SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Poisoned Gift (New)

Poisoned Gift

Juturna settled in at Camilla’s side, wriggling a little on the settee as she leaned against her, as though she were trying to burrow in.

Camilla placed one arm around her, squeezing her reassuringly, making the leather of Juturna’s jacket crumple and squeak.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Juturna was silent for a moment. “Is he … is he going to be okay?”

Camilla didn’t need to ask what this was about. This business with Lord Kiro … it had them all worried, including Turnus himself, as he had made clear on his last call, informing them that he was coming home.

The return of the Heart of Mistral was of great symbolic importance; it was a victory, long delayed, over the Valish; the fact that it had been obtained through a sort of blackmail was … actually, it was of great importance, because it added to the sense of victory: Mistral, the defeated, now had victorious Vale over a barrel and could dictate terms to them, at least in a symbolic sense.

You could not call something ‘the Heart of Mistral’ without it acquiring a degree of outsize importance compared to what it was: there were other jewels mined from the mountain; there were those that were worth more; probably, there were some that were larger too, although there were probably not any comparable rubies. And yet, despite the fact that it was just a jewel, just a ruby, by virtue of its name, it had become something more. It was … it was the Heart of Mistral, dug out of the rock of the mountain itself, a treasure of the Emperors, a treasure graciously bestowed upon his most beloved daughter upon her wedding day, a treasure lost in the greatest battle in recorded history. Lost in the battle where Mistral’s pride and honour had perished, withering in the flames.

When the dust had settled upon the field of Four Sovereigns, the Emperor of Mistral had laid down his crown and renounced the imperial dignity; many great heroes like Achates Kommenos had lost their lives, their like not to be seen in Mistral again; and the Heart of Mistral had been lost, plucked from the corpse of he who had borne it as though they had cut the heart out of his chest.

The fact that, in Mistral, it was not uncommon to preserve the hearts of particularly noted or accomplished ancestors — the heart of old Lord Rutulus, the heart which had welcomed Camilla into his family, was kept in an urn down in the family crypt, even as the rest of the old lord had been cremated and his ashes given to the wind — only added to the symbolism of the thing.

And so, for that reason, to have recovered the Heart … it may have been only a gemstone to the Valish, but to Mistral, it was something far more, the recovery of a little bit of that which had been lost in the Great War, when so much of Mistral’s chivalry had been cut down like wheat before the harvest scythe and sickle.

But now the Heart was lost, and although it was not Turnus’ fault, he considered it his fault.

More importantly, perhaps, he feared that he would take the blame.

Camilla could understand his fear, unfair though it was; it was Lord Kiro’s fault, he was the one who had decided to abscond with the Heart — and attempt to murder Turnus, and Lady Pyrrha besides — but he was gone, missing; no one knew where he or the Heart could be found. And so there was at least a chance that public opinion, heedless and quick to anger, would turn on Turnus for his failure to bring the Heart of Mistral home.

And that was to say nothing of the reaction of the Steward and the Council.

“I … I don’t know,” she admitted. “Turnus’ reputation, and that of Rutulian Security, may suffer; it would not surprise me, unfair though it is, if certain work dries up in the aftermath of this.” I wouldn’t expect to be invited back to this year’s FanFight Expo, for instance. “But there are those who will remember the good work that Turnus has done — Countess Coloratura, for instance. We will not be completely out of work.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Juturna said.

“I fear that, for Turnus, it would be quite bad enough,” Camilla murmured, for he was a proud man; a man who, without his pride, would not be himself.

A man whom, if he were not a proud man, she would not love quite as she did.

“Yeah, but…” Juturna trailed off for a second. “I mean, it could be worse, right?” She looked up, her blue eyes seeming especially large today. “Or could it actually be worse, and you’re just not telling me because you don’t think I can handle it.”

“I would not want to alarm you unduly,” Camilla murmured.

Juturna pouted. “Come on, spit it out.”

