“Compensation aside - and well-compensated you will be - it is important that you are well aware of and have a hand in selecting the support you will have. The unique environmental conditions of Ubul’s Tomb render it counterproductive to deploy Willowdale’s full military might, modest though it may be in the grand scheme. Instead, the bulk of our forces will focus on creating a defensive apparatus around the “Fulguric Denial Zone” in order to hopefully finish him off should he get that far.”
“Let me guess, you possess some sort of limited means of protecting anyone against the Living Storm?” Zel guessed, and instantly grinned at the knowledge that she was right, considering the governor’s reaction.
With a light sigh he nodded, “Yes, in a manner of speaking. We’ve been able to source a limited cache of “Stormward” talismans from the Kargarians. They’re terribly niche in functionality due to the fact they do nothing against truly natural storms, and this combined with the time-consuming nature of their production means it was a miracle we were able to secure as many as we did - sixty-five. However many people you intend to personally recruit, you will be provided-”
“Six, maybe seven will suffice,” she interrupted with utter seriousness, holding no intention in her heart to recruit anyone but the most capable into her struggle. She wasn’t certain even she could stand against Ubul - to recruit normals would be condemning them to death. If they so wished to die in struggling against a living mountain, she would direct them to the governor himself.
Estoras blinked a few times, but without another word opened the box, nearly stuttering, “Tw-elve it is, then.”
It contained distinctly Kargarian trinkets, made of detailed, tarnished brass and copper and adorned with colorful beads. Some were earrings, some bracelets, some large half-finger rings, and all carried the same design elements.
“That out of the way - any suggestions? Is the Inquisitor available? What of Strolvath?” she questioned.
“Strolvath is halfway across the country by this point, dealing with matters about whose details he refused to inform me. He said he would be no good against Ubul regardless, as his sonomancy already struggles with homogenous inorganics, let alone a constantly churning mass of living earth. As for the Inquisitor…” he looked off to the left and dropped the folder he was holding, leafing through a pile of documents before he pulled another folder, opening it up before Zelsys. It was a flat, head-on photo of Alcerys’ face, quite old considering the lack of scars and generally less mature face. “You are aware of her state, are you not? That she renounced the Inquisition and became the Third Renegade.”
“...I heard something of the sort, yes,” Zel admitted, though she did not have the details, hoping the governor would clarify. She hoped Alcerys was well. The governor flipped the page, changing to a photo of Alcerys in a charred, blackened, iconography-stripped version of the same armor that Zelsys remembered her wearing - on her hip, a twisted, thorny blade. Yet, there was no pain in her ever-serious face, even in the photo.
“The Third Renegade, blessed and remade by the god of the old Orthodoxy himself. She is, unfortunately, far out of my reach, hunting one of the Divine Emperor’s generals by the name of Cao Hu.”
The name rang a bell, something about… “Cao Hu? You mean a wretched, cruel man whose victims cursed him to an immortal existence in perpetual torment?”
“That’s the one,” the governor agreed. “He was assigned to managing the occupation of Rigport, and knowing that he would do everything in his not insignificant power to inflict as much torment and misery upon its populace as per his twisted doctrine, a correction of management was necessary…”
That couldn’t have been it. Smirking and raising an eyebrow, the beast-slayer called the governor out: “Was it just the trade impact of the occupation, or was someone otherwise important to you stuck behind the blockade? Come on, Estoras. I trust that you’re a good man, but Willowdale doesn’t have the resources to orchestrate a counter-coup without any tangible short-term benefit - not after all the strings you doubtlessly had to pull to get the Kargarians to play a thinly-veiled relief convoy.”
“I am… Not at liberty to disclose that, actually,” smiled the governor, the merchant in him shining through. “That said, you are correct in that there was more immediate benefit in the actions I and certain associates took to ensure the liberation of Rigport. We sent a certain infamous tankman, with Alcerys acting as support and insurance to ensure he wouldn’t try to avoid carrying out his task. You might’ve seen his tank around - bigger than every other First-model, blood red, white zero on the chest.”
“I’ve not seen him, but I did hear about the tank, yes,” Zel nodded. “Think he’d be a good option? Would he even be willing, if you needed to use Alcerys as a safeguard the last time?”
“It would take some convincing, but something tells me you can win him over; if not because of your natural charisma, then because he’s smart enough to recognize the threat Ubul poses. I’ll give you a dossier on him once you leave here,” Crovacus elucidated, ashing his cigar.
“Good, good. Now uh… Before I move on, there’s something that’s been bugging me, a real pest if you would,” Zel said. “What’s with your son?”
The governor’s calm, collected demeanor suddenly transformed as visible dread washed over him, and with a sigh, he asked, “...Nothing I’m aware of, and I hope you don’t have anything new to tell me. I had hoped his arrogant young master phase was over and done with.”
“That’s the problem!” she exclaimed. “He’s no less insufferable, the snark is just under the surface. Every time I talk to the little cunt it’s like a funhouse mirror of myself. Even if it’s how polite society operates, I’d rather he at least call me a hag to my face than put on that obvious fake-politeness act.”
Dread was replaced by relief, and with a smile, the governor sunk back into his seat.
“Very well, I’ll let him know.”
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