Author's Notes: Something, something, delays, something, something, Battletech has devoured my soul.
Reviewers:
Human dragon - glad you're enjoying it!
I Fredric I - It is, in fact, rad in Rad!
Spiritblade - heehee… you think the God-Emperor will save you…
Disciple of Ember - very observant of you. Minor tweaks seem innocuous enough until you remember the setting of the story. The mercenary army will at least put up a brave front for a little while. Until they think they won't live long enough to get paid. Glad you're enjoying the convoluted mess that I call a plot. Hopefully it makes more sense to you than it does to me. :D
Ekurman - Reaper… Ironically that gets answered somewhat in this chapter. Can't give spoilers, though.
Guest - I'm not sure Louk would survive if he got fully caught in the crossfire between Olga and Celeste.
SomeGuyOverHere - Lorelai is the first encounter Louk has with something 'on his level' in this story. Unfortunately for him, there will be plenty more. The good old days of being the steamroller are behind him. Whether this is for the better or worse, who can tell?
DarkQueenOriga - Irma is definitely not going to appear. As you said, too similar to Chloe. But the thought of an awkward introduction between the three does make me laugh. And the best part of building up hope in a story is dashing that hope on the rocks, isn't it?
Cheers!
-v-
"It looks good on you," Olga murmured, shooting him a sly smile as he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. With every big name in Bold Fortune attending the event she had decided that her lover needed to spruce himself up a bit. Naturally, Louk Shannegh proved not terribly comfortable in a clean satin shirt and tight leather pants. Perfectly tight, she thought to herself, eyeing the tautness of the material against his muscular legs. It was going to be a real treat once they arrived and he got up first to open the carriage door for her.
"I feel like a doll," Louk complained, his face sour with irritation.
A snicker rose up to his left. Maia was ostensibly gazing out of the window, drinking in the sight of her home city, but her smirk made it obvious she was enjoying the man's discomfort. Olga understood where she was coming from; Louk could be a bit of an ass sometimes and certainly had enough arrogance to chafe others the wrong way. It was only because Olga understood the hell he had been through, the pain and suffering he kept locked away, that she overlooked his personal failings and gave him her unconditional love and support.
"Imagine how we women must feel being paraded in front of men." The dark elf sorceress placed a hand over her chest, drawing his attention in like a hunter luring her prey. Louk's gaze trailed lazily over her dress, the same daring but elegant outfit she wore on a daily basis, his expression growing sharper, hungrier. Exactly how she expected he would react. Her lover was a deceptively simple man, almost adorable in his single-minded obsession with her.
"Oh please, don't you two dare start doing that lovey-dovey eye-fucking bullshit!" A hand slammed down on the padded seat of the carriage. Maia glared at them both, specifically thrusting an accusing finger at Louk. The Shield herself was a little more dressed up than usual. Rather than her daily wear of a red jacket over her shirt and shorts, she wore a stiffer, more formal blazer on top of a button up shirt and denim pants.
"Relax, Maia. We'll leaving the fucking until after the party," Louk shot back at her, his mouth twisting into an amused grin. The Shield groaned and thumped her head against the carriage.
"Goddess give me patience."
"Celeste could certainly afford to give a bit of hers away," Olga whispered, her brows knitting ever so slightly at the mention of the High Elf. In the century they had been apart, Celeste had withered. Her once-vibrant love of life and exuberance had faded, suppressed by the weight of her duties, withdrawn into her own quiet world to avoid the pressure of the choices she made and the people she ruled in name-only.
It disheartened her to see how much Celeste's beauty and liveliness had wilted. Olga knew that she too had changed to a completely different person after a century of life in Garan. But she had hoped Celeste would persevere, that the weight of the Goddess Reborn would not crush her. But it had. It continued to, day by day. Lesser-lived mortals could not tell the difference in an elf's age, but to any elf, it was clear as day that Celeste's spirit grew weaker with each passing day.
There was only one way to nourish one's spirit with the power of the Goddess. And Celeste did not have the heart to do so. It was better for her, better for the world, that she suffer and languish as it ate away at her soul.
"Olga."
His warm hand brushed against her cheek. Olga blinked, realizing her attention had drifted, and found him leaning forward in his seat, his brows furrowed with concern.
