Chapter 98: Chapter 42: Robert's Rules

> “Each has married, but one better than the other. Lorna recently gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. She was back at work within a week. I asked her whether she and Duff were twins, but she could not remember.”

The room broke out into a raucous explosion of noise, which J.P. halted with a tap of his cane on the table, just before Lorna’s voice emerged again.

“We’re so sorry that we couldn’t be there in the flesh, but we thought this would be the next best way for you to hear our pitch.”

Lorna’s words had a hint of some undecipherable accent, as if she wanted us to think she was both a normal person and a member of some bourgeois Swiss family that had lived up in a secluded mountain village for the last 500 years. And although it was hard to tell, it seemed like she was my contemporary.

“Our two organizations have long been in a cold war with each other,” said Xander. Unlike his sister, he sounded as if he had been schooled at one of the Upper East Side’s tony private schools and then never left. He too had a voice that was closer to 30 years old than 50, and I wondered how J.P. felt about turning the Guild over to a pair of kids. “We’ve worked together in the past, out of necessity. Our grandmother and uncle were big believers in intertwining and intermingling, but you know well the tensions have been brewing recently because of our recent price increases.”

“Our mom always liked to say that ‘it’s just business, it’s not personal,’” said Lorna. “But that’s easier said than done. That was one of the reasons we convinced her to retire early. The company needed new leadership, new blood, fresh ideas, and she was happy to step aside and let us rise to the occasion.”

“And when J.P. first approached us in a smoky backroom at the Standard, we were all ears,” said Xander. “When we realized what our two storied organizations could do united under one banner, we immediately called a vote of our own Board, which unanimously agreed to the merger. Think about it: with our resources and reach, and your legacy and acumen, there is nothing we cannot accomplish.”

“We know change is hard,” said Lorna. “We know you might be worried about what your children will think when you tell them that their Seats now only have half as much pull. But once the dust has settled, and you can see what our new organization is capable of, I believe you’ll be able to sleep soundly knowing your future is secure.”

“Obviously we can’t take questions personally, but J.P. is happy to fill in for us in that respect,” said Xander “We look forward to a new beginning.”

The tension finally left J.P.’s body, and he turned to the side to hack up the two electrum beads like they were cat hairballs.

“As Lorna and Xander said, I am here to answer any questions you may have,” said J.P., smiling as if he already orchestrated the coup he had plotted.

“I have one,” said D.C. “Are you out of your damned mind? You’d sell us to those snakes? Do you remember what happened at the last Conference? We were lucky they left us with anything in the Guild treasury!”

It was the most animated I had ever seen the master crafter, and I didn’t have to guess where his vote was going to lie.

“I can assure you, I am not. Out of my mind that is,” said J.P. “Once you see VAC’s balance sheet, its stores, its network, its manpower, you’ll come around.”

“I have to hand it to you and the incest twins,” said Ty. “That was even more meaningless than I expected.”

“An immature joke, how appropriate,” said J.P. “I liked it better when you were hiding behind that facade of a man. Now, does anyone have an actual question before I cede the floor?”

“How will it work?” asked the Third Seat of the Orange Table, the man who called himself Kildare. “You said it was a merger, but it sounds like a complete takeover. What will be left of our Seats in the combined organization?”

“Thank you, this is something I had wanted to raise,” said J.P. “Our Tables will be folded into four Seats on the new Board. VAC will have four. And then Ms. and Mr. van Asch will hold the position of Chair to break any ties.”

“So eight of us will be out on the street?” said Lucca. “Sounds like a win-win-win.”

“No, of course not,” said J.P. “Our four Seats will be subject to a new set of bylaws, and the vote of each new Seat will be determined by the former First, Second, and Third Seats of that particular Table. We’ll all still have a say. We’ll all still have something to hand down to our heirs.”

“Speaking from experience, I don’t know that I agree with your math,” said the woman with the shimmering earrings next to Emma.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Our own bylaws won’t protect us from the machinations of VAC,” said D.C. “You’ve diluted our ancestral Seats and left us with a piece of paper for a shield. Nicely done.”

“It’s more than that,” said J.P. “And I should have mentioned this sooner. Everyone will get a renewable line of credit and a yearly stipend that can be used to purchase prima materia from VAC’s impressive inventory. When you see what they have access to, I think your concerns that we’re getting played will fade.”

“OK, phew,” said Ty. “I was worried there wasn’t going to be a bribe, but there it is.”

“Shush, child,” said Dalia. “I have one final question.”

“Yes, Madam Chair?” said J.P. with an impish grin.

“What did VAC promise you to orchestra all of this?”

“I’m hurt at the implication,” said J.P., “that I would be doing this for anything more than my desire to see our organization evolve to meet the needs of the times we are currently living in.”

“I see,” said Dalia. “How noble of you. Well, if there are no more questions, I think it is time for Mr. Laurel to yield the floor.”

