Humans for Hire

Chapter 90


Vilantia Prime, Vilantianic Stadium

The lights were bright, the crowd beyond plentiful. The field proper had been sectioned off to allow his company and the Greatlord's inner clan a prime location for viewing and responding to what was said. Around the stadium itself were dozens of personal shuttles and construction scaffold-lifts that had been repurposed to additional seating; Gryzzk wasn't exactly grateful for it, but the additional presence seemed to detract from the fact that this site was centuries old and had evolved from a campsite for battle to an arena built for beast-fighting and other bloodsports and then onward to a more civilized sporting arena, and now to this.

Gryzzk had seen the stadium many times in his life, and had even been here once with Lord A'kifab as his lord had managed to obtain seats for a Vilantian Cup match - he hadn't been able to see most of it as A'kifab had used the time to make deals with suppliers from various locales who all agreed that the wine was indeed excellent after a tasting or three. The holo-projectors were new, allowing the drones buzzing about to capture views of the crowd or focus on whoever was speaking and throw them out for everyone to see.

That memory seemed from another lifetime, almost. Now he watched as this moment was elevated from a challenge between two individuals to a sporting contest with the eyes of three worlds - no, four worlds - directly on it. It was wholly unnerving to watch as banners were unfurled in the upper sections where the commons were seated, and somehow enormous flags that individually bore Gryzzk and Aa'Lafione's clan sigils were passed from section to section to chants and cheers.

The effect was such that his emotional pendulum wound fully around its pivot to leave him in a trance of calm; he glanced over at the Greatlord, who was damping his fury over the fact that Gryzzk had arrived to address the recording drones to begin the first intonations of the challenge - the Prayer to Arbiters. Part of Gryzzk hoped that someone had at least given the onlookers a general idea of what was going to happen, otherwise this was going to be a very dull affair.

Aa'Lafione's jaw had almost completely healed with only a slight mis-intonation here and there. "To the Arbiters of this, behave as you are expected to behave. To those who are witness, speak only the truth of what occurs." Whatever ill could be said of the Greatlords, it seemed that they had an excellent dental plan. It was Gryzzk's turn.

"To the Arbiters, health and long life. May your decisions this evening never give you cause for restless sleep. To the witnesses, I hope you learn of a stranger's ways." Gryzzk glanced to the Greatlord. "The floor is yours to show your wisdom, Greatlord."

The Greatlord didn't openly snort. The lighting around Gryzzk dimmed, allowing the Greatlord the spotlight as he began speaking. "Marriage. Marriage is what brings us here today. The Clan Way speaks clearly that a son bears the burden of his father and carries it until the time comes to pass it to his son. With equal clarity, a daughter must walk the path of her mother, to grow and be raised until such time as matching scent gives the first glimpse of the next generation. As a father, I hope to match my daughter with a proper son, a proper heir, for continuation of adherance to the Ministry of Culture that has been our birthright for over a thousand years. As a Greatlord, I must ensure that the selected match produces that which is fit to bear the mantle of the decisions which must be made for the betterment of all, even if that decision is to our personal sorrow."

As the stage rotated, Aa'Lafione began pacing the stage as he spoke, warming to his subject. "And now in a span of months, a commoner dares to take an empty title and make demands beyond his station. He claims right over that which he has no claim. He claims right of choice over what he calls a Clan, a sullied mob who all happen to wear purple by his command - an ill color for an ill group."

"Now in this time, this most crucial time for all when the Clan Way is threatened by forces scented and unscented, these commoners dare to take a noble to their poorly made house and treat her as if she were a commoner herself and gift her with choice that is her Lord's by right. Such cannot be - the Clan Way speaks the wisdom; nobles adhere to nobles, commons to commons. Thus it has been for thirty-three generations of the Ministry's stewardship. Thus it should be, for to ignore what has worked so well for so long is an insult to those who gave us the burdens we bear."

