Interlude: Laera

Laera had a problem. Well, she had many problems, but one of them was very much coming to a head.

Half the Guild hated her because they blamed her for the spiralling conflict with Mercia. As one of the larger nations on Querria, and given that dhampir had been the ones to found the Adventurer's Guild, they had an outsized presence in both the Guild and Guildport. Not a majority, but enough that it barely a day went by when she didn't have a member shout at her for 'betraying the Guild to savages.'

Which was, incidentally, now the better part of what the other half also said. Never-mind that Charlie's naive and probably fruitless attempt to make peace with the Caith was still a better plan than any of the other alternatives that she could think up, or anyone had presented. Still, that didn't seem to matter, not even to Jalver, her blood brother. He was too blinded by his grief for Tabbeeza that he couldn't see that she was trying to save the town, that of course she mourned their grimalkin companion, their friend, their sister.

It felt as if her heart had been torn out, and she had wanted nothing more than to rip those prisoners to shreds for what they had done, for snuffing out the wonderful light that was Tabbeeza, a wizard whose grouchy kindness and cantankerous optimism had carried them through dark times and difficult battles.

But she was the Guildmistress, she didn't get to indulge in that sort of thing. She had to put the good of the port, the safety of its people, and maintaining the integrity of the Charter, which was de facto the only law here, before everything else. That meant listening to that insufferable enby who seemed incapable of interacting with Mercia in any way that didn't immediately escalate to conflict. It was something to do with coming from a world that had been through a similar period to what Alaria was experiencing, Laera had come to believe. A world that was both very different, and seemed to still have many parallels—if what she had gleaned was accurate. In Charlie's mind, this world was just like theirs; that was an undoubtedly arrogant position to hold, but it was also true that Charlie's insights into politics were unusually sharp for someone who had been on the planet only a handful of months.

"Guildmistress?" said Ritah, one of the ex-slaves who was by far and away the most competent secretary Laera had ever had. Laera looked up to see the bunny-earred woman's head poking around the door-frame.

"Yes?" said Laera. "And I keep telling you, just Laera's fine."

Ritah smiled uneasily, revealing her prominent buck teeth. "I, um, have the mail ready for the ship tomorrow morning," she said. "Do you have anything you want to add?

The letters? Oh, yes, the letters.

"Ah, yes I do," said Laera, standing and grabbing the stack she had built up over the past week. She handed them to Ritah, who immediately began sorting them alphabetically by recipient and slotting them deftly between others in the box.

One of them was to a 'Nelevar,' an old friend of hers, and as Ritah moved the letter behind it back, she saw the name of the sender on the letter in front of it in a familiar handwriting.

Caroline Bannermane.

With the attack, and then Charlie and the others successfully clearing the second floor, she had forgotten that letter that Ritah had found amongst Belevar's notes, where the Viceroy seemed to be trying to pump the belligerently stupid Caroline for information.

Ritah moved to seal the box, but Laera reached in and plucked out Caroline's envelope, turning it over to check it was indeed from Caroline before she she cast a careful cantrip to produce steam, and pried the seal open.

"Um, isn't that… illegal?" asked Ritah.

"Probably," said Laera, flipping open the letter and glancing through it.

It was addressed to the Viceroy, via an intermediary in Laemist, since there were no ships between Guildport and Port Imperial at the moment. It included a whole lot of waffle about the weird 'Erde' religion that Caroline and a few other Outlanders took very seriously, some very dull and boring details about drama with Jelveria, a jab at Laera's physical appearance that felt needlessly personal and not really any of Caroline's business, and, at the end, details about the attack and how it had damaged the defences, and then, although it was phrased as idle speculation, a declaration that 'the town wouldn't be able to defend itself at the moment.'

"I'll have her fucking head," spat Laera. The first time, she hadn't been sure Caroline wasn't just an idiot—and, to be fair, the letter did nothing to convince her otherwise—but this now went beyond mere stupidity. The Outlander was actively helping people who would most likely use this information to launch an attack.

"Is that… related to that other letter?" asked Ritah carefully.

