The World Within the Web

by Lord Max

Chapter X: Security Mare

There had been more than a few card games played during the journey to the Dreamweave, but the hand in front of Coin was probably his worst so far. Two twos, two threes, a one, and a null, Coin thought glumly as he stared at them. He kept hiding them behind one another and then fanning them out again, as though that would change the small black and white numbers printed on them. Unsurprisingly, it did not.

Coin glanced over at the other players, trying to gauge what he was up against. There were five others, besides him, all crammed into a small dark room below decks in the Wonderbolt, seated around a wooden table. Dustario seemed calm and collected as always, looking at his cards after he dealt them, and the pink-robed Jayson Joyfelt seemed similarly neutral. Dalwin Faust, soft-spoken and sandy-haired, was regarding his hand with an intense scrutiny. Strongshield, the Honest Eye woman with her back to the wall, was frowning at her cards, but since she was almost always frowning it was not much of a tell.

And Kriseroff, who had somehow managed to lose every single game he had played in the past week on board the Wonderbolt, seemed ready to start swearing again. He had handled the first dozen or so losses admirably, but things started going downhill since then, and the last game ended with him pounding on the table hard enough that it spilled his drink over the golden eye printed on his uniform. At the very least, Kriseroff’s persistence was to be respected, even if his skills were not.

At the center of the table were the standard four cards: the lord of swords, the lady of shields, the high of hammers, and the fool of masks, with pile of other cards beside them. Coin’s starting hand was poor enough that he would likely need to discard everything before he could make a single decent play, but he had played enough Lordly String in his time to hold his own. Hopefully I can last long enough to get something, he thought, eyeing the pile of cards in the center.

Dustario eyed each of them. “I have a spare hand, up for sale,” he said, tapping another set of cards that he had dealt out next to his own. The dealer always dealt out two for himself, and could switch if he saw fit, but Dustario seemed content with his first and now left the other up to auction.

Before Coin could make an offer for it, Kriseroff’s hand slammed down. “Here, give it here, Kriseroff will give two.” He moved forward two of the wooden chips they had found aboard the ship, and looked eagerly at Dustario.

“I’ll give three,” Coin said, pushing out the needed amount.

“Four then,” Kriseroff answered intently.

Coin backed down at that, and Dustario handed over the new hand to a triumphant Kriseroff. The large man smiled, then took one look at his new cards and swore bitterly. “Cards, little cards, what is this?” he said, exasperated. “Why do you always have these numbers on you?”

It occurred to Coin that Kriseroff might be doing better if he didn’t loudly announce his disappointment with his own hands, but perhaps this would be the man’s lucky game after all. Certainly, Coin did not raise hopes about his own prospects, now that his own supply of chips were running low. His best hope, so far as he could see, could be to pray for a house card to come his way and play it with the two threes, but it was a weak move no matter what he did.

“All ready?” Dustario asked with a smile. The handsome Honest man was on a winning streak, and seemed confident that he could continue it. He tossed in some chips. “The ‘in’ will be four.”

Reluctantly, Coin pushed in four chips, as his fellow players did the same. Jayson eyed his contemplatively before throwing them in. “If wooden coins could be spent, I think you’d be a rich man before this is through, Dusty.”

“If only,” Dustario answered. “Alright then, throw them.”

Coin considered which one of his cards to throw away, picked the null, and put it down with the cards the others were throwing in. He picked up another card from the deck, and saw it was a six of swords. As he swallowed his disappointment, the sound of footsteps came down the hallway. The quarters they played in was more of a connecting room, in truth, but since there was little room to spare on the Wonderbolt they made use of what they had, and tolerated the fact that people would often edge past them to reach a different part of the ship. They all prepared to move themselves to let this person through, when they saw who it was.

Dressed in white and violet, it was Proximo Hart, the Warden of Generosity’s assistant. “Good evening friends,” he said charmingly, “and how is the game?”

“Wonderful,” Dustario said.

“Terrible,” said Kriseroff, sounding depressed.

“Six save us Kris, have you still not won?” Hart teased. “I’m sorry to say it, but there’s a limit to how much can be blamed on bad luck.”

“Ha ha,” the big man replied sourly, “yes yes, laugh at him. Everyone laugh! We will see soon who is laughing.” He looked at his hand with grim determination, and bit his lip.

Hart worked his way over to a chair. “Anyways, would you all mind if I joined you? Exciting as our mission is, I’ve found myself having very little to do, and any attempt on my part to make myself useful has failed.”

Strongshield did not look up at Hart, and kept frowning at her cards. “Suppose there’s only so many times you can brush your hair,” she said flatly.

“I can attest to that,” Dustario remarked. “Of course you can join us, Proximo. Shall I deal you a hand?”

The assistant wave his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself for now, I think I’ll just watch.” He took a seat between Dustario and Coin, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked over the game.

They played out their hands, but once all was revealed it was Strongshield that swept in the chips. “Another victory,” she said while gathering up her winnings, “and none of you can even keep up.”

“Don’t think we’re done yet,” Jayson said pointedly, “I’m feeling cheerful about this next hand.”

“Hm? Seem pretty calm, for a Laughing Friend that is.”

“I’m smiling on the inside,” Jayson replied. “Smiling on the outside contorts the face too much. The truest joy is within the soul,” he said, quoting the writings of one of the Laughing Friends.

