Impolitic
Rennie’s a mouthy brat sometimes. Gets it from her player.
After the Four Rs (Renate, Rien, R-yk, and Ricard) disposed (with considerable help) of Public Enemies numbers One and Two, who had escaped the general carnage of the bounty hunt to terrorize a nearby village of noncombatants, all the bounty hunters came to town on the double to congratulate them—along with two dragons, one of whom is responsible for the disgusting bounty-hunt spectacle in the first place.
Practically the first words out of Renate’s mouth were an open rebuke. Not cricket to endanger noncombatants pointlessly, don’t you know. End game session on cliffhanger; the dragon’s reply is next week’s opening. Imagine a grimy, disheveled little wren bobbing her tail angrily and cheeping defiance to an immense, powerful silver-striped bronze cat with lazy, amused eyes, and you have some idea.
She’s right, of course, and she won’t back down even though the dragon in question is also her feudal lord. Still. It wasn’t politic. (Not that being politic would have gotten her anywhere, really.) She has an uncomfortable feeling the cat’s paw is going to come down at some point, but (here’s that hero streak again) better on her than the villagers.
What can I say? Sometimes you gotta stand up and take your lumps for doing the right thing. (I’ve got a couple of run-ins with my previous employer running on a loop in my head now. The moral situations and power disparities were, shall we say, not dissimilar.) I wish I could do it with the same dispatch and conviction as my little Rennie—but I will say that I have learned a bit about how to be politic in the last few years, and the lessons were worthwhile.
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