Heretic Spellblade 7 - Ch3v3

Forgot to schedule this.

Chapter 3

With the immediate battle over, Nathan found himself overwhelmed with far too many things at once. Nobles railing him with questions over how the palace security had been breached. Knights attempting to report in, as the chain of command collapsed due to a mixture of panic and injuries. An unruly crowd outside the gates.

And, of course, a prophet furious at Charlotte’s assault on her Bastion. And her bastion, given the Imperial Palace represented Fyre’s greatest stronghold.

Fyre simmered beside Nathan, not bothering to hide her irritation at arriving too late to assist in the fight. She’d been forced into a formal gown of white and gold, even if she had somehow managed to convince her tailor to carve out a boob window and long slits along her legs to reveal her luscious thighs. A pair of curly red goat horns protruded from the sides of her head, alongside horse ears. A matching blonde horse’s tail swished behind her in the same color as her long hair.

The nobles clamoring to pester Nathan avoided Fyre, causing a huddle to form on his left side, as she stood to his right. Ciana, naturally, stood over the nobles in case one of them turned out to be an assassin.

“Lord Nathan, this sort of assault on such a monumental day is a true test of the Empire’s capacity to—” some foppish count said, before Nathan tuned him out.

Nothing he hadn’t heard before, in this world or the last.

Sometimes he wanted to say “shit happens,” but Nathan had enough tact to understand how incredibly fucking stupid that was. They were at war, and yes, attacks would happen. These nobles saw the prospect of war against Falmir as a chance to grandstand and posture about the gloriousness of the Empire and how “their” prophet was the superior one.

The reality of war remained lost on them. If the massive demonic invasions that had wracked Trafaumh and half the Empire hadn’t woken them up, then an assassination attempt sure as hell wouldn’t.

Sometimes, Nathan wondered what the point of the Diet was. He understood the history, and the purpose of preventing absolute power.

But the Diet had done nothing to stop the archdukes from nearly seizing absolute power through underhanded and, to be frank, illegal means despite the Imperial Constitution and Omria’s will. Those archdukes had even wanted to sell the Empire out to Falmir.

Hell, most of the Diet had supported the archdukes. If Kadria hadn’t pulled off her scheme and granted Fyre the power of a prophet, then the civil war Alice and Nathan started would have ended in the massacre of countless nobles.

Yet the alternatives existed in plain sight. Baudelaire had ruled Trafaumh with an iron, if largely invisible, fist, and for all its military might, it had been as brutally stagnant as it was effective at fighting demons. Charlotte had tossed aside the charade of the nobility holding power in Falmir, turning it into a theocracy with herself at the head, and it sure as hell wasn’t Nathan’s dream state.

If the Diet was the least worst option, no wonder villains like Baudelaire succeeded so easily.

And, of course, Gareth had slunk off to a corner to steer well clear of all the Imperial nobles. Not that he should have much to do with them.

Nothing good would come if anybody learned of his heritage. Alice could protect him as a defecting Bastion, but Gareth was not just a royal bastard from Falmir. He was also the eldest son of the former Archduke von Allesburg.

By all rights, Gareth could inherit the archduchy currently held in trust by Alice. Lotte von Allesburg, the current heir, was far too young to inherit it.

Reine buzzed Nathan over his mental link and he held up a hand to stop the noble chattering at him. Ciana and a couple of his knights took over and shooed the nobles away. Not the greatest look, but Nathan had things to do.

If Erica was right, this assassination attempt was far from over.

Lord Nathan, my agents have picked up disguised instigators in the crowd outside the palace, Reine informed him.

In the crowd? He frowned. Falmir?

I believe so. Interrogation will be necessary to confirm as much.

And the palace?

Reine hummed over the link. I can find no evidence of infiltrators. It would be quite the feat for them to penetrate not only your defenses and my scrying, but also the mental magic of the Twins. Tarako has also lent her not insubstantial magical abilities to detecting magical anomalies, even if she is whining too much about it.

That sounded like Tarako. She enjoyed showing off her skills, but her love of sake belied her laziness. Millennia of doing relatively little left her as a layabout.

Let me know if anything changes, he told Reine.

Nathan rubbed the bridge of his nose. What the hell did that all mean?

“Something happened?” Fyre asked him, eyes narrowed and still full of fury.

