Chương 151: Chapter 172: Planning

There's a certain pattern we've picked up. Certain things I take for granted. Such as: if Nathan is going to ambush me it's going to happen in the late morning or noon. From geography to history, or from history to lunch. So of course he's going to mix things up now that I've gotten comfortable with things being as they are. Oh sure it doesn't look much like an ambush. It's just a guy hanging around outside a building.

Hands in his pockets, back leaned against a column of marble, just glancing up as I leave the building. Hardly a concealed position with a fusillade of arrows leading. But the intent is very much an ambush. I am instantly gripped by the temptation to form a portal, or to take to the air, and just leave him standing here looking foolish. But, first of all, if I did that it would only press him to plan and execute a more effective ambush.

And secondly, I spend way too much time steeped in etiquette and protocol to feel comfortable being so overtly rude to such a gentle-seeming gesture. For a futile second I hope he's waiting for someone else. A lot of classes just let out at once, maybe he's waiting on Dizzy or Kurumi or-"We should talk," he said, rolling his shoulders in, hunching uncomfortably, and only half-looking at me.

I recognize this is a recent affectation, he's learned he can disarm people by seeming uncomfortable or hesitant, but I have known him all his life and I know that he's never lacked for confidence a day in his life. Makes it really damn hard, being his [Rival].

"Fine," I said.

"Natural Philosophy next?"

"It's on my way," he said.

"You went home without me."

"And it worked out about as well as I expected it to," I followed up.

"They looked so damn happy, Nathan. They haven't smiled like that since I first started to speak, since they first found out how very odd I really am. But now that they know they've finished pushing me out the door, they can finally be free. Mom was bouncing an adorable baby girl on her knee, looked just like I did at that age. Little checkered romper, ribbons." I gestured down at myself, the vast difference between who I've become and who I was at that age. The void-bleached body, the violence-toned muscles.

The hardness that I know is on my face because there's so much hardness in my heart and I hide nothing. The stiffness of my posture, the flashy, starkly-colored way that I dress. A far, far cry from the laughing baby in a pastel romper with a bow tied around her head mixed with silky tufts of short fine hair. I have been transformed too many times, I will never be as I was.

"I don't think you're being fair to them," he said, and held up hands to forestall, " but, that isn't actually what I wanted to address. You've had difficulty with them, vice versa, and there's way too much bad blood under that bridge for me to get involved. No, I, ah, wanted to ask you for a ride. Back to Meadwhite Castle, weekend after next."

"Our birthday," I said. Gods, how did my voice get that cold? He ducked as if the coldness was a gust of winter chill come early on the wind, tucking his jacket a little more firmly around himself as we walked the crunching gravel path. I noticed other students walking this way were making wide berths to stay out of eavesdropping range. The advantage of a dangerous reputation is that sometimes I don't have to overtly threaten anyone to get the space that I want.

"Our birthday," he confirmed.

"I'll tell you up front, it's all right if the answer is no. I was anticipating that because of... history." Meaning, because I have refused to give you access to my portals ever since I realized that every time I did it, you were taking the opportunity to plot against me or move against me.

"Father and Mother will be having the party regardless. Galas are too important to the bonds of fief and liege, especially anything as family-oriented as a birthday in the Duke's household. If you say no, I'll find myself out of your way here in the city. But I think it would mean a lot if I dropped in as a surprise guest. It would symbolize a lot of family unity and rebuild some connections." I folded my hands in front of me as I walked.

"Ah. I, obviously, won't be able to attend, I've gotten far too much invested in a gala of my own, here in the city." I let my voice drip the disdain for Hearstcliff, and his head jerked sharply as if in surprise.

"I put out save-the-dates and invitations months in advance. Hung too many commitments on this, scheduled too many arrangements around it. But for the good of the family, it would mean a lot to have you attend your own birthday party." And if I don't agree to this, he's going to spend the evening with one of his sweeties, no skin off his nose.

We're not mentioning the amusing but vindictive possibility that I drop him off for his birthday party and never come back, leaving him three weeks to ride back to Hearstcliff.

"I had noticed that you had extended yourself for this birthday gala," he said.

"Curigi called it a masterstroke, positioning yourself ahead of Fashion Week." He shrugged, putting it out of his head. You know. Fashion Week. Silly girl stuff.

"So, yes, Natalie, I did assume that you would not want to drop all your plans and rush out to the homestead with me on short notice." His laugh sounded a bit self-deprecating, somehow.

"I suppose now I know how far in advance to schedule with you if I want to make any arrangements. But before you answer to that, I also have a second request, similar. Related, maybe." I've seen a technique like this before, putting two requests together so that it's more difficult to reject one of them. It asks for a yes to both or a no to both, since it sounds rude to disentangle them.

"Your request?"

"I want to attend your ball this next weekend," he said.

