acknowledging the room. Of course, the hood hid much of the man’s face, but his actions were at least suggestive. Suggestive of what? Condescension probably. The Lord of Chance held little respect for others. But that was surprising given what of the man’s face was visible. Lorrd Chance’s jaw was not something to be proud of.
Half of the chin was covered by heavy iron, a mask of some sort. Not a full mask, but a semi-concealing piece. That meant that the right hemisphere of his face was open to the elements, and what a shame that was. The skin was brown and mottled, as if scarred, but it was worse than that. It was as if it had always been that way. There was something lizard-like about the man, and if it weren’t for the human looking hands, he might have believed the freak was actually a lizard. As it was, he must just be deformed. Unfortunately, the facial disfigurement had also soured the man’s personality.
Yet the freak was here at his bidding. He still struggled with this fact.
The Gorfinian aide gazed with piercing blankness, another face cloaked in darkness. All these abstract monsters were really getting to him, and he rolled his shoulders involuntarily. Their host raised a hand in greeting.
“Gorfinia greets you, Lord of Chance. And may we compliment you on your excellent choice of attire.”
Freaks stick with freaks.
“I am honoured to be here, Lord Gorfin.”
The man that he hated and feared in equal measures spoke with a grating tone. He lisped where the facial deformity restricted his ability of speech. The voice was almost serpentine, and disturbingly it complimented the warped skin of his face.
The aide nodded, but there was nothing further from the blank canvas of the Hooded King. There was not a hint of communication between aide and king, and yet the aide shuffled and tilted his head. That was curious.
“And who, Lord of Chance, do you think you are to adorn yourself with that title?”
The aide spat the words. That was shocking. That there was venom in the words was hardly surprising – Gorfinian hospitality was famously cold – but it was the Hooded King’s non-involvement that really surprised. It spoke of either remarkable cohesion, or it sang of a balance that was entirely at odds with the perception. Gorfinia was feared, but from where did that fear originate?
Lord Chance straightened himself like a snake readying to bite. He had the skin of a snake, and the hood of a cobra too. There was not a hint of a nerve in the man. He was calm and measured. And threatening.
“I am to fortune what this man is to the Mandahoi.”
With his open palm, the Lord of Chance gestured in his direction. It chilled him. What did he mean? Was he being mocked? Probably, the bastard. His breathing grew short and his jaw clenched. Anger bubbled. It was the same emotional crest that he touched before a fight – the crazy before the calm. But here and now he was around a table, and he was confronted by the bastard he’d invited along. This was not his territory. He spoke through gritted teeth.
“And what am I to the Mandahoi?”
The hooded snake turned to him, and the visible jaw cracked into a wicked smile.
“Why, you are the scourge.”
“Hear the man! Yes, indeed.” It was his king who interrupted. And thank the Father he did. He had the look of a snarling wolf when his blood was up, and it must be plainly obvious he was about to erupt. He needed to cool before he ruined the whole thing, but the environment was suffocating. So suffocating. Maybe that’s why half the table favoured hoods. Perhaps he should try it out. No, never. He was better than that.
“So, scourge of fortune. Why are you here?”
It was the aide who pushed on, and Kantal eased back into his chair. He let proceedings move around him as his breath steadied. His emotions were still running hot, but no-one seemed to notice. The room was focussed on the cool act of the cobra.
But the sight of Lord Chance’s easy authority did nothing for his mood. He had wondered many times whether the man’s usefulness warranted putting up with him, and it was always a tight argument. But the use always won out. He idly fingered the pommel of his magnificent blade, and caught himself easing her subtly from her sheath. Don’t be such a fool! Spilling blood in this place was guaranteed to lead to a swift exit. Such an exit was most likely through that window too. He ground his teeth and growled.
And the Lord of Chance ignored all this, calm authority in his reclined seating position. The freak pulled a smile onto his puckered lips. He hated the man, but he was very useful. Always the use.
“I come before you to offer a fourth way. I hold the key to the fourth gate of Ahan.”
