Silver Blades: A Duel Nature

Part 1, Section 1 - The Silver Blade

Lundora Empire Year 3252, the 30th of Solist

Pertuli.

The shouting outside our private dining area rose to its most enthusiastic crescendo yet.

"Tuli," Riposte begged, "be a good man and see what all that racket is about, hm?" He seemed unwilling to pull his eyes from the cup before him. His talent to nurse a snifter of brandy was second to none in both endurance and gravity.

"Must I?" I asked with a glance from the bench where I reclined. "You know—if we hired lackeys like other men of our standing, this difficulty would never arise. With a word, off yours or mine would run, and before you considered another sip of that poison, news would be returned forthwith and the heartache and tension of not knowing would be erased, so our night would continue as planned. You in your cups, and myself in continuing contemplation on the nature of existence, especially the amusing state of yours. It would be unsurpassable luxury."

"Why do you do that?" asked my melancholy friend.

"Hm?"

"Act as if I'm holding you back, when you know very well you would never subject a servant to your whims."

"Ah," I said, as if the observation had not come up regularly for years. "Well, as they have become rather fashionable, I might be persuaded to try it. Someone to arrange my wardrobe, deliver letters, make reservations, find out what all that noise is about—might be nice." The last bit I directed toward the offensive noises in question.

The disturbance had unquestionably progressed into the Silver Blade's hallowed halls. Angry outsiders were insisting on entry and making a good show of it. Surprising. There weren't many in the city who would make it far into the Silver Blade guild house without authorization. Perhaps they were due some respect. If they would go away and stop making my head throb, I just might give it to them.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rip countered. "Servants are a human tradition. You would never follow a trend so far beneath you."

"You've had servants—shiploads of them." I knew what he would say, but I didn't care. On this subject he was quite hypocritical.

"That's because I was raised among humans, as you well know and point out to me at every opportunity." There it was. "I've had a handful of employees over the years who were extremely well compensated for their services, and who made my various endeavors remarkably profitable."

"But not one for the last twenty years at least, and certainly not one who was timely enough to investigate the disturbance outside."

"No, alas," he agreed. "But then, that is why I keep you around. Make yourself useful, would you?"

I rolled my eyes toward the door and mourned the distance. Could it be worth the effort? I had been lying there for quite a while. I was due a stretch, I supposed.

I unlaced long fingers from behind my head and rolled upright to sit astride the plank, stretching languidly. "Very well, but only because I am as curious as thee."

"You," he corrected.

"Hm?"

"No one says 'thee' anymore."

"As a matter of fact, I do when it suits me," I rebutted.

"No one of consequence, then."

"Ho ho," I mocked. "I happen to know a number of tilwen who have kept up the high languages from humanity's more civilized days."