Always a Bigger Fish

(A few hours later, outside the labyrinth.)

Falchan was quite drunk. With no one local willing to cut him off, generally due to fear of his father, and with Rammeld and most of his personnel occupied with the ongoing emergency, he'd been in a state of varying inebriation since shortly after leaving the labyrinth, aggravated by regular doses of his Lustvine potion.

Even waking up that morning in his own half-dried vomit hadn't slowed him down, particularly since some of the Cothmore guards had found him, hustled him out of sight, and cleaned him up. They'd also obeyed his demand to return him to the tavern tents merchants had erected to serve the adventurers; it was entirely due to their distaste of Falchan they picked one very far away from the excitement, run by someone he already owed plenty of silver jays to. 

But then, Elmerin was the only person Falchan ever paid in full and on time.

That wouldn't be for much longer now, though. Falchan drunkenly felt for the paper, then vaguely remembered handing it off to a servant to deal with before heading off to drink. Once all that was done, then all Drysia had to do was give up her rights, and then all Falchan had to do was insist again she'd be recognized as his wife. Father would definitely recognize her once she didn't have that brat weighing her down.

Falchan didn't remember and didn't care that the first discussion about and refusal to recognize Drysia had been before anyone knew she was pregnant. He did remember and regret he hadn't been able to act on his spontaneous plan to kill Kres; he could have saved some money.

Rambling around the camp, he noticed Elmerin's tent and old horse in the Death Eagles' encampment. Falchan sneered. That idiot Alex, mooning over that- that- Falchan brooded, unable to come up with an adequately filthy name for Elmerin in his sodden state. But what a weakling. If Alex wanted that shitty adventurer, he should act as a noble, assert control over the adventurer and bend him to submission, not whine pitifully in the background. 

It would be great fun to see Elmerin sobbing and broken.

His head full of vicious thoughts about Elmerin and what he'd like to do to him, Falchan didn't think, and probably wouldn't have even if he'd been sober, about how his father would react to paying out that many gold kestrels -he really hadn't been paying attention to the amount- to an adventurer, and one that had already caused the Cothmores a few headaches. Or that the current emergency declaration not only meant the likely failure of Count Lisko's dungeonization project, but carried a very high risk of multiple secret projects being exposed. Or how the Cothmores would be penalized if they were discovered.

He especially didn't think about what would happen if Drysia decided to screw over the Cothmores. In his mind, that wasn't a thing that could happen.

As Falchan paused to take another swig from the tankard he held, he realized his ramblings had taken him close to the entrance of the labyrinth. He wondered hazily how things were going on in there and decided he wanted to see.

One of the guards stopped him. "Identification please."

The young lord glared at him. "Y-you know who I am?" he slurred.

"Identification card or papers, please," the guard repeated firmly.

"M-my fa- fa- dad t' count is your boss. Yo-ou ans'er to me. You don't tell me wh-what to do."

The guard tapped the shoulder of his armor, where the king's crest, rather than the Cothmore arms, was painted. "I work for the king. The identification requirement is ordered by His Majesty's representative, Minister Rammeld. Your father will have to discuss the matter with him. Identification, please."

"Huh?" Falchan struggled to understand what he'd heard. 

A soft voice came from behind him. "Lord Falchan, you clearly aren't feeling well."

In his drunken state, Falcon hadn't noticed Nera's approach. She firmly continued. "Let me heal you, then you can go lie down for a while."

It was a sensible suggestion, delivered in a firm but kind tone. But to someone who has overimbibed, only their own logic is sensible. 

"Don' want to." His drunken brain and other parts weighed his and Nera's relative positions and his desires, and came to a very wrong conclusion. "Unless you c'me lay down with me," he leered.

Both guards stepped forward as Nera's mouth became a thin line. "I must turn down your inappropriate request."

Falchan blinked blearily. "Wha?"

"Since you seem to have forgotten Drysia and manners, I'll be clearer. No."

The young lord comprehended that. As he turned bright red with anger, one of the guards began tapping on the alert crystal embedded in his belt. It would relay the pattern of the alert to other crystals from its set within the area -in this case, "potential trouble, reinforcement needed."

Nera had had enough sense to back away from Falchan when he reddened. But he was clearly ready to lunge after her.

Inside the labyrinth entrance behind the royal guards, a growing ruckus made itself clearly heard.

"They're here! They're back!" 

Nera's face lit up as she looked past Falchan and the entrance guards to see who was emerging with Rammeld and his bodyguard. "Drysia!" And just behind her, "Elmerin!"

As more royal guards came up in response to the alert crystal's call, the two emerged into the late afternoon's light. They both still looked exhausted, in spite of two good meals and a solid nap. Neither got the chance to answer Nera; before anyone realized what he was doing, Falchan was in front of Drysia, swaying as he stabbed a drunken finger at both her and Elmerin. "Y-you had sex with her, right? T-tha's wha took so long. You fo-found some place to screw."