Camilla hesitated for a moment. “There is … also the social aspect to consider, as much as the business one. The reputation of the company, Turnus’ own reputation, the reputation of this family, they … they are all one and the same, in many ways.”

“Yeah, but if Turnus cared about his reputation that much, he would have—” Juturna’s words came to a sudden and abrupt halt. “I mean, um, that he would … you know what, it doesn’t matter, let’s—”

“Were you about to suggest that if your brother cared about his reputation, then he wouldn’t keep me in the house?” Camilla suggested.

“Not in a bad way,” Juturna insisted. “Just, like, some people think it’s odd, and some of them even say so, but big bro doesn’t care. Or he does care, and he kills them, but either way, the point is that you're still here, and just so you know, to be absolutely clear, you are absolutely worth losing the good opinion of some jackasses who can’t see how good you are.”

“That is very kind of you,” Camilla said, “and believe me, I am … I am not unaware of the sacrifices that your brother and your father made for my sake in terms of reputation and standing in the eyes of their peers. I can only hope that through my actions, I prove myself worthy of such—”

“Are you kidding, you already—”

“But I fear that we are talking about even worse now,” Camilla said. A frown creased her features. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you were disinvited to Yan Ming’s birthday party.”

Juturna snorted. “I didn’t want to go to that anyway. Yan Ming is really up herself. Just because her mom is on the Council, she acts like she’s better than me. And who are the Mings, anyway? They’ve only been noble for like five minutes or something. And I hate her boyfriend too.” She paused. “I also hate the fact that she has a boyfriend. Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Oh, yeah, it’s because the two of you scare everyone away.”

Camilla didn’t respond to that. Rather, she said, “The point is … this will damage Turnus’ standing socially as well as financially. I fear it will, and I think he fears it will also. This is—”

“Really unfair?” Juturna suggested. “I mean it’s not like it was his fault.”

“Indeed not,” Camilla replied. “How was anyone to know that our client, scion of an old noble family, would attempt such wretched and dishonourable deeds? What was Turnus supposed to do to guard against the man who had engaged him for his protection? And yet, the world can be cruel and unkind, and its judgements based not on evidence so much as on how much that judgement will enable people to feel smug and superior about their pre-existing prejudices and preconceptions. I am afraid that people who disliked Turnus, or disliked Rutulian Security, or wanted your brother brought low will seize on this evidence as reason to confirm that they were right all along.”

“You mean like with Pyrrha?” Juturna asked. “I mean … would it sound awful if I said I’d like to believe all the things that they’re saying about her were true, that she was working with that … what was her name, Ash?”

“Cinder,” Camilla said. “Cinder Fall.” She paused for a moment. “I met her. She joined us on the Karkadann hunt. I wonder if I should have known that there was something amiss with her. She was … a little odd.”

“Lots of people are odd, or get called odd,” Juturna said. “It doesn’t make them evil.”

“But you would believe the worst of Lady Pyrrha?” Camilla asked.

“I mean, I’d like to, yeah,” Juturna replied. “I mean, come on, she’s insufferable! Perfect Lady Pyrrha, the size of a giraffe and so pretty with that bright red hair, and everyone thinks that she’s so marvellous and so talented, and the worst part is that she really is that talented and that pretty, and she has a boyfriend, and she’s only a year older than I am, and everything is perfect in her perfect little life, and it’s absolutely infuriating! I mean, wouldn’t you love it if she turned out to be evil so that you could hate her without having to feel bad about it?”

“No,” Camilla said flatly.

“That’s because you’re too nice,” Juturna grumbled. “You’d be infuriating yourself if you weren’t … so nice.”

“Thank you, I think,” Camilla said.

“The point is,” Juturna went on, “that she’s just too good, at everything! It’s really annoying! How are you not annoyed by it?”

“Perhaps because I don’t see myself as being in competition with Lady Pyrrha,” Camilla said softly.

“Maybe you should,” Juturna muttered. “The point is, if I could think that she was actually this terrible person and I could hate her with good cause, that would be great for me.”

“But you don’t believe it?” asked Camilla.