"It is nothing," Olga lied. She clasped his comforting hand and basked in the warmth of his body for several seconds before pushing it away. "You should concern yourself with your own behavior. You are agitated, my love."
"I hate parties," he grunted, scowling like a child who was told to eat their vegetables.
"Or is it because you were not able to say hello to Grace today?" Her lips curved faintly, smirking at the undercurrent of surprise that flickered across his face. He thought he was so subtle, so suave. The man could hide his emotions when he wanted to, present a surly and unreadable face most any time he desired. But it was clear as day to Olga that Louk's eyes returned to Grace more often than not.
Were this the Olga of a month ago, she would have felt a burning jealousy at her lover's wandering eyes, but experience calmed the prickling irritation that welled in her chest. Louk Shannegh was hers, and she was his. Nothing would change that. She had no fears that he would leave her, or delusions that an occasional discrepancy might not arise. With certain women, women that Olga approved of, she might even encourage him to wander every now and then. If she had to classify Grace as one she did or did not approve of, she would honestly have to choose the former.
After all, Grace had loved him. She was terrified to admit it, but she had. It was a genuine, if muddy, truth. And while she did not know if Louk had truly loved her back, there had been something there. Something that went beyond basic carnal intimacy. She had been good for him.
Previously, Olga had seen Grace as a rival. She had seen everyone as a rival. Now that the world had ended, devoured by the madness of the daemon, she knew better than to hold onto such trivial grievances. Her lover needed as much support as he could gather, and Olga would be damned before she let him suffer due to her own pride.
Besides, Grace deserved a happy ending. Her suffering rivalled… no… exceeded Olga's. It had taken Olga too long to realize it. But Grace was far more pitiful than Olga had wanted to admit. If Louk could give her some happiness, that was fine.
It went without saying that this only applied to a select roster of potential lovers. If some arrogant bitch tried to pick Louk up on the street and claim him, Olga would crush them in an instant.
The fact remained, getting her thoughts back on topic, that they were curious and concerned about this morning's incident. The pub was closed today; Grace and Anna did not explain why. When asked, they gave a noncommittal answer about having errands to run. A casual glance around the neighborhood showed how rare and unusual it was for the pub to be closed for even half a day.
Something fishy was going on with them. She wanted to know, wanted to ask, but it was not her place to demand an answer. They accepted the polite reasoning that they were requested to vacate the premises so the shop could be closed up, then went out to meet up with the others, who were staying at a nearby inn.
Now she, Maia, and Louk were riding the carriage to the Var Golem merchant house while Chloe, Naestra and Arahan watched from the shadows. Chloe had insisted on accompanying them, but the invitation was only for the three of them, and Olga feared Chloe would not be able to control herself in such a stuffy and human-dominated environment. The men that ruled Bold Fortune were miserable, vile creatures; the kind of creatures that her precious Chloe feared.
"They will be fine," Olga promised Louk.
It was almost adorable how distracted he was, but they had a purpose here. Their presence in Bold Fortune served to ascertain the readiness of the powerful players. If the clans could be persuaded to lend their aid to the war effort, incredible resources would pour out from Bold Fortune and into the defense of Eostia. Previously, the clans could remain aloof from the war due to the Black Dogs and various mercenary companies. With that shield gone, it would be possible to drag them deeper into the business of defending their homeland.
"Heads up," Maia warned them. "We're here. Get your war face on, Reaper. This may not be all swords and blood, but we're stepping into a battlefield sure enough."
The three exchanged serious glances.
"Fuck me," Maia breathed, shaking her head in wonder. "It almost feels normal to be talking to the Dark Queen. This world's truly fucked, isn't it?"
-v-
The Var Golem mansion was impressive for a backwater feudal world. Six stories tall, with a width of three city blocks and two deep, it occupied a fair chunk of precious real estate. The front half of the building held a merchant exchange, floor and dozens of meeting rooms where business could be conducted. The back half held the ballroom and reception rooms that this farce of an event filled.
