Part MMCLXXVII: A Helping Hand
A Helping Hand

Fourth Day of the Fourth Month 293 AC

You sigh, laying down your own cup. What you would not give for a damn chair you could sit properly in... The thought, prosaic as it is, helps you find your balance. You did not come here to play Zherys' games, or to make deals, at least not those he might wish for. Ultimately you cannot afford them anymore precisely because he is the kind of man who just might stall long enough raise up an army that could stand against the Legion, and mages to match your fledgling sorcerers. Too many knives in the air... a problem the High Speaker himself obviously shares, save that the blades he juggles are closer to hand and dipped in oil.

"Do you think so little of me, Your Excellency?" you ask plainly and without scorn, perhaps chiding but no more than that. "I know my enemies, and my allies." You leave a pause with a purpose for the unspoken question you have no interest in answering, with words at least. "Between both, there can be respect, and in time that can overcome much. Yet respect is being true without agenda."

Here he interrupts: "I've yet to meet any man... any thinking being which so much as opens its mouth to speak without an agenda." He is stalling, he has always been stalling, of course, but never so obviously. Something of what you said struck its mark.

"That is painting the world with a rather broad brush," you note. "That wishes and desires exist is not the same thing as what any statesman worth his or her salt would name an agenda. That is a grander thing than the desires of any one man. You spoke of roads and taxes, that the dragons of Valyria did not build or gather them. Thus does a ruler speak and you spoke rightly..."

You are abruptly reminded of the first time you had to speak for high stakes, against common thugs, different as night from day to the saturnine mage lord before you. Yet some things never change. The simplest path to persuasion is to play what the other already believes. "If you were to look towards Tyrosh..." You pause with a rueful smile. "Let us be honest, when looking towards Tyrosh, you will find far more of those things than dragons. You spent months breaking the Rhoyne, High Speaker, and it cost you dearly in more than just blood. "

"An arrow thrust into rotten meat and swords upon the grindstone are both parts of war, yet who can say which of them is more necessary than the other?" he counters automatically. He allows silence to fall in the wake of his question before finally noting: "I know of your works and find them wise in essence, if not every detail."

You nod the recognition but do not linger long upon the praise save to gauge its sincerity. You are inclined to trust it on the weight of brevity and hesitance. "You say that my goals are best served by patience and restraint and point to Braavos. In that you are mistaken. I would have no need to make this offer to them for Braavos is my ally. I helped lay the foundations of the walls that guard them against otherworldly perils to this day. I know that they understand my goals, and seek only to prosper within them."

"Say rather that they seek to prosper and care nothing for any goals not their own," Zherys interjects. "Braavosi honor weighs as much as ink upon parchment..."

A test to see if anger will put you off balance again. You pass it by seemingly without a second glance. "It seems I am treated with different respect by my supposed peers. Some scorn the flesh I choose to wear most like a jest, or dissembling disguise, despite the fact that I was born of a woman and bear the responsibilities of a mortal ruler who cannot afford to put their own desires before the wellness of all the subjects of their domain. Others see me through a lens of fearful ignorance and vast overestimation of the atrocities of which I'm capable, for I am a figure unafraid of staring into the dark to find a spark of light. As to the last," you pause but an instant longer for breath, a subtle emphasis, though one you trust that he will catch. "They seem to treat me as if I were a beast. Dangerous and cunning, but like to give into temptation and wedded to instinct."

The only sign the High Speaker makes are fingers tightening for a moment upon his staff. It is enough. You speak again before he can marshal his thoughts, feeling the tide of the conversation at your back like that of battle half-won and racing to victory. Careful, you remind yourself. Words are weapons here, and you should not be rash in their use lest you cut yourself in your haste. "They all miss the point," you say slowly. "I am not a beast, or a man, or a sorcerer who will stop at nothing to feed pride or lust for power. I have never set a task or goal for myself that I have not accomplished. In that, I feel some kinship with you, for you cannot stand before me without confidently stating the same." You make no show of the words, merely allowing the certainty of them to ring true.

"What is it you wish, then?" Zherys asks, the question almost impossibility brief by the standards of Volantine courtesy. Perhaps he did not trust himself to say more without revealing his thoughts.

"I wish to help, if I may." You once more leave the conditions obscured. "You seek to reinforce your position here, as you reach for a new one. Well that you do so, for men cannot stand on their own without strength. Yet you need time to consolidate your power after winning yourself an army in the conquest of the Rhoyne. And so you would send me far away, against those who are no allies of yours, whilst you do so. You spoke of the challenges that face me. Know then that I am not blind to yours."

"Two weeks, three at the outside, that is how long this challenge shall endure," he counters, Though his tone remains unchanged, anger sparks behind his eyes for the first time during the meeting. It does not seem to be directed at you, or at least most of it is not.

"Two weeks," Teana interjects, her tone just shy of scorn. "Things could degenerate in two days or two hours, or do you know what each and every demon calling madman is doing with each moment of their day, what they have been taught, what new depravity they are willing to inflict upon the world?"

Before Zherys can reply you speak clearly and unhurriedly: "It is written in the histories of the Seven Kingdoms that my ancestor, Aegon the First, said 'that if a man goes to his knees before you, you help him up.' You are not on your knees, Zherys. So why should I raise you up?"

The Volantine magus does not kneel, for the longest time he does not even speak, still as a statue and showing just as much of what he may be thinking and feeling. Finally, however, he answers, his voice a touch unsteady on the first syllable, though regaining its strength before he utters the last: "What terms would you offer for this help?"

[] Write in answer

OOC: Sorry guys, the internet connection went out again last night. Thankfully it wasn't the power. I would have hated to lose the chapter.
 
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Now I ain't a political animal, but that there seems like the boy is willing to play ball.

I don't think he's quite ready to bend the knee, but this might be as close as we can get without breaking one of his shins in the process, literally or figuratively speaking.

I'll leave it to one of the more verbose among us to put it into proper terms but I think this is the part where we get him under our umbrella. He seems to think we only want a vassal or some kind of tributary state. Once he realizes we want allies instead of slaves in all but name he might be more receptive to whatever offer we're willing to give him.
 
@DragonParadox, this is a bit random, but what color is the vestigial dragon wing that's on Zherys' back? Does it look like he grew it or does it look like a graft? If he grew it, then I'm quite a bit more interested in the Flesh Forges since we know he spent some time in Qohor.
 
A great update DP!
Those must have been some rolls.
I like the changes to last chapter btw. They weren't huge but they're a far better way to show a "loss" in social combat.
 
...and once again, a nat20 happens when we most need it.

*grumble*...except that time we ate Ymeri's tree *grumble*
 
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