“Nah,” Juturna said. “She’s too perfect to be evil, I think. And besides, you said that fight looked real, not faked.”

“I think you would have to be very bold to risk death staging such a combat,” Camilla said. “Especially the way it ended. And, in any case, I do not believe that Lady Pyrrha has designs against Mistral. She does not strike me as the type. But, as you have just proven, there are those who are…”

Juturna smiled. “You can say it. I won’t be mad.”

“Who are driven by envy,” Camilla said quietly, and sighed after she said it. “Juturna, I’m not sure it’s very good for you to feel that way.”

“Why not?”

“Because envy feeds on the soul,” Camilla said. “Like a caterpillar on a leaf, or worse. It corrupts and devours.”

“You think?”

“I know,” Camilla replied.

Juturna fell silent, her big blue eyes blinking rapidly. “You … you know?”

“Did you think that I do not feel envy?” Camilla asked. “Do you think that I am so inhuman, so made of marble, so … so good as gold that I do not feel jealousy of her, of the way that Turnus … desires her. Yes, for her name, for her family wealth, for political and social advantages, but also … also for how beautiful, how graceful and elegant in motion — even on the battlefield, where grace is married with beautiful deadliness as puts to mind a leopard on the hunt — how vivid green her eyes, how red her hair. How her complexion is fair but not colourless … not pasty pale as mine.”

“Hey,” Juturna said, squirming where she sat, twisting her whole body around so that instead of leaning into Camilla by the shoulder, she was instead resting on her belly, body squashed against Camilla’s side like she were some kind of climbing rodent and Camilla were the tree. “Hey,” she repeated. “There is nothing pasty or colourless about your complexion, girl; you are … you’re like a winter morning, and … and green eyes suck anyway, who cares? Ugh. You … you’re beautiful.”

A smile pricked at the corners of Camilla’s lips. “You are very kind,” she murmured. “Unfortunately, you’re also not the one I want to impress.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Juturna insisted. “It might take him awhile, but he’ll get there in the end.” She grinned. “Hey, if he does get shunned by everyone, he’ll be spending more time in the house with you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Come on, we have to look on the bright side, right?” Juturna asked. “Do you really think that all of that stuff will happen?”

“I think…” Camilla trailed off. “You thought you had distracted me from talking about your envy, didn’t you?”

“It is the least interesting thing we could be talking about,” Juturna declared. “But, if you insist … how did you deal with it?”

“By reminding myself that Turnus’ happiness is dearer to me than my own,” Camilla said, “and by reminding myself that if you really care about someone, then you would rather they were happy with another than unhappy with you.”

“As I said,” Juturna replied. “Far, far too nice.”

“Mmm,” Camilla murmured. “Perhaps … perhaps if you found … if you found something—”

“Are you telling me to get a job?”

“Or a hobby?” Camilla suggested weakly.

“I have hobbies!” Juturna cried vehemently.

“You don’t…” Camilla searched for a kind way of saying ‘you don’t put a lot of effort into any of them’ and found none. Therefore, she decided to drop the subject. It wasn’t her place to talk to Juturna like this in any case, not after all that the Rutulus family had done for her.

Not her place at all, but she might mention it to Turnus when he returned.

Assuming that he didn’t have enough other things on his mind. She didn’t want to burden him unnecessarily.

“I suppose the point is,” she said, “that there are those, driven by envy, who will take any excuse to attack Turnus.”

Lord Thrax was said to be paranoid of his position, fearful of losing it; it was one reason why Turnus had never outfitted Rutulian Security with a full range of Atlesian toys. They had once talked about buying a spider droid or two — Turnus had preferred the short-range cannon variants for direct fire, but Camilla might have welcomed a howitzer or missile variant for longer range support — but in the end, Turnus had decided that such weapons would be seen as too dangerous in private hands and might draw a response from the Council. It was a line that all private security and mercenary groups walked, in this kingdom without an army. Camilla doubted that they were regarded with such suspicion in Atlas, or even in Vale, where the council had a firm hand on the monopoly of violence, but in Mistral … in Mistral, a paradox prevailed wherein independent groups flourished in the absence of central power, but at the same time, central authority looked at those independent groups askance and with suspicion.

