Camille I: The High Priestess

ã€ŠConquest of Avalonã€‹


 Camille I: The High Priestess

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille I: The High Priestess</h1>

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian, Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.¡± Not a single title amiss, every syllable spoken just so. Lady Camille Leclaire flicked her hand out towards the water, parting the waves before her as she pulled on her connection to the spirit. The pageantry was more than a bit ridiculous, drawing on Levian¡¯s power to offer power back to Levian, but it reminded the people of what she could accomplish. And in gross, she would gain far more than she expended.

    Duke Fouchand had built this arena for the melee of his tournament, but between its seaside location and the stands already built for onlookers, there was not a place in the city better for an execution.

    Camille breathed deep of the salty air as she took in the cheers of the crowd, careful not to let the smile show on her face. A High Priestess must remain always implacable, unruffled, above the masses before her. That lesson she had learned early. Even her hair set her above and apart, colored pastel blue each fortnight to match the ocean spirit she championed.

    The condemned man rested on his knees in front of her, hands tied behind his back. He hadn¡¯t said a word since learning his fate, which was just as well. Some men would cry, others shout and thrash, but Levian took them all the same. This way, at least, he would die with some measure of dignity, far more than a murderer such as he deserved.

    Resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose, Camille called the waves higher, until they nearly reached the wooden platform where she stood. It took most of her concentration to keep the path open as she did, but she took care not to let it show. If you demonstrate your power to be effortless, the masses will believe you have no limit at all.

    Other spirit sages might know better, having limits of their own to contend with, but they would bear witness to her power firsthand in the arena in a matter of weeks. In the meantime, this would serve.

    ¡°In accordance with our ancient pact, I present this living human, born to the name ¡®Jean¡¯. A thief and brigand, he brutally slew the innocent wineseller who spotted his theft and nearly killed the next witness to his deeds before the city watch apprehended him.¡± The idiot had been stealing a crate of golden sundials from some ship in the harbor, so encumbered by the weight that he failed to notice he was being watched. In the ensuing scuffle, the artifacts had tumbled into the sea while Jean had tumbled into the arms of the City Watch. ¡°Jean of the harbor, speak your final words and step forward to meet your fate.¡±

    The man shook his head, the beard given to him by weeks of captivity swaying along with it. ¡°Not supposed to say nothing. I told you.¡± He rose to a standing position and looked back at the crowd cheering so enthusiastically for his death.

    A spray of seawater landed on Camille¡¯s face as she watched the dead man walk slowly to the edge of the platform. He descended the ladder out of her sight, down to the path she had made through the sea. Standing back on the platform, she did not see him land on the seafloor, only the sight of him walking the path moments later, with that quiet grace only a man who knew he would not be walking back could possess. Even the more boisterous ones tended to calm down once they reached their place beneath the waves.

    It took perhaps five minutes for her to be sure it was time to collapse the path and bring the walls of water down over the dead man¡¯s head. There was an art to the timing, managing the crowd¡¯s restless anticipation to reach the perfect crescendo while ensuring that the prisoner could not reach the surface in time to ruin the entire ceremony.

    If one were to fail, the consequences would be dire. Mathille Leclaire, some hundreds of years ago, had apparently collapsed the water too early, allowing an entire galley of pirates to swim to their freedom, only for Levian to take her in their place.

    With a tap of her foot, she released the waves.  A feeling of intense relief filled her as the tension broke, her intense concentration no longer necessary to hold the waters in check. Within moments of the water surging back into place, one could hardly tell that there had ever been a man or a path at all.

    Only then did Camille turn around to face the crowd herself, showing them only the calm, confident face of the High Priestess of Levian, the Lady Leclaire of On¨¨s, and soon, their Queen. ¡°By Levian¡¯s will, justice is done. Thank you all for bearing witness to it.¡± At that, the crowd erupted in cheers. Many of them would leave small offerings at the temple today, Camille knew. A scrap of food, a seashell of beauty returned to the waters, a candle lit in Levian¡¯s honor. Perhaps even a florin or two for the temple. All due to her efforts, and Levian would recognize as much.

    She felt the rush of power flow into her from Levian as she stepped to the edge of the platform, willing small spears of water up from below to reach her feet as she walked down them like a staircase to the shore. The smaller, more delicate movements of the water were far easier than holding back the raging tides and far less draining of her spiritual energy. All told, the execution would leave her plenty to work with in the melee, provided she were sparing with her energy over the next few weeks.

    With the event at an end, the crowd gradually began to rise from their seats and make their way back down to the beach. Camille was, as ever, far ahead of the pack.

    Duke Fouchand had summoned her to the Council chambers for a meeting at sunset, mere hours away. Important things needed to be taken care of, first.

    Within perhaps half an hour walking down the Gold Road, passing and greeting the traders bringing food from up the coast, their heads bowing in deference as she passed. Camille reached the Harbor Gate, enormous wooden doors framed by the Vetain Tower on the right and the mountains to the left. Beyond it lay not the city proper but the collection of tents and wooden cabins colloquially known as Villemalin, the resting place for Malin¡¯s people granted by Duke Fouchand in the aftermath of the Foxtrap.

    They might have built up more permanent structures, for the land was theirs by writ of the Duke, or integrated with the city to the south, as Camille had done by accepting accommodations in the castle. Seventeen years was certainly sufficient time to do so, but the people of Malin were proud, the exiles who had fled when the capital city fell all the more so. More permanent measures would be an acknowledgement that this situation was anything less than temporary, in its own way an admission of defeat.

    With Camille¡¯s family lands around Chateau On¨¨s likewise fallen into Avalon¡¯s control, the Temple of Levian represented the seat of Leclaire power for the time being. Atop a large wooden platform on stilts, nestled against the rocks and the coast, heavy canvas hung from thick wooden support beams and pillars. In the sea air, the dark blue color had long since faded to a mere tint on the grey. Had Camille her druthers, she might have constructed a firmer edifice, a true testament to the power of Levian and his sages. Uncle Emile had thought otherwise, that making such a concession to reality would only show weakness before their people, and Camille was forced to admit the merit of his point.

    Presentation, more than substance, was the true key to power. The firmest reality paled in the face of a strong narrative, a fact just as true for spirits as for humans.

    Still, it would always be better to have both.

    The aroma of incense filled Camille¡¯s nose as she lifted the flap and entered the temple. Levian¡¯s altar already had a few lit candles burning atop it, with room for dozens more. On a day like today, it would probably be full within a matter of hours.

    Uncle Emile stood behind it, a book of accounts open in front of him. Under the tinted light of the canvas, his grey hair and carefully-trimmed beard looked nearly blue themselves, perhaps a part of why he had stopped bothering to dye them. He closed the volume and stepped out to greet her, a smile on his face. ¡°Camille! You¡¯re back early.¡±

    ¡°Hello, Uncle. Things went well enough at the execution that I finished quickly.¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course, of course.¡± He sighed lightly. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll be wanting me to handle the followers, then.¡±

    ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± She gazed up at him with pleading eyes. ¡°They should be coming in droves to make their offerings.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble for me at all, Camille. That¡¯s not the issue.¡± He placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve ducked out of it. You must take care that it doesn¡¯t become a habit, lest it damage your image. You¡¯ve shown these people your strength, but only from a distance. If they cannot see your compassion, they may never love you.¡±

    ¡°I know. Next time.¡± Camille sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve brought them justice. With any luck, that should bring affection enough for the time being.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m simply advising caution. We¡¯re in a foreign land, with foreign spirits. A smile can be just as powerful a tool as a sword, wielded carefully. The last thing you want is people following another spirit and diminishing your strength.¡±

    ¡°Then they would face the wrath of Levian. They know exactly what that means.¡± For a particularly egregious betrayal, Levian might even intervene himself rather than relying on the Temple. Then there would really be nothing Camille could do. ¡°If all goes to plan, that won¡¯t be necessary though. In fact, my course of action is winning over some of the native Guerron. I noticed a good dozen at the execution.¡± She walked back behind the altar to grab a folder of papers for the meeting.

    ¡°Very impressive,¡± Uncle acceded, stroking his chin. ¡°I wonder how that might have happened, with the condemned stealing relics from the Sun Temple. Truly, it is a mystery. The world may never know what devious stroke of brilliance from my genius niece won them over. Indeed¨C¡±

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    ¡°Goodbye, Uncle.¡± Camille rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Enjoy your meeting!¡± he called out in a chipper tone.

    Lucien was waiting for her outside the tent, his long red-orange hair shining in the sunlight. Between his confident stance and the regal tunic bearing his family¡¯s Fox insignia, he looked every inch the young king who might retake their homeland.

    ¡°Well isn¡¯t this a pleasant surprise? I was not expecting to see you until the council meeting.¡± Camille ran her hand through her hair, stepping closer to meet her betrothed.

    ¡°I thought we could make our way up to the castle together.¡± With a boyish smile, he wrapped his arm around her back, sending a chill up her spine. ¡°If your ladyship permits.¡±

    Camille grimaced. ¡°I was supposed the Singer¡¯s Lounge get ready for that bard, Magnifico. His ship ought to be arriving any day now, with some daft machinery and a list of instructions to store it safely a mile long.¡± A favor for her friend Annette, but that was important in its own right before a council meeting. And there was other, more urgent business to attend to in the area as well.

    ¡°Oh.¡± His face fell, shoulders slumping.

    Biting her lip, Camille took in his sad expression for a moment, the terrible feeling of disappointing him. ¡°I can find time for it later.¡±

    Lucien¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Really?¡±

    Camille smiled. ¡°Lead on, Your Grace.¡±

    They walked together to the King¡¯s tent, sitting atop the nearest of the foothills, basking in each other¡¯s silent company all the while.

    As they crested the hill, Camille took a deep breath, stopping for a moment to look out over the tents and structures before her, and the waters beyond them.

    ¡°You¡¯re breathing awfully heavily.¡± Lucien cracked a smile. ¡°Was walking up a gentle slope enough to wind you?¡±

    ¡°Of¡­ Of course not!¡± she panted.

    Lucien only laughed. ¡°Christine is an excellent master of arms; I¡¯m sure she¡¯d be happy if you wanted to join our lessons to build your stamina. I would certainly enjoy having you there.¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°This again? I barely have time to keep up with Levian and the Temple. Lumiere and the Sun Priests are breathing down my neck every day about converting the Malins, or expelling them, or¨C¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Lucien patted her on the back softly. ¡°Just consider your priorities. As long as Duke Fouchand rules, our people are more than safe from all that. But if fighting should break out¡­¡±

    Consider my priorities? Camille¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°If I find myself in combat, I shall call the power of Levian down on their heads and have done with it. I assure you, I need no help on that front.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± He held up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°And if you run out of Levian¡¯s spirit energy, I suppose you can just die.¡±

    Frowning, Camille started walking again, not waiting for Lucien to catch up. ¡°Not all of us can spend ten hours swinging a sword around every day. Even you should know there¡¯s more to being a King than winning fights.¡±

    ¡°I do know that, Camille. Come now.¡± He put his arm over her shoulder and waved his arm over Villemalin below: faded canvas, worn beams, tents, and cabins, all in stark contrast to the stone walls of Guerron to the South. ¡°Behold my Kingdom, Lady of On¨¨s. All of it, should I fail to win our homeland back. I¡¯ll never really be king of anything if I can¡¯t win the most important battles, and that means training.¡±

    ¡°What, do you think that King Harold will just walk into the city and duel you? They aren¡¯t stupid, Lucien. His father died in the Foxtrap too, if you recall; he will know better. Winning the war is a matter of strategy, above all. If you fail there, your skill at arms doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not¨C¨C¡± He held his hand up to his face. ¡°Truly, do as you please. I just want you to have everything at your disposal to keep yourself safe.¡±

    Exhaling, Camille grabbed his hand in hers. ¡°That¡¯s all I want for you, too.¡±

    The horses were already saddled and ready, at least, so mounting up and making their way over to the Chateau was a fairly fast affair, if not a painless one. By unspoken agreement, they ended up taking different routes to the castle. Just as well, when Camille had business to attend to anyway.

    Lucien cared, that much was clear. For his Kingdom, and for her, far beyond the obligations of betrothal. He was kind and capable, fierce and strong, protective¡­ but sometimes shortsighted, Camille had to admit.

    A sword in hand is one way to prepare for danger, but it is hardly the only, nor most often the best. Especially in this viper¡¯s nest of a city.

    On horseback it did not take overlong to reach the west end of town. Her destination was not far from the Singer¡¯s Lounge, but Camille had more to do in the area than merely speak to the proprietors there.

    At this midday hour, no crowds spilled out the door as they often did, though the pounding beat of dance music could be heard through the walls as she rode by, reduced by the walls to little more than the aggressive drum and bass ¡ª a style imported from Avalon, though Guerron could not boast of their strange mechanical instruments.

    But the Lounge was not her destination yet. She rode right past it on the way to her objective.

    The house was small and squat, a windowless square of stone under a rotting wooden roof near collapse. The door was cracked open, but Camille knocked in any case.

    A boy of perhaps seven crept out, greasy hair matted into disorganized spikes jutting out from the side of his head. His eyes widened when he glimpsed her, mouth hanging open.

    Camille had not dressed excessively fine, simply a bottle green silk tunic and dark blue trousers to emphasize her power and tie her to Levian and the sea while remaining practical for the outdoor ceremony, with a black cape affixed behind her shoulders to billow majestically in the wind. Still, it was a far cry from the faded, roughspun orange cloth the child wore, and likely made her stand out in circumstances such as these.

    ¡°Is your mother here?¡± she asked, looking down at him.

    The boy did not respond, simply shaking his head and stepping backwards.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be shy. I am here to help.¡± She bent her legs down to meet his eye level. ¡°Could you get your mother please?¡±

    He shook his head once more. ¡°She¡¯s at the harbor, looking for work. She said there¡¯s an oyser¨Coysten¨C¡±

    ¡°Oyster raker?¡± Camille guessed.

    The child smiled and nodded. ¡°He might need help catching them. She¡¯s been out looking for work every day since Papa went on his trip.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± she said with a slight hitch in her voice. Levian only knew what had sustained them before, but it clearly was not a luxurious existence even then. ¡°Do you know when she will return?¡± Camille could not afford to wait too long with the Duke¡¯s summons this evening, and it seemed distasteful to push things back to tomorrow. She had made a promise, after all.

    ¡°No.¡± The boy shook his head again.

    ¡°Ah.¡± Camille sighed. Nothing else for it, then. ¡°What is your name?¡±

    ¡°Jean.¡± He beamed. ¡°Just like my Papa.¡±

    Camille blinked, biting her lip. Of course. ¡°Alright, Jean, I have a very important job for you. Do you think you can do it?¡±

    Jean jumped up slightly. ¡°What is it? What is it?¡±

    Camille pulled a coin purse from beneath her cape. ¡°This is from your Papa, from his last job. We worked things out so that I would give it to you. Make sure your mother gets it, alright Jean?¡±

    He picked up the purse gingerly, nearly falling over with the weight. Four-hundred florins pulled him down, enough to keep them in better comfort for a good while, with no need to resort to thievery. Hopefully enough, anyway.

    Camille stood up, feeling a slight groan in her knees as she did. ¡°Do not tell anyone but your mother about that. Just hide it in the house until she returns.¡±

    Little Jean nodded, running back into the house as fast as he could with the purse dragging on the ground behind him.

    Camille closed the door as she left, nodding with satisfaction. Levian had his due, and Jean¡¯s family theirs.

    Unfortunately, she barely made it ten houses before Lord Aurelien Lumiere, High Priest of the Sun, showed his face before her. Atop a white mare bedecked in ceremonial gold armor, his shining presence in the crowded streets stood out even beyond Camille¡¯s own. The contrast was all the greater for the small crowd of dozens gathered around him. His garish gold-patterned tunic was almost blinding in the midday sun as he cried out.

    ¡°Good people of Guerron,¡± he called out to them. ¡°This injustice is unacceptable. Every day, these Malins consume the fruits of your labor, flooding our city like vermin. They abuse our good Duke¡¯s generosity to attack and plunder. Not two weeks ago, they pulled a trader¡¯s wagon of grain from the Gold Road aside and claimed it for themselves! Literally taking food from the mouths of your babes!¡±

    That wagon had been specifically earmarked for the Malins, at a council meeting which Lord Lumiere had attended, even, but such facts were apparently beyond the rhetoric of the Sun Priest.

    ¡°This very morning, one of our own was torn from his family and sacrificed to their strange foreign spirit, struck down in a blatant miscarriage of justice. I ask you, will you wait until it is you sacrificed to their ocean overlord? You who starve to feed these interlopers?¡±

    His crowd shouted, ¡°No!¡± pumping their fists in anger.

    ¡°Stay vigilant, I ask you all. In the name of Soleil, our patron spirit of the Sun. In the name of good Duke Fouchand, who offers succor to these vermin even as they rob our people blind, so kind and generous is he. Should you see one on the streets, stop and ask them their business, for you may uncover their nefarious plan. Wait, and watch, for I fear conflict is inevitable. Be ready, I ask you.¡±

    A chorus of applause accompanied the end of his speech, Lord Lumiere nodding with satisfaction in response.

    Camille frowned as she tried to sneak by. This was nothing Aurelien Lumiere had not said in his cups, or joking with his crony Valvert before a council meeting began, but crying it openly on the streets was another thing entirely. This would get back to Duke Fouchand, even if Camille said nothing. It meant he was taking a far firmer stand against her people than ever before.

    Worse, he recognized her and waved her over to him.

    Decorum demanded that she approach, and so she did, her horse plodding as slowly as she could manage without appearing impolite.

    ¡°Well met, Lady Leclaire,¡± he announced in a flat tone. ¡°What brings you to the center of the city on this fine day?¡±

    ¡°Business,¡± she responded softly, her cover story already planned. ¡°Avalon¡¯s royal bard will be staying in the Singer¡¯s Lounge for the duration of the tournament, and his machinery requires demanding preparations. I was simply ensuring that things will run smoothly with the proprietors, you understand.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± he snarled. ¡°After murdering one of our citizens, the watery bitch relaxes with a song. Why am I even surprised?¡±

    ¡°Start over,¡± Camille ordered coldly.

    ¡°Jean of the harbor, that robber you sacrificed this morning. One of Guerron¡¯s own, arrested committing an affront to the Sun, no less. The Sun Spirit Soleil has dominion over his soul, not your Levian. He ought to have sacrificed by our Temple, burned in offering according to the ancient way. And yet you stole him away for your ridiculous aquatic ceremony. It¡¯s a mockery of justice!¡±

    Camille steepled her fingers. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you are mistaken, Lord Lumiere. Jean¡¯s final wish was to give his soul to my patron spirit. He thought it the best way to atone for his misdeeds. You ought not be surprised. Levian¡¯s justice is quite persuasive, as is his High Priestess.¡±

    Lumiere snorted. ¡°You may think you¡¯ve won, Lady Leclaire, but I assure you that this is just beginning. We shall see what Duke Fouchand has to say about your little stunt.¡±

    ¡°We shall see what King Lucien has to say about your riling sentiment against our people, guests in your fair city, if you recall.¡±

    ¡°Parasites, I call it.¡± He sneered. ¡°And your King has no power beyond what Duke Fouchand allows him, in any case. Fouchand granted him refuge once he lost the Foxtrap, Fouchand fed and clothed his miserable people, even served as his Regent until he came of age. Where is Lucien¡¯s army? His land? A king in name only, I tell you. Hiding in his skirts will not protect you, Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°I do not need his protection.¡± Camille folded her arms. ¡°Watch yourself, Lumiere.¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll watch whomever I please. It will be especially pleasurable to see you expelled from the council, this evening. Your blatant violation of Guerron law is at an end. Your ocean spirit is powerless before the might of Soleil.¡±

    Camille smirked. ¡°I suppose we shall see. Until then, Lord Lumiere.¡±

    ¡°Until then,¡± he acknowledged, setting his horse walking back the way Camille had come. ¡°I very much look forward to it. Justice comes to all, Lady Leclaire.¡±

 Fernan I: The Scout

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan I: The Scout</h1>

    They were to set off on a warm day early in spring, snowmelt trickling down the mountainside in streams great and small.

    Fernan traced a path down the slope effortlessly, flicking his eyes up and down the wider trail to make sure it remained safe for the wagons to traverse.

    Traveling down the mountain was dangerous enough in winter, when an errant step could collapse half a mountain¡¯s worth of snow down upon you. Last year they¡¯d lost an entire wagon of coal, sent tumbling off the side to crack open in the depths below. If Alderman Jerome hadn¡¯t been there, they might have lost far more.

    But now the snows were melting, and that meant floods. On the north side of the pass, most of it flowed East, draining into the Sartaire. Still, it didn¡¯t take much to block the path down, and fording it was all the more dangerous when a missed step could see you plunging off the edge of a cliff.

    Not to mention the geckos. In the winter season, their lair was easy to spot, the only part of the mountain where snow refused to settle, but now it blended right into the mountains. Geckos would do far worse than lose you a wagon.

    That was what made scouts like Fernan so important. He¡¯d been at it for two years now, since his fifteenth birthday, and already the mountains around the village felt as familiar to him as the back of his hand. Without him, the wagons of coal might never reach the city, nor would the food and goods reach the village. He was essential, just like Jerome and the caravan guards, even if he weren¡¯t the one fighting geckos and bandits. One day he might even become the village Alderman himself, so crucial was his role.

    Fernan breathed a sigh of relief as he found the little bridge still standing. The wood was warped and gnarled from the moisture, the stream flowing under it once again, but it hadn¡¯t been flooded or buried. He would have to leave an offering for the Sun now, as thanks for leaving the route open and safe.

    Past the bridge, the path grew wider and wider until it joined up with the road through the pass itself. That was the point where traders usually met them and purchased their coal to take into the city. And where his people could buy supplies that were hard to come by up in the mountains.

    That meant his work was done for the day. If he hurried, he could probably make it back to Villechart in time for the caravan to set out tomorrow, but that would mean spending the bulk of the trip in the dark. Geckos would leave you alone if you went empty handed, mostly, but the crags didn¡¯t care what you were carrying.

    Tumbling into the abyss from a missed step because he couldn¡¯t wait a day seemed a particularly stupid way to die, so Fernan decided to spend the night down in the pass. No one would be expecting him back before tomorrow, and the trading post at the base of the mountain was always a great place to stay, anyway. The innkeeper, old Louis, would let him sleep for a pittance if there were any rooms empty, and talking to the traders was the best way to find out what was going on out in the world.

    The First Post was nestled tightly under an overhang of rock, its stone walls nearly blending in with the mountain from far away, though the iron sign hanging above the wooden door marked it out, as did the gathering of people milling around in front of it. A large wagon of coal was sitting nearby, a bored-looking girl watching over it.

    Enquin villagers, Fernan guessed. Enquin was far closer to the base, safer from the wrath of the geckos but less bountiful in its haul, according to Jerome. The Villechart people were braver and more courageous for facing the peril they did, and the Sun had rewarded them in kind with rich veins that seemed inexhaustible.

    The caravans from the respective mining villages would see each other from time to time, as one might expect, but the party looked larger than their usual wont. Younger too, he noticed as he came closer. Enquin only had a few people near to Fernan¡¯s age, and it seemed as if nearly all of them were playing with wooden sticks out in front of the inn. Florette was with them, which was something.

    Fernan gave them a wave as he passed, stepping through the open door into the foyer of the inn. The little room was crowded thick with Enquin caravaneers, and beyond it the tavern looked even more heavily inhabited, though it was hard to tell by whom past the crush of bodies. Old Louis was behind his desk, looking so vehemently occupied by an argument with Enquin¡¯s alderman about the price of the rooms that one could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

    Probably best to give them a moment.

    He slipped back out the door before anyone could notice him, turning back to approach the Enquin kids. It looked like Florette was mock-dueling a tall boy named Gaspard, each brandishing a thick tree branch stripped of its leaves and standing in a fencer¡¯s stance.

    Not knowing the other boy well, it was difficult to guess his skill, but just looking at him was enough to see that things didn¡¯t look promising for Florette. Gaspard was twice her size, for one thing, thick where she was wiry and towering above her menacingly. He barely even blinked when she jabbed him with the end of her weapon, stepping forward to meet the blow. For another, he was advancing on her, bit by bit. If it continued like this, she¡¯d be stuck with her back against the wall in short order, nowhere left to retreat.

    Florette was dodging most of his attacks but losing ground every moment, and she seemed to realize it too, since she stopped stepping backwards and charged forward, swinging her stick directly at Gaspard¡¯s legs. The blow struck him in the knee, forcing him to step back, but his stick lashed outwards as he did. It collided with her shoulder and knocked her to the ground.

    ¡°Conceded,¡± she grunted, lying on the scraggly dirt with a scowl on her face.

    Gaspard smiled smugly and walked back to the others who had been watching. ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± he called out triumphantly. No one seemed particularly eager to answer the challenge. ¡°What about you, Villechart boy?¡±

    Fernan shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve never bested Florette; the conclusion is forgone. Thank you for the invitation though.¡± Normally he might make the attempt anyway for the fun of it, but it would make for a miserable slog back up the mountain tomorrow if he were covered in bruises.

    With a snort, Gaspard nodded his head, seemingly content in his victory.

    ¡°Smug prick,¡± muttered Florette as she dusted herself off. Fernan helped her to her feet with a chuckle. ¡°Nice to see you here, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure¡¯s all mine.¡± He smiled. ¡°Shall we find somewhere else to talk?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± she exhaled, flicking her eyes over to the bout starting between Gaspard and two of the others at once. ¡°It¡¯ll make it easier to recover my dignity.¡± She undid the bit of twine holding her long black hair up, swinging her head back and forth to try to shake out some of the dirt without much success.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the typical trading party for Enquin, is it?¡± Fernan jerked his head in the direction of the others. ¡°Seems like a lot more people than usual.¡±

    Florette grinned. ¡°You haven¡¯t heard? The Festival of the Sun is only weeks away.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± It was a fun enough occasion, climbing further up the mountain with Mother and Jerome and the others on the longest day of summer, setting the great pyre aflame and watching the sparks and embers spiral into the sunset sky. But it didn¡¯t seem to have much to do with this.

    ¡°Aaaaaand¡±¡ªshe drew out the word far longer than necessary¡ª¡°we¡¯re going to Guerron this year. The young blood, at least. Duke Fouchand opened the lists to everyone for the yearly tournament. We don¡¯t have the horse and armor for the joust, but Gaspard¡¯s not half bad with a bow, and the rest of us thought we¡¯d make a go of the melee.¡±

    ¡°Enquin can spare you?¡± If five of the able-bodied left Villechart for weeks just to compete in a tournament, those remaining would not take it kindly.

    She shrugged. ¡°This time of year, half the mines are flooded. People are already being turned away most days; we won¡¯t be overly missed. Besides, the winners are to be honored at the Duke¡¯s ball, with a prize of five thousand florins. That would be more than worth a few weeks away.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re training so hard.¡± Fernan frowned. ¡°But there will be Lords and Ladies competing, knights and spirit sages. Surely you don¡¯t think you can win?¡±

    ¡°Thank you for faith and support, Fernan.¡± Florette chuckled as she shook her head. ¡°Probably not, but you never know. More to the point, if we can make a good showing while representing Enquin, we might be able to get a spirit sage to come protect the village. Recognition for valor, you know?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Fernan raised an eyebrow. ¡°I didn¡¯t think Enquin needed the protection.¡± Although, the geckos had been getting bolder lately. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just ask our Alderman, Jerome? I could relay it to him.¡±

    ¡°I asked the same thing.¡± She sighed. ¡°My Alderman forbade me from even mentioning his name. He said Jerome would only make things worse, wouldn¡¯t explain any more than that.¡±

    ¡°But¨C¡±

    Florette interrupted him with a scoff. ¡°Honestly, Fernan, it¡¯s their loss. Don¡¯t you get it? This is my chance to finally escape that village. To go out and see the world! Making a good showing in the tournament isn¡¯t just good for the village; it means I could prove myself. The alderman and the others can handle things once the tournament is over. I¡¯ll be on a boat headed far away.¡± She paused, her eyes flicking up and down. ¡°You should come too.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t abandon my village!¡± He stepped back. ¡°I¡¯m too important. How could you even ask something like that?¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°To the tournament, Fernan.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°You can head back with Gaspard and the rest once it¡¯s over. But our Festival of the Sun here is nothing compared to the one in Guerron. Don¡¯t you want to see it?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Fernan rubbed the back of his neck.

    ¡°Really?¡± Florette¡¯s eyes widened incredulously. ¡°There will be more people there than either of us have ever seen! That singer Edith Costeau is going to perform for everyone at the outset. Not to mention the city itself. Don¡¯t try to tell me you¡¯re indifferent to seeing the ocean, or all the temples in the spirit quartier.¡±

    ¡°That would be nice,¡± he conceded. The truth was, it was extremely tempting. The traders had always painted a strange and scary picture of the world beyond the mountains, but a fascinating one nonetheless. If Villechart weren¡¯t depending on him, it wouldn¡¯t even be a difficult choice. ¡°Still¡­¡±

    ¡°Ugh. Why are you so determined to be boring about this?¡± she groaned. ¡°Look, your village makes a run down the mountain¨C¨Cwhat?¨C¨C every two moons? Less? You¡¯ll be back long before they need you again.¡±

    More often than that, but the sentiment was true, provided nothing delayed him on the way back. And the road through the pass tended to be safer than the higher paths, according to the traders. Bandits might take your things, but they wouldn¡¯t leave you begging for death.

    ¡°Just promise me you¡¯ll think about it,¡± she continued. ¡°I¡¯d really appreciate having someone a bit less thick-headed around to see me off. We have to wait here a few days for the traders to show up anyway, plenty of time for you to check in with your village.¡±

    ¡°Fine. I promise to consider it.¡± No harm in that.

    ¡°Good.¡± She clapped him on the back, just hard enough to smart. ¡°Now let¡¯s go get a drink. I need to nurse my wounds.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what that means,¡± Fernan muttered as Florette began leading him back to the inn.

    As they grew closer, he could hear strange sounds emanating from the tavern area. At once discordant and fascinating, it sounded shrill like a bird¡¯s chirp and yet rhythmic like those occasional times that Jerome broke out his lute to play a song.

    Fernan shot Florette a questioning look, but she simply shrugged in response.

    Bracing himself, he cautiously opened the door. Inside, it seemed as if everyone in the inn were here. The Enquin alderman must have worked things out with old Louis, since they were both sitting at rapt attention at the source of the noise, all the other caravaneers filling out the space around them.

    At the back of the room, a man with dark brown hair and high cheekbones held a large box of metal and wood, moving his fingers back and forth across it as it played the noises. Music, Fernan realized, though it felt strange to call it that. He looked about forty, and handsome in his purple cloak, although far too old for that to mean much.

    The bard was flanked by ten guards in matching dark red jackets over brown breeches. Fernan had never seen it himself, but he had heard enough stories of the War of the Foxtrap to know what those colors meant: these were Avalon soldiers.

    Florette¡¯s eyes were narrowing beside him, her fists clenched.

    ¡°Do you want to go back out?¡± he whispered.

    ¡°No,¡± she snarled, shaking her head. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Let¡¯s get that drink.¡±

    They slid past the crowd to the bar easily enough, each placing a few worn copper pieces on the aged wood. ¡°Gold Coast Ale, please,¡± Fernan requested from young Louis. Florette held up two fingers in addition without another word.

    They received them just time, as it turned out. The moment the performance ended, half of the onlookers needed to replenish their glasses, overwhelming poor Louis as he scrambled to keep up.

    As they approached, the wave of reactions washed through the small tavern room, little fragments poking out above the general din. ¡°Incredible!¡± ¡°Almost spiritual, wasn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Like nothing I¡¯ve ever heard before.¡±

    Florette rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her ale. ¡°It¡¯s like they forgot the Foxtrap already. They shouldn¡¯t even be allowed in here.¡±

    Fernan frowned. ¡°These ones look young enough that they probably had nothing to do with it.¡±

    ¡°So what? Avalon doesn¡¯t conscript levies. Those soldiers made a choice to be part of that army; they can be held responsible for what it did.¡± She took a long swig, more than half the glass. ¡°Everyone here should be. Instead they¡¯re so impressed by a shiny toy that they forget these people conquered our capital and murdered our King.¡± Murdered her parents, he had a feeling she was really saying, since King Romain had died in an honorable duel, fatally wounding Avalon¡¯s previous King Harold in the process. The soldiers under his command, however, had not had the same chance to perish with honor. No one would sing songs for the villagers crushed under the boot of Avalon¡¯s conquests. ¡°And now I¡¯m going to be stuck here with them until the traders show up.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Leaning closer, Fernan took a sip of his drink. ¡°But what are they supposed to do? Do you think a bunch of drunk coal miners are a match for ten soldiers?¡±

    Frowning, Florette shook her head. It looked like her drink was already empty, but the bar was so crowded that it would be a while before she could order another.

    ¡°Take mine.¡± He slid the glass over to her. ¡°I should probably be getting to bed soon anyway. Early morning.¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°That¡¯s right. All the way back up the mountain again.¡±

    ¡°You should come with me.¡± Although having her along would make it much harder for him to say no to the festival trip, in all likelihood. ¡°We¡¯ll be back before your group needs to leave.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic! That¡¯ll be so much better than having to endure them here.¡± She slid the roughly two-thirds of his ale remaining back across the bar to him. ¡°Here, you can finish mine. I¡¯m going to turn in so we can leave early.¡±

    Fernan chuckled as he waved her goodnight.

    ¡°Your friend doesn¡¯t seem terribly fond of me.¡±

    ¡°Soleil¡¯s Grace,¡± Fernan swore, nearly jumping out of his seat. ¡°It¡¯s rude to surprise people like that.¡±

    The purple-clad bard put his hand over his heart. ¡°My deepest apologies, young sir. That was not my intent.¡± He spoke with a harsh accent Fernan had never heard before, though fully intelligible for all that.

    ¡°Fernan,¡± he introduced himself, dipping his head in greeting. ¡°And your apology is accepted.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± The bard clasped his hands together, bowing his head in turn. ¡°I am called Magnifico, personal bard for the royal family of Avalon.¡± That explained the guards, at least.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be your name.¡± Fernan raised his eyebrows over a sip of his ale. ¡°Magnifico, really? It¡¯s the name of a clown, or a child¡¯s toy.¡±

    ¡°Or a performer on his stage.¡± Magnifico shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not the one I was born with. In my field as in the world at large, success is contingent on the cultivation of a persona, a recognizable identity. I first entered Cambria with nothing but the clothes on my back and the ideas in my mind, and look at me now!¡±

    ¡°What brings you here, then?¡± Guerron Pass, the route between the Sartaire river to the East and Guerron City to the West, was hardly the epicenter of music and culture. When farms had to be terraced and snow covered them for up to a third of the year, there was little reason to live here save the mines. ¡°Were you perhaps exiled for playing that bizarre contraption instead of real music?¡±

    Frowning, Magnifico signaled for a drink of his own. ¡°It¡¯s called a pulsebox, a new invention of the Cambrian College capable of playing music never before heard. There are only twelve in the world, and I am without a doubt the best player in existence.¡±

    ¡°I shudder to think of what the other ones sound like, then.¡±

    Magnifico chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not everyone¡¯s taste, I suppose. But for your information, I¡¯m headed to the Festival of the Sun to play for Duke Fouchand, a gesture of friendship from King Harold to the Lord of Guerron.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that makes sense enough, but I feel compelled to warn you that you won¡¯t have an easy time of it. There¡¯s a whole quartier of Guerron filled with refugees from Malin. They aren¡¯t likely to take kindly to Harold¡¯s friendship.¡± Fernan took a long sip from his glass.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have my work cut out for me.¡± The bard nodded. ¡°But I¡¯ve dealt with worse. If Duke Fouchand can forgive us for the War of the Foxtrap enough to keep Avalon well supplied with your coal, I¡¯m sure he can forgive a performance from an honored member of our royal court. His Majesty sent me forth with the best of intentions, I can assure you.¡±

    Fernan shrugged. ¡°Just don¡¯t confuse having people over a barrel with possessing their admiration or respect. It¡¯s an easy mistake to make, when they show you smiles and courtesies, to miss the knife held behind their back.¡± If they even bothered; he knew Florette would spare the mask.

    ¡°My my, you¡¯re honest, aren¡¯t you?¡± Magnifico raised his eyebrows. ¡°The warning is appreciated, as is your candor. Come find me at the Singer¡¯s Lounge in Guerron once you arrive, if you like. Most of my critics aren¡¯t nearly so bold.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¨C¡± Fernan couldn¡¯t even get the sentence out before the bard clapped him on the back and stood to go, not bothering to pay for his drink. But then, he was likely drinking for free after a reception like that.

    Some people have no taste, Fernan thought as he stepped out of the tavern. Between the Enquin villagers and the Avalon guards, there was next to no chance that old Louis would have a room for him.

    No great tragedy, that. The early spring air was running hotter than last year, decently comfortable even with the breeze blowing through the pass. The grass was soft enough to make a decent bed, so Fernan found a nice spot under and overhang of rock and drifted away.

    The morning came too quickly, as it often did. Fernan squinted as he wiped the dew off of his body, trying to shake himself dry in the morning chill.

    Florette emerged shortly thereafter, looking in far better spirits than she had the night before, and the two of them set about ascending the mountain. It was slower on the way up than traveling down, and more exhausting to boot, but they managed to reach the bridge by midday, putting them on track to reach Villechart well before nightfall.

    ¡°Is that rickety old thing really stable enough to get your wagons across?¡± Florette raised an eyebrow, panting slightly as she caught her breath.

    ¡°It¡¯s done its job so far.¡± Fernan shrugged. ¡°And Jerome will be on hand in case anything goes wrong.¡± Although¡­ Fernan stepped ahead of her and tapped his boot against the wood carefully. ¡°It should still hold, but it might not hurt to send some people down to reinforce it first. The wagons are overloaded this time. I heard Jerome mention he might have to keep some back for the next trip so we don¡¯t get too undercut on price.¡± Though with Enquin¡¯s deficiency, that might not end up being necessary, callous as it was to think of things that way.

    ¡°Woe is you. Such a bountiful haul it won¡¯t even fit in the wagons.¡± Florette sighed with barely disguised bitterness.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be jealous, Florette.¡± Fernan turned back to face the path, talking over his shoulder. ¡°If the Enquin wished to tap into these veins, they could have settled further up the mountain. This new one the miners found looks like it goes all the way down to the base. Perhaps even further.¡±

    Florette only hissed in response.

    ¡°What a mature response.¡± With a roll of his eyes, Fernan spun back around to face her.

    Florette was frozen in place, staring at the enormous gecko blocking the bridge as it hissed at her.

    Merciful Sun, it was fully grown too. The largest of its kind Fernan had even laid eyes on, it stood eight feet across from head to tail, its soulless black eyes visible even from behind its dark green body.

    ¡°Stay calm,¡± Fernan whispered. ¡°You don¡¯t have anything it wants.¡± He had never heard of them eating any humans that were still alive, at least. They attacked caravans flush with coal, leaving nothing but splintered remnants and bones, but people without it were supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be safe.

    The gecko turned to face him, likely drawn by the sound of his voice.

    That¡¯s good, he forced himself to think. Florette can go get help.

    She didn¡¯t seem to be backing away, though. Bending down slowly, she reached her hand out for a large rock laying on the ground beside the path.

    ¡°No,¡± he breathed as lightly as he could, shaking his head. When they sent a caravan down the mountain, ten of the miners would hang up their pickaxes and carry pikes to guard the wagon, and even that wasn¡¯t always enough to scare them off. A rock would do nothing more than anger it. ¡°Get help.¡±

    With another hiss, the gecko stepped closer, its tail swinging lightly back and forth.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have what you want,¡± he said, recognizing the futility even as the words passed his lips. ¡°Please, just go away.¡±

    The gecko stopped. It lifted its head in what almost looked like a nod, the gesture hanging for a moment in the tense air.

    Then its mouth dropped open, a jet of bright green fire spewing directly towards Fernan¡¯s face. He saw the green fill his eyes before he even felt the pain.

 Florette I: The Warrior

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette I: The Warrior</h1>

    Stay away from those Villechart kids, Florette. Their sage will bring nothing but misfortune to all who know him.

    The alderman¡¯s words echoed in her ears for a laughable moment as she reached out slowly, carefully, for anything to fight the beast. Fernan was shouting at it, which was bad, but it did keep it distracted while she grasped around.

    Her hand found purchase on a large, pointed rock the moment the flame erupted from its mouth.

    Perhaps he was right, she thought with a tinge of dark anger.

    She didn¡¯t even need to think. With a lunge, she swung the rock down at the creature¡¯s tail as hard as she could. The squelch was at once satisfying and unnerving, its blood splattering as it yelped with pain.

    Fernan was slumped to the ground in front of it, holding his arm over his eyes as his body shook. I should have called out when it crawled up from under the bridge. It might have provoked the creature, but even that would have been better than this.

    If she hadn¡¯t lagged behind, they might have been able to run at least. If those putrid Avalons hadn¡¯t occupied the inn, Fernan might never have encountered the monster at all. If¡­ But those thoughts went nowhere. I have to focus, she thought as she gripped the bloody rock tightly.

    The gecko turned its head back to face her, whimpering with pain as curls of smoke drifted out of its mouth. It let loose another blast of flame, but Florette was already jumping to the right of the bridge in anticipation.

    It still caught on the edge of her tunic.

    Those soulless eyes followed her movement as it turned its head to face her. Opening its mouth, it spat forth a third jet of flame in her direction.

    This isn¡¯t working. Evading yet again, Florette tried to pat down the fire, but to no avail. She stepped back as the gecko crept closer, noticing the trail of blood its tail left on the wood of the bridge. But I¡¯m not going to let it win.

    With a deep breath, she jumped into the raging stream. The cold was a shock like none other, something she could feel deep in her bones that made it almost impossible to think. But she had to act quickly or be swept away, dashed against the rocks below.

    She gasped for air as she pushed her head above the water, fighting the current to stay afloat. Still upstream of the bridge, at least. That was good. It meant she wasn¡¯t dead yet.

    Jerking her hand above the water, Florette barely managed to grab onto the underside of the wooden arch, pain lancing through her hand as her grip tightened around it. It wasn¡¯t a stable position, but it gave her a second to catch her breath out of reach of the flames.

    She shook her head to clear the strands of wet hair from her face, blinking the water out of her eyes as she did. She saw the gecko circling back in on itself, nosing at its injured tail. With any luck, that meant it had lost interest in them. If it fled, she could take Fernan to the village and get him help. She could be a hero, instead of a miserable failure.

    The gecko flicked its tongue to its lidless eye as it opened its mouth once more.

    Florette prepared to duck under the water again, but not so much as a spark spewed forth. Only the cry, a shrill hiss far louder than the noise it had made crawling out from the under the bridge.

    Was it in pain? Surely it would have cried out earlier, if that were all there were to it.

    Cautiously, Florette hoisted herself up onto the bridge, ready to jump back if the gecko attacked. But it remained there, mouth open, emitting that ominous call.

    She risked a glance back over to Fernan, who was still lying on the ground, unmoving. She couldn¡¯t see his face, but tendrils of smoke curled up into the air from his head.

    ¡°Fernan?¡± she called out hesitantly.

    No response. The gecko remained focused on whatever it was doing across the stream. She made sure not to turn her back to the creature as she slowly walked over to Fernan. Gingerly, she flipped him over onto his back, pushing past her dread.

    His boyish face was nearly a ruin, the burns spread from his nose to his forehead. His pathetic attempt at a mustache was still smoldering, and the eyes¡­ The green flame still burned within them, but there was no recognition beyond it. Only the slight rise and fall of his chest conveyed any life at all.

    As Florette suppressed a wave of inescapable rage, the gecko stopped its call, shutting its mouth and fleeing down the side of the mountain, shedding its injured tail behind it. Small mercies.

    With a moment to breathe, she cupped her hands together and scooped up water from the stream to pour lightly over his face. It probably wasn¡¯t the best way to treat a burn, but it had to be better than nothing. It would cool him down, if nothing else.

    Fernan didn¡¯t even respond. He certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to walk, so Florette did her best to sling him over her back. The first step was painful, agonizingly slow. She nearly collapsed on the second.

    He¡¯s too heavy. I¡¯m too weak. Florette took a deep breath and began to drag Fernan by his arms, further up the path at a speed far too slow to make it anywhere useful in time. Every pebble on the path felt like a dagger in her feet, her lungs desperately gasping for air as she struggled on. Anything to reach Fernan¡¯s village while there was still hope for him. To turn this disaster into a triumph.

    If she could get Fernan to Villechart in time, their alderman might be able to heal him. He was a spirit sage, according to Fernan, and they held all kinds of strange abilities, power granted by their spirit patrons. If Jerome had sworn allegiance to Soleil, the sun spirit, he might be able to grant life back into his eyes, to heal the awful burns across his face.

    If she could even make it there. Her back was already screaming from the awkward crouch needed to keep dragging Feran. The trail of disturbed dirt stretched out below them showed a pitiful measure of progress, so slow it felt like she wasn¡¯t moving at all.

    Every so often, Fernan would groan as she dragged him over a rock or a bump, which was at least an assurance that he was still alive, though not of much else. Florette did her best to clear the path behind them, but every moment her back was turned was another delay, and only so much could be done to smooth the rocky path.

    Already, the sun was declining in the sky, the temperature falling in turn. Springtime seemed to be running warm again, but this high up, evenings were still far from pleasant, especially without bulkier clothes. The shock of the initial attack that had propelled her so far had long worn off, leaving Florette aching, tired, and cold.

    Not that that was any reason to stop. She could still fix this.

    A true hero fights to the bitter end. No greatness ever came of giving in.

    So exhausted she needed a moment to rest, Florette lifted her head for another glance back down the path, hoping it would show some measure of progress. The bridge was hidden by the mountain now, the path curving around it. That meant something, at least, even if reaching Villechart before nightfall seemed utterly hopeless.

    Whenever she had the days to spare, more and more common these days with the state of the Enquin mines, Florette would lurk around the First Post, hoping for any stories from worldly travelers and traders. She had even learned to read, mostly the books her village would occasionally trade for from Guerron, which had supplied her with even more tales of adventure.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    There was always a pattern to the stories of grand feats and heroic valor. The deeds that captured their hearts were decisive, uncompromising: the dashing rogue Robin Verrou stealing his advanced ship from right under Avalon¡¯s nose, the shadowy figures of the Malin resistance hiding in the old capital, emerging only to strike fear into the hearts of the occupying curs.

    Almost never was a word spared for the likes of Duke Fouchand, the capitulating craven who had surrendered to Avalon before the Foxtrap had even properly begun. To hold onto his own power, he had thrown away the lives of everyone lost in the war. He had made their sacrifice worthless out of selfish cowardice.

    She would save Fernan, would take her place among those fighting for righteous glory. It was that simple.

    Just as she was about to resume moving, a writhing shape caught the corner of her eye, far down the slope. Like dark grass, swaying in the wind. Or¡­

    Florette pounded her fists against the side of the rock, cursing every great spirit whose name she even knew.

    Nearly two dozen geckos were gathering at the base beneath her, smaller than the one who had burned Fernan but no less fearsome for it. He was calling out to the others. They¡¯re all coming after us¡­

    Florette began laughing, tilting her head towards the sky at the sheer misfortune. One gecko was more than a match for the two of them ¡ª this many made for a challenge so grossly insurmountable that their mere appearance beggared belief. Entire caravans accompanied by village guards had been massacred by less than half the number staring her down.

    What did they even want? Geckos were dumb beasts, but they normally understood enough to feed themselves. Attacking villages or caravan for coal made some twisted kind of sense, but sending this many after two people? Even the both of them would make for a meager meal with a crowd that large, not that that was much consolation.

    No one would blame her for leaving Fernan now. She probably should have left him behind already. Slipping away as geckos feasted on the fallen was one of the few opportunities one might ever get to escape a horde like this. She was doing him no good by staying here, not if he was doomed in any case. All the miners and caravan guards would say the same thing: save yourself.

    And yet she remained. The thought of those horrific creatures biting into his flesh because she let them was too much to bear. Would the Captain of the Exiles give up? Would Robin Verrou?

    A deep breath. She had to believe there was something she could do. The alternative didn¡¯t bear thinking about. Stepping away from Fernan for a moment, she tried to get her bearings.

    Could she roll a boulder onto them? Not without any in sight, no. Especially when one would probably fall off long before it collided.

    The mass began to move up the path, assembled in its entirety.

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse,¡± Florette swore. They would be here in minutes.

    Up the path lay the village, with its spirit sage and some measure of safety. It wound around the side of the mountain, weaving through gaps in the rock.

    Florette flicked her eyes to Fernan, only a little ways back.

    Gaps in the rock¡­

    She ran up and grabbed his arms once more, a faint trickle of hope fueling her as she pulled him further up. This time she kept a keen eye to the side of the mountain, looking for any fitting spot.

    The geckos scurried closer, a green fire burning in their mad, uncomprehending eyes. But Florette kept her attention on the path ahead, craning her neck over her shoulder as she dragged poor Fernan around the bend and momentarily out of their sight.

    She found what she was looking for not a moment too soon: a narrow alcove in the side of the mountain, barely large enough for one person.

    ¡°Up you go, Fernan.¡± Muscles screaming, she hoisted him in feet first, pushing him back until only his head was visible. Without time to do better, she wedged some of the larger stones in front to block him in, hiding behind the rocks. Sorry.

    She dragged her foot along the dirt for another dozen feet, as far as she dared, before breaking into a full sprint up the path, not looking back. With any luck, that would deter them enough for her to get help from the village.

    Once she had put enough distance between herself and the horde, Florette pressed herself low to the ground and looked down over the spot where Fernan was cached.

    It felt like only moments before the geckos caught up to the hiding spot, crying and hissing in a cacophonous blast of sound that overwhelmed all else. It sounded almost like they were yelling at each other, driving the noise into her skull as they emitted their awful cry.

    The ruse didn¡¯t fool them for even a second. It was like they could see through the stone, immediately stopping in front of Fernan and clambering up to dislodge the rocks covering him.

    All for nothing.

    The largest among them stepped forward in front of the rest, half again the size of the one which had burned Fernan, and wrapped its jaw around Fernan¡¯s head.

    Clenching her fists, Florette forced herself not to look away.

    Slowly, the beast pulled Fernan from his hole, dragging his body down into the center of the gecko gathering. When it withdrew its mouth, Fernan lay there, looking no different than before.

    What?

    Four of them picked Fernan up with their mouths, moving him onto the back of the largest without appearing to bite. Once he was secured, the mass of geckos began making their way back down the path.

    Florette blinked. She had never heard any mention of geckos abducting instead of killing, any at all. If it had ever happened, none had lived to tell of it.

    What was there even to do now? She doubted anyone from Villechart could make it back here in time to do anything for Fernan, no matter how fast Florette might make it there. This was her chance to escape the geckos. It would at least mean that she could inform Fernan¡¯s family.

    That¡¯s sure to be a joyous task.

    His father had died young, he had said, lungs black from work in the mines. Not an uncommon way to go, but it wouldn¡¯t usually catch up to a miner enough to kill them until at least their fifties. Fernan had guessed it was because his father was such a hard worker, and Florette hadn¡¯t had the heart to tell him it was probably because he had been careless with the cloth covering his face to block the dust.

    Even so, Florette would still have to break the news to his poor mother. Soleil only knew how she might react, how she might blame Florette for what had befallen her son. Not only the tragedy of the geckos, but the uncertainty from the fact that he had still been alive when Florette left him to his fate like a worthless coward.

    Why hadn¡¯t they killed him? Florette dared not hope that he might escape, but the only time a gecko would pause their attack would be to consume the fallen people they had slain. And that large a gathering certainly would not be inclined to leave the survivors alone, as they had for her.

    The bewildering uncertainty was nearly as bad as the awful truth of what had happened, maybe even worse. At least death was certain, inevitable.

    Florette left her hiding spot and began walking, her feet softly touching the dirt as her heart began to slow. The calm was no true relief, but a deep unease, a dread lodged deep in the pit of her stomach.

    The setting sun threw long shadows behind her, towards the village where she knew she ought to be headed. Where she would finally have no choice but to give up on Fernan, give up on herself.

    The geckos were not hard to see, moving in such a large pack. With Fernan captured, they couldn¡¯t even seem to clamber up and down the mountainside as they might normally.

    She didn¡¯t even know where they were taking him. With the snow melted, there was no way to spot their lair amidst the rock. Once they left her sight, they would disappear into the mountains, forever out of reach. Fernan would be lost along with them.

    No. She wouldn¡¯t let it end like that.

    Following them at a safe distance was trivial, even as twilight descended. Whenever one opened its mouth, the flame inside acted as a beacon even from so far away.

    She could almost hear Fernan¡¯s voice in her mind, asking her what in Soleil¡¯s name she was doing, what brazen idiocy would drive her to follow when she had every chance to escape.

    But really, it was simple. If she could track where they took him, she could leave and return with caravan guards, probably with Villechart¡¯s alderman too. No need to take all of the geckos on herself, then.

    And if they don¡¯t want to come? To risk all of their lives to save a boy who¡¯s already dead?

    Florette shook her head at the thought. If no one would help, then it didn¡¯t matter anyway. But if she couldn¡¯t find the latest spot where they¡¯d made their lair, there would be no chance at all. Doing it this way was a small risk for a huge benefit.

    Dragging Fernan had been exhausting, but she felt a new vigor as she crept behind the pack of geckos, following them up and down the rough mountainside with careful deliberation. As night fell, she had to pick her path more carefully, testing each spot with a tap of her foot to be certain it had enough traction to walk across.

    By the time they reached the lair, darkness had wholly fallen.

    The cave was on the side of the mountain, blended right into the rock. Only the heat emanating out and the slight shimmer in the air marked it as anything unusual. Even at her safe distance, the warmth was unpleasantly soothing in the night air. It felt wrong, imbalanced.

    Fitting enough for a cave of monsters, she supposed.

    Cautiously, Florette crept closer, trying to get a better view of the mouth. With the ripples in the air, it looked almost alive, pulsating like a beating heart, tinged ever so slightly with the same dark green color as the geckos¡¯ hides.

    Now I know. If Fernan¡¯s villagers refused to help him, then Florette could at least know that she¡¯d done everything she possibly could.

    Carefully committing the area to memory, she turned around to begin her trek back. It would be dangerous in the dark, but nothing less than she could handle. Certainly less threatening than a pack of vicious beasts, and she had pushed through that.

    The route back could afford no less caution. Without the flames from the geckos, her eyes adjusted more easily to the darkness, which helped as well. It was almost easier, headed this way.

    Her foot slipped slightly, causing her to pull it back and look more carefully at the ground beneath her.

    Florette blinked. It almost looked like a message, scrawled into the dirt in large, blocky letters.

    ¡°STOP.¡±

    She tensed, jerking her head back and forth until they settled on the source.

    A single pair of glowing eyes stared back.

 Camille II: The Acolyte

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille II: The Acolyte</h1>

    17 years ago:

    The waves crashed cacophonously against the shore, spraying salty water into the air as Camille approached, running up to the water so she could see the boats before it was time to leave.

    Most of them were wooden, narrower than the merchant ships Camille had seen in the harbor, but not too different, though the distance made it difficult to see them too clearly. Every third or fourth ship glinted under the sunlight shining off of it like a mirror. Even so far away, the fleet was breathtaking.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your hair?¡± Lucien poked a stubby finger towards her head once she was close enough, probably the closest he could manage to a real greeting. ¡°It looks different.¡±

    Camille scowled. ¡°Mother let me dye it, just like all the other Leclaires going back hundreds and hundreds of years. And she said it looked elegant.¡±

    ¡°Duh.¡± Lucien rolled his eyes. ¡°She has it too. Why did you have to change it? It looked better before.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to!¡± Camille puffed up her chest. ¡°It¡¯s because I¡¯m going to be the next High Priestess when Mother retires. It¡¯s a sign that I¡¯m more grown up and stuff.¡±

    ¡°Well I¡¯m going to be the King!¡± Lucien said proudly. ¡°King is better than High Priestess.¡±

    ¡°Nu-uh!¡± Camille wagged her finger. ¡°I get to use spirit magic and move the waves around and stuff! It¡¯s way better than sitting in a castle and doing whatever your father does all day.¡±

    ¡°He gets to lead the armies and fight people! That¡¯s so much cooler.¡±

    ¡°It is so not!¡± Camille pushed against him slightly.

    ¡°Is so!¡± Lucien pushed back, knocking Camille into the sand.

    ¡°You¡¯re dead!¡± Camille grabbed his legs, pulling him down next to her.

    Lucien jumped on top, pinning her down so she couldn¡¯t move. ¡°Hah! I win!¡±

    So unfair.

    ¡°Camille! Lucien! Stop roughhousing. You should both know better.¡± Uncle Emile stared down at them disapprovingly. ¡°Now apologize to each other.¡±

    ¡°She started it,¡± Lucien grumbled as he got off of her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lucien,¡± Camille said as flatly as she could. As long as she said it first, she would look like the better-behaved child.

    Lucien didn¡¯t hold out long either, under Emile¡¯s withering glare. ¡°Sorry, Camille.¡±

    ¡°Christine must have told you that it isn¡¯t safe to play on the beach, Prince Lucien. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be looking for you.¡±

    Lucien sighed and began trudging back to firmer ground.

    Emile sighed. ¡°And you¡±¡ªhe pointed to Camille¡ª¡°are coming with me to the temple immediately. Your mother wants to see you.¡±

    Lucien stuck his tongue out as Emile dragged her off, fuming all the while.

    They didn¡¯t need to go far, at least. The Great Temple of Levian jutted out of the shore, twin step pyramids of deep blue stone framing the entrance, rising above the temple walls. Each was engraved with countless carvings Camille had spent hours poring over: a woman swimming around a serpent, to represent the first pact between Leclaire and Levian; a distant ancestor bowing before the first Fox Queen; and her favorite, a massive wave crashing against a snowy mountain, to show how the Leclaires had brought the Kingdom of Micheltaigne to heel under the Empire of the Fox, the final petty kingdom to complete the Fox Queen¡¯s rule of the entire continent, almost five hundred years ago;.

    Each level of the narrow pyramids had a balcony exposed to the seaside, allowing the wind to blow through in the summer months and cool the upper floors. The very top coalesced into a serpent¡¯s head, staring out over the water. Right now all of the doors were shut though, even the front entrance, which was normally always open for visitors to leave offerings.

    Uncle Emile knocked twice against the great wooden gate, calling out to the older acolytes on the other side, then bent down to meet Camille¡¯s eye level. ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere. I need to return to His Majesty¡¯s war council. No playing in the sand.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Camille sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll wait right here.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Emile stood up, knees cracking as he did. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon.¡± He walked off hurriedly in the direction of the castle, turning back to give her a wave before he made it out of sight.

    It wasn¡¯t long before an acolyte opened the door, massive leather folders tucked under his arms. ¡°Hello, Camille,¡± he said, a strain in his voice as he looked down at her. ¡°Here to see the High Priestess?¡± When she nodded, he waved his arm inside before loading his papers onto an overburdened wagon in the courtyard, then returning inside at a jog.

    Everything was subtly wrong. The big fountain in the center had no water flowing through, which Camille had never once seen before. All around, acolytes ran in and out of the main doors with more papers and folders. Some even brought relics: statues and artifacts belonging to prominent exhibitions in the temple, carried with a shocking haste and carelessness.

    Inside, it was even worse. The bustle was even more frenzied, the acolytes bearing a grim determination across their faces. The shimmering blue stone bounced echoes from all around the temple, if you knew where to listen. Camille and Lucien had made a game of it, trying to listen without people noticing, but now the only sounds were overlapping arguments and sobbing.

    Further in, the acolytes thinned out, though the echoes of them still bounced down the halls. By the time Camille reached the back of the temple, she was alone.

    Biting her lip, Camille stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Standing here, most of the noises faded to a dull pulse, unintelligible beyond their despairing tone. Mother wanted to see her right away, but she couldn¡¯t show up like this.

    She took another deep breath and dusted the sand off of her dress. Another as she straightened her hair. By the time she was presentable, her face was rigid.

    Still, it would be better to make sure the High Priestess was in a good mood. It was easier if Camille knew what she was getting into, if she were going to be punished for playing on the beach. If they knew, Camille had to get out ahead of it and apologize. If they didn¡¯t, that would be the worst thing she could do. Softly, she stepped towards the door to her mother¡¯s chambers and peered through the keyhole.

    ¡°¡­the time has come,¡± Mother argued, standing tall in scaled turquoise armor with her blue hair tied back. ¡°With On¨¨s fallen to Avalon, she may not get another chance.¡±

    Father closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. ¡°She¡¯s seven, Sarille. Only a child. You can¡¯t send her to make a pact with a ruthless spirit! How old were you, when you became a spirit sage?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen.¡± Mother bit her lip. ¡°There¡¯s more to it than that and you know it, Farand. What if the city falls? She could be cut off from Levian forever, ending the ancient pact of our House.¡±

    ¡°Which would be better than having her soul taken by him!¡± Father¡¯s fists clenched tightly. ¡°I cannot believe you are even considering this.¡±

    ¡°I was worried that you wouldn¡¯t understand,¡± Mother sighed. ¡°You may not have been born a Leclaire, but our pact with Levian is of the utmost importance. A Lady of On¨¨s without spiritual magic is completely unthinkable! I trust our daughter. Why can¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Of course I trust her!¡± Father shrugged a brown patterned cloak over his armor, House Couteau¡¯s emblem of a mountain on a coastline stitched onto the back in black. ¡°But she is still just a child. One word amiss, and sending her will have been a mistake we will regret for the rest of our lives.¡±

    ¡°However long that might be.¡±

    ¡°No need to be so dour, Sarille. Malin has never been taken by sea; whatever pride Avalon takes in its navy, it shall not be the first to breach the city from the bay.¡± He held out his hand for her. ¡°Come now. I¡¯m sure His Majesty is wondering where we are. He means to do battle with Harold¡¯s infantry to the north and overwhelm them before they can begin a siege. If Avalon¡¯s king is defeated in the field, their morale will be broken, and the army will rout.¡±

    ¡°If¡­¡± Mother trailed off. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to prepare for the worst.¡±

    ¡°By putting Camille¡¯s life at risk.¡± Father secured his swordbelt into place.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mother answered frankly. ¡°I believe she can handle it, and if we don¡¯t act now, the consequences for her bloodline and power could be dire. She¡¯s ready, Farand.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Father closed his eyes. ¡°We can revisit the topic later. In the meantime, she should be sheltering with Prince Lucien and the other children.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Mother grunted icily, stepping closer to the door.

    Camille jumped back before it opened, trying her best to look as if she had just arrived. ¡°Hello, Mother.¡±

    The High Priestess¡¯s weary expression instantly melted into a smile. ¡°Camille! Just who I was looking for.¡±

    ¡°I heard what you said.¡± Camille stuck her nose up. ¡°Father doesn¡¯t want me to make a pact with Levian yet. But I¡¯m ready! I know I can do it!¡±

    Mother sighed. ¡°I know that, my little sea serpent. Your father knows it too. But we both agree that the risk is still too great.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not!¡± Camille pleaded. ¡°I know all the words to the pact and I¡¯ve practiced swimming for hours every day and I even did it at night so I¡¯d be ready for the dark and¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°And when you¡¯re older, you¡¯ll be one of the best spirit sages in the world. But not yet, sweetie.¡±

    Camille clenched her fists. ¡°Why did you want to see me then?¡±

    ¡°I¨C¨C¡± Mother lifted a finger, paused a moment, then let it fall. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. You are to wait outside the gates until that squire Christine collects you. During the battle, you¡¯ll be staying in the inner sanctum with Prince Lucien.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s such a brat though!¡± Camille wrinkled her nose. ¡°Can¡¯t I come to the battle with you and Father?¡±

    Mother laughed. ¡°As devastating as I¡¯m sure you would be, no. You¡¯ll have to protect all of the children in the castle. I¡¯m depending on you, Camille.¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± Camille responded, a touch too loud, but Mother didn¡¯t seem to notice the insincerity. ¡°I¡¯ll see you after the battle, then!¡±

    ¡°Good girl.¡± Mother nodded, patting Camille on the shoulder. ¡°Until then,¡± she said as she began walking down the hallway, back to the entrance. The gate was still open, the wagon being slowly wheeled out.

    Camille followed at a distance, ducking back out of sight once she knew that no one was watching. As casually as she could manage, she walked back along the hall, hoping every instant that Father wouldn¡¯t wouldn¡¯t walk out and catch her in the act.

    She reached the end of the hall just in time to hear the door to the inner sanctum open. In an instant, she ducked behind the wall. Father walked out, ready for battle, confidently striding forth without noticing her.

    It was a near thing, but Camille managed to catch the door before it closed without alerting Father, stepping inside the chamber as she softly closed the door behind her.

    The Great Altar of Levian lay up the stairs, facing the water when the doors to the balcony were open, but that was not where Camille was headed. She pulled on the tasseled green rug in the center of the room, tugging against it until it slid off the hatch it was covering.

    Lifting it up was really hard since it was so heavy, but she managed to keep it up long enough to slip under it, hearing the click as it closed above her head.

    Mother always complained that the stairs down into the tunnels were too small, too narrow, since they had been made when people were shorter, but Camille found them just right. Most stairs were too big anyway, really tiring to have to go up and down.

    The sconces weren¡¯t lit, but it didn¡¯t take long for Camille¡¯s eyes to adjust enough to make it down, especially with the wall to lean against so she didn¡¯t trip.

    The room at the bottom was bare. Aside from the staircase, there was nothing but a pool of water she could make out only by the faint glow emanating from it, pulsating almost like it was alive.

    Camille took a deep breath, then jumped into the pool. It was deeper than it looked, dimly lit by faintly glowing blue plants clinging to the edges of the tunnel, which stretched far into the distance. Camille pushed off the back of the tunnel and began swimming as fast as she could.

    The light grew dimmer and dimmer as she went, until only her sense of direction guided her forward, occasionally bumping against the walls or ceiling. It wasn¡¯t too late to turn back, but that was unthinkable. Her lungs screamed for air, but she continued on. Anything less would be unworthy of a spirit sage.

    Her hand scraped against rock, lancing pain through her arm as she tried to wince without opening her mouth. Summoning the last of her strength, Camille pushed off of the bottom and swam for the top.

    The relief of the air once she reached the surface was greater than any feeling Camille had ever known, like her body had been drained of its life and was only now getting it back.

    She tipped over onto her back, breathing heavily. Above her, a glass dome showed the bay from the underside, the summer sun shining above the surface far in the distance. She could even see the boats from the underside, though the shadows made it impossible to tell which type was which.

    The damp stones underneath her were slick with algae, getting thicker and thicker towards the far end of the chamber, where a window in the glass opened up out to the ocean. Camille¡¯s ancestor, Mathille Leclaire, had spent decades of her life in a single instant to empower the magic making the chamber stable, a gift to future generations that would hold the water at bay for the next six centuries.

    Curious, Camille stuck her hand out into the ocean before pulling it quickly back in. The water was even colder than the tunnel had been, sending a chill all the way up her arm.

    This was it.

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian, Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering,¡± Camille shouted to the water, a slight tremor in her voice. ¡°I call you forth to honor my family¡¯s contract.¡±

    For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Had she made a mistake? Was this the end?

    A deep growl filled the air, blowing Camille¡¯s wet hair and clothes back as it sent a shiver down her spine.

    Before she could even blink, a dark shape appeared in front of the window. Scaly, twisted, and serpentine, the spirit grinned at her with long rows of sharp teeth under slitted blue eyes. ¡°Speak, human.¡±

    ¡°M¨C¨Cmy welcome to you, Great Levian. I offer you my hospitality in this modest abode, provided you agree not to harm me and speak only truth during your stay.¡±

    ¡°I accept your offer.¡± Levian¡¯s head darted to the side in an instant, slithering into a new position without even blinking. ¡°Careless human-spawn. By the terms of your deal, I could still destroy this dwelling with a mere thought, provided I did not harm you. Such an impetuous encroachment on my domain, ridding the waters of it would be cleansing. Though its architect does provide good company, captive in my lair. Perhaps you would like to join her.¡±

    ¡°I¨C¨C¡± Camille took a deep breath, centering herself. If the spirit broke the glass, there would be nothing she could do. He had no reason to, now, so all she could was ensure that she didn¡¯t give him one. ¡°I have called you to bargain, in accordance with my family¡¯s contract with you.¡±

    Levian¡¯s head snaked around her shoulder, scarily close to her face. ¡°Do you offer me your soul? It smells so innocent. I could give you power beyond reckoning, to bring this world to heel.¡±

    Could he really? Spirits had to honor their deals; they were incapable of breaking them. Which meant he was telling the truth, unless she had missed something. Not that the offer was very tempting. Camille had been warned about this.

    ¡°I do not,¡± she spoke clearly, beginning the words of the family contract. ¡°In exchange for the same share of dominion over water that you granted my mother, Sarille Leclaire, and her mother, Mireille Leclaire, and her mother¡­ ¡° The names went on and on, each committed perfectly to memory, an unbroken chain of spirit sages stretching back centuries. ¡°¡­And your original sage, Ybille Leclaire, I offer you my service. I offer you the power of human souls, drowned in the sea to add their lifeforce to yours. I promise that each time I call you forth, I will provide a human whose energy you may consume as they die. I vow to head the Temple of Levian as its High Priestess from the moment my mother¡¯s service ends until the day I die, or I appoint a worthy successor to take my place.¡±

    Levian¡¯s curled his massive body around her, uncomfortably tight, as his head pulled back to face her, only inches away. ¡°And should you fail to honor your word?¡±

    Camille gulped. This was the part she had practiced the most, because it was the most difficult to imagine. ¡°Conditional on that failure, I offer you my soul. Not merely the power from extinguishing it, but fully and without resistance, to serve you in your watery halls until the end of time.¡±

    The spirit grinned even wider, showing more teeth than should have been able to fit even in his enormous mouth. ¡°I accept.¡±

    A dull rumble accompanied his words, like rolling thunder. Another followed shortly after, then another.

    ¡°Dreadful.¡± Levian¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Must you humans always make such a racket?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Camille¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That wasn¡¯t you? Wasn¡¯t it a spirit thing?¡±

    Levian laughed, a strange hiss as Camille stared into the deep rows of teeth. ¡°Goodbye, child.¡± He uncurled himself from around her, darting back into the water before Camille could process what had happened.

    But now she was a spirit sage! Officially the next High Priestess of Levian, just like Mother. And¡­

    Camille lifted her hand, focusing on the pool of water leading back down into the tunnel. A small tendril of water spiralled up tentatively. It worked!

    The water broke and fell back as Camille jumped up into the air, a wide smile on her face. Now that she was a sage, Mother could help train her better, but no matter what, she had the power. It was hers!

    Swimming back through the tunnel was no effort at all, the water effortlessly moving in tandem with her hands. As she made her way back up the stairs, another loud rumble sounded, no longer muted by the water.

    When Camille emerged, the Temple was empty. The front gates were wide open, the path to the castle filled with divots and footprints beyond it. The sun had traveled far enough in the sky to mark hours since she had descended. It didn¡¯t feel like it had taken that long, but the temple had already cleared out. And the castle¡­

    A massive hole had been torn in the north wall of the city, smoke filling the air near the gap. Every moment, loud popping noises would sound with a crack.

    As Camille approached, she noticed a large party making its way down. Nobles, servants, guards, all walking hurriedly next to a long wagon train making its way down the path. Lucien was near the front, his face red with tears. Mother walked near him, a solemn look across her face.

    Camille ran up past the yelling guards at the front and hugged Mother as tightly as she could manage. Mother¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Camille! Where were you?¡±

    ¡°Seeing Levian.¡± Camille smiled. ¡°I¡¯m a spirit sage now.¡±

    Mother took a deep breath, then smiled back and patted Camille¡¯s head. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.¡± Her face darkened. ¡±But never run off like that again. This day was almost even worse.¡±

    Worse? ¡°Where¡¯s Father?¡± Camille asked hesitantly.

    Mother bit her lip. ¡°He stayed with Fouchand¡¯s sons and the Guerron forces to hold the gap. He¡¯s giving us time to escape, Camille.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Camille looked back at the smoking gap in the wall. ¡°And then he¡¯ll meet us later?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, sweetie.¡±

    As the caravan reached the harbor, the servants began unloading the wagons onto a few of the ships.

    Now that Avalon¡¯s ships were closer, it was easier to see what set them apart from Malin¡¯s. The ones in the harbor were larger, wider, while even the wooden ships out in the deeper water were newer looking, narrow, with more sails above them. The shiny boats were clearer too, metal covering their sides with little holes poking out. They didn¡¯t have sails; instead a stream of smoke flowed up from them in a trail to the sky.

    ¡°Mother?¡± Camille asked. ¡°How are we going to get past those ships?¡±

    She bit her lip, wrapping her arm around Camille. ¡°I love you, my little sea serpent. Never forget that.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Camille stared as her mother began walking across the dock, stepping onto the water without missing a step. ¡°No! Don¡¯t go! You can¡¯t!¡±

    Sarille Leclaire didn¡¯t turn back. As she moved, the water grew higher underneath her, cascading down on the front row of ships. Moving past the wreckage, she summoned another wave, and another. By the time the party was ready to depart, not a single ship of the Avalon navy remained above water.

    Nor was there any sign of her mother amidst the wreckage.

 Fernan II: The Fallen

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan II: The Fallen</h1>

    The walls pulsated, flashing from brown to green with a throbbing energy he felt mirrored in his own heart. Down and down he spiralled, descending as the walls grew narrower, closing in around him.

    Fernan closed his eyes, trying to shut it away, but it made no difference. The image was seared into his sight by the light of the flames. His face still hurt, even after however much time had passed while he was unconscious.

    The air was hot and dry, growing only more intense as he felt himself carried downwards. He tried to wipe the sweat from his brow, but the pain from the contact made him flinch back.

    ¡°Florette?¡± he called out, his throat hoarse. The word did not easily pass his lips, distorted and cracked. If she¡¯d had any sense, she would have left him and fled. Trying to drag his limp body ahead of a gecko in its native lands would have been a suicidal endeavor, but leaving him might have bought her the time to get to the safety of the village walls.

    The only response he heard was hissing. The gecko?

    Lying atop a cloud of green fire, Fernan could not even see himself as he looked down at his body. Only the pulsing flame, nearly joined with the walls. Blinking changed nothing.

    Gradually, the tunnel grew so small that the walls nearly swallowed him, then smaller still. The color began to leech out of the walls, leaving only the darkness and the flame beneath him, tilting ever downwards. Then even that was gone, and he felt himself falling into the void.

    He was untethered for what felt like an eternity, but the sharp pain in his ribs as he landed meant he couldn¡¯t have died. His face burned with pain, and the rest of his body ached, but he was alive. Looking around, he saw the pulsating walls return, the clouds of fire in and around them. All of it spiraled around a larger figure in the center, glowing so brightly it was nearly white.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Fernan called out, the effort scraping his throat raw. His tongue felt slightly less numb in his mouth, at least, the word a bit clearer. He felt some of the feeling return to his hands, and he wiggled his fingers to test that he could.

    ¡°Human spawn.¡± The voice came from all around him, a collection of hissing and scraping somehow resolving into words. ¡°And so you arrive.¡±

    ¡°What happened? Where¡¯s Florette? Where is¨C¨C¡± He was overwhelmed by the urge to cough, the pain in his throat growing to nearly match what he felt on his face. The most pressing question, why he was still alive, Fernan did not voice.

    One of the clouds of green fire approached him, coming closer until it was on top of him.

    Fernan tried to back away, but his frantic scurrying was too slow to avoid it.

    The fire pressed on top of him, and he felt the weight of it on his chest. What? Before he could think on it further, a splash of water caught him in the face.

    The relief was immense. He opened his mouth and felt another pour of water land in his throat. Lukewarm and stale, it tasted sweet as the ambrosia of the spirits while he gulped it down.

    ¡°My children have brought you here to see me, human.¡± The voice came through the chorus of hissing once again. ¡°You ought to thank them for the honor of standing in my presence.¡±

    Children? ¡°Who are you?¡± Fernan croaked.

    The largest fire in the center flickered. ¡°I am G¨¦zarde. Spirit of flame, ruler of these mountains, and father to the geckos. Your master, should you value your life.¡±

    Fernan blinked, though it failed to block out the light. Could it truly be a spirit behind all of the misery and misfortune? Alderman Jerome was a spirit sage himself, and had firmly dismissed the possibility on the rare occasions it had been posed. The geckos were merely beasts, he said, grasping and consuming whatever they could.

    But something was talking, right now. That much couldn¡¯t be denied.

    If the geckos really were the work of a spirit, that might mean they could be bargained with. He might even be able to save the village from their wrath with the right deal.

    The thought was sobering, a slap in the face. As horrible as all of this was, he couldn¡¯t ignore the opportunity.

    ¡°Nothing to say, human? Or do you simply know that I shall not take kindly to the lies and trickery your kind spew forth at every opportunity?¡± The white flame in the center seemed to expand slightly before contracting again, almost like it was breathing in and out. ¡°If that is so, you may be the smartest among them. A fitting sage for a great spirit.¡±

    Fernan frowned. ¡°Why should I believe you? You say you¡¯re a great spirit, but I¡¯ve never heard of you. Your children have killed dozens of my people, attacked me and my friend without anything to gain from it. If you rule them, you have much to answer for.¡±

    ¡°Do not test my patience, you miserable creature. Your part in this is eminently replaceable. Disrespect has consequences.¡±

    ¡°So does killing people.¡± Fernan narrowed his eyes, wincing at the lancing pain from his face as he did. ¡°We did nothing to harm you.¡±

    ¡°So quickly do the lies begin. I see that you are no exception to your kind¡¯s propensity for deception.¡± The temperature of the cavern rose even higher, bits of flame flying off of the central column in all directions. ¡°I will have an oath of you, this very instant. Should you lie again to me, your soul is mine.¡±

    ¡°But¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Speak another word before the oath and it shall be your last, human.¡±

    Fernan gulped, cutting his objection short. Jerome had told him never to consort with spirits. Even the lesser of them could kill most sages, and most could inflict a fate far worse than mere death with the right deal. Only sages could converse with spirits with any measure of safety; that was what made them worthy of their power.

    But even Jerome would have trouble with an unknown spirit like this. Each had their particularities, their preferences one could only defy at their own peril.

    Giving in to death was an option, he supposed. In the worst case, it would probably be better than the alternative. Practically any fate would be better than laboring as the spirit¡¯s eternal slave. In the meantime, an oath of truth seemed safe enough to uphold. It wasn¡¯t like he had any secrets. ¡°I vow to speak only what I believe to be true in your presence, mighty G¨¦zarde. Should I break this deal, my soul is yours.¡±

    The flame compacted slightly, growing more concentrated as it did. ¡°Already the coward¡¯s words, writhing away from the truth that humans are too weak to uphold. ¡®Belief¡¯ is not the same as reality, and your kind can lie even with truth. I know that all too well. But for the moment, that will suffice.¡±

    ¡°I would hope so.¡± Fernan tapped his leg nervously to distract himself from the pain in his face. ¡°You get everything out of this deal, while I get nothing.¡±

    ¡°Impudent brat! You get your life, for the moment. Do not be so hasty to throw it away.¡±

    Not much of a prize, when spirits were concerned.

    ¡°But I know that you humans are driven only by selfish desires. Grasping upwards even as your depravity drives you down. The carrot and the whip, a man once told me. I do intend to provide both.¡±

    ¡°Then I want you to have the geckos stop attacking our caravans. I¡¯d do almost anything to make that happen.¡±

    ¡°Would you now? How interesting. That can be arranged.¡± The fire glowed even brighter, somehow emanating a feeling of satisfaction, or joy. ¡°In fact, should you accept the deal I propose, it will happen as a natural result.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± None of that sounded right in the slightest. Why the attacks at all, if his goal would end them?

    The flame pulsed once more. ¡°Of course. Once the village of Villechart is reduced to ash, there will be no more caravans to attack. Simply invite me and my children inside, and you will be rewarded greatly.¡±

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    ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can offer that would make me,¡± Fernan snarled. ¡°I would sooner die.¡± The whole village was depending on him, now. It was up to him to stop the evil spirit and his plan, even if it required the ultimate sacrifice. As awful as that would be.

    ¡°Then be silent, or I shall grant your wish for death!¡± The fire emitted a smaller stream directly next to Fernan, the heat growing even more sweltering as it passed by and flaring up the pain in his face again. ¡°You may believe in your resolve, young human, but I know how your people behave. At the first opportunity, you grasp for whatever petty ambition consumes your fancy. Never content with what you have, you ruin the lives of any in your way. Truly the ultimate evil of the world, you¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Who hurt you?¡± Fernan interrupted before his head could catch up to his mouth. ¡°Uh¡­ I mean¡­¡± Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°Why do you hate us so much?¡±

    The flame subsided, dimming to a color closer to that of the green clouds around it. ¡°Is it hate, to recognize what simply is? You humans are a threat to my children, stealing food from their mouths for your own nefarious purposes.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°Food? The geckos eat the coal?¡±

    ¡°Of course, you fool! They depend on it to grow large and strong, to stoke the flames in their minds and their hearts. I can only provide them with so much¡­¡± The hissing speech halted for a moment. ¡°Not that my power is in question.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Fernan wiped the sweat that had already reformed on his brow. ¡°If you need it that much, couldn¡¯t we make a deal? Work it out so we both get what we need?¡± Villechart wouldn¡¯t like it, but it had to be better to give some of their livelihood up to prevent further attacks. Even if it meant leaving the geckos to be.

    ¡°And so another villager wishes to bargain for my children¡¯s food. I think not. The last was bound to truth as well, and did no less damage for it.¡± The vortex of flame crept closer, raising the temperature further as it did. ¡°You are here simply to be my instrument. Invite me and my children inside your village, and I will grant you a share of my power. I can even grant you a new sight, greater than that which you lost.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t lost any sight.¡± Fernan said, before he had time to think. His eyes widened, taking in once more the pulsing room, filled with clouds of dense clouds of fire darting back and forth across the cavern, all surrounding the massive white flame in the center of it all. The skittering movement, the hissing¡­ He shut his eyes again, trying to block out the sight, but the image refused to change. ¡°What did you do to me?¡±

    ¡°Your eyes were burned with cleansing fire, and a small measure of that fire yet remains. No doubt it will burn out soon, taking what vision you have maintained with it.¡± The spirit¡¯s glow shifted to an orange color. ¡°Unless you accept my offer. My power could fuel the fire in your eyes for more than your lifetime. I could even show you how my children see, that you might gain mastery over it.¡± His color changed again, taking on a deep red tinge. ¡°All you need to do is accept.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Fernan repeated. ¡°Why is that so hard for you to understand? I¡¯m not going to let you invade my village just to get my sight back, or save my own life. I can¡¯t imagine anyone would be that selfish.¡±

    ¡°Your imagination is pitiful. If you refuse, I shall simply find another to take your place.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Fernan barked back. ¡°Your ¡®children¡¯ have killed more of us than the cave-ins and blizzards. In Villechart, we support each other. No one would be willing to get everyone killed for something that selfish.¡±

    ¡°I have another human waiting right outside, as it happens. Perhaps your body will help persuade her of the cost to defiance.¡±

    ¡°Florette¡­¡± he breathed. Khali¡¯s curse.

    ¡°My darling Mara, my best and brightest, spent years learning your tongue, that she might gain the information to stop you. She heard that your village uncovered the Cardinal Lode, without which my children would surely perish, and took decisive action to save her kin. For that, your fellow human grievously injured her. Whether she accepts my offer or not, I¡¯m sure Mara would be happy to mete out retribution.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­¡± Invite the geckos¡­ ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s of any use to you. She¡¯s from another village, further down the mountain. She couldn¡¯t invite you to my village any more than I could invite you to Chateau Malin.¡±

    The spirit was silent, fumes trailing upward from his form. ¡°Useless¡­ As if my children were not already free to stop them.¡±

    Right. Alderman Jerome had taken measures to ward the geckos from the perimeter of Villechart, but Florette¡¯s village didn¡¯t have a spirit sage. They wouldn¡¯t have the same defenses.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to invite you to sow death and destruction against my village. There has to be another way.¡± Think harder. ¡°What if we found another source? On another mountain? You and the geckos could leave¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Never!¡± The spirit flared out once more. ¡°These mountains are my home. The home of my children. We will not allow you humans to displace us.¡±

    ¡°Villechart is my home too,¡± Fernan insisted.

    ¡°Bah. You humans settled there scant decades ago, pursuing my coal up the mountain. If anything, it is you who should flee in disgrace.¡±

    I never thought of it like that. This had been their home, their source of food and shelter. And when people had come to mine the coal, to make a life for themselves, the geckos had defended it.

    Taking a deep breath as he resisted the tingling in his face, Fernan clapped his hands together. ¡°If the alternative is annihilation, we can find a way.¡± We could, right?

    After everything the geckos had done, it was hard to imagine any kind of resolution, but surely they would see that putting a stop to the conflict would be best for everyone. They would have to, right?

    The more he considered it, the less sure he felt. As long as Jerome could protect the village itself, the bounty of coal was worth the risk for caravans on the road. If they found out that mining more would weaken the geckos, it would only embolden them further. ¡°We have to find the way.¡± It wasn¡¯t a lie, but for the first time, it felt like one.

    ¡°Perhaps you do.¡±

    ¡°You need another solution as well, G¨¦zarde. As long as the village is protected, the people will continue to mine. Your plan to coerce one of us into betraying everyone is terrible, and would never work. There¡¯s nothing you could offer anyone worth the death of all of their friends and loved ones.¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find a way to get your children the food they need without anyone else getting hurt.¡±

    The flame spirit drew in on itself, growing more compact. ¡°What human are you, to say such things and mean them? I cannot claim your soul, so you believe yourself to speak the truth. I know not what trick you intend, but I shall not be fooled again.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no trick. Really! I¡¯m just trying to get things back to the way they should be.¡±

    A hiss of steam filled the air. ¡°Do you truly believe you could rid my mountains of your fellow humans?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not that simple. I¡¯d need to find another mine for them, or another livelihood entirely. If we wanted to set up a new village, it would mean getting a whole new town charter, and we¡¯d need¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°You begin to bore me. How quickly could you make it happen?¡±

    Fernan cracked a slight smile. It was something. ¡°I¡¯d need at least a year. Probably more. I have no idea what it takes to get a town charter, and the only other mines I know of are failing.¡±

    ¡°You shall have five turns of the moon. My children can wait no longer than that.¡±

    ¡°Then you agree?¡±

    ¡°If you swear to invite me into the village by the summer solstice, whether it is vacant or not.¡±

    Could he really gamble everything on this? Or lose his soul if he failed?

    ¡°I accept. I will invite you in the walls by the summer solstice, to do as you will. If I fail to uphold the bargain, my soul is yours.¡±

    ¡°In exchange, I offer you a share of my power to use as my spirit sage, and a guide to aide you in learning your sight.¡±

    He hadn¡¯t needed to include those. ¡°Then the bargain is struck.¡±

    Immediately, he felt the flames fill his eyes once more.

    Faces and figures danced past him, too many to count: Mother, staring down with tears in her eyes, Jerome¡¯s confidant grin, Florette burning with indignation. Even Gaspard, laughing at his good fortune as he notched an arrow. And then there were others he could not name, far more than the ones he recognized: A crowned jester, dancing and swaying; a serpent entwined around a fox so tightly it looked to suffocate it; a man with no eyes, wreathed in flames.

    Denser they grew, each passing only for an instant in that same fiery jade outline: A ray of sunlight over a sinking ship; a tower reaching far into the sky, a glossy black circle at the top; a boy falling from a massive pillar of glass onto a sandy beach.

    When the images faded, the spirit was still in view, but the image was crisper now, the edges more defined. Fernan could see a pair of legs supporting it on the ground, wings stretched behind its back.

    ¡°Now begone. I mislike having you in my domain¡±

    ¡°Already? I thought you said I¡¯d have a guide.¡±

    ¡°She will escort you out.¡±

    Fernan turned around, facing the tunnel he had come through. At the edge was another crisper figure, four limbs on the ground like a gecko, although the back of it looked strange.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about them,¡± it hissed.

    Fernan nearly jumped out of his skin. ¡°You can speak?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so glad you think so!¡± The gecko glowed red. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to learn from G¨¦zarde, and from hiding under the bridge and listening, but almost none of my brothers and sisters can talk, so it¡¯s been really hard. They¡¯re all smaller, so they¡¯re super dumb. I¡¯ve never had a real human to talk to, though! I have so many questions!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one that burned me.¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Mara, he called you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that.¡± The red faded to a dull blue. ¡°Really. But I had to protect my brothers and sisters. If the Cardinal Lode were mined and sent away, we would starve.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re getting what you want, then.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°If you¡¯re coming with me, you can¡¯t hurt anyone else. If you can¡¯t agree to that, I¡¯ll make do without you.¡±

    ¡°Then I agree.¡± Mara let out a small puff of smoke at the last statement. ¡°As long as no one hurts me first.¡±

    Fernan breathed a sigh of relief.

    ¡°Let me show you the way out!¡± She scurried up the tunnel as Fernan scrambled to keep up.

    ¡°Why did you say not to think too hard about it? And what about, exactly?¡±

    Mara glowed red once more. ¡°What you saw through the flames is happening now, or already did. Most are from far away, or long ago, or both. G¨¦zard says they usually aren¡¯t literal, whatever that means. No prophecies or destiny or anything, and it¡¯s usually a waste of spiritual power. You can¡¯t really look for what you want, so most of the time it¡¯s better just not to bother.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Fernan said as they reached the mouth of the tunnel.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to tell me how your human vision worked. G¨¦zarde said that you can¡¯t see the heat, so how do you get around? I thought that since your eyes were so poor you might rely more on smell. Or maybe by sound. Do you¨C¨C¡± She was interrupted by a rock hurtling past, narrowly missing her head.

    Standing a few yards away was a thin column of flame. It almost looked human in its proportions, glowing bright red.

    ¡°Florette?¡±

 Florette II: The Visitor

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette II: The Visitor</h1>

    Villechart had no sentries at its edge, simply a wooden fence stretching across the breadth of the gap between the mountains, a snow-covered gate hanging open in the center.

    Are they idiots?

    How could anyone live so deep in the territory of the geckos without properly securing the borders of their village? It was madness. Caravans of coal were common targets for their attacks, but the village mines would surely be a far more tempting prize. All the more so if they were this lightly defended.

    Florette¡¯s home, Enquin, surrounded itself on all sides with stone walls even taller than she was, and someone was always present at the gate to barricade it and sound the alarm. None but the largest and oldest of the creatures could weaken the stone enough to breach the village, and few had even tried.

    At least entering the village meant leaving that damnable gecko behind. If it set a toe inside, the villagers would be sure to come forth to drive it out in a matter of minutes. Even if they were surprisingly lax with their defenses. Florette looked back to shoot it one last glare, sending it skittering off into the hillsides.

    Fernan had said it was to be a guide for him, as if the creature that had burned his face and dragged him into that horrific contract deserved anything but swift justice. Fernan had even waved it goodbye as they reached the village! Pure insanity. It knew to keep its distance from Florette though, hanging back from them by a good few yards the entire way up the mountain.

    A shiver seemed to come over him as they crossed the threshold to enter the village, a collection of wooden houses built against the sides of the mountains, piles of snow melting on the ground beside their sloped roofs. The sun had yet to crest the mountains, but the dim light of dawn had begun to tint the sky purple.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± she whispered, placing a hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder.

    He snorted. ¡°No, obviously.¡± He tilted his head up to the sky. ¡°Would you be?¡±

    ¡°I guess not.¡± Florette frowned. ¡°It¡¯s not all bad, though. You¡¯re a spirit sage now.¡± When he didn¡¯t respond, she added, ¡°You have the power to change things now. Don¡¯t waste it by moping.¡±

    He stared into her eyes with a look of pure bewilderment. ¡°Change things? It¡¯s going to be hard enough to stop things from getting worse. How am I supposed to convince my entire village to move? And to where? Any place far enough to honor the spirit of the deal and leave the geckos the food they need would require a new charter, new veins to mine, or an entire new livelihood for everyone.¡±

    Florette pulled out her notebook to glance over the sketchy lines from her graphite stylus showing the exact wording Fernan had recited to her. ¡°But we went over the deal you made.¡± The books were rife with tales of deals with spirits gone wrong, exploiting the truth to claim the hubristic sage¡¯s soul when they failed. It was not going to happen to Fernan, no matter what. ¡°Technically all you agreed to do is invite them into the village. You could scoot everyone thirty yards away without forfeiting your soul. Invite G¨¦zarde into the old site and laugh at him from behind your walls.¡±

    ¡°At which point he assaults the new village with my head first on the chopping block. Don¡¯t you think he thought of that? Anything close enough to let us keep mining leaves us right in the line of fire.¡± Fernan clenched his fists. ¡°Whatever is stopping him from getting in now, he wouldn¡¯t have agreed to the deal if it applied to a new village.¡±

    ¡°He said that?¡±

    Fernan sighed. ¡°No. But he needs an invitation to enter. Nothing else makes sense. This is an ancient, powerful spirit. This was his plan, Florette. I can¡¯t gamble that he¡¯d make such an obvious mistake.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It might be a way to get everything you want. G¨¦zarde didn¡¯t sound like he was all that smart about the deals he made really, not from what you told me. Didn¡¯t he mention getting tricked in the past?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure if I remember that part correctly, especially not when taking the coal explains his hatred of us perfectly well. I¡¯m certainly not willing to bet everyone¡¯s lives on it.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm.¡± Florette considered the problem for a moment. ¡°Well, what¡¯s keeping him out of here right now? Probably something your alderman did, right? The spirit sage of the sun?¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re going to see him first. If he can recreate the protections elsewhere, we might be able to settle elsewhere in the mountains and start mining again. I may not like the idea of double-crossing the geckos, but if it¡¯s the only option, it¡¯s worth knowing whether we can even do it. Even that would be better than everyone dying.¡±

    Double-crossing. Florette rolled her eyes at the thought as they made their way across the main square of the village.

    ¡°Lend me your scarf,¡± Fernan muttered as they got closer.

    ¡°What?¡± She unwrapped it from her neck and passed it to him. ¡°Why?¡±

    He tied it around his eyes like a blindfold. ¡°I¡¯d rather not draw attention yet.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to eventually. From walking around with that on your face, if nothing else.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Still, just¡­ Don¡¯t bring it up before I do, alright?¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Florette shrugged.

    Alderman Jerome¡¯s house was the largest in the village, at the far end of the square. Unlike the others around it, the house had a second story, a balcony jutting out from it on some kind of diagonal supports. The roof was flatter too, a brazier burning green flame at the top of it. The snow on the ground also stopped abruptly a short distance away from the house, as if someone had cleared it away. Perhaps a result of the spirit sage¡¯s power?

    Enquin had none of its own, so it was difficult to say. But the sages of legend, high lords and ladies, had been capable of grand feats far beyond the bounds of human achievement, so warming one house seemed reasonable enough by comparison. Still, it was strange to witness it in person, especially knowing that Fernan might one day be capable of doing the same thing.

    A middle-aged man opened the door before they had a chance to knock. Slightly fat, with a bushy brown beard, the alderman held out his arms warmly. ¡°Fernan! It¡¯s good to see you back. I have to admit, your mother was a bit worried when you didn¡¯t come back yesterday. I told her you were probably just taking an extra day at the First Post to talk to the traders. No harm in the wagons leaving a couple days late.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyebrows slanted downward. ¡°I never take extra time for things like that. I¡¯m always right back up the next day.¡±

    ¡°Of course you are! And you put that thing on your face for a reason entirely different from sneaking back in late and hoping no one would notice you.¡± Jerome chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I was young once too. No need to tell your mother what you were up to.¡± He smiled and shot Florette a wink, sending a shiver of revulsion through her.

    Ugh. ¡°Actually, we have something rather important to discuss with you.¡± She met his eyes. ¡°In private.¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course.¡± Jerome nodded. ¡°Come in, come in. Please, it¡¯s cold out there. In fact, I¡¯m a bit worried it¡¯s going to snow again this morning. It may have been too early to declare it spring, after all.¡±

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    ¡°You think so?¡± asked Fernan as they entered the house, the faint scent of smoke filling the air. ¡°Everything¡¯s pretty well melted further down. In the pass, it wasn¡¯t even cold.¡±

    Jerome shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s always colder up here, but the winters have been shorter lately. Hard to say. But I¡¯m sure I can clear the road far enough for the wagons to make it. How was the bridge? Do you think it will hold?¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°I think so, but it couldn¡¯t hurt to shore it up a bit first. It held my weight just fine, but a whole caravan is a bit different. Really, I think the best thing is¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Fernan!¡± Florette jabbed him with her elbow. ¡°Don¡¯t we have something more important to be talking about?¡±

    He shot her a glare, the flame in his eyes momentarily flashing bright enough to show through the scarf. What¡¯s his problem? But the moment passed, and he nodded with a weary resignation. ¡°You should probably sit down.¡±

    As Jerome waved them over to chairs by a roaring fireplace, Fernan began to recount everything that had happened. Florette kept silent, watching the alderman¡¯s face while the warmth of the fire soaked through her.

    ¡°That is truly awful.¡± Jerome¡¯s face had lost all warmth by the end. ¡°Would you mind removing that from your face? I might be able to do something about the burns.¡±

    Fernan hesitated. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even tell you how bad it is. I tried to look into a stream on the way up, before I realized that wouldn¡¯t help me see anything anymore.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that bad,¡± Florette lied. ¡°And once it heals, you¡¯ll have a great scar to show people. You fought a gecko and made it out with your life! It¡¯s super impressive.¡±

    ¡°You fought her.¡± Fernan unwrapped the scarf and exposed his face. ¡°All I did was get burned. And blinded.¡±

    ¡°Not true!¡± She snatched her scarf back out of his hands. ¡°You talked your way out of an evil spirit¡¯s den! If anything, that¡¯s more impressive!¡± She slapped him on the back. ¡°Take some pride in what you just went through. It¡¯s a tale fit for a hero.¡±

    He only narrowed his eyes at her, the flame behind them condensing to an intense green point.

    ¡°I think I can help with the facial burns,¡± the alderman noted after a few minutes studying the injuries. ¡°I¡¯m afraid your eyes are another matter. Other than the spiritual flame, there¡¯s almost nothing left to heal.¡±

    ¡°I figured as much,¡± Fernan muttered.

    ¡°If you¡¯ll step outside with me, I think we have a few goats I can sacrifice for the necessary power. And then we should really see your mother. She ought to know right away, but I¡¯d sooner spare her the sight of your injuries before I can work on them.¡±

    ¡°Later.¡± The fire in his eyes blazed brighter. ¡°We can deal with all of that in a minute. Right now we need a plan to evacuate the village.¡±

    Jerome¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Fernan, you¡¯ve just been through something horrific. Take some time to rest before committing yourself to a problem like that. We have time.¡±

    ¡°No we don¡¯t!¡± he shouted. ¡°The entire village is depending on me right now. G¨¦zarde said I only had five moons, until the summer solstice¨C¨C¡± He banged the back of his head against the wall with a loud crack. ¡°That bastard. The solstice is sooner than that, and that¡¯s the one he mentioned in the proper oath.¡±

    ¡°Four moons is still enough time for you to take a minute now, Fernan.¡± Jerome set his hand on his shoulder. ¡°You need time to get your bearings.¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± Florette leaned back in her chair, arms folded. ¡°If Fernan wants to do it now, then do it now. It¡¯s your village he¡¯s trying to save; what do you care if he wants to start right away?¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Fernan cracked the slightest of smiles. ¡°Ideally I¡¯d like to move far enough that we¡¯re not competing with the geckos for coal. They can get what they need to eat, while we get what we need to trade. No one feels slighted, or cheated.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the only option though,¡± Florette added. ¡°The exact wording of the oath only requires that your village is vacated. As long as no one¡¯s in danger when Fernan invites them into the site, you could technically move it anywhere, even somewhere close enough to mine the same veins.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s brilliant.¡± The alderman grinned. ¡°You¡¯re thinking like a spirit sage, Florette. But we would need a way to defend the town once G¨¦zarde realizes he¡¯s been tricked. The wards protecting Villechart draw their power from an old spirit sundial whose power has seeped deeply into the ground. Its power is initially weak, but it¡¯s been built up over many decades. I couldn¡¯t move it without leaving us vulnerable for years.¡±

    ¡°Well, is there anything that could do the job quickly?¡± Florette asked.

    ¡°A new sundial, with an appropriate investment of power.¡± Jerome scratched his chin. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to get it ready in time, though. My share of Soleil¡¯s power is relatively weak, since I¡¯m only a low level member of the Sun Temple. What you¡¯d really want is an artifact filled up with spirit energy by one of the more powerful priests in Guerron.¡±

    Guerron! It felt like fate, with the Festival of the Sun so close. ¡°I¡¯ll go with him to get it! You will be able to make it work if we get one, right?¡±

    ¡°Definitely. I think that¡¯s our best solution.¡± Jerome clasped his hands together. ¡°If you¡¯re going to Guerron, you could get a new charter for the town as well. That¡¯s less life-or-death, but it couldn¡¯t hurt to have everything above board.¡±

    ¡°What about the geckos?¡± Fernan asked quietly. ¡°This was their home, the coal their food. We¡¯re the interlopers. I don¡¯t like it, but wouldn¡¯t it be better to find a way to please everything?¡±

    ¡°What about them?¡± Jerome raised an eyebrow. ¡°If any of them truly have a measure of intelligence, then they¡¯re even more evil than we suspected. A beast can wound in wrath or hunger, but to war on innocent villagers after cold calculus is another thing entirely.¡±

    ¡°This is your best option, Fernan.¡± Florette gave him another pat on the back. ¡°If G¨¦zarde wanted to come to the negotiating table and work something out fairly, he had that choice. Instead, he kidnapped you and forced you into a one-sided deal putting everyone at risk of annihilation.¡±

    ¡°I know that¡­¡±

    ¡°This is only fair, considering the circumstances,¡± Jerome added. ¡°G¨¦zarde has not earned good faith.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about G¨¦zarde though. He¡¯s the one ordering them around, but he¡¯s not the one starving. What am I supposed to tell Mara?¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°Nothing, obviously. If you tell her, she might go running back to warn him and scuttle the whole project. Say you¡¯re going to Guerron to get a town charter, or something like that. Or just leave her behind.¡± The latter would be safer, but Florette did understand the impulse to master his new sight. As abhorrent as Mara was, it was probably worth getting that expertise out of her while she was there.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right. We need to get out from under this threat before any of the real work can begin. But I¡¯m going to see about other livelihoods. Once the new village is established, we can start to transition slowly away from the mines.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want to do.¡± Jerome frowned. ¡°Either way, we¡¯re not working with much time. I think you should leave by the end of the week.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll go tomorrow,¡± Fernan said flatly. ¡°I¡¯d like to see my mother, now.¡±

    ¡°Let me heal your face, first.¡± Jerome stood up, groaning slightly as he did. ¡°Fernan, please make yourself at home. I¡¯ll call you out once I¡¯m done with the sacrifice and we can begin. Florette is welcome to stay as well.¡±

    I certainly feel welcome, as an afterthought like that. ¡°I think I¡¯ll go for a walk, actually. I¡¯ll see all of you later.¡±

    Fernan raised an eyebrow as she began putting her boots back on, but didn¡¯t object.

    The sun was all the way up as she exited, casting its light down on the main square, though dark clouds from the west threatened to cover it.

    After walking all night, she wanted nothing more than to collapse, but something about the alderman made her uncomfortable. It might have been his insinuations about her and Fernan, but it felt like more than that. Better to give people like that a wide berth.

    At least now they had a goal. A quest, like the Great Binder¡¯s legendary mission to seal away the dark spirit Khali, lest darkness consume the world. Or the first Fox Queen, who¡¯d dreamed of uniting the continent and had brought all of it under the dominion of the Renarts. Although neither of those had really ended that well, had they?

    The Fox Queen¡¯s heirs had warred and split her great empire apart before it could last even two generations. And before she was sealed into the other world, Khali had cursed the world with an implacable heat, until eternal summer dried up all of the water and humanity perished. Although if that were ever going to happen, it seemed like it wouldn¡¯t be for a long while. Khali had been sealed over a hundred years ago, and her curse was beginning to look a bit like an empty threat.

    But plenty of people did accomplish what they wanted to, in the books: the Queen of the Exiles establishing her city and protecting it from all comers; Robin Verrou¡¯s famous theft of the Seaward Folly from the heart of Avalon without ever being caught¡­ This didn¡¯t necessarily feel as important, but every adventurer had to start somewhere.

    It¡¯s not really your quest though, is it? No, all of it belonged to Fernan. He had withstood Mara¡¯s attack, he had negotiated with the spirit, and it was his village in danger. She would support him, of course. He needed the help, and it was hard not to feel responsible for letting him get kidnapped like that, but she had every intention of finding her own adventure, hopefully once they reached Guerron.

    It felt like a lifetime ago, but nothing about her plan to prove herself in the tournament needed to change. Especially if Fernan were going to be living in the mountains as a sage. Whether or not Enquin found a dedicated sage willing to live there, they could probably pay Fernan to help guard their caravans without the same bitterness that Enquin¡¯s alderman seemed to have against Jerome.

    If things went well at the Festival of the Sun, she could finally meet her destiny, and carve her name into the world as a truly unforgettable figure.

 Camille III: The Councilor

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille III: The Councilor</h1>

    Chateau d¡¯Oran had an intensely pleasing isolation to it, a winding path through the foothills separating it from the city beneath while still allowing caravans comfortable access to keep the castle well-supplied.

    As Camille¡¯s horse drew closer, the path began to widen, until it gave way to the large hollow upon which the chateau had been built. If she remembered her history correctly, the Lord of Dorseille had established a holdfast here around three hundred years ago, to provide a defensible fallback for the harbor and project power across the water to the Lunette Duchy.

    When the Debrays swore their service to the Fox King, he had granted the holdfast and its lands, as well as tax right over the waters along the gold coast. The city had all grown up around that, trading ores from the mines as ships of supplies and luxuries made their way up and down the coast. The movement of the imperial government had only grown it further, drawing in clerks and tax collectors to manage the bureaucracy.

    And whenever Guerron might fall under siege, the denizens could hole up in the hollow at the foot of the castle as soldiers held the narrow path, rolling boulders onto tightly packed armies or dumping water during winter to make the path too icy for horses to traverse.

    All the while, the meager holdfast had grown taller and stronger, building ever upwards against the side of the mountain. Now the towers stretched above the walls of rock protecting the ground beneath them, granting a view of the city and the waters past it. Camille¡¯s chambers were at the top of such a tower, her view unobstructed. Staying closer to the sea would have felt safer, but, for the time being, this was an acceptable compromise.

    Well, acceptable for Camille, anyway. Lucien had opted to stay with the rest of the displaced in the Villemalin area on the north end of the city.

    Duke Fouchand had offered him lodging in the castle innumerable times over the last seventeen years, and each time Lucien had refused. Even as a child torn from his home, he knew a King should be with his people, and they loved him for it. That had only grown in the years since; however much Lucien might claim it to be simply his nature rather than calculated appeal, the effect was the same.

    Of course, the royal tent was hardly a slum dwelling. Lucien had guards to protect him, tutors to instruct him, and servants to wait on him. Yes, he had the amenities, but he was there with the rest, showing a solidarity important to his image as their King. For similar reasons, Camille tried to spend as much time as she could manage at the Temple, greeting anyone giving offerings, throwing occasional feasts of deep sea fish and plants that would otherwise be difficult to acquire.

    Not how she might choose to spend her limited time and energy, otherwise, but it was important to keep herself ever in their minds.

    By the time Camille reached her chambers in the Chateau d¡¯Oran, she had a mere two hours to prepare. As her servants drew a bath, Camille went over the papers she had gathered from the temple earlier that day.

    The Temple of Levian kept meticulous records of the Malins as a matter of course: births, deaths, marriages, and the like, stretching back to the days when the Empire of the Fox had held sway over the entire continent. Most of those sorts of papers had been hidden back in the Great Temple back in Malin, buried under water and glass where the Avalons could never touch it. But the scholarship, the analysis, the better part of that had made it here intact. Jehanne Corelle¡¯s On Malin and Empire, in particular, painted an interesting portrait.

    As the Empire had splintered piece by piece after the Fox Queen¡¯s death, the population of Malin had fallen in turn. Most of the loss fell within the less desirable hinterlands, closer to the desert and further from the trade and fresh water of the Sartaire, but it represented a decline nonetheless. With the interconnected systems of the Empire, Malin and its people could prosper, but as the corners became lost to ambition and treachery, they bled.

    All of that before Avalon had reared its ugly head and seized the capital, driving the royal court and thousands of its retainers and servants into the city of Guerron. Under the boot of hostile foreigners, one could only imagine what Malin had been driven to. Duke Fouchand, as Regent, had negotiated peace out of fear when he ceded the capital in Lucien¡¯s name ¡ª fear for his people in the face of Avalon¡¯s unrelenting assault. But stagnation was a death of its own. Presented in the right way, it might help persuade the Duke to support war to reclaim Malin, lest Guerron see the same death of attrition. But that was for the future; she needed to deal with Lord Lumi¨¨re today.

    For that, she had the Writ of Dominion, an old pact between Lucien¡¯s father Romain and Camille¡¯s mother Sarille as Fox King of Malin and High Priestess of Levian, codifying what had previously stood largely on precedent and tradition. Camille did not know why that had happened so recently¨C¨Cthe Leclaires of On¨¨s had served the Fox Kings for centuries¨C¨Cbut it suited her purposes well on this evening.

    With her papers in order, she picked out appropriate attire for the council meeting. The more practical garb from the execution suited the ceremony and the audience, but for a meeting with the Duke, it would be entirely inappropriate.

    By the time the bath was hot, everything she needed was organized and ready. It was difficult to relax, with the meeting so close, but it was at least sufficient to clean the salt and sweat from her skin. She also took the opportunity to apply a fresh dye to her hair, noting that the supply was dwindling as she did. The cerulean snail was rare enough that kingdoms could beggar themselves to acquire the amount Camille went through in a year, but with Levian¡¯s power, it was easy enough to scour the sea and gather it herself. Another run would be necessary soon, if she wished to avoid showing blonde roots and ruining the fa?ade.

    With the bath finished, Camille donned the dress she had chosen: pale blue with gold trim, and the serpent insignia of House Leclaire discreetly embroidered onto the lapel. In addition to a set of golden half-circle earrings, it perfectly paired the aesthetics of the ocean spirit Levian with the Sun spirit Soleil. She would be attending as a councillor to the Duke, rather than a High Priestess, and it was important to present herself accordingly.

    As she had planned, she was the first to arrive in the council chambers. The setting sun streamed through the window to the balcony, casting rays of pink and gold into the chamber as it descended to the water.

    Duke Fouchand would take his place at one head of the table, King Lucien Renart the opposite end. As his betrothed, Camille would sit to his left, pointing her eyes oh-so-conveniently directly at the sun. For venerators of the Sun spirit Soleil, no doubt that had important symbolic value, but in practice it was incredibly annoying to have to shield her face.

    She set her folder down at her place and gazed out over the sunset as best as she could while she waited for the others.

    Lucien came next, looking much the same as he had earlier in the day, only a red cape behind his shoulders marking any preparation for the event. They had argued earlier, but it was a relief to see him all the same. He would back her up when the moment came. Of that, she was sure.

    ¡°You¡¯re looking quite sharp, Lady Leclaire.¡± He took his seat beside her, smiling like she was the only other person in the world. ¡°Are you ready for the meeting?¡±

    ¡°Even more than usual.¡± She patted the sheaf of papers in front of her. ¡°Just be ready in case Lord Lumi¨¨re starts something.¡±

    Shrugging, Lucien nodded. ¡°He¡¯s made no secret of his feelings towards the Malins. Why the warning?¡±

    Camille smiled, placing her hand over his. ¡°Just wait and see. I will explain after, if you still have any questions.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, but refrained from asking anything further.

    Duke Fouchand, the Lord of Guerron, Duke of Soleil Isle, and former Regent for Lucien, was the next to arrive, standing tall despite his age in the grey and white colors of House Debray. He greeted Camille cordially and took his seat at the table with quiet dignity and grace. The Duke was followed closely by his granddaughter, Annette, the head of the Bureau of the Sea, which managed all things naval. With all of the activity in the harbor leading up to the tournament, Camille knew she had her hands full at the moment.

    Annette rubbed her eyes as she took her place at the Duke¡¯s left, her back to the ocean. ¡°Hello Camille. Grandfather and I were just talking about you.¡± She blinked, then brushed a tuft of brown hair out of her face.

    ¡°Only good things, I hope.¡± Camille waved down a servant. ¡°Lady Debray would like a cup of black tea mixed with a spoonful of pixie powder, unless I¡¯m mistaken.¡±

    ¡°And sugar,¡± Annette added. ¡°Thank you, Camille. Things have been so hectic with the tournament I haven¡¯t had a moment¡¯s rest. I could certainly use the stimulation.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± If she ever saw Annette Debray getting six hours of sleep, Camille would have to check that it was not a shadow doppelganger. Half of Annette¡¯s blood was probably pixie powder by this point; her desiring more was not exactly difficult to guess. Still, every little bit helped, in a delicate situation like this. A reminder of their friendship could help tip the balance if Annette ended up being a deciding factor in any conflict with the other High Priest.

    The final members to enter arrived together: Lord Aurelian Lumiere, High Priest of the Sun and Emperor of the Pricks; and Guy Valvert, Head of the Bureau of Land, when he could be bothered. They were laughing together at some private joke as they took their seats, not making eye contact with Camille.

    Valvert sat at Fouchand¡¯s right hand, squinting at the red sun beaming into his eyes. The thirty-two year old son of Fouchand¡¯s deceased sister, Rosette, cruelly cut down in the Foxtrap, he owed his position entirely to the Duke¡¯s fond memories and political necessity, rather than his aptitude. North of the mountains, the Valverts of Dorseille ruled the only other major city free of Avalon¡¯s control. Even then, Guy only barely managed to avoid being incompetent enough to be removed. He shifted his head to try to block the sunlight with Annette¡¯s shadow, but she subtly moved to render the attempt unsuccessful.

    Camille suppressed a smile at that as Aurelian sat down across from her, his shiny golden tunic catching the light behind him. After their encounter near the Singer¡¯s Lounge, and the hateful bile he was spewing at the time, there was no low she could not risk him sinking to.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± announced Duke Fouchand. ¡°Since all councilors are present, I believe it¡¯s time to begin with the subject of this meeting: the Festival of the Sun and the accompanying tournament. To begin, if the heads of the Bureaus would present your progress on your duties thus far?¡±

    Guy Valvert rolled his eyes, slumping to his elbows on the table. ¡°Yes, yes. It¡¯s all done. I presented those instructions to my bureau for the lists, seeding the bracket for the melee, and all such affairs. The city watch at the North, East and South gates of the city are prepared to collect that entry tax. Everything we talked about last time, I passed it on.¡±

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    ¡°Truly your contributions are invaluable,¡± Annette commented with her head tilted up. ¡°What could we do without you to relay instructions to others, cousin? The Duke might have to send a letter.¡±

    Valvert pounded his fist on the table. ¡°Hey listen, Annette. I do my Khali-cursed job, and if the Duke has a problem with it, he¡¯s free to mention it. Otherwise, shut your trap.¡±

    ¡°No more of that, Guy.¡± Fouchand gave him a stern, silent glare before turning his head towards his granddaughter. ¡°Is this really necessary, Annette? My nephew has done what was asked of him and on that front given no cause for complaint.¡±

    ¡°Very true,¡± she acceded. ¡°For him, that alone is quite an accomplishment.¡±

    Camille and Lucien snickered, although Guy and Aurelian looked unamused.

    ¡°Nearly everything is proceeding smoothly on my end,¡± Annette announced once the laughter had died down. ¡°Harbor space is at such a premium that we may need to delay exports to Avalon until the tournament is finished, but the tax collectors and customs inspectors know their new duties, and I¡¯ve taken the liberty of hiring enough extra hands to double the count for the duration of the tournament.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Duke Fouchand nodded.

    ¡°There is the matter of the Seaward Folly. A ship of such origins, captained by so notorious a figure¨C¡±

    ¡°We will speak of that later, in private,¡± the Duke interrupted. ¡°Thank you, Annette. It appears things are proceeding quite smoothly on your end.¡± He gave her an approving pat on the shoulder. ¡°You and Guy should both be made aware that the bard Magnifico will no longer be arriving by ship. There was an explosion at the harbor in Malin, destroying his ship while he was ashore. His party crossed the Sartaire and will be making their way through Guerron pass.¡±

    ¡°Explosion?¡± Camille perked her head up. ¡°What happened?¡±

    Fouchand shrugged. ¡°No one was certain when the messenger left. Some manner of accident or attack, one can only assume. We won¡¯t know more until it¡¯s investigated.¡±

    Aurelian Lumi¨¨re nodded solemnly. ¡°May the culprit be swiftly found and brought to justice.¡±

    ¡°Good riddance,¡± Guy said. ¡°They were asking for it, taking the city like that. Those heathens don¡¯t even send the ones they execute to the spirits, you know, just condemning them to a wholly wasteful death. It¡¯s barbaric.¡±

    Duke Fouchand narrowed his eyes. ¡°Over a dozen people died, with thrice that maimed or injured. There may have even been ships of ours in port.¡± That seemed to chasten Valvert, for he rubbed the back of neck guiltily. ¡°Now, if we can move on. Guy, please see to it that the watch members manning the East gate are ready for his arrival.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, must I really?¡± Valvert wrinkled his nose. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough that we¡¯re even letting the bastard in here at all, giving him a king¡¯s welcome is just too much.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re gave his crony a withering look. ¡°Magnifico is a trusted emissary of King Harold, Guy. Word of mistreating him will reach the king and reflect most poorly on us.¡± As Valvert rolled his eyes, Lord Lumi¨¨re continued. ¡°Magnifico is here as a gesture of goodwill from a Kingdom which, lest you forget, utterly defeated us in the last war. If Avalon attacks before we are ready, something that is sure to happen if we allow an envoy under our protection to come to harm, the fate of Malin will reach us here.¡±

    Duke Fouchand narrowed his eyes. ¡°Precisely. The bard will be treated with the utmost care and respect, and Guy will see to his accommodations. ¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Guy held up his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll pass it on to the City Watch. They love escorting scum around the city. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Actually, there¡¯s something we need to discuss,¡± Aurelian spoke, drawing all the eyes at the table to him. ¡°Lady Leclaire has transgressed against me and the Temple of the Sun, a grievance that needs to be redressed.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Camille clasped her hands together, feigning surprise. ¡°Do tell.¡±

    ¡°That harbor bandit, he was stealing artifacts from the Temple bound for the Isle of Soleil. He wronged us twice over by robbing our delivery and knocking it into the harbor.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a terrible shame.¡±

    Aurelian narrowed his eyes. ¡°His soul belongs to Soleil, whom he offended. And yet you sacrificed him to Levian this morning, brazenly trespassing on the rights of Soleil and his temple before spirits and men. Duke Fouchand, I confronted Lady Leclaire herself on the matter earlier this very day, and she refused to address the issue.¡±

    Camille shook her head. ¡°Jean, the robber, was of Guerron, but his allegiance was to Levian. He even left offerings for him from time to time, I can attest. Once he learned his sentence, he had no objections to the spirit receiving his soul.¡± In exchange for his permission, he had required only the assurance that his family would be taken care of, which Camille found an easy price. As she spoke, she readied the paper from the top of the sheaf in her hand.

    ¡°It was Soleil that he wronged though, no?¡± Valvert drummed his fingers on the table. ¡°Soleil would need his soul to be made whole. You had no right to deprive him, Camille.¡±

    ¡°Lady Leclaire,¡± she corrected. ¡°And I had every right.¡± Take that. She slid the Writ to the end of the table where Guy and the Duke could read it. ¡°Per the Pact between the Fox-King Romain Renart and the High Priestess of Levian, Sarille Leclaire, the Temple of Levian holds the right of first refusal over all murderers duly sentenced under the King¡¯s justice.¡±

    Snatching the paper out of Guy¡¯s hands, Aurelian clenched his fist. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. This pact was made between the Fox-King of the Empire and the Priestess of his city, his spirit. Both dead, by the way. It says nowhere that the Guerron are subject to it. This is our city, Leclaire. Our law.¡±

    Camille held her hand to her face to hide her smile. Just as planned.

    ¡°The criminal is already dead, by the King¡¯s justice.¡± Lucien spoke. ¡°What do you hope to accomplish here, Lord Lumiere?¡±

    ¡°I demand redress! Five souls, in return for the one stolen and the impropriety. You have cost Soleil power rightfully his!¡±

    ¡°Cost you power, you mean. No doubt Soleil blames you.¡± Camille chuckled. ¡°I refuse, obviously. I acted fully within the bounds of the law.¡± That she had eroded the Sun Priest¡¯s support with his patron in so doing was no coincidence, but neither was it a crime.

    ¡°I think no redress is necessary,¡± Lucien added. ¡°Camille acted within the law.¡±

    ¡°Of course you would say that, you little lovestruck child.¡± Lum¨¬ere rolled his eyes. ¡°Duke Fouchand, I beseech you! This sets a terrible precedent, allowing any who attack us to escape our justice. King Lucien and the Malins are our guests in the city, and they must obey our law.¡± Aurelian shoved the paper aside.

    ¡°Is the Lord of Guerron not subordinate to the Fox-King? Has the law changed to put a Duke before a King, Lord Lumiere?¡± Camille leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. ¡°If so, please enlighten me.¡±

    Aurelian wrinkled his nose. ¡°Must you make me spell out the obvious? Malin is no longer the capital of the Empire¨C¨Cit¡¯s occupied territory! Your people exist here wholly on Duke Fouchand¡¯s authority, whatever nominal claim your fox boy might have to be his superior. You¡¯re lucky we even allow you to worship your ocean spirit in your pathetic tents.¡±

    ¡°Well said,¡± added Valvert. ¡°What those Avalons did to Malin was a tragedy, but it doesn¡¯t mean we need to put up with your people¡¯s every eccentricity. Infringing on the justice of Soleil is an affront to all of us.¡±

    And that was it, the moment she had been waiting for. ¡°Duke Fouchand, would you care to weigh in?¡± Lumi¨¨re had been right about one thing: in practice, the Duke held the most power here. Howevermuch Lucien¡¯s authority might outstrip his by law, every institution and aristocrat in the city had answered to the Duke for nearly two decades during the regency. But, Camille had bet, Lumi¨¨re was grossly wrong about how Duke Fouchand would rule on this issue.

    The Duke bore a stern look, arms folded. ¡°I suppose I must.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Would all of you please give Camille and myself the room for a moment?¡±

    Camille bit her lip, hiding her surprise. This was not how the next part of the meeting was meant to go.

    Lucien gave her shoulder a squeeze before he left, while Lumi¨¨re only laughed. None of the councilors said a word as they filed out of the chamber, not wishing to anger the Duke.

    ¡°I do understand your plight,¡± the Duke said once the two of them were alone. ¡°Three hundred years ago, the Rhanoir invaded the Isle of Soleil and drove us from our homeland. Only by the generosity of the Fox King Vetain Renart, who granted my ancestors Guerron, could we build it into the city it is today.¡±

    ¡°I know all of this.¡± Camille tried to keep her tone polite.

    ¡°I¡¯m making a point. You won¡¯t find any Debrays seriously considering reconquest of the Isle anymore. Even with ¡®Duke of the Isle of Soleil¡¯ still in my title. We made the best of our new circumstances, rather than ruminating bitterly on the past. Today, Guerron is five times the city as anything you could find back on the Isle. We¡¯ve had seventeen years of peace. Is there any part of you that could accept that and build something new?¡±

    Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°Everyone called you a coward for your surrender. I thought I knew better. That you wanted time to consolidate, to rebuild up our power, that we might retake the land that is rightfully ours. Was I wrong?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Fouchand took a deep breath. ¡°But I am not the same man I was in the Foxtrap. I miss the family I lost every day, but another war will not bring them back. Nor will fighting with the Sun Temple bring back yours, Camille.¡±

    She pulled out one of the papers from the sheaf. ¡°Have you seen the population counts for Malin after the Empire broke apart? Every moment we spend with less than total dominance is killing our nation. I¡¯m doing what has to be done, to avenge them, to retake what we¡¯ve lost. Can you really say that you don¡¯t want the same? You can¡¯t bring your family back, but you owe it to them to bring justice to their killers.¡±

    ¡°Your mother showed me something similar, once. Impressed upon me the need to reconquer the Fox Queen¡¯s old holdings across the continent.¡± He stroked his chin, looking out over the water. ¡°I¡¯m trying to think of your generation. Old men like myself can hold onto our bitterness, but I had hoped better for Annette and Lucien. Even for you, Camille. The last thing I wanted to do was drag you children back into my war, however much I want to take back the capital. It¡¯s not what I¡¯d want for you.¡±

    ¡°It is what we want for ourselves, my lord Duke. I want to see Lucien coronated before his people in the city his ancestors built. I want you and Annette to be free to rule Guerron while we take care of Imperial administration. I want, someday, to take my daughter to make a contract with Levian in the Great Temple of the Sea, the true seat of my power. Lucien trains every day, hoping he can slay King Harold himself. He supported me on this because he knows that people like Lord Lum¨¬ere are dangerous to our people. This very day, I caught him riling Guerrons against us. It won¡¯t stop until we can return home.¡±

    ¡°You could have still handled this more gracefully.¡± The Duke clasped his hands together. ¡°If we are ever to retake the capital for the Empire, we must all stand together ¡ª followers of Soleil and Levian both.¡±

    ¡°Then you agree?¡± Camille¡¯s eyes widened.

    He nodded. ¡°But keep all of this to yourself. Avalon must remain ignorant of any such plans. Snooping on such affairs is likely half the reason that Magnifico was even sent here.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Camille agreed, carefully holding back any expression of joy. ¡°I apologize for putting you on the spot like that, Duke Fouchand. It shall not happen again.¡±

    ¡°See that it does not.¡± He rapped his hand against the table, signalling a servant to inform the other councilors that it was time to return.

    ¡°Well?¡± Lumi¨¨re drummed his fingers against the table as he sat down. ¡°Will this heathen be punished?¡±

    ¡°King Lucien made his opinion clear,¡± Duke Fouchand responded. ¡°There is no need for reparations.¡±

    Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°Did you listen to a word I said?¡±

    The Duke nodded. ¡°When I ascended to this seat, I swore an oath of fealty to King Romain. After he perished in the Foxtrap, I renewed it with his son Lucien. Our king, Aurelian. I am no oathbreaker. The Writ of Dominion stands. Lady Leclaire maintains the right to the murderer¡¯s soul, and there shall be no redress.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Aurelian responded icily. ¡°If that is your judgement, I will let the matter lie. Until next time.¡± Pounding his fist on the table, Aurelian stood up. Valvert followed him shortly thereafter, and the two filed out without another word.

    ¡°Then the meeting is adjourned. Until next time, Camille.¡± Fouchand pushed his chair in and left the room.

    Anette drained her tea in one gulp and set it down gently on the saucer. ¡°Aurelian and Valvert are buffoons. Anything you do to them is fair game, as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± She stood, patting Camille on the back as she passed.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Lucien waited until she had left the room to turn to Camille, eyes wide.

    ¡°Well?¡± Camille clasped her hands together. ¡°Are you satisfied?¡±

    ¡°Most definitely,¡± he said, face full of mirth. ¡°You will make such a good Queen.¡±

    ¡°I certainly hope so.¡±

    He kissed her on the forehead then stepped back towards the door, grinning all the while. ¡°Until tomorrow then, Camille.¡±

    Camille nodded, returning his smile. ¡°Until then.¡±

    Once Lucien had left as well, she was alone in the council chamber once again. Twilight had arrived, the sun fully covered by the sea.

    After today, confirmed before King and Duke, none could stop her from directing sacrifices to Levian and growing his power, gaining his favor. Lumi¨¨re and the rest of the anti-Malin faction at court had not received the rebuke she had hoped for, but she had shown the people that Soleil¡¯s sages were incapable of enforcing their own justice, even against a murderer who had directly stolen from them. And so Levian¡¯s influence would grow, and Camille¡¯s power to match.

    And now that she had confirmation of the Duke¡¯s intentions, planning for the liberation of Malin could begin in earnest.

 Fernan III: The Neophyte

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan III: The Neophyte</h1>

    Saying his farewells had been anything but easy.

    Fernan had made countless trips down to the pass before to scout for caravans, but a lengthy expedition like this, let alone one of such great importance, was entirely new.

    Mother had jumped when he stepped in, her pillar of flame lifting into the air with a slightly orange glow. She had been calm and understanding afterwards, and with no way to see her expression, there wasn¡¯t much else to go on, but the fact that he had startled her said a lot.

    Even now, after days of travel, seeing everything only by its heat made things difficult, and no small amount of unnerving.

    In Guerron Pass, life was everywhere. Little balls of fire the size of his fist scurried through what he knew to be the scraggly grass to the side of the main road. Tiny trails of specks lined the ground every so often, giving an impression of the contours of the slope but little else. Mara had said that some animals couldn¡¯t produce their own warmth, and so were much harder to see, but practice would supposedly help with that.

    Still, it rankled. He hadn¡¯t had a real chance to come to terms with it in the wake of everything with G¨¦zarde; the prospect of death or worse for his entire village had eclipsed thinking about his sight. But now that there was little to do but talk and think, the reality of it had set in.

    He would never read a book, or see the ocean. Never again witness anyone¡¯s smile, or the snow capped mountains shining brightly in the winter. If he¡¯d known that his previous scouting expedition would be his last, he could have savored it, taken in all of the sights for one final time.

    As it was, he felt like a helpless infant. Back in Villechart, the houses had been easy to make out against the frigid mountains behind them, but down here it was hard to even see the ground properly; tripping over errant rocks had been a constant issue for the first day of travel, with only Florette in front to judge the direction he needed to be going. Even parsing the outline of people was difficult, limbs often blurring together when they weren¡¯t stretched out. Mara had said he would improve in time, but that was scant consolation now.

    After a bit of practice, the road was easy enough to see, at least. With all of the activity through the pass, it glowed faintly against the background of the ground, lingering warmth from the people and animals traversing it. In fact, avoiding the hazards left by the horses was easier than ever, which was especially fortunate on the road, where there were no easy opportunities to bathe.

    They hadn¡¯t stopped at The First Post this time, since having Mara around would have made it difficult, and time was of the essence. Florette had figured that they were probably passing Gaspard and the others, which was only a positive for her. And obviously if Magnifico and his guards had still been there, that wouldn¡¯t have made spending the night there any more appealing for her.

    After that, Mara had stuck to the side of the pass, yards from the road. Much of that was to keep her more hidden, but she and Florette had been determined in their efforts to avoid each other even when there had been no one else around. Most of the time, it was like Mara wasn¡¯t even traveling with them, which wasn¡¯t what Fernan had hoped for.

    But it did make it easier to live with what they were doing, getting this sun relic to prohibit geckos from entering the new village as well. He truly did want to find a better solution, but in the worst case, he also couldn¡¯t argue that maintaining the status quo was better than complete annihilation.

    The less Mara was close by, the less Fernan had to worry about betraying the plan before he could find an alternative.

    ¡°Is that it?¡± Florette called out, holding her orange-tinged limb of flame to her head. ¡°I think that grey thing on the horizon is the wall.¡±

    Fernan sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re asking me.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± She sucked in air through her teeth, her flame dimming. ¡°Right. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°If it is, we don¡¯t need to make camp tonight. We can just find an inn there.¡±

    Florette glowed yellow. ¡°If I go ahead to check, can you manage? I could use a run.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead. I can navigate the road now.¡±

    The bulb at the top that was her head nodded as she began jogging forward along the path.

    Only once she was far ahead did Mara creep out of the underbrush to the side, her flame tinted slightly white. ¡°Is she gone? Can we talk again?¡± Florette¡¯s little absences like this were their only real chance.

    Fernan nodded. After Mara failed to respond, he clarified: ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh good! I think you¡¯re handling the sight well enough for now, so I was hoping you could tell me some more about humans.¡±

    He nodded once again. ¡°Sure. For a start, when you see one doing this, it means that they¡¯re saying ¡®Yes¡¯, so they agree, or they heard what you said.¡±

    ¡°Oh! I thought it was just wobbling around because you have such big heads on such tiny necks! Is that what it means when they move sideways too?¡± Her white tinge had changed to orange.