Aa'Lafione stopped, appearing to gather himself for a long moment and slump his shoulders ever so slightly. "This is the burden of a Greatlord; to make the choices that must be made - not for the betterment of themselves, but for the better of all. 'We must be one self and be forever whole within that self. The Wise must heed the Wise, and give that wisdom to their lessers lest their ignorance cause misadventure and sorrow.' It is in the spirit of the words of the First Throne that a Greatlord gives wisdom to the commoner in hopes that wisdom and the betterment of all Vilantia wins over the desires of self and a false nobility with no scent of age or propriety to it. For given his choice, he would have a most noble girl give the years of her life to one who will not produce the issue that Vilantia so desperately needs. What Vilantia needs now is calm wisdom, not the chaos that follows him like a thirdwife. The floor now awaits your wisdom, commoner." With that intonation, Aa'Lafione stepped back to his chair and settled.

Gryzzk was hopeful that someone had sedated or at least restrained Reilly as the lower bowls gave measured enthusiasm to the Greatlord's speech; the last thing he needed was her jumping on the stage to deliver her opinion in the most direct manner possible. Indeed, as the stage rotated to his company, the scent of raw anger was coiled tightly about. The positive was that nobody was throwing rotten fruit.

Yet.

Gryzzk stood, making a small gesture for his company to calm down as he began. "In Vilantia, six is our default number. A number of great fortune. Six eyes see best, the First Throne said. Six tiers within this stadium itself. Six directions - north, south, east, west, below, and above. Six sixes of Great Clans, and from their number the Council of Ministers. Beneath them the Lordly Clans, always a number divided by six. Our battle stratagem, our homes and buildings, even this challenge - Five Arbiters, two challengers, and two seconds for a full six and half of another. And yet in our society, there are only five groupings. The Nameless, the Commoners, the Lords, the Greatlords, and the Royal. There exists a hole in our society, and in the writings of the blessed Eleventh Lord A'Shanyu we find what was lost. I was gifted with opportunity to read from the Eleventh Lord's work yesterday and today, and I found passages enlightening. These passages do not exist in the modern printings, but they do appear in the words written when he lived. My apologies, but I have not fully memorized these new passages so I will have to read them aloud."

Gryzzk took out his tablet and closed his upper eyes. He was about to Reilly everyone who saw and heard this - and given how the Greatlord had finished, it didn't seem like the best idea ever. He took a drink of water to cool his parched throat as his lower eyes scanned the old verse to make sense of it before he spoke the words from twenty-two generations before.

"What of the nobles with nay lands but sworn meiny the same? I speaketh anon of the freel'rds and freel'dies, those most curious specimens for whom grant of auth'rity cometh not from above but from below. How doest a meet lord treat such guests, these Freelords who is't guide themselves by the stars above instead of the lands below? The wise Lord and Lady giveth those folk meat and wine such as they can, f'r the Free Clan bringeth items from lands far hence, and taketh thy bounty to other lands yond has't not yet did taste the fruits of thy labor and land. The Freenobles bringeth news and treasure coated with the dust of other lands, and their sworn shall cheerfully worketh next to yours f'r the price of a story and a meal. 'mongst those folk art criminals and laggards, as thither art with all clans landed or no. Giveth those folk to their freelord f'r just punishment. They art sworn to the Freelord, not thee."

Gryzzk glanced about and realized immediately that was an error - Greatlord Aa'Lafione was apoplectic in his scent, with Lumisca leaning forward with a promise of violence in her dawn-colored eyes. Even Ah'nuriel looked stunned at what she was hearing. Gryzzk steeled himself and looked back to the tablet where more heresy awaited his voice.