Now that Mistral was raising an army and making a navy, that might change. As Mistral’s own forces grew, so might the scope for groups like the Rutulians to arm themselves without seeming dangerous.

That was why they were keeping a couple of Paladins and a spider droid bought from Atlas hidden in a shed rather than turning them over to the authorities, waiting in the hope that they could be revealed some day.

Although with the Paladins, they were meeting the difficulty that nobody really wanted to learn to pilot them. Nobody wanted to be known as the person hiding in an armoured shell while their comrades risked their lives; nobody wanted what was seen as an unglamourous job; these were Mistralians, after all.

Camilla glanced down at Juturna, who had resumed lying on her back against her side. “Juturna?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Would you…?” Camilla hesitated.

She should probably discuss this with Turnus first. He would be justifiably wroth with her if he found out that she had discussed this behind his back. Now, he had never been angry with her, in the time that she had been here, but that was in part because she’d never done anything to make him angry, but this would give him cause for anger, if anything would.

But … Juturna had shown some interest in going into the field at times. She had even accompanied them on rare occasions. Not often, admittedly, but that was because it was dangerous. It might be less dangerous in the cockpit of an Atlesian war machine.

And before she was ready to take it out into battle, learning how to operate the machine to its fullest potential would give her something to do.

Something she might even find cool.

It was something to suggest to Turnus, in any case.

“Camilla?” Juturna prompted.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Camilla said, because this wasn’t something to be raised without Turnus’ knowledge. “The point is … the point is that I think that may get a little rough in the near future.”

There was a knock on the door into the sitting room.

Camilla looked over her shoulder and over the back of the settee, looking at the red door behind them. “Yes?”

The door opened, and Gyas folded and unfolded himself through the doorway. There were a few large men, tall or powerfully built men, in Rutulian Security — Turnus himself was one such — but Gyas was a particularly large man even by those standards, so much so that it took some effort on his part to fit through the door and into the room, and his head came very close indeed to touching the ceiling when he had done so.

“There’s someone at the door to see Lady Juturna,” he said, his voice a bass rumble. “Says that he’s been here before. Says his name is Watts.”

“'Watts'?” Juturna repeated, scrambling up the sofa so that she could be seen over it. “Doctor Watts? Skinny guy with a moustache?”

Gyas nodded. “Looks so thin I could snap him in half with one hand.”

Perhaps it would be as well if you did, Camilla thought, recalling what Opis had told her and Turnus about his last visit, about all the unwise things that Juturna had told him. Why had he come back? What did he want now?

She was tempted to tell Gyas to go back and tell this doctor to go away and never darken their door again, but if he had come for some dark purpose — blackmail, perhaps — then she would rather hear it in the house than hear he had gone spreading word of Juturna’s foolish thoughts to other ears.

After all, in the house, I can have him killed, if need be.

Camilla did not consider herself to be an unkind woman; Juturna had called her too nice, and though it was not intended as a compliment, Camilla took it as one. She did not feel it either shame or crime to practice kindness; after all, she had needed a great deal of kindness herself in her life.

Kindness that had been done to her by the Rutulus family, from the old lord who had taken her into his home, to Turnus who had made her his right hand, who listened to the council of a faunus girl above men of lordly family like Lausus or Mezentius, seasoned huntsmen like Ufens or Messapus.

This was her home, and she would defend it if she had to, and the men of Rutulian Security were as loyal to her as to Turnus himself; they would obey any order that she gave them, faunus though she was.

She could kill a man here, and with the help of her men, no one would ever know that she had done it; certainly, she could kill an Atlesian doctor who would not be missed in Mistral.

Camilla removed her arm from around Juturna and got to her feet. She did not have Diana’s Devotion with her, but she was wearing Valeria Victrix at her hip. Her hand strayed towards it for a moment.

