He Who Fights With Monsters

Jason followed Neiman Bassingthwaite deeper into the guild building. It had the feel of an ancient estate, appointed in rich fabrics and old, dark wood. The tapestries, sculptures and decorations held the weight of centuries and would not have looked out of place in a museum.

“I apologise for your reception, Mr Asano. I’m not sure how Monica ended up on membership intake today, I’m sorry.”

“She was not what I was expecting.”

“Monica excels in her role here, but is best used judiciously. The Burning Violet guild is not prejudicial as to the background of our members, which makes our roster rather eclectic. They come from cultures across the world, some born with every advantage while others fought their way up from nothing. Those of a more aristocratic bent have an expectation of detached professionalism from our staff. Those who are more down to earth, however, often find this approach elitist and exclusionary. Monica excels with the guild’s more rough-and-tumble adventurers, but should not have been screening unvetted applicants. I’m not sure who assigned her today, but I will look into it. I suspect it may be related to larger issues within the guild.”

“Issues?”

“There is a long-standing contention within the guild that is at a dangerous apex right now. I am hoping that no one was foolish enough to try and use you as a game piece in our internal politics. It’s through here, Mr Asano.”

He opened the door to his office for Jason to enter.

“Can I offer you a cup of tea?

***

Jason leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, one of several in Neiman’s spacious domain. He sipped at a cup of tea with a splash of liquor in it. Neiman, looking more dishevelled by the moment, was on his third cup of liquor with a splash of tea in it.

“If I understand what you’re saying,” Jason said, “there are two factions within the executive members of the guild. One wants to excise the guild from what they see as the oversized influence of the Remore family. The other faction opposes this, either through loyalty or fear the guild will collapse without them.”

Neiman nodded as he took another gulp.

“Yes. And I’m afraid that your membership threatens to be the flashpoint that could set the whole guild ablaze. We are well aware of you and your history, Mr Asano. That the Adventure Society is essentially treating you as a diamond ranker, and of your close ties to the Remore family. Roland Remore already looms large over those who are against his family’s control of the guild, and adding you would likely spell the doom of their intentions.”

“So, the anti-Remore faction would see my joining the guild as a second diamond-ranker joining the opposing group.”

“Precisely. It’s no secret that your team and many other friends of yours are already on the guild’s books, and there has long been an expectation that you will join them. Your arrival in Vitesse may have been low-key, but it has not gone unnoticed.”

“Are you a part of the group against Remore influence on the guild?”

“I am not. Nor am I an advocate for it.”

“But you are asking me to refrain from joining the guild, are you not?”

“Defer, rather than refrain entirely. Until the current tensions have been diffused, one way or another. My agenda is to keep the guild from tearing itself apart.”

“You think my entry to the guild would cause people to take drastic measures.”

“That is exactly my concern. There are enough people on both sides of this that the guild could fragment, and that’s just one potential outcome. There’s no predicting what a group of powerful adventurers will do if they think their backs are to the wall.”

“That’s certainly true,” Jason agreed.

Neiman gave up the pretence of drinking tea and refilled his cup directly from the liquor bottle. He shook his head before taking a swig.

“The most infuriating part is that only a small fragment of guild leadership has any investment in this. Most of our members don’t care who controls the guild, so long as it’s run smoothly. The guild is meant to be an asset for them to use, not a problem for them to bother with. If the conflict escalates and the members are forced to choose sides, they’ll choose neither, and go find a guild that works the way it’s supposed to.”

“You paint a bleak picture.”

Neiman nodded.

“It’s not so dire as I make out — not yet, at least. I’m far from the only one attempting to settle this before it escalates. My fear is that you could be what triggers that escalation.”

“Then why am I only hearing about this now? Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before I came anywhere near the building?”