"I was on the road last year, and when I got here everyone was talking about how much fun your party was. And now everyone's buzzing about it again, after your masquerade. And anticipating the next egg-race party. I like that side of you, you know. You've got so much of you that is forged for your mission, and I understand that as much as I could. And, things have been... strained... between us. On both sides. Some push, some pull.

But ultimately, I think there's still a part of you that you really did guard well enough. A part that is still fun and funny, that would play hooky to go romp around in a field. I'm glad you haven't lost that. It still shines through. And not quietly, either. For some reason, your fun side comes through most when you've got an audience." His pause lasted just long enough.

"And I'd like to see it again. I know we don't have that between the two of us. But maybe in the right time and place, I can be one of the people in your audience." Well, that's unexpected. Did not expect that train of conversation.

"Nathan, the reason that we don't have that trust and fun between us," I said carefully, "is because we are being pushed into opposite sides of a conflict. And, frankly, because our methods are anathema to each other, I think. I know that you hate the way I do things-" He winced, shrugged, half-nodded, and tried to soften it with a smile. I kill way too many people for his tastes.

"-and I can confirm that I hate the way you do things," I finished. The way he would rather cheat his way to an easy answer today rather than build a framework to solve problems long-term. I can use effort, genius, magic, strength, and alliances to build something, only to have it swindled out from under me by my brother the bamboozler.

"That said, I have not stopped being your sister. And when I have the chance, yes, I do still have fun." He was holding his breath. Quietly, but I'm too aware of air movements not to notice.

"You can come to the egg race," I said.

"Do not make a scene. Do not undermine me. You may bring Sicimmi, Lyric, or Curigi. And-""Ah, hah, I was thinking of Dizzy Capstan," he said, half-laughing and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Which do you think would happen first, would she make a scene or undermine me?"

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. I know she's great fun and honestly under most circumstances I would love to see her at an event like this. Perhaps next year, when I have fewer irons in the fire. She's a quirky girl but she can not read a room." He stared at me in confusion.

"She told me that you've only ever spoken a handful of words to her. You have no classes in common, and nobody's ever mentioned you asking around about her. You sure do seem to know her though." That's right, Nathan. Here's one of the reasons I don't like to tell you about my 'visions' from the video game. I know more about the women that you could potentially date for the next four years than I do about anything else. I know what outfit Lyric wears to the Flower Festival, and I know what Zauria is hiding from.

Almost everything I have ever known about this world is filtered through a paradigm of you courting, dating, and romancing these specific women. Gods, imagine if I ever said anything like that to him. There's no saving that, there's no redeeming it, I would instantly win the Lifetime Achievement Award For Creepiest Brother-Complex Stalker.

"Dizzy does not take a lot of searching to figure out," I said, more gently.

"Don't make a scene. Don't undermine me. Don't make me regret this. Just show up, have fun. Old times. And in four years when all is said and done, the world is saved or it isn't, we can start walking our way back to normal." He worked his jaw, chewing the inside of his cheek. Still acting unsure of himself. Maybe?

"In four years," he agreed.

"And until then, just the occasional good-faith effort. The occasional connection." I held out a hand for him to shake. It was awkward, walking side by side. I won't lie, I stress myself out a lot leading up to these parties. I was almost tearing my hair out getting the Halloween event put together. I usually have such a specific vision for what I want, and so often nobody else has any context for it. I can't look at someone who has never experienced Halloween and summarize the experience in an elevator pitch.

So I have to micromanage every detail. And I guess it's a good thing that I enjoy these so very much. And, for the Second Annual All-Points Egg-Vitational Celebration And Spoon-Race Tournament, at least there are people who already know most of what i want. I still have the contact info for the caterer that took care of all the legwork last year, but the venue that took care of the banners and decorations last time is booked for a wedding.

I started to get mad about that, but then I found some perspective, got my patience back, and went to find a new place. I sent a card and a gift off their registry to the new couple, to salve my conscience for almost bidding their wedding venue out from under them. But best of all, I was able to get my announcer back. Basically the heart and soul of the performance, if I'm quite honest.

I spent a lot of time last year teaching the ways of the bombastic over-the-top wrestling-announcer master-of-ceremonies performer, and now we've got that same energy coming back. It's great that so much is going well because my stress just completely doubled. I already had full pages of notes titled "What Could Go Wrong" with my best guesses how to fix it. And only a handful of my disaster scenarios involved Nathan showing up. For them, my solutions were different ways to get rid of him.

But now that he's an invited guest, all those plans are off the table, and I've got no answers to anything. Quarl has a theory that my psychic divine visions specifically exclude Nathan and that he's my blind spot. It makes a certain symmetrical sense, I know. But the reality is just that he's got more options than anyone else does, and I don't know which ones he's going to pick. Not a psychic block, just his protagonist privileges. Well, at this point all I can do is hope he's not going to screw things up for me.

Maybe it's just as well that we didn't get the same location back: we wound up moving the party to someplace larger. The decor went all-out this time. We had color-coded seating sections for the different Houses, with plenty of overflow seating for those who did not belong to a House. There are plenty of those, sure, but they tend not to be as influential as those who have a built-in network of allies.