“Send him in, Gyas,” Camilla said. “I will receive him here.”

He did not question her on that or remind her that Doctor Watts was here to see Juturna. Achates had allowed this stranger into Juturna’s presence, but Camilla having declared that she would keep the gate, none would question the decision.

Gyas bowed his head. “As you say, ma’am.” He turned and folded himself through the door as awkwardly as he had come through just a moment earlier.

“You know,” Juturna said, “he said that he wanted to see me, not you.”

“Yes, I heard,” Camilla said. “Just as I heard Opis' account of what you said the last time he visited.”

“You’re not still upset about that, are you?”

“I am not upset,” Camilla replied, turning to face her. “I am concerned. You said too much, and now he is back. Why? I don’t know, and I do not like not knowing.”

“So why let him in?”

So I can have Gyas snap him in half if need be. “So that I can know why he is here,” she said.

“Okay,” Juturna said quietly. “Are you going to kick me out?”

I probably should. But then … if I am here, I can prevent any harm being done. “No,” she said, “you can stay, if you wish.”

“I do,” Juturna said. “You’ll see for yourself; he’s a pretty great guy. Talking to him was like going to therapy.”

“Really?” Camilla murmured. “Have you considered—?”

“No, I’m not going to actually go to therapy,” Juturna declared. “That stuff’s for losers.”

Camilla sighed. “And he didn’t say what he wanted when he was here last?”

Juturna shook his head. “No. We just … talked.”

Camilla frowned slightly, then made an effort to remove it from her face. She needed to present a calm aspect, not hostile, until or unless Doctor Watts gave her cause for hostility.

The door opened again, and this time, a man whom Camilla could only assume to be Doctor Watts walked in, tall and thin, just as Opis had described him, in a slightly shabby suit that made look like a salesman fallen on hard times. He had a black bag in one hand, so that he looked as though he might have been making a house call to a sick patient — or trying to sell a vacuum cleaner.

“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Doctor Arthur Watts?” Camilla asked as the door was closed behind him.

Doctor Watts offered her a courtly bow, bending his back at a forty-five degree angle. “Indeed, although I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your name, Lady—”

“Miss Camilla Volsci,” Camilla declared. “I have the honour to be second to Lord Rutulus.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Volsci,” Doctor Watts said, with that sharp smile that Opis had described appearing underneath his moustache. “And of course, it’s wonderful to see you again, Lady Juturna.”

“Hey, Doc,” Juturna said cheerily. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, my dear,” Doctor Watts said, putting his bag down on a round wooden table, “but as I was in the area, I thought that I’d drop by to give you a little gift.”

He opened his bag up and removed from it a carved wooden casket, small but very well made, with images of warriors in ancient panoply of war carved into the wood in bas-relief, walking around all four sides of the box, as best Camilla could tell.

“Is it the box, or is there something in it?” Juturna asked.

Doctor Watts chuckled softly as he opened the box.

Camilla’s eyes widened, and she could not restrain the gasp that leapt out of her. There, in the box, was a great ruby, a ruby of staggering redness, of exquisite cut, that sparkled in the light coming in from the sitting room windows.

A ruby that looked sharper than diamonds and redder than blood.

“Is that…?” Juturna scrambled over the sofa, walking slowly towards the ruby, both hands held out towards it a little and yet not quite reaching for it. “Is that…?” Her voice dropped, becoming very quiet, almost a whisper. “Is that the Heart of Mistral?”

“I should certainly hope so; I would hate to give you a fake,” Doctor Watts said genially. “For what it’s worth, a great many people believed in the provenance.”

Juturna looked from the ruby to the doctor and then back again, an act she repeated several times, her head flicking back and forth, her hair flipping around her, blue streaks glowing. “You … you … how did you—?”

“Yes, how,” Camilla said, striding forward, placing herself between Doctor Watts and Juturna. “How did you come by this, Doctor, when the last report of it was it being stolen by Lord Kiro?”