The room went silent and J.P. nodded.

“I yield my time back to the Chair,” he said, “and I thank you for your consideration and for your vote.”

Dalia didn’t waste a breath in exchanging parliamentary pleasantries and instead withdrew the Compendium from under the New Amsterdam Table and dropped it onto its surface with a thud.

“This,” she said, standing up to try to command the room, “is the Guild’s Compendium. Its pages long-thought lost. Its contents long-thought scattered. And without those two, its knowledge would never again benefit our members. But tonight, never is over. For I have restored our heritage and with it, restored the promise of our future.”

Someone’s foot scraped against the rough surface of the wooden floor, but other than that, no one made a sound. I watched as Dalia’s triumphant disposition began to bend until it reached a breaking point and she sat down with what could only be deemed a whimper. If my fate wasn’t so tied to hers, I would have laughed at her complete failure.

After an excruciating half minute of silence, Kildare broke the tension with a question.

“May I see the book?” he asked, and Dalia nodded. The older man walked deliberately to the front of the room and began flipping through the Compendium’s pages one by one. He paused periodically to run his fingers over the text or the drawings, and sometimes mumbled to himself. One section in particular caught his eye, and we all spent what seemed like half an hour watching his eyes scan every single line.

“Magnificent,” he said, closing the back of the book and ambling back to his seat.

“Care to share anything else?” asked Hugo, who had a “what the hell did I just sit through” look on his face.

“Yes,” said Kildare. “I will need to study the Compendium in much more detail to see what secrets have been returned to us. But my early analysis suggests this should be a cause for celebration. Well done, Madam Chair.”

“Thank you, Kildare. I look forward to seeing what else you can uncover. If anyone else would like an opportunity to read the Compendium, I am happy to make a motion to table this vote so you all have a chance to-”

“No,” said J.P. “No more stalling. No more games. The vote will happen tonight. I call the question of the Chair.”

“Seconded,” said the woman with the earrings.

“All those in favor?” asked the Texan.

This vote was closer than the Inquest vote, but still managed to pass, with only Dalia, Ty, and Kildare voting no.

“The question is called,” said Ty. “We will now vote on whether to select a new Chair. Seat by Seat, Table by Table. As is protocol, the candidates for Chair will not have a formal vote. We will nevertheless start with the Chair’s Table, and I guess that means I am first, so, umm, nay.”

“Aye,” said the disheveled gardener.

“Next, the Pavonia Table,” said Ty.

“Aye,” said Hugo.

“Abstain,” said Emma curtly.

“Aye,” said the woman with the earrings.

“We’ll come back to you shortly, Emma,” said Ty. “The Breuckelen Table?”

“Nay,” said D.C.

“Nay,” said Lucca.

“Nay,” I said.

“A clean sweep,” said J.P. with a chuckle. “That leaves my Table.”

“Aye,” said Balt.

“Nay,” said Kildare, which made J.P. do a double take, as the vote was now 4-5 against him. I glanced over at Dalia, whose mouth had formed into a tiny grin, and everything clicked. She knew it would come down to the would-be monk, and I didn’t have a doubt in my mind that this whole Compendium Quest was merely to secure his vote to her side. But still, that meant that-

“Emma,” said J.P. “We return to you now, my dear.”

“So you do,” she said, drumming the fingers of her weathered hand against the Table. “Once more, you come seeking the Patel Seat, trying to save your skin. And today, you shall have our aid, but it will be for the last time. Aye.”

Ty banged the gavel down on the table.

“It is a tie,” she said. “Unless one of our candidates would like to concede, we’ll move on to the tie-breaking procedure.”

Ty looked quickly at her mom and J.P., and seeing that neither was willing to give up, quickly ran to the rear door and exited the room, only to return half a minute later completely out of breath and carrying a small red book, which she opened from the back.

“In the event of a tie,” she read, “the challenger shall suggest the breaking method. If the incumbent agrees, then the incumbent shall have first preference. If the incumbent disagrees, a 2/3rds majority will be necessary to confirm the method and the challenger shall have first preference.”

“What fun,” said J.P. “I choose Trial by Relic. Do you agree, Madam Chair?”

Dalia looked at the man who would unseat her and then glanced around the room, stopping to meet each of our eyes, before nodding.

“Your method is acceptable. And I choose Ms. Patel as your champion.”

The word “champion” snapped my focus back to what was happening. Champion implied a contest, a challenge, or something worse. If Dalia was choosing Emma, then that implied that she thought she was a poor choice for whatever reason.

“A fine selection,” said J.P., “despite her current condition. I am happy to have her fight for me. As for you, I choose the Third Seat of the Breuckelen Table.”

All heads quickly turned to me, and it took me a second to realize what had just happened.

“The match is set,” said Ty. “Our champions will present their Relics in two weeks’ time at the Armory. To the victor goes the Chair.”