webcrawl/APGTE/Book-4/tex/Ch-009.md.tex

\hypertarget{chapter-8-dialogue}{%
\section{Chapter 8: Dialogue}\label{chapter-8-dialogue}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``That is the secret to a peaceful court, Chancellor. Regularly
having the High Lords for dinner.''}

-- Dread Empress Sanguinia I, the Gourmet
\end{quote}

``This is quite refreshing,'' I admitted. ``My experience with your side
doesn't involve a lot of talking. Or at least none that didn't end with
blades drawn.''

The Grey Pilgrim didn't seem particularly offended, but then he'd never
lost that vaguely serene look since I'd first had glimpse of him. Might
be part of his Name. \emph{Or just the result of having seen shit that
would turn my hair white.} No one made profession of kickin villains in
the teeth for over six decades without having stumbled over some old
horrors.

``There are few interlocutors worth speaking to, on\ldots{} `your side',
as you so delicately put it,'' the old man replied. ``One cannot bargain
with madmen and minions.''

``Yet here we are, talking,'' I said. ``Should I take that as a
compliment?''

He laughed quietly.

``If you wish,'' the Grey Pilgrim said. ``Though I will not deny that
Winter's shadow looming in your soul is cause for worry, you have
displayed noticeable restraint. I am not in the habit of seeking
conflict when other roads are open.''

Couldn't say the same, so I wouldn't. Just because I'd learned that
killing often caused as many problems as it solved didn't mean I no
longer recognized that there were fights worth picking. I should know,
I'd yet to manage a godsdamned year as a Named where I wasn't up to my
neck in enemies.

``Funny thing to say, for a man marching with an invading army,'' I
noted. ``If envoys were sent to achieve diplomatic resolution, they
never made it to Laure.''

``And this surprises you?'' he asked, seeming genuinely curious. ``You
have hacked your way through every opposition set before you, and twice
now slighted the Heavens through their ordained servants. There are few,
mundane or Bestowed, who believe you can be reasoned with.''

Bestowed. I raised an eyebrow. Another word for Named, I'd assume, but
from the almost reverent way he'd spoken it there might be religious
implications. More worrying was the fact that he knew how my little tiff
with the Stalwart Paladin had ended. There shouldn't have been any
remaining witnesses to that aside those who wore gaudy wings.

``Look at the graves I've left behind,'' I said. ``What do they all have
in common?''

The Exiled Prince, Page, the Lone Swordsman and his band, Diabolist. The
pattern there was far from a puzzle.

``They were threats to the Kingdom of Callow,'' the old man said. ``Or
at least what you perceive that should be.''

That last qualifier didn't escape my notice, but I reluctantly let it
go. Heroes would be heroes.

``And so that's the question,'' I said. ``What \emph{is} your merry band
of comrades after? Somehow I'm guessing Proceran interests aren't why
you signed on with this crusade.''

``The Empire crafted a doomsday weapon that would have held all of
Calernia hostage to the Tower's whims,'' he mildly said.

``Weapon's broken,'' I said calmly. ``So's the one who made it. You're
still invading.''

``The capacity to create another remains,'' he pointed out.

I hummed.

``All right,'' I said. ``Fine. If that's all then let's get this done.
Bring your army south, I'll take the lot of you through Arcadia and
bring you out on the outskirts of Ater. You can level the Tower and put
to the sword every mage in Praes who has the know-how and inclination to
make another Liesse. Hells, ask nicely and I'll lend a hand.''

He blinked, and the serenity fractured.

``You are not lying,'' he said, sounding baffled.

``Pilgrim, you think I \emph{approve} of any of this shit?'' I flatly
said. ``It's my people who got bled for that weapon. I signed on with
Evil to personally put a knife through the eye of anyone intending to
pull this kind of play on Callow, among other things. You want to bring
down the Tower on Malicia's head? After last year, you can be my
guest.''

``And your mentor in the Vales?'' he pressed.

``Was the one who broke the weapon in the first place,'' I said.
``Someone's going to need to settle Praes after the bloodletting, and if
you have a better candidate I'm all ears.''

He opened his mouth and I raised my hand to signal he should let me
finish.

``I don't mean forever,'' I said. ``But if you approach Black with an
offer that gives him say\ldots{} ten years? A solid decade to make Praes
into the kind of nation that'll no longer piss in the continental
porridge every generation, before he abdicates, I think you'll be
surprised by the answer you'll get. Even if heroic supervision is part
of the terms.''