"To a question of ranker import. Thither shall beest those who is't see life of the stars and wish to walketh with those folk. The sworn who is't scents such a life and desires 't might not but beest given opportunity to learneth of the life in t's fullest; to force those folk to remain shall only result in sorrow, f'r the first time they asketh thy leave. The second time they may asketh as well, but thither shall cometh a time at which hour they doth not asketh and simply taketh their leave of their own accord, making rash choice in place of measured thought. Avoid this, f'r to suffer a commoner to leave without leave brings ignominious blemish to thy leadership. Giveth the sworn their path, and at which hour they scent the rightness of their place they shalt returneth from the life of the Freeclan with the fullest wisdom thee can grant."

Gryzzk paused long enough to take a sip of water with a trembling hand. After a breath he forged onward, feeling the scent of the entire stadium mix - even the Terrans were starting to realize the gravity of the situation.

"Of highest import. What path doth the wise lord tread at which hour scents from the Freeclans card with thy sworn and giveth rise to meetings in the bed most soft at the hour most dark? I has't seen and spoken with mine own fellow lords and taken counsel with Free Nobles deeply in this; those who is't grant leaveth f'r such seemeth to has't a ranker ease in their lives. By contrast those who is't forbid such joinings and ignore the sooth which presents itself to their nose condemn themselves, f'r they ignore what is most wondrous f'r Vilantia. They ignore the gifts of the gods and signs of those gifts at their own peril. Thus I counsel this wisdom; craft pact with the Free Noble whose sworn mixes well with yours - the particulars I leaveth to thee and thy wisdom, but each party might not but has't a deal whereby hon'r is sated. Betimes thy sw'rn shall walketh with the freeclan, likewise their sw'rn shall settleth with thee. Both instances art well, f'r a bond hath been struck between two clans, and the result shall strengtheneth both."

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Gryzzk set his tablet down and straightened his tunic unconsciously as he finished his reading to address the Arbiters and crowd, looking up and around as he spoke.

"As to what happened between the Eleventh Generation and now that caused these passages to go missing, I can only make suppositions - these passages were too...new to me, too exceptional for any deep scenting of the why. But I know that they are, I scent their truth because this passages was placed within others well-known to all who study such - the Discourse of Neighbors and the Wisdom of Children." He exhaled, standing before the hidden Arbiters. "You have heard our wisdom in turn, Arbiters, and now is the time of decision. My gratitude to you all."

Gryzzk walked backward to his chair, eyes fixed on the vote board that would display the sigil of either himself or Aa'Lafione. Two votes were immediate, one for himself and one for the Greatlord. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the respective voters were. After a few minutes, a second sigil showed itself for Gryzzk, and then winked out as the decision was reconsidered. The Greatlord was growing impatient, finally snapping at the Arbiter's table.

"Why is there delay? You have heard profanity disguised in old language, dismiss it."

There was a pause before the Thirty-Third A'Shanyu emerged and spoke flatly. "Recess of thirty minutes is requested - the Arbiters wish to counsel with the Ministry of Science as to the accuracy of what has been presented."

There was a glance and an immediate nod from Gryzzk. After a lengthy pause, the Greatlord nodded assent as well. A drone hovered before Lord A'Shanyu as he made the formal announcement with distaste.

"Witnesses, there will be a recess of thirty minutes while the Ministry of Science is consulted to determine the truth of the arguments."

That was apparently the signal for the upper bowl and the hovering stands to become rowdy. Not violent, but they took the pause as an excuse to entertain themselves with various songs and chants from Terra - the most popular one seemed to be a chorus of 'Go loud, go strong, go proud, go on, go hard or go home' - it was utter nonsense to Gryzzk, but as long as it kept the Terrans from outright hooliganism it was acceptable. Meanwhile the lower bowls were a low buzz of conversation and uncertainty. The two challengers were escorted by their seconds to a waiting area where they had snacks and a bathroom at close distance. Ah'nuriel's face was pinched as she spoke to Gryzzk.

"Freelord. This. If this is real. It calls a great many things into question."

Gryzzk nibbled from a plate of chicken nuggies with spiced peltine. "I know, my Lady. I fear the coming storm. Even if the vote goes my way, the Clan Way will never be seen the same."

