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And Therapont, as a hugely influential diamond-wreathed senator, could be the key they needed to break this dwarven puzzle box.

“Yeah, I can hear him,” Melanie told Argrave, standing in this cramped dwarven guest bedroom while he sat on the bed. If Argrave stood, he had to bend his neck slightly to avoid bumping into something. “They took some paranoid measures to keep your hearing out, but I can just make a portal and listen in fine. I think he’s getting some people together to discuss this debate’s strategy.”

“Good. Excellent,” Argrave praised her quickly. “I honestly don’t know how pivotal this debate is going to be, but I want you to listen to everything he’s saying and catch me up when I come back.”

Melanie blinked. “You’re leaving me here?”

“Yeah. I need to find out who precisely this Dario is. I have some suspicions about who it might be, just going off the fact that this person both tried to undermine me and is doing something that a player character commonly does… but I have too little information. I wrote down a little list of people that were advocating for Dario at the meeting. I want to speak to them, with our little dwarven friend’s help—or at the very least, try.”

“Alright. Not very comfortable letting you go out there alone, but I guess you’re not a little kid.” She waved him away. “Well, let me eavesdrop. And be very careful not to make noise when you come back—these portals convey sounds two ways, you know.”

Argrave pointed at her in confirmation as he ducked very low through the door. On the other side, there was a familiar face waiting for him.

“King Argrave…!” greeted Anestis in surprise. “One of our employees said you wished to speak with me. Why in the blazes are you here, sir? Your nation, your country—”

“Can manage without me.” Argrave hushed him with a raised finger as he shut the door to their room behind him. “Forget me—I’m glad you came. Trifon is helpful, yes, but I had something else in mind. Glad I could find you here, of all places.”

“Did you forget Therapont is my father?” He looked down the hallway, where the senate guards stood, but turned back to Argrave. “I told him everything in some hope that he might be your advocate here. Instead… I was just fueling his opposition.” He leaned in close, and Argrave crouched lower to accommodate the shorter man. “My father intends to use your personal character as the crux for much of his arguments. And I’m afraid I told him much, both sordid and superb.”

Argrave considered that in silence for a few moments, then shrugged. “You meant well. But seeing as you’re so grief-stricken, perhaps you can make it up to me. Dario—I need to learn all I can about him, while hopefully dissuading some of the opposition. If you’re a senator’s son, you hopefully have a senator’s connections.”

Anestis bit at his lips and cast glances up at Argrave. “I’m afraid I was more the black sheep of the family than anything, even if I did learn a thing or two… what did you need to get done?”

“Nothing more than an audience.” Argrave smiled.

#####

Though Argrave might be stonewalled if he approached the other senators by himself, he had the good fortune of an access card—namely, Anestis. When he approached the other senators, he allowed Anestis to lead the conversation, acting as though their group came here as ‘Therapont’s son’ rather than ‘the foreign Advocate, Argrave.’ All Anestis asked for was a meeting at a popular dwarven restaurant. In this manner, Argrave could arrange a meeting on neutral ground.

It proved a remarkably effective tactic. People that were ostensibly Argrave’s political opposition welcomed Anestis with open arms… even if their faces did turn to stone once Argrave revealed himself. Some of the more uncouth senators simply walked away—that was their right. But those that had a little shame took their seats, and subjected themselves to Argrave’s inquiries. He felt like a muckraker ambushing some CEOs.

After six successful meetings, Argrave managed to extract a great deal about Dario. For one, he did indeed come from Argrave’s continent, Berendar. Two, he was without magic. That ruled a great many of Argrave’s candidates out. Three, he claimed to be a knight serving a higher master. As for his appearance, he was tall, dark, broody, and somewhat temperamental… but he had a true artificer’s quality about him, allegedly, and carried with him several contraptions of his own making. Among them was an arm-mounted crossbow with the power to rival a ballista.

He sounded quite cool, at least by Argrave’s opinion. But one detail, confirmed by all six parties, dashed his hopes against the stones. Dario did not want Argrave or Vasquer to succeed.

It was remarkably disheartening news that did make Argrave go back to his original suspicion—that Dario was Dimocles, the only one of the nine player characters unaccounted for. He had a reason to hate Argrave—not only had Argrave pillaged his collection, he’d ruined his relationship with Erlebnis and then afterward betrayed him by refusing to return the artifacts he’d stolen. It had been scummy, but that sociopath had deserved no less. Certainly, bizarre artifacts like an arm-mounted crossbow sounded like something that deranged collector might get his hand on.

But Argrave’s intuition suggested that it wasn’t Dimocles’ doing—neither as Dario, nor as the person behind him.

Still, after the first six meetings, Anestis couldn’t catfish any bigshots to pay for their dinner at the nice dwarven restaurant again. Their little scheme had been exposed, and word spread to anyone else they might attempt to hook. The operation fell to pieces as quickly as it had been conceived.

“I may have tanked my reputation as someone who cooperates with a surface-dweller,” Anestis mused as he and Argrave finally managed to enjoy the food of the place they’d been meeting for so many hours.

“Don’t worry about it.” Argrave stared down a lump of suspicious looking meat. Apparently the things here grew off of the energy from lava—he wondered what that might do to the taste. He looked up to lock eyes with the dwarf. “If I have my way, everyone in this city will be cooperating with surface dwellers in a little bit.”