Strongshield rolled her small brown eyes, and looked down to her new hand. “You won’t be smiling anywhere soon.”

“There’s no need to be so serious, friend,” Dustario pointed out.

“A follower of Honesty is always serious, praise the Warden,” she replied.

Proximo Hart was the one rolling his eyes now, but Jayson replied first. “It’s a harmless game of cards. Not everything has to be a competition.”

She snorted. “That’s just what people say when they’re losing. If I can beat any of you in the training yard, I can beat any of you at cards.”

“From my experience,” Proximo Hart said, “there is not a great deal of overlap between those two fields.”

“Besides,” Dustario chimed in, “I seem to remember beating you in the yard, more than once.”

Strongshield fumed. “That didn’t count. If I’d had my axe, you would have been flat on your back.”

“Much as I enjoy the idea,” he replied with a teasing smile, “the simple fact is that I was not flat on my back. In fact, I believe I was standing up, victorious and glorious and surrounded by beautiful lady-fans.” Dustario was giving her an almost flirtatious look.

She scoffed. “Pig.”

“He’s right,” Dalwin Faust said, speaking for the first time. “Except for the last part. There weren’t any lady-fans.” He was still regarding his hand closely as he talked in a very quiet voice. “You’re strong, but rely on it too much. Brute force, every time. When you didn’t have your normal weapon, it was a weakness.”

Strongshield looked at him darkly. “I’ve been in more battles than you can count, and you’re going to tell me how to fight? How much fighting have you seen?”

Dalwin shrugged. “Some. And I can count pretty high.”

“And what if you and I were fighting, hm? Would your counting help you much there?”

“Maybe. Or not.” Dalwin continued to look at his cards, picked one out and then moved it to the other side of his hand. “Dustario counts while he fights, in a way. Every step in sequence, like dancing.”

Dustario laughed. “I was trained in both, actually. I find that a little grace in a clash never hurts.”

“It might, if you aren’t careful,” Mister Hart said. “Treat fighting too much like a game, and you may just dance your way into a grave.”

“Best hope I don’t,” Dustario replied wryly, “I don’t know how you’d manage without me.” He laid his cards down, and showed that he had a minor string. Everyone groaned, and Dustario began to collect up the chips he had won. “And what about you, Mister Hart? You talk about me dancing into graves, but what is your fighting technique?”

“At the moment, my strategy is being cut to ribbons and bleeding out in the mud. It has served me well enough so far.” Hart was smiling, but there was a feeling other than happiness behind what he said, and his hand was hovering over a spot on his chest.

Dustario was arranging his winnings into little piles. “Now that’s a winning ploy if I’ve ever heard one.” He looked over to Coin Counter. “But how could I forget our resident knight? Sir Coin, I’m certain you have some skill with swords, having been in the Authority and all.”

Coin chuckled nervously. “Ah, not really. Every recruit in the Authority has to pass physical training and weapons-work—sword, shield, staff, spear, that kind of thing—but it was never my specialty.”

“Oh, don’t be humble. Come now, I’m certain you could make short work of any of us untrained rubes, sir.”

Coin recalled a time that he was paired against another recruit twice his size during staff training, and was hit in the head so hard that he had to be dragged out of the arena. “I, uh, I really doubt it.”

“So do I,” Strongshield said bluntly. “What about the pink man? Do you sing at all your troubles? How do you fight people?”

Jayson shrugged and twirled his hair. “Usually I just punch them in the groin.”

Dustario burst out laughing. “Is that all?”

“Sometimes I kick them, as well. And then I just keep doing that until they fall over.” Jayson couldn’t suppress a smile as he said it.

Dustario shook his head. “I had seven years of training in the Snowcloud White style of duelling, but apparently I never considered the sheer possibilities that come from the Jayson Joyfelt-style of relentless groin-punching. So what happens if they block your daring blow?”

“Just keep trying. They’ve got to drop their hands eventually, yes? Besides, it’s a very cost-effective technique, because if it’s done correctly there’s little chance of my enemy’s descendants seeking revenge on mine.”

“Remind me to never fight you, Jayson.”

Surprisingly, even Strongshield had to laugh. “Apologies, singer. You have the right idea about fighting after all. Not that it would help you against me.”

Kriseroff, his mood now lifted, bellowed out a laugh. “Would it not, Strongshield-friend? Ha! Take care now, Jayson-friend, she says she is immune to your technique!” He laughed again, then stroked his braided beard. “Kriseroff’s technique is simple, though maybe not so simple as Jayson-friend’s. This one attacks, and then attacks again, and then keeps attacking until there is no one left to fight back.”

“I realized that, from how how you play cards,” Dalwin Faust said softly. “You’ve lost every game, but you keep attacking. Until you win.”

Jayson leaned back in his chair. “There is a level of dedication against which there is no victory,” he said, quoting from the Moderators.

“We’ll see about that,” Dustario replied.

“No no, the friend speaks true,” Kriseroff said thoughtfully. “The persistence of an action, any action, never surrendering, that is how it must be done. That is the Honest way. That is the Warden’s way.”

“Praise the Warden of Honesty,” Strongshield said solemnly, placing a hand on the golden eye printed on her chest.