I've invited more than the usual number of folk from the Lesser Houses and minor houses, and we've got provisions set up to create sections for them as well, once we see how they arrange themselves. Sashes and tabards are handed out at the entry, in case anyone is not wearing House colors tonight. Last year was all in good fun, attempting to distract one and all from the fact that I'd just been released from prison, so we did everything we could to foster a fun environment.

This time we're leaning more into the competitive spirit. Maybe that's just because of my own; I can relate easily to it. But also because we're using this to build the narrative as we push into Fashion Week, I want everyone to be a little more responsive to House loyalty than they normally would be. And additionally, we're just coming off of a week of royal mourning, and I'm looking to break up the solidarity that the Freckentops have been enjoying.

Over this past week, the royal family has not been resting on its laurels. Not by a long shot. Pretty much every day this past week I've been brought some new report of some slight or slander against me from the royal family. The timeline: On past Sixthday they announced that they were calling off the search for Lachel and that they would be holding funerals. This was to make me seem callous to their grieving or to make me cave to their whims, either would look bad for me.

Instead I played out a night of fun and whimsy and spooks and startlement, and during that night I spread a story that the royals were giving up on their daughter not for political reasons, but because I had killed their necromancer ally and they had lost hope of having her reanimated. This left the royal family in the awkward position of denying the allegations and admitting that this was actually a cynical and jaded maneuver intended to shift political balance.

"No, we're not trying to bring her back from the dead! We're just trying to distract the public view from our other crimes of necromancy!" It was their best chance, because the college of magisters had personally seized the material evidence of the crime and its authors. And the college of magisters is one of the most powerful, influential and trusted institutions around when it unifies behind a goal.

And since the maneuver had been a competition between two high-ranking magisters to see which of them could prove the Freckentop connection first, there was a lot of political muscle leaning into the narrative. However, they've had a week to work unopposed, because of my class schedule. The work of rumors and alliance and manipulative machinations do not stop after the weekend, for most of the upper crust this is a full-time job and I am a dabbler.

I spend my weekends trying to catch up by attending or hosting the largest affairs that I can, because I just cannot afford to handle myself with one house call at a time, or one ride in the park, or a shared dinner in a nice restaurant. Everyone else gets to have their meetings in more restrained environments, but my schedule has pushed me into being a gala princess only.

So it becomes an asymmetrical contest: they get five days to apply steady pressure, and I get one day to make some big swings, and then we both take off Sevenday because it will not work out favorably if either of us appears to have lost our piety for the sake of a feud. There is no official power behind the church or any enforcement, but doing so would look desperate, and tacky. None of us can afford either of those.

After all, they're trying to hold onto the confidence of all the people they rule over, they can't afford to look like they've been rattled or there could be a vote of no confidence. For me, there's a specific date and time that I'm going to bring a bloody war to their doorstep, and if they remember me as the girl that failed they will be slow to surrender, which will spend too many lives.

On Oneday I saw an interview by the king's spokesman in the broadsheets, which stated that the king would not pay the bounty for the dead necromancer because I had no evidence that I had not let her go free. Not a bad gambit, since it made people believe that the king had ever offered a bounty. On Twoday there was a royal proclamation that from now on, any seasonal festivals held in the capitol must not employ prostitutes on the premises. Which made it sound as if I had hired hookers for my Halloween party.

On Thirdday I was brought a rumor that I'm not actually Natalie Harigold but an imposter that doesn't even look like her. Fourday, I was sexually promiscuous. Fiveday, someone chatting with the queen learned that I've been ruling over the Academy with threats of violence. That's why these parties are important. They're my only chance to sway public sentiment to my favor. And if I'm going to do anything in this damned kingdom without stumbling over a hundred obstructions and objections.

When I don't have the will of the Houses behind me, paperwork is lost, meetings are rescheduled, doors are shut, items are out of stock. When I've got my momentum, suddenly paperwork is unnecessary, meetings happen at my convenience, doors are opened gratefully, and whatever I need has been waiting on a shelf for me. The system sucks. I should not need to perform like a circus pony for several hours every weekend and throw out half my free time and half my budget just so that I can get people to do their own jobs.

But I'm going to need a lot more soft power before I can earn enough hard power to tear the whole system down. And so that leaves me organizing something called the Egg-vitational Tournament with the seriousness of a general plotting a campaign. I keep Ondre near me, so he can communicate with Lady Hanje using the sigils he doesn't know that I know about. He keeps running out of the room, sending her messages, getting a response, then hurrying back in.

I don't know sigilry myself but the process seems to have a lot in common with ordinary texting. Between the three of us we plan every angle and avenue, every contingency and objective. The ridiculousness of my situation is not lost on me. About as ridiculous as the fact that I need to start dating seriously soon or else I'm definitely going to die in the next war.