XV

You Do Not Know Me

The interior of the Tower of Unity looked like something from another world. The main surfaces were all made from the same opaque, deep blue glass-like material. Balconies of wood, stone, marble, and likewise adorned floor after floor, all staring down the open center of the tower from above. From the very bottom, you could stare up at the ceiling and mistake it for a storm of comets in the night sky.

There was only one means of transportation between floors: three staircases, each beginning on evenly spaced third ‘corners’ of the circular wall. Together they spiraled up in a diagonal ascent that never broke its parallel with the other two. One staircase, armored in radiant gold, was intended for the use of any representatives from Heavenfell above. The second, glittering rose, was for Lyveria below. And the third, a verdant green, the Land District’s.

The tower was populated with guards from all three nations, but not for the reasons one would suspect from a building of this importance. While the Tower was constructed for the use of international leadership, the common folk and tourists of the world were welcome to every inch of the tower, save for the roof. Libraries, laboratories, medical wards, and other sorts of stations called the tower home, and none of them found any shortage of foot traffic. This was the people of Servus’ favorite place, and a world wonder for those outside of it. During times of extreme weather, the homeless were known to take shelter in the tower’s lower floors, when their own tents and shacks would not protect them.

Dez stretched out his arms, stretched his wings even further, and breathed in the wonderful atmosphere of the place, a cornucopia he had only ever heard of in storybooks and tall tales. Now he was in it. Standing in its very center, bumping elbows with crowds of civilians and scholars at once. The excitement nearly made him burst into flowers.

“I never want to leave this place!” Dez trilled. “I could spend the rest of my life here!”

“Yeah, I reckon you could, Dez,” said Alikath. “But I didn’t drag you all the way out here just to have you drown yourself in books.”

“This place is crowded,” Roland complained, holding his arms close to his sides. “What do so many people need to be here for?”

“Well look around you, Roland-” Rosellia gestured to the balconies, and the Aarakocra lazily gliding from floor to floor. “Where else in Servus did you see something this beautiful? Because I missed it on the walk here.”

“Yeahhh, beautiful,” Andrés furrowed his brow. “And so Lyverian.”

“Lyveria essentially funded the whole tower,” Fletch explained. “It’s their materials, their architects, their blueprints-”

“Their culture,” Alikath nodded. “But it represents all of us. We and Heavenfell both contribute more to this place than the building itself.”

“Like what?”

“Well... you’ll see. But later. We have somewhere to be.”

The Ambassadors pushed through the disorganized commoners on the ground floor, and ascended the green staircase. As loud as the chatter around them was, you could hear the almost hollow surface of the steps echo and bounce against these glassy walls.

“In a few minutes, you’re all about to meet royalty. Are you nervous?”

“Not at all,” Rosellia puffed out her chest.

“Here,” Amira agreed.

“I am!” said Fletch.

“Good,” Alikath nodded. “You should be. If there’s one thing you absolutely can’t afford to do here, it’s underestimate the Princess and the Head General. We won’t be drawing weapons, but this is a battlefield of greater consequence than anything you’ve seen before.”

Amira took a peek at the closest balcony beside her. Two children chased each other around in circles, while an Elf struggled to cast a spell from a scroll. Little black puffs of soot kept firing from his palm, dirtying his nose and clogging his airway.

“What’d’we need t’know about them, anyway? I mean, what should we expect when we get up there?”

“There aren’t going to be many people watching us,” Alikath answered. “A few important companions of the leaders, and the leaders themselves. Head General Men Za-Hel will represent the Sky District, while Princess Genevieve Carretero will be speaking for the Water District in her father’s stead.”

“In his stead?” Andrés asked. “Why can’t he be here?”

“Regent King Rafael is in exile,” Rosellia answered. “And Genevieve is the ‘rightful’ ruler of Lyveria since her mother’s passing. She just hasn’t been coronated yet.”