    He shook his head. ¡°Just the opposite. It means ¡®No¡¯, or that they disagree.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s really confusing. They look so similar.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s easier when the orientation of someone¡¯s head is more obvious.¡± As it was now, it was almost impossible to see whether someone was facing forwards or backwards until they moved. ¡°Remember, humans see everything in color, with much more detail.¡±

    ¡°We see in color too, Fernan. Haven¡¯t you noticed that the glow shifts in tone based on the temperature?¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Sure, but it¡¯s not the same.¡±

    Mara flashed yellow. ¡°It¡¯s better! That¡¯s a huge part of how you can tell what someone¡¯s thinking when you talk to them. Glowing brighter for passion, or shifting in color for emphasis. Without that measure of intensity, the sounds and hisses we make don¡¯t tell you everything you need to know. My youngest siblings don¡¯t even know how to add sounds yet, so they try to communicate just by flaring up.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°I guess that means that no human could really learn your language, then. Not properly.¡±

    ¡°You could.¡± She scurried up in front of him. ¡°Oh! I could teach you! And then you could tell G¨¨zarde your mission is accomplished in our own tongue. I bet he¡¯d love that! And I can introduce you to my sister Sela! She¡¯ll be so jealous when she finds out I¡¯m going to the city and¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°I would love to learn it,¡± Fernan interrupted with a pang of guilt. If he couldn¡¯t find another way to relocate the village, the geckos would be none too pleased at the betrayal, and a visit like that would be out of the question. ¡°But I think we need to focus on my vision first. It would be nice if I could avoid tripping onto the Sun sages whose help I need.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah¡­¡± Her excited glow faded back to a lower, more neutral burn. ¡°There will be more people in this city though. With hundreds of humans running around, it should be much easier for you to orient yourself.¡±

    Fernan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Hundreds?¡±

    Mara bobbed her head. ¡°Whenever the people from your village mentioned the city, they always made it sound even bigger. Did I get the wrong impression?¡±

    ¡°No, you were right about that.¡± He smiled. ¡°But from what the traders would say, it¡¯s got closer to a hundred thousand.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°One thousand is ten hundreds. So a hundred thousand is¡­¡± He looked up at the black sky. ¡°Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a lot more than a few hundred. Many, many times more.¡±

    ¡°How do they even fit so many humans into one burrow?¡±

    ¡°With any luck, we¡¯ll find out soon. I¡¯ve never seen it either.¡± Jerome hadn¡¯t been able to give them much of an idea what to expect, even though he had to have visited it to make his contract with Soleil. He¡¯d said it would be better for them to find out for themselves.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Florette was panting heavily as she ran back, shining red, far brighter than she had begun. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s definitely the wall. It looked like a few people were lined up outside the gate, but I think we can probably still manage to find a room for tonight in time.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Fernan said. ¡°There must be a lot of people gathering for the Festival of the Sun. You¡¯ll have some stiff competition in the tournament.¡±

    ¡°We both will.¡± She shrugged, her intense red glow slowly fading as she caught her breath. ¡°But it¡¯s even more impressive to place well in a crowded field.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± He raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Well, come on, Fernan.¡± She gestured towards his face. ¡°You¡¯re a spirit sage now! That¡¯s a massive leg up on everyone else. It¡¯d be stupid not to use it.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m getting the sundial to save my entire village. I can¡¯t afford to waste time with anything else.¡±

    Her aura faded slightly. ¡°Of course. However you want to handle it.¡±

    Mara scurried forward. ¡°What¡¯s a tournament?¡±

    Florette folded her arms, her glow flaring up again. ¡°It¡¯s none of your concern. You should wait outside of the city until we¡¯re done anyway. It would be too hard having to explain keeping a monster with us.¡±

    ¡°Florette.¡± Fernan gave her a stern look. ¡°Be polite.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± She sighed. ¡°It¡¯s how humans show who¡¯s the best, a collection of fights and contests where only the strongest rise to the top. They win a grand prize, while the weak ones have to live with the shame of their defeat.¡± She turned to face Mara directly. ¡°But they don¡¯t take kindly to maiming, so I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t have any interest.¡±

    ¡°You stabbed my tail with a rock!¡± Mara glowed pure white, trails of smoke curling up from her mouth.

    Florette stepped forward, her intensity rising to match.

    ¡°Stop it, both of you!¡± Fernan stepped forth between them. ¡°I know you¡¯re afraid, but we all want the same thing, here.¡±

    ¡°Afraid? I¡¯m livid.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s all this is. Both of you fought pretty hard, and it led to some serious damage. And yet you¡¯ve been avoiding each other this whole trip, instead of picking fights. Until now, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Fear still doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s safe, Fernan. The scared humans were the most dangerous ones, poking us with those sharp sticks, hurting and killing so they could steal our food.¡±

    ¡°They were afraid because you were attacking them with fire!¡± Florette¡¯s glow was getting redder now. ¡°Just like you attacked us.¡±

    ¡°I said stop!¡± A trail of green flew out in front of his face, dissipating quickly in the air as it left only a faintly glowing impression. Immediately, Fernan felt drained, like he¡¯d run all the way up the mountain without stopping.

    He sunk to his knees, breathing deeply.

    Florette and Mara¡¯s glows had both maintained their energy as they approached. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Florette asked cautiously.

    Fernan nodded. ¡°Jerome warned me about the limited amount of spiritual energy from my contract but¡­¡± He took another deep breath. ¡°That was awful..¡±

    ¡°Are you joking? That was amazing! You just spat fire in front of you!¡±

    ¡°I had seen seven winters by the time I managed a blast that big! You¡¯re a fast learner, Fernan.¡±

    He shook his head, finally recovered enough to stand back up. ¡°It was an accident, and not one I¡¯m eager to repeat.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to do this tournament thing? I¡¯m sure you could win! You¡¯re the best of all the humans I know.¡±

    Fernan brushed off his trousers. ¡°You know two humans.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re my favorite!¡±

    Florette stifled a chuckle. ¡°See, even the lizard thinks you should do it.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just get to the city.¡± Fernan rolled his eyes. ¡°We can discuss the rest later.¡±

    Fortunately, the rest of the walk wasn¡¯t long. The wall made for a strange sight, not really visible to him on its own, but once Florette pointed it out, he could see blobs of fire elevated in the sky, guards on the watchtowers.

    Only two groups were ahead of them: a trading caravan of a few wagons, carrying brightly glowing coal that was probably from one of the villages on the other side of the pass; and a collection of two larger and two smaller silhouettes of fire that might have been a family.

    ¡°Why did you stop?¡± Mara walked slightly past Fernan and Florette, then scurried back. ¡°Are you tired? I know you humans have a lot less energy because you don¡¯t have the same fire inside you, but we¡¯re almost there! Can¡¯t you rest once we get to see the city?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re keeping our distance.¡± Florette waved her arms near the back of head, probably doing something with her hair. ¡°You stand out.¡±

    Fernan furrowed his brow. ¡°I¡¯m hoping it¡¯ll be less of an issue once we¡¯re in the city itself, but the other people waiting here probably know geckos all too well.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    And so they waited, watching one of the guards walk up and question people entering the city, finally ending with what Florette whispered was an exchange of coins.

    ¡°Can we cover that?¡± he whispered back.

    Florette only shrugged silently, going back to watching them.

    By the time the two groups had made their way through, the sun was close to the horizon, a bright ball of flame shining right into his eyes. Curiously, it didn¡¯t sting the way it would have before, with no afterimages when he glanced away.

    Two flames in the shape of people stood in front of the gate, unmoving. Another two pairs were assembled on the other side, each turning slightly orange as Fernan and Florette stepped closer.

    ¡°Hello?¡± Fernan nervously held his arm behind his back. ¡°Is there someone I should be talking to?¡± For the other groups, this would have been the moment that the front guard came forward to question them.

    Immediately, all of the guards shifted to red. The one on the left in the front seemed the most agitated, tensing up before he spoke. ¡°Begging your pardon, milord. Gerry¡¯s getting the captain to see you in. We wasn¡¯t informed to be ready for you.¡±

    Fernan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh¡­ Alright.¡± He looked to Florette, who gave the slightest of shrugs back.

    After a moment, another person, less intense than the others, made his way down from atop the gate and stepped forward to Fernan.

    Before he had a chance to ask a question, the man bowed at the waist. ¡°Forgive me, my lord. Lord Valvert informed us that the scion of House Bougitte would be entering from the South Gate, not the East. Erm, we were also told to expect Lady Laura.¡±

    To his left, Florette lit up, oscillating between yellow and red.

    ¡°Ah, well, you see.¡± Fernan lifted a finger to begin explaining, but Florette jumped in front of him.

    ¡°Lady Laura will still be entering through the South Gate as scheduled. That must be the source of the confusion.¡±

    What in Soleil¡¯s name was she doing?

    ¡°¡­Yes,¡± Fernan added hesitantly.

    ¡°My lord wished to see the majesty of Guerron Pass before entering the city. We split from the main party to circle around and see it.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± The white faded from the captain, overtaken by the orange.

    ¡°If I may ask, Captain, how did you recognize my liege? In a smaller group, we thought it safer to disguise ourselves as common folk.¡±

    The captain gasped. ¡°Really? That is to say, my lady, I would think Lord¡­¡±

    ¡°Fernan,¡± he supplied.

    ¡°¡­Lord Fernan¡¯s eyes glow bright with flame, an obvious mark of a spirit sage. At a distance, you no doubt passed unnoticed, but it caught my underlings¡¯ eyes immediately.¡±

    ¡°That makes sense, I suppose.¡± Fernan tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. Why couldn¡¯t they just tell the truth?

    ¡°We had thought to make a game of entering like this, unveiling ourselves at the palace. I suppose now that that¡¯s at an end, my lord might as well bring forth his familiar.¡±

    His familiar? He met Florette¡¯s eyes, or at least he did his best to, and she nodded back. He didn¡¯t really know what they were, but Florette had to mean Mara, so he called out her name towards the shrubbery she had hidden herself under for their conversation with the guards.

    Mara scurried up eagerly, taking a place at his side, and the guards went red with fear once again.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ quite beautiful, my lord. A worthy companion for the House of Flame.¡±

    ¡°She,¡± Fernan corrected. ¡°But I¡¯m sure she appreciates the compliment.¡±

    The captain began laughing nervously for some reason, accompanied by his underlings.

    Florette tinged slightly red with irritation and added, ¡°How humorous, to imagine a mere familiar understanding speech.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s humorous about it?¡± Mara asked innocently.

    Florette banged the back of her head against the stone wall. ¡°My liege honors you in showing that trick. A bit of spiritual power, and it is as if the beast can talk, herself.¡±

    ¡°I see. Most impressive!¡±

    Florette rubbed her head softly. ¡°Now if you will excuse us, we really must be moving on.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± The captain held out his arm, gesturing in the gate. ¡°Please, allow me to send a detachment with you to the palace.¡±

    ¡°The offer is appreciated, but I¡¯m sure my skills are sufficient to keep my lord safe for the journey.¡± Florette¡¯s flame flickered as she told the lie.

    ¡°Um. Yes.¡± Fernan furrowed his brow and began walking under the stone, through to the other side of the gate. Mercifully, Mara kept silent until they were out of earshot of the guards.

    ¡°What was that about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to know that myself,¡± Fernan added. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with telling them why we¡¯re entering the city? I¡¯m sure they¡¯d let us in; Jerome didn¡¯t seem to think there would be any issue.¡±

    Florette shone bright yellow. ¡°Really? You didn¡¯t have fun with that? We got to trick them and get out of paying the entry fee. Now we can afford a better room, or maybe a nicer drink. And apparently you look like some noble, so it¡¯s an option if we need it later.¡±

    Fernan wiped sweat from his forehead. ¡°Fun? That was incredibly stressful, and for basically no reason! What would have happened if that captain had insisted on taking us to the castle full of nobles?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d probably see through the lie.¡± She shrugged. ¡°He didn¡¯t, and he was never really going to. What guard would gainsay the noble scion of House¡­ What did he say it was? Bougie?¡±

    ¡°Bougitte,¡± Fernan supplied. ¡°It was still a big risk for a tiny reward. And you jumped in without asking first.¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°Look, I would have talked about it first if I¡¯d had the chance. I saw the opportunity and I seized it, and it meant we didn¡¯t have to pay the fee. If something like this comes up again, I promise to ask you first.¡±

    ¡°Good. I don¡¯t like lying.¡± More sweat dripped down the back of his neck, sticking his tunic to him.

    ¡°Lying¡­ This is what G¨¦zarde warned about, the treachery of humans.¡±

    ¡°Well, we only did it to other humans.¡± Florette turned back briefly to glance at the gate, a good ways behind them. ¡°You and your spirit don¡¯t lose anything from it.¡±

    Mara turned slightly paler, but didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Oh come on! It¡¯s done. Look, I¡¯m sorry. Let¡¯s move on. We¡¯ve got this whole city to explore, and only about an hour before it gets dark.¡±

    Fernan reluctantly nodded, properly taking in the city for the first time.

    The magnitude of it was immense, points of light everywhere he could see, casting warmth on structures enough that he could almost make out the buildings. Lamps on posts lit up the roads, wagons, horses, and people walking all up and down them.

    One of them even bumped past them as they were gawking, muttering a curse under her breath.

    And up in front, even amidst all of the activity, one building stood out. The people¡¯s lights were packed tightly, moving, jittering and dancing at a rapid pace, to a tune too far away to hear. Could it be the spot Magnifico had mentioned? It seemed likely.

    ¡°I think I know a place to start: The Singer¡¯s Lounge.¡±

 Florette III: The Swindler

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette III: The Swindler</h1>

    ¡°I bet we could use your noble status to get a free room.¡± Florette straightened her hair as they approached the noisy building, still basking in the feeling of success. Was this what Captain Verrou felt like when he stole the Seaward Folly, flying his flag for all of Avalon to see? Or the Queen of the Exiles, when she tricked the High King of Micheltaigne? If so, she could certainly see why they did it. ¡°Just flash your status around and they¡¯ll probably offer it without us even asking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a noble,¡± Fernan hissed. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say you got us out of the gate fee so we could afford a room anyway?¡±

    Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°The same thing applies here. Use the free ride as long as we¡¯ve got it, right? Why not? It¡¯d be nice to stick it to those noble pricks that threw us to the wolves in the Foxtrap.¡±

    ¡°It could get us killed!¡± Fernan¡¯s green eyes flared up, somehow not singing his eyebrows. ¡°Just take the victory. We have a lot to prepare for, here.¡±

    ¡°There¡®s almost no chance we¡¯d get caught¡­¡± Fernan¡¯s face remained impassive. ¡°Fine, if you insist.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°What is this place, exactly?¡± Mara asked, barely audible under the increasingly loud music, a similar otherworldly chirp to the one that Avalon bard had played at the First Post, only at an even higher intensity. ¡°All of the humans seem to be moving around a lot. Are they finding mates?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Fernan blinked. ¡°No, of course not. It¡¯s called dancing. They¡¯re enjoying the music.¡±

    ¡°Some of them probably are.¡± She had seen it often enough at the First Post, easily the worst part of spending so much time there. ¡°I¡¯m more curious about how you knew the name, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Magnifico mentioned it. I thought it might be nice to start somewhere more familiar.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°The Avalon bard? Khali¡¯s curse, why not go anywhere else? He said he serves the royal family personally! He¡¯s complicit in everything Avalon¡¯s done!¡±

    ¡°He invited me to come see him, and I think he might be able to get us an introduction to the Sun Temple.¡±

    Florette stared at him silently.

    ¡°I have to try, alright? He¡¯s playing for Duke Fouchand; that has to give him a lot of influence here. Anything to save Villechart.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°It¡¯s your quest, your choice. But you can¡¯t blame me if I head out early to find another place to stay.¡±

    ¡°We can agree to meet at the pier tomorrow. I still want to see the ocean.¡± He sighed. ¡°Go to the ocean, I mean. You don¡¯t even need to come in, if you don¡¯t want to. I just need to ask for his help.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll go. Just don¡¯t ask me to talk to him. Could use a drink, and you need the backup.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep your back up, Fernan! Just show me where you like to have it elevated.¡± Mara had been getting a lot of stares from passersby, but mercifully that meant most of them kept their distance as well.

    ¡°Thank you, Mara, but I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Fernan patted her lightly on her upper back.

    ¡°You should keep silent once we¡¯re inside,¡± Florette added. ¡°Familiars are just animal servants infused with spiritual energy; they¡¯re not meant to be intelligent enough to speak.¡±

    ¡°But we¡¯re not pretending I¡¯m a sage anymore.¡± Fernan tilted his head. ¡°Why would we need to keep up that part of the ruse?¡±

    Florette drummed her fingers against her leg. ¡°What do you think happens when people see you talking to a giant fire gecko? You¡¯re doing business for your town, and the Temple ought to respect that, but if they get the idea that you¡¯re here on behalf of an evil spirit, things will get a lot more difficult.¡± Honestly, she still didn¡¯t understand why they had taken Mara at all, but she knew better than to bring that up again. ¡°And you were never pretending to be a sage, Fernan. You are a sage, and that can help you a lot here if you take advantage of it. Whether or not there¡¯s any pretense of nobility.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that makes sense.¡± Fernan pressed his lips together tightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to even ask, but Mara, could you please keep quiet while we¡¯re around other people? Florette has a point; it would make it easier for all of us to get what we want, here.¡±

    Strangely, instead of replying, Mara nodded her head up and down, almost as if she was imitating a person. The effect was incredibly unsettling, but Fernan smiled back as she did.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°And nicely done. You got the movement just right.¡±

    Mara paced excitedly in a circle, curls of smoke trailing out of her mouth.

    ¡°No lies to get us in,¡± Fernan whispered judgmentally as they approached the front door.

    ¡°I know,¡± Florette snapped. Nothing was more annoying than being accused of something you weren¡¯t even going to do. ¡°You¡¯ve got an invitation anyway.¡±

    As she opened the door, the music grew even louder, almost deafening once they stepped inside. People were packed tightly together in the center of the room, dancing to the pounding music that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

    The lanterns lighting everything were each set behind a multicolored fractal pattern of glass, casting scintillating colors over the entire room. Only the bar had normal light over it, crowded out by countless shadowed figures.

    A guarded staircase led to a balcony overlooking the dancing, shrouded in shadow. But even in the dim light, the Avalon bard was plain to see, a glass of brown liquid in his hands as he chatted with a poised woman in a white dress, curly black hair and sparkling red earrings elegantly framing her face.

    ¡°That¡¯s Magnifico!¡± she shouted over the din, elbowing Fernan to point up at him.

    Fernan nodded, walking up to the guard at the foot of the staircase with Mara following closely behind. Florette kept a bit of distance, ready to intervene if he looked like he were in trouble. He yelled something inaudible to the guard, then seemed to repeat himself after he failed to be heard.

    The guard shrugged and walked up the staircase backwards, keeping a careful eye on Fernan and Mara as he whispered in Magnifico¡¯s ear. The bard leaned over the balcony to glance at Fernan, then nodded in approval, beckoning with a wave of his hand.

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it!¡± Florette patted Fernan on the back as he began ascending the stairs. He could speak with the Avalon bard if he really felt he had to, but she would sooner avoid the situation, herself. Either she¡¯d have to hold her anger in and simmer impotently, or she¡¯d fail and cause a scene that would make things harder for Fernan.

    Better to get a drink.

    Behind the bar, a wooden sign hung on the wall, the names of different drinks burned into it, numbered from one to six. How many people could read in this city, that they would bother to do that? Though maybe it said more about the clientele of the club.

    Most items were familiar: Gold Coast Ale, Chateau Malin Red, and Arboreum Mead were all mainstays at The First Post, and made up the first half of the list. But the others were totally alien: Essence of Nightshade, Marigold Wine, and something called brandy, all of which Florette knew for a fact had never been served there. Intriguing, and why was she here, if not to try new things?

    ¡°One brandy!¡± she requested, shouting to be heard over the noise as she set her travel bag down on her lap. Finding an inn would be worth it just to stop having to carry everything around everywhere.

    The bartender, a short man in his thirties, looked at her with his eyebrows raised. ¡°For you?¡±

    Prick. Florette clenched her fist. ¡°No, for the gecko on the balcony. The fuck do you care?¡±

    He shrugged, pulling out an enormous, wide-bottomed glass and a gourd-shaped glass bottle from under the counter. After pouring it enough to fill the glass about halfway up, he slid it across the counter to her. ¡°Fifty florins.¡±

    ¡°Fifty?¡± That was more than half of her money. Even a Lyrion Single Malt, the First Post¡¯s most expensive drink, only cost eight.

    He smirked. ¡°I warned you. It¡¯s an Avalon import during a festival season. If you want cheap swill, you¡¯re in the wrong place.¡±

    ¡°Side-eyeing me is not a warning!¡± Florette hissed.

    At that, his smile only grew wider, begging for someone to knock it in.

    Florette took a deep breath, trying to avoid smashing his face into the counter. ¡°Just give me Gold Coast Ale instead.¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Drink¡¯s already been poured, sorry.¡± He leaned closer. ¡°Of course, maybe I could do you a favor if you did one for me. I¡¯m sure we could work something out if you can¡¯t afford it.¡±

    Wrinkling her nose, Florette pulled out her coin purse. ¡°I¡¯d sooner set myself on fire.¡± She threw the florins down on the counter, grabbing the drink.

    She¡¯d been planning to sit at the bar, but that was right out. She didn¡¯t want to waste the overpriced drink by throwing it in anyone¡¯s face. Going up to see the Avalon bard was a poor idea for a similar reason. Most of the room was filled by the dancing throngs of people in the center, with only a few tables around the outskirts, all of them full. Ugh.

    Feeling the pounding of the music in her skull, she leaned against the wall opposite from the bar and hoped Fernan would be finished soon. Unfortunately, looking up at the balcony, it didn¡¯t seem likely. He was seated across from Magnifico and the woman, Mara lying next to him, seemingly animated in his conversation. With any luck, that meant he was making progress getting what he needed from the bard, but in the moment, it was just another irritation.

    Gingerly, she tipped the glass enough to take a small sip of the strange drink, feeling a slight sting in her nose as she stuck it in.

    It went down fairly smoothly though, filling her with a sense of warmth and calm. Good, but at fifty florins, it¡¯d had every obligation to be. The second sip was even smoother, and by the third she was feeling a lot better about the whole thing. Why not treat herself to something nice, even if it¡¯d happened by accident? She felt her foot tapping to the music as her body loosened up.

    It was good that the drink was so strong, because it wasn¡¯t long before it was gone, and with it, all trace of her fifty florins. She waited there for a few minutes, dreading the moment when she would have to return the glass. That prick at the bar still had that smug look on his face, like fucking people over amused him.

    Turning her eye once more to the balcony saw Fernan waving down at her, beckoning her up.

    What a terrible idea, she thought as she picked up her bag and walked to the staircase, past the guard. But it was giving her the beginnings of an idea. A way to even the score, to outwit the villain.

    ¡°¡­that¡¯s the issue with binders: they¡¯re nothing without their tools. Say what you will about the sage¡¯s contract, but once they make the deal, the power is theirs. It can¡¯t be stolen or destroyed.¡± Magnifico looked utterly relaxed as she approached, an amiable smile on his face. ¡°Even the Great Binder had her fair share of close calls, in her early years.¡±

    ¡°Florette!¡± Fernan patted the empty seat next to him. ¡°Magnifico was just explaining the Avalon spiritual traditions. It¡¯s fascinating how differently they approached it. Although, it seems a bit cruel.¡±

    Magnifico shrugged as Florette sat down. ¡°I say it¡¯s just. If a spirit attacks, it¡¯s only reasonable to slay it and harvest it for artifacts. It¡¯s the only way to use their power without subordinating yourself to their dark desires. Without the Great Binder and the countless spirits she harvested, Khali could never have been banished from this world.¡±

    They were talking about Avalon history? She grit her teeth. ¡°Was there something you wanted from me, Fernan?¡±

    He blinked. ¡°Oh right, of course. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Yes, where are my manners?¡± Magnifico gestured to the graceful woman in the chair next to him. ¡°This is Edith Costeau, of Guerron. Fernan thought you might like to meet her.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure, I¡¯m sure,¡± the woman added.

    Edith Costeau? ¡°It is such an honor, Madame. Tales of your music have reached even my humble village. Sometimes the traders bring bards to play your songs, and they¡¯re always the highlight of the visit.¡± She blinked. ¡°Oh, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯re much better when you play them though. I¡¯ve never heard a harp before but I heard that they were all written for that, and I¡¯m sure that their voices don¡¯t measure up to yours.¡± She laughed nervously. ¡°I know you must hear that all the time.¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s always nice to meet fans of my work. If you¡¯re staying in the city for the Festival, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get to hear me in person.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait!¡± Florette bounced slightly in her chair. ¡°Um. By which I mean, I wish you luck.¡±

    She shook her head slightly. ¡°One ought not to wish performers luck, my dear. It simply isn¡¯t done. But the sentiment is appreciated.¡±

    She called me ¡°my dear¡±! Florette nodded. ¡°Of course. I apologize.¡±

    Edith Costeau turned to Magnifico. ¡°I think that will have to be it for me. I need to stay well-rested.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t stay a bit longer?¡± I just got here.

    She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. It was nice to meet both of you.¡± She dipped her head as she stood, then descended the staircase.

    Magnifico suppressed a slight chuckle. ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally. She¡¯s been prickly with me, too. Probably not happy about all the attention my music has been getting.¡±

    ¡°I was wondering about that, actually,¡± Fernan said. ¡°I don¡¯t see the band. Are they hidden in another room?¡±

    The bard shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s an automated system. By punching holes in sheets of paper and feeding them into my pulsebox, it¡¯s possible to¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to head back down.¡± Florette stood up, shooting Fernan a look.

    He nodded back at her. ¡°That makes sense. I¡¯ll tell you what we worked out later.¡±

    That sounded promising for him, at least.

    By the time she was back on the ground floor, she felt the pulse of the music fill her again, the feeling of the brandy pulsing through her body. This was her last chance to abort, but that would be cowardice. It was up to her to win.

    A wide smile on her face, she sauntered back to the bar and sat on a stool, placing her elbows on the counter. ¡°Hey, barkeep!¡±

    The man turned to face her, looking a bit bewildered.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about earlier. I think we got off on the wrong foot.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, walking closer. ¡°Is that so?¡±

    Florette nodded, laying the brandy glass down on the bar. ¡°I was a bit shocked by the price, but it was worth every florin.¡± She traced her finger around the edge of the glass. ¡°I¡¯m new in town, and it would be nice to have a friend here. Especially someone so important.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°I appreciate the change of heart, but I¡¯m not giving you free drinks.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°No, of course not! I¡¯m sure the owner would be really mad at you if you did.¡±

    ¡°I have a lot of pull with the owner, actually. But nothing in life is free.¡± He smirked again. ¡°Of course, if you had something you were willing to offer¡­ Well, I¡¯m always happy to help people get a good start in a new city.¡±

    She held her hands up under her chin, resting the overwhelming feel of her skin crawling all over her body. ¡°How about an evening with Edith Costeau? I¡¯d be happy to introduce you.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not really what I had in mind.¡±

    ¡°Just think about her giving a private performance for the Singer¡¯s Lounge. It would be an even bigger draw than the Avalon bard, I¡¯d bet. People here know her. And it would all be thanks to you. Your boss would finally stop overlooking your accomplishments here.¡±

    ¡°You could really make that happen?¡± he asked skeptically.

    ¡°You saw me up there talking to her. I may be new to Guerron, but Magnifico and I are practically family, and we¡¯ve been getting along with Edith like a house on fire. If we suggested it, I¡¯m sure she¡¯d be happy to oblige.¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you¡¯d do all this for a free drink?¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Florette laughed him off. ¡°I set this up, and I drink here for free from now on. I¡¯d be setting you up with one hell of a boon. Just think, you might get a stake in the Lounge, in recognition of your talent. Then you¡¯d benefit from its success just as much as the owner. They¡¯d have to keep you happy, knowing how important you are to keeping things running.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± His mouth twisted. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure I believe you. And it seems like a steep price.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°She just left. Should be right outside. Just ask her, and mention my name, Valentine. That ought to be enough, and if I¡¯m wrong, then you don¡¯t have to give me anything.¡±

    He stroked his chin. ¡°Only two drinks free per night, no brandy, and only after the performance, if it really happens.¡±

    ¡°Six drinks, no brandy, starting once she agrees to do it.¡±

    ¡°Four, starting once it happens.¡± He pressed his hands down against the bar. ¡°That¡¯s as far as I¡¯m willing to go.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± she sighed. ¡°If you insist.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± He slipped out from behind the bar and walked to the front door. As he walked out into the night, Florette¡¯s heart was racing.

    Casually, careful not to look behind her, she made her way around to the other side of the bar. As she stared off into space, she reached around under the counter until she felt her fingers across the telltale gourd shape. Perfect!

    She quickly slipped it into her bag, hanging from one shoulder. She waved at Fernan as she walked to the door herself, careful not to move too quickly. She could meet up with him later, but for now, it was probably a good idea to put a bit of distance between her and the Lounge.

    As she left, she noticed the barkeep hurrying south to catch up to Edith Costeau, perhaps a hundred yards away. Florette went the opposite direction, then turned to maintain her course on a parallel street at the first opportunity.

    Yes! The bartender would be blamed for the missing bottle, that much was certain. There was a decent chance that he¡¯d annoy Costeau enough to be a problem for him too, given the way he was hurrying after her. Served him right. She couldn¡¯t possibly have been the first one he¡¯d tried that disgusting routine on.

    For the first time since Fernan¡¯s¡­ since all of that, she finally felt like a hero, like she¡¯d accomplished something genuinely good.

    The light of the moon made it easy to navigate, even in the dark. She still had to find a new place to sleep, but that wasn¡¯t too much of a concern. In the worst case, she could make camp at the outskirts, but it seemed like it ought to be possible to parley a bit of brandy for a free night at one of the smaller inns, if it was really such a luxury.

    Really though, she felt energized enough to stay up all night. Perhaps she could tour the city, then meet up with Fernan at the pier in the morning. He would know to look for her there, after they had discussed it earlier.

    In fact¨C¨C

    ¡°Nicely done.¡±

    Florette jumped, spinning around to look behind her.

    A woman stood alone on the road, a slim silhouette framed in shadow, light brown hair cut short.

    ¡°You were incredibly sloppy, of course. The bartender will know it was you once he gets back, and the guard by the balcony saw you walk out. I think he might have even seen you stealing something from the bar, but judged that it wouldn¡¯t be worth the ruckus of catching you when they could so easily ban you for life instead.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    The woman smiled, emphasizing her thin lips. ¡°I take it you¡¯re inexperienced, after the thrill more than the plunder. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll learn.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to tell them, are you?¡±

    ¡°Tch.¡± She shook her head. ¡°That would make me quite the hypocrite. And the prick at the bar needed to be taken down a peg. I¡¯d have done it myself, but I¡¯m involved with other affairs at the Singer¡¯s Lounge that doing anything too public would have interfered with. Similar issue with that bard.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, Magnifico? I know what you mean. He¡¯s not just some musician; he directly serves the Avalon royal family, and people just let him in like it¡¯s nothing!¡±

    With a nod, the woman folded her arms. ¡°Nice to see that you agree.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ Good?¡±

    ¡°Good, yes, precisely. I just thought I should warn you not to go back, and commend your efforts.¡± She stepped closer, her face gleaming in the moonlight. ¡°I¡¯m Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Florette.¡± She drummed her fingers against the side of her leg. ¡°What other affairs, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Oh, just doubling up on a bit of work.¡± Eloise held up a notebook. ¡°I like to go over the supply manifests while I¡¯m casing a place. It saves time, which is worth its weight in gold while we¡¯re ashore.¡±

    ¡°Casing?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°A bit of pirate jargon. It means inspecting somewhere you¡¯re planning to steal from.¡±

    Pirate? ¡°So,¡± she spoke, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. ¡°What were you planning to steal?¡±

    Eloise clasped her hands together. ¡°That bard¡¯s foreign music box. Any technology from the Cambrian College is sure to fetch a hefty price, and Captain Verrou says he has a buyer lined up.¡±

    Florette felt the pulse of the brandy anew, blood pounding in her ears. ¡°You don¡¯t mean Robin Verrou, do you?¡± she whispered, barely able to keep the reverence out of her voice.

    ¡°The very same.¡± Eloise pulled a button out of her jacket and flipped it over to Florette. Looking down, she saw Verrou¡¯s trademark emblem of black swords on an orange sea. Could it really be him?

    ¡°Would you like to help?¡±

 Camille IV: The Duelist

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille IV: The Duelist</h1>

    ¡°En garde!¡± Lucien stood sideways in a fencer¡¯s stance, his blunted training rapier extending from his hand like it was part of his body. The wind from the sea blew his ponytail behind him, casting a streak of red over the blue backdrop of the water.

    Camille clutched her own tightly, holding it ready in the starting position. Her feet were planted firmly on the arena platform where she had executed the robber mere days ago, and where the advanced matches of the m¨ºl¨¦e would be held in a matter of weeks. She would be ready.

    As Lucien advanced a step, she shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, prepared for anything he might send her way. He lunged, but Camille was already moving, her blade pointed down to the inside in the Prime position. As Lucien¡¯s blade darted towards her, she slammed it out of the way with the side of her own.

    She followed it up with a riposte, but Lucien had begun retreating the moment his attack had failed. He didn¡¯t even need to parry. Camille kept up the offensive, driving him back towards the edge. As he neared it, he finally stopped to parry her in the Quarte position, circling his blade to effortlessly drive hers off-target.

    She blocked his riposte with a circle of her own, this time in Sixte, her arm burning with the exertion. Before she could counterattack, Lucien advanced further, immediately following up with his own.

    Camille stepped to the side, sending Lucien tumbling past with a frustrated sigh.

    ¡°What?¡± She smiled innocently. ¡°Mad that I won the exchange?¡±

    He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to move sideways. You advance or retreat, but the whole thing is in a straight line, so if you move outside the strip, you¡¯d be penalized.¡±

    She wrinkled her nose. ¡°But that¡¯s not how the m¨ºl¨¦e works, or how it would be in a real battle. Who cares?¡±

    Lucien tilted his head back, showing an exasperation that Camille thought rather unearned. ¡°I said we were going to start with dueling to get a basis for the positions. It¡¯s safer too. This is how it works, Camille. Once you¡¯re ready, we can move on to more freeform training.¡±

    ¡°Still, I did pretty well, did I not?¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Your instincts for parrying are good, but you¡¯re putting way too much force into it. Anything more than you need to block an attack is too much. No offense, but with your stamina, it¡¯s all the more important. I could have lunged three or four more times, and you¡¯d probably have had to drop your sword.¡±

    ¡°How many times am I really going to need to parry? It¡¯s all a last resort anyway.¡± Really, if it could buy her a few seconds to gather more water, that would be enough to justify it. She wasn¡¯t overly concerned with becoming a master swordswoman.

    ¡°Look, I appreciate you changing your mind about this, but this is kinda my thing, alright? Can you just trust me to teach it the right way? Like I trusted you back at the council meeting?¡± He stared into her soul with those damnably vivid green eyes.

    ¡°Of course.¡± She sighed. ¡°But in the interest of doing better in the m¨ºl¨¦e, can we try one with tournament rules? Just one, and then call it a day?¡± That was probably about all she could take without her arm falling off.

    ¡°A rapier isn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d use in a tournament m¨ºl¨¦e. It¡¯s only sharp at the tip, and a practice sword is blunted there too. Without the ability to pierce, I¡¯d want something a bit heftier to deflect and disarm¡­¡± Lucien tilted his head up, contemplating. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, sure. Just be careful not to waste too much of your spirit energy on this.¡±

    ¡°I know exactly what I can spare, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯ll barely take anything to beat you, anyway.¡±

    He smirked. ¡°You want to bet? One hundred florins say you¡¯re wrong.¡±

    ¡°Why not make it interesting? Five.¡±

    ¡°Alright then.¡± He laughed slightly as he made his way around to the starting position halfway across the radius of the platform while Camille sauntered back to her own. ¡°You¡¯re on.¡±

    Lucien maintained the fencer¡¯s stance, holding his sword in the neutral position as he advanced towards the center of the platform. She could have summoned a massive wave to carry him off and win the match, but be had been right that it would be stupid to waste too much power on a friendly spar.

    Fortunately, she had subtler options available.

    Willing a narrow tendril of water up from the highest wave just as it crested, she kept her eyes firmly planted on Lucien. No wider than her finger, and only a few times as long, it was easy enough to keep out of sight against the blue backdrop of the sky and sea.

    Once he was a few yards away, she pushed it to the ground in front of him, a bit splashing up onto his ankles. ¡°Really?¡± He raised an eyebrow.

    Camille smiled, expending more power to rapidly chill the water. That trick had been written in her mother¡¯s notes, inherited from Castille Leclaire after defeating the winter sages of the Sunder¨¦ Dominion, and seeing them melt the snow to attack. If they could manage that, the Leclaires could do the reverse; it was all water, in the end. Lucien took another step forward and slipped on the ice, his foot sliding out from under him.

    She folded her arms, ready to bask in the victory, but Lucien dropped his sword and rolled, regaining his feet in a moment. He began a headlong sprint towards her as she tried to grab another small bit of water to stop him.

    This time she cooled it as it sailed through the air, smashing a rod of ice into his ankles. But now Lucien was ready, leaping over it at the last moment and tackling Camille, landing on top and pinning her down..

    ¡°Would you like to forfeit?¡± he whispered into her ear. ¡°Or should I toss you over the side? We did say official tournament rules.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse!¡± Camille slammed her first down against the wooden floor. ¡°I forfeit. How did you even do that?¡±

    ¡°I know you too well.¡± Lucien stood, offering her a hand. ¡°That was really creative with the ice though. Big return for a small power expenditure.

    ¡°Not good enough though,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been focused on fighting my entire life. Avalon binders have a lot of the same abilities as sages, and I need to be able to beat them too. Would be nice to win the tournament, in the meantime, so I¡¯ve picked up a few things.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± She took the offered hand and hoisted herself up.

    ¡°Well, practically everyone thinks a sage is guaranteed to win a one on one fight, especially sages.¡±

    ¡°They ought to. Anything a normal person could do, a sage could as well.¡± She walked over to the edge of the platform facing the beach, spotting the top of the ladder clinging to the side. ¡°And you aren¡¯t going to know the other ones the way you know me.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but there¡¯s only so much time in the day, you know? Sages don¡¯t tend to practice much regular fighting, I¡¯ve noticed, and the limits on spiritual energy mean they can¡¯t practice with their biggest tricks either. It would be a total waste. So often what you get is big and powerful, yes, but crude and untrained, and in limited supply. If you can dodge the biggest hits, they¡¯ll be too exhausted of spiritual energy to do much while you close the gap and beat them down.¡±

    ¡°And if they¡¯re smart about their energy? If they use less consumptive attacks purposefully, so it¡¯s hard to wear them out? Now that you¡¯ve said that, if we were fighting seriously, I¡¯d know to avoid the giant crashing wave strategy and stick to the small stuff.¡±

    Lucien chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re a bad example, really. Laura Bougitte, Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, Adrian Couteau¡­ none of the sages I¡¯ve fought have been half as creative. And Duke Fouchand says binders tend to do the same thing. It¡¯s like, a big burst of power has always worked for them, so they don¡¯t bother to try anything else. And when you know that, you can plan around it. It¡¯s not foolproof, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Camille bit her lip as she began to descend the ladder. ¡°That makes sense, I suppose. I can certainly believe that I¡¯m better than everyone else.¡± She smirked. ¡°Though you should be wary of a sage¡¯s last resort. They won¡¯t turn to it in a tourney, but in a battle? Anything is better than death.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°True.¡± His face hardened as he followed after her down the ladder..

    When they reached the bottom, she stepped across the water lightly, making Lucien swim after her to get to shore. Perhaps a bit petty, but the snort as he plunged in let her know he took it in good humor. And once they reached the shore, she did shake him dry with a flick of her fingers.

    ¡°Double or nothing, I beat you in the real m¨ºl¨¦e,¡± she offered as they mounted their horses.

    Lucien laughed. ¡°You can¡¯t be sure we¡¯ll meet in the bracket.¡±

    ¡°If neither of us lose, then eventually we¡¯ll have to.¡±

    He smiled, undoing the tie around his hair and shaking it free. ¡°Excellent point. I accept.¡±

    They had to part ways there, since Camille had agreed to help Annette with some of the preparations, over at the Bureau of the Sea. As a sage of Levian, there was a lot she could do to help her friend out, if need be, from removing derelict vessels to catching smugglers.

    Of course, this time she was largely there to help administer preparations for the tournament. Annette would run herself ragged otherwise. Well, more ragged. Especially when her cousin, head of the Bureau of Land, offered precisely zero help with this massive undertaking. He could just barely summon the effort to convey the Duke¡¯s instructions to his underlings before retiring to the tavern.

    The Bureau of the Sea was a squat, ugly building of yellow stucco and wood, a box clinging to the western wall like a sore. A building for practicality, rather than aesthetic. Had the Duke asked her before constructing it, Camille might have pointed out the practicality of an elegant, imposing building to house the customs offices and harbor guards, the effects it would have on morale and institutional respect, but she had not been consulted. Of course, being eight years old might have had something to do with that.

    Annette was buried in a pile of papers as Camille walked in, towering atop her desk like a particularly precarious spire. ¡°Who is it?¡± Annette called out.

    ¡°Guy Valvert. I¡¯m finally here to help you, cousin.¡±

    ¡°Pff.¡± Annette laughed, standing up from behind her desk. Of course, given her diminutive stature, the papers still covered all but the top of her head. Even with a limited view, her brown hair had a gloss to it, as if it hadn¡¯t been washed in some time.

    ¡°Did you call me here to give you a bath?¡± Camille stepped around the desk to face Annette. ¡°It looks like you could use one.¡±

    ¡°I saw the last person you covered in water. No thank you.¡± Annette set her ink pen down at the desk. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s no time.¡±

    ¡°Is there ever?¡± Camille raised an eyebrow. ¡°You have to stop to take a breath every once and while, Annette. Maybe even sleep, if your veins of pure pixie powder will let you.¡±

    ¡°After the Festival.¡± She gestured to the monument of work before her. ¡°I¡¯ve got a harbor full of ships, some of them would-be smugglers or pirates, and I have to approve permits for vendors to sell their wares on the tournament grounds.¡±

    ¡°That last one sounds like a matter for the Bureau of Land.¡±

    Annette snorted. ¡°Shall I go ask Guy, then?¡±

    ¡°Well, you could ask the Duke, or I could. Lord Valvert listens to him, at least. Begrudgingly and incompetently, but he does listen.¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± Annette waved the back of her hand. ¡°It¡¯s not worth it.¡± She stepped out from behind the desk. ¡°I was hoping you could help me with something though. I could use your unique abilities.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably better if I just show you.¡±

    A short walk down had them on the other side of the walls, a narrow strip that would vanish to nothing at high tide. It was nothing like the harbor to the north, with none of the docks or moorings, and the water was not even deep enough to bring larger ships in very close.

    And yet, there was the Seaward Folly, the famous ship stolen from the capital of Avalon by the pirate Robin Verrou. It had that same narrow clipper design as the ones that had attacked Malin, all those years ago.

    Camille stared at Annette incredulously.

    ¡°What? Duke Fouchand said I needed to keep it hidden from Magnifico, and this was the best I could manage on short notice.¡±

    ¡°What if he asks for a tour of the walls?¡± Camille¡¯s eye twitched. With such a design so obviously matching the Avalon navy, there would be no way to explain its presence.

    ¡°Worst case? I¡¯ll die.¡± Annette shrugged. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s why I brought you. I figure with you working your water magic, we can do a lot better.¡±

    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t he have dropped it farther up the coast? Khali¡¯s curse, anywhere else?¡±

    Annette frowned. ¡°Not a lot of other harbors around. It¡¯s kind of why the city exists in the first place.¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°The ship has an anchor, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Verrou¡¯s in town for the duration of the festival, and if he returns to his ship dashed against the rocks I have to think he¡¯ll up our fee for the latest set of plans by an undesirably high amount. Like I said, not a lot of good harbors nearby.¡±

    ¡°You really should have asked me first.¡± Camille tilted her head back in a wordless plea to the sky. ¡°But I do think I have an idea. It¡¯ll take a lot of power, though.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a few criminals locked up, tried to steal one of the merchant ships and tossed one of my men into the harbor when they were caught; you could have your pick of them to sacrifice.¡±

    ¡°The merchant?¡±

    Annette slid her finger across her throat. ¡°In his sleep, at least. Of course, that¡¯s what they¡¯d say, and it¡¯s not like we can verify. Sorting out next of kin to claim the ship is another headache that landed on my plate, by the way. He captained it himself, and the first mate refuses to take it off my hands, says it belongs to a son in Dorseille and it wouldn¡¯t be respectful to, but it¡¯s clogging up my harbor until he comes to claim it and the mate won¡¯t hear about moving it.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°Anyway, if I can replenish with that, we should be fine. Let me see go see the captain and we can tell them to get ready.¡±

    ¡°Do you need me?¡±

    She shook her head, stepping out over the water to walk up to the ship. Each step expended energy, pushing up with the water against her feet, but now she had an assurance of more soon.

    The annoying thing was that if she¡¯d known that, she could have done so much more against Lucien, but ultimately she could live with that. He had yet to see her using the fullness of her power.

    She began rising above the waves on steps of water as she approached the ship, stepping off onto the deck once she was at the right height. ¡°Hello?¡± she called out. ¡°Robin Verrou?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid he¡¯s not here.¡± A gaunt-looking woman of perhaps twenty stepped out from the cabin door, short brown hair not quite reaching her shoulders. She was wearing some kind of sleeved leather jerkin, either dyed black and faded or intentionally colored a mottled dark grey, along with a short brown petticoat over trousers or breeches. Sailors.

    ¡°Then could I speak to the first mate?¡±

    ¡°Not here either.¡±

    ¡°Second mate?¡±

    The woman smiled smugly, emphasizing her too-thin lips. ¡°No.¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°Who is the highest ranking person currently on board?¡±

    ¡°The quartermaster.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Could you bring them out, then?¡±

    Folding her arms, the woman leaned back against the mast. ¡°I could, sure.¡±

    Ugh, this was agonizing. ¡°Will you, please?¡±

    She nodded, stepping forward. ¡°I¡¯m Eloise, quartermaster extraordinaire.¡± Her tone was entirely flat, as if she hadn¡¯t just wasted all that time for no reason. ¡°Also, currently, the only person aboard. What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here to hide your ship.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Camille¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to wonder that, myself. But this is for a friend.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean, why hide the ship at all? We seem to be fine behind the wall.¡±

    ¡°Surely even you can see that this is not a sustainable concealment.¡± Camille gestured to the wall. ¡°Anyone atop that can see you easily. If Magnifico were to notice, it would cause massive diplomatic problems with Avalon.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    It was getting very difficult not to knock this woman off the side of the ship. ¡°And it would mean the end of Duke Fouchand paying top dollar for the plans your captain steals. With all of the other nobles in the city, I would not be surprised if it halted things with Duke Etienne of Condilla, Lady Merlan of Plagette, all of your best buyers. It would become politically unfeasible.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s politically unfeasible now, they just all cover it up.¡±

    ¡°If they find the Seaward Folly, the cover-up is over. We would all have to stop. Are you this dense, or just an awful person?¡± Camille asked with surprising sincerity.

    ¡°Awful person,¡± Eloise answered, leaning back against the mast again. ¡°You should try it sometime. Very amusing to piss off haughty aristocrats.¡±

    Camille swept her hand up, and a massive wave gradually swelled up behind her.

    The sudden look of fear on the quartermaster¡¯s face was the best thing Camille had seen all day. ¡°I see your point.¡± Eloise gulped. ¡°How are you going to hide it?¡±

    Camille smiled, bringing the wave down over the ship. She held it at bay around the mast and the top of the deck, keeping them dry as she began pulling water out from under it, bringing the entire ship to the floor of the sea. Her ancestor had created a bubble to endure for centuries with decades of her life, but this only needed to last a few weeks, and her power would be replenished soon anyway.

    After a few minutes, the ship settled into place, the water held suspended above it.

    ¡°Ok, admittedly, that was pretty impressive.¡± Eloise gazed up through the water. ¡°Even if someone finds it, they¡¯ll just think it¡¯s a wreck.¡±

    ¡°Your crew will need to find lodgings in the city. It¡¯s not an easy trip back and forth. You have my word as a Lady that the ship will be returned to the surface when it is time to depart.¡±

    Eloise snorted. ¡°Your word as a lady? Sure, thanks. But how do I get up?¡±

    Camille smiled. ¡°Swim.¡±

    Her eyes widened. ¡°Oh, come on! I have notebooks and supply manifests that can¡¯t get wet. If I¡¯m going to the surface, leaving them behind is not an option.¡± That was the most emotion she¡¯d put into her voice for the entire conversation.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she relented. ¡°Stand close to me, and I¡¯ll get us out dry.¡±

    Eloise approached awkwardly, stopping about two feet away.

    ¡°Good enough.¡± Camille stepping into a gap she¡¯d created in the water, Eloise following closely behind. Once they both stood on water, Camille closed the bubble again, and began moving it up.

    Most of the trepidation seemed to have left the quartermaster by the time they reached the surface. She was simply staring through the water in awe. ¡°I¡¯ll credit you this: that¡¯s quite a way to travel.¡±

    Camille shrugged. ¡°You get used to it pretty quickly.¡±

    Eloise patted her notebook, making sure it was dry. ¡°Hey, do you want to go get a drink? It¡¯s always nice to relieve stress when you¡¯re ashore.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°What, with you? No, of course not. This ¡®haughty aristocrat¡¯ isn¡¯t in a mood to be further ¡®pissed off¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Eloise narrowed her eyes. ¡°Just trying to give a peace offering.¡±

    With a sigh, Camille turned back to the wall behind them. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have rather too much to do at the moment. I can recommend the Singer¡¯s Lounge tonight though, if you¡¯re in the mood for some entertainment. The Avalon bard has some strange music contraption rigged up there, it¡¯s like nothing you¡¯ve heard in your life.¡±

    ¡°Interesting.¡± Eloise¡¯s tone had gone flat again. ¡°I¡¯d say ¡®thank you¡¯, but that¡¯s not really my thing.¡±

    ¡°Charming.¡± Camille began walking south to get back around the wall. ¡°Send my regards to your captain.¡±

    She reached the castle just in time to see Lord Aurelian burning a man alive in the courtyard, the flames flickering between orange and gold. He smiled wide, the fire reflected in his golden eyes as he pulled a white glove from his breast pocket. ¡°Hello, Camille.¡± The glove glowed yellow as he threw it onto the pyre. ¡°Consider that my challenge.¡±

 Florette IV: The Initiate

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette IV: The Initiate</h1>

    ¡°Would you like to help?¡± Eloise¡¯s words hung in the air casually, as she weren¡¯t offering Florette her future, even faster than she had dared imagine.

    This was it! The moment she could ascend to greatness, pulling a caper worthy of Robin Verrou, with his very crew at her side. From an arrogant Avalon tied to the royal family, no less. It was utterly perfect, as if it had been handed to her by the Sun himself.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Florette bounced slightly on her feet. ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Eloise smirked. ¡°Are you going to open that brandy? We ought to celebrate.¡±

    ¡°When the moment¡¯s right.¡± Flicking her eyes across the darkened streets, Florette settled her hand on the stolen bottle inside her bag. ¡°I was going to find a place to sleep, first.¡±

    ¡°Tired so soon? It¡¯s only a few hours after sunset.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    Eloise rolled her eyes, shining slightly green in the moonlight. ¡°Here, follow me. I think I know a good place.¡± She stepped out ahead, continuing to walk north along the street.

    Florette grinned as she ran to catch up, nearly tripping on the groove running down the center of the street. ¡°Are you taking me to the Seaward Folly? I¡¯ve always wanted to see it!¡±

    ¡°Ah, no. Currently, it¡¯s at the bottom of the harbor.

    ¡°It sank?¡±

    Turning to give her a withering look, Eloise shook her head. ¡±Not as such. Some prissy noble wanted it hidden from the bard, which seemed sensible enough to me. And it means I didn¡¯t need to spend the whole festival babysitting it.¡±

    ¡°Why would a noble care? I wouldn¡¯t think they wanted anything to do with pirates anyway.¡±

    ¡°You saw yourself that the bard is here, probably reporting everything he sees back to King Harold. It wouldn¡¯t be a great look if a stolen flagship of the royal navy were found sitting in the harbor. Duke Fouchand doesn¡¯t exactly want to publicize how much gold he¡¯s put into buying stolen plans and prototypes from Avalon. Not if he wants to keep up that obsequious fa?ade.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Fa?ade? He surrendered before the bodies from the Foxtrap were even cold. If he were truly against Avalon, he would have continued the war.¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Eloise groaned. ¡°You sound just like those revanchists from Villemalin. This isn¡¯t about reclaiming the lost empire, alright? It¡¯s about piling our pockets so full of florins that we¡¯ll drown if we fall overboard.¡±

    ¡°Maybe for you.¡± At that, Eloise only rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Villemalin¡­¡± Florette continued.¡°That¡¯s the quartier where people from Malin fled after the Foxtrap, right? Isn¡¯t that the direction we¡¯re headed now?¡±

    ¡°If you can call them people.¡± Eloise scoffed. ¡°I can assure you, anyone who made it onto those boats was doing just fine. One of my first memories was seeing them escape. I was probably three years old, and could barely see with all the people packed against the pier, pushing and shoving to get a spot on the ships. Some blue-haired lady ordered her guards to push us back and one of them bashed my father¡¯s head in so hard he didn¡¯t wake up for half an hour. Never was the same again, according to my mother.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Florette reached out to put her hand on Eloise¡¯s shoulder.

    Eloise flicked the hand off with a snort. ¡°Don¡¯t be, he¡¯s a prick anyway. The point is, all those people whining and crying about getting a free ticket out of Malin? They¡¯re the nobles, or their guards, their servants. They had it the best of all of us before, and now they¡¯ve got a whole section of this city to themselves. The rest of us had to stay behind and deal with what followed.¡±

    ¡°That must have been terrible.¡±

    ¡°Tch.¡± Eloise glared at her. ¡°It was what it was. New tax collectors, some occupations shuffled around, and a brutal suppression of any suspected Imperial sympathizers. Aside from the schools they made us go to and the daily executions, things didn¡¯t really change that much. Better than what they did to Refuge, anyway.¡±

    Florette frowned. That was probably true, but the fall of Refuge was a worst case scenario¡ªthe total annihilation of a kingdom and its lands. Even a half century later, it was known only as a desolate wasteland; ¡®better¡¯ than that meant essentially nothing. ¡°It¡¯s still a perk of the job though, right? You¡¯re earning money, but it¡¯s at Avalon¡¯s expense. Stealing their goods, their plans and prototypes. Like that music box! Magnifico said there were less than twenty in the world! It¡¯s got to be a blow against Avalon.¡±

    ¡°They still have the schematics; it can¡¯t be that hard for them to make more. A blow, maybe, but not much of one.¡± Eloise clicked her tongue. ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t really matter why you¡¯re doing it. You¡¯d hardly be the first idealist aboard the Folly.¡±

    ¡°Aboard?¡± Florette nearly jumped out of her skin. ¡°Does that mean¡­?¡±

    Eloise smiled radiantly. ¡°If this job goes well, sure. Captain Verrou wanted some new blood anyway. We lost quite a few crewmates in the last heist.¡± She chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s the nice thing about piracy; there¡¯s always new positions opening up.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Florette asked hesitantly.

    ¡°Well, not for the quartermaster. I¡¯m sensible enough to stay out of the line of fire. I¡¯m sure you could do the same, smart as you are. At least, if you learn to start doing things for the right reasons.¡±

    ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡± An existence that cynical and detached sounded rather bleak.

    ¡°Hah!¡± Eloise folded her arms again. ¡°Do you know how long the average pirate career lasts? Five years.¡±

    ¡°Until they retire?¡± she asked hopefully.

    ¡°¡­In a manner of speaking.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    Eloise laughed. ¡°The profession attracts a lot of bloodthirsty idiots and would-be heroes. Don¡¯t worry, the odds are quite a bit better with Captain Verrou. His reputation isn¡¯t for nothing.¡± She pointed up ahead. ¡°Here, we¡¯re almost there.¡±

    As they passed through an open gate, a large swath of tents and wooden houses came into view. Most were painted or dyed some combination of blue and red, splayed out before an enormous complex at the top of the hill to the right.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. At this hour, there won¡¯t be many people around.¡± Eloise turned to the left, where a wide wooden boardwalk stretched further north along the coastline, leading up to a large tower poking its way above the rocks. Piers jutted out from the side, maintaining their height as the beach sloped beneath them with stilts sunken into the sand, with nearly all of them attached to enormous ships.

    Florette stood dumbfounded. An endless blue abyss stretched out beyond her, reflective like the streams, but a thousand times wider, each wave glinting white as it crested, sending foam against the shore below. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    Eloise stepped up from the dirt, the wood creaking beneath her. ¡°It¡¯s a harbor. There¡¯s one like it in practically every city on the continent.¡±

    ¡°Not all of them, surely?¡± Florette stepped up to stand next to her, keeping her gaze out over the ocean. ¡°Not all of them are next to water.¡±

    ¡°Most are.¡± Eloise turned away from the view, beginning to walk up the boardwalk to the north. ¡°It¡¯s the best way to trade, far faster than roads. Of course, I¡¯ve never been more than thirty miles away from a coastline, so that might be a biased way of thinking.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Anyway, this isn¡¯t what I wanted to show you. Keep following me, and stay quiet.¡±

    ¡°Quiet? Why¨C¨C?¡±

    Eloise put her finger up to Florette¡¯s mouth with an exasperated glare.

    ¡°Right, sorry,¡± she whispered. ¡°Why do we need to be quiet though?¡±

    Leaning in close, the pirate whispered into her ear, her breath feeling warm against the cold of the night. ¡°We¡¯re passing by the Temple of Levian. The old sage is always there at night, and if we wake him he might drown us.¡± She stepped back and shrugged. ¡°You seem fond of the ocean, but I assure you, it¡¯s far less interesting when you¡¯re buried half a mile under the water.¡±

    She said that almost like she¡¯d been there before. ¡°What¨C¨C?¡±

    ¡°Later!¡± Eloise led her to the very northern end of the boardwalk, up to a large canvas structure that looked almost blue in the moonlight. An orange light flickered from within, likely someone¡¯s lamp. She pointed to the left, up a wall of rock spiralling out from the beach, then gripped a small indent as she placed her opposite foot on a grounded rock near waist-level. ¡°Follow the path I take up.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Up? Well, nothing for it but to go along. Florette watched Eloise carefully, taking close note of her slender legs as she positioned them in just the right way to maintain her balance. The rocks were fairly steep, but not without their hand and footholds, and it wasn¡¯t terribly different from venturing off the path back around Enquin to get a better view.

    Some sections seemed slick with water, but Eloise tested them with a fraction of her weight before choosing the ones to rely on, so as Florette followed after, those spots were trivial to avoid.

    The view from the top was absolutely astounding. The rocks stretched out into the sea like a tail, narrowing to a point at the far end as they descended into the water, waves buffeting against them and spraying droplets of salty water into the air.

    ¡°Not bad, right?¡± Eloise positioned herself sitting on the rock, her back against the tower rising further behind them. ¡°It¡¯s hard to find spots to be alone in the city, but it¡¯s even harder when we¡¯re at sea. Manning the crow¡¯s nest is the closest you can get, there, and there¡¯s nothing relaxing about that.¡±

    Florette sat down next to her, reaching into her bag for the brandy. ¡°It¡¯s amazing. Thank you.¡± She futzed with the stopper at the top, trying to rip it out.

    ¡°You should see it when it¡¯s raining. It kicks up the sand at the bottom; even more striking. Of course, climbing up here when it is carries a high risk of slipping and breaking your neck.¡± Eloise reached over to grab the brandy, effortlessly twisting the top off. ¡°And don¡¯t thank me. I hate it when people do that.¡±

    Florette raised an eyebrow. ¡°What, give thanks?¡±

    Eloise nodded, tipping the brandy back and taking a long sip. ¡°I never say ¡®thank you¡¯. That¡¯s part of what makes me so adorable.¡± Her tone was completely flat. ¡°Everything I have in my life, it¡¯s something I¡¯ve taken for myself. I like to think everyone else works the same way. Except aristos, maybe. All their shit gets handed to them on a silver platter. But for the rest of us, there¡¯s no point in thanking people for things that ultimately, you deserve the credit for getting for yourself.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± She grabbed the bottle and tilted it back. The rush from the Singer¡¯s Lounge had begun to wear off, so it was pleasant to rejuvenate it, especially in such an auspicious circumstance. ¡°That sounds fucking stupid to me. No one ever really accomplishes anything alone.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± Eloise doubled over laughing, punding her fist against he wall behind her. ¡°Here, give me that.¡± She took another swig. ¡°My point, Florette, is that you¡¯re selling yourself short by giving credit to other people for what you accomplished. Even people as amazing as myself. Take this view: I showed you the way, sure, but only because of how well you acquitted yourself back at the Singer¡¯s Lounge.¡±

    ¡°You said I was sloppy.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Eloise waved her off with a floppy hand. ¡°You were a disaster. But you¡¯re new. You¡¯re learning. I was still impressed enough to take you up here. That¡¯s you, not me. So you shouldn¡¯t thank me. Thank yourself.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that.¡± She took another sip of brandy before passing it back to her companion. ¡°I think if everyone thought that way, it would be unbearable.¡±

    ¡°Good thing it¡¯s only the best of us,¡± Eloise said wryly, though the smugness sounded affected, like it was some kind of joke. But then, it was hard to tell with her.

    ¡°It seems to me like most people probably are sick of being around themselves. Think about it: you never get to do anything you aren¡¯t around for. Like, you climb up here, and there you are. You drink this brandy, and you¡¯re the one drinking it. Everything you experience, you¡¯re there for it. There¡¯s no escaping your own presence, no getting out of your own head.¡±

    ¡°Profound.¡± Eloise held the bottle up to the moonlight, examining the label.

    ¡°What are you looking for?¡±

    ¡°Checking for hallucinogens like marigold, or nightshade. You sound like one of those bug-eyed festival people talking about your prophecies and vision quests, so convinced of their importance.¡±

    ¡°Prick.¡± Florette stared at her unamused. ¡°I suppose your philosophy does fit the pirate¡¯s life pretty well. You¡¯re stealing, taking advantage of whatever situation comes your way to better your own life¡­ But even then you¡¯re collaborating with your crew, right?¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± She rolled her eyes, shining an even brighter green away from the oppressive glow of the streetlamps. ¡°The point isn¡¯t to say, ¡®fuck collaboration¡¯, it¡¯s to take credit for what you accomplish. Other people are useful, but ultimately where you go in life depends on you alone. Here.¡± She raised the bottle. ¡°To Florette, initiate swindler, who didn¡¯t do terribly, considering it was her first try.¡±

    Since they didn¡¯t have cups, Florette simply grabbed the neck of the bottle to hold it along with her. ¡°At least it was good enough to impress.¡± There was an awkward moment when both of them tried to sip from it at the same time, but Florette aborted the effort and let go, allowing Eloise to drink long and hard.

    ¡°Are you going to be alright climbing down?¡± Florette asked as she took her turn grabbing the bottle.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll be sober by the time we climb down.¡± She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

    ¡°How long are we staying up here? I have to meet my friend at the pier tomorrow.¡±

    Eloise smiled. ¡°You said you didn¡¯t have anywhere to sleep, right? So I figured we could just stay the rest of the night here, climb down in the morning. It¡¯s only a couple hours away anyway.¡± She patted Florette on the shoulder. ¡®If you want to doze off though, I can watch you, make sure you don¡¯t fall into the water.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± It would hardly be the first time she stayed up all night, and none of the prior ones had been for anywhere near as good a reason.

    She didn¡¯t realize she had drifted off until she felt Eloise shaking her awake. ¡°Hey, Florette, didn¡¯t you say you had a rendezvous to get to around dawn? The sun¡¯s going to rise soon.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± She shut her eyes tightly. ¡°I said tomorrow, not dawn.¡± She lifted her head from the shoulder it had been resting against, reaching her hand through her bag to ensure that everything was in its proper place.

    Eloise raised an eyebrow as she did, but said nothing.

    ¡°Fernan¡¯s an early riser anyway. It probably would be better to see him sooner rather than later.¡± She sighed. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I told you, I don¡¯t¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°And I told you that was fucking stupid. You¡¯d think a quartermaster would have a better memory.¡± Florette smiled at her as she stood, examining the light shining off the water beneath them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that only yesterday, a noble called it charming.¡±

    ¡°Sincerely, or sarcastically?¡±

    Eloise winked, then began climbing down the rocks, her feet testing each spot as she descended. Following the trail was a bit more difficult from this vantage point, but descending was easier in general, and the hand and footholds held just as firm.

    ¡°Meet me here tomorrow, around noon. I¡¯ll have more for you by then.¡± Eloise patted her on the shoulder once they were on solid ground again. ¡°In the meantime, I leave you to your meeting. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s terribly important.¡±

    ¡°See you then!¡± Florette waved at her as she began walking down the boardwalk.

    She and Fernan hadn¡¯t specified which pier to meet at, but the harbor was only so large, and she could afford to walk back and forth a few times. If he still weren¡¯t there, she could find a caf¨¦ to wait in, or something along those lines.

    Fortunately, Fernan was already there, leaning against the wooden railing of the southmost bridge out to the water. Mara seemed to notice her first, turning her head to face Florette as her mouth opened, presumably telling Fernan.

    The fire in his eyes perked up as he faced her in turn, his eyebrows rising in tandem. ¡°Florette!¡±

    ¡°Correst,¡± she said as she got closer. ¡°Were you expecting someone else?¡±

    He blinked. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know if I¡¯d find you here. You just walked out of the bar with a wave, no goodbyes or explanations or anything!¡±

    ¡°Well, we said we¡¯d meet here if I had to leave early. That was always the plan.¡±

    ¡°It was. I remember.¡± Mara flicked her tongue to her eye in an incredibly unsettling fashion. It was lucky no one else seemed to be around at this hour.

    ¡°Thank you, Mara.¡± Fernan didn¡¯t sound particularly pleased at the correction. ¡°I guess I was just surprised that you needed to. Things seemed to be going just fine! You got to meet Edith Costeau, you had that weird new drink, you¡­¡±

    ¡°I got invited to join Robin Verrou¡¯s crew.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you¨C¨CWhat?¡± Fernan blinked, though the green glow still shone from beneath his eyelids. ¡°When? How?¡±

    Florette folded her arms, leaning against the railing. ¡°I impressed his quartermaster. She said if I help her with one job here in Guerron, I¡¯m a sure bet to follow them out to sea once the festival ends.¡±

    He shook his head back and forth, as if shaking off imaginary water. ¡°Well that¡¯s good, right? You were always telling me stories about him, and talking about wanting to get as far away from Enquin as possible. What¡¯s the job?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± She frowned. ¡°Stealing something¡­ a piece of Avalon technology¡­¡± With a sigh, she uncrossed her arms. ¡°They want me to help steal Magnifico¡¯s music box.¡±

    ¡°Well, you can¡¯t. Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t? Since when do you get to tell what I can and can¡¯t do?¡±

    The fire in his eyes burned larger, to the point that she could even feel the heat from it. ¡°Since the livelihood of my entire village is on the line, and Magnifico is the best chance I have at saving it! How could you agree to that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my decision. It has nothing to do with you or Villechart. He¡¯ll never even know it was me.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh. Sure.¡± Fernan clenched his fists. ¡°Even if it¡¯s a perfect crime, it¡¯s going to distract him a lot. The more he has to deal with, the less time he has to help. I need him, Florette.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t. He¡¯s scum, directly serving the family that¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°I know! I¡¯m not saying I like it, but I don¡¯t have a choice!¡±

    Florette wrinkled her nose. ¡°You never think you have a choice, Fernan. You always just follow the path in front of you, without any critical thought. You became a scout because it was expected of you; you became a sage by accident; you came to Guerron because of a plan your creepy alderman and I came up with! If Mara hadn¡¯t burned you, you never would have seen anything more than half a mile outside the path between Villechart and The First Post until the day you died, because you¡¯re that complacent..¡±

    ¡°Like you¡¯re so much better? Charging off into the unknown, brazenly ignoring the risk that you¡¯ll die, or worse? It¡¯s not fair.¡±

    ¡°Learn how to make your own decisions!¡± As she shouted it, Mara wrapped herself protectively around Fernan¡¯s legs. Of course.

    Fernan took a deep breath. ¡°Fine. Here¡¯s a decision I¡¯m making all on my own: If you try to steal from Magnifico, I¡¯ll stop you. I¡¯ll tell him, report you, get you run out of the city, whatever it takes. I have to save my village, and I won¡¯t let you get in the way.¡± Mara exhaled smoke to punctuate the point.

    Florette felt the anger bubbling in her, her narrowed eyes staring down his flaming green points.

    For an agonizing moment, neither of them said a thing.

    She thought of Eloise, and Robin Verrou, and then the smug bard enrapturing the very people that his dynasty had conquered and subjugated within living memory. The lives they had taken¡­ It seemed like such an easy choice.

    But Fernan was right. If this prick of a bard was the only way to save his village, she couldn¡¯t jeopardize that. Even if it might cost her her future. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll tell the quartermaster to wait until your business is done. She should listen to me, I hope.¡± And if she doesn¡¯t? All hope of joining the crew could disappear in an instant. ¡°This had better be worth it, Fernan.¡±

    He breathed a long sigh of relief. ¡°Thank you. I know what this means to you; I hope you know how much I appreciate it. I can already tell you it¡¯s worth a lot, since I¡¯m relying on Magnifico for a meeting in just a few hours. He¡¯s taking me to the Spirit Quartier to see Lord Aurelien Lumi¨¨re, High Priest of Soleil. And our best hope.¡±

 Fernan IV: The Sage of Villechart

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan IV: The Sage of Villechart</h1>

    Make your own decisions.

    The thought rattled in his head as he began the walk to the Spirit Quartier.

    Didn¡¯t he? He was here, after all. Protecting his home. And what was so bad about following the prescribed path, anyway? Well-trod ground was like that for a reason. With a situation this dire, the last thing he needed to be was reckless.

    At least Magnifico was willing to help. With any luck, this Lord Lumi¨¨re would be too. He could go to this meeting, explain his situation, and walk away with the spiritual sundial so desperately needed. That was the path in front of him, for better or for worse. Despite everything, it seemed like it would be doable, and quickly enough to be safe about it.

    Even if it did nothing to help the geckos with their food.

    Fernan suppressed his feelings of guilt as he looked down at Mara, scurrying across the ground slightly ahead of him. It made it easier to see the way, when it was still difficult to view the fine, faded warmth of the ground.

    Seeing the ocean had helped too, at least. He¡¯d been expecting a massive black abyss, bracing himself for the disappointment of it, but there was life everywhere. Against the cold of the water, it was even easier to see: clawed insects scuttling along the floor with a faint red glow; bulbous creatures almost like inflated goat¡¯s bladders, with tendrils trailing lazily beneath them; even enormous fish in the distance, larger than even the grandest gecko, preying on the smaller as spurts of glowing blood gushed into the cold around them..

    Mara had been similarly enraptured, sticking her nose tentatively into it before rapidly pulling out and complaining of the cold. She had said that the streams of snowmelt in the mountains were colder, but the spectacle of life within them didn¡¯t even compare. That was easy to believe, given what the ocean looked like. It had been hard to even tear her away for the meeting, but Magnifico had said noon, and in a strange city that meant leaving as early as possible.

    At dawn, the water was at its coldest point, its lack of warmth visible even compared to the air above it, which let him see the turbulent waves rise and fall. And, Mara said, if he practiced at it, a similar method might help him distinguish the ground. That was the hope, anyway.

    In the meantime, he was but a helpless follower, taking note of people turning to stare as they passed, fireplaces and ovens burning to illuminate the shape of houses, and patterns of horse-shaped glows casting their slight illumination on the wagons behind them, or riders above.

    Even with his limited viewpoint, it was obvious that the buildings were getting larger as they passed into the Spirit Quartier. Modest houses clustered close together gave way to towering manses, stretching multiple stories in the air. Even the smallest of them would have towered over Jerome¡¯s house, the lamps and candles within them hanging in the air, warmth fading into the walls behind them.

    The people were thinning out as well, somewhat strangely.

    There were plenty in the mansions, moving quickly around the lower floors, many of them clearly taking food in and out of massive ovens, with the odd person adding fuel to the yellow braziers burning on most of the roofs. But the streets were increasingly empty.

    Perhaps it was the early hour? By this point, mid-morning was well underway, but the shiftlessness of city folk was a common talking point in his village, and there might have been some truth to it.

    ¡°Why did you stop?¡± With no one around to hear, there was little danger in Mara¡¯s question.

    Fernan blinked. ¡°You see that too, right? The house that¡¯s completely empty?¡± The shimmer in the air was faint, but small glowing creatures darting through the air looked unmistakably like they were scuttling across the upper floors of something. What was a house in this quartier doing empty? ¡°Is there anything I¡¯m missing, Mara? Anything that can tell us who lives here?¡±

    ¡°Here, let me give you a better look. Metal is tough!¡± Metal?

    ¡°Those look like letters too. I don¡¯t know what they mean though.¡± Mara padded forward, puffing out a gust of flame onto what revealed itself to be an iron gate in front of them. As the warmth settled on the metal while dispersing through the air, it gave shape to it, and the plaque that rested on it.

    He felt a brief flutter in his chest at the realization that the raised surface of the letters would make it possible for him to read it. Not as practical as books, but it was something.

    Doumagnot Delune, the letters said. Delune Residence. Fernan frowned, trying to think of who that could be, but nothing came to mind. Florette would know, but she was gone, off to correct her mistake.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go in! I think I see a mouse!¡± Mara stuck her face past a gap in the gate about a foot wide, twisting sideways to make it further in..

    Fernan sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should¨C¨C¡±

    Mara had already squeezed through the bars somehow, despite looking too large to make it, stepping tentatively up the path to the empty mansion. Fine.

    ¡°Run away if you see anyone!¡± Fernan called after her. ¡°I¡¯m going to the meeting. We can meet back at the pier with Florette.¡± Really, it was a wonder that the two of them didn¡¯t get along better.

    ¡°Should I catch one for you?¡± she hissed. ¡°There are lots of them here.¡±

    ¡°No, thank you. Just make sure to avoid people. They might think you¡¯re wild, or dangerous.¡±

    ¡°I am dangerous! Grr!¡± She blew a puff of smoke into his unamused face.

    ¡°See you at the pier.¡± With a roll of his eyes, Fernan returned to the path. At least, his best approximation of it.

    ¡°Bye!¡± Mara turned back and raced up towards the deserted house.

    He hadn¡¯t really thought about the fact that he was leaving his guide behind, but he wanted to be able to navigate more independently anyway, and with the wide avenues here, he had a lot of leeway. Especially since the roads were so vacant. All he really had to do was avoid crashing into the houses, all of which were well enough lit with warmth to make that fairly trivial, at least on the ground floors where it would matter..

    It also didn¡¯t hurt that the Temple of Soleil was by far both the largest and the brightest of anything in view. Situated on a hill, two massive insignias of the sun, emblazoned with orange flame, sat atop circular towers at the front of the building, the glowing yellow interior behind them shaped like the upturned hull of a boat.

    Up close, it felt even more impossibly huge. Even the gap at the entrance was the size of a house. Strange, to think that the offerings given all the way back in Villechart indirectly helped maintain this.

    Well, probably the ones here more. Each sage bargained alone for their share of a spirit¡¯s power, unless they were forced into a deal where they had no say in the matter. Huzzah.

    The interior was even warmer, almost shockingly so. The walls and ceilings were glowing themselves, far more than any of the absorbed warmth from house ovens and hearths. He didn¡¯t realize that the whole structure was glass until he reached out and touched it, feeling that smoothness that applied to little else.

    The image took shape in his mind¡¯s eye, the sunlight flowing in from all directions to heat the interior. Something about it seemed familiar, almost like a dream he half-remembered, but the shape was wrong for that, as was the height.

    Altars circled around the outer edge of the room, each depicting a glowing man with rays darting out from behind his head in all directions. Adorned on the shoulder was a circular ring, tick marks engraved around the edge. In one, Soleil parted clouds in front of him. Another had him cradling a baby with a blank face. The largest, the only in the center, simply showed the spirit standing, arms crossed in front of him, as a beam of glowing white light passed from a gem embedded in his head to the floor.

    ¡°It tells you the time,¡± a voice said from behind him. ¡°Look at the number that the light falls on.¡±

    Number? It must have been painted, or inked, because nothing stood out on the floor where the beam shone. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t see it.¡±

    The voice sighed. ¡°Magnifico did say you were provincial, but I expected at least basic literacy. Have Duke Debray¡¯s programs truly come to nothing?¡± The man stepped out and nudged the area where the light touched the floor with his foot. ¡°See the ¡®two¡¯¡¯ there? That means it¡¯s two hours until noon. You¡¯re early, boy.¡±

    Fernan narrowed his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t see the same way other people do. The numbers aren¡¯t visible to me.¡±

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°A likely story.¡± He sighed. ¡°Well, let¡¯s be done with this quickly then. Magnifico said you wished to meet me, well consider me met. Now you can run back to your village and enrapture them all with the tale of how you met the High Priest of the Sun. I¡¯m sure it will be the highlight of their year. Excuse me.¡±

    Before he could walk away, Fernan tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re Aurelian Lumi¨¨re then? I have more to discuss with you.¡±

    ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re, you impudent swine.¡± He turned back to face Fernan and his flame immediately grew brighter. ¡°What is wrong with your face?¡±

    Clenching his fists, Fernan tried his best to keep a neutral expression. ¡°My eyes were consumed with flame, as part of my pact with the flame spirit G¨¦zarde. I¡¯m a sage, just like you.¡±

    The lord tipped his head back in what was clearly a stifled scoff. ¡°I rather doubt that. But if you are truly a sage to some lesser spirit, I suppose I can hear you pay your homage to me. Present your tribute, and we can be finished for the year.¡±

    Homage? ¡°How much did Magnifico tell you?¡±

    ¡°Little. He was rushed, and we had other, more important matters to discuss.¡± Lumi¨¨re¡¯s eyes flashed slightly brighter than the rest of his narrow face, making it briefly easier to see the contours. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have rather pressing business with the Festival of the Sun, not to mention the m¨ºl¨¦e. The honor of Soleil himself is at stake, beset upon by heathen foreigners.¡±

    That was begging for clarification, but Fernan didn¡¯t want to distract further from the matter at hand. ¡°I need a sundial. It¡¯s the only way to keep my village warded and safe.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? I hope you¡¯re a good swimmer, then.¡±

    Fernan raised an eyebrow

    ¡°Much of our spare supply was shipped out a few weeks ago, when a vicious bandit attacked the merchants we employed to transport them. Quite brutal, as I understand it, though I can assure you that the culprit has been dealt with.¡± He shrugged. ¡°In the scuffle, the dials fell into the harbor, lost in its murky depths. My acolytes have only managed to recover a few, now in high demand.¡±

    ¡°Do they glow?¡± If they were spiritual, he might be able to find them himself.

    Lord Lumi¨¨re stared at him mutely for a moment. ¡°They cast a shadow of Soleil¡¯s light. It¡¯s not a lamp. Merciful Sun, the state of you poor villagers. May Soleil guide your path away from your dark ignorance, child.¡± He placed a hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll have more prepared after the solstice. Come back in half a year.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°Would there be any way to acquire one sooner? One of the ones you have up here for decoration, perhaps?¡±

    His flame grew brighter. ¡°Desecrate Soleil¡¯s statues? Boy, I shall do you the rare favor of forgetting that you even suggested such heresy.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s for my village. We need it to ward off attacks from flame geckos.¡± Because we¡¯re stealing their food, and we can¡¯t come to an agreement. But that was a thought for later. ¡°Is there any possible way I could get one in time to bring it home before the solstice?¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± the lord scoffed. ¡°Every sage and acolyte is preserving their energy for the festival. We can¡¯t be wasting it making baubles. It¡¯s absolutely essential to spread Soleil¡¯s message, especially in these trying times. Guerron¡¯s people must know who they serve, or the consequences could be dire.¡±

    Fernan felt his eyes blaze up, saw the surprise in the silhouette of the lord¡¯s face, but he forced himself calm. Anger would solve nothing here. ¡°There must be some way. Perhaps I could borrow one? Or pay you?¡±

    ¡°Tch. If you can spare ten thousand florins, I suppose the Temple could part with a sundial for a few weeks. Any longer and we would be forced to charge you more, you understand.¡±

    Ten thousand? He and Florette had come here with less than two hundred between them. Who could possibly afford that?

    ¡°That¡¯s in addition to the tribute of course. I understand you are a new sage, so I expect only the first year¡¯s worth.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Lord Lumi¨¨re sighed. ¡°Just as your petty flame spirit owes his allegiance to Soleil, so too do you owe yours to me. Three percent of your offerings, or a commensurate financial sum.¡±

    ¡°Our alderman, Jerome, he already paid the tax man. Lord Debray already has what we owe him from this year.¡±

    ¡°Duke Fouchand Debray is your overlord in physical matters, but if you¡¯ve awakened as a sage, I can assure you that your spiritual concerns are subordinate to me. Especially if you¡¯re going to come here and be demanding during the busiest time of year, as we fight to survive against those bilgewater Malins.¡±

    Fernan took a deep breath. ¡°Alderman Jerome is a sage. Of Soleil, just as you are. I¡¯m sure whatever he has worked out with you is still in place. It¡¯s been that way for decades. That¡¯s not what I¡¯m here to talk about.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. You want a way to prove you met me beyond all doubt. But I¡¯m afraid your word will have to be enough. Now, if you will simply present your tribute, we can be done with this.¡±

    A foul burning scent filled his nose as he realized that his eyes had set a lock of hair smoking. Without dropping eye contact, Fernan extinguished it, smashing it against his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m sure that Jerome has already provided that.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve never heard of this Jerome. He¡¯s the previous sage for this flame spirit you mentioned? Zardon, was it? Or Gizzard?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a sun sage! He studied at this very temple! Probably made his contract with Soleil where we¡¯re standing right now. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s already sent you any tribute you require.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Lord Lumi¨¨re tilted his head back. ¡°Why did Magnifico want me to meet you, then?¡±

    Fernan felt his eye twitch, though with the flames he had no idea what that might look like. ¡°To get a sundial. To protect my village.¡± What was wrong with this man?

    ¡°Ah yes, of course. I¡¯m afraid that will be impossible at the moment, but if you return in half a year, I¡¯m sure we can¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Now! I need one now! Whatever it takes.¡± He shook his head rapidly to extinguish more burning hair. He¡¯d have to cut it shorter if this was going to keep being an issue.

    ¡°I see.¡± Lord Lumi¨¨re folded his arms. ¡°Well, I suppose it wouldn¡¯t hurt to have another sage conducting sacrifices for the hierarchy of Soleil. At a crucial moment like this, we need all of the spiritual energy we can get.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying I can work for it?¡± That would be acceptable, provided he could get the sundial in time. ¡°Good. Just tell me what I need to do.¡±

    The lord nodded. ¡°Come back here, first thing tomorrow, and I¡¯ll have one of my acolytes show you how you need to proceed. Instruction isn¡¯t the sort of thing I handle personally.¡±

    Fernan took a deep breath. ¡°Thank you,¡± he forced out. ¡°And please give Magnifico my thanks as well, for making this possible.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps if I have the time.¡± He shrugged, starting to walk away. ¡°Oh, make sure not to wear anything too flammable tomorrow. Stick to leather and the like, or preparing the pyre could be difficult. Prisoners have been known to throw things at the acolyte if their bindings come loose.¡±

    ¡°The prisoners can throw fire?¡±

    Lord Lumi¨¨re didn¡¯t give that a proper response, only muttering under his breath about ignorant villagers.

    It was with that sobering conundrum that Fernan left, slowly walking back through the Spirit Quartier, past the strange deserted house and what looked like a number of other smaller temples, though it was difficult to tell.

    He was supposed to feel satisfied with this. It was what he¡¯d wanted, right? And a better solution for geckos could be found while he did his work for the Sun Temple. There had to be some way to manage it, right?

    Once he passed into the Merchant Quartier, navigating was that much easier, with people and beasts bustling all throughout the streets. The only difficulty was avoiding tripping over the grooves in the center, apparently there to help clear the streets of muck when it rained.

    If that was true, he certainly hoped it rained soon. At least most of what he needed to avoid was still warm.

    The sun was setting over the water by the time he made it back to the pier. Unlike this morning, the crowds were just as thick here as they were to the south: Merchants, stevedores, vendors for food a drink. One of them looked to be selling some kind of shelled fish, a long line behind the stand.

    He was curious, but money was at a premium. Especially now that he needed to find a place to stay. Magnifico had been generous with a spare room at the Singer¡¯s Longue, but that had only been for the one night, and now new accommodations had to be located.

    He saw a burst of heat at the foot of the large tower at the very north end of the harbor, slightly elevated on the rocks. That would be Mara, then, and the human-shaped glow ten feet away Florette.

    Actually, could familiars move independently? He should have asked Florette before letting Mara go off on her own. This could have been bad if someone had spotted her and caused a commotion.

    The two of them seemed to be glaring at each other in silence as Fernan arrived, their heads not even properly facing for eye contact.

    Mara perked right up as she saw him though, scurrying up to him with something in her mouth and dropping it as his feet. ¡°Hi, Fernan! I know you said you didn¡¯t want one, but I thought I¡¯d save you some in case you changed your mind. These ones are so much better fed than the ones in the mountains, it¡¯s a much richer flavor¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said as sincerely as he could. ¡°But please, it¡¯s all yours.¡±

    ¡°If you insist!¡±

    Florette, still leaning against the rocks, tilted her head in what was unmistakable an eyeroll.

    ¡°I thought you could only eat coal though?¡± Fernan whispered to Mara, bending down so he could be heard at a quieter volume. If supplying them with animals would solve the problem¡­ He mentally kicked himself for not thinking to ask earlier. Somehow the thought hadn¡¯t occurred to him.

    Mara shook her head back and forth. ¡°Meat is tasty, too. It¡¯s not very enriching, though. We need coal to grow and big and strong and smart! It¡¯s what fuels our fire. Without that and G¨¦zard we¡¯d be just like babies, only as large as your hand.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Of course that had been too much to hope for. He reached into his travel bag and pulled out the smaller sack of coal they had brought for Mara. ¡°Here, then,¡± he said as tossed her a piece. ¡°We might need to find a more regular supply though.¡±

    ¡°Why? I thought you just needed to get something, and we¡¯d be gone in a few days? Did you find something interesting to explore, too?¡±

    ¡°Not quite¡­¡± He waved Florette closer, causing her to push off the rocks and begin walking closer. ¡°I think I found a way to get what we need, but it¡¯s going to take a little while. I¡¯m going to be working for the Sun Temple.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Florette put her hand under her chin. ¡°Does Lord Whathisname want you to feed him grapes as he lies down? Perhaps an hourly foot rub? Or is he just happy to have you on hand to kiss his robes whenever the mood strikes?¡±

    Fernan forced a laugh. Any of those would be better than what he¡¯d really been asked to do, if that ominous insinuation were correct. There were other things it could mean, surely. They wouldn¡¯t burn people. ¡°Magnifico said he couldn¡¯t do much, but it would have been nice to walk out of there with it today. I can¡¯t really be sure of anything until I¡¯m holding it in my hand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the smart way to think about it,¡± Florette agreed. ¡°And I know some pirates now, if you decide you¡¯d rather just cut out all the work in the middle.¡±

    ¡°Right, that.¡± He sighed. ¡°Did you get them to back off from Magnifico?¡±

    ¡°No. I couldn¡¯t even get them to delay it.¡± Her flame dimmed harshly. ¡°But I¡¯m not part of it anymore. That¡¯s what you wanted, right?¡± She practically spat it out.

    ¡°It¡¯s better than nothing.¡± He really felt like he ought to warn Magnifico, after this, but that felt like a betrayal of her trust. There had to be some way to figure it out, but that could wait until the morning. ¡°In the meantime, we really ought to¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s him!¡± He turned around to see five of the harbor guards, each brandishing their weapon. The tallest stepped forward, lifting his head high. ¡°By the authority of House Debray, your presence is requested.¡±

    Fernan swallowed.

    ¡°Immediately,¡± the guard continued, firm. ¡°Your little ruse is over.¡±

 Camille V: The Gambler

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille V: The Gambler</h1>

    ¡°Hello, Camille.¡± The glove glowed yellow as Lord Aurelien threw it onto the pyre. ¡°Consider that my challenge.¡±

    The man bound to the fire didn¡¯t even blink, his eyes glassy and dull.

    But the crowds surrounding them muttered and gasped. In the yard at the foot of the castle, there was no shortage of onlookers: the Duke and his coterie, Valvert with a gaggle of his drinking companions, practically every noble who resided in the palace. But far worse than that were the newer faces, guests here for the festival from foreign lands. From the looks of their clothes and windswept hair, they looked southern.

    When did the delegation from Condillac arrive? Camille clenched her fists. She had wanted to greet them as they entered the city, to ensure that they played no part in this spat with the Sun Priest ¡ª even sound them out for a joint offensive, had their young Duke seemed amenable. And now they were here, bearing witness to whatever this play was. And, without a doubt, they were judging Camille on her strength and poise.

    She could try to talk to them later, but what occured here would be their first impression. Acting weak would ruin her. That ruled out running to Lucien or Duke Fouchand, which had probably been Lumi¨¨re¡¯s plan from the start. ¡°Your challenge? I must confess that you have me at a loss, Aurelian. On what grounds do you challenge me?¡±

    He turned to face the man on the pyre, inhaling the smoke as if savoring the scent. ¡°On the grounds of justice. In the name of Soleil, Great Spirit of the Sun, whom your actions have deprived of justice and power both.¡± He turned back to face her, curling his lips downwards in a half-passable mask of sadness. ¡°His wise Majesty has ruled on the legality of it, with Duke Fouchand¡¯s assent, and that I do not contest, but depriving a sage and his spirit of offerings rightfully belonging to them is an act of great dishonor. It needs must be rectified.¡±

    Drat.

    ¡°I wish you had brought this up at the time, Lord Aurelian. I would have been happy to come to an agreement,¡± she lied. Justifying the legal act through technicalities served for a council meeting; the Duke wanted no conflict between his councilors. But in front of foreign sages and nobles, the mere implication that she would steal another¡¯s offerings made her look duplicitous and pathetic.

    The Sun sage raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is that a refusal, then? Most cowardly of you, but such loss of face is your choice¡­¡±

    ¡°A refusal to what, my lord? You have yet to issue the specifics of your challenge.¡± She tried to gauge the audience out of the corner of her, assessing whose side they seemed to be taking.

    Duke Fouchand simply looked irritated, which was scant surprise. He¡¯d chastised her for failing to work together, but she¡¯d been smart enough to do it in private. Lumi¨¨re was giving up considerable standing with him, airing his grievances in fronts of guests like this, but he had to think that it would be worth it.

    What was he hoping to accomplish here?

    Annette had gradually retreated into the crowd, rather than staying at Camille¡¯s side. That was just as well¨C¨Cit would look better if she appeared to be the unbiased heir to Guerron, rather than a friend, should she need to speak up. Facing the pyre and the half-circle crowd around it with no one at her back, everything was up to Camille. No issues there, nor anything she hadn¡¯t prepared for.

    Duke Etienne Clement of Condillac, the young lordling with dark circles under his eyes and a raven perched on his shoulder, looked strangely delighted. He covered his dark green garments under a billowing black cloak, his tousled mess of black hair trailing behind him despite the lack of wind.

    That was concerning, to say the least. What sort of man found this sort of farce pleasant? He had been one of the most promising candidates for military aid in retaking Malin, as well. But if he wanted a show, she would give him one.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Lumi¨¨re placed his hand on the sacrifice¡¯s forehead, glowing slightly yellow as he did. ¡°Then allow me to be more explicit: I challenge you to a duel. As the challenged party, you may name your terms. Then we can resolve this once and for all. Though, for a girl of such delicate constitution, I suggest first blood. It would be unsporting of me to need to kill you.¡±

    And just like that, she had no choice but to duel him to the death or appear a coward before the entire court. Fantastic. ¡°To the death then, or surrender. On the arena set up for the m¨ºl¨¦e, the morning before the competition begins.¡± She smiled. ¡°Unless you¡¯re worried about the masses seeing your defeat?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Of course not, Camille. I find those terms acceptable. Though, I think we shall have to make things more interesting. Should I win, Soleil must have his redress. Fifty souls, let us say. And you may claim the same in the event that you do.¡±

    Fifty? How could he so callously gamble with that many lives? The Malins didn¡¯t execute fifty criminals of their own in a year. He was demanding more than they could spare, which meant sacrificing people who did not deserve death. Bastard.

    ¡°Soleil and his Temple have no issue honoring such a bet,¡± he continued, ¡°but if the Temple of Levian cannot, well, I suppose that limits you.¡±

    ¡°Of course we can,¡± she lied. ¡°But that makes no matter, given the certain outcome of this duel.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± His smile stretched across his entire face. ¡°Then I think our business is at an end, for now.¡± He sauntered past her, down the path to the Spirit Quartier, leaving the pyre and the sacrifice to his underlings to clean up. ¡°I eagerly await what is to come.¡±

    Duke Fouchand was the first to approach her, everyone else giving the two of them a wide berth. ¡°Camille.¡± He sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I want you to know that I did not condone this. Lumi¨¨re presented the whole thing as an offering in honor of our guests¡¯ arrival.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± she asked tersely.

    ¡°And I apologize for allowing it to come to pass.¡± He furrowed his brow. ¡°Such behavior is unacceptable at a time like this, when we need unity above all else. Especially if word reaches Avalon that Guerron¡¯s sages were fractured like this.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°What I mean is: what do you intend to do about it? Lumi¨¨re has instigated this from the start, though to what end I cannot imagine. Surely this is too far. He must be stripped of his position on the council, for appearance¡¯s sake if nothing else. Otherwise it will seem that you condone such fractious behavior.¡±

    Fouchand shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it would only make things worse. The Temple of the Sun would take it for a grievous insult; it would only sow more division. At least I can serve as a mediator this way. However¡­ Should you win your duel, well, his seat will be vacant in any case.¡±

    ¡°Unless he surrenders.¡±

    Fouchand winked, giving her a pat on the back. ¡°This isn¡¯t how I would have wanted it, but hopefully once his ¡®honor¡¯ is satisfied by the duel, we can be done with this business. Good luck, Camille.¡± He whistled to his retinue and they began walking back up to the castle.

    Camille felt a tap on her back as she watched them leave. Turning around, she saw it was Annette, who lacked even the decency to look guilty.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Camille hissed. ¡°You had promised that I would be first to greet the Condillac delegation, as I recall. I had intended to welcome their ships before they even reached the harbor. And yet here they are, bearing witness to Lumi¨¨re¡¯s challenge.¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Annette frowned. ¡°Yes, obviously when their ship arrived, I just decided not to tell you for no reason whatsoever. I was thinking, ¡®Hmm, what¡¯s the best way to annoy Camille just for the sake of it?¡¯ That sounds like me, doesn¡¯t it? It couldn¡¯t possibly be that they took another route. You got me. And obviously I¡¯m incredibly sorry.¡±

    ¡°Another route? Ship is the fastest way to travel, and Condillac¡¯s fleet is among the best on the continent.¡±

    ¡°They took it up the Sartaire, then traveled through the pass. That¡¯s why it took them so long to arrive.¡± Annette shrugged. ¡°Still, it¡¯s nice that your first thought was blaming me.¡±

    ¡°You have my apologies,¡± Camille reassured. ¡°Still, it¡¯s strange, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Annette smiled. ¡°It could be promising. On the Sartaire, they¡¯re well positioned to threaten Malin. It could be a good sign.¡±

    It could, at that. ¡°I need to talk to Duke Clement right away. You have to introduce me before his party leaves.¡±

    ¡°Well, since you asked so nicely¡­¡± Annette grabbed her hand and walked over to the black-clad Duke, still standing in his same spot as he stared at the burning man breathing his last. ¡°Duke Etienne? We met earlier.¡±

    He turned his strained eyes to face them. ¡°Lady Debray, of course. If you would be so kind as to introduce your companion?¡±

    ¡°Allow me to present Lady Camille Leclaire of On¨¨s, High Priestess of Levian and future Queen of the Empire.¡± Camille dipped her head as Annette introduced her. ¡°Camille, this is Duke Etienne Clement of Condillac, First Sage of Corva. And his familiar, Tiecelin.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure, I¡¯m sure.¡± Camille forced a smile. However ridiculous the man looked, he would be a key piece in this game.

    ¡°The pleasure is all mine,¡± he said with a smile as he bent down to kiss her hand, his raven spreading and flapping its wings as he did. ¡°I do not yet know you well, but I can see that you do not fear death. If the lovely Lady Annette calls you friend, I¡¯m sure we shall get along famously.¡±

    ¡°I can only hope.¡± That was a promising start, at least. ¡°But I must apologize for meeting you under such circumstances. Lord Lumi¨¨re is prone to these dramatic shenanigans.¡±

    Etienne turned back to face the fire and the smoldering body within it. ¡°Death comes to us all, Lady Camille. We can face it dramatically or calmly, but either way it remains inevitable. With a life full of pain and ennui, I think of it most as a relief.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Annette raised an eyebrow.

    He stroked the beak of his familiar. ¡°All life is filtered through our experience, a culmination of our sensations. Death is the cessation of such sensation, of our own existence. For those sacrificed to the spirits, life is often pain. Thus it is incumbent on sages to deliver people to their destiny, to cease their suffering once and for all.¡±

    Camille fought hard to avoid rolling her eyes, noticing Annette next to her fail to curb the impulse. ¡°How poetic,¡± she said, putting it as diplomatically as she possibly could. ¡°Have you written a treatise on your philosophy?¡±

    ¡°I prefer poetry. I find it the best means of expression of the inner self.¡± He smiled. ¡°Perhaps I can share it with you, some time.¡±

    ¡°I would be delighted,¡± Camille lied.

    ¡°Yeah, that sounds amazing.¡± Annette chuckled.

    ¡°I shall call upon you then, at the appropriate hour.¡± He smiled, looking strained with the large circles under his eyes. ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Lady Camille.¡±

    By unspoken agreement, they refrained from discussing anything the entire ride back to the Bureau of the Sea, waiting for privacy.

    ¡°Well, that could have gone worse,¡± Annette noted once they were safely back in her office. ¡°You give Aurelian a good old thrashing and this whole business is done. Really, it¡¯s almost like he¡¯s helping you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I can beat him even as it is. Soleil¡¯s power is massive, and Aurelian has never been conservative with it.¡± Camille shook her head. ¡°That, and I¡¯m sure he has something else planned, or he wouldn¡¯t have bothered. A way to guarantee victory, or to win even in defeat. I don¡¯t¡­ Annette, Malin doesn¡¯t have that many lives to spare. I cannot lose, no matter what.¡±

    ¡°Well, Aurelian¡¯s a very smart fellow, so your concern is eminently sensible.¡± She chuckled. ¡°You didn¡¯t even lose face today, despite his ambush of an audience. Really, you may be overthinking this. Grandfather has your back, I know, and even Duke Darkness back there seemed amenable enough to your side of thinking.¡±

    ¡°Tch.¡± Camille shook her head. ¡°Corva is a wind spirit, isn¡¯t she? Why was he all dressed in black like a sage of darkness?¡±

    Annette smiled. ¡°It¡¯s kind of adorable.¡± She puffed up her chest and began strutting around the room, affecting a deeper voice. ¡°I do not fear the darkness, for death comes to us all. My life is pain, despite ruling a nation in wealth and luxury with the power of a sage at my fingertips. Just read my poetry, and the dark meaning of the universe will come to you from the abyss!¡±

    ¡°Careful.¡± Camille covered her smile with her hand. ¡°We need to stay on his good side while he¡¯s here if we want Condillac to help with Malin.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Annette stuck out her tongue. ¡°You especially. I think he liked you.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I hope not.¡± It might help convince him in the short term, but it probably wouldn¡¯t be worth the trouble when he found out she was not interested. Men had a tendency to get entitled about women they barely even knew, which would only complicate things further.

    ¡°Who¡¯s the next High Priest when Aurelian dies, anyway?¡± Annette flopped back down at her desk. ¡°His son¡¯s too young, surely?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll have a regency, like with Lucien. The real power behind the temple will shift to one of his toadies, and the grievances will continue¡­ Hmm.¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°If our friends in the Sun Temple step in, they might be able to put an end to this. That¡¯s provided I win, and survive whatever Aurelian has planned, but it¡¯s still the only thing I can think of that doesn¡¯t involve dismantling them entirely.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, our friends in the Sun Temple. As famous as they are numerous. But then, Camille, you¡¯re so good at making friends that it¡¯s hardly surprising.¡±

    ¡°Stop.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying: there¡¯s not a lot of sages over there who are all that fond of Malin. Even fewer who don¡¯t hate you personally.¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°You have a point. But all we need is one to help smooth the transition and advocate against reprisals. What about Adrian Couteau?¡±

    ¡°Hates you, ever since that incident in the training yard, back in 104.¡± Annette put her feet up on her desk. ¡°I mean, he ran home crying.¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t gotten over that by now? Ugh.¡± Camille shook her head. ¡°Anyone with the name Lumi¨¨re is out, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Jean Bourbeau?¡±

    Camille shook her head. ¡°Kin to the Lumi¨¨res. Also, I think he¡¯s still mad about that time I pushed him off a boat.¡± He had had it coming though, talking about Lucien the way he had. ¡°What about Laura Bougitte? She¡¯s a sage of Flammare, not Soleil, but it¡¯s in the same hierarchy. I bet we could make it work.¡±

    Annette raised an eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t you spread a rumor about her¡­? You know, the whole¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Yes, now I remember. No need to get into that.¡± She clenched her fists. ¡°Damn it, why is this so hard? I am very friendly and personable.¡±

    ¡°Of course you are.¡± Annette did not bother to hide her laughter.

    Soon enough, the conversation died out, bereft of any good options, and precious few bad ones. Annette returned to her work and Camille to her chambers in the castle, stopping only to send a messenger to Lucien in Villemalin.

    She slept poorly that night, with fifty souls resting on her success. Why had Lumi¨¨re forced this confrontation? Was he truly so full of spite and hate?

    Killing him was not something she awaited eagerly, either. It would invite hate from the Sun Temple, potentially even violent retaliation against her, or even against the Malins beneath her. And it would mean ending a man¡¯s life. Not a sacrifice that would be doomed in any case, but a fellow sage, no matter how detestable a man.

    The necessity of it was obvious. In a duel to the death, there was no other option. But nonetheless, the thought kept her awake. Even more alarming was the thought of failure, that all of her dreams could end in an instant. Even Lucien had bested her in a fight, with no magic of his own.

    Camille filled her tea with pixie powder the next morning, as Annette was wont to do. Instantly, the energy filled her, eyes perking up. But it was a false restfulness, one that would fade with time as the traces of magic harvested from the pixies made its way through her body.

    Still, it was enough for her to arrive at Vetain Tower, at the north of the harbor, in time to meet Annette once more. She had asked Lucien to be on hand as well, in the hopes that a King¡¯s presence might help in swaying opinions.

    The two of them walked into the tower, climbing up until they reached the upper floor.

    The most promising of an unpromising set, the meeting they had planned last night was more out of a desire to leave no stone unturned than any real belief in success. Still, if they succeeded, it could avert so much conflict in the way of everything more important.

    Lucien had yet to arrive, but he would be better as a later addition anyway. A sort of backup.

    Annette¡¯s harbor guard opened the door he stood in front of, showing them the way in.

    Inside was a girl of perhaps eighteen or nineteen, slender, with long dark hair and an appallingly bland brown leather tunic and trousers, ornamented only by a small collar flipped up at the top of her jerkin. This would be the retainer.

    To her left was the sage, a boy of a similar age in similarly bland dress, distinguished only by his flaming green eyes and messy brown hair. Fernan Bougitte, Laura¡¯s cousin, according to Annette. Not likely to be kindly disposed to Camille, but she at least had not angered him personally. It was worth a try, if nothing else.

    ¡°You must be wondering why I wanted to see you,¡± she began. ¡°Please allow me to explain.¡±

 Florette V: The Negotiator

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette V: The Negotiator</h1>

    ¡°Your little ruse is over,¡± the guard told Fernan, his cronies spreading out around him.

    Fuck. This was her fault, all to save a few florins at the gate.

    Fernan wasn¡¯t even looking at her, the fire in his eyes dimmed down to a tiny green point.

    What was the punishment for impersonating a noble, actually? No matter how bad it was, surely they wouldn¡¯t do anything on the spot. Even capital crimes always had a night in jail first, at least in the stories. It couldn¡¯t be good, but if Florette could slip away, she might be able to break him out later.

    Eloise might even be willing to help, if she played things right. The quartermaster hadn¡¯t exactly been thrilled when Florette had asked her to delay the theft earlier this morning, correctly noticing her lack of enthusiasm for the request, but she hadn¡¯t gotten angry either. That had to count for something.

    Fernan looked so helpless though. Was it right to run away, when all of this was her fault, even if it helped him more later? There had to be something else she could do.

    With Mara, they might have a chance at taking the guards, but that would do little to solve the underlying problem.

    ¡°Ruse?¡± Florette stepped out in between Fernan and the guards. ¡°Before we go anywhere, I must insist that you clarify.¡±

    Fernan blinked incredulously, but he kept silent.

    The front guard nodded. ¡°The peasants¡¯ disguises you wear. Lady Annette informed us that you were traveling incognito, but that Lord Fernan could be identified by his fiery eyes, from his spirit contract.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Yes! Nevermind, all of that then. ¡°I¡¯m afraid Lord Fernan is rather too busy at the moment, however. He would be happy to meet with your lady at a later time of her convenience.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Fernan coughed. ¡°Very busy. Such a shame it is.¡±

    The guard shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible. Our patron was quite insistent that you meet with Lady Camille immediately. This is an important matter of state that must be discussed.¡±

    Florette raised her eyebrows. Lady Camille? Wasn¡¯t that the one Eloise had mentioned this morning, with the command over water? ¡°Really? If you were a bit more forthcoming, it would be easier to justify suspending my lord¡¯s important business.¡± Upon seeing the guard¡¯s frown, she added, ¡°If you would allow us a minute to confer in private?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t take too long. My lady Debray expects you presently.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Florette wrapped her arm around Fernan and pulled him into a huddle a short distance away from the guards. ¡°So, what do you think?¡± she whispered.

    ¡°What do I think? What kind of question is that?¡± Fernan hissed. ¡°You promised to ask me before doing stuff like this.¡±

    ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing right now? It¡¯s up to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± His head sagged back. ¡°Soleil, what a mess. Jerome made this sound so easy, but the Sun Priest is an arrogant jerk, Magnifico wouldn¡¯t do more than set up the meeting, and most of their sundials fell in the harbor¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Perfect!¡± Florette interrupted.

    Fernan¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°How could that possibly be?¡±

    Florette patted him on the back. ¡°That lady who wants to see you is a water sage, or something like that. Eloise said she hid an entire boat underwater when I asked if I could see it. She could probably get them without you having to bother working your ass off for Lord Luminary.¡±

    ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re,¡± Fernan corrected. ¡°And there¡¯s no guarantee this other noble will give us what we want. It could all collapse in an instant.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Florette shrugged. ¡°The way I see it, we have two options here: take this opportunity to run, or go along and try to make the most of it. I can do most of the talking there, and we might be able to get what you need.¡± She paused. ¡°I know you said you had a way, but this could get it much faster. What do we lose by hearing them out?¡±

    ¡°Potentially everything.¡± He sighed. ¡°Working for the temple is far less risky than this. Although, running away could still jeopardize that¡­¡± He trailed off, looking back over his shoulder at the guards.

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°I think they wanted me to burn people, Florette. That¡¯s what it sounded like, anyway. Just like Jerome might sacrifice a goat. Even the thought of it is horrifying.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°If there¡¯s a way to avoid that, I think it¡¯s worth taking the chance. Lord Lumi¨¨re already knows who I am, but he¡¯d probably forget about me pretty quickly. He already did it a few times, in the space of one conversation.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Florette grinned, clasping her hands together. ¡°Then we¡¯re agreed?¡±

    ¡°You do the talking. I hate all of this lying.¡± He was bad at it too, his forehead already slick with sweat. ¡°Mara, could you follow us at a distance? Try to help if it looks like things are getting chaotic?¡±

    The lizard nodded its head, scurrying away before any of the guards could react.

    Florette nodded, turning back to wave at the guards. ¡°Lord Fernan is honored by Lady Camille¡¯s request, and would be delighted to see her immediately. My apologies for any delay.¡±

    ¡°Just make sure to tell her that you insisted on it.¡± The guard signalled to his underlings, prompting them to circle around Fernan in formation. ¡°Lady Annette doesn¡¯t take kindly to impunctuality.¡±

    After all of that, it was almost comical how short the distance they needed to travel was. It was the same tower next to the rocks Eloise had so nimbly climbed, back when the future had seemed so full of promise¡­

    They arrived within twenty minutes, then were led up the stairs to the uppermost floor. Apparently the Bureau of the Sea had harborside offices in the tower, with a window showing the same spectacular view of the water.

    Florette was still staring at that when the noble walked in.

    She looked more like an illustration than a real person. Her hair was blue, somehow, falling down over gleaming bare shoulders, framed by a sea-green cape falling behind her. With the light streaming in through the window onto her unnaturally perfect form, she seemed nearly as transparent as the glass.

    The other who followed her in seemed far more real, shorter in stature and fuller in figure, with her brown hair tousled and knotted in contrast to the other¡¯s straight and neat style. She was the first to sit down at the table in front of them, the beauty following her.

    ¡°You must be wondering why I wanted to see you,¡± the blue-haired lady began. ¡°Please allow me to explain.¡±

    ¡°Before we begin, would you be so kind as to introduce yourselves?¡± Florette rested her elbows on the table to support her head. ¡°My Lord has not yet had the privilege of meeting you.¡±

    The shorter lady blinked rapidly, her head tilting down before abruptly being jerked back up. ¡°I¡¯m sure he must feel like he knows us already after Laura¡¯s glowing remarks. She and Camille are the best of friends, ever since childhood.¡±

    Laura, Laura, Laura¡­ That was the cousin! The one coming through the south gate that the guards had¨C¨Cor rather hadn¡¯t¨C¨Cexpected. If they really knew each other, this could be far more difficult, but something in Lady Debray¡¯s wry tone implied that there was more to it than that.

    Florette perked her head up. ¡°Nonetheless, I believe that decorum dictates introductions to be in order.¡± It probably did, anyway.

    The painting-come-to-life then clicked her tongue. ¡°I suppose so. My companion is Lady Annette Debray, heir to Guerron and Head of the Bureau of the Sea. You¡¯ll have to forgive her for any impropriety.¡± She shot a glare at her partner with the last word. ¡°She is rather exhausted by all of the preparation for the Festival, and the accompanying tournament.¡±

    ¡°Oh the tournament, of course!¡± Florette pounded the table with the palm of her hand. ¡°My lord and I are most excited for it.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± The elegant lady turned her eyes to the ceiling for an instant, before a glowing smile stretched across her face. ¡°I can look forward to seeing you in the lists, then.¡± A pause filled the air for a moment, until she jabbed Annette with her elbow.

    ¡°Right.¡± Lady Debray rolled her eyes. ¡°And this is Camille Leclaire, Lady of On¨¨s. High Priestess of Levian, and so much more that belaboring it would be tiresome. You already know her, I¡¯m sure.¡± She turned to face Camille. ¡°My people brought them here. Do you need me for any more of this?¡±

    Lady Camille shook her head. ¡°I think I have it well in hand. Thank you, Annette.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± She stood up. ¡°I¡¯ll be in my office, then. Have to deal with this whole Verrou situation.¡± She left swiftly, shutting the door noisily behind her.

    ¡°Verrou?¡± Fernan asked, probably to avoid being completely silent. That would help, Florette agreed. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be Robin Verrou, would it? I believe I¡¯ve read about him.¡± His face was still sweaty, but that was still the best delivery he¡¯d managed so far.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Lady Camille bit her lip, a gesture almost out of step with her inhuman presentation. ¡°Apparently he wishes to compete in the tournament himself, but that risks angering some of our guests whom we would just as soon leave unaware of his presence at all.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico!¡± Fernan blurted. ¡°Uh¡­ I mean¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve met him already, as it happens.¡± Florette jumped in before he could accidentally demonstrate any further how uncomfortable he was. ¡°A delightful night at the Singer¡¯s Lounge. And certainly we understand why Lady Annette would rather he be left unaware of Robin Verrou.¡± Ooh, that was a thought, actually. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We won¡¯t tell him unless we have good cause to. I¡¯m sure that won¡¯t be an issue.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    That was more leverage, putting them in a better position to get Fernan his sundial. Florette held her hand in front of her face to cover her smile at playing that so well.

    ¡°That is good to hear.¡± Lady Camille smiled again, clasping her hands together. She didn¡¯t say anything after that, leaving an uncomfortable moment until Florette realized that she was waiting for them to introduce themselves as well.

    ¡°My Lord is Fernan, of House Bougitte, sage of¡­¡± Shit. Probably not G¨¦zarde, but what was the right spirit? ¡°¡­flame,¡± she finished. That was technically true, so it would probably be fine. ¡°Cousin of Laura Bougitte, with whom you have already acquainted yourself so well. And I am his humble servant Celine.¡± Using the same fake name she¡¯d used to steal the brandy would probably be a poor idea, and dropping her real name felt stupid as well.

    Fernan shot her another look at that, which she returned with an insistent raise of her eyebrows before realizing that he wouldn¡¯t be able to read the expression. Instead, she drummed the table again. ¡°My lord is too polite to ask you right out, but I¡¯m sure he wishes to know why you called him here so insistently.¡±

    ¡°Of course. You have my gratitude for your patience.¡± Lady Camille steepled her fingers. ¡°Especially considering everything that happened with Laura and myself.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble,¡± Florette quickly responded, before Fernan could open his mouth to give anything away. This was a precarious situation, and Florette was the best equipped to deal with it.

    The lady raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s magnanimous of you.¡±

    ¡°In truth, my lord Fernan and his cousin are not exceptionally close. They do not often speak beyond what their familiar bond demands.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡±

    Fernan nodded stiffly. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t worry about dealing with me on her account. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Florette added.

    Lady Camille smiled. ¡°I am pleased to hear it. In that spirit, perhaps we should discuss this over lunch?¡±

    ¡°It would be our pleasure!¡± Noble food? This lie was paying off more and more every moment.

    With a piercing crack, Lady Camille snapped her fingers, prompting an older man in a vest to open the door and bow his head. ¡°Have Annette¡¯s cook prepare something for the three of us, if you would.¡± The servant nodded, then closed the door behind him. ¡°It shall not be long,¡± the lady added. ¡°In the meantime, I would love to hear more about Torpierre Hall. I¡¯ve never had the pleasure of visiting it myself.¡±

    Torpierre¡­ Florette wracked her brain for any description of it in her books. It was one of those castles on the Lake of Paix, she knew, since the chain stretching out from it had blockaded the path to the ocean during the Plagetine War, some two hundred years ago. That meant it was a big tower, but it wasn¡¯t as if she really knew anything else about it.

    ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful place,¡± she said, since anyone would say that of their home. ¡°I¡¯m sure everyone there would be delighted if you were to visit.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Perhaps when things have calmed down more here.¡± Her eyes were fixed on Fernan, boring into him. That could be very bad.

    ¡°What of your home, On¨¨s? We would love to hear about that.¡±

    Lady Camille scowled mightily, biting her lip as she did. ¡°I have not seen it in many years, not since the War of the Foxtrap left it in Avalon¡¯s clutches.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure its people cry out for their freedom,¡± Florette said in sympathy, reaching out to place her hand on Lady Camille¡¯s.

    ¡°And their rightful ruler,¡± Fernan added.

    Pulling her hand back, the lady raised an eyebrow. ¡°Many have said such things. Few back their words with action.¡±

    ¡°Cowards,¡± Florette agreed. ¡°It¡¯s despicable.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s peace!¡± Fernan interjected, turning his head back and forth between them. ¡°Surely that¡¯s worth something? I¡¯ve heard what Avalon did to Malin: leveling the walls, destroying most of the palace with those thunderous contraptions that can tear through stone.¡± He had heard that from Florette, actually, but the point she had been making when bringing it up had been quite the opposite of what he was implying now. Great evil demanded great action, not cowering in fear of it.

    Lady Camille sighed. ¡°Certainly, the last thing I would want is a failed retaliation. We ought not to strike until we are certain we can reclaim what has been lost. I hope we can count on your support when the moment arrives.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Florette cut Fernan off. Even if he didn¡¯t want war, they lost nothing by looking more supportive here. It had been seventeen years; it wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d have to jump in with anything before this whole con was over anyway. ¡°Provided that our needs are attended to in turn.¡±

    ¡°I would expect nothing less.¡± Lady Camille sat back in her chair, removing her arms from the table. ¡°I believe our food is arriving now. Freshly caught this morning, of course.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I love fish.¡± Fernan smiled as Florette nodded in agreement. They were only readily available during spring, after the snowmelt but before the streams ran dry, and autumn, when they began to flow thick enough again. But that still made the meat far more plentiful than goat, which would only be slaughtered occasionally, and far richer than the asparagus, mushrooms, and strawberries that could be grown on their terraced farms.

    Lady Camille smirked. ¡°I think you¡¯ll be pleased with this, then. Though I imagine it will be new to you.¡± As she finished, the same servant from before entered with three massive platters balanced on his arms.

    He set them down on the table along with a few knives, some of them strangely shaped. Then he removed the lids to reveal food that looked nothing like the fish Florette knew. The first dish had hard shells, half open and beige, while the second contained white rings dusted with something brown.

    ¡°Coul¨¦e oysters and spiced calamari,¡± the servant supplied with a dip of his head before exiting the room.

    ¡°I think you will find them quite pleasing,¡± Lady Camille added. ¡°Please, help yourselves, and I shall begin explaining the business I wish to discuss with you.¡±

    ¡°Mhmm.¡± Florette grabbed one of the larger shells and sucked out the substance inside, a cold, wet, and salty trickle of flavor, with a sharp tinge she couldn¡¯t identify. ¡°An important matter of state, I believe you said.¡±

    Fernan cautiously reached out and grabbed one of the calamari rings, popping it into his mouth and beginning to chew. Actually, this meal gives a better excuse for him talking less. That, in addition to conning their way into these delicious new fish.

    Biting her lip again, Lady Camille sucked in air. ¡°Yes. No doubt you already know of my duel with Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°Wha¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve heard rumors, of course.¡± Florette kicked Fernan under the table. ¡°But we¡¯d like to hear your side of it first, to get a more complete picture.¡± She tried one of the rings next, but between the burning sensation in her throat and the tougher, chewy texture, it was easily the lesser of the two.

    ¡°He challenged me to a duel to the death, with fifty souls hanging in the balance. Should I lose, he will burn them alive.¡±

    Fernan clenched his fist, but remained silent.

    At least that further showed that going to this meeting was the right decision. Florette could reassure him of that, once they were done. It might soften the blow of what he¡¯d almost agreed to do.

    ¡°Is this conflict truly so irreconcilable?¡± Fernan asked stiffly. ¡°There must be some way to come to an agreement without need for any of this¡­ violence.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡± Lady Camille bit her lip. ¡°The Sun Temple has never taken kindly to the Malin presence here, Aurelian Lumi¨¨re least of all. He wants me dead and my people gone, even if it earns him Duke Fouchand¡¯s ire.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Florette grabbed another oyster. ¡°How does it benefit him?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°More offerings to his spirit, more power to himself, less competition for the Duke¡¯s political favor, had he handled this more gracefully anyway. Beyond that, I really could not tell you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s just that kind of prick.¡± Florette nodded. ¡°Burns people, hates people, duels people. Sure, got it. I guess it doesn¡¯t need to be any more complicated than that.¡±

    ¡°I find that unlikely,¡± Fernan muttered.

    ¡°Because villains are always so complicated, so nuanced?¡± Florette turned to stare into the green fire in his eyes. ¡°Was King Harold III? Lord Arion of Fortescue? For every tortured soul who thinks they¡¯re doing the right thing, there¡¯s ten people advancing their self-interest as much as they can, not thinking about it any more than that.¡±

    ¡°Well spoken, Celine.¡± Lady Camille nodded. ¡°Especially for a commoner.¡±

    ¡°My lord grants me access to his library in my free time, and encourages me to speak my mind,¡± Florette lied quickly. ¡°I apologize if our dynamic is unusual to an esteemed Lady such as yourself.¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°Yes, indeed.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Lady Camille crossed her legs, leaning back further in her chair. ¡°I think not.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    ¡°Allow me to clarify then.¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°You are not an aristocrat at all, ¡®Fernan¡¯, if that is even your real name. Nor is ¡®Celine¡¯ your servant.¡±

    The flame in his eyes dimmed again to a pinprick. ¡°How did you know?¡± he spoke, before Florette had a chance to stop him.

    The lady smiled, only now it had an air of cruelty to it. ¡°Because you just told me, boy.¡±

    Fuck. ¡°My lord is simply taken aback by this vile accusation. If you would allow me¨C¨C¡±

    Lady Camille held up one finger. ¡°I had my suspicions when you looked so bewildered at my mention of Laura Bougitte, but it was your atrocious table manners that truly convinced me.¡± She picked up one of the strange looking knives that the servant had left along with the food, waving it in front of them. ¡°Even the lowest of nobility would know how to use a fork in company, rather than attacking their food like a wild animal. And now he has confirmed it in his own words.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean anything. If you would just allow me to explain, all of this has a sensible¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Stop.¡± She grabbed an oyster in one hand and dug out the meaty part with her fork. ¡°Your ruse is at an end. You lose. Now is the time for truth.¡± She sucked down the oyster with a satisfied look on her face. ¡°First, are you really a sage? You have obviously been touched by the spirits, but that could mean a few different things.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Fernan responded. ¡°Of the flame spirit G¨¦zarde, up in the Guerron mountains to the east of here. I¡¯m sorry that we deceived you.¡±

    ¡°Of course you are.¡± Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°Please, prove it with a bit of spiritual magic, so I can at least set doubts about that to rest.¡±

    ¡°I really am, you know.¡± As Fernan spoke, tiny blasts of fire spewed out of his mouth before dissipating in the air. ¡°I never wanted to lie about this, but it all spiralled out of control. Honestly, it¡¯s something of a relief now that I can be honest with you.¡±

    Florette sighed. He was going to ruin everything for himself if he kept talking like this. ¡°We¡¯re still here, even though you could call for the guards in a moment. Whatever you need us for, you still do. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s something to do with the Sun Temple?¡±

    Camille shrugged. ¡°Need is a strong word. You could be useful to me, perhaps.¡±

    ¡°Well, tell us how we can help then.¡± Fernan wiped his brow. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯d be happy to.¡±

    Florette stomped on his foot, hard. ¡°At best, you thought Fernan was the cousin of someone who hated you. Depending on how suspicious you were of us, possibly worse than that. Even now, you¡¯re still negotiating, and it¡¯s obvious why: you don¡¯t have anything else to turn to. You need him, a flame sage to¡­ what, break into the Sun Temple? Steal some of their relics?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°I needed someone to be my man on the inside. To tell me what Aurelian is planning so I can counteract it. And when the dust settles, to help steer the Temple¡¯s regency towards peace, rather than retaliatory violence.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed brighter as he opened his mouth, so Florette kicked him again.

    ¡°Then we have demands of our own,¡± she said.

    Camille scoffed. ¡°You are not in a position to demand anything. I could have you thrown in the harborside cells with a snap of my fingers. By morning, you would be nothing but another sacrifice to Levian.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Florette pitched her voice up to sound more casual. ¡°Lock us up. I¡¯m sure you can find another flame sage before your duel.¡± She folded her arms behind her head, leaning back in her own chair as she put her feet up on the table.

    Biting her lip, Camille clenched her fists tightly. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find it reasonable. First of all, Fernan requires a spirit sundial. I have it on good authority that a number of them are lost in the harbor. Recovering them should be trivial for a water sage such as yourself.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± she spat out venomously. ¡°If that is all¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Six thousand florins,¡± Florette added. ¡°Not a half-penny less.¡±

    ¡°Six thousand?¡± Camille chuckled. ¡°Certainly. That will not be an issue. I¡¯ll send it to you after the duel, along with a spirit sundial. I have already gathered them up from the harbor, as it happens, so you can be assured I can provide it.¡±

    ¡®We need more assurance than that.¡± Florette grabbed another two oysters and sucked them down in rapid succession. Why not, when they were probably about to be thrown out? ¡°If you die in the duel, all of this would be for nothing.¡±

    Camille smiled, her eyes narrow. ¡°Then let that be an incentive to uncover whatever Aurelian is planning. My success is your success, Celine.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°Fine then. Call it a deal.¡±

    Fernan narrowed his eyes, though the flame still trailed up past it. ¡°I can agree to that.¡±

    ¡°A deal it is, then.¡± Camille stood up, pushing her chair back in as she did. ¡°Find me at the castle the moment you hear anything useful, Fernan. And you¡±¨C¨Cshe turned to face Florette¨C¨C¡±I would just as soon never see you again.¡±

    ¡°Suits me just fine.¡± Florette smiled. ¡°We should probably be going then. Come on, Fernan, you¡¯ve got a village to save.¡±

 Luce I: The Overseer

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Luce I: The Overseer</h1>

    ¡°Tell me about yourself,¡± Luce began, suppressing a yawn. This was the fourth interview today, and they seemed to be getting longer and duller every time. Many past Overseers of the Tower had delegated staffing to underlings, but it was important to take on only people he could trust.

    Especially in the wake of those plans being stolen from Crescent Isle. If any of the fragments of the Erstwhile Empire on the other continents got their hands on working airships, Cambria would no longer be nearly so insulated and safe. It was alarming enough as it was that Robin Verrou¨C¨Cor some other pirate or traitor¨C¨Chad managed to infiltrate such an isolated and well guarded facility.

    But that was a headache for later. Now, he had a promising, intelligent crop of weapons manufacturers and war machinists to find a polite way to reject. Ideally without causing a diplomatic incident. Perhaps it had been unfair to schedule everyone specializing in those areas for the same day, but his time was valuable, and sorting things into the appropriate groups made them more efficient.

    That was the key, really: organization. With that came punctuality, poise, and everything one might need in their life. Without it, dreadful disorder.

    ¡°You certainly ought to know me, Luce. Is this meant to be some sort of joke?¡± The girl in front of him was only a few years younger, set to graduate from the Cambrian College at the end of the fall term. Her short light brown hair, usually a mangy tumble, had been smoothed down, probably with some kind of oil, framing a face that was fittingly noble, save the slight hook to her nose.

    Luce sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a standard question, Olivia. What you choose to present tells me what you think is important about your education and experience. It tells me how you think you¡¯ll be an asset to the research team here.¡± It was a wonder no one had told her that, but perhaps it hadn¡¯t been thought necessary, given her noble upbringing. Growing up that way tended to ruin people.

    He could certainly understand it, but that did little to address the real issue. ¡°Let¡¯s move on. What can you tell me about your capstone project?¡±

    Olivia nodded. ¡°For the moment, I¡¯m calling it the charged ion device. The intent is that it can collect and harness ions in the air and direct them forward in a stream. It¡¯s like a bolt of lightning, only directed at a place of our choosing. A single firing could eliminate an enemy warship, and strike fear into their hearts. Once it¡¯s complete, it will be second to none in keeping Avalon safe.¡±

    Keeping it safe by annihilating everyone else, maybe. ¡°I see. And what challenges have you encountered in the course of designing it?¡±

    She blinked. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that! If word gets out, the other students will eat me alive. They¡¯re already so jealous of my success, hearing of any issues I¡¯ve had to overcome will only make it worse.¡±

    ¡°You have my word that it won¡¯t leave this room.¡± Luce rolled his eyes. ¡°If you want to be a Tower scientist, I need to know how you approach problems and overcome them. The sort of work we do here is full of false starts and misguided ideas that need to be identified and rectified promptly.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± She stuck out her lip as she said it. ¡°But it¡¯s your head if word gets out.¡±

    Luce snorted. ¡°Good luck with that.¡±

    ¡°A figure of speech, Luce. I¡¯m trying to impress the severity of this before I begin.¡±

    ¡°I went to the college too. I remember how cutthroat it gets. Don¡¯t worry.¡± He leaned back in his chair, an overstuffed indulgence that helped him work late in his office without twisting his spine. The throne of Avalon itself wasn¡¯t half as comfortable. ¡°But please, try to be brief. I¡¯ve asked three questions so far and you¡¯ve only answered one.¡±

    Olivia glared at him. ¡°Power is, as ever, an issue. I¡¯ve experimented with hand cranks and coal engines wired to generators, but the cost in energy and size is far more than the intended scope of the project. Not to mention access to my reference material.¡±

    ¡°The Gauntlet of Eulus?¡± Luce asked. ¡°I seem to remember a story about some distant Williams ancestor killing the evil spirit and harvesting a glove that could do much as you describe.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. But Father says that Baron Williams needs it most of the time for his duties as Binder Dominant, and he¡¯s never been keen on any of this in the first place. In his eyes, it¡¯s enough that he sent me to the college at all.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°In any case, I worked around those limitations, got myself a few hours to draw detailed schematics and perform all of the tests I could manage. As for power, I¡¯m still working through that, but I have the better part of a year to do so. Although¡­ I heard that people here are working on a way to store charge, so that the engine doesn¡¯t always have to be built into the generator for power. If I were to work here, I¡¯m sure I could incorporate the technology into my designs. Some sort of voltaic cell design?¡±

    ¡°I can neither confirm nor deny that.¡± He had a few more questions, but honestly, they seemed fairly unnecessary at this point. Better to jump to the end, more efficient that way. ¡°My final question, then, is this: what motivates you?¡±

    ¡°What motivates me? What kind of¨C¨C¡± She sighed, massaging her temples. ¡°The good of Avalon, of course. You ought to know that feeling better than anyone. It was through invention that Harold I unified us, through our superiority that Harold II drove back the Lyrion barbarians, and Harold III broke the last vestiges of the Erstwhile Empire in the War of the Foxtrap. Our intelligence, our rationality, it makes us leaders to the rest of the world, ready to usher it into the modern age.¡± She paused, looking out the window at the zeppelin docked a few floors below. ¡°But it makes us vulnerable too, in a way. There will always be those resistant to progress, or covetous of our success. They fight us, and we must defend ourselves in turn. That¡¯s what motivates me, Luce. A better world.¡±

    I¡¯m sure everyone in the territories is grateful for the cannonballs shot through their cities, he almost spat back. But it would do no good to antagonize her. This whole thing had been a formality anyway, though a very necessary one given her father¡¯s close relationship with Baron Williams. Rejecting her would be a delicate affair, but he had some time to think about that, at least. None of the students needed to hear from him for a matter of weeks.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said instead. ¡°We will let you know.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± She stood, smoothing out her skirt and gathering her notebooks.

    ¡°Be careful with those,¡± Luce called out as she opened the door, gesturing at her bag. ¡°There¡¯s been some thefts of research materials recently. Everyone ought to be on the lookout.¡±

    Olivia nodded, walking out of the office.

    That¡¯s the last one! Luce pulled out the bottle of aged brandy he kept under his desk and poured himself a small glass. Tomorrow, once he was done with the affairs he needed to settle at the palace, he would be able to interview the promising candidates. The builders, the engineers, the inventors, rather than the destroyers he had saddled himself with today.

    He had perhaps five minutes of reprieve before Sir Julius Arion knocked on his door. As a Tower Administrator and a second-in-command, he was second to none. He also knew better than to bother Luce in a moment such as this unless it were important, however much they might normally dispense with formality.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°What is it, Julius?¡±

    His second opened the door, a concerned look on his wrinkled face. ¡°Prince Harold has summoned you to the palace immediately. He¡¯s returned from his trip to the territories and wishes for a debrief of what has transpired here.¡±

    Luce sighed. That¡¯s sure to be a joy. ¡°I¡¯ll be right there.¡±

    ¡°Shall I prepare the litter, then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll walk. He can wait that long, I¡¯m sure.¡± Luce gathered a few of his notebooks and pulled his coat from the back of his chair. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be back until tomorrow.¡±

    Julius nodded. ¡°Certainly. I¡¯ll supervise the nightly lockdown, then.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Luce stepped out into the central hub of the Tower, a circular path with entrances to each of the rooms like spokes on a wheel. It all wrapped around a central shaft, with a metal cage for the cargo lift supported by metal beams at each floor. Coiled around the center was a single set of stairs, arranged to avoid all of the structural supports, and wide enough to safely fit three people abreast.

    It was still far too little for how many people the Tower housed on a given day, everyone funneled through them at the start and end of work in a painfully slow march to actually get to their offices. All in the name of security.