Despite his disgust regarding the transparent power play by the Var Golem patriarch, Louk could not deny that the man got the word out quickly and effectively. A whole line of carriages rolled past the grand entrance in a fanciful procession, each disgorging some dignitary or ranking person in the city. He counted numerous patches denoting rank and position in this organization or that. Some were merchants, others warriors, some socialites. The cream of the city were in attendance, contacted and drawn together at an impressively short timeframe.
Maia took the lead, drawing a fair amount of attention for her recognizable face and stature. Everyone in Bold Fortune worth anything knew who Maia was, and could recognize her at least by reputation. Though all had been informed that this gathering was 'at her behest,' her actual presence was only considered to be wishful thinking. Seeing her in person caused many to reconsider their expectations for the event.
Trailing behind the Shield at a respectable distance, Louk walked past the onlookers with Olga at his side, her arm linked through his. The two cut quite the handsome pair, in his less-than-humble opinion, and generated no small amount of stares and curiosity. That was fine. He even did not mind the lustful glares of the uncouth men that hounded his steps. They could salivate in the shadows like rabid dogs after his lovely companion.
"You are enjoying this," Olga murmured, speaking to him so softly only he could hear.
"Showing you off? Damn right I am," Louk replied. They turned into a sideroom, following Maia's gesture as guards in the colors of Var Golem eyed his sheathed sword.
"You'll have to turn that in before entering the gala," one of them growled. His voice was none-too-friendly, though in a refreshing turn it had nothing to do with jealousy or general stupidity. The man had a serious look to him, like a soldier who understood the value of his orders.
"This sword does not leave my side," Louk answered, offering a tight-lipped smile. "Besides, you don't seem to be telling those spellcasters to leave their magic at the door."
The guard did not appear amused at his quip. One hand dropped to his sword, and the guard scowled.
"The sword stays, or you leave."
"Louk Shannegh is a representative of the Goddess Reborn." Maia put a calming hand between them. She glared at the guard, and the man retreated a step.
"I'll have to confirm that with my boss," the guard muttered, clearly unhappy. "They said no weapons inside. Doesn't matter whose weapons they are. I'm sure you don't need to be told what sort of animals are up there tonight."
"Be that as it may, Louk Shannegh keeps his sword." Maia gestured for him to send one of his subordinates to fetch a higher-up.
"We'll see."
The group waited around in silence for several minutes. Louk and Olga remained in the center of the room, eyeing the surly guards and the racks of confiscated weapons past them. If the men and women at the event were half as dangerous as they were supposed to be, this room was a prime target should anything go down, which meant these men were dead meat walking. They truly had pulled the short straws in duty assignments.
Eventually a fresh pair of footsteps thumped on the tiled floor behind them.
"Ah, so this is the vaunted Reaper that the rumors speak so much of."
A pretty man with hair the color of spun gold entered the room. He wore a decorative cuirass and clothes of pure white beneath. This one carried a sword at his side, and helpfully announced the man's name with the gold etching running the length of the scabbard. Siegfried.
"You are Siegfrid." Louk remembered the man's face. Remembered how he pissed and shat himself in terror when Louk broke into his office to demand Morgan's whereabouts. He was supposedly one of the better fighters in the city. Personally, Louk was unimpressed.
"Indeed. It pleases me to know one as esteemed as yourself knows my name." The man preened, mistaking Louk's intent. The Var Golem scion glanced down at Louk's sword, greed rippling across his features, before his eyes took the familiar path crawling lecherously across Olga's body. "And this is the Dark Queen of Garan, in the flesh. Now that is a rumor I found hard to believe. You really did bring her back. As a pet, I assume. Marvelous."
Siegfried held up a hand, letting his fingers hang just shy of Olga's cheek. "May I? She doesn't bite?"
"Olga, do you bite?"
The dark elf rolled her eyes and shot the Var Golem man a scathing look. "I won't have to, because Louk will kill you if you do."
Her blunt statement took both men by surprise, but Siegfried was the one who grew flustered. His hand dropped awkwardly to his side, and he laughed to brush off his unease. "Well then, she still has some bluster in her. Let us set that aside for now. I heard you are unwilling to surrender your sword, Louk Shannegh."
"And unable," Louk added, correcting the man.
"Surely you can understand the need for decorum," Siegfried said, smiling sibilantly at them both. "All of the other guests of various factions abide by these terms. For you to be the only one who does not, what sort of message would that send?"