“Genevieve has been doing this for some time now- don’t let the semantics confuse you. She is the Queen. She’s going to focus primarily on the establishment and maintenance of trade routes, as well as the allocation of both nation’s resources based on the season’s demands.”

“And are we supposed to know what is or isn’t reasonable, when she makes an offer?” asked Andrés.

“That knowledge comes with experience. Let me do most of the talking this time, it’s just important that you all pay attention.”

The group nodded.

“Men Za-Hel will probably be more legible to you,” he went on. “His agenda is to take as much of our land as possible. So he’s going to do that.”

Dez trilled, and fluttered his wings. “Don’t worry about Men Za-Hel. He’s a spineless coward- we’re going to be fine as long as we remember that.”

“Whoa,” Andrés laughed. “When did you grow a set of teeth?”

Artemis felt the sun kiss their skin. They looked ahead- saw how close they were to the ceiling. At the top of each stairway, a large circular hole cut in the roof gave passage to the very top of this monument in three even corners, shining down on the world below.

Artemis’ nerves buzzed up their chest and through their hands. They took a breath, steeled themselves, and stepped into the sun.

The tower’s roof was surprisingly barren, considering the intricate and varied decorum of the interior. A short, two-foot lip stuck up around the edge of the circle to act as a guard rail, but the stage was otherwise completely flat.

Keeping up with the stairwells’ theme, three large, curved lines of corresponding colors extruded from the holes, swirling and meeting at the very center of the tower, where they were covered by a large circular crest embedded into the floor.

The crest, predictably, incorporated all three of the nations’ representative colors as well. The crest’s outer rim was pink, containing a golden diamond shape atop a green background. Dez locked his eyes on the centerpiece, he found the crest curious. And so, apparently, did Roland.

But they hadn’t time to focus on that, as someone- a trio of someones- demanded their much more immediate attention.

Waiting patiently near the crest, along the pink pathway, an Aquatic woman with a silver circlet stood, a man and woman behind her on either side. They all looked to be in their mid twenties, though the one with the circlet seemed just a bit older than the other two.

Her hair was a whispered light blue atop her scalp- so faint it could be mistaken for grey, though it deepened as you went down her bangs, cutting off just above her shoulders. Her dress, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed, puffed up above her chest with wool like the foam of crashing waves. That would make the rest of her intimately regal gown the ocean; the deep blue and teal eternity of which she claimed dominion. Roland noticed that the Princess’ dress looked more mobile than he expected; practically combat-ready, it opened along the sides as to barely restrict the legs. There was no mistaking it: this was Genevieve Carretero III. She put the paintings in her image to shame.

Behind her left shoulder, an Aquatic man with dirty blonde curls and thin, sharp cheekbones. His hands were adorned with metal ‘gloves,’ consisting of gold rings around his fingers and wrists, and chain links hanging from each, connecting all parts together. This motif of jewelry and occasional piercings was prominent with this one. His robes, parting down the middle wide enough that you could see down to his abdomen, were intricate and delicately woven. He actually had a considerable amount more metal and gems on his person than Genevieve; but next to the Princess, it was hard not to look small.

Immediately to his right, another woman, though this one stuck out next to the others. While the Aquatics’ skin were gentle hues of pink and white, this one was a more consistent, flat grey. Her hair, while similar in shape to Genevieve's, was a darker grey with black tips- and the texture was visibly harder, like you might prick yourself on her strands. Not frizzy, just stiff.

Her outfit, while clearly expensive, was a similarly muted hue of greys, whites and blacks. Less of a royal gown, and more of a practically tight ranger’s outfit. The only real trace of color she displayed was through her veins- or at least, they looked like veins. Thin yet distinct lines of vibrant yellow traveled up and down her arms, lining her stomach and climbing up to her neck- implying they might be present all throughout her body.

Dez seemed excited to see this third woman in particular.

“Is- is that one- is she an Eelike!?”

“Yes, Dez,” Rosellia answered, eyes wide. “Stop talking now!”