    Walking up them every day as a show of solidarity with the scientists had started as a trying task, with many breaks along the way, but now it was easy enough, physically. And of course, heading down was trivial.

    Each floor had an area of specialty, in ascending order of required secrecy. Only himself and two handpicked scientists were allowed onto the roof to study the Nocturne Gate there directly, but things opened up greatly as he descended.

    On the ground floor were agricultural and chemical treatments spilling out into the walled gardens beyond, even viewable by the public on occasion. That had been partly out of necessity, since growing things on the balconies of the upper floors would have seen them stripped to nothing by the wind in a heartbeat. Well, other than the plants cultivated specifically for their resiliency, but that was only a small side project for the botany researchers.

    He felt the frigid air of early spring blow across his face as he exited the walled compound and made his way out onto the street. His father had called Ortus Tower ¡°The Monster¡± for the way it loomed over the city, visible even at the northern ends, a column of dark concrete with rings at every floor where the balconies let out. The gate at the top only completed the picture.

    Once he was far enough out from under its shadow, the glossy black circle atop it became visible. It was one of many Nocturne Gates, with three in Cambria alone, but this had been the only one hovering hundreds of feet in the air. Until Harold I had ordered the construction of the Tower to reach it, anyway.

    This whole part of the city, the Mourningside neighborhood in particular, had really sprung up around then, less haphazard than the entirely unplanned oldtown, but nonetheless disorganized and dense. Notably too dense for a rail line through it, which hampered Luce¡¯s traversal a fair bit.

    We need a way to fit stations into neighborhoods like this. Then I wouldn¡¯t be freezing right now. Perhaps some sort of elevated aerial track¡­ Luce made a note in his notebook and then put it back in his coat pocket.

    Despite the cold, it was still a beautiful day, sunny as it could only be before summer began in earnest and the fog rolled in from dawn to dusk. And he needed a moment of peace before facing Prince Harold.

    I was supposed to have another month. What had sent him back so early?

    But then, the purpose of that trip had never been terribly clear to him anyway. If the day were fair, Harold would explain everything himself. But knowing him, there wasn¡¯t much chance of that.

    The sun was beginning to dip over the horizon by the time Luce reached the palace grounds, giving Sunset Heights its signature glow.

    The guards at the first gate parted to allow him through with a bow of their heads, the ones at the doors to the palace following once he reached them.

    Mercifully, Harold was alone when Luce reached him, slouching lazily on the throne of Avalon with a glass of red wine in his hand. With his high cheekbones and dark brown hair, he was the spitting image of his forefather Harold I, whose portrait behind him only emphasized the resemblance. ¡°Luce!¡± he called out, waving his arm. ¡°What took you so long?¡±

    ¡°I was interviewing next year¡¯s graduates from the college for positions in the Tower. Your arrival caught me quite unexpectedly, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Harold shrugged. ¡°I would have thought you had people for that, but I suppose it¡¯s yours to run as you choose.¡±

    ¡°I like to be sure I can trust people I need to work with.¡±

    ¡°Ha! Good thing you don¡¯t have to work with the Grand Council then.¡±

    Luce nodded. ¡°I was never much one for politics.¡±

    ¡°And yet you¡¯ve kept things running here smoothly while Father and I were away. At least, I assume so. Nothing¡¯s burned down, has it?¡± Harold took a sip of his wine.

    ¡°For the most part.¡± With a scowl, Luce removed his planner and flipped back to the day of the theft. ¡°Plans for our airships went missing from the assembly facility on Crescent Isle. We suspect Robin Verrou was responsible, although that has yet to be verified.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± Raising an eyebrow, Harold waved his hands up in the air, somehow managing to avoid spilling any wine in the process. ¡°Weren¡¯t you the one who told me that all the factories only keep plans for what they need to manufacture? The complete diagrams and principles and such are all kept in Ortus Tower, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°And at the assembly facility. Otherwise it would be impossible to put all of the parts together.¡± Luce sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not the full specifications, certainly not as good as anything kept in the Tower, but if it¡¯s sold to the Arboreum or Guerron, it could mean trouble. I take full responsibility.¡±

    Harold stared at him. ¡°You¡¯re ruling wrong if you do. Luce, this is exactly the time to get rid of the Facility Director. It was his responsibility, not yours.¡± He flicked his finger against the palm of his other hand. ¡°If they¡¯d been stolen from the Tower, maybe we¡¯d be having a different conversation, but this? It¡¯s fine. Nothing you could do.¡±

    Luce clenched his fists. ¡°You and Father left me in charge for your trip to the Territories. The Director was still under my command.¡±

    ¡°And Verrou was under Grandfather¡¯s command in the Foxtrap. You didn¡¯t see him blaming himself for that, did you?¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°Father says you¡¯re to be my right hand once I take the throne, as Aunt Elizabeth has been for him. I won¡¯t have you taking the blame for your lessers.¡±

    ¡°If you insist.¡± The point wasn¡¯t one worth arguing, not with Harold. He always managed to get everything he wanted. ¡°And how were the Territories? I assume something must have brought you back early. Is Father with you?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not.¡± Harold shook his head. ¡°He wanted to check in with Governor Perimont and help show Malin our might. Even this far out from the Foxtrap, there are those who would defy us. The plan hasn¡¯t changed. If things go poorly with Guerron, his proximity will be all the more necessary to help keep order. That¡¯s much of why he remains on that continent. That, and he trusts his sons to handle things here, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course. But does he really expect things to get that bad?¡±

    After setting his glass of wine down on the side table next to him, Harold clasped his hands together. ¡°There was an explosion in the harbor. One of the boats was carrying some sort of gunpowder device that wiped out almost every ship there. It¡¯s heating up.¡±

    ¡°What do we know?¡± If it really were an attack on Avalon, things could spiral out of control too rapidly to deal with.

    ¡°Only a few things, as of now, none of them damning on their own. But I dispatched Sir Gerald to investigate, and I¡¯m quite confident in his ability.¡±

    His loyalty, more like. The man was certainly predictable. Luce could say that much, if little else in his favor. That, and that he had found a calling suited to him in his role as an investigator. ¡°We can¡¯t let the Harpies find out about this. Imagine what a frenzy Baron Williams could stir them into if he hears! They¡¯re already itching for another conquest.¡±

    ¡°Word always gets out eventually, Luce. I don¡¯t plan to go around spreading the news myself, but between this and Verrou stealing those plans? Make sure that you¡¯re ready.¡± He gripped the arm of the throne tightly.

    ¡°What of Guerron, then?¡± The remnants of the Fox Empire had fled there, including their young King. If trouble really were brewing, that would be the place it started. ¡°What have you heard?¡±

    ¡°I spoke with a spy called Jethro who managed to make contact with one of the nobles there. Apparently they¡¯re quite divided and disordered, something about their barbaric sacrifices. He didn¡¯t seem to think we had much to worry about, but he¡¯s also had to go to ground in the weeks since.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°And ¡®Magnifico¡¯? Sending him out with such a light guard already seemed like such a pointless risk. If things are truly heating up, it seems all the stupider. I understand why he feels he needs to stay, but surely his time is better spent in the safety of Malin.¡±

    ¡°You know him. He thinks he¡¯s invincible.¡± Harold shrugged. ¡°Obviously, he can¡¯t do too much snooping since he¡¯s there in such a public capacity, but he wanted to negotiate with Duke Fouchand in person.¡±

    ¡°Negotiate?¡± That didn¡¯t sound much like him, at least not when he pulled out his bard disguise.

    ¡°As a starting point,¡± Harold clarified. ¡°He¡¯ll see where things go, of course. No matter what, I¡¯m confident that he¡¯ll advance Avalon¡¯s interests.¡±

    ¡°Well obviously.¡± Luce rolled his eyes. ¡°Still, the last thing we want to do is blunder into a war we could avoid.¡±

    ¡°It may not be an option.¡± Taking a long sip of wine, Harold leaned back on the throne. ¡°The ship that exploded? Its last port of call before Malin was Guerron.¡±

 Fernan V: The Novice

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan V: The Novice</h1>

    ¡°Fernan, would you be so kind as to fetch me some opium wine from the cellar?¡± Adrian Couteau, the older sage to whom Fernan had been assigned, had a powerful warmth to him, radiating out from his thick body in a way even most of the other sun sages didn¡¯t seem to. ¡°I want to make sure we have enough for tonight¡¯s sacrifices.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s going to be more?¡± Fernan blinked. ¡°There¡¯s already been twenty just since I started. Does Guerron even have that many criminals?¡±

    Adrian nodded. ¡°A lot more people live here than your little village, and with the Festival of the Sun, even more have come up and down the Gold Coast to crowd out our inns and make trouble. Not most of them, of course, but the larger the number, the more you¡¯ll have stirring things up at the margins.¡±

    ¡°Still¡­¡± Back in Villechart, Jerome had never even needed to do it at all. There had been an incident with one of the older boys stealing one of Enquin¡¯s goats, but he had simply been disciplined for it, and done a day¡¯s mining for the other village. Nothing on a level that would merit execution.

    ¡°We are moving through faster than usual, I grant you.¡± He scratched at his chin, where the trailing warmth from his face implied a bushy beard. ¡°You can blame Leclaire for that one. Once she started stealing Guerrons away to drown and the Duke let her get away with it, beating her to the rest became imperative.¡±

    ¡°Can you really steal a person, though?¡±

    Adrian¡¯s glow grew a shade darker. ¡°Fernan, these are vile people. Nearly all of them are murderers, if not worse. Granting power to Soleil is the most good they could possibly do with their miserable lives. And when that power is taken by another spirit to whom it doesn¡¯t belong, yes, that¡¯s a theft. Though nothing less than I would expect of Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡±

    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to talk more about this as we work, but first I need that opium wine.¡±

    ¡°Right. Of course. Sorry.¡± Fernan ducked his head as he turned to find the cellars.

    Moving about in the Temple of the Sun was far easier than the outside, with everything bathed in a warm glow. Aside from the color, it was almost like having his eyes back. Although it did make for an unpleasant contrast during the occasional errands he was sent out into the city to run.

    Apparently G¨¦zarde¡¯s lair had a similar effect, with the younger geckos experiencing the same struggle when they ventured outside for the first time. But the cooler areas were already becoming easier to decipher, and that would only continue with practice.

    The cellars were almost the opposite, though, the heat leached out of them through some magical working of a long-dead sage to keep the bottles sufficiently cool, not unlike the way villagers would store meat in the ice during the winter to keep it fresh.

    Fernan had only been here a week, and that had already been enough to see everything ramp up in intensity, the older sages in almost a frenzy to prepare for the festival. Many of them were to compete in the m¨ºl¨¦e tournament, representing their patron spirit in the hopes of inspiring further offerings, and half of the rest were dealing with the influx that it would cause. Fernan barely saw any of the more senior sages, with most of them splitting their time between overseeing the satellite temples in the more populated parts of the city and conferring with Lord Lumi¨¨re.

    And then there was that duel. The Sun Temple was unanimous in its emphasis of the need for victory, to win back the favor with their patron and recover from the loss of face that Lady Leclaire¡¯s treachery had dealt them. Lord Lumi¨¨re was overseeing most of the sacrifices personally, calling upon Soleil to bear witness to his fidelity and grant him the power to claim victory in his name.

    And somehow I ended up stuck in the middle of all of it.

    ¡°You should be happy,¡± Florette had told him, one of the few times that they had managed to meet up since they had been called into Vetain tower. ¡°If the aqua-bitch wins, she gives you what you need, with six thousand florins thrown in. If it¡¯s Lord Asshole instead, you still get what¡¯s most important. Not as quickly, probably, but you¡¯re covered either way.¡±

    ¡°I still wish you hadn¡¯t insisted on those florins,¡± he¡¯d said back. ¡°It only served to antagonize her.¡±

    ¡°It was regrettable,¡± she had admitted. ¡°If I¡¯d known she¡¯d agree so quickly, I could have asked for far more. As it is, I think it was a trivial sum for her. That or she wanted your help that badly, but either way we had a better bargaining position than I accounted for.¡±

    ¡°We?¡±

    With a roll of her eyes, she¡¯d shrugged. ¡°You, then, if you prefer. I¡¯d think you¡¯d be grateful that I secured extra money for you. Moving an entire village won¡¯t be easy, or inexpensive. You can put it all towards that.¡±

    ¡°I guess so. I¡¯m not sure it was worth it.¡±

    That had turned into another argument about lying and ingratitude, where Florette had tried to make thievery and deception seem noble and Fernan had tried to stop himself from throttling her.

    She had apologized for the initial deception, at least, and promised never to involve him a lie again. That was something, even if she¡¯d said it in an exasperated tone and stormed off to find her pirate friends moments later.

    And, as callous as it might be to even think about things this way, he¡¯d already gotten the introduction he¡¯d needed from Magnifico to get into the Sun Temple. If they stole from him now, it would only hurt their consciences and the man himself, not Villechart.

    Suppressing his revulsion at the moral position he¡¯d been forced into, Fernan stepped deeper into the cellars, gripping the handrail tightly as he slowly, one foot at a time, walked into the chilled depths. Once he reached the bottom floor, he made his way to the back corner where his memory told him the opium wine was kept.

    An import from Plagette, it helped to ease the pain of those sacrificed to Soleil, to numb their burden as the flames consumed them. More humane than the alternative, Fernan had to admit, but there was something disturbing about the glassy, vacant eyes of the people tied to the pyres of sacrifice, staring mutely as if accepting their fate.

    It was still almost enough to make him regret ever trying to get the sundial this way. Sickening ¡ª there was no other word for it, treating people like commodities to be exchanged for spiritual power. He knew better than to be too open about that here, though.

    As it was, he was penned in from both sides. Lord Lumi¨¨re demanded his help in this crucial moment, and Lady Leclaire required him to win his confidences, to keep her abreast of what was happening, and to advocate for peace in the aftermath of the duel.

    The last was what he was least hesitant to do, but it seemed almost impossible.

    Florette had told him innumerable tales of the Foxtrap: the heroic last stand of Rosette Debray and her Guerron armies to hold the north wall as the Prince escaped; the sage of Levian devastating the entire Avalon fleet, sacrificing her life for the power to do it; and, most often, Robin Verrou turning his coat and plundering Lyrion while Avalon was still reeling from the death of its King.

    The way the stories went, it seemed as if the Empire were coordinated and unified, standing strong against the foreign invaders.

    But the Sun Temple seemed to hate the Malins even more than Avalon. Every day there was another quip about fox cubs not knowing their place, or the barbarity of Levian¡¯s drownings. They were intruders, thieves, murderers, and worst of all, usurpers. Even Adrian, who had been largely genial and helpful, had not a kind word to say about them.

    Most of the bile was directed at Lady Leclaire personally, though. It was she who had stolen the harbor robber for Levian, she who manipulated the King and Duke alike, as puppets dancing to her strings. ¡°Once Lord Lumi¨¨re prevails,¡± Adrian had said, ¡°that will chasten them enough to back down. It¡¯s the best way forward.¡±

    Fernan was trapped from every angle, struggling for air underneath the weight of Leclaire and Lumi¨¨re, essentially alone. His companions wanted to help, but Florette seemed determined to make things worse by stirring up trouble, and Mara had little understanding of human society, and couldn¡¯t be told too much about the plan besides. As far as she was concerned, they ought to just burn it all down and take what they needed. All he could do was keep following the path and hope it would see him through to the other side with his village intact.

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    Without any way to read the labels, Fernan had to run his hands across the bottle until he found the long-necked shape of the opium wine, with its bulbous base. As his fingers closed around it, he saw a four-foot pillar of glowing flame behind the rack, smaller both in stature and warmth than any of the sun sages.

    ¡°Aubaine?¡± he called out, suspecting he knew who it was. As he made his way around the shelf, the glow stopped moving. ¡°I know you¡¯re there.¡±

    The child slumped his shoulders. ¡°You can¡¯t tell Father.¡±

    Fernan sighed. ¡°What are you even doing down here? All of these drinks are for adults.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going on a vision quest!¡± Aubaine thrust the bottle in his hands into the air, the warmth from his hands slowly creeping around the edges of it.

    ¡°Is that marigold wine?¡± Sages would take it for visions on occasion, glimpsing truths past and present, in maddeningly vague and useless metaphorical forms, according to Adrian. He and Mara seemed to independently agree that one was better off not bothering to delve into them, but some of the other Sun sages swore by it, Lord Lumi¨¨re included. ¡°It¡¯s not for children.¡±

    ¡°Nuh-uh! Father said that I¡¯d become a sage just like him! That means I get to do it too.¡± The boy clutched it tightly to his chest. ¡°Only¡­ I can¡¯t open it. Help?¡±

    Fernan snorted, setting his opium wine down beside him. ¡°Sure, just hand it to me.¡± The moment he passed it over, Fernan reached for an empty spot on a top shelf with one hand, his other placing the bottle there it up once he did.

    ¡°You¡¯re mean!¡± Aubaine jumped up to try to grab it again, to no avail.

    ¡°Just come with me, and I¡¯ll show you something special later.¡±

    The child bit his lip. ¡°Promise?¡±

    ¡°I promise.¡± Fernan grabbed his hand, the opium wine still grasped in his other. ¡°But first we have to go back upstairs.¡±

    Finding his way back up was actually easier with Aubaine, the boy tugging forward and showing him the path without the need to focus to find the walls in the cold cellar. He did bump into one of the shelves, but they were sturdy enough that it wasn¡¯t much of an issue, and that sort of thing tended to happen often enough normally.

    Lord Lumi¨¨re was glowing even brighter with concern once they exited the cellar. ¡°Aubaine!¡±

    ¡°Right here, my lord.¡± Fernan waved the boy towards his father.

    The Sun sage¡¯s warmth settled slightly at the sight of his son running towards him. In a smooth motion, he scooped him up into his arms. ¡°Where were you?¡±

    ¡°He was in the cellars, just trying to get out of the heat for a moment.¡± Fernan winked at Aubaine. ¡°I was there myself; it was nothing untoward.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re exhaled sharply. ¡°He was meant to be in lessons right now. Protected by his personal guard, no less. How did you find him, Fernan?¡±

    ¡°Simply coincidence, my lord. Adrian wanted me to grab opium wine for the sacrifices tonight.¡±

    ¡°Is that how you got those glowy eyes?¡± Aubaine reached his hands out towards Fernan. ¡°Father, I want glowing eyes too. Why didn¡¯t Soleil give them to you? Can he give them to me? Ooh, and¨C¨C¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t run off again,¡± Lumi¨¨re interrupted. ¡°Things are very precarious right now. It¡¯s vital that you stay safe. Do you understand?¡±

    Aubaine nodded glumly.

    ¡°Trust me, they¡¯re not worth it,¡± Fernan added.

    ¡°Your tutor is waiting.¡± Lord Lumi¨¨re set the child back down. ¡°Can I trust you to go back to him, or do I need to send someone to make sure you get there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡± Aubaine sighed. ¡°But Fernan said he was going to show me something amazing. Can¡¯t I see that first?¡±

    ¡°After your lessons.¡± Fernan smiled. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s not going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± He still sounded disappointed, but he took off in the direction of his chambers, where his tutor was no doubt waiting.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Lumi¨¨re. ¡°Now of all times, it¡¯s vital that he stays within the safety of the Temple. He is more important than anything.¡±

    ¡°Even Soleil?¡± It slipped out before Fernan had a chance to realize what an inappropriate question it was.

    Lumi¨¨re sighed. ¡°That¡¯s a complicated question, Fernan. I have a duty to my acolytes, the sages underneath me, and to the people of Guerron. Soleil is the means by which I fulfil it, and there is no changing that. But he is not an end in and of itself. I¡¯ve seen too many sages forget that, reaching for spiritual power above all else. But there are other things of value in life. Family, in my estimation, will always be first among them.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you would. You¡¯ve suffered more under your spirit patron than any acolyte I¡¯ve ever trained.¡±

    ¡°I¨C¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, Fernan. I¡¯ve seen the way you blunder about, the way that certain expressions completely pass you by. I don¡¯t know what, exactly, but your flame spirit has taken something from you. Something precious, in exchange for his patronage.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°I don¡¯t profess to know much of your provincial life, but I can understand that much. Thank you for finding my son. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Magnifico.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Fernan nodded. ¡°Please give him my best.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re nodded as he walked off towards the back door of the Sun Temple, the one that led out to the steep mountainside behind it.

    ¡°Did you go all the way to Plagette for that?¡± Adrian asked as Fernan returned. ¡°Pick the poppies yourself?¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Fernan handed him the bottle. ¡°It¡¯s hard to find my way around, down there.¡±

    ¡°Oh fuck.¡± Adrian put his hand over his face. ¡°Soleil¡¯s grace, I forgot about that. You have my apologies.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He was more than used to it by this point, at any rate. ¡°I probably would have been late anyway. Had to stop to talk with Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Adrian stroked his chin. ¡°I¡¯m surprised he found the time. Don¡¯t take it too seriously if he was terse. This is a very stressful time for him, with Camille Leclaire out to ruin us.¡±

    ¡°He was quite polite, actually. Almost nothing like the first time I met him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Aurelian.¡± The older sage chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re on his team or you aren¡¯t. I¡¯m not surprised he took more kindly to you once you started helping out here. It¡¯s good, means you¡¯re working your way up.¡± He glowed brighter, the outline of his face stretching into what Fernan had come to realize was a smile. ¡°Plus, I might have mentioned what a hard worker you are.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± That made a certain amount of sense, but it still didn¡¯t present a particularly warm picture of the High Priest. It didn¡¯t take much effort to be kind to people already under your thumb. ¡°Is there anything else you need today, or should I just come back tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°We got a rube wandering in who didn¡¯t know about the satellite temples. Just get his offering taken care of, and you can head home.¡±

    Fernan nodded, silently thanking Soleil that he wouldn¡¯t be needed for the executions themselves. Adrian seemed to have caught on to his reluctance there, but some nights they had simply needed the extra hands regardless.

    Mara fell into step at his side as he returned to the entrance, apparently having finished hunting for the day.

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse!¡± The glowing figure at the door was enormous, tall and thick, and bright with fear. ¡°Kill it!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s my familiar,¡± Fernan reassured the man. ¡°Perfectly harmless, as long as you leave her alone. Now if you¡¯ll follow me, I can send your offering to Soleil.¡±

    The large man stared mutely for a moment, flicking his head back and forth between him and Mara. ¡°You¡¯re that Villechart boy, aren¡¯t you? Florette¡¯s friend.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°Gaspard?¡± One of the last people he¡¯d ever properly seen, annoyingly enough. This was the boy who had been sparring with Florette in front of The First Post, what already felt like a lifetime ago.

    Gaspard thumped his fist against his chest. ¡°You got that right. What¡¯s wrong with your face?¡±

    ¡°I love answering that question, especially since I get it so rarely.¡± Narrowing his eyes, Fernan started leading the way to the altar. ¡°It¡¯s a complicated story. Suffice it to say that I¡¯m basically alright, now. And my name is Fernan.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Gaspard pulled out a bouquet of incense and placed it at the foot of the Soleil statue Fernan had chosen, in the stone basin carved out to fit the offerings. This statue was the one where the spirit cradled an infant in his arms, which had seemed appropriate, given the day¡¯s events. ¡°Is Florette alright? We know she went up with you, but then she didn¡¯t come back. Thought she might have stayed back in Enquin, but it didn¡¯t seem much like her.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s fine. Better than I am¨C¨Cnone of this.¡± He waved his hand in front of his face. ¡°She¡¯s here too.¡±

    ¡°Knew it. She wouldn¡¯t shut up about that tournament for weeks before we even left.¡± He looked down at the altar. ¡°So how does this work? Do you say some magic words or something? Do you have to get one of the sages?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Fernan shook his head, pointing a finger down at the incense. Drawing on the stores of G¨¦zard¡¯s energy he felt inside him, he pushed out the warmth from his chest through into his arm, then out into the air. As he did, a jet of green flame spat out of his finger, covering the incense. ¡°Great Spirit Soleil, Lord of the Sun, Father of the Moon, patron of my patron, I present you this offering. May you receive it well in your skyward abode, and may you recognize G¨¦zarde, whose sage presents it to you.¡±

    Every word had to be just perfect, or the spirit could anger. Fernan had adapted them from what some of the other lesser flame sages used, substituting G¨¦zarde for Flammare or Phoenicia or whomever was their patron. In a few hours, the power would trickle down through G¨¦zarde and into Fernan¡¯s reserves, filling him with more flame to dispense as he desired.

    Gaspard tilted his head back as the remnants of the incense disappeared into the air, not a trace of it left in the offering basin save the faintest of scorch marks. ¡°Wow.¡±

    ¡°Mind telling me where you and the other Enquin people are staying? Florette might want to meet up with you, or something.¡±

    ¡°Nah, she won¡¯t.¡± Gaspard snorted. ¡°Second the tournament¡¯s over, she¡¯ll be on a ship somewhere, if she isn¡¯t already. Nothing¡¯s as important to her as that.¡±

    ¡°Just in case?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Sure. We¡¯re at an inn on the southwest end of town, against the western wall. It¡¯s called Inn Good Company.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Fernan began walking back to the entrance, Gaspard following behind him.

    As they reached it, a deafening crack split the air, ringing through the temple.

    Gaspard jumped. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Spiritual magic,¡± Fernan responded. ¡°You hear it a few times a day here, with all the preparations for the tournament. Nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± He folded his arms.

    ¡°It¡¯s easy to get used to it.¡± Fernan shrugged. ¡°And just so you know, there¡¯s a smaller temple near your inn, for the future. This one isn¡¯t really meant to be open to the public right now.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± He looked up at the glass roof. ¡°Shame. It¡¯s a cool spot.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Anyway, see you around, Fernan. Tell Florette I¡¯m ready to kick her ass again, if you see her.¡±

    Fernan rolled his eyes as he ushered the boy out.

    What a strange reminder that was. He¡¯d completely forgotten that the other Enquin villagers were even coming here, after everything that had happened.

    But now he was done with his duties to the Sun Temple for today.

    Another crack rang out as he stepped out into the sunlight of the Spirit Quartier and began walking back. It was time to give his report to Camille.

 Camille VI: The Planner

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille VI: The Planner</h1>

    The days were growing longer, Camille knew, but it felt like there was less and less time with each dawn that arrived.

    Between training with Lucien, overseeing the sacrifices, managing the offerings at the Temple, and planning for the aftermath of the duel, her only moments of reprieve were spent asleep. And thanks to the help of a bountiful supply of pixie powder, that had been growing shorter as well; she was unable to justify spending any more time in bed than absolutely necessary.

    Not to mention handling her informant in the Sun Temple.

    As ill-mannered and boorish as Fernan¡¯s friend had been in the initial meeting, the boy was proving pliable enough in his own way. Reliable too, if not particularly enthusiastic. And his utility after the duel was still very much in question given his junior position with the Sun sages. Still, six thousand florins and a sundial were a small price to pay for a set of eyes on the inside.

    ¡°You are certain no one saw you?¡± Camille blinked the fatigue out of her eyes. ¡°Your appearance is quite conspicuous.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Fernan drummed his fingers on the table between them. ¡°No one followed me out of the Temple, and I made sure that no one was around before climbing the gate. It¡¯s strange how sparse the Spirit Quartier is, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly.¡± Camille leaned back in her chair. ¡°The people here are sages and their households. Most of the lower sages and acolytes have quarters at their temples, and those who don¡¯t make perhaps one trip between the two per day. Not to mention how much fewer people there are in the first place.¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°It¡¯s kind of nice. Hard to find time to be alone in the city. What is this building, though?¡± He gestured his arm around at the dilapidated surroundings. Paint peeled from the walls, scratches and tracks from vermin crisscrossed the wooden floor, and the grounds outside were wildly overgrown from lack of use.

    ¡°A Temple to Lunette, the Moon spirit, and an estate for her sages. Duke Fouchand established it here for diplomatic purposes, to engender friendship with the Delunes of Ombresse.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°When Ombresse was besieged, Duke Delune refused to yield for the better part of a year. As the city starved, he feasted in his palace, all the while singing the praises of those defending his city.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think Fl¨C¨CI think someone told me about this. They ate him, right?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± Camille shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve heard all sorts of things about the fall of Malin that I know are just exaggerations and rumors, spread because the story is more appealing than the truth.¡±

    ¡°Did King Harold really call down a bolt of lightning to break the northern walls?¡±

    Camille frowned. ¡°No, but he may as well have. It was one of their contraptions, launching metal balls fast and hard enough to make them crumble. And the sound¡­ It is not for nothing that people compare it to thunder.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± He tapped his fingers against the table. ¡°So what happened in Ombresse then?¡±

    ¡°The peasants did pull him from his horse during a procession, and threw open the gates to Avalon. No one found his body afterwards. He was fat, Fouchand tells me, but I imagine the only ones he fed were the cats and dogs. With the gates opened, the grain could flow again.¡±

    The fire in the boy¡¯s eyes narrowed as he leaned back. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Regardless, we will not be disturbed here, provided you did not lead anyone to it.¡± She placed her arms on the table, leaning forward.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± He flicked his head back and forth. ¡°And I don¡¯t see anyone now, either.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± It certainly seemed a useful ability, tracking heat through all manner of obstruction and far into the distance, with his flaming eyes cultivating a fearsome image to match. But people so changed by the spirits always paid a price for it, usually far more than the boon was worth. Not for nothing had all of the sages alive in Guerron refrained from seeking permanent alterations like this, nor any of the Leclaires in the last two hundred years. From what he had said, Fernan was no exception. ¡°What do you have for me, then?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re maintains the utmost confidence in his victory, an opinion shared by the other sages. No one¡¯s even discussed the possibility of him losing, or what things would look like afterwards if he did.¡±

    ¡°And the boy?¡±

    ¡°Aubaine?¡± Fernan smiled. ¡°He¡¯s cute. Adventurous little guy, too. I caught him today in the cellar trying to steal wine so he could go on a vision quest. Lord Lumi¨¨re was not happy about it.¡± The flames in his eyes dampened down, flickering as they did. ¡°Nothing¡¯s going to happen to him, right? He didn¡¯t do anything wrong.¡±

    Interesting.

    ¡°You have my word,¡± Camille assured him. ¡°My quarrel is with the father, not the son. But if little Aubaine has taken a liking to you, that could be very fortuitous indeed. Do what you can to further win his affections.¡± Even if Fernan were excluded from any formal regency, a lowly sage of a lesser spirit, a personal relationship with the soon-to-be child lord would be invaluable at arranging a peace.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to show him Mara later. Promised I¡¯d do it after his lessons.¡± He frowned. ¡°It feels so calculated though, putting it like that.¡±

    ¡°Peace will be best for him too, Fernan. And Aurelian has made it plain that it cannot exist as long as he lives. Aubaine, however¡­ He is young enough that his father¡¯s hatred has not yet had time to set, nor is he even yet a sage of Soleil.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°Was that in question? He¡¯s six.¡±

    ¡°I was seven when I made my pact with Levian. Exceptional though I was, this sort of thing is not unheard of, especially in times of great trial. Lumi¨¨re may even initiate him into it before the duel, as a means of winning even in defeat.¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°If there is anything at all you can do to forestall that, I prevail upon you to do so. Your reward will increase commensurate with the extra effort. Failing that, at least make it known to me as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± His mouth twisted to the side. ¡°I really doubt it though. He told me that family is more valuable to him than spiritual power. I don¡¯t know Soleil, but if he¡¯s anything like G¨¦zarde, I would be shocked to see Lumi¨¨re push Aubaine into a spirit contract before he was an adult.¡±

    Camille smiled. ¡°Your patron is not unusual in that regard. There is not a sage alive who has not at least once narrowly avoided their spirit claiming their soul for eternal torment. For most, the moment of greatest danger lies in the initial forming of the contract, but the risk ever remains.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°Of course, he would want to present a positive image of himself to you. I would not absolve him of suspicion, nor lower your guard. Even if he truly does value the boy above his own power, he will not settle for any situation without both. He has some plan for this duel; I am absolutely sure of it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I really don¡¯t know about that.¡± Fernan tapped his finger against his hand. ¡°They¡¯ve been sacrificing more and more people all the time, building up spiritual power that way, and Lord Lumi¨¨re has been practicing some great burst of spirit magic in turn. A few times every day we¡¯ll hear it, a loud crack ringing through the air.¡±

    ¡°Practicing?¡± Camille blinked. This was beginning to fall into place. ¡°Of course. Thank you, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure. Happy to help.¡±

    ¡°I should hope so.¡± She reached into the purse hanging from her belt, pulling out a large handful of coins and tossing them onto the table in front of her. ¡°Here. This is around four hundred florins. Consider it an advance, for services already rendered.¡±

    Fernan raised his eyebrows, bewildered at the gratitude and respect she was showing him. ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡± These lesser sages made it so easy.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°That will be all.¡± Camille stood, pushing her rickety chair under the scratched table. ¡°I expect you here again at the same time two days from now.¡±

    ¡°That soon? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have anything new to report.¡±

    ¡°Find something.¡± She turned and walked through the doorway, leaving the ruins of the dining room to enter the main hall. ¡°And wait a few minutes to leave, so there¡¯s no risk of us being seen together on the street.¡±

    Not waiting to hear his confirmation, she made her way down the hall, to the servants¡¯ entrance at the back. There, her horse was saddled and ready, tied to a gate well-hidden by overgrown hedges. After a thorough examination ensured that no one was around to see it, she led it out the back gate and mounted it.

    Her mind was racing the entire way back, examining the implications of what the young sage had gleaned from the Sun Temple. What it meant, and how she could counter it.

    It was perhaps not enough to fully explain Lumi¨¨re¡¯s confidence, though given his arrogance that was still a possibility, but it did fill in a key gap in her knowledge.

    ¡°It¡¯s just like you said!¡± Camille yelled to Lucien when she arrived at the top of the hill in Villemalin, the large palace tent catching the light of the sun.

    ¡°That seems reasonable.¡± Lucien¡¯s hair was matted with sweat, his armor still strapped in place from sparring with Christine, although the master of arms did not appear to be present. ¡°What is it that I said though?¡±

    She snorted, dismounting from her horse. ¡°Practice.¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course.¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Now it all makes sense.¡±

    Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°You talked about how sages¡¯ most powerful expressions of power are often poorly utilized and untrained, since practicing with them is generally a colossal waste of spirit energy. But that¡¯s what Lumi¨¨re is doing: instead of stockpiling everything, he¡¯s training with his most powerful abilities to ensure he can win the duel.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound much like him,¡± Lucien noted, sliding his sword back into its scabbard. ¡°He was the worst about firing off a beam of light and hoping it would do the trick. I only had to evade two before I closed the distance and put my blade to his neck. Never wanted to spar with me again, either.¡±

    ¡°He must have learned from it.¡± Camille shrugged. ¡°Or one of the other sages at the Temple advised him to. In any case, now I have an inkling as to the origin of his overwhelming confidence.¡±

    Lucien scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s just ego. We already knew all that. He doesn¡¯t have a plan for losing because he can¡¯t conceive of the idea. It doesn¡¯t mean he has a master plan.¡±

    She glared. ¡°Take this seriously. It¡¯s fifty of your people in Soleil¡¯s clutches if he bests me, and I¡¯ll be dead besides. I want to believe that he¡¯s just an idiot grasping for power, but I cannot afford to assume it.¡±

    ¡°No, of course.¡± He wiped sweat from his forehead, looking appropriately ashamed. ¡°I just mean, think about who he is. If he has some master plan to win, it¡¯s probably overwhelming you with pure power. That¡¯s why he¡¯s sacrificing so many people already.¡±

    ¡°That is likely,¡± Camille admitted. ¡°It would make victory a matter of finesse. Evading until he drains himself of power could be impossible, especially if he were willing to tap into his own life.¡±

    ¡°Which he would be.¡±

    ¡°Which he would be,¡± she agreed. ¡°Khali¡¯s curse! Why did he have to insist on this?¡±

    Lucien shrugged. ¡°He¡¯s wanted my people gone as long as we¡¯ve been here.¡±

    Camille snarled. ¡°He is too stupid to realize that retaking Malin is the best way for all of us to be free of this putrid city and gone from his presence. Why could he not simply cooperate?¡±

    ¡°Have you asked him?¡±

    ¡°Of course I have!¡± She waved her hands for emphasis. ¡°He said that it would not solve the core problem and then insulted me. There is no way to get through to him.¡± Although, if he truly showed the affection for his son that Fernan implied¡­ ¡°We would have to force him to the negotiating table.¡±

    ¡°If Fouchand couldn¡¯t do it, I don¡¯t see why you could, Camille. Just kill him and be done with it.¡± Lucien placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°We have to be unified in the face of Avalon. People like him, we¡¯re better off without.¡±

    ¡°I know. I¡¯m only worried that I¡¯m missing something.¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°If something goes wrong, promise me that you¡¯ll kill him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m offended that you would even ask.¡± He placed his hand over his heart. ¡°No matter what happens, Aurelian is a dead man. If he wanted to live, he had many chances to stop antagonizing us.¡±

    She nodded firmly, grabbing his hand in her own. ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°But you¡¯re going to win.¡± His green eyes caught the light to almost twinkle. ¡°I believe in you.¡±

    If only that were enough. It was so impossible to be sure of anything. In the council chambers, Lumi¨¨re was just a moronic bully, easily outwitted. But in a duel? Where his spiritual might could potentially be sufficient to overcome all of her efforts in one fell swoop?

    She needed more. More preparations, more information, more anything. There had to be something she was missing, and she would find it before the duel began.

    Forcing a smile, she let go and stepped back. ¡°You keep marigold wine in there, right?¡± She pointed at the palatial tent behind him. ¡°I need all the information I can get.¡±

    ¡°A vision quest?¡± Lucien raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡±

    ¡°We trained at dawn, I helped Annette in town with preparations, and I¡¯ve obtained the day¡¯s information on the Sun Temple. I do not believe there is a better use of my time, at the moment.¡±

    It was, in fact, a rare moment of reprieve, largely due to the fact that she had set aside far more time for the meeting with Fernan than had turned out to be necessary. ¡°I will not waste it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not really what I meant.¡± He shifted his eyes to the side. ¡°Maybe take a nap, or something like that. Not to mention the danger of misinterpreting things.¡±

    ¡°I know better than to go mad chasing prophecy, or running from reality.¡± She stared him down. ¡°Lumi¨¨re¡¯s got his six year old doing it. I cannot fall behind. If there is any insight that can help me see through his plan, or work around his power¡­¡±

    He nodded reluctantly. ¡°It¡¯s in the storeroom. You¡¯ll drink it somewhere safe, right?¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Rolling her eyes, she began walking into the tent. ¡°This is nothing new.¡±

    By the time she had the bottle in hand and had traveled back to the empty stretch of beach north of Vetain Tower, the sun was beginning to dip into the water, casting rays of orange and red across the sky. The waves crashed against the rocks, droplets splashing onto her face.

    History was rife with stories of sages misinterpreting the often-metaphorical or inapplicable visions that the appropriate substances could induce, but with the right expenditure of power, nothing would be inaccurate, even if it were maddeningly obtuse or misleading.

    This was a calculated risk, but lack of knowledge was her greatest source of anxiety about this. Any insights into Lumi¨¨re¡¯s plan could mean the difference between a pathetic, shameful death, and glorious victory.

    Camille gazed out over the ocean as she uncorked the bottle. Taking a deep breath, she tossed it back.

    The taste was sweet, clinging to her throat like honey, but far smoother than even that. Pleasant, rather than sickly.

    This was the moment where the festival louts would stop, most of them not even sages, then claim that their hallucinations were indications of some greater truth. But they did not have access to the power that she did.

    Channeling her spiritual energy into the water in front of her, Camille let loose a pulse through the waves, flattening the water into a disc in front of her. She relaxed her control, allowing the impulses of the energy to guide her shaping of the water, small ridges elevating out of the circle to form shapes that seemed to come alive.

    The rest of the world narrowed to nothing but that small point in front of her, pulsating like a beating heart, filled with the energy of the world. The disk began to fill with color, sprays of pink and green and red splashing across it, blurring together and spreading apart as her fingers danced across it.

    As she moved her hands, the colors began to coalesce, deep reds and oranges lining the outside, with a bright yellow circle in the center. Points grew out of the top of the circle as the bright yellow faded to beige, until it took on the appearance of a cat¡¯s face, submerged under the water. Flicking her wrist, a purple cloak emerged from beneath, smothering the cat until none of it remained, a yawning void in the center of the reds and oranges.

    Camille tried to focus the images into something more concrete, willing the thought into being as she expended more energy. The purple cloak grew and shifted, dancing and swaying as it did, until the figure of a jester filled the frame, a golden crown sitting atop his head. He clasped his hands together, and an explosion of light erupted from him, consuming the entire image.

    Once the light faded, a massive glass tower remained in the center, a flailing boy tumbling from it into a darkened gate. Once he passed through, the tower shifted to dark stone, rings around the side, with a crackling black circle at the top that slowly grew until it filled the frame again.

    Then the glass towers were everywhere, shimmering in the light of the sun even as it was eclipsed by darkness, throwing them back into shadow.

    She saw a dark green serpent riding the crest of a wave with a sense of warm familiarity, dashing a scrap of purple cloth against the rocks at the shore but disappearing itself into the depths of the water.

    Focus.

    With a final burst of power, she sought out clarity, presence. And that, she found. The images grew crisper, more real, changing faster and faster until they seemed to outpace the movements of her hands.

    Duke Fouchand, holding out his hand to a skeleton in a black coat that reached past his knees.

    A man in a paper crown, dipping his head to a flaming lizard before devouring it whole.

    A fox, gnawing off its leg to escape an iron trap.

    A raven, flying after a woman without reaching her.

    And Lucien, staring into her soul with his bright green eyes. She reached out to him, but a bolt of lightning struck between them, sending her scrambling back. When she looked up, the sky was free of clouds, only the sun remaining, fading every so gradually into darkness.

    By the time she felt normal again, the moon shone bright above the water, casting a shadow behind the tower onto the sand. It felt as if only minutes had passed, but she knew better.

    The fatigue filled her again, stronger than before, but she could not sleep yet. Before the images faded, she needed to parse them out, and find the meaning within them.

    Metaphors, events happening far away, or deep in the past. Never foretelling the future, as some sages had gone mad believing, but they were always significant in some way. And they were always true.

    Given what she had seen, that was scant comfort.

 Florette VI: The Amateur

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette VI: The Amateur</h1>

    ¡°It¡¯s a tough situation.¡± Magnifico took a sip from his glass of single malt. ¡°And honestly, a big part of me agrees with you. If I were in his shoes? I wouldn¡¯t rest easy until that fucking spirit was dead.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t kill a spirit.¡± Florette narrowed her eyes.

    The bard shook his head. ¡°Binders can. That¡¯s the source of¡­ of their power. Cultists and sages have to borrow and bargain for slivers, but a skilled binder can harvest artifacts from spirits they slay, to wield the spirits¡¯ own power against them.¡±

    ¡°Unless they¡¯re taken away, or knocked out of their hands, or stolen¡­¡± She held up her fingers one by one.

    ¡°It¡¯s not foolproof, but it was sufficient to ensure that few of them plague our lands anymore, and most that remain have been sufficiently cowed to leave humanity alone.¡± He shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s all beside the point. Mara is Fernan¡¯s to seek vengeance against or forgive, and he¡¯s chosen the latter. It¡¯s out of your hands.¡±

    She¡¯s probably killed people from my village too. Florette sighed. ¡°I know. I¡¯m just worried.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°He reminds me of my youngest son. Always eager to take responsibility, to seek the path of the least strife. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll both find their footing eventually, even if it takes a bit of a push.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°You have children? Being a bard doesn¡¯t seem like a very parental job.¡± And being a spy is even less of one.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a parental person, in all honesty.¡± He took another sip of brandy, wobbling his head slightly as he did. ¡°My advice? Don¡¯t. They overcomplicate everything. There are these rare moments of pure joy, far outweighed by the extreme disappointment. The last time I talked to my oldest practically killed me, and I couldn¡¯t say what happened to him since then.¡±

    ¡°He ran away?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly. It¡¯s¡ª¡± He massaged his temples as he sipped with the other. ¡°I¡¯m to blame for much of it, of course. People tell you that you ought to have children, that it¡¯s your duty. And you love your wife, and it¡¯s expected of you, so you go along with it. But it was never really the right fit. You don¡¯t feel like a parent, so you don¡¯t act like one, or you try and lose yourself without even succeeding, and then one day you wake up and realize that you can¡¯t even recognize them.¡± He scratched the back of his neck. ¡°There¡¯s a reason I¡¯m away as often as I am, when I could so easily be doing enough good back home. Easier for everyone, this way.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Florette held her glass up to her lips without opening them, miming a sip.

    ¡°If it¡¯s really what you want from life, it¡¯s probably fine. Just don¡¯t let yourself get pushed into anything, or it¡¯ll be a disaster for everyone involved.¡± He stood from his chair, gripping the bannister to steady himself. ¡°I should probably head in. Let me know if anything comes up with Fernan. Lord Lumiere is a friend.¡±

    ¡°I will. And thank you.¡± She clenched her fist under the table as she prepared the next lie. ¡°Sorry again, about the attitude before.¡±

    Magnifico shrugged as he stumbled into the hallway, waving her away behind him.

    Florette made her own exit as soon as he passed out of sight, not eager to be stuck with the now-considerable tab. She nodded to the guard at the base of the staircase as she passed him, the thumping music growing louder as she passed by the box. The Singer¡¯s Lounge only really seemed to close in the morning, from a few hours before sunrise until they opened again for lunch, although the atmosphere varied wildly depending on the time of day.

    ¡°Well?¡± Eloise was leaning against the wall a little ways outside the door, her arms folded against her chest.

    ¡°Nothing major.¡± Florette lifted her view to look her in the eyes. ¡°I think any rough feelings are mended, at any rate. He was going on about his children, drinking a lot. They definitely keep the pulsebox out in the front even after he goes to bed though.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s hardly nothing.¡± She pushed off the wall, starting to walk south. ¡°See? That¡¯s what you get by being a bit friendlier¡±

    Florette snorted, walking after her. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, there. Seems to me it¡¯s a lesson you haven¡¯t exactly internalized.¡±

    ¡°No need.¡± Her thin lips curled into a smile. ¡°I have people for that.¡±

    ¡°Me, you mean.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°At the moment. Other times it¡¯ll be someone else from the crew, or Captain Verrou. Sometimes a random dupe, but then you have to be nice enough to entice them, and it¡¯s a whole different hassle.¡±

    ¡°Lots of experience enticing random dupes?¡± Florette exaggeratedly raised her eyebrows.

    ¡°You¡¯re here, aren¡¯t you?¡± Her tone was flat, an affect that Florette had come to recognize was used for deadpan humor. Probably.

    ¡°Still, seems like I¡¯d be the worst choice. Anyone else and you wouldn¡¯t have had to replace the brandy, or hope they¡¯d accept my apology.¡±

    ¡°No one else had the in with Magnifico. That¡¯s worth far more than a bottle of brandy, especially one I grabbed back in Cambria for a fraction of the price here.¡± She flicked her eyes over to Florette. ¡°I¡¯m telling you this in the hopes that you can avoid another ridiculous situation entirely of your own making.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on! The Leclaire thing again? I didn¡¯t want to mess things up for Fernan.¡±

    Eloise chuckled, shaking her head back and forth. ¡°Six thousand¡­ You might as well have bent over to kiss her feet if you were so devoted to the idea of making a fool of yourself. And you said you were the servant but did all the talking?¡± Her body shook. ¡°I mean, not running from the guards was bad enough, but how the fuck did you expect that to work?¡±

    ¡°We have been over this.¡± Florette stared at her with narrowed eyes.

    Inhaling as she settled down, Eloise pointed to the right when they walked through the south gate. ¡°Clearly, you need the reminder. I, for instance, never once made a mistake even when I was new as you are.¡±

    ¡°Would you stop?¡±

    ¡°If you stop acting like you know how all of this works because you swiped a single bottle of brandy in a fit of pique.¡± As they passed around the tower, a thin strip of land led back up the coast on the other side of the wall, water lapping over it with every wave.

    Florette hesitated, turning back to look at the beach they were leaving behind.

    ¡°You¡¯re right to be worried; giant sea serpents kill forty people here every month.¡± Eloise rolled her eyes, grabbing Florette by the wrist and marching her along the path. ¡°Look, it¡¯ll be fine. You know how to swim, right? And I¡¯ll be there if anything goes wrong, to laugh at your misfortune. ¡±

    Following behind as her palm grew clammy, Florette supplied a nervous chuckle. ¡°Just never dived this deep before. Even in Spring, the streams were only dangerous because of the current.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just like the rest of life: all you have to do is follow me.¡± Eloise slipped her notebook between the rocks of the wall a few feet above the ground, deep enough that it was out of sight. After a deep breath, she took a running jump into the ocean.

    Florette jumped after her, the spray of the waves hitting her face as the scent of salt filled her nostrils. There was no room for conversation above the roaring of the wind and waves, only the methodical progress towards the destination that would make all of this worth it.

    ¡°Here!¡± Eloise shouted at last, loud enough to be heard.

    Florette sank underneath the water for a moment, cracking her eyes open despite the slight stinging feeling. The ship looked deeper than she might have hoped, though the pocket of air around it stretched all the way up to encompass the mast. She took a deep breath and held it, then nodded.

    Eloise grabbed her hand again, pulling her down beside her as the two of them sank below. Once the ship was in front of them, she released the grip and began paddling forward.

    Florette¡¯s arms and legs began to ache as she got closer, burning all the harder as Eloise swam farther and farther ahead. It wasn¡¯t long before her lungs joined in on the fun, screaming at her to open her mouth, but by that point the mast was close enough to fill her with a final burst of energy.

    Reaching the barrier, Eloise flipped back upright and flapped her arms up, pushing herself down, until her legs breached it. Once her slim waist met the air, gravity was sufficient to pull her the rest of the way through.

    Florette nearly swallowed her tongue once she reached the bubble, every second spent orienting herself all the more agonizing for how close sweet release was. She felt a tug on her foot, then a hard yank as she fell down onto the damp wooden platform at the top of the mast.

    Air filled her lungs as she lifted her head.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°See? Nothing to worry about.¡± Breathing hard, Eloise extended a hand to Florette, pulling her back up to her feet. ¡°We could take a second, but I think going straight down the ladder makes more sense. Why rest, when we could make things harder on ourselves?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Florette panted, leaning back against the mast.

    Eloise sat on the guardrail facing her, catching her breath.

    ¡°Are all crew meetings this welcoming?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± The corner of her mouth turned up slightly. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to make it easy for people to find us.¡±

    ¡°I guess walking twenty minutes out of town didn¡¯t occur to anyone.¡±

    ¡°Not really what this is about.¡± Eloise shrugged. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m ready. Feel free to follow me down.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡± Florette placed her foot on the third rung on the ladder, her hand on the first. One after another, she climbed down, until she was aboard the deck of the Seaward Folly.

    With the walls of water flowing above them, the spectacle was amazing ¡ª real ¡ª without any of the unease from Fernan or Mara¡¯s fire. The deck was narrower than she¡¯d expected, but with plenty of space nonetheless, and large ornate doors to the cabins below.

    At the base of the mast was a cluster of flags, a jumble of red and orange and white in more of a pile than a stack, none of them particularly intelligible individually. She was tempted to dig through until she could find Verrou¡¯s famous black sword on an orange sea, but Eloise pointed to the doors, and so Florette abandoned them there.

    A bustle of conversation erupted from the door as it opened, candlelight flickering across the walls. It grew louder as they passed through the hall, deeper into the ship, then silent again as they pushed through the last door.

    The room was surprisingly large, hammocks hanging from the ceilings with three or four pirates crammed onto each. Perhaps thirty in the room, though it was hard to get a good count with everyone staring at them.

    ¡°Eloise, I¡¯m happy you¡¯re back to enjoying your shore leave, but this meeting was to be for crew only.¡± One of the men crowded onto a hammock stood up and walked towards them, the rope bouncing under those who had sat next to him. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, with crinkled lines around his brow and mouth. His light brown hair was cut close to his head, matching an unassuming leather doublet and trousers.

    ¡°Oh fuck off, Captain.¡± Eloise crossed her arms.

    Captain? Florette¡¯s eyes nearly bulged out of her head as she turned to stare at Eloise, mouth agape. How could she talk to him like that?

    The man who must have been Robin Verrou smiled, putting his hand on her shoulder. ¡°I can see that our quartermaster has charmed you already.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Robin Verrou!¡± Florette blinked. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sure you know that already. I just¡­¡± Wow. He wasn¡¯t wearing his Coat of Nocturne, or his insignia, or even the tricorn hat he¡¯d always be illustrated under.

    He turned to Eloise, then looked back at the assembled pirates still watching silently. ¡°Is this the sort of thing you¡¯d rather explain in private?¡±

    Eloise shook her head. ¡°Oh yes, it¡¯s terribly personal. That¡¯s why I brought her to this public crew meeting, so we could speak in private.¡±

    Florette elbowed her, glaring, but Eloise returned it with only an amused shake of the head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain things when we get to new business. In the meantime, just trust me. She¡¯s fine. I caught her nicking a bottle of brandy from the Singer¡¯s Lounge, so we can be sure her loyalty to the law comes above all else. Plus she¡¯s a big fan of yours, which is all the more reason to sell us out. I think it could be the start of something very promising.¡± She smiled. ¡°If it becomes an issue, we¡¯re already at the bottom of the water.¡±

    Verrou nodded, stepping back to return to his seat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything until I give you the signal. Easier if I introduce you,¡± Eloise whispered as she pulled Florette down onto one of the few remaining empty spaces on a hammock, which had a young-looking pair already occupying one end of it.

    ¡°What¡¯s the signal?¡± Florette hissed back.

    Eloise ignored her, turning back to face Robin Verrou.

    ¡°Right, that means everyone is here, then.¡± He clasped his hands together. ¡°I now call to order this meeting of the crew, with all members in attendance. Let¡¯s open with ongoing business.¡±

    Eloise held up a single finger.

    ¡°The captain recognizes the quartermaster, Eloise.¡± What the fuck is going on here?

    WIth a nod, Eloise leaned forward. ¡°I don¡¯t know how many of you are aware of this, but our ship is currently on the seafloor.¡±

    Florette hid a smile with her hand.

    ¡°It was put here by Lady Camille Leclaire, a humble water sage from Malin,¡± she continued. ¡°Recently she made the understandable and wise decision to challenge Lord Lumi¨¨re to a duel to the death. The working keeping the Folly safe will survive her, I believe, but¡ªas far as I know¡ªit cannot fly back to the surface on its own. The thought occurs to me that we might want to do something about that.¡±

    A pirate on the other end of the room, a gruff, bearded man in his thirties, raised his hand up.

    ¡°The captain recognizes the carpenter, Blaise,¡± Verrou spoke again.

    Blaise stood up, tilting his head up from its prior slump. ¡°Has anyone tried moving it? If the barrier keeping the air in is tied to the ship, rather than the location, and we manage to get it up on our own, everything would be safe from the water.¡±

    Eloise raised her hand again, which Verrou simply waved his hand at in acknowledgement. ¡°I saw it go down, and the bubble formed first, before it even made it all the way under.¡±

    After the same ritual with the hands, the carpenter responded. ¡°It¡¯s not enough to be sure about, but it¡¯s a good sign. I move that some of us stay after the meeting to try jostling the ship, to see if the barrier moves with it. Once we know, there are all sorts of things I could try to get it floating back up.¡±

    ¡°Seconded,¡± Eloise added.

    Was this some kind of inscrutable pirate tongue?

    ¡°All in favor?¡± Verrou asked to the room. Everyone put their hand up, including him, as a chorus of ¡°aye¡± filled the air. ¡°The motion carries unanimously.¡±

    The woman on the same hammock as Florette and Eloise raised her own hand.

    ¡°The captain recognizes the crewmate, Elizabeth.¡±

    Short and lean, she let go of her partner¡¯s hand to stand up. ¡°What about the airship plans? They¡¯re here, aren¡¯t they? How the fuck are we supposed to get them to your buyer intact, Captain?¡±

    ¡°I believe our shipmaster is already working on a solution to that.¡± Across the room, an older woman nodded back. ¡°And on that subject,¡± Verrou continued, ¡°my meeting with the Duke was successful. He¡¯s prepared to offer us the asking price, with an additional thousand florin bonus per crewmate if his is the final offer we hear. I move we accept, in the interest of bringing a close to things promptly.¡±

    ¡°Seconded,¡± added the shipmaster woman.

    This is it. They¡¯re a crazy cult and they¡¯re going to sacrifice me to some dark spirit. Florette shot Eloise as concerned a look as she could muster, but the quartermaster simply grinned back, emphasizing her thin lips.

    ¡°I bet we could get more out of Condillac. They¡¯re the ones pouring all their money into ships; wouldn¡¯t airships be a good next step?¡± The carpenter stood again when the captain recognized him, as if they didn¡¯t all obviously recognize each other by this point.

    ¡°Pain in the ass,¡± said the shipmaster, Cordelia, according to the captain¡¯s chant. ¡°Their little duke is in the city anyway. He wouldn¡¯t agree while he¡¯s Fouchand¡¯s guest. So that means waiting until after the tournament, at least, all while they burn a hole in our pockets, and for no guarantee they¡¯ll give us any more. Can¡¯t beat money in hand, I say.¡±

    ¡°I move we put it to a vote,¡± said the carpenter.

    ¡°Seconded,¡± responded Cordelia.

    This time it wasn¡¯t unanimous, with almost a third of the room voting for the chance of more money later. Probably. It was hard to tell if she was really following things correctly here. Still, the vote passed, so it seemed they would be selling to the duke.

    ¡°On to new business, then.¡± Verrou looked directly at Eloise as he said it.

    This time, she actually stood to speak, as the others had been doing. ¡°Right. I¡¯ve spent the last week or so casing out the Singer¡¯s Lounge. There¡¯s an Avalon bard staying there, with an expensive piece of music equipment. Florette here has an in with him, and wants to help us out, in exchange for membership.¡±

    Verrou blinked. ¡°The captain recognizes the guest, Florette.¡±

    That had to be the signal.

    She stood up, since it seemed to be the thing to do, and began to speak quickly, trying to ignore the eyes of the entire room upon her. ¡°Um. It¡¯s called a pulsebox. The bard mentioned that there were only like ten in the entire world, and it sounds like no instrument I¡¯ve ever heard before, so probably really valuable. One of those fancy techno things from the Cambrian College, he said. Uh, it also seems to be able to play itself somehow by feeding sheets of paper into it. They leave it out on the stage even in the morning, once they close.¡±

    She kept her eyes locked with Robin Verrou, trying to read his expression for some sign of approval. ¡°But Magnifico also knows me. I¡¯ve spent some time getting closer to him, and I¡¯m sure I could distract him if the moment were right. He¡¯s got a performance coming up during the Festival, if anyone thinks it would be easier to steal in transit, but I¡¯m open to your expertise on that.¡±

    ¡°She came to me with that,¡± Eloise added. ¡°No infiltrating the Tower, or Crescent Isle, no worming your way into the heart of some floor manager at a factory, or robbing a train. It¡¯s Cambrian tech, right here in Guerron. Easiest way we could possibly make this much money, and all she wants in return is to join us.¡± She turned her head across the room. ¡°I know all you louts like it easy! I move we accept her offer and begin plans for the theft.¡±

    Robin Verrou smiled warmly. ¡°Well done, Eloise. But I think we should table this, for the moment. A music box is worth much to the right buyer, but it¡¯s more of a speciality item than schematics or trade goods. Magnifico works directly for the royal family. We¡¯ll want to know this venture is worthwhile before we commit.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Eloise shrugged.

    The rest of the meeting got so deep into the logistics that it flew completely over Florette¡¯s head, but at least no one seemed ready to sacrifice her or anything. By the time the captain said ¡°meeting adjourned,¡± she was struggling to stay awake.

    ¡°Nicely done,¡± Eloise said as they stepped out onto the deck. ¡°Little rambly, sure, but the legwork impressed them. Not many people trying to join us bring in a job at the same time, and none of them like this.¡±

    ¡°Why did everyone talk like that?¡± Florette narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you warn me?¡±

    ¡°I thought it would be funny. And it was.¡± As they talked, some pirates split off to form around the carpenter, in preparation for the experiment, while others climbed the crow¡¯s nest to swim back. ¡°It¡¯s parliamentary rules. Captain took a book on them from Avalon when he turned his coat. Makes it easy to keep things organized when everyone¡¯s got just as much a right to talk as anyone else and there¡¯s thirty people in a room. Plus, they¡¯re not exactly a group inclined to keep order by nature.¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s the captain, right? The leader. His voice is worth more. He tells you where to go, and what to steal, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah, we all became pirates to listen to some jackass order us around. That makes sense.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°He¡¯s the first among equals. If we thought he were doing a shit job as captain, we¡¯d call for a vote and get someone else to do it. We don¡¯t, because he knows his shit and no one¡¯s had cause to complain, but the rule here is that everyone¡¯s worth just as much as anyone else.¡±

    Her lips tilted up at the side. ¡°Of course, the captain and the quartermaster get slightly higher shares of the loot.¡±

    ¡°I ought to too then, for this, for bringing the job in.¡±

    Eloise smiled. ¡°Now you¡¯re learning to value yourself better. But we need to find a buyer first. Someone local, ideally. Transporting that thing looks like a horrendous task and I¡¯d rather be rid of it sooner.¡±

    ¡°I think I have an idea: the singer, Edith Costeau. Hardly a guarantee, but she was the most famous musician in Guerron until Magnifico came in and upstaged her with that box of his. She has the money for it, I¡¯m sure, and a possible motive for it to want it. Or maybe destroy it.¡±

    ¡°As long as we get our money.¡± Eloise shrugged. ¡°Bit of a stretch, maybe, but it¡¯s worth looking into. She¡¯s a friend of yours?¡±

    ¡°Ah, no. If she remembers me enough to feel anything at all, it¡¯s contempt.¡± She¡¯d practically run out of the Lounge, the night they had been introduced.

    ¡°Marvelous.¡± She began climbing the ladder, now clear of the ones who had already left. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get on with it then. Magnifico¡¯s not going to rob himself.¡±

 Camille VII: The Strategist

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille VII: The Strategist</h1>

    ¡°Your uncle is handling the offerings, right? I know you mentioned he was getting a bit cross about having to do all of it, this past week.¡± Annette swung her legs off of the edge of the wooden arena platform, casting a long shadow out over the water.

    ¡°He understood the importance of this. If we cannot stop Lumi¨¨re, the very existence of the Temple of Levian is in severe jeopardy.¡± Reluctantly, Camille had to admit, but even Uncle Emile could not dispute her priorities. Without a female heir, there would be no sage to ascend to the position of High Priestess and renew the contract if Camille were to fail. The entire fabric of the spirit compact could collapse, and any hope of restoring On¨¨s along with it. Perhaps even retaking Malin.

    ¡°We will.¡± Lucien, sitting to the other side of her from Annette, wrapped an arm around her shoulder. ¡°No matter what it takes.¡±

    Nodding in agreement, Annette gripped the edge of the platform. ¡°I really wouldn¡¯t worry about it anyway. Aurelian is a blowhard. His idea of a plan involves blasting you with light, and a secret plan means doing it again a second time. He¡¯d be the stupidest person on the council if it weren¡¯t for my cousin giving him such stiff competition.¡± She turned her head towards Camille. ¡°But still, whatever I can do to help. What did you need, exactly?¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°Do you remember High King Somet of Micheltaigne?¡±

    Annette raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is this another one of those guys your ancestors killed while conquering the continent? Because you have to admit that it¡¯s not easy to keep track.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Far more recent than that. He was an accomplished sage, known to seek meaning in the clouds for answers, climbing to the highest peaks and fasting, that he might reach the right mental state for a vision quest.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Lucien perked up. ¡°This is the guy that went to war with the sea, right?¡±

    ¡°Wrong.¡± Camile rolled her eyes. ¡°He saw a vision in the clouds of a Sunder¨¦ army massing near Serpichon, just south of the border between their nations. Wishing to counteract the surprise attack, he marshalled his forces and led an offensive down from the mountains, falling upon the army before they could mount a response.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ good?¡± Furrowing his brows, Lucien removed his hand to scratch his chin. ¡°Did you get anything like that from yours?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m worried about. Somet saw the army true, but it was the west that the Dominion had set its eyes upon, thinking Plagette¡¯s newly won claims on the land at the south of the lake would be easily taken from them. By attacking, he instead united Sunder¨¦ and Plagette against him. Micheltaigne lost half of its territory in the ensuing war, all because its highest sage misinterpreted a true vision.¡±

    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s what started the Winter War?¡± Annette blinked. ¡°I thought that was because the Queen of the Exiles claimed her own territory and dared everyone else to call her on it.¡±

    Lucien shook his head. ¡°No, it was something about an island with a spirit forest that everyone wanted.¡±

    Camille slammed her hand down against the platform. ¡°That is not the point!¡± And also wrong.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said sheepishly.

    ¡°I want to avoid making a similar mistake. Just because I¡¯ve seen what I have, and know it true in some fashion or another, that does not make it a boon, not necessarily. I called you both because I was hoping you could help ensure that I interpret them correctly.¡±

    Annette dipped her head. ¡°Was there even anything relevant? Half the time it¡¯s just junk, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I believe so.¡± Camille began to recount the visions, speaking them somehow making it feel more real than the loose, ethereal sprays of pulsing water in the ocean had been last night.

    Some seemed obvious enough: the fox escaping the snare represented Lucien fleeing the Foxtrap to save the Empire; the serpent at the crest of the wave was like Camille, though the purple cloth was anyone¡¯s guess; and Annette confirmed that Duke Fouchand had finalized the deal with Robin Verrou last night, making the skeletal man shaking his head most likely to be the pirate.

    Of course, it was impossible to be sure, but it made a fair amount of sense.

    All of the visions of the glass towers and dark stone seemed fully inscrutable, as did the monstrous cat swallowed by the purple cloak.

    And Lumi¨¨re¡¯s lightning¡­

    ¡°It cannot possibly be that simple,¡± Camille insisted.

    ¡°Sun sage using a bolt of light as his secret attack? Practicing to make sure he hits you with it? Why not?¡± Annette shrugged. ¡°I respect the paranoia, but you have to start somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Lucien added. ¡°It seems fully within his abilities, were he to go out of his way to master it, and would serve as a suitable trump card were it to catch you unawares.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    Annette held up a finger. ¡°Be smart about this. You called us here to ask for our advice, to make sure you didn¡¯t second-guess yourself into a big mistake. So listen to what we¡¯re saying.¡±

    ¡°It cannot be that simple.¡±

    ¡°Simple?¡± Lucien blinked. ¡°An instant attack like that, honed and trained, is nothing simple at all. You need to find some way to evade it, or defeat him before he can even try.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± It felt wrong. Lumi¨¦re was a moronic lout, but that didn¡¯t mean he was incapable of being a serious threat too. Especially in a fight. Outmaneuvering him in the council chambers was easy enough, but even that had not come without consequences. And this¡­

    She bit her lip. ¡°Thank you, then. I need to figure something out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see if Christine has any ideas. Armor to catch it, maybe, or something along those lines.¡± Lucien stood, then offered Camille his hand to help her do the same. ¡°We¡¯ll test things until we can be sure you¡¯re safe. Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Camille said her farewells and parted with them then, for it was time to return to the castle.

    By now the sun had risen far enough to see numerous knights and warriors training on the beach, readying themselves for the m¨ºl¨¦e. Even at this hour, the clusters were distinct and separate; Malins had swept into the firmest ground early, leaving Guerrons to glare silently at them from across the road, while Condillac men and women kept to themselves.

    It will get even worse once the Plagetine contingent gets here. In all likelihood, it would be nearly impossible to win the support of both Condillac and Plagette; their grudges were too deep, their peace too recent and fragile. But not entirely; Camille would find a way.

    The more splinters of the old Empire she could gather behind her, the better to oppose Avalon. All it would take were the right incentives.

    The marigold wine had kept her awake through the night, as it was wont to do, replaying the visions in her mind over and over again that they would remain fixed there. But with the end of its effects, fatigue was beginning to set in, all the harder for how severely she had neglected her sleep.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    When she returned to consciousness the sky was already dark.

    I forgot to ask a servant to wake me at a timely hour.

    Blinking herself awake, she rose from the bed.

    As frustrating as missing an entire day was, she had not felt this rested in what felt like an eternity, and even after a bath and a change of clothes there was still sufficient time remaining to see the people she needed to.

    Given her target, she had elected to wear darker colors, a shaded green dress that was nearly black, with a blue collar flaring out at her neck and giving it an accent of color. Evoking the image of a bird, hopefully.

    Every bit helped to sell the right appearance, to accomplish the ultimate goal.

    The wind picked up as she climbed the tower to Duke Clement¡¯s quarters, rushing in even through the small arrow slits enough to chill, and nearly blowing out the sconced candles in the process.

    ¡°Lady Leclaire,¡± Duke Clement spoke coldly once she was shown into his chambers at the top of the tower. ¡°You arrive under cover of night, when my Tiecelin has left to hunt. I take it you haven¡¯t come to hear my poetry.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± she said. ¡°And the timing is a matter of necessity. I wish to discuss something quite private with you.¡± Even if he refused, there was no real risk of him telling Magnifico or Avalon, not when there was no benefit to him. And if he did, well, Duke Fouchand would vouch for her against him.

    He smiled. ¡°You want to start another war, don¡¯t you? To taste the blood of your enemies and end their suffering as you empower your spirit.¡±

    ¡°Reclaiming my homeland does have a bit to do with it.¡±

    ¡°Lady Debray isn¡¯t with you?¡± he asked, ignoring what she had said.

    ¡°Not at the moment, no.¡± Camille blinked. That could be an avenue too. ¡°However, I am sure I could arrange a meeting for the two of you.¡± Annette might even enjoy it, for all the laughing at him she could do. Hopefully.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± He smiled. ¡°Then I suppose we can move to the business of death. It¡¯s something of a preoccupation of mine.¡±

    ¡°I had not noticed, my lord Duke.¡±

    ¡°Call me Etienne, please. Any who share in the duty and privilege of sacrifice together ought to speak with our given names. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± He stepped up to the window, holding out his hand. The wind flared as his raven familiar alighted on his shoulder, turning its head to Camille and then back to the window. ¡°Don¡¯t take it personally. Tiecelin is slow to get to know people.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± What is wrong with you? ¡°Sacrifice is not the only means, I am sure you know. War is another.¡±

    ¡°Ah war, the chance to prove one¡¯s mettle, to settle worth while granting release to all those incapable of the task.¡± Etienne chuckled. ¡°A worthy practice indeed, and such an excellent chance to gather sacrifices. But it does come with a cost.¡±

    ¡°No small one, either. But everything worthwhile has a price.¡±

    His raven turned its head, a red eye glaring at Camille. ¡°You know what fate befell Refuge when they rode to Lyrion¡¯s defense. Their sacred forest burned to ash, their ancient kingdom demolished. Have you found a goal so worthy, to risk such annihilation?¡±

    Camille nodded. ¡°Liberating the continent from Avalon¡¯s clutches. You obviously do not fear them either, else you would not have massed your fleet on the Sartaire.¡± So why are you making this so difficult?

    ¡°Their harbor was destroyed in a bombing, all ships in port reduced to splinters. The risk is greatly diminished.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps at the moment, but they will remember. You are still inviting their wrath down the line. Why not gain from it? Help us reconquer what was stolen, restore this continent to its rightful state.¡±

    Etienne sighed. ¡°Frankly, Camille, I respect what you are attempting to do. In time, I might be open to assisting with it, if my conditions were met. However¡±¡ªhe stepped closer, the raven flapping its wings behind him¡ª¡°I do not wish to make such a momentous deal with a woman who may be dead within a week, especially with an emissary of Avalon in this very city..¡±

    Ah, that was it. He was a young Duke, only recently ascended to his position; of course he would be tentative, hesitant. Taking half-measures like brandishing his navy without committing it, arriving in the city with one hundred swords to show might in the m¨ºl¨¦e without gathering his army¡­ This, I can work with.

    ¡°I completely understand, Etienne.¡± She dipped her head as she started to retreat to the door. ¡°We will talk again when my duel has passed. Then you should have no cause for fear.¡±

    Though it was less than ideal, it had still gone reasonably well. The young Duke was clearly open to the idea, and whatever his conditions were, they had not been considerable enough to bring up there and then.

    Condillac and Guerron alone might be able to retake Malin and win more nations to their side, if fortune favored them, and suddenly the possibility felt more real than it had in years. At last, a chance to reclaim everything she had held dear. At last, revenge.

    Duke Fouchand was already asleep when Camille went to see him next, so she tried again the next morning after working through much of the night.

    Her sleep cycle would recover eventually, and until then there was pixie powder. Annette seemed to manage fine, in any case.

    ¡°Camille, good. I was hoping to talk with you anyway.¡± Duke Fouchand welcomed her into his chambers eagerly. ¡°I know the lists for the tournament are open to everyone, but considering your duel with Aurelian, I thought it perhaps best that you be advanced through the early pool rounds without needing to fight through them yourself.¡±

    ¡°That will not be necessary.¡± The early ¡°pool¡± matches, held in and around the tidepools by the beach, ensured that the prime contenders could be separated from the rest, whittling down the competitors to a number small enough that all who remained were skilled. They were a trivial concern for anyone trained at arms, but still represented an expenditure of energy to any sage participating in them. For that reason they tended to be held a few days in advance of the real bracket.

    Upon seeing Fouchand¡¯s expression, Camille continued. ¡°Lucien has been training me with a sword extensively. I am sure I can get through the peasants with beaten plowshares for weapons without needing to expend my spirit energy. But thank you for the consideration.¡± If taking him up on the offer would not have also risked losing face in front of the very people to whom she needed to project strength, she might have accepted anyway.

    ¡°Ah, very good then. But why did you wish to see me?¡± He stroked his white beard contemplatively.

    ¡°I talked to Duke Clement last night. He seems open to¡ª¡±

    Fouchand held up a single finger. ¡°Not here.¡± He gestured out to the large balcony, where the morning winds were blowing so hard that the poor potted plant positioned on the patio was beginning to be stripped of its leaves.

    Camille followed him out, folding her arms at the cold. ¡°I talked to Duke Clement!¡± she yelled, to be heard over the wind. If Fouchand was trying to avoid listeners, this seemed a rather backwards way to do it.

    He sighed, then waved her closer, until she was whispering in his ear. ¡°Etienne Clement seems open to an alliance against Malin. He has conditions, which he refused to mention yet, and he¡¯s definitely skittish about all of it. But I¡¯m positive we can convince him. Once I prove my strength in the duel, there will be no doubt left in his mind.¡±

    Fouchand smiled at that, even as the wind blew what remained of his hair back off of his head. ¡°Do not take it as a given,¡± he whispered back into her ear. ¡°His fear is very real, and not without cause.¡±

    ¡°This again? Everyone calls you a coward for surrendering after the Foxtrap, but you told me you were waiting for the right time to strike. What better time is there than now? We have a potential ally right on the precipice, with swords of his own and a fleet already threatening Malin. There is only the issue of Lumi¨¨re, and then¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do you think I don¡¯t know that?¡± The wind began to die down a bit, allowing him to speak at a more normal volume. ¡°You young people always want to project strength, but there is value too in being underestimated. Magnifico is here, and he will report to the royal family that we are not belligerent. That, while Malins cry out for their homeland, Guerron is deaf to their ears. Why, none hate the Malins more than Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, and he has a council seat with the Duke himself.¡±

    ¡°All of that is true, though.¡±

    Fouchand smiled. ¡°Is it?¡±

    Camille¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°It was all on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Camille, my dear, why do you think I threw this festival in the first place? Warriors gathered from afar, with Avalon¡¯s own eyes bearing witness to it so it can be above reproach. Condillac is hesitant, but that only makes our complacency more believable. I have spent enough time with Magnifico decrying the destruction of war, yearning only for friendship with Avalon. And with all of the socializing he does with Aurelian, he¡¯s sure to see an even more polarized picture of things here.¡±

    ¡°And then when he¡¯s gone, it can all come into place at once¡­¡± Camille looked up at the man. ¡°That¡¯s why you let Aurelian get away with setting up the duel.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t be too public about that at the time, of course, and my anger at him was quite real.¡± He put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°But he serves a valuable purpose, as a locus for the opposition. With him out of the way, any reluctant sentiment among the sun sages ought to be chastened, and the people of the city besides. Things have to be arranged to appear just right, as well you know.¡±

    ¡°I do¡­¡± She blinked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t all of that fall apart once Aurelian dies though?¡±

    ¡°Less than you might think. Magnifico has seen his challenge to you, knowing it has nothing to do with Avalon. Too, he will undoubtedly see the chaos at the Sun Temple after his death as yet more evidence of our inability to war. Such internal conflict already makes us look weak, no matter the result.¡± He coughed. ¡°But it will be a favorable result. You have my every confidence.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your trust in me, to see this through.¡±

    ¡°It is the absolute least I owe you, Camille.¡± He paused. ¡°And when the offensive begins, I think you ought to lead the naval forces, storming from the coast.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? Not about that, but¡­ About all of this? Nothing¡¯s been done yet that couldn¡¯t be taken back, or halted.¡± She had to be sure. If he hesitated¡­

    ¡°There is not a single doubt in my mind.¡± He turned to meet her eyes. ¡°I have no love for war, nor any eagerness for another. But Avalon is a scourge upon this land, imposing their injustice everywhere at cannonpoint. The time for complacency has passed. Now, we must be ready to strike.¡±

 Fernan VI: The Witness

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan VI: The Witness</h1>

    ¡°Here.¡± Fernan held out his arm in front, showing the path forward. ¡°But remember to be respectful.¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± Aubaine ran ahead, nearly tripping over some of the rocks resting on the mountain trail. Sun Sages in the past had used it for ascending the mountains to contact Soleil, but now the towers of the Temple were deemed sufficient in height, so the path went largely unused.

    Fernan whistled once he was sure they were out of earshot of the Temple, calling the enormous gecko down from the upper reaches where she had been hunting. Mara seemed so large when she was inside with him in the city, but in her nearly vertical scramble down the side of the mountain, she looked so small by comparison, a quickly approaching green blur against a towering backdrop only faintly distinct from the noonday sky behind it.

    Aubaine¡¯s eyes went wide, his mouth agape. ¡°Lizard!¡± He ran up to her before Fernan could intervene, wrapping his arms around her front leg.

    ¡°Fernan, what is this creature?¡± Mara¡¯s tongue flicked to her eye then back. ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±

    Shit. That was what he got for not warning her in advance not to speak.

    ¡°He¡¯s human, just like me. We start smaller too. Call him Aubaine.¡± Fernan bent down next to the child, placing a hand on his shoulder. ¡°No one else in the Temple knows that Mara can talk, so that will have to be our secret, alright? I¡¯m trusting you here. Even your father can¡¯t know.¡±

    His head nodded up and down so fast it looked like it was going to disconnect from his body. ¡°You can trust me Fernan! I¡¯m great with secrets! I¡¯ve never even told anyone about the secret passage to the roof of the Temple.¡± How encouraging.

    Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t matter. Few of the Sun Sages even had familiars, and even among the rest, familiarity with them seemed fairly low. Florette had insisted that they couldn¡¯t talk because they were just animals with whom a sage shared their power, but reading adventure stories hardly made her an expert anyway.

    ¡°How many winters have you seen, Aubaine?¡±

    ¡°¡®How old are you,¡¯ she means,¡± Fernan explained.

    Sticking out his chest, the boy put his hands to his waist. ¡°I¡¯m seven and a half!¡±

    Mara¡¯s glow flared out. ¡°And you¡¯re still a child? Anyone in our nest who has seen six winters has to hunt on their own.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t consider someone adult until they¡¯re sixteen,¡± Fernan supplied. ¡°Part of not growing as fast.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating!¡± Mara wiggled her slowly growing stump of a tail, then flashed bright green. ¡°Fernan, could you put him on top? I can¡¯t, right now.¡± The disappointment was impossible to detect from her hissing alone, but with her flaming aura and body language it was plain to see.

    Fernan nodded, grabbing Aubaine under his armpits and hoisting him up. ¡°Ready to go for a ride?¡± He set him down on Mara¡¯s back, feeling her surprisingly smooth skin as he did.

    ¡°Yay!¡± Aubaine wrapped his arms around her neck as Mara began walking slowly in a circle. ¡°I¡¯m flying!¡±

    She¡¯s practically big enough that I could do that.

    ¡°To fly, you would need to soar through the air like a bird, right? Right now, you¡¯re still on my back. Oh, maybe I could launch you over the edge of the mountain! Just make sure to land on your feet.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Fernan darted forward and grabbed Aubaine, lifting him off of Mara¡¯s back. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough for today.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to fly!¡± The boy bit his lip.

    ¡°Can¡¯t we just try once, Fernan?¡±

    He tilted his head back, facing the sky with a silent plea. ¡°Not until Aubaine learns how to land without hurting himself.¡± So, never. ¡°Come on, I think it¡¯s time to head back to the Temple anyway.¡±

    Aubaine frowned. ¡°Do we have to?¡±

    ¡°Your father will be expecting us.¡± In truth, Lumi¨¨re already might be less than pleased about this little venture, but at least it meant that Aubaine was happy and kept track of. Besides, Fernan had promised. ¡°Go ahead. I¡¯ll catch up in a second.¡±

    Nodding glumly, Aubaine started slowly walking back down the mountain trail.

    ¡°Have enough food?¡± Fernan asked.

    Mara nodded. ¡°The prey is so much dumber out here. It¡¯s like they¡¯ve never had to run from a gecko before.¡±

    ¡°They probably haven¡¯t.¡± He flicked his eyes up the hill, though he couldn¡¯t see the glowing bag he had given her. ¡°I was talking about coal though. I found some of the other villagers here, so I might be able to buy some if you¡¯re running low.¡±

    ¡°Please. I have enough for another quarter moon or so at most.¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°And you¡¯re doing alright? I know you wanted to explore the city more, but I¡­ It could be dangerous for both of us.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Her aura dimmed to a faded orange. ¡°There¡¯s still plenty to explore out here! And all of these sages glow more normally too, which is interesting in its own way.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to be quick, so it shouldn¡¯t need to be for too long. If the duel goes well, we could be back at G¨¦zarde¡¯s lair in just a couple weeks.¡±

    Mara nodded again. ¡°I¡¯m going to stay out here a bit longer. I found this large bird with a suppressed black glow, and I want to see if I can catch it.¡±

    ¡°Enjoy.¡± Fernan gave her a wave. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you¡¯re finished.¡±

    Short as the boy¡¯s legs were, catching up to Aubaine was trivial, which was good. Being alone with his thoughts after seeing Mara was always difficult. While the sundial seemed closer and closer to his grasp, he was no further towards finding another way to deal with the geckos.

    It would save the village, but it would do nothing for the geckos deprived of food, nor the tensions between them and the villagers. Abusing the letter of G¨¦zarde¡¯s deal to break it in spirit was likely to make things worse, if anything.

    Why did he have to threaten everyone? If the spirit had simply presented the problem, finding a solution that could satisfy everyone wouldn¡¯t have been nearly so difficult.

    ¡°She¡¯s nice!¡± Aubaine announced after Fernan reached him. ¡°I can see her again, right? At the Temple?¡±

    Probably not there, since she only passes through at the end of the day. But doing this again would probably be fine. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not, as long as you¡¯re there for all of your lessons. The more you run off, the less likely your father is to approve of trips like this. Stay on your best behavior.¡±

    ¡°Ok¡­¡± After he trailed off, his glow brightened up. ¡°Oh! I want to show you something too. Follow me!¡± He took off running, passing through the back doors of the Temple as Fernan lightly jogged to keep up, careful to watch the faint glow of the ground in front of him outlining the rocks. It was getting easier as the weather warmed up, at least.

    The main chamber was as empty as it usually was around this hour, with all of the sages too busy managing their papers and satellite temples or preparing pyres for sacrifices. Aubaine scrambled blithely through all of it, past the altars with their burning incense and candles, until he reached the corridor at the opposite corner, close to the front entrance. A little ways down the corridor, part of the wall was made of a different material.

    Fernan blinked, trying to take it in. Rubbing his hands against the wall, the wooden feeling made it clear it was wood, but where the doorknob ought to have been was a bulb of thick glass, with some liquid inside. What was this? They would be right underneath one of the towers flanking the entrance to the temple, but he had never seen anyone use it.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Father told me I would only have the power to go through once I was a sage, but now I have you!¡± Aubaine tapped the glass. ¡°Just make it glow!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not going to get in trouble for this, right?¡± Camille had told him to do whatever it took to win Aubaine¡¯s trust, but that had been easy enough so far just by being himself. This kind of thing was probably unnecessary.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine! I promise!¡± Aubaine bounced onto the balls of his feet and back. ¡°No one said I shouldn¡¯t, just that I couldn¡¯t. Father even smiled when he saw me holding a candle next to it, but it wasn¡¯t hot enough.¡±

    It probably just leads up into the tower. Easy enough to explain, if anyone finds us.

    With a shrug, Fernan placed his hand against the bulb, channeling his spirit energy through his wrist and out his fingertips. Mara preferred to breathe fire out of her mouth, and that had been what much of her teaching had focused on, but this felt easier, like he was already habituated to enforcing his will through it.

    He did have to be careful not to burn himself, forcing the fire ever outward and preventing the heat from returning to his hand, but that seemed better than the risk of setting the door on fire.

    The liquid inside began to bubble, glowing against the door and throwing the whole thing in sharp relief. As the warmth spread, more and more of the mechanisms within became visible: a pipe leading up from the glass, with some kind of wheel stuck halfway into it, followed by a matching bulb at the top.

    Wisps of steam trailed up the pipe, growing thicker and thicker as more of the liquid boiled up. As it did, the wheel slowly began to turn, moving increasingly faster as it too grew warmer, until a click sounded.

    With a jerk of his head to make sure that no one was around, Fernan pushed lightly against the door, sending it open with a loud creak. ¡°You should probably tell your father to oil this.¡±

    Aubaine blinked, but ignored the suggestion. ¡°Come on! We have to see it!¡±

    They stepped through, Fernan closing the door behind them. It was already beginning to cool, warm droplets forming in the upper bulb and sliding down. Each nudged the wheel back ever so slightly each time it did, which would probably replace the lock once it returned to liquid. Clever, but it wouldn¡¯t stop Camille.

    The whole thing must have predated those hostilities, or been used only ceremonially. Any sage of flame could do as he had, which didn¡¯t amount to much security.

    Past the door was a narrow staircase spiralling up, clearly leading to the top of one of the towers. ¡°One look at the top, and then we¡¯ll come back, alright?¡±

    ¡°Ok!¡± Aubaine started running up the stairs two at a time, nearly slamming into the walls at every fifth step. Fernan followed behind, ready to catch him if he tumbled, but that didn¡¯t turn out to be necessary, fortunately.

    The roof of the tower felt much larger atop it than it had looked from the ground.

    Fernan breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted braziers burning at the front edge; Lord Lumi¨¨re would hardly be lighting those himself, which meant that at least some lower level sages were permitted here.

    Walking up to that edge, he could see the whole city laid out before him, the Merchant Quartier between the Spirit Quartier and the western wall, the sea beyond them. Each had a different warmth to them, a different distribution of dots milling around. The mountain blocked most of the north end of the city, but he could still see some of the harbor, ships warming in the sun above the cold, cold water.

    This far back, it looked almost like someone had built a model of the city with twine, the edges of warmth coalescing into a whole that even his eyes could comprehend. Turning his gaze south, he saw the braziers atop the other tower, with two figures standing atop it. One¡¯s fire was extremely bright, the other a very familiar shape. Even at a distance, their glows were unmistakable: Magnifico and Lord Lumi¨¨re. ¡°Duck!¡± he hissed to Aubaine, crouching behind the crenelated wall.

    Aubain simply tilted his head. ¡°Why?¡±

    Because they didn¡¯t go there for a public meeting. ¡°Nevermind. We should be getting back anyway. Now.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to go!¡± he cried out.

    Fernan pulled him close. ¡°Be quiet, please!¡±

    ¡°Why should I?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be a fun challenge. Who can stay quiet the longest? We¡¯ll only stay up here as long as you can manage that, and then we¡¯ll have to head back. So make it count.¡± Fernan¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper.

    Aubaine nodded firmly, sitting down against the wall next to him.

    Staring through the stone, Fernan could still make out the two glowing auras on the opposite tower, Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s far brighter and stronger.

    But it began to dim as he held his hands to the sky, seemingly saying something, though it was hard to tell at this distance. Magnifico simply stood there, arms folded in a posture that looked almost bored.

    Following his gesture, Fernan turned his gaze upward, towards the sun above them. These days, nothing stopped him from staring into it to his heart¡¯s content, which made it easy to tell that it was changing color, dimming ever so slightly as it seemed to concentrate into a point.

    That point extended, stretching down further and further until its shape was clear: a towering golden man, rays of light radiating out from his head and right shoulder. Each feature was visible, crisp, unlike every face Fernan had seen since the incident. He looked ten feet tall, utterly smooth, without a single hair on his body, his face inhumanly flat.

    The statues had been accurate, apparently.

    He landed opposite Lumi¨¨re and Magnifico, towering over them without bothering to look down.

    Lumi¨¨re bowed, throwing himself at Soleil¡¯s feet, while Magnifico remained standing. The sage set a small fire in front of the spirit, dipping his head again as he did.

    Soleil scowled, responding with venom on his face that sent Lumi¨¨re scurrying backwards past Magnifico.

    Soleil sighed, then nodded his head, prompting Lord Aurelian to stand. They spoke more, the spirit¡¯s brows furrowed all the while, until Magnifico stepped forward, giving a performer¡¯s bow with a twirl of his arm. The bard said something, and Aurelian nodded, his glow returning to a measure of its former strength.

    Magnifico gave a lazy wave, then stepped back down the stairs, his glow visible through the walls as he spiralled down.

    Thank Soleil we picked the other tower.

    Soleil rotated slightly, extending an arm without turning his head. Lord Lumi¨¨re walked in that direction, almost facing him despite the stone between them. The Sun spirit spat out another disdainful word, and Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s head drooped.

    That was the end of it, apparently. Soleil began rising, a blurry column of light left behind as he rose higher and higher, brighter and brighter, until even that receded and only the sun in the sky was left.

    Lumi¨¨re crouched down, his head still bowed, as his fire grew warmer. The aura flared brighter and brighter, until it surpassed his normal tone, then far surpassed it. In an instant, the pressure was released. Lumi¨¨re stood and began running in one motion, then leapt from the tower straight towards them.

    There was one last chance to send Aubaine away, but honestly it was less suspicious with him still here. He had been supervising him more and more lately, after all.

    Fire spat out from the bottom of Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s hands and feet as he crossed the gap, propelling him up enough to pass above their heads and land on the tower roof in front of them. He turned around to face them an instant later. ¡°It¡¯s good that you¡¯re here actually. It¡¯s about time you beheld Soleil in person.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°And you¡±¡ªhe bent down to put Aubaine on the head¡ª¡°appear to have finally ascended the tower of your forefathers. Go tell your instructor that I said you deserve a candy.¡±

    Aubaine beamed, scurrying off down the stairs the instant Lumi¨¨re finished talking.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything,¡± Fernan tried to assure him once the boy was gone. ¡°Really.¡±

    ¡°Bah, I know that. It¡¯s too far away for that to be possible.¡± Lumi¨¨re sneered slightly. ¡°Do you think my ancestors would be stupid enough to build an eavesdropping tower next to the place they convened with Soleil? I assure you, the design is very deliberate.¡±

    Fernan exhaled a loud sigh of relief. ¡°And Aubaine?¡±

    Lumi¨¨re¡¯s glow flared out. ¡°The test was intended to teach him patience, waiting until he made his compact with Soleil before he could see what was here. But I suppose cooperation will suffice, under the circumstances. I posed him the challenge of scaling it, and he did so, however that was accomplished. He need not rely on spirit power for everything in his life, anyway.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad. I wouldn¡¯t want to do anything against the doctrine here, or run afoul of anyone. Least of all you, my lord.¡±

    ¡°An admirable trait.¡± He nodded. ¡°I must say, Fernan, your provincial background belied your utility. Most of your ilk are coarse and rude, but you¡¯ve well acquitted yourself here even in such a short time. Adrian sings your praises to the Sun above, and you handle Aubaine like none before. I think it¡¯s time you were rewarded for it.¡±

    ¡°The sundial?¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes flared out, bulging out of his face as they did.

    ¡°The what?¡± Lumi¨¨re blinked. ¡°No, not a mere artifact. I¡¯m offering you a place in Aubaine¡¯s personal guard. You would be doing much the same as you have been, supervising him and keeping him safe, but I would have the assurance of someone around him at all times, even when he runs off.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Fernan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Um. That is quite an honor, my lord.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to swear your loyalty before Soleil, of course. How you¡¯ll never leave his side save at his or my command, how you serve the Sun Temple before all else, save Aubaine himself. You¡¯ll defend it from heathens, fight on our behalf, and keep our secrets. Fairly standard assurances, really. Then I¡¯ll see about having Adrian find quarters at the temple for you.¡±

    ¡°Uh, my lord, that truly is a generous offer, and I am very fond of Aubaine, but¡­ I need to return to my village, and soon. It¡¯s imperative. I can¡¯t dedicate myself to the Sun Temple until it¡¯s protected from something terrible.¡± Or ever, unless you stop burning people. But he didn¡¯t need to say that part out loud.

    The glow of Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s face pinched in what Fernan recognized as a frown. ¡°Ah yes. That. Terrible indeed.¡± He sighed. ¡°Well, I can hardly begrudge even you from dealing with evil spirits. So many are nothing more than petty tyrants, or harbingers of destruction. In the Winter Court, they eschew rule by sages at all; instead, they reign over humanity directly as their royalty. But even here, in more civilized lands, the world is rife with them, pushing us around like ants.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re clenched his fists, before abruptly changing the topic. ¡°Aubaine¡­ He¡¯s young, and I¡¯m sure he can grow into the task. I¡¯ll have many years to train him. But Soleil is most exacting of those beneath him. Being a sage, a high priest especially, it¡¯s often more a burden than a boon. I worry he¡¯ll chafe under it.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a good kid. I¡¯m sure he can handle whatever the world puts in front of him.¡± I really hope so, since Camille might kill you in a few days. The mere thought put a pit in his stomach. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, would you mind if I went home now? Aubaine really wore me out.¡±

    ¡°Of course not. You are excused.¡± He turned his head to the side, looking out over the water. ¡°Talk to me about this again, after the duel. Perhaps we can get you what you need. As soon as Leclaire is dead, a whole world of possibilities opens up to all of us.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried?¡±

    He shook his head with a smile. ¡°There isn¡¯t a doubt in my mind that I will prevail. I¡¯ve made it impossible for me to lose.¡±

 Florette VII: The Distraction

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette VII: The Distraction</h1>

    Edith Costeau laughed, leaning back against the wall. ¡°Why, that¡¯s one of the most foolish ideas I¡¯ve ever heard. What possible motivation have I to finance your thievery?¡±

    Jealousy, Florette thought. But saying it aloud would only make things worse. Finding an excuse to speak with her had been difficult enough, tracking her from the Singer¡¯s Lounge to a f¨ºte at one of the mansions in the Merchant Quartier and slipping in with the crowd of guests leaving. It wouldn¡¯t do to push their luck here. ¡°You¡¯re entitled to the spotlight, aren¡¯t you? The greatest singer of the generation, with fingers far defter than any alive. Who would want their unparalleled skill with the harp reduced to backing up a machinist?¡±

    Eloise raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly.

    Costeau frowned. ¡°Do you think so little of me, my dear? Stealing from a colleague out of simple jealousy? That¡¯s nothing more than a mark of insecurity. I have every confidence in my ability to outshine Magnifico, even setting aside that he¡¯s likely to leave soon after the tournament. Certainly I have better things to do with my money than removing such competition.¡±

    Time to try something else. ¡°Why remove it, when you could suborn it? Perhaps smashing it to pieces isn¡¯t worth our price, but it would be yours to use as you please. An accompaniment, an otherworldly sound to your impeccable compositions, with practically none in the world even having a chance at challenging you. The best of both worlds, exclusively at your fingertips.¡±

    ¡°No need to break it out right away either,¡± Eloise added, folding her arms. ¡°Wait until your star is fading, an inevitability, then break out the mystery instrument that nearly none outside of Avalon have any conception of. That will alleviate any concerns of theft as well.¡±

    ¡°There are many excellent singers, skilled harpists. But truly no one will be able to compare to you, not when you have something wholly unique backing you. Only ten in the world, nine of them locked up tightly in Avalon. You¡¯d be the voice of a generation.¡±

    Narrowing her eyes, Costeau stepped closer. ¡°You think I¡¯m some tittering ingenue, easily manipulated by prodding at insecurities? I told you: I have no interest in this, my dear. I already have unique talent. Why should I abandon my specialty for this absurd boondoggle?¡±

    ¡°Because you have nothing.¡± Eloise rolled her eyes. ¡°One day, you¡¯ll wake up and realize that no one has cared about you in years. Some hot new thing has captured the public¡¯s imagination, while your remaining fans age inexorably into death, unable to convince their children and grandchildren why they ever cared for you at all. You¡¯ll be limited to playing your most popular songs to a cadre of pathetic admirers who don¡¯t respect you as an artist; they simply feel nostalgic for their youth.

    ¡°It might be in ten years, or two. Perhaps it¡¯s happening already; look at the gaggle around the foreign bard with his mystical instrument. Yet no one stopped to talk to you. No one other than us.¡±

    Costeau was staring mutely, eyebrows furrowed. That was brutal.

    Eloise tilted the corner of her mouth up ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. ¡°That moment will come. It¡¯s inevitable. But your irrelevance is not. Imagine instead that you¡¯re the sole and best player of the pulsebox on the entire continent. Irreplaceable. An entire genre, no, an entire medium inexorably tied to you. Your name, your music, your talent. It would be forever above reproach.¡±

    The musician blinked. ¡°You are a horrid little woman, and think no better of me than your friend. My vanity is far from what you imply; I¡¯ve no need to remain the most recognized forever, my dear. Certainly not with a device only I¡¯d have access to. If anything, maintaining such an advantage is unsporting, unjust. Why should I alone have such dominion, let alone pay you for it?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Eloise spat out, her eyebrows pulled down into a surprisingly emotive frown. ¡°This was a waste of time.¡±

    Why should she alone have such dominion? Hmm. ¡°You¡¯re right, Madame Costeau. Why should any one person serve as the gatekeeper to the pulsebox, and all the strange and wonderful sounds it makes?¡± Florette raised up a single finger. ¡°Why should it travel back to Avalon to entertain some royal few? The music wants to be heard. It wants to be free.¡±

    Costeau tilted her head, her eyebrows straightening out.

    ¡°If Magnifico leaves with it, it¡¯s gone forever. At that point, for all of us on this continent, it might as well have been thrown in the ocean. But if it were to go missing? I have to imagine the underlying mechanisms might appear in other devices, after a while. Nothing attributable to any one person, but simply an emergence of a fascinating new sound. One belonging to everyone, rather than a single arrogant bard and his tyrant king. I¡¯m sure there are mechanists here¡ª¡±

    ¡°Scientists,¡± Eloise corrected.

    Florette blinked. ¡°Scientists, who could use the device to discover the underlying principles and construct others, but they would benefit greatly from the help of someone experienced in music and sound. Probably enough to make it worth your while overall, or close enough that the public good would be more than worth the remaining price.¡±

    Edith Costeau¡¯s mouth twisted. ¡°And what price would that be?¡±

    Eloise flicked her eyes over, a glimmer in them as she smiled. We¡¯ve got her. ¡°Sixty thousand florins, upon successful delivery. A discounted rate, given your generosity to the people, and with no risk to you.¡± Huh. It actually was, at fifteen thousand lower than they had discussed. That didn¡¯t seem much like her, but perhaps there was some angle Florette was missing. So often, the quartermaster¡¯s mind was an enigma, her soul hidden behind the opaque doorway of grey eyes and a hard smirk.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Costeau tapped her thumbs together. ¡°I suppose you have a deal, my dears. Good luck.¡±

    Florette was shaking by the time they made it out to the street, bouncing on her feet as she fell into step beside her partner. ¡°That was nice of you to drop the price. She seemed like she probably would have given us the seventy-five.¡±

    Eloise scoffed. ¡°Nice has nothing to do with it. I¡¯m simply helping to incentivize an expansion of an underdeveloped market for us. Obviously, this will be some of the hardest-won money we¡¯ve ever come across, Avalon tech without Avalon security to deal with. Shaving a bit off of the price will ruin us, no matter what long term benefits it provides.¡±

    ¡°What benefit, exactly?¡± Florette raised her eyebrows. ¡°And how does going to the market factor into it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course the market is literal. Our vendor is an actual fence, too.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°We need people buying the shit we steal. That¡¯s our market, that group. The larger it is, the more money we make.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it just the nobles? You steal plans for a cannon or something and then they buy it to make their own? Seems plenty big to me.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°For a cannon, sure. Or an airship. Did it ever occur to you that there might be non-military technologies that are harder to sell that way? Well, probably not. You wouldn¡¯t have heard of this pulsebox heist I¡¯m pulling. It¡¯s very secret.¡±

    ¡°Stop being a prick for a second.¡± Florette waved her off. ¡°I want to know. So Edith Costeau, and maybe people like her, they¡¯re a market for more civilian technologies, and you want it to grow, and that¡¯s why you dropped the price?¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s because I secretly have a heart of gold.¡±

    ¡°Right, I think I follow you, then.¡±

    ¡°You know, you sounded a lot like the Captain, back there. ¡®Free the ideas, free the technology, liberate it from its owners and grant it back to the world.¡¯ With the right goods, it¡¯s the kind of thinking that keeps us in business, but I think he believes it too.¡± Eloise glanced over to her. ¡°You didn¡¯t say all that because you meant it, did you?¡±

    What would be so bad about that? ¡°Just trying to get her to buy, whatever it took. The direction we were going before wasn¡¯t working.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Maybe we should have tried insulting her more. I¡¯ve gotten very good results with it.¡±

    ¡°And yet you keep acting that way.¡± Florette rolled her eyes.

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s a reason I¡¯m not usually part of the negotiations. But we¡¯re partners on this little side job, and I figured I ought to see it through.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Florette smiled. ¡°So what happens next, exactly?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go to the next general meeting tonight and tell everyone what a fuck-up you were, how you completely ruined our chance at finding a buyer. Then the Captain will call for a vote to approve the job, which will fail since it¡¯s such easy money for practically no risk, and we¡¯re all a bunch of idiots. I¡¯ll grab a few knuckleheads to help me with my end, and we¡¯ll break into the Singer¡¯s Lounge tomorrow morning to steal it while you distract Magnifico.¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow?¡± Didn¡¯t they have more time?

    ¡°Yeah. Miss Priss and Lord Fuckwad are dueling, and it¡¯ll keep attention away from the prize. Unless you can think of a better moment when Magnifico¡¯s away without the pulsebox?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°But then why do I need to be with him? He¡¯ll be distracted by the duel already. Can¡¯t I come steal it with you?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Eloise chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s an easy job, but not so easy we¡¯d risk mucking it all up with an amateur in the mix. You¡¯re more valuable with him, our last line of defense. Keep him away if he comes back early, make sure he stays away from Costeau¡¯s, stuff like that. I can¡¯t tell you how many times we¡¯ve been missing someone like that on a job and the mark surprised us, being somewhere they weren¡¯t supposed to be.¡±

    ¡°I can do better than that!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure. But this is where you¡¯re the most useful. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll still get your higher cut.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    Eloise sighed. ¡°None of us are going to see the look on his face when he realizes it¡¯s been taken. But you might. And it gives you a bit of an alibi too, although I don¡¯t know how well it¡¯ll hold up to scrutiny. I¡¯d be ready to run at a moment¡¯s notice. Still, might maintain the relationship for another job down the road, while if you come with us, you¡¯ll be the first person he suspects.¡±

    Florette clenched her fists. ¡°Fine.¡±

    It did make sense; that was the worst thing. It still didn¡¯t stop it from feeling wrong. Especially when it called into question why exactly Eloise had recruited her at all.

    ¡°Be up bright and early tomorrow. The duel is at dawn. I¡¯ll come tell if the job is off, but otherwise we¡¯re doing it.¡±

    Dawn was almost half a day earlier than Florette tended to wake up, so she told the innkeep to wake her on the hour, but it didn¡¯t turn out to be necessary. It was still dark when she woke, and hours of trying weren¡¯t enough to get her back to sleep.

    When the faint light of morning started to streak across the sky, Florette gave up, making her way to the arena platform where the duel was to be held. Eloise hadn¡¯t appeared, which meant that she and some of the pirates were probably breaking into the Lounge now. Without her.

    Even this early, it was strange to see the pier so empty. Some people with swords or pikes stood guard in front of ships, but the loading and unloading of goods was a shadow of what it usually was at this hour. Villemalin seemed to have a chill over it too, with a notable absence of the usual breakfast cookfires and gatherings of old men drinking. The whole thing was unsettling in a way that was hard to identify.

    Why was that? This was still more people than were ever around back in the mountains, and that never felt so strange.

    The isolation there was awful too, though. Maybe it is the same.

    When she crossed the gate out of the city, it was obvious where everyone had gone. Pillars of smoke stretched into the sky from makeshift bonfires on the beach, while hordes of people gathered around them to roast and cheer.

    The festival hadn¡¯t officially started, she didn¡¯t think, but the accommodations were in place, as were many of the visitors. And of course, the spectacle was starting early.

    The crowd only grew thicker as she got closer to the wooden platform rising above the sea, as did the noise. The arena had wooden stands built up facing it, but those had long overflowed onto the beach beside them.

    How was I the last one here? Coming early would have been a better use of her time than lying awake in bed, if nothing else.

    Between the muddled roar of the crowd and the whistling wind, it was difficult to make any real sounds out, but it sounded almost as if someone had called¡ª

    ¡°Florette!¡± That was definitely her name.

    She turned to try to identify the source, facing the stands only to see a gold-clad Fernan waving his arm at her, the flames from his eyes streaking with the wind. It took a bit of maneuvering to reach him, climbing around the side to bypass the aisles blocked with people sitting on the steps, but she managed it without too much difficulty.

    Magnifico was with him, too, which made things that much easier.

    ¡°Hello!¡± she called out, squeezing a glaring man out of the way so she could set next to them. ¡°It hasn¡¯t started yet, right?¡±

    ¡°No, but you missed a lot.¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes flickered. ¡°People have been celebrating out here all night.¡±

    ¡°They wanted their places ready. And with the warmer temperatures, why not spend a night under the stars?¡± Magnifico looked down at the crowded beach. ¡°I imagine people will do much the same when the festival proper begins. It¡¯s sure to be quite the spectacle.¡±

    Edith Costeau wasn¡¯t up here, Florette was pleased to note. She was probably ready to receive the pulsebox and deliver the payment, right now.

    ¡°Apparently King Lucien gathered his people here, and Lord Lumi¨¨re took it as a challenge,¡± Fernan said. ¡°He told us we were to be on guard, ready for anything to break out. That the Malins could be incensed when their sage loses the duel.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t really think she will though, do you?¡± Florette pointed down. ¡°I can¡¯t help but notice that they¡¯re fighting surrounded by water.¡±

    Fernan shrugged while Magnifico chuckled slightly. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the extent of Aurelian¡¯s preparations. It would be quite a shock if he didn¡¯t prevail, but I suppose it¡¯s possible.¡±

    ¡°How does it work, exactly?¡± Florette looked out at the platform, where the two sages were now climbing the ladder up from the sea.

    ¡°In a tournament, they¡¯d simply be trying to knock each other off, by whatever means necessary.¡± The bard shrugged. ¡°Now though? It¡¯s little more than a spirited backdrop to a fight to the death. Though the first to fall will surely be the first to die, showing weakness like that. Neither of them will want to leave the platform, not when it signals failure in such an obvious way to the crowd. This has to be a decisive victory, for either of them. The whole point is demonstrating power in a manner beyond reproach.¡±

    Beat them, and leave no doubt. ¡°That makes sense.¡±

    ¡°No it doesn¡¯t.¡± Fernan shot her a glare. ¡°This whole thing is about people¡¯s lives. They¡¯re gambling with them like it¡¯s a few florins. Lumi¨¨re bet fifty lives towards his victory, people who will be burned alive if he wins.¡±

    ¡°With opium wine in their blood. It¡¯s more humane than many executions I¡¯ve seen.¡± Magnifico sighed. ¡°As long as people serve spirits, this sort of thing is inevitable. A pile of bodies on the path to power has never been enough to stop anyone. You have to tackle the root cause.¡±

    ¡°And yet you call Lumi¨¨re friend. I find that interesting.¡± Nothing hostile, not calling out his hypocrisy too directly, but it would keep him talking, if only to supply his excuse.

    The bard shrugged. ¡°What can I say? He charmed me.¡±

    ¡°I take it you¡¯re rooting for him, then.¡± At that, Fernan shot her another look, his fiery eyes no longer scary, though still accusing, but he kept his mouth shut.

    ¡°I am. If you¡¯re hoping for a bet though, I must admit that I¡¯ve already arranged all of my gambling for the day.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll keep it friendly then. I like the aqua-bitch¡¯s chances.¡±

    The man next to Florette placed a hand on her shoulder, grasping tightly. A snarl filled his face, his ears as red as the long hair cascading down his shoulders. ¡°Call her that again, and I¡¯ll make you answer for it.¡±

    Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°Right. Scary.¡±

    Fernan buried his head in his hands.

    ¡°Ah, you haven¡¯t met?¡± Magnifico asked. ¡°Florette, please allow me to introduce King Lucien Renart, Fox-King of the Empire and betrothed of Lady Leclaire.¡±

    Shit.

    ¡°Hello, your Majesty.¡± Florette drew the sentence out, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°I was just telling Magnifico that I fancy your fianc¨¦. To win the duel, I mean! I like her chances, and simply wanted to express that as best I¡ªIt¡¯s really such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡±

    The King narrowed his eyes, removing the hand from her shoulder. ¡°See that you treat her with respect.¡±

    Just wait until you hear how we met. ¡°Of course, your Majesty.¡±

    He clicked his tongue, turning back to the woman he had been talking to before.

    Florette gulped as she faced Magnifico and Fernan, the bard stifling laughter as Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed out, trailing even further into the wind.

    ¡°How long did you intend to stay in the city again, Florette?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking I¡¯ll leave tomorrow. Or today.¡±

    Magnifico chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s probably wise. But do stay for the duel. It should prove quite fascinating to watch. And you, especially, won¡¯t want to miss what follows.¡±

 Camille VIII: The Defender of Malin

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille VIII: The Defender of Malin</h1>

    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Lucien squeezed her hand.

    Camille breathed deep, feeling the armor shift over her body with the rise and fall of her chest. Even with it thin enough to minimize the load, moving under the weight of the metal and the padding beneath it was frustrating, making the already-grueling practice far worse. But it was a significant improvement over being stabbed in the chest.

    ¡°I think I was ready weeks ago, really. If this were simply a duel to first touch, I could manage it in my sleep.¡± She forced a smile. ¡°It¡¯s not like Aurelian is such an intimidating opponent. But ¡®to the death¡¯ demands the utmost caution. And I cannot merely win. This needs to be an indisputable victory, proving once and for all that the Sun Temple cannot drive us out, or question our power.¡±

    Lucien nodded, pulling an orange kerchief from a pocket sewn into his red silk tunic, rubies lining the trim. He¡¯d wanted to wear armor as well, but that would send exactly the wrong message. It was Lumi¨¨re instigating this, and his fall would mean an end to the hostilities, not a beginning.

    ¡°Are you sick?¡± Camille raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°It¡¯s a favor.¡± He wrapped it around her upper arm, tying it into place. ¡°To guide you to victory.¡±

    The color is all wrong. It will look terrible with the blue-trimmed armor. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said instead, since it was sweet of him. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡±

    Across the beach, Lumi¨¨re was preparing as well. He had refrained from donning armor himself, probably realizing that it was more likely to make him drown than to be worth the protection it added, but the golden-dyed leather over his body still seemed sturdy enough to help protect against slashes from the cutting end of a blade. Even if the robe he wore over the padding seemed entirely pointless.

    Camille¡¯s rapier, though, would pierce right through his protections. And was light enough for her to wield without collapsing in under a minute, which was fairly important too. Two weeks of training crowded into the edges of a schedule filled with spiritual duties, festival preparations, and planning could only do so much.

    Aurelian had his secret plan, but she had hers. And as the challenged party, it was Camille who set the terms of the duel. This location over the water, the permission of weapons instead of only spiritual magic ¡ª they gave her a winning position no matter how the sun sage chose to attire himself. Either he would drown in heavy armor, or she could run him through in something lighter.

    She felt a slight pulse of revulsion at the thought that she would need to do the latter, though. Swallowing him under the sea would have been so much cleaner, and a manner of execution she was far more accustomed to.

    And then there was the aftermath to consider. Even after the duel today, her work would be far from done. Having Fernan would be most helpful, there. His friendship with the Lumi¨¨re heir had already placed his aptitude far beyond what she could have hoped for, however much the boy might have demurred about it. It would be foolish to count on similar success in the aftermath, but at least it was enough to hope for it.

    By unspoken agreement, both Camille and her opponent opted to forgo spiritual power to ascend the platform, instead floating small rafts out to the wooden structure and climbing the ladder manually.

    She could have upstaged him by riding a wave to the top, but at the cost of power, and he would surely have replicated the show of force with a similar feat of his own. It was something of a surprise he hadn¡¯t anyway, though, when he likely had more power to spare than she did. Especially since Aurelian Lumi¨¨re had never been a cautious man.

    But there was no use in dwelling on it, not when she had an audience before her, ready for a show.

    After planting her feet at the north edge of the platform, Camille turned and gave a bow to the group of Malins assembled on the beach to watch her. They were outnumbered by the Guerrons here to cheer for Lumi¨¨re, but they made up for it with their graciousness, none louder than Lucien.

    From near the top of the stands, a woman next to Lucien hoisted a pole and unfurled the banner Camille had commissioned for the event, the Leclaire serpent entwined with the Renart fox on a wide blue ocean. Christine, most likely. The master of arms certainly had the strength for it, but Lucien might have chosen someone else. In any case, it mattered little.

    Fernan and his irritating friend were over there too, by the looks of it, along with Magnifico.

    What business has he here?

    Perhaps it was simply for the spectacle of it, but that explanation seemed insufficient.

    ¡°Are you prepared to die?¡± Lumi¨¨re called out above the roar of the wind. ¡°If you recant your slight to Soleil and offer him his due, I shall allow you to walk away with your life.¡±

    Cries and jeers erupted from the Guerrons gathered, far louder than anything that had been mustered for Camille. But there are more of them. Alarmingly more, really. Those sympathizing with his hate for Malin and the Crown had to be a minority of Guerron, Duke Fouchand had assured her as much, but it appeared they were still enough to outnumber Lucien¡¯s people.

    But that is what the front lines are for, she thought for a dark moment, before turning to more productive planning. It wasn¡¯t as if they had some inherent evil to them. Theirs was simply an ignorance, capable of being rectified with their chief instigator dead.

    As long as there isn¡¯t a riot when I win.

    Lucien would have to step in, there, quickly and assertively. But the voice of a King was a powerful thing, and he was all of their king, whatever lies Lord Lumi¨¨re spewed from his white horse.

    ¡°Well?¡±

    Camille wrenched her eyes back away from the crowd, facing the sun sage. Her blue ponytail blew in the wind behind her, flapping in concert with her cape as she drew her rapier. By way of response, she leveled it at Lumi¨¨re¡¯s head.

    His eyes narrowed. ¡°Very well.¡± He drew his own sword from his belt, a one-handed sabre usually used by cavalry, a slight curve to the blade. Strange to see in a duel like this, but perhaps he was simply more comfortable with the weapon.

    ¡°Let us begin.¡± Camille tilted her body, presenting a narrow profile made narrower by the armor holding everything in place. WIth a dramatic swing of her sword, she flicked her foot slightly, sending a small spray from the waves behind her out onto the platform. As she stepped forward slowly towards her opponent, subtle gestures splashed more and more ocean spray over the wood.

    Lumi¨¨re did not seem to notice, striding confidently through the spray without so much as blinking.

    By the time they met in the middle, her trap was ready.

    She deflected a swing of his sabre, feeling the judder in her arm as she put enough force into it to block the blow, then lunged, outstretching the tip of her own.

    Effortlessly, he parried, stepping back to reset to a neutral position. Or at least, he tried to, before slipping on the patch of ice beneath his feet. He landed on his rear, sliding back six feet before he stopped moving.

    Camille dissipated the ice back into water as she charged forward to capitalize on his position, looking Lumi¨¨re straight in his indignant eyes, practically blazing with anger. They hadn¡¯t always been colored gold, had they?

    Perhaps he had worked some spirit magic to enhance his image. Even though at this distance no one in the crowd would be able to see it¡­

    ¡°It figures that you¡¯d jump straight to underhanded tricks,¡± he spat, flicking his sword just enough to send her rapier to the side of his head.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Magic and weapons were permitted,¡± she said, trying to bait him into wasting energy. ¡°If you lack the power to retaliate in kind, that is hardly my concern.¡±

    He snarled, grabbing her rapier above the knuckle-guard, far from the piercing tip, and wrenched it out of her hand. ¡°Always so impudent.¡± He threw the rapier off of the platform, into the water below. ¡°I mastered the sabre when you were still hiding in your mother¡¯s skirts. I killed fourteen men in the Foxtrap even as the cannons thundered above me, reducing the walls to crumbling ruin. You say you fight for Malin, but I¡¯ve bled for it. I watched my father die for it. What have you done, Camille?¡±

    She scrambled back, scowling as she iced the ground between them. The rapier itself she could live without, but losing it would make this duel that much harder. She¡¯d need another way to kill him. ¡°I lost both my parents that day. The same day I became a sage. I thought you were one too.¡± Why was he being so reserved with his power? Of all the things she had prepared for, this had not even been a factor. He could not possibly expect to win like this.

    Lumi¨¨re shrugged. ¡°I had hoped to kill you with the blade. Why waste the energy?¡± He stared down at the ice patch in front of him. ¡°That¡¯s a sorry little trick, isn¡¯t it?¡± He quickly stepped to the side, then lunged forward past it.

    But Camille was ready, freezing the area of his landing and sending him careening far to the other side of the platform, though he did manage to keep his footing.

    She chanced a look at the crowd, whose energy and enthusiasm seemed to have largely given way to restless boredom.

    With a smile, Lumi¨¨re threw his sword lazily over his shoulder; it followed Camille¡¯s rapier into the water. ¡°How quickly they desert you when you fail to entertain them. The spirits are much the same, I find, only valuing the utility you provide them, never appreciating what you sacrifice.¡± He clenched his fists. ¡°But then, there is the power. We mustn¡¯t forget that.¡±

    He glared fiercely at her feet for a bewildering moment, not saying a word. In an instant, she felt a searing pain as a column of steam rose up from the floor. She dispersed it right away, but the pain still lingered.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I missed your little dousing? It¡¯s a double-edged sword.¡±

    Fine. Perhaps the time for subtlety was over.

    With a quick glance over her shoulder, Camille began to focus harder on one of the waves, pushing and pulling them higher and higher until it swept over the entire platform.

    Lumi¨¨re¡¯s smile faded as he jumped high into the air, an aura of shining gold encircling him as he landed lightly on his feet. ¡°Soleil will deliver me victory.¡± The aura around him was so bright it was nearly impossible to see, tinting even his dark hair to the point that it, too, appeared gold.

    Camille tensed, ready to dart to the side of the next attack. The light was starting to burn her eyes, but she couldn¡¯t look away without risking missing something crucial.

    Lumi¨¨re¡¯s golden aura began to pulse in and out, faster and faster. To what end, she couldn¡¯t say, but whatever he was doing, there was no reason to leave him the time for it.

    This time, she rode the wave as it rose, standing atop it as it barreled towards the golden man. He would try to jump again, but she could¡ª

    He ascended without his legs even moving, jets of light flaring out from his hands to push him into the air. Even once the light from his hands faded, he remained hanging in the air, floating.

    Flight?

    Lucien had never mentioned that.

    Another wave reached even higher, but he simply hovered above it. His arms folded, he stared down smugly.

    ¡°Fine.¡± Camille crossed hers to match his pose once she landed back on the platform. ¡°One of us is going to run out of energy staying up there. Can you guess who it is?¡±

    ¡°You idiotic girl.¡± He pressed his fists together. ¡°This is only the beginning.¡±

    Shockingly fast, a massive beam of light shot out of his fists straight towards her, blindingly bright.

    But this, of everything, she had prepared for the most. It only took a slight lunge to the left to get her out of the way, sliding on ice to preserve her momentum then melting it once she knew she was out of the way.

    With a frown, Lumi¨¨re tried again, and then again, but she managed to dodge each one. And this had to be costing him more energy than it was for her. It was just like she had talked about with Lucien: get him to burn his power, wear him out, and then go in for the kill.

    He flew over her head, raining the light of the heavens down as he did, but even the barrage did little more than send her stumbling for a moment before regaining her footing.

    Better, the maneuver had distracted him enough for Camille to finally bring a wave down over his head, catching him unawares from behind.

    It knocked him downward, but most of it dissipated into steam the moment it made contact. ¡°Your patron is not without his ability, but it pales in comparison to the power of Soleil.¡± He reached behind him towards the rising sun behind the mountains, getting slightly brighter as he did. ¡°You cannot harm me, Camille. Please surrender. I¡¯d far rather avoid killing you.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°You challenged me to a duel to the death!¡±

    His nose wrinkled in disgust as he slammed his fist down against his thigh. ¡°You stole a soul that belonged to my patron! Honor demanded this.¡±

    ¡°Honor,¡± she scoffed, shaking her head.

    ¡°Soleil,¡± he responded curtly. ¡°Last chance.¡±

    ¡°I think not.¡± Camille stepped back off the edge of the platform, dropping out of sight as she caught herself on a rising wave.

    She called forth a massive wall of water behind her, growing higher and higher even as Lumi¨¨re tried to disperse it with rapidly striking beams of light.

    Under the arena, support beams at cross angles were everywhere. It was difficult to even chart a path through, but with a dive through a triangle of seaworn wood, she managed to emerge on the other side, rising up behind the sun sage, who was still blasting furiously at the water in front of him.

    She flicked a dagger of ice towards his throat, but it sublimated to steam the instant it made contact with his head. This close, it seemed like whatever he¡¯d done really had turned his hair yellow.

    I need something stronger.

    She willed her platform as cold as possible, turning a hovering tower of water into a pillar of ice. But stopping there was not enough.

    Her concentration on the other wall of water slipped for an instant as she put more and more energy into the tower of cold, causing Lumi¨¨re to stop blasting for a moment, even turning his head back around.

    He blinked with surprise as he saw her there, shooting another blast at the base of the tower and sending Camille and her perch careening back towards the water.

    But another wave pushed back, burning far too much power to send her directly towards Lumi¨¨re. She just had to hope it was enough.

    Before it reached him, he tried to put his hands together for another blast of light, but it was too late. The massive chunk of frigid ice knocked him out of the sky, pinning him against the wooden floor.

    She was almost out of energy now, after everything she had put into keeping it cold enough, but Lumi¨¨re was trapped, the ice sizzling against his still-glowing body.

    ¡°You have to be nearly out of energy by this point.¡± Camille hopped off of the crashed ice and onto the platform next to him. ¡°I am nothing if not magnanimous in victory. If you¡ª¡±

    An explosion of light tore the ice apart, sending shards flying as water splattered and steam erupted. As grand a gesture as it was, it seemed likely to be his last.

    When the steam cleared, Lumi¨¨re had his fist against the ground near the edge of the arena, trying to force himself to a standing position. His hair had dulled, his eyes only flecked with yellow. He had to be nearly out of energy by now.

    But I¡¯m not. Even if it were far closer than was comfortable. A tendril of water wrapped around each of his ankles, freezing him place before he could stand.

    She stepped closer, keeping her back to the water.

    The glow had faded entirely, all traces of yellow and gold gone from his face. A look of pure spite filled his face as Camille bent down to look at him.

    This was the moment to kill him, if ever there were one. Duke Fouchand had given his blessing, and the man was practically begging for it with his brazen antagonism.

    The roar of the crowd finally returned to her ears, once the pounding of her heart faded enough for her to listen. A cacophonous mix of cheers and jeers, entirely unintelligible.

    If he asked to surrender, could she give it to him? Could she even afford to offer it, with the risk that he would simply return to the temple and retaliate?

    ¡°You got what you wanted, Camille.¡± He glared up at her. ¡°My energy is drained, while some clearly remains to you. This isn¡¯t how I wanted to do things.¡±

    Kill him! Get on with it! Her whole body grew hotter, drenched with sweat, as the anticipation built up.

    And yet she hesitated. At Soleil¡¯s request, he had said. The discomfort grew stronger, until she felt like she was burning under the weight of the decision.

    What would it look like, to all of those Guerrons watching on? How would it look to the others, uncommitted to either side?

    ¡°But what¡¯s two years of my life, against flawless victory today?¡± He smiled.

    Camille looked down at her armor, and instantly the pain became real in a way it never had before.

    Bastard.

    With a quick razor of ice, she slashed the straps holding to her body, the red armor falling into the puddle on the platform with a hiss.

    He¡¯d just burned two years of his life, to power a momentary spiteful gesture that accomplished nothing.

    ¡°Alright, you hateful creature.¡± She swept her arm up, nearly exhausting her reserves to gather a final cloud of water above both of their heads. She collapsed it into a sheet, gradually hardening it into ice. She focused up at it, ensuring that it would be sharp enough to kill in one smooth blow when it reached his neck. ¡°Time to die.¡±

    She heard it before she felt it, a deafening crack through the air like thunder, only louder.

    Camille blinked, her ears still ringing from the sound. Her shoulder felt like someone had whacked it with a practice sword, numbness spreading out across it as she tore her gaze away from the falling water above.

    Huh. That looks almost like blood.

    That finally made the pain of it real, the red dripping down her tunic as she collapsed to the ground.

    Lumi¨¨re grinned as he stood, spinning a metal tube with a wooden handle on his finger before tucking it back into his robe. He leaned down closer to her head, speaking barely above a whisper. ¡°Nifty thing, this handheld cannon. Magnifico called it a pistol.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It would have been better to win without it, of course. I¡¯ll have a bit of explaining to do for the Duke. But what can you do?¡± He kicked her closer to the edge, causing her to groan with pain again.

    ¡°F-f-f-f¡ª¡± She choked before she could get the words out, blood dribbling down her chin. Fuck you.

    The sun sage smiled. ¡°Well, no one will ever say you didn¡¯t put up a good fight. Goodbye, Camille.¡± He kicked her one last time, sending her tumbling into the water below as the life drained from her body.

 Fernan VII: A Mere Observer

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan VII: A Mere Observer</h1>

    The cheering stopped in the space of an instant, interrupted by the thunderous crack in the air.

    I know that sound.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Florette whispered, her body glowing a tense blue.

    Something in Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s hand had flared red the instant the noise had sounded; even now it was far hotter than the rest of his body, standing out even as he tucked it back into his robes.

    ¡°He¡­ That¡¯s what he¡¯s been practicing¡­¡± What had happened? Lady Camille had simply collapsed a moment after the noise, with no apparent blasts or materials to incapacitate her.

    ¡°Needed every moment of it too.¡± Magnifico rose to a standing position. ¡°Though of course, he¡¯d never even seen a gun before, let alone aimed one. They always say practice makes perfect.¡± Who says that?

    Florette glowed brighter. ¡°Wait, you were the one who¡ª¡±

    The man behind her, King Lucien, shoved her out of the way. ¡°You¡¯ll die for this, bard!¡±

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± Magnifico folded his arms. ¡°Nothing¡¯s managed to kill me yet, and it¡¯s not for lack of trying.¡±

    King Lucien drew his sword.

    The bard shrugged. ¡°Weapons were permitted, by your betrothed¡¯s own request, in fact.¡±

    From behind the king, perhaps ten more men and women drew their swords in turn, forming a wedge with him at the tip.

    ¡°Say your last words, creature of Avalon, and I shall make your death swift.¡±

    His words hung in the air for an instant, the crowds on the beach below turning their attention up at all of them.

    Magnifico sighed. ¡°No.¡± He stepped back towards the aisle, Fernan scrambling back to allow him passage. The bard said something softly, inaudible under the cacophonous roar filling the air, then dipped his head.

    Then a bright light stepped between them. Large and sturdy, with the traces of a beard. This was Adrian Couteau. The sage held his arms out and yelled something in the king¡¯s face, but Lucien pushed back, elbowing him with his sword arm.

    That was when everything really went wrong.

    Pillars of flame shot up into the sky, enlarged from the campfires on the beach below.

    ¡°For Soleil!¡± Adrian¡¯s shoulder was weeping warmth, blood dripping as he whirled his arm.

    Fernan was knocked down, the seat of the row below knocking the wind out of him as he saw the flames and warmth begin to spread from King Lucien to the wood below.

    More sages had joined Adrian, throwing fire and light at the King¡¯s guard with abandon, but more missed than hit.

    Someone with a banner stepped over his head and stabbed it into a sage¡¯s chest, extinguishing his life in an instant.

    Why? What had let it come to this?

    The wood under Fernan¡¯s hands and feet was growing hotter by the second, so he reflexively pushed back against the heat, seeing his pulse ripple across the stands and calm the flames for a moment.

    The scent of smoke filled his nose, but it didn¡¯t sting his eyes. Even as he coughed through it, the silhouettes of sages and guardsmen fighting were clear. Magnifico was nowhere to be found, but Florette was moving like water, dodging and ducking around blows, keeping her footing all the while..

    She pushed the short woman who had been standing by the king out of the way of a ray of light, turning back to tackle the sage who had shot it. It pinned him to the floor, but that gave way under them with a whistling crack. She scrambled back just in time, leaving the sage to fall into the burning maw.

    The waves of people rushing above his head were still there, some trampling his back every so often, but with a glance back to time it right, Fernan stood and rushed towards Florette.

    She picked up a sword from one of the fallen and lunged towards him.

    ¡°Stop!¡± he yelled futilely. ¡°It¡¯s me!¡±

    The blade flew past his side, slicing his tunic and eliciting a yelp of pain. But not from him.

    Fernan flicked his eyes back and saw one of the king¡¯s guardsmen collapse to one knee, the sword sticking out of his abdomen.

    Florette startled back, dropping the sword, but she still had the presence of mind to duck under a beam of light before it clipped her head. She grabbed Fernan, pulling him close enough to shout in his ear. ¡°We have to get out of here!¡±

    No kidding. ¡°How?¡± he yelled back, scanning his eyes back and forth to make sure no one else was approaching them. ¡°The fighting¡¯s worst on the aisles, and the mob keeps coming up the stairs.¡±

    ¡°You can see that?¡± she yelled back, pushing him under a massive swing of an axe.

    ¡°Of course I can¡ª¡± Oh. The smoke. ¡°I think I have a plan!¡± He grabbed her hand and took in the sights of the fighting.

    The king¡¯s guard had maintained some discipline, returning to formation each time one of them dodged out of the way, surrounding and cornering isolated sages when they could manage it by ambushing them through the smoke. King Lucien, easier to pick out with his long hair faintly glowing from the heat, was still at the head of the formation, slipping in and out of the sages¡¯ view with effortless grace, only stopping every so often to cough.

    The sages, by contrast, were a mess ¡ª all spread out, each person for themself. As he looked, one sage even hit another with a plume of flame, blind as they all were.

    More and more people came up from the beach, ascending the stairs and climbing up the sides only to find a blade or a fire waiting for them. It was impossible to tell who they were here to fight for, but that didn¡¯t stop the bodies from piling higher and higher.

    But there was no path free.

    ¡°Can you see a way out?¡± Florette coughed, dancing from one position to the other as the heat beneath them grew.

    ¡°No.¡± Fernan exhaled sharply, sweeping his hand around to gesture at the flaming chaos. ¡°Every direction is cut off.¡±

    Florette¡¯s mouth twisted, her eyes lighting up brighter than her face. ¡°What about up?¡±

    ¡°Up?¡±

    ¡°You saw Lumi¨¨re in that duel. Can¡¯t you do something like that?¡±

    ¡°What, fly? I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    She grabbed his hand and pointed it at the ground. ¡°Just blast us off of here. If we land in the water, it ought to be safe.¡±

    ¡°Safe.¡± He stared back at her.

    ¡°Safer than this.¡± She flailed her arms. ¡°Come on, just try.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± He took a deep breath, tapping into the energy G¨¦zarde bestowed him with, recreating the feeling of exhaling flame, but channeling it down to his fists. The warmth engulfed him, but it did not consume him. ¡°Grab me!¡±

    Florette wrapped her arms around him the instant before concussive flames shot out of his hands, blasting them up into the air.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    For a moment, he was flying.