"It would send the message that the Goddess Reborn is above the concerns and petty squabbles of your peers." Louk's eyes hardened, rebuffing the man's reasoning entirely. "I am here as the Goddess' mouthpiece. I am not beholden to you, nor to anyone in this building."
After a moment of glaring between them, Louk's expression relaxed, and he even smirked as he unbuckled Durendal's scabbard and held it out to Siegfried.
"If you think you can hold it, however, then by all means."
"Hmph, you are an arrogant one, aren't you?" Siegfried snatched the blade from its scabbard, drawing it in one smooth motion. His scowl lasted only one second before it morphed into an agonized grimace, and the man crumpled to his knees, panting heavily as sweat blossomed on his face and a low, keening cry wheezed from his lungs.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" Louk sneered as Siegfried frantically slapped at his own hand, struggling to uncurl his fingers from around Durendal's grip.
"Ahh… waahh… issss… aaaaa…"
The others stared in open wonder. Even Olga's calm and placid expression twisted in distaste at the sight of the man writhing pathetically on the floor. Siegfried's pained moans were carnal and animalistic. He flopped about wildly, eyes wide and helpless.
Louk put the man out of his misery by stepping on his wrist and wrenching the blade free. Blood glistened on the grip, matching the suddenly raw and bloody palm that had held it. "And that's why it does not leave my side."
Freed of the blade, Siegfried lay gasping on the floor. His beautiful appearance had withered before them, growing dull and mussed like he had tumbled down the side of a mountain. It took several breaths before the man could even speak.
"Wha… what is that thing?"
"A cursed sword, if you want to put a name on it." Louk placed Durendal back in its scabbard and buckled the weapon back to his side.
Leaving the drooling Siegfried on the floor, Louk extricated his arm from Olga's and let it trail down to cup her curvaceous rear. Giving her a very noticeable squeeze, one that elicited a shiver of delight from the dark elf, he fixed the confused guards with a friendly stare.
"I'm keeping my sword. If you want me to turn it over, you can try and take it from me."
Maia shook her head in wonder at his antics, then excused the trio and hurried out of the room.
"You just incapacitated the Var Golem's head of security," she hissed, forcing a smile on her lips so that none of the bystanders would think anything amiss.
"He deserved it," Louk growled, being far less politic about his appearance.
At his side, Olga had an uncertain frown on her face. He shot her a curious look, and she met his gaze with somber eyes.
"Does it hurt you like that," she asked.
"Durendal? Every time." Louk did not lie to her about that. After centuries of use, he had become largely numb to the pain. Not that it did not hurt like hell every time he touched the weapon. But he had learned to shut out the pain, because the pain itself was something he could not grow accustomed to.
"Why do you keep it?"
"Because it is the best damn weapon I've ever put my hands on," Louk admitted.
Olga fell silent at his answer. She seemed to ponder the revelation as they walked up the grand staircase and headed for the ballroom.
"Louk," she said softly, again lowering her voice to private levels.
"Yes?"
"As much as I enjoy it, you can take your hand off my ass."
He grinned sheepishly, and reluctantly returned his arm to his side.
-v-
The event was exactly what he expected it to be. A gaggle of preening clowns rubbing shoulders with murderous assholes, and everyone pretending to be best friends. Dressed up villains making sweet words at each other while exchanging proverbial dagger blows amidst polite conversation. Rivals acting as if they had not been trying to murder each other up until one day ago, and that they would start up again come the morning.
The room was filled with so many lies that he almost felt at home. Were he not so busy fending off the unspoken challenges of the city's top murderers, the chattering heads that attempted to make passes at Olga when his back was turned, and the general stuffiness of the atmosphere, he might have enjoyed himself.
Currently, he stood near the head of the room, a hand resting lazily on the small of Olga's back to keep track of the dark elf as she spoke with Maia and the priestess Melpha while he spoke with a serious-faced mercenary by the name of Guts. There were many big names here, criminal, mercantile, and mercenary alike. Guts was a subordinate to Griffith, and had a surly but more approachable personality.
"I doubt Griffith will say no to that," Guts agreed, nodding slowly. At his side, a thinner woman by the name of Casca grimaced and looked off in the direction of their leader. It was almost impossible to miss the luxurious white hair and silver armor of the Band of the Hawk's leader, even through the throng.
