Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess - Chapter 266 - Ugh, politics
Deacon Solnate excused herself from Scarlett’s side with a slight nod, her red robes rustling as she strode towards the table at the center of the Forum. Several eyes around the vast chamber followed the woman as she took her seat among the assembled individuals there. Scarlett’s gaze, meanwhile, drifted to the raised galleries lining the edges of the room. Her eyes locked onto Lady Withersworth’s familiar figure, and she began making her way towards her.
As she walked, Scarlett studied the central table and its occupants more closely. It hosted an array of powerful nobles, dignitaries, and high-ranking officials, beyond just Lord Withersworth and Deacon Solnate. From her understanding, they would be responsible for much of the night’s discussion and debate.
A fact she certainly didn’t mind if it meant less for her to do. From what she’d heard, the conclave could drag on for many hours, a prospect that was far from appealing. Every fiber of her being right now yearned for the warmth and comfort of the mansion and the sweet embrace of sleep that awaited there.
At least she could take solace in only being an observer for the proceedings. It was unlikely she would be called upon to speak at length, and there weren’t any matters she particularly wanted to bring up at an event like this.
Upon reaching the galleries, Scarlett ascended the steps to the level where Lady Withersworth sat. She threaded her way past other guests, giving the faintest of nods to those who caught her eye, until she reached the older woman. Lady Withersworth had reserved a seat to her right, while Lady Valentino occupied the chair on the woman’s left.
“Welcome back, my dear,” Lady Withersworth greeted Scarlett with a warm, maternal smile that softened the slight wrinkles around her eyes. She patted the open seat beside her. Once Scarlett settled in, smoothing her dress beneath her, the woman leaned in conspiratorially. “So,” she began in a hushed, playful tone that didn’t quite match her age, “did that deacon have anything intriguing to tell you?”
Scarlett paused for a moment, considering her response. “She expressed curiosity about some of my recent collaborations with her fellow clergy,” she eventually replied in a measured voice. “I have assisted the Followers in reclaiming several valuable relics of late, and that had apparently piqued the interest of certain members of the Quorum.”
That was actually pretty close to the truth.
A light chuckle escaped Lady Withersworth as she sat back. “Others will no doubt have noticed your arrival alongside a deacon. I wonder what kinds of rumors that will fuel in the coming days.”
Scarlett stifled a tired sigh. While she did expect as much, she hoped Deacon Solnate was telling the truth when the woman claimed most of the Quorum was too preoccupied to dwell on her existence much. Although, even if that wasn’t the case, there was no use fretting over it at this particular moment. Scarlett redirected her attention to scrutinise the figures seated around the central table.
“Were you aware that your husband would already be present?” she asked, her gaze falling on Lord Withersworth’s disgruntled expression as he occupied one of the high-backed velvet chairs. Even from this distance, the lines of exhaustion were clear on his face.
“No, but it’s not entirely unexpected,” Lady Withersworth replied, raising a bejeweled finger to indicate some of the individuals near her husband. “Those to his right are High Treasurer Fitzroy, with his ruby-topped cane, and Chancellor of Trade Hayhurst, forever fiddling with that pocket watch of his. And the man to his left is the former Imperial Steward, Sebastiano Langdon, accompanied by Count Stansfield. No doubt they and many others have been working tirelessly behind the scenes with my husband these past two weeks.”
Scarlett studied their faces attentively. Working on what, she wondered?
She was far from an expert on the matter, but she knew the empire’s politics could range from exceedingly byzantine to relatively straightforward depending on the times. Historically, permanent factions were rare, with more fluid, temporary coalitions often forming around shared interests or objectives.
From her research and discussions with Beldon, most of the nobles Lady Withersworth identified tended to remain neutral arbiters, which in the empire essentially meant you were a loyalist faithful to the crown and establishment. While not an organised faction per se, the loyalist mindset pervaded much of the aristocracy here to varying degrees, and the imperial nobility overall demonstrated a pretty strong sense of patriotism.
Scarlett supposed that included her as well, in a way.
She did spot some influential figures around the central table who she knew were part of more defined factions, such as Count Hayden of Kilsfell and Duchess Swail of Silverborough. Both were key members of the growing coalition aiming to capitalise upon the recent attacks as a catalyst to push for swift, dramatic changes across the empire and the rights granted to certain nobles.
Scarlett’s attention was drawn to the far end of the chamber, where an ornate grand staircase led up to a pair of large, imposing doors adorned with vivid crimson tapestries and gilded accents. At the foot of those stairs, a solitary figure in black-and-gold plate armor stood rigidly at guard, his steady gaze fixed forward like an immovable statue.
