Grand Game 412: Making the Council Whole (Patreon)

Note, I've taken the comments in the last chapter onboard and have made a small, but significant change to the last lines of it. Instead of saying, "Present your candidate,” Stormhammer says, "Present your case.”

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At Stormhammer’s words, I felt my shoulders relax.

Gamil was someone I knew and trusted. For a moment, I’d feared having to deal with another Carnien. And while I did not know the old man well enough to claim we were friends, I knew him to fair. Certainly, he was no Carnien, and I had no doubt that New Haven would benefit with him as the new human high lord.

Using the cane at his side, Gamil pushed himself erect. “Thank you, thane,” he said. “But before I begin—” he glanced in my direction—“Taim, Algar, take your seats, please.”

There were only two empty chairs left at the table, and Gamil’s words made it obvious that they had been reserved for Algar and me. Feeling the eyes of the room on me, I followed the captain to the table.

Before I could sit, though, Minakawa shot to his feet. “This is absurd! Why is this player being given a seat at the council’s table? He is not even a citizen of the city!”

“Sit down,” Lorn said mildly. “Taim has done more than enough for New Haven to warrant a voice at this council.” His eyes grew lidded. “More, I dare say, that some charged with the city’s protection.”

The dark elf flushed at the orc chief’s thinly veiled insult, but he didn’t back down.

“Don’t overstep, captain,” Stormhammer warned before the elf could resume his protest. “You are only here to present the dissenting case and have no say on whom the council chooses to give a voice to at this table. Try our patience, and you will be evicted.”

Minakawa glared at Stormhammer, but whatever he saw in the thane’s eyes must have convinced him the threat was not an idle one because he sat down abruptly.

Stormhammer grunted, not having the grace to hide his disappointment. Had he been hoping to kick Minakawa out? “Sit, Taim,” he said, irritably waving me to my seat.

Hiding my smile, I took my seat, but in passing, I noted no one had questioned Algar’s right to a place at the table.

“My case is simple,” Gamil said, continuing as if there’d been no interruption, “my family was amongst this city’s first settlers, and though my ancestors may have opted for a humbler existence than most in this room, I have as much right to a place on this council as anyone else.”

He sat back down, and for a moment, no one said anything. The abruptness of Gamil’s argument seemed to have caught many flatfooted. However, it was not long before Minakawa was up again.

“That may be,” the dark elf said, “but it is not your family’s past that anyone is questioning. It is the dubious choices of its present-day members.”

Elron rolled his eyes. “Enough with the insinuations, captain. Spit it out. Say what you mean.”

“Very well, marshal, I will,” Minakawa said, throwing Elron a scornful look. “Everyone knows the only reason the humans nominated Gamil is because of his ties with him.” The last was said with a pointed glare my way.

“That’s Master Gamil to you,” Lorn said. “And what you say is not news to anyone. The human families have made clear that Gamil’s association with Taim is the main reason they put him forward as a candidate.”

It was news to me. “Is that true?” I asked Algar in a whispered aside.

“It is,” he replied just as softly and without looking in my direction. “Some even suggested I become the human councilor. Thankfully, I remembered Gamil in time and put to rest any such notions.”

“I see,” I murmured, rubbing my chin. “And since when did I become so important?”

Algar glanced at me sideways. “Times are changing, Taim. You are a valuable commodity these days. Your associates will be looked on as favorably as those tied to Castor once were.”

I winced, not liking the comparison at all.

Minakawa, meanwhile, was rambling on. “… cannot be allowed to interfere! He has no standing in…”

“Stop!” Stormhammer barked, finally having enough of the elf’s theatrics. “Your point is well understood. Gamil knows Taim. The council acknowledges this as fact.”

Amused murmurs rippled through the hall, a fact not missed by Minakawa, whose face only darkened further.

“Now, is that the sum total of your arguments?” the thane asked. “Or is there another reason why you object to the good Master’s candidacy?”

“There is also the matter of Carnien’s removal,” Minakawa said frostily.

“What of it?” Lorn asked sharply.

“And Elron’s appointment,” Minakawa went on, ignoring the orc’s question.

Elron rubbed at his temples. “Make your point, Minakawa. We are fast losing patience.” He gestured to the attending families’ representatives lining the walls, many of them as old as Gamil. “And you are not making any friends here by dragging things out.”

“Very well,” the captain said, his mouth twisting sourly. “I find it more than passing strange that Carnien and myself—both men known to disfavor the player—were removed from the council and replaced by two who are patently under this thumb.”

Stormhammer snorted. “You were never on the council to begin with, boy.”

“We also know,” Minakawa said, raising his voice to speak over the thane, “that Taim is a telepath of considerable skill.”

A hush descended on the chamber as people began to make the connections the dark elf intended, and once again, I felt myself the center of attention. Ignoring the fearful glances cast my way, I kept my face impassive as I locked eyes with Minakawa.

He had surprised me with his cleverness. What he suggested was nearly impossible to prove… or disprove. But the fact that I was a player, one who’d done nearly impossible things, no less, would count against me. If I could do all that, how hard would it be for me to twist the minds of a few non-players?

