Interlude: Laera

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water?” asked Laera as the tall, thin dhampir man settled into the seat opposite her desk and Laera closed the door to the Guildhall behind her.

Out in the ocean, three destroyers flying the blue and black of the Kingdom of Kolvar were anchored, bobbing in the restless morning drizzle. They had arrived a little after dawn, and chosen to anchor and come aboard in boats rather than tie up on the repaired dock. She wasn’t sure she blamed them, if a fleet of Mercian warships came over the horizon, they’d want to be able to leave as quickly as possible.

The Mercians were why Emissary Wailiw from the Kingdom of Kolvar was there. Kolvar was another one of the ‘Great Powers’ from Querria, the northern continent that was home to dhampir and dwarves. It wasn’t nearly as powerful and wealthy as the Empire of Mercia, but it had several alliances with other smaller powers that evened the scales somewhat, and several colonies in the more mountainous areas of Rorrovia’s south-eastern coast. It even, apparently, had a tiny colony on the far western side, which was still largely unexplored.

They were also slavers, and ran plantations and mines just as horrible as the Mercian’s, which was why Laera felt like her skin was itching.

“Tea would be lovely, Guildmistress, thank-you,” said the man in cultured Mercian, the barest hint of an accent appearing on his Vs, which became almost Ws, and his Ws, which became Vs—a bit like how Charlie spoke, actually. “I was delighted to receive your invitation. I must say, we’ve been watching your progress with some interest—such fascinating things coming out of your dungeon here. Is it true you’ve located a source of ultra-fine mana-crystal? Without impurities?”

“One of our groups did,” said Laera, moving over to her tea stand and pouring some water into a teapot and then flash boiling it with a tap of her finger and a surge of pink, infernal flame. “I’m sure Herbert, our quartermaster, would be happy to show you a sample.”

“Wonderful,” said the emissary as Laera carried the tray over. “As you may know, Kolvar prides itself on its optics. We would be very interested in securing what stock you have, and what stock you find in the future.”

“The Guild doesn’t usually offer monopoly contracts,” said Laera carefully as she set the tray down and put a few biscuits on a plate before sitting herself behind her desk and letting the leaves steep.

“And neither does the Guild usually have its ships sunk by Mercian destroyers,” he said, taking one of the biscuits and putting it to his thin, bright red lips. “Ah, delicious—some kind of local fruit?”

“Seaweed, actually, it’s grown near Laemist, out in the bay,” said Laera. “We have strong trade ties with the local merfolk.”

“Enterprising people,” smiled Wailiw. “Reasonable too—not like those green savages. You have problems with them as well, I hear?”

“We were attacked by a group of greenskins,” said Laera, nodding. “There was a dispute over a goat, on one of the market farms, and the greenskin got stabbed. It turned out it was the local Chief’s son.”

“Ugh, what terrible luck,” said Wailiw sympathetically. “And they hold onto grudges, you know? There’s no reasoning with them. We tried.” He tutted. “They just wouldn’t bargain with us. A shame, but, well, that’s progress I suppose.”

Laera gave him a tight smile and reached to the teapot, pouring two cups of the steaming liquid. Laera wasn’t particularly well disposed towards the local Caith, not after they’d killed Tabbz because of a stupid disagreement over a goat that had gotten out of hand, but she also very much doubted that the greenskins Kolvar had dealt with had been the ‘unreasonable ones’—not if Kolvar had behaved anything like the Mercians.

“Which I suppose brings us to why I am here,” said Wailiw. “I heard about the attack on the Stormcrow by the Mercians. Terrible, just terrible. We’ve lodged a formal protest with the Empress on your behalf. To think, the once honourable Mercians, engaging in such… brigandry.” He huffed and took a sip. “Oh, my, that is delicious tea! You’ll have to tell me where I can get some, my wife would love to try it!”

“It’s what we stock here in the Guildhall, grown locally—I’m sure we can find you a fresh box,” said Laera. “And thank-you for supporting our protests to the Empress, the Guild appreciates it.” She took a sip of her own tea. She grimaced at the watery taste—she hadn’t let them steep long enough. “We are, as you might imagine, quite concerned by this Mercian aggression, and were hoping we might prevail upon you for assistance. They would be unlikely to risk attacking Guildport, if there were Kolvar ships anchored.”

“Well, yes, that might give them pause,” he said, before sighing dramatically. “But my dear—and it isn’t that I’m not sympathetic!—but that would be a rather large risk for us. We’re still sweeping up the pieces after our last clash with those dastardly Pavarrians; the Alliance can ill afford a war with Mercia right now.”

Laera took another sip of her weak tea. “Perhaps we could make the risk worth your while?” she said. “You expressed interest in our crystal? A monopoly on its purchase is unusual, but is within my power to grant.”

Wailiw smiled sweetly. “That is most generous of you, Guildmistress,” he said. “But I’m afraid that is insufficient. For such a great risk… why, I would never be able to get the King to agree to risk war with the Empire to protect a non-Kolvarian settlement…”

He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging. Laera’s teacup creaked, and she quickly released her grip, setting it down.

Guildport.

The fucker wanted Guildport.

Which, of course he did; Mercia hadn’t realised how rich a vein this dungeon was when they’d sold it to the Guild at an exorbitant price, or else they would have never done so; and Kolvar would love to have an outpost on the central Rorrovian coast. Especially one positioned so close to one of the crown jewels in Mercia’s colonial holdings—Port Imperial.

A signature on a page would be all that was needed from her. There’d be a fleet here within the month, probably with ships from all the Kingdoms in the Alliance; Mercia wouldn’t dare attack them, blood-crazed Empress or no. The Greenskins also would go from a potentially existential threat to a nuisance. The security of the Guild in Guildport would be assured.

Except, then it wouldn’t be Guildport anymore. It would be just another holding of the Kingdom of Kolvar, and with that would come all of the trappings of Querrian rule she so despised: plantations spreading out into the jungle, and beastkin slaves to work them.

They might not re-enslave those that Charlie had freed, Ritah and her little girl might be safe. She could probably make it a condition…

Laera closed her eyes.

No.

No. It wasn’t right. What Laera and the others had built here, a town in which no man or woman languished in chains, was special. It had to be defended, nurtured, even if that meant finding a way to go it alone against Mercian aggression.

Charlie, the annoying fucker, had been right to organise that slave break in Port Imperial, and they were right to organise their little anti-slavery league. And maybe Laera couldn’t come out and say that, couldn’t acknowledge it, but she’d be damned if she would get in their way, and she’d be damned if she gave up Guildport’s status as a sanctuary to this two-faced, smooth-talking monster.

Infernal heritage she might have, but she wasn’t going to sell her soul for security.

“Kolvar has had a long and fruitful relationship with the Guild in many of our settlements,” continued Wailiw. “And, naturally, you would remain in charge of all affairs related to the dungeon—”

“I’m afraid that is out of the question,” said Laera, perhaps a bit sharper than politeness dictated. “Guildport is independent, and will remain so, barring intervention from the Board.”

The Emissary’s smile fell. “I see, a shame,” he said. “In that case, I am afraid that I will not be able to offer any permanent security assistance. We may be able to make arrangements for escorting trading vessels, but no ships at anchor.” He stood up. “Thank-you for the tea, Guildmistress. I think I shall have a look at this crystal now, if you don’t mind.”

Laera exhaled. “Of course,” she said, standing and forcing a smile. “This way please, Emissary.”

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