Doctor Watts’ smile remained upon his face. “I came across Lord Kiro and the Heart, and he was in such a state that he wasn’t going to need it anymore, so I thought that I would—”

“'Give it to us'?” Camilla said. “Or by ‘gift’ did you mean ‘sell’?”

“Not at all,” Doctor Watts said. “A gift is a gift, just as I said.”

Camilla’s eyes narrowed. “This ruby is priceless,” she said. “You could have sold it to the Steward, to any noble family, and yet, you give it to us freely?”

“I imagine it will spare Lord Rutulus a considerable amount of embarrassment,” Doctor Watts murmured.

“It will,” Juturna said. “It absolutely will. Tha—”

“And what do you get in return for your generosity, Doctor Watts?” Camilla demanded. “What is your price?”

“No price,” Doctor Watts said. “No price at all, except that you should think well of me in future.”

“And remember the debt we owe you should you be in need of it,” Camilla said.

“You said that, Miss Volsci, not me.”

“Camilla,” Juturna said, placing one hand upon her arm from behind her. “Come on, why are you acting like this? This is a good thing! This is great!”

Is it? Camilla thought. Is it really? No doubt it seemed so to Juturna, a girl who received gifts very often and thought little of it, but Camilla … no doubt Doctor Watts wished to curry favour with the Rutulus family; that was not surprising, nor was it, in itself, malign. Plenty of people wished to curry favour with the noble families of Mistral, to profit by their wealth and status or simply to better their own conditions somewhat. It was a fact of life. It was how business was done here in Mistral.

But this … the Heart of Mistral? And so vague in his description of how he had come by it. It was not right. It did not sit right with her. Some gifts were poisoned, and this gift … Lord Kiro had stolen the Heart, declared his intention to become Emperor of Mistral, and then … what? An Atlesian doctor turns up on their door with the Heart in his possession? And what of Lord Kiro? The implication of Doctor Watts’ words was that he was dead, but he had not said so out loud, nor explained the manner of his death.

No, he had just come here with the Heart of Mistral, which he was giving to them for nothing.

Nothing except that they should think well of him.

It stank to the skies.

Shut the box, thrust it back at him, and bid him go. Tell him that we want no part in this.

And condemn Turnus to be regarded as a failure, to be shunned, ostracised, our clients abandoned us, everything that he has tried to build torn down, his reputation in tatters?

Make a failure of him because I am afraid?

“My lord, I swear by the wind and the sea and the sky, by Seraphis and Tithys, by Eulalia, Loud of the War-Cry and bearer of the Aegis, I swear, my lord, that I will never forget your kindness to me, nor cease to repay the debt I owe you.”

She had spoken those words over the body of old Lord Rutulus, as he had lain in state, waiting for his son and heir to return from Atlas before he could be given the funeral rites. She had spoken those words to a man who had given her everything: a home, a family, a purpose, a future. She had spoken those words, and in the speaking, bound herself unto this family, unto their cause.

And when Turnus returned, she had pledged herself to him also, to the living man as to the dead.

“I pledge myself into the service of Turnus Rutulus, that I will guard your back and keep your council. I swear it by Seraphis, the Lord of the Skies; by Tithys, the Master of the Waves; and by Erechthonius of the Earth, whose embrace alone shall mark the end of duty. My sword is yours, as thine honour be mine.”

My sword is yours, as thine honour be mine. And yet, she would allow Turnus’ honour to be tarnished, his standing diminished in the eyes of his peers and of all of Mistral, if she refused this gift now.

If she turned Doctor Watts away, if she slammed shut the box … then all the consequences would be her doing. She would be the one who damaged Turnus, who enabled him to be scorned, shunned, slandered, weakened.

It would be her doing, and hers alone, because she could have prevented it by acceptance of this gift.

This stinking, poisoned gift.

This means by which all unearned consequence may be avoided.

Had Juturna not been there, she would have accepted and borne the consequence, but Juturna…

It would be a fine way of honouring old Lord Rutulus if she allowed his precious daughter to come to harm.

