Book 2: Chapter 26: Divide and Conquer

  The glamour died the moment the suite’s door shut behind them.

  Holly kicked off her heels like they’d insulted her ancestors. Devon peeled off his jacket and dropped it across a chair, half-collapsing into the suite’s spell-cushioned bench like he’d just sprinted a mile through a minefield.

  Alex didn’t sit.

  He stared at the long polished table in the center of the suite. The one used when Malric broke down their fate, explaining the sword that Damocles had left for them. Enchanted silver trim glinted faintly beneath the overhead glowstones of the table, a formal luxury piece, repurposed as a wartable.

  “Clear it,” he said.

  Holly didn’t ask questions. Neither did Henry or Garret. Plates and crystal glasses vanished into storage compartments with quick gestures and short enchantment-triggers.

  Devon stood again, he tapped at the table’s edge and images bloomed across the surface in soft green light, then rearranged into a circular map. It was a stylized model of the ballroom and the factions they’d encountered during the night.

  “They enchanted the table to host war games,” Alex muttered. “So let’s give it one.”

  One by one, icons began to appear: house crests, sect sigils, guild marks, the twin suns of the Church, the silver crown of Terraxum’s royal seat. They rotated slowly, orbiting a central rune marked with the symbol the Terraxum kingdom used to denote the Worldstriders, a stylized seven-point star.

  “Let’s break it down,” Alex said. “Start with the nobles.”

  Devon flicked his fingers. Five crests circled into focus. Kate leaned over the table, pointing. “Thorneth and Velcryn are hostile,” she said. “Thorneth made no secret of it, I was able to find out that it was one of their cousins who tried to bait Garret during the gala. Duskmoor, on the other hand, is too quiet, too comfortable. They don’t want us around at all, they almost seem fearful.”

  Alex nodded. “Velcryn might be interested, but only in what they can learn or steal. What about you talk with Lady Caerwyn?”

  “Caerwyn... ambiguous. But I think they’re looking for leverage more than enemies,” she said.

  Garret raised a brow. “And Vaelros?”

  “Didn’t engage,” Kate said. “Which might be worse. But they also oppose House Duskmoor, so that might be our in.”

  Devon slid the crests accordingly. “Noble Houses: Split.” He tapped again, bringing up the Merchant Guilds.

  “Vess Auralde’s a manipulator,” Devon said, scowling. “Wants tech. Or secrets. Or both.”

  “Hollis seemed curious,” Lance added. “Didn’t posture. Asked real questions. They might be worth investing time into.”

  “And Sanvek?” Holly asked.

  “New money, looking to stabilize. They think we might be a threat to that.” Cole added. “Lira Sanvek snubbed my approach, but I was able to speak to a few of the lower merchant ranks. They seem against us but won’t make an overt move without the other two guilds on board first.”

  Devon moved the tokens again. “Guilds: also split.”

  Next came the Martial Sects. Their crests flared, hard edges, weapon motifs, simplicity in design and ideology.

  “No overt stance yet,” Garret said. “Halraen spoke to us. Measured. Strict.”

  “He respects power,” Henry added. “That’s all. We’ll need more than conversation.”

  “Duels?” Kate asked.

  “Probably a useful tactic,” Alex replied. “By they would need to be controlled, and public. Especially public. For Martial sects, having face is important.”

  Devon placed the sects under Unknown.

  Then came the Church. Two crests, one burning gold, one silver and cold. The reformists and the ecclesiarchs respectively.

  “Mother Theralyn is open-minded,” Allie said. “She’s not sold, but she’s not closing the door either.”

  “Bramun Deros leads the con bloc, the priests in that group were watching us like we were cursed weapons,” Holly said. “If it were up to him, we’d be on pikes by morning.”

  Devon didn’t argue. “Church: Split.”

  Finally, the Crown. The rotating glyph of Terraxum’s royal crest hovered, cold and beautiful.

  “Prince Kailan” Kate said quietly. “Watches everyone. Smiles at everything. Said nothing that wasn’t layered.”

  “He’ll vote last,” Zach said, tapping the table. “Only if it ties.”

  Eric finally spoke from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. “Then he’ll vote however keeps him in the strongest position.”

  “Yeah,” Devon muttered. “He’s the one playing chess while the rest are still arguing over the board.”

  The table shimmered, the crests arranged now in a radial circle around the Strider sigil in the center. Some drifting closer. Some edged out and grey.

  Alex looked around the room. “It’s not about getting everyone to like us,” he said. “Just enough to vote in their interest.”

  Eric pushed off the wall, stepping forward. “And what are we offering,” he asked, “that’s worth more than fear?”

  No one answered. The images continued their slow spin across the table. The war board didn’t care who was noble, merchant, priest, or weapon.

  It only cared who survived the vote.