“The panic in the crowd earlier appears to be thanks to enemy agents.” He waved a hand at the mass of unruly people outside the gates. “We’ve captured a bunch of them, but that confirms this was an intentional plot. I wonder if the distraction was intended to be something in the crowd, but they failed. Or we caught their assassins earlier than expected.”

Or maybe there was a third group involved. Charlotte made use of Messengers, so for all he knew, a succubus like Beatrice might be lurking nearby.

As if catching onto his suspicions, Fyre smiled ever so slightly. “I’ll calm the crowd, Nathan.” She rubbed his arm.

He shrugged her off, although without trying to make a scene of it.

Before she could look hurt, he bonked her over the mental link. It’s fine to be affectionate inside the palace normally, but the general public doesn’t know about our relationship. And the nobles mostly don’t believe the rumors. Don’t feed them.

Pouting, Fyre stalked over to the gates. Some nobles followed her, but were kept at bay by her escort of knights.

As one might expect from a literal prophet, calming the crowd proved effortless for her.

By now, the worst of the panic had subsided. His knights firmly controlled the situation and had retaken the checkpoints, while moving the wounded and dead away. He’d reconstructed any damaged areas.

Which meant it was time to lower the lockdown, at least partially. His knights and Champions would remain on high alert.

With a thought, the alarms switched off. The doors to the palace shuddered open, revealing a mass of knights and a trio of Champions standing guard.

At some point during the mess, Narime had returned. She took point in front of two other Champions. One was Kara, another trigem and a busty dog beastkin who handled a lot of Nathan’s administrative affairs, including acting as baroness and his regent in his county of Straub. He was a count, after all, and needed somebody reliable to run his territory.

Although he sometimes wondered if Kara slept. Her presence here today was political, as she frequently assisted his second fiancée, Anna, with political matters. Hence her gorgeous gown instead of armor.

Narime, by contrast, wore a familiar navy-blue robe from her homeland of Kurai. Long, delicate silver hair tumbled down her back, while seven voluminous silver fox tails fanned out behind her. Her robe left nothing for him to imagine about her impressive curves or eye-catching bust. Especially with the three sapphires embedded above it.

“I expected the lockdown to last longer,” Narime said as she swept toward him. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No, but we can’t remain in lockdown forever without a visible threat,” he said. He slipped one arm around her as she pressed against him, and she stole a quick kiss with a smirk.

In the distance, Fei glowered at the fox, but remained fixated on her job of commanding the Royal Knights.

“What exactly happened? I rushed past Reine to get to the throne room, so we’re all in the dark. We couldn’t even hear the battle due to the wards of the palace,” Narime explained. “Alice has been beside herself in worry, while the rest of the Diet has been wondering if Aleich was under siege.”

“Under siege?” Nathan wasn’t sure if he sounded incredulous or on the verge of laughter. “Falmir tried to sneak in a few Champions.” He shook his head.

Narime’s eyes turned to slits. “Are we sure it was Falmir?”

“Who else could—”

“Arcadia? Nobles intent on disrupting the Diet? Amican rebels? The Nationalists?” She reeled off several more possible names, although they grew less believable.

Hearing Narime talk about something other than politics, Gareth decided to wander over.

Nathan shook his head. “Charlotte used some strange power to back them. They at least had her backing. And I’d know if the Nationalists were involved.”

He still had control over Tharban, after all.

“Oh, those were definitely assassins from Falmir,” Gareth said. “Not Champions I know well, but there are few Bastions who recruit from the Far Reaches, so they’re easy to remember.”

“You recognized them?” Nathan asked, while Narime’s ears and tails lowered out of respect to Gareth’s knowledge.

The older Bastion stroked his chin. “Kinda figured you’d know them, too.”

Nathan raised a hand and cast wards around them to prevent eavesdropping. Other than raising an eyebrow, Gareth said nothing.

“The timeline’s wrong for that,” Nathan said. “Around this time, I was down south. Anyone recruiting from the Far Reaches would be nowhere near me. Then a lot of Bastions started getting massacred due to the sheer number of invasions, not to mention the wholesale loss of eastern Doumahr.”

Gareth’s face paled. “Oh. Right. Forgot about that part. Beatrice bringing down Arcadia and demons sweeping across the former Federation?”