    Then his head fell under the water, and the noise stopped.

    When he surfaced, the whole beach was awash in the glow of blood and flame, masses trampling over cooling bodies as they blindly shouldered through the crowds and smoke. Few had real weapons, hefting large stones and improvised torches from the cookfires, or simply brawling with their fists.

    ¡°Fernan.¡±

    The stands were already caving in on themselves, raining sparks and embers down on those trapped beneath it, some pinned in place by boards while others were only unconscious. The sun sages stood out, their aura brighter even in death, but they made up only a fraction of the fallen.

    ¡°Fernan!¡±

    Why did it come to this? Unbidden, the image of Camille slumping to the ground returned, tumbling into the rising waves below as Lumi¨¨re sat back with satisfaction. Even then. How could people be so angry that they would kill for it?

    The water splashed as Florette slapped him in the face. ¡°Focus, Fernan! We need to get the fuck out of here, right now. Can you see a way out?¡±

    He blinked, shaking the paralysis from his head. ¡°No one¡¯s really fighting in the water. If we wade through at waist height, we can head north and escape from the city.¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°South. I have an appointment, and you still need your sundial.¡± She glowed slightly brighter. ¡°Come on. There¡¯ll be time to think later. Right now we have to go.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± he sighed.

    At least no one else bothered them on their way, the crowd thinning out to nothing before they even reached the north gates of the city. At the foot of the tower atop the rocky arm that reached into the water, someone was waiting, leaning back against the wall with their arms folded.

    ¡°Careful,¡± he whispered. ¡°I think someone¡¯s watching the entrance.¡±

    Florette laughed, lighting up with a burst of red. ¡°It¡¯s Eloise. We¡¯re fine. Better than fine, really.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the pirate you met?¡± Fernan narrowed his eyes. ¡°We need to be all the more cautious, then.¡±

    ¡°Sure, yeah.¡± Florette picked up her pace, stepping out ahead of him.

    He could see her hug the pirate once she reached her, stepping back and starting to talk.

    She was slender, with short hair, and a strange coldness to her aura, far more muted than most people he had seen. And she shut her mouth the moment Fernan entered their earshot.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine, Eloise.¡± Florette patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. ¡°I¡¯ve already talked about it with him.¡±

    ¡°Smart call. I always say, ¡®if you want a job to go well, blab about it to people connected to the person you want to rob¡¯. Fucking brilliant, Florette.¡±

    ¡°Connected?¡± Fernan raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Magnifico and Lumi¨¨re are close. Or were, maybe, if one of them bit it up there. And you¡¯re clearly a sage in his temple, Mr. Flame Eyes.¡±

    Fernan sighed.

    ¡°He won¡¯t say anything. Really. The job is over, anyway, right?¡±

    Eloise warmed slightly, her posture straightening. ¡°Cash in hand. Spread it out among the crew while we wait for the Folly to get lifted out of the water. Blaise had his work cut out for him rigging up all those sacs of air, so it took a minute to reach the surface again. Good to go now, though.¡±

    ¡°Now? What about¡­¡± She trailed off.

    Fernan shot her a look that she ignored.

    ¡°Hah, yeah.¡± Eloise folded her arms. ¡°Listen, in this business, nothing¡¯s more valuable than knowing when to cut and run. And that¡±¡ªshe pointed up the beach¡ª¡°that¡¯s as good a sign as it gets. There¡¯ll be other tournaments. Come on.¡±

    ¡°Wait, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Florette, if you want to stay, I¡¯m not going to stop you. But the Seaward Folly is leaving, and you just put a lot of work earning your place on it.¡±

    She turned to Fernan, biting her lip.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said, perhaps a bit too curtly. ¡°This is what you wanted, right? I¡¯ll figure it out.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Florette put her hand on the back of her neck. ¡°I just¡­ I wanted to know you and the village were safe, before I left. Especially since my lie got you roped up in all of this sage stuff.¡±

    ¡°Tough shit, then, I guess.¡± Eloise slapped her on the back. ¡°Time to go.¡±

    ¡°I guess this is goodbye, then.¡± Florette winced as she said it.

    ¡°Good luck, with all of it,¡± Fernan said, forcing a smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have some great stories to tell me, the next time we meet.¡± If you don¡¯t get yourself seriously hurt, first, acting as reckless as you have been here. But chastising her for it now would be worse than useless, only poisoning their friendship before she left. It wasn¡¯t anything Florette hadn¡¯t already heard, anyway. ¡°Stay safe,¡± was the best he could manage without sounding condescending.

    She nodded. ¡°Take care, Fernan. Don¡¯t let anyone give you any shit, alright? Until we meet again.¡±

    ¡°Until then.¡± Whenever that will be.

    Eloise grabbed Florette¡¯s wrist and pulled her back south towards the pier.

    He wasn¡¯t sure how long he stayed there after they left, leaning against the lowest rocks and contemplating everything he had seen, but eventually he managed to pick himself up and start walking again.

    The fires were still raging by the time he made it back to the Sun Temple, the smouldering wreckage of the arena stands sending warm air and smoke into the sky. It was clearly visible from the isolated top of the tower, the same place he had glimpsed Soleil days earlier.

    ¡°That was amazing! How did you do it, Fernan?¡±

    ¡°Fuck.¡± He practically jumped out of his skin. ¡°Mara? You saw all of that?¡±

    The gecko finished clambering over the edge, nodding her head as she settled in. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to miss it! I¡¯ve been hiding on the edges for half a moon¡¯s turn now, Fernan, listening to stolen words from more humans than I knew even existed.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. I know you wanted to come and explore. I¡¯m just worried about what might happen if people saw you. Especially there. If any of the king¡¯s people thought you were my familiar, they¡¯d have attacked you on sight.¡±

    ¡°Danger?¡± Mara glowed bright. ¡°The humans were only fighting each other! First the two in the water, and then everyone else. But by that point they were all so blind that avoiding them was completely effortless.¡±

    ¡°I wish I¡¯d known you were there. I could have¡­¡± Could have what, exactly? Stopped the fighting? Of course not. What had there even been to do? ¡°Ugh, this is such a mess, Mara. Florette¡¯s gone, Camille¡¯s dead, and I don¡¯t even know what happened to Magnifico and Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡± Or Adrian, for that matter. His prospects hadn¡¯t looked good when they¡¯d left.

    ¡°I¡¯m still here!¡±

    Fernan smiled. ¡°True. Thank you.¡±

    She glowed green, turning her head. ¡°Humans are coming. Do you want me to hide again?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± Looking down, the bright auras meant that these were the sages returning. Some of them, anyway; Adrian wasn¡¯t among them, and Lumi¨¨re was being carried, lying down on a flat litter. ¡°They know you anyway. Just let me go see Lord Lumi¨¨re alone, once they let me.¡±

    ¡°He needs coal,¡± Mara noted. ¡°It¡¯s bad for you, staying drained like that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that that¡¯s true for humans, necessarily. But he does look to be in a bad way.¡±

    As it turned out, from the words of the other sages once Fernan descended, he had drawn on a sage¡¯s last resort: draining his own life to power his magic, once his spirit energy had depleted entirely.

    From there, there was little to do. Aubaine was locked in his room by his personal guard, not to be seen by anyone, and Lord Lumi¨¨re was scarcely any better. Sequestered in his chambers, he invited the sages in for hushed meetings two or three at a time.

    ¡°It was worth it, of course,¡± Propped up in his bed, Lumi¨¨re spoke calmly despite his diminished aura. Fernan had finally been summoned after hours of listless waiting. ¡°Had Camille drowned me, I¡¯d have lost all my remaining years, rather than two. It¡¯s something to keep in mind when all else fails, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°Is she really dead?¡± he asked cautiously. ¡°I saw her fall. I saw the life drain out of her, but¡­¡±

    Lord Lumi¨¨re shrugged. ¡°She lost, Fernan. That¡¯s what¡¯s important. Magnifico assured me of his weapon¡¯s lethality, and I saw the hole it tore in her shoulder myself, but really, who can say? A water sage in the ocean might pull any sort of trickery to live when it seems impossible. I imagine we¡¯ll hear from her soon, if that¡¯s the case. Perhaps she¡¯ll even deliver our fifty souls in person.¡±

    ¡°And everything that followed?¡± People screaming in the smoke and flames, coughing and bleeding as they were beaten and stabbed. Fernan shook his head clear of the image. ¡°I saw what your sages did, my lord. I can¡¯t accept¡ª¡±

    He held up a single finger. ¡°Remember who struck first, Fernan. I was in no position to stop it myself, after the stresses of the duel, but had I been I would have nonetheless refrained. The Malins stuck their hand into the fire and they were burned for it. Now they¡¯ve learned their lesson.¡±

    Fernan scoffed.

    ¡°Not all of them, of course, but any organized resistance ought to be cowed for some time. After Emile Leclaire and the Debrays quelled the fires and the fighting, they officially condemned King Lucien, though I¡¯m sure it brought them no pleasure to do so. Adrian as well, but that¡¯s far less of an issue for us, if he even survives his wounds.¡± He bit his lip. ¡°We can only hope Soleil sees fit to keep him with us longer. In the meantime, a pair of burned hands and lungs full of smoke are no less than His Majesty deserves. He¡¯s always been rash, and sorely in need of a lesson like this.¡±

    ¡°You killed his wife.¡±

    ¡°Betrothed, Fernan. They weren¡¯t even yet married. And really, I did him a favor there, too. Another exile brings little to the table of a marriage. All Camille could offer was her power, and clearly that wasn¡¯t much to boast about. If she really is dead, if he truly wishes for his homeland back, he could offer his hand in marriage to try to win the swords to do it. Or earn his place in Avalon, if he wished to demonstrate that his childish delusions of reconquest had passed. I believe Lord Airion¡¯s daughter is only a few years younger than him, and niece to King Harold.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes flared. ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop interrupting me, Fernan. It¡¯s unbecoming of an underling.¡± He sat up straighter against the headboard. ¡°Ah yes, anyway, I wished to thank you for seeing Magnifico safely from the battlefield. He spoke highly of your ability to navigate, and the manner by which you led him out of harm¡¯s way. The two of us are most grateful.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± Rescued Magnifico? Why would he lie about that? He had simply disappeared the moment the fighting started, before the smoke had even filled the air. How had he even known enough about Fernan¡¯s sight for the lie to be so credible? Khali¡¯s curse, what a mess.

    ¡°He mentioned that you needed a sundial to stand up to an evil spirit in your homeland. I understand your situation well, and would like to offer you leave to address it.¡± Lord Lumi¨¨re reached over to the cabinet next to his bed, opened a drawer, and pulled a glowing sundial from within it. ¡°In recognition of your efforts, I think you¡¯ve more than earned it. The stablemaster has a garron for you saddled and ready, to help you on your way.¡±

    Fernan stared mutely at the object in his hands. The key to saving his village, to following the plan. All his, by way of lies and carnage.

    Lumi¨¨re¡¯s mouth stretched back into a smile. ¡°Be sure to return once you¡¯re finished. We have other business with you, ushering in our bright future. In the meantime, good luck.¡±

 Luce II: The Alumnus

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Luce II: The Alumnus</h1>

    The Cambrian College was much as Luce remembered it, with massive arms of brick extended out to frame a courtyard, a fountain in the center. Back when Harold I had founded it, the moving water had been a technical marvel, but now every noble of any import had multiple in their private gardens, with another at their residence in Cambria.

    Still, it had been nice to look at. Luce had passed many hours sitting on a bench in front of it with his sketchbook; the inspiration for his capstone project had even come to him on the very bench he was sitting on now, as the wind whistled by.

    Better not to romanticize it too much.

    More often than not, the work had been nigh-unbearable, fueled purely by coffee and determination. But the rigor was by design, encouraging only the best to ascend the ranks of the scientific body, and weed out any incapable of it.

    Unless you were a prince, anyway. Luce had only been able to accomplish anything without the stink of nepotism clouding his every achievement after chasing away all the ¡®tutors¡¯ who had offered to complete his assignments for him. His brother Harold was technically a graduate, too, though he¡¯d never once attended class, nor completed any of the work. It was a shame. He didn¡¯t understand the possibilities, the limitless applications of the world¡¯s foremost technologies and innovations.

    All he saw were the battles won, the nations conquered.

    If it had simply been Harold¡¯s misunderstanding though, that would still be a marked improvement. The paradigm of the war machine infused every aspect of the College system, usually subtly, with Palace grants finding their way to specific projects, or the comparative prestige of scientists in the field of naval engineering versus those in botany. The previous Tower hiring practices had been a rather less subtle application.

    Everyone wants to be the inventor of the next cannon, the next airship. That, or the one who funds it. They¡¯d forgotten that Harold I¡¯s invention of the printing press had been just as key to the unification of Avalon as his longbows and revolutionary tactics, that the western isles had been brought into the fold with diplomacy as well as demonstrations of Avalon¡¯s might.

    11:26, the hands of his wristwatch read, which meant it was time to go in.

    The trickle of students leaving class slightly early was already beginning to fill the halls, but none of them paid him any mind. ¡°Security through obscurity,¡± Father called it. Without regalia, retinue, or royal purple coloring on his clothes, Luce was simply another student. A circle of guards could try to keep him safe, but they would also make him stand out, turn him into a target. And they would turn simple trips like this into exhausting productions, with bells sounding and the announcement of his full name and official title every time he entered the room. Even the thought of it was enough to make him cringe.

    Still, it helped that Luce made few appearances in public. The only people who would recognize him here, mostly professors and perhaps a few of the oldest students, would know not to make a scene. If Harold tried this though, his face plastered as it was across newspapers and journals, it would never work. He¡¯d be mobbed before he even made it into the courtyard.

    The halls were much as he remembered them, glistening hardwood reflecting light from the window at the end, with thick oak doors inset with stained glass transoms color coded to their respective professor¡¯s whims. Apparently, decades ago Headmaster Templeton had tried to reform the scheduling by untethering instructors from their rooms and forcing them to move around as students did, for efficiency.

    It hadn¡¯t lasted long. Upon his unrelated and tragic death in a lab accident days after instituting the policy, his successor had repealed it.

    But that was the sort of rumor students loved to spread. Who really knew the truth of it? Time inevitably distorted things. The whisperings that the same architect that had designed the college also provided the master plan for Cambria¡¯s dungeons, for example, were verifiably false, although admittedly the designer had been consulted for safety protocols.

    Through the back window, the Lyrion Sea was visible, disappearing into the fog a few meters from the coast. On clear days, one could even see the ships being built at Crescent Isle across the water, but clear days were hard to come by, this time of year.

    At least the fog was thin enough that Luce could still see his capstone project, the two massive wind turbines affixed to the seaward towers of the college. Attached to a generator, they would heat copper pads immersed in water, sending steam through pipes in the walls and heating the building during the windiest days, when it tended to need it the most.

    If the battery projects paid off, it could mean an entirely new source of accessible power, free of the limits of coal combustion engines and the infrastructure to support them. Father had never been prouder than the day Luce had unveiled it, though the praise had sat oddly with him. Almost uncomfortable, though he still appreciated the recognition. Less so from Headmaster Jamison, with whom Luce had needed to argue for hours to convince him not to rename the towers after him.

    ¡°Admiring your handiwork?¡± The voice behind him made him jump. When he turned, Professor Thorburton was leaning against the wall with an amiable smile. Broad shouldered and tall, with a barrel chest, and wearing his black apron and work gloves, he looked even less scholarly than usual.

    ¡°I was just waiting, so I didn¡¯t interrupt your class.¡± Luce gestured to the professor¡¯s ensemble. ¡°I see you were doing another practical demonstration.¡±

    He wiped a streak of coal dust from his brow with the back of his hand. ¡°Easier for them to learn when they can do it themselves, rather than reading from a book. Not that everyone agrees, but it¡¯s my class. And after the success of your capstone, I¡¯ve got a pretty free hand when it comes to thermodynamic engineering.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Luce looked over the man¡¯s shoulder at the stream of students squirting out the door like an oil leak. ¡°Any promising contenders?¡±

    Thorburton grinned, clasping his hands together. ¡°A lot of talent in the upper years. You know Olivia Esterton, right? With the lightning gauntlet. I¡¯m serving as her faculty advisor. And Rebecca Williams, the Baron¡¯s daughter, has an unparalleled understanding of explosives. It¡¯s not my department, but I also hear that Ernest Porterfield is trying to adapt the ironclad designs into full-on submersibles.¡±

    ¡°What about¡­¡± How to phrase it? ¡°Anyone working on things more related to¡­ civilian applications?¡±

    The professor blinked, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. ¡°A few, though mostly not in my department. Kelsey Thorley¡¯s trying to underground the urban railways for shorter-distance travel, and Albert Ingles is trying to revolutionize the printing press. Said something about people pushing on the letters like a harpsichord keyboard, and miniaturizing it to fit on a desk.¡±

    Not as many as he might have hoped for, but that was a starting point. And with support from Ortus Tower and the royal family, hopefully more would follow them.

    Thorburton scratched his chin. ¡°You would already know about Tobias Folsom¡¯s pulsebox, of course.¡±

    Who? ¡°Why? And what is that, for that matter?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a music box, I think. Not all that familiar with the particulars.¡± Thorburton folded his arms. ¡°But His Majesty requested a prototype personally, to send with an envoy to the Erstwhile Empire. There¡¯s a few more kicking around at some of the clubs in Mourningside, but it¡¯s already outdated; Folsom found a way to include higher quality sound samples in a new iteration of the device.¡±

    Not terribly useful then, although interesting. Father had probably wanted a way for ¡®Magnifico¡¯ to prove his bona fides as an emissary of Avalon without risking anything too valuable. Student projects would be sufficient to impress on such a technologically backward continent. ¡°Could you arrange a meeting for me with Ingles and Thorley? I¡¯d like to see about giving them Tower support and funding, once they graduate.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Huh. I suppose I can,¡± Thorburton said with a raised eyebrow. ¡°If they even can graduate with projects like that. I wouldn¡¯t be too sure, Luce. Your¡ª¡± He cut himself off.

    ¡°My projects got all the funding I needed because I¡¯m a prince, even though they never would have normally. You don¡¯t need to be afraid to say it.¡± Luce patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Now that I¡¯m the Overseer, I can extend the same generosity. There¡¯s no harm in diversifying Avalon¡¯s technology base, is there?¡±

    ¡°I suppose not. I¡¯ll talk to them the next time I see them in class.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll let the Tower Guards know I¡¯m expecting them. Thank you, Professor.¡±

    ¡°No problem at all, Luce. It¡¯s good to see you here again.¡±

    Luce smiled. ¡°Expect to see a lot more of it. I¡¯ve got a few new programs I¡¯d like to get off the ground, further collaboration between Ortus Tower and the College.¡± From what Harold had said about the state of Malin and Guerron, it was more vital now than ever.

    Taking on new initiatives was stretching him thin, admittedly, with more and more of the day to day operations of the Tower being left under Sir Julius¡¯s command, but Luce could only be in so many places at once. Advancing beneficial sciences had to take priority, with the Great Council on the brink of sending a war declaration to the Palace for the king¡¯s signature. Or Prince Regent, in this case.

    Harold might be able to avoid signing it, but it would cost them. With Father on another continent, losing respect and influence there could be disastrous.

    His business done for the moment, Luce made his way back outside, only to find Sir Julius waiting in the courtyard, tapping his foot impatiently.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Luce hissed. ¡°I left you in command of the Tower.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, my prince. But I come bearing urgent news.¡± Shit.

    Luce clenched his fists. ¡°It¡¯s Guerron, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so, your highness. Lord Lumi¨¨re has challenged Lady Leclaire to a duel to the death.¡±

    He massaged his temples. ¡°Forgive me; I haven¡¯t studied their polity very closely. What¡¯s the significance of that, exactly?¡±

    Julius nodded. ¡°The city¡¯s two spirit temples are on the verge of open war. By the time the news arrived here, things may have gotten even worse than that. If the Great Council wished to take advantage of Guerron¡¯s weakness, in conjunction with the harbor bombing you mentioned to me¡­¡±

    ¡°Shit. Shit!¡± Luce slammed his hands to his face. ¡°When did word of this arrive?¡±

    ¡°The Palace already knows, and the Great Council as well. The Prince Regent read Magnifico¡¯s report before them. As we speak, their vote may already be concluded.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse!¡± This could ruin everything. ¡°I need to get to the palace right away.¡±

    ¡°I thought as much, and took the liberty of preparing your coach, your highness. It¡¯s waiting for you at the entrance.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Luce yelled over his shoulder as he took off towards the coach. The driver didn¡¯t blink as he dove into the cab, calling for him to go to the palace.

    They were halfway down Peige Boulevard by the time Luce regained his composure and caught his breath.

    Why, why, why did Harold read the report to the council? If he¡¯d kept it private, that would at least allow them to delay. They could have gotten out ahead of it, like they had with the bombing, framing it as an accident and leaving out the ship¡¯s last port of call. That had been Harold¡¯s idea, even. Why?

    Luce didn¡¯t even look up at the palace guards as he shouldered his way past, moving as fast as he could while technically walking.

    ¡°Why hello, Luce. The Baron and I were just talking about you.¡± Harold was standing in front of the throne, a circle of lords and ladies around him. Without following politics more, it was a bit difficult to tell, but all of them seemed to be members of the Harpy faction in the Great Council.

    Certainly Baron Williams was, and probably the strongest voice among them, at that. ¡°Greetings, your highness.¡± He bowed at the waist, the other courtiers following him. ¡°I trust you have heard Magnifico¡¯s news.¡±

    ¡°Sir Julius informed me of the basics. Something about a duel.¡± As he spoke, Luce glared at Harold. What are you doing?

    ¡°Gentlemen, I think it would be best if my brother and I had a moment alone. Please excuse us.¡± Harold put his arm around Luce¡¯s shoulder and led him out to a side chamber behind the throne room, away from prying eyes.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing?¡± Luce spat out the moment they were in private. ¡°Meeting with the Harpies, reading them reports about Guerron¡¯s divided weakness¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit more complicated than that,¡± Harold interrupted. ¡°The full truth of the harbor bombing got out, as well as Robin Verrou¡¯s theft. By the time I read the report, the Harpies were already drafting an edict to triple war production and drive recruitment up in the military. This way, I maintain influence with the faction while Aunt Elizabeth keeps an eye on the Owls.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Luce furrowed his brows.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not one for politics, brother, but if you wish to be indignant about my plays, you would do well to learn a bit more.¡± Harold leaned lazily against the wall. ¡°The point, Luce, is that by having a hand in both parties, and in the crafting of the edict, we can ensure that it never passes. Thus sparing me the need to refuse signing it.¡±

    ¡°Really? Because I don¡¯t see why you need to meet with Willaims if our aunt is simply going to crush the edict either way.¡±

    ¡°Trust me.¡± Harold winked. ¡°You handle the technology, and I¡¯ll handle the Council. That¡¯s what¡¯s always worked out.¡±

    Luce took a deep breath, weighing whether to continue pushing back against this. Harold¡¯s reasoning really didn¡¯t seem sound, at least not if preventing war were actually his goal. But he did know the council better, and his general friendliness had allowed him to cultivate a neutral position between the parties. Still¡­

    Harold snapped his fingers. ¡°Oh! While I have you, I promised Rebecca Williams that you would hire her once she graduated. Make sure she gets a plum position in the Tower.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Luce¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Tower personnel is my domain. And I had no intention of¡ª¡±

    He sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Luce. She provided essential services to the Crown. I really didn¡¯t think it would be an issue. You hired your friends when you graduated, right? I figured this would be more of the same.¡±

    My friends didn¡¯t build bombs, and they earned their place when I recused myself. But Luce bit his tongue. ¡°What ¡®essential services¡¯, exactly?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to say. Father wanted¡ª¡± He slapped his hand to his face. ¡°I really do apologize. But I promised her, and I can¡¯t go back on my word now.¡±

    ¡°Then you shouldn¡¯t have promised it!¡± Luce pounded his fist against the wall. His posture softened as he saw Harold flinch back. ¡°Ugh, look, just¡­ Maybe I can assign her to a different department. She can work somewhere else with her specialty or change it to get the promised position in the Tower. Does that work?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± he responded through a grimace. ¡°But Father was pretty specific in his instructions, and this authority ultimately lies with him. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what he wanted.¡±

    ¡°He left us in charge. Left you in charge, while he¡¯s away. If you approve it, it ought to be fine.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Harold snapped his fingers again, jerking his head up in realization. ¡°You can ask him about it yourself, when you head down there.¡±

    What? ¡°Wait, you think I should go to Malin?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Father requested it himself. I certainly found my time there educational.¡±

    ¡°When? You last saw him months ago. Why didn¡¯t you mention it earlier?¡±

    ¡°He asked in a message. Word just arrived today.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave now. The Tower¡ª¡±

    ¡°Can certainly handle things without you for a few months. You run such a tight ship; I¡¯m sure that won¡¯t be an issue.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think Father was asking. He needs you there, just as he needs me here. With the situation in Guerron poised to boil over, maintaining order in Malin is all the more important. Sir Gerald will be able to fill you in once you arrive, so that you don¡¯t need to meet Governor Perimont unapprised of the situation. He¡¯s been conducting the investigation himself, so there¡¯s no risk of leaking information.

    ¡°With everything going on, I¡¯d do anything to keep you. But Father ordered it, and if he says he needs the help, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s right. We need someone we can trust absolutely in Malin, not only in loyalty but in ability. Perimont¡¯s proven a bit less than reliable, of late.¡±

    Luce raised an eyebrow. ¡°Really?¡±

    Harold nodded, smiling slightly. ¡°His penchant for keeping order through rebel hunts and executions has only inflamed the unrest, if anything. I think Father is hoping you¡¯ll be a moderating influence, though of course you¡¯d need to ask him yourself.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Luce clenched his fist. ¡°This is the last thing I need right now. Sir Julius can run the Tower for a time, sure, but¡ª¡± But how much can he really do to slow the war machine, without the cachet of a prince, or my relationship with the College?

    ¡°You¡¯ll just have to return as quickly as you can. If the issues with Guerron are dealt with decisively enough, you might even be back by the end of summer.¡±

    Not bloody likely. But Luce saw no way out of this. ¡°I¡¯ll prepare to leave within the fortnight then. I need to brief my administrators and scientists before my absence.¡±

    ¡°See if you can manage it in a week. Father¡¯s note made the situation sound rather desperate.¡±

    ¡°Could I see that note?¡±

    ¡°I memorized it and then burned it. You can never be too careful.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant.¡± Luce slumped over, defeated. What could he even do, at this point? Winning over Father in person was probably the best he could hope for, convincing him of the importance of his work in Cambria.

    But if Father really were that desperate, what did that say about Malin? How close were they to open rebellion, if Father needed him there urgently enough to pull him away so abruptly?

    ¡°Do try to enjoy Malin.¡± Harold shifted his grimace to a smile as he began to walk out of the room, ready to face the courtiers. ¡°Its summers are actually sunny, unlike Cambria. It might do you some good to get some fresh air.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait,¡± Luce lied.

 Fernan VIII: The Victor

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Fernan VIII: The Victor</h1>

    The road home had been desolate, even agonizing, despite the shorter time it¡¯d taken to travel through the pass.

    Fernan had left the garron at The First Post, since it would be easier to walk the steep mountain path than guide an animal unfamiliar to it. Riding it across the relatively flat pass had been slow and trying enough, with the way the saddle bit into him. He had no idea how nobles paraded around on horses all day without their backside bleeding.

    Not one but two sundials burned a hole in his saddle bag. Literally, before he¡¯d padded them with strips of specially treated leather. That¡¯s why they usually rest on stone rather than cloth, he supposed. But the extra insulation had been sufficient to shield them for the trip.

    The short woman who had been seated next to the king at the duel had met him on his way out of town, some dozen harbor guards in formation behind her.

    ¡°Fernan?¡± she had called out, sending a jolt of fear down his spine as he¡¯d tried to stop his garron. ¡°I¡¯m Annette Debray, here on behalf of Camille Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°Camille¡­¡± He¡¯d finally stopped the creature by that point, fumbling his way off it and just barely managing to keep his footing. ¡°Is she¡­?¡±

    Lady Debray had shaken her head. ¡°In the water like that, it¡¯s impossible to be sure. But she ought to have returned by now. Especially with everything Lumi¨¨re is trying to pull, and Lucien¡­ I fear¡ª¡± She¡¯d choked, blinking rapidly as she composed herself. ¡°You played your part as well as she could have asked.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t. Not really. She wanted me to help with a regency, after the duel. To make peace¡­¡°

    She had removed a sundial from her bag, sparkling in the midday sun, and placed an enormous jingling sack atop it. ¡°There¡¯s no chance of that now. You accomplished everything you could, everything she asked for that was actually possible. I know this is what she would want.¡±

    But I already have one. He¡¯d taken it anyway. Refusing would have only made things worse.

    ¡°There¡¯s six thousand florins in there too,¡± she¡¯d added. ¡°I heard that was part of the deal. I hope it¡¯s alright that it¡¯s coming from me. I couldn¡¯t ask Emile right now. It¡¯s too¡ª¡± She sniffled. ¡°We¡¯re still hoping she¡¯ll come back. Somehow. Three days is a long time, but¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still worth holding onto hope.¡± Fernan had nodded. ¡°Please take four hundred back, though. Lady Camille already gave me that much, as an advance.¡±

    She¡¯d smiled for an instant. ¡°You¡¯re one of the good ones, aren¡¯t you? Keep it. And remember that Camille kept her word. Even in¡­¡± Her lip quivered.

    ¡°I will,¡± he¡¯d promised softly.

    The gnawing guilt and aimlessness had only grown on the trip home.

    With only Mara skittering along beside him, easily outpacing the garron as they moved further into the mountains, every step was a reminder of his betrayal. He¡¯d had to lie to her, his voice breaking, to say that the sundial was simply an additional gift. That the town charter tucked into his tunic was the real reason they had traveled there, despite how trivially he¡¯d gotten Lord Lumi¨¨re to give him one.

    Jerome had said this sundial would let them move the village, let them continue mining coal without G¨¦zarde invading the village. It would save them from annihilation, and save Fernan¡¯s soul from eternal struggle and servitude, but it was no real solution.

    ¡°Your kind can lie even with truth,¡± G¨¦zarde had said. ¡°At the first opportunity, you grasp for whatever petty ambition consumes your fancy.¡±

    Moving the village, protecting it with a sundial¡­ It would do nothing to address the actual problem. The geckos needed their food just as the villagers needed their livelihood. All his efforts could do was renew the same conflict, merely freshened with new betrayal.

    Whoever had poisoned G¨¦zarde so deeply against people, Fernan would only be taking their place.

    That had been easier to ignore in Guerron, when even acquiring the sundial had proved so unexpectedly difficult, caught between warring nobles and Florette¡¯s recklessness. Simple enough to follow the path in front of him, without fixating on where it led. Now there was scarcely anything else to think about.

    A woman was dead, and for what? What was even waiting for him, now that he had returned?

    When he had first left Villechart, his vision had been so blurry and difficult that people had been only vague pillars of flame, giving away little more than their rough position.

    Now it was easy to see them staring, easy to envision the looks of pity on their faces.

    The crushing void of cold snow was entirely gone from the rooftops, the faint glow of each hearth illuminating the outline of every house. Many were vacant, he could see, their occupants probably at work in the mine, while others had a single person spinning cloth or preparing food.

    Everyone already outside wordlessly rested their eyes on him, some flinching back.

    I should have put the blindfold on again. After Guerron, he¡¯d gotten so used to going without it that it hadn¡¯t occurred to him. At least Mara had remembered to stay outside again. He hadn¡¯t even had to ask, she was so used to being pushed away. Hopefully it felt like less of a slight when she had her home den to visit.

    Fernan shouldered past the looks as he approached Jerome¡¯s house, the brazier atop it still glowing brightly, as was the sage inside.

    ¡°Fernan!¡± he called out heartily, throwing the door wide open. ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you! And returned so quickly. How did you make out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡± He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. ¡°A spirit sundial, empowered by the Temple.¡±

    Jerome grinned wildly. ¡°That¡¯s wonderful! To think I was worried about you. You made it back with moons to spare.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to get here as fast as I could, so we could get started moving.¡± So that I could figure something out to fix things, rather than bandage them.

    ¡°Very smart. Please, sit down.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± By the light of the fire in the hearth, the glow outlined the stuffed chair for him to slump into. ¡°I know you must have been very worried about the village.¡±

    ¡°The village, I can handle.¡± He took the seat opposite Fernan. ¡°But you were ensnared by an evil spirit. More than anything, it was you I feared for.¡±

    ¡°We should probably tell everyone, so they can start packing things up. If we dismantle the boards for the houses, we could take them on the coal wagons to the new spot. Oh, we need to find that first, of course.¡± A site with access to veins of coal again, with all of the same problems.

    ¡°Patience, Fernan. There¡¯s no rush.¡± He stroked his beard. ¡°In fact, now that we have a sundial, we may simply be able to stay here. I can set up wards around the village powered by it, and even show you how.¡±

    ¡°Really? It seems risky to even try.¡±

    ¡°Certainly!¡± His cheeks glowed red. ¡°As another sage, I think it¡¯s only right that you succeed me as village alderman, when my time comes. You can protect everyone from the geckos when I¡¯m gone, and learn the craft as my apprentice until then.¡± His already-bright glow expanded beyond his body, an aura of deep green flame.

    It was a path to follow, a way for things to get back to some semblance of normal. He could never go back to being a scout, but this could finally be an end to the strife and struggle. For Fernan, anyway. It would do nothing for everyone else.

    Jerome patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Not a bad idea, right? I thought of it right after you left. Once they¡¯re ready, you can invite G¨¦zarde in and watch as his minions crash helplessly against our defenses. He¡¯s always been a vicious ass, but you¡¯ll have honored the letter of your agreement. He won¡¯t be able to claim your soul.¡±

    Fernan went stiff, feeling the fire in his eyes diminish as the horrible truth began to fall into place.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Ah¡­ You¡¯re concerned about what they¡¯ll think, aren¡¯t you?¡± He clasped his hands together. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright, Fernan. They¡¯ll all get used to the eyes, especially once they see you¡¯re the second best defense they have against the geckos. Just give it time.¡±

    ¡°G¨¦zarde¡¯s always been a vicious ass?¡± Fernan stared back at the alderman coldly.

    ¡°Well, there were rumors about a flame spirit of the geckos even before your run-in with him.¡± Jerome waved his hands in circles in the air. ¡°Call it a figure of speech.¡±

    ¡°Why would we be able to stay, alderman? If Villechart already has wards powered by a sundial, but inviting G¨¦zarde in would overpower them, what¡¯s changed?¡±

    He blinked. ¡°Well, an old village relic and a powerful artifact from the Sun Temple itself are hardly going to be worth comparing to each other. It¡¯s like night and day.¡±

    ¡°Show me, then. Let me see the old sundial, that¡¯s been protecting us for decades.¡± Fernan stood up. ¡°Right now.¡±

    Jerome shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°It was you!¡± A jet of flame flew from his mouth as he shouted. ¡°You were the one who tricked G¨¦zarde, who turned him against us. You¡¯re the reason the geckos even want to fight us.¡±

    A moment of silence hung in the air, Jerome¡¯s aura still simmering green. ¡°Sit down, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    The alderman leaned back in his chair. ¡°You figured enough of it out that you ought to hear the full story. Sit down. You¡¯ll see that there¡¯s no cause to be so accusatory. Trust me.¡±

    Clenching his fists, he sunk back into the chair. He had to at least try to hope, to give him a chance to explain things. Maybe there was some way¡­

    Glowing brighter, Jerome nodded. ¡°When I was a boy, the village of Enquin was the deepest anyone could settle in the mountains. We kept to ourselves, in years of plenty and years of scarcity. Mines would run dry, or flood, or cave-in, but there were always other spots to try. Even if they grew fewer with every year.

    ¡°I was never much for mining, so my alderman had me learn my numbers, to help make sure the merchants weren¡¯t cheating us. From there followed letters, and with it, history. Spirit lore became my obsession ¡ª heroic tales of sages battling for honor and glory, all in the name of their patron. The power beyond mere mortals, simply from making a deal with a spirit. It¡¯s irresistible.¡±

    Fernan narrowed his eyes, not bothering to challenge him yet. There could still be something that explained it.

    The alderman continued. ¡°An older boy ¡ª I think his name was Yves ¡ª thought we should try probing further, climbing higher to tap better veins. That all the warnings were mere scaremongering rumors. He returned to town three days later with a burn across his arm and a horrifying tale: geckos the size of a butter churn, breathing flames from their mouths. Even then, ignorant as I was, I knew enough to suspect their origin. But there was no way to be sure.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see one myself until I was seventeen. Deep in winter, a patch on the mountain stayed brown even as snow fell in enormous heaps around it. When I approached it, I could feel the warmth beckoning me further, even as the geckos closed ranks to block me. But I insisted on seeing the spirit, leader-to-leader, and they let me pass deeper into the lair.¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t a leader then,¡± Fernan said, almost a whisper. ¡°You were just a boy.¡±

    Jerome shrugged. ¡°Spirits must honor the deals they make, no matter the cost. It tends to make them honest, but we have no such prohibitions. I declared myself king of the humans and strode in to treat with the mighty G¨¦zarde, who had probably never even met one before. Who was he to contradict me?

    ¡°Of course, we did make a deal that I would tell no lies once I had finished explaining myself, but, with the initial deception already established, it was easy enough to maintain the fa?ade. I told him of the miners, and their need to expand, the inevitability of encroaching on gecko territory. All true. Then I offered him a deal.

    ¡°Unless invited, none of his children would enter the bounds of any village or mine I established, no matter how deep in the mountain. I would be granted a share of his power as his sage.¡±

    ¡°And in return, they get nothing.¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed brighter.

    ¡°In practice, yes. Technically, they extracted concessions from me in return.¡± Jerome¡¯s jaw twisted back into a smile. ¡°I would force everyone already under my authority to respect the mountains and their inhabitants, to pay a tribute of coal to G¨¦zarde, and take only a limited amount each year. Some trifling figure we agreed on; I couldn¡¯t tell you what.¡±

    ¡°Everyone already under your authority¡­¡±

    ¡°Precisely. No one. And the deal made no provisions for the future. Right now I¡¯m still honoring my end of the bargain, while G¨¦zarde has no choice but to honor his. It¡¯s not my fault he was stupid about it.¡± He held out his hands to the fire to warm them. ¡°So you see, Fernan? It¡¯s nothing to be worried about. I wouldn¡¯t tell the other villagers if I were you, but it¡¯s hardly some great offense. Villechart wouldn¡¯t exist without me. Most likely, neither would you.¡±

    ¡°Comforting.¡± Fernan swallowed, sparks of flame from his eyes flying in every direction as he thought. ¡°And the sundial?¡±

    Jerome shrugged. ¡°Not essential to keeping the village safe while I¡¯m alive, but it will be enough to protect you. Now you, too, can honor the deal you¡¯ve made without debasing yourself for it. Invite him and his geckos in. Once we set up wards with the sundial, the invitation will be useless to them.¡± He clasped his fingers together. ¡°The error might even thin their numbers a bit, make things safer for the next caravan.¡±

    Fernan stared coldly, his mind still racing.

    ¡°I¡¯m not the enemy, Fernan. If anything, you¡¯ve more than proven yourself a worthy successor. With the sundial, protections around Villechart can even outlive me.¡±

    ¡°You still want me to follow you as alderman?¡±

    Jerome nodded. ¡°What¡¯s changed? I would have probably told you of the deal eventually anyway. You were just smart enough to get it yourself.¡± He chuckled, holding out his hand. ¡°Now come on. The sooner we set those wards up, the better.¡±

    Make your own decisions, Florette had said. This wouldn¡¯t be pleasant, but there was only one choice Fernan could justify making.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He grasped Jerome¡¯s hand, shaking it firmly. ¡°Let¡¯s begin.¡±

    The alderman¡¯s glow brightened. ¡°Excellent! Good boy.¡± He led them out of the house, waving at the villagers they passed, until they stood at the entrance to the town. ¡°Do you have the sundial?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He pulled it out of his bag, the nearly blinding light from it shining in all directions.

    ¡°You seem like you¡¯re avoiding looking at it.¡± Jerome¡¯s glow dimmed. ¡°Is there any particular reason? It looks wholly standard to me.¡±

    ¡°Something with my vision,¡± Fernan muttered, sweat dripping down his nose. ¡°The spirit energy glows like a beacon, even through the bag. Now that¡¯s out of the extra insulation and padding, I could probably see it from a mile away.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Interesting.¡± He placed his hand on it. ¡°We ought to work quickly then. It might draw geckos near.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m counting on.¡± Fernan channeled energy through his hands, the same kind of concussive flames he¡¯d used to jump out of the riot, and pushed.

    The blast flung Jerome back through the air, landing a little ways down the path.

    As he stepped forward, Fernan felt an emptiness inside of him, the source of his power already diminished. Too much, too quickly. How had Camille and Lumi¨¨re dueled for so long like that?

    ¡°Can¡¯t we talk about this, Fernan?¡± Jerome grunted as he pushed himself to his feet, dirt from the trail clinging to his clothes. ¡°I just want what¡¯s best for you. What¡¯s best for Villechart. Can¡¯t you understand that?¡±

    The flame in Fernan¡¯s eyes grew brighter as he stepped over the fallen sundial. ¡°You tricked them and stole their food. Lied and cheated your way into their home.¡±

    ¡°And they tried to kill us all! Perhaps I¡¯m not innocent, but it seems obvious to me who is more deserving of your scorn. Think of your mother, and everyone in Villechart. They need me, Fernan. One day they¡¯ll need you.¡±

    ¡°You put all of them in danger by settling here and provoking the geckos to attack us.¡± He glanced back over his shoulder towards the village, but no one seemed to have noticed anything.

    Jerome stepped closer. ¡°I didn¡¯t make them do anything. I showed other people in Enquin my new power and explained that I could protect them higher in the mountains. And protect them I have.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone,¡± Fernan snarled. ¡°The blood of every person the geckos have killed is on your hands just as much as theirs.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t save everyone. Don¡¯t be naive, boy. I built this place and kept it safe.¡±

    ¡°From a problem you caused!¡±

    Alderman Jerome sighed, clasping his hands together. ¡°Step out of the way. We¡¯ll talk about this back in my house.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    His glow shifted to pale blue. ¡°You are still only a child. I forgive you for not understanding. But this behavior is unacceptable. You need to be disciplined.¡± As he finished speaking, an explosion of flame knocked Fernan onto his face, his back still warm.

    By the time he rose, Jerome was standing above him. ¡°Are you finished with your tantrum, then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell everyone,¡± Fernan spat out, feeling the blood run down his face. ¡°They¡¯ll know what you did.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t care. Without me none of this would even exist.¡± He snapped his fingers, conjuring a circle of pure white fire around Fernan rising ten feet into the air. The same color as Lumi¨¨re¡¯s beams, though flickering like fire, and hot. ¡°Can we put an end to this, please?¡±

    Fernan grasped at his side, fumbling for the bag still hanging from his shoulder.

    Jerome set it afire, causing Fernan to jump away before he was burned. ¡°You didn¡¯t honestly think an inexperienced blind boy could beat me? I¡¯ve been a flame sage longer than you¡¯ve been alive. Cease with these delusions of yours so we can start planning for your future.¡± He stepped back out of the circle. ¡°Fernan, it¡¯s an excellent path for your life. The envy of anyone here. Why can¡¯t that be enough for you?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s not right.¡±

    From behind Jerome, a narrow, concentrated blast of green flame flew past his head. Before the alderman could turn around, a second blasted him to the ground.

    Mara breathed another green burst at the ground in front of him, the dozen geckos behind her joining in, until Jerome was encircled by fire.

    Fernan used the last of his power to swirl it into a vortex around the alderman, pushing back against his attempts to blow the fire outwards. Even drained, the sphere around him maintained its shape, only growing larger as the geckos continued to blast.

    Another dozen crawled out of the ground behind Mara¡¯s first set of companions, adding their flames to the prison in turn. Then another.

    I didn¡¯t realize they could direct it so precisely. But even as the thought entered his mind, the sight of the flames revealed what was actually happening. The ball of air surrounded by fire only existed because Jerome was pushing back against them.

    They were trying to kill him.

    Wait! he almost shouted, the words stuck in his throat.

    Without human sacrifice to power his energy, the alderman couldn¡¯t possibly hold out for long. His aura rippled within the sphere as he took a deep breath, the same ripple Lumi¨¨re had shown when drawing on his life.

    How much time was he losing, holding the crushing flames at bay? Weeks? Decades?

    Wheezing heavily, Jerome dropped to the ground, unmoving. Only then, after Fernan shouted and waved his arms, did the geckos stop their assault.

    Only then could Fernan take a minute to breathe, and see all of the villagers peering through the smoldering remains of the village gate in wide-eyed horror. Their aura¡¯s were nearly invisible, dimmed with petrified fear. And it wasn¡¯t directed at the geckos.

 Florette VIII: The Pirate

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Florette VIII: The Pirate</h1>

    ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful.¡± The coast had remained in sight for the whole trip, cascading mountains to the right and sparkling ocean to the left. Once the Seaward Folly had gotten far enough north to put Dorseille in sight, the mountains had given way to lush green foothills, small patches of white visible where flocks of sheep grazed.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it pretty quickly.¡± Eloise shrugged. ¡°Anything gets boring once you see it often enough.¡±

    That had certainly applied to the wobbliness of the ship. It was strange, the lack of firm ground underneath her feet, but easily enough adjusted to, especially given the circumstances that put her on this boat. ¡°You just love to take the fun out of everything, don¡¯t you?¡±

    The quartermaster smiled. ¡°Yes.¡±

    I walked into that one. ¡°If I really will get bored of it, which I¡¯m not sure I believe you about, then that¡¯s all the more reason to enjoy it now, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± she grunted. ¡°Just make sure you¡¯re ready for battle by noon. Grab a sword from the armory, and we¡¯ll just hope you don¡¯t have to use it.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what¡¯s happening at noon?¡±

    Eloise smiled. ¡°Take a wild guess.¡±

    ¡°Asshole. How do you already know there¡¯s going to be a battle? I don¡¯t see any ships here.¡±

    With a chuckle, Eloise tapped Florette¡¯s arm, the cold finger sending a shiver down her spine. ¡°Avalon employs a fair few spies. A few of them like to make a bit of extra money on the side, so every now and then they throw us tips for a commission.¡±

    ¡°You have agents planted in Avalon?¡± Florette leaned forward. Eloise had insisted that she was only doing this for the money, but that prospect opened up a whole world of possibilities to subvert Avalon from the inside.

    ¡°Nothing so dramatic. Take Jethro, for example, the one who passed us this latest tip. He¡¯s still Avalon¡¯s man, and he¡¯d never endanger his country for anything severe. But pocketing a few thousand florins as a finder¡¯s fee just to let us know a royal-class vessel is headed down from Cambria today? Well, all that means is that some noble in Malin loses out on their jewelry.¡±

    ¡°Royal? Will the king be on it?¡± Florette¡¯s eyes widened, imagining the possibility. ¡°I¡¯d love to stare him in the eyes and tell him what I think of his rule with the point of my sword.¡±

    Eloise smirked. ¡°Easy there, regicide. Royal-class just means it¡¯s fit for royal use, which is more of a status symbol for other nobles than any real indication of crown ownership. The vast majority are lumbering pleasure barges that the Folly could catch sailing backwards. Most of the time, there¡¯s not even a noble on it, just their imported silks and jewel-encrusted facial paste and what have you. Well, that and the poor servants and guards left to see it there safely. That¡¯s why it¡¯s such a nice find: valuable goods without people all that devoted to defending them.¡±

    ¡°Then why do we need to prepare for battle?¡±

    ¡°Threats need to be credible, and it¡¯s not as if we won¡¯t attack if they make us. This one¡¯s headed for Governor Perimont, according to Jethro, which probably means some excellent liquor and golden statues of him that¡¯ll still fetch a fair price when melted down. Not something to die for, and we¡¯ll make that clear to the crew. But for that to work, you have to show them what happens if they refuse.¡±

    ¡°Perimont¡­¡± The man who ruled Malin in Avalon¡¯s name. Even in Guerron, his reputation was well-known: an iron grip enforced at the gallows, his forresters smothering any hint of rebellion in the crib. ¡°It¡¯s not King Harold, but it¡¯ll do.¡±

    ¡°Not stabbing him either, but you¡¯d have to catch him on the boat for that. It¡¯ll still piss him off. More importantly, it¡¯s more easy money. You¡¯re like a seashell charm, Florette, granting us such good luck.¡± Though Eloise¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change, it was obvious from context that she was being sincere.

    The praise warmed Florette¡¯s cheeks. ¡°I¡¯ll go grab something then. I don¡¯t remember seeing an armory though. Where¡ª¡±

    ¡°Back of the storeroom. You can¡¯t miss it.¡± Eloise smirked again. ¡°I think the Captain¡¯s in at the moment, if you want help picking one out.¡±

    The storeroom, at least, Florette knew how to find. No one but Captain Verrou and Eloise were allowed inside normally, but Eloise had taken her there often when she was ¡°sick of being around those knuckleheaded lackwits¡± and ¡°needed some fucking privacy¡±, usually splitting a drink or two before heading back out.

    The door was open now though, which probably meant Eloise was right about the Captain being inside.

    Within the bowels of the ship, the flickering torches ensconced on the walls cast long shadows ahead of her, stretching into the storeroom. The crew quarters was stuffed full of them, as bright and full of light as anything belowdecks could be, but the storeroom only needed a minimum of it for visibility, and only on occasion at that.

    It made the flame of Captain Verrou¡¯s candle from the back of the room stand out all the clearer, flitting through the gaps in the shelves of goods.

    ¡°Hello, Captain!¡± she called, still feeling a surge of excitement every time she uttered the words. ¡°Eloise said I ought to come pick out a sword from the armory.¡±

    The Captain sighed, pointing down at a wooden box near his feet. The light from his candle illuminated the label ¡°armory¡± drawn across it in thick black letters.

    ¡°That¡¯s Eloise alright.¡± Florette smiled, bending down to rummage through the box.

    ¡°Actually, that joke¡¯s a decade old. We keep our own weapons at hand, so all that¡¯s here are the extras not worth selling. After you¡¯ve been through a few raids, you¡¯ll probably steal something you like better yourself.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I guess that makes sense.¡± She grabbed a one-handed sword, long and thin, with a curling floral pattern over the knuckle guard. ¡°What do you think of this one?¡±

    Verrou laughed. ¡°Do you know what it¡¯s called?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°A rapier?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°A rapier is similar, though. It¡¯s known as a foil back in Guerron, but the Arboreum word for it is a florete.¡±

    Florette snorted. ¡°Fitting.¡±

    ¡°Slashing weapons are something of a taboo there, given their traditions. That one was a gift from Her Verdance, as part of an exchange for a series of books on rot and disease. Not terribly well suited to anyone in the crew, but I didn¡¯t want to discard it.¡±

    ¡°Interesting.¡± She held the sword up to the Captain¡¯s candle, watching the orange light bounce off of the thin blade. ¡°And it¡¯s alright for me to use it?¡±

    ¡°Of course! Though if things go well today, you may not need to.¡±

    ¡°Eloise mentioned that. It seems strange that you could rob people without even attacking them, though. You¡¯re pirates, right?¡±

    Verrou smiled. ¡°We are pirates, Florette, and in this profession nothing is as important as presentation. Take a walk with me, would you?¡±

    Florette nodded, sheathing the sword and fixing it to her belt.

    ¡°Imagine yourself a merchant captain.¡± He picked up the candle and began walking out of the storeroom. ¡°You¡¯ve been discharged with the duty of seeing your ship¡¯s goods safely to the other port. Losing them could mean ruination of at least weeks of work, with the potential for more severe fallout from the ship¡¯s owner, or any joint stock corporations involved in the venture.¡±

    ¡°Ok. I can do that, even if I¡¯m not really sure what a joint stock is.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not important. Even in Avalon, they¡¯re not too common outside of Cambria.¡± He pulled the key from his jacket and locked the storeroom. ¡°The important thing is to imagine what happens when you see a ship on the horizon, flying the dread orange and black flag of the notorious Robin Verrou. What would you do?¡±

    ¡°Out on the horizon?¡± She took a moment to think. ¡°If it¡¯s that far, I¡¯d probably just sail away. Even if the Folly¡¯s a faster ship, it would be worth trying to reach safer waters.¡±

    ¡°Exactly!¡± He held his arm down another hallway, also poorly lit, where Florette had never had occasion to be before. ¡°And so you notice, we do not fly the crossed swords of Verrou, nor do I wear my Coat of Nocturne. And¡­¡± He held his candle out to a gleaming metal cannon resting against the side of the ship. ¡°We keep these inside, with a canvas tarp covering over the openings.¡±

    ¡°I see!¡± She patted the side of the cannon. ¡°Shock tactics. Like when the Rhanoir invaded the Isle of Soleil. You maintain the facade of a fellow merchant until it¡¯s too late. But won¡¯t any sailor from Avalon recognise the Seaward Folly?¡±

    ¡°Up close, absolutely. But from afar, one ship looks much the same as another. Especially with our speed lowered by the ballast dragging behind. Blaise has the system perfected.¡± He smiled. ¡°Once we close in on the target, we raise the crossed swords of Verrou, uncover the cannons, and cut the ballast, showing our true might and terrifying the poor crew of the opposing ship. That goes a long way towards scaring them into giving up without a fight.¡±

    Florette tapped the side of her leg. ¡°And when, as that merchant, pirates run off with my treasure, what happens to me next?¡± She had a feeling she knew the answer.

    The Captain frowned. ¡°Often it is the workers who suffer the most, punished for their masters¡¯ failure. Theirs is a pitiful existence, enthralled to a fundamentally unjust system, but I won¡¯t lie and say that their suffering is fair. They didn¡¯t choose their life, not really. But they can choose now.¡± He looked up at the wooden ceiling. ¡°Eloise mentioned what you said to the harpist so she¡¯d buy the pulsebox. It belongs to everyone.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­?¡±

    ¡°People are much the same way. They want to be free, even when systems keep them in place. In Avalon, they don¡¯t always have a choice, but we make sure to give them one. Elizabeth joined us that way, abandoning her vessel rather than suffer for her captain¡¯s idiocy, as well as many others who have since moved on.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Victims do not deserve their plight, Florette. But they who once offered freedom refuse it are forever doomed to be crushed by the system. If not us, it would simply be something else. Take no pleasure in it, but do what must be done.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Florette stated firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll prove it today.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The Captain smiled. ¡°I have high hopes for you.¡±

    Florette beamed, dipping her head and departing.

    She still had a bit of time to prepare, so she spent it improving her form with the new sword.

    Thin and light, it was surprisingly easy to move, swishing through the air better than any of the wooden rods she¡¯d practiced with back in Enquin, cast-off pickaxe handles and whittled tree branches and the like. She focused on lunging, since the edge of the blade wasn¡¯t particularly sharp.

    But that was merely play compared to this. A real pirate battle! With none other than Robin Verrou¡¯s own crew. It was almost impossible to imagine, and yet here she was.

    It meant she had to be at her best. When the time for battle arrived, she wanted to be ready to buckle swashes with the best of them.

    It wasn¡¯t long before they caught sight of the ship, a pristine black and red vessel with a surprisingly narrow profile.

    Eloise whistled. ¡°That¡¯s quite a pleasure barge. I wonder if we can even catch it.¡±

    ¡°We will,¡± Captain Verrou assured her. ¡°The Seaward Folly was the fastest ship in Avalon before Blaise set about refining it. It¡¯s certainly an impressive ship, though, a fast clipper with all the amenities of a royal-class vessel. Not too recognizable, either, after a paint job. We might even want to hold onto it once it¡¯s captured, rather than selling it off.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Eloise blurted, in a stark contrast from her usual tone. Quickly, she composed herself again. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s sensible.¡±

    ¡°Now,¡± Robin Verrou stated quietly as he shrugged on his pitch dark Coat of Nocturne, an eerie garment that seemed to swallow any light that touched it, reflecting nothing but a textureless abyss. Even knowing they were fighting together, it was ominous to look at.

    Then, everything happened all at once. The shipmaster, Cordelia, was ready at the flagpole, drawing up the black swords on an orange sea and pulling down the Avalon standard. Blaise drew his knife across a thin cord at the back of the ship, flinging it off the stern.

    ¡°This is their chance to surrender.¡± Eloise patted Florette on the back. ¡°We¡¯ll see them slow down over the next few minutes, then sail up next to them to board it. Avalon¡¯s a brainy bunch, so you can be sure they¡¯ll make the smart choice.¡±

    They didn¡¯t.

    If anything, the other ship seemed to be moving faster, trying to break away from the reach of the Folly.

    ¡°That¡¯s strange¡­¡± Captain Verrou scratched his chin. ¡°Well, there it is. After them!¡±

    The Seaward Folly was faster than the other ship, but it took almost half an hour to completely close the gap. The other pirates hadn¡¯t paid it much mind, laughing and drinking and playing cards on the deck when they weren¡¯t busy with the ship duties, but Florette had spent the whole time clutching the wooden bannister at the edge of the ship, staring out at her approaching destiny.

    Everyone sprang into action quickly enough once the ship was within their grasp, though, fastening their blades to their hip and donning padded leather. Most had a dagger or dirk in addition to a sword, but no one had indicated that Florette ought to find one, so she assumed she was fine.

    The other ship was so close that Florette could even see the opposing crew doing the same, all dressed in the red jackets and brown breeches of Avalon guards.

    ¡°You know how this works,¡± Eloise called out to the other deck. ¡°Last chance to surrender.¡±

    Captain Verrou shook his head sadly. ¡°They would have lowered their flag before we caught up to them.¡± He turned to the rest of the crew, all gathered on the top of the deck. ¡°Spare anyone who looks wealthy enough that we can get a good ransom. Otherwise, the usual guidelines apply.¡± He tossed a rope across, a grappling hook attached to the end to hook against the rigging above and grant them access, and jumped off the edge of the ship, grabbing the rope and swinging over to the other side. ¡°Good hunting!¡±

    Florette tried to ask about the usual guidelines, but her voice was drowned out by the cacophony of battle cries and charges.

    More ropes quickly followed the Captain¡¯s, crewmates grabbing and pulling the opposite ship closer and closer even as the other crew tried to dislodge them. The pirates were faster though, and managed to shorten the gap down to a few feet. Some stayed to lash the ships together while the rest poured over to the other side.

    Last among them to cross, Florette chose her path carefully, following Eloise over to a comparatively underpopulated area of the other deck. She landed with a thump and drew her florete.

    The royal-class ship¡¯s crew was occupied, outnumbered by the pirates and pushed back into a corner by their assault. Captain Verrou alone was dueling three of them and winning, feinting with a swish of his cloak and ducking or parrying their every attack. And Eloise was simply hanging back, brandishing a thin lance as she waited for anyone to try their luck against her.

    I won¡¯t accomplish much by joining in. Already, many were throwing down their weapons in surrender or falling to the ground with a scream.

    Florette ran to the door belowdecks and snuck inside. They could handle things up there, and there seemed to be little opportunity to participate; this was where she could prove herself.

    The hall was far wider than that of the Folly, with candle sconces of what looked like pure silver, and tapestries splayed across the walls. Score!

    But one room at the back seemed even more promising, massive black oak double doors surrounded by red trim, an insignia of a dark disc embossed across them.

    They were locked when she tried to open them, which was an even better indication of something valuable behind them. ¡°Open up!¡± she called out, pressing her ear against the door to hear if there would be a response.

    No one spoke, but through the door there was the sound of a sharp intake of breath. Perfect.

    She thumped the door with the back of her shoulder, shaking it slightly but not accomplishing much else. ¡°Your sailors have fallen. The ship is ours, with all the time in the world to ram through to you.¡± Probably true, soon enough, but technically a lie. ¡°Cooperation will earn you much, while delaying the inevitable will only make things worse. Open the door, and you won¡¯t be harmed.¡±

    A tense moment passed, and then Florette heard a click. She pushed the door open with her left hand while her right readied the sword.

    Immediately, she had to dodge a slash of a dagger through the gap in the door, dark green velvet sleeves attached to the arm swinging it.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a surrender,¡± she snarled, stepping back to face her assailant in a fencer¡¯s profile, turned sideways to expose as little area as possible. She was short, and young, not much older than Fernan. A mop of tousled red and brown hair nearly covered her face, hanging down over her unpatterned green shirt.

    Florette tensed. ¡°Throw down your weapon and we can¡ª¡±

    The girl threw the dagger, hitting Florette in her leather padded shoulder on her left.

    Florette felt a prick of pain, but it was quickly drowned out by the pounding in her ears, the feeling of her sword in her hand, and the spring in her legs as she lunged, thrusting her sword forward.

    When she pulled it back, it was slick with blood, and the girl fell down to the floor without another word. She seemed even smaller as her dark red essence trickled out onto the floor. Whatever the Captain had said seemed so distant, now.

    She didn¡¯t even realize she¡¯d been shaking until a man stood up from behind the desk at the back of the room. Tall and thin, with short dark brown hair and high cheekbones that stretched his face, there was something strangely familiar about him.

    Maybe it was simply that she saw her expression mirrored in his, the uncomprehending horror and jittering fear.

    ¡°I surrender,¡± the man croaked weakly. ¡°Please don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯ll cooperate. Whatever you need.¡±

    ¡°Ok,¡± Florette breathed softly. ¡°Ok. Come up to the deck with me. And don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t try anything!¡± he said a touch too quickly. ¡°I told Cassia not to either, but¡ª¡± he choked, blinking away tears.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She stared down at the bloody sword in her hands. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I wish¡ª¡±

    The man¡¯s tearful groan interrupted her, and she fell silent.

    This isn¡¯t how it was supposed to be. Adventure on the high seas, treasure, brave and loyal companions. In the stories, the pirates never hurt anyone who didn¡¯t deserve it, like the Queen of the Exiles defying that pompous Micheltaigne High King, or Robin Verrou betraying the King of Avalon in the wake of the Foxtrap. Not¡­ Not this.

    ¡°How old was she?¡± Florette asked, regretting the question as soon as it left her lips. ¡°I mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°Eighteen. Cassia and I were supposed to hide while the crew took care of the pirates, but she wanted to be a hero. No matter my objections, she insisted that she had to protect me.¡± He sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sure Governor Perimont is more than capable of paying any ransom, so please, don¡¯t hurt me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± she assured him, trying not to think about the girl in the room. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± she said again, more softly. ¡°She attacked me first. You must have seen it.¡± Even from Florette¡¯s own lips, it sounded hollow. She¡¯d been threatening to break their door down, and who knew what else?

    The man frowned, not deigning to answer.

    The deck was sticky to walk on, coated red with the blood of the fallen. Their bodies too.

    She could smell it before she saw the pile. Even in the open air it was overwhelming, and it only got worse as she got closer. Her hostage noticed it too, choking and wheezing.

    ¡°Florette!¡± Eloise shouted as she tossed one of the corpses over the side. Blood was dripping down her face, hastily wiped out of the way of her eyes, but she didn¡¯t seem too bothered by it. ¡°Was wondering where¡¯d you gone off to. Thought maybe you¡¯d jumped ship.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡± Wiping more blood from her forehead, she left the pile and stepped closer. ¡°I see red on your sword, but you don¡¯t have a scratch on you. You didn¡¯t stab a corpse to look like you fought, did you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± If only. ¡°There was someone guarding the back room, belowdecks. She¡ª I killed her. Her name was Cassia.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Eloise patted her on the back. ¡°And secured some treasure too, by the looks. Who¡¯s the hostage?¡±

    Florette turned back to look at him, sunken to his knees on the red-stained deck, tears still in his eyes.

    ¡°Gerald Airion,¡± he offered. ¡°Cassia is¡ªwas my sister. I was supposed to go to Malin to see Governor Perimont and His Majesty, and I thought it would be good to have her along. I¡ª¡± He sobbed again. ¡°I brought her here. If I¡¯d just¡­¡±

    Florette felt her own eyes starting to water, but quickly blinked it away. There was no place for that here, among these people. It would only make things worse.

    ¡°Hey Captain!¡± Eloise called out. ¡°Know anyone named Gerald Airion?¡±

    Robin Verrou looked immaculate, not a speck of blood on his empty black coat or the slightest ruffle to his tricorn hat. ¡°Lord Miles¡¯s nephew.¡± He ran his eyes up and down the hostage. ¡°But you don¡¯t look much like that family.¡±

    The hostage gulped.

    Verrou smiled. ¡°Tell me then: are you Prince Harold or Prince Luce? Either way, the spitting image of your father at your age.¡±

    His eyes went wide, but he remained silent.

    ¡°Oh, come now, I don¡¯t blame you for the deception. It was only reasonable. But now your ruse is up.¡± He wrapped his arm around the shivering man. ¡°The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can get you ransomed and sent back to your father. Or Perimont, if you prefer. It won¡¯t be inexpensive, but I¡¯m sure your family can cover it easily enough.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Luce,¡± he spat out.

    ¡°Wonderful.¡± Verrou wrinkled his nose, stepping back and turning to the other pirates. ¡°Cordelia, Blaise, and Eloise, could I speak with you for a moment?¡±

    Eloise shrugged and went to join them, huddled and whispering near the mast. Leaving Florette alone with the prince.

    It was easy enough to see, now. His impeccable red silk shirt, his unwrinkled jacket. The fact that he¡¯d been sequestered away from the fighting. ¡°Your grandfather killed my parents,¡± she muttered, more of a realization than an accusation. ¡°You¡¯re party to everything wrong with the world.¡±

    ¡°I try not to be.¡± Luce took a deep breath. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t expect you to believe that.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Avalon will pay for centuries for the mistakes of Harold III. Even in Cambria, we call him Harold the Hungry, and it¡¯s not meant as praise.¡±

    ¡°Not by you, maybe. The likes of Perimont probably visit his tomb every morning to kiss his ass.¡±

    Luce didn¡¯t respond, conceding the point.

    ¡°Attention!¡± Verrou called out. ¡°After conferring with the officers, we¡¯ve come to an agreement. This is a fine vessel in excellent condition, better captured than sunk. As quartermaster, Eloise has first right of refusal to captain it, and she wishes to do so.¡±

    What? What? How was all of this moving so fast?

    Eloise smiled, her thin lips stretched across her face like a marionette. ¡°Any of you lunkheads are welcome to join if you¡¯d like, but I¡¯m just as happy to gather a new crew in Malin. I know a few people there who¡¯d jump at the opportunity.¡±

    Not many stepped forward, but Elizabeth and the boy she¡¯d been sitting with came up to Eloise, along with a few people Florette still didn¡¯t recognize. I ought to go, she thought as she remained rooted to her spot.

    The newly minted captain turned to Florette, then back to the few people ready to join her. ¡°I move that I train Florette to be the quartermaster of our new ship, in light of what she¡¯s accomplished. All in favor?¡±

    The vote from Eloise¡¯s small collection of new crew members was unanimous, a chorus of ¡°aye¡±s ringing in her ears.

    ¡°Good.¡± Eloise nimbly jumped over a puddle of blood, wrapping her arm around Florette. ¡°Prepare to be whipped into shape.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait,¡± Florette said, not sure if it was a lie.

 The Penultimate Chapter

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Camille IX: The Late</h1>

    When her eyes opened, she had fallen so deep that she could barely see, the light obscured by leagues of water.

    It was crushing down against her, held at bay only by an unconscious burn of her power. Or rather, since she had nearly emptied her reserves in the fight with Lumi¨¨re, it was her life that was draining away into the sea.

    As was a trail of blood spiralling up from her shoulder, looking black in the dim light. Immediately, the pain filled her again, lancing all across her body. The meagre scab had torn off with her slightest movement, leaving her shoulder to bleed anew. Using my life energy for magic may not matter, if this wound kills me anyway.

    Still, Camille had to know. She closed her eyes, looking within to see what she had lost, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

    Two decades.

    Gone, in the blink of an eye.

    Her life was half over already, no matter what came next.

    It didn¡¯t even make sense! Such a rudimentary working of magic, for only a few hours, should have cost her far, far less.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she muttered, using up more of her limited air.

    It had to have been days. That was the only way it made sense.

    There were so many more pressing things to worry about, but all that filled her mind was the implications of her failure.

    Lumi¨¨re would have declared victory, taken the fifty lives from Lucien and Malin. They would all know her to be a failure, a weakling incapable of protecting them.

    And Lumi¨¨re¡¯s influence would only grow. Fouchand could condemn him in defeat, but in victory? How would the people of Guerron see it as anything other than rightful and just, the triumph of the greater spirit and the greater sage?

    Even if Camille could free herself from this and return, her power would be in shambles, their respect for her evaporated in the instant that pistol sounded.

    And Lucien¡­

    He¡¯d promised to make sure Lumi¨¨re was dead either way. It had sounded sweet at the time, but what if he¡¯d actually tried?

    Lucien could best Aurelian Lumi¨¨re in a duel, of that she was sure, but what of the fallout? How could Duke Fouchand possibly remain silent if the king murdered the head of the Sun Temple? The people of Guerron would eat him alive.

    The right to do it was during the duel, when none could contest its legality, nor the honor of it. And she had ruined that in her failure.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she swore again. ¡°Fuck!¡±

    She thrashed her arm, unconsciously cutting through the water in a slice that cost her another day. Through the gloom, she saw it sever a fish in half, its blood joining her own in clouding the water. Even in its pointlessness, it felt gratifying to see the water respond to her command, to exert a measure of control.

    But that would get her nowhere. Right now, she needed to live.

    Somehow.

    She shifted herself to a vertical position, wincing as the pain in her shoulder flared back up. With a tap of her finger, she sent a tiny, pointed vibration upwards, which would ripple until it hit the surface and rebounded.

    By the time it returned several minutes had passed and another day of life had passed. But that was worth it to find out just how far away the surface was. Keeping the water pressure off and ascending that high could easily lose her years, if it didn¡¯t jostle her shoulder enough to kill her outright.

    And then what? She didn¡¯t see the coastline, which meant even more power to make it back to shore. By the time she returned to Guerron, she would have barely any time to fix the mess there, let alone reclaim her homeland. No time to continue her lineage, or have a daughter and train her to be the next High Priestess¡­

    No.

    Camille bit her lip, watching the patterns swirl in the darkness as she thought. Her own power simply was not enough. Returning to Guerron a weakened wreck with weeks or months to live would accomplish nothing. At that point, I may as well lie here until my shoulder kills me.

    At least then Lucien wouldn¡¯t have to see her in this diminished state. Camille would not have to look Annette in the eyes and say that there was nothing more she could do for her. Uncle Emile would never have hopes stoked of continuing the Leclaire legacy, only to be cruelly crushed. Better, then, to avoid giving false hope.

    Or she could simply remove the working giving her air and let herself be swallowed by the sea. A more fitting death for a Leclaire, even if the histories would say only that Lumi¨¨re vanquished her. If her name was even mentioned in them at all.

    But she refused. There was always a way to win. Always.

    Even the prospect of eternal torment was worth the risk of dying here, unremarkable, with no power, no accomplishments to her name. Come what may, she had to try.

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian,¡± Camille whispered, the sound echoing past the bubble of air and into the water. ¡°Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.¡±

    In the darkness, the ocean spirit cut an even more ominous figure, slender serpentine tendrils swirling and looping back and forth, sending small ripples that Camille could feel even through her pocket of air.

    ¡°You may be the most foolish human ever to call me forth. So young, and already so forgetful.¡±

    Camille starred straight into his eyes. ¡°I have forgotten nothing.¡±

    Levian swirled closer, impossible to fully take in through the gloom. ¡°Your pact was very explicit, human spawn. You said the words yourself.¡±

    ¡°I vowed that each time I called you forth, I would provide a human whose energy you may consume as they die.¡±

    ¡°And yet your hands are empty.¡± Sharp teeth caught the light for an instant before fading back into the darkness, looking fewer and flatter than they had when Camille had made her compact. ¡°Your soul is not so innocent as it was, but you are still far younger than the ancestors kept in my company. They will despair to even see you there, once your soul is mine.¡±

    ¡°Here I am.¡± Camille smiled. ¡°I present for you Camille Leclaire, High Priestess of Levian. Her energy is yours to consume as she dies, if you so desire.¡±

    ¡°How disappointing.¡± Slitted blue eyes stared into hers as Levian shifted back. ¡°Though it is preferable to letting the energy of your life go to waste. Your successor will be rewarded for it.¡±

    ¡°I have no successor ready. This I swear to be truth, and let my soul be taken should I lie.¡±

    After a moment passed, his eyes seemed to grow colder. ¡°Then you have violated our compact after all. You were to find one to take your place. And this time-consuming circumlocution does your temple no favors.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Allow me to be direct, then.¡± Camille folded her arms, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she did. ¡°I have acted perfectly within the bounds of our agreement, Great Spirit Levian. I vowed to head the Temple of Levian as its High Priestess from the moment my mother¡¯s service ended until the day I die, or appoint a worthy successor to take my place. Nowhere is finding such a successor mandatory.¡±

    ¡°I tire of this.¡± Levian curled his body tightly around her. ¡°Why have you called me here?¡±

    ¡°I want you to heal me, and return me to shore.¡± If he were even capable of doing that. There was no guarantee, but there was nothing else to try. ¡±You are, of course, welcome to take my life energy as I die instead, per the terms of our agreement.¡±

    The scaled body around her heaved and pulsed, vibrations echoing through the water that sounded almost like a twisted laughter. ¡°Offer nothing and demand everything. You certainly are human. Practically the ideal manifestation.¡±

    ¡°Unless you lack the power to do it?¡±

    Levian¡¯s eye-slits narrowed, the blue within them only growing more intense. ¡°Blood and flesh are mere extensions of my domain, filled with as much water as the world itself. Mending you would be trivial, but I have no reason to. Your arrogance is astounding, human, to think that you could goad me so.¡± That was something then, at least. If everything went to plan, it was a way out.

    ¡°You might want to take the idea more seriously.¡± Camille patted the spirit¡¯s scaly skin, feeling the unnatural smoothness of it. ¡°If I die now, it would mean the end of your temple. Perhaps slowly, by human standards, since my uncle could continue some things, but he cannot lead it, by the nature of the pact. And soon, by your standards, he will be dead as well.¡±

    ¡°Then you humans would be bereft of my power. A sad fate for the likes of you, but it means little to me.¡±

    ¡°It ought to. Without the Temple, the offerings end. Your power will cease to grow, then diminish as you use it. Even now, after we lost the city, you could not possibly be where you were seventeen years ago. You are lesser.¡±

    Levian squeezed tighter around her. ¡°My power is not in question, High Priestess. When your ancestors hobbled amidst the muck, I ruled the deep.¡±

    ¡°But not the Lyrion sea. That came later.¡±

    Blue eyes narrowed, scales pressing closer against her skin.

    Utterly at the spirit¡¯s mercy, Camille stared him down. ¡°It¡¯s our offerings that gave you the power. Power to claim your domain above the other spirits, power to hold the title against all challengers. When the last Lord of the Lyrion sea perished, it was you who had the strength to take his place. Because of us. Because of what we offer. Let me die and all of that disappears.

    ¡°How long is it before you find yourself looking like the Moon Spirit, thin and sickly as her offerings dwindle away to nothing. Or Cya, the woods spirit of Refuge, withered away with the death of her domain? How many water spirits covet your place, empowered by sages of their own?¡±

    Levian remained silent, slightly relaxing his coiled grip. Got you.

    ¡°You cannot let me die and still maintain your power. Not yet. Let the power of my life be yours if you believe me false.¡±

    She was not sure how much time passed, the faintest light shimmering off the ocean spirit¡¯s skin as he shifted and squirmed, but eventually Levian responded. ¡°Never shall I give to the likes of you without cost. Such weakness ill-becomes one so great as myself. Always, there is a price to pay for power. And you, human, have already offered all that you can. All save one precious thing, so cruelly dangled before me each time you call me forth.¡±

    ¡°I know what you want, and I refuse to grant it.¡±

    ¡°You dare?¡± His teeth glinted, wisps of blood trailing past them.

    ¡°I do.¡± She drummed her fingers across his scaly skin, still maintaining the bubble around her so that the pressure of the water could not crush her. ¡°In return for saving me, I¡¯m prepared to offer something better. The return of untold offerings, the restoration of your power to what it was before the fall of Malin.¡±

    ¡°Your performance in Guerron does not inspire confidence. I have no reason to believe you would do any better, let alone expand enough to set things as they were.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but Guerron is the least of what I¡¯m offering.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    Camille closed her fist, catching and squeezing the water within the glove of air around her hand. ¡°How better to restore what has been lost, for both of us, than to return our seat of power back to our control? The time for waiting and conserving strength is over.¡± I won¡¯t even be around to see it to completion, if things continue as they have. ¡°That is what I am prepared to give you in exchange for your help: Malin.¡±

    In a way, it was simple. Camille had spent years trying to build relationships with other nations, to make them see the existential threat that Avalon represented. But no mere nation of humans, untouched by the war and devastation, could ever understand what was to be lost as the spirits did.

    Avalon gave no offerings; wherever their influence fell, spirits and sages grew weaker. And their binders could even kill spirits themselves. Suggesting as much to Levian would have been taken as an insult, but that had been how his predecessor had met their end.

    Only spirits could see the true value of expelling them from this land.

    Levian began to laugh again, shaking and jittering until Camille could not help but smile herself.

    ¡°Make your promises then, human, and the deal shall be struck.¡±

    ¡°I vow to return control of Malin to the Empire of the Fox. To rehabilitate the Great Temple of Levian, and welcome all in the city within to leave you offerings.¡±

    The spirit stared, expecting her to continue.

    ¡°And as for Avalon, and the sages of the sun acting as their pawns, they will make excellent sacrifices to the Torrent of the Deep. One thousand, carried out to you at sea before the next time I speak with you, at the year¡¯s end.¡±

    ¡°Excellent sacrifices indeed. In return, I shall mend your flesh and carry you safely to your city¡¯s shores.¡±

    ¡°And if I break this agreement, let my soul be yours.¡±

    As Levian flashed his teeth, his body coiled tightly around her, wrapping around and around until only her head was free. She felt the drain on her energy stop as the bubble of air grew larger, Levian now holding it in place himself.

    He dragged her up, higher and higher at blistering speeds, the light growing brighter every second until it blinded her. As the white filled her eyes, her body lost all sense of direction, pulled this way and that as the great spirit squeezed so tightly she felt about to choke.

    Then it was over in an instant.

    By the time her eyes adjusted, Camille found herself lying alone on the beach, her armor in shreds and the red kerchief, Lucien¡¯s favor, swept away. Gone.

    But her shoulder was no longer bleeding. The wound was sealed with skin and flesh, only a raised circle of scar tissue to show that it had ever been.

    A mark of shame, to show how I failed.

    She would have to hide it, during her time here, taking care not to wear anything exposing that area of skin. I have to hide everything. Camille Leclaire needed to remain dead, or Lumi¨¨re would seize her in a heartbeat. She could leave no way to recognize her, not until she understood where things stood.

    The clothing, at least, was already ruined enough to provide no real indication of her identity, but her hair was far too obvious. Even matted and tangled it was, the cascade of blue reminded her of who she was. It would do the same for anyone else who glimpsed it.

    As she stared into the waves of the ocean, subtly softening the motion so that she could see her reflection, a mangled revenant stared back at her, looking more like a corpse than anything.

    Once Camille tore strips from her tattered clothes and wrapped them around her hair, the woman staring back was unrecognizable.

    She released the water and turned around, walking up the beach and watching for any signs of civilization. It was impossible to be sure exactly where Levian had dropped her, and she could hardly call him back to ask, so her best bet was simply to keep walking inland until she reached the Gold Road. From there, it would be easy enough to tell what direction Guerron was.

    It ought to be, anyway. Provided the festival accommodations were still set up to the north of the city, their presence or absence would make it blindingly obvious.

    Her first step was Vetain Tower. It would give her a decent view of Villemalin, and she¡¯d stashed a coin purse under the rocks at the base of it so she could pay Fernan without carrying so much money on her person at once.

    Then a tavern. Not anything as high-profile as the Singer¡¯s Lounge, but some backwater dive where she could further lower the risk of being recognized. A few florins would be more than enough to loosen some tongues, and see what had happened in her absence.

    If Lucien had not yet acted, he would be the person to find, but she feared that she might already be too late. Annette, then. She would know to keep things quiet.

    One foot after another through the sand, she continued on, feeling her lips crack with thirst under the hot Spring sun.

    Once she reached the edge of the beach, she could see the silhouette of a structure to the south, probably the archery tent. How far outside the city did he drop me?

    ¡°Your city¡¯s shores¡± was apparently ambiguous enough to dump her this far to the north, slowly trudging barefoot over the sand as the festival grounds came closer and closer into view.

    Only¡­

    Camille¡¯s eyes widened, her pace picking up into a run. The closer she got, the more certain the awful truth became.

    One of the step pyramids had crumbled into nothing, the other faded with time in the sea air. But even beneath the dust and grime, the blue stone still shone through where the water touched it. The engravings had faded though, worn away to practically nothing.

    Children were playing and laughing, climbing the walls and jumping back down into the water, but there was not a sage to be seen. One waved at her, but she ignored it, continuing to stare at the structure.

    Even after so many years, and so much change, Camille still recognized the Great Temple of Levian.

    That slippery bastard of a spirit had brought her to Malin.

 Epilogue: The Duke of Guerron

    <h1 style="text-align: center">Epilogue: The Duke of Guerron</h1>

    There was no other way to describe it: this was a colossal mess.

    The king¡¯s anger was more than understandable, his fury as righteous as his vision was clear, but given the results¡­

    All Refuge had done was negotiate with the Lyrion Emperor, hosted him in exile more for the status it granted them than any real desire to retake his homeland. And for that, it had been reduced to a wasteland, slaughtered to a man. Even four years later, the forest had yet to regrow, the petrified husks of the once-vibrant forest granting succour to none but the ghosts of the past.

    When King Romain had sought him out, asking for the benefit of his age and experience to help decide whether it would be wise to arm and train Lyrion rebels, Duke Fouchand had been nothing but supportive.

    If the entire continent stood petrified of becoming the next Refuge, Avalon would encroach across it, conquering each fragment of the Fox Empire one by one.

    The Charentons and ?le Dimanches of the world it would bring in peacefully, and the Lyrions and Refuges it would destroy, but in the end they would prevail, spreading their taint across the world until nothing else remained. Provided everyone remained fractured. Provided none stood up to do the right thing and push them back.

    Who better to fight back than King Romain Renart, blood of the Fox Queen of old, ruler still of the heart of the Fox Empire ¡ª he who had corralled rebellious Leclaires and decadent Valverts and brought them heartily to heel under one banner. There was not another man Fouchand would have chosen to lead the counteroffensive against Avalon.

    And what an offensive it had been. For a moment, it had seemed as if good would prevail. The Arboreum had agreed to occupy the territory of Refuge and begin to heal the wastelands of once-vibrant forest; Plagette had been uncharacteristically open handed with sale of its plentiful arms, despite not committing soldiers to the fight; and Gueron and Malin had pressed forward with one voice, pushing Avalon back to the tip of Lyrion with the might of the spirits.

    How had it all fallen apart so thoroughly?

    Fouchand¡¯s mother, the late Duchess of Guerron, had once told him that the term ¡®Avalon¡¯ was a mere convenience of phrase, rather than any political reality. A Shadow Islander and a Cambrian had as little in common as Fouchand did with a supplicant of the Winter Court, and they probably hated each other even more.

    ¡°Mark my words, son,¡± she had told him when he couldn¡¯t have been more than thirteen. ¡°Harold Grimoire may have united their islands, but he was hardly the first to try, and he won¡¯t be the first to fail. The moment he dies, the splintering will make the Fox Queen¡¯s death look like a well-maintained succession.¡±

    Florette the Great, the people had called her. The Duchess who brought Guerron into prominence, turning a rough backwater into the right arm of the Empire with the point of her spear. At the time, she had seemed so wise.

    Harold Grimoire was a once-in-a-lifetime figure. Now King Harold I of Avalon, he possessed unparalleled tactics in the field, an ingenious head for inventions, and a sheer determination to see Avalon united under one banner. He had even wed the daughter of the Great Binder, uniting his dynasty with the saviors of the world.

    But his son was a disaster. By all accounts Prince Harold spent his time occupied with nothing more than philandering and drinking, possessed of an entitlement sufficient to make even other princes blush.

    By all accounts, she should have been right, but her prediction had been wholly defied when Harold II took the throne of Avalon and somehow maintained his father¡¯s hold on the country without so much as an interruption in leadership. And now Harold III was following in those footsteps, a warrior possessed of a hunger beyond even that of his forefathers..

    Florette the Great had never been afraid to fight; Fouchand could do no differently. Now more than ever, her name was at the tip of every peasant¡¯s tongue to condemn for remaining in Guerron rather than joining the offensive. He had even heard whispers that Guerron would be better off with his sister Rosette as Duchess, younger and far more spry, still no stranger to fights, rather than a weakened Duke who sat behind his walls.

    She was Florette¡¯s true daughter, the right and honorable inheritor of her legacy. All Fouchand had managed was being born first. They¡¯re not even wrong. But now¡­

    All of that will only worsen, but I have no choice.

    ¡°I want to see the children first,¡± he softly requested. ¡°Bring them here, if they¡¯re still awake.¡±

    Guy, his nephew and squire, nodded sharply and scurried off to fetch them. Ever since his mother had gone off to war, he¡¯d been more subdued, more dutiful even as he had grown quieter. But who could blame him, with his mother away at war. When she returned, the boy would no doubt find a way to return to his jovial self.

    If she returns¡­ The reports of the battle were a muddle of information, but the fleeing boats all told a tale of failure. King Romain dead, Lady Leclaire lost at sea, and Rosette and the twins still missing. The fact that they hadn¡¯t made it onto the boat was concerning enough; even if they lived, Avalon was likely to capture them as it consolidated control over Malin. And if not¡­

    Well, that didn¡¯t bear thinking about. This day was already tragic enough.

    Fouchand dismissed Guy as he ushered the children in, dark circles under both of their eyes.

    Prince Lucien¡ªKing Lucien now, Fouchand supposed grimly¡ªhad a face as red as his hair, still wet with tears so recently wiped away. Unlike Romain, he¡¯d cut it short, to the point that it looked almost brown, but above all he looked lost. And who could blame him for that?

    Little Camille, on the other hand, was the spitting image of her mother Sarille, her hair now dyed blue to match the Leclaire tradition. But it was not the ice-cold deliberations of the Leclaires he saw in her eyes, but a burning fire. Her little fists were clenched tightly, her eyebrow pointed down in a mighty scowl. ¡°Why did you do it?¡±

    How could he explain to the children why he had surrendered to the monsters that had taken everything from them? Fouchand took a long moment to stare back into the girl¡¯s defiant eyes. ¡°The full might of the Empire defended Malin, and it failed. Fighting on right now gives us nothing, but maintaining our autonomy grants a chance for the future. Right now we need time, time to recover and mourn. For King Romain, and Rosette, and Sarille. For my sons¡­ Give it ten years¡ª¡±

    A vase next to him shattered, shards flying around the room, with one even embedding itself in his arm.

    ¡°Camille.¡± He sighed as he pulled the piece of ceramic out and clenched his hand around his arm. ¡°I know it isn¡¯t what you want to hear. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mother isn¡¯t dead!¡± she shrieked. ¡°She¡¯s coming back! I know she is!¡± As she shouted, the spilled water swept across the floor in a haphazard wave, nearly knocking Fouchand off of his feet. Only a jump spared him a nasty fall.

    As he landed, he stepped closer and held his arms around Camille. ¡°We will get through this together. I¡¯m here for you, no matter what. If you can calm your anger and think rationally¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± She wrenched herself out of his grip. ¡°My feelings are real! You can¡¯t act like they aren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he realized. ¡°You have my apologies.¡± Even without that, it¡¯s the last thing a child ought to hear. It had been so long since Femor and Teland were this age, when they¡¯d depended on him like this. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Camille. Guy, would you take Lucien back to his room please?¡±

    His nephew nodded, in a hurry to make himself useful, and took the child king by the hand out of the room.

    ¡°Forgive me.¡± Fouchand tentatively reached out his hand, and to his surprise Camille grabbed it tightly back. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I know better than most what you¡¯re going through right now. Just please, try to realize that I¡¯m on your side. I¡¯ll die before I let Avalon come for you or Lucien.¡±

    ...

    I couldn¡¯t manage even that.

    Seventeen years had done nothing to cool Camille¡¯s patience, and ultimately all of Fouchand¡¯s assurances of safety and support had proven hollow. He hadn¡¯t attended the duel, worried his presence would give it a sense of legitimacy, but the reports of those who had were clear enough about what had happened on the tournament platform: the deafening, thunderous crack through the air, Camille doubling over, bleeding from her shoulder, and Lumi¨¨re callously kicking her into the sea.

    The thought was utterly sickening. But it was nothing compared to the fact that Fouchand had let it happen.

    It had all seemed so convenient: Lumi¨¨re finally stepping out brazenly enough that he could be punished instead of merely reprimanded, removed from the Duke¡¯s Council without overly angering the Sun Temple or the peasants who spent such time giving them offerings and support.

    I trusted her to succeed, and she did. But all this time, she hadn¡¯t been fighting Lumi¨¨re, but Avalon itself. The metal tube that harnessed the power of thunder, one of the infamous cannons of the Foxtrap sized to fit in one hand, made that more than clear. Had Fouchand known that, he never would have let Camille proceed.

    I shouldn¡¯t have, anyway. He had let the politics endanger the child, and she had paid dearly for his mistake. Perhaps permanently.

    This was always the worst part: the days of dread and fear gradually giving way to resignation as more and more time went on.

    I waited months after the Foxtrap, and not one of them lived. One might have thought he would have learned his lesson.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces, to once and for all discard the restraint and politicking that had helped him feel clever while he¡¯d only made things worse. If the Sun Temple and the peasants resisted him for it, at least he would know that he had done the right thing.

    Once the dust had settled, forty-seven people were dead, with hundreds more injured. Even King Lucien still held his arm in a sling and wheezed when he breathed, according to Annette. Fouchand dared not let himself be seen entering Villemalin to visit him, not when half of Guerron wanted to burn it to the ground in retaliation.

    Her harbor guards had barricaded the gates to the north, keeping any of those would-be belligerents from reaching that area east of the harbor, but the situation was untenable. By forbidding all passage through the north of the city, food from up the Gold Road was blocked from the city, as were any shipments from the harbor. Not that there were guards sufficient to keep the customs officers safe anymore, stretched as thin as they were by the additional duties at the northern gates.

    Opening them even a crack to let the necessities through before tempers cooled raised the possibility of a full-scale storming of the quartier, so even putting exceptions into place for the essential goods to pass through was not an approach without its risks.

    Nor did Fouchand dare trust Guy Valvert¡¯s command of the city watch, not after his full-throated endorsement of Lumi¨¨re. The possibility of his nephew renouncing his friendship with the vile sun sage after seeing his association with Avalon was the one possible benefit of this horrid situation, but Guy had done little save brood and drink in the days that had followed.

    His leadership of the Bureau of Land and its City Watch had been so consistently hands-off that it seemed unlikely that his influence would prove vital, but by the same token, it meant that their discipline could not be trusted. It only took a few guards to open the gates, and half of Guerron would burn.

    Not for the first time, Fouchand regretted elevating the boy to his seat, but with the de-facto capital of the Empire moved to Guerron, including Dorseille and the Valverts in central governance had been crucial to emphasize their unity in the wake of the Foxtrap. And Fouchand had hoped the post would give Guy a sense of purpose, a way to harness his directionless anger and ennui like his duties as a squire had seemed to, for a time.

    Yet another decision of mine that was all for nothing.

    Decades of compromise, of the slow and safe play to help protect his city and his people, and what did Fouchand have to show for it? Fouchand Failure, they¡¯ll call me. The coward, the Duke who lost the Empire. But concerns of his legacy were nothing compared to the present reality, the absolute mess he¡¯d be leaving behind for Annette.

    When Fouchand emerged from the Chateau and stepped out, he was almost defeated by the roar of people gathered outside. The Debray household guards were holding them at bay handily, but the way through the pass was blocked tight with people.

    The cacophony was so overwhelming that Fouchand couldn¡¯t even understand what they were saying, but it was easy enough to guess. Down with King Lucien, down with the Malins, justice for the people¡­

    His people, consumed by misguided hate and fear. Fouchand had let this go entirely too far.

    ¡°Shall we break them up, Sire?¡± the captain of the shift asked him once his presence was known. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too hard. This place was built to fend off armies.¡±

    ¡°No, that would only make things worse,¡± Fouchand sighed. ¡°My business in the city was less than urgent anyway. We can afford to wait, and let their tempers cool.¡± Provided their anger faded before the northern barricade impacted the city¡¯s food supply, anyway. But they were still days out from that being too serious an issue.

    A nearly blinding golden light emerged from the crowd, dimming as it stepped forward to reveal none other than Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, a cocksure swagger in his step. The guards moved to block his approach, but Fouchand waved them down.

    ¡°Aurelian,¡± he greeted him, maintaining a neutral tone. ¡°I¡¯m pleased to see that you¡¯ve recovered so quickly.¡±

    ¡°Are you?¡± Lumi¨¨re grinned. ¡°It is good that you are no sage of Soleil, my Lord Duke, or such lies would have seen your soul claimed in a matter of days. My patron always demands truth in his presence before proceedings can begin, and it has a way of making things difficult. Though not as difficult as the situation was for poor Camille, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    Fouchand narrowed his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass. You¡¯ve had your victory, now act like a Lord and have the honor to be graceful about it.¡±

    ¡°Honor?¡± His hair caught the light just right, a gold shimmer highlighting parts of it as his head moved. ¡°Honor demands that King Lucien answer for his crimes. As well as all of those vile criminals in Villemalin.¡± Aurelian gestured behind him to the crowd. ¡°Your people demand it, my lord Duke.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s received official condemnation.¡±

    ¡°Empty words. Guerron demands action. Storm his pathetic barricade and detain him forthwith. Then we can begin returning the lives due to Soleil unto him. There were more than fifty rioters harming our people at the duel, but I think they will make an excellent start. Soleil gets the lives the late Camille promised him, and the people begin to get a measure of justice. Burning two logs with one flame, if you will.¡±

    ¡°I will consider it,¡± Fouchand lied. ¡°After tempers have cooled. No good can come of consorting with mobs like this.¡±

    ¡°If you think it best.¡± Lumi¨¨re shrugged. ¡°Myself? I¡¯d want to act now, before being beaten to it. The mob has no need to take justice into its own hands if their good Duke protects them as he ought to. Either way, I¡¯m sure that things will work out the way they need to.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Fouchand owed it to Camille, to Rosette, to everyone he had failed in his life. The time to rebuild and recoup had come and gone. Now was a time for action. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you may be right, Aurelian. Would you mind coming with me to the council chambers to discuss it further? The last thing I want to do is ignite that crowd, and you seem to have a good grasp of their feelings and desires.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± The smug expression on his face broke for instant, before returning twice as strong. ¡°Of course. It¡¯s only natural. I am so pleased that you¡¯re seeing reason with this, my Lord Duke. It will make this ordeal so much easier.¡±

    ¡°You go on ahead. I need to speak with Annette first. It¡¯ll only be a moment.¡± Fouchand waved at the diminishing figure of Lumi¨¨re outpacing him down the hall, waiting until he was out of sight to flag down his guards.

    ¡°Aurelian Lumi¨¨re is a traitor to me and to the Empire of the Fox. He¡¯s consorted with Avalon to weaken us, and he must stand trial for it.¡± He believed himself invincible, that killing him would only make him a martyr to the crowd. And perhaps he was right, but they would not grieve for a puppet of Avalon, not after the extent of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s collaboration was made clear to them. ¡°He was bedridden yesterday. I believe his show of strength is a bluff, but if I¡¯m mistaken, killing him is better than leaving him be. Do not underestimate his power.¡±

    With that, he left them to their task. Let the consequences fall where they may; the careful, measured approach had amounted to nothing.

    Fouchand retired to his chambers at the top of the chateau¡¯s highest tower, waiting for Annette to arrive.

    Getting through the crowd would be no small feat, but his granddaughter was not so well known by the commons, nor without protection from her guards, thinly spread as they were. She would find a way through, and if not, then their discussion could wait. But it would make things difficult.

    Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t long before he heard a knock at his door.

    ¡°Annette?¡± he asked as he pulled it open, but on the other side was the captain he had dispatched with Lumi¨¨re¡¯s capture, soot and singes all over his clothes.

    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s manacled in the deepest cells, ready to await his trial. It was just as you said, my lord Duke.¡± He waved down at his clothes. ¡°I got it the worst of anyone, and it¡¯s all superficial.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡±

    At least he would have good news for Annette now, to counterbalance the unfortunate realities. Lucien was poison to Guerron at the moment, and dragging down Lumi¨¨re wouldn¡¯t necessarily change that.

    Etienne Cl¨¦ment, the Duke of Condillac, had fled the city the moment of the riots, withdrawing with all of his household and swords before the festival had even begun. Of course, now it likely never would. Fouchand couldn¡¯t even blame him, necessarily, but it demanded a response.

    Plagette was their best hope now. Old enemies of Condillac might be eager to step in now, and allies would be absolutely essential to accomplishing anything. Avalon could not be defeated alone, nor even forestalled, not with such powerful enemies within and without.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed, Duke Fouchand.¡± A dark silhouette appeared at the edge of his balcony. ¡°You never struck me as a man of action. Shame it was too late to matter.¡±

    ¡°Circumstances must.¡± Fouchand pounded the door three times in a signal to the guards outside. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the door have been easier, Magnifico?¡±

    ¡°Oh perhaps.¡± The bard jumped down in front of him. ¡°Only someone jammed the keyhole, it seems. It could be ten minutes before anyone breaks the door down, something as sturdy as that.¡± He smiled as the sounds of pounding filled the air. ¡°Have you reconsidered my offer?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Fouchand spat out. It wasn¡¯t even worth asking him how he had done it.

    Magnifico frowned. ¡°You would be no territory, I emphasize, but a full voting province of Avalon. You would have a seat at the Great Council, and your granddaughter would marry Prince Luce. Surely you realize that things have changed!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a better bard than a diplomat, pawn of Avalon. Once you¡¯re permitted to leave, you can tell your king what he can do with his offer. It¡¯s nothing but conquest by another means.¡±

    ¡°This is the best way that can be done!¡± Magnifico smashed his hands against the wall, joining the roar through the door. ¡°Have you primitive wretches learned nothing from the Foxtrap? From the Fall of Refuge? The longer you refuse to embrace the future, the worse things get for you, and the sooner you accept it, the better your life will get. The ingratitude of you people boggles the fucking mind!¡±

    Fouchand shook his head. ¡°And so the imperialist drops his veil of civility at long last, and the true face of Avalon¡¯s diplomacy is laid bare. It bewilders me how you could engineer a scheme to rend my city apart and wonder why I wouldn¡¯t want to fall before you and your king in worship. Kill me, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re here to do. But you won¡¯t get what you want.¡±

    ¡°I always get what I want. If you fucking people would just realize that, all of this madness could stop in an instant.¡±

    ¡°Because King Harold will pet his dog on the head for a job well done? You¡¯re nothing more than a tool, to be used and discarded as he pleases. Even this trip, you could have been captured or attacked at any time.¡±

    Magnifico snarled, stepping close enough to Fouchand that he could feel his breath on his face. ¡°I will build a better world, even if I have to drag you all into it kicking and screaming.¡± He grabbed Fouchand by the throat and threw him back across the room. ¡°Every voyage here is like traveling back in time. Even your people know we¡¯re better, or else why would they work so hard to steal our ideas and technology?¡±

    Despite everything, Fouchand smiled. Now this was out of his hands. ¡°Because King Harold is a monster, incapable of wielding them without untold destruction. You ought to have realized that, the way he employs dogs like you to bring other nations to ruin.¡±

    ¡°Dog?¡± Magnifico took a deep breath. ¡°You ignorant fool. You have earned your death at the hands of none other than King Harold IV, of the dynasty Grimoire. Ruler of Avalon, Arbiter of the Western Isles, Slayer of Spirits, Aegis of the Realm, and the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to this miserable world since the Great Binder saved it from the dark goddess Khali. It¡¯s more than you deserve.¡±

    ¡°Then you are an even more vile little man than I thought. With a kingdom to run, you play at diplomacy and conquest, acting the part of a bard simply to bring the world to its knees. Does it amuse you, to play the part of a fool?¡± Fouchand coughed, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. ¡°Because I¡¯m not laughing. If this is your idea of rulership, then you are not only evil but stupid, placing your sadism and ego above even your own country, let alone the good of the world.

    ¡°How do they justify it, back in Avalon? I truly shudder to imagine it,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Entire peoples suborned to the war machine destroying their brothers and sisters, entire kingdoms razed to the ground simply for entertaining the thought of resistance. And a king who would abandon them to prance around playing music and igniting riots on faraway shores.¡±

    ¡°Why must you all be so stubborn?¡± The fool, red in the face, grabbed Fouchand and dangled him over the balcony. ¡°Your traditions and ideas have failed! It¡¯s over!¡±

    Fouchand coughed once more, this more painful than the last. ¡°Your country has in its grasp the greatest technologies imaginable, and yet your pitiful minds are so lacking in imagination that you feed them only into your machines of war. I might pity you, if the cost of your folly were not so great.¡± He spat on Harold, a defiant glare on his face. ¡°Get on with it already, you arrogant, bloviating, conceited¡ª¡±

    Harold pushed him off with an inarticulate scream of rage.

    Fouchand didn¡¯t even feel the pain before the darkness swallowed him.

 Book 2 Prologue: The Liaison of Commerce

    ¡°The locals are scared,¡± Simon noted, looking out at the remnants of the pier. The smoke had mostly cleared by this point, but the shards and debris left from the explosion still littered the shore. Even with the bodies cleared away, the blood remained. ¡°Ironic, that they would live in fear.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± Father shook his head. ¡°Take another look.¡± Why did he always have to be so critical?

    ¡°Fine.¡± Another look revealed more of the same: discarded shrapnel and bloodstains surrounded by cowering peasants, staring in horror at the destruction. Children tried to get a better look as parents pushed them back, while some tried to sneak away before the Territorial Guardians¡¯ sharp stares reminded them that no one was to leave until the investigation was concluded. All throughout, the chatter and murmurings drowned out even the sound of the waves.

    Father placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t you see it?¡±

    ¡°I think I do now,¡± Simon lied. It was easier this way, sparing himself another boring lesson about the need for constant vigilance, the twisted courage of the Malins, or the duties of a Governor¡¯s son. Better to just give him what he wanted to hear.

    ¡°Good boy! Always good to give a situation a second glance, make sure you haven¡¯t missed anything. All the more vital in enemy territory.¡±

    ¡°We won,¡± Simon corrected. ¡°It¡¯s Avalon¡¯s territory now.¡±

    Father¡¯s grip tightened, like the talons of a bird digging into his shoulder. ¡°See, that¡¯s precisely the sort of careless thinking that could end up getting you killed. Where did your wisdom from a moment ago flee to? I expect more from you, Simon.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± he enunciated through clenched teeth. ¡°May I go now? I have the Convocation of Commerce tonight.¡± Not for a couple hours, admittedly, but it gave him an excuse to be rid of this miserable tedium.

    ¡°You¡¯d abandon the aftermath of this attack to count coppers with those gilded ninnies? Really, Simon?¡± Ugh, this again.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of what I want, Father. You appointed me the Liaison of Commerce, and I mean to take it seriously. It was impressed upon me repeatedly when I accepted the job. That means proper preparation for all of these meetings.¡± Not that Simon had any intention of preparing anything, but there was hardly a sweeter excuse than using Father¡¯s own words against him.

    ¡°Very well,¡± he sighed. ¡°Check in with Sir Gerald first¡ªPrince Harold put him in charge of the investigation¡ªand then you may go.¡±

    Good enough. The knight had been fairly amiable since arriving with the King¡¯s party, anyway. Stopping by before he left would hardly be a great hardship. ¡°Thank you, Father.¡±

    Simon nodded to Father¡¯s excessively large circle of guards as they parted before him, allowing him to enter the cleared space around the remnants of the docks. He nearly tripped over an errant board on the approach, revealing a glimmering earring embedded into the sand. The blue gem set into it was remarkably unscuffed, so he bent down to quickly slip it into his pocket. Not exactly evidence, but it might make for a fashionable addition to his wardrobe. Especially with the accompanying story, salvaged from the wreckage of an attack. Girls loved that kind of stuff.

    At least finding the man he needed to check in with was easyenough . Even with his thick-heeled boots, Sir Gerald Stewart was the shortest person in the vicinity, the messy cloud of sandy brown hair atop his head barely even reaching the eye level of the woman next to him. ¡°¡­I wouldn¡¯t expect you to understand, Charlotte, but really it¡¯s quite simple once you look at it with rational, analytical eyes.¡±

    Simon came upon him from behind and tapped him on the right shoulder, sliding around to his left as he turned. ¡°Simple, eh? They¡¯ve got the right man for the job then, don¡¯t they, Gary?¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse!¡± The knight flailed at the feint, practically jumping into the air. ¡°Fuck, Simon. It¡¯s not safe for you to be doing things like that. I¡¯m a highly trained knight, a finely-honed sword in human form. I have to be on guard for even the slightest hint of a threat. If I weren¡¯t so well controlled, I might have killed you just now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that under consideration.¡± Simon smiled, wiggling his eyebrows at the woman next to him. ¡°Now would you be so kind as to introduce your companion?¡±

    Gary narrowed his eyes. ¡°Who, her? That¡¯s just Charlotte. The Territorial Guardians lent her out to me for the investigation. Could have used a forrester or two, but I¡¯ll make do.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m enchanted to meet you, my lord.¡± Thickly muscled, with her light colored hair cut roughly at shoulder length, she wasn¡¯t Simon¡¯s usual type, but she¡¯d do in a pinch. ¡°I haven¡¯t had the pleasure of meeting your father yet, but the Guardians serve at his pleasure.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure is mine, my dear.¡± He bent down to grab her hand, kissing it slightly before turning back to Gary. ¡°Think you¡¯ll wrap this up quickly? I heard that there¡¯s a party in Fuite Gardens. If the day¡¯s fair, the whispers I heard are true, and they¡¯ll be roasting a pig soaked in rum.¡±

    ¡°This is as simple a case as it gets.¡± Gary nodded. ¡°The locals tried to stop the might of Avalon and destroyed the harbor bridging this territory with our home. They¡¯re scum, no other word for it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re so sure?¡± Charlotte scratched her chin. ¡°Forteen of the dead are Malins, and countless among the wounded.¡±

    ¡°Which just makes it all the more despicable.¡± The knight clicked his tongue. ¡°Wanton destruction for no purpose save jealousy and spite.¡±

    Charlotte returned his comment with a blank stare. ¡°Couldn¡¯t it have had something to do with the King? The explosion tore through his ship, didn¡¯t it? Surely it¡¯s no coincidence that this happens now, with King Harold and his son both here in Malin.¡±

    ¡°Eh, perhaps.¡± Simon tilted his hand. ¡°You ask me, this is all about money. Destroying the harbor disrupts the flow of goods back to Avalon, it halts the trade enriching the lives of everyone. Until it¡¯s repaired, Avalon might as well not be here at all for all the good it¡¯s doing us.¡±

    ¡°But how long will that really be? Weeks? Months, at worst?¡± Charlotte flicked her eyes out over the wreckage of the harbor. ¡°It¡¯s not much by itself. In my opinion, something like this makes the most sense as a prelude to some kind of follow-up naval attack. Without naval defences, Malin is vulnerable from the river and the sea both.¡±

    ¡°The attack will come from Guerron, no doubt about that.¡± Gary nodded. ¡°Well reasoned, Charlotte. Perhaps you can be of use after all.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she responded, somehow managing to sound sincere as she did.

    ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome.¡± Sir Gerald turned back to Simon. ¡°If Guerron is planning an attack, we had better strike first. At once.¡±

    Simon snorted. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t really be ¡®first¡¯ if they were behind this, would we? But I see your point. I¡¯ll mention it to Father when I see him next.¡±

    ¡°Mention me to your sister too. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s been getting the messages I¡¯ve been leaving her.¡±

    Hiding his mouth behind his hand, Simon stifled a chuckle. ¡°Sure,¡± he lied. ¡°You have such a way with words, Gary. I wouldn¡¯t want her to miss out on your charm.¡±

    ¡°Tell her that Prince Harold himself put me in charge of the investigation, while you¡¯re at it. I mean to bring every last piece of shit involved with this to justice, even if I have to tear them apart with my bare hands.¡±

    No doubt.

    Silence hung in the air for a moment as Sir Gerald mimed tearing into flesh, adding sound effects with his tongue to match.

    ¡°I¡¯ll gather up the witnesses, then,¡± Charlotte said, finally. ¡°We can see if anyone saw where the explosion originated. If anyone can name a ship, we can go through customs records and check prior ports of call, try to get an idea of who planned this.¡±

    ¡°If anyone¡¯s willing to talk.¡± Simon glanced back to the crowd held in place by the Guardians, shoved back gently with the shaft of their spears if they appeared to be stepping out of line. ¡°You might be better off starting with our people.¡±

    ¡°Governor Perimont already oversaw their questioning. No one remembered anything useful,¡± Charlotte supplied. ¡°Most of them were playing dice in a tavern when the explosion occurred. They didn¡¯t see any more than we did.¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see that Avalon¡¯s loyal customs officers are keeping us safe.¡± Simon shot her a grin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Father will take care of it.¡±

    ¡°No doubt,¡± agreed Gary as he cracked his knuckles. ¡°Bring the ones who won¡¯t talk to me. If they¡¯re not with us, they¡¯re against us. Simple as that.¡±

    ¡°As wonderful as that sounds, I¡¯m afraid I have to be going.¡± Amusing as Gary could sometimes be, the smell of smoke in the air was growing annoying. ¡°I¡¯ve got the Convocation of Commerce and all.¡± The nice thing about a good excuse was that it could work again and again. Even helped keep your story straight, in case anyone started to compare notes.

    Gary blinked. ¡°That¡¯s still happening?¡±

    ¡°Of course it¡¯s still happening!¡± Charlotte threw up her hands. ¡°The whole harbor just went up in smoke. You really think Mr. Clocha?ne won¡¯t want to plan a strategy to deal with the disruption? Ms. Sunderland? Mince?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think about it at all. Honestly, I¡¯ve never even heard of half those people. I have a bombing to investigate; no time to deal with the trifling affairs of those penny-pinchers.¡±

    Simon narrowed his eyes. ¡°It affects the welfare of the entire territory. Probably even more than catching the culprits. Don¡¯t be so dismissive, Gary.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Gary held up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°That¡¯s your business, Simon. You do what you need to do, and I¡¯ll handle mine. Which happens to be catching the bastards who put a bomb in the harbor and destroyed a royal-class warship.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know it was a bomb for sure though. Depending on what the ships were transporting, it might have been an accident. If we can find¡ª¡±

    Gary¡¯s finger pushed up against Charlotte¡¯s mouth. ¡°Yes, yes, the ship manifests, the cargo, whatever. We¡¯ll get to all of that, but first we need to deal with the witnesses. Especially if they¡¯re not willing to cooperate.¡±

    And that¡¯s my cue. ¡°Farewell, Gary. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Charlotte.¡± Even if he could probably find someone better this evening, he still gave her a final smile. No cost to that.

    ¡°Keep up the good work, Simon. I¡¯ll see if I have time to come see you at that party.¡±

    And just like that, Simon was finally free of this tedium. He nodded to his guard as he exited the premises, and they fell into step behind him.

    ¡°What do you make of this?¡± Simon asked him, pulling the earring from his pocket. ¡°Not a scratch on it, so maybe diamond?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a jeweler, Master Simon. But it certainly is beautiful.¡±

    ¡°That it is,¡± he agreed. Far better than the seaglass dreck that most sailors bedecked themselves with in a doomed attempt to seem fashionable. A quick wipe with his shirt, and it looked pristine enough to be new. And it slid into his ear like it belonged there.

    ¡°You look very dashing, sir.¡±

    ¡°I do, don¡¯t I?¡± Simon smiled. Now all that remained was¡ª

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± He felt a tap on his shoulder.

    When he turned, it was the Crown Prince greeting him, a pensive expression across his face.

    ¡°Prince Harold!¡± Simon forced a smile. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to see you again. How are you finding Malin?¡±

    ¡°Surprisingly pleasant. I was expecting it to be hotter.¡±

    ¡°Not until Summer.¡± SImon shook his head. ¡°And any chambers fit for royalty have a mechanical means of cooling them, though the generators powering them may be noisy for your tastes.¡±

    ¡°Luce would probably love it. He¡¯s all about those contraptions; sometimes it seems like his focus to the exclusion of all else.¡±

    ¡°And your father, the King? I hear he means to leave soon, in order to better survey the territories under his aegis.¡±

    Harold smiled. ¡°Nothing to do with Malin, that. Don¡¯t worry. His Grace finds the city just as I do.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. What can I do for you, then?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment before you left. In private. It¡¯s a matter of state.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Fantastic. At this rate, he actually was going to have to go straight to the Convocation. ¡°Your highness¡¯s wish is my command.¡±

    The Prince nodded at him, stepping onto an empty stretch of beach by the side of the road. ¡®What do you think of your father¡¯s leadership here? Any issues with the way he runs things?¡±

    What? ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m not sure I should comment on that.¡±

    He waved his hands. ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I wouldn¡¯t ask you to badmouth the man who raised you. I simply mean that no one is perfect, and each man¡¯s particularities are liable to be different. I would rule differently from my father, just as you might yours. That¡¯s not an indictment of them.¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­ No it isn¡¯t?¡± Did Prince Harold have an issue with Father¡¯s administration? ¡°Governorships are not hereditary though, as the Crown is. It¡¯s a bit different.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course. But you¡¯ve been working under him, learning from him about this territory and what it takes to rule it. Am I mistaken?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, your highness.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve noticed his¡­ fixations. Rule through overt displays of power, displays of force with the executions, the extra funding for the Territorial Guardians and the employment of these¡­ What did he call them?¡±

    ¡°Forresters,¡± Simon supplied. ¡°A special branch devoted to stamping out any inklings of rebellion.¡± Bloody waste of money, honestly. But they seemed to keep Father happy.

    ¡°Would you do the same, were you in his place?¡±

    If I were in his place, I¡¯d seek another office right away. Governorship seems terminally dull. But that wasn¡¯t the sort of thing a prince would want to hear. ¡°I would stand by my father¡¯s decisions. He¡¯s ruled Malin ably for nearly two decades without any major issues. Obviously, his approach is working.¡±

    Prince Harold furrowed his brow, flicking his head back to glance at the harbor. ¡°I see. I think I¡¯ve learned what I need to know, then.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to hear that, your highness.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice earring, by the way,¡± Harold added. ¡°It has an elegant way of catching the light.¡±

    Fuck. There was only one thing to do when the Crown Prince complimented something you were wearing. ¡°It¡¯s yours, your highness. Take it with my compliments.¡±

    Harold blinked. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to imply¡ª¡±

    ¡°I insist.¡± Simon forced a smile as he removed it from his ear, pressing it into the prince¡¯s hand. ¡°Wear it in good health.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll probably give it to my brother, then. He¡¯s more fond of the style.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Thank you then, Simon. I appreciate the perspective you¡¯ve provided.¡±

    ¡°It was my greatest pleasure, your highness. Please send your brother compliments from me and my father as well, when you see him next.¡±

    An interminable round of nodding and smiling and pleasantries followed as Simon tried desperately not to appear too eager to get away from this conversation.

    By the time they were finished, any semblance of free time remaining to him before the Convocation had evaporated. Stupid bombing, ruining everything.

    Simon turned to his guards the moment they were alone once more. ¡°Why did you let him creep up on me like that? Lazy asses. Your job is so easy, one would think you have the time to actually do it.¡±

    ¡°Sir, that was the Prince himself. Surely he of all people is permitted to approach. We simply thought¡ª¡±

    Simon waved his hand in the guard¡¯s face to shush him. If you¡¯d actually seen him, you would have warned me. But it wasn¡¯t worth dealing with. He had a party to attend, and before that, the Convocation.

    Usually these sorts of affairs were mercifully brief, but Simon knew better than to expect that this time. The implications of the harbor in ruins were enormous, far more important than the King¡¯s ship or a few dead sailors. Tedious as Convocations of Commerce could sometimes be, this would be anything but boring.

    As was his custom, Simon was the last to arrive at the brightly lit guildhall where the gathering would take place. He represented the Governor¡¯s Office, and it was important that the merchants here recognized that he was the one they needed to please most of all.

    The warm glow of lamps coated every surface, all the better to pore over papers deep into the night if it were necessary. Not that Simon had any intention of staying so long as that. He had an appointment to keep.

    ¡°Master Perimont.¡± Mr. Clocha?ne stepped in front of him before he could even enter the room. ¡°You¡¯ve arrived.¡± The candle merchant steepled his spindly hands, a finely crafted golden ring on each finger. His matte black coat was of Cambrian make, more expensive than a building in Malin, for all that it looked unassuming. But that was the thing about class; it was a subtle affair. New money would never understand it, bedecking themselves in gaudy accoutrements at their own peril.

    With a tap of his finger, Clocha?ne straightened his three-pointed hat, a deep green whose dye was only sold by poachers from the Arboreum. ¡°These are trying times, and we all wish to recognize that in our contributions. Myself most of all.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    In the wake of the Foxtrap, Mr. Clocha?ne had risen meteorically, extinguishing and subsuming all competition, and even building an internal shipping company to export his wares and import his materials. Even with all of that in mind, Simon wasn¡¯t quite sure how he could put forward so much money, but that was an area where it paid to not look too closely.

    ¡°With that in mind,¡± Clocha?ne continued, ¡°I would like to note that my company has doubled our usual donation to the Office of Commerce. I trust you will make appropriate use of the funds.¡±

    ¡°I always do, don¡¯t I?¡± Simon smirked. ¡°As much as the Office of Commerce appreciates that, do you have anything a bit more¡­ fungible? With the royals in town, I¡¯m taking extra care to keep things above board for a while.¡± Especially if Prince Harold himself were interrogating him about how to rule the city. What had all of that been about, anyway?

    Clocha?ne nodded, gesturing to a leather bag resting against Simon¡¯s usual seat at the head of the table, barely visible through the doorway. ¡°From all of us, for the extra troubles you¡¯re taking.¡±

    ¡°You have my gratitude then.¡±

    ¡°I hope you take it in the spirit in which it is intended. And in turn, keep your Office¡¯s attention focused where it¡¯s needed most.¡±

    ¡°Away from you, eh?¡± Simon winked. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Once the royal family¡¯s gone, so too will the need to keep everything wound up so tightly. I¡¯ve always had your back, haven¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°You have certainly been much more understanding than your predecessor in that regard, so far.¡±

    ¡°Obviously,¡± Simon snorted. The last Liaison of Commerce had done far more than skim off the top, trying to use her position to force the merchant families directly under her thumb, demanding oversight of their accounting, investigators from the Office to pore over their every operation, and overall put a stranglehold on the economy of the city.

    Simon took a bit off the top, sure. Who wouldn¡¯t, in a position like this? What was the point in being the governor¡¯s son if it didn¡¯t buy him a bit of goodwill from the upstanding business community of Malin? But he would never deign to disrupt the city¡¯s trade, or the men and women who held it up on their backs. Especially not with something as pointless as customs interdiction.

    Whatever the law said, some people had goods to sell and others wanted to buy them. If anything, it was a moral duty to maintain their freedom to do so. Father disagreed, but what he didn¡¯t know wouldn¡¯t hurt him.

    ¡°Please let me know if there¡¯s anything I can do to help with the investigation,¡± Mr. Clocha?ne said. ¡°I still have some contacts in Porte Lumi¨¨re, if you suspect the Isle of Soleil¡¯s involvement.¡±

    ¡°Soleil?¡±

    ¡°I was told that spirit sundials were found amidst the wreckage. That points to worshippers of Soleil as at least a possibility. And nowhere are they more numerous than the Isle.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell Sir Gerald Stewart to come find you,¡± Simon responded with a shrug as he stepped into the room. ¡°He¡¯s handling all of that business. But thank you, Mr. Clocha?ne.¡±

    The merchant smiled. ¡°Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.¡±

 Luce I: The Captive

    They were keeping him in his own chambers,  worse than any cell. Cassia¡¯s blood still stained the floor, hardened to streaks of red and brown.

    I asked her to come.

    Julius had needed to stay, to keep the Tower under control. Luce had required someone trustworthy to help with Malin. Required a friend, when Perimont and the Territorial Governors were the worst that Avalon¡¯s self-destructive streak of barbarism had to offer.

    She¡¯d been so excited to help him put them in their place. So eager to be a hero¡­

    He could still see her lying there, eyes glazed with surprise and determination. Perhaps with feelings of betrayal too.

    Cassia wouldn¡¯t blame him for this; Luce knew that. But that changed nothing. He was the Prince, she his subject. It was his responsibility. That was how this worked. Who else was to blame, save the hardened killer who had plunged the blade through her innocent heart?

    She stood there even now, watching him for hours each morning as the ship sailed to whatever forsaken place they were taking him. Likely Guerron, or perhaps the Arboreum, since they would need a place sympathetic to their treasons to shelter him until an agreement was worked out to exchange him for ransom money. Perhaps the Village of the Exiles, if they could sneak their way into Paix Lake, although that might be prohibitively far.

    It might even be Cambria. He had asked the pirates to have his brother ransom him instead of Perimont, for all he knew that they would balk at the prospect of confronting Avalon¡¯s navy in its home waters.

    But such speculation was useless. They could be dragging him down into Khali¡¯s world for all he knew, and it would make little difference.

    Governor Perimont would pay his ransom, and Luce would enter Malin a failure, unable to reform anything either there or back in Cambria. Perimont had already brought the city to its breaking point, or Father wouldn¡¯t have required such speed above all else.

    For all the good that did. The fastest ship in Cambria, and it hadn¡¯t managed to evade the Seaward Folly for even an hour. Robin Verrou was probably laughing himself silly right now, surrounded by the corpses of those he¡¯d slain.

    Luce had pictured a cold man, from all the stories of Verrou¡¯s betrayal. The sort of self-centered snake that could turn on his comrades in wartime without a shred of remorse. What little he¡¯d seen of the pirate captain had been even more unnerving: a warmth that completely belied the trail of murderous destruction he left in his wake.

    He hadn¡¯t even seemed to notice the people he¡¯d so effortlessly cleaved through, even as they lay dead at his feet.

    I hope it was worth it, Father. I came as fast as I could. If he¡¯d simply taken a mail convoy as he¡¯d wanted to, he would have been in Malin by now, instead of confined to this tomb, this monument to failure.

    The murderous pirate woman with the long dark hair seemed to notice him staring at the floor, tracking his eyes to the bloodstain with her own. ¡°I still see her too.¡±

    Luce blinked, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. ¡°Good. It¡¯s the least a killer like you deserves.¡±

    ¡°She was attacking me!¡± The pirate stomped her foot. ¡°I had no¡­ I couldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°She was protecting me,¡± Luce mumbled. ¡°Hold on to that guilt,¡± he spat, louder. ¡°Let it consume you, drag you into perdition, and you may earn a fraction of what you deserve for murdering her.¡±

    ¡°Is that what you plan to do?¡± She bumped her head back against the door in clear frustration. ¡°Elllll¡­even people have said that this is just how things work. It¡¯s all part of the game. She should have surrendered. You should have surrendered, and none of this would have ever happened.¡±

    Luce clenched his fists. We should have. Captain Wetherby had insisted on protecting him, insisted that they could never yield a prince to mere brigands. But would he have forced the matter, if Luce had told him otherwise? It was doubtful. He might have lived too, then. ¡°So this is a game to you? Just the way things are?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± She pounded her fist against the wall, sending a booming vibration through the room. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± she said again, more softly.

    ¡°People always say things like that, and they¡¯re always wrong. Nothing has to be the way that it is. There¡¯s always room for change.¡±

    ¡°Tradition is naught but a set of manacles to the progression of society,¡± she quoted. ¡°What value it might provide must always be questioned; never must we follow it for its own sake.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s from Unity.¡± Luce raised an eyebrow. It wasn¡¯t much like a brigand to read, let alone memorize passages. ¡°You¡¯ve read the first Fox-Queen¡¯s memoirs?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve read the Fox-Queen¡¯s memoirs?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Luce waved his hands. ¡°I was tutored by the best the world had to offer in science and history alike. And it was the most interesting way to practice my command of this language, once I learned enough to read the histories in their original tongue. I owe Avalon nothing less than total understanding, that I may serve it best..¡± The arts, admittedly, he had neglected. Father had always insisted on the value of writing, of music, and even painting. But it had always seemed so irrelevant to anything important.

    What difference would a story make to the fate of the world, or a new tune composed for the organ? At least the pulsebox was advancing science in a direction totally divorced from Avalon¡¯s darker side, but even then, it was the technology that mattered, not the compositions.

    The pirate exhaled sharply. ¡°Learning from your enemy, I suppose.¡±

    Clasping his hands together, Luce recalled another passage. ¡°It is from my foes that I learned the harshest lessons, but also the most important ones.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, look where that got her. The entire empire splintered into pieces before her body was even cold.¡±

    Luce shrugged, conceding the point. ¡°Personal strength can only take you so far. To make things last, you have to embed change deep into society¡¯s systems. Reform them bit by bit until their weaknesses become strengths, their shortsightedness withered away in the face of forward-thinking pragmatism.¡±

    She looked up at the ceiling, eyes squinting. ¡°Harold I?¡±

    ¡°Me, actually. That¡¯s what I keep trying to tell you. It¡¯s the same thing Gordon Perimont doesn¡¯t understand: Avalon¡¯s current course is ruining us.¡± It was strangely refreshing, to speak of this so openly. In Cambria every word had to be so carefully couched in praise of Avalon¡¯s greatness that Luce generally just left it all to his brother while focusing on the science.

    ¡°Of course.¡± The pirate rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re just that good a person.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about being good. It¡¯s about being smart.¡± He looked her straight in her puffy red eyes. ¡°Infinite growth requires infinite consumption, and there¡¯s only so much world to conquer. We¡¯re looking outward when we should be looking upward, trying to do better with what we have.¡± He sighed. ¡°That¡¯s why I was going to Malin at all. Things will only escalate further without me.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Maybe they should,¡± she responded. ¡°Push people to the breaking point and they might actually start tearing this shit down. Something needs to shake them out of their complacency.¡±

    ¡°Complacency?¡± Luce raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Seems to me like most people will take any excuse they can to keep doing what they¡¯re already doing. Even the people back in Guerron were happy to fawn over an Avalonian music box, despite the bard playing it working for the nation that killed so many of their friends and family not even twenty years ago. It¡¯s disgusting.¡±

    A bard with a music box¡­ ¡°You aren¡¯t talking about Magnifico, are you? You met him?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Did a lot more than that. We pried that fancy box from his dainty hands and gave it to the people.¡±

    ¡°That technology belongs to Avalon.¡±

    The pirate shook her head. ¡°It belongs to everyone. And now everyone can enjoy it.¡±

    Wait. ¡°You didn¡¯t hurt him though, right? He¡¯s ok?¡±

    Narrowed eyes stared back at him. ¡°He¡¯s fine, as far as I know. Although I guess that depends on what you and your family do to him after hearing that he lost the pulsebox.¡±

    Luce bit his tongue, holding himself back from breathing an audible sigh of relief. The last thing he needed to do was blow Father¡¯s ruse in the middle of precarious negotiations.

    ¡°Honestly I¡¯m surprised you care that much.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico¡¯s¡­ been with my family for a long time.¡± Not even technically a lie, that. Father had first created the disguise around the era of the Foxtrap, in order to turn the people of Ombresse against their Duke and get the city to yield even when its leader refused. ¡°He¡¯s a bit reckless, but we trust him to make it home safely.¡± Even if not by choice.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s your business, I suppose.¡± The pirate shrugged, tilting her head down at the floor and swearing softly as her eyes passed over the bloodstain again. She slumped back against the wall, visibly deflated.

    Luce felt the guilt and grief come rushing back in the same instant, collapsing back down onto his bed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to get you a book next time,¡± she whispered after a few minutes of silence. ¡°My time guarding you is up right now, but I think I have something about the Winter War in the cargo hold.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, for what else could he say? What good would antagonizing her further do for him, no matter how satisfying it might feel in the moment?

    His next guard didn¡¯t say a word, no matter how many times Luce tried to engage her. She looked Cambrian, which made it all the stranger, but there was little point in speculating. Nothing to be gained from doing anything but waiting, really.

    Even if he managed to escape his room, there was nowhere to go but miles of open water. That was already more worrying than any pirate standing guard, no matter how vicious.

    His next guard after that was a new one, the short haired pirate who seemed to be the one in charge. He hadn¡¯t seen her once in the time since the ship had been captured.

    ¡°So, Prince Lump, which finger do you like least?¡± She gave him a thin-lipped smile, gesturing to the pool of blood on the floor. ¡°Asking for a friend.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll reduce the ransom you get if I¡¯m not returned unharmed.¡± His words were rote, automatic. Playing his part was all he could manage.

    ¡°You¡¯re royalty; we could quarter you and as long as you still drew breath, we¡¯d make out like bandits.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quartering me now. In my own quarters, no less.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t see four horses and coarse rope, do you?¡± With a roll of her eyes, she stepped closer. ¡°Perhaps the battle addled your mind.¡±

    Luce squinted, trying to determine her meaning.

    The apparent captain sighed. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard about it. They tie each of your limbs to one horse and let them pull you apart. No opium wine to make it go down easier, either. Perimont did it to a few of the most zealous holdouts right after the Foxtrap.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± That was truly horrifying to contemplate.

    She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s only been the noose since then. A bit better, unless you want your death to mean something.¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s death means something.¡±

    The captain tilted her head back in a chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡±

    Luce shook his head, which only made her laugh harder. ¡°Are you going to cut off my finger?¡± he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

    ¡°Maybe. If you aren¡¯t cooperative. But there¡¯s no need for that yet.¡±

    ¡°Then is there a purpose to your visit here? Perhaps you wanted the value of my company?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got it exactly right. They did say you were smart.¡± She exhaled, folding her arms.

    ¡°Have you reached an agreement for payment, or am I to be taken elsewhere while you negotiate?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Fuck you. ¡°Which one?¡±

    The pirate only smiled, letting silence hang in the air while her aura of smugness permeated the room.

    ¡°Is this about the girl that killed Cassia? She¡¯s not taking it well.¡±

    The captain¡¯s eyes widened, mouth opening slightly, but she didn¡¯t respond to the question. After a moment, her bewildered expression was replaced with a stern frown. ¡°That¡¯s for me to deal with. It¡¯s none of your concern.¡±

    Luce felt a pang of remorse at possibly getting her in trouble with a superior, irrational as it was. She deserved far worse, if anything, but he hadn¡¯t done it on purpose; the isolation had loosened his tongue.

    ¡°What¡¯s that in your ear?¡± the captain asked instead of continuing the conversation naturally. ¡°Looks valuable.¡±

    ¡°It was a gift from my brother,¡± Luce sighed, reaching up to remove the blue earring that Harold had given him before he set out. It wasn¡¯t hard to tell why she had asked.

    ¡°Looks like I don¡¯t need to tell you it¡¯s mine now, then.¡±

    He handed it to her with a frown. ¡°Is that all?¡±

    ¡°Obviously. I¡¯m just that enamored of wasting my own time.¡± She drummed her fingers against the side of the wall. ¡°Perimont gave up a clean million for you. Must really want to get in good with your Father.¡±

    ¡°I suppose so.¡± Luce covered his face with his hand to hide his smile. ¡°You¡¯re taking me to Malin, then.¡±

    The pirate tilted her head back and forth. ¡°You, and a bit of cargo from Guerron. You¡¯re going to help us get it into the city before we turn you over to Perimont.¡±

    ¡°Cargo? You mean contraband.¡±

    The pirate nodded. ¡°Probably better if you don¡¯t know what.¡±

    Luce shook his head. ¡°If it¡¯s another bomb, I¡¯d rather you kill me.¡±

    ¡°What? Another?¡± Her eyes widened for an instant before she regained her composure. ¡°It¡¯s just forbidden substances. Marigold wine and the like. You won¡¯t be getting anyone hurt. No need to worry your sensitive little head about it.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Luce sputtered. ¡°The million wasn¡¯t enough? You have to smuggle drugs into Malin on my ship too?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s my ship, and you¡¯ll be the one doing the smuggling. I¡¯m given to understand that nothing is illegal if it¡¯s a prince doing it.¡±

    You must think I¡¯m an idiot, he almost said. If they¡¯d really reached an agreement with Perimont, then the Territorial Guardians would know he¡¯d been kidnapped, and they¡¯d never let the ship leave Malin unmolested. Trying to smuggle goods into port in a recognizable ship known to hold a kidnapped prince would be beyond hubris; it would be completely moronic.