“But she's so old, is-”

Rosellia shushed the bird, and the Ambassadors walked down their green path, toward the crest. Alikath stopped about a foot away, and smiled at Genevieve.

“Alikath,” Genevieve nodded.

“Your Highness,” Alikath bowed, unusually deeply. When Rosellia followed suit, the rest of the Ambassadors did as well.

“I’m glad we aren’t the latest ones here,” Alikath said, looking at the hole at the end of the golden pathway.

“When are you ever?” Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Just once, I'd like for him not to show up at all. I’d love the chance to talk as adults with you someday.”

“We can speak without the General whenever you wish, Your Highness. All you need to do is take me home with you.”

“Hm,” Genevieve scanned the other Ambassadors with her eyes. Each of them felt a little chillier when her gaze met them- Amira and Andrés both covered their stomachs out of embarrassment for how she was looking at them, even though the Eelike also had her stomach exposed. Her undressing stopped when Genevieve’s gaze met Rosellia.

“Vagrant Peak?” The Princess asked.

Rosellia shook her head, an unusual sternness on her face. “Thyme.”

Genevieve nodded. “The Aarakocra, then. It’s nice to meet you all. I would have your names?”

The Ambassadors each took a step forward to introduce themselves.

“Artemis Iraklidis.”

“Name’s Amira Callaghan! S’an honor t’meet ya, yer Majesty!”

Fletch coughed. “-Highness.”

“Y- uh, yer Highness!”

Genevieve chuckled, and smiled, which put the whole group at ease.

Roland didn't step forward, but looked the Princess in the eye.

“Roland.”

“Just Roland?” Genevieve asked.

“You will know me as Roland.”

Alikath glared at Roland with something between fury and fear in his eyes. Genevieve looked almost impressed at his audacity.

“Very well then.”

Andrés was up next.

“Uh, I- I’m Andrés. Surname.”

“Your surname is An-”

“-My full name is Andrés Surname. It’s- it’s really not worth explaining, I promise.”

“I… see… and you?”

“F-Fletch Sootfoot! Your Highness!”

“My name’s Dez Ta-Or!”

Genevieve’s eyebrows raised.

“Ta-Or? That Ta-Or?”

Dez nodded. “That Ta-Or is my mother, Your Highness.”

Alikath furrowed his brow, not recognizing the significance of Dez's surname. Genevieve gave a concerned look to the Tiefling, silently asking him where he found these people.

“And then you,” Genevieve laid eyes back on Rosellia. “I see you still wear our colors- what is your name, darling?”

Rosellia glared at Genevieve, then puffed out her chest, tilted her chin, and flared her skirt flamboyantly.

“Rosellia de Lusitania represents the city of Thyme, Your Highness.”

“De Lusitania?” Genevieve asked. “You’re a noblewoman? I’m not familiar with that household.”

Rosellia gripped the fabric of her skirt, bunching it up beside her hip. She twitched, catching a thought on the way out of her mouth.

“No,” She gritted. “You wouldn’t be.”

“What’s your industry? And what is a grown noblewoman doing in Thyme of all-”

“Real estate,” Rosellia interrupted. Everyone picked up that something was wrong with her now.

“...Places,” Genevieve finished her sentence. “Alikath, this has to be the strangest the Ambassadors have looked in generations- at the very least.”

“If not since their founding,” The Aquatic man watched the Ambassadors like they'd bite him, should he look away.

“Oh believe me, Your Highness, I know,” Alikath sighed. “You have no idea how strange they can get.

“That said, Genevieve, I believe you’ve gone and wasted two minutes of our time.” He continued, looking up at the sky, and the two sets of white wings descending toward the roof. “Ambassadors- get ready to introduce yourselves again.”

“It’s considered polite to approach from the ground floor, General,” Alikath greeted, pounding his chest twice with his right hand as a salute. “We built those stairs for a reason.”