Laera glanced at the nervous rabbit-like woman.

"You read that?"

"I, um, read all the notes, to help sort them, and I wasn't sure what it was…" said Ritah, flinching—as if she expected punishment for her actions.

Laera exhaled and forced herself to calm down. Ritah wasn't at fault, and Laera didn't want her feeling like she wasn't safe in her new workplace, her new home. Charlie might have made Laera's life very difficult by rescuing Ritah, but although she had once thought it a slightly unsavoury inevitability, her long career in the guild had made her many beastkin friends, some of whom had once been in chains.

It probably didn't help that many of the dhampir supremacists who were the most gung-ho about enslaving 'lesser races' looked down on her for her mixed blood.

All of that was why she was very pretending not to notice the fact that Charlie, Ritah, and a bunch of Merfolk were clearly organising to free more slaves. Laera couldn't be seen to endorse such actions, but she wasn't going to stop their 'Leagues' organising. As far as the Charter was concerned, what Guild members did in their own time, and not in an official capacity, wasn't the Guild's problem or responsibility.

"It wasn't a criticism, just surprise," said Laera as kindly as she could. "And yes, Caroline is passing information on our defences to Port Imperial."

Ritah began to tremble. "They- but if they attack- we- we'll be-"

"Overrun," said Laera, moving back into her office and opening the chest where she kept her armour. "Which is why I am going to find that little traitor, and fucking throw her from the cliffs."

That would have repercussions for it, but after all the shit Laera had had to put up with that day, she almost relished the opportunity to take some of the infernal rage she'd inherited from her father out on someone who deserved it. Some of Caroline's fellows might try to help her out, but if that meant that little shit Belevar also got tossed from the cliffs, well, that was something she could live with.

"They'll still find out," said Ritah from behind her. "It will just take longer."

Laera paused halfway through fastening her breastplate. "What?"

"Word of this attack will get out, it will get back to Port Imperial," said Ritah.

"Yes, it will," said Laera. "But it will take longer, and I will enjoy it-"

"We should forge a new letter."

Laera paused, then looked back at the beastkin woman. "What?"

"We forge the letter, the bit about the defences — tell the Viceroy that although there was damage, it was mostly superficial," said Ritah. "We also mention that two more boatloads of adventurers are due any day now. Make the Viceroy think we're stronger than ever."

That… actually wasn't a bad idea. There was, however, one problem.

"I can't forge someone else's writing," said Laera. "Not convincingly."

Her penmanship was famously atrocious amongst Guild management.

Ritah cleared her throat and looked a little sheepish, her ears drooping. "I, uh- I can."

Laera raised an eyebrow.

"My old master," she said, half-flinching, half-raising her head in defiance at the memory of the man who had clearly abused her. "I was his secretary, and he was a merchant… well, let's just say I had a lot of practice." She looked at the envelope. "I can do it."

Laera nodded slowly. Yes, feeding Seveena misinformation from a 'trusted' source was more likely to believed by the brash but cautious Viceroy than mere hearsay. They'd have to intercept the letters coming back from Guildport too, but Ritah handled the mail, and she was already apparently very willing to get onboard with this little bit of espionage.

Technically, even though she was Guildmistress, tampering with mail was illegal under both the Guild Charter, as well as the sort of hodgepodge of various Mercian and other mainly dhampir laws that Guildport theoretically respected. But, given that they were in a kind of cold war with Port Imperial, that probably didn't matter, and considering she had been just about to go and kill an Outlander, was milder and would have fewer repercussions if she was caught.

"Alright," said Laera, beginning to unbuckle her breastplate again. "But come in, and close the door."

A.N. Happy New Year!

This is released four chapters ahead on my Patreon, and updates Thursdays.

I also have a finished fantasy novel that can be read on Scribblehub, Shattered Moon, and an episodic space-fantasy/horror/doctor-who-esque series, Mishka the Great and Powerful, that updates every Saturday, and Marci of the Dreadfort that will be coming to Scribblehub soon!

I also have the eBook of my first novel available on Kobo, Amazon, and my Patreon!