Elmerin rolled his eyes and sighed. "No. And you're drunk. Again."

Falchan shoved Drysia aside and waved his finger under Elmerin's nose. "What else would you be doing?" At this point, Falchan was completely convinced they had to have had sex; having sex with the partner of someone he hated just to stick it to them was something he would do, after all. He couldn't imagine sober, much less drunk, that other people would have more respect, and more sense, given the circumstances of being alone together in the first place.

"Beating undead, purifying a Bolat crystal, and fighting Lustvine. Now out of my way."

The undead were one of Count Lisko's ideas; Falchan had had no idea they'd existed. In his current state, he completely missed any of the implications or issues of undead in the caverns. 

But he did know what it meant that the Lustvines had been found. Secrets of the Cothmores had been exposed. Father would be furious. Just when he'd resolved the matter of the brat.

But Elmerin. Elmerin had been causing him trouble ever since he refused to let Falchan have his kill years ago. It was Elmerin who kept him from getting his fair share of that brat's money. Elmerin had just exposed the existence of the Lustvines. 

And Elmerin had been messing with the wife of a nobleman. There were big penalties for that.

"You-you fu- fu- sexed my woman. My wife. You kn-know what it means for a cum- a con- a low person to take a noble's wife?"

"No I didn't." Elmerin was out of patience. "She's not your wife. Or your official mistress. The only reason the question exists is you won't shut up and keep insisting. You keep fucking her around."

Furious, Falchan screamed, "She's my WIFE and she'll be Lady of Cothmore some day!"

Elmerin snorted. "Like you're ever going to inherit."

With an inarticulate howl, Falchan launched himself at Elmerin. He suddenly hit the ground, puzzled why his right leg was no longer supporting him.

As Falchan had launched himself, Elmerin had struck out. His left boot heel connected with the shin right below the knee, breaking both bones and dropping Falchan.

Falchan pulled himself to a sitting position, blinking blearily at his leg, now bent at an impossible angle. The amount of alcohol in his system acted as an anesthetic, preventing him from feeling the injury.

"Oh!" Nera gasped. "Here, I'll-"

"No."

Every eye turned to the speaker. Rammeld's expression was as grim as his voice.

"Check to make sure nothing about the injury will kill or permanently harm him, but otherwise do not heal him. Keep him under guard in a tent near the healers until I can speak to Count Cothmore."

Nera's eyes went wide. Denial of healing was a severe punishment, usually administered for terrible crimes or when milder penalties had failed to work. A man and minister such as Rammeld going straight to that level demonstrated just how far Falchan had gone. Not just in his recent actions, but in the ongoing reports Rammeld had been receiving about the corruption of the Cothmores.

As the royal guards who'd arrived earlier packed up Falchan, Rammeld turned to Elmerin. "I rather think that was too strong a blow, but I also think the situation didn't give you much time to judge details. Particularly in your condition."

"May I take my leave now?" Elmerin lacked the energy to put more than a mild growl into the words.

"Ah yes, you're dismissed." Rammeld nodded to Drysia. "You are as well. I'll see you two for a full report tomorrow."

Elmerin just turned and walked away. Dryisa bowed to Rammeld and dashed after him.

*******

People mentioned in this chapter:

Elmerin

Drysia

Falchan Cothmore

Philip Rammeld

Nera Faunford

Cothmore guards

Several groups of royal guards

Items, magic:

Alert crystal: Made by the Crafters' Guild. They are usually a white, light blue, or light yellow color, depending on the exact minerals used in their crafting. Crystals created in the same batch that are sympathetic to each other. A pattern tapped on one will be relayed to all crystals made in the same batch, although the transmission weakens with distance. 

The crystals are customarily embedded in belts, wristbands, weapon harnesses, and in the case of nobles, necklaces and rings. Rings don't work as well, since unless the crystal is set flush with the surface of the ring it is likely to get chipped or scratched, which affects its usefulness and how long it lasts.

The Watch Guild and city and noble guards are the biggest clients for these crystals, since they allow squad members to call for backup that carries farther than voice and are not blocked by walls or drowned out by noise. Even the weakening of the transmission with distance is useful; by equipping each guard with two crystals, spaced apart, it's possible to determine where the signal is coming from, though it takes practice to understand the minor variations in the signal.

The crystals are not normally used by adventurers. The rougher environment of forest and cavern tends to wreak havoc on them. Official forces operating in such terrain tend to find this out quickly, but not always timely.

Money:

1 sparrow = 1 US cent

Kingdom of Korrum:

-copper sparrow

-copper swallow = 10 sparrows

-silver canary = 10 swallows

-silver finch = 10 canaries

-silver jay = 10 finches

*

-gold falcons

-gold kestrels