[WP] You have gift to know what a person likes and dislikes. You know how to exploit that to climb the power ladder.

...

I have attended many different social functions in my life-time. From unfortunate bar meet-ups with coworkers or Managers, to blind-dates set up by friends, to Lunch-ins with unhappy clients or distant relatives. As it was before the world threw my life to chaos, considering my age I'd even been to my fair share of weddings. But among all of those, even with the many I felt natural aversion to: there was only one type of obligated gathering that I could truly claim to hate. To despise above all others, lingering in the painful memories of forced conversation and uncomfortable stares.

Awkward dinner dates at high-class restaurants.

This was more than close enough to fall into that specific genre.

"So, tell me more about yourself." The Princess spun the wine in her crystal glass with slow and methodical motions, Golden eyes staring across the table with a predatory smile. "I like to know those within my service, especially so for those who might have interesting stories to tell."

Externally, my face showed the most Polite and casual smile, as I fought a rather illusive snow-pea with my golden fork. Internally I could only picture my mental state as a paranoid stumbling into boxes and crates for the relevant information requested. A horrible screaming chorus of "What does she want from me?" while fever-sprinting from one internal filing cabinet to another, pulling folders and booklets free to scatter the pages airborne in a terrible fit of hysteria.

It was one thing when my employer was a fairly attractive woman of high-nobility, but it was quite another when they could easily have my head chopped off and mounted it on a spike. Serving Royalty is much like balancing along the edge of a knife.

A very sharp knife.

"Well, what would you like to know?" I replied warmly, finally pinning a visible victory over the snow-pea. "I'm an open book."

Normally, "Your Highness" would have been the correct and appropriate addition to that question and following embellishment, but my host had already pressed aside titles for the sake of this strange private meal. She'd done so with a casual suggestion, which was actually a command I knew not to take lightly, as I crunched quietly upon the unfortunate vegetable, maintaining my personal appearance of non-concern.

"A great many things. Your Adventures, your magics, your victories, your rather impressive criminal record with the Church's scribe network..." She replied casually, food and plate long forgotten as the glass swirled. Casual as her words, I sensed a rather intense interest lurking as she continued. "Perhaps first, I'd like to know how it was that you stole so many servants from the Dark Lord?" In the lighting of the room, as the red liquid spun about within the crystal, I could almost swear the goblet looked like a face screaming blood.

It seemed my imagination was already betraying me with paranoid-delusions. Fitting. My ego though, however often my enemy in circumstances such as this one, was holding the final vestige of control I had left like a rope to the neck.

This woman could be as terrifying as the Dark Wizard of the West himself, but there was some personal dignity to keep in place, and my mental fever-sprint had just finally found its way to the most useful vein of knowledge I possessed. A treasure trove of mostly forgotten files, Audio-books, NPR, novels and Netflix binges: At least half a season from "House of Cards" mixed with a few distantly remembered discussions by Political observers and newspaper clippings.

A gift of knowledge to set the scene in my mind, dozens of conversations written through the lens of unremembered authors and scripts. Motives and incentive, likes and dislikes, dos and don'ts. Somewhere at the bottom of this dusty mental bin, I found the faded series of quotes attributed to Sun Tzu.

“Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.”

"Servants of the Dark Lord?" I smiled confidently, trying my best not to consider how many portions of this story were best left out. "I'm not entirely certain I understand the question."

Roger that Mr. Sun Tzu: Loud and clear. Maintaining composure, ignoring the steadily growing awareness of the obvious fact that I'm probably having my head taken away from my neck.

"Really?" Her golden stare narrowed to golden daggers. "What else would I call a Dark Elf or two Western Mages loyal to you?"

"Don't play dumb." Her eyes spoke silently. "Don't you dare."

I could swear the deep ruby face on that Goblet was smiling at me now.

"Ah! You mean them." I smiled, reaching carefully for my own glass of wine for a deep sip before continuing. "Well, they're nothing too unusual."

"I'd like to hear, all the same."

My best efforts to keep topics dulled and formal had already failed, pierced and gored worse than the many snow-peas who had met their demise over the last hour. The twitch of my right leg was deeply considering the urge to run from the room, considerations growing at a steady pace.

"The Elf, I picked up in the South. She'd left the West on her own." I drank deeper. "You see, she didn't like working for the Dark Lord very much and I just happened to save her from a pack of wolves."

"Just happened?" The image of a bloody face in her goblet seemed even more apparent now. The longer I stared at it, the more it seemed real. "Sheer coincidence?"

"Nothing more, nothing less." I smiled. "We've worked well together since."

What did she want? I wondered. Interest in the West wasn't exactly at the top of everyone's mealtime go-to conversations, reserved generally for scaring children before bedtime. To make matters more usually, my host had already stressed her displeasure with the Holy Church on previous occasions, so military matters seemed unlikely. The Holy Faith had been the ones to rally the Western Crusades in the first place, after all. God and justice, all that jazz.

"What of the other two? The Mages?"

"Eron and Sandra?" I drank another sip, dragging it out as I raced for a decent explanation. "They were captured during the Northern Crusade. I bought them off the chopping-block in a manner of speaking." The itch of silver on my right arm seemed to prickle at the thought.

I didn't like blood magic much. Honestly, it creeped me out almost as much as this conversation.

"You mean as blood-bound?" For once those Golden eyes seemed to show the faintest traces of surprise. "They're slaves?"

"Yes." I answered honestly, lifting my forearm and pulling back the cloth sleeve as I watched for more clues. Respect maybe? Certainly interest, I could tell that much. "Jarl Congrad, leader of the Northern Crusade gave me the offer himself. Four gold pieces."

"I might never have guessed... by the way they look to you." Her expression seemed to fold back into the unknown, intimidating glare returned to watch me with a strange distance. Analyzing me: pulling my image apart and putting me back together, piece by piece in her mind. "Loyalty like that is unusual."

What did she want?

There were enough clues now, I was certain. Portions of the puzzle visible and placed on the board- however cliche that analogy might rest.

The private dinner invitation. The lack of guards beside the table, or even in the room at all.

The interest in me, and the voiced displeasure with the Holy Church to a level of openly interfering. Royal power used heavy-handed: Preventing the Bishops from executing myself and the others, and pressing us to bow and swear loyalty to her the moment our shackles came off.

Now the questions on my companions. Companions specifically related to the West, a place in which the Faith has been openly against for as long as the Country and Church have existed.

"I think... I understand now." The words came from my throat with an odd sense of confidence, as the stare from across the table narrowed once more.

"Do you?" The question hung in limbo, both a threat and an invitation together.

"Yes." My mind pulled the strings, portioning together the incomplete border, the outline of what had been hiding in plain sight. Across the table, Golden eyes watched with a pressure that weighed down like a heavy weight upon my shoulders. Still, I held strong, even as the inner voice of my mind sang a quiet song of fear. "They want you dead."

Her lips curled into a sickly grin as she heard the words. The flow of magic she'd been holding in throughout the meal and conversation seemed to flow out around her, an aura of strength contained until this very moment to crash down with the fiercest of untouched flame.

"Who wants me dead?" She asked, white teeth showing with a quiet courtesy as she rose. "Go on."

"Everyone."

With that, her Golden eyes smiled.