“Immortal kings. The Church has been teaching this for a long time, Derelith. The king’s sacred bloodline is kept pure and intact by a gift of immortality, passed on from father to son since Móráin the First was born to Lord Seletoth. They call it Divine Penetrance.”
Derelith wrinkled his nose. “I thought you didn’t believe in any of that shit.”
Farris didn’t answer. Debating religion was not what he came here to do.
And I don’t even know what to believe anymore.
“The Silverback saw my evidence,” said Farris. “And that was enough to convince him all of this is real.”
“Well, it looks like he changed his mind.”
“Fool!” Farris roared, baring his fangs at Derelith. “They tried to kill the king with hitmen! They attacked him as he was being escorted through the tunnels. They killed Santos, too, along with his Simian guards.”
Derelith shrank back in fear. “No!” he whispered. He held a pale hand to his face. “There’s no way… he wouldn’t harm Santos! They’ve had their disagreements, sure, but skies above, he’s Nicole’s father!”
“Well, he’s dead. The king’s preparing for war, and he’s planning to strike Penance, directly. I’m flying out with four other agents of the Crown tomorrow morning to stage the attack. I just need to send a quick crystal-wave to the Silverback.”
Whatever colour remained in Derelith’s face faded. “I won’t have access to another crystallographer for another three days, Farris. Two, if I threaten some of the right people.”
A creeping, burning terror began in Farris’s chest. He fought against it. “Fine, so what else can we do to warn them?”
Derelith didn’t respond immediately. His gaze fell to the store’s wooden floor. “I’m… I’m sorry. You know how cautious we need to be with this Church stuff. We can’t just stroll down to our local mage and get him to send a message to Penance.”
Farris closed his eyes. Bright sparks of light danced in his vision. His throat went dry, and he fought to get the words out.
“We… we could kidnap one, a crystallographer. Kill him afterwards and….”
But he knew. He knew well that no courier or carrier pigeon could make the trip in less than a day. The Church’s crystals were the only means they had to warn the Silverback.
Derelith looked up at Farris. “What if we just tell everyone about the king’s plans?” He spoke slowly, as if not convinced by his own words. “If everyone in Cruachan knew, surely the news would reach Penance by nightfall.”
“No,” whispered Farris. The truth had manifested itself in his mind before their meeting had begun, but only now did he acknowledge it. There really was only one way of stopping the attack on Penance.
I have to go with them.
“Nobody else can know,” said Farris, his voice low. “Not until we get a foothold on what’s really going on. King Diarmuid has left me blind on the details of the attack, ignorant to the identity of the other agents on board the ship, but I’ll find them. I’ll kill them on the ship, before they reach Penance. We’ll end all this quietly.”
Derelith closed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Sure, that’ll probably put us a full head and nose ahead of the king. But is it worth endangering the population of Penance, just for the sake of keeping the upper hand?”
Farris paused, and chose his words carefully.
“Derelith, I’ve been working for the Crown for three years now. I know how they work. If we expose their plans now, with no proof, they’ll use it against us. It’s possible that they killed Santos themselves and blamed the Silverback, just to justify attacking Penance. They’re ruthless, but they’re naive. There’s been no major conflict in this country for well over a hundred years, and the Crown has forgotten what it’s like to fight a war. You saw how easy it was for us to manipulate them during the Thieves’ Guild crisis.”
“How easy it was for you,” corrected Derelith. “Don’t be passing your ingenuity there onto me. All I did was watch.”
“Fair point,” said Farris. “And you saw how quick they were to hire me without question afterwards. What kind of organisation does that?”
“One run by a drunkard with a golden crown.”
“Precisely. Sure, the Crown has more men than we do. The Crown has more money than we do. The Crown has more reach, more infrastructure, and more power than we do, but they’ve so much more to lose. We’ve got men in all the right places, and we’ve learned far more about them than they have about us. The best part of it, the reason why I’m willing to risk my life, and maybe even the lives of those in Penance, just to keep this edge, is that they have no idea how far we’ve come. To them we’re a lone fly that refuses to be swatted, but they have yet to see the swarm. Their underestimation of our strength is the only hope we have of winning this war.”
Derelith stood in a thoughtful silence when Farris finished. He had embellished on some parts, of course, but the Human certainly seemed convinced.
“Alright, Farris. I’ll keep this information to myself. In the meantime, I’ll try my best to find out what really happened in those tunnels.”
“Thank you, Derelith. I better get back to work. There’s plenty to do.”
“Stay strong. You’ve already got half the kingdom fooled, what trouble will a few of the Crown’s agents cause you?”
Farris smiled. “Let’s hope they cause enough trouble to give me a good excuse for killing them.”
***
The sun was still shining by the time Farris returned to the docklands. Most of the daily freights were already docked, and only a few labourers and stevedores remained to tend to the last cargo.
Fortunately, Old Donal had returned to his post. His gaping, toothless smile was enough to tell Farris that he had completed his task.
“Chester the Lucky!” he announced. The old beggar was visibly drunk. “Chester the Lucky was born thirty-three years ago in the Steamworks of Penance. He drinks unflavoured thainol and smokes pre-rolled bacum cigarettes. The colour of his hair is a similar shade of brown to your own, so I’m told. I did never find the name of the last woman he fucked, but his wife is called Penny, so it could be that.”
Farris sighed. “Have you got any useful information?”
“Cool your coal!” The beggar held up his hands in submission. “I haven’t gotten to the best part yet! In Penance, Chester excelled at mathematics, engineering, and astronomy. He moved to Cruachan at a young age to study the art of navigation and trained with the crew of many airships known to frequent this fine city!”
“Oh no,” said Farris. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Chester the Lucky earned his title from regularly winning the wages of other crewmembers of The Glory of Penance and….” He paused. “Bollocks! I’ve just gone and ruined the best part. He’s one of the ship’s navigators! I was all over the city, trying to find out about those who’ll be travelling onboard. The Church has three special passengers, top secret stuff, but none are Simians. I was about to give up until I thought to ask about the crew.”
The Crown really is a joke. How in the name of Sin am I supposed to impersonate a damn navigator?
