The Night Lounge

  Ting!

  Riddian tapped his glass impatiently, ringing off a high pitched chime as he did. He raised an eyebrow, what a curiously perfect sound. The glass seemed unusually clear and pristine sounding compared to those he was accustomed to. Look at the way it manipulated the light, what was this made of?

  Ting!

  He raised the glass to his face, studying it and rotating the stem slowly between his fingers before placing it down with a sigh. He was nervous.

  Riddian had hosted multiple meetings like this, in much more… questionable settings, and yet this time something felt different. Most likely it was due to the curt responses he had received to his invitations.

  The Xu Shi ambassador, Yomei’Saash Yomei was always present for these meetings. A man who, Riddian was sure, memorised quotes before their meetings, simply to seem the wisest at the table.

  During their previous meeting, Yomei had chastised Riddian, saying “information should be exchanged directly, lest we dally with needless chicanery”.

  Riddian grimaced, recalling the memory. Who spoke like that?

  Yomei would usually take a back seat during the meetings and allow others to speak instead. He tended to make Riddian uneasy, others were easier to read, but there was something about the Shi’an man that would make you keep talking just to fill the silence, or until you finally say something he wanted to hear, incriminating yourself in the process. One could never be too certain where they stood with Yomei, and at the end of a meeting with him, Riddian often felt exhausted.

  The Loom, fluid as always, were to be represented by their latest emissary, a stout tan skinned man by the name of Bahadri.

  Bahadri was brash, impatient and oftentimes plain rude. Riddian couldn’t stand his meetings with him, but it couldn’t be helped. In the three years since The Loom had contacted Riddian, they had sent multiple emissaries. Bahadri currently wore the crown for being the most insufferable of them, without contest.

  The Night Lounge was the height of exclusivity. You didn’t just need connections to gain membership, your connections needed connections, and your pockets needed to be lined with more than gold. It had been said that The Lounge had once refused membership to His Majesty, The King himself, though Riddian wasn’t sure how much he believed that.

  However, if ever one found themselves in the city needing to conduct business of a sensitive nature - and they filled the correct prerequisites - then The Night Lounge would be more than happy to accommodate, for a fee of course.

  You can’t put a price on being too cautious, but evidently The Night Lounge can, and seventh hell if it isn't a hefty one.

  Riddian was seated in a secluded part of the Lounge, toward the back. Several head-sized orbs floated soundlessly in the air, like taciturn observers providing dim lighting across the Lounge. Their light was warm and of a tone that encouraged relaxation and anonymity. If one wanted to be clearly seen, they could beckon the orbs over with a gesture, and they would silently hover toward the table. If more privacy was needed, then the orbs could be dismissed, returning to their muted vigil at the edges of the room.

  He inhaled deeply, allowing his nostrils to gorge on the sweet sickleberry aromas that permeated in the air, filling his mind with non-existent memories of a childhood spent frolicking in a vineyard.

  Occupying the Lounge was a thick cloud of purple hued smoke that hung lazily at around chest height, edging along like a slow winding serpent, skulking lazily through the room.

  The walls were adorned with long purple drapes that seemed to call out to you, inviting you to melt within their soft silky folds, which sat underneath a tessellated ceiling of warped mirrors, meticulously placed so that no matter which angle you looked at them, a table’s contents would remain a mystery to any prying eyes.

  There was music playing, but nothing of the sort that might distract you from your conversations. Riddian smiled inwardly, his Thord referred to it as ‘furniture music’, which was an oddly apt description from the usually bumbling youth.

  As his eyes wandered around the room, Riddian’s gaze inevitably fell upon the serving woman. She was breathtaking, most women of The Night Lounge were, but this one, she was something else entirely.

  Yomei was the first to arrive, the Shi’an being punctual as always. His dark yellow robes hung begrudgingly onto his thin frame, as if they resented how hard they had to work to stay clung to the body. Riddian often thought Yomei looked older than he was, mainly due to how gaunt his appearance made him seem. His long silver hair, smooth and shiny like silk, was tied up by two thin sticks into a neat bun. A rare sight in the modern society of Xu Shi, the hairstyle was intrinsically tied to Shi’an monks of generations past, however Yomei adopting this style would have reason, as he was no monk. If Riddian had to guess, it was likely an attempt to exude authority.

  Yomei stood by the door, his hands together in front of him, obscured by the long sleeves of his robes, bowed toward the serving woman. She escorted him into the large room then politely gestured toward where Riddian was sitting.

