is wearing off fast, so let's get this over with quickly.

"My terms are now as follows: My rank and freedoms are to be left as they are. I also want a free pass to all dungeons under imperial control below Gold for Truthseekers and ten Stone Platinum. In exchange, I will tell you where the Core is located, but the intel on the retrieval method is something I will keep to myself. If you can get it on your own power, then that will be the end of it, but if not, a separate deal can be negotiated with Truthseekers in the future," I outline the deal, aware that I'm drastically underselling the information. But I can't really push for more, "Moreover, this information will not be spread to other parties, but that doesn't mean Truthseekers will be idle should the Empire be both stubborn and incapable- Such is the value of a 2-Star City-grade Magic Core, as I'm sure I don't need to explain."

"I should tear out your jaw for such an insult," Count Hiolh glares, "However, as Scholars of the era have recorded, your point is not without precedent. 'tis potent enough to serve as the foundation for a new country in unclaimed territory. There are few who could resist leaving such a treasure to languish."

After a few moments consulting with the councillor with the strange device, he relays their words, "Lord dun Ocri is willing to accept most of your terms. He persists in the demand that Title of Lord must still be relinquished, and you will be given the Title of Boel instead."

"Anh-Elret, and exemption from forced conscription for five years," I counter unhurriedly, "I don't have any greed for an honorary position that sees me with no chance for advancement. Or does the Councillor think himself and his colleagues immune to the stipulations outlined in the Founding? 'House Fander' cannot legally be removed from the hierarchy, as much as their predecessors tried to bury the lineage to deal with the problem indirectly."

According to reliable rumour, the councillors have to submit themselves to an exceptionally stringent and powerful magical oath, not unlike the System Contracts players can use when they assume their positions, which is why I was fairly confident in announcing my take over of House Fander and claiming the Lordship. Should they directly break the rules, who knows what consequences there will be.

"...Fine. Lord dun Ocri accepts your proposal. Pending the approval of the full Iempern'ioll Cugostha," Count Hiolh states simply, "Of course. In the meantime, I will draft a new set of documents, while you explain the information."

"I'll only speak when the agreement is affirmed by the capital's chief administration with the combined signatures of the Councillors on Grade 9 Grand Oathpaper," I smile casually, folding my arms, "The Empire never forgets it's debts or promises, right? So long as there's evidence of their existence."

"Watch your mouth," Mattea scowls, unable to keep her peace, "Such baseless slander..."

"Is it?" my smile turns wry, "Then why are both the Count and his subordinate conspicuously slow to offer an objection?"

"I am simply aghast at your distrust in the Empire's word," Count Hiolh excuses himself smoothly, "Your paranoia only highlights your disgraceful nature."

"So you say," I shrug, tracing my eyes along the contours of his exceptionally toned body unconsciously, "Whatever the case, we have other matters to attend to, so if you do not have any pertinent objections, I will take my leave until the paperwork is prepared. Worry not, I have no plans on attempting to flee. You can simply leave a message at the soon-to-be Headquarters of Truthseekers, and I will respond as soon as I am able."

Count Arnt Hiolh

Watching the smarmy wretch leave, Arnt removes the E.C.N's interface from his head after deactivating the magitech device and takes a seat with a whirlwind of complicated emotions roiling behind his nonplussed face, his heart still thumping from the brush with Divinity he'd fortuitously survived.

"That man has skin thick enough to stump a Grandmaster Miner," Orpen remarks dryly, "Confidence like that on a man so young is unnatural."

"Outward appearances are rarely so absolute," Mattea scoffs, speaking in Founder's Merrowan - her occupation lending the weight of experience to the retort, "I dislike him."

Arnt drains the cool remains of his tea, "A sentiment I agree with. But I shan't deny a feeling of curiosity. Orpen, assign a Monalk to him. I want to be kept abreast of his activities. Despite his current status, The Patrons' eyes are rarely mistaken. To be able to stand up to me without wavering and earn such heavy sponsorship from an Intermediate ranked martial deity at his Level discomfits me. Something is sorely amiss with his identity."

"As you wish," Orpen leaves with characteristic briskness, though he might as well be walking to Arnt's eyes.

"Do you have any further need for my services?" Mattea asks, the hint of a certain kind of offer underlying her tone.

"Nay," Arnt shakes his head without hesitation,  aware of the implications yet uninterested, "The Empire thanks you for your continued service and faith, please return to your post."

Disappointed, Mattea bows with dignity and excuses herself, leaving the Count alone in the office with his thoughts.

"I smell chaos on the northerly winds," he whispers, reaching for his notary tablet, "With Silver Fander it's harbinger."