"Border patrol may be boring, but it will save many lives and I may even be able to swing that noble title he craves," Louk promised. It was a bit redundant to talk to the man's subordinates like this, especially when Griffith had already said he would consider the offer, but there was only so much to talk about. Work was work, and mercenaries were always concerned about where their next paycheck would come from.
"Speaking of saving lives," Casca grumbled, scowling hatefully past his shoulder at the dark elf sorceress. "I see Vult saw fit to keep that one alive."
"Olga Discordia will be a valuable asset in the coming war," Louk told them. His hands twitched softly on her back, massaging the tension that had prickled at Casca's statement. Olga had exceptional hearing, as all elves did, and heard the woman clearly enough.
"As a spellcaster? Psh, we have enough of those."
"I would pit anyone of Discorida blood against any mage Eostia has to offer," a new voice interjected.
Echidna emerged from the crowd, appearing as if summoned. The green-haired dark elf mercenary gestured dismissively to the Hawk mercenaries, ushering them away as she greeted Louk with a confident smile. Rather than the risque street outfit she wore last time, the woman donned a loose blouse that did little more than offer a translucent veil over her racy bikini-style armor.
"Echidna." Louk did not offer his hand. "You're wearing clothes this time."
"Keltan is still with me," the mercenary cooed. Her snake lay coiled about her neck like a necklace. Its head lifted slightly, glaring at Louke with its baleful eyes. "I saw the opportunity to reintroduce myself to Lady Olga, and thought to take it. Surely you do not mind."
Having offered her paltry excuse, the mercenary went to slide past him and insert herself into Olga's conversation. Louk did not stop her, though he did shift his grip to Olga's elbow and give the gentlest tug to alert her.
"It's been a long time, Lady Olga," Echidna began, introducing herself before Olga even turned to regard her. "I'm sure you remem- who the hell are you?"
Echidna's self-assured introduction cut short, the mercenary's startled question bursting from her lips when Olga put her amber eyes on the taller woman. For a breathless moment the dark elves stared at each other, then Olga spoke in her quiet, imperious tone. She slipped into her role as the Dark Queen so easily, so effortlessly, that even Maia tensed with surprise and hesitation.
"I do not recall consorting with a mongrel snake handler." Olga managed to find a way to stare down her nose at the taller woman. "What is your name, mercenary?"
"What's your name," Echidna replied, a frosty expression on her face. "You're wearing her skin, radiating her aura, but you are not the Olga Discordia I knew."
"What I am is none of your concern." Olga waved a hand imperiously. "I will humor you with a guess: the Fang Assassination Unit? Assassin-turned-mercenary looking to win the good graces of a recently deposed and supposedly isolated monarch?"
Louk cleared his throat and leaned in close to Olga's ear. "She said that she helped you rescue Chloe in this world."
"Help rescue… I needed no help handling th-" Olga abruptly shut her mouth, recognition dawning on her face. She glanced once at Louk, then back to the incredulous Echidna. "I see. Yes, this is somewhat awkward. What is your name, mercenary?"
"Echidna," she snapped, an insulted expression on her features.
"I regret to say that circumstances leave us both at a loss here." Olga extended a peaceful hand. "For assisting in rescuing Chloe, I am eternally in your debt."
"Yes… of course." The mercenary shook Olga's hand, grimacing in confusion.
"You are a dark elf, and you sought me out. There is no dagger in your hand so I assume you are not here to claim my life, but to offer your own. Your family resides in the Calibara Forest, does it not? They were retainers of the Discordia family?"
"Correct, Lady Olga." The equivalent of a mental shrug crossed Echidna's brows, and she relaxed back into her confident demeanor. "My intention is to renew my vow of fealty and serve as the bodyguard you deserve."
"I have a bodyguard," Olga countered.
"While I have little doubt that Chloe has the heart for it, she must be greatly lacking in technique. At the very least the child needs proper training. I have experience tutoring young bucks like her." Echidna pressed the issue, offering a valid concern that Olga could not deny.