A gasp escaped the Emperor, and even the aide shifted on his feet. Only the Hooded King stayed utterly still. It was frustrating that the freak held such power over words, but this had never been his arena. The Emperor twiddled his hands and sweat covered his brow.
“There is no fourth way.”
The Lord of Chance, who also went by the name Enabler, leaned forward, clasping his hands together, two index fingers pointed to the ceiling. Was he enjoying his moment?
“The fourth way is by sea.”
“It is guarded. It always has been. That archipelago makes it near impossible to gain access. It is useless.”
He concentrated on managing his breathing while the freak wove his magic. They were on the same side here. He could not afford to bear anger in this place. He would be punished like the common stock he was.
He looked around the room as his pulse settled, and a disturbing fact caught him. He disliked every one of his allies. How curious that was. But they had a common purpose, and that was what bound them. At least, he hoped it would bind them. He hoped it was sufficient. The Enabler waved his hand dismissively.
“But what if you could coerce a Mandari cell to your cause? A suitably positioned ally in the Mandari ranks could open that gate.”
“Pah. The Mandari are no more likely to sell-out than I am to offer my assistance in this madness. Tell me, who do you think you can worry over to our side?” It was clear that the Mikaetan Emperor was the pessimist in the room. He licked his sweaty lips. The Gorfinian symbiosis of king and aide appeared to listen intently, not conceding anything in those blank hoods. But this was the moment, the differentiator. He held his breath and looked for the all-important reaction. He was looking for anything that suggested the room was being won over.
“The Nadari have been desperate to defect for generations. They believe in one currency and one currency alone.”
“And what currency is that?” The Emperor sneered, though it was less effective alongside the wobbling jowls. He was going to be harder to crack than expected.
“Why gold of course. Is there another currency?”
That actually got a snort from the aide, and he slid a hand over the gaping space of his hood. The Emperor nestled back into his chair. The mocking suggestion had flushed the ruler’s cheeks, and he stayed silent. The jowls wobbled gently. But silence was not affirmation and he needed this done, if only for his sanity. He sucked up his discomfort and stood. This was his idea after all.
“And that is the plan. We harry the three gates, drawing resources to the borders and exposing the soft belly of Ahan. I, meanwhile, will lead a Delfinian force through the back door, and we will strike right at the heart of the enemy. Altunia will fall.”
The Emperor attacked without pause. “And why is it that Delfinia places the stake through the heart? Why is it not a unified force?”
The flabby face wobbled aggressively once more, though it was less troubling this time. In fact, in that moment, it was simply disheartening. There was so much tension in the room, and yet the fight had not even begun. How had these three nations ever worked together?
“Forgive my terse observation, but we hardly feel like a unified force.” The Emperor offered that sneer, but he was not to be deterred, “And besides, it is Delfinia’s plan. It is only right that Del
finia takes the lead.” That only added to the friction. So much friction. This was the pivot of the discussion, and the room seemed to be turning. But there were other angles that were, as yet, entirely unexplored. As yet.
“And who is it that is paying for this passage through the fourth gate?”
The Gorfinian aide stared right at him, but his king stood and drew the attention.
“The price demanded by the Nadari for their treachery is high. I accept the price of this as reflecting the plans that have been drawn up, but seek support from my allies in meeting this cost. We would be putting Delfinia under great financial duress were we to meet this cost in isolation, and so I ask you, friends, what share of the notoriety would you be willing to invest?”
If ever there was a time to leave a room, then this was it. The Emperor’s fist impacted the table and he wobbled violently.
“How dare you! You mock me, sir, to come here and ask me, the Emperor of the Eternal Mikaetan Empire, for money. Pah. Soldiers I may spare, but not money. How dare you. Your coffers are heaving with stolen Mikaetan stallions. You will have nothing from me.”
A disappointing start. He was sweating. His plans to take the chance remained feasible, but he still needed to earn the chance. Without forthcoming financial assistance, he would have a very awkward discussion with his king in the near future.
The King of Delfinia exhaled and reclined.