“So… Gustav is going to be at the monthly meeting?” Willem asked.

  “He said as much himself, at the Soaper’s Hall,” the man nodded. “He said that he’s going to attend, and that he’s going to settle things with you one way or another there. He’s also been in contact with this woman named Dorothea Rook about you, and he might have some dirt.”

  “Dirt in the Soaper’s Hall.” Willem tsked. “Can’t have that. Hah. Crafty bastard. Crafty.” He leaned back in his chair. “Well, you have to use every advantage you can. I’d have done the same thing in his shoes.”

  “So… we’re square, right, on the supplies?” the man asked. “They won’t stop coming?”

  “My word is my bond—you will survive the soapocalypse,” Willem said, and when the man looked at him confusedly, explained, “You’ll get what you need to keep soaping without trouble. And… here.” Willem reached into his pocket and pulled out five gold coins. “A little service fee. I reward good work, you see.”

  “Well, uh…” the man hesitated, but eventually swiped the coins from Willem’s hand.

  “I wouldn’t be opposed to you telling some of your fellows how generous I am,” Willem continued. “Gustav… he tends to eat alone, doesn’t he?”

  “Eats with his wife, mostly,” the man said as he pocketed the gold.

  “It’s an expression. I’m saying he’s self-serving,” Willem said.

  “Not especially,” the soaper defended. “Man looks out for all of us.”

  Willem nodded. “Tell you what… do me a favor. Talk to some of your other soapers. If you tell them to come to me and get an invitation to the monthly meeting… they’ll be welcome. I’d prefer if you didn’t blab to Gustav and double-dip on your espionage activities, but I can’t exactly stop you.”

  The man nodded. “I’ll tell them.”

  Willem smiled at the man as he walked out and left. Shortly after he did, Dirk popped back in.

  “What was that about?” Dirk asked as he closed the door.

  “Gustav’s coming to my little investor conference.” Willem slouched back in his chair, putting his foot up on his desk. “Trying to fight me at the source. Smart man. Gotta admit, I gave him too much information. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  “You really love talking,” Dirk pointed out.

  “You’re telling me. That’s the rough part about being superior to everyone around you—that constant need to remind everyone.” Willem shrugged. “Won’t matter, though. Money wins.”

  “Does it?” Dirk asked, though he sounded somewhat disinterested.

  “Someone’s trying to do a big show trial, with me as the defendant.” Willem took some sunflower seeds, tossing them in his mouth and cracking them open within. “I don’t care much about personal relations. Public relations, though? That’s a whole different story.”

  “You don’t care much about personal relations?” Dirk sounded confused. “Why’ve you been so good to me, then?”

  “You’re my employee, that’s why.” Willem spat out the shells into a bowl, and Dirk turned up his nose in disgust. “I may not look like it, but public relations are basically my forte. I’ve got something lined up. Something big. Something overdue, frankly.”

  “You honestly can’t believe that you can convince a lot of people to like you,” Dirk said. “Your reputation is terrible outside of this city. You just said that you’re superior to everyone around you. That’s not even the most contemptible thing you’ve said today.”

  “Well, I can’t just lie, Dirk. And I can’t help being what I am.” Willem took his foot off the desk. “Watch and learn, Dirk. In a few days, you’re going to learn how to make a crowd love you even when you’re a total piece of trash.”

  “And how is that?” Dirk pressed.

  “You involve someone that everyone dislikes even more than you, so that you can look better by comparison,” Willem said, with a raised finger. “Let’s just say they’re not the only people that can invite problematic guests.”

  ***

  Viviene and Petronella sat side by side in the cathedral, both of them facing toward the tree sculpted in the shape of the goddess.

  “Are you certain about fighting Willem’s duel for him?” Petronella asked Viviene. “Not to mention how it might play out—a mother stepping in for her son—there’s also the simple matter that you might lose.”