Leon.
He looked unchanged from their last encounter, but she wondered how he had been faring lately. Not that she cared too deeply for the man’s well-being, but he had no doubt seen considerable fighting these last few months. Probably even more so in these last two weeks. She was just curious if that had tempered his skills any further. In the game, his growth rate had been impressively fast.
…Was it heartless of her to focus solely on pragmatic considerations like that? She didn’t think it was too bad herself. If anything, it was a necessary byproduct of her circumstances. That said, it was probably best not to voice such thoughts aloud. She and Leon were still technically betrothed, after all, even if they had been in talks to annul that arrangement.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Leon’s gaze suddenly flicked up as if to meet hers across the chamber, and she caught some emotion on his features. They held that shared look for a moment, then Leon refocused on his duty, his face once again an impassive mask.
The reverberating blare of a trumpet resounded through the space. A tall man dressed in rich, imperial garbs that Scarlett recognised as the royal herald stood atop the stairs, grasping an ornate staff while a liveried servant holding a ceremonial trumpet waited beside him. The herald slammed his staff against the floor with an echoing boom.
“His Majesty, Gartelnas Articius Verddun Teronia!” he proclaimed in a rich, commanding tone. “Ittar’s chosen light makes his entrance!”
All eyes turned towards the large doors at the top of the stairs as they swung open with a resonant creak, the murmurs of the assembled nobles and dignitaries hushing in anticipation as a small group of people emerged from the brightly lit corridor beyond.
Leading the procession were two members of the Royal Guard, resplendent in their elegant white armor inlaid with gold, their dragon-crested helms glinting under the light. Next came the emperor himself, clad in intricate gold and crimson robes that trailed behind his regal, measured steps. A neatly trimmed beard framed his face, while wavy blond locks topped his head beneath an ornate golden crown inlaid with three large gemstones.
Scarlett felt the familiar flutter of awe and reverence at his entrance, her pulse quickening slightly as she tracked the emperor’s progress down the stairs. Eventually, though, she tore her gaze from him to briefly regard the two figures behind him.
One was the crown prince, cutting an odd figure beside his stately father. He was dressed in a uniform that blended red and blue, with golden pauldrons and bracers that would have marked him as a warrior, though the ruler-in-waiting wasn’t known to often engage in combat.
Beside the prince walked a figure that commanded notice even in such august company. Evelia Blackwood, the ‘Imperial Advisor’, walked resplendent in a form-fitting violet gown textured like dragon scales, each tiny plate catching and reflecting the light. In one hand, she clutched a long silver staff topped with a crystal, with her raven tresses cascading in luxurious waves down her back, framing her beauty.
Scarlett might have imagined it, but as the group continued descending the stairs, she thought she saw the woman’s eyes flick briefly in her direction, accompanied by the faintest of smiles.
A final Royal Guard brought up the rear, his vigilant gaze sweeping the room for any threat.
The emperor reached the raised dais at the head of the central table and took his place upon his throne under the watchful gazes of the gathered conclave. The crown prince claimed a seat to his right, while the Imperial Advisor gracefully lowered herself into the chair at his left. The three Royal Guards arrayed themselves in vigilant formation behind them, their hands resting on the hilts of their sheathed swords.
Once more, the royal herald slammed his staff against the floor with another resounding boom. “His Majesty, Emperor Gartelnas, graces us with his presence to convene this most critical conclave. By his command, let all matters of urgency and state be brought forth, as we strive together to safeguard our empire and restore prosperity to our lands.”
A heavy silence descended over the hushed chamber as the emperor surveyed those assembled before him with an inscrutable expression. Finally, he addressed the gathered nobles and officials in a calm yet resolute voice.
“Esteemed nobles, honored dignitaries, and loyal servants of the Graenal Empire,” he began, his words resonating through the chamber like the tolling of a great bell. “I welcome you all here. Tonight, we gather under the shadow of great adversity, as our beloved homeland is under relentless attack and many of our cities lie in states of ruin unseen for generations.”
He paused, the gravity of his statement sinking in, and Scarlett saw some of the faces around her show grim expressions.
“Our people suffer shortages of food and essential supplies,” the emperor continued. “The very fabric of our realm is strained.” Another pause, pregnant with tension, before his tone shifted. “However, it is in times of trial that the true spirit of our empire shines brightest, as demonstrated by our ancestors countless times before.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled crowd.
“Let us approach these discussions with the same courage and clarity they once did,” the emperor urged, his voice growing stronger. “Ensuring our decisions today reflect the strength of our unity and our unwavering commitment to defending our realm. For the future of this land, the welfare of our people, and the honour of our forebears, let the deliberations begin.” He raised his left hand in a gesture both commanding and benedictory. “May the light of dawn guide our path.”