“That decision was not mine to make. It was ultimately decided that an active approach on our part would put flame to the kindling. Having you come on your own terms, in your own time, was better. We did ask the Remores not to involve themselves, but we were expecting your team to accompany you. Arriving quietly alone caught us unawares, or I would have attempted to intercept you earlier. Our information is that you are rather fond of a spectacle. As is Gabriel Remore, with whom I know you to be travelling.”

“Rufus’ dad? He never seemed like that much of a showboat to me.”

“I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. Not all of us blow up cities everywhere we go.”

“I don’t—”

Jason cut himself off, leaned forward and placed his teacup on its saucer.

“Lord Bassingthwaite, I hope you’ll understand if I don’t take everything you say at face value. All I have on this is your word, and we’ve only just met.”

“Of course, Mr Asano. Naturally, you would be an asset to any major guild, but the timing right now is the opposite of ideal. I wouldn’t blame you for running for the hills and having nothing to do with any of it.”

“That’s my inclination, Lord Bassingthwaite. I have more than enough to deal with, without adding guild strife on top of it. Shade, what are Gabriel and Arabelle doing?”

“Shopping,” Shade said from Jason’s shadow, surprising Neiman.

“Your familiar is here?”

“He is,” Jason said.

“He wasn’t detected.”

“That’s kind of his thing, Lord Bassingthwaite.”

“Yes, but the guild hall has measures in place to keep track of such things.”

“I’m aware.”

A look of realisation crossed Neiman’s face.

“Miss Callahan is on your team, isn’t she?”

“She is. Shade, would you ask if Gabriel and Arabelle would join us?”

“I have already informed them, Mr Asano. They are awaiting your portal.”

“Portals won’t work in…”

Neiman trailed off as Jason’s portal arch opened.

“I didn’t realise that you were a portal specialist, Mr Asano.”

“More of an enthusiastic amateur, Lord Bassingthwaite.”

Arabelle and her husband came through the portal.

“Bassingthwaite,” Gabriel said gruffly and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

“Lord Bassingthwaite,” Arabelle said more cordially as she sat down. “I am distressed to hear that internal guild politics have reached such a precarious point.”

“It’s Dad,” Gabriel said from where he was mixing a drink. “He’s always treated the guild like it’s his own little fiefdom. The Queen would be happy to give him an actual fiefdom, if he just asked, but not Roland Remore. He’s too good for aristocracy. Our family works for what we get, as if we weren’t a de facto bloody noble house. Our son grew up playing with the crown princess!”

“I suspect it’s more than just your father, dear,” Arabelle said. “As I married into the family, my perspective is a little more detached. The Remores more involved in administration than adventuring can lose sight of what the guild is actually for. As for your father, he’s a diamond ranker. They have a habit of just assuming that everything around them will move to their will.”

Jason sipped at his tea rather than meet Arabelle’s eyes as she looked in his direction.

“Have things truly reached the boiling point, Lord Bassingthwaite?” she asked.

“I am afraid so, Mrs Remore.”

Jason let out a sigh.

“The question,” he said, “is what do I do? I have no interest in getting involved, but the fact that I didn’t hear any of this until now suggests that someone wanted me involved.”

“These tensions have been simmering for a long time,” Gabriel said as he walked over and handed his wife a glass before sitting down with his own. “The debate over Remore influence on the guild is older than I am. I would have warned you if I’d realised things had gotten this bad.”

“You said that the decision not to warn me wasn’t yours,” Jason said to Neiman. “Whose was it?”

“The guild master’s,” Neiman said. “It was not universally endorsed by those of us trying to keep the peace.”

“And he’s neutral in this?” Jason asked.

“Famously so,” Arabelle said. “Perhaps we should talk with him.”

“No,” Jason said. “I came in here because I wanted to join the guild with my friends, not to get involved with guild politics. I asked you and Gabriel here to give me some context of what I’m dealing with. Now that you’ve done that, I’m walking away.”

“If someone is determined to get you involved, that might not be so easy,” Gabriel said.

Jason got to his feet.