Ah'nuriel placed a hand over her midsection protectively. "Given what has happened to the both of us, that may not be a bad thing." She canted her head upward slightly. "You smell that? The Terrans."

"It seems as if they're having a good time." Gryzzk slumped. "They're not the ones looking at a crumbling society."

"No, but from what I've heard of the Terrans, they are the result of a society that crumbled a few times and rebuilt itself. We'll pass through the storm that comes, and our children will be better for it." She paused. "Have you given thought to the Challenge of Leadership?"

"I have. It will be brief." Gryzzk smiled weakly, hoping his gambit would work.

"I will have the finest view, then." Ah'nuriel looked out. "It is almost time. I will leave you to refresh yourself and stand strong for what comes."

It took a few minutes, but Gryzzk made his way back to the stage with the stadium lowering and tensing for the moment of revelation. The Arbiters had reseated themselves, and the votes were displayed simultaneously. Three votes bore the sigil of Gryzzk, with two for Greatlord Aa'Lafione.

The first challenge was Gryzzk's, and he didn't want to know how that particular wine had been made even as the upper bowl roared approval. Greatlord Aa'Lafione was measured, voice tight with anger as he attempted to brush off the loss and assert himself fully by beginning the next stage without preamble.

"Leadership is passed Lord to Lord, parent to child. Every generation teaches the new what must be, of the decisions they will make and the hardships they will endure. And they must endure, for a leaderless clan is no clan, fit only to be taken in by another with a proper leader. Proper discipline from proper leadership derived from proper authority gives a proper lord an unbroken chain to the Throne themselves, and the Thrones before them to the First. It is this that gives proper leadership proper form. No other method is needed, no other method be tested."

Aa'Lafione stalked the stage as he warmed to the subject, circling and moving ever closer to Gryzzk as he continued. "No other method need be tested because proper leadership is known. What makes the Vilantian heart follow is a leader who carries themselves with the knowledge of the generations before; a leader who only knows service is fit only to serve. To lead is to cause sorrow to others in service of a greater whole. And this is what a true leader will accept, for those under know that if they should suffer, it is for the betterment of others."

"To lead is to make choices, to make decisions others will not and cannot. To lead is to have certainty in those decisions. To lead is to follow the proper words of the past and heed their wisdom, for the right choices then are the right choices now. Recent events notwithstanding, to make decisions is to forge a new link in the chain that connects the future to the past through the now. That is leadership, and that is what we must know if we intend to remain the whole and wise people that we are today." Aa'Lafione paused. "The Words of Leadership await the thoughts of a commoner." The Greatlord returned to his seat to scattered polite applause.

Gryzzk took a deep breath, fighting his instincts to follow and give obeisance to what the Greatlord had said. It was time for his own words of leadership. Or in this case, word. He braced himself fully upright and walked the stage casually, almost lazily over to where his clan was gathered. He pointed three fingers at the group, saying a word with all the authority he could muster in the moment.

"Sing."

At the command, O'Brien immediately broke out into a verse, her voice almost deafening to those in her immediate vicinity as she declared her desire to be in the cavalry if they sent her off to war - it was a testament to themselves that they didn't flinch but caught on and took up the song themselves. Within moments of the Sergeant Major beginning, the entirety of the company was singing in her wake, voices mixing in strength to create a vocal crescendo before the first line had left O'Brien's lips.

Their song continued, with the commons and Terrans in the upper tiers joining in slowly at first as their tablets found and displayed the lyrics, then with greater firmness as the song was found and played as a sing-along for everyone. It was a bit disconcerting to hear thousands upon thousands of voices joined before the first chorus had completed.

For Gryzzk it was wholly unexpected as the voices carved a bludgeon through the night air. He'd simply meant to demonstrate his leadership with respect to the clan, but as the second chorus started it seemed as though the entirety of the Terrans and Vilantian commons were singing defiant joy to the nobles in the lower tiers.