    Which meant that she was lying, either about the ransom agreement or the smuggling. He could call her out, but that might be tipping his hand. Something strange was afoot here, but the less he appeared to know, the better his chances of getting out of this safely.

    ¡°Lost in thought, there? Don¡¯t worry. It won¡¯t be long before you¡¯re back in your gilded palace sipping brandy and lamenting how much poorer you are.¡±

    ¡°How long?¡± he asked, not daring to hope.

    The pirate kicked the door back open, gesturing through. ¡°Come see for yourself.¡±

    The fresh sea air filled his lungs as he stepped out, shielding his eyes to give them time to adjust to the light. By the time he reached the deck, the intoxicating breeze had invigorated him.

    Out in front of the ship was a sandy coastline, great blue step pyramids rising out of the water. It looked like children were climbing it, or perhaps monkeys, but either way the walls seemed almost alive at this distance.

    This would be the Great Temple of Levian, the seat of power for the Leclaires in Malin. From what Luce had read, they must have sacrificed countless thousands of people there over hundreds of years. Drowning them in the water to fuel their own magic in one of the closest acts to pure evil that he could conceive of.

    Spirits were vile creatures, monsters bent on destroying humanity to enrich themselves. Pantera the Undying, from whom the military isle off the coast of Cambria drew its name, had ventured from its lair every decade to feast on Cambrians, not stopping until its brutal hunger was sated. Binders did what they could to protect people, but the attacks had not stopped until Harold I had finally killed it, venturing onto Pantera Isle alone and returning with a bloody sword and shimmering pelt.

    The sort of people who could ally themselves with creatures like that were nothing less than traitors to humanity. Especially when it required turning on their fellow humans, sacrificing them to the spirits for personal gain. Whatever overzealousness Gordon Perimont brought to his rule of the territory, he was right about that much.

    Seeing the temple vacant was strangely comforting, in a way. As overly emotional and stupidly managed as Avalon¡¯s occupation of Malin might have been, at least there were real accomplishments to point to, none more significant than the outlawing of human sacrifice. No matter the cost, that savage practice had to end.

    Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Luce slid his gaze away from the temple. Closer along the shore, a series of sturdy wooden platforms were built into the sand, with thick beams raised above them. Could they be replacement docks? Apparently, after the explosion in the harbor, there had been nearly nothing left to salvage, but the traders had to have worked out something by now.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± His gaze reached the last platform in the line.

    ¡°I wonder if there¡¯s anyone I know there,¡± the captain pondered aloud with inhuman calm. ¡°Suppose I¡¯ll see when we get closer.¡±

    Luce simply kept staring, transfixed by the limp bodies swinging from the gallows, the blue tint to their faces visible even from the deck of the ship.

    ¡°Welcome to Malin.¡±

 Camille I: The Revenant

    Malin.

    This was her home. This was what she had been fighting to reclaim from the moment she became a spirit sage. Since that fateful day, returning had been her truest, strongest desire.

    And now here she was, a shambling wreck, drenched in failure.

    Camille sank to her knees in the sand, biting down hard on her lip as she stared at the last true legacy of the family Leclaire: the crumbling ruins of the Great Temple of Levian, infested with barefoot children clambering all over the walls.

    Levian had vowed to carry her safely to her city¡¯s shores, and yet she had been so long a stranger to Malin that the thought of being brought here had not even occurred to her. What kind of pathetic¡ª

    One of the children jumped from atop the wall into the water, screaming something inarticulate as she fell. The  mighty splash caused a young boy in front of her to cower in fear, shielding his face with his hands.

    This self-flagellation is useless.

    Camille shook her head slightly as she stood back up, wiping the blood from her mouth. The red streak stained her hand, but that meant nothing.

    This was naught but another challenge before her, no more insurmountable than she allowed it to be. The truly pathetic thing would be to wallow in despair like some sort of blubbering imbecile.

    Half of her life still remained, and with it, opportunity.

    All she needed was another plan. Preferably one that did not end with a piece of hot metal in her shoulder.

    I should have seen it.

    The visions were so clear in retrospect, even in so maddeningly allegorical a form. Fernan had compared cannonfire to thunder that very morning, and yet the implications of the lightning had eluded her. They had also eluded Annette and Lucien, admittedly, but neither of them had any connection to magic of their own. In retrospect, that choice of consultants had been a mistake.

    A false assurance from those no less blind than she was. But they had not studied this. It had been foolish to expect it of them. No, the mistake was hers alone.

    And Camille would not make it again. Information was crucial, not to be lightly dismissed. Even if the key to Lumi¨¨re¡¯s victory had been mechanical, the clues before her were not.

    Another vision, then. This time, with proper attention given. In conjunction with proper news of what had transpired in her absence, she could form the beginnings of a strategy. A way to set things right.

    ¡°Excuse me, children!¡± she called out to the assembled youths at the temple. The younger ones were playing in the water, but a loosely spread collection of those who looked to be in their teen years were perched up on the walls, staring out at the soon-to-be setting sun.

    The look of disgust on their faces was noticeable even with the light at their backs, looking down at the bedraggled wastrel she appeared to be.

    Camille sighed, stepping closer. ¡°There¡¯s money in it for you.¡± Wait, is there? She would always bring her coin purse when she ventured out in public, hanging at her side, but there was little reason to have it at a duel.

    She bit her lip as she patted her side, tasting blood once more, but of course there was nothing there. It was probably still sitting in her chambers back in Guerron, kept safe from Lumi¨¨re¡¯s pilfering only by Duke Fouchand.

    Still, nothing to stop her bluffing. ¡°I¡¯m simply looking for some marigold wine. The first to offer me information shall receive a commission of ten percent.¡±

    One of the youths sighed, shaking his head slightly.

    ¡°Essence of nightshade? Cyben root?¡± At their bewildered silence, Camille rubbed her temples with a sigh of her own. ¡°When one wishes to partake of spiritual visions, from whom do they obtain the necessary supplies?¡±

    ¡°Just ignore her and she¡¯ll leave,¡± was muttered, though from whom Camille could not say. ¡°Well spoken for a wastrel,¡± another added.

    This is my fault. The disguise was too faultless, impeccably presenting them with the mirage of a penniless failure roaming the beach for scraps.

    ¡°Very well then.¡± Camille stepped closer to the temple. This is not the first time I¡¯ve been too successful for my own good, nor will it be the last. Adrian Couteau¡¯s humiliation was the first thing that came to mind, but there were myriad examples.

    She would simply search the temple for any remaining stock. Given the state of the pyramids, it seemed likely that it would have been pilfered long ago, but there were underwater caches that surely no one had found.

    Joy, musty casks of bottom-shelf marigold wine. Anything of respectable vintage would not have been wasted on the emergency cache, but it was something at least. A possibility, if nothing else.

    Camille continued forward under the judgmental stares of the intruders into her rightful domain, feeling a stone miss her by inches as she stepped over the threshold of the temple grounds. The next one hit her in the arm, though at least on the opposite side of the injured shoulder.

    ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± she shouted as she quickened her pace towards the pyramid. ¡°I¡¯m just asking you questions! And this temple¡ª¡± Camille cut herself off.

    Being recognized here, with Malin so deeply burdened by Avalon¡¯s boot on its neck, would be entirely disastrous. She was far from her power base in Guerron, and could forget that only at her own peril.

    Enduring the jeers of moronic louts was a worthy price to keep her from becoming a hostage.

    ¡°Temple¡¯s ours,¡± one of the older boys atop the pyramid shouted back, a slight accent to his speech. ¡°You¡¯re just another piece of wastrel scum. We don¡¯t have any drugs for you. Fuck off!¡±

    ¡°I will not be¡ª¡± She had to cut herself off again.

    ¡°It¡¯s not worth it.¡± The girl next to him patted him on the shoulder, her speech smoother and more natural.

    ¡°No, Margot. We can¡¯t let them bother good, honest people.¡± The boy picked up another stone. ¡°One more chance, wastrel. The next one knocks your teeth in. Then I¡¯ll run and get the Guardians, and you¡¯ll see how a civilized society deals with its dregs.¡±

    And which one are you in this scenario, boy? She didn¡¯t say it. There would be no point.

    Camille forced herself to turn around and begin walking away. She didn¡¯t look back.

    Swimming into one of the underwater enclosures would have been trivial with even the barest thread of spiritual energy left, but Camille had none. Until she could perform another sacrifice, her only option for magic was to draw on her life, to further drain what was already so terribly diminished.

    That should be easy enough, when I can barely stand. Under Avalon¡¯s occupation, no less. Perhaps if I ask nicely.

    Some part of her had hoped there might be a way to make use of the situation Levian had forced her into. Some gain to be made, knowledge to be learned, traitors to be sought out. No matter how urgently Guerron needed her, infiltrating Malin when all thought her dead seemed like it ought to have provided something before she left.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    But this was simply impossible.

    She was leaving on the first ship back. There was no point in being here unless it was at the head of an army.

    Lucien and Annette needed her anyway. Even if he had already killed Lumi¨¨re, which seemed likely, managing the fallout would require the benefit of Camille¡¯s more delicate touch. Duke Fouchand was smart about these things, but he was only one person, and could only do so much. Especially with Annette so overburdened already.

    Nothing for it now but to return to the harbor.

    Or at least, whatever was serving as the harbor right now. Duke Fouchand had mentioned that there had been an explosion, wiping out most of the docks. That had been what had caused the bard to delay his trip and pass through Guerron Pass instead.

    It seemed so long ago now, though it had only been weeks. Like another life entirely.

    Still, Malin had grown off of the strength of trade. That had been what buoyed the Empire of the Fox to greatness, and that in turn was what made it so valuable to Avalon. Even if now all of the riches flowed back across the sea.

    They would have managed something. Perhaps anchors for ships to dock off the coast, with dinghies to transport goods and people, or even a replacement dock, if Avalon were particularly quick with it.

    Hopefully the latter. She could not yet reveal herself in truth, for that course was still fraught with peril, but with the right captain and the right ship, booking passage back on credit seemed reasonably possible. With a proper port, it would be far easier to find one discreetly. Rowing herself between anchored ships out in the harbor was a far less appealing possibility, though she would do it if she must.

    It was the best place to start, at any rate. And a good thing too, since that just meant following the beach south to the harbor. Camille wasn¡¯t sure she could manage walking much further than that, and keeping to the coast would help keep her out of sight until it was unavoidable.

    There did seem to be a large gathering out here, though. A great crowd amassed around wooden structures sunken into the beach.

    Strange, that, and it made complete evasion difficult, but even in her sorry state, she did not overly stand out amidst the throngs. Passing through would be manageable.

    She walked further, slowing her pace as she came closer to the wood and the masses grew thicker, but, at least for the moment, without any issues.

    Upon closer examination, many loops of knotted rope were hanging from an upper beam above the platform, reaching down to roughly head-height. Some sort of trapdoor mechanism seemed to sit under each, with mechanical gears poking out from underneath.

    A long line of rough-clad men and women marched grimly up the steps, stopping once each of them stood before one of the ropes.

    Ah.

    It was blindingly obvious what that meant, then. Camille knew the look in their eyes well, for she had seen it dozens of times.

    Fitting, that Avalon would mechanize executions as well. Death through industry was their trade, she supposed, although the last she¡¯d heard suggested that they favored a headsman¡¯s axe.

    An attendant was standing at a lever, ready to drop the condemned to their deaths, but there was no doubt as to whether he was a sage. He did not even appear noble, yet another insult to the soon-to-be-deceased.

    Barbarity either way, really. Death was nothing to relish in, certainly never to be done for its own sake.

    It was a criminal¡¯s last, most fundamental right that their death matter. That they contribute one final good in granting their life to the spirits. No matter a person¡¯s crimes, no matter how impossible to wipe clean their misdeeds, they could atone at least that much.

    No one was beneath that final absolution, to stare the sage of their spirit in the eyes and know for certain that the energy of their life would flow into wondrous magic, giving back to contribute, in some small way, to making the world a better place.

    Without that, executions were just senseless killings. Who could condone ending someone¡¯s life for no reason other than wanting them dead? In a duel for honor one might kill, or in the heat of battle, but to bring the full force of your power down upon a human being in the cold light of day, simply to watch them die¡­

    ¡°Are you alright, miss?¡± A sandy-haired man tapped her on the shoulder, speaking in the langue of Avalon. ¡°You¡¯re looking a bit sick. Is this your first execution?¡±

    Narrowing her eyebrows, Camille turned back to face him, reaching back to her lessons to match his tongue in kind. ¡°It¡¯s not that. I¡¯ve seen plenty, sometimes up even closer than this..¡±

    ¡°I guess most of us have.¡± The man nodded. ¡°Governor Perimont likes to be thorough.¡±

    ¡°What did they do?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Treason. Forresters caught them plotting rebellion in a salon. Letters to the Fox Cub and his sea bitch.¡±

    ¡°Letters?¡± She and Lucien had not communicated with anyone in Malin since the Foxtrap. Of that, she was certain.

    ¡°Seems like it had been going on for years, according to the paper trail. That¡¯s what the Magister said at the trial, anyway.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± So if Perimont wanted to frame you, what did you actually do to displease him?

    He patted a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Then you should know it¡¯s nothing to worry about. Low-down criminal scum getting their due, nothing more.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t look terribly base,¡± Camille noted, glancing over the condemned. Indeed, despite their prisoner¡¯s clothing, their faces were largely clear of blemishes and many were even fat. ¡°Especially if they knew how to read and write.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s more common now, with the schools and all, but you have a point. They¡¯re merchants, by and large. Nobody here is so important they¡¯ll be missed though.¡±

    As soon as he finished speaking, the masked figure on the stage began speaking, though he was too far away to hear. Camille caught only fragments, words like ¡®conspiracy¡¯ and ¡®treason¡¯ that seemed to corroborate much of what she had just been told.

    After that, the executioner went down the line, giving each of the condemned a chance to speak their last words. Almost none of them were audible, save one near the end who roared so loudly, it was audible even so far away.

    ¡°I die not for Avalon, but for Malin. For Levian!¡±

    Camille couldn¡¯t help but grin at the sight of it. Even after my time away, they have not forgotten after all. ¡°That¡¯s a much bolder declaration than a mere letter.¡±

    ¡°Governor Perimont frowns on that sort of thing. Often the family will be spoken to, to ensure that it doesn¡¯t occur.¡± The man beside her pursed his lips. ¡°You¡¯ve got quite a good eye, miss. Not many people would think much about something like that, or notice their background so easily.¡±

    ¡°Just a thought. I would not make too much of it.¡± Camille shrugged. ¡°Although I do find that my eyes can get keener when I can call on spiritual visions. You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where I might¡ª¡±

    ¡°You want to consume drugs at an execution?¡± He rubbed his eyes. ¡°Wow. That is¡­ I mean I guess it¡¯s pretty routine for you, you did say that. But still¡­¡±

    ¡°Not to consume now.¡± You twit. ¡°But the last people I asked were entirely unhelpful, and I¡¯m unsure where the appropriate wineries are.¡±

    ¡°Say no more.¡± He held up a finger. ¡°I guess it makes sense you might be looking for that. You definitely seem like the type. Lucky for you, I¡¯ve actually got some on me. Nightshade alright?¡±

    Well, marigold wine would be ideal, but¡­ ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fine. Although it¡¯s a bit hypocritical of you to be judgemental if it¡¯s already on your person.¡±

    He shrugged, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a copper flask. ¡°What did you say your name was, by the way?¡±

    ¡°Ca¡ªrrine. Carrine.¡± She held out her hand for the oaf to kiss, then extended it further to pat him on the shoulder instead. Wouldn¡¯t want to give anything about her station away. ¡°And you are?¡±

    He smiled, grabbing it roughly in his clumsy fingers. ¡°Sir Gerald Stewart, the Prince¡¯s Inspector.¡± He wrenched her back, throwing her onto the sand before she could react. ¡°In the name of the Prince, I hereby detain you for crimes against Avalon and Malin.¡±

    How did he know? She had been nothing but careful. No personal details, no identifying marks, not a single use of magic, nor even an allusion to the fact that she could.

    ¡°What in Levian¡¯s name are you on about?¡± Camille grunted, face in the sand. ¡°I¡¯ve committed no crime.¡±

    ¡°I doubt the Guardians will see it that way. You just purchased illegal contraband right before my eyes. I¡¯ll testify that to the magister, if necessary.¡± He sat down on top of her, pinning her down on the ground. ¡°Charlotte! I got one!¡±

    ¡°Contraband?¡± Was this some sort of cover, to make sure that none of the Malins gathered here would intervene to save her? ¡°It¡¯s nightshade, for spiritual visions. And you were the one trying to sell it to me. What sort of imbecilic¡ª¡±

    His hand pressed her face further into the ground, shoving sand into her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m going to need you to stop talking now. You¡¯re welcome to explain it to the magister.¡±

    ¡°Or you can help us,¡± a woman¡¯s voice spoke, though with her head in the sand Camille couldn¡¯t match it to a face. ¡°Tell us what we need to know, and things could go a lot easier for you.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± There it is. Camille spat out a mouthful of sand. ¡°What you need to know?¡±

    Sir Gerald¡¯s hand moved up to her head, tearing off the scraps of cloth she¡¯d used to conceal her hair. ¡°Aha! One of those temple-heads. I knew it! Always trying to excuse your degeneracy because it¡¯s ¡®natural¡¯ and ¡®spiritual¡¯.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know that before you detained her?¡± the woman¡¯s voice said. ¡°As far as you knew, you were breaking our cover over a random wastrel?¡±

    ¡°Charlotte, please. I have a sense for these things. It worked out, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    That was followed by a sigh.

    Camille felt the pressure on her head let up, allowing her to lift it slightly out of the sand.

    The woman was down on her knees staring back. ¡°It¡¯s not you that we¡¯re worried about, ok? We¡¯re investigating the bombing. If you or the acolytes are involved, things could go really badly for you. Anything you can tell us helps you just as much as it helps us.¡±

    Camille blinked. They truly don¡¯t know who I am. Cracked and sandy, her lips pressed into a bloody smile. These fools had no idea what they were in for. ¡°I suppose I had better start talking, then.¡±

 Gary I: The Chosen One

    In this hostile, inhospitable land, it paid to enjoy the simple pleasures of life: the spring breeze cutting through the already oppressively hot air, the hazy silhouette of mountains still peaked with snow, poking up from above that river. And above all, the feeling of cold steel at your side, keeping you safe. With enemies everywhere and danger around every corner, it wasn¡¯t just the best way to live, but the only way.

    Not that Gary was particularly worried for his own safety. He was a knight, and the very purpose of a knighthood was proof of incontestable fighting prowess. What¡¯s more, Gary had earned his younger than most. In fact, he had been specifically singled out, pulled from his class at the officer¡¯s academy after mere months in attendance so that he might be elevated to that most coveted of positions: guarding the royal family.

    Indeed, it had been a similar recognition of greatness that had seen him sent there in the first place, taken aside after a bloody accident at the training yard and informed that Mother would be sending him to Cambria for further development of his skills. He would ascend to greatness while his brothers and sisters would be left behind at the manor, stuck wiling away their time with tutors and meetings.

    Likewise, most of his classmates at the academy were sitting behind a desk right now, watching futilely for spies and pirates as their ships sailed in circles. One of them had even had the gall to brag about their cushy post on Crescent Isle. Honestly, a Facility Director? It was a struggle to even contemplate a more pointless position.

    Gary shook his head sadly.

    The Directors and Captains and Generals could play at politics, trying to stick more pins through their breast pocket or earn their Coat of Nocturne, but at the end of the day they weren¡¯t any different from the lowly tax collectors and customs agents who¡¯d been milling around confused in the wreckage of the harbor explosion.

    They weren¡¯t the ones stopping the real villains.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem fair, does it?¡± Charlotte stared down at the field of daisies, already grown to knee height.

    Apparently Fuite Gardens had once been a delicately manicured affair, with small ropes hanging from posts a foot above the ground to show where none were meant to walk. Hundred year old maple trees had cast shade on the path without a soul ever getting to climb. Above all, beauty to be admired from afar, untouched.

    Bullshit, in other words.

    Now the plants roamed free, as did the visitors, and no one seemed to be complaining. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like any of the crazy magical irrigation systems that had kept the gardens in place could maintain the same vegetation anymore. Even the maples were still here, although they didn¡¯t grow their colorful leaves anymore.

    Gary sighed. ¡°Where else were they going to put them?¡± He flattened some of the flowers under the heel of his boot, pressing them into the dirt. ¡°The ones with kin were buried in cemeteries.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Charlotte¡¯s eyes had that glassy look they got whenever she was acting too weak for the mission. ¡°But there¡¯s no marking or anything. Nothing to say that, even if they¡¯re dead, at least they were here.¡±

    Ugh, more of this. He bent down to rip out one of the flowers, thrusting it in his assistant¡¯s face. ¡°That not enough for you?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°They were sailors, right? Wouldn¡¯t it have been more fitting to give them back to the sea?¡±

    ¡°Well, not necessarily. Plenty of people at the docks were caught in the explosion too. The children probably weren¡¯t sailors, for instance.¡±

    Now there were tears in her eyes. ¡°What are we doing here anyway, Gary?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Sir Gerald to you,¡± he corrected. ¡°And we¡¯re doing the same thing we do every day: investigation. Prince Harold chose me to see this through, and I mean to make him proud.¡± It wouldn¡¯t be hard; that was the sort of thing he was good at.

    Charlotte inhaled, taking a moment to compose herself to abate her profound embarrassment after that emotional display. ¡°What are we doing here, specifically?¡±

    ¡°Simon said he found an earring. I wanted to see if we could find anything else.There could be more to learn.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°You want to loot from people who couldn¡¯t even pass from this life with a name?¡±

    Wow, this was exhausting. ¡°I want to investigate to see if there¡¯s anything they can tell us about the explosion.¡±

    ¡°Really.¡± Charlotte raised an eyebrow, ashamed of her wild, unfounded, and frankly hurtful accusation.

    ¡°Honestly, Charlotte. If I wanted baubles and riches, I¡¯d have returned to Cambria with the Prince.¡± Of course, that would be nothing compared to the acclaim he would win after foiling the plot of whatever bomber had committed this foul deed.

    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t we do this two months ago? You know, before they were in the ground?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know about the earring then. Try to keep up.¡±

    She blinked, committing the mistake to memory so that she might avoid making it again. ¡°Right. So now we¡¯re going to desecrate these graves just on the chance that it helps find the bomber.¡±

    ¡°Precisely!¡± Finally. Explaining things to her was like talking to a child sometimes. ¡°Or rather, you are. And the word you mean is excavate. I¡¯ve been summoned by Governor Perimont.¡±

    Her eye twitched. ¡°This can¡¯t wait until after that?¡±

    ¡°Relax.¡± Gary placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s like you said: no one cared about these people. You have nothing to worry about.¡± He turned around, facing down the hill towards the Governor¡¯s Mansion.

    ¡°That isn¡¯t the issue!¡± she hissed, jealous that it hadn¡¯t been her that Perimont wanted to see.

    ¡°Find me something good!¡± He pointed at her with an encouraging finger before setting off, confident that his will would be done.

    Charlotte wasn¡¯t the savviest Guardian in the world, nor the most capable, but she was loyal. The past couple months had shown that much. She would get it done.

    In the meantime, Gary had an audience with the Governor.

    Though the exterior of the Governor¡¯s Mansion, a squat red brick building clinging to the hillside like a sore, was unimpressive compared to even the most modest offices in Cambria, the inside was suitably lavish.

    Intricate tapestries lined the walls, depicting the history of Perimont¡¯s native Carringdon. Something about woodsmen swinging axes at an evil tree spirit to clear the space for the castle. Even though the sun was still up, bright candles in polished sconces gave the halls a red glow.

    All of that stopped in Perimont¡¯s office itself, strangely. The only luxury he seemed to allow himself was a large window overlooking the city. Other than a tall wooden desk in the center of the room, there was no furniture to be found.

    Not even a chair. The Governor was standing behind it. This has to be a power play. Otherwise it was completely incomprehensible.

    ¡°Ah, Sir Gerald. I¡¯m glad you could finally make it.¡± He waved his arm, beckoning Gary closer. ¡°It looked as if you were having some trouble navigating the hillside.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Gary frowned, stepping into place at Perimont¡¯s side. ¡°I simply took the direct route to the Mansion. The winding path was inefficient.¡±

    ¡°Of course. And I¡¯m sure that rolling was faster than walking would have been, too.¡±

    Gary nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad you understand.¡± He turned to face the window. ¡°It¡¯s an interesting house you have here. I expect most people would have rehabilitated the castle.¡±

    ¡°Most people want power for themselves above all else. I serve a higher cause.¡± He placed a hand on Gary¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Before us lies the nexus of the moral rot at the heart of the Erstwhile Empire. Centuries of decadence concentrated in one putrid capital.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­?¡±

    Perimont tightened his grip slightly. ¡°This is bigger than any one of us, Sir Gerald. We alone are naught but vessels through which progress can flow. The new rail lines, our work on the sewer systems, clearing away the slums ¡ª all of it is to build a better world. Malin is merely the first step.¡±

    And chairs are too decadent for you?

    ¡°I know you have Prince Harold¡¯s ear,¡± he continued. ¡°Perhaps you might invite him to direct the other Governors to follow my example in their territories, should the opportunity present itself.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you called me here. It all makes sense.¡±

    ¡°Ah, no. I simply wanted to plant the idea in your mind.¡± He removed his hand from Gary¡¯s shoulder. ¡°To begin with, I would be interested in knowing how the investigation is proceeding.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s going well!¡± Gary smirked. ¡°Prince Harold told me to keep the details close, in case there are damaging political ramifications, so I¡¯ll leave it at that.¡±

    The Governor raised an eyebrow. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine you were supposed to tell me the reason, but I certainly understand the need for secrecy. Still¡­ you must be able to tell me something.¡±

    Gary shrugged, searching his mind for information that would be harmless to reveal. ¡°We¡¯ve dug through enough of the shrapnel to be certain that this was no accident. Based on the sundials found, I¡¯ve no doubt it¡¯s one of the acolyte wastrels. They¡¯re all about all that spirit shit.¡±

    Perimont smiled.

    ¡°We picked one up at the execution yesterday, trying to buy contraband from me,¡± Gary continued. ¡°I¡¯ll be interrogating her after this, see if we can turn her against the rest to save her own skin.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave that to you then. Just remember to keep me abreast of any developments.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Gary replied immediately. ¡°If that¡¯s all¡­¡±

    ¡°Not in the least.¡± The Governor folded his arms behind his back. ¡°I have something very important to discuss with you, pertaining to your investigation.¡±

    Not so important you could get to the point quickly, apparently.

    ¡°Your investigation is under Prince Harold¡¯s direct authority, not the Territorial apparatus. There are certain boundaries you can cross which would be¡­ problematic for my Guardians to breach.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I see what you mean.¡± The border, obviously, since he wasn¡¯t assigned to Malin specifically.

    ¡°There are many merchants here who seek to revel in the same decadence we fought a war to stop. As long as their wealth enriches Avalon, circumstances force me to be flexible, but I fear corruption.¡±

    ¡°How does that have anything to do with me?¡± Why was the Governor so focused on changing the subject every few minutes?

    ¡°Mr. Clocha?ne was raised in Porte Lumi¨¨re, on the Isle of Soleil. If you found sundials in the wreckage, he must be considered as a suspect.¡±

    ¡°That seems a bit tenuous¡­¡±

    Perimont sighed. ¡°Simply look into it, that¡¯s all. I¡¯ve been poking around the edges of his operation for some time, and something isn¡¯t adding up. But if I set my Forresters on it, or the Guardians, I risk the entire Convocation rising against me. Nice as it might be to cut all of their rot out in one fell swoop, conflict with them is not something Malin can afford right now. Hence, you.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    The Governor pounded a fist against his temple, trying to find a better way to phrase his confusing circular talking. ¡°Investigate Clocha?ne as part of the harbor bombing. If all you discover is corruption, it still came from someone outside of my control. He¡¯s a bad man that needs to be stopped, and you¡¯re the only one who can do it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s nothing new then.¡± Gary shrugged. ¡°Sure, no problem. If he¡¯s into that spirit stuff, it is pretty suspicious anyway.¡±

    ¡°Quite. Now, I believe you have somewhere to be.¡±

    Gary smiled, ducking out of the room with a flourish.

    Perimont might be weird, and talk too much, but at least he knows how to be helpful.

    And Prince Harold would be pleased at the additional cooperation, of that Gary had no doubt. The faster all of this was solved, the better.

    And on that note¡­

    The old dungeons had been woefully incapable of housing as many people as justice demanded, so the prisoner was being held at one of the supplemental buildings on the eastern outskirts of town.

    The wastrel herself didn¡¯t look any better after a day in a cell, but it said a lot about her prior appearance that she didn¡¯t look much worse, either.

    The scraps of cloth covering her head were gone though, revealing hair dyed blue in the fashion those temple heads were wont to adopt.

    Most likely it was the drugs they took that made them think that look was a good idea.

    ¡°So, Carrine, are you ready to talk?¡±

    ¡°I was ready to talk yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I had other stuff to do. Let¡¯s just get started now.¡±

    The wastrel growled with self-loathing.

    ¡°What can you give me on the other acolytes? What part did they play in the harbor bombing?¡±

    ¡°The acolytes¡­¡±

    ¡°Your ¡®temple¡¯ people, with the blue hair and the drugs and the treason? You know, the ones always stirring shit up?¡± How addled was her mind? It might be hard to get anything useful.

    ¡°Right, right.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly inclined to incriminate my camarades for an uncertain reward.¡±

    ¡°Well, sure. Nothing worse than a rat.¡± There wasn¡¯t much to respect about this wastrel, but Gary could at least see the honor in that. ¡°But you really don¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t I?¡± She smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve been talking with some of the prisoners here. I know exactly what you can and can¡¯t pin on me, and nothing I¡¯ve heard has given me cause for concern.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t heard shit then.¡± Gary folded his arms. ¡°The location of your indiscretion makes a strong case for ¡®inciting rebellion¡¯, which means an execution.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll take me out to the water and hang me.¡± She smiled. ¡°Fine. Go ahead.¡±

    Gary narrowed his eyes. ¡°How do you not get it? You can¡¯t use any magic! Your spirits will not save you! You couldn¡¯t even manage to walk down the beach without getting caught!¡±

    The wastrel stiffened, sitting up straighter. ¡°I suppose you are right about that much.¡±

    ¡°Besides, the last hope for your temple died in Guerron. No one¡¯s riding to your rescue.¡±

    ¡°You mean Leclaire?¡±

    ¡°Her?¡± Gary scoffed. ¡°She was nothing more than a trophy for the fox pup. No, I mean the Duke.¡± Jethro had sent the news over on the latest ship, the latest of many morsels that Prince Harold had asked him to supply Gary with. No one else in Malin knew yet, but word would be everywhere soon enough that it seemed fine to tell her.

    ¡°Duke Fouchand is dead?¡± Her eyes went wide.

    ¡°As dead as your pathetic empire. Took a fall from his balcony. Or a jump, maybe.¡± Gary shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s rumors his granddaughter pushed him, too. In the end, it doesn¡¯t really matter.¡±

    Now there was blood leaking from her dry, scabbed lips. Probably some wastrel thing; they didn¡¯t exactly know how to take care of themselves. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°What, are you going to cry? My source in Guerron is nothing if not reliable, and he confirmed it this morning.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico,¡± she spat with steel in her voice, droplets of blood hurtling from her lips even as tears ran down her cheeks.

    ¡°Who? No, not him.¡±

    She blinked again. ¡°And King Lucien? What does your source say of him?¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s¡ªHey! I¡¯m the one interrogating you here!¡± As if a dumb wastrel could fool me with such a simple turnabout. ¡°And I want you to tell me about the crimes of your temples.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­.¡± She slammed her fist against her face, sobbing softly on the ground.

    ¡°What was your name again?¡± Gary cautiously asked after a moment.

    ¡°Carrine.¡±

    ¡°Well, Carrine, let¡¯s talk about Mr. Clocha?ne.¡± Easier to get Perimont¡¯s stuff out of the way now, if the rest of this was going to be so difficult. ¡°He¡¯s into spirits just like you, with all his sundials and stuff. And the Governor¡¯s onto him. Bring him down, and things get a lot easier for you. You wouldn¡¯t even have to sell out your acolytes.¡±

    Carrine blinked, recognition in her eyes. ¡°Really?¡±

    Gary grinned. ¡°There it is! Let¡¯s hear it.¡±

    ¡°I can tell you about him.¡± Well, that was a start! If she gave him Clocha?ne, that could get him more support from Perimont, and maybe the bomber too. Then he¡¯d have a ticket back to Cambria, and Prince Harold¡¯s adoration. Nicely done, Gary!

    ¡°But it¡¯s better if I show you.¡±

    He frowned. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly think I¡¯d be stupid enough to¡ª¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s tunnels underneath the city. The Leclaires built them for sewage, but without their magic to keep it flowing, people started using it for smuggling. I can show you the entrance.¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡­ Where would I¡ª¡± His interrogation was interrupted by a loud rap against the bars of the cell.

    Charlotte was standing outside, looking remarkably immaculate for having excavated a mass grave mere hours ago. ¡°Sir Gerald, I need to speak to you in private. It¡¯s urgent.¡±

    Gary slipped out of the cell, hurrying to match her pace as they exited the dungeons. ¡°What?¡± he barked. ¡°I was in the middle of something!¡±

    ¡°I know, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°And so were you, for that matter. Why aren¡¯t you covered in dirt?¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°You said you were wondering about stuff on the bodies, so I just talked to the undertaker. He said the Guardians took everything before they were buried, so I went there next.¡±

    ¡°Of course you¡¯d go to your little brotherhood.¡±

    ¡°Well, they said¡ª¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse, Charlotte, get to the point!¡±

    She swallowed. ¡°It¡¯s not about that. Prince Luce¡¯s ship was spotted approaching the harbor.¡±

    Luce¡­ That softhearted fool, always lost in his books. What could he possibly be doing here in Malin? He had a desk to ride in the Tower, and a great deal to learn from his brother besides.

    Traveling into enemy territory like this seemed beyond moronic, and Gary would know, expert in security that he was.

    Stranger than any of that, though¡­ ¡°Why didn¡¯t Prince Harold tell me?¡±

 Florette I: The Captor

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Eloise tapped Florette on the shoulder as she passed by, cold fingers sending a shiver down her spine. ¡°We¡¯re dropping anchor soon. You need to be ready.¡±

    ¡°Just dropping something off.¡± Florette tapped the worn copy of Olwen¡¯s Song, a memoir of the Winter War written by one of Micheltaigne¡¯s famous pegasus generals. She¡¯d already read it twice since finding it in the Folly¡¯s hold, and it still felt like a shame she wouldn¡¯t be able to go through it again. With the new context of the ending, it was like reading another book.

    The captain wrinkled her eyebrows. ¡°Right, for the prisoner. That makes sense.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. I just¡­¡± He¡¯s the only one on this boat who cares what I did. ¡°I did promise.¡±

    ¡°Of course. You wouldn¡¯t want to break your word. Perish the thought!¡±

    Florette bopped her lightly with the book, daring her to continue.

    Eloise sighed, her gaze softening slightly. ¡°Suit yourself, I suppose. Just make sure you¡¯re ready when the time comes.¡±

    That¡¯s never been the problem; it¡¯s what comes after.

    Elizabeth was the one left guarding the prince this shift, and she was only too happy to tap out for a few minutes when Florette offered relief.

    The man himself didn¡¯t look much better, lying still on his bed and staring at the ceiling with dark-ringed eyes, almost like he was peering through the veil from Khali¡¯s world into reality.

    ¡°Here.¡± Florette set the book down on his bed. ¡°As promised.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He sat up, grabbing the book and examining the cover. His nose wrinkled when he read the title, though he attempted to smooth out his expression right away.

    ¡°I can always take it back if you don¡¯t care for it.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, no. I¡¯m grateful, really. It¡¯s just¡­¡± He flipped to the black-inked illustration on the inside cover, a flurry of lances raining down from the sky. ¡°I¡¯m not much one for all the sentimentality and melodrama.¡±

    Florette frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can call it that when it really happened. However much it feels like a fantasy, it¡¯s as factual as anything.¡±

    ¡°You really think so?¡±

    ¡°What, you don¡¯t think Olwen wrote it? Or, what, that she wasn¡¯t real?¡± The Winter War was only half a century old; the authorship had to have been verifiable.

    The prince scratched the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯m sure she did, and the broad strokes probably did happen, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s really the truth. It¡¯s propaganda, written for a specific purpose.¡±

    ¡°Propaganda?¡± What? ¡°Olwen lost her lands and the respect of the High King. Her brother was driven mad by an horla, her wife pushed from the High Summit, her mount burned alive, and she was banished from the High Kingdom, all because of the war.¡± She slammed her against the wall to emphasize the point. ¡°Micheltaigne doesn¡¯t exactly come out looking that great.¡±

    ¡°Think about how it¡¯s framed though. That whole war started because the High King went crazy starving himself and thought he was being attacked when he wasn¡¯t. He jumped into the fight for no reason and lost the southern half of his kingdom! It¡¯s a complete farce! And yet in Olwen¡¯s Song it¡¯s a tragedy.¡±

    ¡°So? That doesn¡¯t make it propaganda, and it doesn¡¯t make Olwen a liar.¡±

    The prince massaged his temples. ¡°Look at the motivations. Olwen, according to her own memoir, was a key part of losing the war for her kingdom and was cast out as a result. In the frame of the story, she¡¯s in Porte Lumi¨¨re explaining her downfall, trying to make sure the truth is heard.

    ¡°So the High King goes from a raving lunatic to a tragic hero, spiritual and wise, undone by one cruel mistake. All the while her own failures are brushed aside as a grand love story. It¡¯s pandering, plain and simple, trying to get back into the High King¡¯s good graces so she can return from exile. You can¡¯t assume she really meant any of it.¡±

    ¡°She fought for Micheltaigne; of course she¡¯d think more highly of it!¡±

    He smiled. ¡°In a way, you do get it, then. The narrator biases their recounting of events. Whether she was a deluded patriot or cynically exploiting the war to try to return home, either way the point of view and the framing slant the story towards melodrama and away from fact.¡±

    ¡°That¡­¡± She thought back to the dramatic turns, the narrow escapes, long scenes of the High King ruminating on a mountain top and lamenting what had come of his choice. ¡°I can see it. It¡¯s still a great story though.¡±

    The prince grimaced. ¡°If you¡¯re into that sort of thing, I suppose.¡± He looked down at the book in his hands. ¡°Anyway, I don¡¯t mean to be ungrateful. I haven¡¯t read it since I was thirteen anyway; it¡¯ll be interesting to see how my view of it¡¯s changed over the years. I do appreciate it.¡±

    Sure. ¡°Well, enjoy. You¡¯ll have to read it quickly though, since we¡¯re dropping anchor.¡±

    ¡°I know. The captain lady showed me.¡± He thumped his head back against the headboard. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have to see more bodies so soon.¡±

    Those bodies¡­ The ones after the battle had been bad enough, but at least they¡¯d been cleared from the decks pretty quickly, returned to the sea. The ones on the beach had been perched upright by that machine used to kill them, blue-tinted sentinels kept in a mockery of life.

    And for what?

    ¡°Whose fault is that?¡± She almost grabbed the book back. ¡°Simply coming to Malin, they¡¯d have been there waiting for you anyway. Because of your Governor.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not my Governor!¡± The prince pounded his fist. ¡°I told you: he¡¯s everything wrong with Avalon. If I had my way, he¡¯d be back in Cambria where he couldn¡¯t do any harm. It¡¯s not my choice!¡±

    ¡°So?¡± She folded her arms, trying to emulate Eloise¡¯s aloof confidence. ¡°You¡¯re the prince, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    He scowled. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. As part of a peace settlement, my grandfather granted him the appointment until death¡ª¡±

    Florette smiled, causing him to cut himself off.

    ¡°A prince can¡¯t just go around executing people who haven¡¯t committed any crimes!¡± He flailed his arm in a wild gesticulation. ¡°My brother explains it much better than I do, but that¡¯s no way to govern.¡±

    ¡°No crimes, huh?¡± She swept her hand in the direction of the beach. ¡°If it¡¯s no way to govern, maybe he deserves to reap the fruit of his own labors. You could stop all of this, but you don¡¯t want to because it¡¯s inconvenient.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡± He slammed his head against the headboard, harder than the last time. ¡°Agh! I¡¯ve never even set foot in Malin. I only met Gordon Perimont in passing once or twice, as a child! I¡¯m doing everything I can to fix things from Cambria with sensible, measured steps towards peace and reconciliation.¡±

    Why come then? She almost voiced the question, but what was the point? Clearly he wasn¡¯t much different from the miners who¡¯d cheered Magnifico on, looking for any excuse to avoid changing his behavior.

    Florette slammed the door, walking so quickly back to Eloise¡¯s chambers that it was almost a run.

    The captain¡¯s quarters weren¡¯t as lavishly furnished as the prince¡¯s, but the bed was still leagues more comfortable than any of the crew hammocks, and more private besides.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    She buried her head under the pillow, trying not to think about what she¡¯d done.

    ¡°You have an interesting definition of ready.¡± Eloise¡¯s voice pierced through the air. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll confuse the customs agent so much that he¡¯ll leave right away.¡±

    Fuck. ¡°Sorry. I just got caught up with some¡­ Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll be out in a second.¡±

    Eloise patted her on the back. ¡°Up to you. If you¡¯re not feeling up to it, we can manage without you.¡±

    Florette sat up, accidentally knocking the back of her head against Eloise¡¯s chin. ¡°Fuck. Ow. Sorry, again.¡±

    ¡°Quite a stirring response,¡± Eloise said as she rubbed her jaw. ¡°I take it you do want to come, then?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± The tricks were the only untainted part of piracy. None of the blood, none of the guilt. ¡°Don¡¯t try to cut me out of the best part.¡± Not that she was too closely involved. The language issues made that impossible. But she¡¯d worked hard on the preparations, and it would still be good to see it play out.

    Holding up her hands in mock surrender, Eloise nodded. ¡°Not the point. I¡¯m just saying¡­ Everyone¡¯s first battle is tough. I get the feeling that you¡¯re having a bit of trouble coping.¡±

    ¡°Of course not! I¡¯m doing just fine.¡±

    ¡°I can tell.¡± Eloise sat down on the bed beside her. ¡°I¡¯m not much one for the killing myself, honestly. It¡¯s just a means to an end. Riches, treasure, wealth¡­¡±

    ¡°Freedom, reputation, respect¡­¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°As a result, sure. But again, that¡¯s not the point.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not for you.¡± Florette frowned. ¡°I just¡­ I wish we could have all of that without the¡­¡±

    ¡°Messiness? Me too.¡± Eloise shrugged. ¡°But you can¡¯t, not completely. We do our best to keep it to a minimum, but ultimately it¡¯s all part of the game. They come after us, we come after their shit. Sometimes people die. We know what we¡¯re signing up for, and they would just get eaten up by the crushing machinery of their workaday lives otherwise. They chose to work on that ship, knowing the risks just as much as we do.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t know a spy was going to tell us about it.¡±

    ¡°Eh¡­¡± She tilted her head. ¡°They know this sort of thing happens. If not Jethro, then others. Shit, even Captain Verrou was in the Avalon Navy until the Foxtrap. It¡¯s a risk that was accounted for.¡±

    ¡°Still¡­¡± It feels horrible.

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not about them. They don¡¯t matter, in the end. It¡¯s about us. About you. You have to look out for yourself, because no one else will.¡± Eloise bit her lip. ¡°I mean I might, maybe. Sometimes. Don¡¯t count on it.¡±

    Florette forced herself to smile. ¡°It almost sounds like you care, but I know Captain Eloise would never do such a thing.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone. It might soil my reputation.¡± Reaching into her coat pocket, Eloise pulled out a glimmering blue earring. ¡°Here, this is yours.¡±

    ¡°A gift? I thought you didn¡¯t believe in that sort of thing.¡±

    ¡°As a general rule, I don¡¯t.¡± She pressed it into her hands. ¡°But this already belongs to you. Prince Loose Lips was wearing it. He said it was a gift from his brother, which I figure makes it like double the royal theft.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Florette stared into the shimmering blue void set into the gold frame, looking for some kind of answer, but all she could make out was a warped reflection of the candle light flickering throughout the quarters.

    ¡°You found him,¡± Eloise continued. ¡°I figure you just missed it with all the excitement and everything, but you¡¯ve got finder¡¯s rights on it. Just think, your first boarding party and you¡¯ve already got treasure belonging to two princes of Avalon. Shit, at this rate, it won¡¯t be long before you¡¯re robbing King Harold himself.¡±

    Florette forced a smile, though it came more easily than before. ¡°Why is there only one? Who wears one earring?¡±

    Eloise grinned. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Never be satisfied; always aim higher.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°I think the single-earring thing is a trend in Avalon, or maybe it¡¯s just going to be. If both princes are doing it, the rest of the sheep will follow in no time. You know how independently-minded people tend to be in the presence of royalty and shiny objects.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Come on.¡± Eloise held out her hand. ¡°We¡¯ve got a customs agent to con.¡±

    Florette grabbed it, following her out onto the deck.

    With the docks apparently destroyed in some kind of explosion, loading and unloading was being managed entirely with smaller skiffs that could run around on the beach.

    It made most of the usual strategies for sneaking goods through the port impossible, according to the other pirates. No ¡°friendly face¡± at the docks to chat up customs agents long enough to unload things, no floating them around the harbor after darkness fell, and with the unexpectedness of the approach, bribing wasn¡¯t as reliable an option either.

    Of course, most of those methods depended on being unassuming anyway. Captain Verrou would never use the Folly for smuggling, not when it was so recognizable. And while this ship wasn¡¯t yet recognizable as Eloise¡¯s, it was clearly too fast and fancy for regular shipping of goods.

    There wasn¡¯t usually a prince on board either though.

    Elizabeth had brought him up to the deck, walking calmly next to him without any overt brandishment of weapons. If he tried to jump overboard, the half dozen pirates in a good position to stop him would do so. If he raised a fuss or let on that this wasn¡¯t his usual crew, this ship could outrun anything else in the harbor.

    If he followed his script and did things right, no one would have anything to fear.

    Right?

    They had accounted for every possibility, even the worst cases. And if they pulled it off¡­

    ¡°Customs!¡± one of the pirates yelled.

    When Florette turned to look, she saw that the agents had finished climbing up to the deck.

    One agent was short, even with his thick heeled boots. His sandy brown hair was a tangled mess in the wind, his voice louder than it needed to be. By his side was a short-haired woman with noticeable muscles packed just right into a taut frame. ¡°Where¡¯s Prince Luce?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Right here,¡± Elizabeth announced. She would be playing the role of the royal attendant, since as a native she was naturally the most convincing speaker of the Avalonian tongue.

    Between some books she¡¯d tried to crack in the past and some hurried lessons from Eloise, Florette could just about manage to get the gist of a conversation if people were speaking slowly enough, but sounding remotely proficient was far beyond her at this point, let alone native. They had an explanation ready in case she were required to speak, but it would be far better if it never needed to be used. The less unusual things seemed, the easier everything would go.

    ¡°You¡¯ll learn,¡± Eloise had assured her. ¡°Without having to deal with those stuck up pricks at Lord Airion¡¯s School for Wayward Youngsters. It¡¯ll probably even come to you faster than it came to me.¡±

    That had sounded nice at the time, but right now this was still a bit hard to follow.

    The fact that the conversation was all playing out according to a script she knew backwards and forwards helped, though.

    The prince began with a greeting, which the agents returned.

    They would ask him about his trip, and he would remark on the fair weather.

    He wasn¡¯t to bring up inspections unless they did first, which was reasonably unlikely. No one wanted to be the one to poke their nose into a prince¡¯s business, not if they knew what was good for them.

    They¡¯re all complicit. There¡¯s nothing he couldn¡¯t get away with.

    And yet he wouldn¡¯t simply get rid of Perimont and have done with it.

    All the same.

    The fit woman started to speak, but she was hurriedly shushed by the short man.

    The prince nodded, stroking his chin as he moved into the part of the script where he mentioned unloading goods.

    The man jumped up, practically shouting a long string that repeated the word ¡°boat¡± over and over, but that was all Florette could catch.

    Her eyes widened. That¡¯s not in the script. Was he angry? He looked more excited than anything, and none of the other pirates were reacting with alarm. So why?

    The other agent tried to speak again, but was once more shouted down as the prince simply shook his head. What? He shouldn¡¯t be saying ¡®no¡¯ to anything. Even if they had called for an inspection, the correct response was to say ¡®yes¡¯ so they would be trapped aboard as the ship departed.

    With a smile and a point, the man turned around and began climbing back down to his boat, the lady following shortly thereafter.

    By the time they were clear, a round of applause erupted across the deck.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Florette asked quietly as she ran up to them.

    Elizabeth laughed. ¡°Those people weren¡¯t customs agents. The short guy was the personal guard for the other prince!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit distressing to see how easily that fooled them,¡± the prince added, the look of weariness returned tenfold to his face. ¡°They even offered boats to help unload the goods, with no questions about what they were.¡±

    ¡°And customs aren¡¯t coming at all now, since those doofs stepped in instead.¡± Eloise stepped up to Florette. ¡°We¡¯ll have this product ready for Jacques in no time.¡±

    ¡°Jacques?¡±

    Eloise smiled. ¡°Just a boring old man, nothing to worry about. He certainly never pays out the nose for smuggled goods from his old apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I suppose someone would need to do something with it for it to be worthwhile.¡±

    ¡°Good job, Elizabeth,¡± Eloise continued. ¡°You admirably stood there while they fucked it up for themselves.¡±

    ¡°Aye, Captain,¡± the Cambrian responded with a smile.

    ¡°As for you¡­¡± She turned back to Florette. ¡°It¡¯s time you get a break from the rough-and-tumble, don¡¯t you think?.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°I think it¡¯s best if you follow the shipment to Jacques, stay in Malin for a while. It¡¯ll help with the language skills, and you can pick up a lot more. We¡¯ll pick you back up before the next big job, and that way you¡¯ll be able to contribute better.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re sending me away?¡± After all of that? It was hard to articulate the feeling of betrayal, but¡­ Didn¡¯t it all have to count for something? How could she just leave now?

    ¡°Yeah, obviously.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t a kingdom, and I¡¯m not your queen. You do whatever the fuck you want. I think it would be a good idea, and I¡¯ve been doing this a lot longer than you. We¡¯re going to be stashing Prince Loopy and setting out for more plunder. This is something of a hot streak, and patrols are bound to tighten once they find out he was kidnapped. Better to get it in now while we still can.¡±

    Florette looked at the prince, who seemed about ready to collapse. Past him the gallows were still visible on shore, not far from the splintered ruins of the docks. Is that where I want to be?

    And then there was the ship. Even if it meant more time with Eloise, it also meant more battle, more boarding parties. More blood on my hands.

    Florette gulped. ¡°Malin it is.¡±

 Camille II: The Wastrel

    When did Malin get so damnably hot?

    Even the worst days Camille could remember from before the Foxtrap hadn¡¯t felt nearly so unbearable.

    The sea had always been right there to take a swim, or the misters dispersing cool clouds throughout the city, fueled by Mother¡¯s magic. Most likely gone to rust, now.

    Not that it would have done her any good in this cell anyway. That idiot inspector had dropped the news of Duke Fouchand¡¯s death with the dignity and grace of a lumbering bear, then suddenly departed, leaving Camille to rot.

    Weeks, and he still hadn¡¯t returned.

    Often her cell would be opened to others, shared with every lowlife and scoundrel the city had to offer, heating up the tiny windowless space even faster. Most were gone within a few hours, and a few were even passing friendly, in their own coarse way, but none could give her a way out.

    Strength. Discipline. Poise.

    It took every scrap of willpower she could call upon not to escape with her magic, but she couldn¡¯t afford to, not without a source of energy. Else it would consume more of my life, and what is more precious than that? Better to wait for the clueless inspector to return and grant her a way out.

    Still, the tradeoff was looking less and less favorable with every passing day. Time here was wasted, to the point any escape which cost less time would be worthwhile. Had she known that these weeks would go to waste in such a fashion, she might have spent those weeks of life to break free, but doing it now would only double the loss.

    And break free with what water, Camille? With what, exactly, would you call down your magical might?

    There was drinking water, stale and foul tasting, which left a hard white residue at the bottom of its basin, but little more than a bowlful. Add to that sweat and, if it were really necessary, blood, and it would make escape somewhat feasible.

    But costly. That was the problem, ultimately.

    Every new cellmate brought a new scrap of news, though much of it was irrelevant. ¡°Prince Luce stopped here on his tour of the territories,¡± one would say, only for the next to claim he had actually turned his coat and become a pirate, and a third to say he had been killed and replaced by a shadow doppelganger.

    She¡¯d even heard news of her own death, amusingly, which had through time and distance shifted into a tale of Lumi¨¨re shooting her out of a cannon into the sun, only for the resulting fire to engulf northern Guerron.

    There had been a fire, at least. Accounts were fairly consistent about that, although the reported scope varied wildly.

    She couldn¡¯t even be sure that Lucien was safe. She had breathed a long sigh of relief to hear that he had escaped the city safely, only to be told the next day that he was chained in the dungeons of Chateau d¡¯Oran. Then a man had tried to say that he had moved his court under the sea, his undead wife ruling at his side. That one had definitely still been feeling the effects of marigold wine.

    So it went: ¡°Duke Fouchand threw himself from the balcony in sadness¡± would be contradicted hours later with news that ¡°his granddaughter pushed him to hasten her inheritance¡± and then, from one of the nicer prisoners: ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re killed the Duke in self-defense.¡±

    Between the last two, it was easy enough to make a guess about what had happened, but it was scant comfort.

    It had been Fouchand who had taken her in when all seemed lost, Fouchand who had respected her need to reclaim Malin, and worked tirelessly to restore what had been broken.

    And now he was dead. Either from grief or foul play, either way her fault. She had failed, and left him vulnerable to it. Failed, when he¡¯d trusted her.

    I might as well have granted Lumi¨¨re those concessions back at the council table, for all the good that resisting did. Even a loss in the duel could have been managed better than this, if she could have stayed to manage the fallout.

    Now, she had nothing and no one. No Fouchand, no Lucien, no Annette, not even that village boy who¡¯d proved so surprisingly useful, if not quite enough to win her the duel. And as for her magic¡­

    ¡°One thousand,¡± she had promised, ¡°carried out to you at sea before the next time I speak with you, at the year¡¯s end.¡± Levian would be no further help, not without his sacrifices. She couldn¡¯t even call him forth to make offerings, not without speaking with him too early.

    Early. As if the year¡¯s end wasn¡¯t already far too soon. Why had she picked that deadline? In Guerron, with Fouchand and the raven lord behind her, it had seemed generous, buying her more time if anything, but now¡­

    Now she simply had to wait, until she could be sure it was even worthwhile to attempt otherwise.

    Her next cellmate strolled in as if he hadn¡¯t a care in the world, not even looking back as the door slammed behind him. His right eye was bruised and darkened, clashing horribly with the dyed blue streak of hair that fell over it, a jarring contrast to the dirty-blond mop splaying out from his head.

    ¡°Hello,¡± Camille greeted him. ¡°By any chance, is there any news you could share? It¡¯s maddening, not knowing what¡¯s going on outside these walls.¡±

    He smirked. ¡°Nothing I should be too open about. The leadership would have my tongue. But I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll read about it in tomorrow¡¯s journal.¡±

    Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°You think they give those to prisoners?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t know.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve never had to spend more than a night here. We take care of our own.¡±

    ¡°Who, exactly?¡±

    The man raised the eyebrow above the bruised side of his face. ¡°The Acolytes of Levian, obviously. I would have assumed you of all people would know, wearing what looks like an entire cerulean snail¡¯s worth of dye on your head. Not a great use of money, if you ask me.¡±

    Camille narrowed her eyes. That must be what the stupid knight had thought she was part of, but given his track record for investigation, she¡¯d half assumed him to be making the entire affiliation up. The blue streak was somewhat telling, though.

    ¡°Your roots are starting to show,¡± the man said, leaning back against the wall. ¡°That¡¯s the problem with running through dye like that.¡±

    ¡°They are not!¡± She stood up. Acolytes were not even supposed to use that dye, nor did they even have the magic to gather it in the first place. But bringing that up risked giving away who she was.

    ¡°How¡¯d you even get that much dye?¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°An old cache in the temple, hidden under the water. The Leclaires left dozens of them.¡±

    ¡°Dozens?¡± His eyes widened. ¡°We only found fifteen. How did you find one not even known to the Acolytes?¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°Carrine,¡± she replied. ¡°A sage of Levian, not a mere pretender.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°A sage, really? Move that water, then.¡± He pointed to the dirty basin. ¡°Just a little ripple would do.¡±

    I¡¯m not wasting even an hour of my life to prove myself to the likes of you. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± He smirked again. ¡°Because you can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I can, I just won¡¯t. It¡¯s not worth the cost.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a bad liar.¡± He shook his head slightly. ¡°Probably how you ended up in here, if I had to guess. No one¡¯s made a pact with Levian since the High Priestess deserted us. He¡¯s refused to even approach.¡±

    Deserted? ¡°They were protecting the most important pact with¡ª It doesn¡¯t even matter.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re from Guerron, aren¡¯t you? One of Leclaire¡¯s lot? Mr. Clocha?ne said we should expect some of you to come crawling back now that Lumi¨¨re¡¯s in charge there.

    Fucking cowards couldn¡¯t show your face in this city until your little rat-hole got just as bad.¡±

    ¡°I am here now!¡± Not by choice, admittedly. ¡°The least you and your powerless cronies could do would be to show some gratitude. Think about how someone with actual magical power could help your movement. With Camille dead, I¡¯m probably the most knowledgeable remaining sage of Levian alive. Finding more caches is the least of what I could offer you.¡±

    As she said it, she found it a more and more appealing prospect. Liberating Malin with nothing and no one would be impossible, but here was a movement ready and waiting for her with open arms. The very acolytes her mother had trained, carrying on the spiritual traditions even in a city under occupation¡­

    ¡°Camille, eh? You¡¯re on a first name basis with the High Priestess?¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°I suppose anyone can claim that, now that she¡¯s lying on the seafloor with a cannonball in her chest.¡±

    ¡°But only a few can claim it and speak the truth. Emile Leclaire himself trained me after the Foxtrap.¡± Not even a lie. ¡°I¡¯m the only one in this entire city who¡¯s made a pact with Levian myself. With the appropriate energy, I can call upon the full wrath of Levian. Why would you turn down my help?¡±

    ¡°Not really my call, but I can think of a few reasons the others might. For one, you have no idea how things actually work here.¡±

    ¡°Like the Mr. Clocha?ne you mentioned. Is he an acolyte himself?¡± Could the idiotic investigator have actually been correct about him? It wouldn¡¯t ruin her plan to escape. If anything, it might help. But if she were actually playing the Guardians against a real force with real power, it could complicate things far more than just slipping away in a watery tunnel.

    The man shook his head. ¡°Not himself, no. Mr. Clocha?ne is a fixture at the Convocation of Commerce, with no official ties to the Acolytes. He does believe in justice for everyone, however, even the lowest of criminals. As such¡ª¡±

    ¡°As such he¡¯ll have your tongue out for blabbing about his criminality? Please. That has to be one of the thinnest veneers for support I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± Complicated it is, then. Fantastic. Regardless, any lapses in my knowledge are easily remedied. For example, I¡¯m now aware of Avalon¡¯s prohibition on spiritually enriching substances.¡±

    The man laughed. ¡°That¡¯s what got you locked up? One of the guardians caught you with it?¡±

    ¡°Actually, he was the one trying to sell it to me.¡±

    He doubled over, laughing even harder.

    ¡°It¡¯s not funny! That fool of a knight said they might try to execute me for it, since it was at the site of an execution.¡±

    It took what felt like an eternity for the other prisoner to calm down. When he finally did, he held out his hand.

    ¡°What am I supposed to do with that?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°You shake it. I never properly introduced myself. My name is Claude.¡±

    Hesitantly, Camille reached out and grasped his hand, which was warm enough to exacerbate the unbearable heat. After a token jerk up and down, she hurriedly pulled it back. ¡°What a filthy custom.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just what people do.¡±

    No it¡¯s not. No one ever performed such an act here before the Foxtrap. But if Claude didn¡¯t know that the custom was from Avalon, Camille didn¡¯t have a good way to tell him without revealing that she was from Malin. ¡°You must not remember what things were like before.¡±

    ¡°Before the Foxtrap?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I was only three years old when it happened, so no, I can¡¯t say that I do. People make too much of those days, honestly. They seem great now because of what came after, but they had a lot of their own problems too.¡±

    ¡°You say, having no memory of the time.¡±

    ¡°Some of the older Acolytes do. The leaders even learned from Leclaire herself. The mother, I mean, not the one who just died. And they saw her bar them from the boats because there wasn¡¯t enough room, leaving them to Avalon¡¯s mercy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she took everyone that she could. It isn¡¯t easy, making those decisions. You have to weigh the value of a life against¡ª¡±

    ¡°Against what? What¡¯s more valuable than that?¡±

    A thousand answers jumped to mind, but Camille had a feeling that none of them would help, so she remained silent.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡± Claude sighed. ¡°Look, it may not have been you on the boat yourself, but if we¡¯re going to get you out of here, you can¡¯t go around defending Sarille Leclaire or the other High Priestesses. The older Acolytes aren¡¯t likely to forget being deserted like that, and it¡¯s not like they¡¯ve done anything for the rest of us either. Not everyone will take it as casually as I have.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to get me out of here?¡±

    Claude smiled. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility. We¡¯d have to look into your charges.¡±

    ¡°What could you possibly have to look into for a breakout? Just take me with you when the walls come down.¡±

    ¡°Who said anything about a breakout?¡± Claude knocked his fist lightly against the walls. ¡°I¡¯m not saying we wouldn¡¯t be capable of it, if the need arose, but a good solicitor is ultimately far less costly, when you take into account the damage to our reputation.¡±

    ¡°A solicitor? What, are they going to negotiate disputes with your charters and contracts? How is that going to do any good for us?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Claude blinked. ¡°An expert of law is useful, when that same law is being used to prosecute you.¡±

    ¡°Surely it¡¯s the King¡¯s authority under which we find ourselves imprisoned, not some merchant¡¯s charter. I know Avalon doesn¡¯t have sages to oversee sentencing and executions, but leaving it up to¡­ professionals seems more than a bit troublesome. They work for their living; one can¡¯t expect integrity from someone for whose motivation begins and ends with florins, rather than any higher ideals.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh. Sure.¡± Claude stared dumbly. ¡°Regardless, that¡¯s the government ruling Malin right now. The way things are, it¡¯s better to avoid anything so open as breaking down the walls unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary.¡±

    Help me get my power back, and you¡¯ll see just how cheap it can be.

    The next morning saw their chamber being opened once more, a third person entering the already-cramped space. She looked to be in her forties, with her hair pulled back to reveal a hardened, severe expression.

    ¡°Please excuse us, Madame.¡± Her voice was deep, rich. ¡°My conversations with my client must remain private.¡±

    ¡°Actually¡±¡ªClaude held up a finger¡ª¡°Carrine¡¯s going to be helping us, once she gets out. If you could see about helping her, I¡¯m sure our mutual benefactor would appreciate it.¡±

    Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°I already know it¡¯s Clocha?ne; there¡¯s no need to be coy around me.¡± She held out her hand to the solicitor, copying Claude¡¯s gesture from earlier. ¡°I¡¯m Carrine, a sage from Guerron. Before her untimely demise, the High Priestess bid me to come and assist our brethren in Malin.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The solicitor shook her hand once, firmly, before withdrawing her arm. ¡°Cynette Fields. I¡¯ll want confirmation from a higher authority than Claude by the end of the day, but in the meantime I suppose I can represent you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Madame.¡± Camille dipped her head in courtesy. ¡°Claude tells me you are quite skilled with your craft.¡± He hadn¡¯t yet, but a bit of flattery never hurt. Playing this right could save her weeks of life in an escape attempt that wasn¡¯t even guaranteed, or even longer waiting for the return of the oaf.

    The solicitor nodded. ¡°To begin with, please tell me of any interrogation you might have received at the hands of the guardians.¡±

    ¡°They didn¡¯t torture me, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering about.¡±

    Fields blinked, her face remaining impassive. ¡°They did question you though, I assume. Please recount the conversation to the best of your memory.¡±

    Camille did, editorializing away any inquiries of her own that might have implied too much about who she really was. Claude looked reasonably impressed that she had managed to extract more information out of the investigator than the other way around, but the solicitor only narrowed her brow as the recounting of the interrogation continued.

    ¡°That¡¯s not as bad as it could have been, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? He completely made a fool of himself and gave me what I wanted, while he walked away with nothing.¡±

    ¡°He was asking about Mr. Clocha?ne,¡± Claude responded. ¡°That¡¯s not a good sign.¡±

    Fields nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll have a talk with Perimont to deal with the issue, but it¡¯s nonetheless cause for concern. And you, Carrine, would have done better to say nothing at all. Investigators are free to lie about what leverage they have over you, and this one did so more flagrantly than most. Trying to move forward charging you for ¡®inciting rebellion¡¯ would be a complete farce, and any Guardian with half a brain would know that. Yet you revealed the existence of the tunnels, and your affiliation with the Acolytes.¡±

    In fairness, that last part was a lie when I revealed it. No point in contesting it though. ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do for you, then.¡± She turned to Claude. ¡°You, on the other hand, are free to go. I made your importance to Mr. Clocha?ne clear, and explained the misunderstanding that left you here.¡±

    ¡°Wait, how did you get locked up?¡±

    ¡°I pushed a Guardian into the sea.¡± He smiled. ¡°Allegedly.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have any real proof though. One witness, whom we talked to first to ensure they understood what really happened. And the Guardian himself, who won¡¯t be telling anyone anything.¡± The corner of the solicitor¡¯s mouth turned up slightly. ¡°You are in good company now, Carrine. The Acolytes take care of their own.¡±

    Camille returned the smile. Perhaps freeing Malin by the end of the year wouldn¡¯t be so impossible after all.

 Florette II: The Castaway

    [The last chapter was posted a couple days late on account of illness. If Camille¡¯s time in prison doesn¡¯t sound familiar, be sure to hit the ¡®Previous Chapter¡¯ button and read it.]

    What the fuck is wrong with this city? It wasn¡¯t even the solstice yet, and the heat was already bad enough that it was painful just walking around. Worse, the air felt like a sweaty soup, thick enough to be palpable.

    ¡°Copper for your thoughts?¡±

    Not that that was the sort of thing one ought to tell her guide, especially when he¡¯d been friendly enough so far. As frustrating as all of this was, being rude wouldn¡¯t help anything.

    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with this city?¡± Florette replied. Oh well.

    ¡°Avalon, obviously.¡± He¡¯d called himself Ysengrin, a muscled teenager with a black patch over one eye and a surprisingly deep voice for his age. At the shore, he¡¯d posed as a deckhand, but according to Eloise, he¡¯d be leading her and the smuggled goods to Jacques.

    As for the goods, it hadn¡¯t taken long for a posse of children no older than twelve to swarm around the dinghy and load most of them onto a wagon with a cloth thrown over it. All that remained were two rucksacks for each of them to carry, each prepared by Eloise with specific instructions in mind. If Ysengrin hadn¡¯t calmly watched it happen, she¡¯d have thought they were being robbed, but apparently the two of them were to take another path, at Jacques¡¯ instruction.

    Though they¡¯d climbed down the same hole, the children had pulled their contraband down a side tunnel right away. By now, on this dank, decrepit dungeon of a path, it was impossible to even hear them. Though it had at least alleviated the heat.

    ¡°I mean, sure. Of course a lot of it is Avalon¡¯s fault. But this is Malin! The Fox Queen¡¯s capital! Home of the Great Temple of Levian, Fuite Gardens, the New Bridge!¡± Florette sighed. ¡°This place was the seat of power for the entire continent, and it¡¯s just a dirty, ruined armpit that¡¯s hotter than the bloody Sun Spirit himself.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit warm this Spring, but don¡¯t you think you¡¯re exaggerating?¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°My friend saw Soleil up close, actually. Apparently he¡¯s more concerned with chewing out his High Priest and flashing lights than actually heating things.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Ysengrin shrugged. ¡°Cooler down here though.¡± He waved his arm around, gesturing to the stone walls of the tunnel, flickering by the light of the candlestick in his other hand. ¡°We¡¯re probably thirty or forty feet underground, by now.¡±

    ¡°How deep do they go?¡±

    He scratched his chin. ¡°I don¡¯t exactly have the map memorized, but more than a few lead out to trenches under the sea. Those probably reach half a mile or so.¡±

    ¡°And why?¡± Florette clenched her teeth, picking up her pace slightly. ¡°What¡¯s the point of a bunch of empty tunnels under the city, exactly?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re great for smuggling, running cash or contraband¡­ Really anytime you want to get someone or something somewhere without Avalon knowing about it, they¡¯ll probably be your best bet.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Right, that¡¯s why they¡¯re useful now, but someone built these. They spent fuck knows how long digging through all the earth, supporting it with these stones, putting entrances and exits all over the city, all perfectly aligned and precise. Even the bloody stones are blue. Why spend a fortune making it easier for people to defy your authority?¡±

    Ysengrin shrugged. ¡°Fuck if I know. They¡¯re here, so we use them.¡± He suddenly turned down a side passage seemingly at random, forcing Florette to backtrack to catch up. What an excellent guide you turned out to be.

    ¡°What kind of name is Ysengrin anyway?¡±

    ¡°A fake one,¡± he replied without turning around. ¡°Usually a good idea as a criminal.¡±

    ¡°Eloise didn¡¯t use one.¡± At least, I don¡¯t think she did. ¡°The other pirates called her that, anyway.¡±

    Ysengrin scoffed, bouncing the light up and down the walls. ¡°At sea you want a legend, scare the shit out of people so they give up their stuff easier. Reputation.¡±

    ¡°Like it¡¯s any different here.¡±

    He stopped, the light dimming as the candle began to approach its base. ¡°Jacques doesn¡¯t like to do things that way. No more than what¡¯s needed, anyway.¡± He pulled another candle from a pouch on his belt and lit it with the fading wick of the other. ¡°Pirates get to move on to the next score with nothing but a bag of gold and some happy memories, but we still have to live here.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Florette shrugged. ¡°Do what you want, I guess.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s got you in such a mood, anyway? You swashbucklers love shore leave, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Because Eloise practically booted me off her ship. Because she thought I wasn¡¯t hard enough, wasn¡¯t strong enough to be in her crew.

    Because she might have been right. ¡°It¡¯s none of your concern.¡±

    ¡°Oh please. It¡¯s so obvious.¡± Ysengrin rolled his eyes. ¡°You think you¡¯re the first girl Eloise has ever gotten bored with? Shit, you¡¯re not even the first one she¡¯s dumped here in the last year.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    He flashed a wolfish smile. ¡°It happened all the time when she was running with us. Some poor naif gets a heart for adventure, finds her way into the arms of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up! That¡¯s not what happened. I chose to spend some time here to learn the language and pick up a few things from Jacques. I¡¯ll be gone the second she gets back.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you say. Just don¡¯t be surprised if she never comes back for you.¡± Ysengrin held up his hands, raising the light in the process. ¡°In a way, she did us the same way. Not as bad, maybe, but after everything Jacques did for her, jumping to Verrou¡¯s ship like that¡­ She was supposed to get her own slice of territory, you know. Two more years and she¡¯d be where Mince is today. Any of us¡¯d have killed to have that. Shit, some of us did.¡± He shook his head. ¡°And she just fucked off without even saying why. Some people just never let anyone close. It¡¯s who she is, pirate lady. Sooner you accept it, the better for you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that with us,¡± she insisted, even as his words bit into her.

    ¡°Really? How did you meet?¡±

    That night¡­

    ¡°You were a disaster,¡± she¡¯d said as they gazed out over the water. ¡°Everything I have in my life, it¡¯s something I¡¯ve taken for myself. I like to think everyone else works the same way.¡±

    Florette crossed her arms. ¡°She saw something in me.¡± She saw an in with Magnifico. ¡°She was casing this lounge in Guerron when I impressed her with a pull.¡± She was casing you, and you were too stupid to see it.

    Ysengrin shrugged. ¡°She probably did. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll see something in the next one, too. Maybe a farmer¡¯s daughter in Lyrion desperate to escape her miserable life, or a sultry seamstress with a dark secret. Perhaps a bored clerk, wiling away the hours waiting for a dashing pirate sweep her off her¡ª¡±

    He was interrupted by the point of her sword in his face. ¡°Enough of that.¡±

    They walked the rest of the way in silence.

    After what felt like hours scrabbling in the blue-tinted darkness, Ysengrin led her into a cramped circular alcove with a staircase spiralling up it. ¡°Well, here we are.¡± He gestured to the staircase. ¡°After you, Pokey.¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Florette glared as she shouldered past him, grabbing the candle from his hands.

    The stairs felt impossibly cramped, narrow enough that she could only put the ball of her feet on the edge of the tiny wedges. And it just went on and on, far longer than they had taken to descend back at the shore. As Florette ascended, they contracted even more, to the point that she had to duck her head to avoid banging it against the stones above.

    That didn¡¯t save her from hitting it against the hatch at the top, though, causing a faint snicker to echo across the walls from behind. Prick.

    She held the light up to the thick circle of wood, running it around the rim until she found the latch. The lid was heavy, but the tight space made it easy to put her whole body into lifting it, and there was no way she was asking that smug asshole for any help.

    It took a minute for her eyes to adjust enough to the light, though she could feel Ysengrin shove past her and climb out.

    By the time she could see, she did the same, only to find him already sitting on the ground and digging through his satchel. And¡­

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you lose the other eye?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Didn¡¯t lose any. Wouldn¡¯t be much of a runner if I had.¡± He lifted the patch, presenting a completely uninjured face beneath. ¡°You switch it going in and out of the tunnels, and you get an eye that¡¯s primed for the darkness.¡±

    Huh. That was actually pretty clever. ¡°How does it help you adjust back to the light, though?¡±

    Ysengrin shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s just memory. This old well is the prime way in and out of the North end, so I know it pretty well. Probably been through hundreds of times.¡±

    Florette vaulted over the three feet of stone, then reached back down to replace the cover. From the top, she could see the letters ¡°SEC¡± carved into it, with ¡°DRY¡± underneath.

    Look at that, I¡¯m already learning the language.

    The old well was atop a hill of grass already turning brown, a trail of nearly-buried stone leading the way down to a short wall of stone which, for fucking once, wasn¡¯t blue. All it took was traveling all the way to¡­

    ¡°Where are we, exactly?¡±

    ¡°North end of the city, near the ruins of the castle.¡±

    Florette squinted, looking further past the hill. Beneath it was a crowded stretch of houses barely clinging to the ever-steepening side of the hill. Could a horse even pull a wagon up this?

    Ysengrin followed her gaze and chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t know why anyone¡¯d choose to live up here, but that¡¯s where they are.¡±

    The contrast with the port area was incredible, as was the smell adding its contribution to the wet heat in a nearly palpable cloud of noxiousness. The houses looked newer, strangely, with larger bases and more evenly sized stones and brick making up the majority. Taller too, stretching up three or even four stories against the side of the hill.

    Florette wrinkled her nose. ¡°People were pushed here.¡± It had been the Northern walls of the city that had shattered under cannonfire, and the north that saw the tip of the invading army. Avalon¡¯s navy would have done the same at sea, no doubt, were it not for Sarille Leclaire¡¯s sacrifice. ¡°I imagine Perimont likes the symbolism of it too. Ugly brick towers of poverty and squalor where once stood the seat of an empire.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯m not much one for history.¡± Ysengrin shrugged. ¡°He can¡¯t like it too much though, or he wouldn¡¯t be tearing half it down.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Come on, you¡¯ll see it as we go.¡±

    He led her down the hill, over the knee-high wall and into the crowded streets. As they crossed the wall, Ysengrin dropped a brick-sized package wrapped in thick paper between the stones. He turned right, following the wall for another hundred feet before dropping another package.

    By the time he had placed three more, they had rounded the curve and the full scale of the Foxtrap¡¯s devastation came into view.

    Once-gleaming crystal blue city walls were breached many times over, shining debris scattered all across the ground. The castle above had fared no better, little more than a pile of blue masonry practically seeping out of the cannon-holes in its own inner keep.

    Seventeen years later, and it looked as if the battle had taken place weeks ago. As gestures went, it was crude and simple but powerful nonetheless. You failed, the walls seemed to say, behold the consequences of defiance.

    ¡°So what¡¯s in the packages?¡± Florette asked as Ysengrin flipped his rucksack over to dump the last one out onto the ground.

    ¡°What package?¡± He picked it up and tucked it into his coat pocket, flinging the bag down the hill. ¡°That¡¯s what you say if anyone asks.¡±

    Florette rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Psyben root.¡± He smiled wolfishly. ¡°Well the powder, to be more accurate. The kids took care of the heavier stuff. You know, nightshade, marigold wine, opium. They¡¯ll make rounds of their own. But I figured it was easier to grab what I needed without waiting for it to come back down from up high. Saves time.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡±

    ¡°There, look.¡± He pointed down the side of the hill, Florette following his finger with her eyes.

    He hadn¡¯t been lying. Abruptly the city streets gave way to a flat area, surrounded by some kind of latticed silver fence. Within were dozens of tents and fires, along with dull metal sheds in a far greater number than seemed necessary. Two of them were sleeker though, and absolutely massive. The cleared area stretched so far north it seemed to leave the city, with some kind of path that seemed at once wooden and metal.

    ¡°They call it a railway. Apparently they¡¯re everywhere in Avalon, so someone got it into their head to build one between here and Lyrion.¡±

    Florette flicked back to the start of the path, the strange fenced camp and the narrow metal buildings.

    ¡°Trains,¡± Ysengrin added. ¡°They ride up and down the special road faster than any beast. Not that any of us are likely to be riding them.¡±

    It took minutes for Florette to be able to wrench her gaze away, thoughts already spinning in her head.

    They doubled back, heading back south to the crowded streets and their overwhelming throngs.

    Even Guerron was nothing compared to this.

    The strangest part wasn¡¯t even the smell, which the state of the streets made inevitable, but the noise. It was hard to place any of it. Children were crying out, men and women shouting nigh-indecipherable pleas from every other corner and tower, beasts grunting and neighing. But most of it was simply conversation, amplified by the sheer number of people speaking to each other into a dull roar undercutting the louder cries.

    A few of the kids ran past them as they saw them coming, probably headed back to pick up Ysengrin¡¯s dropped packages.

    ¡°Yse! What¡¯s the good news?¡± The noise jarred Florette out of the strange trance that the sensations of the city had put her into. The man speaking had his wide eyes almost hidden under a mop of dirty blond hair, though it had a blue streak in it that looked just like Lady Leclaire¡¯s hair. Strange, that.

    ¡°Hey, Claude.¡± Ysengrin bumped his chest against him, reaching his hand into his coat as he did. ¡°Straight from the boat, just how you like it.¡±

    Claude smiled, reaching his hand into Ysengrin¡¯s pocket himself, though when he pulled it back, there was nothing within. ¡°Alright, see you next time.¡±

    No one else accosted them, though many loiterers gave Ysengrin a pointed nod as the two of them walked by.

    ¡°That was pretty stupid,¡± Florette noted casually.

    Her guide turned and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

    She waved her arm. ¡°Doing that in front of me, I mean. Especially after antagonizing me like that.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Fine, I guess I¡¯ll ask. What in Levian¡¯s name are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°The fact that you¡¯re skimming off the top and selling it on the side. I can¡¯t imagine Jacques will think highly of that.¡±

    ¡°What, that with Claude?¡± He laughed. ¡°Relax. Jacques¡¯ll get his cut just like he does with everyone else. Just wanted to help a friend get where he needed to go as soon as I could. Been pretty dry here lately. This shipment should heat things up just right.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    With a slight jitter, he picked up his pace slightly. ¡°Believe what you want to believe. You¡¯ll see me drop it in the pot once we see Jacques.¡±

    Florette gave him an unimpressed stare.

    ¡°Oh, come on. Don¡¯t rat me out on this. Nothing worse than a rat. You¡¯ve got a bag of your own; I thought we were on the same page here.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± She nodded, patting the rucksack at her back. ¡°But this is to help my crew, not screw them out of their due.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s for Eloise. She asked me to drop this at a specific house back by the port.¡± She tossed you aside to run errands for her because she didn¡¯t think you could manage any more than that. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to give them to a girl named Margot.¡±

    ¡°She told you about Margot?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Florette lied. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t she?¡±

    Ysengrin shook his head with a cutting chuckle. ¡°Oh, just everything about who she is. Sending you around doing her bidding does fit, though. Here, I¡¯ll show you the way as a thanks for keeping my secret.¡±

    Why was he laughing?

    She felt her teeth clench, and the weight of the bag grew all the heavier.

    They trusted children to move contraband through the city, and my great honor is a task that¡¯s even easier, even freer of risk.

    This is such a load of shit. I did everything right, and you sent me away just because I wasn¡¯t enthusiastic enough about it. Or maybe it was that Prince¡­ The poor bastard was probably still stashed belowdecks right now, being ferried from one port to the next. Had a few basic, trivial acts of decency disqualified her from Eloise¡¯s esteem?

    Eloise had been the one to dismiss the other pirates¡¯ bloodlust in the first place!

    That was why Ysengrin was wrong about them. He had to be.

    ¡°There,¡± he said after they had crossed what felt like half the city again. He pointed to an older house near the shattered remnants of the harbor. A deep green color, it at least had the decency to avoid being fucking blue. ¡°Probably better if I wait here.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Florette nodded, brushing past him as she strode towards the house. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. She heard scrabbling in the house, but no one opened the door.

    Who was this Margot, to live in this part of town? A farmer¡¯s daughter, a sultry seamstress¡­

    Florette dropped the bag on the doorstep and fled, walking just fast enough that it couldn¡¯t be called a run.

    ¡°All good?¡± Ysengrin asked, a slight hint of trepidation in his voice. ¡°You know, I¡¯m sorry I was¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sorry I caught you making a stupid mistake.¡± Florette sighed. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s just go.¡±

    The guide nodded, stepping back out in front. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, Jacques trusts Eloise¡¯s judgement enough¡ª¡±

    To think highly of someone she cast aside like an anchor? ¡°Just stop. I¡¯m not going to rat you out if you give your crew their due. You¡¯d better remember that.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± He slapped her on the back. ¡°And if you¡¯re looking to prove yourself, I could put in a good word for you. Might help the next time there¡¯s a big job and they¡¯re picking roles.¡±

    ¡°No need.¡± Not good enough, am I? ¡°I have something better in mind.¡± A way to prove herself and give Avalon a bruising in the process.

 Luce II: The Instrument of Evil

    The first time, applause had erupted. The second had seen a hearty cheer erupt, though the merriment had not lasted as long. By the time they pulled out of the sixth port, ship empty of all smuggled cargo, the pirates simply sat mutely as their share of the profits was doled out to them.

    They were growing bored, which was a good thing. It made them more complacent.

    The guards in his room had started standing outside the door instead, then leaving gaps in their shifts to avoid the most unpleasant hours of the night. Listening at the door made that much clear, although Luce had yet to chance cracking it open to make sure.

    In some ways, it was hard to blame them. Where could he go?

    Luce could stroll right up to the deck and it still wouldn¡¯t do him any good. Nor would smashing the window, even if he could manage to somehow squeeze himself out of the six inch wide gap. The dinghies were under the Captain¡¯s lock and key, a standard spec on Avalon warships to help abate desertions and mutiny. As a prince, Luce had been given a copy, of course, but the pirate captain had seized it the moment she had realized the nature of the mechanism.

    None of them had been as accommodating as the dark-haired girl had been, but leaving him alone was progress enough. Given that she seemed to have been¡­ removed from the ship in Malin, it was easy enough to see why the others would avoid taking the same path.

    Lying to him the first time had been one thing, but it had been weeks and he¡¯d still had yet to hear of any ransom, any chance at his freedom. With every stop, he grew more afraid that they planned to keep him as a prow ornament, forever bound to bless their smuggling.

    No, whatever the risk, he needed a way out. Avalon needed him to find a way out.

    On his desk sat the old windmill, a product of bleary-eyed tinkering in the wee hours of the night during his final year at the Cambrian College. It had to remain in plain sight, or its value could become clear. Luce didn¡¯t even want to think about what the pirates would do if they saw him stuffing it into a desk drawer or pulled it up from under his bed.

    And Harold thought it foolish of me to take it. Luce twirled the wheel idly with his finger, careful not to move it too quickly. If word reaches Cambria that I¡¯ve been kidnapped by pirates of the Erstwhile Empire, not even Harold could stop the calls for war. It simply wasn¡¯t acceptable.

    Next to the mill was that copy of The Winter War, left open on an early page describing Olwen¡¯s meeting with a merchant lord from Plagette, offering weapons and loans to support the High Kingdom in its wars to the south. An old man, with a gaunt face and long dark hair gone mostly to grey, he was one of the most obvious embellishments in a book full of them. His name, Laird Heirgroom, matched none of the members of the Plagetine Senate, nor did any contemporary records of arms sales between the nations make mention of so much as his surname.

    And yet Olwen had wanted a scheming villain in her tale, playing the nations against each other so his homeland could expand. She¡¯d needed a reason to paint the Republic as greedy warmongers, rather than mere opportunists who had approached the conflict more smartly than most, since their unpopularity with the High King was legendary. And so this twisted caricature arrived on the page, with his sneering face and thick accent helping any particularly dense readers grasp his purpose in the story.

    The obviousness of Olwen¡¯s fabulism still hadn¡¯t stopped breathless fanatics from endless theorizing over pots of coffee in the corner table of Luce¡¯s favorite salon, unfortunately. One would declare that Laird was a figment of Olwen¡¯s imagination, an alternate personality that could take over her body to sabotage the High Kingdom. Then the next would claim he was a shadow doppelganger cut from Mathille Leclaire, or the first King Harold, or any number of other patently absurd suggestions. By that point it was usually only a matter of time before the entire cast of characters were secret doppelgangers of other hidden players, endlessly scheming for seemingly no reason other than fooling the audience, or perhaps an addition to complexity.

    One particularly foolish person at that table had even suggested it was the spirit Glaciel wearing the guise of a man to pit Micheltaigne against her nation¡¯s hated rival. But children were often foolish, and Luce, much as he might lament it, had not been an exception.

    It¡¯s still a great story, though.

    That much did seem more true than it had a decade ago. The high melodrama and outrageous stakes had seen Luce¡¯s thirteen-year-old self cast the novel as empty pablum, a conscious rejection of childhood so blunt only a slightly older child could manage it, but structurally the story itself was surprisingly sound. Even knowing how it ended, even knowing the context of its creation, a part of Luce found himself hoping Olwen and her love would prevail.

    But they were all doomed, just like all of us if I can¡¯t maintain this peace. Harold was probably bouncing off the walls just trying to hold back the Great Council by himself.

    Father could have been there helping him, if he weren¡¯t too busy playing bard in Guerron. For that matter, had Father stayed in Malin, Luce¡¯s presence there never would have been necessary. He had made that trip to Guerron sound so important, but now it seemed to pale in comparison. Especially if the spirit temples had been on the brink of tearing their city apart already.

    He leaned forward slightly, feeling the warmth of the desk near the base of the mill as his eyes crept back to the book.

    What then will they say of Magnifico, when fifty years have passed. What legacy will the ashes of Guerron impress upon Avalon?

    Would children gather around that same table, wondering what part Father had played? Admittedly, the bard guise didn¡¯t sound too different from the sorts of theories Luce and his friends had once bandied about. No shadow doppelgangers though.

    Although if anything that was a shame. With a shadow of his own, Father could have cast his presence twice as far, but the impossibly sharp artifact that made it possible was long lost, the spirit it bound even longer dead. All remaining histories indicated that the cost was too high to bear, in any case.

    Of course, that may have been more a reflection of his tutors¡¯ frustration at being given the impossible task of finding it. In those days, no stone had seemed worth leaving unturned, no matter the cost. The follies of youth.

    Still, a shadow in his likeness seemed pretty appealing at the moment. Then it wouldn¡¯t be me stuck on this forsaken boat.

    The next morning, Luce awoke to the all-too-familiar knock on his door. Once tense and fearful, repetition had dulled the sense of danger. In a way, he supposed he¡¯d grown somewhat complacent as well. He knew that they wouldn¡¯t hurt him, not unless he tried to escape or something went horribly wrong, but as news of his ¡°tour¡± of the Territories spread, even fewer impediments greeted each visit at every port.

    An attempt to tip some customs officers off was always an option, to hope that he could jump ship before a pirate impaled him. Even if I live, though, a Guardian realizing what happened guarantees further war.

    No, long nights marinating in guilt and fear had given way to quiet contemplation, and with it, possibilities.

    ¡°Which is it this time?¡± he asked as he pulled on his coat, pockets empty.

    ¡°Charenton,¡± the Captain said, opening the door. ¡°And don¡¯t try another history lesson.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been remarkably compliant, considering what you¡¯ve done.¡± Admittedly, his reflections on the Three Cubs wars in the wake of the Fox Queen¡¯s death in order to help provide context for Lyrion¡¯s founding had gone on for longer than necessary, but that had been after four days without speaking to a soul. ¡°Who are you to complain?¡±

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    The captain¡¯s eyes narrowed, creasing the heavy dark bags underneath them. ¡°The woman with a knife at your throat.¡± In an instant, it was true, the feel of cold metal resting against his skin. ¡°Don¡¯t forget who holds your life in her hands.¡± She withdrew the knife, gesturing down the hall.

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± But acting the part of an unassuming dullard, a foppish Prince incapable of even the mildest resistance, was crucial to any chance he had of getting out of this alive without embroiling Avalon in another senseless conflict.

    As if that isn¡¯t the truth, a voice whispered from the back of his head. A true prince would have stood and fought. A hero would have saved Cassia.

    He shook the thoughts away, turning back to the pirate captain. Another reaction would be necessary in this case, anyway. ¡°I¡¯d think Charenton would interest you more though, seeing as you served under Robin Verrou. It¡¯s unusual for a pirate to have a surname, don¡¯t you think? Implies the privilege and esteem of the landed.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ve never heard the story in my entire life, not after years as quartermaster on the Seaward Folly. It completely eluded me. I also missed the fact that he used orange and black as his colors, and the gates to Charenton are the exact same color.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°Obviously I¡¯m a complete fucking idiot.¡±

    ¡°Obviously,¡± Luce agreed, biting down the feeling of his stomach dropping like a ball of lead.

    The captain blinked. ¡°Don¡¯t think we can¡¯t ransom you for nearly the same sum minus an ear. Or perhaps your tongue.¡±

    The brattish act still felt forced, but it played into what they were inclined to believe. ¡°You¡¯d sooner fire me out of a cannon.¡± That had been the third time this week, so hopefully it hit the balance of planting the seed without feeling forced, but¡ª

    ¡°Want to bet, you fuck?¡± She grabbed his wrist and yanked him down the hall. Within seconds, they passed right by the staircase to the deck he felt like he had already stepped up ten thousand times. Instead, she dragged him lower into the ship.

    Luce dared to hope as they crossed into the lower battlements, and couldn¡¯t help but smile slightly when he saw the polished shine of the cannons before him, the scent of gunpowder filling the air.

    ¡°Look at that.¡± She flung him down onto the ground, causing him to bang his head against the metal. Fuck, that hurt. ¡°You think I¡¯d sooner fire you out of the cannon? Fine. Piss me off one more time, Your Princeleyness. One more fucking time.¡± She turned back to the entrance as Luce groaned aloud, splayed out over the ground. ¡°Now get your ass up onto the deck and look like a smiling idiot, before we see how far you can fly.¡±

    Luce scrambled up, trying not to be too obvious as he clutched at his coat, feeling the added weight but hopefully not showing it.

    It is always advisable to learn from one¡¯s mistakes, he thought as he followed the captain to the deck, ears still ringing. More than merely advisable, iteration was absolutely key to the scientific process. Take the best of information from one experiment to the next, from a prototype to a result¡­ It always galled him that people couldn¡¯t apply the same lesson everywhere. In this case, the obvious takeaway is to avoid plans that result in head injury.

    He couldn¡¯t even press his hands to his temples, not with them keeping the bottom of his coat in place. Once they reached the deck, the bright light only made the feeling worse.

    Still, Luce forced a smile and waved gaily on as the customs officers ignored blatant smuggling going on right before their eyes. Normally, the return belowdecks felt painful, dimly lit and confined. But after maintaining composure through all of that, keeping his head steady and his smile wide, spewing the lines they forced him to say without so much as a stutter, all the while keeping his hands perfectly steady¡­

    By the time he reached his cell, it was relief that overwhelmed him.

    Still, it was not yet time to rest.

    Ever-so-carefully, he emptied his pockets onto the cloth sitting atop his desk. The smell of powder filled the air once more, but hopefully it would fade enough before the pirates checked in on him that he could sell it as remaining odor from his visit to the battlements still clinging to him.

    In a strange way, it was nostalgic. Professor Thorburton¡¯s very first class had been a demonstration that wasn¡¯t too dissimilar.

    Remember, the powder is a baby bird, to be coddled and cradled. Treat it with respect and it will grant you the same. Carelessness will not be tolerated in my class. Now let¡¯s all make sure to have fun!

    The Professor had added dye to the compound, throwing up flares of colored smoke high into the air. It was certainly a nicer image than a cannon tearing through a wall, even if it belied the true danger.

    All the more dangerous given these laboratory conditions. Every rock of the boat risked wholesale annihilation, but what else was there to do?

    Tighter and tighter he packed it, wedging it into the base of the windmill. By the time he was finished, the pirates were beginning to stir, and the mill sat slightly askew at his desk, but the task was complete.

    Now I just have to sleep next to it for Khali-knows how long, until we reach the next port. Every night passed nearly sleepless, almost as bad as his first days of captivity, but the risk was worth it. It had to be.

    The next day he smashed his window open with a spoon, in the hopes that the inattentiveness of his guards would lead them to miss the sound. None stepped in, so it seemed to work.

    More than a week after their stop in Charenton, Luce finally felt the knock on his door.

    More quickly than he had moved in his life, he grabbed the windmill and darted across the room.

    After his lack of response, the door sounded once more, as Luce crammed the mill into the jagged gap in the window. No time to align it.

    He whipped back around to see the pirate captain glaring at him with narrowed eyes. ¡°Well that¡¯s no good.¡± She flicked her head to the smashed window. ¡°We¡¯ve been terrible hosts, keeping you locked up in this palatial chamber. Good thing for you, I know just the dark box in the cargo hold to remedy that!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he lied as convincingly as he could manage. ¡°I¡¯ve just been trapped in here for so long. I needed air.¡±

    The pirate covered her brow with her hand. ¡°Fucking brilliant timing, your princeliness.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°Why? What happened?¡±

    She snorted. ¡°What happened is you helped sell an entire fucking boatload. We even bought a resupply back from the Folly, and still managed to get rid of it all. Never had it this fast or this easy in my life.¡± The trace of a smile spread across her face, though it was gone so quickly it was hard to tell if it had even been there. ¡°Everyone on this ship ought to be grateful that things ran so smoothly¡­¡± Arms folded, she waved her head back to the door. ¡°Anyway, we¡¯re headed back to resupply, so I figured it¡¯d be pretty harmless having you on the deck for a bit.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ good¡­¡± What is she really after?

    The captain shrugged. ¡°Yeah, and obviously smashing open a six inch window has only reinforced my belief in your passive, cooperative nature.¡±

    ¡°Please?¡± he tried. ¡°I won¡¯t say anything, or do anything wrong. I just¡­¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Just follow me to the deck.¡±

    After a week in his chambers, the aroma of wind and salt was intoxicating. The waves of air crashed against Luce¡¯s face, lifting his greasy, overgrown hair from his scalp. After a moment, his eyes adjusted enough to the light that he could make out the vast, endless stretch of blue water before him.

    The deck was strangely empty of pirates, and the most of the remaining faces seemed different, though that could just be the isolation getting to him.

    Wait, if she¡¯s returning to the Erstwhile Empire to resupply, where is the island? Or Avalon? For a moment, it seemed as if he had brought about his demise.

    The day was clear, without an inch of fog. If they were traveling southwest, then why¡ª

    ¡°Behind you, genius.¡± The pirate grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face land.

    The coast was close, and the image it painted was clear¡­

    ¡°Refuge,¡± he breathed softly. Salvation of a sort, though so very far from ideal.

    The pirate smiled. ¡°Never said it would be Guerron we¡¯re headed back to. The Arboreum¡¯s practically untapped compared to the West coast, and with a ship like this we barely lose any time doing it. Shame it throws your country¡¯s atrocities in your face though.¡±

    Even so many decades later, the landscape was startling. Withered husks of bleached-white tree trunks clung to salted, barren earth. Thick clouds of dust obscured the furthest reaches of it, but even from here the scope was harrowing.

    No port, no smuggling. Naught but a random stretch of wasteland¡­ And it was too late to abort the plan.

    ¡°The fruit of Avalon¡¯s ambition,¡± Luce muttered, stepping to the edge of the deck. The change in location had some benefit, at least. He¡¯d never have been able to manage that with a dozen blades ready to run him through for twitching. Well, not without a distraction. ¡°I¡¯m glad you showed me this.¡±

    The captain blinked. ¡°You may be spending too much time with me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡± He placed his hands on the wooden railing. ¡°If we hear of the Fall of Refuge at all, it¡¯s a mere footnote in the Lyrion Conquest. The last, futile gasps of a defeated people too stubborn to surrender. At best, some try to justify it as necessary to end the war.¡±

    ¡°And it did a great job of that.¡± She stepped up next to him. ¡°Avalon never fought anyone ever again, and the whole world lived happily ever after.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Luce sighed. What a miserable place to die. ¡°Anyone truly informed of things would recognize the self-serving lies, but seeing the truth here before me is another thing entirely. It¡¯s captivating, in a way.¡± And should I fail to return home on my own terms, this is all that awaits the rest of the world. That prospect looked more likely by the minute.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to let the people of Refuge know that their death and suffering was all worth it, since it helped a Prince of Avalon come to an epiphany.¡±

    ¡°Why do you care?¡±

    She wrinkled her nose. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But you¡ª¡± Luce felt his head slam against the wood as a deafening sound filled his ears, that damnable ringing returning with strength renewed one thousandfold. He didn¡¯t even realize he was falling until he felt his head crash against the water.

    That much of his plan had worked. Now he had to survive.

 Camille III: One of Their Own

    That had to be easily the best bath Camille had ever taken. It had taken hours, but the weeks of grime, salt, and death had finally been cleansed from her skin under the nearly-scalding water.

    When at last she could examine herself in the scuffed bronze mirror in her chambers, it was finally her own face staring back.

    The roots in my hair are showing, though. Ass that he might have been, Claude had been telling the truth about that much. Tactically tying her hair back managed to mostly hide the dark gold and brown, at least, though that wasn¡¯t a solution that would last forever.

    The clothes she¡¯d been provided weren¡¯t quite her usual color palette either ¡ª a ruffled white shirt sized for a man twice her size and hide pants far too hot for this weather ¡ª but they were nonetheless substantially better than the torn and soggy under-armor padding from her duel that she¡¯d been forced to wear for the last few weeks.

    ¡°Huh, you cleaned yourself up a lot better than I expected.¡± Claude was waiting outside the chamber, the black bruise across his eye still extremely visible.

    Camille scoffed. ¡°I look like a child trying to sneak into the opera.¡±

    ¡°You do, don¡¯t you?¡± He smiled. ¡°Well, still better than looking like a corpse caught in a fisherman¡¯s net.¡±

    That¡¯s practically what I was. ¡°What was that place, anyway? It¡¯s far too small to be a temple.¡±

    Claude raised an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t know what kind of decadent temples you have in Guerron, but that¡¯s about what you can expect here. A room in the front for offerings and quarters for the acolyte running it in the back are about as big as anyone would be able to afford down on the south side. Even with generous benefactors.¡±

    ¡°Why not use the actual Temple of Levian? No one seems to be occupying it save impudent ragamuffins whom I¡¯m certain have no legal claim to it.¡± Those vile children threw rocks at me for asking a simple question. ¡°I would be delighted to help you clear it out, if that¡¯s the issue.¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± The acolyte waved his hand, as if swatting an imaginary insect aside. ¡°Not my decision, but I¡¯m sure the elders have a reason. Probably way too expensive to maintain, if I had to guess. Why bother with that crumbling monstrosity when small temples in town are closer to the people anyway?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Or there¡¯s some other reason I don¡¯t know about. Maybe it¡¯s cursed.¡±

    This whole fucking city is cursed, blighted by the stench of failure. And despite springing from her mother¡¯s temple, these acolytes seemed to have little interest in doing anything about it. ¡°You can¡¯t neglect symbols of power, even if it¡¯s expensive or inconvenient. Even if it¡¯s haunted by the failures of sages past.¡±

    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s not like they do anything real.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°Symbols inspire. They sway the will of the masses to carry a cause, to support their rightful liege. Do you think tens of thousands of levies would march for their lord without his crest? Support a sage without the magic of the spirits behind them?¡± Do you think you could rouse anyone to action, after failing horribly and coming within a hair¡¯s breadth of ignoble death?

    Claude simply shrugged. ¡°Like I said, not really a decision made at my level.¡±

    ¡°Well, turn your thinking around. You¡¯re nursing a black eye and spent hours in jail because you pushed a Guardian into the sea.¡±

    ¡°Allegedly.¡±

    ¡°Allegedly,¡± she repeated as she rolled her eyes. ¡°Why, exactly? What motivated you to risk your safety and freedom?¡±

    ¡°None of your fucking business.¡± He sighed. ¡°Not some bloody symbol though, that¡¯s for sure. It was concrete. Something you could touch.¡±

    ¡°Palpable,¡± she supplied.

    ¡°Palpable, sure.¡± He reached for the front door. ¡°Speaking of, grab that bag. I¡¯m a day behind on my rounds, and seeing as I just pulled your ass out of jail, I figure you can help.¡±

    She bit her lip. I¡¯m not your servant. There was no reason she had to help him, and not all that much to be gained by doing doing it.

    He had helped though. It didn¡¯t cost much to show a bit of gratitude.

    She bent down to pick up the satchel lying against the wall next to her and followed Claude out into the street.

    The sight of it was almost blinding. The short buildings of square cut stone seemed much the same, but each of them looked as if it had been scrubbed free of grime this very morning. And the people! Camille could not boast the same knowledge of Avalon fashions that she might of her homeland, but the elaborate trim and glistening jewelry on the collars of passersby could hardly belong to the same sorts that had once lived here. ¡°Did you say this was the south end?¡±

    Claude nodded. ¡°Not what you expected?¡±

    Not what I remember, she stopped herself from saying. But even that wasn¡¯t true, not when Mother had forbidden her from ever venturing south of Fuite Gardens by land. ¡°I had always thought it was¡­¡±

    ¡°A broken garbage heap of poverty and despair?¡± Claude chuckled. ¡°You¡¯d be amazed at how far being the only intact part of the city gets you, especially once all the Avalon gentles started settling around the Governor¡¯s Mansion.¡±

    ¡°Gentry,¡± she corrected. ¡°A commoner by legality, with no noble peerage of their own, but who still has sufficient lands to live off of the incomes thereof.¡± In practice, that mostly meant weak sages of lesser spirits, their lands centered around tiny creeks or modest forests and hills, small enough that it had never been politically advantageous to grant them enduring titles. ¡°Actually, I think a few of the old acolytes were gentry.¡± It was only a lucky few whose parents had cultivated the right relationships with the right nobles to see their child sent to the greatest temple of the greatest spirit in the Empire, but hardly unheard of.

    ¡°So like merchants then.¡± He nodded, confidently wrong.

    Camille sighed. ¡°A merchant works for their living. Like your Mr. Clocha?ne, for example. No matter the bounds of his wealth, he remains of common birth, with all of its associated impediments. Backing the Acolytes is likely an exercise in gaining legitimacy, really. He has a surname, which indicates a certain level of¡ª¡±

    Claude laughed loudly enough to cause her to stop. ¡°He didn¡¯t inherit that. State papers were destroyed along with the castle, and the Leclaires took all the temple records with them when they fled. Those records are gone.¡± No, they lie, carefully organized, in a faded blue tent by the side of the Coul¨¦e in Guerron. ¡°When Avalon came calling, Mr. Clocha?ne gave them a name. Who¡¯s to say where it came from?¡±

    ¡°He made it up? That sort of ruse can only ever last so long.¡± Just like Fernan, undone by sloppy table manners. He had probably made out almost as well as Lumiere from her ¡®demise¡¯, getting his sundial and favor with the most powerful remaining sage in the city. Lumi¨¨re might even have granted him lands in the bargain, if the sun priest had been sufficiently grateful.

    It was strange to think that if they met again, it might well be as enemies. The boy had a gentle spirit, and had performed admirably in the task she set before him.

    ¡°There weren¡¯t many living nobles around to contest him,¡± Claude answered, jarring Camille out of her thoughts. ¡°Wish my parents had thought of it.¡± He brushed the blue strand of hair from his eyes. ¡°Baron Claude has a nice ring to it, doesn¡¯t it? Oh, or Count Claude! Get those sounds to¡­ sound¡­ similar. To agree with each other?¡±

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    ¡°Alliteration,¡± she supplied, her mind elsewhere. ¡°Indeed, ¡®Count Claude¡¯ could consider compulsory commands, codified to cultivate cooperation in crushing countless cravings, certain to consecrate your control as competent, and celebrate the contentedness of Count and country in conjunction.¡±

    ¡°Nicely done.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She smiled. ¡°The Baron title is only used in Avalon, anyway. It¡¯s descended from the old northern dialect of their language, roughly equivalent in prestige to a Count.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ alright?¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s mostly gentry from Avalon that settled here? Not wealthy commoners or proper titled nobles?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know; I think so, yeah. None of them make us call them Lord or Lady Whatever, but I¡¯ve never seen any of them working either. What difference does it make, anyway? Gold is gold.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not about gold; it¡¯s about society. Structure.¡± She picked up a sharp rock and began sketching a drawing onto the stone wall next to them.

    ¡°Why are you drawing the entire continent?¡±

    ¡°To make a point.¡± She finished the sketch and circled the area around Malin. ¡°Armies aren¡¯t easy to pay. Even peasant levies need to eat, and the favor of their liege must first be won before they can be fielded under your banner. Absent a strong state, numerical superiority can only be amassed through cultivating noble favor. Even those sworn to your service must be placated lest they turn their coat, or simply sit the war out.

    ¡°The Fox Queen had more power centralized in her own hands than was common for the time, but she still relied on retainers to make up the bulk of her army.¡± Camille drew an X slightly to the north of Malin, over the area of On¨¨s, then a long ellipse down to the south, over the Micheltaigne Mountains. ¡°How do you convince a Leclaire of On¨¨s to risk their livelihood in a far away land?¡±

    Claude blinked. ¡°Ask ¡®em at swordpoint?¡±

    ¡°That factor must always be considered, but it¡¯s dangerous to do as a matter of course. If violence is to be the ultimate authority by which all other authority is derived, it can undo you just as easily. The coerced nobles might look to depose you rather than fight your wars, for example. How else?¡±

    The acolyte massaged his bruised eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know, money?¡±

    ¡°Certainly. The Fox Queen must ensure that she has the resources to fund her armies. But her personal lands draw only so much income. To overtax them could mean revolt at home, and diminish her own standing among peers. Thus, enter the spoils system.¡±

    Claude tilted his head.

    ¡°Paying professionals to serve you is enormously expensive. Tipping favors towards nobles to gain the use of their household troops and levies, less so, but still overburdening at scale.¡± She drew a line between On¨¨s and Micheltaigne. ¡°By granting those under your aegis the lands they conquer in your name, and the greater part of their incomes, one can maintain an enormous array of forces for a pittance. Doling out lands that aren¡¯t yours to begin with binds your subordinates to your cause without costing you anything in the near term. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Just forget I asked. Khali¡¯s curse. I¡¯m already a day behind on all of this.¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t you see how this applies to the Foxtrap? It¡¯s a measure of how centralized Avalon¡¯s state apparatus is that this place isn¡¯t crowded with Earls and Barons granted lands for their part in the Conquest. Lyrion was taken just a half-century earlier than Malin, but the place is crawling with Avalon¡¯s petty nobility. If it is the gentry that bring their carpetbags to Malin, no doubt currying favor with Lord Perimont, then that tells us everything about the base of his power.¡±

    Claude slammed the back of his head against the wall.

    ¡°It all descends from Cambria and the King, Claude. If what you¡¯re saying is true, Perimont¡¯s foundation hangs by a thread, propped up only by the Territorial Guardians connecting him to King Harold and Cambria. I would need a full tally of his household troops to be certain, but I think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Be careful what you say, here,¡± he hissed, gesturing at the well-to-do milling about the street.

    Camille took a breath. ¡°Right. Of course. I got a bit carried away with the possibilities.¡±

    ¡°If you say so. Gotta be honest, not sure I totally understood that. But I¡¯m glad you¡¯re happy about it.¡± He held out his hand for the rock, which Camille gave him. ¡°Too many people are willing to ignore Perimont just because it¡¯s easier.¡± He scratched back and forth across the sketch until the map was completely unrecognizable. ¡°It¡¯s such bullshit. Half the acolytes are just happy as long as they can maintain some amount of stability. Even Ysengrin and the other people I know running with that crew all take their cues from the top. As long as they get paid, everything¡¯s golden.¡±

    Camille patted him on the back silently, not sure how much she should say.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just keep going. Lots of time to make up for.¡±

    ¡°Where are we headed, then?¡± She felt the strap of the satchel bite into her shoulder. ¡°What are we carrying, anyway? Cobblestones?¡±

    ¡°Please.¡± Claude held up his hand. ¡°For now, just follow me. I can explain more once I know how much I should.¡± He continued walking, leading her further towards the water as the hot sun beat down on them.

    By the time he called for a stop, Camille was slick with sweat to a distasteful degree, albeit still far more presentable than she had been a day ago. ¡°What¡¯s this, then?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Got to explain things to the leadership first, and I happen to know they¡¯re meeting here today. I wouldn¡¯t want anyone to think I was ratting them out.¡±

    ¡°Might they think that?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°They sent Ms. Fields to pull me out, so probably not, but I suppose if they wanted to kill me they¡¯d need me out of a cell first.¡±

    Camille raised an eyebrow. ¡°Kill you? That seems rather extreme for a mere¡­ Well, I suppose I¡¯m not quite sure what you did.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s better if you don¡¯t know. I¡¯m probably going to be getting enough shit from them as it is. No need to make it worse by implying I blabbed too.¡± He stepped towards the door, placing his hand over the stylized Clocha?ne Candles letters painted across the front. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s not a big deal. You just always have to worry that someone will tattle whenever they get jailed. If I had, I¡¯d deserve whatever they¡¯d have coming. Nothing worse than a rat.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Camille followed him into the shop, practically glowing from all of the candles lit within. Many burned in different colors, emitting different scents, but the largest crates were simply for practical lighting, as were those in the sconces above.

    Behind the desk at the back was a man in a tailored matte black coat, steepled fingers each sporting a golden ring. A deep green hat sat on the desk in front of him, the sort of green that only Arboreum dyes could reliably produce. Each item individually was bespoke, well-crafted and not without a sense of taste, but the net effect was too much. A ring on every single finger? It simply wasn¡¯t done. He looked as if he had researched the most tasteful and expensive items in fashion and tried to wear them all at once.

    ¡°Mr. Clocha?ne, I presume.¡± Camille dipped her head in greeting. ¡°You have a beautiful storefront.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he responded, rising from his chair. ¡°Claude, would you be so kind as to introduce this young lady?¡±

    ¡°This is Carrine,¡± he said, a slight tremor in his voice. ¡°She¡¯s a sage from Guerron who¡¯s come to lend the Acolytes her support.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Clocha?ne held out his hand, which Camille now knew to shake lightly once before withdrawing her own. ¡°I know Phillippe will be delighted to have the help. He can fill you in on things once Claude takes you to meet him. As for you¡­¡± He turned to Claude. ¡°First, I would like to know what you were thinking.¡±

    Claude gulped. ¡°Well, I should start by mentioning that it was her plan. She came to us, and it seemed really promising. Ysengrin gave his full support, and offered to cut me in. It seemed like a good way to¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±  He clasped his hands together. ¡°The issue isn¡¯t the plan, but the fact that you chose to involve yourself. Do you realize the importance of boundaries?¡±

    After a moment passed and Claude didn¡¯t answer, Camille realized that she was the one being asked. ¡°Of course,¡± she replied, slightly unsure why he had turned to her. ¡°Everything in its proper place. It¡¯s the only way to keep things organized. Compartmentalized.¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± Clocha?ne smiled. ¡°When compartments which are kept separate for good reason find themselves melding together, it can cause all sorts of issues. Take the Acolytes, for example, a noble organization who have long outgrown their dubious roots as an arm of the Leclaires¡¯. They protect the cultural heritage of Malin, they provide offerings and aid to those in need, and they keep themselves out of trouble.¡± He turned back to Claude. ¡°Ysengrin is none of your business, nor any of his crew. How can I support the Acolytes before Perimont and his ilk with louts like you stirring up trouble?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Claude flicked his eyes to Camille, but she had nothing to offer him. ¡°If it helps, now I know that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck what you know now! If you want to run with those people and get yourself into trouble, you can do it without implicating the Acolytes. Phillippe will tell you the same. Maintaining the balance necessary to operate is difficult and expensive enough for both of us without this sort of idiocy.¡±

    ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that big a deal. Ms. Fields pulled me out in less than a day, and Ysengrin¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough.¡± His voice was calm, but it was enough to silence Claude. ¡°An acolyte cannot engage in such schemes, especially one foolish enough to get caught. You have a very simple choice before you, Claude.¡± He held up a pair of scissors, tapping them against his head. ¡°Make your order proud.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mr. Clocha?ne,¡± he squeaked out.

    ¡°You are dismissed.¡± He turned back to Camille. ¡°I apologize for giving such a first impression. We shall meet again once Phillippe has filled you in on how things work here. We are grateful for your help.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure is mine.¡±

    Camille thought it better not to speak more until they were outside the shop once again. ¡°At least you¡¯re alive,¡± she told Claude, who looked on the verge of tears. ¡°That¡¯s something.¡±

    He sighed.

    ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s easy to take survival for granted.¡± Being yelled at hardly compares to a ball of lead piercing your shoulder. ¡° He didn¡¯t even cut the blue out of your hair.¡±

    ¡°Phillippe probably will, shortly before throwing me out onto the street. At best, I¡¯ll have to spend the next year down on my knees, cleaning up all the offerings.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Camille shifted her eyes, checking that no one was close enough to listen in.

    ¡°Now that you¡¯ve talked to him though, can you tell me what happened?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, yeah, I guess.¡± He slammed a fist against his forehead. ¡°Fucking Florette. I never should have listened to her.¡±

 Luce III: The Survivor

    There was no end to the raging waves. Each time Luce¡¯s head slipped below the water felt like it would be the last.

    Brilliant plan, Luce.

    But he had been desperate. If he could have escaped and framed the pirates as rogue criminals, unaffiliated with any greater polity, there might have been a chance to calm the embers of hatred in Avalon.

    After so many ports in a row, it had seemed obvious that the next time he¡¯d be taken above the deck would be in the presence of another. A simple explosion as a distraction, and he could be off the ship and free, while the pirates would no doubt sail away as fast as they could manage in order to avoid the authorities.

    Whether they¡¯d have succeeded at that point was immaterial; Luce would have had control of the narrative, and that was everything. Harold had taught him that much.

    And now I won¡¯t even make it to shore.

    The cracked earth seemed no closer than when he had started paddling, his head ringing from the blast.

    If anything, every breath seemed to see it retreating further away.

    Girding himself, he poured every ounce of effort into a burst of speed, wreathing his arms in a flaming ache. But still the shore retreated.

    Riptides, you fool.

    How many times had Father warned him, frolicking through the water on King Lewys Beach?

    Breaking above water once more to orient himself, Luce turned ninety degrees and pushed forward until he felt himself escape the aggressive pull of the current. He could barely come up for air by the time he was clear, but at least his corpse wouldn¡¯t wash up back on Avalon.

    The ship had continued sailing on, he saw. Its aft side sported a massive jagged hole where the bomb had blown out the back of his cabin, but the damage hadn¡¯t reached deep enough for it to take on water. Nothing unexpected there. The ship had never needed to sink, the important thing was his escape.

    Interesting that they aren¡¯t returning for me, though. What of the ransom? What of revenge?

    Perhaps it was simply luck, finally in his favor for once after this string of disasters.

    It was at that moment that he saw the pirate captain, her hands gripped around a large wooden palette as her legs kicked vigorously. No, not a palette. The deep red stain meant it was probably a stretch of flooring, torn out by his explosion. Of all the parts of that damned chamber to float this way¡­

    ¡°You have got to be the luckiest fucker this side of the Lyrion sea.¡± Her usual flat affect was nowhere to be seen; genuine rage made itself plain on her face. ¡°You get to beg for your life.¡±

    Luce ignored her, paddling futilely towards land.

    ¡°Can¡¯t spare the breath to respond?¡± She followed it with something else that he didn¡¯t hear, his head underneath the water, but when it emerged once more he could hear her finish with: ¡°awfully tired.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think drowning will get you out of it, either,¡± she continued heckling, following effortlessly behind him on her wooden throne. ¡°I¡¯m sure Her Verdance would pay handsomely to parade the body of a Prince of Avalon through the streets of Lorraine. Not as much as Perimont, perhaps, but you, you vile little worm, may have finally made me see the value in the lesser sum of money.¡±

    Luce felt his collar tighten, hands wrapping around his neck.

    He thrashed as hard as he could to escape the stranglehold, but after a minute of yelling and splashing every which way, the pirate had his hands pinned behind his back, his body face down against the bloodstained wood.

    ¡°Let¡¯s try this again. When someone saves your life, what do you say?¡±

    He inhaled deep, reaching for the breath to respond. ¡°Fuck you. I¡¯d sooner drown.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± She pushed his head up against the edge, water crashing against it with every wave. ¡°Even after blowing up my ship, I save your miserable hide, and you¡¯d rather I leave you to your fate?¡± She pushed his head into the water, salt entering his eyes before he could shut them. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done?¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡± he shouted back, straining his throat to be heard over the ocean¡¯s roar.

    He felt the pressure on his head subside, and looked back over his shoulder to face her. ¡°Kidnapping a prince? It¡¯s hardly a secret that the fragments of the Erstwhile Empire are the only thing keeping you criminals in business, paying out the nose for plans that rightfully belong to Avalon. If anything happens to me, even I won¡¯t be able to stop the Great Council from setting its sights on the Arboreum, or Condillac, or most of all, Guerron.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Too late for that last one. Half your bloody family¡¯s squatting on it to keep it under their heel.¡±

    Family? Did that mean that Father¡ª?

    ¡°Don¡¯t seem to have lost any sleep over losing you, either.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t know that.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯m just making shit up to needle you.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°They might just be idiots who believe you suddenly went on a tour of the territories. Either way.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Any repairs to that ship are coming out of your share, and then some, mark my words.¡±

    My share?

    ¡°Now help me paddle this fucking thing to shore so we can wait for them to come back.¡±

    Luce tried to jump, only to see her fist in his gut before he could even feel it, the air knocked entirely out of him.

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°We had a good thing going, carting you around to sell as freely as we could ask. Buy a package for a florin, sell it for two. Simple as that. We made as much money carting you around for two months as the last five hauls combined. No blood, no fuss, no risk.¡± She exhaled sharply. ¡°And you blew it all up, you bloody maniac!¡±

    ¡°You know what that girl said to me? The one you disposed of because of an act of basic decency?¡± Luce inhaled deeply. ¡°She said you told her that this was just how things work. It¡¯s all part of your sick little game.¡±

    ¡°You killed four people.¡±

    ¡°Should have chosen a smaller number, would have been more believable that way.¡± He pulled himself to a sitting position, facing her across the piece of wooden debris. ¡°I know exactly how much powder was in that device, and if that weren¡¯t enough, I saw the state of the ship! Unless four people were hugging it when it went off, I doubt it killed so much as a soul. And I¡¯m not going to cry about your plan failing, either. I couldn¡¯t take another fucking second helping you get rich peddling poison on the back of my reputation.¡±

    She stared him down for a long moment, not responding. Luce readied himself to jump once more and take his chances with the water when she nodded. ¡°Fine. You trying to escape? Part of the game. Fair enough. Now your choices are death, or coming back up on that ship with me.¡± She clenched her fists. ¡°We¡¯ll sail straight back to Malin and ransom you to Perimont, and that¡¯ll be the end of it. Choice seems obvious to me, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯re smart enough to see it to, Daddy¡¯s little scientist that you are.¡±

    ¡°Why should I believe you?¡±

    Her thin lips twisted into a smirk. ¡°Because carting you around just stopped being easy and bloodless. As much as I can¡¯t wait to see what shit you¡¯d try to pull at the next port, I¡¯d just as soon be rid of you. Get something out of this fucking mess.¡±

    It had a certain logic to it, but that wasn¡¯t nearly reason enough to trust her. Still, it was at least enough of a pretense that he could justify helping them get to shore.

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    ¡°Better than drowning,¡± he sighed as he stepped back down into the water, beginning to kick.

    The captain smiled deviously as she slid down next to him, her legs moving with far more energy than he could muster.

    She still looked drained by the time they reached the shore, though.

    Luce could barely manage more than falling face-first into the pink-tinted sand once he was clear of the water, while the pirate lay back against it, her hands behind her head, as if this were simply a day at the beach.

    By the time he had the energy to pull himself up, what felt like hours later, the first streaks of orange were rippling across the horizon, heralding the setting of the sun. His eyes were so bleary it looked like the dead trees were moving, but he had to be alert.

    What time was the explosion? It had felt like midday, but time was so hard to measure in that cramped cabin. Even with the window, the monotony had a way of turning minutes to hours.

    Still, even if it had only been minutes, the lack of the ship in sight was puzzling. I may be no sailor, but how long could it possibly take to turn around? Had the bomb damaged it beyond the superficial hole? Perhaps enough to kill four people?

    It didn¡¯t sound right.

    The pirate had moved into the shade of the white husk of a dead tree, its shadow stretching back twice its height. A mighty scowl sat across her face, which was strange, since she hadn¡¯t seemed to notice him get up.

    The slight flinch as he grew closer confirmed that, though she made no move to get up. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to try to run, are you? As vibrant as these woods might look, with your athleticism and survival skills, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be back in Malin by nightfall.¡±

    ¡°If I wanted to run, I¡¯d follow the coast,¡± Luce lied. The last thing he needed was that ship spotting him from the water. ¡°Less chance of running into whatever remnants of the spirit-touched might remain. I shudder to think what they might look like with the forest in this state.¡±

    ¡°Vivacious, powerful, and numerous, I imagine. This bountiful land looks like it could feast a thousand.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°There¡¯s a certain amusement to the thought of a Prince starving though. You¡¯d probably be the first in history.¡±

    ¡°Not even the fourth that I can think of, although I¡¯d certainly be the first of the Grimoire dynasty.¡± He looked back up the coast to the East, searching again for any sign of the ship. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be able to call Harold III ¡®The Hungry¡¯ anymore, I imagine, not when the appellation would fit me so much better.¡±

    She caught him looking, following his gaze over the water. ¡°Don¡¯t get any ideas. They¡¯re coming back, obviously. They¡¯d be absolute fucking idiots not to, with their captain and probably millions of florins in human form back here.¡± She shrugged, somewhat stiffly. ¡°Your little stunt did a number on the ship.¡±

    ¡°How would you know? It knocked you off, same as it did me.¡±

    ¡°Ha! You don¡¯t really believe that, do you?¡± She sneered. ¡°I saw a fat ransom fall into the water and start to drown. So I took steps to correct that.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ jumped after me? Is that what you¡¯re saying?¡±

    She looked him dead in the eye. ¡°You figured that out awfully quickly, didn¡¯t you? The only thing harmed by that blasted explosion was yourself. And the ship, I suppose.¡±

    Luce folded his hands, leaning back against a tree opposite the one she was sitting under. ¡°You didn¡¯t think to hold onto a rope?¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°I saved your foolish hide from drowning. And just barely, at that. There wasn¡¯t time for anything more.¡±

    ¡°Of course. And you just happened to forget to give orders to your crew before you did, too, or you¡¯d know when they¡¯re planning to return.¡±

    ¡°I did. I told them to look after the ship first. No point in picking you up if the thing¡¯s going to sink a few hours later.¡± She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth with her hand. ¡°They¡¯re probably taking this long because you did more damage than you thought. It would hardly be the first time Avalon¡¯s managed that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the same at all!¡±

    She waved a lazy hand at the landscape around them, dead white remnants of the great trees that had been sitting atop salted land. Even this close to the solstice, it looked frozen in perpetual winter, not a trace of green. And yet the stirrings of the wind blew dust to and fro, as if the barren earth had come alive in a twisted mockery of the once-bountiful forest.

    ¡°For someone so eager to criticize your homeland, you certainly showed a great amount of restraint in following in their footsteps. Most of your family would simply order the bombs built, but you needed the satisfaction of doing it personally, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°I have no shame in doing what I needed to do in order escape the fucking pirates who kidnapped me. Any moral framing you could possibly twist this situation into still puts me ahead.¡± Not that philosophy had ever been a great interest of his, but this was hardly a situation requiring much in the way of nuanced understanding.

    The pirate rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes, obviously I¡¯m talking about that. Not the fact that for all your talk of breaking tradition, your first instinct was to build on it. Few in Avalon can even make explosives like that, but you had to learn it. It was that important. ¡±

    ¡°It was part of the curriculum! My studies were concentrated on energy, and that meant taking thermodynamics which taught¡ª¡± Unbidden, his mind turned back to his last conversation with Harold, in the Great Council Chambers. Luce had been asked to provide a spot for Rebecca Williams in Ortus Tower, a plumb spot for the daughter of a warmonger, a specialist in explosives and war. She might make the same excuses, were I to ask her. ¡°You know what? No. I¡¯m not justifying myself to you.¡±

    ¡°Never asked you to.¡± She shrugged. ¡°You¡¯d hardly be the first hypocrite to live in a castle with diamonds on the doorknobs. I remember Lord Airion handed out bread to the survivors of his slaughter for months after the Foxtrap. Whether he was being calculating or contrite, I guarantee you it never eased his guilt.¡±

    ¡°Then why bring it up?¡± Lord Airion especially¡­ Uncle Miles had always supported Luce, had vowed never to repeat the horrors of war. It was easy to forget how many people he had killed. And now when I return, I¡¯ll have to explain to him how I got his daughter killed.

    ¡°You can¡¯t rattle me,¡± Luce said, rattled. How can I change anything if I¡¯ve been tarred by the same destructive folly? It didn¡¯t make the pirate right. It didn¡¯t.

    But it was still difficult not to think about it.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter either way. Honestly, the sanctimonious ones were always more troublesome than the out-and-out villains. There¡¯s more honesty in naked self interest. Makes things easier to work with. Jacques always told me that he¡¯d take a Williams or a Stewart over an Airion in a heartbeat. Greed leaves things workable, sensible. The self-righteous waver back and forth at every turn, but their so-called conviction doesn¡¯t stop them. All they need is a bit of creative framing to justify their actions.¡±

    ¡°Like you?¡± he spat. ¡°You know what I think?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Every pirate can look into the hearts and minds of others and read their thoughts. They teach it on the first day of pirate school.¡±

    ¡°I think that somehow, you fucked up. Maybe you fell off, maybe you forgot to grab the rope, or maybe ¡®your¡¯ crew got sick of you disposing of people for the slightest show of empathy. I think that ship¡¯s not coming back for a long time, if it ever is. You¡¯re poking at me, trying to scare me, or mess with my head, because you¡¯re mad at me for a mistake you made.¡±

    She uncrossed her arms, stretching them out as she yawned once more. ¡°Believe what you want to believe. As long as you don¡¯t run off and get yourself killed before my crew returns, I really couldn¡¯t care less.¡±

    That should have been the end of it.

    Luce could say he was going for a walk along the beach and edge closer and closer West. If he could reach the Rhan, the odds were good he could wave down a passing boat, and even decent that it would owe allegiance to Avalon.

    In that direction, it almost looked as if there were specks of dark green at the far reaches of the forest, dappled in amidst the white. If so, it raised the possibility of getting water out of the plants further west, closer to the mouth of the Rhan, which might have some semblance of life.

    Making it that far before hunger and thirst consumed him was an uncertain bet, especially exhausted as he was, but what alternative was there? What good could possibly come of waiting on the unnaturally still beach with the kidnapper who lied as easily as breathing?

    Even if the ship were coming, the promises of returning him immediately for the ransom seemed hollow, the chances of averting war impossibly dim.

    If he could simply¡ª

    ¡°And I didn¡¯t dispose of Florette, you know, you judgemental imbecile.¡± The pirate took a deep breath. ¡°Her heart wasn¡¯t in it. You saw that look in her eyes when she bumped off what¡¯s-her-face.¡±

    ¡°Cassia,¡± Luce supplied through grit teeth.

    ¡°Sure. And then she got all remorseful around you, giving you books and shit? It wasn¡¯t going to end well. I gave her an out, a way to go back to her simple life knowing she could never be a criminal.¡±

    ¡°What, so you tossed her away because she had too much of a soul? No wonder the only ones left on your ship didn¡¯t feel like coming back for you.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed.

    ¡°I noticed different faces on the deck, and fewer. You were probably losing people at every port, if I had to guess.¡±

    ¡°Unrelated.¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°People come and go, no crew¡¯s exactly the same two jobs in a row. Some of them wanted other things, and I respected that.¡± She leaned her head back against the desiccated tree trunk. ¡°Not that you have any right to know, but Florette had her taste, and it wasn¡¯t right for her. She had to find that out for herself.¡±

    ¡°Had her taste?¡±

    ¡°Of this life. Don¡¯t be childish.¡± The pirate frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not much inclined to it for its own sake, but it seems to me leaving her behind was the kindest thing anyone could do. She knows what awaits a pirate, and now she can go be a farmer or a weaver or something, without any regrets.¡±

    Luce scoffed. ¡°It was the easiest thing for you, not having to deal with her. That doesn¡¯t make it a kindness.¡±

    She shrugged again. ¡°Then it was still the right choice.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª You feckless, self-absorbed, criminal wastrel! What is wrong with you?¡± His voice was punctuated by the sound of wind rushing through the leaves.

    ¡°I don¡¯t delude myself!¡± She stood up, slamming her fist against the bark of the dead tree as the rustling grew louder. ¡°I don¡¯t waste my time complaining about what¡¯s never going to change, and then doing nothing to fix it!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve done a great many things! And you¡­¡± He trailed off as he noticed her eyes growing wide, the anger draining rapidly from her face. ¡°What¡ª?¡±

    He saw the spotted vines curl around her face before he felt them on his skin. Dappled and decayed, they still held him with a force so great that it was impossible to move.

    The spirit-touched¡­

    He didn¡¯t even manage to swear before they curled around his mouth.

 Florette III: The Railyard Robber

    ¡°I respect what you¡¯re going for, but I still think it¡¯d be a better idea to talk to Jacques first.¡± Ysengrin scratched the back of his neck. ¡°He¡¯s always very careful about any risk of being exposed.¡±

    ¡°Then he¡¯ll be even happier to have deniability.¡± Florette stared him down. ¡°These people respect initiative. I came to Robin Verrou with a job already in my hands, and they made me a member of the crew once I pulled it off. I¡¯m sure Jacques is much the same. Only this will be even better for having completed it already.¡± I¡¯m not approaching the ruler of Malin¡¯s underworld as just another one of Eloise¡¯s cast-offs. It would simply be unacceptable.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ Verrou and Jacques parted ways years ago. They¡¯ve got different ways of seeing things. It¡¯s a different style of leadership, and I¡¯m not sure that¡ª¡±

    ¡°They both respected Eloise, so the way they judge merit can¡¯t be that different. I¡¯m telling you, this works.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m sure you believe that. Robin Verrou probably loved you for it. He¡¯s all about that adventurous spirit. See the world, liberate technology from Avalon, build a legend¡­ Obviously it won over Eloise too, but Jacques isn¡¯t like that.¡± Ysengrin sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°They left, but this is Jacques¡¯s city. He practically controls as much as Perimont. He wouldn¡¯t leave Malin unless it was feet-first in a mahogany box.¡±

    ¡°Mahogany?¡±

    ¡°Sure. It¡¯s even grained, durable, with that appealing reddish-brown color¡ª¡±  He interrupted himself, shaking his head. ¡°The material of the box is not the issue.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s stupidly wasteful anyway. If the earth is soft enough to bury a body in, it¡¯s better off being used to grow crops. Land like that¡¯s hard to come by.¡± Far more elegant and respectful to scatter the ashes of the departed on the wind. Florette liked to think it let them see the world at last, even if they¡¯d never escaped the village in life.