As if on cue, the Imperial Advisor, Evelia Blackwood, nodded her head, and the crystal atop her silver staff flared to life with a soft, pulsing glow. Above the central table’s intricately detailed map of the empire, various lights and markers shimmered into existence, creating a sort of three-dimensional representation of the realm’s state. Some regions, like the eastern provinces, were highlighted more than others, covered in red and black, while the Freybrook area remained relatively empty.
She addressed the assembly. “Your Imperial Majesty, esteemed lords, and honored guests,” she began, her melodious voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. “I will now present you a general overview of the situation facing our empire.”
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Evelia went on to provide an abridged report of the repeated incursions from the Tribe of Sin which had begun roughly six months ago. These attacks had drained resources and caused significant damage in key regions, but were mostly contained through the cooperation of the empire’s forces and independent actors like the Shields Guild.
The display above the table shifted and changed as the woman spoke. She then mentioned the manifestation of Anguish’s citadel near Bridgespell a month ago, which was ‘resolved by Duke Valentino’s local forces, along with the timely intervention of the Dawnbringers’.
Finally, she delved into the details of the monster attacks that had begun two weeks prior, causing widespread destruction and devastation across the land and in select cities, further straining defences and resources. The Tribe of Sin was believed to be responsible, though their forces’ presence had notably diminished since the onset of the monster incursions.
After her account, there was some light murmuring and discussions in the forum. While the information itself shouldn’t be much of a surprise for most present, the woman’s magic helped paint a vivid picture of their circumstances, bringing into sharp focus the affected regions on the map.
The emperor waited for the whispers to subside before speaking. “Thank you, Lady Blackwood,” he said. With a gesture, he turned the assembly’s attention towards a broad-shouldered man further down the table. “Now that we are all apprised of the situation, I would like my officials to elaborate on the specifics. Lord Graeme, if you would begin.”
The man, the Imperial General, inclined his head, the light catching on his close-cropped greying hair. “Certainly, Your Majesty.” He rose, his hands resting on the polished wood of the table. “Two weeks past, our forces were blindsided by the unprecedented wave of monster attacks that struck all major cities simultaneously. Despite the initial shock, many local leaders and garrisons rallied admirably, mounting defences that were instrumental in mitigating even greater losses.
“Since then, we have reorganised our forces, concentrating them at critical strategic points while dispatching smaller units to counteract the repeated incursions now plaguing smaller settlements. However, our army is spread thin, as we must continuously deploy troops across the empire to combat increasingly unpredictable attacks. We have fortified the perimeters around the cities that faced the most destruction, while working extensively with the Shields Guild and the knight orders to patrol vulnerable regions.”
The man’s brow furrowed as he added, “There is a concern that our current strategy leaves our border defences undermanned, particularly near Wildscar and the Everdust Barrier, where reports suggest concerning movements from the Undead Council and other threats emerging from the Unresting Steppes.”
As the general droned on, delving deeper into the logistical challenges and estimated threats, Scarlett observed the assembly with a detached air. Her gaze swept across the spacious chamber, taking in the varied expressions of those present — from barely concealed fear and anger to calculated indifference.
When Lord Graeme finished, the Chancellor of Trade took the floor. The man launched into a detailed account of the empire’s compromised supply routes and warehouses, the measures underway to secure and restore crippled trade lines, and plans for food and resource distribution.
A procession of similar reports from other imperial offices followed, each painting some kind of grim picture or other. Eventually, prominent nobles and dignitaries were called upon to provide firsthand accounts from their domains. Those summoned included figures seated at the central table, like Duke Valentino and Deacon Solnate, but people were also beckoned down from the galleries. Among them was Count Knottley, whom Scarlett had glimpsed briefly during the earlier banquet but hadn’t engaged directly.
After a litany of speakers had given their accounts, the royal herald’s booming voice announced the floor open for all those present to express themselves freely. Instantly, a susurrus of murmurs rippled through the chamber. As individuals rose to speak, their voices were amplified by whatever magic had carried the emperor’s words earlier.
“Your Imperial Majesty, esteemed peers,” a count called out from the galleries. “While I applaud the swift actions taken thus far, it should be clear to all that our current measures are woefully inadequate to secure our lands against these relentless threats.” He paused, eyes sweeping across the assembly. “I believe we can no longer afford a purely reactive stance. The imperial forces and knight orders, valorous though their efforts may be, have proven unable to respond with the quickness and effectiveness required to handle the localised perils each province faces, as already detailed by the Imperial General and others.”