Proximo Hart scoffed lightly. “Blindly pushing forward, over and over, regardless of whether it works, does not seem like good strategy to me. Warden’s way or no.”

“Ah, for ordinary folk, perhaps it is true,” Kriseroff said. “But with the strength of the Six, and with the strength like that of the Great Honest One, there is no obstacle.”

“None can stand against him,” Strongshield agreed. “He is the true instrument of the Six and One.”

“He might be freakishly tall and strong, but the ‘Great Honest One’ is only a man,” Hart said.

Strongshield’s expression curdled like sour milk. “He is far more than that. If you cannot see it, then you are blind. The Six are sacred, and the Warden is the eye of their godhead.”

Coin did not want to enter the argument, but there had been questions laying heavy on his mind ever since he had first met the towering Warden of Honesty. “Sorry,” Coin said before Hart could give a reply, “but I… well I really haven’t been in the fandom very long. I’ve wondered… who is the Warden? Where did he come from?”

Dustario looked at Coin with an odd expression. “That’s a dangerous inquiry, Sir Coin. Not many have survived asking it.”

“What? What do you— what does— ” Coin stammered out, panicking.

Dustario laughed. “That was a joke, Sir Coin. No, in all seriousness, those are very reasonable questions. I have often wondered them myself.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Coin asked, confused.

“No one knows,” Jayson said. “Well, perhaps Lord Mars and the other Wardens do, but no one else. He came to our fandom in the Chan, during the First Rise, but no one can tell who he was before, or his name, or anything about him. He simply is.”

“And has been, and will be,” Dalwin said seriously. He set down his cards on the table, and looked over to Proximo Hart. “You may not believe it, friend, but Strongshield and Kris are not altogether wrong. The Great Honest One is beyond ordinary men.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Hart answered.

“You will,” Dalwin said.

“I’ve heard some tales about him, though,” Dustario said. “Not one of them agrees with the other, but there’s some I might believe. I’ve heard he was a Mod, actually.”

“Really?” Coin asked, surprised.

“Stationed in the Chan, but once he saw the Works of the Six, he chose to leave and join us. He has the discipline of a Moderator, to be sure.” Dustario had set down his own cards now, wrapped into the conversation. “I don’t know if it’s true, but it could be.”

“I heard talk that he was an anonymite,” Proximo remarked nonchalantly. “The Chan breeds brutal men, and it might explain some of his strange customs.”

Coin could see the truth behind that, but at the same time he was not entirely convinced by either of them. Strongshield leaned forward with a frown. “You’re both wrong. You talk about the Warden like he’s a person, but he isn’t. He’s just the shape of one. That kind of crude being does not exist in him, he is so great. The Warden is an instrument, sent to us by the divine.”

“She is right to say so,” Kriseroff replied, speaking in the most serious way that Coin had ever heard him. It was unnerving to see it, but when Kriseroff spoke of his master, all of the smiles and laughs from before melted away. His dark face was stony, and his dark eyes were as bright and cold as the mountains of his homeland. “Our fandom is the chosen people of the Internet, given light from the World Beyond the Web, and the Warden is the enactor of the Six’s ideals in our world within. The Warden is the finger of God.”

The hairs on Coin’s arm stood up, he was so chilled from hearing such talk. Any Moderator would call it blasphemous to hear them speak that way, but the two Honest Eyes seemed utterly sincere. Jayson merely shrugged again. “I heard someone say that the Warden was a statue given life, and another that said he was a demon that walked in a human body. There are so many tales… are any of them true? Are they all?”

“I believe he was a criminal,” Dalwin quietly said. “Maybe he was a Mod or an anonymite as well, and maybe he is beyond men now. But that’s what I think he was. It’s never ‘I’ or ‘me’, always ‘we’. He destroyed himself. He must have hated who he used to be.”

Jayson Joyfelt and Kriseroff were staring at Dalwin strangely, but Strongshield scoffed. “Blind, all of you. The truth of his power is right in front of you, eight-feet tall, and you ignore it.”

As they continued to argue, Coin thought about what they said. Any of them could be true from what Coin had seen of the Warden of Honesty, but at the same time none of them seemed right to him. None of it made complete sense. Surely if the Warden had just been an ordinary man, or a Moderator, or anyone else, people would know who he was—enormous, one-eyed warriors of incredible strength were not exactly common, nor were men of the Warden’s personality. It would seem as though finding the Warden’s identity would be as easy as searching for tales of unpleasant, near eight-foot tall people in the Chan, and yet no one could say who the man was.

While they talked, however, Coin thought he could hear a sound coming from the hall behind him. It was very faint, just a short tap on wood, but at the same time Coin turned to see if there was someone there. He gasped when the shadow passed over the table.

The others were still arguing, but almost immediately they saw who stood before them and went silent. Kriseroff and Strongshield immediately went down on their knees, reciting something under their breaths, while Dustario and Dalwin stood and bowed. Coin did the same, while Dustario stammered out a response. “M— my lord, what can— “

The Warden of Honesty did not let him finish. His scarred and unattractive face was locked in sight down at his diminutive servants, golden eye glaring at Proximo. “You,” he said to Hart, “Lady Violet requires us. Now.”

Hart stood up, brushed off his clothes, and approached. “My lady sent you to bring me?”

