“Not good enough!”. Clinks boots clacked down the marbled hallway of the grand ballroom as his assistant Tanken tried to keep up. His scrawny body too lanky for the billowing robes of his station. Appointing this 16 year old to his right hand man had been one of many slaps in the face to the old ways but the kid was bright and honest, two rare commodities. A retinue of clerks and servants scrambled to keep up. Their scrolls flapping in a trail behind him. He paused suddenly for a second as the washermen looked up. This was the third time they had scrubbed the floors this week and it still wouldn’t get rid of the dark red stains. He knew some of that was his father’s blood. No time for that, not now, there’s never any time any more. Another emergency to sort out, complaints to deal with, factions to soothe or strategic promises to make. Clink hated the word bribe but that is essentially what they were. Mario played a clever game, spinning plated and pulling every so gently on every thread in the Palace.
Clink picked up the pace again, the welcome breather for the clerks was over too quickly as they all jostled for his attention. “The oilstains are on fire still and you’ve redirected the fire crews to the pits? We need the economic boost to ensure a strong and stable future..” clink waved his hand flippantly, “we need the people more, once they’re done we will enlist them to take care of the docks.” His voice was clipped and stern, it was getting more and more difficult to maintain his bardic charm. What was it now? 3, 4 days without sleep? His body ached and he knew that if he stopped moving he might not be able to start again. His cloak wrapped tightly around him as he ascended the stairs. The clerk’s knew not to follow to the Kaiser’s chambers. It transpired that the cure for the slow-acting poison was worse than the poison itself. The Kaiser was on his last legs as his system was learning to live without the Widow’s Crutch, so called because it was often used to kill off your husband in a natural and undetectable manner. He would likely be incapacitated for a month or more.
He entered the room past the two justicars and gave a faltering bow. Wilhelm stood by the bedside looking up as clink entered. The boysish looks of the heir were gone, his beard had grown white in parts lending a regal air, his once friendly eyes now caused clink to pause when they regarded him, it was as if all the joy had been bleached from the man as he kept vigil over his father. In the aftermath Wilhelm had appointed clink to be the Master of Accounts, the title still rankled for clink, definitely not fitting for the amount of responsibility it carried, not at all grand. All the administration that mario did and trained his whole life for was now on Clinks shoulders and he had to learn fast. This was made all the more difficult by Wilhelm’s purges. He was determined to eradicate any trace of Mario’s influence. It had taken Clink his best levels of tact with more than a few magically enhanced suggestions to at least make sure people had a trial, there were too many people caught up in Mario’s schemes accidentally or otherwise to put them all to death or every chambermaid, scullery boy and postal clerk would be on the block. The fires, the looting and the outbreak of disease where enough of a distraction without a coup being added into the mix.
Wilhelm flared his nostrils, “so, vat iz dis about the dockyards still burning?”. He clasped his hands behind his back raising his chin and peering at clink with one eyebrow raised “I appointed you to fix zis mess not ruin our economy!”
Clink sighed, he was doing that more and more these days. “Wilhelm my dear, you are listening to far too many boring people, I told you not to listen to boring people, you should sleep. You appointed me because I saved you, your father and this kingdom from the chaos that Mario caused! You have to trust me. There will be no good saving the glorious docks if we lose the support of the people, they have lived in fear for far too long”
“Zat is not what the cardanalis sayz”
“Ah… Well yes of course the Cardinalas would say that..”
“If I am to be king some day I must know all that happens under my rule” replied Wilhelm.
“Yes, of course…”
Wilhelm raised his hand cutting him off “zat will be all” he waved him away “and be sure to inform me of all your suggestions for my decision, I will have ze final say” clink blinked slowly, Wilhelm had certainly grown up but the influence of the church was still too strong for his liking. He would have to play this very carefully.