  ***

  The table still glowed faintly with the afterimage of the war board, each stood around it in the early morning, cups of that worlds version of coffee, in hand.

  The first knock arrived early. It came soft and polite, and preceded a servant in dark gray livery stepping inside with a bow. “For Commander Pierce and Officer Thompson,” he said, holding out a scroll sealed in black wax stamped with a sword-and-spear sigil. House Thorneth. “A martial interview. Formal. At dusk.” Before anyone could ask what a ‘martial interview’ entailed, the door closed again behind him.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Kate muttered, “Interrogation dressed in etiquette, surely.” Alex didn’t answer. His annoyance levels were already rising.

  A few minutes later, another servant arrived, with yet another scroll.

  “For Devon Andrews,” the calm voice said. Alex watched as Devon stepped forward cautiously. The parchment unfurled as he touched it. The contents glowed before them, lines of structured legal script, glowing ink, anchor glyphs, even signature seals. Alex could see that it was already signed. Vess Auralde, Merchant Auralde Consortium.

  An offer of some sort? He didn’t like the gut reaction that contract was giving him. Alex felt something was off, the same way he could smell when a charity dinner’s lobster was bought that morning or not. It just made the stomach move differently.

  He and Devon looked over it anyway. The contract detailed terms of exclusive tech insight rights, trade allowances, co-ownership of replication schematics, and embedded price chains that hinted at deeper reach than any of them really expected.

  Devon stared at it with a face that said he thought it might catch fire. “She already signed her side…”

  “Of course she did,” Holly said. “She’s not making you a deal, dummy. She’s setting a trap.”

  They received a few other invitations as the day went on as well. Party invites, lunches, and other events, from minor scions and heirs to houses or sects. Many were just trying to angle their own rise in importance and power, but others the team might be able to use as leverage to catch bigger fish.

  At some point, Kate managed to decipher the strange coded napkin she had received, only to get an equally vague answer.

  [I would speak with the iron girl under the arched moon.

  ~Lady Caerwyn]

  Alex had barely begun processing the note’s cryptic riddle when the final arrival came. This time not a letter, nor a servant, but a church member who carried with her, “a gift.”.

  “Oh that’s a nice gift. A Blessing token. Someone is very special indeed.” Obby chimed in on the reveal of the item in the woman’s hands. Alex craned his neck as it was brought directly over to Allie, where she stood by the suite’s open balcony.

  It was rounded and smooth, etched with protective glyphs that shimmered with other unknown enchantments. Hand-crafted for sure. He watch the servant set it gently into Allie’s palm then bowed low and murmured, “From Mother Theralyn. She says you walk where light has not yet reached, but still carry it with you.”

  Allie blinked. Then slowly closed her fingers around it. The church acolyte didn’t linger after the delivery and swiftly left the room, door clicking softly behind her.

  Across the table, Alex caught movement as Devon shifted the war board’s glyphs, a soft change as some factions moved a hair closer towards their side.

  Kate exhaled through her nose.

  “We’ve been split into pawns,” she said. “Time to choose how we move.”

  Alex nodded, “Let’s get to it then. We have votes to farm.”

  ***

  Allie and Holly found Mother Theralyn in the quiet edges of the palace gardens, a glass-walled greenhouse, filled with moon-fed herbs and low-humming runes that softened the air. No guards stood around to dirty the simplicity of the nature around them. No fancy ornaments or decorations. Just life in soft cycles.

  Mother Theralyn met them barefoot, her robes loose, streaked faintly with soil.

  She was bent over a basin of silverleaf, fingertips wet with sap. The leaves pulsed faintly, rising and falling like a hummed tune.

  “Come,” she said without looking up.

  “Mother Th-”

  “No titles. Not here,” she beckoned them with a hand.

  Allie followed first, Holly a step behind her. The garden doors whispered shut, muffling the outer court’s sounds until the only thing left was their breath and ambient buzz of insects.

  Theralyn mused herself with the leaves in front of her for a few long moments and then finally straightened. Her presence wasn’t imposing, but it was poised. Grounded like something that had chosen its purpose and never once faltered.

  “Worldstriders, guests of the Heavens, why did you come here?” she asked simply. “And what would your arrival mean, if not conquest?”

  Allie didn’t speak immediately. When she did, her tone was clear and soft, but not fragile. “We didn’t come here. We were pulled in. Torn out of our world and removed from everything we knew.” She looked Theralyn in the eye. “We didn’t start this, this strange chess game we find ourselves in. But we’re not going to die just because someone else thinks we might be dangerous.”

  Theralyn nodded once. She didn’t show surprise at Allie’s words, and showed no inclination to give them some kind of religious lecture or scolding.

  “Honesty, then,” she said. “We are alike in that.”