His eyes narrowed.

``You genuinely believe this of the Carrion Lord,'' he said.

It wasn't a question. \emph{Chalk one up to the man having a
truth-telling ability}, I thought.

``With all due respect,'' I said, ``I know him a lot better than you do.
If he wanted a crown, he'd be wearing one right now. That's not what
he's after. And as long as he gets what he wants, everything else is
expendable -- including personal power.''

``This is\ldots{} an unexpected offer,'' the Pilgrim admitted.

``It's one I'm willing to swear binding oath over,'' I bluntly told him.
``The only real question is whether or not you can get Procer to turn
around if I do.''

``There are other considerations,'' the old man said.

I smiled thinly.

``Like a gaggle of princes wanting to carve Callow into their own little
fiefdoms?'' I said. ``I'm honestly disappointed, Pilgrim. You're willing
to kill your way through Callow so that likes of Amadis fucking Milenan
gets his way?''

``I have been courteous to you, child,'' the Pilgrim spoke curtly. ``A
grace that should be returned equally. Has is truly escaped your notice
how much of a threat you are?''

``Which of us is invading the other's country again?'' I asked, then bit
my tongue.

Losing my temper here would bring no gain.

``I\ldots{} apologize,'' I said through gritted teeth. ``Much of this
tries my patience.''

He nodded silently, the serenity back on his face.

``You are Queen of Callow,'' he said. ``You are also a villain.''

``Fucking Hells, am I tired of hearing that,'' I replied, anger
immediately flaring again. So much for restraint. ``I didn't sign on
with the side that tosses around demons out of great sympathy for their
philosophy, Pilgrim. I did it because I could not find a single other
working alternative. Where was this coalition of yours, twenty years
ago? Where were all these upstanding heroes during the Conquest? You
don't get to throw it in my face that I'm an evil when Evil was the only
game in town. I may have failed spectacularly, but the other choices
were either a doomed rebellion or just lying down and taking it. Callow
crowned me because it's desperate, and it got this desperate because
\emph{help never came}.''

``Simply by being who you are, you darken Creation,'' the Grey Pilgrim
replied calmly.

My fingers clenched, but he raised his hand to prevent the harsh reply
on the tip of my tongue. Courtesy for courtesy, huh. I didn't like it,
but I was willing to bend my neck that far.

``This is not a condemnation, it is a fact,'' the old man said. ``You
rule in Callow. Your story is its story. Already, I suspect, you will
have seen the effects of this. Your people becoming warped by your
presence, old traits grown more vicious or acute. Whether you realize it
or not, you are slowly turning your home towards the Gods Below. If you
rule long enough, the Kingdom of Callow will sever its allegiance to
Above.''

\emph{But if losses must be had, better Proceran than Callowan}, Brandon
Talbot had said. Giving his approval to the slaughter of thousands. The
chance the hero might have a point cooled my temper, but only so much.

``And that justifies killing people who still pray at the House of Light
right now?'' I replied. ``Even assuming you're right -- and I'm taking
this with a grain of salt -- if all the Heavens have to offer is a
slaughter then, honestly, fuck the Heavens.''

``Think, Black Queen,'' the Pilgrim grimly said ``Beyond your anger and
grudges, \emph{think}. Of what it really means for all of Calernia if a
nation as pivotal as Callow turns to Evil. Already, to be a hero is to
be the corpse that will hold the dam in the face of the flood. If the
Kingdom turns, the fragile balance of this continent breaks. Procer
weakens. The Chain of Hunger and the Dead King will tear into its flesh,
and when it dies darkness will spread across the land.''

``What I'm getting from this,'' I coldly replied, ``is that that keeping
the Principate propped up -- no matter what it does -- matters more than
the lives of innocents. If that's the argument your side is making, then
you might just be praying in the wrong direction.''

``All of this rests on the fact that it is you who rules,'' the old man
said.

``And if I abdicate, can you guarantee that Callow will be left
untouched?'' I asked. ``Will you swear on your Gods that if Procer tries
to annex it, you will turn your sword on whoever is trying? Or even that
you'll stay out of my way and let \emph{me} take care of them?''

``I do not rule Procer,'' the Grey Pilgrim softly said. ``And if I take
the field against them, too many would follow. It would birth a war as
dangerous as this one, in many ways.''