“Yes.” He looked over the others in the room, his eye narrowing. “Talking. About us?”

A nervous Proximo tried to deny it. “Wh— well it was not— “

“Yes, my lord, we were,” Strongshield admitted immediately, practically putting her head to the floor. “A thousand apologies. I take full responsibility.”

The Warden looked at her, but did not seem angry. Or at least, not more than usual. “Hrm,” he grunted. Before he turned, however, his eye fell on Coin Counter. “You. Follow.”

Coin swallowed. “M— my lord?”

“Were asked for as well. By Lady Violet,” the Warden explained gruffly. He seemed almost confused that Coin had not already stood up to leave.

“Me?” Coin stammered. “But wh— “

“Did not ask,” the Warden interrupted impatiently. “This one does not question orders. Nor should that one,” he said with a gesture to Coin. “Now follow.”

As Coin rose to depart, Dustario cleared his throat, and sat down to try and play off the situation. The others pretended to do the same, but all of them were still half-looking at the Warden, as he moved towards the doorway with Hart following behind. “Ah, well,” Dustario said with a tone of feigned nonchalance, “let’s continue, then.” He picked up a card, and gave a nervous smile. “I hope you’re all ready to lose. I’m one away from a string of masks.”

“Liar,” the Warden said matter-of-factly as he was leaving. “No masks.”

Dustario was sweating in his seat, and everyone exchanged a look with him. In his surprise, he laid his cards down on the table. As the Warden of Honesty lumbered away, Coin looked over at Dustario’s hand. Not one of the cards had a mask.

Coin was turning that thought over in his mind every step of the way to Lady Violet’s cabin. He followed closely behind Hart, and as they climbed the wooden staircase to the top deck, Coin looked up to the giant ahead, and wondered.

Powers beyond ordinary men, he contemplated warily as glanced up at the Warden, marching ahead, the will of the Six in human form, the eye of their divinity, the finger of God. That the Honest Eyes spoke of the ‘Great Honest One’ in terms of a god-king was troubling enough, but the lingering doubt in Coin’s mind that their lunacy might have a shade of truth was far worse. In his own experience, the most frightening kinds of fanatics were the ones who were right.

Coin glanced up at the Warden carefully, examining the so-called deity. The man was grotesque, in truth: his skin was pale as a graveworm and leathery as an old boot, so scratched by lines and scars that his face looked like it had been carved from a gnarly stump. Coin was of the opinion that a god would be easier to look upon.

Hart dislikes him, Coin thought as they passed by a few Loyal Friends, their blue-and-rainbow uniforms flapping in the salt-sea wind, and the other Wardens are cautious of him. He recalled the conversations he had overheard in the Citadel of the Six, where the lords and ladies debated over how helpful their compatriot would be. Lady Wright joked about him, Lady Violet had her doubts, and Lord Mars defended him. The Honest Friends love and fear him, and the Honest Eyes think he’s a god. But what does he think of all of them? Coin had never seen the Warden of Honesty give any special regard to the Honest Eyes or their claims to his divinity, but at the same time he clearly never discouraged it. Does he believe it himself? Does he care?

Coin’s thoughts were interrupted when the group stopped at Lady Violet’s door. Rather than knock and wait, the Warden simply barged his way inside without a second thought, leaving Hart and Coin to follow hesitantly behind him.

Coin had never seen within the captain’s cabin: it was as spacious as a room could be on a speedship like the Wonderbolt, with tall bookshelves along the walls, a finely made rug in colors of cerulean, crimson, and saffron in the center, and stately velvet curtains draped to the sides of the windows on the back wall. There was an oaken table standing next to a constellation globe, with four chairs pulled up around it and a full dinner set covering it. Standing towards the back, were two people: one of them Coin recognized as the captain of the ship, Skytide, wearing his blue uniform. The other, with her arms behind her back and her eyes looking out the window, was Lady Violet Brushshape.

The sound of the door opening had made her jump slightly, but she recovered quickly with a beautiful smile. “My honest friend,” she said to the Warden, “you startled me. Did you forget how to knock?” she asked with playful sarcasm.

“No,” the Warden of Honesty replied, sounding vaguely confused at the question. He motioned to Coin and Hart. “Brought them.”

“So I see. Thank you, my friend, though you needn’t volunteer for fetching people on my behalf in the future—I’m certain one of the Loyal Friends would have been happy to help.”

“Hrm,” was the only response the Warden gave. He cast a look over to the other side of the room, one that Lady Violet matched with a knowing smile and a half-nod.

The Warden of Honesty proceeded away, allowing Lady Violet to turn her attention to her guests, while Captain Skytide stepped towards them as well. “My apologies for interrupting your fun, Mister Hart, but you know that I just can’t resist when it comes to that,” she teased.

“I’ve learned to deal with it, my lady,” Hart said with a wave of his hand. “I knew you couldn’t have me far away for long.”

“Oh, hush with that, Proxi,” she chuckled. “But at any rate,” she said with her eyes on Coin Counter, “I was hoping that both you and Sir Coin would be kind enough to join the captain and I for the evening. I hope you’ll forgive the abruptness of the invitation, but tonight seemed as fine a time as any.” She bowed to Coin, and looked at him with her dark eyes, a bang of long purple hair half cascading down her forehead.