“A reason I'll never wrap my head around,” Men Za-Hel said, returning the salute. “It’s a waste of time- how did they not realize that when first building this tumor?”

“They made it out of an appreciation for symbolism, Men,” Genevieve scoffed. “If all we cared about was efficiency, we could have just made one path up here- the water and land stairs aren’t ‘necessary’ either.”

“That isn’t the defense you think it is, Genevieve.”

Men Za-Hel brushed off his armor, fluttered his wings, and glanced at the Ambassadors over his shoulder. He was an imposing figure- though much of that is due to his wingspan; as he’s relatively thin once his wings retract, though he was still taller than Dez. He wore a set of brown leather armor; a padded plate of it across his chest and back, and a skirt of leather tassels along his waist. His headfeathers flared up and back across his head like a blazing fire. His most defining individual features were his sharp, jagged beak, the black pigment around his eyes, which spread across the sides and bottom of his eyes like daggers, and the golden chain-link earrings hanging from his head; each link a sharp diamond.

Those earrings were a valuable Heavenfell heirloom, and a discernible indicator that you were speaking to the Head General, but it wasn’t the only indicator. The other was looped around a buckle on his left hip; glowing with a familiar golden hum, a long link of golden chains with a glassy handle on one end, and a large triangular blade on the other. In the center of that blade, a ruby-red gemstone. Fletch, Roland, Alikath, and Artemis all recognized this Memoria Gem: the Celestial Bane.

The Aarakocra beside him looked similar to Men- and not in the way that all Aarakocra look a bit alike. He looked almost like a shorter, grizzlier Men Za-Hel. Wearing the same outfit, and wielding a regular metal chain whip at his side, this Aarakocra’s head feathers were a bit flatter to his scalp, and the black triangles along his eyes were bigger- surrounding the eyes more than outlining and protruding from them.

Fletch took another look at the Celestial Bane, and realized how peculiar it was that Men Za-Hel brought his Memoria Gem with him, but Genevieve seemed not to carry any weapon on her. The Eelike had a longbow, and the Aquatic man a hammer, but nothing obvious on the Princess.

“My name is Men Za-Hel. I take it all of you are my new wranglers?”

The Ambassadors went through the same routine introductions, and it was all as wonderful and awkward as it was with the Princess. Men did not, however, wait for Dez to introduce himself.

“You,” Men Za-Hel pointed at the boy. “What are you doing here!?”

“You remember me?” Dez asked.

“I r- of course I remember you, Ta-Or. Don’t tell me you’re with these people!”

Dez saluted his General, an arrogant pride curving up his beak.

“Dez Ta-Or, Ambassador to Vagrant Peak, at your service!”

“I hope you realize what an insult this is, deserter. Are you doing this to get back at me? Back at us?”

“I’m here to work, Za-Hel,” Dez held one arm over his chest. “How’s my mother?”

“Worried sick, how do you think she- click- is!?”

Men’s tick triggered Dez to click in turn. The third Aarakocra twitched his head, avoiding the urge to join them.

Men Za-Hel scoffed, and stepped back from Dez.

“Fine- if that’s your choice, Dez, you can deal with it. Can we get this meeting over with?”

Alikath, Genevieve, and Men Za-Hel held up their arms, open hands pointed to the tower’s center. In front of the Princess and General’s chests, intricate runes, about the size of their heads, flashed into being and glowed; Rosellia and Dez recognized them as the national crests of Lyveria and Heavenfell, respectively. Alikath had no crest appear in front of him, but Fletch noticed the ring on his left hand reacting strangely to whatever magic they were casting.

After a few moments of casting this ritual spell, the trio put down their hands, and Genevieve opened the conversation.

“Alikath, how is the situation in the forest advancing?”

“It isn’t, I’m afraid. The best I have to report is that we have one Ambassador representing both cities now, which means I was able to force the two to cooperate. If we’re to negotiate a peace, Fletch could be the lynch pin to that progress. But that’s a ways away.”