“Yeah. It would happen around now. Means a lot of Bastions you know simply died before I met them. It’s part of why I never knew Dominic, except by reputation. Baudelaire offed him when she took supreme power.”

“Smart move,” Gareth muttered. “Should have done that myself.” He coughed. “Anyway, yeah, this attack is absolutely from Falmir. That’s obvious, even without the prophet fuckery.”

“It’s a rash move, even by Charlotte’s standards,” Narime said.

“The woman who kicked off the invasion of Trafaumh by teleporting above Soreaux and getting in a pissing match with Fyre?” Gareth asked sarcastically. “I think she’s incapable of thinking through her moves, especially when she’s losing.”

“How could an assault on the palace ever hope to succeed?” the fox pushed. “It’s insanity.”

“Because Charlotte didn’t want to attack Alice or the palace. She wanted to kill one person in particular.” Nathan let his gaze fall on Archduke von Milgar, who stood amid a huddle of knights, healers, and nobles, and seemed intent on arguing with everyone around him.

Narime’s expression darkened. “Ah. My apologies, Nathan. The pieces do fit, then.”

Curious that Narime seemed to think eliminating von Milgar might be worth sacrificing Champions in such an insane attack. Personally, Nathan figured the loss would sting, but hardly cripple the Empire.

Not that he wanted to let Alice’s grandfather die. Milgar was a good man, and he used his immense resources to defend the Empire in ways few others could.

Nathan’s eyes met Milgar’s, and the noble’s thin mustache twitched. Nathan understood the implied message writ across the elder man’s face.

“I’m being summoned,” he drawled.

“Telepathically?” Gareth asked.

“For a royal brat, you’re pretty bad at unspoken messages,” Nathan said.

“And you’re far too good at them for somebody who is at pains to complain about politics every second. I’ll leave you to it and go back to trying to be invisible.” Gareth gave him a mock salute and retreated along with Erica and Beth again.

Sighing, Nathan advanced with Narime and Ciana.

The knights and healers parted for him, although one healer implored Nathan to convince the Archduke to let him heal the noble.

“Giving the healers trouble, Hans?” Nathan asked.

“I’m fine. Tripped during that mess, but little more,” Milgar grunted, his expression darkening. “Nothing compared to what others suffered.”

Hans von Milgar was an elderly man with a lean, muscular figure, a thin mustache, and a gaunt face that failed to hide his advanced age. Unlike most nobles present, he favored simple black clothing with only his family regalia sewn in gold. Protective runes shimmered in the fabric.

“Your Grace, it is our duty to—” one of the knights began to say.

“Duty or not, good men and women died to protect me. And for what? This farce of a gathering?” Milgar boomed, waving a hand to the air.

Many nobles looked over at him, their expressions a mixed bag.

Narime and Ciana looked to Nathan, expecting him to say something.

But what was he going to say? He agreed with Milgar on this point.

Every mage, fox, and knight who had died stopping the assassins had fought valiantly and done exactly as they were trained to. Celebrated warriors all.

Yet not a single one should have died, because the Diet session was a complete waste of time.

“And everybody knows it,” Milgar continued, bitterness leaking into his voice. “We’re here to vote to start a war that has already started. Falmir knows it. They just attacked the Imperial Palace in broad daylight, with thousands of people watching. Yet here we are, voting on it. We should have marched on them a week ago, like we said we would.”

“That would make us exactly like Falmir,” a newcomer said, his voice refined, inherently pompous, yet confident all the same.

Archduke Otto von Salms, who controlled the lands on the current battle front with Falmir in the north-west, strode toward them, decked out in black and gold. Unlike Milgar, Otto ensured his outfit outclassed almost every other noble. Plenty of silk, frills, and lace poured off his jacket and shirt, in accordance with the current Imperial fashion in formalwear. Jewelry shined from his fingers and neck.

While Otto usually dressed up, he looked positively ridiculous today.

“Defending ourselves against an aggressor makes us like an insane dictatorship that believes in a false prophet?” Milgar asked, voice as dry as the Houkeem Desert. “I must have missed the part where claiming the moral high ground required us to die like dogs. Oh, sorry, for the soldiers to die like dogs. Never us, am I correct?”