Scarlett folded her arms, leaning back in her seat as she studied the man. She’d anticipated someone to bring something like this up eventually.
The count continued, his voice growing bolder. “This is not a question of loyalty or courage, but one of practicality and logistical reality. The Imperial Security Edict may have allowed us the freedom to alleviate some of these pressures, but tales of beleaguered lords left defenceless during the past fortnight are widespread.” He stood straighter, hands clasping the folds of his frock coat. “As such, I propose that each lord, for the duration of this crisis, be granted greater autonomy in establishing and drafting forces from the common folk, as well as procuring other necessary resources required to effectively defend their lands. The safety and stability of our empire must be our foremost priority.”
A swell of mutterings greeted his proposal, though Scarlett doubted many were truly surprised. The empire’s military was highly centralised under the emperor and the crown’s authority, and it was basically only high nobles who could maintain substantial private forces in order to protect the major cities — and even those ultimately answered to the imperial family. Officially, most nobles relied solely on small, elite personal retinues for conflicts, otherwise requiring aid from knight orders or groups like the Shields Guild. Drafting commoners into levies was a wartime privilege, and those levies themselves also fell under the imperial army’s purview.
It didn’t exactly come as a shock that some nobles would seize any opportunity they could to chip away at that power structure.
“Are you mad?” a man across the galleries surged to his feet, his face flushed with indignation. “This is not the time to be looking at laws and needless bureaucratic wrangling! There are reasons you cannot simply commandeer whoever and whatever you wish in your lands to feed your own greed!” His glare could have melted steel as he focused on the count who had spoken. “There are those who tried in the past, and they were no better than thieves!”
Even from this distance, Scarlett could tell that the count’s face turned a dangerous shade of crimson. “You would call me a thief?” he spat. “Hah! How naïve you must be of our current circumstances. Have you witnessed the devastation around Ambercrest these last two weeks? In the city and its surrounding fiefs, nearly a quarter of the peasantry has already fled in fear or to find food for their starving children, leaving the lords bereft of both the people and resources to properly protect those who remain.”
He jabbed a finger accusingly at his opponent. “An issue easily prevented if they could impose curfews, draft laborers to fortify and muster defences, and not solely rely on the overtaxed imperial forces and other actors to maintain order! To brand a lord safeguarding his people through any means in this crisis a thief is ludicrous!”
The debate quickly escalated, with more nobles rising to voice their stance. Scarlett wasn’t sure who was moderating and controlling the magic that amplified people’s voices, but they seemed intent on ensuring each side roughly had equal time to make their case.
For the most part, the discussion remained focused on the nobles’ inability to defend their lands against these monster incursions, and how the current framework actively prevented them from mobilising their populations against the threats. Opponents warned how such ‘freedoms’ often came at the cost of the very people many nobles claimed to protect, and that already established institutions—some of whose members were speaking—existed to combat threats like these. Even if they were spread thin presently, inexperienced nobles mobilising common folk would hardly make up for that. Instead, they should collaborate to better establish logistics for transferring resources from those settlements that had them to those in need while ensuring those with the ability to protect received full support.
Scarlett saw some validity in both arguments, though she didn’t care too much either way. The empire’s inner politics didn’t matter much to her, and she had no plans on conscripting the few souls who lived in her territory, nor had she much to gain by doing so. Besides, this debate was still mostly posturing from what she could tell, with the leaders on both sides not having raised their voices yet.
Eventually, after several heated rounds of arguing to which the emperor and those at the central table merely listened, an unfamiliar, well-dressed noble rose in the galleries. The chamber fell silent after a while as he was given the floor.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said. “It’s all well and good that we discuss how to properly distribute and allocate resources and treat those in our lands, but it feels as if we are overlooking a far more pressing threat that these past weeks have laid bare. It is almost as if you are too afraid to broach it. I, however, am not. And I doubt I am the only one to have considered the eerie accuracy with which some of the recent attacks have been carried out, and how certain figures have acted in response.”
He went quiet for a moment, as if allowing for a dramatic pause while adjusting his silk cravat. Scarlett wasn’t sure how effective it was. The man reminded her too much of a preening rat for her liking.
“I speak, of course, of the rumors that have been circulating in many circles lately,” he continued, his voice lowering slightly. “Rumors suggesting that there may be those within this empire—perhaps even this very chamber—who have collaborated with, or indirectly benefited from, the Tribe of Sin and these monsters’ savage attacks in ways befitting no loyal subject of the empire.”
A heavy silence fell over the chamber, broken only by some hushed whispers near Scarlett.