“Hm,” Genevieve tucked her hair behind her ear. “The Valley of Wither is a significant obstacle to both of us- I notice you don’t have any Ambassadors representing the northwest.”

Men Za-Hel perked up hearing that. Alikath nodded, shamefully. “Communication is almost impossible. Broker’s Hold in particular is sorely missed.”

“I’m sure keeping your people fed is difficult with your cash crops out of reach. As it happens, the guild has been expressing interest in the Hold, as well.”

“What’re we gonna do about that?” Amira asked. “Are ye offerin’ t’end the war for us?”

“Hardly,” Genevieve shook her head. “That fight is the forest dwellers’ to sort out. But what if we had another way to get to the Hold?”

“Sure, what if,” Andrés shrugged. “But if we could, we’d already be doing it, wouldn’t we? There’s a mountain range in the way.”

“You already are doing it,” Genevieve pointed out. “You already have a direct, fast, and safe path through the Alps- did you forget?”

“Taerrhod Hold,” Concluded Men Za-Hel. “You mean the cave system.”

“Those caves are valuable,” Andrés admitted. “Forget transportation- those things give us access to some ridiculous silver deposits. Enough to supply an army and then some.”

“Forget transportation?” Artemis scoffed. “Let's not go that far, we're cut off from a fourth of our country.”

“Then the benefit to both sides is apparent,” said Genevieve. “Crack open Taerrhod Hold, and sign Lyveria the rights to establish mining ventures in the Alps- we'll welcome the monks back with open arms together.”

“An’ let the Merchant's Guild monopolize our metals, too!?” Amira growled. “As if!”

“Hold on-” Alikath held his hands up to halt the Princess. “Even if we wanted to agree to that, Taerrhod Hold isn't ours to ‘crack open.’ Conscriptus controls that fortress, not Servus.”

“I do not recognize Conscriptus as the authority of Servus. Uniting the Land District under a centralized leader is no small part of why we created the Ambassadors.”

Men Za-Hel gave Genevieve a dirty look.

“Are you a leader, Alikath?” She asked.

“I'm not sure I like what you're implying, your Highness,” said Alikath. “Are you telling me to usurp the Rembrandt?”

“I'm telling you to work with the Rembrandt. Negotiation is your entire job- so negotiate with her. Anyone's favor can be bought, especially a Conscriptite.”

“A baffling misunderstanding of leadership, to think we can convince Conscriptus to let you into their livelihood.” Roland interjected, locking eyes with Genevieve. “You know exactly what you're asking of us.”

“So you know a siren when you hear one,” Men Za-Hel grinned. “There might be hope for your recruits yet, Tiefling.”

“We're not gonna make enemies with our neighbor so you can share the benefits! You don't even risk anything that way!” Amira protested. “The Alps aren't yours t'take!”

“And by the sound of it, they aren't yours to defend either,” Genevieve argued. “This proposition promises benefit for your city and my kingdom- and I am a woman of my word. Would you rather I make a similar deal with the Rembrandt?”

“Of course not, but-” Alikath stuttered, not sure how to resolve the aggressive ploy Amira and Roland led them down.

Andrés thought for a moment, and stepped in.

“Of course not, Your Highness. But you have to understand that we value the Rembrandt. Our nation is of more good to you in one piece than fractured, isn't it? We can keep trade moving when all the Land Dwellers like each other.”

“Which is exactly why I want you to convince the Rembrandt to agree to this deal.”

“And we will definitely try,” Andrés held up his arms. “But Conscriptus is an unpredictable place, isn't it? If the Rembrandt refuses, well- we're not just gonna kill her- but it would strain our relationship. I think we'd all be more comfortable with this venture if we had something to gain from it that didn't depend on Conscriptus.”

Genevieve hesitated, and looked briefly at the Eelike before responding. “...I'm prepared to offer an even share in the mine's production, if that's what you're after.”

