The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 14.1: The Spider of House Mycelere

After Lord Mycelere sent Calidon on to his cousin’s manor on the distant outskirts of Selinger, he summoned his secretary into his office

“Did you watch?”

The secretary’s eyes flickered to the spy hole in the west wall and he nodded. Mycelere noted his secretary’s lack of discipline, but said nothing.

The Lord prodded, “What do you think?”

Wolscen replied, “Why do you even bother with that young man, Master? How does he help this House?”

Lord Mycelere indulged himself with a short bark of laughter. “You’re aren’t a gambling man, are you Wolscen?” The secretary’s brief scowl was his only response.

“Well, that is why I trust you, Wol,” answered Mycelere, assuring his ruffled secretary. “But wise gambling is the foundation upon which any Great House is built.”

“That is precisely my point, Master. Why waste time outfitting that preening boy, when we stand upon the brink of reopening the mines?”

Lord Mycelere scowled. After a short silence, he asked, “Do you think that a Great House is nothing more than a heap of treasure?”

Wolscen did not answer. After waiting a few moments for a reply, the Lord continued his lecture. “Every day, when our merchants enter this hall, their hearts swell with pride to be a part of such a grand enterprise. But, what do you think the common man feels when he sees our House from afar? I’ll tell you, it’s not anything good.”

“I do not know, Master,” answered his resigned secretary in a docile tone.

“Envy, Wolscen. Pure envy. When he sees the finely crafted stone-work and the beauty of our stained glass, he looks at his own hovel and hates us for making him less in his own eyes. Rather than question the wisdom of his dealings, he remembers his last bargain with our House and persuades himself that we cheated him.”

Mycelere explained, “He feels that way because he knows he is not part of this House.”

“He then goes to the Arena on his holiday. He sees even greater wealth and more ancient majesty. And to him, they reflect nothing but glory and honor. Do you know why, Wolscen?”

“No my master.”

“Because, while seated in the amphitheater, he has a part to play. Even though he does nothing more than yell and scream, the warrior’s glory becomes his glory.”

The Lord concluded, “That ‘boy’ can make this House an extension of the Arena. He can seduce the common tradesmen of this City into veneration for this House. That’s a power that no coin can buy.

“You are clever, Master.”

“Perhaps, Wolscen. Perhaps. Now that you understand his importance, I put the question to you again: what do you think of him?”

“I think he’s like every other sword-slinger that comes to the City. He will be loyal to those who help him as long as he fails to achieve his dream.”

“Certainly, Wolscen. That is a given. If he ever earns renown in the Arena, he will become a power unto himself. Who knows what he will do then?”

Mycelere shrugged with slight melodrama and gently shook his head. “You forget that he is alone in this City, except for us. If he achieves fame quickly, ambitious men will press him from all sides in a strange society. Like any child, he will then cling to the only hand he knows.”

The Lord grimaced as he shifted in his chair, sending pain shooting through the small of his back. Suppressing a spasm of pain from showing on his face, Mycelere continued, “I will achieve my purpose once the people look at this House in a heroic light. Whatever he does later simply does not matter.”