“Camilla,” Juturna urged. “Come on, this is awesome! Turnus can give the jewel to the Steward, and nobody even needs to know that he didn’t bring it with him from Vale! It’s not like Lausus or Ufens is going to say different!”

Camilla glanced briefly over her shoulder at Juturna, smiling up at her, beaming excitedly. She returned her gaze to Doctor Watts, wishing that she could see what lay behind that smiling face.

Who are you, Doctor? What do you want?

Juturna closed the box. “Thank you, Doctor. You’ve helped us out a whole lot.”

“Juturna,” Camilla murmured.

“What?” Juturna asked. “Were you really going to not take it? We need this! Turnus needs this; you said it yourself: without it, he won’t be able to hold his head up high anymore, and he’ll hate that.”

That was true. What was also true, although little remarked upon, was that Juturna was the lady of the Rutulus family, Turnus having no wife. She was Lady Juturna, while Camilla was simply a retainer, a member of Turnus’ household, if a trusted and a privileged one.

If she wanted this, if she wanted to accept this, then what power had Camilla to deny it to her?

Or is that just the excuse that I’m using to avoid making a decision?

I am making a decision. I am deciding not to argue with Juturna, and I am deciding to allow Turnus’ reputation to be saved.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “It is exactly as you say.” She turned back to Doctor Watts and said, “Thank you, Doctor. The House of Rutulus owes you a debt of gratitude. One I hope we can repay sooner than late.”

Doctor Watts chuckled. “No need to hurry,” he said. “Debts of gratitude don’t accrue interest, after all.”

Nevertheless, I would have this family out of your debt swiftly, Camilla thought. “May I offer you some refreshment, Doctor? Tea, or something stronger? A light snack? If you are planning to stay here in Mistral awhile, you may find our hospitality superior to any hotel.”

“A generous offer,” Doctor Watts said, “but one I must decline. My journey continues; I do not have the luxury of resting here. In fact, my errand accomplished, I will take my leave of you now, Miss Volsci.” He raised his hand to his forelock. “Lady Juturna.”

Juturna brushed past Camilla, rushing towards Doctor Watts before Camilla could stop her, leaping up and flinging her arms around his neck, her legs dangling in the air as she hung off the taller man. “Thank you, Doctor Watts.”

Doctor Watts did not return the embrace, although he did not look particularly uncomfortable with it either. Although Camilla could concede that that might have been her suspicion talking. With one hand, he patted her on the side briefly. “Quite alright, my dear. Quite alright.”

Juturna let go of him, dropping back to the floor and taking a step back. “Come again soon!” she said. “Especially if you bring more presents.”

Doctor Watts kept on smiling, but said nothing else as he turned away and began to walk towards the door.

“Gyas,” Camilla called.

The door opened, and Gyas looked in. “Yes?”

“Show Doctor Watts out,” Camilla instructed.

Gyas nodded. “As you say.”

As Doctor Watts took his leave of them, Camilla took comfort in the presence of so many men, and so many swords, arrayed about the Rutulus family. What could one Atlesian doctor possibly do to harm them?

---

The Heart of Mistral was staying in Juturna’s room until Turnus returned.

She kind of wished that she could keep it, to be honest; it would look good as a necklace or something.

But no, this was for her brother; this was to let him keep his reputation and his honour. This was to help him out, or at least stop him getting into any trouble.

Still, it was cool that she got to keep it for a little bit, until he came back. It reminded her of when she was a kid, when she’d played at being a princess.

She was a princess, kind of, in some ways, but not the kind of princess who got to wear stuff like this all the time. That was all in the past now.

Kind of a pity, if you asked her.

Juturna sat at her dressing table, looking down at the ruby where it lay in its box. It looked so beautiful. She had jewellery, inherited from her mother — it was in the jewellery box just over there — but none of it was like this. This … this was something else. No wonder it had its own special name, and everyone wanted it.

Juturna reached into the box and plucked out the ruby, meaning to hold it up to the light where she was sure it would look even better than before.