Andrés turned his back, and shook his head. “Of course, we could always just make a deal with the Rembrandt. We are leaders after all, and she's our subject.”

Genevieve glared at Andrés. “Are you threatening me, Elf?”

“He's calling your bluff, fish,” Men Za-Hel chuckled. “I'm no fan of Conscriptus, but I'd be happy to defend it and Servus, if you don't approve of them playing together.”

Genevieve grimaced. The Aquatic man behind her spoke up.

“We don't need to listen to this, Genevieve. If we erode Raaza's cut into Ehlonna's Mourn, we won't need Conscriptus or Clearbrooke.”

Genevieve waved him off. “Alright, Ambassadors. What do you want?”

Andrés looked back at Alikath. “...What do we want?”

Alikath scratched his chin. “...Servus needs a port along the Matria. A direct connection to Romiet without passing through Valor. And Arbante, through Lake Unity.”

Genevieve tensed up. “Two ports? You're already full up on ships, Alikath- the Santos Act couldn't be more clear.”

“Then obscure it,” Amira shrugged. “Hell, do away with it, if ye want the Alps.”

Rosellia tapped Amira on the shoulder. “Are we sure that's a good idea? More ships mean more casualties in the river, the Santos Act is there for a reason-”

“Yes, and people already live along the Matria,” Genevieve argued. “There's an entire Aquatic population in Servus, Alikath. A port would disrupt all of their lifestyles- maybe even unhome them!”

“They're your people, Genevieve.” Said Alikath. “They're not immigrants, they're merchants. You want this tunnel system? Then you need to provide for whoever we unhome.”

Genevieve stepped back, and considered her options. The Ambassadors stole quick looks at each other, none of whom were on the same page about how they did, or what exactly their goals were.

Genevieve closed her eyes, and nodded.

“Fair points. Let me into the Terraque Alps, and you will have your ports. At your own expense. Our funding will be focused on developing in the West.”

“We're in agreement, then.”

Alikath held his hand out to Genevieve. She shook it, and the deal was cemented.

Men Za-Hel shook his head. “And the poison spreads.”

The Aquatic man stared off the tower's cliff, with a dejected look. Andrés and Amira shared an excited celebratory hug.

“My record-keepers provided a ledger of our expenditures in the Land District this month.” Men Za-Hel waved over the other Aarakocra, who handed him a scroll. “This encompasses the entire region.”

“I know that,” Alikath said, taking the scroll from him.

Men Za-Hel frowned. “Just explaining for the new bloods.”

Alikath read over the ledger, and his heart sank. “In a month!? That's impossible!”

“It's anything but impossible. We supply based on demand, Alikath- your people are always responsible for the number.”

“Wait, what is this ledger about?” Rosellia asked. “What's Heavenfell buying from the Land District?”

“Not buying-” Artemis crossed their arms. “Spending. Counting how much they're donating to us.”

“You don't mean-” The color drained from Rosellia's face. “The relief outposts? They count those!?”

“You didn't know that?” Dez asked. “That's where our debt comes from. We pay them back in property. Land.”

“But those are charity!” said Rosellia. “You're saving the poor!”

“Poor you aren't saving yourselves,” said Men Za-Hel. “And there's a lot of them. We can't afford to dump money into a bottomless pit, but taking land- and citizens- relieves you of your burdens, and makes it easier for us to provide for them. It is charity.”

“This is… a lot, Men,” Alikath read and reread the ledger, praying the numbers might shrink the second time. “What happened this month?”

“Don't look too far into it. Your economy's just getting worse.” Men Za-Hel glared at Genevieve. “Someone keeps bleeding it while it heals.”

“You and your excuses, bird,” Genevieve scoffed. “Skip the theatrics and tell him what I'm 'forcing' you to take from them, please.”

Alikath considered what he had to offer. “...I can give you the area between the Demon's eye and Grin. As many square miles as this needs. The Vagrants aren't going to be thrilled, but- I hear Dagan's Tomb is a treasure trove we aren't using.”