  Viviene shook her head. “I can’t lose. It’s simply not a possibility that exists.” She turned her good eye in Petronella’s direction. “I get the sense that you know a lot of things. The people I’ve seen coming and going from this place… you’ve got a stranglehold on the city.” Before Petronella could say anything, Viviene raised her hand up disarmingly. “Don’t get alarmed—I don’t care too much. I just want your help.”

  “Then I’m glad you came,” Petronella said. “If you hadn’t come to me, I would’ve come to you.”

  “What’s between you and Willem, anyway?” Viviene asked. “What did he tell you about the gravestones?”

  “Only that they’re there… and that they bother him,” Petronella admitted begrudgingly. “As for what’s between us… I’m not sure. He’s been frustratingly vague.”

  “Well, good.” Viviene nodded. “To be frank, I don’t trust you. I know people, and I get a vibe from you. Met plenty of you in Valdérie. You’re a succubus. You latch on to people, you suck them dry, and you leave them bleeding. You’re gravitating toward Willem because he’s hurt. You smell blood, smell opportunity. But I’ll admit… I think I could use the help of a nasty piece of work like you.”

  Internally, Petronella’s evaluation of Viviene went up a great deal. Externally, though, she tried to look hurt, and said, “I’ll just have to prove myself with my actions. But… I think perhaps you’re misunderstanding something. You’d still be scrabbling in the dark with Willem without me. You’re off base about me, about my intentions. I’ve been nothing but sincere with Willem.”

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  “Enough. Squabbling is pointless.” Viviene shook her head. “How are we going to make this go perfectly?”

  Petronella smiled. “I’ve had a few ideas.”

  ***

  Arend ran the sharpener along the length of his longsword as he sat on his bed.

  “How do you think the duel will go?” Dorothea asked him, sitting opposite him on her own bed.

  Arend barely looked away from his sword as he said, “It’ll be close. I’m at a disadvantage, practically speaking. Willem uses a greatsword, while I use a longsword. His weapon can better utilize aura, has a longer reach, and is decidedly more versatile. But I’ve been training against mostly greatsword users in the royal knights, and I’m confident about winning.”

  Dorothea hugged her legs. “And if he doesn’t use a greatsword?”

  Arend looked up. “Then it’ll be easier. The reason why he beat me so badly is because the Brugh family fighting style counters the Rook family method. It’s best utilized with a greatsword. It’s designed for sheer, raw power. Designed to cut through armies, cleave down castle walls, break any shield. And the Rook aura… well, it’s primarily defensive.”

  “So, a lighter weapon would be better for you?” Dorothea questioned.

  “If he uses a longsword, it’ll be a little better, but not by much. A short sword or a rapier, it’ll be a blessing.” He shook his head. “But Willem’s not stupid. He’ll fight me with his greatsword.” Arend paused his sharpening. “You want a metaphor?”

  Dorothea didn’t, really, but she answered, “Please.”

  “The Brugh fighting style is a battleaxe. The Rook fighting style is a shield.” He shook his head. “It all but counters me. Willem in particular? He’s a beast—a wild animal. But I can win.”

  Dorothea fell back onto her bed. He’d win, sure. If not because of his skill, because of Petronella’s meddling. She’d arranged things to favor them no matter what. And if Petronella didn’t do things properly… she had her own little something lined up.

  ***

  Viviene walked through the forest late at night, her green aura coursing around her. She lunged, striking the oak tree with her full force. Her rapier sliced clean through. She moved on to the next—slicing, cutting her way through the forest. When, finally, a great rock stood in her path, she threw her arm back, then lunged forth with the full force of her aura and body.

  The rapier pierced the rock, driving deep. It continued onward until it reached the hilt of the rapier. She slowly slackened, and her aura faded. Sweat pooled down her forehead as she pulled out her weapon, examining it. It was flawless, undamaged. She leaned it up against the rock and sat down.

  She’d done ample research, partly with Petronella’s help. The fact was Viviene was at a tremendous disadvantage against this knight, Arend Rook. The Dubois family style favored speed, accuracy—it punished zeal, overextension, and slow reactions with devastating efficiency. The Rook family aura was like a great wall, designed to slowly press forward and crush opposition.