    ¡°Maybe your little pissant mountains. Here we¡¯ve got the space to spare. You should see Fuite Gardens; the place is practically a cemetery. You could even¡ª¡± He tilted his head back. ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake, Florette. None of this is important.¡±

    ¡°Obviously. You¡¯re prevaricating because you¡¯re afraid.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Some hardened criminal you turned out to be, scared of a quick in-and-out job. I can see why Eloise wanted the fuck out of here at the first opportunity, if this is the typical level of commitment that can be expected..¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not scared, I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not hard enough for this, not strong enough or smart enough to do what needs to be done. I¡¯m giving you a way to overcome that, but you¡¯re too weak to take it.¡± Florette crossed her arms. ¡°Did I or did I not keep your secret about stealing from Jacques?¡±

    ¡°You promised not to rat me out on that! We went over this weeks ago.¡±

    ¡°And I won¡¯t.¡± She smiled, leaning back. ¡°But the least you can do is return the favor. Come on, we¡¯d be giving Avalon a bloody fucking nose in the bargain.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you for this.¡± Ysengrin gulped, then nodded. ¡°But fine. One job, and then you can¡¯t hold this shit over my head anymore. You drop it, alright?¡±

    I¡¯ve got him.

    ?

    ¡°Sure, I¡¯m in.¡± The man Ysengrin had called Claude brushed the blue-dyed streak of hair out of his face. ¡°Seems like a solid idea, and if Yse trusts you, I can too.¡±

    ¡°Just like that?¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Well, I mean, you saw me buying psyben root, and it might not look great if that got back to Mr. Clocha?ne. Pierre and the acolytes get it, but Clocha?ne¡¯s too cautious to really understand. Doesn¡¯t like any of us acolytes coloring outside the lines. I figure I¡¯m buying your silence this way, right?¡±

    Florette shot Ysengrin a smug smile. ¡°Precisely. I¡¯m glad it¡¯s easy for you to understand.¡±

    ¡°I also want a quarter share of the take.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°We¡¯re all doing this together, all assuming the same risk. One third each.¡±

    ¡°What, really?¡± He laughed. ¡°You are an awful negotiator, Florette. Definitely, then.¡±

    Ysengrin slapped his hand against his face.

    ¡°Ignore him. He¡¯s just scared of Jacques.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Claude nodded. ¡°I think it¡¯ll be fine, Yse. What he doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt him. We¡¯re both hiding things as it is.¡±

    ¡°But this? He¡¯ll find out. He always does.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, obviously.¡± Florette stepped between them. ¡°He¡¯ll find out when we tell him, and then he¡¯ll see how skilled we are. We¡¯ll earn his respect and admiration for our vision and skill. He¡¯ll regret ever doubting us, thinking we weren¡¯t up to the task.¡±

    ?

    ¡°This is what you were doing for almost a month? Camping out in front of the railyard?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called casing, Ysengrin. I can¡¯t believe you wouldn¡¯t know such a rudimentary term. I investigated for any weaknesses, and I found them.¡± Florette folded her arms. ¡°I put in the legwork to make sure it was feasible before I even came to you and Claude.¡±

    She gestured to the fenced-off camp, thin chains of metal forming a makeshift palisade around the tents and fires of the work crew. That had been easy enough to climb, or at least easier than what Florette had in mind, but it wouldn¡¯t be any help.

    The few largest structures were more permanent, cabins of wood with large gaps in the ceiling, presumably to ventilate the heat. The inner sanctum of the camp, guarded by real walls rather than the thin metal lattice, and so many patrols, even at night, that simply clambering over would be impossible. It was impossible to even get close to it without tipping off one of the Guardians on patrol. Florette had tried three times before giving up on that course. The risk of being seen was just too great.

    If it weren¡¯t for the roof of this vacant building, it wouldn¡¯t even be possible to see inside of it.

    Florette pointed to the only cabin that had been painted, a dull green that still managed to stand out from the beige canvas of the tents and bare brown of the earth beneath. ¡°That one is the Director¡¯s office. Celice Thorley, according to the workers I chatted up at the bar. No ¡®Sir¡± or ¡®Lord¡¯ in front of his name, but he¡¯s the only one here who¡¯s considered gently-born, whatever that means.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡± asked Claude. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s a different color, but that big concrete building looks much more official.¡± He gestured to the largest of the structures, brutal grey and twice as tall.

    ¡°That¡¯s where they assemble the parts, best I can tell. They¡¯d probably have plans in there for reference, but there¡¯s always people in there. Not a great prospect. And the Director never even sets foot in there.¡±

    ¡°What makes you so sure?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not hard to tell when you spend enough time casing. Whenever the workers on the train hit a snag, they pause and go to the foreman down on the ground. When it needs to be escalated beyond that, the foreman heads into one of the other cabins in the protected sanctum. Perhaps one in every four or five times that happens, the two of them will head out into that green cabin. Thorley himself never leaves except at the end of the day, earlier than everyone else.¡± Florette smiled. ¡°There¡¯s an elegance to it, that their hierarchy is what gives them away.¡±

    ¡°Wow, you put a lot of work into this.¡± Claude dipped his head slightly, impressed. ¡°I figured this would be more of a smash-and-grab sort of thing.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not all.¡± She smiled. ¡°Thorley¡¯s only in there five days a week. If we hit them on the right day, the theft might not be discovered for another two or three. Perfect for covering our tracks.¡±

    ¡°Ooh.¡± Claude perked his head up. ¡°Very promising, as long as no one sees us.¡±

    ¡°Still haven¡¯t told you the best part.¡± She pointed to the green cabin again. ¡°Look at that, on the roof. He¡¯s the only one who¡¯s got one.¡±

    ¡°What is it, exactly?¡± Ysengrin squinted. ¡°It looks like metal?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a vent, to help keep his cabin cool. It¡¯s supposed to be better than a window because hot air rises, or something. It was hard to get details on that part. Still, it¡¯s an invaluable opportunity.¡±

    ¡°This from your friends at the bar?¡± Ysengrin rolled his eyes. ¡°Surely these people are from Avalon. How could you possibly have ¡®chatted them up¡¯ like that? Your command of the language is atrocious.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s getting better,¡° she spat back. ¡°And anyway, that¡¯s not the point. I was worried about that too, but it turns out that below the foreman level, a good chunk of them are from Malin.¡±

    ¡°Traitors,¡± Ysengrin spoke through bared teeth.

    Claude shrugged. ¡°Five florins¡¯ll get you ten that it¡¯s all about the salary. Pay might be too shit to be worth moving here from Avalon, but it¡¯s a juicy deal for unskilled labor here. Avalon¡¯s got the coin to spare, and there¡¯s a lot of old artisans that can¡¯t keep up with their factories and need the work.¡±

    ¡°It does seem strange though,¡± Florette admitted. ¡°That¡¯s the part I didn¡¯t really understand. They¡¯re inviting Malins into a high-technology project and paying them for the privilege. I¡¯m amazed nothing important has ever leaked out of a place like this before.¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± Ysengrin shook his head. ¡°The railway itself is just iron and wood, nothing complicated there. Nor much of a risk if a Malin gets it into their head to buck. Everyone so much as touching the actual trains would be from Avalon. That¡¯s why they have that inner area walled off. Keeps things split apart just the way they like it.¡±

    ¡°Compartmentalized,¡± Florette supplied. ¡°Makes sense. Still, for now, they¡¯re in the camp, and that¡¯s good enough for us.¡±

    Claude jerked his eyes over to the fence and back. ¡°Is it? How are we supposed to get in?¡±

    Florette leaned back with a smile on her face and began to explain the plan.

    ?

    ¡°Can you believe we still have to make this trip twice a day?¡± a deep male voice grumbled from within the wagon, a large red-faced man cradling his back, probably in his fifties. ¡°They just don¡¯t fucking get it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take any excuse to get out of that camp for a few hours.¡± The one sitting at the front with his hands around the reins of the horse was a light-haired boy who looked barely older than Fernan, his hands stained with coal. ¡°It does seem like a pretty stupid use of our time though. Why go on supply runs when the supply just isn¡¯t there?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I know. No matter how many times they send us out, it¡¯s not going to change the fact that the ships aren¡¯t coming into port with as much coal as they used to.¡± He stuffed a fistful of small purple berries into his mouth. ¡°Probably because Guerron¡¯s such a fucking mess, if I had to guess.¡±

    The four times Florette had followed them out, they had always paused in this alley to eat. Whether or not the wagon actually had any coal within.

    ¡°Yeah, what is going on there, anyway? Fouchand, Leclaire, Renart¡­ It¡¯s like someone¡¯s weeding out all the Imperial loyalists. Aurelian Lumi¨¨re¡¯s the only one left, and it can¡¯t be long before they get him too.¡± The boy took a bite of a piece of fruit, some local red thing that Florette didn¡¯t recognize.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t succumb to that. He was there defending us at the Foxtrap, riding his gleaming horse through Avalon¡¯s ranks. He saved me, he did, with a bolt of golden light. Just you watch, one day he¡¯ll return and liberate us all.¡± Wait, isn¡¯t that the guy Fernan said was a colossal prick?

    Actually, given the other nobles she¡¯d met, that sounded about right. Fighting on the right side of a war didn¡¯t absolve you of that.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t he kill Leclaire with a cannon though?¡±

    Claude would be almost in position by now, which meant that the time to act was approaching.

    The older man let out a loud sigh. ¡°Jean, where do you work? Right this very minute? Lord Lumi¨¨re wasn¡¯t doing any different. It¡¯s just a matter of embracing the inevitable.¡±

    ¡°I know, Paul. But you¡¯d think a sage would have more of a choice.¡±

    ¡°Not if his friends and colleagues are dying all around him. I¡¯ll bet you anything Avalon¡¯s got someone in there messing things up, just like the Winter War. My cousin¡¯s a sailor, and he says that no one would ever be named Laird Heirgroom in Plagette. It¡¯s always some twisted scheme with them. Watch, even these railroad tracks are probably going to end up summoning Khali from beyond the veil to kill us all. Or if not that, something just as bad.¡±

    ¡°If you believe that,¡± the higher voice squeaked, ¡°then how can you keep doing this work? Being a part of it.¡±

    Almost time. Had to be sure no one else was looking.

    Another sigh echoed through. ¡°If it¡¯s not me, it¡¯ll just be someone else. There¡¯s four hundred Malins that would kill a man to have this job and get paid less for it. This way I can at least put food on the table. Like I said, have to accept what we can¡¯t change in life.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    Now.

    Florette jumped out from her hiding place, blocking the way back out of the alley. ¡°Stay calm, both of you.¡± She patted the sword buckled to her hip.

    ¡°Just what this night needed.¡± The older man held up his hands. ¡°I¡¯ve only got four dala. Don¡¯t get paid until the end of the month.¡±

    ¡°Three,¡± croaked the boy. ¡°And two florins.¡± He held out his hand, the pieces inside.

    ¡°You even use their money?¡± Florette suppressed a wrinkle of her nose. ¡°Nevermind, doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°Young lady, if you¡¯ll take a piece of advice, there¡¯s far fatter purses to snatch elsewhere. Leave us to be on our way and we¡¯ll leave you to yours.¡±

    Florette sighed, pulling out a purse and dumping a load of coins into her hand. ¡°I¡¯ve got one thousand florins here.¡± More than a third of her haul from the pulsebox heist. ¡°If I know shit about Avalon, then you¡¯ll lose your jobs for this. Or much, much worse.¡± She tossed the coins back into the purse, then set it down on the carriage seat. ¡°This is for the two of you to just¡­ walk away. What you do after that is up to you, though I¡¯d advise moving on.¡±

    ¡°A¡ªAnd if we don¡¯t?¡± the boy asked, his hand trembling.

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯ll kill us, I expect. Fancy a trip to Fuite Gardens, Jean? I hear it¡¯s lovely this time of year.¡±

    The boy shook his head.

    I won¡¯t, she almost said, for it was true. But what would it help to say that? It was in their best interests to take the offer. Didn¡¯t she owe it to them to give as much encouragement as possible?

    We¡¯d need another way in, if they report this. And the camp would be on guard, after that. It could scuttle the whole thing.

    ¡°If you say no, I¡¯ll go on my merry way. Of course, that purse would be coming with me.¡± She leaned against the wall of the alley, her arms crossed. ¡°Decision¡¯s yours.¡±

    The older man, Paul, picked up a florin and examined it for defects, though he wouldn¡¯t find any. ¡°Might be time to take a trip out of town.¡±

    Florette suppressed a sigh of relief.

    He grabbed the boy¡¯s hand and led him down from his perch. By the time they were out of sight, she knocked twice against the wall, signaling Ysengrin to come out of hiding.

    She hid herself under the coal-dusted blanket at the back, to ensure that she wouldn¡¯t be seen entering. Ysengrin would take care of directing the horse. He spoke the language better, so he would be the one up top to speak with the guards.

    If anyone noticed that only one was returning where two had left, they had a story ready for that as well. But it didn¡¯t seem likely. Most of the time the Guardians would just wave them through without much comment.

    Ysengrin had wanted to kill the laborers, but it seemed a senseless waste.

    Claude had suggested knocking them out, but that had issues of its own. Florette still remembered the story Eloise had told of her father, bashed on the head on the day of the Foxtrap and never again the same.

    This had been Florette¡¯s solution, and admittedly a more expensive one. Captain Verrou might disagree with it, based on what he had said that day on the ship, mere hours before Florette had snuffed the life out of someone. But this was cleaner, and less likely to harm them later. Just the more sensible choice on practical grounds, that¡¯s all.

    There would be two Guardians assigned to the gate of the inner sanctum, but this empty wagon would be fully expected, and Ysengrin could talk around any potential issues that might arise, were there any. From there, they would be inside and ready to steal.

    She had timed it perfectly, setting them on course to arrive an hour after sunset. Thorley would have long left for the day, but there would still be enough activity in and around his cabin that their presence there wouldn¡¯t seem out of place.

    Florette had been half-worried Ysengrin would question her about the bag of money, or even try to take it, but he had played his part without issue.

    He fears Jacques more than he wants a thousand florins. The alternative was that he had actual integrity, but it had been the former Florette was counting on. That, and the fact that the plans they stole would be worth far, far more than that.

    Who was this Jacques, who could command the underworld of the largest city on the continent and still prove inadequate for Eloise?

    Why make yourself a target of Avalon, Jacques? Why break their laws, if you have no intention of actually hurting them?

    He certainly seemed less impressive than Captain Verrou, keeping to his walled garden and fixed trade rather than liberating Avalon of its ill-made designs, but that seemed more suitable for Eloise anyway.

    But then, I don¡¯t really know her at all.

    Months here without so much as a letter had made that much more than clear.

    Eloise was a riddle for another time, however. The wagon had stopped.

    Between the muffling blanket and the gap in language, it was difficult to make out any of the conversation, but before Florette had the chance to worry, they started to move again.

    Not so surprising, that the Guardians can¡¯t tell one Malin from another.

    Claude would have seen them go in, then, and readied himself for his part.

    Florette braced herself, holding her breath in, as she poked her head up out from beneath the dusty blanket. She unbuckled the sword from her belt as she did. No sense in bringing it for this part. If it came to it, she was dead anyway.

    Ysengrin had already dismounted from the driver¡¯s perch and nearly finished securing the horses.

    When he finished, he turned back and nodded to her once, crisply.

    Florette returned the gesture and stepped out of the carriage and into the camp. Immediately, she began walking around towards the back of the Director¡¯s office.

    A loud knock against the front door told her it was time to climb, so climb she did. In less than a minute, she was flattened above the air vent at the ceiling. Child¡¯s play compared to the mountains.

    It had been Ysengrin who brought up the twisted nails Avalon used to fasten things in place, and a good thing he had, since the one covering the vent was secured the same way. But Florette had the tool for the job, and practice using it.

    A handheld metal tool with a narrow flat head, it fit perfectly into the back of the nails. A few twists to the left, and out they went. Repeat it a few more times, and off went the grille.

    With the way clear, Florette risked a glance down and noted the man sat at a smaller desk, closer to the door.

    No cause for alarm, I accounted for that.

    As Ysengrin knocked the second time, the man grunted and stood from his desk. ¡°I hear you! Quiet, please.¡± He opened the door as Florette dangled herself down softly from the rooftop, careful not to lose her grip.

    ¡°Oh good,¡± cried Ysengrin. ¡°You¡¯re here. There¡¯s someone at the gate demanding to speak with Director Thorley.¡±

    The man sighed loudly as Florette crept back behind the behind the eye-level walls of grey felt dividing the director¡¯s corner of the room from the antichamber where the assistant was standing.

    The whole design was very strange, but it was helping her hide right now, so it didn¡¯t seem right to question it.

    ¡°Another one of those wastrels? If they have a problem clearing out the slums, they ought to take it up with Governor Perimont. Or King Harold, for all I care. This isn¡¯t our concern.¡± Mercifully, he was speaking slowly enough that Florette could mostly understand him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t need to tell me,¡± Ysengrin commiserated. ¡°But this one says he¡¯s from the Malin Historical Society. Says the project¡¯s infringing on a reserve he worked out with Mr. Clocha?ne and Lord Perimont.¡±

    ¡°Very subtle, that¡ª¡± He rolled his head back as he continued talking, now too fast for Florette to pick out what he was saying, but she was at least hidden enough not to be seen the flimsy dividers.

    ¡°I know, right? But if he really can complain to them, I thought it might look bad if we hadn¡¯t even heard him out.¡±

    ¡°Governor Perimont¡¯s not going to care too much about that. I doubt Mr. Clocha?ne will either.¡± He sighed again. ¡°But fine, we can make him feel heard. That way there¡¯s no chance of it getting back to the Director. Just let me lock up.¡± He stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

    This is it!

    Florette was no scientist, and it was impossible to tell what would and wouldn¡¯t be valuable, so she simply set about shoving everything made of paper into her bag.

    The desk was dense with materials, but many of them looked like diagrams of the trains, which had to be the priority. One stack had a picture of coal on the top of it, which meant it was probably important as well.

    He¡¯s not a hard worker, is he? She managed to fit the entire contents of the top of the desk, along with everything in the drawers.

    The assistant¡¯s desk she left alone, in the hopes it would delay discovery of their theft. He came in even on days that the director didn¡¯t, and it seemed unlikely he would have anything worth taking anyway.

    After finishing her work, the bag was more than a bit heavy, which would make it difficult to get it out quietly, but hopefully Claude¡¯s distraction would account for that.

    On a whim, she flicked her eyes over the bookshelf as well. Just one. Two at most.

    Something about trains, or steam, or coal. Energy, that was the important thing. The language barrier made it difficult, but the one called Modern Principles of Some Unintelligible Word looked sciency enough to matter, as did Advanced Thermowhatever, and The End of Time, which was the only book whose title she understood all the words of.

    All three went into the bag, now quite a strain to carry. Then she tied the drawstring to a longer loop of twine, then the twine onto her belt.

    With a swing of her arms, she leapt up, trying to reach the ceiling again.

    The idea was that the slack in the thread would let her get back onto the roof and then pull the bag up.

    The sudden pain in her side and abrupt stop in her jump, just short of the roof, meant that things had not gone according to plan.

    Not enough twine. Fuck!

    That landing had been loud, too.  If not for the commotion outside, it might even have been enough to give her away.

    Thank fuck for Claude.

    Her fingers fumbling, she untwisted the twine, freeing it from her belt. She affixed it to her ankle, which would hopefully give enough slack to reach.

    Despite the pain, that made the jump easy enough. Small mercies.

    But now she had to pull herself up with a massive sack tied to one leg. She managed to get halfway out of the vent before she felt the tug on her leg, hard and immovable.

    With a twist of her other foot, she managed to at least lift with both legs instead of one, which helped, but not enough to make it anything less than excruciating.

    Just pull. It¡¯ll all be worth it when the job is done.

    After the most agonizing stretch of her life, Florette managed to grip onto the sides of the vent, which meant she could finally lift with her hands.

    They were plenty tired themselves after all the acrobatics, but compared to that last awkward maneuver, this was nothing.

    She still felt like her whole body was on fire by the time she managed to finally get that damned bag out of the room.

    The whole thing had been far less subtle than she¡¯d hoped, too, but luckily Claude was pulling his weight.

    He was shouting and complaining for all to hear in front of the gate, dressed in the finest clothes he owned, the blue streak in his hair visible for all to see. That had to help with his bona fides, considering the acolytes he belonged to were charged with protecting the cultural heritage of Malin.

    It certainly meant that the Guardians were clustered around him at a respectful distance, taking him more seriously than a random passer-by.

    Ysengrin was slowly backing away from the confrontation, smart enough not to turn and look at the roof, lest someone else follow his gaze and spot Florette.

    They ended up reaching the wagon at around the same time.

    ¡°Everything go alright?¡± he whispered as he helped her load the bag. ¡°Claude¡¯s really earning his take.¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°One little snag, but I took care of it. Still, I¡¯m glad we¡¯ll be riding back.¡±

    Ysengrin nodded. ¡°Might be tough to get back out of the gate right now though. It looks like the entire camp¡¯s out there watching the show. Still, it doesn¡¯t really matter if they¡¯re suspicious after as long as we make it out first.¡±

    ¡°Why are the Guardians there, anyway?¡±

    Ysengrin snorted. ¡°They¡¯re just pissed off. One of them said he recognized him, that Claude pushed him into the water once and nearly killed him.¡±

    ¡°Did he?¡±

    ¡°Fuck no. He wouldn¡¯t be stupid enough to piss off a Guardian and leave them alive to talk about it. They¡¯re just pissy about this.¡± As if on cue, a Guardian punched Claude in the face, and a cry erupted from the crowd. The director¡¯s assistant was the loudest among them, waving his arms in their face.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Ysengrin assured. ¡°A guy like that¡¯s been punched in the face plenty of times.¡± He began readying the horse.

    ¡°Still¡­¡± Florette peered out from behind the cab. ¡°This could be trouble. No one¡¯s going to forget this.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll remember the blue hair and nothing else. Trust me, as long as he lays low for a few weeks after, the whole thing will blow over.¡±

    Claude swung his fist back at the Guardian. He missed, but apparently that was enough.

    ¡°No, fuck, Claude, what are you doing?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s defending himself,¡± Florette answered. ¡°What¡¯s the harm in that? Everyone saw that he wasn¡¯t the one who started it.¡±

    The same Guardian kicked Claude hard in the side while two others pinned his arms behind his back. Then he got another punch to the same side of his face, right over the eye. Even at this distance, the blood was easy to spot.

    ¡°We have to help him!¡±

    Ysengrin blinked. ¡°We have to get the fuck out of here.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s your friend, right?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do for him! Nothing except hope the solicitor can get him out.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    Ysengrin grit his teeth. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time to explain it. Just trust me. The best thing we can do for him is get the fuck out of this place so he has money to come back to once he¡¯s out of jail.¡±

    Fuck. ¡°They¡¯re not going to kill him, right? Is there any risk of that?¡±

    ¡°Almost none. Absolutely none for the next few days.¡±

    Florette clenched her fists. ¡°If it comes to that, we break him out. Alright?¡±

    ¡°Alright! Now get in!¡±

    Florette jumped face first into the wagon, covering herself with the blanket again, this time with the bag under it as well.

    She didn¡¯t see Claude¡¯s tortured look of anguish, but she felt it, and she heard his screams.

 Fernan I: The Traitor

    Fernan I: The Traitor

    I¡¯ve done it. I killed them all.

    Jerome¡¯s prone form was lightly smouldering, the edges of his clothes singed and tattered.

    If the alderman died, his deal with G¨¦zarde would end. The geckos will have free rein to wipe out the entire village, and I¡¯ve invited them all to its doorstep.

    A bargain built on trickery and artifice, a man in a paper crown bowing before the flame spirit and naming himself king. The deal Jerome had made was manifestly unfair, and yet he was all that stood between Villechart and ruin.

    The villagers faced Fernan as one, their flames weak and frightened even as their accusation grew palpable.

    A screeching hiss filled the air, the deafening cry of dozens of geckos drowning out all other sound. The flames followed, jets of green erupting into the sky with a celebratory glee. And why wouldn¡¯t they be happy? The man that had deceived and slaughtered them for decades had fallen at last.

    And all of us with him. Bastard.

    Fernan approached cautiously, swatting flames away with his hand as he examined the warmth within the alderman, the faint shimmer in the air in front of his lips.

    ¡°Mara,¡± he spoke, practically a whisper amidst the cacophony. ¡°He¡¯s still alive.¡±

    The gecko tilted her head, skittering closer one step at a time. ¡°More than he deserves.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Fernan agreed, ¡°but the moment the life leaves his body, all your siblings will have free rein to massacre the village.¡±

    ¡°The way they massacred us?¡± A slight puff of hot air escaped her mouth. ¡°You can¡¯t say they were defending themselves, not when it was at the cost of our food and our lives.¡± She sounded just like Florette.

    ¡°They did. We did. I won¡¯t say otherwise.¡± Fernan brushed the side of her head. ¡°That¡¯s why I stopped Jerome. It was the right thing to do.¡± He turned his head back to the scared villagers, already edging back towards their homes. ¡°Do you really want them dead too? Is that your solution?¡±

    Mara snorted a larger puff of smoke. ¡°Obviously not, Fernan! But what are we supposed to do?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t talk to them? Get them to pause while we work this out?¡±

    The geckos¡¯ celebration was already beginning to wind down in intensity. It wouldn¡¯t be long before they crowded around Jerome to feast on his flesh. And after that, the town.

    Mara shook her head back and forth, as convincing with the gesture now as any person. ¡°Most of them are too dumb to understand. And the older ones remember. I can¡¯t tell them to burrow away from all this, not now.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to trust each other to do the right thing.¡± Fernan grit his teeth. ¡°Mara, daughter of G¨¦zarde, I invite you and you alone into the bounds of Villechart. Do as you will.¡±

    She cocked her head to the side, her flames twisting and convulsing in red and orange.

    He bent down to the rasping body, willing the heat away as he wrapped his arms around him. ¡°If you take him into the village, your siblings won¡¯t touch him. And you can make sure he doesn¡¯t start any trouble either.¡±

    ¡°And then what? How does that fix anything?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to G¨¦zarde.¡± He dragged the alderman across Mara¡¯s back, doing his best to secure him in place. ¡°Go, before they figure out what¡¯s happening!¡±

    She dashed away, sending any remaining onlookers from the village scurrying back towards the false promise of safety their homes could provide.

    Leaving Fernan surrounded by dozens of her bewildered kin, poised to attack. Mara was the only one who could speak a human tongue, and they didn¡¯t seem particularly ready to talk in any case.

    He jumped towards the still-flaming bag Jerome had set alight, where the sundials still resided. As his arms found purchase around it, he pushed flame from his feet, springing high into the air.

    The landing was rougher. A snow drift helped to cushion some, but slowing his fall enough to avoid breaking a bone left him with a mere trickle of the energy he¡¯d had, and far from where he needed to be.

    The glowing green patch on the mountain showing G¨¦zarde¡¯s lair was barely visible in the distance, little more than a speck. With the melting of the snow, a normal human wouldn¡¯t have been able to spot it at all, but the heat was unmistakable.

    It would take hours to get there, though, even at a faster run than Fernan truly thought he could manage.

    Jerome could die any minute, too. There was no telling how much of his life the alderman had spent holding back the flames, and they had left him plenty injured besides. Not to mention the risk to Mara, hiding alone amongst people who saw her as a monster, guarding a man who truly was.

    What¡¯s a week of my life, for that? There was a good chance all of it would be gone within the day anyway.

    Fernan felt the fire fill his body, that burning warmth of life and hope, and thrust it beneath him, shooting himself into the air once more. Time that could never be regained, spent and lost.

    It took another week of life to keep himself aloft long enough to steer himself towards the lair and land safely, and even that sent a shock through his bones, with nothing to cushion his fall save the flames he threw out beneath him.

    Lord Lumi¨¨re made it look so easy. In that duel with Lady Leclaire, the sun sage had won, but had paid no mind to the fallout. He¡¯d considered untold deaths, even those of his own temple, as merely the price of victory. What had he said, lying feebly abed in the aftermath? ¡°Now they¡¯ve learned their lesson.¡±

    And even he had more of a plan than I do.

    Fernan took a deep breath, then stepped into the cavern.

    It looked so much clearer now, with the warm glow bouncing off the walls in a soothing illumination. The sundials under his arm cast further light against them, the gold blending with the green, lighting his way forward.

    Jerome had only wanted to keep Fernan safe. He already had the adoration of the village, the power and wealth stolen from the geckos whose home he had invaded. He had wanted for nothing, and still tried to save Fernan.

    How could someone so callous and selfish still be so willing to help? Jerome could have simply told him that he had to die, and he would have accepted his fate to keep the village safe. Instead, he¡¯d proposed that trip to Guerron, and all of that¡­ messiness that had ensued.

    He had sent Fernan as a beggar to a temple Jerome had probably never so much as set foot in, let alone been trained by, simply in some hopes of saving him. Why? No matter how he tried, there was no way to make it fit together.

    None contested him as he strode on through the cavern, though small flashes of green skittered past in huge numbers. The larger ones must all be in Villechart. Mara had done good work, gathering them like that. The two of them alone might never have been able to contest Jerome.

    If only it hadn¡¯t put everything at so great a risk.

    If only I hadn¡¯t.

    There had been the life he always wanted, offered with open hands by someone he had always trusted. The protector of the village, the sage of Villechart, the only thing standing between them and annihilation. It¡¯s even true, thanks to his deceptions. Truth from lies, just as G¨¦zarde had warned.

    Fernan couldn¡¯t regret it, not truly. Not after everything Jerome had done. Still¡­

    For the moment, the alderman lived, and a small part of Fernan was glad the flames hadn¡¯t taken his life, even apart from the village whose livelihood was tied to his. It felt wrong, but¡­

    None of it might matter soon, anyway.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Fernan¡¯s face was calm as he stepped into the glowing cavern where G¨¦zarde¡¯s enormous glowing form resided, the glare from his body almost blinding.

    ¡°You are early, human-spawn.¡± The hissing and scraping was fainter, stretched to the edges of the cavern by the smaller, quieter geckos, but no less unsettling for it. ¡°I gave you until the solstice, and yet Mara has come to rally my other children already. Have you abandoned your people so easily? You were so very insistent, not two moon¡¯s turns past.¡±

    Have I? They wouldn¡¯t like what was to follow; Fernan was absolutely positive of that.

    ¡°I come not to forsake Villechart, but to represent it.¡± He flared his eyes out, feeling himself diminish with the expenditure. ¡°I come to make amends. This I swear to be true, along with all that I say to you today. My soul is yours, should I lie.¡±

    The glow shifted to a darker green, a deep flame that seemed to almost seep into the walls of the cavern, as if G¨¦zarde were rooting himself in place.

    ¡°Alderman Jerome has fallen. The man who deceived you is now at Mara¡¯s mercy, near death.¡± Fernan breathed deep, feeling the warmth spread from his lungs through his body. ¡°I lured him outside the walls of the village, away from the safety guaranteed by your deal.¡±

    The walls rumbled and cracked and hissed. It almost sounded like laughter. ¡°You are exactly like the rest of your kind: selfish, callous, vicious, and deceitful. I knew turning you against each other was a fruitful plan.¡±

    ¡°He wronged you, and your children. I stopped him because it was the right thing to do.¡±

    The rumbling abruptly stopped, the glow fading slightly. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Fernan could almost hear Florette¡¯s voice pulling him back, a whisper from his mind. ¡°Fuck all of them,¡± she would say. ¡°You don¡¯t owe them anything. Just get out while you can. Wash your hands of this shit.¡±

    ¡°The Sage of Villechart,¡± he answered. ¡°Second to make a compact with the great flame spirit G¨¦zarde, and the first to come by it honestly.¡± He pulled the sundials from his bag, placing them on the ground in front of him.

    Pure power, imbued with the light of the sun.

    ¡°You wanted me to invite you and your children into the village before the summer solstice. Jerome offered a way to honor the letter of agreement while breaking the spirit. These sundials would have let us start anew while still stealing what¡¯s rightfully yours.¡±

    What I learned at the temple was for Soleil, but this is all for you. ¡°Great Spirit G¨¦zarde, Father of Mara, I present to you and you alone this offering. Two sundials, imbued with vast spiritual power from your patron spirit Soleil. May it feed your children and light the spark in their eyes, that they might grow clever and strong.¡±

    Fernan could almost sense the bewilderment in the air as he channeled the heat through his fingertips, engulfing the sundials in intense green light. They were slow to unravel, their glowing white fighting back against his green, but Fernan persevered, pouring more and more life into the heat until the dials began to melt. It only took moments from there, the puddle of golden sludge dissolving into the air as its energy was offered to G¨¦zarde.

    ¡°I know this is nothing compared to decades of death and strife. Of theft. But I want to change that. I think now I finally have the power to do something about it.¡±

    ¡°Power¡­¡± The green glow of the cavern brightened, the lizard form of the spirit seeming to grow. ¡°You had power. The energy of Soleil, the life of the despicable human who holds all your pitiful lives in his hands. You gave it all up. Now you have nothing. Another worthless paper crown of lies, nothing to back it up.¡±

    Fernan breathed deep again, centering himself in the whirling inferno of light and heat swirling out of the flame spirit. ¡°I have goodwill and honesty. Those I offer freely too. I hope you can accept them.¡±

    The light from the spirit dimmed, even flickered. ¡°Your alderman is mine.¡±

    ¡°Mara will take him to you, once we can be sure you won¡¯t wipe the village out.¡±

    ¡°I will commit to no such¡ª¡±

    ¡°No more mining.¡± Fernan clung to the warmth within him, willing it to be true. ¡°As the Sage of Villechart, and chosen successor for alderman, I declare to you that the theft of coal is at an end. Any humans of Villechart who cannot respect that are not welcome there.¡±

    ¡°Platitudes! Trickery! Deceit!¡±

    ¡°I have no crown. Not even one made of paper. I can¡¯t promise that everyone will obey me, but¡­ they should listen to me at least, when I tell them the danger. I have to believe that they¡¯ll see.¡±

    ¡°The ones who cannot shall perish.¡± The spirit¡¯s fire grew even dimmer, a pale red instead of its energetic green. ¡°And the bargain is struck.¡±

    Fernan turned around, facing the entrance of the cavern. ¡°Those sundials weren¡¯t just made by Soleil, you know,¡± he said over his shoulder. ¡°They¡¯re a collaboration between spirit and sage. A great working only possible because they worked together. Soleil has all that power because people give it to him.¡± Not always willingly, but there¡¯s no reason that has to be true. ¡°Nothing¡¯s stopping you from doing the same.¡±

    The spirit remained silent as Fernan left.

    ?

    Why did I think this would work?

    ¡°Her name is Mara,¡± he explained desperately. ¡°She¡¯s as smart as any of us, and even speaks our tongue.¡±

    ¡°Hi humans! I¡¯m really sorry about all the attacking and burning and stuff! It¡¯s really cool to be able to talk to so many of you at once. Back in the city I had to watch from the outside because they were scared of me so it had to stay a secret, but you all know all about me already. Um. Because of all the fighting. Which I¡¯m really sorry about, again. But you were just as bad! Your leader most of all. And you started it! Great to meet you all, though!¡±

    Inspiring words, Mara.

    ¡°Beast!¡± someone shouted. ¡°Monster!¡±

    Fernan flared his eyes with newly restored energy, the share he had been given back from G¨¦zarde absorbing the sundials¡¯ energy. ¡°She¡¯s been touched by a spirit, just like me. These mountains are her home, just like us. She and her siblings depend on that coal even more than we do.¡±

    He almost hoped that someone would shout out ¡°impossible¡± in response. At least that would mean they were listening enough to understand.

    Mara circled around his legs, facing his people alongside him, but that only made them more scared. ¡°This was never our place,¡± he continued desperately. ¡°We¡¯re interlopers, thieves. But I negotiated with the spirit G¨¦zarde. If we stop mining, that means no more attacks. No more perilous trips down the mountain, worried about dying every time we try to sell our goods.¡±

    ¡°What goods?¡± Fernan turned to face the person who had cried it, only to find the familiar glow of his mother, dim streaks running down her cheeks. ¡°Fernan, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re alive. And if you say Jerome tricked all of us like that, I believe you. But¡­ What are we going to do?¡±

    ¡°I have almost six thousand florins from Lady Camille Leclaire. I¡¯ll happily use all of it to support the village, and then¡­¡± And then what? That could last them some time, but not forever, not without any way to renew it.

    Fernan grabbed her hand tightly. ¡°We have our gardens. Our goats. We can get by.¡± Barely. Without the grain that coal could buy, getting the whole village through winter would be¡­ ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out somehow. We have to.¡±

    Mother hugged him tight, but she didn¡¯t respond.

    When he opened his eyes, the rest of the villagers had dispersed to their houses once more.

    ¡°They don¡¯t even care,¡± he mourned. ¡°They don¡¯t trust me.¡±

    ¡°You were marked by the enemy,¡± she whispered. ¡°Even if it means nothing, they still... ¡°

    ¡°If they don¡¯t stop or leave, they¡¯ll be slaughtered! Those were the terms of the deal! I told G¨¦zarde to have faith in humanity. To believe in trust, and kindness, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, Fernan.¡± Mother squeezed his hand, but she had no words of comfort.

    ?

    They feared him enough to believe the warnings, at least. Living with their deaths on his conscience would have been too much to bear.

    First it had been Gabriel, the smith, and his family along with him. They had taken the first of the wagons, and by the end of the day the rest were gone, along with four more families and their belongings packed up inside them.

    The lack of wagons hadn¡¯t stopped anyone else, though. The old foreman, Thierry, and his family had simply packed what they could into rucksacks and abandoned the rest in their empty homes.

    No one entered the mines, at least.

    Fernan had thought the miners would be the first to leave, once the departures began. Many had, of course, but other than the herders and gardeners, most of the few who remained in the hollow village of ghosts and memories were the ones who had worked directly in the mines.

    ¡°They don¡¯t know anything else,¡± Mother had told him. ¡°And it isn¡¯t as if the other towns can offer any better. Enquin¡¯s having to send people away to be able to feed everyone as it is. And all of that will only get worse if all of our miners swarm into them, ravenous and desperate.¡±

    Those who remained looked to Fernan, but not without a spark of hatred in their eyes. And fear as well, in abundance.

    It probably didn¡¯t help that Mara lived in the village with them now, taking up occupancy in one of the abandoned houses. But Fernan was done sending her away because it was convenient. She was welcome anywhere he could call home.

    Even if that home is an empty ruin, picked over by the hopeless and the stubborn while everyone else moves on to better prospects.

    Mara had delivered Jerome to Gezarde¡¯s den as promised, but he had only lived two days after that. Probably a blessing, given what the spirit would have had in mind for him, but all of it still twisted Fernan up inside.

    He probably died cursing my name. But did he deserve any less?

    By the time two months had passed, Only five houses still had occupants. And one was home to Mara, another to Fernan. Even feeding that few people was liable to drain most of the florins Camille had given him before the end of the next winter, given all the supplies they needed. And may Khali curse the taxman, when the time comes for that.

    But it was a peace, no matter the cost. The invasion and exploitation had ended, and now recovery and cooperation could begin. It was something worth protecting, however broken.

    Enough to fear for, on the hot evening at the cusp of summer when a man glowing white and grey rode up to the cracked gates of Villechart. ¡°Villagers!¡± he called. ¡°I seek a man with flames in his eyes, Fernan the flame sage. I have traveled far and wide to seek him, and am told he resides as alderman of this village.¡±

    Fernan stepped out cautiously, trying to subtly hold the man back from what remained of the town.

    ¡°Ah, there you are! Good!¡± He dismounted smoothly, one fluid motion bringing him from the saddle to the ground. ¡°Duchess Annette has urgent need of you. Your presence is requested in Guerron at once.¡±

    He almost laughed. Of course! Why not?

    ¡°She needs a sage to represent her at her trial,¡± the rider explained. ¡°Apparently you¡¯re one of the good ones.¡±

 Gary II: The Princeéˆ¥æªš Agent

    To Sir Gerald Stewart,

    I hope this letter finds you in good health. Your missives regarding the investigation have been invaluable, and your progress precisely what I knew I could expect from you. Please continue to keep me posted while keeping it discreet from Perimont and any of the Guardians or other officials. This remains a matter of utmost secrecy.

    To help you on your quest, I¡¯ve enclosed a gift that I think you will find helpful. When you wield it, your power and prestige will be beyond question.

    However, please do not mention that you received it from me. It¡¯s still a prototype from the Tower, not yet in wide circulation. This is probably the only one outside of Cambria, as a matter of fact. Treasure it accordingly, and use it in good health.

    ~ Harold Grimoire, fifth to bear the name, Prince of Pantera and heir to the throne

    Wordier than the Prince usually was, but that was probably because of all the politicking in the Great Council. Nothing to worry about.

    More importantly, though¡­

    Gary had unwrapped the object within the parcel before even glancing at the letter, tearing it open like a man should. A polished wooden handle attached to a slightly rust-spotted metal tube, lightly worn from Tower testing but still near-pristine. It fit perfectly in his grip, as if it had been made for him.

    A pistol.

    All the power of a cannon in a package that could be held in one hand.

    It¡¯s beautiful.

    Gary spun it around in a fluid motion, demonstrating his adeptness with the weapon, practically an extension of himself, then moved his hand to tuck it into his belt.

    ¡°What was that noise?¡± Charlotte asked, barging into his room where he was reading his secret correspondence with Prince Harold like some sort of unbearable busybody. ¡°And what¡¯s that thing on the floor?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business.¡± He reached down to grab it. ¡°A gift from a close friend, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Charlotte narrowed her eyes, suspicious that such a lone wolf would also be gregarious enough to maintain close relationships. ¡°Right, ok. What does it do?¡±

    ¡°It kills people.¡± Gary grinned from ear to ear. ¡°Better than anything else in the world.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± She jumped back slightly. ¡°Hopefully you never have to use it, then.¡±

    Eh? How could someone miss the point so completely? Clearly she was just being spiteful; that was the only way it made sense.

    ¡°What is wrong with you? I¡¯m a knight; killing evil villains is what we do. With any luck, there¡¯ll be good reason to use it today. Immediately, even.¡± What else was the point of a weapon? ¡°It¡¯ll be invaluable in my investigation.¡±

    ¡°Our investigation,¡± she insisted, desperate to ride his coattails. ¡°Or Malin¡¯s, really. Letting a bomber run around is dangerous for everyone.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be saving everyone.¡± Gary patted her on the head lightly as he tucked the pistol away, this time refraining from the elegant spinning. His underling was jealous enough as it was. ¡°Keenly observed.¡±

    Charlotte sighed, barely managing to maintain composure in the face of Gary¡¯s well-earned favor from the Prince. ¡°That¡¯s not why I¡¯m here anyway. Captain Whitbey said Governor Perimont has a message for you.¡±

    ¡°Whitbey? He¡¯s a useless ponce. It¡¯s a wonder the Guardians haven¡¯t fallen entirely to anarchy under him.¡± The man had had the nerve to try to take Gary¡¯s sword! It was an affront, it was. Although now, as long as he kept Prince Harold¡¯s gift about him at all times, he would never truly be unarmed¡­ ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let him order you around so much,¡± he ordered.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s really the important takeaway here. What would Perimont need from you again? I thought he already felt you out months ago.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in urgent need of my expertise, no doubt. I¡¯m the sworn protector of the Avalon royal family, ace investigator of that wicked criminal Clocha?ne, and the Prince¡¯s chosen agent in matters personal and political, as well as a master spymaster.¡±

    ¡°Spymaster?¡± Charlotte choked back laughter, no doubt still thinking of how incompetent her commander in the Guardians was. ¡°I¡¯ve been with you through this entire investigation. There is absolutely no way that you of all people have any spies you¡¯re ¡®master¡¯-ing.¡±

    ¡°Not true,¡± he corrected. ¡°I receive regular updates from Jethro in Guerron. He¡¯s a spy directly under my command, so secret no one even knows about him. A secret to everyone, Charlotte. All the world, save me and literal royalty.¡± At least, that seemed safe to assume. Prince Harold had certainly never mentioned anyone else knowing about him.

    ¡°And me, now.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. I¡¯m sorry, but I would never tell you about something that sensitive. Nice try, though.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª You just¡ª¡±

    ¡°No time for that now, Charlotte. We can all laugh at Whitbey later. What¡¯s important now is the Governor¡¯s message. Do you have it with you?¡±

    Charlotte nodded, pulling out an envelope sealed in red wax, the Governor¡¯s axe-shaped seal pressed into it to ensure authenticity. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about what you told me about that prisoner girl, by the way.¡±

    Gary ignored her babbling, tearing the letter forth in one fluid clawing motion that barely even damaged the message inside.

    ¡°If there¡¯s really something going on in those tunnels, we¡¯ll probably want backup with us when we investigate. And I think someone should take a look before we have her show us, to make sure it isn¡¯t a trap. I¡¯ve never seen an Acolyte with an entire head of blue hair; something seems off about it. And I heard they arrested another one a few days ago too, making some kind of ruckus outside the railyard¡­¡±

    Her mumbled ramblings faded into the background as Gary thumbed through Perimont¡¯s letter.

    To Sir Gerald Stewart or whomever it may concern,

    I continue to be surprised at the pace of your investigation. No doubt few men in your position would have made the amount of progress you have after so many months of investigation. Truly you are a unique example of knighthood. I often think about the confluence of events that led you to your position, pondering how different things might have been had Prince Harold charged another with your task.

    That went on for several more paragraphs. Empty flattery, perhaps, but it wasn¡¯t like it wasn¡¯t earned. It was repetitive enough that Gary just skimmed it until he found something more interesting.

    My Forresters have discovered an unexpected matter that may demand your attention. A number of important documents appear to be missing from the office of Overseer Celice Thorley. They suspect that robbery may be the cause, or other malfeasance.

    Complicating the matter is the arrest of an acolyte days prior. For reasons that I have already belabored to you relating to Pierre Cadoudal of the Acolytes and other figures in cooperation with them who shall remain nameless, I believe that you are the best suited to look into that aspect of the incident.

    Please note that this imprisoned acolyte is the only aspect I wish for you to examine. The Guardians and the Forresters will remain the primary investigators on the potential robbery. Do not interfere with their investigation.

    Cordially,

    Gordon Perimont

    Lord of Carringdon and Governor of Malin.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to the railyard,¡± Gary announced, stuffing the letter into his pocket. He would destroy it along with Prince Harold¡¯s later. It was hard to find a fire in summer, but burning did tend to be the ideal way to dispose of secret documents. Anything less thorough had a tendency to leave them vulnerable to discovery, according to the Prince.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°You were listening!¡±

    ¡°What? No. There¡¯s not a single person who could keep up with that stream of babble. It¡¯s adorably naive that you think anyone would care what you have to say.¡± Tough words, perhaps, but they would help her grow. Or at least become less annoying, which would be more than enough. ¡°We¡¯re going to the railyard because Perimont wants me to investigate the robbery that just happened there.¡±

    Charlotte raised an eyebrow. ¡°A robbery? We definitely need to try interrogating that acolyte then. It has to be connected, and Perimont won¡¯t have his people go anywhere near Clocha?ne himself. Plus, if the charges against him are light enough, they might be able to snag a solicitor to get him out of the jail, and then he¡¯ll be in the wind.¡±

    ¡°Were you even listening? Someone stole documents from right under the Director¡¯s nose. Probably because he¡¯s a useless bureaucrat, if I had to guess. If I can catch the man who did it, I¡¯ll be a hero among heroes. And I can probably turn them to give up Clocha?ne while I¡¯m at it.¡±

    ¡°The Guardians can do that. We¡¯re the only ones who can go anywhere near the Acolytes without causing an incident. Don¡¯t you see the opportunity?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you? I can finally show those stuffy science fucks how stupid they are.¡± The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Perimont had given him an amazing gift here, even if it couldn¡¯t compare to Prince Harold¡¯s. ¡°To the railyard!¡±

    ?

    ¡°Yes, just like the story of Sigfried and Celice.¡±

    Would this doddering fool never stop embarrassing himself?

    Director Thorley seemed like he had been born sitting behind a desk, with his weak arms and thinned-out grey hair slicked back with oil. Not even a man. It was little surprise that he had failed so horribly, just the way those haughty ¡®intellectuals¡¯ tended to.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Thorley continued, ¡°my father wasn¡¯t named Sigfried, rather Sidney, but the resemblance is still there, no? Especially now that my son Kelsey is following in my footsteps, just as the Celice of legend reclaimed his ancestral sword to avenge his father. The Tower has even taken an interest in his work at the College. The way I hear it, it sounds like the Prince may even be involved.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse. As if Prince Harold would put up with this nonsense. Thorley was obviously delusional.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Gary slammed his hands down against the desk. ¡°We¡¯re not here to hear you blather on about some old story.¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± added Charlotte. ¡°Sir Gerald doesn¡¯t waste his time with frivolities like reading.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Charlotte.¡± Nice of her to back him up for once, instead of trying to hold him back.

    The Director jumped back, his eyes growing wide. ¡°Young man, that is no way to speak with someone. As I already explained to the Guardians, I simply¡ª¡±

    ¡°You allowed hundreds of pages of documents to be stolen right out from under you. Do you have any idea how valuable they are?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Actually, do you? Because I have no idea.¡±

    Thorley lifted a finger and opened his mouth, then closed it again. ¡°What exactly is it that you want to know, Sir Gerald?

    Charlotte jumped in before Gary could reply. ¡°Let¡¯s start with what went missing. Captain Whitbey said it was papers from your desk?¡±

    ¡°All of them.¡± Thorley sighed. ¡°I was drafting plans for a sleeker design for the train¡¯s engine, with a more efficient method of combustion to aid in fitting it. More power in a smaller space, the ultimate goal of engineering.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound so bad, then,¡± Gary noted. ¡°It¡¯s not like that¡¯s something they can sell.¡±

    Thorley buried his face in his hands. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect you to understand the importance of reference material, but all the individual pieces are important. The structure of the train carriage, prior combustion engine designs, coal generators¡­¡±

    Ugh, you are so dull. ¡°So what?¡±

    ¡°So it could represent a great loss, if the thief realizes what they¡¯ve taken. I dread to imagine what could happen if papers like that fell into the wrong hands.¡±

    ¡°He would know,¡± Gary noted grimly. ¡°This is obviously the work of a master thief. In and out in the night, without a single witness left behind, nor even a trace that they were ever here.¡± Clocha?ne was supporting this criminal, no doubt, but the man himself would have to be ferocious in his own right.

    ¡°What about the Acolyte caught outside?¡± Charlotte asked, stomping all over Gary¡¯s moment discovering his arch nemesis, a criminal worthy of the enmity of a master investigator.

    Thorley shrugged. ¡°I wasn¡¯t here for that. All I know is that on the first of the week when I returned, my desk had been ransacked.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m noticing another desk here.¡± Charlotte pointed to the smaller desk towards the front of the office, still full of materials and papers. ¡°Your partner?¡±

    ¡°Hardly! My former assistant, that¡¯s all. He helped manage my schedule and deal with the riff-raff when the need arose. A good man, or so I thought.¡±

    ¡°He was the thief!¡± Gary exclaimed. ¡°Obviously he infiltrated this camp, biding his time as he plotted and rose through the ranks. Then, when the moment was right, he struck. Truly devious. As clever as it is vile.¡±

    ¡°The Forresters concluded otherwise, once they were finished with him.¡± Thorley shook his head sadly, looking to Gary for leadership in the face of this impossible threat. ¡°I¡¯m inclined to agree. He showed back up for work the next few days as if nothing had happened. No thief, devious or otherwise, would be so foolish. Even the lowliest wastrel would know to flee the scene of their crime.¡±

    ¡°Why is he a ¡®former¡¯ assistant, then?¡± Charlotte bent down to look through the drawers and cabinets of the smaller desk. ¡°If he didn¡¯t do anything wrong, I mean.¡±

    Thorley scoffed. ¡°I certainly wouldn¡¯t go that far. The man allowed this theft to happen. Right under his very nose! It¡¯s absolutely unacceptable behavior. I can¡¯t have a man like that working for me, nor on a project this sensitive and important. The fact that he even tried to argue with me when I relieved him of duty cemented it. For all his virtues, the man had no self awareness.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Prince Harold would agree.¡± Gary nodded. ¡°He demands only the best of those in his employ.¡±

    ¡°Good help is hard to find,¡± Thorley noted. ¡°And now I¡¯ll need to send word back to Avalon for a replacement. It¡¯s all such a terrible bother.¡±

    ¡°My heart goes out to you,¡± Charlotte spoke through grit teeth, her disgust with the incompetent assistant plain to see. ¡°Could you give us his name? It seems like he¡¯s the one we really need to talk to.¡±

    ¡°What? No, of course not.¡±

    ¡°But¨C¡±

    Gary held a finger to her lips, silencing her. ¡°We have the Director right here. His word is worth far more than some assistant, even if he is a useless paper pusher.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Gary turned back to the Director. ¡°Leave.¡±

    ¡°This is my office!¡±

    With a shake of his head, Gary pointed to the door. ¡°This is the site of a crime. It¡¯s my duty as a knight of Avalon to investigate it. You seem done saying anything useful, and your irritating blather is hardly good for the brain.¡± He pointed to his temple. ¡°Need to stay sharp to catch a thief like this.¡±

    Charlotte led the man out the door, asking him more pointless questions about the assistant in order to stymie his complaints and make him feel better about being dominated by Gary¡¯s superior force of will. I suppose her soft approach has some benefit, at least. Frankly, it was about time.

    Now that he had the room to himself, Gary took a moment to take it all in. Then he cracked his knuckles, since that was the thing to do, and followed it up with another glance around the room.

    Charlotte had already searched the assistant¡¯s desk fairly thoroughly, by the looks, so he could be fairly sure there was nothing amiss there.

    Thorley¡¯s desk was just as empty, not unlike the man¡¯s head, and there didn¡¯t seem to be any telltale signs of the ransack. No dirt, no contraband, no blood. Not even a calling card.

    What else, then?

    The floor was carpeted, but lifting it didn¡¯t reveal any hidden trap doors or secret escape hatches, nor did any of the walls sound hollow when he knocked on them.

    The only other thing in the room was a bookshelf. The bottom few shelves were slightly messed up, certain books tipped over or askew, but that tracked with how Thorley had presented himself anyway. Especially if the assistant who was supposed to be fixing things like that were bad at his job.

    Nothing useful there, then.

    Think, Gary.

    Clocha?ne was a businessman, a fixture of commerce who moved dala around by the hundreds of thousands. Perimont was afraid to touch him, but knew that Gary would be up to the task¡­ What kind of evidence would a thief working for a man like that leave behind.

    Coins? Bills of Sale? Charters?

    Probably something like that. Definitely not the work of an idealogue, anyway. Whoever the thief was, they were no Robin Verrou. This would be about the money, nothing more.

    But even professionals couldn¡¯t be perfect. Not the way knights like Gary could. There would be something.

    He strained, trying to reach the top shelf, but it was too high. Cursed things are designed for giants. Jumping didn¡¯t really help either, since it only let him grab one book at a time.

    None of them seemed interesting either. Not that most books were, but still. The top shelf was all boring history stuff about the Great Binder and the sealing of Khali. It was different from the sciency books on the lower shelves, but no more helpful.

    Fuck.

    He fell back against the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

    This isn¡¯t a defeat. Far from it. It simply meant he was dealing with a true master. A foe worthy of the great Gerald Stewart.

    Wait, what¡¯s that?

    There was some kind of metal tube embedded into the ceiling, curving up past it and, presumably, onto the roof.

    Gary grinned as he jumped to grab hold of it and hoist himself up like the paragon of athletic perfection he was.

    Only the damned builders had built the ceiling too high too. Probably some status thing for Thorley. That was the only reason he could think of as to why he wouldn¡¯t be able to jump to the opening.

    Still, shoving Thorley¡¯s desk under it with a loud, groaning creak solved the problem.

    With no small amount of pleasure, Gary pressed his dusty boot against the surface as he stepped up on top of the desk. From there, jumping to grab ahold of the metal was easy.

    He lifted himself up, poking his head through the opening.

    Strange that this is just wide open like this, he thought as he crawled out onto the roof of the Director¡¯s cabin. Probably so he can throw refuse away through it.

    The position at the top would allow the person inside to practice throwing and get some amount of exercise even while working at a desk whenever they needed to dispose of something. It made too much sense.

    ¡°Ow, fuck.¡± He jerked his hand up as he felt a jolt of pain from it. Upon examination, a screw was digging lightly into it.

    Obviously he had underestimated this master thief. The criminal had known Gary would search up here and laid a careful trap for him.

    Gary shook his hand as he looked back down at the roof, careful to avoid any further traps. There were plenty more screws, but the strange thing was the metal grille lying discarded to the side. It was almost as if¡­

    ¡°Hey, Charlotte!¡± he yelled down at her, holding up the piece of metal. ¡°I figured it out!¡±

    She stared up at the grille, transfixed to find herself in the presence of Gary¡¯s brilliant discovery. ¡°Ohhh,¡± she murmured softly.

    Gary grinned back, happy to bask in her admiration. Even if she probably wasn¡¯t smart enough to understand what his discovery actually meant.

    Clocha?ne would pay, and this new nemesis with him. Gary was on them, and nothing could stop him from bringing them to justice.

 Fernan II: The Alderman

    Sometimes Fernan wished he hadn¡¯t gotten so good at reading people¡¯s body language through their glow. Then he wouldn¡¯t have had to see the hardened stares follow him and the rider into the alderman¡¯s house.

    Fernan had left it vacant since Jerome had¡­ Since all of that¡­

    But he remembered how particular Lady Leclaire had been about even the slightest details, picking over the way he and Florette ate and how they carried themselves.

    It was still hard to see the exact contours of clothing, and color was obviously impossible, but anyone here on the business of a Duchess was obviously some manner of aristocrat, and the last thing this precarious peace needed was to draw the ire of Guerron. Things were bad enough as it was.

    ¡°Can I get you anything?¡± he offered as he opened the door, waving the rider into the room.

    ¡°A glass of port would do me nicely. Chilled, if you please.¡± He slumped down into the chair by the vacant fireplace before Fernan even had a chance to offer the spot to him. ¡°Garnish it with a wedge of lemon as well. I find it enhances the flavor.¡±

    Fernan blinked. Port? Like the place they keep ships? ¡°I¡¯m not sure that we have that, my lord.¡±

    The rider sighed, kicking his feet up onto the table. ¡°Fine. I suppose a sprig of rosemary would suffice. If you must.¡±

    ¡°I think the last alderman left a bottle of something I could chill in the ice house.¡± Not that Fernan ever wanted to set foot in there again. Preserving ice through spring by insulating it served an important role for preserving food, but Fernan was entirely blind in there. ¡°We do have rosemary though; I¡¯d be happy to pick some from the garden outside.¡±

    The aristocrat clenched his fist, fingers curling in, but nodded. ¡°Just rinse the dirt if it¡¯s to be fresh. One would think that would go without saying, but the earthy charms of you mountainfolk continue to surprise me.¡±

    Liquor was hard to come in Villechart by these days, since the only way to get any was buying it from traders, and money was at an absolute premium right now. That alone had probably driven out a fair number of people, taking whatever was left along with them.

    But some unspoken aura of menace had kept any of the villagers who¡¯d fled from entering the house, and Fernan knew where to look.

    ¡°Just take as long as you like. It isn¡¯t as if I¡¯m here on important business or anything.¡±

    Fernan grit his teeth. ¡°Perhaps you could start explaining now, then. You mentioned a trial?¡±

    ¡°Enduring this bloody wasteland is a trial, I tell you. The last village turned me away without even allowing me within the walls. Me! As if they didn¡¯t even know who I am.¡±

    ¡°The nerve.¡± The chest where Jerome kept his supply of¡ª Had kept his supply. It was cool enough that making out the shapes was difficult, but a bit of fumbling showed that it was nearly empty. Fernan did manage to pull up a dusty bottle, though what the label read was anyone¡¯s guess. ¡°Incidentally, who are you?¡±

    The man¡¯s face grew almost as red as the wine. ¡°You impudent peasant! You stand before Lord Guy Valvert, future Count of Dorseille, and Head of the Bureau of Land. I practically run the empire in matters earthly, and Aurelian keeps me well abreast of the spiritual as well.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re great at asking for help, too.¡± Fernan held out the bottle. ¡°I can cool it in the ice house and grab you some rosemary, but it would take longer. Or, again, you could just start explaining now.¡±

    ¡°This is not the sort of business one discusses without a drink in hand. What am I, a farmer?¡± Valvert squinted at the label. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you could think this is a port, but Chateau de la Jaubertie is at least a decent vintage. Those Rhanoir wines are getting harder to come by, too. A tragedy, that.¡±

    ¡°So¡­?¡±

    The aristocrat rolled his head in a manner that Fernan had come to recognize as accompanying a roll of the eyes. ¡°So fetch the glasses. Reds needn¡¯t be chilled beyond cellar temperature, and they certainly ought not be garnished.¡±

    Then why didn¡¯t you just ask for that? Ugh. Lady Camille had thrown money in his face, and this Valvert was still making her look like the picture of politeness.

    By the time Fernan returned with the glasses, the visitor had nearly finished uncorking the bottle with his knife. It came loose with a ¡®pop¡¯ as the glasses were placed on the table.

    ¡°Customarily it is the host who pours, but I wouldn¡¯t want you spilling this.¡± Valvert turned the bottle on its end so fast that the wine came gushing out, a river of absence, cold cutting through the ambient warmth glowing in the air. Somehow he managed to fill both glasses in one fast, fluid motion. ¡°There.¡±

    Fernan picked up one glass, allowing Valvert to take the other. ¡°To your health,¡± Fernan toasted, copying the toast that he¡¯d heard at the First Post hundreds of times.

    Valvert raised his glass in turn, clinking it against the side of Fernan¡¯s. ¡°To the Empire of the Fox, diminished but not lost.¡±

    Okay Florette. He took a small sip of the wine as Valvert gulped down about half of his glass in a single stroke. It tasted pretty good, not that Fernan knew shit about wine. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ve had our toast. Now could you please tell me what exactly you¡¯re here for?¡±

    ¡°My, you are impatient!¡± Valvert took another sip of his wine. ¡°Essentially, my cousin has been accused of murdering my uncle. Her trial is fast approaching, and a sage is needed to represent her.¡±

    ¡°It is, huh?¡± Fernan¡¯s mind raced back to the barrage of secondhand stories Florette had told him over the years. Were there any trials there? ¡°Couldn¡¯t you do it?¡±

    Valvert chuckled. ¡°Although many have called me magical, I am not in fact a sage. And that is what the law demands. While we still have laws, anyway.¡± He emptied his glass, then filled it again in a flash. ¡°This is the way things have always been done, ever since the Fox Queen first granted the right of the spirit¡¯s justice to all of noble birth under her cause.¡±

    Tradition¡­ There was always a reason for it, sure, but what lay at the root?  ¡°How does having a sage on hand prove anything, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Alone it proves nothing. But sages regularly hold power over life and death; this is a mere extension. Indeed, the soul who cannot muster a single advocate is surely forsaken by the spirits, and their fate is sealed.¡±

    But sages are only human. Jerome had made that horrifyingly clear, if there had ever been any doubt.

    ¡°Camille hasn¡¯t returned, then?¡±

    ¡°Ha! That bitch is dead. Good riddance to bad rubbish.¡±

    Dead. The image returned unbidden to his mind, the warm red glow of blood leaking out onto her clothes. Lumi¨¨re¡¯s callous kick into the water below. Lady Camille had seemed so invincible, prepared for every possible circumstance, and it hadn¡¯t stopped her from gruesome failure.

    Valvert took another gulp of wine.  ¡°Admittedly, if she had returned, I wouldn¡¯t have needed to traipse through these accursed mountains. But now I¡¯ve found you, and all is well.¡±

    Fernan raised an eyebrow. ¡°All is well? Didn¡¯t you just say your uncle died?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°Uncle Fouchand could be soft where it counted, even indulgent past the point of reason, but he was a good man. He took care of me.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°He would never jump from that balcony. He would never give up like that. And I refuse to let his killer go free.¡±

    Jump from the balcony? ¡°What happened, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Who knows? His door was locked, but they still found him plastered on the stones in the courtyard below. The captain of his guard confessed to pushing him on my cousin¡¯s orders, and she was arrested at the funeral.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t believe it.¡±

    Valvert shrugged. ¡°The captain may have done it; I couldn¡¯t tell you. But Annette, irritating fool though she could be, would never do that. Never. And¡­¡± He poured the last of the wine into his glass, topping Fernan¡¯s off with a few drops that were more insult than courtesy. ¡°I love Aurelian like a brother, but he¡¯s too smart not to see it too. I¡¯ve talked to him over and over and he simply refuses to listen. All his time now is spent with that foreign bard.¡± His hand clenched tightly around the glass. ¡°I wanted him barred from the city, but Uncle insisted on allowing him in. Now¡­ Ugh, what a mess.¡±

    ¡°And you want me to fix it? I¡¯m sorry, but¡ª¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°You? No, of course not. I want you to stand as Annette¡¯s advocate at the trial, but you¡¯ll be following a script. This is all nominal.¡± He shook the empty wine bottle, but Fernan ignored the hint.

    ¡°Surely there¡¯s someone else. Maybe Laura Bougitte; she was that other flame sage, right? Or¡­ didn¡¯t Camille have an uncle?¡±

    ¡°Laura would never cross Aurelian. There isn¡¯t a sage in Guerron who would. Emile Leclaire might have, but he fled like the coward he is. The moment the fox pup was arrested, he was gone.¡± He lay back in his chair, crossing his legs. ¡°Believe me, I wouldn¡¯t have come here if I had any other choice.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, the sheer entitlement. ¡°No. I¡¯m done playing errand boy for bloodthirsty aristocrats. All the lies, the ruthlessness, the hate¡­ I have a village here I have to protect.¡±

    The glow of Valvert¡¯s head tilted to the side. ¡°A village? I saw less than a dozen people here.¡±

    ¡°My people.¡± The ones who stood by me, when I asked them to do the right thing no matter the cost. ¡°You¡¯ll have to find another to read your script. Lesser sages can¡¯t be that difficult to come by.¡±

    Valvert¡¯s blood burned blue. ¡°This is not a summons you can refuse. If your meager mining town is of such concern, I would be happy to bestow you lands in Dorseille. Perhaps a knighthood as well. It seems a reasonable thanks for services rendered, if I must.¡±

    Why don¡¯t you throw it in my face too? ¡°What part of ¡®no¡¯ is so difficult for you to understand?¡±

    ¡°You presume to negotiate with me, as if I were some sort of oyster raker?¡± His glow burned brighter. ¡°Very well. You shall be a viscount, but I will not forget how difficult you made this. I hope that more elevated peerage was worth the cost of my displeasure.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not bargaining.¡± Fernan stood and opened the door. ¡°Good day to you, my lord. I sincerely wish you luck.¡±

    Valvert slammed his fist against the table. ¡°Would you just stop? Every man has his price, and your pretense to the contrary is a waste of both of our time.¡±

    ¡°Not. Interested.¡± He gestured towards the open door, waving him out.

    The aristocrat took a deep breath, exhaling long and deeply. ¡°Now look. We¡¯re going about this all wrong. My offers don¡¯t interest you? Fine. You¡¯re the one with the high card. Speak your mind.¡±

    Speak your mind.

    The fire in Fernan dimmed slightly as he took a moment to think. If there were some way to revitalize the village, to bring back what was lost without trampling on the peace they had built¡­

    But there isn¡¯t, is there?

    Everything Villechart had once had was built on theft and deceit. The entire town was built around the mines, and the coal within them belonged to the geckos.

    All that was left was waiting out oblivion here with the noble and the stubborn who had chosen to remain with him.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. I¡¯m going to grab another bottle,¡± he called out as he walked through the door. The liquor chest was back inside, but Valvert wouldn¡¯t know that.

    Fernan needed time to think, free of his imperious demands.

    ¡°You¡¯re one of the good ones, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    He¡¯d only met Annette Debray once, the short woman so clearly consumed by grief. It wasn¡¯t as if he could speak for her innocence, even if it seemed so unlikely she would have committed murder against her own family.

    ¡°And remember that Camille kept her word,¡± she¡¯d said. Even though Fernan¡¯s deal had been with Camille Leclaire alone, Lady Debray had still honored it.

    ¡°Fernan?¡± Mara crept towards the open doorway. ¡°Is everything alright? I heard the big human yelling.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he sighed. ¡°Lord Valvert was just asking me to go back to Guerron.¡±

    Mara¡¯s glow lit up, trails of warmth spiraling up from her nose. ¡°When do we leave? I want to bring some of my older siblings this time. They¡¯ve grown so fast, and that big den is way bigger than anything they¡¯ve ever seen before.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not going.¡±

    Her head cocked to the side. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°The people here need me. Mother, and Chanteclair, and old Guillaume, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°So take them too! I bet they¡¯d love to see Guerron too. It¡¯s so big and exciting and there¡¯s nothing for them here anyway.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s peace here,¡± he insisted. ¡°I know most people left, but we¡¯re building something here. And it¡¯s--¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t we build it there?¡±

    Fernan opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn¡¯t find the words.

    Couldn¡¯t they?

    ?

    It had only taken a few days to mobilize the town. There simply wasn¡¯t much left to pack up, especially since it all had to fit into rucksacks with the wagons taken and no lumber to build more.

    Valvert had ridden ahead to The First Post to be better supplied as they packed everything up, which was probably better for everyone involved.

    He¡¯d promised much for them: new lands, new incomes, a new start. A way to survive and thrive far longer than a wilted village and few thousand florins could ever get them.

    Fernan knew better than to expect it. There would be lodging in Guerron, likely temporary at that, and some florins to embark elsewhere that Valvert wouldn¡¯t be able to weasel out of. Anything more couldn¡¯t be relied on, even if it were promised. But it was something.

    Maybe for the best, even.

    Villechart was a monument to Jerome¡¯s ego, an affront to the geckos it was built to destroy and pillage.

    And now it was the geckos helping see it off for good.

    The ones who¡¯d remained in Villechart had gotten used to seeing Mara by now, even a sibling or two that she¡¯d bring in on occasion, but by the time they departed Mara had gathered six more. They were smaller than she was, but still larger than a wolf, and far more intelligent.

    Swelled with the power of the sundials, they were even beginning to learn the language, though progress there was slow with only Mara to teach them.

    Still, they were eager to learn, to see the new sights of the city Mara had almost certainly oversold, and even willing to follow a pack of humans to get to it.

    Certainly, they were handling it better than the villagers.

    Doing the right thing hadn¡¯t been enough to convince Guillaume, who had insisted that he die in the same house where he was born, but the fact that no one would be left to care for him, along with the rest of Jerome¡¯s chest of liquor, had finally managed to convince him.

    Everyone else had jumped at the chance to move on to the chance of something better, but there was still a suspicion in their fire, a wariness with the geckos that might never fade.

    Wariness beats outright hostility though. It was a start.

    Strangely, the village seemed less ghostly once they had packed it up entirely, less ominous. With a dozen villagers scraping out survival in the shattered remnants, an atmosphere of despair had hung in the air. Now it was simply a candle that had burned out, a place that had had its time, now over. Not dead, but complete.

    Passing by Enquin had only validated things further, as their numbers had swelled.

    Many were Villechart villagers, who¡¯d left to find more work in mines that had run too dry to accommodate them anyway, but many were from Enquin themselves, including Gaspard. He¡¯d returned once the tournament had been called off, he¡¯d said, only to find no work remaining for him.

    And the best part was that they had fallen in line with the geckos Mara had brought. Even some of the most ardent departees from two months ago still joined the growing caravan, seeking a better life that the mountains could no longer offer.

    Florette had mentioned Enquin¡¯s mines running low, with floods blocking what little was left, and it seemed that things had only gotten worse. In a way it was sad to see that prospects were so hopeless that people would rather swallow their fear than continue as they had been, but swallow it they had. Enough, anyway.

    It helped that Mara had gotten her siblings to hunt down extra game up and down the mountainside as they traveled, roasting it to be fit for human consumption. No small amount of suspicion had greeted the first presentation of their kills, but hunger was a powerful thing, and fresh cooked meat a luxury at the best of times.

    Fernan had no illusions that peoples¡¯ acceptance was motivated by anything other than desperation, but it was still a start. The more that people could be exposed to geckos without any killing or stealing, the more they might come to accept them in truth.

    Valvert had been utterly baffled once they reached him at The First Post. ¡°This is far beyond the bounds of our deal,¡± he¡¯d sputtered at the sight of so many people following.

    ¡°I¡¯m renegotiating,¡± Fernan had said back, and that had been the end of it.

    Oddly, though, the geckos had not overly shocked Valvert. Perhaps it was a lifetime spent around the sun sage, but he seemed to take the geckos largely in stride. ¡°Spirit-touched,¡± he¡¯d immediately identified them. ¡°Strange to hear one speak a human tongue, but I suppose the bulk of their energy went to their brains rather than their magic.¡±

    Of course, he was physically incapable of getting through a single conversation without being a raging prick, so he¡¯d also added, ¡°Very poor choice of familiar, though. Entirely common. You would do well to find something more exotic. Perhaps a Micheltaigne Pegasus; it would better compliment your abilities without such redundancy.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t just Enquin either. The further they went, the more people flocked to the ever-growing procession, giving Lord Valvert a heart attack with every new mouth he would have to feed to hold to his promise. But their deal was for everyone, and that included the newcomers.

    Valvert would just have to figure it out.

    ¡°We have to ride ahead,¡± the aristocrat insisted one evening, sipping a bottle of port ¡ª fortified wine, apparently ¡ª that he¡¯d purchased at the First Post. ¡°Annette¡¯s trial is the day before the solstice. These teeming masses will never reach Guerron in time. There¡¯s hundreds of them now, with no more than mules, goats and asses. I¡¯m the only one mounted, for Soleil¡¯s sake!¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll make it,¡± Fernan insisted, remembering the journey he¡¯d taken on foot. ¡°What¡¯s important is that you honor your end of the deal.¡±

    ¡°Bah, that¡¯s nothing for me.¡± He waved his hand dismissively, though the dim in his glow implied that the reasoning behind his bravado might be less than strong. ¡°Enough of Villemalin burned that they¡¯ll fit right in.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Better yokels than foreigners, at least.¡±

    Still, it was slow going, and they were eating Guerron Pass dry. If not for the geckos, they would have already run out.

    It was a close thing, but they still made it with two weeks left to prepare for the trial.

    And as Fernan crossed the threshold of Guerron he felt, for the first time in months, a cautious hope.

 Florette IV: The Success

    Florette IV: The Success

    ¡°I think my head is melting.¡± Last time, Florette had been left out of sizing up the score after the heist, even though the pulsebox was a reasonably known commodity. This time, though¡­ ¡°None of these fucking words make any sense. Do you know what ¡®internal combustion¡¯ is supposed to mean?¡±

    Ysengrin rubbed the stubble on his chin. ¡°I think combustion is... burning? That or a chicken, but in context that doesn¡¯t seem very likely.¡±

    ¡°So like, burning inside? Is it a gecko?¡± The more she looked over the papers, the more her eyes hurt. This language was hard enough to understand even without diving headfirst into the jargon of mechanists and engineers.

    ¡°Since when do geckos burn on the inside?¡±

    Florette glanced up from the papers, shooting him a look that made him flinch.

    ¡°Right, sorry, forgot. Weird to think of spirit-touched animals just hanging around where people can see them.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°They weren¡¯t hanging around; they killed people. Ate them too, sometimes. Vicious fuckers even burned my friend¡¯s eyes out. Chatty too.¡± Well, one in particular.

    Ysengrin blinked.

    ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m giving up on this.¡± They weren¡¯t going to meet Jacques until tomorrow, but the schematics were so unintelligible that it was almost ruining the triumph of stealing them at all. ¡°The most I can make out is from the drawings, and it basically seems like a big metal sculpture inside the train. Not really sure what I can do with that.¡±

    ¡°Build one, given the right expertise.¡± He sighed. ¡°But I don¡¯t know shit about this either. That¡¯s the downside of stealing plans, got to wait until one of Jacques¡¯ people can look it over.¡±

    ¡°Here, you give it another look. At least you speak their language. I¡¯m going to see what I can get from the books.¡± She stood up from the rats¡¯ nest of papers that had been carefully laid out only to be scattered around the stones by repeated rifling. ¡°I don¡¯t want to meet him with no idea how valuable this is. Completely ruins the point of doing it at all.¡±

    ¡°Money¡¯s the same either way. Jacques won¡¯t screw us.¡± He picked up one of the papers and began skimming over it.

    ¡°It¡¯s not about the money. It¡¯s about respect. That¡¯s going to be hard enough with Claude locked up.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s covered. Seriously. The Acolytes have a solicitor on tap that could free the harbor bomber, let alone Claude. What they grabbed him for was some shit he didn¡¯t even do. I bet we¡¯ll have him back before the week is out.¡± He flicked his eyes back to the page, eyes scanning back and forth more than twice as fast as Florette had managed. ¡°Not that that helps us any with this.¡±

    Reluctantly, Florette nodded, trying to push Claude from her mind as she moved her candlestick closer to the stack of books. With Ysengrin¡¯s help, she¡¯d at least managed to get full titles for all of them: Advanced Thermodynamics, Modern Principles of Urban Design, and The End of Time.

    The last was the only one she hadn¡¯t needed help for, so it seemed like a decent place to start.

    Florette slogged her way through the opening ten pages or so, trying to glean whether the work had been worth stealing, but, as best she could tell, it seemed like nothing more than an unending prelude to the text. Some person who hadn¡¯t even written the book was praising a bunch of parts of it that she hadn¡¯t even read yet, at once inscrutable and boring. They were also talking a lot about the author without ever naming them, which was especially frustrating since the name wasn¡¯t on the cover either.

    Fuck that.

    She flipped ahead to a random page roughly two thirds of the way in and began to read.

    ¡°...And it will come about during this year that a most dreadful portent takes place. For the sun shall give forth its light without brightness, like the moon, during this whole year, resembling the sun in eclipse, for the beams it sheds will not be clear nor such as it is accustomed to shed. And from the time when this thing happens men will be free neither from war nor pestilence nor any other thing leading to death. Such is only the beginning.¡±

    Wait, what? That did not sound like a reference book for making machines, even beyond being way too easy to comprehend.

    Florette jerked her head up, flipping back to try to find the chapter heading. A few pages earlier, there it was in bold letters: The Return of Khali, Spirit of Darkness. That had to be metaphorical somehow, but probably still worth starting with¡­

    ¡°As the essence of nightshade filled my eyes, so too did Khali¡¯s darkness. I beheld her in all her fearsome, horrific glory. My own hands imprisoned her in another realm, and thus it did seem fitting for me to be the first soul to witness the inevitable future of her escape.¡±

    Her eyes traced the words again. My own hands.

    ¡°Hey, Yse?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°The Great Binder never wrote a book, did she? I remember asking the traders every time they came for a memoire, or diary, or any kind of firsthand account, like we have of Olwen, but they told me nothing like that existed.¡± One had even said that the Great Binder had probably been too busy saving the world to write entertaining stories for pestering children, which had especially hurt.

    ¡°How the fuck would I know? Do I look like a historian to you?¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°You¡¯ve been living here under the occupation, you speak the tongue. If the world¡¯s greatest hero, who¡¯s also an ancestor to the royal family, had written a book, Avalon people would probably talk about it all the time, right? You ever hear anything like that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly going to book club with them.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, whatever,¡± she muttered, turning her eyes back to the page.

    ¡°As I write, scholars and Kings alike proclaim a new era, an age of gleaming light unlike any this world has ever seen, from the Fortan Flame in her underground halls to the King of Cambria in his seaside palace. If this, then, is to be a new first year in the age of gleaming, one thousand years and one thousand more again shall be its last.

    ¡°The mark of humanity on the world shall grow, erecting impossible monuments all across the face of it. Pillars of glass shall stretch into the skies, as tall as mountains. Bridges with red wings shall span miles, connecting our lands closer together. And yet all will be consumed by Khali¡¯s darkness. This, too, I have seen.¡±

    It was probably fake though. Right? Celice Thorley was an important man in an important position, but he still reported to others in Avalon. He wasn¡¯t even true nobility, just gentry, whatever the fuck the difference was.

    No way a man like that had the sole copy of the Great Binder¡¯s memoires, completely unknown to the world. Even if he somehow did, that wouldn¡¯t be the sort of thing you¡¯d risk bringing overseas. The book didn¡¯t really look a hundred and eighteen years old, either. The pages were yellow, but they weren¡¯t ragged in that way old books could be. Plus, the even lettering showed that it had clearly been printed on a press, which hadn¡¯t even been invented when it would supposedly have been written.

    And yet Thorley had valued it enough to bring it with him and keep it in his office¡­

    It seemed worth finishing, even if it were probably fake, but that was hardly the priority.

    With a groan, Florette cracked open Advanced Thermodynamics.

    ?

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Ysengrin held up one hand, slowing his pace. ¡°Need to make a quick detour.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Florette stopped. ¡°We¡¯ve got everything on us right now; we¡¯re exposed. Whatever it is, I¡¯m sure it can wait until after we meet with Jacques.¡± Honestly, it was more than a bit suspicious that he was bringing this up only now.

    ¡°I wanted to do it last night, but someone insisted that we stay in the tunnels all night reading.¡±

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°What alternative was there? Did you want to saunter around town with a bunch of stolen notes in a heavy sack?¡±

    ¡°We coulda stowed it in the tunnels and come back for it in the morning. I¡¯d¡¯a got my errand done, and then there was that party in the south end.¡±

    I don¡¯t trust you enough to leave it behind anywhere. Ysengrin had friends in Malin, and knew the tunnels better too. If he or the notes they¡¯d stolen were let out of her sight even for a moment, let alone an entire night, she¡¯d be taking a big risk of something going wrong.

    He¡¯d done his job fine at the railyard, but that was no reason to get naive about what kind of person he was. Not again.

    ¡°We can celebrate once we¡¯re sure everything¡¯s safe, including Claude.¡± She patted him roughly on the back. ¡°Been careful enough this far; why throw it all away now?¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Fine, yeah, I get it. But this is kind of important, and overdue already.¡±

    I¡¯m not letting you run and get some friends to take this from me. ¡°Give it a few hours. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll keep.¡±

    Ysengrin rubbed the back of his neck.

    Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°Or tell me what¡¯s so fucking important.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Nevermind. I guess a few hours won¡¯t kill him.¡±

    Who?

    But interrogating him now was pointless. She¡¯d get the secret out of him eventually, if it really existed. ¡°Good, then let¡¯s keep moving.¡±

    And so they continued, following the tunnels further, a cool reprieve from the sweltering city above. Florette tried to maintain a sense of direction as they went, supposedly pointed south, but the lack of landmarks made it harder to visualize anything more than a vague approximation, especially whenever they had to detour around a cave-in or a riskier path.

    ¡°You know, I can see what you¡¯re doing here. And if you¡¯re that paranoid about me, there¡¯s a kinda big hole in your plan.¡±

    ¡°Who said anything about me being paranoid? You¡¯ve made it more than clear that Jacques is no Robin Verrou, his crew anything but the brotherhood of pirates. I¡¯m not saying you will try to fuck me over, wasn¡¯t even trying to imply it. You did great at the railyard. I¡¯m just being smart about this.¡±

    ¡°For sure. It¡¯s not like I¡¯d leave you alone with the score either. Nothing personal. I get it.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s the problem, then?¡±

    He smiled, that same wolfish grin flickering in the candlelight. ¡°I¡¯m the one leading the way here. What¡¯s to stop me from taking you straight into an ambush?¡±

    ¡°Nothing really.¡± Florette tightened her grip around the heavy bag. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m holding the notes and the candle.¡±

    Ysengrin snorted. ¡°Paper doesn¡¯t burn that fast.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯d have to buy myself some time.¡± She tapped her fingers across the hilt of her sword in sequence. ¡°Want to try me?¡±

    He chuckled, shaking his head.

    From there, it was only a few more minutes until he led them down one last side passage, a wooden ladder at the end already lit by a sconce on the wall.

    ¡°After you.¡± Florette flicked her head up the ladder, shifting her candle to the same hand as the bag to have one free.

    ¡°Sure. Jacques knows me, anyway. I¡¯ll be the one he expects to see first.¡± He climbed the ladder deftly, as if he had done it a hundred times before, then shifted his eyepatch across his face as he opened the hatch at the top.

    Florette followed as best as she could manage, though holding on to everything while making her way up a ladder was anything but smooth. Still better than handing it to Ysengrin to run away with, though.

    They emerged in what looked like some kind of storeroom. Windowless, though well lit with more candles in sconces, and filled with large crates.

    Ysengrin hopped up on one and sat on it, but Florette stayed upright. If he were going to try something, this would probably be the moment.

    Instead, a man in dark clothes walked into the room, sunlight streaming in for the brief instance that the door was open. ¡°Punctual as ever, Ysengrin. And you must be Florette.¡±

    He knows my name already? ¡°Indeed. It¡¯s a pleasure to finally meet you. Captain Verrou and Eloise have told me nothing but good things.¡± Nothing much at all, really. Eloise had once called him overcautious, which was rich coming from her, and Verrou had never mentioned him at all.

    Still, it paid to make a good first impression. The last thing Florette needed right now was a repeat of the Singer¡¯s Lounge.

    Jacques scoffed, tapping a ring on one hand with a finger from the other. ¡°That, I very much doubt. Robin never gave the proper respect to what we built here, and Eloise was all too eager to join him once she tired of me.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a captain herself now, you know. We stole a royal class ship right out from none under none other than a Prince of Avalon.¡±

    Ysengrin nearly fell off his seat. ¡°You what?¡±

    Jacques held up a single finger, and Ysengrin fell silent. ¡°I would expect nothing less from her. Never have I had a more capable pupil.¡± His posture remained still, composed, but his face seemed almost wistful. ¡°Yet I notice you are not with her.¡±

    Florette nodded, steeling herself. ¡°We thought it best that I assist with the delivery of this shipment and stay here until she returns, to better familiarize myself with your operations here, and the tongue of Avalon.¡± That¡¯s the lie she told me to fob me off, anyway. But she couldn¡¯t even hint at that. If Jacques saw her the same way, nothing would have changed.

    ¡°A sensible plan, and one that I would be more than happy to assist you with. I see that you have already availed yourself of my underlings.¡±

    ¡°I--¡±

    He held up one finger, the ring on it gleaming in the candlelight. ¡°Worry not. Ysengrin was assigned to guide you, and to an extent I respect the initiative. On your part, anyway. These sorts of risks are a poor way to do business, but entirely expected from one of Robin¡¯s. You, at least, did not know better.¡±

    Yse himself looked like he had stopped breathing. The implication there was obvious.

    ¡°But,¡± Jacques continued, ¡°I will have words with Ysengrin once we¡¯re finished. Disciplining another during introductions would be unbecoming for a man in my position, however necessary it may seem in the moment.¡± He grit his teeth. ¡°Suffice it to say, Florette, the function of the Acolytes is entirely separate from that of you, Ysengrin, and your ilk. That distinction is crucial. In future, leave them out of your plans.¡±

    ¡°Is he alright, though? Claude, I mean.¡±

    Jacques waved his hand dismissively. ¡°He is alive, and free from prison. As to ¡®alright¡¯, perhaps not. He, of the three of you, most ought to have known better, and he shall be dealt with accordingly by the head of his own organization.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay away from him, sir.¡± Ysengrin¡¯s voice trembled, for some reason.

    ¡°Fucking what?¡±

    The two men broke eye contact with each other as they both turned to stare at Florette.

    ¡°Why are you talking about discipline and punishment and shit?¡± She lifted the bag off the ground. ¡°We just raided one of the most secure places in the city for a Director¡¯s entire desk full of notes. Why are you acting like it was a fuck-up?¡±

    Jacques narrowed his eyes, but he didn¡¯t respond.

    That may have been a huge mistake. But he had trained Eloise, and still seemed fond of her. There was no way that he stood on ceremony that much. And she couldn¡¯t let him trample over her the way he was doing with Ysengrin. ¡°Advanced thermodynamics, internal combustion engines, priceless books from the Great Binder herself¡­ This is a haul that any self-respecting criminal ought to be beaming at.¡±

    His head lifted slightly, but still he remained silent.

    Florette reached down, not into the bag of notes but her coin purse. ¡°I¡¯m aware that as far as this sort of thing goes you run this place, and out of respect for that I intend to honor you and your crew with their fair share of the loot.¡± She lifted a few hundred florins from the bag and slipped them into the pocket of her trousers, then held the bag forward. It was everything else left from her share of the pulsebox, but anything less would be an insult.  ¡°Consider this good faith on that front. Once your appraiser gets a look at what we¡¯ve got, I¡¯m happy to negotiate the details.¡±

    Jacques began to laugh, first quietly and then louder and louder, until Ysengrin joined in as well, the nervous tremor still in his voice. A sharp look from Jacques put a rapid end to that, though. ¡°No more of this until you and I speak again. I need your word on that.¡±

    ¡°Then you have it.¡±

    He extended his hand, holding it out with anticipation.

    Does he want me to kiss it?

    ¡°You shake it,¡± he supplied. ¡°It¡¯s the mark of business being done here in Malin.¡±

    Florette shrugged and shook his hand, still not entirely sure whether this meant she was in the clear or not. ¡°I hope we¡¯ll be speaking again soon.¡±

    ¡°We shall, rest assured of that. But first, I must have words with Ysengrin. I¡¯m aware that he was your guide through the tunnels, so you may depart from the front.¡±

    ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you,¡± she said with confidence, though she had no idea whether or not it was a lie.

    ¡°Likewise,¡± he said, opening the door.

    Florette walked through the other room in a daze, trying to understand what had just happened. The light was overwhelming, even inside, with candles and windows everywhere. Fancy letters on the front door read Clocha?ne Candles, so presumably that was what the shop sold. Explains how many Ysengrin could afford to burn underground every day, I suppose. But it didn¡¯t really shed light on anything important.

    Jacques had asked her to stop, and that much she could manage for a time. Eloise trusted him, which was worth a lot. If I can trust Eloise, anyway. But what else was there to do? Florette could rent a room and consider her next move. It would have to be something big, capitalizing on the momentum from the railyard heist. Maybe something with the Governor¡­ There was hardly a man in Malin who deserved it more.

    But then, that could be too much, too fast. If Florette--

    She stopped moving abruptly as a mop of blue caught her eye, letting the door slam shut behind her.

    Fuck me, that¡¯s Camille Leclaire.

 Luce IV: The White Sheep

    Luce was no biologist; even his first day in the introductory class had made that much abundantly clear.

    Once, he had dreamed of following in the footsteps of his great-great-grandfather, the legendary polymath Harold I Grimoire, who had managed to revolutionize practically as many scientific disciplines as even existed, seemingly in his spare time between protecting people from evil spirits and unifying the continent.

    The very Ortus Tower that held the best of the world¡¯s knowledge could not have been constructed without his insights into architecture; his writings had given way to the recipe for gunpowder; by his own admission no chemist, he had still managed to be the first in the world to distill brandy before he was even twenty.

    And his famed plants¡­

    So far as the legend went, the first Harold had been seventeen, not yet even King of Cambria, when he showed his face in the weekly market of a tiny village on the northern outskirts of the city. A farmer¡¯s daughter had gathered a basket of strawberries to snack on while she ran her mother¡¯s stall, and Harold had insisted on seeing where they grew.

    As they passed through the lands the farmer rented, the king-to-be had taken note of the field left fallow to recuperate before its next crop. One part in three of all land had to be kept that way, his guide had explained, to rotate between beans and wheat each year. Harold had suggested using the fallow land for clover, fodder for animals, and a fourth field for turnips.

    His innovation had spread faster than his armies, the story said, to the point that Cambrians expanding into Oxton had been surprised to find farmers there already employing it.

    Errant comments about crop rotation had let the heartlands of southern Avalon feed an order of magnitude more mouths in a single generation, with meat becoming comparatively more accessible for commoners to boot.

    Then Harold had taken the strawberry bush and crossbred a larger, sweeter strain, the first product of the experimental gardens at the foot of the Tower. Once a mere playground for the King and his loyal gardener, they now staffed almost twenty full time scientists.

    That story, unfortunately, was just about the only thing Luce could remember from biology class as being remotely comprehensible, and it probably wasn¡¯t true anyway. Harold I had never written memoirs of his own, and far too many things seemed to be attributed to the one man, far past the point of credulity. It made for a good anecdote to engage students on the first day, certainly far more inviting than the endless memorization of anatomy that would follow, but not all that much else.

    That, and it was all the easier to be proud of a nation with a founder so skilled and noble he practically leapt out of myth. Even his lesser legends played their part in that, and stories of plant breeding certainly belonged to that category.

    It wasn¡¯t as much of a spectacle as pistols or even windmills, nor were those who worked on it as prestigious as their counterparts on higher floors of the Tower. Still, it didn¡¯t take much of an understanding of history to see that crop innovations were absolutely some of the most crucial work being done there, and Luce had made every effort to direct a greater share of resources and funding to that department than his predecessors.

    Looking at this wasteland now, he wasn¡¯t sure that was the right idea.

    That same department ¡ª a few of the same scientists still working there now ¡ª bore a great share of responsibility for this wasteland, developing the fast-spreading disease that left the trees bleached and petrified, absorbing the energy of their life to perpetuate itself.

    Harold II bore the ultimate responsibility for deploying the blight, but he would not have had the option if it hadn¡¯t been created in the first place.

    Few in Avalon even understood the truth, that this wanton destruction had been fueled purely by spite, to ¡®send a message¡¯ to any other nations considering joining the war against Avalon.

    The way history textbooks told the story, Refuge had weaponized the forest against them, defiant to the end. Stopping it had been the only way to avoid even greater destruction, apparently, although they were always vague about what disaster, exactly, had been averted.

    Once, the people here had resided in the heart of a great forest, older, denser, and more gnarled than even the Arboreum to its east could boast.

    Rain might fall seven days in ten, and beneath the canopy one might not even feel it. Older accounts held the air to be so wet in the summer months, even Lyrion¡¯s humidity couldn¡¯t compare. The Fox Queen had likened it to stepping past a curtain of water.

    This, though, didn¡¯t look like rain had fallen once in the decades since the Fall. The dry summer heat filled the air, scorching what little energy Luce could muster simply to stay awake, and that was a near thing.

    How long has it been since I¡¯ve had water?

    It couldn¡¯t have been that long, perhaps a little over half a day? Whatever the actual time was, it felt far longer, the scratching at his throat doing more to keep him conscious than even the walking nightmare abducting him.

    The thing carrying him, the spirit-touched monster of pale limbs and withered vines, was at once supple and rigid, cradling him almost like a child even as the tight grip made it clear that there would be no escape.

    Whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t alone. More than a dozen had surrounded him at the shore, and as the remnant of the forest grew thicker, monster after monster fell in with them, to the point that it was hard to tell which were alive and which were inanimate.

    If ¡®alive¡¯ was even the right way to describe them.

    The forest itself was dead. It had been dead for half a century, thanks to the idiotic decisions of kings past, poisoning relations with an entire continent in one irreparable act.

    Whatever these things were, it wasn¡¯t water, sunlight, and nutrients that kept them moving. They were spirit-touched; it would be something far more sinister.

    The sun was beginning to set, though the heat had yet to break, nor had the captors¡¯ grip.

    He had lost track of the pirate what felt like hours ago, and the dimming light made observing no easier.

    Perhaps they¡¯ve killed her. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to care much, either way. The important thing was somehow getting himself out of this alive. After everything, he had to.

    The pace of the monsters slowed as they approached the largest husk of all, nearly the size of Ortus Tower itself. When it had stood, it would have been visible on the horizon for miles, but now it lay on its side, a dead white log with a hollow base buried in pink sand and dust.

    He felt himself be carried inside, the dim light fading to almost nothing, with only the fading rays of sunlight peeking through holes in the trunk providing any illumination at all.

    It made the faint glow of the green thing at the far end of the dead tree all the more visible, growing larger as they approached.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    By the time they reached it, Luce was fully alert.

    Facing him was what looked like a woman that had been cut in half. Her left side was as withered and white as the forest around them, its arm hanging limp at its side, so large and gnarled that the longest branches of it touched the floor. Her face was divided too, with a scar on her nose marking the line between the wilted white and vibrant green, her left eye clouded with milky white like an old person before cataract-removal surgery.

    The right side was almost stranger, green so bright that light emanated out from it. Her hair seemed to be made of a thick curtain of leaves, reaching down to her waist, though it was thin and patchy on the dead side. Sprouts sprung out from all over the living side of her body. A large tail, reminiscent of a palm leaf, jutted out from behind the creature, seemingly untouched by the blight.

    ¡°Luce Grimoire.¡± Her mouth moved, but the words were mere whispers of wind, echoing out from all of the creatures around them and bouncing off the sides of the hollow. ¡°Eloise Clocha?ne. Welcome to my abode.¡±

    Is she introducing herself? Eloise seemed like a strange name for a spirit monster thing, but¡ª

    ¡°That isn¡¯t my surname.¡±

    Luce turned his head back to follow the noise, glimpsing the same ragged pirate captain that had abducted him.

    ¡°One by that name raised you, and named you his successor. It seemed appropriate.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± the pirate¡ªEloise, apparently¡ªinsisted. ¡°I didn¡¯t get where I am because some complacent, stuck-in-the-past merchant gave it to me. I earned it. I took it.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t argue with the monster!¡± Luce hissed.

    ¡°It¡¯s a right prestigious fucking name, too. Jacques made that shit up when Avalon rolled into town and started asking who belonged to what family. It¡¯s just the words for bell and chain smushed together, since ringing them was his job as a kid. Practically a joke.¡±

    ¡°Fits you well, then,¡± he muttered, apparently loud enough to earn himself a glare.

    ¡°What a luxury, to determine your being by yourself.¡± The wind whistled once more through the husks of the trees, an almost bitter tone embedded in it. ¡°Very well then, Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­ What, exactly¡­ Who¡­?¡± What the fuck is going on here?

    The monster woman tipped her head forward slightly. ¡°Before my domain was blighted, humans lived here in harmony with my disciples.¡±  As the wind whistled the final word, the mass of tree husks bent forward, bowing towards her. ¡°They named me Cya, spirit of life and protector of the forest.¡±  The wilted white arm tightened, the ends of its branches curling into what almost looked like a fist. ¡°Though their faith was misplaced, you may call me by the same appellation.¡±

    Luce¡¯s eyes widened. The spirit of Refuge herself, far worse than a mere spirit-touched creature, not that she had any shortage of that at her command. She should be dead.

    ¡°For the record, I didn¡¯t have shit to do with that.¡± The pirate jumped in before Luce had a chance to respond. ¡°You just want this guy here. Grimoire, like the fuck that destroyed this place. Direct descendent, too.  I was taking him to bring him to justice.¡±

    That fucker. ¡°I had nothing to do with that! I wasn¡¯t even born yet. And, and, really, I¡¯m trying to do things the opposite way. So, you know, so something like this could never happen again. But I need to be alive for that, and not, umm, trapped in spirit afterlife slavery, or whatever it is you do to people to feed on their power, or¡ª¡±

    The spirit held up her living hand, and he fell silent. ¡°Even in this state, I could kill you both. That much is true. But to what end? I have stopped the threat of those who sought to desecrate what remains of my realm, but I have seen that you do not. Even if any of my sages yet lived to perform the rite, the energy of a mere two humans would be naught but the smallest delay to my decay.¡±

    ¡°Revenge though,¡± offered the completely despicable pirate bastard. ¡°Could settle the score, at least.¡±

    ¡°Revenge?¡± The whistle of the wind sounded almost amused. ¡°I have known many a spirit to punish the son for the transgressions of the father, but I see the truth more clearly than that. However much you might resemble the King of Avalon, you are not him. Quite apart in fact, Prince Luce. The White Sheep of the family Grimoire.¡±

    ¡°Still, though¡­¡±

    Luce glared at the pirate with the fury of Khali¡¯s wrath in his eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t want to kill either of us. You can stop trying to sell me out.¡±

    ¡°Well sure, I can. Doesn¡¯t mean I will.¡± She pulled her arms against the grip of the husk holding her, but it didn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°The Captain shall refrain from these pathetic attempts at manipulation. It grows unbearably tedious.¡±

    It was almost worth it just to see the smirk get wiped off her stupid face.

    ¡°How do you know she¡¯s a captain?¡± Luce asked. ¡°Actually, you knew both our names too.¡±

    ¡°Half a century is not so terribly long, and yet this last stretch has been nearly interminable, with nothing to mark the time save decay and decline.¡± The living half of the spirit¡¯s mouth curled upward while the dead side remained still. ¡°Gazing into the truth has been my sole focus, these years, the ripples of events past and present echoing across the collective memory of the world.¡±

    Eloise opened her mouth to speak, but Luce barked a hurried ¡°shut up!¡±  that, miracle of miracles, actually silenced her.

    ¡°You two are not so remarkable that I knew you well before you arrived on my shores, but I have seen the path that led you here, Eloise: the Student, the Runaway, the Cutpurse, the Merchant¡¯s Apprentice, the Second in Command, the Benefactor, the Temptress, the Quartermaster, the Captain¡­¡±  The final title echoed off the walls for a moment before the spirit continued, ¡°the Forsaken.¡±

    ¡°Pff, so what? Doesn¡¯t mean you really know me.¡± A slight hitch in Eloise¡¯s voice gave away her hesitation.

    ¡°The trajectory of your future is not difficult to surmise either, following what has come before: the Wretch, the Rejected, the Phantom¡­¡±

    ¡°And me?¡± A sheep, she called me, as if I¡¯m destined only to follow. What does that make me?

    ¡°The Prince, the Alumnus, the Overseer, the Scholar, the Favorite, the Captive, the Survivor. Your future fares no better, I believe. The Heartbroken, doubtless. The Reformer, perhaps, or the Corrupted. Eventually, the Slain. Tragedy awaits you either way, young prince. I cannot see any way you might avoid it.¡±

    Spirits hate humanity. He had to remember that. They couldn¡¯t lie, but they were experts at using the truth to fuck with you. Countless old bits of folklore talked about people being led astray by them, losing what was dear to them or becoming an instrument of evil themselves, a ¡®sage¡¯, as if bowing to monsters were wise. ¡°Those are just guesses though. You said it yourself: you only see the past and present.¡±

    ¡°As do we all, limited by our perspectives. Mine is more comprehensive than any human could aspire to, and my visions are more focused than those of any other of my kind. I can offer you both a profound truth lost to you, and all I ask is that you seek to restore my domain to life.¡±

    ¡°Pass. Making deals with spirits is how idiots end up suffering forever instead of just dying normally. You have to be trained for years to avoid fucking yourself over with that shit. I¡¯m not much one for promises, anyway.¡±

    Luce sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°Not to be rude, but I¡¯m inclined to think the same way. Making promises to spirits, especially under duress like this¡­ It just seems really dangerous.¡±

    ¡°This, from a guy who blew up a boat he was standing on today.¡±

    ¡°Would you just¡ª¡± He sighed. ¡°What a mess.¡±

    ¡°I urge you both to reconsider. I ask only good faith, and offer much in return. Luce, especially, you reside in the dark on so many important family secrets that you desperately need to hear. And Eloise, you might have learned enough to grow past your limitations. Instead the Prince will destroy himself trying to save a kingdom that cannot be saved, while the Pirate dies alone, unloved, and forgotten, not remembered even in infamy. I swear, after all I have glimpsed of you, I believe this to be true.¡±

    Eloise scoffed. ¡°Wow, I travel halfway around the world and still somehow manage to hear my mother nagging me from beyond the grave. It¡¯s like I never left. Truly, thank you. Now please do us the kindness of letting us the fuck out of this creepy dump.¡±

    ¡°Respectfully, I must decline as well.¡±

    ¡°So be it. You have chosen poorly.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Luce took a deep breath. ¡°But what I have to do is too important to risk getting my soul enslaved because of a trick. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that. Except I¡¯m not particularly sorry.¡± Eloise¡¯s flat tone had returned in full, as if the spirit had never rattled her.

    ¡°So, can we go now?¡± Luce tugged lightly at the husk holding him, more to make the point than really try to break free.

    ¡°This is folly.¡± The living side of the spirit¡¯s nose wrinkled, creating an unsettling drooping effect, even if the intended expression was clear. ¡°You have not earned the truths I offered you, but there is still so much for you to see.¡±

    A growth on her living arm grew larger, until it sprouted into something that looked like a white mushroom.

    The husk grabbed Luce¡¯s jaw in its gnarled branched arms, forcing it open. He could see the same thing happening to Eloise.

    Unable to even speak, he could only watch helplessly as the spirit cut two flaky slivers from the mushroom and lowered them into each of their mouths.

    ¡°Gaze into the world, and emerge more enlightened.¡±

    Then the walls started rippling, the green glow around the spirit pulsing with higher and higher intensity. And that was only the beginning.

 Fernan III: The Flame Sage

    What happened here?

    The beach had been aflame last he saw it, but this was something else entirely. Perhaps only one in five of the tents and cabins that had once stood here remained, all of them stained by faintly pulsing scorch marks. Of the Fox King¡¯s quarters at the top of the hill, there was no trace at all.

    The fighting must have spread south. Put that way, it didn¡¯t seem so surprising, but this was still a level of devastation far beyond what Fernan could have imagined. The people here wouldn¡¯t have even seen the duel; why would they take up arms like this?

    A palpable malaise hung in the air, mixing with the salt of the sea and lingering scent of smoke underpinning everything even now.

    ¡°There, now you¡¯ve seen it. Plenty of space with those Malin wastrels thinned out.¡± Guy Valvert towered above from his horse, loose flowing clothing flapping in the wind. ¡°Now would you please attend to my cousin? She is to stand trial for parricide, you know. Not the sort of thing you want to procrastinate about.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said I would just be following instructions.¡± Fernan kept his eyes level, taking in the full surroundings.

    Shelter was limited, but the early summer heat had already arrived, tinging the air with the slightest shimmering orange glow. Thicker insulation wouldn¡¯t be necessary until winter, especially for the hardier mountain villagers used to brisk spring wind and rain.

    But there were so many desperate people behind him, willing to endure even the hated geckos in their midst for a chance at something better. Could this fire-blighted collection of ramshackle dwellings clinging to the port really suffice?

    ¡°Well, we certainly wouldn¡¯t have some skulking mountain peasant organizing the defense. You¡¯re simply a vessel, a backwater sage of a barbarous spirit, through whom we can assert Annette¡¯s innocence in accordance with the proper legal proceedings.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m blushing.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be oversensitive. I¡¯m merely speaking the truth.¡± Valvert clicked his tongue. ¡°Delivery remains important. Imagine yourself as a player in a troupe. Your performance must move the judges enough to convince them of Annette¡¯s innocence. My eloquent words shall do much to sway them, but circumstances demand that they pass through your mouth. You would do well to honor the occasion with the preparation it demands.¡±

    ¡°An actor.¡± Fernan sighed. Brilliant. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not studying your script until I can be sure my people are taken care of. This is a decent starting point, but what about food? Drinking water? Far more people used to live here; I need to be sure there won¡¯t be any conflict about inhabiting their space. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°Agh!¡± Valvert slapped his palm to his face. ¡°Do you really expect me to be familiar with all of that tedious drudgery? People lived here before; presumably those were solved issues for them. Annette¡¯s the one with the head for logistics.¡±

    It took a great deal of willpower to avoid incinerating him on the spot. ¡°Lord Valvert, could you please turn your head around?¡±

    He tilted his back in what had to be an eyeroll, but rotated to face the gathering of people that had followed from the mountains.

    Travel and hopelessness had left them weary trudging through the city, their glows dimmer every day. Some had melted away as the procession had passed through the center of town, but most seemed to have stayed.

    Now, though, they were staring at the water excitedly; some were dumbfounded, while others eagerly leapt to meet the waves.

    ¡°Generations of them lived and died in the same village where they were born,¡± Guy noted. ¡°Less than a week¡¯s ride from the water and still they have never glimpsed it. What is your point, Fernan?¡±

    ¡°My point is that you promised them safe shelter here. You, Lord Valvert, not your cousin who¡¯s currently imprisoned. I¡¯m not helping you until I¡¯m sure they have more than seawater to drink tonight.¡± Gourds and skins had been filled at the last mountain stream, but that only lasted so long, and was already likely to be running low.

    There were still people here they could ask, but that might be misinterpreted as a threat. The last thing they needed to do was take from people who had clearly already lost so much.

    He groaned. ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a well to the north. The Gold Road plays host to supply caravans by the hundreds, and their horses need to drink more than they¡¯d be able to carry easily, even when the streams run dry..¡±

    Fernan stared at him silently, his eyes blazing brighter.

    ¡°...I suppose I¡¯ll send someone to go find it, then.¡± He picked up his reins with a tremor in his hand. ¡°As for food, there ought to be enough rats around to last the night. In the morning, I can arrange something once I speak to Annette. She¡¯ll know what to do.¡±

    ¡°What did you just say?¡±

    ¡°Rations!¡± he hurriedly corrected. ¡°I said rations, from the trip. I know there wasn¡¯t much left, but it ought to last the next twelve hours. Satisfied?¡±

    ¡°For the moment.¡± It wasn¡¯t worth arguing any further about this. Clearly Guy Valvert was not the man to ensure these people were taken care of, even if he intended to honor their deal for longer than it took to defend his cousin. And that itself was hardly a given. ¡°Find that well, and I¡¯ll visit the castle.¡±

    Valvert took off on his horse, riding south through the gate into the city, dented and scorched but still standing strong.

    Now I have to hope Lady Annette can do better from the inside of a prison cell.

    After so long on the road, surrounded by people looking to him for direction, walking back through the city on his own felt refreshing, even as worries nibbled at him with every step.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what was wrong with the rat suggestion. My siblings would have been happy to help catch them if they¡¯re too fast for humans, or too hard for their weak eyes to find.¡±

    Well, mostly on his own.

    ¡°Rats aren¡¯t very good food for humans. They taste foul, and carry diseases on them really easily, to the point that it¡¯s a last resort at best. Especially city rats, here. Soleil only knows what pox they might have carried here from one of those ships.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a desperate situation though?¡±

    Fernan exhaled with a hint of amusement. ¡°Sort of. If it were a choice between feeding people rats and letting them starve, the correct decision would be obvious. But Guy Valvert promised food and shelter. Telling us to find rats to eat breaks the spirit of the agreement. It¡¯s an insult, especially when I know he can do so much better.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I guess that makes sense. That guy might not have known about that, then. He¡¯ll be so embarrassed when he finds out!¡±

    ¡°If only¡­¡± Fernan scratched the back of her head. ¡°Right now, he still needs me enough to fall in line, but the moment the trial is over, that ends. I need to work something else out, and fast.¡±

    The gecko¡¯s head tilted to the side. ¡°If he needs you right now, and he knew he was insulting you, why would he say that?¡±

    ¡°Habit,¡± Fernan guessed. ¡°He¡¯s not used to depending on someone like me and he doesn¡¯t know how to deal with it, so he¡¯s falling back on his normal behavior.¡± Camille Leclaire had done the same when she¡¯d been alive, though to a far, far lesser extent. ¡°The more I see, the more I think people will take any excuse to just keep acting the way they normally do, whether or not it¡¯s in their best interest.¡±

    I only narrowly avoided doing it myself.

    Even after learning of Jerome¡¯s monstrous actions, that temptation had been there: follow the path laid out before him, take the opportunity to return to his life after everything that had happened, with the people he loved in the town he knew¡­

    It would have been so easy to ignore what all of it had been built on. Jerome had managed it for decades and still thought himself a good person.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde can be like that, too. It was hard enough convincing him to let me take even this many geckos with me. If he¡¯d had his way, even I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    Fernan nodded slowly, continuing to walk. The winding path up from the city to the castle was a long one, and with night on the cusp of falling there was no time to waste.

    Even in the distance, the guard at the gates to the castle glowed brighter than a normal person would.

    ¡°Fernan?¡± they called out. ¡°Is that you?¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°What gave it away?¡± He flared the flames in his eyes as Mara scurried up to them. Once he was close enough, he recognized one of the sages from the Sun Temple, though not one he¡¯d ever needed to interact with too closely. ¡°Yves, right?¡±

    The sage nodded. ¡°Sage of Phoenicia, and now Keeper of the Gate.¡±

    ¡°Quite a title,¡± Fernan congratulated, not understanding what it entailed. ¡°Though I¡¯d expect you to be at the temple.¡±

    ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re has a lot of us working in the castle now. He needs people he can trust.¡±

    And what is he doing there?

    Guy Valvert had made some effort to fill Fernan on the situation in Guerron, but between the man¡¯s demeanor and his inability to get to the point, Fernan could hardly say his understanding was comprehensive.

    ¡°Is it alright if I come in?¡± He glanced down at Mara. ¡°If we come in?¡±

    Yves smiled. ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re is at the Temple with Magnifico right now, but I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s feeling better, then?¡±

    ¡°Not all the way back to where he was, but a few weeks bedrest did wonders¡­¡± His glow pulsed, as if a thought were coming to him. ¡°Say, what brings you back, anyway? Lord Lumi¨¨re said that your village was being accosted. Did you save it?¡±

    I doomed it. ¡°...I did the right thing.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Yves raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly. ¡°Well, we¡¯re glad to have you back, in any case. Little Aubaine has missed you dearly.¡± He stepped to the side, inviting Fernan to pass the threshold of the gate.

    ¡°I hope he¡¯s not getting into too much trouble,¡± Fernan said with a hint of a smile as he stepped forward, feeling the shade of the entryway cool him. ¡°And how is Adrian?¡± He¡¯d been clinging to life when Fernan had left, but...

    Yves sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°The healer soothed his passing with opium. At the end, at least, he felt no pain.¡±

    Fernan nodded somberly, not sure how to respond.

    ¡°The Fox-King¡¯s got a lot to pay for, and pay he will. Rabid cur, attacking us like that.¡±

    He threatened Magnifico for arming Lumi¨¨re with that horrific weapon, and Adrian intervened. But in the end, what was the difference?

    It was hard to imagine feeling such love for someone that it would provoke anyone to act like that, with all of the destruction left in its wake. What had happened was horrific, but the Fox-King had only made it worse. He was so old, too. He¡¯d been six years of age during the Foxtrap, according to Florette, which would make him twenty-three now. Old enough to know better, no matter how gruesome that image of Camille, lying there as the life drained out of her before being kicked into the water.

    How had it come to this?

    ¡°It was a horrible day.¡± Fernan had no interest in lying, but Yves wasn¡¯t looking for nuance here.

    The other flame sage nodded back, a drip of warmth sliding down his cheek. ¡°Feel free to look around the castle. It¡¯s really impressive when you¡¯re seeing it for the first time. Just be careful you don¡¯t wander into the wrong place; the prisoners are being kept in the eastern tower.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± For multiple reasons.

    It seemed a strange choice to keep people guarded in a tower who were accused of pushing someone out of one, but perhaps the dungeons were full or something.

    Yves hadn¡¯t technically forbidden him from going there, although the justification felt tenuous. It had sounded more like a warning than a prohibition, though, and it wasn¡¯t as if he planned to help anyone escape. Seeing Annette seemed to be easy enough for Guy, anyway, so there probably wasn¡¯t anything legal stopping Fernan from doing it. Hopefully.

    This was too important to wait for Valvert.

    It would be impossible to ensure his people¡¯s needs would be met without talking to Annette Debray herself, let alone to defend her.

    East meant inland, so Fernan simply followed the winding corridors as far back from the front entrance as he could until he found a staircase leading up.

    That led to a fantastic view of the sunset, but no signs of anyone being held captive. The whole thing seemed rather too decadent for dungeons anyway; however ostentatiously this castle had been built, there was no way the jail would match it.

    At least the view of speckled people glowing in a tower shape out of the east window showed where he did need to go. It gave him enough direction to find the stairs up to it after a few more minutes of wandering.

    All the way through, the castle seemed strangely empty. The few people milling about had vaguely familiar auras, as if Fernan had seen them in passing at the Sun Temple. The fact that none of them remarked on Mara or his eyes was another good sign of that, though only some of them had the brilliant aura of sages.

    But then where was everyone else? It seemed unlikely that the glowing dots he¡¯d seen in the other tower represented all of them.

    Who lives in the castle, anyway? The Duke was dead, his heir imprisoned. Courtiers, I think? That would be other aristocrats like Guy or Camille, but for a building this enormous, surely there ought to have been more.

    Either they left, or someone got rid of them. Neither possibility was particularly comforting.

    Fernan knew he was on the right path as he climbed, as the groups of people grew far denser and more frequent, mostly groups of five to ten non-sages carrying pikes, with one sage in their midst unarmed.

    Some of them Fernan recognized, and paused for a brief exchange of pleasantries, but none of them stopped him, nor even seemed to think it strange that he was there.

    That is, none of them cared until he reached the door to the chamber on the top floor. The way it was positioned in the hallway, it looked like the room took up the entire floor, with a woman he didn¡¯t recognize standing at the entrance, her aura bright and red as only a sage¡¯s could be.

    When she glimpsed him, light flared out in recognition. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re that guy who was pretending to be my cousin, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    The woman clapped her hands together, the sound echoing off the stone. ¡°When I got here for the tournament, the guards said they¡¯d already let my cousin ¡®Fernan¡¯ in through the gates weeks ago, a spirit-touched sage with flames in his eyes. Then I get here and no one knows anything about ¡®Fernan Bougitte¡¯, but all the other light sages mention a boy named Fernan, again with flaming green eyes, who Lord Lumi¨¨re had taking care of his kid.¡±

    How am I still paying for that lie?

    He tapped Mara three times, a signal for her to hang back and observe, and to be ready for danger. ¡°It was a misunderstanding. An accident.¡± On my part, anyway. Florette hadn¡¯t really given him any choice in the matter.

    ¡°Of course! Happens all the time. Just this morning I accidentally said I was the Great Binder to get into Avalon. We all had a big laugh about it!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Really. It was¡­ brief. The ¡®Fernan¡¯ you learned about from the other sages is exactly who I am. No lies.¡±

    Her fists clenched tightly. ¡°How dare you impugn the name of the hallowed family Bougitte for your petty deceptions! Two hundred years we have served the great flame spirit Flammare, Guardian of the Gold, Champion of the Hearth, presumptive heir to Soleil as Arbiter of the Light. Your vile misdeeds have torn asunder the very fabric of society. A curse upon you, that darkness may ever follow in your wake, until it drags you down to Khali¡¯s world of eternal emptiness.¡±

    I hope you¡¯re having fun being a pirate, Florette, because when you get back, I¡¯m going to kill you. ¡°Please, please, Lady Bougitte, I meant you no wrong. I would be happy¡ªeager¡ªto remedy any harm that my deceptions have caused you, and¡ª¡±

    She burst out laughing. ¡°Your fucking face! Man, Aurelian said you were a good egg, but wow!¡± She interrupted herself with another fit of laughter. ¡°And your eyes do get bigger when you¡¯re angry! It¡¯s really cool to look at, by the way. Super impressive, even when you¡¯re cowering over something stupid.¡±

    His eyes narrowed, their brightness intensifying. ¡°So is there a problem?¡±

    She shook her head with a snort. ¡°Man, I couldn¡¯t care less about you dropping my name to get past some guards that would have let you by anyway. Only thing that pissed me off when I got here was that Aurelian had beaten me to killing Camille Leclaire.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I guess the bitch had to go, but he could have at least waited long enough to let me see it.¡±

    Prick. Who would torment someone like that? ¡°Well, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Bougitte.¡±

    ¡°Laura.¡±

    ¡°Laura, then. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯ve just had a very long day, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sure, yeah, whatever. Oh! We should totally duel! Wouldn¡¯t that be amazing? I¡¯ve already fought all the other sages at the Temple, but you¡¯re new. I heard you managed to get the hang of Aurelian¡¯s flying trick. That, I have to see. And your gecko familiar? So cool!¡±

    ¡°Hello!¡± Mara called out, apparently thinking the need for caution was past.

    I¡¯ll have to talk with her about that.

    Laura''s glow brightened. ¡°You talk too? Ok, we definitely have to spar. You and your familiar versus me and mine. They haven¡¯t rebuilt the platform yet, but we could still do it on the beach. If things get really heated, we could even make some glass. I love doing that.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t glass that glowing stuff that they put on the side of the temple?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! You make it by heating up sand a lot. I¡¯ll show you down at the beach some time. You¡¯re in too, right, Fernan?¡±

    Fernan clutched strands of hair as he tried to think of a polite way to decline.

    ¡°Of course he¡¯s in! That sounds so cool! Who wouldn¡¯t want to see it?¡±

    Thanks, Mara.

    ¡°Laura, I¡¯m honored by your request.¡± He took a deep breath, trying not to scream. ¡°But for the moment, could I please speak to the prisoner you¡¯re guarding?¡±

    ¡°Eh?¡± She tilted her head back. ¡°She¡¯s awfully popular for a murderer, but I guess it¡¯s fine. Just don¡¯t rough ¡®em up. Aurelian gets really pissy about it, and I¡¯ll end up being the one to get in trouble.¡±

    ¡°Of course not! Why would I do that?¡±

    Laura tilted her head in what Fernan was pretty sure was a wink. ¡°Who knows why people do the things they do?¡± She fidgeted with a key until it fit into the keyhole to open the lock. ¡°Try to make it quick.¡±

    It¡¯s amazing you¡¯re trusted to guard anyone at all.

    A loud wheezing sound greeted Fernan as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

    Duchess Annette Debray was pacing back and forth across the room, a wad of papers in her hand as she mumbled to herself.

    And behind her...

    In a massive armchair, doubled over coughing under a mop of dimly glowing red hair, was the Fox-King, Lucien Renart.

 Camille IV: The Guest of Honor

    What is it now?

    Claude had intended to take her on his ¡®rounds¡¯, whatever exactly that entailed, but his punishment from the Acolyte leadership had put a stop to any of that for the time being.

    After he¡¯d recounted the absurd scheme that had seen him imprisoned, Camille thought it a wonder he was even getting off that easy. If Avalon¡¯s schematics were needed, far better to pay a pirate for the privilege and keep as much distance between yourself and the operation as possible.

    Duke Fouchand had done much the same with Robin Verrou, and Avalon had never been able to connect Guerron to any of the thefts, even as he indirectly funded them. Whatever Claude thought he was getting out of following this ¡®Florette¡¯ character, it surely was not worth the risk to his reputation and freedom.

    Camille had considered entering the temple with him, but introducing herself as a companion of a member in poor standing seemed a less-than-ideal way to make introductions. That much would have to wait.

    Instead, she¡¯d managed to grab ahold of a number of journals so she could finally figure out what had happened in Guerron without relying on mere jailhouse rumors ¡ª crucial to planning her next move.

    And the portrait they painted¡­

    Fouchand dead, Lucien and Annette imprisoned, Lumi¨¨re ascendant, Magnifico the bard so incredibly honored a guest he was being mentioned in official announcements in preparation for the approaching Summer Solstice festivities¡­

    The fact that Lumi¨¨re felt he could hold a festival at all in the wake of everything that had happened spoke to a confidence that, for once, seemed horrifyingly well earned.

    And every part of it had sprung from Camille¡¯s bloody defeat.

    Even returning from the dead could not fix all of that.

    A part of her wanted to return anyway, no matter the cost. This time, she would know exactly what power Lumi¨¨re would be bringing to bear, with no compunction about ending the threat he represented once and for all.

    But that meant getting to him at all, slipping past or defeating an entire temple of sun sages and acolytes with nary a scrap of power of her own.

    A thousand curses to that moronic knight.

    If the last two months could have been spent preparing, building allies and gathering power instead of rotting in a cell so monotonous she had lost all concept of time passing¡­

    And what allies, Camille? The foreign delegations from Condillac and Plagette that Lumi¨¨re sent fleeing for the hills? The Acolytes here that curse your family¡¯s very name? Apathetic merchants and weary peasants?

    And now, once again interrupting even the slightest moment to plan, Mr. Clocha?ne was sending for her. No doubt he would have demands of his own, but his influence with the Acolytes was not to be disregarded. Certainly, he would make a better point of introduction than Claude, whose very membership remained imperiled.

    It still does not excuse sending imperious demands of my presence at this horrific hour of the morning. One simply didn¡¯t request someone¡¯s presence until at least an hour after sunrise, save for the most dire of emergencies.

    But she had no choice but to humor it. Right now, Clocha?ne was still her best hope of an ally.

    Camille rubbed her eyes as Clocha?ne Candles came into view once more, illuminated in the pre-dawn twilight through the hordes of candles gleaming through the windows.

    Despite the hour, it seemed to have a patron, a slim, dark-haired girl, with a single blue earring hanging from one side of her head.

    Higher class of clientele than I would expect. I have a pair of earrings exactly like that. But then, fashions would be different here, and the asymmetry certainly spoke to a lack of care towards appearances, as did the far more plain shirt and trousers she wore.

    ¡°Good morning¡­?¡± the girl said with a hint of befuddlement to her voice, as if she were asking a question rather than giving a greeting.

    ¡°And to you,¡± Camille replied absently as she passed through the door. Within, the shop was empty save for the flickering candles, probably a result of how horrifically early in the morning it was.

    Although, candles might sell better in the dark. Not being a merchant herself, it was impossible to be sure, but there certainly did not seem to be a rush at this moment. It was a wonder Clocha?ne could keep the florins to maintain his level of influence with his store so empty all the time, but the ¡®how¡¯ of it was immaterial.

    For the moment, he had to be addressed.

    After a few minutes of waiting ¡ª a classic demonstration of power ¡ª the door behind the counter opened and a one-eyed man emerged, casting a long shadow in the flickering light. The arms of his shirt were slightly torn, exposing thick muscles practically gleaming with puissance. His hair had clearly once been fair in the way only a child¡¯s truly could be, now giving way to the sandy brown that blonds developed as they grew older. And the patch over his eye only accented his appearance, adding an air of danger. If only he grew his hair out longer...

    ¡°Good morning!¡± Camille smiled. ¡°I was summoned to see Mr. Clocha?ne. Is he available?¡±

    The man¡¯s single eye widened as he inhaled sharply, but he didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Well? Should I come back later?¡±

    He gulped, shoving his way past without answering the question, then practically sprinted to the door.

    What an odd fellow.

    He couldn¡¯t possibly have recognized her ¡ª Camille could scarcely manage that herself ¡ª but nothing else particularly explained his behavior.

    ¡°Ah, Carrine. Thank you for your prompt arrival. If you would follow me into the back room,¡± Clocha?ne¡¯s voice called out through the door.

    The candles in the backroom were nearly as plentiful as the storefront, though mounted in sconces on the wall rather than displays, and casting light only over numerous crates of varying sizes.

    Clocha?ne looked much the same, with his expensive coat trying too hard to appear polished and gaudy collection of rings wholly ruining the effect, altogether lacking in the subtlety necessary for a truly refined appearance.

    The largest difference was the enormous grin he was sporting.

    ¡°To begin with, I would like to apologize for my behavior last time. Claude was in sore need of that admonishment, but it ought to have been done once our introductions had concluded and you had left the premises. It was undignified.¡±

    It was. But there was no point in lingering on it. ¡°You have nothing to be concerned about, Mr. Clocha?ne. Though for your own sake, it is a lesson I¡¯m pleased to see that you have learned.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± he replied through a thinly stretched smile.

    Camille bit her lip, trying to find the best way to phrase her question to follow. ¡°Incidentally, do you have any idea why the gentleman who just left seemed so terrified to see me? I¡¯m certain we haven¡¯t met.¡± I need to be sure he does not know who I am. If Camille were revealed to be alive to the world at large right now, before any of the necessary preparations had been conducted, the results would be disastrous.

    Clocha?ne chuckled slightly. ¡°Nothing to be alarmed about. I gave him much the same talking-to as I did our dear Claude, only from the other end of things. I expect any blue-haired Acolyte walking through those doors would have terrified him after I made the consequences for breaching the separation clear.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Nothing I need to worry about, then. ¡°Shall we move on to the reason you invited me here?¡± Ordered, really, but it only helps me to tilt the phrasing in my favor.

    He nodded. ¡°Pierre Cadoudal of the Acolytes will tell you much the same once you meet him, but the mission of that organization will be somewhat different from what I imagine you are used to in Guerron.¡±

    They play at pageantry to avoid even looking threatening to the brutes occupying their homeland. ¡°That¡¯s only natural,¡± Camille lied, her voice as calm as the ocean breeze. ¡°With an event like the Foxtrap, adaptation is necessary to thrive.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased you understand.¡± He tapped the rings on his hands together, making a slight pinging sound. ¡°Still, I imagine outreach and diplomacy are one area of considerable overlap. In Guerron and Malin alike, the devotees of Levian must spread his influence to the people.¡±

    ¡°We must show them he has the power to grant them justice,¡± she agreed, thinking back to that fateful harbor robber that so thoroughly escalated the tension between herself and Lumi¨¨re. ¡°The mandate to punish the wicked and grant them purpose even in death.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± His face fell. ¡°I had something rather more interpersonal in mind.¡±

    ¡°The principles are the same,¡± Camille assured him confidently. ¡°The message may have changed, but the core of it is winning hearts and minds to our cause. I¡¯m positive that I¡¯m more than capable of whatever task you have in mind.¡± More capable than the frightened children playing at being sages here, most likely. ¡°Why don¡¯t you explain the situation and I¡¯ll explain my intended approach in turn?¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°It¡¯s more difficult than one might imagine to be an upstanding businessman in this city full of grievances and mistrust. Even so far out from the Foxtrap, many in positions of authority are wary of a man who comes from outside of the systems they know and understand.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re worried you¡¯re plotting rebellion?¡± Please, please, please be plotting rebellion. Someone in this place had to be trying something.

    Clocha?ne shrugged. ¡°Myself, I hail from Port Lumi¨¨re, on the Isle of Soleil. I only arrived in Malin shortly before the Foxtrap. Even a sense of loyalty to my countrymen would produce no compulsion to act.¡± He sighed. ¡°But not everyone here understands that. They see a man speaking their tongue as a second language, more familiar with the structure and customs of those they occupy than their own. It makes them wary, Carrine.¡±

    Camille bit her lip. How very disappointing. But she could not let it show, that would accomplish nothing.

    ¡°And the Acolytes can help with that,¡± she supplied. ¡°Demonstrate your goodwill, and indeed the goodwill of one of Malin¡¯s premiere institutions.¡± You have corrupted the entire system, turning my mother¡¯s Acolytes against her and my family, all for your own selfish ends. ¡°It¡¯s brilliant.¡±

    He chuckled again, shaking his head sadly as he did. ¡°It took me nearly half an hour to explain that to Claude, and I¡¯m still not entirely sure he grasped the particularities. He was one of the Acolytes I turned to for work in that area, but it¡¯s become clear that he¡¯s too uncouth for that aspect of their duties. I need a more delicate touch.¡±

    Camille smiled, chaining her anger deep within. ¡°You came to exactly the right person.¡±

    ¡°So I hoped.¡± He tapped his fingers together in a fan shape, rings glinting in the candlelight. ¡°I do need to verify your ability first, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Camille managed to say without sighing. ¡°I would be delighted to prove my abilities in that realm.¡±

    Clocha?ne smiled slightly, gone in an instant. ¡°Simon Perimont is the son of the Territorial Governor, and Liaison of Commerce for the city. He is charged with regulating the affairs of merchants such as myself; maintaining positive relations with him is critical to the continued success of my operations.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll charm him.¡±

    ¡°See that you do. I know him well, but with that Fortan knight poking around on Prince Harold¡¯s orders, it would be better if I could minimize my in-person involvement to the greatest extent possible. Caution is, as ever, preferable¡±

    So you can throw me out to sea if anything goes wrong. Camille bit her lip. ¡°Eminently sensible.¡±

    ¡°Simon is fond of parties, as you shall soon discover. In fact, there is a f¨ºte in Fuite Gardens tonight where he is expected to be in attendance. Befriend him as an Acolyte, and keep my name out of it. I¡¯ll feel him out later to make sure that everything went well. Then we¡¯ll know what you¡¯re capable of.¡±

    ¡°Fair terms,¡± she admitted. Camille would not benefit materially, or he would have offered as much, but influence was the more valuable currency, now as ever. Still, one might have expected a merchant to offer a bit more than that in exchange for work on his behalf.