Coin swallowed nervously, but smiled. “It is an honor, my lady,” he said truthfully. “But I… well, I’m afraid you’ve got me at a loss.” He glanced around the room, unsure of how he fit into it. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve such a pleasure.”

Lady Violet laughed. “Sir, there’s no need to feel scrutinized. As I understand it, you are the most junior member of the investigation team accompanying us to the Dreamweave, and since I’ve already spoken with so many of the others already it only seemed fair that we all try to get to know one another better. Besides, surely we had to invite someone, yes? Now,” she said with move towards the laid-out table, “won’t you all take a seat? We may have met briefly once before, but I’m afraid that introductions were a bit stunted, considering the recent drama. Consider this my own way of making it up to you.”

Coin was still uncertain, but Lady Violet seemed nothing but sincere, and it would be extremely rude for him to refuse. He took a place at the table, with Captain Skytide seating himself next to him and Proximo Hart joining the lady on the other side. The captain bowed his head to Coin, his hook nose looming downward. “I believe that we have passed by one another by during our voyage, but I’ve never had the honor of an introduction. My name is Captain Skytide, of the Most Loyal Friend,” he said graciously, as though Coin did not already know his name.

“I’m Coin,” he said while returning the bow, “Coin Counter.”

“Well met. I understand that you hail from Central? I was born there myself.”

Coin could have guessed, considering the captain’s features and accent—the manner of pronunciation in the Devien Isles and Central were quite similar, but the captain’s inflexion was just different enough to mark him as Centrellian. It was a stronger, more refined style than the accent that Coin had: though he would not be so bold as to ask, Coin wagered that it was because Captain Skytide was born into one of Central’s prominent families.

Lady Violet delicately reached for a nearby wine bottle, and tipped some of the golden liquid into a crystal glass. “Sir Coin is a knight, as it happens. An adept Knight Regulator, at that.”

Former knight, Coin thought, wondering why everyone seemed to make that mistake.

Captain Skytide looked at him with surprise. “Truly? I happen to have a cousin in the Anti-Piracy Squadron. The Regulators are a sturdy branch, as I understand it.”

“Without a doubt,” Lady Violet remarked. “My family had some experience with the Order of the Fair Trade, operating our vineyards. Good men, and true, though not half as animated as the Knight Censors were.” She smiled at the thought of something. “Remind me Proximo, where was that incident with Sir Julius? It was the Blurr, I know, but was it in Askobarr or…”

“The fair city of Smol Shore, actually,” Proximo Hart said with a grin, “in the arrivals’ port, specifically. You’re referring to the time with ‘justicars,’ yes?”

“Yes! That one exactly,” she laughed, before taking another sip of wine. She reached over to pour some in the captain’s glass, and then continued, “Well, I simply have to share this one. Now, Proximo and I were on a mission at the time to negotiate…”

Coin nodded along with the conversation, but found his attention drifting away to the back corner of the room. He had expected that, after delivering both himself and Hart to the cabin, the Warden of Honesty would have left, but instead he simply took a place in front of the windows, looking out and not reacting to what was being spoken of.

Now why does he linger? Coin wondered. He had no cause to stay, nor did he seem interested in doing so. Coin recalled quickly that Lady Violet had seemed to indicate for her friend to stay with them—what call was there for that?

Coin would have shaken off the slight suspicion if he had not noticed a similar expression cross Hart’s face; while helping Lady Violet tell the story, the assistant shot a few looks over to the Warden of Honesty, then back to his lady. She said nothing, but gave a similar, knowing glance to her assistant. Coin had the strange feeling that there was something unspoken between the two that they were not inclined to share with him.

Before he could do much more pondering, Coin heard some laughter from the others, and heard the tail-end of some amusing anecdote.

“... well, I’m certain you can imagine the surprise he had when the report came in about who we actually were. The nerve of him! Honestly,” she said while pushing a strand of hair from her face, “I was under the assumption that when one claims to not be a homicidal insurrectionist, it would be taken at face value. I hadn’t realized I gave off an… what was it, Proximo?”

“An ‘antipattern disposition,’ my lady.”

“Yes, just so. At any rate, it certainly says a great deal about my apparent ability to intimidate perfect strangers.”

“I’ve known you for years, and I’m still terrified,” Proximo added.

“As well you should be,” Captain Skytide added with a smile, lifting a glass to Lady Violet.

She feigned looking abashed at the praise, when she turned her attention back to Coin. “Ah, but where are my manners? You must forgive me for being so presumptuous, Sir Coin. Here I’ve been, chattering about my own pithy tales with the knights, all while we have a living one here at the table!” She gently took Coin’s glass and poured some golden wine into it, then handed it back to him. “I’m certain you’ve some more exciting tales to tell, seeing your experience.”

“I — I…” Coin stammered, trying to think. The topic shifting to him was not something he was particularly expecting, nor hoping for—he tried to conjure some interesting tale from when he was working with his Order. The time I filed those reports, or the time I balanced those books? Coin wondered, grasping at straws. “I’m not sure I do, my lady.”

Hart waved his hand at the statement. “Nonsense, sir. I’ll have you know, captain,” the assistant said, “that Sir Coin helped smash the Silk Road, in the Deep Web.”