“I won’t lie—I’m not optimistic,” Anestis shook his head, pushing away his dish of mushrooms. “My father has had three careers in his lifetime. He was a miner—working long, hard hours, until his joints gave way. Then, he became an engineer and an artificer, working to perfect the various machines that keep this city running. After all of that, he became a politician.” The dwarf raised his big hands. “In every single path, he became a master. He’s one of the oldest senators, true. But in terms of how long he’s been a senator, he also rose up the ranks the fastest.”

“I know. He’s a skilled orator.” Argrave finally cut into the meat, testing it with his tongue. It was oddly fishy. He bit into it slowly.

“He’s the best debater that most dwarves swear they’ve ever seen.” Anestis shook his head. “And we are woefully unprepared.”

Argrave chewed and swallowed, keeping Anestis’ gaze all the while. “Was he in the debate club?”

“The what?” Anestis leaned in.

“I was. For four days. Then I got shamed by another debater and left.” Argrave chuckled. “What I’m saying is—I might as well be a master. Don’t worry about it.”

Argrave’s sarcastic arrogance only belied a mind working very hard to think of how he might touch the hearts of these philosophical and isolationist dwarves. He knew this wasn’t to be easy.

#####

Early the next morning—or more simply the next day, given Argrave had no grasp on how much time had actually passed—Argrave was called as an Advocate to stand as head of a debate against Therapont, just as had been spoken of all of yesterday. He and Melanie had thoroughly reviewed Therapont’s strategy. It did honestly surprise Argrave how much the senator knew. Anestis hadn’t been lying in saying he’d disclosed everything to his father. With his strategy at hand thanks to Melanie, the aged debater was an easier opponent. The senator, however, was prone to improvise, as befitted his past as an engineer and inventor.

Argrave and Therapont stood side by side on the central platform, all of the senate surrounding them.

“The matter brought before us is an extraordinary one,” the Head of Senate began. “The proposal by Argrave to break dwarven neutrality will be the prime discussion of today’s meeting. To firmly establish both positions, a debate will occur between Therapont and Argrave. Does our Advocate understand the rules of the debate?”

“We give our opening arguments. Then, we both strive to reach consensus by probing the other’s viewpoints.”

Alexius nodded. “Debates are prone to insults of character. Though senate meetings are civil, official debates are another matter. We dwarves are rather proud of our ability to take and give insults freely, as the ability of public officials to suffer criticism, just or not, can help stabilize our governments and dissuade elitism. If you cannot handle that as king… another might take your place.”

Argrave looked to his opponent. “I’d give the same warning to Therapont, I think.”

Therapont smiled as the whole of the senate hall stayed still. Alexius nodded. “Then, Therapont. You may give your opening. You have five minutes at maximum.”

Therapont cleared his throat, then looked right to Argrave. “I will state only facts, Argrave, for they alone are damning. You are the heir to one of the most monstrous tyrants in all of history. When he ascended to the throne, Vasquer was a kingdom located in the center of the continent, flanked by many other powerful others. He was the spearhead behind countless conquests. He claimed the wetlands, genociding its people to the last. He conquered Atrus, poisoning those he parleyed with to gain advantage and using people as hostages to ensure surrender. On and on his wars of greed went, until he claimed half of the continent of Berendar. His schemes knew no bounds. And you are the perfect heir that he always wished for.”

Argrave listened patiently, despite quite disliking what he was hearing.

“You, Argrave, have continued that norm. In your ascent to the throne, only two of your siblings survived. One serves as the head of your parliament, the other as a royal knight. The others? All dead, dying in impossibly mysterious manners. Your eldest brother you killed personally, slaying him and all his guard in personal combat. The others? One died in his sleep, sharing a camp with you. Another mysteriously fell from a tower during your victorious siege of Dirracha, taking your father alongside him. Though it might be argued that slaying tyrants is the just thing to do… you are but a continuance of his dread legacy.

“In your time, the Kingdom of Vasquer has doubled in size, welcoming the entire Burnt Desert into its fold. The Bloodwoods, too, the only place your father’s conquest failed, have forged a close alliance with your kingdom. Its elven people flock to your capital driven by fears you sowed of Gerechtigkeit. Both the Burnt Desert and the Bloodwoods, you entered posing as an ally. And where you stepped, chaos erupted. In weeks, perhaps months, they fell under your spell… and then were yours. You are your father, Argrave, but your method of conquest is smiles and gifts. And now, you come here bearing the same thing.

“Though some might consider it unjust to focus so closely on Argrave’s character, know this—the monarch is the monarchy. Though Argrave claimed to divest power into his parliament, no decisions he did not wish to pass did. The army, and all of the spellcasters of his kingdom, still heed his words. The nobles are beholden not to his parliament, but to the crown. And this institution, this parliament… it is headed by his own sister, and gives voice largely to nobles who had voice enough. Those few commoners that sit in are either magically powerful or simply those rich enough to have the sway of nobility—they are already lords, though without the title.”

Therapont looked at Argrave firmly. “I say this in closing; Argrave is merely the velvet glove to the iron fist. But should we allow him, he will crush us just as he has all other nations he’s interacted with. Conquest is in his blood—that much I will concede.”

As silence followed, Alexius inquired, “Therapont, have you nothing more to say?”

“I am finished,” Therapont confirmed. He took a canteen of water offered to him by one nearby, and studied Argrave intensely.

“Then, Argrave. You may provide your opening argument.”

His opponent had cut right to the heart of Argrave’s actions. But even in the midst of this slander, Argrave managed a smile. It was his turn to cut deep into Therapont… and he felt his knife was all the sharper, having been honed by these words of attack.