It almost amused him to see Olga gritting her teeth at the slight to her ward. There was no denying that Chloe was rough around the edges. Her combat skills were fine against the common orc or soldier, but against an expert opponent she was useless. Her blows were telegraphed, relying on pure speed to compensate for her lack of skill. The young half-elf's hatred of humans made it difficult for him to train her, but if a dark elf offered to train her, surely she could accept. Especially of that dark elf had helped in freeing her from the clutches of John Mandeville.
"I will consider it," Olga conceded grudgingly. "We leave for Ansur in three days. You may accompany us. Treat it as an audition for the job."
"You will not be disappointed, Lady Olga." Echidna bowed, one hand clasped over her heart. There was a seriousness to her attitude that was entirely at odds with what she displayed the day before in the alley.
The two exchanged a few more words before Echidna excused herself and vanished back into the crowd. Maia watched the mercenary go, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. Melpha, meanwhile, had wandered off somewhere.
"Louk, dear," Olga chided, digging her elbow into his side. "Did you perhaps forget to warn me about Echidna?"
"Guilty," he admitted. "Oh, look, dinner is served. I'd love to chat about how I forgot to warn you about this buxom dark elf mercenary who knew the other you, but that steak is calling my name."
"Who are you calling buxom," Olga muttered darkly, following along as Louk made a beeline for the head table. Three seats had been reserved for them and Maia, and he gallantly assisted Olga into her chair before taking his own.
"I guess I'm chopped liver," Maia grumbled, glowering at him from her spot beside her chair. After fixing him with that look, she sighed and took her own seat on Olga's other side. "Chivalry's dead in this Goddess-forsaken world."
"Indeed," Olga agreed, taking her already filled wine glass and offering it to Maia, who clinked hers before the pair took a synchronized swig of wine.
Louk started to smile and form his own response to the sorceress, but the words froze in his throat when a familiar presence crept up to his left. One hand wrapped tightly around the steak knife, eyes drinking in the silverware and glasses to identify which could serve as weapons in a pinch.
"Now, now, Reaper. Haven't we already established that won't work?"
Lorelai Var Golem slid into the seat beside him, her pale skin contrasting sharply with the wine-red strapless gown she wore. The beautiful but deadly daughter of the Var Golems offered him a benign smile, even as she reached across the table and plucked the wine jug to fill her own glass.
"Lorelai Var Golem, I presume?"
Olga's voice had turned icy, and the dark elf stared at Lorelai with barely restraining wariness. The two women exchanged looks, each maintaining a calm appearance yet sneering openly behind their masks. Louk resisted the urge to look at either. Instead he calmly leaned back, keeping his field of view open so he could track both of them.
"Olga Discordia, I presume. I wondered where you disappeared to the other day. I so dearly looked forward to meeting you." Lorelai offered her hand. "Might we be friends?"
"Olga…"
To his relief, Olga held back whatever vitriol ran through her thoughts, but that did not hold her back from flatly declining the offer.
"No, I don't think we might."
"Pity, and here I thought to establish a strong alliance on my father's behalf." There was no regret in her eyes as she delivered the monotone line. If anything, amusement twinkled in her eyes. "I see your lovely daughters are not in attendance, Reaper. That too is a pity, as I looked forward to entertaining them once the festivities had ended."
His skin bristled with murderous energy at the woman's words. Only the knowledge that Olga sat on his other side held him back. Shooting a withering glare at the woman, Louk debated whether or not he needed to kill her before they left the city. Unfortunately, he detected no corruption within her, so he had no easy excuse to cut her head from her shoulders.
As if she had read his thoughts, Lorelai's grin grew wicked and she put a slender hand on her throat. "You should enjoy this meal, Reaper. It is cooked with love, as they say. My father contracted the finest chefs to prepare it specifically for you."
Her words rang ominously in his ears. Before he could question the meaning, however, the back doors to the ballroom opened to usher in a long line of servants bearing food on trays and platters. They were quickly inundated with food; he had to admit the food was delicious. It had an honest style to it, like food cooked by simple but expert chefs rather than fancy delicacies with too much flair. Though he wanted to interrogate the woman, he knew that it would get him nowhere. So he settled for ignoring the amused sidelong looks she sent his way as he pointedly chatted with Olga and Maia throughout their meal.
