Despite the fact that Argrave was allegedly ‘on trial,’ when he entered the room where the gods of the Blackgard Union waited the only judgment that he received was curiosity. Only Lira knew the truth of what was going to be said here today—and even then, she only knew some of it. Argrave and Elenore had discussed how they might control the situation to come out ahead, and they had a relatively solid plan of attack.
As this was not a true dispute but an earnest disclosure between people who were allied, this room was not so grand and threatening. It looked more like a staged intervention, with many gods sitting in a half-circle of golden thrones ready to confront him about his pathological lying addiction. There was a seat ready for Argrave. The justiciars that had escorted Argrave panned out, coming to kneel beside each god present.
Argrave made to take a seat in his own throne, and as he did so, Almazora criticized, “I do hope that there was a good reason to bring us to this place. Even gods do not call meetings to Law’s Court so fickly. The White Planes might’ve been a better choice had you something more to ask of us.” She took her large braid of galactic-flavor hair and set it across her lap.
“If this is about the Qircassian Coalition, I’d advise you to stop worrying.” The god of deception and subterfuge, Rook, laid across his throne sideways. He appeared the image of the cocky rogue, dressed in all black with his legs rested on one armrest. “Rather, the situation is a good one. It shows that they’re unwilling to commit to fighting us. Unless you have new information, we should simply ride out their barrage of attacks.”
Argrave sat down in his throne, searching for words. As he did, one of the justiciars kneeled beside his throne. It would be assigned to him during the duration of this trial, to parse through his soul for truth.
“I suggested Argrave call this meeting,” Lira said, looking at everyone.
As everyone seemed to grow considerably more serious, a final justiciar took his seat in the last empty chair in this half-circle. It sat in the middle of them all. Its helmet swiveled about as it looked at everyone—the burgundy-wearing Raccomen, the tribal tattooed Stout Heart Swan, the young boy Yinther, and the namesake of Veiden, Veid all present yet silent.
“All are present, save Hause,” the Justiciar declared.
“Hause doesn’t need to come. She’s already informed,” Argrave said, settling back into the warm, if stiff, throne. “Seeing as I’m the one to call for this meeting, I’d like to propose the structure of this trial. Does that suit everyone?”
Moments of silence passed without anyone raising any objection.
“Very well.” Argrave nodded, tapping his knuckles against the throne’s armrest. “I propose something thorough, yet casual enough to be called informal. First, we’ll have a hearing. I’ll state my perspective plainly. Second, we’ll have an interrogation. Third, I’d like for you to make your choice regarding my proposal. Let’s call that my sentencing.”
“That sounds just,” agreed the justiciar representing Law. “Have you conditions?”
“I do,” Argrave nodded. “I will be truthful, and omit nothing about the situation. All I ask it that you let me retain the right to refuse to answer any questions that might come back to harm my kingdom or my family.”
“That’s rather abstract,” objected Rook, still lounging on his throne. Argrave felt seen through already—they’d intended for it to be abstract. “We need to define ‘harm.’”
Others nodded in agreement. Argrave considered that for a moment, then clarified, “Anything that might trigger someone else to wish, or actually try to commit, acts of aggression against my kingdom or family.”
Though limited in scope, it did allow Argrave to withhold everything he thought needed withholding. Perhaps he’d be proven wrong, but he felt it was sufficiently broad yet understandable.
“That doesn’t cut it for me,” Rook shook his head. “Anything in the whole world could harm you if the threshold is wishing or committing acts of aggression. Some people want to kill you because you’re not dead.”
Argrave stared at Rook for only a second or two before saying, “Considering we’re bound to defend one another by defensive pact, and have no reason to be at odds, I’ll say this. It should be obvious to all of you by what I refuse to answer whether I am being deceptive. We’re allies, aren’t we? I did this, per Lira’s suggestion, to show my earnestness in this proposal.”
Rook took a deep and discontent sigh, looking between everyone. Lira looked to have something to say, but no one else made any issue with this idea until Veid broke her silence. “You should explain to us why you refuse to answer when you do.”
Argrave deliberated, feeling every second might make them think that he was being dishonest. In time, he nodded. “Can do.”
“I believe that all of you are being too soft, not knowing the nature of this conversation,” Lira interjected. “There should be another condition. If we do not like what we hear, you must return with us to the White Planes to renegotiate the terms of our Blackgard Union.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The other gods looked at her. Law’s representative spoke up, informing, “My court is not the White Planes. I could not enforce that promise.”
“But he has to agree to it, doesn’t he?” Lira looked at Argrave. “He can’t be bound to this trial if he doesn’t agree to that as the premise. You won’t allow him to be bound if it’s not a promise he’s presently willing to fulfill. He has to be willing to agree.”