Otto grit his teeth. “Waier is a stone’s throw from Falmir’s front line. Their forces at Chateau d’Sarn could reach my walls within days. To say nothing of the assassination attempt I faced during the cascade, Hans. And will you deny that I went south to lead the extermination of demons after the Mortiswatch cascade?”

Milgar grimaced and looked away for a moment. He lowered his voice, “Then put those troops and knights of yours to use, Otto. The entire Empire has been ready for this from the moment that insane princess stepped foot in the Torrovium Fields!”

The two men’s eyes met and they held each other’s gazes.

Nathan kept his thoughts to himself. He knew the archdukes must argue and talk to one another all the time, but he rarely saw them do so. Most of his dealings were one-on-one, or in the public theater.

Any interruption he made would undoubtedly push both Milgar and Otto back to their public footing.

The moment passed and Otto took a step back. “We are about to put my knights to work. Even before this cowardly assault, the Diet would assuredly have declared war. Now, it is guaranteed. But out declaration of war won’t be through the Empress’s will, or some technicality, but the near-unanimous and clear will of the Diet, under the watchful eye of Omria herself. We will reunite the Empire, and it will be done according to the laws as set out so long ago. Not the ‘conventions’ invented to get around them.”

Otto whirled and strode back inside the palace. Behind him, Milgar could do little more than gnash his teeth.

Frustrating as it was, Otto’s play to faith and tradition would win the day. As it had for the past week, after he’d reneged on his promise to attack Falmir should they assault Soreaux.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Nathan, but I’m damn glad you ended up marrying Alice,” Milgar said. “I think I’d have died of an aneurysm if I’d ever given her away to such a twit.”

“He’s playing politics,” Nathan said neutrally.

“At a time when the only politics should be how to defeat our enemies. This is the sort of nonsense that…” Milgar shook his head. “No matter. We’ll deal with this vote now and then crush Falmir.”

Everyone stared at Milgar incredulously.

“Your Grace, you cannot seriously intend to attend the Diet now!” one of his aides asked, voice practically turning into a shriek. “You nearly died. The palace was nearly breached. Our enemies—”

“Tried and failed to harm us. Like I said, we were already at war.” Milgar squared his jaw. “If we let anyone influence when or how the Diet votes, then the Empire is truly failing. Plus, our Royal Bastion, Lord Nathan, foiled Falmir anyway.”

The old man leaned forward and clapped a lean, muscular hand on Nathan’s shoulder. He squeezed and leaned in.

“The palace is safe?” he whispered.

The unspoken question of “Is Alice safe?” reached Nathan’s ears at the same time.

Nodding, Nathan replied, “Nobody made it inside. Security will be raised for some time, including additional Champions and knights. They might be a nuisance, but play along.”

“I’m used to being coddled by security,” Milgar joked as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders.

“Then you should be used to letting healers look you over. Like Narime.” Nathan inclined his head toward his fox.

Caught off-guard, Milgar could do little more than grumble as Narime led the healers in a thorough checkup of Milgar’s health and vitals, ensuring he truly had done no more than trip.

Nathan slipped away, but noticed Ciana staring at the palace entrance.

“Something wrong?” He almost began to reach for his magic, before noticing that Ciana’s guard hadn’t raised.

She frowned. “Gareth paid a lot of attention to Archduke von Salms. He rarely pays much attention to nobles, so it seemed… noteworthy.”

“Especially as I’m certain there wasn’t much connection between Otto and Falmir.” Nathan drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Tharban basically chased Falmir away, and Otto potentially helped kill his father for that reason.”

Maybe Ciana was reading too much into Gareth’s idle staring, but Nathan figured to chase the matter up at some point.

For now, he needed to finish tidying up the aftermath of the attack. Leaving everything to Fei would be the definition of irresponsible.

Close to an hour flew by as Nathan oversaw cleanup. Narime saw off Milgar, then joined him. Many of his knights rotated out with those inside the palace, although he saw many more pouring out from the barracks further within the palace complex. Some undoubtedly came from Castle Aleich as well.

Fyre gave a couple of speeches, before being whisked inside by a mixture of knights, aides, and nobles. No doubt Alice needed her in place before the Diet session could begin.

Technically, Nathan should be in there as well. The longer he stayed outside, the more of the interminably long formal introductions he could skip.