    ¡°Although¡­¡± She looked up into the light of one of the candles mounted to the wall. ¡°For such a social engagement, I will need suitable garments. My stipend from Guerron was stolen on my first day in this city.¡±

    Clocha?ne waved his arm dismissively, his rings sending a glittering pattern of light darting across the room as he did. ¡°I¡¯ll send you out with a few hundred mandala to get your appearance right. If things don¡¯t work out, I¡¯m sure you can find a way to pay it back.¡±

    Truly, your generosity knows no bounds. ¡°Thank you kindly, Mr. Clocha?ne.¡±

    He nodded, scratching his chin for a moment in consideration. ¡°Please, call me Jacques.¡±

    ?

    Already, Camille felt better.

    She¡¯d chosen a light green dress with a high collar and short sleeves to better conceal the scar on her shoulder. Blue would have been too expensive, and tempted fate with regards to keeping her identity hidden. This was a better fit for summer, anyway.

    Seeing the girl with the blue earring again outside had also put that thought to her mind, so she¡¯d added a modest pair to the ensemble, inexpensive metal that gave the appearance of true silver, and in the circular shape of Avalon¡¯s mandala coins.

    It was not the real thing, but it would still be enough to accomplish the needful.

    The state of Fuite Gardens was appalling, an overgrown mess that made an absolute mockery of the carefully landscaped masterpiece the capital had once boasted. Even the small ropes keeping spectators to the proper path were gone, though occasionally one of the ropes could be found wrapped around the base of a tree or tangled in a hedge.

    Without her family, the irrigation systems had collapsed in on themselves, causing massive patches of overgrowth wherever they leaked and dry, brown vegetation everywhere else, as if the garden spirit had chosen his favorite spots and cursed the rest.

    Pierrot, the lesser spirit in question, would have died before allowing it to come to this.

    And perhaps he has. Avalon¡¯s binders specialized in the murder of spirits, binding their power into artifacts at their disposal. They had not made much of a showing at the Foxtrap, eclipsed by their cannons, but that would not have stopped them from pecking over the aftermath like vultures.

    The party within gave the place no sense of cohesion, either, though that much was to be expected. Tendrils of attendees spiralled out from the roasting pig at the center, sending smoke high up into the night sky.

    Even though the sun had set, the humid air was holding onto the day¡¯s heat, which, aided by copious drinking, coated most people she could spot in a gleaming layer of sweat, though Camille took care to avoid allowing the same to happen to her as she slowly walked forward.

    Simon Perimont was the Governor¡¯s son; he would be at the center of a cluster of his own, one of the more important people there. Whether he willed it or not, a man of such stature was bound to draw attention in that fashion.

    If this were a regular occurrence for him, he would likely take pleasure in it, though, which helped further.

    Her eyes scanned over the crowd as she approached further, illuminated by lanterns faintly engraved with a square insignia reading CC.

    So Clocha?ne exerts his influence even here.

    Camille continued looking, casually wandering by several clusters of people reasonably distant from the smoke, until she spotted a well-dressed man close to her own age, sprawled back over a settee someone must have dragged out here, the center of attention despite his plainness.

    A light-brown-haired girl sat next to him, drinking from a clear bottle with some manner of clear spirit within, and seemingly uninterested in the contents of the story. Not just one of the admirers, then.

    The man himself seemed to be practically basking in the attention, monologuing some inaudible story to the utter captivation of the crowd surrounding him.

    Hello, Simon.

    Now she simply had to take the right approach¡­

    Camille walked up from behind, leaning over the back of the settee and addressing the girl next to Perimont. ¡°How is that drink? I haven¡¯t tried it myself.¡± She did her best to hide any accent, but she hadn¡¯t had much occasion to use the tongue with anyone but tutors. That should not matter though; I¡¯ve no need to pretend to be from Avalon.

    ¡°What, gin?¡± The girl turned back to look at her, then held out the bottle. ¡°It¡¯s Cambria¡¯s best. Here.¡±

    Camille took a perfunctory sip, enough to assault her with the taste of juniper, but managed to force a smile anyway. ¡°Impressive!¡± She passed the bottle back, walking around to the front of the furniture piece as she did. ¡°I¡¯m surprised your friend there isn¡¯t partaking.¡±

    The girl scoffed. ¡°Not a friend. He¡¯s my brother, and he¡¯d rather get high on the sound of his own voice. He¡¯s not even a good storyteller like I am, and his life is stupid boring.¡±

    Next to her, the man interrupted his own monologue to turn to the girl. ¡°Mary, do you have to do this here?¡±

    She stuck out her tongue, waving her hands as she did.

    The man sighed. ¡°Apologies for my sister.¡± His eyes seemed to brighten as he got a better glimpse of Camille, then he held out his hand. ¡°Simon Perimont.¡±

    ¡°Carrine Borbeau,¡± she supplied, holding out her own hand in turn. The Borbeaus were not much, as families went, their only real claim to significance being a distant kinship to the Lumi¨¨res and their youngest accidentally falling off a boat. It seemed safe enough, and far more likely to draw results than not supplying a surname at all. That would mark her as common in a way that would be less than productive.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Carrine.¡± He kissed her hand lightly, then let go. ¡°Would you care to join us? There¡¯s plenty of room on the sofa. I was just recounting the harrowing tale of the harbor bombing. I was there myself, you know, saving people from grievous injury and death in the aftermath.¡±

    Camille bit her lip. It¡¯s a settee; they¡¯re not the same. ¡°It would be a pleasure, I¡¯m sure, but I¡¯m not certain that I have the time. There¡¯s an engagement I need to attend to¡ª¡± Always look busy, unavailable.

    The sister, Mary, practically dragged Camille down into the center, uncomfortably close to both of them. ¡°You can stay a few minutes! Have some more gin!¡±

    Not part of the plan, but it couldn¡¯t hurt to build a relationship with the sister as well.

    ¡°I suppose I could manage a few minutes.¡±

    The drinks flowed heavily, and minutes turned into hours as Camille allowed herself to be pursued with flagrant boasting so heavily embellished it would give a bard pause. Mary seemed the more interested of the two, strangely, taking any excuse to make contact and batting her eyelashes so hard they seemed ready to catch fire.

    I¡¯ve gotten far more than what Clocha?ne asked for, and it was almost insultingly easy too.

    The Perimonts were so used to being fawned over that the slightest pretense to resistance had left them eating from the palm of her hand. It wasn¡¯t the most tasteful work, but achingly familiar after nearly two decades wrangling aristocrats, trying to build an alliance to retake Malin.

    ¡°Alright, now I really must go.¡± Always leave them wanting more. Camille stood up slowly, extricating herself from the settee siblings.

    ¡°No! We¡¯re best friends now, you can¡¯t go! That¡¯s so mean!¡± Mary pouted, slurring her words slightly.

    ¡°The lady needs her rest,¡± Simon countered, slipping a scrap of paper into the palm of her hand. ¡°She knows to call upon us another time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best. I did have a lovely night.¡±

    Despite the late hour and the generous imbibement that had led her to it, Camille felt a spring in her step as she descended the hill out of the gardens. With the Perimonts amenable to her, Clocha?ne would support her as well, at least with the Acolytes. It wasn¡¯t a full plan yet, but the pieces that would be needed to form one.

    She stumbled slightly, nearly tripping over a root.

    In the morning. A plan can wait that long.

    Her eyes were so heavy she almost failed to notice the sword pointed in her face, but the glint of steel sent her springing to alert attention.

    Holding it was the black-haired girl from this morning, the one with the earring.

    Did she follow me here?

    ¡°Look, whatever you want, I¡¯m sure we can work this out.¡± Camille held up her hands, mentally readying herself to spend more of her life stopping the assailant.

    ¡°What I want, Camille Leclaire, is for you to explain what the fuck that was, and I¡¯d better like the answer.¡±

 Fernan IV: The Investigator

    This is meant to be a prison?

    The room took up more than half the floor of the tower, with enough furniture to put Jerome¡¯s sitting room to shame. And two hearths!

    Fernan had needed to focus his vision clearly to make sure he wasn¡¯t misreading the flames. Big mistakes like that weren¡¯t quite so common anymore, but misreading the room still seemed more likely than that. Even in a room of this size, that sort of decadence was absurd.

    You could fit thirty people in here without it feeling crowded.

    Instead, there were two.

    ¡°Fernan!¡± Annette Debray pulsed red. ¡°You really came, didn¡¯t you? I can¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Here I am.¡± He dipped his head in respect. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss, Lady Debray.¡±

    She took a deep breath. ¡°You are kind to say that. It¡¯s been difficult.¡±

    ¡°He was a titan among men, always taking the wiser course over the rash,¡± the Fox-King added. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, and you are?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve met, actually.¡± Fernan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. I don¡¯t exactly blend into the background with eyes like these. ¡°On the beach, just before Lady Leclaire¡¯s duel.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Please accept my apologies.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°That day¡­ I hope you¡¯ll understand if other concerns took the forefront.¡±

    That¡¯s right.

    In so short a time, he would have lost his fianc¨¦e and his people¡¯s home. The chaos and fighting of that day, the aftermath of that duel, had all been horrifying enough to even witness, let alone participate in.

    ¡°Of course, Your Grace. I am Fernan, alderman of Villechart.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡± The King¡¯s head tilted to the side.

    ¡°A mining village in the mountains,¡± Debray supplied. She sounded a bit dismissive, but it was hard to be sure. Maybe Guy just put me on guard. ¡°One of the coal towns that belong to my grandfath¡ª To my family. His patron spirit hails from there as well.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± The Fox-King tugged at his wrists, pulling on faintly lit drapes of cloth over his hands. Strange sleeves, perhaps, though it could have been something else. ¡°I appreciate your coming here, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°How did you know to find us?¡± Lady Debray asked gently, a fatigue noticeable in her voice. ¡°I passed your name to one of my guards, but Aurelian took her away from my post the next day. I thought he had her killed.¡±

    She didn¡¯t send for me herself? ¡°It was Guy Valvert. I think he¡¯s your cousin? He rode up to my village and told me you had been falsely accused of murder.¡±

    ¡°Him?¡± Her aura fashed so pale it was practically white. ¡°Are you sure it wasn¡¯t someone else pretending to be him?¡±

    Am I? If the promises had been made by a charlatan, Fernan¡¯s position here was even more tenuous than he¡¯d thought. But there had been signs. ¡°He rode a magnificent horse, and had the, um, ¡®refined¡¯ preferences that aristocrats seem to.¡±

    She rubbed her chin. ¡°Did he have all the charm of a dead rat lying on your forehead?¡±

    ¡°He was asking for help. It¡¯s a time to be polite, if ever there is one.¡±

    The lady laughed. ¡°You can be honest with me, Fernan. The Guy Valvert I know is a first-class shitheel who¡¯s been friends for years with Aurelian Lumi¨¨re. There¡¯s no love lost between us.¡±

    Fernan cracked the slightest hint of a smile. ¡°He called me a skulking mountain peasant.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s him, then.¡± She shook her head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    ¡°He seemed assured of your innocence, my lady. He offered me much in exchange for standing to defend you in your trial.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse. Maybe he hit his head or something.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he just really believes you.¡± The King shrugged his shoulders. ¡°He can hate you and still realize you would never hurt Fouchand.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­ I worry something more sinister is afoot. This whole trial is a farce.¡±

    ¡°How so? I¡¯m not really familiar with how this works. I tried to ask Guy, but he told me it wouldn¡¯t matter because I¡¯d just be reading from a script.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s that famous warmth of his.¡± The lady took a sip from the cup in front of her, instantly lighting up. ¡°Matters of justice have been enshrined by principles put into law by the first Fox-Queen: if guilt is in question, solicitors for the Empire do battle with solicitors for the defense before the ruler of the dominion, or their appointed magistrate, until the truth emerges. Then the sage with the vested authority passes the sentence.¡±

    ¡°Battle? Valvert said I¡¯d be reading a statement!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you won¡¯t have to fight anyone. The duel of the solicitors is just ceremonial these days. Usually there isn¡¯t even a sage for the defense. Few sages are interested in pettier matters, and it keeps things moving smoothly. For something like this, my grandfather would make the determination. He never wanted someone else to do what he thought was his own duty. Or¡­ I suppose I would be the one passing judgement, now. But Lumi¨¨re is soliciting for the Empire and standing in for the magistrate. It¡¯s making a mockery of administrative procedure!¡±¡¯

    She sounds angrier about that than the murder accusation.

    ¡°That¡¯s so unfair.¡± How does Guy think I could possibly clear her?

    The King nodded, clearing his throat with a brief cough. ¡°But Lumi¨¨re and his temple acolytes control the city. With Emile fled to Soleil-know-where, you¡¯re the only sage in Guerron that wouldn¡¯t roll over for him.¡±

    ¡°And a good thing, too. We¡¯re lucky Guy even decided to get you instead of just closing the loop.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    ¡°Get you out of the way,¡± the Fox-King clarifying without providing much reassurance. ¡°You¡¯re practically the last person we had even a chance of getting to defend Annette. Guy went and got you, but...¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed brighter. ¡°He might just as easily have tried to kill me instead.¡± I¡¯m so glad I came all this way to help you, then. But she hadn¡¯t told Valvert herself, hadn¡¯t known she¡¯d be endangering him like this... ¡°Should I be worried?¡±

    Annette snorted. ¡°Guy¡¯s had entire plays written about what an asshole he is, but he never seemed much one for murder. Not with his own hands, anyway. I would have thought he¡¯d pay you off though, at the very least. Whatever he offered you to come, he could just as easily have offered you to stay. It¡¯s bizarre.¡±

    Fernan shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s irrelevant. I¡¯m here to help, now.¡± Even aside from his people, allowing an innocent person to die when he was here to defend her would be utterly unthinkable. ¡°And for what it¡¯s worth, I think Valvert was being honest. He didn¡¯t exactly leap to defend your character, just said that what you¡¯re accused of is beyond you.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a big difference between saying that and securing a sage to defend me.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true.¡± Fernan turned to the King. ¡°Are you being implicated as well?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Lucien Renart slammed his fist against the table, wincing in pain the instant after. ¡°That bastard Aurelian reinstituted the regency. He¡¯s claiming I¡¯m unfit to rule because of the fighting after the duel! It¡¯s absurd.¡±

    Annette clicked her tongue. ¡°It¡¯s devious. No need for a trial that way, nor even publicly defying you. Just keep you locked up and out of the way while he rules in your name. No such luck for me, though.¡±

    ¡°Camille would know how to get out of this.¡± He took a long, deep breath. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m not fit to rule, not without her. She was always the mastermind.¡± He rubbed the back of his hands, still draped in that strange draped cloth. ¡°As it is, I can barely hold a sword. I challenged Aurelian to a duel and he simply laughed in my face. And locked up in this castle, I¡¯ve no way to shame him for his cowardice.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°She isn¡¯t back?¡± Fernan slumped slightly. ¡°I¡¯d thought¡­ That¡¯s terrible news.¡±

    ¡°No news,¡± Annette corrected. ¡°It¡¯s still too early for condolences.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Fernan replied hurriedly, not wanting to upset them. ¡°Would you mind a change of subject?¡±

    ?

    More questions than answers, for all of that.

    Annette had come through on food, at least. Several vendors for the Festival of the Sun had brought their animals and supplies after being paid in advance by her Bureau of the Sea, and had sat idle ever since. A simple signature would see his people fed through the trial, at least.

    Assuming it was actually a contact in his hands, and not a blank sheet of paper. It wasn¡¯t as if he could tell the difference.

    But Annette had seemed too grateful for that, honest in her dealings. Even the day he¡¯d left Guerron with the sundial, she had insisted on him keeping the extra funds as proof of good faith. She wouldn¡¯t cheat him now, not like that.

    Still, there had to be a more permanent solution. Depending on Guy¡¯s largesse would be nothing but foolish, and Annette could only do so much from within her palatial ¡®cell¡¯.

    The King was no better, given a few more rooms to roam and allowed to visit Annette on occasion, but otherwise entirely hamstrung.

    Not that he seemed to do much in the first place.

    An unkind thought, maybe, but Fernan still remembered the fire and chaos of that day after the duel. Grief could excuse some of it, but Lucien Renart still bore no small share of responsibility for that horrific conflagration, trying to kill Magnifico then and there.

    Nor were their recollections of the Duke¡¯s passing illuminating.

    Lucien had been on the other side of the city, penned up as his settlement burned around him, soon to be apprehended by Lord Lumi¨¨re, and was being kept apart from the trial besides.

    Annette only remembered entering the castle as normal, then making her way into Duke Fouchand¡¯s chambers only to find them empty. She¡¯d said that the door had locked behind her, leaving her trapped inside until guards had broken it down.

    By that point Duke Fouchand¡¯s body had already been discovered in the courtyard, directly beneath his balcony. Annette had barely had a moment to think before being apprehended and confined to that floor of the tower.

    Apparently someone had seen her push him, but she had only heard that second hand.

    It didn¡¯t sound right.

    That¡¯s why I¡¯ve got to see the room for myself, ground the months-old recollections in something physical.

    Speaking with the various food vendors was the first priority, but none of them would be reachable until tomorrow morning. Fernan was here now, and he had to try to understand what had happened. There was no guarantee of finding anything useful, but failing to even look would be a dereliction of his defense.

    Unfortunately, the Duke¡¯s chambers seemed to be firmly inaccessible, bolted shut with no less than seven planks of wood nailed to the front, each varnished and smooth to the touch. Probably more around the back, too.

    It wasn¡¯t an insurmountable barrier, and it would probably be possible to get in from the back using one of the other balconies, but that wasn¡¯t exactly the tone he was trying to set.

    I¡¯ve managed not to anger anyone yet. Breaking into a restricted area seemed like a poor way to maintain that streak.

    He could come back tomorrow maybe, if there was time after dealing with the food, but that was hardly a sure thing. And the trial was only inching closer. Although, maybe I could¡ª

    ¡°Fernan! I heard you were back in Guerron, but I didn¡¯t realize you were still in the castle. Welcome back!¡±

    He turned his head to find the familiar form of Magnifico, standing confidently despite the slight darkness to his aura. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡±

    Magnifico wrapped his arm around Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Tell me everything! Is your village safe? Was the evil spirit defeated?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ We resolved the situation. It¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s great, then!¡± His glow grew warmer, the traces of black dissipating. ¡°Are you back in town for Aurelian? I know he offered you a job before you left.¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­¡± This had to happen eventually. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m here for Annette. She has no one else to speak in her defense.¡± He watched the bard closely, trying to read an expression from the light of his face.

    Magnifico removed his arm. ¡°That¡¯s unexpected. Do you really think she¡¯s innocent? The maid saw her push the Duke off the balcony, and they found her there minutes later, barricaded inside.¡±

    So someone did see it.

    ¡°She¡­ I don¡¯t believe she would do something like that to family, even if it looks like it. And there¡¯s no one else behind her. It doesn¡¯t seem fair that she lose by default.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The bard scratched his bare chin. ¡°Spoken like a true attorney.¡±

    ¡°A what?¡±

    He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Solicitor, sorry. Language differences.¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, I respect it. You¡¯re a good kid, Fernan.¡± He leaned back casually against the wall of the corridor. ¡°I take it that¡¯s why you¡¯re here? Looking into the scene of the crime?¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to break in or anything, I just thought I should take a look.¡±

    ¡°Smart.¡± He rapped his knuckles against the wooden boards. ¡°How about I talk to Aurelian? I¡¯m sure once he knows your rationale, he wouldn¡¯t mind a quick peek inside. Meet you here tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    A smile flashed across his face. ¡°I want to know what happened too, honestly. Lady Debray didn¡¯t seem the type for parricide to me, either. Something¡¯s suspicious about all of this.¡±

    You have no idea.

    ¡°Thank you! I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m glad you understand. I was worried this would be a problem between us.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Really, it isn¡¯t. Let me talk to Aurelian first, though. I¡¯d like to think he¡¯ll see it your way, but it¡¯s better if it comes from me.¡±

    ¡°Again, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Again, there¡¯s no need to thank me. I want all doubts settled just as much as you do, and I¡¯d be happy to do anything to help you while you look into it.¡±

    Fernan inhaled, considering whether to ask. ¡°Forgive me, but why do you care? What does it matter to you?¡±

    ¡°What, aside from the principles of liberty and justice for everyone?¡± Magnifico chuckled. ¡°To be honest, in the interest of full disclosure, I wasn¡¯t only here as a bard, nor simply a token of goodwill. My purpose here was more of a diplomatic nature. I was negotiating a deal with Fouchand to ensure peace between us.¡±

    That explains so much. Fernan blinked as it all settled into place. The guards, the place of honor, secretive discussion with aristocrats, and remaining behind even after the festival was canceled. ¡°Was he open to it?¡±

    ¡°He was.¡± Magnifico clenched his fists. ¡°We were working out the details when he was found dead in the courtyard.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s awful.¡± From what Florette had told him, Fouchand was a coward, willing to sulk instead of mounting any effort to retake the homeland. But that was Florette, never much one for nuance. It meant something that Guerron had seen seventeen years without war.

    What was one more capitulation to Avalon, in the name of peace? And now it would all be ruined.

    The bard shook his head sadly. ¡°Not everyone is so eager for peace. But you can see why I would want to know who truly killed him, if not the girl. They¡¯re an existential threat to diplomacy between Avalon and Guerron. To Guerron¡¯s well-being, most of all. The uplift of cultural exchange demands good faith.¡±

    Uplift? ¡°Have you talked to Annette? If the Duke was open to the deal, she might¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fernan, I don¡¯t wish to dampen your enthusiasm, but I already tried to speak to her, and she pushed me away.¡±

    ¡°Let me see what I can do. No harm in a conversation.¡±

    ¡°You might be surprised. Still, it¡¯s appreciated.¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll see you back here tomorrow, then. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°See you then!¡±

    Magnifico turned to walk back the way he came, while Fernan made his way back out to the front of the castle.

    That had gone considerably better than he could have hoped for. Lord Lumi¨¨re and Magnifico had their issues, the former especially, but it was always good to maintain goodwill, and now it seemed like he wouldn¡¯t be poisoning any wells in speaking for Annette. Now it was just a matter of¡ª

    What¡¯s that?

    A billowing black cloak disappeared around the corner in front him before he could get a good look at it, so dark it contrasted with the air around it, yet somehow faint, blurry at the edges. Fernan ran to catch it, but by the time he had rounded the curve, whoever it was was gone.

    They dropped something, though. On the floor was a small note, folded in half. The letter F was embossed on the top, thickly enough that he could feel the letter with his fingers.

    His eyes condensed to burning points.

    Is this for me? How am I supposed to read it?

    Who could he trust to read it for him?

    He flipped the note open, futilely feeling for another clue. The inside had the strangest texture, as if the whole thing had been coated in wax, but it was messy, ridges and lines criss crossing through it.

    Lines¡­

    He rubbed his thumb slowly over what was either the very top or the very bottom, trying to visualize the letters as he did, but his mind¡¯s eye couldn¡¯t place it.

    Still¡­

    He turned the paper around, feeling at the other side and reaching for meaning.

    And he found it.

    It took almost an hour to parse, with far, far too many words to look over and over as he walked back to the harbor, but by the time he made it the message was clear enough to understand.

    To Fernan,

    I hope you had a pleasant journey. I know you not, but I have done my best to work around your condition, in the hopes that this message reaches you. For similar reasons, I have elected to employ more brevity than is my wont.

    If you truly wish to understand what happened the night the Duke died, take care to consider binders. Sages are not the only ones with the magic of the spirits at their fingertips.

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to have his son killed, and would think nothing of doing the same to you if it suited him. There is no greater monster in all the world.

    Burn this letter as soon as you can. It¡¯s the only way to be sure it¡¯s truly destroyed. Darkness leaves traces but the light blots out all else.

    -Jethro

 Florette V: The One with the Sword

    Not just a rude aristocrat but a traitor as well. I was right to follow her.

    ¡°Look, whatever you want, I¡¯m sure we can work this out.¡± Leclaire held up her hands in submissive surrender, the fear plain to see on her face. She looked diminished, thinner to the point of being almost meager, rumpled and slightly disheveled in a way that seemed totally at odds with her demeanor.

    Her clothes still looked immaculate, but there was sweat on her brow, her hair slightly puffed up in the humid night air. Light brown and yellow hair stretched out across the top of her scalp, as if trying to claim her head back from the blue.

    The scowl on her face was exactly the same as that first meal, though. At once haughty and self-assured. Not for long, though.

    ¡°What I want, Camille Leclaire, is for you to explain what the fuck that was, and I¡¯d better like the answer.¡± Florette extended her blade slightly to make her point clear. ¡°Because it looks to me like you faked your death to defect to Avalon.¡±

    Leclaire snorted imperiously. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You spent the entire evening drinking and carousing with Perimont¡¯s children! Living it up under Avalon¡¯s boot while Guerron bleeds. Why else?¡±

    ¡°Wow.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°For a moment there, I was worried I was being accosted by someone of even moderate intelligence.¡±

    Florette¡¯s grip tightened. ¡°I¡¯d be careful about what you say right now. One more step and you¡¯ll have a hole in your chest to match the one in your shoulder. You¡¯re already supposed to be dead. No one would notice.¡±

    ¡°Clocha?ne would.¡± Leclaire bit her lip. ¡°Just think for a moment. Why would I betray all that I stand for? Avalon took everything from me.¡±

    Florette scoffed. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure you were miserable up in that castle with your servants and silks and jewels. People lost their lives in the Foxtrap, but you had to move into a different house. My heart weeps at the tragedy you¡¯ve undergone.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Yes, it was better before. All the reason not to let myself get shot with that hand-cannon and bleed out into the water. I have a plan, that¡¯s all. Winning the Perimont children to my side is but one small part. You shall not interfere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the one dictating terms here.¡± Florette pressed the tip of the blade against her shoulder, the same side that had been left torn and red after the duel. ¡°And why here? Perimont rules with an iron fist. There were rows of gallows all across the beach when I sailed in, a would-be liberator swinging from each. Guerron is where you need to be.¡±

    Leclaire shook her head. ¡°I do not think my return there would be well received. Duke Fouchand is dead.¡±

    ¡°He was a coward anyway. Too weak to push back, and look what it cost him.¡±

    Rage flared in her eyes, an ice-cold blue. ¡°You know nothing, girl.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re supposed to be dead. I was there to watch you fall, or at least saw you pretend to.¡±

    ¡°You were in Guerron?¡± She bit her lip again. ¡°Wait, I know you! You were Fernan¡¯s awful friend, doing all the talking when I asked him for help, squeezing money out of me like some kind of brigand.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You only just now realized that? Bad enough you didn¡¯t notice me the first time.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re just not all that memorable.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°Your name was Celine then, as I recall. But I wonder if that, too, was a ruse. Have you ever once let a truth escape your lips, even by accident?¡±

    ¡°Oh, because you¡¯re such a stranger to deception, letting the world believe you bled out into the sea while Avalon spreads its oppression further and further.¡± Florette shook her head disapprovingly. ¡°I¡¯ll say this much for you: however you did it, your trick worked. Every journal from here to Avalon names you dead.¡±

    ¡°How would you know?¡±

    Florette blinked.

    ¡°I mean, from a journal. Can you even¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, I can read, you glimmering prick.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a ridiculous question!¡± She flipped her hands up higher, more to make a point than surrender. ¡°Most villagers lack the capacity. Your friend Fernan, for example.¡±

    ¡°He could read before his eyes were burned out, you stupid fuck.¡±

    Leclaire winced. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of that.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be aware of much, lady. Probably why you nearly died and everyone hates you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite an ego you¡¯ve got, thinking that your feelings apply to everyone.¡± Leclaire stepped back slightly, moving away from the tip of the sword. Her eyes flickered to the side of Florette¡¯s face and widened a touch. ¡°And it¡¯s in very poor taste to accost a person you¡¯ve already stolen from.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°What, do you work at the railyard or something?¡±

    ¡°My earring, you nitwit. I knew I recognized it. That pair is a family heirloom, you know. One of the few we managed to rescue during the fall of the city.¡±

    ¡°Are you seriously complaining about a trinket right now?¡± She put her hand up to her ear, feeling the cool gem hanging from it. ¡°I didn¡¯t steal it from you, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Well you certainly didn¡¯t buy it.¡±

    Florette gripped her blade tighter, trying not to let the strain of holding up for so long show. ¡°I took it from a Prince of Avalon, whose ship I fucking raided. He¡¯s our prisoner even now, a bargaining chip and a message.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°For all that you look down on me, my actions have actually accomplished something important. A bard robbed, a prince taken, plans for combustion engines appropriated from right under the Director¡¯s nose! What have you done to break Avalon¡¯s tyranny, Leclaire? For all your bluster, all you¡¯ve done is fail.¡±

    The exiled Lady bit her lip, her icy blue eyes staring coldly back.

    ¡°Wake the fuck up. Stop chewing on your lip and make something of yourself. You need to get back to Guerron and sort this shit out. If Magnifico is popular enough to appear in engravings next to your Sun Sage friend, I shudder to imagine what damage he¡¯s causing. Get your shit together!¡±

    She clenched her fists, back slumped forward. It was a strange look for someone who always held their head so high. ¡°In Guerron, I¡¯m a dead woman the moment I show my face. Too many people will recognize me. Lucien has no power, locked away in the tower, and Annette is in an even worse position. No one stands for them; no one will for me. I need to do this here.¡±

    ¡°Do what? Drink and feel sorry for yourself? You can do that anywhere.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed, but the fury was muted compared to before. ¡°The railyard¡­¡± she muttered. ¡°You¡¯re Florette, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s to say?¡±

    Leclaire smiled slightly. ¡°Someone talked. There¡¯s always someone who does.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°Did Jacques tell you? Or Ysengrin?¡± If word was getting out, it wouldn¡¯t be safe to stay in Malin.

    ¡°Someone outside of these gardens who knows. Does it really matter?¡±

    ¡°It matters to me.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Even you see the opportunity to be had in this city. Clocha?ne, the Perimonts, the Guardians¡­ Put all the pieces together right, and I can return this city to its rightful hands.¡±

    ¡°You think you¡¯re going to liberate Malin, just like that?¡±

    She took a deep breath. ¡°All of it is part of my plan, as it always has been. I wrapped the Perimonts around my finger at the behest of your patron Jacques Clocha?ne, to further solidify his support while making inroads of my own. Perimont¡¯s grip is not as secure as it seems.¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Does she really know a way to do that? It did seem more believable than her defecting, but still¡­ ¡°Let¡¯s say that that¡¯s true. I don¡¯t answer to Jacques. Robin Verrou is still someone I would call my captain, and Eloise¡­¡± Eloise is probably laughing at the naive peasant girl from the deck of her ship. ¡°Clocha?ne doesn¡¯t get my loyalty, not knowing how he runs things. You must have noticed it yourself: he benefits from things too much as they stand. More of a businessman than a criminal.¡±

    Leclaire nodded. ¡°I suspect he would not take offense to the description. Rest assured, I will ensure that Malin¡¯s liberation overlaps with his self-interest.¡±

    ¡°How? You say you have a plan, but it sounds like you¡¯re just collecting little bits and pieces, throwing things at the wall.¡±

    ¡°Bits and pieces are crucial to the whole.¡± She started to bite her lip again, then abruptly opened her mouth to stop, probably self-conscious about the habit now that it had been pointed out to her. ¡°By Eloise, you wouldn¡¯t happen to mean that horrid quartermaster from Verrou¡¯s ship?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you know her?¡± How did that happen? They didn¡¯t exactly seem likely to run in the same circles.

    ¡°Unfortunately. She was obstinate and difficult, insulting me all the while even as I helped hide her ship from the bard. Then she tried to buy me a drink! It was the strangest thing.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that sounds like Eloise.¡± Florette couldn¡¯t help but crack the slightest smile.

    Leclaire raised an eyebrow at the response, but shrugged.

    Florette started to clarify, but stopped herself. ¡°Wait, do you hear that?¡±

    The party had largely wound down, and Florette had waited until Leclaire was far enough away that she wouldn¡¯t be noticed or heard. And yet, the sounds of talking were growing louder and louder.

    ¡°...You are just about the furthest from perfect I¡¯ve ever seen, Mary.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m not perfect perfect! Then I wouldn¡¯t be relatable to the people we rule over. You have to show them that you have problems just like they do, like that time I had to wait half an hour for the servants to gather firewood for my bath. Or when I had to take that boring Thorley kid to dinner and listen to him talk about trains forever and a day just because his father knows ours!¡±

    ¡°Those aren¡¯t really character defects though. They¡¯re just things that happened that you found hard.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying I am perfect?¡±

    ¡°Hah! You couldn¡¯t even remember the right shortcut. If we¡¯d simply taken the main path, we¡¯d be halfway home by now. I¡¯m saying that lack of humility is another deficiency for you. You know how Father emphasizes the value of realizing one¡¯s place in life.¡±

    ¡°I do have flaws though! Like, I¡¯m too nice! Too sensitive! People feel insecure around me because I¡¯m beautiful and smart and I¡¯m from a good family and they just know they can¡¯t measure up! You would know what that¡¯s like if you weren¡¯t always annoying everyone by chasing skirts and burying your nose in those ledgers. I swear, Simon, she said she had to leave because you couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone¡­¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes met Leclaire¡¯s. ¡°Hide,¡± she hissed.

    Leclaire shook her head. ¡°Put that thing away.¡±

    ¡°No!¡±

    The Lady grabbed the blade just above the tip and moved it away from her, stepping past its reach. ¡°They¡¯re almost here.¡±

    Simon Perimont held a hand above his brow, looking down the hill towards them.

    ¡°Hey, is that¡ª?¡±

    The sister, Mary, tore down the hill in their direction, nearly tripping on every third step.

    Fuck.

    Florette slipped the sword back into its sheath and turned to face the drunken noble brats.

    Leclaire stepped out to meet them, her back instantly straightening back up, the weariness gone from her form. ¡°Well if it isn¡¯t my two favorite Perimonts! I didn¡¯t expect to see you again so soon!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m full of pleasant surprises!¡± Mary Perimont called out. With her light brown hair, small frame, and inability to stand straight, she called to mind a sapling blowing in the wind. ¡°It¡¯s just one of the many things people love about me.¡±

    Simon shot her a glare before turning back to Leclaire. ¡°I must say I¡¯m somewhat surprised to still find you here.¡± He turned to Florette, flicking his eyes up and down and sending a shiver of revulsion through her. ¡°Or are you her ¡®urgent business¡¯, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just a coincidence.¡± Leclaire patted him on the shoulder, mercifully pulling his attention back. ¡°Celine here just got in from Guerron as well.¡±

    She¡¯s using my fake name? ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet both of you. I was just mentioning to¡­ Um...¡± Shit, what name did she give them? Florette could hardly call her ¡®Camille¡¯ in front of these two.

    ¡°She was telling me that she was in the stands when Camille Leclaire met her end.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Simon rubbed his chin, looking slightly silly doing it for want of a beard. ¡°That must have been quite the spectacle! Though given the Fox-King¡¯s maddened outburst in the wake of it, you¡¯re lucky to be alive.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Florette responded curtly.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s saaaad!¡± Mary threw her arms out from her body as if she wished to rid herself of them. ¡°She was horrible, sure, but what an awful way to go! Father doesn¡¯t even let them use pistols for executions because it¡¯s too inhumane. And in front of her true love, too. Even if he is a half-crazed tyrant.¡±

    Simon rolled his eyes. ¡°Father doesn¡¯t use them for executions because there are less than a dozen outside of the tower and they¡¯re hideously expensive to produce. Once the prototypes are approved for the factories, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he considered it. Not as clean as a noose, perhaps, but far quicker, and he is always emphasizing the psychological impact of these things.¡±

    ¡°Is that why he put the gallows on the beach?¡± Florette asked, horrified and curious all at once.

    ¡°That¡¯s what he¡¯d tell you,¡± Mary supplied. ¡°I think he just likes feeling the sea breeze while he goes about his business. It¡¯s too bloody hot in the Governor¡¯s mansion, all up in the hills instead of by the beach.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mourn Leclaire,¡± Leclaire spoke, a dark inflection to her voice. ¡°It¡¯s simply the price of doing things the wrong way. She made stupid mistakes and she paid for them.¡± She turned to look directly at Florette for a moment, then faced the Perimonts again. ¡°Now that Lord Lumi¨¨re is running things, the whole city ought to do better.¡±

    She can just turn it on and off, just like that. Florette couldn¡¯t help but marvel, even if these weren¡¯t particularly canny marks. ¡°Another sage, though. Still beholden to those barbaric traditions.¡±

    ¡°One step at a time.¡± Simon shrugged. ¡°My father¡¯s in talks with him, trying to negotiate a contingent of guardians to help keep order while maintaining the city¡¯s autonomy. Relying less on the sun sages for security was a specific reason he gave, so we¡¯re hoping there¡¯s some room for improvement there.¡±

    Leclaire blinked. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s delicate, and may prove redundant soon anyway, but conquest isn¡¯t the only way to approach things. In all honesty, opening up Guerron as a market may be more important than claiming the territory. Either way, the fruits of commerce flow back to where they belong, but this way there¡¯s no need to contend with the same¡­ challenges that my Father is dealing with here in Malin.¡±

    ¡°It is strange though.¡± Leclaire bit her lip. ¡°Aurelian Lumi¨¨re fought harder than anyone at the Foxtrap. He¡¯s deeply proud of his traditions. I¡¯d always assumed that that business with Leclaire was to advance the position of the Sun Temple, not clear the way for Avalon, especially when Duke Fouchand received a similar offer. What is he getting out of it?¡±

    Why indeed? All Fernan had really mentioned about Lumi¨¨re was that he was a colossal prick, and even then, he¡¯d done it in that Fernan way where he supplied anecdotes and let Florette draw the obvious conclusions as to his character.

    Certainly, he seemed less craven than Fouchand, based on his war record, and with Camille Leclaire ¡®dead¡¯ there didn¡¯t seem to be much need for further numbers under his control.

    ¡°He probably realized that with our superiority, this sort of thing is inevitable. He¡¯s making the smart call to be part of it now rather than consumed by it at a later date.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ I wonder, though.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico¡¯s got something to do with it, I don¡¯t doubt,¡± Florette mused.

    ¡°Who?¡± Simon turned to look at her. ¡°What kind of name is Magnifico?¡±

    Leclaire furrowed her eyebrows. ¡°He¡¯s the royal bard. His entrance to Guerron was very public, a gesture of goodwill from King Harold to the Duke.¡±

    And yet the Perimonts have no idea who he is. He definitely wasn¡¯t who he said he was, then, but a bard¡¯s guise still seemed a strange choice for a spy or a diplomat. What was he really doing there?

    ¡°He¡¯s been in a couple of journal articles,¡± Florette supplied. ¡°Remember that engraving of Lumi¨¨re? He¡¯s the guy standing next to him. Long hair, purple cloak, strange mechanical music box?¡±

    Mary tilted her head up. ¡°I thought you said he was another Sun Sage, Simon.¡±

    ¡°I thought he was! It¡¯s been a minute since I was last in Cambria, but I doubt I wouldn¡¯t have been invited to see this bard perform while I was there. The articles I read certainly didn¡¯t mention anything about him in specific. I wonder if he¡ª¡± He abruptly cut himself off. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡± Mary asked. ¡°Sounds to me like he might be one of our spies. Would explain how this Luminary guy got the pistol.¡±

    Simon blinked, his face lighting up. ¡°Thank you, Mary, for saying that without even thinking about whether you should.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re always telling me to shut up, Simon! It¡¯s extremely rude. Most people think I¡¯m very interesting, and they love to hear what I have to say.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡± Simon sighed, putting his hand to his face that didn¡¯t quite manage to hide the hint of a smile. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose that the two of you could just forget that little theory? At the end of the day it¡¯s only wild speculation, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Florette assured him, sharing a look with Camille Leclaire that, for once, wasn¡¯t laced with suspicion or judgement. ¡°You can trust us.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Camille added. ¡°We all want the same thing.¡±

 Fernan V: The Stalwart Defender

    ¡°Even in this context, it¡¯s hard to beat that view.¡± Magnifico looked out over the balcony, towards the foggy darkness that probably looked amazing to someone with the eyes to see it.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Fernan muttered, rapping his fingers against the bag at his side as he traced his eyes back and forth over the room.

    The Duke¡¯s chambers were difficult to properly make out, heated only by the ambient energy of the castle and rays of sunlight streaming in from the balcony. The hearths, of which Magnifico assured him there were four in the suite, showed only the faintest echoes of their intended use; little help illuminating the rest.

    ¡°Ah, right. Sorry.¡±

    Fernan merely shook his head with a sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You can make it up to me by holding the ladder on the way back down.¡±

    With the door¡¯s locking mechanism forced and the entryway sealed up, going in from the back had been the only option.

    Groping blindly up a thin construct of wood leaning against the balcony in the rushing wind had been a singularly unpleasant experience, and one he¡¯d hoped to avoid by asking for official sanction first.

    But things could never be that easy, could they?

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Magnifico responded. ¡°I could see if anyone in the castle has a step ladder too. It all feels less precarious when it¡¯s standing on its own feet.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m much the same, but I¡¯ll live.¡± What¡¯s the difference, really? He stepped further inside, trying to get an internal picture of the room. ¡°Do you see a bookshelf anywhere?¡±

    ¡°First room back, then to the left,¡± the bard replied immediately. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know how that will help you.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure either.¡± Fernan shrugged, trying to follow the directions. ¡°But I know you have to be going soon, so I think it¡¯s best to start where I¡¯m most useless without you.¡±

    The room he¡¯d been directed to was even colder than the exterior, a mass of dull tones shifting slowly in and out, to the point that it wasn¡¯t trivial simply to keep his footing, but it seemed right. Against the back wall was an enormous grid of faint smudges and dots that, since he knew what he was looking for, was possible to visualize as a bookshelf.

    Or rather, seven or eight bookshelves stacked on top of each other. The decadence was astounding, to the point that it didn¡¯t even seem like it would be pleasant to live here.

    ¡°Here, what¡¯s the title of this one?¡± Fernan ran his finger across a book sitting on a table next to the shelf, opened to a page about a third of the way through. ¡°It¡¯s likely to be the last one the Duke touched before he died.¡±

    As he held it, the light from his hands smeared across the cover, granting it a fresh set of streaked orange handprints.

    ¡°On Malin and Empire, by Jehanne Corelle.¡± The bard sounded almost irritated. ¡°Useless.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it about?¡±

    Magnifico waved his hand around errantly. ¡°Malin. The Empire. Stuff like that. I haven¡¯t read it, but it looks like Fouchand was probably trying to get some historical context to consider my deal.¡±

    ¡°Does it talk about relations with Avalon?¡±

    ¡°Pfft! It was written before Avalon as a unified entity even existed. Before the first Harold inspired us to greatness with his cunning and courage, the petty kingdoms on our islands weren¡¯t worth the ink to write about them.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± That didn¡¯t seem terribly useful, then, but at least it fit with the information he had. ¡°Do you think anyone would mind if I held onto it?¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself.¡± Magnifico tossed the book back in a fluid arc, managing to land it perfectly in Fernan¡¯s slightly open bag. ¡°Aurelian already secured everything valuable weeks ago, and the bureaus blew through looking for evidence not long after. Make sure to give it back after the trial, of course.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Fernan tapped the book deeper into the bag. ¡°I guess that explains why the furniture¡¯s been moved around.¡±

    ¡°You can tell?¡±

    ¡°Gouges on the floor,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m guessing whoever was supposed to put things back in order hadn¡¯t seen the inside of the room before. Still, they did a pretty good job. It hardly looks ransacked.¡±

    ¡°Aurelian respects the late Duke far too much to leave his rooms in shambles. I didn¡¯t get the impression they found anything useful anyway.¡±

    Well, that certainly bodes well for me then. At least the book had some potential.

    As an initial point, it seemed minor, but Magnifico didn¡¯t seem to have much interest. Someone from the village might have the time and interest to take a deeper look.

    And that was assuming the bard was truly trying to help.

    Do not trust Magnifico, the note had said, there is no greater monster in all the world.

    Whoever this Jethro was, they seemed to favor the cryptic, even asking him to burn the letter as soon as possible.

    But Jethro had done nothing to earn trust, themself. With so many plots and lies floating around, such a letter might be crucial for uncovering the truth.

    Fernan had asked Mara to bury it outside of the city, far from where anyone might discover it. If Jethro truly meant well, that would have to be good enough.

    The note had mentioned something else though¡­ ¡°The first Harold was a binder, right? I remember you talking about them a bit back at the Singer¡¯s Lounge, when I was here the first time.¡±

    He almost asked about Magnifico¡¯s son too, whom Jethro¡¯s letter had said he tried to kill, but didn¡¯t dare. It risked angering someone he probably needed on his side to get through this.

    Magnifico nodded. ¡°Perhaps the best of them, save the Great Binder of course, and perhaps her daughter. He saved King Lewys of Cambria from the vile spirit Pantera the Undying, then later slew her to keep Cambria safe. Forta was brought to heel when he aided their binders in exiling the frost spirit Klarisse. It¡¯s much of how he won the hearts and minds of those soon-to-be Avalonians while they still balked at bowing to a Cambrian.¡± Magnifico paused. ¡°You really don¡¯t know much about Avalon history, do you?¡± He chuckled slightly. ¡°Good to keep in mind.¡±

    ¡°I know. What a surprise that must be, when it¡¯s been so relevant to my life.¡± Admittedly, the history of pirates and the Empire hadn¡¯t translated all that directly either, but with Florette around, there was no way to avoid an abundance of knowledge about them.

    ¡°Not what I meant.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Just that you¡¯re a different crowd than I¡¯m used to. It¡¯s refreshing. I can be more honest.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Fernan moved on from the library, doing his best to orient himself as he approached the front door from the inside.

    It wasn¡¯t boarded up from this side, at least, which seemed like poor practice for security, but it made things easier now.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t think me condescending,¡± Magnifico muttered as he approached, condescendingly. ¡°Enough time in Cambria and everyone around starts to feel the same.¡±

    ¡°Why would I ever think that?¡±

    A hole had been torn near the knob, a splintered and uneven gap only visible on this side thanks to the boards on the other. Probably where the locking mechanism had been forced by the battering ram, based on what Annette had said.

    Which meant the lock itself might still be around.

    Magnifico leaned against the wall, arms folded. ¡°Imagine you were thrust into a place far more primitive than your own, to the point that you practically traveled back through time. The people there aren¡¯t less learned through any fault of their own, but there¡¯s a gap nonetheless.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, that sounds far less condescending.¡±

    Do not trust Magnifico. However suspect Jethro¡¯s intentions, it was worth keeping in mind.

    ¡°It¡¯s the position the first Harold found himself in. A man of singular brilliance, of such knowledge and intelligence and skill that he possessed the power to conquer all of Avalon and forge it into the preeminent power on the world¡¯s stage.¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Fernan sighed, grasping around the floor in search of any remnants of the lock. ¡°Couldn¡¯t have been that different. It was only a hundred years ago.¡±

    Magnifico scoffed. ¡°The Fox Queen freed her serfs centuries ago when she united this continent, but the practice continued on all throughout what would become Avalon. Until Harold Grimoire, that is. Do you know what that means, Fernan? People chained to their plows, owing free labor to their lord, unable to move from his land or deny him his ¡®rights¡¯, according to the law.¡± The scorn in his voice was thick.

    ¡°It sounds horrific,¡± he admitted. He recalled something about that, mostly couched in praise of the Fox Queen¡¯s generosity of spirit and wholesomeness. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t take a singular genius to look across the water and copy what other people have been doing for centuries. Really, it¡¯s an indictment of Avalon that it took that long.¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡± Magnifico shrugged. ¡°But then, my people never performed mass human sacrifice. A serf pledges his life to his lord, but even he is never obligated to serve in death. And for what? The enrichment of a monster and those who serve them?¡±

    Fernan¡¯s hand brushed against a splintered hunk of wood and metal. ¡°You know I¡¯m a sage, right?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a victim. Spirit-touched, and forced into your compact under the highest duress. Doesn¡¯t count.¡±

    Put like that, it didn¡¯t feel like he¡¯d accomplished much at all. A victim, a mere observer, a passive supplicant¡­

    He channeled a small sliver of energy into his hands, not enough for flame, but for warmth. Just enough to flow into the debris in his hands.

    ¡°My point is merely this, Fernan: We who have a position of standing, advantages in intelligence or talent or luck, we have an obligation to act. Whatever unfortunate excesses my country has committed in the name of progress, you would do well to remember that.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes grew brighter, the flame condensed to small points of high intensity. ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s a great comfort to the victims of your wars. The thousands dead from the Foxtrap, those who starved in the siege of Ombresse, the Malins suffering under Perimont¡­¡± Camille, although bringing that up wouldn¡¯t help.

    ¡°All horribly regrettable. Ultimately, as much as I wish it, I can¡¯t even be certain their sacrifice was worth the outcome. I did¡­ The intentions were positive, I assure you. Uplift of society.¡± He set his hand down on Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Surely you understand.¡±

    Fernan pushed it off, his eyes flaring with green flame. ¡°Just stop working me. You don¡¯t need me to support your king and the horrors of Avalon, alright? This is about Duchess Annette and Duke Fouchand, that¡¯s all. Not Avalon, and not you or me. I don¡¯t even know your real name.¡±

    Magnifico jerked his head back as if slapped, banging it against the wall with a wince. ¡°You¡¯re right, of course. My apologies.¡± He scratched his chin in thought as Fernan continued examining the lock, now warm enough to view somewhat properly.

    With the warm glow within it, the chunk of splinters revealed its interior: metal pins pushed and cracked on either side of a metal keyhole. This was definitely the lock, but the inky blackness staining it within didn¡¯t seem like it would come from bashing the door in.

    Fernan opened his mouth to ask Magnifico, but closed it without a word instead, tucking the lock into his bag.

    ¡°Magnifico is as real a name as any, you know. A man is the role he occupies. Right now I¡¯m Magnifico the bard, whatever else I might be at other times.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Fernan rose, thankful that the flames on his face didn¡¯t reveal a roll of his eyes. ¡°I think I¡¯m just about done, for now.¡±

    ¡°Just let me know if you need to come back. I¡¯m happy to help wherever I can.¡± Magnifico stepped out to the balcony, fluidly hopping up onto the bannister. ¡°It¡¯s Harry, by the way. Harry... Martin is the name I was born with.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡± Of course he had a surname, given his imperiousness. Although apparently the prestige wasn¡¯t quite the same in Avalon as it was here.

    ¡°It¡¯s short for Harold, so you can see how it would be problematic to serve the royal court using it. Hence, Magnifico. I took the name from a book I read as a child, and that was that.¡± He slid down the ladder and out of sight.

    Still, that¡¯s something, at least. Even if it meant little materially, it was a measure of trust.

    As Fernan prepared to climb over the balcony himself, something caught his eye. Pure darkness, contrasting even the vacant cold of the Duke¡¯s chambers, in a ragged little scrap scarcely larger than the palm of his hand.

    As he reached for it, his hand brushed against a waxy plant, probably ivy, that had grown thickly up the balcony. The dark thing was practically buried under it, but its draining effect on warmth made it easy enough to grasp for.

    Snagged on a nail, by the looks of it. To the touch, it was clearly cloth. And given the warmth that returned as Fernan laid his hands on it, not a specialized material like Robin Verrou¡¯s Cloak of Nocturne either, at least not as far as Florette had described it.

    Strange.

    But into the bag it went. It never hurt to be thorough, especially if the investigators from the bureaus had missed it.

    Nothing that really proves Annette innocent though. Firm evidence would have been too much to hope for, perhaps, but it still would have been nice to find something substantial. As it was, Fernan could only hope a locksmith and a reader could shed light on some significance he was missing.

    And someone saw her too. What a mess.

    Despite his help, Fernan felt a tension leave his shoulders as Magnifico departed, attending to some unspecified business elsewhere in the castle. He tried to kill his son, and he¡¯d do it to you. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t fair, but the thought remained stuck in his head.

    Fernan had scarcely made it out of the castle before a waist-high blur of gleaming gold and orange sprinted up from the road and slammed into his side.

    ¡°Hello Aubaine.¡± He wrapped his arms around the child and lifted him into the air. ¡°I¡¯m happy to see you too.¡±

    The boy grinned as Fernan gave him a twirl. ¡°Father said you were back but I needed to see! Are you staying at the temple again? Will you help with building it up? Is Mara back too? Can I¡ª¡±

    Fernan set him back down on the ground. ¡°For now, I¡¯m staying near the harbor with some other people from my home. Mara is with us too, and she brought some of her siblings along.¡±

    Aubaine¡¯s eyes lit up, pulling the rest of his face into a blaze of excitement. ¡°Can they breathe fire too? Do they have tails? Geckos are supposed to have tails but Mara doesn¡¯t, or not more than that stump at the back anyway, or maybe it¡¯s because of the spirit power?¡±

    ¡°Yes, and yes. Mara suffered from an injury, but it should grow back with enough time.¡±

    ¡°Wow! The whole tail?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what she told me, anyway. But it could be months.¡± Mara hadn¡¯t talked about it much, understandably. It had to be a sore point.

    ¡°Do you have a tail too? You have their eyes and their flame powers and you¡¯re a sage just like Father but Father said you¡¯re spirit-touched just like familiars are but I¡¯ve never heard of a human with a tail and Father said he hadn¡¯t either.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Fernan assured him.

    ¡°Aww. I wanted to see it.¡± Aubaine looked up at him with blazing passion in his eyes. ¡°Maybe when I¡¯m the high priest I could get one from Soleil. Your spirit gave you your eyes, right?¡±

    He took my eyes, and this is what¡¯s left. ¡°In a way. But I think my circumstances were different from what yours will be.¡±

    ¡°What did he want? Father says spirits never give you anything without wanting something terrible in return. It¡¯s part of their metal physical nature, they¡¯re too hard for it.¡±

    ¡°Metaphysical, I¡¯m sure he meant. But I don¡¯t think that¡¯s always true.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not always metal? What are they made of then?¡±

    Fernan chuckled. ¡°Spirits aren¡¯t always so mercenary, not necessarily. They¡¯re capable of compromise and mercy, even, in their own way. They just have their own needs. People tend to trample over them, and it makes everyone distrustful, but if you¡¯re honest and do the right thing, a spirit might notice even if it¡¯s hard for them. Mine did.¡±

    Aubaine blinked, clearly not taking in the full argument.

    ¡°They¡¯re not so different from people. If you¡¯re good and sincere, you can maybe be friends, or at least respect each other. But it takes a lot of hard work and understanding. What¡¯s easiest isn¡¯t usually what¡¯s right.¡± If only it were.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± He wiped his chin with a stubby finger. ¡°Father says Soleil will never be my friend. He¡¯s a tool, and a master, and it¡¯s my job to know when he¡¯s which. But I¡¯d rather be like you! With glowing eyes and a tail and a gecko like Mara going on adventures with me¡ªooh maybe I can take one of her sisters¡ª and we could fly around the world on a chariot of golden fire, and help people and spirits together, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Aubaine, that¡¯s enough.¡± A brilliant corona of light surrounded the blazing white glow of Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, more powerful by far than the last time Fernan had seen him.

    ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re,¡± Fernan greeted. ¡°I¡¯m pleased that you recovered so quickly.¡±

    He exhaled sharply. ¡°It wasn¡¯t without cost, but bodies were not exactly in short supply after King Lucien¡¯s folly, and the fifty lives promised by my wager with Camille Leclaire provided the greater part of the energy once I claimed them.¡± He grabbed Aubaine¡¯s hand firmly, tilting his head down to speak with him. ¡°Alright, you said hello. Now it¡¯s time for bed. You¡¯ll see Fernan again later.¡±

    ¡°But Father¡ª!¡±

    ¡°Must I repeat myself?¡±

    Aubaine¡¯s head sunk. ¡°No, Father.¡±

    ¡°Yves will take you back to the temple now. He¡¯s waiting by the coach.¡±

    Once Aubaine had scurried off, Lumi¨¨re¡¯s face took on a darker cast. ¡°The energy is back, but the years of life shall never return to me. Even a success can be a grisly affair when all¡¯s said and done. No less necessary for it, though.¡±

    ¡°I suppose...¡± Arguing with him wouldn¡¯t be productive, at any rate. It never was.

    Lumi¨¨re sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve heard why you returned here. To speak for that vile girl who would murder her own kin. Fouchand would turn in his grave.¡±

    ¡°She has no one else.¡±

    ¡°For good reason! Her guilt is not in question. Even implying otherwise is disrespectful to Fouchand¡¯s memory.¡± The intensity of his aura rose. ¡°I couldn¡¯t deny Aubaine the visit, but I must say you have greatly disappointed me, Fernan.¡±

    Of course. This wasn¡¯t unexpected, but he had still hoped for better. Magnifico had managed to take it in good spirits, but then, he had nothing to do with the murder trial. ¡°Listen, I only¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not interested in hearing your pathetic excuses. You¡¯re coming with me, immediately.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    The sun sage turned to face the sun, close to the horizon. ¡°I need you to understand something  that your naive, peasant brain seems incapable of grasping even after everything you¡¯ve been through. It¡¯s time you met Soleil.¡±

 Luce V: The Seer

    When Luce opened his eyes, the forest was alive once more. Pulsating green, vibrant and verdant as the wind rushed past their leaves.

    And up through the canopy, the slightest parting of the trees revealed the faintest shadow of the moon, a crescent so sharp it looked to puncture the sky.

    An arrow flew by his ear, sending a chill through his bones.

    He turned his head to face the source, and a vacant face stared back. Gaunt cheeks, hollow eyes, and older, but it still looked like Harold.

    Behind him was Father, atop a magnificent black stallion. An old man, with a gaunt face and long dark hair gone mostly to grey, his visage still had a cast of warmth to it. ¡°Be careful, son!¡± he barked out. ¡°Never point a weapon at anything you don¡¯t intend to kill.¡±

    Harold narrowed his eyes, spite bringing a trace of life back to his face. ¡°Sorry.¡± He shrugged unapologetically. ¡°Thought I saw a fox.¡±

    The older Father sighed, clicking his heels to direct his mount forward. ¡°If you spent less time drinking, terrorizing your servants and disappointing me, imposing on those poor girls¡­¡± He shook his head.

    Is this the future that awaits them?

    These visions weren¡¯t supposed to be able to do that, a dim part of Luce remembered, and yet here it was, plain to see. Whatever it really means...

    The prince here wasn¡¯t acting anything like his brother, though. What is this, really?

    As the older Father rode ahead, the prince notched another arrow, pulling the bow taut in his hands and aiming straight at Father¡¯s back. With the slightest crack of a smile on his face, he loosed.

    Luce called out, but they couldn¡¯t hear him. Couldn¡¯t see him. A mere observer, is that all I am to be?

    He felt the life of the forest coursing through him, or perhaps it was simply the mushrooms, but it felt as invigorating as it was terrifying.

    Harold I died in a hunting accident while out with his son¡­

    ¡°He will change when he¡¯s king, Luce. Rule does that to a man.¡± Father was at his side again, his hair clean and dark once more, his face free of wrinkles.

    I remember this. Harold had locked himself in his room for almost a week, and Father was reassuring me. Years ago, now, but the memory was fresh.

    ¡°You must be there to support him,¡± Father continued. ¡°Be his rock. He will depend on you exactly as I do.¡± He had hugged Luce then, when it had really happened, but now he walked away.

    A boy was standing there in the woods, his eyes blazing with green fire.

    Father wrapped his arm around the boy¡¯s shoulder, leaving his back turned to Luce.

    Who? Why?

    When Luce looked back, they were gone, and Harold stood in their place.

    Tears in his eyes, he held in his hand a dagger as dark as a Nocturne gate. He took a deep breath, then slashed down his own face. Darkness bled out onto the pink sand of the beach in place of blood.

    The black blood flowed down to the cold, biting wind from the water, past a crowd gathered around a roaring fire, but none of them cared. Most were bedecked in chainmail, hanging heavy on their shoulders alongside the crude spears they grasped.

    Ships gathered in the water behind them, broad and unadorned, with dozens of oars poking out from either side.

    They spoke as well, muttering and murmuring in a tongue that sounded closer to the Empire¡¯s than Avalon¡¯s. All save the bundled figure, bound and gagged, squirming and struggling under the eye of a thickly muscled man with enormous, bushy eyebrows.

    ¡°Great Spirit Khali, Empress of Darkness, Guardian of the Night, Shade of Shades, I call you forth to receive my offering. Hear my call and honor the pact of my grandfather, Cambris Grimoire.¡±

    The crowd erupted in cheer as Luce felt his heart stop, sweat pooling on his forehead.

    The Grimoire raised his hand, holding up a dagger of iron and bone, and plunged it downwards.

    He stepped aside as the crowd continued cheering, their speech impossible to make out.

    ¡°Our hopes have been answered by the grace of Khali,¡± he spoke, walking towards the foggy water. ¡°This land will serve us well.¡±

    This isn¡¯t Refuge; it¡¯s Cambria.

    The first Grimoires had settled Cambria from over the sea¡­ Not everyone knew that, but it wasn¡¯t a secret. And yet I never once considered what that would mean.

    Had anyone?

    Father couldn¡¯t have known. He couldn¡¯t¡­

    Scant wonder the forest spirit would show me this. The greatest good that Avalon¡¯s conquests ever boasted, and we¡¯d brought it to Cambria in the first place.

    The hypocrisy of generations weighed on his shoulders as the blood polluted more and more of the water.

    Nor was it the simple barbarism of the Empire¡¯s human sacrifices¡­ Khali¡­ To willingly serve the dark spirit was an act less than human. She who had almost plunged the world into darkness and extinguished all life, stopped only by the daring courage of the Great Binder.

    My heritage is naught but blood and darkness, from Cambris Grimoire all the way to Father.

    As the thought passed over Luce, he caught sight of the Nocturne gate hanging high in the sky, almost invisible in the dim night.

    A speck was falling, he could see. It almost looked like a boy, but it was impossible to properly make it out before it landed on the beach in a plume of dust and smoke.

    And out in the water, the first true source of light.

    It took the form of a man, and yet glowed with the light of the sun. Flowing white robes pulsed gold as they rippled, flapping with the movement of the man¡¯s arm.

    He wielded a pistol in his hand and a scowl on his face, brandishing both at the creature across from him.

    Her hair a mane of blue snakes, flesh and blood dyed in the same color, there was nothing but ice in her veins even as the luminous man pulled the trigger.

    She fell, and the sound echoed across the beach as it was engulfed with flame.

    Wax dripping, enormous lizard creatures scurrying to and fro, the echo of the pistol continued ringing, dripping with wax as it reached Luce¡¯s ears. ¡°Do not trust Magnifico.¡±

    The words bounced back and forth inside Luce¡¯s head, ringing more and more as the crack continued on. Why would it use that name? ¡®Magnifico¡¯ was nothing but a ruse, a role Father could play to advance his interests.

    But to any who did know him by that name...

    Cya was showing him another of Avalon¡¯s failings, not warning him about Father. That made far more sense. Who could Luce ever trust, if not family?

    ¡°He tried to have his son killed. There is no greater monster in all the world. Darkness leaves traces but the light blots out all else.¡±

    And so it was, the fire blazing brighter and brighter, until it became impossible to see all but the faintest edges around it. Stones buried deep in the earth, piles of books and bottles of nightshade, and the feet of a figure wholly obscured by the flame.

    ?

    The sun had risen high in the sky by the time Luce fully regained his senses.

    Even after the visions had passed, his body had kept him awake, reliving their every horror.

    Cya acouldn¡¯t have outright lied, framing this loss of control as an enlightening gift, but she had surely misled.

    The mind is sacrosanct, and she took that from me by force. That alone was unforgivable.

    But the spirit and her arboreal revenants were nowhere to be found; they¡¯d likely left him here in the depths of madness.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Luce blinked, trying to shake the unnerving feeling from his head.

    With no shade but the spindly remnants of the forest, the mid-morning rays were already beating down heavily. Luce¡¯s throat already felt hoarse and cracked, and this was only the beginning.

    Cya had left him in a tiny ruin, a circle of stones set in a pattern into the ground, bleached trees springing up between them that stretched up higher than those in the surrounding forest.

    Not a drop of water remained in sight save the salty ocean far in the distance, useless for drinking. And crawling with pirates ready to dragoon me into their smuggling once more, for all I know.

    It had seemed as if their captain, apparently named Eloise, had probably alienated enough of her crew that they wouldn¡¯t be likely to come back for her, but ultimately that was just a guess, and not one Luce felt confident enough to pin his freedom on.

    But what else was there?

    Cya¡¯s relative affability belied her cruelty. Leaving me here was just as sure a death, only slower and more agonizing.

    If he tried going south or west towards the Rhan river, he would surely die long before glimpsing it. The lands of the Aboreum lay to the east, further from Avalon¡¯s control or influence, and deeper into the lands of these spirit-worshipping fanatics. Eloise had mentioned taking him there, Luce recalled, wanting to sell his corpse to be paraded around like an animal pelt.

    In all likelihood, that too was unreachable. The blight had perpetuated itself far beyond the bounds of Refuge itself; the walk east would be even longer, even less possible.

    To the coast it is, then.

    At least there, life remained a slim possibility.

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to have his son killed.

    Those visions had fallen far short of the enlightenment Cya had promised, leaving him strung out on the failings of the past and errant warnings about Father.

    He would sooner kill himself than harm me or Harold. That was the nature of parenthood, Mother had told him once, in the days when she still lived in Cambria with them. Unless there were some other son Luce didn¡¯t know about, it had to be a lie, or at least one of the spirits¡¯ signature misleading truths.

    Maybe there was another son. Father often traveled for matters of state. He and Mother hadn¡¯t so much as seen each other since he¡¯d taken the throne; was it so hard to believe that he might have strayed?

    That¡¯s believable enough, but even then he would never harm such a boy.

    Over and over, he turned the possibilities over in his mind as he trudged back towards the beach: Was there another Magnifico? Could spirits lie once they were half-dead, as part of their metaphysical nature? Were the visions nothing more than toxins scrambling his brain, playing on fears?

    None fit quite right, all required a leap of faith that Luce wasn¡¯t prepared to take.

    None of it will matter, if I die here.

    His limbs felt leaden by the time he reached the shore, though the breeze filled his lungs with the slightest relief. Here was the water, for all that it was undrinkable.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± The pirate, Eloise, paced the beach with her hands behind her back, voice hoarse and eyes red.

    ¡°I suppose Cya killing you would have been too much to hope for.¡± Luce bent down and splashed a handful of seawater into his face. ¡°It would be the least you deserve.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± she agreed. ¡°Luckily, what someone deserves has nothing to do with what they get.¡±

    How is she so unphased after what Cya did?

    ¡°I wonder. Even you must have realized your crew aren¡¯t coming back, by now.¡± Deliberately, he turned away before she could respond, returning to the desiccated tree trunks a little ways back from the water.

    A guttural growl caused him to turn though.

    Eloise wore a look of pure fury, bloodshot eyes narrowed enough to stare daggers. ¡°Those ungrateful fucks. We had a good thing going! Easy money, low risk, high reward. But could they appreciate it, even for an instant? Couldn¡¯t they just fucking¡ª¡± She folded her arms, taking a deep breath. ¡°Really though, this is on you. You could have shut up and taken your share, and we¡¯d both be safe and rich right now.¡±

    ¡°Typical, that you would be so concerned with money.¡± He reached up and grabbed one of the slimmer branches of the nearest tree, snapping it off with what strength he could muster.

    Her eye twitched. ¡°It matters, to the overwhelming majority of people who aren¡¯t born with fuckloads of it. It¡¯s freedom, power, control.¡±

    ¡°But not for your crew, apparently.¡± He snapped off another branch. Cya might get angry, but that¡¯s her problem. ¡°They were happy to peddle that poison that was forced down our throats for a handful of mandala coins, but you were still odious enough to turn them away. It¡¯s impressive, in a way.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck are doing, anyway? Building a fire in the middle of the day?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Luce responded curtly.

    Eloise snorted. ¡°Well, I can see your mind made it out of those visions intact. Meanwhile, we have to get moving if we want to survive. If we follow the coast east¡ª¡±

    ¡°We can die a hundred miles before we reach the Arboreum,¡± he finished. ¡°Go, if you want. I don¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re fine dying here instead. Fucking brilliant.¡± She stormed off defiantly, taking long strides along the pink sand.

    He had just finished getting the firewood ready by the time she came slinking back. ¡°Say what you want about Eloise the pirate, she doesn¡¯t give up easily.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off,¡± she barked, a scowl on her face as she approached. ¡°There¡¯s another ruin back that way, but fuck all else. Figured I might as well defy the spirit¡¯s prediction and avoid dying alone.¡± She glanced down at the pile of wood. ¡°Alright, seriously, why the firewood?¡±

    Luce wiped the sweat from his brow. ¡°It¡¯s simple thermodynamics. Water exists in a liquid state due to the neutral temperature. It¡¯s got a moderate amount of energy, while ice is solid because it has almost none, and steam is vapor because it has a lot more.¡±

    Eloise blinked. ¡°Well, thanks so much for the lesson, professor. That explains everything.¡±

    Luce smiled smugly. ¡°If we can turn saltwater to vapor, it leaves the salt behind, and the water from the steam is safe to drink. Normally that means using what¡¯s called a solar still, where you cover a basin of saltwater with a sheet of glass and let the sun evaporate it. Water condenses back on top, ready to drink.¡±

    She held the palm of her hand to her face and exaggeratedly searched around. ¡°Must be super clean glass. I can¡¯t see it at all!¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, that¡¯s what the firewood is for. I just need to heat it up in a different way, and I can desalinate the water.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± She paused in what appeared to be a moment of genuine reflection, then snorted. ¡°So to that end, you gathered a fuckload of wood, and nothing else. How are you going to store the water while you heat it up? How do you collect the steam so it doesn¡¯t billow uselessly into the sky?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out. It¡¯s better than sitting here and waiting to die.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know how to start a fire?¡±

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± The principles, anyway. He grabbed two pieces of the bleached wood and held them together. ¡°You just rub them against each other really hard until the friction generates enough heat to cause a combustion reaction with the phlogiston in the air, and then sparks will¡ª¡±

    ¡°You are so fucking doomed,¡± Eloise scoffed, rolling her head around. ¡°See you, Prince Lumpy.¡±

    This time, she was gone for hours, and returned covered with scratches and bruises, cradling something in her hands.

    ¡°You know, I think it might be even more amusing the second time.¡±

    ¡°Had to tangle with the spirit-touched guarding the ruins. Not exactly the easiest thing I¡¯ve ever done.¡± She set her object down on the ground, allowing Luce a better view of what it was.

    ¡°A clay pot¡­¡± He exhaled. ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°Saved your sorry ass.¡± She shrugged. ¡°And it¡¯s actually two.¡± She lifted the lid and pulled a small cup from inside. ¡°Said you needed something to collect the clean water, right?¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°I¡ª Thank you!¡± He¡¯d managed to find a hollow branch amidst the firewood that could hopefully serve as a pipe, but basins for the water had completely eluded him.

    Eloise folded her arms. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. I fucking hate that. It¡¯s not about you.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s the charm!¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± With a soft crunch in the sand, she hopped over to the pile of firewood in one fluid motion. ¡°Set up your science stuff and I¡¯ll get the fire going.¡±

    The final piece of the puzzle was getting the water out safely, but Luce had already spent hours thinking over that particular conundrum. It was the work of a few minutes to wedge the hollow branch he¡¯d picked out into the lid of the pot.

    Eloise had left him a roaring fire, fortunately, sparked by some piece of steel she¡¯d kept in her doublet. Far better than anything Luce might have managed, had he even succeeded in making sparks at all. She had already wandered off into the water though, seemingly unwilling to help further.

    Still, with some difficulty, Luce managed to perch his apparatus properly atop the fire by himself. With the aid of the cup, it only took a few more minutes to pour enough seawater in the sand around the makeshift pipe, covering it with something cool so the steam wouldn¡¯t be scalding as it escaped.

    That particular safety measure hadn¡¯t come to him until hours into Eloise¡¯s absence, and Luce was proud that it had at all. So far away from his comfortable labs and advanced equipment, never had it been so hard to put theory into practice.

    He bated his breath as the decades-old pot began to whistle, a worrying wisp of steam escaping through tiny cracks in the lid where he¡¯d attached the tube. The water didn¡¯t take long to boil, but every moment of anticipation was agonising.

    And then, at last, drops began to trickle into the cup.

    Luce forced himself to wait until the cup was filled an inch deep, then pressed it to his lips.

    Lukewarm and disgusting, it was the sweetest elixir he had ever tasted, for the salt was gone.

    ¡°Yes!¡± he couldn¡¯t help but cry out, carefully setting the cracked clay cup back into place. ¡°Yes!¡±

    Eloise strode out of the water with a flopping fish in her hands. ¡°Oh good, I was hoping someone would scare away half my dinner. Was hard enough catching the one with bare hands.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he muttered, pointing to the contraption. ¡°Go ahead, drink.¡±

    She narrowed her eyes, but still bent down to sip from the battered cup.

    By the time night fell, they had boiled their fifteenth cup of water, with no end in sight.

    ¡°You know,¡± Luce noted, spitting out a tangle of bones from the roasted fish. ¡°I made a mistake. Told you how this all worked before it was built. You could have done this all yourself and left me to die.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°It¡¯d be a waste.¡±

    She¡¯s probably talking about the ransom. Still, it was more polite than she¡¯d been yet. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°No, you are physically incapable of asking me questions. That¡¯s my power from the spirits, shutting people up.¡±

    ¡°Right, ok.¡± He took a deep breath, willing himself to accept the answer, no matter the cost. ¡°How did you know where to find my ship?¡±

    Eloise raised an eyebrow. ¡°Someone blabbed about it to us. Someone always talks. All we knew then was that it would be a royal-class vessel. Expected jewels and silks for Perimont, that kind of stuff. But instead we got you, and all the joy and good cheer you brought with you.¡±

    Someone told them, and set me up.

    ¡°I see.¡± Luce strained to keep his breathing calm, nodding slowly back at Eloise. ¡°Thanks for filling me in.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t supposed to survive the trip.

 Camille V: The Conspirator

    ¡°I would like a glass of Chateau Duras. The 108 vintage, if you have it.¡±

    ¡°A good year.¡± The tavern-keep nodded. ¡°That one, you¡¯ll have to buy the bottle though.¡±

    Camille waved her hand dismissively. ¡°That shan¡¯t be an issue.¡±

    Next to her, the girl with the sword wrinkled her brow, but didn¡¯t comment. ¡°I¡¯ll have a Woods Nymph.¡±

    The tavern-keep nodded and stepped back from the bar, going to gather the necessary materials.

    ¡°What was that about?¡± Camille asked, mimicking the quizzical expression.

    The girl, Florette or Celine or whatever she was calling herself today, sighed. ¡°You just love throwing your money around, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°It¡¯s one bottle of wine! What could it cost, a hundred florins?¡±

    That response was greeted with only a groan.

    And yet I vouched for this wretch with the Perimonts. They had arrived so quickly, it had not seemed as if there were another option, and to her credit the girl had played along reasonably well, but Camille was already beginning to regret it.

    ¡°Well, what did you get then? A spirit-touched creature from the Arboreum would hardly be less expensive.¡± All the moreso with Malin occupied. The Arboreum would never deign to trade with the nation responsible for the blight of Refuge, nor suffer any poachers who did to live.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a real woods nymph; it¡¯s the name of the drink, you idiot! They don¡¯t put real pixies in pixie powder either.¡±

    ¡°Actually, if by ¡®they¡¯ you mean the Aureaux family of Plagette, they do. There¡¯s giant buildings in the countryside devoted solely to grinding them down for it.¡± Annette owned a stake in one, in fact, ever since her fourteenth birthday. Camille had yet to meet a match for herself in the field of gift-giving.

    At the girl¡¯s horrified expression, Camille hurried to clarify. ¡°Pixies might look like tiny people, but there¡¯s no awareness there. Just spirit-touched birds suffused with the energy of the spirit Enquille to warp their form and grant their trademark alertness.¡±

    Florette breathed the slightest sigh of relief. ¡°I discovered the Woods Nymph drink during my first week here. Heard someone local celebrating that they could finally get a proper one again thanks to a shipment, and followed them here. It¡¯s a mix of those distilled spirits the Avalonians make, and some other stuff: gin, absinthe, lime juice, and this special sugar that helps you relax. Not every place will serve it with that, though.¡±

    ¡°Naca extract, I¡¯d guess. Artisans would take oil from the leaves and apply it to all manner of things.¡± Camille scratched her chin. ¡°It certainly has an effect, but I found it rather useless for visions, and it seems to prompt a rather unbecoming laziness in those who partake of it.¡± Scant surprise it¡¯s a favorite for you.

    ¡°If you say so.¡± Florette shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m still getting to grips with the language.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Camille turned to face her. ¡°You didn¡¯t know it before coming here?¡±

    ¡°When exactly would I have had time to learn it?¡±

    ¡°How should I know? You were so indignant about your literacy before! I was simply¡ª¡± She threw up her hands. That¡¯s a thought. ¡°You could only have been here a couple of months, if you saw the duel.¡±

    Florette flashed a smirk. ¡°I¡¯m a quick study.¡±

    She really is if she picked it up that soon. Camille forced a nod, plastering her face with just the right amount of admiration. ¡°The accent is rough, but you comported yourself remarkably with the Perimonts. I didn¡¯t notice you missing a single thing in that whole conversation.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because I didn¡¯t,¡± she boasted. ¡°I¡¯ve been immersing myself in it. A decent grasp is important in this profession. Technical specifications are hard enough to understand even if you do know the language. It¡¯s half the reason I stayed here while the ship moved on.¡±

    ¡°I would think Eloise would be reason enough by herself.¡±

    Florette snorted, a touch too loudly.

    ¡°Really though, what you¡¯ve accomplished is genuinely impressive.¡± All the more so since you¡¯re such an irritating ruffian. ¡°I had to spend years with my tutors to get as far as I did, and even then my skills have degraded through disuse.¡±

    The keeper of the tavern arrived then, placing on the table a high glass of a pale green liquid, popping and fizzing audibly, as if it were some apothecary concoction.

    ¡°Why is it doing that?¡± Camille tapped the glass gingerly with the back of her fingernail. ¡°Is it really safe to drink?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen soda water before?¡± The tavern-keep chuckled smugly. ¡°They use a little bladder to put a gas in the water that makes it do that. Gives you the fizz of beer without needing the fermentation or the taste. Yet another thing one of the Harolds invented, apparently, though I couldn¡¯td say which. He put a bowl of water over a vat of beer and figured it all out, if you believe what they¡¯re selling.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve been tending this bar for twenty years and I¡¯ve never seen anything so useful for lengthening a drink.¡± He pulled out the 108 Duras, setting it on the bar.

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Florette shoved her arm between Camille in the bottle. ¡°Before you open it, how much will it cost?¡±

    So gauche. Money was a matter better left unsaid.

    ¡°This one? Seventy-eight mandala. You can pay in florins if you absolutely have to, but it¡¯ll cost you more. Even this side of town, ain¡¯t easy to find places that¡¯ll still take em.¡±

    She turned back to Camille. ¡°Do you have that much? It can¡¯t have been easy to ¡®pack¡¯ funding before your ¡®trip¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡ª¡± Seventy-eight mandala. Camille bit her lip. Only twelve mandala of Clochaine¡¯s stipend remained, after the apparel she¡¯d purchased for the Perimonts. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I forgot my... It¡¯s dangerous to go about with that much on your person,¡± she lied sheepishly.

    Her teeth sunk deeper into the flesh of her lip, absolute mortification setting in.

    And Florette, that horrid little bandit, was grinning from ear to ear. ¡°Terribly dangerous,¡± she added, sliding the wine bottle back towards the barkeep. ¡°Between the smugglers and the bandits and the pirates, it¡¯s a wonder anyone feels safe in this fair city.¡±

    Camille slammed her head down against the bar.

    ¡°We have a local ale on draft, for our... thriftier customers. Six mandala per pint, or twelve florins.¡± He sounded genuinely sympathetic, which made it worse.

    She lifted her head slowly, unable to quite shrink into her seat. ¡°My sincerest apologies, good sir. I would not have had you bring it out, had I remembered my circumstances.¡± I¡¯m nothing here, when it should be home. ¡°Nothing for me, thank you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on! You gotta have something! Why do you think I took you here?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I couldn¡¯t tell you with any great certainty.¡±

    After the Perimonts had left, the tension had returned, but Florette had not withdrawn her sword from its sheath, nor made any further threats. ¡°You really have a plan?¡± she¡¯d asked, excited, more credulous by far than before. ¡°Tell me.¡±

    And I had no choice but to follow. With a word, Florette could reveal who Camille really was, and ruin everything in one fell stroke. With her power this diminished, she might easily end up in chains next to Lucien and Annette.

    ¡°It¡¯s because conversations like this ought to be had over a drink.¡± Florette slapped her palm down against the bar. ¡°Get the lady an Ocean Wave, please. With my compliments.¡±

    Dying wasn¡¯t this humiliating. But acknowledging it further would only make things worse. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said instead. ¡°What¡¯s in an Ocean Wave? More of this soda water?¡±

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Honestly, I couldn¡¯t tell you.¡± Florette shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s blue and cold and it tastes good. Plus, it¡¯s got ice in it, so it¡¯s pricey enough that I wouldn¡¯t justify getting it normally. You¡¯ll love it.¡±

    A peace offering, such as it was. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    The girl matched her gaze. ¡°Earn it. What¡¯s this plan of yours? Specifically, not just little bits and pieces.¡±

    ¡°Somewhere a bit more private,¡± Camille agreed quietly. Then, louder, she called out to the barkeep. ¡°We¡¯re moving to that table in the corner.¡±

    ?

    The Ocean Wave was indeed cool and blue, surprisingly sweet as well. At this late hour, Camille found herself sipping the easy drink faster than she might otherwise, but there was more than reason enough for that.

    And Florette was already halfway through her second anyway, paying no heed to the etiquette of keeping roughly the same pace as one¡¯s companions. ¡°Alright, either that¡¯s a really stupid plan, or I just don¡¯t get it.¡±

    ¡°You simply fail to understand it,¡± she helpfully clarified. ¡°Perimont¡¯s grip is far more fragile than it appears. His power in this city stems entirely from the throne of Avalon, and they¡¯ve shown no signs of helping him. The city is filled with gentry lured by economic opportunity, not aristocrats empowered by their land and magic. Did you hear Simon Perimont? The Governor¡¯s own son, more concerned with trade and taxation than physical violence. It¡¯s an opportunity.¡±

    ¡°How? Those leeches are doing great here, sucking the life out of this place and growing fat off the people¡¯s suffering.¡± She took another long sip of the drink. ¡°It¡¯s even trickling down to regular people. The railyard Director had Malins doing supply runs for him. We¡¯re building Avalon¡¯s ships, supplying their capital, buying their goods.¡±

    ¡°We?¡±

    She waved her hand. ¡°Not me so much, maybe. But the greater ¡®we¡¯. The people of Malin have been beaten into compliance. Even a place like this tavern, far on the north end, the people here would never rise against oppression. I¡¯ve seen it firsthand.¡± Her face curled into a snarl. ¡°It¡¯s probably happening to Guerron right now.¡±

    ¡°They need someone to inspire them.¡± Camille took a sweet sip of her drink, wobbling her head slightly as she pulled it back. Deceptively strong. ¡°Lucien would be perfect, but I don¡¯t see any way to free him without greater force of arms.¡±

    Be strong, she willed at the thought of him. Lumi¨¨re wasn¡¯t trying to kill him the way he was Annette, but still¡­

    ¡°My people aren¡¯t any better. Everyone¡¯s too entrenched in the way things are now. You know what Ysengrin said to me once? ¡®In a way it¡¯s good that Perimont banned so much contraband, or Jacques might be out of a job, and the rest of us along with him.¡¯ Everyone¡¯s got what they think is a perfect reason to do nothing.¡±

    Camille nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not in their self-interest to act. If we cannot convince them it is as things stand now, we must make it so. The merchants and gentry especially.¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°See, that¡¯s where you lose me. Those pricks should be strung up through the streets, not shown the light. They¡¯re Avalonian carpetbaggers, or Malin traitors.¡±

    ¡°Even Clocha?ne?¡±

    With a click of the tongue, Florette narrowed her eyes. ¡°In a just world, maybe. But there¡¯s thousands that deserve it first.¡±

    How adorably na?ve. ¡°What people deserve has nothing to do with it. Just look at how things stand now.¡±

    ¡°But what you¡¯re talking about¡­¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°Look to power, first. In Malin, Gordon Perimont has the most, and he cannot be reasoned or negotiated with.¡±

    ¡°He has to go,¡± Florette agreed. ¡°And the rest of his hangers-on with him.¡±

    ¡°What would it look like, do you think?¡± Camille steepled her fingers. ¡°Imagine Perimont tripped over a rock on the beach tomorrow and drowned. What happens next?¡±

    ¡°Celebrations in the streets.¡±

    ¡°And then what? Supposing the two of us did nothing.¡±

    She stared at the ceiling in contemplation. ¡°There would be another Governor to replace him, right? Lyrion¡¯s been through a few already. How do they pick them, anyway?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a power vested in the throne of Avalon, not the Great Council. King Harold would appoint another. Simon, perhaps, although there might easily be a follower he would sooner reward. Either way, within a few months, everything is back exactly the way it was.¡±

    ¡°So we don¡¯t do nothing! Seize the opportunity. Go after the rest of them. Even if no one else steps up, we can. By the time we¡¯re done cutting through them, whoever gets tapped to fill his shoes will show up to a city in revolt.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one approach.¡± Camille rested her chin on her hands. ¡°Now Avalon¡¯s military arrives. Professional forces, trained and outfitted and ready to retaliate.¡±

    Florette frowned. ¡°So we beat them too. The odds would always be long; it doesn¡¯t mean you don¡¯t try. Any way you liberate the city, that¡¯s going to happen.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± she admitted. ¡°But there are ways that leave it better defended for when that moment comes. Co-opt their strength to the side of the Empire, rather than destroy it.¡±

    ¡°If anything deserves to be destroyed¡ª¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°See? There you are, using that word again. Do you want to give individuals the fate they deserve, or do you want to liberate Malin? This is about desires. Just because people gather under the same banner, it doesn¡¯t mean they all want the same things.¡±

    ¡°Like the Fox-Queen.¡± She exhaled. ¡°Once she died, her heirs warred over who had the right to succeed her, forever splintering the Empire of the Fox alongside them. I read about it in Accursed Queen. She gathered an entire continent behind her, but it couldn¡¯t last.¡±

    ¡°Be careful attributing too much truth to that book.¡± Camille frowned. You must remember that not everyone received the education you did. ¡°It was written centuries later, with the goal of showing how dark and uncivilized the past was. Georges Maurice was one of the first to see the potential of the printing press to make catering to the lowest common denominator a viable approach. He was an author who wanted to turn a profit, not a historian seeking to accurately chronicle the past. Even back in the era of the Three Cubs, there¡¯s little in the historical record to support the widespread murder, rape and pillage that book makes out to be entirely commonplace. Practically no one was getting married at age thirteen or openly practicing incest.¡±

    ¡°But the basics are right, aren¡¯t they? The personal grudges, the infighting that cost them so much. It all came down to people.¡±

    ¡°It all came down to politics.¡± Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°The Fox-Queen¡¯s oldest was disinherited, but when she died he still crowned himself in Lyrion and claimed the empire at the urging of his wife¡¯s family. The younger son inherited Malin and its territories, while her daughter received the lands watered by the Rhan from her father¡¯s side. She was the oldest child not legally dead, but her lands had been granted purposefully, that she might serve her brother. All of them thought the empire was their birthright, all wanted it intact, but only Colin Renart had been granted the heartlands by the Fox Queen herself.¡±

    ¡°And thus the realm was torn asunder forevermore,¡± Florette spoke, probably reciting something from the book. ¡°You mean to tear the occupiers apart, prey on their disunity.¡±

    Camille smiled. ¡°Perimont is an idealogue; as best I can tell, he earnestly wishes to impose his twisted conception of order on this city, to stamp out my--our people and culture while stealing our talent and resources to fuel Avalon¡¯s next war. His goals are not the same as that of the wealth-seeking gentry and prestige-seeking merchants. They can be pried apart from him, with the right wedge.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You weren¡¯t talking to the Perimonts to spy, were you? You want to pit them against Avalon.¡±

    ¡°Amongst many, many others. The very top of the hierarchy here may need to die, but that still leaves many powerful people to work with. The Convocation of Commerce is a key step on that road. Crackdowns and nooses do not serve them, while a cooperative Emperor might. They just need the right wedge.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible though. What about the people?¡±

    ¡°You said it yourself, they¡¯re too beaten down. They¡¯ll fall in line once the regime changes, I¡¯m sure.¡± Perhaps it was the drink, but Camille couldn¡¯t keep the bitterness from her voice. ¡°They seem well practiced at rolling over.¡± And I don¡¯t have enough time, anyway.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ I didn¡¯t mean it was¡­ Fuck, it¡¯s not impossible.¡±

    ¡°Feel free to let them come to their senses, then. I don¡¯t have time to wait for people to wake up and do the right thing.¡± I don¡¯t have much time at all. Levian¡¯s deadline steadily trickled closer, but even after that...

    How long will I live, with two decades gone from my lifespan? With the loss, aging would accelerate as the end of her life approached. To fifty years at most? Less?

    ¡°I am the Lady of On¨¨s,¡± she spoke quietly but firmly, after a glance to ensure that no one else could hear. ¡°I am the High Priestess of Levian, the Torrent of the Deep. I have been trained to rule from birth, prepared to liberate this place since I was seven years old. We who have the power must act, Florette.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± She downed the rest of her glass in one gulp. ¡°You just set yourself apart. You¡¯ll poison the occupation from within, alone. And when you¡¯re finished, you¡¯ll leave the worst of it standing.¡±

    ¡°I will win. There is no alternative path. I won¡¯t stand idly by, no matter how much I¡¯ve lost. No matter the cost, I see a way forward, and I shall take it.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°But no, I don¡¯t plan to do it alone. I never did.¡±

    But Annette and Lucien were locked away now, Uncle Emile was missing, and Fouchand had been murdered.

    ¡°The railyard heist was impeccable, from what I gather. No one even discovered the theft until days later, invaluable knowledge was taken from Avalon¡¯s grip, and Perimont stands all the weaker for it. All the more so if word leaks to the masses at large.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Florette looked bewildered at the seeming non-sequitur. ¡°What does that have to do anything?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware it would put you at greater risk, having this news spread further,¡± Camille continued. ¡°Your reputation would grow, and it could well put you in danger.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that,¡± she replied easily. ¡°Everyone knows Robin Verrou¡¯s name, and Avalon can¡¯t kill him.¡± A trace of a smile formed at the corner of her mouth. And now I have you.

    ¡°You struck a blow at that control, Florette. It could be exactly the wedge I need to pry the whole thing apart.¡± Camille looked her straight in the eyes.

    And Florette stared right back, unflinching.

    ¡°I¡¯m counting on you to do it again.¡±

 Fernan VI: The Outspoken Objector

    Lord Lumi¨¨re had to avert his eyes from Soleil, the light too bright for him to look directly upon.

    Fernan had no such problem, locking eyes with the sun spirit¡¯s inhumanly beautiful form. Easily ten feet tall, the tips of his feet just barely touched the ground as he floated above the fire that had been prepared in offering to him.

    Soleil¡¯s eyes, in turn, stared straight back through him, his face flat and crisp, not a trace of stubble or blemish in his golden visage. ¡°Characteristically sloppy, human.¡±  His lips didn¡¯t move; indeed, the sound didn¡¯t even seem to be coming from his mouth, rather drifting down from the sky. ¡°Your offering should already be lit, and blazing bright and strong when I arrive. Even my patience has its limits, worm.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Fernan blinked, only to be pushed aside by Lumi¨¨re.

    ¡°He¡¯s talking to me, Fernan. It isn¡¯t often that anyone beholds Soleil in this form save his High Priest. If they do, they don¡¯t tend to live long enough for it to matter.¡± Lumi¨¨re shielded his eyes with his hand, turning to face his patron spirit. ¡°Fernan is a sage of flame, Great Spirit Soleil, his patron a lesser creature within your domain.¡±

    ¡°Tis you who are the lesser creature, fool. Perhaps it is too much to hope that you might live up to the sages on my isle, but still your uselessness transcends new bounds each time I make the long descent to earth. You seem very determined to make me regret the compact that I made with you.¡±

    ¡°My ancestor made his pact with you, Great Spirit, hundreds of years ago. I am Aurelian, his descendant.¡± If the sage were irritated, he didn¡¯t show it in his body language, even as the light within him dimmed.

    Again, the spirit¡¯s face didn¡¯t move, but down from the heavens echoed the impression of a weary sigh. ¡°Ah yes, I do remember now  your plan. Eager to curry favor in your fight, some petty human show of dominance, you did forsake your last patron in full, and changed your name to match my brilliant light. No matter how infallible I am, I should have known better than to dispense my power to a useless lout like you.¡±

    This time, Lord Lumi¨¨re couldn¡¯t help but clench his hands into fists, sending lines of red up his arm. ¡°Guy Bourbeau took on the name of Lucius Lumi¨¨re to better serve you, Great Spirit, and spread your brilliance. And he died three hundred years ago.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°I am Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, his descendant.¡±

    The impression of a frown traced across the spirit¡¯s face, although his brow did not move. ¡°When all you humans die so very young, I see no benefit to learning names. Each one is much the same, so dull and base. If you do wish to be remembered, sage, it falls to you to earn my favor fair. But as it stands, you shall be remembered only as a warning for those to come, the lout who almost jeopardized my light.¡±

    I¡¯m not supposed to be hearing this, Fernan realized. Whatever Lumi¨¨re had taken him here to see, it wasn¡¯t him getting chastised by his patron spirit. He would never show such weakness willingly, based on what Fernan knew of him. But then what?

    Beyond denying his protests, the sage of light had done nothing to explain why it was so necessary that he meet the sun spirit in person.

    ¡°The Isle of Soleil is nothing compared to Guerron, Great Spirit. You have more followers here, more offerings, more power given to you, Great Spirit.¡± Lumi¨¨re stood slightly straighter. ¡°My temple and I serve you far better than those backwater barbarians. We always have, and always will, so long as you and our temple remain standing.¡±

    ¡°But also run by a reluctant fool and his line of incompetents and fools.¡± Soleil pulsed the slightest bit brighter, sending Lord Lumi¨¨re stumbling with his hands over his eyes. ¡°Until my prompting, you stood still in place, allowing Levian to run roughshod, and challenge everything that I have built. You came so close to failure even then.¡±

    ¡°But I didn¡¯t.¡± The sun sage took a deep breath. ¡°My plan worked, and Levian¡¯s line of sages has ended. Your will stands unchallenged here, ready to bring light to those even beyond the city walls.¡±

    ¡°Your plan?¡± There was a sense of amusement in the spirit¡¯s face, somehow, despite it remaining unmoving still. ¡°With all of my power brought to bear, you failed. Levian¡¯s human could have ended you, and if not for your minor use to me, she would have done the world a favor, too. Without the binder and his base machine, you¡¯d never have defeated her at all.¡±

    ¡°Should I go?¡± Fernan hissed quietly. ¡°Can I go?¡± Whatever was happening here, he wanted no part of it.

    Soleil ignored him once again, but Lumi¨¨re shook his head, pointing his finger to the ground in a clear order to stay. ¡°The power was yours, Soleil, the weapon his, but once you made your directives clear, the plan was mine. I sought him out, Great Spirit. I did what was asked in exchange, though the price was great, and mine to bear.  I confirmed his power, to ensure that he could serve me, and through me, you.¡±

    ¡°You asked that I confirm his power true, wasting my time with your stupid nonsense. You never could or would have trusted him, had he not sworn that he could do as said.¡± Soleil shone brighter once more, blotting his shape entirely for a momentary flicker. ¡°You should have verified yourself, human, instead of calling me for petty tasks. Especially to see a foul binder. I¡¯ve yet to see a man with less respect. His heart was shrouded in Khali¡¯s darkness; Pantera¡¯s claw was wedged within his soul. The mere existence of a binder is an affront to myself and all spirits.¡±

    Fernan blinked. I saw that. Lumi¨¨re and Magnifico had called down Soleil before the duel, when he¡¯d followed Aubaine up to the other tower.

    He racked his brain for more details of the moment, but so much had happened since¡­

    Magnifico must be a binder, then. He had always given the air of someone more important than he let on, but it still seemed strange that he wouldn¡¯t present himself openly then. If he were a binder and a diplomat, the entire bard persona seemed bewildering. Surely it carried more risk than presenting himself openly, while offering little in return.

    It was possible they were talking about someone else, of course, but with someone from Avalon present for a meeting with Soleil and a binder being discussed, there was only one obvious conclusion. But then, what does it mean?

    He really wasn¡¯t supposed to be hearing this.

    ¡°I apologize, Soleil.¡± Lord Lumi¨¨re dipped his head in a slight show of respect. ¡°It was a great feat he claimed to be capable of, and I had to know beyond all doubt that he could perform it. Only a vow before a spirit, a forfeiture of his soul should he deceive, could ensure that he was as good as his word.¡±

    It ensures he didn¡¯t lie; that doesn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t tricking someone.

    Magnifico had called Lumi¨¨re a friend, but¡­

    It was impossible to trust Jethro¡¯s letter with no proof of his claims, but something felt all wrong about this. There was something missing, and he just had to figure it out.

    ¡°You must be ever vigilant, human, against the binders perhaps most of all. The devastation they leave in their wake is so much greater than your uselessness. You must recall the scramble after that binder did kill Pantera the Undying? A simple convocation instead took two turns of the earth as the tides foundered, the waters on the shore receding with each moment that no spirit ruled the deep.¡±

    ¡°I had not been born yet then, Great Spirit, but I know that the wrong spirit ascended to his position. Levian is a vile brute, his sages little better. An unworthy heir in all respects to Pantera¡¯s legacy, and a stain on all of spiritkind to even be considered in the same breath as your illustrious self.¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Indeed. You speak good sense for once, Lumi¨¨re.¡± The slightest bit of warmth crept into the sun spirit¡¯s words. ¡°And yet the wrong spirit need not be picked. When dread Khali was sealed away at last, Lunette took on the mantle of darkness. Of night but not of darkness yet, still bright, a wonderful reflection of my light and of the core of Terramond below, the earth beneath your puny human feet. And so she rules with dignity and care, and ably keeps the darkness well in hand, ensuring that Khali remains banished, trapped in the prison of her world, Nocturne.¡±

    Fernan held back a sigh.

    Lunette, the moon, was considered the daughter of the sun, however that worked. The Temple¡¯s statues even showed Soleil holding the nascent spirit, in the eons before she had grown into her power. Scant wonder she was the sort Soleil would consider worthy. Still, it¡¯s disappointing to think even a great spirit would think that way.

    ¡°Now Levian¡¯s line of sages is dead,¡± Lumi¨¨re noted. ¡°No offerings, no sacrifices, no followers. In time, he too, shall fade. If not entirely, then enough that he cannot maintain his hold on the whole of the deep. Decades, at most.¡±

    ¡°No time at all, and then we shall convene. The Torrent of the Deep shall be replaced, and past mistakes shall not be left to stand. So too, the past must not repeat again. Two great spirits displaced in centuries, and then, soon Levian will make it three. This time, it cannot be another beast whose rule is so fragile it can¡¯t withstand even a feeble weakling such as you.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡± Lumi¨¨re nodded. ¡°Nothing is more disgusting than a spirit unworthy of its power. I shall do whatever I can to aid you in this.¡±

    ¡°And your descendants, should the problem last.¡± Soleil¡¯s aura condensed in on itself. ¡°Which raises an important issue, sage: Why are there followers of Levian remaining in a city that is mine? Why have they not been purged, offered to me? The fifty agitators that you claimed were a good start, but not nearly enough. Their fair leader has fallen to the sea; their spirit has deserted his humans at this fair moment of their direst need. A warm, well-crafted pyre of those who live would do much to restore your standing, sage.¡±

    Fernan felt his eyes burn brighter, a visceral horror setting within him. G¨¦zarde was betrayed, and lashed out in turn. But this¡­ How could the spirit of the sun think this way? He was the bringer of light, the source of life. Without him, there could only be famine, deathly cold, and darkness.

    And he wants anyone who disagrees with him dead.

    Obviously the Temple wasn¡¯t infallible, but their feud with Camille and Levian had seemed so human. A great spirit should have been above that, not the worst offender.

    As the flames from Fernan¡¯s eyes grew taller, Soleil¡¯s glow seemed to soften, until his form was crisp and clear again, as if the rage were cutting through his cloud of light. ¡°What is wrong with you? How could you¡ª¡±

    Lord Lumi¨¨re set a hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder forcefully, shaking his head.

    ¡°Did you just hear the other human speak? The light within him does remain quite crude, base flame and little more, yet more than you.¡±

    ¡°My light is diminished, I must concede, as a result of putting everything into that duel for you. I serve and obey, Great Spirit. My vows to you ensure that I can do no less so long as you live.¡±

    ¡°And yet the human pests that Levian swept up in his foul, brutish wake yet live, when they could be good fuel for my power.¡±

    The hand on his shoulder tightened. ¡°We¡¯re trying something better. The area by the harbor where the bilgewater Malins reside has been filled with followers of flame, of light. This flame sage brought them from the mountains.¡± What? ¡°Levian¡¯s supporters are destined to be subverted from within, converted to your cause. What other choice do they have? And each of them in turn shall praise your mercy. ¡®Soleil¡¯s Grace¡¯, they shall exclaim with their every breath. A lifetime of their offerings, their descendants¡¯ offerings ¡ª surely that outweighs the momentary gains of their death.¡±

    Bastard. Fernan flung Lumi¨¨re¡¯s hand from his shoulder. You¡¯re putting all of my people in the sights of this murderous monster.

    He felt G¨¦zarde¡¯s flames swell in his lungs, in his hands, his eyes, until they threatened to engulf his body.

    At every turn they want me for a pawn, to gamble with lives that aren¡¯t theirs.

    I refuse.

    The green flame engulfed his entire body, but he felt no burn, no pain. Only the power coursing through and around him, ready to defend himself and his people.

    ¡°No.¡± Soleil¡¯s finger jumped slightly, pulling with it all of the flame Fernan had gathered and flinging it harmlessly into the mountainside behind them.

    Fuck.

    Coming along had seemed like the smarter play, a way to avoid further angering Lumi¨¨re and getting wrapped up in his plans again. Fucking brilliant.

    ¡°He lacks control, the same as you lack strength. The wild flame is not yet tamed into the elegance of my bright solar rays.¡± He was still addressing Lumi¨¨re. ¡°Your plan is a weakness, still, for it does not display my power or my strength, nor yours. You have depended on half-measures and so much of my assistance the whole time.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re¡¯s aura was so dim, a normal person would have eclipsed him, let alone any sage of light. He faced Fernan, but whatever look he was trying to convey, Fernan couldn¡¯t read it. ¡°I am but a short-sighted human, Great Spirit, destined to die before the likes of you even notice the time pass. But you, you shall reap the rewards you earned in what for you is no time at all. While the energy of their life would come to you but once, spent in an instant.

    The spirit still gave off an aura of contempt, but he remained silent.

    ¡°Two centuries is a long time for the pitiful likes of me, but you stare it in the face as we humans face tomorrow¡¯s dawn. It is obvious which will serve you better then.¡±

    ¡°There is some sense in what¡¯s proposed, for once. But these humans you wish to use do not serve me in truth, but one beneath my rays. I shall regret this in millennia should this flame spirit bring his strength to bear and try to take my place as Arbiter.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s in hand,¡± Lumi¨¨re assured. ¡°A backwater spirit of petty tricks and barbarism. He has no other followers save those within my city, only one sage who stands before you now.¡± He pushed Fernan forward, earning him a glare so intense it burned his hand. Good.

    ¡°That¡¯s suitably quite crude if you, human,¡± Soleil noted. ¡°You will assume responsibility for converting these humans, sage of flame? And be it on your head if this should fail?¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯d asked, told me of this predicament, I would have tried to help in any way that I could. I have no desire to see the Malins eradicated. But I won¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°The responsibility is mine.¡± A trace of the old confidence had returned to Lumi¨¨re¡¯s voice. ¡° It¡¯s my plan, Soleil. Fernan is merely an underling working on my behalf, just as his flame spirit shall be to you.¡± He paused for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully. ¡°So too, the glory shall be mine alone, once you see the wisdom of it.¡±

    Too little, too late.

    But Fernan couldn¡¯t let the conversation end with Soleil resolved to annihilation of the Malins.

    Why couldn¡¯t he have told me this first?

    ¡°My spirit would likely be amenable to this.¡± Avoid the lies, spirits hate that, simply speak the truth that serves you. It didn¡¯t come naturally, but right now he had to try. ¡°G¨¦zarde has shared much of your outlook regarding humans. Less than a year ago, he proposed something similar, eradicating a human village housing those who defied him.¡±

    He¡¯s better about it now, but¡­ Better was still limited. He and the geckos would always come first, and getting as far as they had had been struggle enough. It was a start, at least. After all the history there, establishing even that much trust felt like an accomplishment.

    ¡°I helped convince him that cooperation would be preferable to eradication, and now he has more followers than ever.¡± Because I gave the geckos the concessions they were owed, from us taking their home and their food. But Soleil would have little interest in that aspect of it anyway, and it certainly wouldn¡¯t help to bring it up. ¡°Lumi¨¨re¡¯s plan will serve you better. This, I honestly believe, and you may take my soul should I lie. Between the people and the spirits involved, you can be better served while your power remains unthreatened.¡±

    I just won¡¯t have any part of it.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Soleil stared through him, floating lightly above the ground. His arms were folded now, though he hadn¡¯t moved them to get them there. ¡°Your soul is mine should I regret this, sage.¡±

    ¡°I so swear.¡± Lumi¨¨re beamed. ¡°You shall not regret this as long as you live, Great Spirit. This is the beginning of something magnificent.¡±

 Gary III: The Great Detective

    ¡°So we¡¯ve established the basic facts, as we best understand them: an Acolyte created a distraction outside, luring away the Director¡¯s assistant. He would have locked the door behind him, but the other robber entered through the roof, snatching the plans and escaping the same way. We don¡¯t know how she made it into the compound yet, but presumably she left the same way.¡±

    ¡°He,¡± Gary corrected helpfully. ¡°This was the work of a master thief at the direction of Jacques Clocha?ne to destroy society as we know it. That man is the leader of all of this, corrupt to his core.¡±

    For the first time in months, Governor Gordon Perimont cracked a smile. ¡°You took your time, Sir Gerald, but at least now Clocha?ne¡¯s dirty dealings can be exposed and dealt with, and done so under Prince Harold¡¯s authority. And not a moment too soon, given recent word from Avalon. I may have underestimated your utility.¡±

    ¡°Well well well¡­¡± Gary folded his arms, a smirk on his face. ¡°Maybe next time, you¡­ won¡¯t do that,¡± he quipped.

    ¡°Mmm.¡± Perimont curled his lip. ¡°We shall meet Captain Whitbey tomorrow to present your evidence and organize the raids. Until then, not a word of this to anyone.¡±

    Evidence? ¡°My deductions are ironclad. I¡¯m sure they will suffice.¡±

    Perimont¡¯s face sagged. ¡°Of course. What was I thinking, believing you could come through even for a moment?¡± He muttered something under his breath. ¡°Why our illustrious prince chose you for this investigation, I may never understand.¡±

    ¡°Understanding can be difficult at times,¡± Gary commiserated. ¡°But that¡¯s why you have crack investigators like me in your corner. Prince Harold values my reliability, and my loyalty. His words.¡±

    ¡°Not your aptitude though.¡± He put a hand to his face, contemplating the reality that Gary had done more for Avalon in a few months than Perimont had managed with years of governorship. ¡°Do you have any evidence at all to support these accusations?¡±

    ¡°My Lord Governor,¡± Charlotte began, desperate to be included. ¡°No one reported any strife or struggle, and the door and lock were fully intact, unforced. The grille over the vent at the ceiling of Director Thorley¡¯s office was unscrewed. Your own Forresters concluded that Thorley¡¯s assistant was not responsible for the theft after their interrogations were complete, leaving ingress through the roof as the only possibility.¡±

    Perimont stared down at her, irritated that she was the one speaking, rather than the esteemed knight in charge of the investigation. She should have known better than to talk.

    Fortunately, Gary was ready to step in and save her. ¡°We¡¯ve already apprehended the culprit: an Acolyte. We¡¯ll be able to confirm Clocha?ne¡¯s involvement.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyes widened, stupefied that she had forgotten to mention the most important part first, while Perimont seemed no less surprised.

    ¡°That changes things.¡± Perimont folded his arms. ¡°You have one day. I don¡¯t care what it takes. Once Clocha?ne¡¯s name escapes his lips, we can move forward with the full backing of the crown to cut his rot from this city.¡±

    His? ¡°My lord, the Acolyte we captured was actually¡ª¡±

    ¡°Was actually more loyal than that.¡± Charlotte elbowed him in the stomach, so brimming with energy in anticipation of the raids that she couldn¡¯t even control herself around her superiors. Woman¡¯s temperament. Gary shook his head sadly. ¡°It may be difficult to break him in such a short time.¡±

    There she goes, calling the Acolyte a man again, when it was really a blue haired girl. So forgetful.

    ¡°Be that as it may, it must be done. I¡¯ve become privy to news from Baron Williams that will throw everything into disarray. Clocha?ne must be out of the way before the masses learn of it.¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°You, girl.¡±

    ¡°Charlotte, my Lord Governor.¡±

    Perimont shrugged. ¡°I want you to take the lead in the interrogation.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Gary spluttered. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly¡ª¡±

    ¡°As a¡­ training exercise. You must allow the Guardians the chance to show what they have learned from your example, Sir Gerald. Already, you¡¯ve exposed so many problems with the system.¡±

    ¡°But the timing¡­ Charlotte¡¯s dependable, but she¡¯s wildly incompetent, overly emotional, basically just a disaster of a human being. She¡¯ll never get what you need done in time without me taking a firmer hand.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyes narrowed sharply at the thought that her skills might not be up to the task, showing a startling capacity for self-reflection.

    ¡°She has been helpful,¡± Gary hurriedly clarified, throwing her a bone. ¡°But time is of the essence.¡±

    ¡°Nonetheless, you will have to make do. Once word gets out¡­ Clocha?ne is a snake, and he¡¯s done too good a job at making himself seem indispensable.¡±

    Gary stared the governor down, tilting his head up to meet the irritatingly tall man¡¯s eyeline. Why couldn¡¯t you just sit down at your desk like everyone else?

    ¡°You are dismissed,¡± he added.

    ?

    ¡°Well, it could have gone better, but I think you managed to avoid embarrassing me too badly.¡±

    Charlotte punched him in the shoulder. ¡°You idiot! Why would you tell him we have the Acolyte in hand?¡±

    Gary blinked. ¡°Why hide it? Prince Harold didn¡¯t want me talking to people about the harbor bombing until I had the culprit, but we pretty much stopped bothering to investigate that once all this railyard robbery stuff came up. Priorities, you know. I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t mind me telling Perimont that I caught an Acolyte.¡±

    ¡°¡®Caught an Acolyte¡¯? The blue haired girl was months ago! She has nothing to do with any of this! Claude is the Acolyte that was probably involved in the robbery, and the Guardians grabbed him without any help from us.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°What¡¯s the difference? They¡¯re both in prison, that¡¯s what¡¯s important. It¡¯s just another avenue to implicate Clocha?ne.¡± He pounded his fist into the palm of his hands menacingly, displaying his strength and resolve. ¡°All we need to do is break them.¡±

    ¡°The solicitor got them out! We have nothing except a name from the arrest report, and you promised Perimont a way to Clocha?ne in a day!¡±

    ¡°Calm down. You¡¯re being hysterical.¡±

    She reached out with her thickly muscled arm and pounded her fist against the wall, making it cough up dust. ¡°You may have the Prince¡¯s favor, but I still have to live in this city. Don¡¯t you realize what you¡¯ve done? If we can¡¯t get Lord Perimont what you promised, I¡¯m done. He¡¯s not a man known for mercy.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking this. All we need to do is grab that Acolyte and convince them to give up Clocha?ne. The blue-haired girl would be ideal, or the other one, but any will do, really.¡±

    Charlotte clenched her fists, furious at herself for missing the obvious solution. ¡°Only the one named Claude was involved in the robbery. We can¡¯t arrest the wrong person.¡±

    ¡°Well, if they confess and finger Clocha?ne, they¡¯re not really the wrong person, are they?¡±

    ¡°Yes! If they didn¡¯t do anything wrong, if they¡¯re innocent, we can¡¯t just browbeat them into lying for us!¡±

    Gary blinked. ¡°Criminals walk among us, Charlotte. People who are evil to their core, concerned only with their selfish desires and self-gratification. It¡¯s simply who they are. Crime is how they reveal themselves, an inevitable slip in the fa?ade. That¡¯s true for everyone from the lowest poacher to Clocha?ne himself. His minions certainly aren¡¯t exempt.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s another way. Your friend Simon knows some of the forresters, right? He could get us a meeting?¡±

    ¡°Simon isn¡¯t my friend. He¡¯s a spoiled ass. He just knows where all the good parties are, and his sister is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sir Gerald, my life is on the line here!  Please, can he get us in a room with a forrester? They have to have someone planted within the Acolytes to monitor them. That might be our best chance of finding Claude.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    She grit her teeth, worried that her idiocy around Perimont might cost her standing. ¡°The Acolyte captured outside the railyard on the night of the robbery. He¡¯ll have to return for his trial eventually, but thanks to you we need to find him within the day to have any hope of catching Clocha?ne. Unless you plan to search every temple in the city, this is the only way I can think of to find him in time.¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Making a lot of assumptions there, Charlotte,¡± he helpfully noted, constructively addressing the flaws in her proposal. ¡°This plan of yours has many points of failure. It assumes the Forresters have a way to find Claude, that Simon is willing and able to help¡ª¡±

    ¡°That I don¡¯t strangle you before we get the chance.¡±

    Gary laughed. ¡°You¡¯ve really got to get that temper under control, Charlotte. I almost thought you were serious, there.¡±

    ?

    ¡°That¡¯s an awfully convoluted plan.¡± Simon leaned back in his chair, so large and fluffily-stuffed that he looked like was floating on a cloud. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just ask my new lady acquaintance, Carrine? She¡¯s an Acolyte too; I bet she knows Claude, or at least could find him.¡±

    Charlotte tilted her head, at last realizing that her plan was completely stupid and unworkable. ¡°This Carrine, is her whole head of hair blue, not just a streak?¡±

    ¡°Ehh¡­¡± Simon tilted his hand. ¡°If you¡¯re willing to overlook the roots that are showing, which is a lot to ask. Honestly, she should just re-dye the whole thing; it would look a lot better. But otherwise, yes. Why?¡±

    ¡°Sir Gerald, care to tell him?¡± Charlotte prompted, gesturing for him to speak. Poor thing already forgot why we¡¯re here.

    Gary nodded. ¡°Would you mind if we grabbed her for a few hours, Simon? Just enough to get her to confess to something.¡±

    ¡°What? What does that have to do with¡ª¡±

    Charlotte pounded her fist on the table, trying to cut through Simon¡¯s incoherent sputtering. ¡°We arrested her months ago! And she was released at the same time as Claude, by the same solicitor.¡±

    ¡°Arrested?¡± Simon wrinkled his eyebrow. ¡°What was she doing?¡±

    ¡°Trying to purchase contraband,¡± Gary clarified, the memories coming back to him. ¡°We pumped her for all the information she was worth, then tossed her back out once we got what we needed. Of course, there¡¯s still her trial¡­¡±

    ¡°Contraband. You mean drugs.¡± Simon pressed the palm of his hand to his face, devastated to learn that one of his companions was a degenerate criminal. ¡°Honestly, let people have a good time if they want to. The market demand is there; allow it to be serviced.¡±

    Great. More bullshit about markets. As if Simon Perimont had ever once gone to a market or purchased food for himself.

    ¡°You almost had me worried a second.¡± Simon scratched his chin. ¡°Actually, that does give me an in with her. I can make those charges go away like nothing, then she¡¯ll have to accept my advances.¡±

    ¡°Her solicitor can doubtless do the same.¡± Charlotte sighed, lamenting the leeches on society that allowed the guilty to go free. ¡°She didn¡¯t even have any contraband in her possession when we apprehended her.¡±

    ¡°Still, it¡¯ll make me look good to get rid of the problem before it even comes up.¡± He stood up from his chair. ¡°I¡¯ll go see Whitbey about it now. Thanks!¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Charlotte jumped in front of the door before Simon could make it out. Rather rude of her. ¡°Do you know where we can find Carrine? She¡¯s probably our best bet at getting to Claude before your father¡¯s deadline.¡±

    Simon smirked, probably imagining all of the things Gary would be doing to get Claude to turn on his master. ¡°She¡¯s actually meeting me at the beach tonight, with that skinny friend of hers, Celine. Say what you will about Guerron, but the people there know how to throw down. Did you know an authentic Woods Nymph uses Naca extract? It gets you all¡ª¡±

    Gary held up a finger. ¡°I¡¯m going to stop you there, because most of the words you just used don¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    As strangely irritable as Charlotte had been today, she did seem relieved at that.

    ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m sure it¡¯d be no problem for you to tag along¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s great!¡±

    ¡°¡ªIf you do something for me. Talk to Captain Whitbey and get him to drop the charges yourself? It¡¯d go easier, and save me the hassle of leaning on him.¡±

    Of course. ¡°Is everything in life a transaction for you, Simon? Would it kill you to just do a favor for a friend?¡±

    ¡°Mary will be there too.¡±

    ¡°We agree!¡± Gary calmly responded, satisfied with the equitable negotiations he had deftly maneuvered through.

    Simon chuckled slightly. ¡°What did you mean by deadline, though?¡±

    Gary blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t think I ever mentioned a deadline. Charlotte, does that sound familiar to you?¡±

    He turned to look at her, only to find her fists clenched tightly again, rage on her face once more.

    Great. I thought we were done with this. ¡°It¡¯s a simple question, Charlotte. I don¡¯t know why you need to get so sensitive about it.¡±

    She took a deep breath, composing herself in an effort to deal with her anger issues. ¡°Simon, your father gave us only one day to get the evidence needed to move against Clocha?ne. He said that Baron Williams had sent forth news that will, in his words, ¡®throw everything into disarray.¡¯ Do you know anything about this?¡±

    ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t¡­¡± He pulled his mouth to one side. ¡°Although I suppose word will be getting out soon anyway.¡±

    ¡°Word of what? Just tell us!¡± Gary calmly requested.

    ¡°The navy caught a pirate ship outside of Oxton in the middle of trying to raid a merchant vessel. Only the ship was of Avalon make.¡±

    ¡°Verrou?¡± Charlotte asked.

    Simon shook his head. ¡°Privateers, no doubt, but no one¡¯s saying who they were contracted for. The composition of the crew¡¯s no help either:  some from Guerron, some from the Territories, some from the Arboreum, even one girl from Avalon, but no one noteworthy. But the ship was royal-class, and apparently it was the same one Prince Luce was using to tour the Territories.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a strange coincidence,¡± Gary noted. ¡°They must have admired it enough to copy the design.¡±

    Charlotte stared at him, trying to understand his complex theories. ¡°It means the prince¡¯s ship was raided and stolen by pirates, privateers from Guerron if history is anything to go by. I knew something was off when we met him; it might have already happened by then. He could still be captured, or dead.¡±

    And fucking Simon heard it first? ¡°No, it can¡¯t be that. Prince Harold would have told me.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s probably been a bit too busy to deal with you, Gary.¡± Simon sat back down in his chair with a thump. ¡°Something like this demands a response.¡±

    ¡°War,¡± Charlotte breathed softly. ¡°Whenever or however his ship was taken, the King¡¯s son is gone and Guerron is responsible. Is that why the news came from Baron Williams?¡±

    What would that have to do with anything?

    ¡°Could be. It¡¯s certainly what the harpies have been angling for ever since the Foxtrap. But the Owls outnumber them in the Great Council, and the King¡¯s own sister leads that faction. Not to mention the Jays. Mercifully a small party, to be sure, but even less likely to support full scale war.¡±

    Most of the representatives from the Fortan Highlands back home belonged to the Harpies, so they were presumably the good guys, but that was about as much as Gary cared to understand. He¡¯d known politics was a waste of time ever since he¡¯d realized how boring the party symbols were. The harpies were the best of the bunch, but even then, they should have chosen a better bird to represent them, like a raven or an eagle. Maybe a hawk.

    ¡°That¡¯s why Lord Perimont needs this done so quickly. If war is declared, Clocha?ne¡¯s utility to the Territorial government might make him untouchable.¡± She squinted slightly, probably also having trouble parsing all of the dreadfully boring politics. ¡°Which he would know. It would give him an incentive to ramp up hostilities between Avalon and the nations of this continent.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but a weak one. War is bad for business.¡±

    Gary patted the pistol at his side. ¡°Depends on the business. But Clocha?ne sells candles. I can¡¯t imagine that mattering much either way.¡±

    Simon laughed. ¡°He does a lot more than that.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Which reminds me: if you do take him down, please make sure to leave my name out of it.¡±

    ¡°What will that matter?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a¡­ modest man, and I want to maintain a reputation of being true to my word.¡±

    Charlotte narrowed her eyes, disgusted by the blatant corruption that Clocha?ne was getting away with, even despite Simon¡¯s vigilance.

    ¡°Reprisal against who, though? It¡¯s not like those degenerates are flying the banner of a nation.¡±

    ¡°Six months ago, Guerron would be the obvious choice for a retaliatory strike, but it¡¯s practically a Territory already. Lord Luminare seems to be acknowledging the futility of independence. Once that girl¡¯s murder trial is over, he¡¯ll be opening the gates to the Guardians.¡±

    ¡°Lumi¨¨re,¡± Charlotte corrected, eager to undermine Simon on even the most trivial details. Nicely done. ¡°There¡¯s no real Empire of the Fox to speak of, let alone war against. It could mean that Prince Harold cracks down on us instead.¡±

    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± Gary shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve known him a long time. What he wants most is his brother back. That would come before any of the politics, any show of strength.¡± Without a doubt, it was one of Prince Harold¡¯s greatest character flaws, which was admittedly a faint condemnation given the man in question.

    ¡°It may be too late for that.¡±

    The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a messenger in Simon¡¯s employ, depositing a letter with three lines in a wave pattern on his desk as if she had no idea what important business was being conducted.

    Simon shrugged, tearing open the letter with a gold implement. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any great need to be dramatic about things. The Prince knows enough to play this smart: blame somewhere easy to roll over, like the Condorcet Collective, and use the conquest to expand Avalon¡¯s economic influence deeper south. There¡¯s no need for a full-on war.¡± His eyes flicked up and down the page, rudely reading in the middle of a conversation.

    ¡°That does sound like something he might do,¡± Gary noted with no small amount of disappointment. ¡°But I¡¯d love a real war. I was too young for the Foxtrap, but so much of the continent is still in the hands of despotic barbarians, sacrificing their own people to evil spirits. It¡¯s disgusting.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Simon tapped the letter in his hands. ¡°On an unrelated note, Carrine wants to move the party. Apparently the scent from the corpses on the gallows is polluting the spot intended for the bonfire.¡± He wrinkled his nose. ¡°I wish Father would consider the consequences of this sort of thing. It¡¯s unsightly.¡±

    Gary shrugged. ¡°Trust me, when it¡¯s Clocha?ne and his cronies hanging, the smell will be as sweet as honey.¡±

    ¡°What? That doesn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°The scent of victory, Simon.¡± War, conquest, glory. The name Gary Stewart would ring out through history forevermore. ¡°I can taste it in the air.¡±

 Florette VI: The Unflappable

    ¡°Why is it that your plans always seem to involve carousing with the enemy?¡± Florette stared down her snooty co-conspirator.

    Camille Leclaire responded with a sigh. ¡°Have you actually forgotten why we¡¯re doing this, or are you just criticizing for the sake of it?¡±

    Florette smiled, taking a page out of Eloise¡¯s book by folding her arms. ¡°That second one. It never stops being fun.¡±

    The lady¡¯s eyes narrowed, but at least she refrained from biting her lip for once. ¡°At least tell me you did your part of the preparations. The last thing I need right now is some impulsive village girl mucking up¡ª¡±

    ¡°Start over, and this time, use that noble courtesy I¡¯ve heard so much about.¡±

    Leclaire forced the widest, most insincere smile imaginable. ¡°The last thing I need is for some dashing, brilliant confidence artist, pirate, and thief extraordinaire to fuck up the simplest of tasks imagineable due to her impulsive idiocy.¡± She swung her arm with the same exaggerated excitement. ¡°You didn¡¯t, did you?¡±

    ¡°Relax! It¡¯s fine. Yse didn¡¯t love that I was having a party without him, but once I gave him the guest list, he was happy to take my money instead of an invitation.¡± She slapped the covered wagon behind her twice. ¡°Enough to get an entire army drunk.¡±

    ¡°And the branding? I was very explicit that you mustn¡¯t rustle up some swill. Our targets are nobly born, given to expect a certain quality of beverage. It might damage my standing with them if what you¡¯ve produced is¡­ less than satisfactory.¡±

    Florette laughed. ¡°Yeah, I saw the supply sheet you wrote out. Would have cost like twenty-thousand dala to get all that shit.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Leclaire paled. ¡°So you failed to get it on account of expense? Khali¡¯s curse, Florette, why did you not tell me sooner? I would have helped us arrive at a solution.¡±

    ¡°No need.¡± Florette pulled the cover free in one fluid motion. ¡°See? All the labels match what you asked for. Yse knew someone else working for Jacques who sells these bootlegs on the side, got a friend discount for me.¡±

    Eyes no less wide, the gentle Lady Leclaire held up one of the bottles, a clear spirit made from distilled potatoes. ¡°That¡¯s clever, I¡¯ll grant, but I¡¯m doubtful it will fool anyone once they get a proper taste of it.¡±

    ¡°Are you?¡± Florette snatched the bottle from her hands, popping the cork off and passing it back. ¡°Try it. Show me how discerning the noble palette is.¡±

    Leclaire rolled her startling blue eyes, but still tipped the bottle the slightest bit back to take a sip, taking care not to spill a drop down her chin. ¡°How vile. It may have been the best our disgustingly diminished resources could procure, but I still wish you had come to me first. The very scent of it in the air betrays its cheap origins, let alone the flavor.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Florette laughed in her face, one of the few perks of working with the woman.¡°You should know that I got one set of the real thing and put it on top. By the time those bottles are drained, everyone should be drunk enough not to notice the bootlegs beneath it.¡±

    The lady¡¯s face flushed as she bit her lip once more.

    ¡°Seems like it wasn¡¯t necessary, given your reaction just now. People taste whatever their expectations tell them to taste.¡± And once they taste enough, they¡¯ll tell you anything. ¡°But I could afford it, and I thought it couldn¡¯t hurt.¡±

    Leclaire took another rapid sip of the grain alcohol, then shoved it into Florette¡¯s hands with a scowl. ¡°Fine, I see your point. In a more mannered setting, with proper vintages involved, I still think it wouldn¡¯t work, but these events tend to be raucous enough that your ruse should pass muster.¡± With seemingly great reluctance, she patted Florette awkwardly on the shoulder. ¡°Well done.¡±

    ¡°Wow, such effusive praise. I¡¯ll be the talk of my village, getting a compliment from High Priestess Camille Leclaire.¡±

    That just caused the lady to sigh again, but it was still pretty amusing. ¡°Not here, with that name. Carrine Bourbeau, remember it.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°And I¡¯m Celine¡­ what, exactly? I¡¯m supposed to be a noble too, right? Otherwise I¡¯d never be invited into your twisted little club.¡±

    Leclaire raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is that a request for help with your disguise?¡±

    Florette¡¯s smile twisted. ¡°Is that an offer to help?¡±

    ¡°I suppose it must be.¡± Leclaire¡¯s lip curled. ¡°You already have a pre-name, and an established relationship with ¡®Carrine Bourbeau¡¯, the lesser sage of Levian. I have a reason to be here, visiting my fellow Acolytes, but for you, all of the details remain fungible.¡±

    ¡°Need I be noble? The best lies always stay close to truth. You would know better than anyone that it¡¯s a part I can only play so well.¡±

    Leclaire nodded heartily. ¡°I¡¯d never even seen animals tear their way through oysters the way you mauled them.¡± She chuckled. ¡°But I struggle to imagine another reason for visiting here from Guerron. For obvious reasons, things have been strained between the two cities. You have no magic, so playing at being a sage would be foolhardy, but perhaps your ¡®Celine¡¯ could be my companion. A bodyguard, to ensure my safety.¡±

    Florette raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why would a sage need a bodyguard?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Leclaire tilted her head. ¡°There¡¯s only so much energy to be had from the spirits. For lesser sages such as ¡®Carrine¡¯, all the more so. Run out, and any magic worked must be fueled by one¡¯s very life.¡±

    For some reason, she scowled after that, as if the very idea was painful. ¡°Someone in between the sage and danger, whether or not they bargained for magic, can be most useful. My fianc¨¦ once told me that most sages¡¯ attacks are crude and untrained, perfectly possible for a well-trained combatant to dodge.¡±

    Fianc¨¦? Right, the Fox-King. She¡¯d almost forgotten. ¡°Is that right?¡±

    Leclaire raised an eyebrow. ¡°I would think you of all people would delight at hearing it. Lucien is as skilled with a sword as you and I are at breathing. If only he had more sense in his skull, we might not¡­¡° She trailed off, the look of pain plain to see on her face.

    ¡°He was very keen to defend your honor,¡± Florette offered. ¡°Almost stabbed someone who called you ¡®aqua-bitch¡¯, the day of your duel.¡±

    ¡°Who called me that?¡± Upon seeing the most convincing shrug that Florette could force, Leclaire continued. ¡°Regardless, the sentiment is true. A guard is a perfectly acceptable guise for your ¡®Celine¡¯, and even your low birth would not overly stretch credulity. A skilled fighter of a poor pedigree would be exactly the guard chosen to venture into hostile territory.¡±

    I see what you¡¯re trying to pull. ¡°You want me working for you. That way tonight if you want to shout me down, I have to go along with it if I don¡¯t want to break the disguise.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Leclaire grinned. ¡°I suppose that would be an incidental side effect of it.¡±

    ¡°Well, forget it. Whoever ¡®Celine¡¯ is here, she¡¯s your equal. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Of course! It¡¯s your identity, after all. And when Simon Perimont asks you one of a thousand questions that only a noble would know the answer to, and you farcically reveal yourself once more, I shall simply gasp in shock, having had no idea of your deception.¡±

    ¡°Like anyone would believe that.¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    Fuck, she¡¯s right. ¡°No bossing me around in public, alright? This is a party, I¡¯m off-duty, whatever it takes.¡±

    ¡°A true knight never neglects their duty.¡±

    ¡°Then consider me a false one. I don¡¯t want you fucking me over in a way I have to go along with to maintain the ruse. This whole thing is stupid enough as it is.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t come. I¡¯m gathering intelligence; in truth, it would be far easier without you.¡±

    Florette narrowed her eyes. ¡°Because you have a perfect memory of every detail? Or perhaps you know how to plan a robbery, and the necessary details will catch your attention as they would mine?¡± Arrogant ass.

    The entire purpose of this party was to extract whatever information they could from the leader of Malin¡¯s Territorial Guardians: where the highest concentration of patrols lay, what was most previous that they defended, any potential weakpoints¡­

    There was only so much you could ask without looking suspicious, but that could still get you pretty far. And it was an important starting point, for a heist that would have to outshine even the railyard.

    Leclaire¡¯s eyes only narrowed. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do for you to get carried away. The most important thing is figuring out his outlook, whether he might be amenable to change or need to be removed down the line.¡±

    ¡°As if there¡¯s any doubt he¡¯s a heinous fuck. Maybe it¡¯s you who shouldn¡¯t bother. I¡¯m sure I can get the information I need from the Captain.¡±

    ¡°Without being hanged first? Consider me doubtful.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m perfectly capable of maintaining a disguise. The one you saw through was literally my first, but I¡¯ve grown since then.¡± It wasn¡¯t as if she was any stranger to using friendship and alcohol to get the information she needed for a job, even going back to Magnifico in Guerron. And that had worked without some haughty noble butting in as if she knew everything.

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it.¡± Leclaire smiled. ¡°I also don¡¯t doubt that you could provoke the Captain to murder even without revealing yourself, charming as you are.¡±

    ¡°A little provocation can be necessary sometimes. Shake things up to get the information you need.¡± She¡¯d certainly done a bit of that in preparation for the railyard heist, poking and prodding to squeeze information from the workers there. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to end up being hung.¡±

    ¡°I should hope not. You aren¡¯t a painting.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done my best to help,¡± Leclaire continued. ¡°If you insist on another guise, I shall grit my teeth and do my best to aid you there as well. But I honestly believe that this way has the least risk. Levian knows we could stand to minimize risk right now.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Florette spat out, more to end the conversation than out of true acquiescence. ¡°Let¡¯s just get on with the party.¡±

    ?

