The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

One Week - Day 6

"...I think it should never have happened."

"Interesting," now she quirked an eyebrow. "You realize that it was the third of its kind I had to watch happen?"

Able hadn't realized and now felt foolish about it. Larbantry had an expansion for every decade of its last century, and even the century before that had established a pattern of every king trying to add more territory to the empire than his father had. He'd known about the policies around wartime but had never examined the history behind them.

"One was enough for me to get up and do something about it," she continued. "How about you?"

"...I'm not doing nothing," he already felt subdued. "I admit there is a lot I didn't know about, and I am trying to learn more..."

"Learn more about what?" she pushed. "Why? What do you think that would accomplish?"

"I didn't even think to come here before I heard there was unrest," Able felt a defensive urge to cross his arms but left them where they were, ready to react if this argument became stronger than verbal. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

Driver inhaled and crossed her own arms, "To put a stop to Impetus and his march of conquests."

"...that's all you'll be willing to tell me without my allegiance, I suppose," he sighed.

"How much further do I have to stick my neck out?" she snorted. "You're going to publish your findings anyway, aren't you? All I'm offering is more than you can manage on your own, so why the hesitation to give me your allegiance so you can ask your questions more freely?"

Able bit his lip. The publishing department with its stuffy rooms full of under-slept students trying to catch errors before they shunted the final manuscript into the raucous chambers that housed the press that would then stitch and package the final object off to the other universities all across the empire... All he ever wanted and strived for, and yet...would it help anyone? Were his irritation-born pamphlets that even he had, on some level, despised truly more likely to—to what exactly?

"Your methods," he raised his eyes from the floor to Driver's impatient face.

"What methods?" she raised her eyebrows.

"My father helped you because he thought you were going to stop the war," he watched for an indication that he was incorrect, but she gave none. "That war ended...but it appears you're trying to start a new one."

"Did that last war end, Houser?" she tilted her head to the side. "Dagobar withdrew, but did the war end? What would Impetus do, do you think, if he found this realm unconquerable?"

"This is a theoretical question?"

"Sure," she humored him, apparently.

"He would never let go, no matter how unpopular another war was," Able mulled aloud. "Should he find himself a region that he thought he could take, but could not, he would burn through his resources...sure, until Larbantry itself is destabilized."

"You sound dismissive."

"Borealund is not unconquerable," he scowled. "It's scarcely in shape to put up a fight. I don't know how much you had a hand in convincing them to stay their blades and bide their time, but they are out of patience and options. Bloodshed is on the march, here."

"And when it arrives," she grew even more intense and excited, "you will be prepared to explain to Larbantry why it came to this and who is to blame! Your words could turn the tide."

Able's innards coiled in on themselves. She knew that's what he wanted to hear. And he knew—he now at least suspected he knew what she wanted him to do. And he already knew what she might be willing to do if he refused.

"You understand I can't give you a lot of time to think about this," she scowled, had been expecting to find herself victorious at this juncture.

"I do," he took a deep breath, "but—'Turn the tide?' What do you envision me saying? Foment widespread rebellion against the king?"

"Numbers is all our cause lacks." As near an affirmative as he would probably get.

"...unless you foresee an outcome that isn't civil war?" he shook his head, already refusing without meaning to.

"Why, do you?" her eyes, narrow with displeasure, overruled her conversational tone.

"I don't see how a violent revolution would lead to anything other than another violent regime, especially after we've convinced people to turn on their own." His heart raced in his ears. It was too late to acquiesce now, wasn't it? For the best, probably. How long could he fake loyalty to her cause anyway? "I'm not willing to do that."

"What did you hope to accomplish, then? You'll write this chronicle and pray that it doesn't sit in obscurity so maybe in a few generations the aristocracy will adopt the ideas in it, such as they did with Hayfield and Brewer's work?" She raised the pamphlet again, this time almost as if it were a weapon. "Did you think Crescent would read this and think 'oh, I see now how I have not been rational about this at all'?"

"No," Able watched her cautiously. "I did hope that I could convince others involved. No man, nobility or not, governs alone. Many govern in name only. Discourses can change minds, laws can be rewritten, and new order can be created without first stooping to chaos."

"Maybe," she snorted impatiently. "In little pockets over centuries of stagnation, while the empire slaughters people like your father. He must be very proud of you."

"What he is is very dead," Able swallowed his anger, "and perhaps he would not be had he not gotten caught up in your schemes."

"I did not sink his vessel," Driver raised her eyebrow.

"No," Able shook his head. "Chasing his hopes and ideals was his choice." He opened the door and stepped back. "As is mine."

She met his eyes a moment, gaze calculating. He wished he had asked if she was unarmed before he had let her in—in fact maybe he should be watching her hands instead—

"I see I have more complicated problems," she smiled stonily as she passed him, matching his wariness. Unarmed, then, but he still did not sigh in relief once she'd crossed the threshold.

"I'm feeling overburdened too," he hoped his face didn't waver when he realized the door handle was getting slippering from the sweat on his palms. "Why don't we both agree to be quiet about each other's secret alliances and save ourselves a headache? Or is this not a your word against mine situation?"

"Oh, is it?" she seemed to be attempting an airy tone but was not capable of it. "That could work." She turned and left him standing in the draft from the hall.

Able listened to Driver's receding footsteps until there was silence, then closed the door. There was no lock; in fact, the latch barely worked. She had come to wrap up a loose end and...left it loose.Weighed down with the gravity of the situation, Able sank onto the bed and reminded himself to breathe. He turned his pencil over in his hands and stared at the visible sliver of clouded sky as he hoped he could stay awake all night.