"He's really pulling out all the stops on this one," Maia pointed out, indicating the never ending tide of servants and food. "He must have a hundred cooks back there."
"The quality of food, and quantity, is quite impressive," Olga agreed. "It is a comfortable meal."
"My father is quite proud of this event," Lorelai chimed in, adding her unwanted opinion to the conversation. "I recommended the head cooks myself. One must only deliver one's best before the heads of the city."
"Just what does your father plan to get out of this?" Maia split her attention between tearing into a roast turkey leg smothered in gravy and mean mugging the woman.
"Power, of course." Lorelai felt no qualms about revealing the truth of the matter. Not that it was much of a secret. Either she did not care, or she took some twisted delight in her transparency. "If the heads of the city are convinced he has the Goddess Reborn's favor, he will become the figurehead of the city."
"Well, he set this up nicely enough. He's a wiley bastard."
"Oh… he set up nothing." Lorelai leaned closer to Louk, resting her chin on her knuckles as she gazed coquettishly up at him. "I set this up. This meeting, the entertainment, the servants. He may think this is about establishing his own favor within the city, but it is not."
"Then what is the event about," Louk asked cautiously.
"This event, my dear Reaper, is about you."
Lorelai Var Golem tilted her head to the side, pouting up at him with her dazzling looks and wicked beauty. He looked away, even though he understood the supposed weakness such a defensive maneuver exposed. Before a creature such as Lorelai, there were times it was acceptable to back away.
"Why do you care about Louk," Olga's icy tone had returned in full force. The dark elf's eyes glinted with malice at the grinning blonde.
"Because he intrigues me," Lorelai answered, in a tone that came across as surprisingly honest. "The people of this world are so boring, yet he is not. Neither are you, Olga Discordia. Or… should I say… other-Olga Discordia. You two reek of something I have never tasted before."
"You had best direct your hunger to your plate," Louk growled. He put a soothing hand on Olga's thigh. The comforting squeeze calmed her somewhat, enough that she did not summon a ball of fire in the middle of the crowded ballroom. "If you hunger, then seek out those precious cooks of yours for satisfaction."
Their exchange cut short when the patriarch of the Var Golem family rose from his seat. The whole room fell silent, all eyes drawn to the stately figure in his smart suit and artfully silvered hair.
"I would call you all my friends, but we know that is a lie."
The room chuckled in amusement at his joke. Enemies or not, they could appreciate some humor on a quiet night such as this.
"Before we get down to business, I hope you all enjoyed this humble meal. It was cooked by rising stars in the city, a gem of a find that my daughter discovered not too long ago."
Mutters of appreciation rippled through the room. Every player in the city kept a close eye out for rising talent of any kind, and leapt on it the instant they could. Acquiring those of special talent was something of a status symbol among the clans, and they guarded those talents religiously. Even something so simple as finding excellent cooks raised one's reputation throughout the city.
"Though their methods may be baser than you would expect in an extravaganza, I was quite happy myself and hope you are as well. If you would, please join me in applauding their talent."
The door to his right opened, and the whole room shifted in their seats to observe the hands behind their meals.
Two beautiful elven women strode into the room, their hands clasped demurely before them and their heads ducked shyly under the gazes of so many. Their dresses were plain, humble, yet the quality of the material did nothing to dampen the loveliness of their features. A wave of astonishment swept through the attendees, and more than one swore out loud in amazement at the combination of beauties that the Var Golem clan had acquired.
"Anna Florence, and Grace Campbell," the patriarch announced proudly. "Some of you may recognize them from their quaint operation of the Long Way Pub. My daughter simply could not allow these two to squander their talents serving the unwashed masses. So my apologies, but I have taken the liberty of buying out their services and they will now be working directly for my family. Please show these ladies your appreciation for tonight's meal."
Applause rose up throughout the room, the enthusiastic clapping of those happy with their meal and those excited for the prospect of what stood before them. Jealous gazes burned into the trembling women from those outside the family, and those in the Var Golem line or in their graces looked on with hungry stares as they imagined what they might do to the gentle women.
"Perhaps I shall have these two slake my hunger," Lorelai whispered into Louk Shannegh's ear. "I am sure they will be quite… delicious."