But inside the box, hidden underneath the ruby, was a little piece of paper, small enough to have been hidden beneath the ruby, with a number scrawled on it.

A number and the words ‘I’d like to hear from you.’

Juturna put the ruby down — on the table, not on the piece of paper — and took the little paper scrap between her fingers.

She stared at it for a moment. He wanted to hear from her? She had no doubt in her mind who he was, and he … he wanted to hear from her?

That was … surprising, honestly.

Nice of him, but surprising.

And talking to him had been very … very easy. Things had just seemed to come rolling out of her, and she’d even felt better after saying them.

She picked up her scroll, opened it up, and began to text to the number on the paper.

Doctor Watts?

The very same. I assume that I have the pleasure of speaking to Lady Juturna Rutulus?

That’s me. I was surprised to find you’d left your number.

As my note says, I was hoping to hear from you.

But why?

Because I represent someone who is interested in making a great change to the world of Remnant, and we are always keen to meet someone who shares our view that the current status quo is less than ideal. You spoke of wanting to put your brother on the throne.

Sort of, I guess. I told you that’s what he wanted.

And you want to see him happy, don’t you?

Yeah. Yeah I do. I’d do anything to make that happen.

And I think that we may be able to help with that.

Juturna blinked. You can? But how? Who are you?

What’s your favourite fairytale?

Comments

[Mastermind4892]

Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.

I fear the Greeks bearing gifts.

[Kiue Jin]

...Alternatively, something Camilla could have done was accept the Heart... and then have Watts killed and disappeared. Or at least checked the stupid box.

Sometimes its so easy being evil.

[Snowdrifter]

“Hey, Doc,” Juturna said cheerily. “What’s up?”

I understand that reference!

[Lancerguy]

11486849
Yes, but Camilla is a Crane, not a Scorpion so...

or as Juturna put it, she is too kind

[Tsuguri]

One thing I've been wondering from the last chapter:
How does Bon Bon feel about this whole situation? Sure, she trusts Watts again, but she just participated in an operation that had the potential to kill a great number of influential figures, including some who she knows are good people, and which did involve turning on their supposed client/friend and murdering him in cold blood.

So while she isn't directly working with psychopathic Cinder, she's still allied with her and back with the sociopathic Doctor. I do remember that he's kind of brain washed her before, but this is an impressive amount of mental gymnastics on her part if she's still considered a true believer in him.

[Adser]

11486916
Bon Bon feels "bad" about the situation and doesn't want anyone to die. Doesn't stop her from doing whatever she needs to do to save her own skin anyway, plus she was more hurt that Cinder screamed at her and called her useless that the fact that she was helping terrorists.

Doctor Watts treats her well, so she is going to keep doing what he tells her to do.

[Lancerguy]

Yeah that went about as well as could be expected. Camilla knows Watts is bad news but cannot refuse the gift on account of what the rest if the nobles would do. It's not that she is too nice, it's that she cares too much. Even as Pancake Sunbutt calls that a strength, this is an example where it does lead to difficult decisions

Also Turnus: I get the big brother instinct, but there is a fine line between protecting your sister and sheltering her and you have driven over that line in an Atleasian mech and then backed up for good measure, you can ease up a bit.

Side note: The Looney Tunes references are always the least expected but some of the most enjoyed

[Mister Morden]

Oh Juturna... You will have to learn the hard way that some favors come with too high a price.

I do so hope that our dear Doctor Watts becomes a warning for the next ten generations about that lesson.

[Aleck_Ultimate]

I would have rather expected it to be a poisoned gift in a much shorter time: if following an anonymous denunciation there was a police raid and one of the most respected and powerful lord of Mistral was accused of having murdered his childhood friend in line of succession to the throne and stolen the Heart of Mistral... With the right propaganda the chaos would have been easily escalated.

Anyway, if I am bad at chess it's mainly because I don't see the moves very early.

[Scipio Smith]

11537186
Perhaps, but chaos for the hell of it doesn't really serve Salem's ends.