  Riddian stood to greet Yomei and spotted Bahadri being directed to the corner by the same serving woman.

  Bahadri was wearing his usual ridiculous attire. His outfit seemed to be a mix between Western naval uniform and a flamboyant headpiece. For this meeting, Bahadri was sporting a large white tricorn, adorned with an absurd pink feather jutting out the side with about as much grace as a pregnant Snarltusk.

  Riddian reached out, extending his hand.

  “Ah, Lord Yomei.” He said, with a short bow of his head. “Such a pleasure as always. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting on such short notice.”

  Yomei looked Riddian over with a non-commital gaze. “Good evening Riddian, may Ji-Quah bless you.”

  Riddian getsured in front of himself, “Please take a seat, I have not long arrived myself, I am yet to call upon the servers.”

  As the two sat, Bahadri ambled his way over clumsily. The serving woman’s eyes followed him. Third hell, what had the blubbering fool said to her. Riddian would have to apologise for his oafish behaviour.

  Bahadri didn’t bother with formalities, instead seating himself between Riddian and Yomei.

  “Mah-tuluq, I look forward to hearing why a meeting was called with such urgency, apcha.”

  Bahadri’s voice was heavily accented with a dialect Riddian was unfamiliar with, and he inserted native words into his sentences that didn't always feel like they were entirely necessary.

  “Master Bahadri, good evening.” Riddian said, his face contorting reluctantly into a welcoming smile.

  “I was just explaining to Master Yomei that I have not long arrived myself. The serving staff will see to us shortly.”

  Yomei did not acknowledge Bahadri, his gaze had stayed trained on Riddian like a hound watching a slab of meat.

  While Bahardi shuffled around in his seat, Riddian waited for Yomei to speak.

  “Riddian, my masters on the Shi’an council did not care for the manner in which your message was delivered. We must remind you to pursue subtlety in these matters.” His voice quietly hissing the last words.

  Riddian raised his hands slightly in subservience. “Of course My Lord, I can only apologise.” He then leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the table. “ I have come directly from The Peninsula, having to cut through The Strangeways itself to be here.” He punctuated this with a wide gesture of his hand. “Please understand my Lords, an Epistle Knight was all that was available to me to get the message to you in time.”

  Bahadri almost jumped out of his seat. “An Epistle Knight?! Eighth Hell, why didn’t you just bellow from the town hall for all the privacy it would ensure.” The stocky man’s face was beginning to redden.

  Riddian tensed slightly. “Master Bahadri, I can assure you I had no choice. In any case, do not forget, Epistle Knights are sworn to duty and upholding secrecy is one of their primary tenets.” He shouldn’t have to explain himself to this brash fool. Bahadri was too unpredictable. Why would The Loom choose a man such as this to represent their interests?

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Yomei waved a hand dismissively. “Let us hear him out, Bahadri.”

  “Thank you, Lord Yomei.” Riddian inhaled deeply. “I shall keep this brief so you can return to your masters. Last night, I received word from two different spies based in The Peninsula, that The Guardian is residing there.”

  The mood around the table changed immediately.

  “You are certain?!” Yomei’s composed demeanour dissipating almost instantly.

  “I am.” Riddian nodded.

  Yomei had leaned so close to the table he looked as if he was about to clamber over the thing. His voice coming out in a raspy whisper. “Where?”

  “Along the southern border. A small village by the name of Wendrell.”

  Bahadri looked up in thought. “Wendrell? Like the explorer, apcha?”

  “Like the explorer.” Riddian confirmed. He could feel his control over the conversation starting to seep through. This was where he excelled. This was the political force that could verbally spar with any opponent.

  “Yes, I am familiar with it.” Yomei sat back, regaining the majority of his composure. He gestured for Riddian to continue.

  He had them now. Both men’s eyes were transfixed upon him, holding onto his every movement. He drank it in for a moment.

  In the corner of his eye, Riddian spotted the serving woman standing patiently beside a long, expensive looking bar. It was crafted from some type of dark stone, laced with golden trimmings. The craftsmanship seemed almost too perfect. He made brief eye contact with the serving woman, keenly observing for any time of signal, and she approached.

  Riddian used this inevitable interruption to continue. “Wendrell is surrounded by steep mountai- Aah, hello there.” He cut off, sitting back in his chair and greeting the serving woman.