  It was perfectly suited for beating her.

  She had been training the strength of her aura, but the Dubois family method wasn’t designed to break defenses. It was made for a different kind of duel than the one she would be experiencing. But the lovely thing about the Dubois method was that it had a much higher range of mastery than almost any other method of utilizing aura.

  If I’m skilled enough… I can win. It’ll be difficult… but I can win.

  Viviene laughed as she sat there. She’d thought the same thing five years ago. Tielman had taken out her eye not long after. But this time… this time, she was fighting for something much more important to her. She honestly didn’t think that mattered much in terms of her prospects at winning.

  But if she lost, at least it wouldn’t feel so damn terrible.

  The lumberyard owner walked through the forest, looking around anxiously. “Uhh… ma’am? I gotta say… thanks for the help with all of this. We’ll get them hauled into the yard, get to work on them by morning. You’ve saved us a lot of manhours.”

  Viviene rose to her feet, retrieving her rapier and sliding it back into her belt loop. “Thank Willem. He’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “Of course,” the man said, nodding his head. “I understand. You’ve been a great help. And pass my thanks to my partner.”

  ***

  Gustav walked through the back gate of his friend’s mansion. The estate guards, having long ago heard that he was coming, gave him a polite nod as he passed and moved the gate back into its place. He looked up at the mansion ahead. It was a four-story building, but the site that this meeting was congregating in was the great hall.

  “Here are my terms, Willem…” Gustav muttered to himself, having long ago practiced what he might need to say to get this man off their back. They’d both been dealt their cards, and now it was time to show their hands. On an informal level, he’d been preparing the soap puns, in case the battle became truly vicious.

  “What do you think, Willem?” Gustav muttered to himself, picturing the man’s surprised face when he came in. “Don’t I clean up nice? I’m afraid that your plans are a wash.”

  ***

  “So… what do you think, Willem?” asked the owner of the estate, Stephen, as they looked out across the grand hall from the second floor. “Good place, right? My wife worked very hard on the decorations.”

  Willem looked around. It was certainly a grand home. True to his word, Stephen’s wife was running about below like mad, trying to make sure that everything was perfect. The central fixture was the grand hall, where two marble spiral staircases led up to the second floor. It was a tall room, and two tables had been laid out, brimming with foodstuffs.

  “It’s quite the stately manor, Stephen,” Willem agreed. “I’d like to thank you for spending your time and money for the Society.”

  Willem never really did understand why people would host parties. It was much better to go to parties, eat free food and drink free drink, and then deal with none of the cleanup. Why would he ever spend money on food and drink to create a job for himself later?

  “It’s been my wife’s pleasure, and my nightmare.” Stephen rubbed his forehead.

  “Must’ve been stressful. With the dowager countess and her daughter-in-law attending…” Willem looked over. “With Arend Rook saying he’s going to hold a duel in your home. With Gustav pressuring you to invite him.”

  Stephen froze. “Willem… I—”

  “Relax, it’s fine,” Willem said. “I wish you’d have come to me, but you didn’t really have any obligation to. Besides… we’re fine. This trouble? It’ll all be gone by morning. But right now? You’re in for an entertaining night.”

  “I gotta be honest—I’m terrified,” Stephen said as he leaned in closer. “Is there really going to be a duel?”

  “Don’t think so,” Willem assured. “But you never can fully predict these things.”

  “That’s hardly reassuring.”

  “Let’s just say this,” Willem said, looking at him squarely. “Nobody wants to go to a monthly meeting where there’s a lot of drama and violence. It’s in my best interest for a clean and smooth ending to this thing. And I’ve brought plenty of ribbon to put a bow on this whole thing.”

  “Drama?” Stephen shook his head. “I don’t know. You don’t know my wife. She eats drama up.”

  “Sometimes… you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” Willem said. “No matter who gets hurt.”