“Oh, Baron Ogden, you gullible fool,” Lady Withersworth murmured beside Scarlett, her lips barely moving. “You always let yourself be led too easily.”
Suddenly, as if unleashing a floodgate, the chamber exploded into a cacophony of impassioned cries. People leapt to their feet, shouting and gesticulating wildly. Some seemed genuinely outraged that this ‘Baron Ogden’ had dared to voice such brazen accusations based on nothing more than unsubstantiated rumors. While many had probably heard some variety of these whispers at this point, the imperial nobility was very particular about never appearing disloyal in public spaces.
Baron Ogden himself appeared unprepared for the ferocity of the backlash. He stood awkwardly, his earlier confidence quickly evaporating. Yet there were those who defended his stance, loudly insisting that there was nothing wrong about exposing those who would betray the empire.
Unlike earlier, no one was granted the floor to speak, resulting in the chamber being engulfed by the swelling tide of voices. Scarlett massaged her throbbing temple, her patience running thin as she wondered why the man two seats down from her couldn’t shut up about the ‘deliberate sabotage’ of his Bridgespell mansion.
She didn’t care, and she was liable to torch whoever did.
Finally, to her relief, the emperor raised a hand. The air above the center table burst with soft lights and sonorous chimes that immediately quieted the crowd. Beside him, the Imperial Advisor Blackwood lowered her glowing staff.
“Calm, everyone,” the emperor’s steady voice rang out. “We are here to promote discussion, not to fight.”
Silence reigned for a brief while until one of the central table’s occupants rose. All eyes were drawn to the severe-looking man with a neatly trimmed beard and a hawkish gaze.
That was Hanwyn Roscoe, the Duke of Darkshore.
“First off,” the man began, his voice projecting clearly. “I would like to commend Baron Ogden for his courage, though his words may have been somewhat excessive and misguided. Nonetheless, it’s clear that they stemmed from genuine concern for our empire, and as shown by the heated discussion that followed, a concern shared by many tonight. And while I wish I could dismiss it as baseless, can we truly afford to be so certain? We need only look to Ambercrest and the recently uncovered crimes of Count Soames to see that we cannot.”
“Count Soames was found to have been collaborating with demonic cults making offerings to the Viles, Duke Roscoe, not the Tribe of Sin,” another man at the table, the Imperial Chamberlain of Justice, interjected. “The man may be a loathsome sinner and a betrayer to all of man, but that is a separate issue.”
“Is it truly separate?” the duke countered, spreading his hands. “The Tribe is savage and cruel in their depravities. Like the cowards they are, it would not surprise me if they made pacts with demons in their bid to overthrow us. Did you not find it convenient that one of the Vile’s own citadels appeared so close to when these latest attacks began? It is almost as if planned.”
Scarlett frowned as whispers stirred through the chamber, many appearing to agree with the man.
“Dear, you might want to brace yourself,” Lady Withersworth said quietly beside her.
Scarlett shot her a questioning look, but before she could respond, another voice broke through the noise.
“I agree,” said a man Scarlett recognised as Count Hayden, drawing her attention back to the table where he’d risen. “The Citadel incident’s timing is suspicious. That it was allowed to happen at all could almost be considered treason. I have also recently learned information that casts further doubt on the circumstances surrounding it.” His gaze swept over the galleries. “Not all of you may be aware, but the Citadel’s appearance occurred near a village called Crowcairn, which was revealed to have been a hidden Tribe Enclave.”
Shocked gasps erupted from many of those assembled, and Scarlett’s frown deepened.
Count Hayden turned towards Duke Valentino, seated not far away from him. “Tonight, many have praised Duke Valentino’s efforts in resolving the situation when the Citadel manifested. But I fear this achievement is tarnished by the revelation that he was aware of this Enclave’s existence and deliberately attempted to suppress the information. I do not wish to make unfounded accusations, but that is certainly suspicious, is it not? Perhaps we should hear more from the person involved himself?”
Duke Valentino met the count’s gaze with a dark scowl. Then another noble spoke up — a minor baroness in the galleries that Scarlett recognised as being under Marquis Delmon, Leon’s father.
“That is not all,” the woman said as she was given the floor for some reason. “I have also heard Duke Valentino was not the only noble present tonight involved in those happenings, and thus, likely not the only one aware of the Tribe’s Enclave. It also appears Baroness Scarlett Hartford was engaged in what happened there.”
Some eyes turned towards Scarlett, while others wore expressions of confusion, likely wondering why a mere baroness just got dragged into this play.
Scarlett herself couldn’t help but mirror Duke Valentino’s dark expression.
Someone had just ruined her evening, and she wasn’t about to let that go lightly.