Oh, that story, Coin Counter thought, dreading that conversation that would inevitably come after. He hated talking about himself, especially when it was about things that people assumed were far more impressive than they actually were.

Captain Skytide, ordinarily so stoic, seemed entirely shocked. “Really? Light of life, sir, I had hardly expected to hear something like that. In the Deep Web… forgive me for asking, but I certainly hope you can tell us about it.”

“There’s not… well there’s not much to tell, captain,” Coin replied. A chorus of disagreement from the table told Coin that he was not escaping from this, though, and he reluctantly began. “I, ah, I suppose I can’t speak for the entire operation, seeing that I was only brought in later on. The Authority had been tracking them for years, but they were far into the Deep,” he said, his mind flashing back to what it was like to try and navigate through that Hell, “far enough that they were almost impossible to find. The scout ships can only go out so long, you see, before they have to turn back—otherwise they’ll never come out.”

Captain Skytide shifted in his seat—the thought of the Deep made him uncomfortable, no doubt. “I’ve never ventured that far from the Known Internet, myself. The tales I heard of it were enough for me, though I was affronted by Deepmen once. Fleshtrappers, trying to seize a merchant vessel I was serving on at the time.”

Coin nodded. “That’s their way: there’s no point in hunting inside the Deep, so they raid the fringes for scraps and people to haul off.” No one knew exactly what happened to the men that the fleshtrappers caught alive, though every once in while a few captives would live to tell the tale. Some were sold as slaves, without a doubt, but other reports claimed that the Deepmen had even fouler intentions in mind. “Then they disappear, on certain paths through the place—that’s the only way they can travel safely.”

“Was the Silk Road trading in that?” Hart asked, looking disgusted.

“Most were were smugglers. Drugs, weapons, other Intolerable materials, that sort of thing. There were some who dealt in both, but that’s not what they were known for. Like I said, though, the Authority had been tracking them for years—they were one of the biggest operations. Well, of the ones we knew of, anyways.”

There was no law in the Deep, nor could anyone say what lay within with certainty: everything that the Authority knew was based on what little they could gather from scouts and captured Deepmen. Few settlements could survive in that maelstrom of mist and water, but for all anyone knew there could be massive cities that no one knew of, separated by biting winds and titanic waves hundreds of feet high. No one could even say for fact how big the Deep was, whether it was just a slim border around the Web or a void that dwarfed it in size. “But there was no way we could find it, without knowing the paths that traders would take to reach the place safely.”

Lady Violet took a sip of wine. “No terror compares for women-born than the end of souls in dark water. From the breaking of dawn, the children of morn shall find themselves in black seas,” she said, reciting a poem Coin had once heard about the Deep Web. “Where worlds are lost and sky-waves scorn, the tide of time shall wane and weep…”

“...And let my widow pray and mourn, but follow me not, out to the Deep,” Captain Skytide finished.

“Very impressive,” Lady Violet said with a bow of her head. “I’ve always loved that poem. But please, Sir Coin, continue.”

“Well, ah, there was only one way to find the way to the Silk Road. They would have to have some kind of contact outside the Deep, people who could ship their goods and direct customers. It was just finding them that was the problem, but eventually my superiors got hold of a lead.”

“And that’s where you come in?” Proximo asked.

Coin nodded. “Sir Samuel Harker had me and some others work on combing through finances, finding discrepancies—that’s how we tracked down the connection. After we found out who was being supplied by whom, it was just a matter of tracking them down and getting the information we needed. And once we had that, they gathered a crackdown force to root them out.”

“I suppose, then,” Lady Brushshape said, “that you volunteered to join them?”

Coin hesitated. “More that someone else volunteered me.” Coin had actually not even realized that the research he was conducting would end in a full-scale operation until the moment that Sir Samuel included him on the list of those joining said operation. “Sir Samuel was my mentor, and he wanted me to accompany him. He was very… enthusiastic.”

“I would hate to meet a man who is enthusiastic about entering the Deep Web,” Captain Skytide said. “Meaning no offense, of course.”

Coin chuckled. “None taken. He wouldn’t take offense either, as a matter of fact.”

Lady Violet smiled, nodded, and took a delicate sip of golden wine from her glass. “I’m surprised, Sir Coin. Between this Deep Web business, and your work in Reddit, and your place here with us, you seem to find yourself continually thrust into the strangest of circumstances. The right place at the right time, so to speak.”

He smiled weakly. “Or the wrong way of both. My lady.”

“It almost stretches the imagination.” Her eyes flickered over to the back of the room. “What are your thoughts, my honest friend?”

The Warden had been so silent that Coin almost forgot he was even there. Suddenly, Coin had a strange feeling race over him, like a cold tension at the back of his mind, as though something were watching him. The Warden of Honesty did not move at all or look towards the others when he spoke up. “He is telling the truth,” he said plainly.

“I assumed nothing less,” Lady Violet replied, before taking another small drink.

Coin looked between the two of them, confused by the exchange. There was some unsaid thing between the two of them, something that involved Coin specifically, that did not bode well in his mind at all.

If the lady noticed the curiosity in both Coin’s expression and that of her assistant, she did not acknowledge it, preferring instead to change the subject. “This Sir Samuel you spoke of, you squired for him, yes? For how long?”

“Two years, my lady.”

