Chapter Four-Hundred Six

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Rezlar

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He looks down at his father, in more than one sense.  Some small part of him had hoped he had somehow not been involved.  But the look of shock is all the proof he needs.  It’s not a happy shock, of seeing a tragedy avoided.  It’s the shock of a tragedy to come.

“You look surprised, father, but not pleasantly so,” he comments, his words echoing through the cathedral.  It seems to finally be enough to spur his father to action.

He stands and glares up at Rezlar.  “Why should I be happy to see my son made into an undead?!” he accuses, only for Rezlar to shake his head.

“Scry me.  I’m perfectly healthy and alive,” he counters, quickly feeling a few probes at his being.  Gasps and whispers ripple through the cathedral like waves on the sea, and his father scowls as he discovers he’ll find no wind in his sails with that tack.

“Preposterous!” he insists.  “The dungeon dropped you!  I have a dozen adventurers who saw or heard you!”

Rezlar shakes his head with a rueful smile at his father’s performance.  “They saw and heard exactly what we wanted them to.  We didn’t expect you to try to get Lord Thediem declared murderous, which is why we went with your plan to assassinate me.”  He smirks at the gasps, though his eyes stay on his father.

“It would have been a lot simpler for us if we knew you’d try that.  We went through a lot of effort to make it believable for Tupul to kill me.”

His father narrows his eyes at that, and quickly verbally pivots.  “Then it was the thieves guild, and not the dungeon that tried to kill you?”

“No,” objects Rezlar.  “They would have been the weapon, but you tried to kill me, father.  Lord Thedeim was unknowingly applying pressure to you, so you came here to eliminate the threat.  But when I didn’t simply let you take over my duties, I became just another obstacle to you.”

“I would never see my own son as an obstacle!”

Rezlar snorts and holds out his hand, where Teemo briefly shortcuts to it to drop off the contract from the thieves guild safe.  “This would say very different.  You agreed to work with the thieves, in exchange for clemency on their part, as well as other compensation.”

His father sneers with disdain.  “An obvious forgery.  It looks like a contract, but such things have the weight of Order behind them.  All you have is a bit of dirtied parchment!”

Rezlar unrolls the contract to show the seal on it, and doesn’t miss his father’s smirk.  He doesn’t even allow Rezlar to speak before he continues.

“See, clearly a forgery!  If that were my seal, there would be weight behind it.  There isn’t.  I’d say it appears to be you, my son, who is working with the thieves.”  His father’s triumphant grin freezes in place as Teemo once again creates a shortcut and leaves something in Rezlar’s hand.

“Bilge Management,” Rezlar speaks simply, much to the confusion of most of those gathered.  He doesn’t miss the look in the eyes of his father’s maid, but a hand in a white glove moves to rest on her shoulder, causing her to pale.  She doesn’t even turn her head as Miller speaks.

“There are some messes that cannot be cleaned up, miss Felicia.”  He gives Rezlar a small smile and nod to continue.

“I admit, it was a strange thing, to find this contract with no weight to it.  It seemed impossible for a master thief to miss something like that, especially when so many other documents were clearly still binding.  And if it was a forgery as you claim, the lack of weight would give it away immediately, so why even bother?”

He smiles without humor at his father.  “Lord Thedeim understood.  He’s dealt with Order, with a contract of much more simple phrasing.  This one has more words, more room to slip through the cracks.  The signer swears by the power invested in the ring, which truly was a forgery, as you yourself pointed out.

“But who’s to say a noble can’t put on a fake ring for a shady deal?  Especially one worded to pivot on that very ring.  And if that ring were to be destroyed, the contract would lose its power.”

Though Felicia looks pale, Rezlar’s father looks unconvinced.  “Even if I were to entertain your ludicrous theory, if there was such a ring, it has been destroyed by now, by your own reasoning.  If I were clever enough to come up with some loophole like that, I’d hardly keep the ring around.”

Rezlar nods.  “No, you wouldn’t.  You probably melted it and sold a small ingot of gold to a local jeweler… or rather, you’d have Felicia do it.  But that brings me to the matter of this book.  It contains things far more interesting than the details of how to keep a clean bilge.”

Rezlar idly opens it, noting his father’s hand moving to the hilt of his sword, but he doesn’t stop.  “I must admit, father, that it’s a good hiding place.  Hollowing out a book to hide something is a very old trick, but I’ve never seen someone hollow out a single page.  Even Teemo was impressed with how subtle the spatial expansion was.”

He savors the glare in his father’s eyes as he reaches the page, and pauses for effect.  “You’re correct that we didn’t find the ring you used for the contract, but we did find a conspicuous absence of a ring.”  He turns the book for all to see the three rings, with clear room for a fourth.  “Not to mention three other counterfeits.  Tell me, father: why would you have something like this in your personal chambers?”

“Convenient that you would find something that should be so easy to overlook.  Perhaps you didn’t find it in my chambers at all,” he accuses through clenched teeth, gripping his sword without drawing it.

Rezlar smirks.  “Ah, you think I fabricated it?  It’d probably be possible.  Teemo has spatial affinity, and there’s no way for me to prove the contract is inert because of you destroying the ring, rather than it being a fake from the start.”

A weight descends on the cathedral before Rezlar continues.  “But that’s not to say it can’t be proven at all.  You’ve swam into dangerous waters, father, and you are not nearly as large a fish as you believe yourself to be.”

The weight increases for a moment before vanishing as Aranya speaks, her eyes glowing orange and her voice reverberating through the cathedral.  “I hereby sanctify this place in the name of Lord Thedeim.  May His Change lead all who come here to brighter futures.”

The cathedral stands silent for a few moments before Rezlar’s father speaks, disdain in his voice.  “I hope you don’t mean to call this hole a bigger fish than I, boy.  If you think some backwater dungeon can do anything to me, you are sorely mistaken.  It is a simpleton, and you all the more if you actually follow it!”

Rezlar laughs at his father.  “Lord Thedeim is a much greater fish than you, father, but He’s not who I was speaking of.  You have angered him, endangered those He cares for, tried to impede the Change He embodies… but He’s not the one I was talking about.”

The weight returns, making his father… making Paulte stumble as it settles on his shoulders.  “Lord Thedeim is more than happy to settle His own issues, but He recognizes He is not the only one you have wronged.  In fact, His umbrage with you is a puddle compared to the ocean of Order's.”

Paulte finally pales as he realizes what Rezlar must mean.  “Lord Thedeim spoke to Order, told him about the powerless contract with the thieves.  I’m not privy to Order’s workings, but it’s not difficult to imagine he’s discovered other deals you’ve broken.  How many have you swindled, Paulte?  How many have you convinced to sign some contract or another, only for the guarantee to vanish like smoke after you got what you wanted?”

“Soon, all will know,” answers a voice from near the center of the cathedral.  Kennith, the Priest of Order makes his way down the aisles, walking to the front as he speaks.  “Lord Order has audited you, Earl Paulte Heindarl Bulifinor Magnamtir if'Gofnar.  He has examined your dealings that you thought were erased.  Order is not bound by the letter of a contract, but rather binds signatories by the spirit of the agreement.  On rare occasions, some charlatan or another will forget this truth, will think they’re more clever than Order Himself, and think they can create loopholes to slip through.”

Rezlar steps to the side as Kennith stands on the dais, his own eyes glowing with a soft brass glint.  “The gears of Order do not slip.  They do not miss a tick.  The pendulum swings away and gives you room, but it always returns to crush those who think they can turn Order against Himself.”

Kennith’s finger falls, pointing square at Paulte, landing like the final stroke of midnight.  “Oathbreaker.”

And Paulte screams.