I smiled bitterly.

``The terms I offered you have so many concessions in them I'd probably
have to fight a civil war to enforce them,'' I frankly told him. ``If
even that isn't enough, then I think we can dispense with the pretence
that there was ever anything but conflict on the table.''

``And so now we are enemies, confirmed,'' the Grey Pilgrim said. ``And
you may unleash your arsenal of horrors with peace of mind.''

I shook my head.

``That isn't the kind of war I'm going to be fighting,'' I said. ``I've
been down that road before. If I escalate, so do you. The thing is, you
and I, we get to crawl out of those ruins. `cause someone Above or Below
decided we mattered enough. That courtesy isn't extended to nearly
everyone on Calernia though, is it?''

I scoffed.

``Oh, I won't pretend I'm not sitting on some nasty stuff. So are you.
But even if I used it, even if I won, what would that accomplish? I
bleed Procer into a truce, but that truce doesn't survive me. All that
does is kick the next war thirty years down the line. Nothing is
\emph{solved}. I'm tired of seeing Callow turned into the battlefield of
Calernia, Pilgrim. So are Callowans.''

``Heed an old man's advice, Catherine Foundling,'' the Pilgrim said
tiredly. ``The world can only be healed so much.''

``I don't believe that,'' I said. ``My teacher dedicated his entire life
to breaking this game, but that's a reflection of his flaw -- he can't
conceive a world where he doesn't win. I'm willing to settle for the
lesser prize. What I can't break, I would \emph{regulate}.''

``Some might construe such a boast as blasphemy,'' the old man said.

``Aren't you tired of killing kids because they're sworn to the wrong
side?'' I asked quietly. ``I know I am, and you've been at this for a
lot longer.''

``There is not a single life I've taken I have not regretted,'' the Grey
Pilgrim sighed. ``No matter the deeds to their name. To inflict death is
to end the possibility of redemption, and that is the greatest gift the
Gods have granted us.''

``It doesn't \emph{need} to be like this,'' I said. ``We're the dogs in
the pit, but what does that ever really accomplish? One bleeds, another
dies, and then they release another hound. The pit's still there even if
one side gets a winning streak.''

``Some of those hounds have gone rabid,'' the Pilgrim said. ``I grieve
their deaths, but I will not allow them to bite children.''

``And those should be put down,'' I agreed flatly. ``But we don't need
wars for that. We just need rules that both sides are willing to
enforce.''

``An agreement,'' he slowly said. ``Such a thing would be without
precedent. And there are many who would balk.''

``Every single Named is a highly dangerous weapon, in their own way,'' I
said. ``Any unwilling to accept constraints placed on their actions have
no business wielding that kind of power in the first place. And before
you ask, I do not exclude myself or any ally of mine from that
statement.''

He studied me silently.

``For such a thing to hold, there would be need for trust where none
exists,'' he said.

``Then we begin with something smaller,'' I said. ``Rules of engagement,
for your host and mine. Would you be able to enforce these?''

``Within limits,'' he said. ``I am not without influence and the Saint's
reputation has its uses.''

``If you don't sack cities, neither will I,'' I offered.

He nodded.

``Agreed,'' he said. ``Innocents should not be made to suffer. You must
refrain from using demons.''

``I'll swear to that, if you refrain from calling on angels,'' I said.

He frowned.

``The nature of those interventions is different,'' he said. ``The
Choirs are not a blight, their purpose is to aid in the rectification of
wrongs.''

``There kind of r\emph{ectification} they would have offered at Liesse
when the Lone Swordsman reached for Contrition was a wrong itself,'' I
flatly told him. ``It was ugly as the things the Empire pulls. And
that's besides the point, anyway: if you use something of that scale,
then I have to deploy an equivalent or you're just going to walk right
through us.''

``The Choirs have been known to extend hand when defeat looms,'' the
Pilgrim told me. ``There is difference between call and offer.''

``You think your side's the only one afraid of dying?'' I said.
``Calling demons is probably the single worst thing a person can do,
objectively speaking, but it feels a lot more acceptable when the
alternative is getting stabbed in the throat. We can't prevent
escalation if your bargaining position is that we fold but you don't.''

The old man stayed silent for a long while.

``I will concede,'' he finally said, ``if you swear away devils as
well.''

No great loss for me there. I'd never approved of using those either.