  “Welcome to The Night Lounge, gentlemen.” She said in a voice just as sweet as her. “Are there any drinks or other delights I can arrange for you tonight?”

  Yomei inhaled slowly, visibly annoyed by the interruption. “Spirit Bloom, if you please.”

  Riddian smiled at the serving woman. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “Fireside. But leave out the ice. You people don’t drink it properly here.” Bahadri barked, causing Riddian to swallow his frustration. He just couldn’t resist making a show of it.

  “Of course. I shall be right back with your drinks.” The serving woman bowed her head slightly and weaved away gracefully, her hips moving with a fluidity to them that reminded Riddian of ocean waves. His eyes remained fixed on her as she withdrew.

  “Please, Riddian. As you were.” Yomei said, snapping Riddian’s attention back to the table.

  “Wendrell.” He started. “Wendrell is surrounded by a range of steep mountains that have made exploration and settling in them near enough impossible. However,” He raised a pointed finger upward, “there is a monastery up there. A monastery which is only visible when there is no moon and the stars are at their brightest.”

  “Come now.” Yomei sighed, rolling his eyes back ever so slightly.

  “Think Yomei. Think of all we know of The Guardian’s monasteries. We know he travels between them, rotating during different periods of the year. We know he is at this monastery right now! Both my spies have witnessed it with their own eyes.” Riddian jabbed the table with a finger, emphasising the last two words.

  “But… you haven’t, apcha?” Bahadri said quietly. Riddian was almost taken back by the sudden intensity painted on the man’s face. He had never seen Bahadri take anything seriously before.

  He was close. They were invested, but still doubted. He just needed one more move to complete his play.

  Riddian sighed loudly, throwing up his shoulders. “No. I… No, I haven’t yet. In my haste to act on the information I contacted you both straight away. Think on this though, we know where The Guardian is, right now. Right now!”

  “We know this how, Riddian?” Yomei said flatly. “Your spies you speak of, how have they confirmed this and what makes you so quick to believe them?”

  Perfect! There it was.

  Riddian painted on an innocent face as he leaned underneath the table, retrieving an object cupped within both hands, wrapped carefully in a heavy brown leather. The faintest of golden glows emanated from the object, like a tiny sunrise fighting to be freed.

  “This.” He said, peeling open the sack, allowing bright golden light to burst free from its restraints. Within was a small rock, no bigger than Riddian’s fist. It glowed with a gentle golden aura, pulsing waves of radiance over Riddian’s clutching fingers.

  “Take a look.” He said, presenting it to the centre of the table. “This was chipped from the walls of the monastery itself. Gentlemen… this is what they call Suncore.”

  “Seventh Hell. It’s… it's so beautiful.” Bahadri whispered in awe.

  Yomei sat in stunned silence, eyes wide at the beautiful object before him, golden rays reflecting playfully off his sunken eyes. The Riddian fought with the intensity of a man on a battlefield not to plaster his face with his biggest, smuggest, grin. Spying the serving woman across the room making her way back toward the table, Riddian snapped the Suncore back into its pouch.

  “Gentlemen, this is what we have been waiting for. We must act now.”

  “What do-” Bahardi started.

  “Heeeere we go, one Fireside. One Spirit Bloom, and a jug of water for the table.” She placed the drinks down on the table and wiggled her fingers, “Wave if you need me.”

  “Yes, yes, thank you.” Bahadri gruffed, frustrated by the interruption. Yomei’s eyes followed the serving woman before turning back to Riddian, raising an eyebrow.

  “Don’t worry,” He said, shaking his head. “We do not need to concern ourselves with the staff here. I should imagine they have seen secrets that we could only conjure up in stories and dreams.”

  Yomei relaxed slightly. “What are you proposing we do?”

  “Well, The Guardian always needs rest after his travels. We know this. Sources in Wendrell say that he arrived within the last few days to recover. This may be the best opportunity we get, I reiterate, we have to act now.”

  The table fell silent.

  “No.” Bahadri murmured, breaking the silence. “We will not act in haste on this, like an impatient child. That is not how The Loom operates, and you know this. We need information, apcha, we need details. Suncore is good, but it's only a start.”

  Riddian took a moment. Was everything he knew about Bahadri an act? He had never seen the man so composed and, most concerning of all, intense.

  “Very well.” Riddian said, weighing his words. “Might I suggest we arrange a joint scouting effort within the next few hours. I assume you can both arrange for parties to meet in Wendrell and conduct reconnaissance with my spies?”