“And you studied with the Regulators for five years before that, as well?”

“Ah, yes. Yes I did.” She already knows the answers to what she’s asking me, Coin realized. Her assistant must have told her, he thought, remembering the conversation that he had with him some time ago. It begs the question of why she is asking it again, though.

“And then you served in the Authority for another five years after you received your knighthood?” she asked as a follow-up. When Coin nodded, she continued on. “I must say, Sir Coin, that I am glad that you chose to accompany us on this mission, considering your experience. You seem to have spent most of your life either pursuing crime or training to do so.”

Coin thought of pointing out that he had not, in fact, chosen to accompany the mission, but pushed such a self-serving complaint out of his mind. None of that again, he thought, realizing that the only thing that should matter to him be that they were successful, no matter how he ended up on the task. “It has not been as exciting as you make it sound, my lady. Or as unique—there are thousands of knights. Many with greater experience.”

“Ah, but not a single one is on this boat, you see?” She laughed, but then cast her eyes down to Coin’s untouched wineglass. “I do hope you’ll indulge in some wine, my dear sir. An evening is hardly complete without it.”

“I, ah, I’m afraid not, my lady,” Coin said, abashed and embarrassed despite himself. “I haven’t a taste for it, I mean. The Authority has always found men with clear heads to be more able.”

She had a look of faint surprise. “Hm, I knew that the Moderators discouraged such things, but are you not retired?”

Coin blinked, thinking of an answer. Aren’t I? “Well… yes. Yes, I am, my lady, it’s just… well I suppose that…”

“No no no, I understand completely,” she said sympathetically. “Our loyalties to principles do not fade so easily. I apologize if I seemed to pressure you, truly.” Her dark, oval eyes fixed on Coin. “I imagine that it has been quite a shock for you in general, adjusting to life with us—with the Collective, you understand.”

Coin looked down to the floor, and sighed. “Yes, I suppose that it hasn’t all been easy. I… I am quite happy with my choice, but there was a lot to leave behind.”

“Family? Friends?” asked Skytide.

There was a brief silence before Coin Counter answered. “No, I… never knew my family. I was raised in an orphanage.”

“My friend… I am so terribly sorry,” Lady Violet said gently, and with genuine concern.

Coin swallowed, and waved away the sympathy. “It’s… well, it’s quite alright, my lady. I had many teachers, many mentors, and classmates growing up in Central. Serving with them as a Moderator was natural for me.”
        
“More natural than leaving it, I should think,” the lady said, eyes on Coin.

Across the table, Proximo Hart gave a look to his superior. She went on, regardless. “I hope you will forgive my presumptuousness, Sir Coin, but were I in your place, having lived all my life serving one body, one that had guided me since the day I was born, and one I had devoted my studies and livelihood to… it would have taken a great deal to convince me to leave it behind.”

Coin opened his mouth to answer, then closed it when he couldn’t think of a response. “The Six compelled me more,” he answered simply, after some thought. “My friends did.”

Lady Violet considered what he said, and then looked over to the Warden of Honesty again. Reflexively, without even needing to be told, he grunted out, “Truthful.”

The former knight glanced around the room, still confused. It only took another moment for him to realize what the Wardens were doing. She’s testing my loyalty, Coin thought, his mind racing, asking me about my past to be sure I won’t betray the fandom, just as her assistant had asked about before. But this time, she was sure to ask herself… and to have the Warden of Honesty beside her. And he can tell when men are lying, Counter realized. He still didn’t know how it was possible, but Coin had to concede that the talk the others gave about the Warden’s powers may not be altogether false, and that whatever those abilities might be, they were being focused on Coin now.
        
Lady Violet might have noticed his discomfort, considering how she maneuvered the conversation. “Have you ever heard how I came to join the fandom, Sir Coin?”

Coin kept an eye on the Warden of Honesty, looming statue-like in the corner of the room, and shook his head.

“I was younger then, obviously,” she continued, “young enough that I was not entirely sure what I wanted with my life. I was born into a privileged family, you see, so I never lacked for guidance of my own: I was taught the twenty-four brushstrokes, yes, and the four impassioned arts as well. I was taught how to act at formal occasions, how to speak with strangers and relations, how to write letters, how to write poetry, and, of course, what to wear. And I adored it,” she said wistfully, “every moment of it. But despite all these skills, I had no direction to apply them in—no muse, you might say. It was maddening, really. I always had so much, yet others had little, and I couldn’t reconcile myself to truly apply the gifts that had been so kindly given to me. I felt useless, you see—worse, I felt frivolous, more some expensive ornament that others had wasted precious time and money on than one that could actually be put to good use.”

She shook her head, while Skytide, Proximo, and Coin all listened. “Well, perhaps that does not sound like the grounds for some massive crisis, and perhaps in the grand scheme of things it truly wasn’t, but having everything in front of you without a single clue what to do with it was paralyzing, on a very personal level. My lady mother and teachers suggested I join the Knight Censors, while my lord father recommended I go abroad before I came to a decision. I took his advice, as it happens, on the condition that I not disgrace myself too much whilst in front of foreigners.” She laughed. “I did not succeed, as it happens. But I did end up here, in my position, by the time it was over.”

“How?” the captain asked, curious.