``Done,'' I grunted. ``As a gesture of goodwill, I'll add a warning.
There's a demon from Dread Empress Triumphant's day bound somewhere in
the vicinity of Harrow. My people believe it might be one of Absence.''

``A Hell Egg, after all these years?'' he said, brow rising. ``I thought
none remained within Callow.''

``Would that this were true,'' I ruefully said. ``I don't know exactly
where it is, or what keeps it bound. Odds are it's an old Legion
standard but I can't guarantee it.''

He inclined his head in thanks.

``I will discuss this with the others,'' the Pilgrim said. ``If we can
slay it, we will.''

``So long as you keep the fight \emph{contained},'' I sharply said. ``If
a chunk of the north suddenly no longer exists, I'll consider that a
breach of terms.''

``If have fought their like before,'' the old man said. ``It is ugly
strife, but there are ways about it.''

I didn't like the risks involved in this, but then I wasn't all that
happy about that unlit sharper staying buried near Harrow either. If
they could kill it without making a mess I wasn't going to complain. If.

``I want prisoners well treated, even Praesi and greenskins,'' I said.
``Neither beaten, tortured nor otherwise harmed. I'll extend the same
treatment to anyone I capture. I'm also willing to arrange regular
prisoner exchanges when the campaign allows.''

``There are evils I have been forced to make peace with,'' the Pilgrim
said with iron in his voice. ``Torture is not one of them. You may be
certain I will allow no such thing so long as I draw breath. The matter
of exchanges, however, will have to be discussed with the Princess of
Aequitan. Answer will be given before battle.''

I nodded. I wasn't sure Malanza would bite but it was worth a try.
Morality aside, I needed my officers much more badly than she did hers.
If she cottoned on to that she might just decide to sit on them. On the
other hand, the Procerans tended to make officers of their relatives.
They might want the assurance of being traded back if they got captured.
We'd see.

``No killing of anyone offering surrender,'' I proposed.

``So long as that surrender is genuine, and no attempt at treachery is
made,'' he countered.

I grimaced but nodded. Fair enough. I'd need to ride my sappers hard
about the treachery clause in case they ever got captured. They did like
to offer `surrender' in time for the enemy to walk into a field of
buried munitions.

``Those are the terms I have to offer, at the moment,'' I said. ``Unless
you have anything to add?''

``No,'' he said, after a moment. ``This will serve.''

He sighed.

``You are right, you know,'' he said quietly.

I had a few pithy responses to offer, but I kept my mouth shut. And to
think they said I couldn't do diplomacy.

``It is shameful, that Callow was left under occupation for so long,''
the Grey Pilgrim said. ``That we only ride to relieve in in fear of what
your coronation represents.''

Limpid blue eyes looked up at the morning sky.

``This does not absolve you,'' he said. ``But there is truth in what you
say. We stand burdened with the guilt of inaction. For that alone, I
grieve that it must come to blood. You are the sin of our indolence
returned to haunt us.''

``I don't want to fight you at all,'' I said. ``But I will not bend my
neck to the kind of ending you peddle.''

He sighed.

``We will try to slay you, on the field,'' he said. ``Even I. Much
suffering can be avoided by your death, however tragic that ending.''

``Suffering is the nature of human condition,'' I said. ``We are what we
do with that. I choose to give it a purpose.''

``It does not sound,'' he gently said, ``like I am the one you are
trying to convince.''

``None of that, now,'' I said, wagging my finger. ``You want to fight
for a side that's not exactly driven snow? Fine. Disappointing, but
that's the world we live in. But you don't get to pull the grandfatherly
act afterwards.''

He smiled sadly.

``Am I not allowed to grieve the sight of a child who mutilated her own
soul trying to make a better world?'' he asked.

I flinched. That struck closer to home than I would have liked.

``I am my mistakes too,'' I said. ``Not just my victories. And I knew
going in that power comes at a cost. No one gets to eat the first course
then balk at the bill. Grieve all you want, but someone recently told me
that grief without corresponding action is meaningless. That applies to
both sides of the fence, I'd think.''

``All your plans,'' he said. ``They are dust, if you do not survive to
attempt them. All that would be left is the costs.''

``Isn't that always how it is?'' I tiredly replied. ``There's a reason
it goes `change the world or \emph{die trying}'.''

And on that cheerful note my first talk with the opposition concluded.