His knights certainly welcomed his company, as his many captains and lieutenants took the opportunity to report to him or spend at least a little time around him for whatever reason. The vast majority of the Royal Knights and all of Fei’s Imperial knights were beastkin, largely wolfgirls.

Despite the jokes sent his way about building an enormous harem, the prime reason was functional. Nathan used Champions that were the opposite gender, and he almost exclusively recruited from his knights.

As for why they were almost all beastkin… Well, that had simply occurred naturally. His actions caused them to flock to him, to say nothing of Fyre being by his side. Many of his elites and officers dated back to the early days in Gharrick Pass, when the beastkin fought for him as much because he paid them well as anything else.

Narime sidled up to him. “I’m quite certain we’re finished here. Nothing else has happened. Whatever Falmir hoped to achieve, they failed. It’s best to leave this to Reine and her agents. This is, after all, her expertise.”

“I know. If I stay out here for too long, Alice will know I’m intentionally avoiding the Diet.” Nathan could hear the droning of the nobles even out here.

They hadn’t activated the external speakers yet, which meant nothing important was being discussed. Supposedly there was some sort of schedule so that the general public knew when the war declaration would be officially voted on.

Which likely meant the boring part had hours left.

Narime shot him an amused look, before her lips thinned. “I’ve been thinking—”

“Do you ever stop?” he asked.

Her tails slapped him, and he considered his jab a great success.

Levelling a serious look at him, she continued, “If the assassination was aimed at Archduke von Milgar, they clearly intended to achieve something. But what? He has children. A clear heir, and one that supports his position, even if he’s not as politically dominant as his father. At best, all that could be served by eliminating him would be disruption.”

“He’s Alice’s staunchest ally in the Diet, a capable general, better connected than possibly any active noble now that Gorthal is… retired…” Nathan grimaced at the reminder of the former emperor’s physical state, which deteriorated by the day. “More than anything, Milgar’s important to the war effort. His son won’t be half as effective at rallying his armies and corralling the nobles beneath him, at least until he proves himself in battle.”

Narime inclined her head, but her ears and tails remained unbowed. “Perhaps. But our war with Falmir won’t be as reliant on conventional arms. The assistance of the nobility is necessary to hold territory, but it will be Bastions and Champions that win battles. If anything, they will be galvanized by the assassination of their liege.”

“True…” The thought troubled Nathan. If killing Milgar would simply martyr him, what had Charlotte hoped to gain?

“Milgar’s more important politically, I suspect.” Narime’s tails pointed at the Imperial Palace. “His words about the ‘Empire failing’ should Falmir be able to influence the Diet bother me. If he had died or been seriously wounded today, how do you think the vote would have gone?”

“The Crusader faction would have blown their top,” Nathan said flatly. “Recall that a lot of them are former Loyalist supporters of Gorthal and Alice, and many of the old Nationalist nobles hate Falmir.”

Narime frowned. “Perhaps… I’m not as familiar with the political winds in Aleich as you are, admittedly. Few of the regents from the Federation acted so deeply on principle, and the schemes in Kurai were frequently inscrutable enigmas. Even so, would a delay work just as well for Charlotte? If the Diet stalled Alice for another week—”

“Alice would lose patience. So would I. Falmir’s main army is only a stone’s throw from Tervuis’s Ford in central Trafaumh. Even with a trigem to get through, I’m not about to underestimate my old man. If the Diet refused to vote—or even voted against war—Alice would use her powers as Empress to overrule them. No matter what Otto says, the Diet can’t overrule her authority over the Imperial Army.”

Well, they could. But if the Diet was crazy enough to try to stare down Alice’s attempt to order Nathan and the Imperial Army to engage with Charlotte in the defense of Trafaumh—especially after a direct attack on the palace—it would border on a cause for another civil war.

What was the term Torneus has once used? A constitutional crisis. The Diet could take whatever actions it liked, but in the end, it had to enforce them. Nathan and Alice controlled the army. The Diet didn’t.

“It won’t reach that point,” Nathan said.

“I see.” Narime seemed concerned. Confused, almost. “I need to think on this. I’m struggling to make sense of the point of this attack. Maybe Reine’s investigation can turn up more evidence to help me.”

He nodded.

Deciding that he probably should finally join Alice, he began his slow trek toward the palace. Fei bounced over and he scratched behind her ears to distract himself.