Argrave’s head swirled. Perhaps speaking to Lira first had been Argrave’s biggest mistake. But then, it was the only reason they’d been brought here. He didn’t doubt Lira only did this out of genuine concern for the validity of their alliance, yet this was still a stinging blow.
Raccomen leaned in, staring at Lira. “Our exchange with Argrave has been a wonderful one. We have new faithful, and come next cycle, we may manifest in Berendar again with a populace ready and willing to receive us. Is this disclosure so dire that the union itself must be questioned?”
“Yes,” Lira nodded intently. “Very much so.”
As some discussion persisted among those present, Argrave called upon the connection in his head and asked Elenore, “How well do you think we’d fare without Almazora?”
“What?!” Elenore’s reply was sharp. “Terribly. Absolutely terribly. The barrage from that Sky Tower, as Sataistador called it, would get through immediately. The only places protected would be the major cities… and that’s ‘maybe protected’ at best. Why?”
“They want me to agree to reopen the deal regarding the Blackgard Union,” Argrave explained succinctly.
“Can they even…?” Elenore began, but then frantically said, “If that’s something that can genuinely happen, I think you should leave, now. We should approach each of the gods of the union individually. They may be angry and distrustful at your sudden flight, but losing the union after we’ve built so much of our plans around it… well, frankly, it would be a disaster.”
“We’d keep our blessings. They can’t revoke those,” Argrave reminded her.
“Is that even a consideration?” Elenore did not say anything, but Argrave was certain he heard a frustrated sigh across space and time. “I think the risk far outweighs the potential gain. We should simply rely on the gods that we can rely on, and do nothing more.”
Argrave looked at each of the gods in turn, not responding to Elenore. He knew all of these here quite well. But how confident was he in his ability to, quite frankly, bullshit his way through a conversation? The longer that Argrave stared, the worse the idea in his head got. He felt a chill run through his body as he finally came upon what he was going to do.
With a twisting gut, Argrave raised his hand to draw everyone’s attention. “I can agree to that, provided we tweak it slightly.”
“How?” Stout Heart Swan, silent until now, finally spoke up. She eyed with curiosity—perhaps she’d gleaned some of his intent just from his body language.
“Lira was speaking quite confidently about how what I’m going to disclose is so bad that you’ll all want to rush to the White Planes to get away from my stench. I’ll have you know I smell quite good.” Argrave tapped his chest. “Matter of fact, I think that it’s rather the contrary. I’ve been dealt—no, that’s not fair. I dealt myself a winning hand. If you want to eat from this winning hand of mind, you should have to pay up.”
“What?” Lira leaned in, eyes wide.
“Let me reserve the right to take all of you to the White Planes again to renegotiate our deal.” Argrave held his arms out, waving toward all of them. “That’s only fair, isn’t it?”
Rook laughed, then stopped resting his legs on the armrest. He sat on the edge of the throne and said, “That’s a very nice bluff.”
“A bluff?” Argrave repeated, looking around. “With Law as my witness, I mean it.”
“Nah. You just want us to drop the issue,” Rook insisted, staring forth with his dark eyes. “Crafty, but I hope all of those with me see through it. Lira’s got a point.”
“You don’t get me at all. If you can’t hold me to the same esteem as the rest of you, how can we call this an equal union?” Argrave looked around. “Like I said… I’ve got a winning hand. If you disagree with that, you’re going to need to bring something to gamble with.”
Silence swept into the room. Elenore’s voice pierced Argrave’s head, asking, “Are you wrapping things up, or doing something stupid?”
Argrave didn’t respond, gazing at the gods intently.
Rook leaned back in his golden throne. “He’s bluffing. We should agree.”
“I agree,” Lira added her two cents.
“I simply want to know what he’ll say, so I’m forced to agree,” Yinther added, seeming out of place as a child amidst gods despite being a god himself.
“This agreement is unenforceable by my court. Nevertheless, I see no harm in agreeing,” Law’s Justiciar representative weighed in.
With Law’s consent, the rest of the others were not long to agree. Argrave leaned back in his throne.
“I’m not doing anything stupid,” Argrave told Elenore, now that he had a moment of rest. “I might’ve already done it.”
He could veritably feel Elenore’s frustration through their bond, but no further words came.
“Very well—all participants in this trial must agree to renegotiate the terms of the Blackgard Union, should any party request it,” the trial’s Justiciar said. “To ensure equity, there are specifics we should go over… but after these, the trial will begin.”
Argrave wasn’t much for gambling. That said, he was betting a lot—perhaps the fate of his kingdom and all those apart of it—on his ability to bullshit. Gambling with the gods… stories like that usually had two endings. They either lost and were punished by vindictive gods, or they won and jealous gods punished them. Either way, the reader was supposed to learn something. Fortunately for Argrave, this wasn’t a story.
As Argrave leaned back with a smile, a thought surfaced. You know, maybe this is why I should have brought Anneliese along…