“Well,” Lady Violet said, “at first things were quite normal. I traveled to the Blurr, to Central, to the Sea of Sajle and then down to Land of Faces. But while I was there, the further south I got—the closer to the Chan, you see—all anyone in the Saying Sea was talking about was the new war the anonymites were fighting. The Channic have a new war every week, really, but everyone had something else to say: fandoms were fighting each other, some new insurrectionist group was rioting, the Mootking was dead or disgraced or something similar, the Moderators had mobilized ten thousand men… gossip was all over. The Exodus wasn’t underway at that point, but there were converts filtering in nonetheless, art in the markets, preachers on the street. I heard them, and saw some of their work, and I was curious. Very, very curious.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know what I was looking for when I left home. Something… something new. How could I not peek into it?”

“Even in a warzone?” Coin asked, surprised that someone as urbane as Lady Violet would want to wade into something like that.

“Well, that was the plan,” she replied. “By the time I had convinced my escorts that I was still in my right mind, however, the Moderators had already moved in and were setting up their quarantine over Comchan. I heard, though, that many in this new fandom—the ones that could not fight—had been evacuated to some grim little island in the Saying Sea.”

“Sixchan-in-the-Sea,” Captain Skytide said.

“Indeed. And so I packed my many bags, and traveled to see what all the fuss was about, not really knowing exactly what I would find. I remember the first thing I came across when I got off the boat, with all those strange people in colorful tatters running hither and thither. The docks were still handling all of the refugees, you see, but at the same time there was a crowd forming. Hundreds of people, but all quiet and listening to a small man in faded, violet robes. And I was quiet too, and I listened… and the rest, as they say, is history. Well, recent history.”

“I can’t imagine that was what your lord father had in mind when he told you to go abroad,” said Skytide with a smile.

Violet laughed. “Well, perhaps not. But both my parents were pleased as punch when they heard that I had been rubbing shoulders with the High Censor, and that I was a lady in mine own right. Truthfully, I probably could have become pirate queen of the Bay of Masks, and they still would have approved so long as people called me ‘my lady.’” She sighed happily. “Yes, they were proud, even if it was unexpected, and I was even more than that. Before those days, I had classmates and playmates and companions, but I realized soon enough that I was lacking in real, true friends. That’s what I had been missing, and that separation made me… less. Without a path ahead, skills are worthless, and what path is more worthwhile than one to others?” She looked over to Coin, knowingly, as though suggesting he listen carefully and consider what she was saying. “One is hard-pressed to find loyalty without friendship.”

Coin Counter thought carefully about what she was saying, realizing that he had to provide an answer. The Six are friendship, and Loyalty is one of their virtues. Magic entails loyalty, and true Loyalty comes only from the One True Magic, he rationalized. He had his answer. “It was your friendship that bound you to the fandom, my lady?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on Coin. Proximo Hart and Skytide were looking between the two carefully, while the Warden of Honesty stirred slightly in the back.

“It was the same for me, my lady. Not, ah, well not all the same, but I only converted after I met my friends. They helped me.”

Lady Violet contemplated what he said. “What are they like, sir? Your friends?”

Remembering them made Coin smile sheepishly. “Geral and Esten follow the Honest Friend, like myself. Greenheart is sworn to the Kind, but we were all in it together, during the investigation in Reddit. They’re good men, all of them.”

“And the duties we’ve given to you are keeping you from them,” Lady Violet said regretfully. She sighed. “You have my apologies, Sir Coin. It occurs to me that perhaps we did not take your feelings into account properly before requesting your help.”

Coin heard something that may, by some remote chance, have resembled a scoff come from the back of the room. He shook his head at the concerns, however. “No, my lady, it’s really nothing to apologize for. I have a duty to all my friends, not to myself.” He looked to and nodded his head. “I won’t forsake my vow.”

She returned his look, and then glanced once more to the other Warden. The giant said nothing, not looking back. After a moment, he nodded.

Lady Violet smiled. “As I said, I would have expected nothing less.”
        

“What wins the war? Numbers and equipment, say some, but in truth these are irrelevant if one does not have the willingness to fight. The ability to persevere, the total sureness of one’s cause, the utter devotion to success at all costs, these are what make the mind of the fanatic, and it is the fanatic that wins the war.

“We captured a member of a Brony insurrectionist cell in the city earlier today. He and his ‘friends’ were attempting to gain followers and overthrow the Authority stationed here from within the walls. Sir Faith ordered that the prisoner be interrogated, so we might find the identities of his fellow conspirators, but the man refused to speak after hours of questioning. He was a short man, dark haired, wearing orange clothing with a golden eye printed on the front. I gave him a piece of paper and told him that if he wrote the names of the other Bronies in the city, he would receive a lighter prison sentence. I told him, truthfully, that with martial law in place the prison would not be a comfortable place—this was his best chance to escape it.

“He asked for a pencil, and I gave it to him. Before I could think, however, he took it and pushed, slowly, into his own eye. By the time I wrested it away from him, half of his face was covered in blood. Now he resembled his master, the prisoner said. He told us that we had nothing to threaten him with that would frighten him.

“‘There is a level of dedication against which there is no victory,’ or so say our ancestors. We have not been long in the Chan, fighting this war, but now I have begun to doubt our chances of success. They say the Bronies sing when they charge into battle. Who can withstand them?”