Warsinger by James Baldwin (most important books of all time txt) 📕

cares what the ruler is thinking or feeling while he does these things?”

“No. He cares about feeding his family and paying the least amount of taxes he can.”

“Exactly.” Ignas nodded. “You can make decisions with the best intentions, but if they are poor decisions, you will not be judged for your intent. You will be judged for the outcome. Therefore, how you think and feel is irrelevant. It is always, ALWAYS, about what actions you take, or don’t take.”

I nodded slowly. “When I was in the army, there was a big difference between the guys that made a big talk and the guys who just did their jobs. Half the time, the guys who thought they couldn't cope with war became the best soldiers in the unit, but the ones who thought they were hot shit put the rest of us in danger. Same when I was bouncing for a living. Any guy that came in talking about how much he liked to fight lasted three weeks, maybe.”

“Yes, indeed. And think of your officers. Did you much care if your officers were of a different color or creed to yourself if they were good at leading?”

“No.”

“But if they were terrible officers, you surely noticed and thought ill of them.” Ignas spread his hands, like a magician who'd just performed a magic trick. “Some will distill this idea down to the notion of 'appearance is everything' when you hope to attain and retain personal power. To some degree, that is true - but it is more accurate to say that 'action is everything'.”

I took a moment to digest that, then nodded.

[You have learned a new Advanced Skill: Statesmanship 1. View the Archemipedia article on Statesmanship for more information and skill synergies.]

“So, make your assessment of Soma again,” Ignas said. “But do not refer to his character - only his actions.”

“Well... Soma's demonstrated he's a great engineer, and he told me himself that he didn't like being a military commander. He nearly handed Myszno to the Demon because he kept trying to make decisions about the defense based on how he felt about the people he had to work with.”

“Right. And why do you think he was so fond of my brother?”

“Soma and Andrik were hunting buddies, right?”

“Correct.” Ignas nodded.

“So he was probably loyal to Andrik because they had fun together,” I said.

“Andrik was a terrible hunter. He rarely caught a thing,” Ignas mused. “But Soma is quite a good shot with a rifle.”

“So…being around Andrik probably made Soma feel better about himself?” I leaned forward, thinking. “He told me he was the youngest son in his family, a bit of an underachiever. And Soma often acted insecure around others, so I guess that's why he had such a positive image of Andrik. Andrik made him feel powerful.”

“There you have it.” Ignas smiled. “And now, perhaps, you understand why my brother was a degenerate person and a mediocre king, but an excellent politician.”

Chapter 18

My head was ringing when I left the parlor and made my way through Vulkan Keep to the library. My chat with Ignas had power-leveled my Leadership skill, added a point each to Intelligence and Wisdom, and left me thinking about my fight with Suri in a whole different light. It had made me realize something important - namely that I'd treated her like a huge fat jerk.

I stepped into the warm, dry chamber and was immediately overwhelmed. Vulkan Keep's library was built into a naturally dry cavern, one that was warmer and airier than the rest of the keep. Shelf after shelf after shelf receded into the subterranean depths, well-lit with rows of clear, heatless mage lights. There was a large sign out front: “No pipes, matches, sparks, witchcraft, or loitering.”

A surprisingly young man with a long ponytail of startling red hair sat at the desk beside the sign, his narrow lips pursed as he quickly and dexterously copied the contents of a brittle scroll, carefully stretched under a glass pane, into a brand-new leather-bound book. He glanced up at me as I sidled over to the desk, eyes sharp and hawkish.

“Can I help you?” He didn't sound Vlachian - he had the same crisp, Britishy accent as Rutha, though less pronounced.

“Uhh...” Up close, I noticed his teeth. They were sharper than normal human teeth, twin rows of small glassy fangs. Both of his ears were scarred. He was Lysian, like Rutha, but his ears had been docked and rounded to look more human. “Yeah. Actually, I'm looking for a stack of books on about-” I checked my list. “Twelve different subjects. And statesmanship. And military strategy.”

“Fourteen subjects, then?” He arched a slender eyebrow.

I shifted from foot to foot, breathing in the smell of old paper. “Yeah.”

He waited expectantly.

“Uhh... let's start with Dakhari history,” I said. “Sachara. The Demon Queen.”

“Hmm.” He set his quill down, covered his ink pots, and looked off into space for a moment. “We don't have any books about Sachara, specifically, but we do have books on Dakhari history. What else? I can remember more than one thing.”

I brought up the quest menu again. “The Drachan War, the Drachan – species – and the Rostori?”

The Archivist's brows climbed higher with each additional entry, until I thought they were about to climb off his face. But at the end of it all, he concentrated for a moment and then rose smoothly to his feet.

“Follow me,” he said. “And bring a cart.”

The carts were big rattling iron things, cumbersome and hard to turn around corners. I trotted after the librarian like a puppy, stopping when he stopped, and maybe privately jealous at how confidently he skimmed the titles, pulled a book now and then, and skimmed two or three pages within seconds before replacing them or adding them to the growing pile in front of me.

“Some of what you need is in the locked section,” he said briskly. “We can't take the cart in there. The shelves are too narrow.”

“Are we going to be able