  Holly stepped forward slightly, gaze flicking across the silverleaf basin. “They are beautiful. I find many parts of life in this world to contain aether energy in a way that is beautiful and elegant, rather than harsh or ugly. Do you think The System rewards beauty, care, compassion, more than it rewards cruelty and evil?”

  Theralyn considered that for a long moment. Then she smiled faintly, tired. “The System doesn’t judge. It reflects, like water. Perhaps you see the beauty in things because inside you contain beauty? And the opposite would hold true for those who see the ugly of the world.”

  She placed a soft cloth over the basin, the leaves shivering faintly as their light dimmed.

  “I will speak for you,” she said. “In the chambers. In the gardens of influence where rot grows between roots. But you must hold peace, and not blood. Not until the vote is done.” She looked at them both intently.

  “And if you must bleed, bleed with truth on your lips. That is all I ask.”

  Allie nodded, quietly. Holly didn’t react at all, she simply stood there, thinking over the woman’s words.

  Theralyn hesitated then added, as if in passing: “There are older clergy… less interested in the soul itself than the strings of power they can tug on it with. Some may already be entangled with Lira Snavek of the Spice Consortium. Be careful where you smell incense. It may be covering rot.”

  ***

  The “neutral ground” Vess Auralde chose was anything but.

  A vaulted palace dining room inside a dedicated wing of the Merchant Chambers. The décor was more industrial than extravagant. Whitewashed walls, fire-glyph sconces shaped like dragonflies, and a table too long for the number of seats. She waited at the head, lounging like someone who’d already won and was now awaiting congratulations.

  Devon and Garret were shown in without ceremony.

  “Gentlemen,” Vess said, standing and consciously, not, bowing. “So nice to do business with beings of such… potential.”

  Devon didn’t sit right away. Garret did, kicking one boot over the other, his posture relaxed. On the table before them, she slid a silver plate containing small fruits very reminiscent of grapes. Garret plucked one from the plate and into his mouth without even inspecting them.

  “You received the contract, yes?” she asked.

  Devon simply nodded, “We did.”

  “Exclusive rights,” she said. “Any replicable technology from your world, adapted through native enchantment, sold under my guild’s crest. You, of course, would be credited. And compensated. Generously.”

  Devon remembered the terms of the contract without her summary. He hadn’t signed it yet, for good reason. That wasn’t why they were here anyway. Garret and he were stalling, trying to bleed information while they still had her interest.

  “I think, we need time,” he said. “We’re still figuring out what—”

  Garret coughed, loud and fake. “Time? Oh, come now. This is the part where we pretend we don’t already have secrets in our socks?”

  Vess raised a single perfect brow. “Charming.”

  “Garret,” Devon hissed, but it was too late.

  She smiled at Garret as he sat in front of her. Not a warm smile, if her face could have even managed one, but cold, crooked, carnivorous. “You’re not the first to step between stars,” she said, folding her hands. “We’ve seen Worldstriders before. Some left behind pieces for us as signs of friendship and respect. Others… less willingly.”

  She reached forward, slipping a hand into a box beside her chair. From inside the box she withdrew a sealed glass tube. Inside the tube was a sliver of metal with a smooth surface, colored wires could be seen poking out from it on one side.

  “This came from a different group,” she said softly. “Though rumor says one of them might still be breathing. Somewhere.”

  Garret stiffened in his seat. Devon grabbed the back of the chair in front of him.

  Vess Auralde moved along the edge of the table towards them. Her gaze now of a predator looking at their next chosen snack. She set the tube down in front of Garret, nestled in the grapes. Now so close, both men could see the item inside was a fragment to some find of hand-held device. Perhaps a cellphone, or a tablet, it was hard to be certain given its size.

  “Its a scrap, just a tiny one, I know,” she said. “But, it is interesting isn’t it”

  Garret reach out, picking up the vial to get a look. The entire glass tube was covered in tiny runes, which made the glass textured when trying to look through it while close up. Garret’s face, scrunched at he looked at the item in his hands. Eventually he just frowned and handed it to Devon.

  He accepted the item from Garret and inspected it himself. “It might be a cellphone piece. Wires like that aren’t used anymore though, copper was phased out maybe twenty years ago.”

  Vess leaned in closer now. Her face contorted into a mad smile. “It’s possible it’s from you’re world then, you agree?”

  “I- well… Yes, I agree it that this could be from out world. I just don’t know for sure. Where did you get it?” He said.

  The woman didn’t answer. Her eyes flashed like she had somehow just one something and stepped even closer to him. She loomed over him, slightly taller thanks to her lavish heels.

  “You don’t have to be my first, little techno-smith piggy” she plucked the tube from his hands. “Just my best.”

  Neither of them took the time to answer that. She smiled again before walked away, leaving to two dumbstruck. The meeting ended without either of them knowing what the fuck had just happened.