“Nathan, do you know what that golden stuff they were using was? It made me feel funny when I absorbed it with my gem ability,” she said, making a face.

“You absorbed it?” he asked.

Her head bounced up and down, and her tufted ears flapped freely in the process. “It took a lot of effort to do it, and I think I actually used more magic than I gained, but… I dunno. Something about it felt…” Her green eyes became distant and she took a shuddering breath. “Familiar.” Her voice sounded huskier.

Older, almost. Worldlier.

Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder. Something had pulsed along the mental link he shared with her. Unlike Ciana, Fyre, and Reine, Fei didn’t know how to use it to communicate with him. So if it changed, it was a sign of something wrong with her mind. Which likely meant a problem with her gems.

When he used mental magic to check, all seemed well.

“You alright?” he asked.

She shook her head and smiled at him. “It’s fine. I, um, don’t think I’ll try that again. Oh, but I might need to if there are more of them. Will there be?”

“I… don’t know.” Nathan bit his lip. “I suspect there are only a few people who might know of this. Astra, maybe. But most likely Kadria or Tarako.”

The mention of Kadria lowered the mood among all of his Champions. While they’d long since gotten used to the buxom succubi that bounced around the palace these days, Kadria was another matter.

After the stunt she’d pulled in Soreaux and her deception—her pretend betrayal, especially—Nathan kept her inside her mental fortress, even though she now had a physical body. He struggled to come up with an effective punishment otherwise, especially as he might need her knowledge or power.

“I’ll let Tarako know you have something to talk to her about this evening,” Narime said. “So that she doesn’t get drunk and pass out.”

“She’s not that bad,” Fei muttered.

“Don’t you pretend otherwise. The two of you are terrible together.” Narime’s eyes flashed and she grabbed Fei by one ear and dragged her off.

“Ow, ow, ow! Nathan, stop her,” Fei whined.

He simply waved her off.

His thoughts remained troubled, unfortunately.

For just a moment when Fei’s voice changed, he swore her sapphires had turned purple.

“Finally braving the eternal boredom of the nobility?” Gareth asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Nathan didn’t bother looking over at the sorcerer. He simply shrugged. “I kind of have to. At least for a little while. I’m optimistic it won’t take too long. Milgar wants this over today, even though Alice is worried it might take a few days overall.”

“Days? To declare war?”

Erica let out a choking laugh, while Beth shook her head.

“No. They’ll almost certainly make the declaration either today or tomorrow morning. The rest of the Diet session will be debating more… material matters like funding, how much nobles are expected to contribute, payment for levies, grants to supply and raise knightly orders, and who gets to claim what land.”

“Ah. The last part is especially important.” Gareth smirked.

“The most difficult, too. Recall that we’re assisting Trafaumh to retake their territory. The third day is basically going to be Alice and her allies crushing repeated attempts to seize Trafaumh’s territory.”

Nathan wanted to be nowhere near the Diet on that day. Honestly, he didn’t understand how either of his fiances could deal with the nonsense. The day promised to be an endless shouting match.

“You look like that’s somehow worse than the sleep-inducing speeches. At least if they’re arguing it has meaning,” Gareth said.

“Showing your colors a bit, eh, Pike?” Erica muttered.

He shot a glare at his Champion.

Shrugging, Nathan said, “I can meditate while the nobles ramble on. It’s good practice for ascended magic. Especially mental magic. The problem with the arguments is that they often ask me to intervene, so I have to pay attention. It’s a stupid back-and-forth that wears you down.”

“All the more reason for me to steer clear.” Gareth lifted one leg and made a highly exaggerated step away from the palace.

Nathan turned his back on his friend and was about to enter the palace itself, but stopped when he heard no footsteps.

Turning back, he saw Gareth and his two Champions waiting expectantly.

“You have something to say, right?” Nathan asked.

“You have that fancy ward to stop eavesdropping, right?” Gareth asked.

Nathan waved a hand and summoned it, attracting the attention of the nearby knights. They showed no other reaction, however.

“The little tiff between the archdukes was interesting. Especially to me.” Gareth chewed on his lip. “I guess I’ll cut to the chase. Back when I worked with Beatrice in Soreaux, I know she had agents in the Empire. I’m certain von Salms is one of them. She visited Waier regularly and mentioned him a few times. Don’t trust him.”