As the song ended with rowdy cheers and intermittent shouts of 'Garryowen!', Gryzzk gave a politely obeisant gesture to the Arbiter's area. "Your decision, if you please." He located his chair and sat back down with legs that were suddenly drained of energy. If he'd gambled wrongly, the next challenge would decide it. The Challenge of Strength - never the same twice but always taxing, meant to break down the challenger who was unfit in body.

He shouldn't have worried. All of the lights colored almost immediately; one light signaled a vote for Greatlord Aa'Lafione, the four other lights shone with the sigil of Gryzzk.

He'd won. It was unbelievable, even to him. The world froze for a moment as the stadium realized what had happened before a roar of approval began in the upper bowls to wash over the uncertain applause of the lower bowls. In the short of it, Gryzzk had retained authority over a single Vilantian woman who had given her fur to his clan - a clan with no patron Greatlord. The wider repercussions began to make themselves known within moments.

There was a low whispered 'inconceivable' spoken before Greatlord Aa'Lafione snatched his clan dagger up to his hand and roared unintelligible fury at Gryzzk, moving to defeat the immediate cause of his defeat and the most visible architect of his Clan's downfall by the most ancient of natural causes, stabbing someone in the throat - which naturally caused the stab-ee to die.

Gryzzk only had the barest warning from Ah'nuriel before looking and then snapping himself forward from his chair. It wasn't perfect, as he felt the dagger make contact and bite cruelly through his clothes to carve a line into his back. Gryzzk rolled, feinting right and then moving left to take the Javelin into his hands.

This seemed to enrage Aa'Lafione even more; he launched forward heedlessly with his dagger going point-first for whatever was offered first. Gryzzk never remembered even thinking of what to do next, he simply reacted - first sliding right, then bringing the blade of the Javelin around with as much strength as he could muster with one arm to end with the blade of the Javelin slicing through the back of Aa'lafione's legs, severing tendons and forcing the Greatlord hard into the stage.

There was a cry of surprise and shock through the crowd as what they were witnessing became clear. Lumisca shrieked and ran to her husband's side, tearing strips of his shirt off to make a crude bandage as Gryzzk felt the world become heavy. She glared at him as she spoke venom at Gryzzk.

"Finish it. You must. To leave him beaten and yet breathing makes him a coward." It made sense on a certain level. Leaving Aa'Lafione alive meant his Name would not pass to his first-son, but instead cloud the Name with dishonor, bring further humiliation to a clan that was already working overtime to pretend that the eldest child of the generation didn't exist. Gryzzk leaned down, picking up the Aa'Lafione blade and tucking it somewhat safely in the back of his trousers before taking up the Javelin again. Gryzzk held his left arm steady as he spoke, the pain causing him to slip a bit from his normal cadence of speech.

"I've had opportunity to learn more than just the Clan Way. One thing I've seen throughout my learning." Gryzzk paused to form words. "Is that mercy. Is the mark of a great man."

Gryzzk jabbed the butt end of the Javelin solidly into Aa'Lafione's leg, making a squish noise that not quite pleasant but mentally satisfying.

"Guess I'm just a good man."

Gryzzk stabbed again, this time more gently.

"Well, I'm alright."

He leaned on the Javelin again, refusing to deliver a deathblow to the Greatlord as the Legion rushed the stage, with one Cottle tending his wounds and the other moving Lumisca aside to tend rapidly to the Greatlord, ignoring her pleas to let him die with some measure of honor.

The stadium began to slowly empty for further celebration outside as various individuals began rushing to the stage after the Legion - medical personnel as well as the Clan Security who were advancing to ensure that nobody got excessive with their celebration.

Gryzzk looked from Ah'nuriel to Kiole, and then down to Gro'zel who had wrapped herself around his right leg protectively during the melee, and felt...

...safe.

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