As he made his way back to the gaggle of clerks he chewed over his plans. First, save the people that’s what matters but he knew if he ignored the politics now he would be granting the other players too much of a head start. He couldn’t help but feel it would be better off with the others around but since the fall of Namthar they’ve all had their own roads to walk, at least for now while they try to research how to kill the moon. The ominous dark red alien moon even shone through the clouds these days spreading on the sky like the blood on the ball room floor. Some crackpots had taken to interpreting them and a new faith had sprung up with sub Optima seen as heralds of the new god to come, he’d even caught one of his messages grasping a necklace in the shape of Chortle. It was a bothersome distraction, one to add to the pile.
Clink made his way back from the chambers to his offices, a few weeks prior these belonged to Mario, they seemed grand then but now they felt like a cave. He didn’t dare to sit down as petition after petition came to him. The reduction in the food stores were alarming but the lowering water levels even more so. He’d have to send some sellswords to discover the reason for that, where were the moon pirates now? He’d lost track of them after the battle.
A slender young man approached and coughed. He wore the robes of the church of namthar. His thin eyebrows died white and grown long, slicked upwards and out beyond his ears made his dark waxy hair look like it had white streaks. He had made it a daily ritual to come here. Clink enjoyed giving him the run around.
“Cornelius, what do I owe the pleasure”
“Master of Accounts, the Cardanalis of the one true God, the church of Namthar has ordered you to appear before him and explain these new… songs.” He spat the last words from his mouth.
Clink rolled his eyes, he did that more these days too. He lent forward and took a deep breath, feeling the wood beneath his fingers. Mario did have exceptionally good taste.
“I’ve told you before. That’s not really how one asks someone to pop by for some wine and a chit chat. I don’t like being ordered to do anything! Least of all meet with an obease man wearing far too much lace who worships something I killed a few weeks ago. And as for the songs? You really think they were me? They are far too crass, weak imagery, poor timings, terrible pacing and rhyming ‘clod-tucker’ with ‘god-fucker’? So weak! No one calls farmers clod tuckers these days. Hmmm how about Obese treatsie, diet of cakes, pitfiful pontif, necrophiliac nonsense, all phrases that are better than that and I’m not even trying”
Cornelius gritted his teeth, he was growing accustomed to the daily admonishments but both of them knew that while clink had the favour of the Kaiser and Wilhelm he was largely impotent in ordering him to do anything.
“You would be well to remember your place in things tiefling, the church was here long before either of us and will outlast us both, you insolence will not be forgotten”, Cornelius rose his voice, he had gone too far this time.
The chamber was still, a few nearvous clerks looked on, this was the most open hostility there had been, a verbal slap on the cheek, an barely veiled threat. Clink looked up from the perfectly polished table and moved behind the chair, flicking his cloak out behind him as he dragged the chair out, sitting ceremoniously as he crossed his legs and placed them on the table as he slid a knife from his boot. The messenger gulped as a trickle of sweat rolled down to meet his moustache. Clink skewered an apple and began peeling slices off it slowly whole eyeing Cornelius intimidatingly.
“You’re welcome” he said through a fanged smile.
Cornelius blinked, confused at the seemingly innocent statement.
“You may pass the message to the Cardanalis that he is very welcome. His gratitude for my saving the city is greatly appreciated, and I relent, I shall give in to his wishes and send him an autograph” clink plucked a pen and scroll from a nearby scribe and cast his signature across the page.
Cornelius span on his heel spitting venomous words under his breath as he stormed out.
Clink couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t his wisest move but his smile broadened in genuine amusement as he hummed ‘clod-tucker, god-fucker’ to himself as he composed a new verse in his head. It really was hard to try write songs badly but the people loved them. Keep this up and the people will soon see the church for what they really were. Charlatans and thieves.
“Now, where were we? Ah yes, Tanken, pass me the latest draft of the new bill pass. The cardanalis will be thrilled to know his tax exemption is lifted in order to better fund the repairs and restitution of the city, how very pious of him”.