Men Za-Hel shook his head. “A trove of rumors and fairy tales. The Peak's a desert, the area is practically valueless, unless you enforce a quarantine on those living in it.”

“And force the deserting Aarakocra to come back to Heavenfell in peace,” Dez sneered.

“Vagrants live their whole lives traveling,” Roland shook his head. “It would come down to bad luck on who gets caught in that quarantine.”

“They'd lie,” said Artemis. “No one would admit to being caught in the borders. Wouldn't even stay long enough to measure them.”

“Then estimate. Base it on the area we take, and provide an average from there,” Men offered. “That way, you can pick and choose. We can be sure we're only taking Aarakocra back home.”

“I-... we can't-” Alikath's voice shook. “We can't do that, Men. The Vagrants would never forgive us. They live that way for a reason.”

“We're taking them back one way or another, Alikath.” Men Za-Hel glared at Dez. “All of them. This is the only way you're getting off selling me a desert.”

“Quite the ally, that Men Za-Hel.” Genevieve snickered to the Eelike. “Stoking the flames of war for the good of the people.”

Men Za-Hel winced, and paused. “...But I recognize you've been busy, gathering new allies after that shipwreck. The Ambassadors are important to all of us. So, in good faith, I'll let you cut down that ‘average,’ if you have better soil to offer me in its place.”

“We… we don't. I don't know anywhere we could... we can't give you the forest. Not in the middle of a war… I don't-”

“You can have Arbante,” Artemis stepped up to stand side-by-side with Alikath.

“What!?” Alikath gasped. The other Ambassadors could hardly believe what they'd heard. “No he can't!”

“Arbante is a city of farmers,” they explained. “Production value speaks for itself. Entire community of homes that can't run away. Know you like taking cities all at once, when you get the chance.”

“Arbante?” Men's eyes wandered. “...I wouldn't hate that. But why are you so eager to give it up?”

Alikath glared into Artemis’ eyes. They looked back, and gave him a knowing grin, asking him to not just put together their plan, but admit who Artemis was. Admit their identity in front of both the Princess and the General. Trapped in a corner, Alikath bit his tongue, and forced himself not to cut Artemis down as they stole the negotiation away from him.

“Arbante gives some of its crops to Chesknot," They stepped in front of Alikath. "Not enough to keep them from starving, but enough to keep them from making their own solution. A cyst on the District, disguised as a provider. But in Heavenfell... has legitimate use.”

They looked at Genevieve as they concluded their pitch. “And, less money we need to spend on a second port. At our expense, right?”

Genevieve chuckled, and crossed her arms. “This one knows something of making difficult calls. You have better judgment than I gave you credit for, Alikath.”

“-No. No, we're not giving you a city, Men!” Alikath pulled Artemis back by the shoulder. “Not again!”

“I think you are, Alikath. The alternative is that you turn the Vagrants against you. You owe me a considerable sum- and that's not to mention the expenses I waived after twenty-two's hurricane.”

Alikath seethed. “You told me you'd forget about those.”

“I did.” Men sized Alikath up, spreading his wings. “I've already stuck my neck out for you, Tiefling. I won't do it again.”

Men Za-Hel offered his hand to Alikath. The Tiefling's eyes darted from place to place. From Artemis' grin, to the Ambassadors' silent panicking- to Dez, shamefully wrapping himself up in his wingspan. He tried desperately to think of something, anything else he could do...

But Artemis caught him. Backstabbed him, when he finally let his guard down. Defeated, Alikath sighed, and took the Aarakocra's hand.

“No!” Fletch trembled. “No! No! Wrong! You- you help us! Provide for the needy! Arbante provides for itself, we- we get needier without them!”

“Mockingbird,” Roland snapped, looking down at him from the corner of his eye. “That's the point.”

These were not the only discussions had on that roof on that day, but none omitted held the same weight as the deals made here, and none broke the pattern established.