“When I’m on Earth, I’ll deal with politics like I’m on Earth. While I’m here, I’ll deal with things the way they do here.”

Neiman also got to his feet.

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning power rules,” Arabelle said. “Jason, things aren’t that simple. You know this.”

“They are with enough power,” he said darkly.

“Jason—”

“No, Arabelle. I won’t hear it. I am done with letting people sidetrack me with whatever they have going on. Lord Bassingthwaite, I don’t care about your guild politics and, if I’m being honest, I don’t care if the whole guild collapses. I’m going to go now, and get back to enjoying my time in your lovely city. Thank you for the tea.”

He strode to the still-open portal and vanished through it. Arabelle pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long, calming breath.

“I need to talk to Danielle,” she said, also getting to her feet. Rather than use the portal, she left through the door.

Neiman fell back into his seat and poured himself another drink.

“How bad is this?” he asked.

“Depends,” Gabriel said. “Do you know who is trying to bring Jason into this?”

“Best guess? Your father. His thinking is long-term enough that he can accept harming the guild if he thinks he’s amputating rotten meat. He’s also one of the few people that could genuinely push the guild master.”

***

 Jason was sitting alone at a bakery café, a parasol shielding him from the hot sun. In front of him was a pitcher of chilled milk and a large tray of miniature cakes. A dark-skinned man with a bald head took the seat opposite. Jason understood a little better why so many expectations had fallen on Rufus when he looked so much like his diamond-rank grandfather.

“It was you, then,” Jason said coldly.

“Yes.”

“I think I’m going to cancel our scheduled meeting.”

“You’re angry.”

“Yes.”

“That’s because you’re young.”

“Is that what it is to be old? Only seeing tools instead of people?”

“Sometimes,” Roland admitted. “If you want to move in our circles, Jason, you’ll need to move with consideration rather than emotion.”

“I think that emotion has its place. Which is fine, because I have no interest in your diamond-rank clique. And I won’t let you ruin my experience here, so leave me out of your guild politics.”

“You don’t get to declare what you are and are not embroiled in. It’s not that simple, as my daughter in law has already reminded you.”

A portal opened next to their table. The runes around the aperture marked it as belonging to Clive, but it was Humphrey who stepped through. He tossed a pouch on the table in front of Roland, who opened it to find a clutch of guild membership pins.

“Team Biscuit withdraws from the Burning Violet guild,” Humphrey told him. “Are you coming, Jason?”

“Let me get these in a box to go,” Jason said, then got up and went inside.

“He was looking forward to meeting you, you know,” Humphrey said. “Not the great Roland Remore, but the grandfather who means so much to his friend.”

“He’s not someone who can afford to be sentimental.”

“Trust me, Mr Remore: we should all be very thankful he is.”

Jason returned from inside.

“Let’s go,” he said and followed Humphrey through the portal. It closed behind them and Victor Volaire, the Mirror King, was suddenly sitting at the table.

“Are you sure about antagonising him?” Victor asked.

“Asano has a habit of picking up powerful allies like they’re fruit at a market stall. I had to make it clear that I wasn’t one of them. He doesn’t want to share my enemies right now, and I certainly can’t afford his.”

“Your grandson won’t be happy.”

“No, but I’m not going to burden his friends with my battles when they have enough of their own. I’ve made enough mistakes with Rufus already. Too much pressure, too many expectations. He’ll understand, in time.”

“You know they’ll be part of this eventually. Asano has been on a course to clash with the order for a long time. He uses their combat arts.”

“They don’t care about things like that. They left those skill books scattered over half the planet.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“What about your son? He’s back in Asano’s circle, now. You want him involved?”

“Of course not.”

“There you are, then.”

“Did you have to do it this way, though? Couldn’t you have just explained things to them?”

“Asano has a sense of responsibility. The Geller boy, too; he’s a good lad. Once they know, they’ll involve themselves. They deserve a break.”