  “Yes, I will send some of my Renegades there as soon as we finish here.” Yomei said nodding and bringing the glass of Spirit Bloom to his lips.

  “I will require maps of Wendrell. How far is the region from here?” Bahadri asked, narrowing his eyes in thought.

  Riddian turned to him, gesturing with his hands. “It depends, Master Bahadri. If you take The Strangeways, you will be there by the time the sun is at its highest. If you do not, I should imagine late evening. There is still no moon, so we should be able to operate around the monastery with it being visible.”

  “I have means of travel beyond your world’s primitive measures! Do not worry.” Bahadri replied dismissively.

  The men were silent for a moment, before Yomei finally rose to his feet. “Riddian, I have heard all I need to. You have indeed brought us fortuitous news and we shall seek to act on it. I must commend you on thinking creatively in this matter, as it has clearly yielded some excellent results. Do remember however, sloppy measures such as the use of Epistle Knights for contact will no longer be tolerated. You have risen to a great position of power and your influence across this continent is second to none, but Riddian, I would be remiss not to remind you that your place within this committee can and will be revoked if you do not adhere to simple procedure. Good evening.” Riddian had been waiting for that. No matter what he brought to the table, Yomei would find a way to remind Riddian of his position.

  “I understand, Lord Yomei.” Riddian said, standing up himself. The two men exchanged a formal bow. “You have my apologies. I shall liaise with you once my men reach Wendrell.”

  “Very well.” Yomei turned and stalked away from the table. The serving woman smiled at him and gestured towards the door.

  Bahadri then stood, collecting his glass as he did. He raised it to his lips and threw back the contents in one gulp, before placing the glass back on the table and exhaling sharply, his face twisted in disgust.

  “Second hell, you people can not make a Fireside.” He looked to Riddian, “ I shall take this information back to my superiors. If they deem it worthy, we shall be in contact, apcha.”

  He then turned on his heel and slumped toward the exit without waiting for a response.

  Riddian let out a long sigh as he sank back down into his seat. If he let his mind rest on the implications of what he was doing for too long he became uncomfortable. Oftentimes Riddian found himself laying in bed at night, sleep eluding his feeble clutches toward it. Then it would start, deep within his stomach, festering like a tumour and spreading throughout his body, before he found himself shaking. The guilt. The guilt of his actions and plans toward his own people. Plotting their downfall for promises of power and wealth beyond comprehension. The guilt of working with The Loom and the Xu Shi nation to find and eradicate The Guardian. No. He shook his head aggressively, ejecting the thoughts from his mind, he would not dwell on it… Not now.

  He replayed the meeting in his mind. Yomei had been right, Riddian had risen to a position of great power, and in a very short amount of time. He was considered some kind of political prodigy within his peers, so of course subterfuge came to him as naturally as breathing.

  Let the Shi’ans think they were above Riddian and his people.

  Let The Loom keep their secrets, let them think he was an over ambitious fool.

  Once he received the power he was promised, he would betray them, he knew this and they probably did too. However, Riddian would not show his hand, he would outmanoeuvre them like he always did, a swordmaster dancing gracefully around a drunken opponent.

  Riddian nodded to the serving woman, his eyes washing over her figure as she meandered her way slowly to his table. As she approached, he pulled the Suncore from its pouch.

  “What did you think?” He asked her, leaning back in his seat.

  “You were right about the Shi’an. Bloated sense of self importance. He shall be easy to dispose of.” She replied, vacantly scooping up the drinks on the table. “Bahadri…” She continued with a pause. “He is not the fool you claim him to be, I saw a formidable intelligence behind his eyes. He was not watching you Riddian, he was reading you.”

  After this meeting, Riddian was inclined to agree with her. He had not behaved like this before, and this development definitely caused Riddian to consider a pivot in his plans.

  The serving woman placed the glasses onto a tray and turned to leave, looking back at Riddian as she did so.

  “What did they make of the Suncore?” She asked.

  “Honestly, I think that was what sold it”, Riddian said, spinning the shining stone round in his hand, admiring it. “The whole monastery was made of this?”

  She nodded.

  “But master, it's so bright. I have little doubt you could see this from even the city’s walls. In fact, how haven’t we? How does this not light up like a beacon?” He asked.

  “Oh sweetness”, she said, walking away. “You haven’t seen a thing yet.”

  She left him there to his thoughts.