Cossa and I both pull up chairs and sit down. Gabriel and Valeria distantly loom on opposite ends of the tower.
"Well then," Cossa exhales. "What can I do for the Duchess?"
Straight to business? I can't have that. I need information. To get him talking.
"To open a dialogue," I keep it vague.
He raises a brow. I doubt he's one for verbal games. "Frankly, it sounds more like an attempt to 'court' me to the Mateiko Guild."
"Is that what Alexander Landeskog has been pestering you about?" I ask. "Guild recruitment?"
Cossa observes me for a beat, then nods.
Very blunt and to the point. But I can't help but feel he's missed the point. Does he really think this is just commonplace poaching by the two big Guilds?
"You know, that's quite the anomaly. Alexander isn't one to care about nobles of… our status."
'But Leara is,' the silence says for me. We are similar. Connected. Not truly, but that's how I appeal to him.
"I'm aware." Cossa stoically stonewalls.
"Why haven't you accepted then?"
"My reasons are my own," he shifts slightly forward. "And they are not relevant to this Exam."
"So be it," I shake it off. He knows when to be open and when to be guarded. "You'll be happy to know that this meeting is purely about the Exam. Guild matters will wait."
My statement is a complete fallacy. The moment he chooses a side in the Exam is the moment his Guild decision is sealed and stamped. I'm banking on his ignorance—it makes sense for the Landeskogs faction to downplay or omit the future threat of civil war. Makes their 'courting' more innocent and palatable.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Friendly relations between our camps," I say in earnest. "Under Leara Mateiko's leadership, we occupy a modest village at the eastern base of the central mountain."
"And your numbers?" he's hungry for information on us.
"Few dozen strong, both allied teams and captives," I play along with a vague lie. But it may end up as the truth by the time we return.
Cossa's face sours. "Captives, you say?"
I nod. "Does that upset you?"
"Yes," he replies. His disapproval is visibly contained, however. "We at the firewatch tower pride ourselves on mutual cooperation. There is a common belief held throughout the student population that the capture system is dehumanizing and immoral."
"I see."
What an absolute retard. I loathe neanderthals like him who willingly choose to die on the most ridiculous ideological hills. Nobles deserve to slave like the rest of us.
I simultaneously envy the capacity to have those strong ideals. It's something I lack, and I'm nothing but greedy. But I'm stronger without such an abundance.
It's a small revelation in the greater picture of his cumulative desires. I can extrapolate a lot from it. Perhaps enough to make a move.
"Our outlooks are not so different," I reassure him. "The Mateiko captives are treated as equals."
"Regardless, they still have to be commanded," Cossa argues. "Forcibly."
"Helps ensure loyalty," my eyes drift to Gabriel. We lock eyes. "A small sacrifice of morality in exchange for security. It's necessary in such… uncertain and ambiguous circumstances."
Gabriel's stoic mask melds into that of a stone-cold viper for a moment. Then it returns back to normal. I've rattled him a little.
"Compromising your morals for gain certainly spoils relations," the Black Horse argues. "A foundation of sand."
"I didn't take you for a philosopher," I reply.
"There's much you don't know about me." He might be the only person who can say that and have it not come off as entirely cringe.
"Then, would you be willing to humor me for a moment? A pure hypothetical."
He raises a brow. Ultimately, his silence allows me to proceed.
"Say a lowborn man lives in Landeskog City. Seven days a week, he mines soulsteel under contract with the Landeskog Guild. He makes 50 Gold a month with no chance of upward mobility or a pay increase."
"Every month, his house, a decrepit tenement, spends a total of 100 gold. His only daughter is ailing, and his wife works every hour of every day as a maidservant and a streetside whore to make up the difference."
"The Landeskogs own every facet of the man's life. From his tenement, to his job at the mine, to his wife's job as a maidservant, to the pharmacy his daughter's medicine comes from, to the city and empire he lives in and pays taxes to."
"His wages, his rent, the drug prices, all of it, have been meticulously planned out to be as predatory as possible. His moral duty to his family forces him to work for the rest of his life until he dies."
"Would the Royal family be considered mass slavers for intentionally orchestrating such a system for millions of their lowborn vassals to be, in essence, slaves, extracting a lifetime of labor and servitude from them solely for profit?"
"No," Cossa replies after a moment of thought. A bit too quick, in my opinion. "A failure to properly meet the needs of the people? Perhaps. But so long as the man has autonomy and makes a conscious, moral decision to sacrifice his existence for his family, I would not consider the Landeskogs to be slavers. Hypothetically, of course."
"Regardless of choice, the result is the same. A lifetime of servitude for their master's gain. You still stand by your answer?"
"I do."
"Then I'll do one better," I brush past his reply. It was expected. Hell, my wording influenced his decision. "A bit more on the nose, perhaps."
"Would you consider the Landeskogs, or perhaps Humanity in general by extension, to be wicked for their responsibility in forcing tens of millions of non-Humans into chattel slavery?
…
"After all," I continue amidst the calm. "They have absolutely zero autonomy. Even the ones with unleashed Souls—those that could, in every regard other than racial, be considered equal to Human Favored."
…
Cossa is silent. Whether that be in thought, or a general aversion to answering the question, it's a loaded one.
"How dare you!" Gabriel interjects, stepping close to the table. "You dare accuse him of being a Democrat?!"
"I'm getting quite sick of his disloyalty." My eyes don't leave Cossa. "These allies, you feed them, shelter them, lead them, yet they not only refuse to understand simple hypotheticals, but also refuse to listen to your orders…"
"I will not stand for this insolence," Gabriel yells out.
The leashed dog has tugged on the loose chain.
Now I stare down the tip of his unsheathed blade, completely wide open.