"Master, why have you not killed the traitorous whore?" Vlad asks without preamble as he de-astralizes inside my tent. It's been a week since Lancelot's surrender, and we've marched into the northern hills. A circuitous route to the Holy City, to be sure, but I've kept my plans to myself.
We'd wrapped up negotiations and accepted Lancelot's surrender, along with the surrender of his men (all of them more loyal to their commander than the Lion King.) But, part and parcel with that was the pardon of Mata Hari, something that stuck in my Servants' craws as much as it stuck in mine. I suppose it just... bubbled over.
"We're talking about Mata Hari, right?" I ask, just to confirm. "This isn't just you trying to get me to have Medea disposed of again?"
He's been making petitions for her termination almost since the day we summoned her.
"No, the kinslayer has been spared my wrath, at least for the moment. Now, my righteous fervor is fixed upon a far more heinous target. So tell me, Master, why does the traitor live?"
I look at him appraisingly, and then sigh, settling down on one of the stools. "Take a seat. Dismiss the armor, first, though, the whole tent's a gift from Lancelot."
"Really?" Vlad looks about at the drab tent, filled with tears in the fabric, and at the ratty bedrolls and spartan stools. "He didn't strike me as a skinflint."
"He gave me two, actually. I set the nicer one up as a decoy."
"Cunning of you," he says with a nod, dismissing the armor and taking a seat. "Be we drift off-topic. Why does Mata Hari live?"
"Two primary reasons. Firstly, Lancelot's fond of her, just as much as she is of him. If we demand her head, it'll put a dangerous strain on our new alliance."
"Bah, do what is right and lawful, not what's convenient! I never hesitated from doing justice, no matter how much my lords mewled and whimpered!"
"And, as I recall, you ended up betrayed by those same lords you never compromised to or made concessions for."
"Watch it."
"I'm not disparaging your accomplishments, Lord Vlad. Your fear tactics were a masterpiece, and your repulsion of the Ottomans was brilliant. But you neglected your image, and the fundamental importance of securing loyalty. I can't afford to do the same."
"Fine. Your second reason?"
"Narrative fidelity, and keeping up our image."
"Layman's terms would be appreciated."
"Basically, I convinced Lancelot to change sides by shifting the narrative. He was caught between two masters: the Lion King, and what he knew was right, The Good. He wanted to do the right thing, but he also didn't want to betray his king. I changed the story, and, in doing so, forced him to view events from a new perspective. I made him think of The Good as his proper king. Suddenly, serving the Lion King was a betrayal, and doing what he knew was right, which he already wanted to do, was the only way for him to atone. Going by that new narrative, then, our offer of an alliance is a gesture of mercy and forgiveness. We aren't just dragging him along because of his strength, but we, as servants of Humanity, are forgiving him and his subordinates for prior treason, and offering them a chance to atone for their misdeeds." I sigh. "Unfortunately, to keep to that particular narrative, it becomes necessary that we forgive Mata Hari. After all, if we forgive Lancelot for his prior treason, failing to do the same for Mata Hari means that we come off as hypocrites."
He groans, massaging his forehead. "I swear, you think in circles." He shoots me a glare. "I have no understanding of the twisted labyrinth that is your mind, but you usually know what you're doing. I still don't like having to forgive her, though."
"Oh, rest assured, Vlad, even if we're forgiving her, we'll be watching her like a hawk," I say with a chuckle. "And, if she ever pulls a repeat performance? Well, you'll be free to dispose of her as you see fit. Just... whatever you do, make sure she suffers."
"Well then, Master." He grins. "You have my thanks for explaining yourself. It's good to see you haven't gone soft on me."
"I do what I have to. I simply acknowledge that just because extreme measures must occasionally be taken, one shouldn't assume they are always the best option."
Vlad takes his leave, and I'm left alone with my thoughts.
My theory on the Lion King's true identity is dubious, certainly. And the evidence is circumstantial. But I believe I can make a solid enough case to persuade Gawain. Man might be a great knight, but he's not the brightest bulb on the tree. Besides, he's as conflicted as Lancelot, in his own way.
We have the forces for our attack on the Holy City.
But... all the same, I need to set up some long-term plans. Even if we clear the Seventh Singularity, Solomon's still out there. We need a countermeasure.
Cursed Arm appears an hour after Vlad left.
"Are you sure about this?" He looks at me dubiously.
"We are at the ideal point to visit the Shrine you mentioned," I point out.
"Alright. If you're absolutely certain." He sighs. "The First will have my head, you know."
"And, if negotiations proceed as planned, he'll have mine as well." I grin somewhat shakily. "Now come on. We'll have to get going."
And so we depart, along the hidden paths in the light of the waning moon.
To the Shrine of Azrael.