Not hard. Not hard at all—or so most would believe. And already, I could see the idea take root.

The three councilors read the room as well as I did. “What you are suggesting is impossible,” Lorn said grimly.

“Is it?” Minakawa smirked. “After all, we know Taim used a truth spell on Carnien. We know he’s played tricks on the minds of the former First’s guards and the possessed. And by all accounts, he even bewitched you and the thane during your rescue. Didn’t he?”

Tightlipped, Lorn said nothing.

The thane was too forthright for that, though. “Only to save us, you little bastard,” he growled. “Don’t impugn Taim’s name.”

“There you have it!” Smiling triumphantly, Minakawa spun around to survey the hall. He had them, he knew. “Stormhammer admits that the player toyed with his mind! If Taim could do that once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?”

Across the table, Elron met my eyes. Things aren’t going well, his expression seemed to say. My lips quirked. That was an understatement. People were shying from my gaze, and the woman to my left actually shifted her chair away.

Well played, Minakawa.

With a few carefully worded statements, he had transformed me from hero to villain. Shaking my head in bemusement, I rose to my feet.

Still basking in the attention of the room, the captain remained oblivious. The families noticed, though, and the murmurs circulating the chamber began to die down.

“What are you doing?” Algar hissed. “Sit down.”

I shook my head minutely. “The only way to put a stop to this is to face it head-on.”

“Don’t!” Algar exclaimed, his alarm growing. “You’ll only make things worse. Minakawa’s insinuations are little more than hot air. He has no proof. Once he’s had his say, the council will confirm Gamil, and this will all be over.”

“No, Algar, it won’t,” I murmured. “Minakawa’s words will fester in the minds of the families, and sooner or later, it will boil over, and there will be blood in the streets again.”

Not waiting for Algar’s response, I turned to face my accuser. Minakawa was staring at me. As was the rest of the chamber. The silence had deepened, with everyone waiting on my words.

One way or the other, New Haven’s future would be determined in this room today.

“You have something to say, Taim?” Minakawa asked smugly.

“Nothing,” I said softly.

“Well, I think that settles—” Minakawa began, confident in his victory now.

“Nothing,” I said loudly. “There is nothing to stop me.”

“What?” Minakawa asked, consternation flickering across his face.

I met his gaze impassively. “You asked what’s to stop me from toying with the council’s minds, didn’t you?”

He nodded, still looking confused.

“The answer is nothing. Nothing stops me. If I wished, I could tear you from limb to limb right here, and no one and nothing could stop me. If I wished, I could turn your mind into a puddle, and nothing could stop me.”

I stared coldly at Minakawa.

“Nothing except my conscience.”

I swept the room with my gaze, my eyes hard. “Each of you in this hall has some measure of power. What stops you? What stops you from hurting any man, woman, or child you care to?” My gaze flickered back to Minakawa. “What stops you from sending assassins after those you fear?”

The dark elf tried not to react, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him. Yes, I know, I told him, my gaze boring into his.

I turned back to the room. “What stops any of us from doing the things we know we can get away with? Nothing… except our conscience.” A smile touched my face. “Or so I hope.”

Sporadic bouts of nervous laughter broke out across the room.

I inhaled deeply. Now came the hard part—revealing my identity or at least the parts more widely known. “Minakawa is not wholly wrong, though. I have deceived New Haven. I have deceived its people, its councilors, and its marshal.”

The laughter died away, replaced by sharp, brittle silence.

Lorn’s face had blanked, and he watched me stone-faced. Stormhammer wore a look of confusion, and even Elron was frowning.

Prudence dictated I not bring this up now, but prudence also required I come clean. My identity as Taim had never been meant to serve as a permanent deception and if, as I hoped, the New Haveners and I remained allied beyond my time in the dungeon, then sooner or later, they would discover who I was. When that happened, it would make them doubt everything else about me.

Unless they heard the truth from me first.

“I have deceived you,” I said quietly, “but not in the way Minakawa means. When I first entered the city, I concealed my true identity to protect myself, and ever since, I have walked around the city wearing the persona of Taim. But that is not who I am.” Raising my chin, I let the illusion wrapped around my face unravel.

Your facial disguise spell has dissipated.

“My name is Michael, and I’m a level two hundred and four voidstalker.”

Gasps and whispers sounded around the hall, but I assumed that was more as a result of the changes to my appearance than the disclosure about my level. The councilors’ faces had settled into polite masks. They would need time to digest my revelation, I sensed. Minakawa, though… he was openly gloating.

Ignoring the dark elf, I went on. “Lastly, consider this. Assuming I had this power Minakawa claims, and assuming I am as unscrupulous as he believes, I could’ve wrenched control of his mind and stopped him short before he even spoke. Yet I didn’t.” I paused, letting the thought settle in their minds. “If you wish to judge me,” I finished softly, “then judge me by my actions. Not your fears.”

“Well said… Michael,” Gamil murmured.

I inclined my head to him, then turned to the councilors. “I’ve said my piece. Whatever decision New Haven makes, I will respect it. When you are ready, call for me. I will be in my rooms.”

Lorn nodded solemnly.

Pushing back my chair, I strode out of the hall without a backward glance.