    Chateau Malin was little more than a ruin, now, but if anything that made it fit in well with the venues for these parties: the overgrown gardens, the windswept sands of the beach, atop the cliffs¡­

    Either high society had unexpectedly good taste, or the sort that Leclaire was building a relationship with were inclined to step outside their comfort zone. Either way, it beat the fuck out of learning to dance in a ballroom or something.

    ¡°Is that Naca?¡± Leclaire hissed, pointing to the random guests sharing a pipe under the light of the moon. ¡°Avalon bans mind-altering substances like that! We can¡¯t have people indulging in the presence of their nobility.¡±

    Wow. ¡°It¡¯s a party, ¡®Carrine¡¯. No one gives a fuck. It would have been weird not to have it, honestly.¡± This was your idea, anyway; I¡¯m just executing it better than you could have.

    ¡°Avalonians are a weird sort! It¡¯s a risk that we can¡¯t afford to take. I know it¡¯s ridiculous, but we¡ª¡±

    ¡°I smell a party!¡± Simon Perimont clapped Leclaire on the back. ¡°Did you keep any aside for us?¡±

    ¡°Got you covered,¡± Florette assured in the best accent she could manage of their language, which admittedly probably wasn¡¯t great. ¡°Here.¡± She handed him a pipe packed with Naca laced with pixie powder, a way to get the effects of the former without falling prey to the lethargy that generally followed.

    Simon waved the pipe with a puzzled expression on his face until Florette handed him the taper candle lit from the bonfire as well. ¡°Thank you. Celine, right?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± She leaned forward, suppressing her revulsion. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to see you again,¡± she lied easily.

    ¡°Likewise,¡± Perimont said as he inhaled through the pipe. ¡°I can see that the ladies of Guerron are just as resourceful as they are beautiful.¡±

    Ugh.

    ¡°How kind!¡± Leclaire smiled, then elbowed Florette sharply to do the same. ¡°I hope the change of venue wasn¡¯t an issue.¡±

    Change of venue? What was she talking about? Asking might muck things up though, so Florette refrained from commenting.

    Simon simply shook his head in response. ¡°As unsightly as the old castle-town might be these days, the stones of the Chateau itself still have a certain charm to them. And the wind isn¡¯t half bad either. I¡¯ve lived in Malin for years and the summer¡¯s never been this horrifically hot.¡±

    ¡°The city has changed,¡± Camille agreed. ¡°I wonder if the spirits might not have something to do with it as well. Soleil stands triumphant, for the moment.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Right.¡± Simon¡¯s lip curled. ¡°I suppose you would have to be party to those superstitions, belonging to the temple as you do.¡±

    ¡°Spirits are very obviously real,¡± Florette responded, brows wrinkled. ¡°Just over a hundred years ago Avalon¡¯s Great Binder saved all of us from the worst of them.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Simon held up his hands as if to surrender. ¡°But does their well-being truly influence the world in such a way? It¡¯s possible, but I think it better to be skeptical. It serves their ends to have us believe them indispensable.¡±

    That¡¯s true.

    Camille Leclaire didn¡¯t seem convinced, though. ¡°It¡¯s just about passed from living memory, but the aftereffects of a spirit¡¯s demise are well reported. Sealing Khali away in her prison of a world resulted in weeks without nightfall, the age of gleaming from which our calendar draws its name. There¡¯s dozens of books that can attest to it.¡±

    That matches what that book I stole said. It hadn¡¯t occurred to Florette until now, but Leclaire might not be a bad person to run it by. She might have an idea about whether it was really the Great Binder who had written it.

    ¡°I have read much the same, my lady. But a death is not the same as a minor triumph, and you may consider me skeptical that the spirit Soleil will truly benefit from his sage¡¯s partnership with Avalon. Not everything is a reflection of the spirits; sometimes a hot summer is just a hot summer. They¡¯ve been warmer every year as it is.¡±

    Leclaire dipped her head magnanimously. ¡°You may be right. The tides continue, for all that Levian was diminished with the death of his High Priestess.¡±

    Simon bent down and kissed her hand. ¡°Perhaps he¡¯s simply found a worthy successor already, a peerless beauty from Guerron.¡± Kill me.

    ¡°Is Captain Whitbey coming?¡± Florette asked, to put an end to this revolting absurdity. ¡°I was looking forward to meeting him.¡±

    ¡°In time. He¡¯s not much one for parties, usually, but I had Charlotte convince him, as a favor to me.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Charlotte?¡± With all the time she¡¯d spent gathering information on the Perimonts, this person¡¯s name ought to have come up.

    ¡°A guardian friend of mine, investigating the harbor bombing along with that Fortan knight that Prince Harold sent. Whitbey loaned her out for the duration of the investigation.¡±

    ¡°A good sort of friend to have,¡± Leclaire noted, brushing strands of her hair back. ¡°But I suppose that¡¯s to be expected from a man of your stature.¡±

    Simon smiled. ¡°I¡¯m not a bad friend to have, myself. In fact, Sir Gerald and Charlotte mentioned something I might be able to help you with, fair Carrine. This very evening, no less. It¡¯s quite the fortuitous coincidence, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°If you believe in coincidences.¡± Florette shot Leclaire a look, but all the lady returned was a miniscule shake of her head. ¡°There¡¯s often more at play.¡±

    ¡°Too true.¡± Simon laughed. ¡°Especially given the latest news from Avalon. Perhaps there is more to it, but I doubt it¡¯s any business of mine in any case. No matter. Carrine, if I could discuss this with you in private?¡±

    ¡°One moment.¡± Florette held up a single finger. ¡°What news from Avalon?¡±

    Leclaire seemed intrigued as well, though she was better at hiding it.

    Well, whatever. It doesn¡¯t break our cover for me to be interested.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure it would mean anything much to foreigners, especially with Guerron so close to entering the fold, but a pirate ship was just caught outside of Oxton.¡±

    ¡°Caught?¡± It¡¯s just a coincidence. There must be hundreds of pirate ships raiding Avalon. ¡°What¡¯s the significance of that?¡±

    ¡°Well, it was a royal-class vessel. The personal ship of Prince Luce, in fact, though he was nowhere to be found when the ship was searched. He may be dead already, at the hands of those pirates.¡±

    Eloise¡¯s ship. ¡°And the pirates?¡± She managed to keep any quiver out of her voice, though only just.

    Simon shrugged. ¡°Executed already, no doubt. Baron Williams is not the soft sort. He¡¯d have had them tried and hanged within a week. Especially that traitor woman in charge of them. The more concerning aspect is the potential geopolitical implications. If Prince Harold is truly to respond with commensurate force, global trade may be drastically impacted. In fact¡­¡±

    The words stopped meaning anything as he droned on and on about trade and money.

    Executed.

    Eloise had seemed so careful. It wasn¡¯t like her at all to get caught outside a major Avalonian city. And what of the Prince? She¡¯d been planning to use him, not cast him aside.

    Unlike you.

    Had Florette ever truly known her? Was this truly as out of character as it first appeared?

    Does any of it matter? She¡¯s dead now.

    She dumped me here to go have her own adventures, and it led her straight to the noose.

    ¡°Drinks!¡± Florette announced, interrupting whatever Leclaire¡¯s response to Simon¡¯s ponderous diatribe had been. ¡°Something strong, yes?¡±

    ¡°Umm, sure. Gin, I think, given the temperature.¡±

    Leclaire narrowed her eyes. ¡°Do you need to go get them right now, Celine? Wouldn¡¯t you like a moment to talk first? You¡¯re shaking.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± Florette shook her head. ¡°And this comes first.¡±

    She ducked away as fast as she could, steeling herself against the crisp breeze that cut straight through the humid air.

    One of the good ones, this time.

    A gin of Cambrian make, far far too expensive, but what was money? If this next heist paid off, it would all be trivial to recoup.

    But some things can never be recouped.

    She took a long sip from the bottle, then wiped her mouth clean before returning to the gathering. ¡°Let¡¯s drink!¡±

    Leclaire side-eyed her at that, but honestly, fuck her and her arrogant, noble, too-perfectly-round ass.

    ¡°Let¡¯s!¡± that Perimont fuck agreed, passing the Naca pipe to a wholly disconcerted Camille Leclaire before taking the bottle himself. ¡°I told Gary and Charlotte I¡¯d start without them anyway; they know the drill.¡±

    ¡°Are they coming as well?¡± Leclaire asked inanely, still staring at Florette. ¡°They won¡¯t care about the¡­ merriment, will they?¡±

    Simon waved his hand flippantly. ¡°That¡¯s not what those laws are about, anyway. Father couldn¡¯t make it illegal to be loyal to the Renarts or against the occupation, not with the human rights protections in Avalon¡¯s constitution. But he knew those same people liked their nightshade, their marigold wine, all that spiritual stuff. So it let him jail the rowdiest of them, sic the Forresters on any of their leaders who might get rebellion in their heads. The point of it isn¡¯t to ruin our fun. Whitbey gets that, and Gary¡¯s too much of an idiot to notice.¡±

    ¡°And the Acolytes of Levian?¡±

    ¡°Clocha?ne tamed them; they don¡¯t break the law to have those visions anymore anyway. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯re fine. I had them take care of it anyway. Watch, Charlotte and Gary will show up with Whitbey any moment to tell you those charges were dismissed.¡±

    Charges? As amusing as the thought of Leclaire being arrested was, it did nothing for the needs of the moment. ¡°I can¡¯t wait until they do.¡± She took the bottle of gin from Simon¡¯s offering hands and drank deep once more. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting to hear from Captain Whitbey, especially.¡±

    Leclaire shot her another glare for that, but Simon didn¡¯t see anything amiss. That¡¯s the important thing, aqua-bitch.

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Simon asked through a cloud of Naca smoke. ¡°I didn¡¯t get the impression he had much of a reputation outside Malin.¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s a force for order,¡± Leclaire offered. ¡°It¡¯s not uncommon for him to be mentioned in the same breath as your father in enforcing justice. The ¡±

    ¡°Still¡­¡± Simon looked a slight bit skeptical now, so Florette jumped in to reassure him.

    ¡°Enforcing justice is a passion of mine, that¡¯s all. And Captain Whitbey is exactly the person I want to meet for that, though your Father isn¡¯t far behind.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Perhaps something can be arranged. I wouldn¡¯t have expected a foreigner to be so interested in our local governance.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Leclaire spoke through grit teeth. ¡°It¡¯s certainly unusual. But that¡¯s my Celine, an unconventional woman in unconventional times.¡±

    ¡°That they are,¡± Simon agreed. ¡°Excuse me a moment, I think I see Sir Gerald arriving. I¡¯ll collect him to introduce to you and return presently.¡±

    ¡°Bye!¡± Florette waved her hand until he was far enough down the hill to be out of earshot.

    ¡°Celine?¡± Leclaire¡¯s voice was soft as she turned to her. ¡°Would you like to get some air? You seem a bit troubled.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Florette assured her.

    ¡°If you¡¯re really fine, then stop acting strange. This is a delicate operation, and I¡¯d sooner have you leave than spoil it.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you are. Are you worried that the Prince is missing? I know you¡ª¡± She cut herself off, probably to avoid saying anything incriminating, but the meaning was fairly clear.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she said, putting conviction into her words that she didn¡¯t feel. ¡°A loose end was tied up, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Leclaire sucked in air through her teeth. ¡°Just keep your head, alright? You¡¯re not here to have fun; you¡¯re here to collect intelligence to help with the next heist.¡±

    Florette was saved from having to respond when Simon returned with two men and a stunning muscular girl in tow, along with his sister.

    ¡°Let¡¯s have some fun!¡± Mary Perimont yelled, seemingly happier to be there than anyone. She grabbed the bottle of gin and took a pull nearly as long as Florette¡¯s.

    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Florette agreed, staring at Leclaire as she did. ¡°For one night, we can forget tomorrow.¡±

 Camille VI: The Perfidious Courtier

    This is a disgrace.

    The building was squat and ugly, stones of grey instead of blue, with only the blandest, most modest of pillars at the front to even suggest that it was a temple. Levian¡¯s presence was drastically minimized, a slight pattern of the serpent¡¯s coil etched into the walls the only sign that this was supposed to be a temple to him.

    ¡°Your temple is quite robust,¡± Camille said, choosing a flattering emphasis rather than lying directly. Framing could be wildly misleading even when the words were true, and more amusing besides. ¡°A far cry from the ruins of the prior Great Temple.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased that you think so.¡± Pierre Cadoudal looked as if the Great Spirits had spent months devising the perfect human to embody the unremarkable. His height was unimpressive, and his light brown hair was cut short enough to avoid making any statements. Even the blue streak was nearly unnoticeable, and far enough from the roots that it had to have been quite some time since he had dyed it. ¡°Mr. Clocha?ne and I prefer to think of this as a new start, unencumbered by the mistakes of prior leadership.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s certainly a drastic departure,¡± Camille agreed, refraining from visibly seething. ¡°I imagine your outside perspective was key to shifting the direction of the Acolytes in the wake of the Foxtrap.¡±

    ¡°Outside perspective?¡± Cadoudal raised an eyebrow. ¡°I served the Acolytes for several years under Lady Sarille before her demise. All the better to bear witness to her mistakes.¡±

    Liar. I would remember you.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Camille sucked in air through her teeth. ¡°Though your name doesn¡¯t sound familiar. I would have thought I¡¯d have heard of every Acolyte in Malin by now, the way people spoke of the Foxtrap in Guerron.¡±

    Cadoudal exhaled. ¡°They might have mentioned a Phillippe, perhaps. I thought it best to re-frame my presence here for the new regime.¡±

    Phillippe¡­

    ¡°I would hope Lady Camille might have spoken of me, at least. I let her into the temple on the day of the Foxtrap, when she made her compact with Levian. But then, it was a small thing. Perhaps not everyone has every last detail of that day seared into their memory the way I do.¡±

    I do.

    Phillippe had not made much of an impression, simply another of Mother¡¯s followers, but Camille remembered that.

    She had played out each moment in her head a thousand times, trying to find a way that Mother and Father might have survived. If King Romain had fled instead of leading the sortie, if Mother could have sacrificed the wounded to destroy the navy instead of her own life, if¡­

    It was not productive, replaying the past, but it was also hard to avoid. Many a night had been spent awake recalling all of it, these¡­ seventeen years. It seems so recent, still.

    ¡°She mentioned it,¡± Camille offered. ¡°Mentioned you, I mean. If she hadn¡¯t been allowed in, that day might have been even worse. It was a near thing, making a pact of her own before the city fell. The line of Levian¡¯s High Priestesses could have ended.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful that she thought of me.¡± Cadoudal shrugged. ¡°Though ultimately it made little difference, with Aurelian Lumi¨¨re finishing Avalon¡¯s work for them.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Still, many of us benefited from the tutelage while she was alive to provide it.¡± Actually¡­ ¡°Your temple must be as out of sorts as we are in Guerron, knowing that the High Priestess is dead.¡±

    ¡°Is she?¡± Cadoudal scratched his chin. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with this new pistol weapon, but Camille Leclaire slipped back into the sea, where her power ought to be strongest. It may be that she survived.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s impossible,¡± she said, a touch too quickly. ¡°The way Lumi¨¨re has been treating us, there¡¯s simply no conceivable reason that she wouldn¡¯t have returned to help by now. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he arrests all of the remaining sages once Lady Annette¡¯s trial concludes. If Camille Leclaire does live, she would have to be the most callous sort not to return and aid us, without humanity entirely.¡±

    Unless she had no other choice, if the only way to save Lucien and Annette and the Empire and herself were to liberate Malin¡­

    ¡°If she does live,¡± Camille continued, ¡°relaxing on some hidden beach while we suffer, then it would be just as well for her to remain dead.¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡± Cadoudal smiled, smiled, as if the very order of the world weren¡¯t on the brink of total collapse. ¡°Sarille certainly didn¡¯t hesitate to leave all of us behind. Why not little Camille as well?¡±

    There was limited space on the ships!

    Camille bit back a retort. Nothing to be gained from admonishing him. Better simply to plan accordingly. The Acolytes moved in such lockstep with Clocha?ne that it should not have been any surprise to see them falling into the same complacent malaise.

    ¡°Still, something must be done,¡± she said instead. ¡°Else Levian will wither into impotence, and our very order along with him. A new compact, perhaps, dangerous though it is without family precedent to fall back upon.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one possibility.¡± Cadoudal, concerningly, did not sound overly concerned. If I really had died, all would be lost. Why was that so hard for them to understand? ¡°There may be a better path, though. As it is, none of our order have spoken with Levian in seventeen years, nor drawn on his power.¡±

    ¡°No magic?¡± Why even exist, then? Clocha?ne¡¯s money might be an answer, but surely it paled in comparison to the power of the great Torrent of the Deep.

    ¡°Avalon takes a dim view of human sacrifice; continuing in that vein would have seen our wholesale annihilation.¡±

    Continuing like this is annihilation of all the Temple of Levian stands for. ¡°Avalon is perfectly happy to sacrifice lives, so long as the energy of the fallen is wasted instead of used. Just look at the bodies swinging above the beach.¡±

    Cadoudal frowned. ¡°It is not my place to criticize. The Foxtrap happened, young Carrine, and we simply have to accept it and move forward accordingly. It may even be a better path: now we help people, providing guidance when needed, care for the ailing, shelter for the unsheltered, alms for the hungry. And we ask nothing in return.¡±

    ¡°Nothing? So the practice of giving offerings has ended as well?¡±

    ¡°Well, no.¡± He glanced over his shoulder at the small gathering of people, mostly elderly, clustered inside the temple itself. ¡°We ask for offerings, but that was always so. Now people willingly provide us with the wealth to sustain ourselves in the absence of Leclaire funding.¡±

    ¡°Wealth? You¡¯re collecting payment from people who walk through your doors?¡± Camille choked out.

    ¡°It¡¯s the only way to keep those doors open, you must understand. Think pragmatically. It isn¡¯t as if King Harold is blessing any sages with his patronage and good cheer. Even keeping the Forresters from stringing me up by my entrails is challenging enough.¡± He seemed to notice her expression, restrained though it was compared to what she felt. ¡°It doesn¡¯t entitle anyone to special treatment, mind. Better seats, a room named after them, a small mention for local merchants who need the support¡­ Trivialities, Carrine, which pale in comparison to the prior cost of human life.¡±

    ¡°And the injustice?¡± she found herself saying, the words for once escaping her lips before she could think to shut her mouth. Felicitations, Lady Leclaire, you are no better than Florette. Still, it was worth probing how amenable he might be to change, whether the current course was driven by cowardice or personal benefit.

    Cadoudal raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for her to continue. At least he didn¡¯t seem hostile or disapproving.

    Nothing else for it now. ¡°The very injustice of the occupation, the poverty, the exploitation. You yourself mentioned that anyone could find themselves in a noose for saying the wrong thing, law be damned.¡± She chose to emphasize that, rather than the spiritual degradation, since the man did not much seem to care about it. ¡°The castle still stands in ruins, the once thriving heartland of the Empire along with it. Farmers toil and workers labor each day, yet all their production flows back across the water, with only scraps returned to where it belongs.¡±

    ¡°Your point?¡± He looked disapproving, but not offended, which was something at least. ¡°This is the way things are, Carrine. We can struggle futilely against it, or make the most of it, and I choose to do the latter.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°We have to choose our battles, and fighting Avalon is a suicidal fool¡¯s errand. Lady Sarille and King Romain proved that in the Foxtrap, with nothing to show for their efforts. I understand that you are still young, and the state of things pushes against you, but I am not so arrogant as to believe that I could succeed where they failed. Rather, I do the best I can with what I have.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Now you gouge the very people you claim to help like some common swindler, while failing your principal duty to serve as a bridge between the people and the spirits. It was hard to keep her face impassive, but that was what was required, and so Camille did, tightening back so that the traitor would no longer notice anything amiss. ¡°Of course. I understand, despite my youth. We can only do our best, after all.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to hear it.¡± Pierre Cadoudal dipped his head respectfully, at least refraining from that infuriating hand shaking custom Avalon insisted on. ¡°Now, if you will excuse me, I ought to make an appearance.¡±

    ¡°Of course. It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡±

    Useless¡­

    It was valuable information, at least. The Acolytes would be of no help, another leech like Jacques Clocha?ne benefitting too much from the status quo.

    Mother would rise from her watery resting place to discipline him, if she knew what was truly going on within her temple.

    ¡°Carrine?¡± one of the workers sweeping the courtyard called to her on her way out, a messy mop of dirty-blond hair tied back poorly on his head, with strands flying everywhere from it.

    Camille continued walking, but slowed when the man stepped in front of her. ¡°It¡¯s me, Claude.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± They had stripped him of his position after all. Now that she looked, it was easy to see where the blue in his hair was missing, roughly chopped and not yet grown in enough to look even. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Claude.¡±

    He sighed, leaning the broom against the wall of the front yard. ¡°Nothing to do with you, like I said. But if you see Florette, make sure to punch her for me, will you?¡±

    Camille frowned. ¡°Given what you told me, she¡¯s far less to blame than you are. A punch doesn¡¯t seem deserved.¡± Not for that, anyway. ¡°Why did you fight back when your only function was to act as a distraction?¡±

    ¡°Why do we ever fight back?¡± He stared into her eyes. ¡°The Guardians were lying about me pushing someone into the harbor; you can get a noose for that, but they expected me to be grateful that they were only beating me for it. I just couldn¡¯t let it stand.¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°I suppose I can understand that, even if it was foolish.¡±

    ¡°You know, as poor as my standing is, I could still talk to Philippe if I really wanted to. I could mention that we met in jail, might tarnish your perfect image a bit.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Not going to. I¡¯ll lie even if I¡¯m asked. Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°Then why even mention it?¡±

    A trace of his confidence returned, straighter posture, with the ghost of a smile. ¡°I¡¯m doing you a favor, and I want you to know it. That¡¯s all.¡±

    Camille sighed, purposefully dramatically. ¡°Thank you, Claude.¡±

    ¡°You are quite welcome. Just make sure you remember.¡±

    She set a hand on his shoulder, despite an ingrained instinct not to. ¡°I will. Hang in, and things should get better.¡±

    ¡°Nothing will get better if we just sit around and wait for it to.¡±

    She patted him on the shoulder. ¡°I have no intention of waiting around. Don¡¯t worry. I have something else in mind.¡±

    ?

    Seeing the state of Chateau Malin was nearly as heart wrenching as The Great Temple of Levian had been. Perhaps even worse.

    For all that had befallen it, Camille had been nearly insensate as she¡¯d wandered by, still recovering from the brink of death and incapable of truly beholding it in all its decrepit enormity.

    In the sober sunset light, this was almost worse, even though she¡¯d been here a fraction of the time she¡¯d spent at the temple.

    Blue stones littered the ground, glimmering faintly where they caught the light, but none of the castle itself was still standing. A few walls at waist height, half of a tower already worn down by the sharp wind, paths through the vegetation indicating where roads used to be maintained¡­

    In time, even that would fade, until none would be able to see the great castle that had once seated the rule of the entire continent. Unless I succeed.

    Telling the Perimonts first that they would meet on the beach had simply been a strategy, using the corpses as a wedge between Simon and his father, however minor it was, but conducting the festivities here had another purpose as well: it was a constant reminder to herself of what had been lost.

    With something this precarious, she needed every edge she could get. The Acolytes certainly weren¡¯t going to step in.

    Nor would Florette be of much help, apparently. She¡¯d started jittering the moment Prince Luce¡¯s missing ship had come up, her eyes going vacant. Perhaps she was having trouble keeping track of the conversation, despite her impressive grasp on Avalon¡¯s tongue in such a short time, but in any case she was doing nothing to help probe for useful information.

    ¡°And the pirates?¡± Florette asked, focusing on the least important part of Simon¡¯s news.

    Simon shrugged as he gave her the obvious explanation of their execution, then turned back to Camille. ¡°If Prince Harold is truly to respond with commensurate force, global trade may be drastically impacted. In fact, depending on where his ire is drawn and the scale of his response, they might see a return to the dark days of the Foxtrap, with cities starving as currency inflates beyond tenable bounds.¡±

    ¡°Dark days for Guerron, perhaps, or the Arboreum. Wherever Avalon attacks. But not for you, surely?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a matter of degree,¡± Simon admitted. ¡°War has its costs even for the victor. Science and technology have flourished, but they might have in any case. Certainly, things slowed down a little once peace arrived. We stand so far ahead of the rest of the world already. And the expense¡­ Towards the end, entire companies were deserting because we couldn¡¯t afford to pay them punctually. Had Harold III played things smarter, Robin Verrou wouldn¡¯t be pestering us now, nor would security restrictions on our every machine need to be so draconian.¡±

    ¡°You prefer peace, then.¡± That¡¯s very good to know.

    ¡°I think it''s smarter, that¡¯s all. You won¡¯t find me parroting those insipid humanitarian arguments against the taking of human lives no matter the cost, but Guerron is an excellent example of why war isn¡¯t necessary at all. Prince Harold would do well to emulate his father and brother in realizing that.¡±

    They think that way too? It was only Simon¡¯s supposition, but still¡­ Very interesting, more for what it said about Avalon¡¯s King than a likely-dead prince of little import. ¡°I¡¯m inclined to agree. It strengthens all of us. And I¡¯m pleased to hear that King Harold is of the same mindset. He¡¯s been so absent of late, it¡¯s difficult to tell.¡±

    Simon chuckled. ¡°Well, if I¡¯m right about what he¡¯s doing now, it¡¯s exactly along the lines of what I envision. In fact¡ª¡±

    ¡°Drinks!¡± Florette shouted, interrupting him at a potentially key moment. ¡°Something strong, yes?¡±

    ¡°Umm, sure,¡± Simon agreed, abandoning the prior thread of the conversation. ¡°Gin, I think, given the temperature.¡±

    Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°Do you need to go get them right now, Celine? Wouldn¡¯t you like a moment to talk first? You¡¯re shaking.¡± What could possibly be wrong with you? For all that Florette was an irritating scoundrel, she was usually more in control of herself than this.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± Florette shook her head, denying the obvious reality before her. ¡°And this comes first.¡±

    Idiot.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Camille said instead of pressing further. Perhaps getting her out of the way for a few minutes would be better anyway.

    ¡°Is she alright?¡± Simon asked once Florette had ducked away. ¡°It¡¯s troubling news, to be sure.¡±

    ¡°That, and she¡¯s had too much to drink,¡± Camille lied. ¡°The downside of helping plan the festivities is that you can start early.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d think that would be the upside.¡± He winked. ¡°Anyway, I was hoping to catch you alone anyway.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, Gary mentioned that you had some trouble with the law?¡±

    Fuck, fuck, fuck. ¡°I have no idea what you mean.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t arrest you on the beach for consuming hallucinogens?¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°I was simply inquiring. There¡¯s no issues with legality in Guerron, and I wasn¡¯t yet sufficiently familiar with the specific legal peculiarities of the current Maline administrative¡ª¡±

    Simon held up a hand as he interrupted, ¡°I¡¯m not judging you. I¡¯m only bringing it up to say that maybe I can help.¡±

    ¡°Help?¡±

    He smiled. ¡°Far be it from me to refuse a damsel in distress. I ask only that you remember that it was me who saved you.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°From what? I¡¯m free already.¡±

    ¡°Well, until your trial. The Acolytes¡¯ solicitor got you out until then, but you still need to return to be judged for the crimes you were charged with.¡±

    Is he making this up to look helpful? ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of that. Justice under the Empire¡¯s laws is a great deal more final.¡±

    Simon snorted. ¡°Well, just look at the gallows on the beach and you¡¯ll see we can be plenty final on our own. But anyway, what I¡¯m saying is I can help. Captain Whitbey should be arriving soon, and with Gary along too, dismissing them all should be trivial. It pays to have friends in the right places, Carrine.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Definitely lying to impress me, then. ¡°I should be ever so grateful if you do. The thought of another moment in that cell¡­¡± She shivered exaggeratedly. ¡°I¡¯m lucky to have you as my champion, Simon. Especially against your father¡¯s justice. I can¡¯t imagine how hard it must be.¡±

    Simon blinked. ¡°Well, it¡¯s the Guardians, really. Not Father.¡±

    ¡°But they report to him, don¡¯t they? In Malin, at least. Lord Perimont gives Captain Whitbey orders, does he not?¡±

    ¡°He does¡­¡± Simon stared off contemplatively for a moment, but it did not take him long to find his resolve. ¡°What my father doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt him. You let me worry about him.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she lied. ¡°You have my sincerest gratitude!¡±

    Florette returned then, looking somewhat more settled, at least. Perhaps the drink had leveled her off a bit.

    In any case, she refused Camille¡¯s offer to help once Simon left, and there was no easy way to push further without straining their cover identities.

    Especially not once Simon returned with his sister in tow, along with that bastard knight that had imprisoned her in the first place.

    If you really want to help, Simon, let me kill him. That would be far more gratifying than collecting intelligence on Whitbey and the Guardians.

    But the purpose of tonight was progress, not gratification.

    When Captain Whitbey stepped out of his coach and made his way towards the gathering, that became all the more important to keep in mind.

    Camille shot Florette another glance, and the girl at least seemed to acknowledge the significance. Finally, a rational response from her, and at just the right time.

    Their target had arrived.

 Florette VII: The Life of the Party

    The light of the lantern glinted off of the steel as it swung downwards, gasps ringing out through the air.

    The knife found its target, embedding deep, but that alone was nothing. Twice, thrice, and six times again Florette stabbed, each movement faster than the last. She felt the blood fill her ears as she continued, reaching a fever pitch before embedding her knife one last time into her target.

    All around her, people stared in stunned silence. Leclaire was biting her lip as if she wanted to do some stabbing of her own, but she held her tongue.

    ¡°And that¡¯s how you play Diced Digits!¡± That seemed to break the tension, a chorus of cheers erupting as Florette pulled her knife out of the wood between her fingers, tucking it into her belt.

    Cheers gave way to chatter as Florette took a small bow and stepped back towards Leclaire and the others, too fast and muddled in the foreign tongue for her to make out anything much.

    The smile on her face was real as she bent slightly to put her arm around Leclaire¡¯s shoulders. ¡°And you said I couldn¡¯t do it, Lady Carrine.¡±

    ¡°I said you shouldn¡¯t, because it¡¯s idiotically risky for no possible benefit. How do you even know how to do that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a secret.¡± Florette¡¯s smile grew wider. ¡°I¡¯m just full of them.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, it¡¯s quite impressive,¡± Simon Perimont said, passing her the nearly depleted bottle of expensive gin. ¡°But I must concur with the lovely lady Carrine that it seems an awful lot of risk for precious little benefit, not to mention how much practice it must have taken to get that proficient.¡±

    Not that much else to do on a ship full of pirates. At least, not until she and Eloise had found a far better way to pass the time together. Florette took a long sip in her honor, finishing the bottle, then set it down on the ground beside them. Done with that.

    ¡°The benefit is that it¡¯s totally badass!¡± Sir Gerald Stewart shouted to be heard over the din of the party, still abuzz from Florette¡¯s demonstration. Though it was a low bar to clear, it was easily the most intelligent thing he¡¯d said all night. It hadn¡¯t taken long for the sandy-haired Fortan knight to prove himself a complete imbecile, just as Camille had said he would be. ¡°Can you teach me?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± She folded her arms, noncommittal.

    ¡°Not for free, she won¡¯t,¡± Simon cut in before Florette could respond. ¡°That¡¯s the way these things are done.¡±

    That was excellent cover for refusing, actually. ¡°You heard him.¡±

    Sir Gerald cursed, impotently shaking his fists.

    ¡°What could you possibly need it for?¡± That came from Charlotte, the girl accompanying the knight. The way her clothes clung to her, it was clear that she kept herself in good shape. With the warm summer air, she was wearing short sleeves that showed off her muscles even more, glistening slightly with sweat. ¡°Even if you managed to avoid cutting your fingers off, which I find extremely unlikely.¡±

    ¡°She managed.¡± Sir Gerald derisively glanced over to Florette. ¡°And it¡¯s super useful for going undercover, investigating seedy underbellies, showing off my strength and fortitude to anyone who might question it. Really, it¡¯s sad that you¡¯re so unimaginative. I can think of a dozen ways it might help an investigator to know their way around¡­ What did you call it? Diced Onions?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Florette said quickly, before anyone could correct him. ¡°And I¡¯m afraid my price is rather too steep for you. I recommend walking into the grimiest tavern you can find and asking for someone to help. Draw your knife and show them, if there¡¯s any confusion.¡±

    That finally got Leclaire to crack the slightest smile, and half the people in the group along with her.

    Captain Whitbey, tonight¡¯s main target, wasn¡¯t among them. He¡¯d wandered off alone almost as soon as he¡¯d arrived, staring out at the sea from amidst the ruins. The knife tricks had gathered almost everyone at the party to watch, but Whitbey had barely glanced up from the water.

    She would have to find another way to coax him out, but for now there was other information to be had.

    ¡°You said you were an investigator?¡± Florette asked once the moment had passed.

    ¡°For Prince Harold himself.¡± The knight nodded proudly. ¡°He personally assigned me to find the culprit of the harbor bombing and bring him to justice.¡±

    Harbor bombing?

    Simon must have seen the puzzled look on her face, for he jumped in with an explanation. ¡°I suppose it wasn¡¯t such significant news in Guerron, but explosives went off in the harbor a few months ago. Over two dozen people died, with threescore more injured. It completely destroyed King Harold¡¯s ship, as well.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Which, now that I think of it, might have something to do with his extended leave from Cambria at the moment.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s still here?¡± Florette clenched her fist in anticipation. Why stop at robbery when I can get to the root of the problem?

    ¡°Ah, no. He left by land shortly thereafter. I think to Lyrion, to find another ship suitable to carry his royal personage? The details are not entirely clear to me, especially with secrecy so crucial for a man of his stature.¡± Simon shrugged. ¡°If he¡¯d simply waited until the railroad was ready, he¡¯d already be on his way home right now.¡±

    ¡°Kings are not always known for their patience.¡± Camille was biting her lip again. ¡°Does that mean the rails are ready, then?¡±

    ¡°Not for the masses, but the lines are operational as of a few days ago. If not for that robbery, everything would have been ready even sooner.¡±

    Despite the strong urge to grin at the thought, Florette refrained.

    Sir Gerald was doing enough grinning for the both of them, anyway. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve nearly caught the one who did it. They¡¯re cornered now, nowhere to run.¡±

    What? Her blood ran cold.

    If she drew her blade now, she could push through before they had time to act, but what then? All their plans would be dashed, cover lost, and Camille would be left holding the bag for everything.

    ¡°That¡¯s overstating things a bit, don¡¯t you think?¡± Charlotte rolled her eyes, not aware that Florette was hanging on every word. ¡°And not fit for this company, either.¡±

    ¡°Ah right, operational security. Probably shouldn¡¯t mention the grille on the roof that was unscrewed either?¡±

    Charlotte let out a quiet sigh. ¡°No, you probably should not.¡±

    ¡°The roof?¡± Florette chose her words more carefully than she ever had. ¡°Isn¡¯t the railroad outside?¡±

    ¡°The tracks are, but there¡¯s a compound for the administrative buildings up where Governor Perimont cleared out the ruined slums.¡± Sir Gerald smiled again. ¡°We found a grille unscrewed atop the roof, so it seems pretty clear that our burglar entered through there while the Acolyte outside was distracting the Director¡¯s assistant.¡±

    Fuck me. They¡¯d figured all of that out from a few screws missing?

    That was a sobering lesson: one could never be too careful in an operation like this. Something to keep in mind for next time, if there would even be one. ¡°That¡¯s quite insightful, but it¡¯s not really the same as having the culprit cornered, no?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re correct.¡± Charlotte shot Sir Gerald a glare, but then shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s actually what we were hoping to talk to Lady Carrine about. Based on the arrest report, we know that the Acolyte outside was named Claude. He¡¯s not the mastermind, but he can put us in touch with the one who actually planned everything. We were hoping you could help us find him.¡±

    And they know about Claude too. Fuck.

    Florette had to warn him as soon as possible. With this hanging over his head, he needed to make himself scarce, and fast.

    She¡¯d only seen him once since the railyard heist, giving him his share of Jacques¡¯ advance payment. He hadn¡¯t seemed particularly grateful, but that was easy enough to forgive under the circumstances. Claude had suffered more for the job than anyone, not just with the beating and imprisonment, but his standing with the Acolytes as well.

    And now he¡¯d have to leave town before Charlotte and her pet idiot dragged him into even worse.

    I should have been more careful. I can give him the rest of the money, at least. Hopefully Yse would agree to do the same, and they could at least send him off better prepared. Still, what a waste¡­

    Camille¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Claude, you say? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met the man.¡±

    ¡°Damn.¡± Charlotte seemed to deflate, her eager inquisitiveness practically seeping out of her body as it slouched down dejectedly. ¡°We¡¯re on a really tight schedule right now. Do you think you could give us an introduction to Mr. Cadoudal, at least? We really need to find him.¡±

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Camille tilted her head back, clearly thinking of an appropriate lie. ¡°I¡¯m not sure he would be particularly amenable. Acolytes here take care of their own. Cadoudal is no traitor; he wouldn¡¯t stand in the way of justice, but I don¡¯t know that he¡¯d be eager to help you, either. Not if he could avoid it.¡±

    ¡°Even if you asked him to help?¡± Charlotte asked desperately. ¡°The Guardians and I would owe you, should we find him in time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t believe so.¡± Camille glanced at Florette without lingering, but the message was clear: help.

    ¡°Are you sure he was even an Acolyte?¡± The thought came to Florette practically as it was leaving her mouth. ¡°All you have is a first name and an arrest report.¡±

    ¡°We did lose a jar of dye recently,¡± Camille added seamlessly. ¡°It¡¯s shocking to imagine someone being so brazen as to impersonate an Acolyte, but it seems more likely than one of us helping a criminal.¡±

    ¡°You did?¡± Charlotte pounded her fist against her face. ¡°Of course you did.¡± Her face screwed up tight for a moment, until inspiration seemed to strike. ¡°The solicitor, though! Cynette Fields is the one who got him out of jail, much like she did for you. Gary, don¡¯t you see what this means?¡±

    ¡°Clocha?ne did it, obviously. He¡¯s neck deep in all of this. If the day¡¯s fair, he¡¯ll be answering for his crimes within the week.¡± The knight was muttering, his attention elsewhere. ¡°Please excuse me, but I see Lady Mary sitting all alone, in desperate need of company.¡±

    Simon snorted, but waved him away.

    ¡°Is that really decisive though?¡± Florette prodded, attempting to guide her off-track. ¡°Surely any one solicitor has numerous clients, and a criminal could certainly afford to pay her.¡±

    ¡°Not Cynette Fields.¡± Charlotte shook her head. ¡°She serves the Acolytes and Clocha?ne, exclusively. If she got Claude out of prison, then he¡¯s one of theirs. One of yours, Lady Carrine, as sorry as I am to say it.¡±

    She did not, in fact, look particularly sorry to say it.

    Camille was biting her lip hard enough that it looked ready to bleed, but the circumstances were too dire for Florette to take any pleasure in it. ¡°I¡¯m loathe to bring this up, but since you seem to remember that I¡¯m the same person you arrested on the beach, I suppose there¡¯s no harm in it.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Charlotte stared back, hope illuminating her eyes. ¡°Did you see Claude there?¡±

    ¡°I wonder if I might have.¡±

    Is she trying to sell Claude out? Florette shot her a furious glare, but Leclaire shook her head slightly in return. ¡°The last day I was imprisoned, there was another Acolyte who entered my cell. Or at least, he had the blue streak of hair. He didn¡¯t seem to know much about Levian or the Temple¡¯s functions though, and I never got a name out of him either. But the solicitor told me she was getting him out too, so that Mr. Cadoudal could ¡®see him punished properly for his insult to the Acolytes¡¯. It sounded like Pierre could do it in a more permanent way than the courts would have allowed.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Charlotte¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you mention that before! I¡¯m sure it¡¯s him!¡±

    ¡°He never gave me his name; I certainly didn¡¯t know him as Claude. It didn¡¯t occur to me until you brought up the solicitor.¡± She even managed to look apologetic saying it.

    The muscular girl¡¯s eye twitched, but she seemed to manage to contain her anger.

    ¡°He can¡¯t just do that, though,¡± Simon said, speaking up for the time in a little while. ¡°Even if an impersonator is insulting his order, Cadoudal doesn¡¯t have the right to kill him. That duty belongs to the courts, the Guardians, Father¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Camille said. ¡°However understandable his motives, if Charlotte¡¯s theory is right, Pierre committed a murder. It¡¯s too horrifying to even imagine.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t really know anything yet for sure.¡± Charlotte took a deep breath. ¡°But it¡¯s looking alarmingly possible. Either way, it¡¯s clear that Gary and I need to have a talk with Pierre Cadoudal, and as soon as possible.¡±

    Camille nodded. ¡°I can take you to the Temple this time next week. Just meet me back here.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Charlotte took a deep breath. ¡°But Lord Perimont is depending on us to talk to Claude by the end of tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow, then. First thing.¡± Camille smiled. ¡°Will that work?¡±

    Surely she isn¡¯t really going to take her? If they found Claude before Florette could warn him, only horrible things would ensue.

    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± Charlotte nodded, obviously relieved. ¡°I just hope it¡¯s enough.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be,¡± Simon assured her. ¡°Now, if you wouldn¡¯t mind, I did come here for the party, and we¡¯ve been out of liquor for several minutes now.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll grab more,¡± Florette offered. ¡°Carrine, care to join me?¡± Take the hint.

    ¡°Of course, I¡¯d be happy to help.¡±

    They walked slowly enough to look natural until they were far enough from the party to be out of anyone¡¯s earshot, each step agonizingly long in the tense silence.

    ¡°We¡¯re not giving up Claude. Non-negotiable.¡± Florette crossed her arms. ¡°Even if worst comes to worst, we can get him out of town first. Make sure that he¡¯s out of the range of any nosy investigators.¡±

    ¡°Calm down. I don¡¯t want him caught either.¡± Camille set a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Look, Charlotte is obviously under some kind of time crunch. All I have to do is not show up tomorrow and warn Cadoudal not to let her in without me. If she asks, I can just say he told me not to take her. Plenty of time to get Claude to safety, and it minimizes the risk of us getting caught out either.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Florette breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°I was worried you didn¡¯t care.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the criminal! You looked about ready to stab them when they mentioned the railyard robbery.¡±

    ¡°Only if we were really discovered.¡± Even then, honestly, running right away would probably have  been better. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing Charlotte has that idiot shackled to her, or they might have found Claude already.¡±

    ¡°Definitely.¡± Camille scratched her chin. ¡°It¡¯s more like she¡¯s shackled to that idiot, really. He¡¯s the one with the Prince¡¯s authority, while she¡¯s simply on loan from the Guardians. With the right words to Simon and Captain Whitbey, perhaps we could get her moved to another assignment where she¡¯d do less harm.¡±

    I never thought of that. ¡°Camille, that¡¯s inspired. No idea if Whitbey will bite, he¡¯s been glowering alone all night, but it can¡¯t hurt to try.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°If we need to, we could even create a reassignment for her from the other side. Lay a false trail of crimes to keep her busy, or misdirect things some other way.¡± She paused. ¡°In a way, we¡¯re really lucky she was here tonight, even if it almost screwed us over. Now we can get Claude to safety, and we know who we¡¯re up against.¡±

    ¡°Along with Perimont, Clocha?ne, Prince Harold, Lumi¨¨re, Cadoudal¡­¡±

    ¡°Now we know one more thing we¡¯re up against,¡± Florette corrected. ¡°Always better to know.¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡± Camille frowned, possibly realizing just how much was stacked against them. ¡°Come on, we¡¯d better get back to the party.¡±

    Florette nodded. ¡°I think there¡¯s still a bit of the good stuff left. I tucked a couple aside.¡±

    ¡°I thought it didn¡¯t make any difference. Wasn¡¯t that the point of your demonstration?¡± Camille smiled playfully.

    ¡°The point is that expectations shape the taste. But I know, and so do you. It¡¯s still worth it for us.¡±

    Luckily, the bottle of Lyrion single malt she¡¯d buried at the back was still there, untouched.

    Even more luckily, Captain Whitbey had finally finished his solitude, and was talking to Simon when they returned. Charlotte and Gerald seemed to be off somewhere else, but that could be a benefit if anything.

    ¡°...Somewhere less unsightly, at least. Poor Carrine had to move the entire venue tonight on account of the stench. Can¡¯t father cut them down once they¡¯re dead, at least? They hardly need to hang there afterwards.¡± Simon perked up when he noticed them returning. ¡°Ah good, I was beginning to wonder.¡±

    ¡°Wanted to make sure we had the best.¡± Florette smiled, holding up the bottle. ¡°Care for some, Captain?¡±

    Captain Whitbey shook his head. Tall and stern, he was still wearing his matte black coat even in this heat. ¡°Best I remain alert. As Lord Perimont is fond of saying, enemies are everywhere.¡±

    ¡°Mhm.¡± Florette passed the bottle to Simon instead. ¡°Sir Gerald and Charlotte were just telling us about their search for those very enemies. Fascinating thing, though it¡¯s a bit frightening to think about.¡±

    Whitbey frowned. ¡°Charlotte and Gary should learn to keep their mouths shut. First they want a criminal released from her charges, and now revealing secrets¡­ Your father will be most displeased, Simon.¡±

    What a nice fellow.

    ¡°Does that mean that there¡¯s a problem with the charges?¡± Camille asked hesitantly. ¡°I¡¯d like to think I helped them with their investigation as much as I could. Charlotte seemed grateful, at least.¡±

    ¡°No need for concern,¡± he said, looking concerned. ¡°I understand freeing the minnow to catch the shark, even if Simon¡¯s lackadaisical attitude about it all is untoward. I caught Blackjack Tomas when his lieutenant gave him up, and the Blue Bandit was coaxed into my trap thanks to the right pressure applied to an agent within her ranks.¡±

    ¡°Who are those people? Criminals?¡±

    ¡°Rebels,¡± he answered blithely. ¡°The Blue Bandit was sheltering those exiled from the city, preying on military convoys with her band of delinquents. Stealing food out of our mouths like the ungrateful bastards they are. One can only cry starvation for so long before the fact that they remain alive betrays the lie inherent to it.¡±

    Fucker.

    Camille didn¡¯t betray a trace of emotion, but whether that was because she was hiding it well or simply didn¡¯t care was impossible to be sure of. Florette still remembered her willingness to work with him.

    ¡°And Blackjack?¡± Camille asked.

    Whitbey chuckled. ¡°The last sage of Malin, he called himself. He started as a palace gardener, if you could believe that. When his pet monster was slain by our binders, he tried to stir dissent in return. Gathered quite a following around himself, as I recall. The sea ran red for days.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Camille noted, her tone still neutral, hopefully just an act. ¡°That would be Pierrot, if I recall correctly.¡±

    ¡°I just told you his name was Blackjack Tomas.¡± Whitbey scoffed. ¡°You young people and your short attention spans. I swear, if anyone had acted like that when I was¡ª¡±

    ¡°The spirit was named Pierrot.¡± Despite her composure, Camille¡¯s eyes still narrowed. That¡¯s a relief, at least. ¡°He was no harm to anyone. All he asked was water and fresh fertilizer to maintain his garden.¡±

    ¡°Until some fool gets it in their head to murder people in their honor.¡± Whitbey shook his head, making a ¡®tsk¡¯ sound as he did. ¡°That sort of soft-mindedness is exactly why Lord Perimont leaves enforcement of the law to professionals. One must have the right stomach for the job.¡±

    ¡°To kill starving exiles?¡± Florette couldn¡¯t help it. ¡°What other choice did they have?¡±

    Camille put a hand on her arm, a warning to lay off clear within her eyes.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t my problem, nor was it Lord Perimont¡¯s. But criminality is always a choice; they had plenty of alternatives. Of course, children aren¡¯t known for making the best decisions.¡±

    ¡°Children?¡±

    ¡°The Blue Bandit was sixteen. Most of her minions were around the same age. I will grant it impressive that they managed to be that much of a threat, with that in mind.¡± He shrugged. ¡°They still hang just the same.¡±

    Florette brushed the handle of her sword for reassurance, careful to hide the motion in a stroke of her hair.

    Alright, this fucker has to die.

 Fernan VII: The Last Hope

    This is incredible.

    Even with the limits to his vision, the flow of people was thick enough for him to understand. Groups of four maneuvered wagons of nearly invisible cold throughout the makeshift settlement, the baggage train stretching all the way back into the heart of the city.

    Mother was at the center, as if all the activity whirled around her personally. Next to her was a woman whose aura he recognized from a few days before, when he¡¯d hurriedly passed off Annette¡¯s food allocation orders. That had only been a stopgap measure though, and Fernan had been so busy dealing with Magnifico and Lumi¨¨re that he hadn¡¯t yet had the chance to think about negotiating something more permanent with Guy Valvert.

    The humans were not alone either. Mara¡¯s younger siblings skittered through the proceedings, flowing in and around the people just in time to avoid ending up underfoot.

    ¡°What is all of this?¡± Fernan asked his mother, once he managed to push his way through the buzzing hive around her. ¡°Are those wagons full of cold water?¡±

    ¡°In a way.¡± Mother chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s ice from the mountains. We¡¯re arranging to trade it with people in the city here.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    The woman next to Mother nodded. ¡°Eleanor caught me complaining about the heat when I was dropping off the grain Duchess Annette ordered.¡±

    ¡°I was lamenting how hard ice is to come by down here, compared to Villechart.¡±

    Fernan smiled. ¡°So you brought it down. That¡¯s clever. But why isn¡¯t it melting?¡± Packing ice with sawdust could do a lot, but the wagons didn¡¯t look particularly secure. Now that he knew it was ice it was easier to see that the contents of the wagons looked dented and misshapen, hardly the sign of good padding. And the heat was so unbearable it was hard to imagine even the best insulation being enough.

    ¡°We have your gecko friends to thank for that.¡± Mother¡¯s tone was light, but her light flickered uncertainly. ¡°As long as they draw the heat out, it keeps it solid long enough to bring it down. That¡¯s the biggest thing we needed to test this time, but it went even better than I¡¯d hoped. According to Jeanne here, the regular insulation should keep it well enough for a few days on a ship. Enough to get it to Dorseille at least, if not further.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you just did all of this.¡± I wasn¡¯t here to help with any of it. The flash of guilt was brief, but still felt.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just a trial run. Only the highest streams are still frozen, and only barely at that. The geckos had to cut it out with fire and slide it down the mountain; we lost a lot from that alone, and what we have here is probably the most we can manage before next winter, but still, it¡¯s a start.¡±

    It¡¯s not just a start, it¡¯s hope. A way to keep the village alive even without stealing the geckos¡¯ coal. To build something up again for themselves, instead of treading water on the largesse of nobles who couldn¡¯t care less.

    Fernan gave her a tight hug. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t there to help,¡± he whispered.

    Mother snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t be. You¡¯re serving everyone as only you can. Let us handle the rest.¡±

    Annette¡¯s representative, Jeanne, seemed a bit impatient with the proceedings, given how her body shifted, but she was polite enough not to say anything about it.

    ¡°I do have one question though,¡± Fernan said as he withdrew from the embrace. ¡°If the geckos can draw off the heat, why can¡¯t they just make ice from water down here? It ought to be the same process.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the same at all!¡± Mara hissed out.

    Fernan nearly jumped out of his skin. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were back. For a wagon-sized creature, you¡¯re surprisingly quiet.¡± Burying Jethro¡¯s note had taken her longer than expected, too, but that wasn¡¯t cause for much concern. Presumably she¡¯d just taken it further from the city.

    ¡°You¡¯re just oblivious!¡± She might have been right about that, honestly. ¡°Especially if your understanding of the flames is still so bad! Air is a terrible source of heat, and if you touch the ice, it just melts even faster. We can only take a little, enough to help keep it cold, but not to turn water all the way into ice from nothing! That would be way too hard!¡±

    ¡°You sound like you¡¯ve already gotten involved in this, knowing so much already.¡± Fernan scanned the crowd for the other geckos, trying to see if they were paying any special attention to Mara, but their movement hadn¡¯t changed.

    ¡°I may have met up with my siblings on the way back from that thing you wanted me to do.¡± That explained the delay, then.

    ¡°She did a lot more than that!¡± Mother scratched her gently on the head, though the gesture looked somewhat forced. ¡°It was her idea to have them cool the ice, and to cut it out with fire. If we¡¯d stuck to my first plan, even the test run would have taken weeks.¡±

    Fernan smiled. ¡°Nicely done, Mara! We appreciate the help!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not mad that I¡¯m so late? I thought humans really valued their punc¡­ punk¡­ People were always rushing over the bridge, always wanting to get our coal down the mountain as fast as possible.¡±

    ¡°Punctuality,¡± Fernan offered with a shrug. ¡°Your time is your own. Just please try to make sure you¡¯re at the castle in time for the trial? I need all the help I can get.¡±

    ¡°Does that mean I can go fight Laura and make glass again?¡±

    ¡°If you want, just make sure none of this gets damaged.¡± Wait, ¡®again¡¯? ¡°And don¡¯t forget the trial!¡±

    By way of answer, Mara took off towards the beach without another word.

    Jeanne coughed. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind, your mother and I were in the middle of negotiating a contract¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course, sorry.¡± He¡¯d thought they¡¯d want him there for that, but maybe it really didn¡¯t make a difference. It wasn¡¯t as if he could read any contracts anyway. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with you this evening.¡±

    ¡°Or sooner, if it¡¯s urgent!¡± she assured him. ¡°I should be done with this in a few hours.¡±

    That seemed very much doubtful, but there was no reason to gainsay her.

    He¡¯d been hoping she could take a closer look at the book he¡¯d gotten from the Duke¡¯s chambers, since Magnifico had seemed so disinterested, but that could wait. She had more important things to be doing right now.

    Fernan waved them farewell and withdrew from the commotion, trying to find a more isolated spot to consider his next move.

    Lord Lumi¨¨re had been strangely quiet after their meeting with Soleil, not commenting on how he¡¯d been berated at all. Fernan had expected excuses, or criticism, or something more substantive than the stiff goodbye once Soleil withdrew. Gratitude certainly wouldn¡¯t have gone amiss, considering how the light sage had dragooned his whole village into his schemes with Soleil, but whatever point Lumi¨¨re had wanted to make, apparently he thought the meeting spoke for itself.

    Without thinking, Fernan found himself wandering towards the north gate of the harbor. The crowd thinned out as he approached the exit, fortunately, and by the time he stepped out entirely, only a few travelers on the road remained. Walking off the path towards the beach rid him of their presence easily enough.

    Finally, a moment alone with his thoughts.

    So much had happened in so short a time, and yet this was really only the beginning. In a few days, Duchess Annette¡¯s trial would begin, and Fernan would have to find a way to prove her innocence. Somehow.

    I could always follow whatever script Guy has for me. That was sure to be amusing, but given the man¡¯s abrasiveness, unlikely to be much help.

    His best hope was the lock. The inky blackness within was hard to properly parse without more context, but it was clear evidence that the official version of events was incomplete. Something had sabotaged the door, keeping the guards locked out and the Duke locked in. The scrap of black cloth from the balcony could hint at why, but the picture was still so frustratingly incomplete.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Hello, Fernan,¡± a quiet voice trickled out from around the curve of the rocks. ¡°You sir, are a hard man to catch alone. I trust you received my missives?¡± The figure was slouched lazily atop the rocks when Fernan rounded the corner to see him, short hair dissipating body heat so fast it almost looked black.

    ¡°Jethro.¡± Fernan spared a glance to ensure that they really were alone. ¡°I was wondering if I was going to see you again. Yes, I got your message.¡± Do not trust Magnifico, it had said, he tried to have his son killed, and would think nothing of doing the same to you.

    ¡°Excellent. Marvelous. Wonderful.¡± Jethro sat up slightly, facing Fernan directly. ¡°If you had any idea of the number of conflagrations necessary to cover my initial inquiries, before I learned the limits of your particular vision¡­ Well, in any case, you are aware now. And my letter has been burned, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fernan lied, though it sat poorly with him. I don¡¯t know if I can trust you yet. Buried in the ground somewhere only Mara knew was still gone to the world as if it had been burned, but this way it wasn¡¯t irreversible. A written record of what Jethro said could be crucial in the trial ahead. ¡°No one else knows.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant. Felicitous. Well done!¡± He hopped off the rocks gracefully and dipped his head slightly. ¡°It goes without saying of course, that any information gleaned from this conversation shall remain confidential to the pair of us. No one is to know I¡¯m involved, else Magnifico may find out, and all will be thoroughly ruined. You¡¯ll be cast from a balcony, perhaps, while I am unraveled to abyssal perdition.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Fernan tried to get a better read of his expression, but that was hard enough on a normal person, and something about Jethro was even more faded and dark. ¡°You have¡­ quite a way of speaking.¡±

    Jethro laughed. ¡°A recent development, if you would believe. Despite numerous lessons in etiquette and vocabulary, I never once used them. Until recently, that is. It¡¯s an excellent way to distinguish oneself. Same reason I never lie.¡±

    ¡°So you say. Forgive me if I¡¯m a bit skeptical. Why did you send me that note, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Why, to help you, of course. Poor Annette is so obviously innocent, and yet, if you fail, she shall be condemned for parricide and executed. I would be greatly displeased if that were to occur.¡± Jethro tilted his head back confidently, probably grinning. ¡°You sir, are my last hope at foiling Magnifico¡¯s plans.¡±

    Plans. Magnifico had said he was here to negotiate a peacefully capitulation, and Duke Fouchand had been murdered before the contract could be finalized. If Jethro wanted to put a stop to that¡­

    ¡°You didn¡¯t answer my question. Why? What is he doing that you can¡¯t abide by?¡±

    Jethro leaned lazily back against the rocks. ¡°By now, you¡¯ve had time to act on my letter.¡± Sure, ignore it again.

    Maybe he really didn¡¯t lie, considering how reluctant he seemed to be to give a straight answer. ¡°I looked into it. Magnifico is definitely a binder; Soleil himself confirmed it. That lends some credence to what you¡¯re saying, but¡­ It¡¯s not a lot to go on.¡±

    ¡°Ha! ¡®A¡¯ binder.¡± He circled his head, probably rolling his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s far stronger than that. Though he¡¯d pale in comparison to the Great Binder or Queen Alice Grimoire.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    Jethro sighed. ¡°The Great Binder¡¯s daughter, of course. What better way for Harold to strengthen his claim than wedding such illustrious blood?¡± Was that hint of sarcasm? It was hard to tell. The way he was talking made it all sound like a jape, and yet the subject was deathly serious. Something about his whole presentation was discordant, as if he were trying to act more than convince.

    ¡°What did you mean when you said Magnifico tried to kill his son?¡± That was the heart of it, really. If the bard had truly done that¡­ Help and friendliness counted for nothing, coming from a monster like that.

    ¡°Why, I meant precisely that.¡±

    ¡°Specifically.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Jethro stroked his clean-shaven chin. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to properly say without giving away who he really is. That, I think, would be premature. Perhaps after the trial.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t help you¡­ I don¡¯t even know what it is you want me to do beyond what I¡¯m already doing. I¡¯ll do my best to prove Annette¡¯s innocence, no matter what. If that¡¯s all you¡¯re worried about, and you¡¯re not willing to tell me anything more, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be too hasty. I can explain by way of analogy.¡±

    Fernan raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Take King Harold of Avalon. His son Luce received royal orders to visit Malin with great haste. The precious prince discarded all manner of anonymity and safety to take his fastest ship on a direct course. At the same time, an agent of Avalon tipped off a crew of pirates as to the course the ship would take, and its nature as a valuable royal-class vessel.¡±

    ¡°Your explanation is telling a different story with no proof?¡± Fernan shook his head.

    ¡°My sources on the matter are quite reliable. You¡¯ll be receiving the news yourself in a matter of days. If you¡¯ve any doubts, that should set them at ease. Keep an eye on the journal, and you¡¯ll find that the perfect prince¡¯s ship was found off the coast of Oxton, infested with pirates.¡±

    ¡°Even if that does happen, it doesn¡¯t confirm anything now. I¡¯m not sure that¡ª¡±

    ¡°He put his son in direct danger, then refused to do anything to get him out of the way, even though the danger was his fault.¡± For an instant, the darkness in Jethro¡¯s aura vanished as he flared pure red. ¡°It simply wasn¡¯t a priority for him, because he benefits from it. Truly solving the problem would cost him, so he doesn¡¯t even try, no matter the consequences. Magnifico is exactly the same.¡±

    ¡°How, though? You¡¯re telling me that one of the only people in this entire city to be remotely decent to me is some kind of monstrous murderer! I need more¡­ I can¡¯t just¡­¡± Fernan exhaled slowly, letting the fire drain from him. ¡°You understand, right?¡±

    Jethro¡¯s light grew even dimmer. ¡°I do. These truths are the hardest to hear. But that doesn¡¯t make them any less necessary. Magnifico is not reliable. He¡¯s duplicitous, and selfish, and he won¡¯t balk at using you as he used everyone else in his life. It¡¯s all a self-indulgent exercise for him, all of us mere extensions of his ego at best, obstacles at worst.¡± However suspect his motives, the passion in his words, the light within him curling in anger, it all felt real.

    For some reason, Fernan¡¯s mind flashed to Jerome, lying insensate on the ground after the geckos had defeated him. ¡°You seem to know him well, if what you''re saying is true.¡±

    ¡°I do. Better than any, perhaps. At least, of those of us who yet live.¡± He took a short breath, straightening his posture slightly. ¡°Magnifico is an agent of Avalon, acting on behalf of the royal family even under an alias, miles from home. I¡¯m essentially the same in that regard, and it¡¯s made me very familiar with his methods.¡±

    Fernan patted him on the shoulder lightly, not saying a word. At the point of contact, a warm orange glow radiated out, lingering even after Fernan withdrew his hand.

    Jethro snapped his fingers, tilting his head up in realization. ¡°You know, he was in Ombresse, after the Foxtrap. Harold III had dueled the Fox-King and lost his life from the wounds, the whole nation still recovering. Not two years later, Magnifico snuck into Ombresse ahead of the siege. As the hunger set in, the city joined arms in solidarity, unwilling to capitulate to their attackers. They knew the fate of Refuge, of the Foxtrap, and they would die before surrendering.

    ¡°But then word began to spread. In every tavern that hosted him, throughout the diminished excuses for markets the city could manage at the arcades, even openly in the streets as the days went on, his manipulations took root.

    ¡°¡®The guild masters feast while you starve¡¯; ¡®The Duke would let you eat lamprey, if no bread remains¡¯; ¡®the Captain of the Guard says to eat your dead, if the hunger is so strong¡¯; the Duke¡¯s horse is better fed than any ten of us¡¯. And slowly, bit by bit, the masses lost their resolve. In the end, the Duke was torn from his horse on a visit to the walls and mauled so thoroughly that no piece of his body remained. Eaten, according to some. The peasants stormed the walls from the inside, manned mostly by people just like them, and ripped them apart. The gates were thrown open without Avalon firing a shot, but the city burned for days.¡±

    Fernan took a moment, gauging how best to respond. ¡°That still sounds like it could be better than the alternative, though. Sieges are gruesome, sackings even more so.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. I won¡¯t say it isn¡¯t. But think of it this way: would you want him in your city? Magnifico entered an Ombresse joined in brotherhood and solidarity, and left it a divided, smoldering wreck. The appetite for protracted war in Avalon was waning with the loss of their King. Another few months, and Ombresse might have retained its freedom. Instead, it¡¯s a Territory. A possession of a nation that doesn¡¯t spare it a second thought, contributing to naught but its decadence and decline.¡±

    ¡°Who you yourself work for,¡± Fernan couldn¡¯t help but point out.

    ¡°I work for the royal family. And for myself. I¡¯ve done terrible things, but never group me with those banal villains, conquering by inches in his name because it¡¯s all that they know, without ever making a mark on the world, serving his twisted agenda because he convinced the world he¡¯s worth following¡­¡± He trailed off, leaving no sound but the crashing of the water on the beach. ¡°We only get one life, Fernan, and it may be far shorter than we hope for. Every day, time is running out. When you get the chance, don¡¯t stand idly by. Make your mark, come of it what will.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ What do you even want me to do? Why are you telling me this?¡±

    ¡°To make sure that you do the right thing. I can¡¯t be seen by him, or I¡¯ll be recognized. Before you arrived, I thought it might truly be too late to stop him. But then, by some miracle, here you are. Given what I¡¯ve heard about you, doing the needful shouldn¡¯t go against your nature. But you must be ready to act.¡±

    That, at least, wasn¡¯t hard to agree to. ¡°I will.¡±

    Jethro snapped his fingers. ¡°Oh! One more thing. You cannot allow Magnifico to die. It is absolutely vital that he lives, no matter the cost.¡±

    Wait, what? None of that tracked with anything he¡¯d been saying for the entire conversation! If Magnifico is truly the monster you say he is, why keep him alive?

    Fernan opened his mouth to ask, but Jethro was gone.

    Vanished into the darkness without a trace.

 Luce VI: The Wanderer of the Wastes

    ¡°When you get back, could you outlaw fish?¡± Eloise¡¯s strides were measured, paced to match Luce¡¯s own. Embarrassingly, without any deliberate effort to avoid it, she¡¯d moved far ahead of him walking normally.

    Luce cracked the slightest of smiles. ¡°Well, no. I don¡¯t even think my father could do that. But at this point, I would if I could.¡± Without any life on land, options for survival had been harshly limited: the same stale water, laboriously boiled each time they made camp; the same bony fishes, when Eloise managed to catch one; otherwise the same roasted sea plants, so salty and dead they¡¯d fit in better with the bleached husks on land. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to avoid it, ourselves.¡±

    Eloise nodded glumly. ¡°Imagine if you could, though. It¡¯d be forbidden, pushed back to expensive smuggling and black markets, spoken of in hushed tones by so-called ¡®decent¡¯ people. We could tell them we had nothing but fresh fish for days on end, and they¡¯d marvel at the luxury.¡±

    ¡°You have quite the vivid imagination. It¡¯s not a bad thought, though.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± She looked over her shoulder for a moment, then turned to face forward again. ¡°I¡¯ll definitely be telling absolutely everyone about this, anyway. Really covered myself in glory on this one.¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± Luce shrugged. ¡°You can cry yourself to sleep on a bed made of money, once the ransom comes through.¡±

    That had been a great point of contention itself, the subject of multiple days of the sort of shouting and fighting Father and Mother had called ¡®reasoned debate¡¯. With technically potable water, bony fish, and heavily brined kelp, survival at the basest, subsistence level was possible, if in no way sustainable over the long term.

    Which beget the question of where to go next. Charenton was the obvious choice, the closest city inhabited by the living, and a place where ship passage elsewhere would be relatively easy to obtain.

    Eloise, however, charming damsel that she was, had objected for typically self-centered reasons.

    ¡°Sure, Charenton sounds great,¡± she¡¯d said. ¡°I was looking for a shiny set of bracelets, and steel pieces chained together suit me nicely. I¡¯ll probably get a woven necklace to match.¡±

    Luce had sighed loudly at that. ¡°Charenton is its own municipality. The Crown of Avalon has no official claim to the land. It¡¯s not a territory like Lyrion or Malin. Neutral ground.¡±

    ¡°Neutral?¡± she¡¯d scoffed. ¡°Charenton¡¯s Magister serves at Avalon¡¯s pleasure. If she defied you, you¡¯d simply find another. Grabbing a fugitive from its cells would be trivial for your father or any of the thousand people that would see me hung for this¡±

    ¡°Hanged, not hung. Last I checked, you aren¡¯t a tapestry.¡±

    ¡°Thank you ever-so-much for your corrections, professor. Truly, your genius knows no bounds. Tapestry or fugitive though, I wouldn¡¯t last a second within Charenton¡¯s walls with a prince of Avalon at my side, and you know that.¡± She had crossed her arms, then. ¡°I can¡¯t blame you for scheming to kill me, moronic ingenue that I am, but it does get rather tiresome.¡±

    ¡°While your incessant sarcasm never loses its appeal.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She¡¯d bowed then, obnoxious beyond all belief. ¡°Your survival skills are beyond reproach, obviously, and you could function amazingly on your own in this desolate waste. With that in mind, you have all the leverage in the world. Decide where we go, what we do, the manner of my execution¡­ You hold all the cards, my prince.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not ungrateful,¡± he¡¯d forced himself to say. ¡°I¡¯d be dead without you. Of course, I wouldn¡¯t be in this position in the first place if you pirates hadn¡¯t kidnapped me.¡±

    ¡°Neither of us would be here if you hadn¡¯t blown up my ship! You¡¯d probably be home by now, whole and hale save a sum of money that¡¯s completely trivial to you. I was even going to cut you in for the smuggling, since you were such a help.¡±

    ¡°How magnanimous.¡± He¡¯d rolled his eyes, even though the pirate probably hadn¡¯t been looking. ¡°Where would you have us go, then?¡±

    ¡°East, obviously. The Arboreum will be glad to see me, and can take care of you accordingly.¡±

    ¡°I have it on good authority that they¡¯d be just as happy to see my head paraded through the streets. Absolutely not.¡±

    Eloise had sighed, tilting her head back in a gesture more dramatic than her usual wont. ¡°Fine. I get it, can¡¯t trust anyone for certain. That¡¯s smart. But we have to go somewhere. I¡¯m not spending another fucking night on this beach picking fish bones from my teeth. The Arboreum is out? Fine. We can go to Micheltaigne. Villeneuve. Shit, even the Winter Court would probably treat me fairly.¡±

    ¡°All spirit followers. All happy to see me dead. No.¡±

    Splitting up was a possibility, but an uncomfortable one, to say the least. It was Eloise¡¯s flint that kept the fire burning, Eloise¡¯s uncanny dexterity that granted them fish to survive on. She could probably beat him in a fight too, which meant that the contraption used to clean the water would be hers if it came to that.

    There was a very real possibility that she would tire of this and leave him for dead, ransom be damned.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to have anyone arrest you in Charenton. Not in Malin either. I want to get home. I want to see my brother again, my father.¡± My cousins, save poor Cassia. ¡°If you accompany me to Charenton, you have my word that I will say nothing. We can charter a ship to Malin and I can pay your damned ransom. You know, the one you lied about already negotiating so I¡¯d do your dirty work? Then you can be on your bloody way and out of my sight forever.¡±

    She¡¯d wrinkled her nose at that. ¡°And what guarantee would I have of that?¡±

    ¡°You have to trust me.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t replied to that, sending him silent scowls for the rest of the night. But the next day, Luce awoke to find her packing their meager possessions on the beach, bundling them into a load for two to carry.

    ¡°Thank you. You have my word that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up. This is the most pragmatic choice, that¡¯s all. A live prince is worth far more than a dead one.¡±

    And so they had traveled west, walking along the beach as much as they could each day before making camp, enduring the poor food and Eloise¡¯s complaining all the while. After the initial thrill of salvation, even running the water through his machine each night was an exercise in dull repetition, no more innovation or discovery to be found in the process.

    ¡°I have enough dala for the trip to Malin,¡± Eloise muttered. ¡°So there¡¯s no need for you to reveal yourself to anyone in Charenton.¡±

    ¡°No need, maybe, but it would save us the fare. Probably get a faster ship too.¡± I was supposed to be in Malin months ago. Khali only knew what had befallen the city since.

    If Father was even telling the truth.

    Murky spirit visions were no basis to distrust family, but according to the pirate someone had tipped them off about his trip. Who¡¯d even known about it, save Father?

    ¡°Well that sounds perfect then! A few days shaved off the journey is definitely worth my head!¡±

    Luce sighed. ¡°Fine. I won¡¯t tell anyone who I am, if it helps you rest easier. I just want this to be over with.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re completely alone in that. I¡¯m loving every moment of this wonderful journey.¡± She turned back to look at him for a second, then tore her gaze away abruptly. ¡°Let me do the talking. Even if you aren¡¯t trying to betray me, I don¡¯t think you have what it takes to convincingly play a role.¡±

    Stolen novel; please report.

    You may be right about that. Still, something about it sat ill with him. It wasn¡¯t that Luce wanted to call the guards on her, not necessarily, although it would solve a great deal of his problems. After what had happened on the beach, it didn¡¯t feel right to throw her to the wolves, but still¡­

    I don¡¯t like having to extend this much trust to a murderous pirate captain. There was always the chance of a ruse, a betrayal. Eloise herself had done little to dissuade him of that possibility, her cheeky sarcasm showing a clear willingness to screw anyone over at the drop of a hat, so long as she saw some benefit in it.

    In the distance, a movement caught Luce¡¯s eye, the glint of light from a piece of metal further west. ¡°Hey, do you see that?¡±

    Eloise narrowed her eyes, shading them with her hand. ¡°Foresters, by the looks. I¡¯ve seen their like often enough back in the western isles.¡±

    Forresters? ¡°What business would Perimont¡¯s secret police have in Refuge?¡±

    ¡°No, foresters, with one ¡®r¡¯. Woodsmen. Can¡¯t you see them swinging those axes?¡±

    In fact, Luce couldn¡¯t, but he hadn¡¯t spent years at sea training his eyes to see into the distance either. ¡°Oh. Those.¡± He frowned. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected them this far up the coast.¡±

    ¡°Expected?¡± Eloise blinked. ¡°Well, obviously you have no idea what they¡¯re doing here, so there¡¯s no reason to say why. Just try to lead me into them, get me executed. Sensible.¡±

    Luce sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not a new initiative. Logging like this can help produce charcoal within our own territory, as an alternative to importing coal from mountains outside our jurisdiction. All the more so with these blighted husks; a fragment of spiritual energy still resides within them.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been burning spirit energy to make our fires?¡± Her fists clenched tightly. ¡°Luce, I swear on my mother¡¯s grave, if you fucking set me up to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t! What we¡¯ve gone through is nothing. It only matters at scale. Shit, if Cya had a problem with it, she knew where to find us.¡± He peered out at the workers in the distance, chopping through the bleached white husks. ¡°Even for Avalon as a whole, it¡¯s a very minor operation. The supply¡¯s greatly limited unless someone wants to release another blight.¡±

    Eloise turned and gave him a glare that could melt steel.

    ¡°Which no one has any intention of doing! I personally directed research away from anything similar, and I know my father would never sully his hands with something like that. It would mean war with the Arboreum, at minimum, and half the continent against us besides. Why would we? There¡¯s nothing to gain and a great deal to lose.¡±

    ¡°So you say¡­ Very innocuous, not mentioning that we might come across something like this before reaching Charenton. Really cementing your famed trustworthiness.¡±

    ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t think about it. On the scale I¡¯m used to working at, it¡¯s really nothing. Charcoal from blighted trees is only a bit more efficient than something mined, so far as I know, and more contentious to acquire besides.¡± Not to mention the better energy sources I¡¯m working on with the Nocturne Gate. ¡°With our friendly relations with Guerron, there¡¯s no need anyway. If things go well there, our supply might even increase.¡±

    Eloise grabbed his wrist forcefully. ¡°If you double-cross me here, I¡¯ll put my sword through your fucking throat before you even have a chance to scream. If I¡¯m to hang, I¡¯ll at least hang with the satisfaction of knowing you couldn¡¯t outlive me. So think very carefully about your answer to my next question: is this an ambush?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Luce wrenched his hand away. ¡°I didn¡¯t think about them, honestly. I have no idea why they pushed so far in, but whatever it is has nothing to do with me.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Her posture relaxed slightly. ¡°Then you should have no problem with us going around them.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Any woodsmen here would be working for Avalon, that was true without a doubt. The right word to the right person, and it could mean going home. Finding answers, setting things to right¡­ ¡°We have to get across the Rhan river, right? These people don¡¯t live here, surely. They¡¯ll have a way back.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Her voice was firm. ¡°We¡¯ll find another way to cross. We should still be a day out from the river anyway.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s your plan then? We can skirt around them, and then what? I doubt even you can swim the Rhan, and I certainly can¡¯t.¡±

    Eloise stopped walking. ¡°Are you serious? It¡¯s not an easy swim, I¡¯ll grant, but when the alternative is withering in a dead land until death?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not, though. We can probably get across by talking to these people. Just a simple request, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll be hauled away in chains. No.¡±

    Luce snorted. ¡°You can go, then. Walk to the Arboreum. I¡¯ll even let you take the water jugs. Just leave me here and I¡¯ll talk to them, secure my passage across the river. I won¡¯t even mention you.¡±

    ¡°I bet you wouldn¡¯t, even.¡± Eloise took a deep breath. ¡°Are you sure you can¡¯t swim it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not even convinced you can, sailor or not. The Rhan is the greatest river of the continent, and we¡¯re right where it meets the Lyrion sea. In summer. It¡¯ll be as wide and turbulent as it gets.¡± For once, studying the almanac in college was actually applying to real life.

    ¡°Ugh, fine.¡± The pirate scowled, her lip practically trying to escape her face. ¡°A raft then. We could build a raft. You¡¯re a scientist, right? And we¡¯ve got all these hollow trees around. That could work.¡±

    Luce rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Not really¡­ Outside of thermodynamics and energy systems, I¡¯m not really much of an engineer. I¡¯ve studied the theoretical principles, which could have some application to the problem. It¡¯s just like¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just like when you tried to make a fire without a flint.¡± She sighed. ¡°Alright, fine. We¡¯ll approach. I will do the talking. Under no circumstances will you reveal who you are.¡±

    I can think of a few circumstances. Still, he had to play this smart.

    ¡°Might be hard to get back, that way. If they know I¡¯m a prince, our troubles are over. We could be in Malin within days; Charenton would throw the gates open for us with welcoming arms.¡±

    ¡°For you,¡± she spat.

    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t have to come.¡± Luce held up the cracked jug he was carrying. ¡°Take it; I won¡¯t tell them to follow.¡±

    Eloise clenched her fists tightly. ¡°Stop trying to leave me with nothing to show for this ordeal. We¡¯ll talk. Just don¡¯t give me cause to regret it.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Luce held up his hands. ¡°We can simply be anonymous sailors, shipwrecked in this misbegotten wasteland.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Eloise grabbed his hand and pulled it down. ¡°No real names, either.¡±

    As they approached the woodsmen, the clearing that they had cut through the remnants of the forest grew increasingly obvious. Past the largest concentration of workers, a short wall and ditch sectioned off their camp from the forest, a two story tower stretching above it. The construction looked recent, surprisingly clean and fresh for an outdoor encampment, but there were already signs of damage along the outer wall.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t right,¡± Luce muttered as they approached. ¡°They¡¯re far too dug in, far too deep in the forest. It doesn¡¯t make sense.¡±

    Eloise scoffed. ¡°It does when you realize what greedy fuckers you lot are. Not that I don¡¯t live in a house of glass on that front, mind, but still. You say that this is unnecessary? What¡¯s necessary has nothing to do with it. They see a profit to be made, and that¡¯s all the motivation needed.¡±

    ¡°An operation here needs official sanction from the crown. Father would never¡ª¡± He was interrupted by Eloise¡¯s hand in his face. He glared, but remained silent, since someone was approaching them.

    ¡°Well, you lot look like shit.¡± Stout and large, the man greeting them smiled with red cheeks. ¡°What in Khali¡¯s name brings you to the end of the world?¡±

    ¡°Shipwreck,¡± Eloise said with narrowed brows. ¡°We were en route to the Arboreum when the rocks caught us. Had to walk this far.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse, you¡¯re lucky to be alive.¡± The man snorted. ¡°I¡¯m amazed the spirit-touched didn¡¯t getcha, the way they¡¯ve been stirring round these parts.¡± He held out a calloused hand to Luce. ¡°Name¡¯s Lyle.¡±

    ¡°Lu-Luke.¡± Luce gave the man a firm shake. ¡°And this is my companion, Esmerelda.¡±

    Eloise looked like she was trying to set him on fire with her eyes for that, but she didn¡¯t break the ruse. ¡°Charmed,¡± she managed to choke out when Lyle offered her his hand in turn. ¡°We¡¯re looking to get to Malin, by way of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°Is there any chance we could catch a ride across the river?¡± Luce added.

    Lyle chuckled, his gut rumbling in turn. ¡°You¡¯re in luck! One of me boys got into a tussle with one of them creatures, looks near to losing his bloody arm.¡±

    ¡°Very lucky indeed,¡± Eloise said wryly. ¡°That¡¯s just what I¡¯d call it.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not how I meant it.¡± Lyle rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Only meant that we¡¯re ferrying him back right away. Doctor in Charenton should sew him up right, or at least give him the best chance he¡¯s got at keeping the arm. Won¡¯t trouble us none if you hop on board too. Can¡¯t imagine leaving anyone stranded in these parts.¡±

    You have no idea.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Luce, scarcely believing their good fortune.

    Against all odds, Eloise didn¡¯t pull any shenanigans at the woodland camp, nor on the ferry across the river.

    Even when they reached Charenton, despite being her usual irritating self, she didn¡¯t show any signs of betrayal. No attempts to spirit him away as her captive, no threats to his life¡­ She didn¡¯t even argue with the captain whose ship they bought passage aboard. If she had tried something, he¡¯d have called for a town guard in an instant, but there was no reason to break an agreement and risk her ire if anything went wrong.

    Better to simply honor it and be rid of her forever once he reached Malin.

    As much as his heart ached for home, and everything that it entailed, Malin needed him. And Luce needed answers.

    It wouldn¡¯t be long now.

 Camille VII: The Line Between Perfection and Disaster

    This accursed party feels like it¡¯s lasted a month.

    Florette had apparently seen no issue with drinking even further, growing sloppy enough in her movements that it seemed doubtful she could avoid slipping and revealing something crucial, let alone gather any actual information.

    Even now, she was demonstrating her stupid knife game to the girl bent on capturing them, slowly and deliberately plunging her knife between both of their fingers, layered on top of each other over the cheap wooden table.

    Sir Gerald had recused himself, at least, opting to spend the night enchanting Simon¡¯s sister Mary in a blessedly distant corner of the clifftop.

    ¡°So you see it too, between them.¡± Simon¡¯s voice caused Camille to turn her head, only to see a vaguely disgusted expression on his face. ¡°Mary¡¯s never much been one for politics or academic study, but¡­ it feels wrong. They¡¯re so synchronized in their stupidity that it seems almost incestuous.¡±

    Or fitting. ¡°She¡¯s your little sister. Of course you aren¡¯t going to love seeing her cavort with that moronic lout. But she¡¯ll outgrow him, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    Mary was curtsying now, giving Sir Gerald a hand to kiss. The knight bent down in turn, something on his belt catching the moonlight.

    Camille froze, staring at the offending object.

    ¡°From your lips to the ears of the earth,¡± Simon muttered. ¡°If the day¡¯s fair, she¡¯ll push him off that cliff and save us all some trouble.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Camille said absentmindedly, her focus elsewhere.

    ¡°Nifty thing, this handheld cannon. Magnifico called it a pistol.¡±

    It was hard to tell at this distance, but the shape was identical. There were even red spots stained with blood.

    My blood.

    Clearly Lumi¨¨re had found a useful idiot to dispose of his incriminating, one-of-a-kind weapon, but why? Fouchand was dead, as was¡ªso far as the world knew¡ªCamille. According to Simon, he was planning to usher in Avalon troops as soon as Annette¡¯s trial was over. What point was there in secreting his weapon away, let alone giving it to an imbecile?

    Her thoughts were interrupted by the feel of Simon¡¯s hand on her shoulder. ¡°Come now, there¡¯s no need to quiver like that. Mary may be half a fool, but she can make her own decisions.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°Of course. My apologies. It simply dredged up bad memories.¡±

    Simon laughed. ¡°You mean to tell me that the ever-discerning Lady Carrine was perhaps once in possession of lower standards? That¡¯s hard to imagine.¡±

    Fine, that¡¯s an acceptable enough cover. ¡°We are all young, at one point. I¡¯d prefer not to speak of it.¡±

    ¡°Of course, my apologies. The thought of my sister with¡­ it doesn¡¯t exactly fill me with joy either.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I can speak with her,¡± Camille said, seeing another opportunity for ingratiation. ¡°One woman to another, with the wisdom of experience.¡±

    Simon smiled. ¡°That¡¯s a wonderful idea! Best save it for another day, though. She¡¯s not liable to remember anything you tell her, this late in the night.¡±

    Camille¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And yet you¡¯re leaving her alone with him?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± He looked guilty, shifting his weight between each foot. ¡°Sir Gerald may be less intelligent than the slug I scraped off my shoe this morning, but he is nonetheless a knight. He understands what it is to be gentlemanly.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±

    Simon held up a finger. ¡°I¡¯ve seen this before. Gary¡¯s never done anything untoward. But we¡¯ll be sure to take her home with us when we leave, all the same. Satisfied?¡±

    When we leave? ¡°I suppose. She¡¯s your sister; you know them both better than I do.¡± Camille frowned. ¡°Just be sure to keep an eye on her; make sure she doesn¡¯t depart before us.¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± Simon insisted a touch too fast. ¡°Why don¡¯t we change the subject? Captain Whitbey!¡±

    Perimont¡¯s monstrous creature turned his head away from the cliffside to face them. ¡°Master Simon?¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t address me like that in company, Joseph.¡± Simon let out a slow hiss of air. ¡°I¡¯m twenty-two years old. ¡®Master¡¯ makes me sound like I¡¯m seven.¡±

    Saying that isn¡¯t much better.

    Whitbey didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Of course, sir. What is it you wanted of me?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping you could regale the fair lady with one of your stories, help get her mind off unpleasant topics.¡± He wants you to pull his foot out of his mouth, he means. ¡°News of the upcoming offensive, perhaps.¡±

    Yes, have him tell me more of his atrocities against my people. Brilliantly done, Simon.

    He was lucky Camille was manipulating him, because a sincere lady in her position would have departed long ago, probably after throwing her drink in his face.

    ¡°There¡¯s not much to say,¡± Whitbey noted coldly. ¡°All the less in unvetted company. Prince Harold has told the Governor of an upcoming offensive. All else must remain confidential. If you are sincerely curious, we can discuss it later, when certain to be among friends.¡±

    ¡°Do you even have any friends?¡± Florette barged in, a hint of slurring in her voice. ¡°I bet it¡¯s hard to win people over if you always open by talking about killing children.¡±

    You imbecile. Camille¡¯s eyes narrowed, ready to burn a hole in her. ¡°What my companion means to say is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is that someone here could stand to learn a bit of tact!¡±

    Camille grabbed her wrist tightly. ¡°She¡¯s had too much to drink tonight. That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°The fuck I have! It¡¯s a party, for fuck¡¯s sake. Everyone else here realizes that. Except Captain Childkiller here, standing all dour on the edge of the cliff.¡±

    ¡°Time to get you home, Celine,¡± Camille hissed.

    Simon, mercifully, was doubled over laughing. ¡±You¡¯ve got a good one there, Carrine.¡±

    Whitbey sported an impressive scowl, but made no moves to react. ¡°I¡¯m not here to partake in the merriment, young lady. Lord Perimont wished for me to keep an eye on his children, and especially given my invitation, it seemed warranted. There¡¯s no such thing as being too on-guard, as he is fond of saying.¡±

    ¡°Except when I ask you something and you don¡¯t answer!¡± Simon called out, still shaking with laughter. ¡°Come on! We¡¯re among friends. I¡¯d wager anything we¡¯ll be acting against the Condorcet Collective. They¡¯re small, weak, and horrendous as any practitioner of human sacrifice. Probably worse than most of them, honestly.¡±

    No arguments there. Mother had once said that half the Condorcet were mad, the other suicidal. Given their absurd system of governance, it was hard to disagree. ¡°What makes you so sure? The connection to Prince Luce¡¯s kidnapping is tenuous, if it¡¯s even there at all.¡±

    Simon shrugged. ¡°The pirates Baron Williams executed were from so many different places anyway. One of them is bound to have some tie to it, or can be shown to at least. More importantly, it allows Prince Harold a fast, relatively bloodless victory without plunging the continent into full-scale war. He can avenge his brother and sate the Harpies¡¯ appetite for war with no need to mobilize further. It¡¯s the smart play.¡±

    By your reckoning, perhaps. If Prince Harold¡¯s love for his brother were half what it was said to be, he wouldn¡¯t stop until every trace of Luce¡¯s abductors were eradicated.

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    ¡°Your father disagrees.¡± Whitbey shook his head. ¡°The smart play is always to better arm yourself against the world¡¯s threats. The denizens of this wretched city will learn that soon enough when they¡¯re fighting on our side.¡±

    Wait, what? ¡°Who among them would possibly agree to that?¡± The Malins here had proven frustratingly complacent, but surely even they wouldn¡¯t stoop to fighting Avalon¡¯s wars for them.

    Whitbey cracked the slightest of smiles. ¡°The benefit of conscription is that they don¡¯t have to. They¡¯ve suckled at Avalon¡¯s teat for seventeen years now. It¡¯s only rational that they pull their fair share now.¡±

    Florette, even swaying as she was, looked seconds away from murdering the man. I can¡¯t even blame her. Camille pulled the bandit closer, digging her fingers into her skin. But this isn¡¯t the time.

    ¡°Did¡­¡± Simon wrinkled his nose. ¡°Did Prince Harold order this? Does he think he can avoid committing more forces from Avalon itself? Use the territorial apparatus for a quick strike with Malin in the firing line?¡± He sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°It¡¯s folly! Wealth and commerce make this city strong; stripping its population away for a war our soldiers can fight better is a monument to idiocy!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my business to know. Your father ordered me to mobilize, and mobilize I shall.¡±

    Florette opened her mouth, but Camille elbowed her hard in the side. Still, Camille couldn¡¯t stay silent on this. ¡°You¡¯re going to send these people into the thresher just to spare yourself? Unarmed and untrained?¡±

    ¡°Nonsense!¡± Whitbey tilted his head back, looking down his nose at her. ¡°Avalon¡¯s discipline and tactics are second to none, and we intend to impart them onto all who fight beneath our banner. We shall train them as best we can in the time we have before the assault, and then¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°Well, there¡¯s no better tutor than the battlefield. Those who survive shall emerge blooded, hardened, better able to serve.¡±

    ¡°At what cost?¡± Simon, of all people, asked. ¡°You know what happens when you depopulate the workforce! All the more to send it unarmed into the lion¡¯s den.¡±

    ¡°You all are taking this far out of proportion. The Guardians and I will be giving them much of our own weapon stock, in addition to training them in it. When the resupply of new weaponry from Lyrion arrives, we won¡¯t have much need for the old.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes lit up at that, the fury remaining, but with something new as well. ¡°I thought the harbor was destroyed. Can it really¡ª¡± She interrupted herself with a hiccup. ¡°Can it really accommodate an entire shipment of weapons?¡±

    Whitbey¡¯s lip curled. ¡°That is the Governor¡¯s business alone, not information you need. Really, I don¡¯t understand what all of you are so worked up over. This is a surgical strike: fast, efficient, and skillful. By the time the Prince even hears that we¡¯ve set out, the battle will already be won.¡±

    ¡°So sure about that, huh?¡± Florette¡¯s voice dripped with naked contempt. ¡°I bet¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alright!¡± Camille interrupted, dragging Florette away by the arm. ¡°We¡¯re going to take a minute. Please excuse us.¡±

    The moment it took to get out of earshot was agonizing, all the more so with Florette drunkenly protesting the entire way.

    ¡°What in Levian¡¯s name is wrong with you?¡± Camille thrust her aside. ¡°This is an intelligence-gathering operation, not an excuse to demean yourself.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a monster!¡± Florette spat out. ¡°Conscripting innocents? Killing children? How can you just stand there and let him talk like that? He has to die. We can pull it off, too! All we do is get him alone on the cliffside where he¡¯s been lurking all night, and give him a push. He has to die,¡± she repeated.

    ¡°And he will!¡± The second of my one thousand due to Levian, if I have anything to say about it, after only Perimont himself. ¡°But now is not the time! I thought you understood this! You¡¯re a pirate, a thief, a confidence artist. Like Verrou, or the Queen of the Exiles, right?¡±

    Florette clenched her fists, a slight hitch in her voice. ¡°If Captain Verrou saw a man like that, so desperately calling out for a stabbing, he¡¯d fucking stab him. What are we even here for, if not to deal with monsters like him?¡±

    ¡°Strong words, but think about this! What happens if Whitbey dies?¡±

    ¡°The world is a better place. Even if¡­ even if I have to kill him to make that happen. It¡¯s worth it.¡±

    Fool. ¡°Think about Malin. Perimont will replace him with another crony in a heartbeat. His conscriptions and inquisitions carry on without a hitch, only now he¡¯s suspicious. Most suspicious, probably, of the foreign girl who spent all night antagonizing his Captain the night before he fell off a cliff!¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°You aren¡¯t stupid, Florette. I know you see the problem here. Patience!¡±

    ¡°It has to be tonight.¡± She took a deep breath, wobbling slightly as she did. ¡°Has to be tonight, or it might not happen at all. Can¡¯t lose my nerve.¡±

    A pirate, losing her nerve?

    Camille blinked, realization setting in. The hesitation despite her passion, the conflicted hitch in her voice. With how much the girl had drunk, acting a bit emotional was hardly unexpected, but this¡­ ¡°You¡¯ve never killed anyone before, have you?¡±

    ¡°I have.¡± Florette met her gaze evenly. ¡°But so what if I hadn¡¯t? Does that make me weak? Unworthy of respect?¡±

    ¡°I never said that.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re thinking it, right? If I can¡¯t do this, or if I hesitate too much, or show remorse afterwards, you¡¯ll just cast me aside.¡±

    ¡°What? Why would you think that? Who would do that?¡±

    Florette turned her head to the side, lips curling. ¡°Eloise did. We were happy together; she was training me to be her quartermaster. And I was doing great! I helped her steal from Magnifico, I was the one who found Prince Luce and apprehended him¡­ and killed the girl guarding him. Her name was Cassia. I can¡¯t ever forget that. I¡ª¡±

    She trailed off as Camille wrapped an arm around her, not saying a word.

    It struck Camille for the first time just how young Florette was, seeing her shoulders droop in defeat. I was twice as foolish, five years younger. No less reckless either, really. Restraint had to be learned, and what a hard lesson it was.

    So hard you couldn¡¯t even manage it fully before Lumi¨¨re shot you in the shoulder.

    ¡°Eloise is the singularly most horrid person I have ever met.¡± Camille rubbed the girl¡¯s shoulder gently. ¡°It says only good things about you that you displeased her.¡±

    Florette let out the slightest hint of a laugh before her dour expression returned. ¡°It¡¯s easy for you not to worry about it. You must have killed hundreds. You even beat death itself. But I¡ª I stabbed someone in the riots after your duel, trying to get Fernan and get out. I have no idea if they lived, or who they were. I was just to get through. And Cassia¡­ She lunged and I struck back. It was almost an accident.¡±

    I¡¯m sure she would find that comforting. But Camille left the nasty thought unsaid.

    ¡°I really haven¡¯t,¡± she said instead. ¡°Lumi¨¨re would have been the first. But I hesitated¡­ It¡¯s not a mistake I intend to make twice, but I don¡¯t blame you for doing the same.¡±

    ¡°First?¡± Florette narrowed her eyes, pulling back from Camille¡¯s embrace. ¡°What about the sacrifices? You must have sent hundreds of people to their deaths, doomed at sea to feed your patron spirit. What, they don¡¯t count?¡±

    ¡°Well, first of all, it¡¯s not ¡®hundreds¡¯. There aren¡¯t many Malins in Guerron and almost none did anything bad enough to die for. Perhaps a dozen, over my entire tenure.¡± I even provided for the family of the last to pry him away from Lumi¨¨re, though it was more than the likes of him deserved. ¡°They were criminals, Florette. Murderers, rapists, only the most vile who truly deserved death.¡± Mother¡¯s words, dimly recalled from so long ago. ¡°And they were condemned in any case. The laws of spirits and humanity alike judged them worthy of death; I merely helped carry it out. It¡¯s been the duty of a sage for eons.¡±

    Her expression didn¡¯t change as she responded, voice cold. ¡°You sound like Whitbey.¡±

    Camille jumped back, her face twisting into a snarl. ¡°Whitbey follows his master¡¯s command to every atrocity without a second thought. He hunts down the starving, the loyal, and the downtrodden, then strings them up for failing to bow low enough to their oppressors. He would enslave my people to fight Avalon¡¯s wars. If you really can¡¯t see the difference¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying there¡¯s no difference. I¡¯m saying that your justification is identical.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you!¡± She bit her lip tightly. ¡°You¡¯ve killed before. You were about to do it again! If you¡¯d given his life¡¯s energy to Levian instead of letting it dissipate uselessly, would that somehow make it unacceptable?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. That¡¯s not the point!¡± Florette sucked in air through her teeth. ¡°Some people have to die. They¡¯ve earned it, through their choices and deeds. If they¡¯re sacrificed or not, it doesn¡¯t make any difference; dead is dead. Spirits have nothing to do with it.¡±

    ¡°Then what is the problem?¡±

    Florette mumbled something in response, too quiet to hear.

    ¡°When you kill, it¡¯s entirely fine, but when it¡¯s someone you don¡¯t like, suddenly it¡¯s the time to moralize and¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not it!¡± Florette took a deep breath. ¡°They still matter. They still count. Even the monsters, they¡¯re still people. Whether or not they were going to die anyway, whether or not they deserved it, whether or not someone else would have just done it in your place. You killed them, Camille, just like I killed Cassia. Own it.¡±

    Florette left after that, not deigning to speak another word, but Camille remained.

    Her eyes were still staring out over the water when the sun rose, Florette¡¯s words still echoing in her ears.

    They still matter. They¡¯re still people. And you killed them.

    As the first rays of light began to creep over the hill, the beach below became gradually clearer. The ruins of the Great Temple began to gleam in the early morning light, slowly sinking into the sea.

    And the gallows showed themselves as well, a blighted spot on the pristine sand, a wound in the earth¡­

    If I¡¯m to live past year¡¯s end, I have to kill a thousand more.

 Fernan VII: The Solicitor

    ¡°You¡¯re ready, I trust?¡± Guy Valvert stood with his head tilted to look down at everything before him, nervous vibrations bouncing through his aura nonetheless. ¡°If you¡¯ve failed to take my tutelage in the necessary procedures to heart, it won¡¯t be only Annette that pays the price.¡±

    Fernan exhaled, as quietly as he could manage. ¡°Is threatening your own counsel part of the procedure as well? I ask only to ensure that I have all the knowledge I need for these proceedings.¡±

    Maybe it was a risk, provoking him like this, but it was important to be sure that Valvert would honor the deal. Especially if things went poorly¡­

    And the villagers were growing less dependent on those fruits of negotiation more each day. Ice was only a more and more valuable commodity as the heat worsened, and the funds from the initial sales had helped ensure that the community could breathe easy for a little while. Annette¡¯s food still came, and they still took it, but now resources were being built up in the background.

    Now, finally, people were preparing for the future instead of desperately trying to survive the present moment.

    Mother was negotiating ever more contracts, establishing relationships for future trade¡­ The ice from this winter was limited with the mountain snow mostly melted already, but next year would be a bounty beyond compare.

    Better still, they finally seemed to be warming to the geckos. Especially for people from villages closer to the pass, where the danger from them was lower than from dried-up veins, flooding, or bandits.

    Someone from Florette¡¯s old village had even devised a design for an improved wagon to transport the large blocks, catching them from the hillside and better insulating them for the trip back.

    All without me.

    It was good, really, even as it sent a pang through him every time he saw them celebrating by the water¡¯s edge. They should be self-sufficient. Fernan had been so busy with all of this that if he¡¯d needed to maintain the same attentiveness to the smallest level of activity, as he¡¯d had to on the journey here, he would have come apart at the seams.

    He was at risk enough for that as it was.

    Guy sputtered. ¡°You¡¯re not my counsel, Fernan of the mountains. You are the instrument through which I can best protect my cousin. You would do well to remember that, if you wish for things to go well for the peasants under your care. If you can¡¯t save Annette, you¡¯ve been worse than useless to me.¡±

    ¡°So yes, then. Got it.¡± Fernan placed a hand on Valvert¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve memorized everything you gave me. I know how the trial is meant to go, in broad strokes anyway.¡± Embarrassingly, he¡¯d had to ask Mother to read everything to him, since Guy hadn¡¯t had any interest in doing the same. Honestly, Fernan wasn¡¯t even sure the aristocrat knew he was blind. The closest he¡¯d come was asking if a blind man had dressed him, several days back. ¡°I¡¯ve also thoroughly reviewed the script you gave me.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Valvert breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°See that you do not deviate from it. A trial of a Duchess is a delicate thing, likely to be more political than factual in the end. Impressions matter. That¡¯s why I sent you to my tailor.¡±

    Right. Hours and hours of measurements and fussing, all for a set of robes that felt marginally more comfortable than pants and didn¡¯t look any different. ¡°You might want to remember that yourself, my lord.¡± Fernan¡¯s grip tightened. ¡°The impression of threatening to renege on our deal if your little script for me fails to win hearts and minds, for example, shows you to be a fair and honest man. One whom I¡¯d be delighted to work with again.¡±

    Guy flared red. ¡°You dare? If Annette¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doing everything I can for Annette.¡± Fernan removed his hand, turning to face the large double doors in front of him, slightly ajar. ¡°Do the same yourself please, and leave me to do my job.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± The nobleman skulked off, muttering under his breath about ungrateful peasants as he slipped through the doors before them into the main audience hall of the late Duke Fouchand.

    Mercifully, the better part of every wall was covered with windows, allowing vast streams of sunlight to illuminate the chamber and keep it warm. At the back stood a massive golden throne Guy had told him was painted blue and white in the colors of House Debray, Annette¡¯s family.

    In this heat, it looked monstrously uncomfortable to sit on, but Lord Lumi¨¨re appeared unbothered. Although, as a sage of light, he could probably do something about it. The geckos had managed similar with the ice, after all, though it wasn¡¯t certain Lumi¨¨re would know the trick.

    Fernan was certainly grateful for it, drawing the heat out of the air inside himself. Normally finding the right balance to avoid leaving himself completely blind might be difficult, but the hideous summer heat was so intense that Fernan probably couldn¡¯t have managed it if he tried.

    If anything, that was worse in the chamber itself. The massive glass windows were certainly impressive, even with Fernan¡¯s limited range of vision, but simple openings would probably have been more practical in the heat. As it was, it let the light in without doing anything to let the hot air out. The gradually swelling crowds of sweating onlookers made it worse too, each breath adding to the stale sweltering feeling in the air.

    The solstice is approaching. That longest day of the year when the sun¡¯s strength was at its strongest was so often its hottest as well, followed only by the days surrounding it. And it had been G¨¦zarde¡¯s original deadline as well. Strange, to think of all that had happened since then, to imagine himself groping blindly on Jerome¡¯s manipulative orders¡­

    He¡¯d mentioned it to Mara this morning by the harbor, before she went out to retrieve Jethro¡¯s note from the place she¡¯d buried it. Just in case.

    ¡°I¡¯m so glad G¨¦zarde picked me to scout the bridge that day!¡± she¡¯d said, causing Fernan to put his hand on his face. ¡°Not the burning you part, I mean, but¡­ The humans were about to get to all of it. If we hadn¡¯t acted, we would have starved.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± He¡¯d taken a deep breath, then. ¡°I¡¯m glad you were there too. You showed me what was possible between us. None of this could have happened without you.¡± He waved his hand around at the hive of activity flowing through the harbor. ¡°However this trial today goes, I want you to know that.¡±

    Mara had tilted her head. ¡°All of this is because of you though! Especially with how G¨¦zarde treated you, and what happened to your face¡­ The fact that you could call your humans to stand down, to cast out that alderman who started all of this¡­ We¡¯d be dead without you!¡±

    And my village would still be standing. Not to mention the fact that they would be thriving if humans had never ventured into their domain.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± He¡¯d frowned at that, but Mara hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°It was the right thing to do.¡±

    All of this was a chance at something new, a better way. But still so terribly precarious¡­

    ¡°Are you coming?¡± Guy called over his shoulder as he approached his seat in the gallery, jolting Fernan out of his thoughts. ¡°We don¡¯t have long before noon.¡±

    ¡°In a second.¡± Fernan drew more of the heat into his eyes, flaring them slightly as he cooled down. ¡°I want to look over the evidence one more time.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Guy shook his head sadly, not willing to argue the point.

    That had been contentious, in the time building up to this, despite how simple it was.

    ¡°She¡¯s innocent, and the facts will show that,¡± Fernan had said. ¡°Truth weakens every argument against her. We want to introduce as much doubt as we can.¡±

    ¡°Idiot,¡± Guy had responded, or perhaps it had been something ruder. ¡°They have a witness who saw her push Fouchand, and the guards found her in his chamber. The facts kill us. Your goal is to convince Aurelian, and that¡¯s all about feelings. Drive at the sentiment, stir the conflict in his heart, and he might see the truth. Dumping a bag of your ¡®evidence¡¯ before him will only harden his resolve.¡±

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    Well, injustice hardens mine.

    Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t much to work with. On Malin and Empire, by Jehanne Corelle, the book Fouchand had last been reading, had turned out to be much as Magnifico had said it would be, a multi-century history of the city from the time of the Three Cubs to the sealing of Khali. Commentary on buildings, population, laws, with running commentary on each.

    Baffling, really, that it would have so caught his interest, but given the deal that Magnifico had put before the late Duke, it seemed relevant somehow, if only there were a way to find it.

    Then there was the scrap of cloth snagged on the balcony, buried under ivy that had grown over it in the weeks since. It had potential in that Lumi¨¨re¡¯s investigation had missed it, but the black fabric didn¡¯t match the clothing of anyone known to be in the castle that night.

    The most promising object was the door locking mechanism, destroyed from the inside by what other temple sages said was probably magic, but nothing they¡¯d seen before. If only ¡®probably¡¯ were good enough. As it was, Lumi¨¦re could tear it to shreds. The guards had forced the door after all, and the dark residue was invisible to anyone with normal eyesight.

    Still, it was the best he had. Guy¡¯s script certainly wasn¡¯t going to turn things around. Although he knows this place better than you, navigating the whims of high lords and ladies as they maneuver for dominance. The chance Guy was right was worth trying his approach, but Fernan didn¡¯t intend to rely on it.

    Fernan steeled himself to enter the sweltering chamber, inhaling deeply of the slightly fresher hallway air.

    Only someone was tapping on his shoulder.

    He spun around to see a familiar shaded aura in thick, draped robes, probably his formal garments. ¡°Jethro. I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d see you again.¡± What the mysterious man had said about Avalon¡¯s prince being kidnapped by pirates had turned out to be true, which lent him a shred of credibility, but he was still highly suspicious. Especially since that raised questions about how he¡¯d known so much earlier than everyone else. ¡°Going to tell me to act again without actually helping?¡±

    He sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t really think about how it would look to you.¡±

    Something seems off about him.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Fernan said, not even sarcastic. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m used to it at this point.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Jethro breathed deep, closer to the panting of an animal than any human ought to have been capable of. ¡°This should help, then.¡± He pulled out something from within his robes, some kind of wreath wrapped in black, sucking light out of the air even in the awful heat. Dark metal, styled in the fashion of branches, but shaped in just the manner to¡­

    ¡°That¡¯s a crown.¡± Fernan blinked. ¡°Why do you have a crown?¡±

    ¡°Seemed like it might be useful.¡± Jethro handed it to Fernan, sweeping his cloak to hide the motion. ¡°And I had to do something here anyway, before the trial starts.¡±

    ¡®Seems like it might be useful¡¯? ¡°What possible use would a crown have at a trial? What could it do?¡±

    Jethro shrugged. ¡°Not sure. I don¡¯t really have time to get into it.¡±

    ¡°Wh¡ª¡± That¡¯s it! The words died on Fernan¡¯s lips as he realized what had changed. ¡°You¡¯re talking differently from when we met before. Very differently,¡± Fernan noted. ¡°Stressed?¡±

    Jethro shook his head rapidly, as if vibrating the malaise from his body. ¡°Quite to the contrary, my good fellow. It¡¯s simply this dreadful climate. I feel as if my very bones are undergoing calefaction.¡± Back to verbosity, then. It painted a puzzling portrait, that perhaps he was only pretending. And if so, why?

    The spy took another deep breath. ¡°The disguise doesn¡¯t help, either.¡±

    ¡°What disguise?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Jethro¡¯s mouth remained open. ¡°Right, your condition. I suppose you can¡¯t tell, but I¡¯m wearing easily three times more layers than any gentleman ought to in such sweltering conditions. Magnifico is afoot, and if he sees me all is lost.¡±

    Who are you?

    ¡°Well, thank you,¡± Fernan said instead, tucking the crown into his bag with the other evidence. ¡°Good luck with whatever you¡¯re here to do.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need it,¡± Jethro responded through what was probably a grimace, based on the movement of his jaw. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s no way around this. Good luck to you as well.¡±

    ¡°I hope it helps.¡± And that what you want aligns with justice.

    ¡°Trust me.¡± Jethro winked, the light of one eye flickering. ¡°You handle the trial, and I¡¯ll handle the lords. That¡¯s what¡¯s always worked out.¡±

    ¡°Handle them? Just what are you planning anyway? Are people in danger, here?¡±

    But, of course, Jethro had vanished in an instant. None of the other people passing through the hall even seemed to have noticed, which was almost stranger. A heavily-bundled man vanishing into thin air like that certainly ought to have garnered some kind of response.

    That, though, was ultimately a mystery for another time. Right now he had an innocent person to defend from cruel injustice.

    ¡°Took your time,¡± Guy muttered as Fernan passed him, making his way to the table where he would stand for the defense. Unfortunately, while only a sage could act as an official solicitor, Guy was allowed to stand at his side and ¡®aid¡¯ him, which of course he had insisted upon.

    Fernan emptied his bag on the table in front of him, so that everything could be in view: the cloth, the book, the lock, and now the crown. Guy¡¯s script fluttered out too, although it was utterly useless, being completely unreadable.

    Across the room, where the representative of the Empire would stand, a familiar glow caught his eye, bright aura standing out even against the warm air. Behind the podium that would shield them from human eyes, he could see the representative punching at the air, weight on the balls of her feet.

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± The disappoint was thick in Guy¡¯s voice.

    Laura.

    ¡°Hi Fernan!¡± She called out, breaking her boxer¡¯s stance to give him a wave. ¡°Told you we¡¯d end up dueling, right? Course, I figured it¡¯d be more of a spar and less of a¡­ this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you,¡± Fernan responded neutrally, not sure whether he was lying or not.

    Why isn¡¯t it empty? Lumi¨¨re was supposed to stand for both, as ridiculously unfair as that was. No doubt this was some way to stack the circumstances even more firmly in his favor. This was the man who had planned every last detail of a chaotic duel to assure his victory, who now ruled Guerron in effect and would soon in law as well.

    Nothing would be left up to chance.

    ¡°You too!¡± She flicked her finger towards him, letting out a tiny red puff of fire that dissipated into the air before it was even halfway across the room. ¡°Is Mara coming? Aurelian didn¡¯t want me bring my familiar in, but I thought maybe¡ª¡±

    She interrupted herself as Lord Lumi¨¨re cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

    Fernan gave Laura a quick shake of his head in answer before anyone spoke again.

    ¡°Welcome all,¡± Lumi¨¨re called out to the room, sitting straight on his throne. ¡°As House Debray cannot stand in judgement itself, I have no choice but to oversee this battle myself. As Lord Regent for the boy Fox-King Lucien Renart, I do open this forum to the grievances of his subjects. Who shall issue the challenge?¡±

    ¡°The Empire is the aggrieved party, my lord. And so the counsel for the Empire shall issue the challenge.¡± Laura¡¯s face pulled back in a smile.

    Lumi¨¨re had chosen a crony to speak in his stead, representing his interests while maintaining the pretense of impartiality. The way she literally beamed at his approval only made it clearer.

    ¡°What is your grievance, my lady Bougitte?¡±

    She flipped her hair back, gleaming red in the heat. ¡°On the eighteenth day of the third month, Lady Annette Debray did murder most cruelly her grandfather, Duke Fouchand Debray. As a representative for the Empire, I demand redress for her crime.¡±

    ¡°Then issue your challenge.¡±

    Laura bounced as she stepped out from behind the podium, pointing her finger across the room towards where Annette sat under careful guard. ¡°For your crimes against Duke Fouchand, I challenge you to a duel for justice, with Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re to bear witness.¡±

    Annette looked better than she had any right to. Her head was drooping with fatigue, her eyes blinking rapidly, but still she held her head high as she responded. ¡°I accept your challenge, Lady Bougitte.¡±

    ¡°As the challenged party, you may name the terms of the duel.¡± Lumi¨¨re leaned back on his throne.

    ¡°Then I name the truth as my weapon, the law as my battlefield.¡± According to Guy, this had once been a radical trick, a clever way to twist the usual conventions for trial by battle into something fairer for some long-dead noble with no hope of winning the duel himself. But it had caught on so rapidly that within two generations, practically every trial was decided this way.

    It still seemed more than a bit ridiculous though, honestly.

    ¡°Will you stand and fight?¡± Laura asked, still reciting the standard language.

    ¡°Not myself, for I am not a sage. I name Fernan Montaigne as my champion. He fights with my sword, his words carry my breath.¡±

    ¡°I accept your terms, Lady Annette.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re nodded. ¡°Then let the battle begin.¡±

 Florette VIII: The Rescuer

    Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

    Florette raced across the cobblestones, blood pounding in her ears.

    At this hour, the city was quiet. Even the distant roar of the party she¡¯d left behind had long faded into the background. Lunette, the moon spirit, glowed brightly tonight, nearly full. A good thing too, since the lamps on the north side of the city were sparse and poorly-maintained. Perhaps one in eight was still lit at this hour, and its light was meager in turn.

    Otherwise Florette probably would have broken an ankle sprinting down the hill and away from that horrid, interminable party.

    Honestly, breaking something still wasn¡¯t out of the question. She¡¯d already fallen once, trying to climb the Great Temple wall without stopping to catch her breath. Stone walls were a thousand times easier to clamber up than the steep mountainsides had been, but she still needed the stamina to actually make it.

    All for nothing, too, since Claude wasn¡¯t even there. And if she couldn¡¯t find him soon¡­

    It didn¡¯t even bear thinking about.

    ?

    Florette left Camille on that cliffside to ruminate. If the sun was kind, maybe the talk would even pierce her arrogant fa?ade. She found herself walking away from the main thrust of the party, towards the well-built figure standing in the lee of an enormous tree.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Charlotte¡¯s face was surprisingly soft. ¡°It looked like you were fighting.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Florette punctuated the response with a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s just¡ª She sounds so worldly and smart for a while, and you forget she¡¯s so horrid. And then you hear something that brings it all back¡­ And she¡¯s so blind to who she is! I¡¯ve never seen someone with less self-awareness.¡±

    ¡°What about Sir Gerald Stewart?¡± Charlotte countered, which was just about impossible to refute. ¡°After a few months with him, smart but horrible is sounding more and more appealing.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got me there,¡± Florette admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you put up with him.¡±

    ¡°Because I have to.¡± She stretched her arms up above her head, sleeves falling back to reveal even more muscle on her arms. ¡°I doubt it¡¯s that different from why you serve Lady Carrine.¡±

    Ugh, right. ¡°It¡¯s not usually like that for us though. Especially not at a party like this! We agreed beforehand.¡±

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s why she lets you drink on the job.¡±

    She doesn¡¯t let me do anything; I don¡¯t work for her. But irritatingly, Florette had to admit that that being her guard was legitimately the most plausible explanation, and would have to continue with it for the good of the ruse. ¡°It¡¯s a party,¡± she said, instead of correcting her. ¡°Besides, she can handle herself better than almost anyone. I once saw her¡ª¡± Duel Lumi¨¨re?

    Idiot.

    The near-mistake sent a jolt of energy through her, shaking away some of the alcohol¡¯s lethargy. She hiccuped to hide the interruption. ¡°I once saw her hold her own against the Fox King himself. Still lost, but she made him fight for it.¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°The Fox-King fought his subjects?¡±

    Florette snorted. ¡°Sparring, I mean. The man practically lived with a sword in his hand.¡± Even hacking blindly through the smoke after the duel, he must have slain a dozen of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s sages. ¡°He was surprisingly approachable, actually.¡±

    ¡°That sounds nice.¡± Charlotte rubbed the back of her neck. ¡°I always kind of wondered. My parents said that King Romain would always throw these enormous feasts on the beach, bread and wine as far as the eye could see. But he was surrounded by his courtiers. Further out, nobles and gentry, then the errant knights and mercenaries¡­ Hard to imagine someone like me meeting the Fox-King in person.¡±

    Her parents are from here? ¡°Why do you do it then?¡±

    ¡°Um, what?¡±

    Florette rubbed her eyes. ¡°Sorry, it connected in my head. If your family is from Malin, why would you serve the Guardians? Especially if you¡¯re stuck cleaning up after that idiot the entire time?¡±

    Charlotte took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the movement of the air. ¡°What else is there? My brother will inherit the farm when my parents die.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re working for Avalon!¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Everyone here is, one way or another. Even the Acolytes, let alone regular people. At least this way I¡¯m not mangling my hands in a factory or blackening my lungs in a mine. Or darkening my soul spreading their propaganda at a school.¡±

    Florette frowned.

    ¡°It¡¯s not all like that, either. The Guardians may be Avalon¡¯s, but a lot of what we do really is for everyone. Right now we¡¯re tracking down someone who killed a dozen people bombing the harbor. Three of them were children¡­ Never even found out who they were. They¡¯re buried unmarked in Fuite Gardens.¡± She inhaled deep. ¡±That¡¯s unforgivable no matter what, and they need to be stopped.

    Florette nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s not even the only one. Take the Railyard Robber, for example.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°You forgot already?¡± She shook her head sadly. ¡°The one who stole those plans from Director Thorley. They climbed through the roof, remember?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Florette sucked in air through her teeth. ¡°That sounds vaguely familiar. I don¡¯t see how it¡¯s comparable to mass murder though.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Not nearly on the same level as the harbor bomber or anything, and if I¡¯m honest with you, I¡¯m not losing sleep over a few pilfered papers, but they killed two people. Disappeared without a trace.¡±

    Disappeared? Florette blinked, trying to imagine what she was talking about. ¡°Oh,¡± she realized. ¡°The ones with the wagon. Gary was telling me about that,¡± she added for cover. They weren¡¯t dead though, they¡¯d just done the smart thing and taken the money and run. Nothing to lose sleep over.

    ¡°Of course he was.¡± She sighed lightly. ¡°You know, I was the one who figured that out. He didn¡¯t even want to bother interviewing the workers at all! Somehow even the Director didn¡¯t realize that two people working for him had vanished into thin air.¡±

    ¡°A lot of people just don¡¯t think about it, not when where they are in life means they don¡¯t have to.¡± They might even come to the absurd conclusion that marching people into the ocean to drown didn¡¯t constitute killing them.

    ¡°It¡¯s distressingly common,¡± Charlotte agreed. ¡°My guess is that this robber did the same thing with Thorley¡¯s assistant. He could barely even speak when I found him, after what the Forresters did to him. And then he lost his livelihood too.¡± She frowned. ¡°All that just to prove he wasn¡¯t involved. It¡¯s absurd.¡±

    ¡°They¡­¡± Florette gulped. ¡°They tortured him?¡±

    ¡°And then some.¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°Got to the point that he was confessing to anything he could think of just to make it stop: smuggling, conspiring to rebel, murder, the railyard robbery, even kidnapping Prince Luce.¡±

    ¡°As if one person could manage even half of that.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. The Forresters were smart enough to know he was just saying anything to make it stop. They even let him go afterwards. But then why do it at all?¡±

    Florette clenched her fists. ¡°Even on a pragmatic level, it¡¯s moronic. But when you add the injustice¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Charlotte stepped closer, her hair catching the moonlight. ¡°If I can move up in rank, maybe it¡¯s the kind of thing I can do something about. Work with what¡¯s there if it can¡¯t be stopped, you know?¡±

    ¡°But getting there means putting up with Sir Prick.¡±

    She laughed, nodding in agreement.

    I don¡¯t know whether you¡¯re adorably na?ve or scarily ruthless. It wasn¡¯t excusable, not really. And her plan would never work but¡­ Florette found it harder to fault her than she expected to. She¡¯s not carrying the banner, just trying to make her way through this fucked-up world.

    But she was doing it by becoming part of the most fucked-up parts of it.

    ¡°It already got me facetime with Captain Whitbey, and if we can catch this Railyard Robber, I ought to shoot up the ladder. It¡¯s my best chance, anyway¡­¡± She looked to the side, holding one arm with the other behind her back. ¡°Lord Perimont gave us one day to connect the crime to Clocha?ne. If Lady Carrine doesn¡¯t come through helping find Claude tomorrow, I¡¯ll probably be the next one the Forresters drag down for interrogation.¡±

    She won¡¯t, and I can¡¯t let you find Claude either. ¡°Fuck.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. If I fail, my life as I know it is over. But Perimont is nothing if not unforgiving; it might be even more final than that.¡± She stepped even closer, to the point that Florette could feel her breath on her lips. ¡°This might be my last night on this earth.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Because of me¡­

    There were lines that shouldn¡¯t be crossed, no matter the temptation.

    How much could one night hurt, though?

    Florette pounded her fist against the side of her leg, speaking through grit teeth. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if this is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Come on. I¡¯ve seen the way you were looking at me. You know you want to.¡± Her hand reached up and touched the side of her face. ¡°What¡¯s the harm?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± She turned her head aside. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry. Not now.¡±

    Florette stepped away, resisting the urge to hit herself in the face. ¡°Maybe in a few days.¡± If you¡¯re still alive.

    She expected Charlotte to look sad, or disappointed, but instead her eyes were narrowed. ¡°That¡¯s a nice earring you have,¡± she spoke slowly. ¡°A blue stone, and only the one. I¡¯ve heard that¡¯s a new fashion, but they usually come in a set. Do you mind if I ask where you got it?¡±

    Did I break her brain?

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Can¡¯t exactly say I stole it from the Prince. ¡°I found it. On the beach.¡± She almost slapped herself afterwards. Brilliant lie, Florette. Might as well have said it fell off the back of a wagon.

    ¡°You did?¡± She folded her arms. ¡°You know, Simon Perimont found a single blue earring on the beach too, right out in the open, mere hours after the harbor bombing. He gave me a description, and it sounded exactly like the one you¡¯re wearing now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a¡­ strange coincidence¡­¡±

    Charlotte frowned. ¡°We scoured the beach for weeks without finding its opposite, practically looked under every grain of sand. I even took another look once Gary told me about the first one. And you didn¡¯t even show up until long after the bombing occurred. I¡¯m surprised you managed to find what scores of Guardians missed, especially by mere happenstance.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± she said a touch too quickly. Is she trying to pin the bombing on me now? That was an insane level of pettiness over a simple rejection. And one for her own good, too. ¡°When I said I found it on the beach, I meant in Guerron, long before I came here. I¡¯m absolutely positive that one has nothing to do with the other.¡±

    ¡°You are?¡± Charlotte tilted her head back, looking deep in thought. ¡°Because the ship with the explosives¡¯ last port of call before getting here was Guerron. A matched set, separated by miles of water. I¡¯d guess that one took a ride on the ship, while the other didn¡¯t. Could even be the bomber, leaving one by accident.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a massive leap in logic! There¡¯s a million reasons it might have happened even if they are a pair, and even that¡¯s not a given. You can¡¯t jump to conclusions like that! Think!¡±

    ¡°Sure. Of course. It¡¯s just a hunch, and I can¡¯t prove anything yet, but¡­¡± Her head tilted. ¡°Why are you being so weird about this?¡±

    Should have just told her it was Camille¡¯s. She¡¯s supposed to be dead anyway, who would care if she¡¯d also done a bit of bombing?

    ¡°Because it sounds like you¡¯re acusing me of bombing the harbor!¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°Oh fuck, I bet it does.¡± She exhaled sharply. ¡°Wow, I am really sorry about that!¡±

    ¡°You should be! Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.¡± Florette reached up to her ear and removed the offending jewelry. ¡°Take it.¡± She tossed the earring to Charlotte, who impressively caught it one-handed. ¡°Dunno if it¡¯ll really help, but fuck whoever bombed that harbor.¡± Even if they were doing it for the right reasons, Avalon barely even suffered for it and two dozen people are dead. Children¡­ ¡°They deserve whatever you¡¯ve got coming for them.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Her eyes widened, grey-blue in the moonlight. ¡°Thanks! I¡¯ll be sure to give it back once I¡¯m done with it.¡±

    Hopefully it would buy Charlotte some reprieve too, since she definitely wouldn¡¯t be catching the Railyard Robber or getting her hands on Claude.

    Although actually, if Charlotte¡¯s hunch were right, that would mean that Prince Luce was behind the bombing. That¡­ really didn¡¯t fit what she¡¯d seen of him. Florette wouldn¡¯t put it past Avalon to have one of their own do it as a pretext for war, but Luce would be the absolute last person to. No one is that good an actor.

    ¡°And also,¡± Charlotte added. ¡°About Lady Carrine helping me find Claude¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sworn to keep my lady¡¯s secrets.¡± Finally this ruse is proving useful. ¡°She promised to, and I¡¯ll only leave it at that.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Of course. But, you know, if she doesn¡¯t come through for whatever reason¡­ I know it¡¯s not your fault.¡± She turned her head to the path down the hill, shaded in darkness by the overgrown trees surrounding it. ¡°I should probably go work on this.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s after midnight.¡±

    Charlotte shrugged. ¡°Sleep is for people who won¡¯t be executed for fucking up in a matter of days. And some strange hunch tells me that I might need another way to get to Claude or Clocha?ne.¡±

    Or give up entirely once you catch someone else, with any luck. ¡°What about Sir Gerald?¡±

    ¡°Him?¡± She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°He won¡¯t even wake up until the afternoon, probably in Lady Mary¡¯s bed. I won¡¯t be missed.¡±

    Florette couldn¡¯t help but smile at that, perhaps wider than was advisable. ¡°Good hunting.¡±

    The last effects of the alcohol faded away as Florette watched Charlotte leave, briskly marching back into the city.

    Finally, I can take a second and catch my breath. Simon and Whitbey had given them valuable information. A massive shipment of weapons could only practically be brought to the city two ways, and one of them was still a pile of splinters.

    It was still possible that they would try to get them through the harbor on rowboats, ferrying everything individually. That was what she and Eloise had done, though it had apparently taken far longer and demanded far more people to move the same amount of cargo.

    But they hadn¡¯t had any choice about that. Everything was already aboard the ship, and other avenues were closed to a group of pirates masquerading as a princely escort.

    A Territorial Governor had a considerably better option, conveniently operational and dedicated to governmental and military use only.

    And unlike a ship, it could be robbed by land.

    All she needed to do was find out the schedule and formulate a proper plan to carry it out, gather up a crew again, and¡ª

    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that cute? You finally got over Eloise.¡±

    Florette whirled around to face the voice. ¡°Ysengrin.¡±

    He smiled wolfishly. ¡°Florette. Or is it Celine now?¡±

    ¡°Celine is better. We¡¯re far enough that no one should overhear anything, but it''s always good to be safe.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡± Yse sighed. ¡°Because when you told me you were having a party, you never mentioned that you were co-hosting it with an Acolyte.¡±

    Oh, what the fuck is it now? ¡°I gave you a guest list, Yse. You said you didn¡¯t want to come.¡±

    ¡°Lady Carrine wasn¡¯t on the list.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s not a guest.¡± Florette waved her hands. ¡°Duh.¡±

    Ysengrin¡¯s one visible eye looked entirely unamused. ¡°Jacques told us not to get mixed up with Acolytes. He was incredibly clear about it. Did you forget?¡±

    Honestly, yeah. Discovering Camille had kind of taken priority. She wasn¡¯t really an Acolyte anyway. ¡°So now he wants me to come into his cave to get yelled at?¡± She sighed. ¡°Alright, fine. I don¡¯t really work for him, but I guess it¡¯s harmless enough. I just need to get Claude out of town first.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Florette¡­¡± He rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°That¡¯s exactly the problem.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Carrine¡¯s leading the investigators down the garden path tomorrow while I get him out of the way. Going to give him most of the railyard plans'' money too, seems only fair. He¡¯s definitely the one that¡¯s suffered the most for it. And I¡¯m about to have something better anyway.¡±

    ¡°Florette¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh come on, Yse, it¡¯s just money. But I guess it is yours; you don¡¯t have to kick in if you don¡¯t want to. But I think it¡¯s the right thing to do. We aren¡¯t the ones who have to skip town because of that job.¡±

    Ysengrin pounded his fist against the tree next to him. ¡°Jacques knows about Claude, alright? He found out at a meeting with Simon Perimont this afternoon. It came up in conversation because of your party.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°Ok. I mean, that¡¯s not how I would have played it, but if anything maybe this helps. Jacques probably has better connections to help him on the run than we do alone. Could get him a cushier set-up somewhere. Maybe Porte Lumi¨¨re? He¡¯s got people there, right?¡±

    ¡°He does¡­¡± Ysengrin inhaled sharply. ¡°But he knows that Claude is under investigation now. Thanks to the railyard heist and its aftermath, Claude knows enough to connect Jacques to the crime.¡± Was that a tear in his eye? ¡°He¡¯s never going to leave the city. And the investigators are never going to find him.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ Oh fuck!¡± Florette leapt forward and grabbed him by the collar. ¡°Why did you take so long to say that? We have to go, now. Shit, I thought we just had to beat Charlotte to him, had a day for that, but... Fuck! There¡¯s no time to waste!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t open with it because there¡¯s nothing to be done, alright? It¡¯s Jacques. If he wants him dead, he will be.¡± He lifted his eyepatch to wipe his face with the back of his hands. ¡°This is what has to happen. He could put both of us in too, Florette. And going against Jacques? We might as well just dig another two graves.¡±

    Florette shoved him back against the tree. ¡°I liked you better when I thought you had a spine.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ª¡±

    She couldn¡¯t hear the rest of what he had to say, because she was already running.

    ?

    He wasn¡¯t in his spot in the north end; he wasn¡¯t in the tunnels; he wasn¡¯t at the Great Temple, nor any of the others where she¡¯d ever known him to be.

    Maybe he left town already. Maybe he knew the danger he was in.

    It didn¡¯t seem very likely though. She and Jacques Clocha?ne both had ways to know that there was a hunt for him ahead of time; Claude would have had no idea. And every second thinking about it only ran out his clock further.

    A final, mad idea had come to her, but it was so far away from everything else. If I¡¯m wrong¡­

    But there had been no alternatives left. Soon, the sun would be rising, and then it would be all the harder for him to hide, all the more likely Clocha?ne could find him first.

    If he wasn¡¯t here¡­

    The tide was low enough that the ruined Temple of Levian was actually above the waterline. The doors had long since been stolen, allowing Florette to creep inside without any need to climb up.

    Camille had said that most of the passageways and structures had collapsed, and half the time it was occupied by nasty children, but it was late enough that even they seemed to be gone, litter and detritus the only sign that they were here.

    And there, in the center of the square¡ª

    ¡°Claude!¡± Florette ran up and hugged him close. ¡°You¡¯re alive!¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± The patch where his streak of hair had been cut out had finally grown back in, showing a messy blonde mop that at least looked complete. ¡°What a weird way to greet someone.¡±

    ¡°Not when the whole city¡¯s looking for you! We have to get you out of town before the guardians find you, or worse, Jacques Clocha?ne. I brought some money for you. I¡¯m sorry it¡¯s not more, but I needed to find you before they did.¡±

    ¡°Whoa whoa, what?¡±

    ¡°What on earth are you even doing here anyway?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Claude blinked. ¡°I got a letter from an old friend, about a week ago. Said to meet here tonight. Seeing you here, I figured you got one too.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± Florette looked past Claude, deeper into the temple. And there¡ª

    ¡°Hey, killer.¡± Eloise smiled. ¡°Did you miss me?¡±

 Fernan VIII: The Defense

    Guy Valvert scoffed quietly as the first witness was brought in. ¡°Powder on a pig,¡± he said softly, shaking his head in disapproval. ¡°It bodes well for us that they would draw on the unreliable fables of a maid to support themselves. Had they anyone more credible, surely they would have been used.¡±

    Unless they didn¡¯t even think it was necessary.

    Lord Lumi¨¨re inclined his head slightly at Laura Bougitte, his golden aura glowing brighter. ¡°Lady Bougitte, as it is you who issues the challenge in the name of the Empire, please present your account of the facts.¡±

    ¡°Definitely, Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡± Traces of flame danced around her hair as she bowed in turn. ¡°It¡¯s a shame that Lady Annette choose truth as her battlefield, because it¡¯s the very facts that are going to bury her.¡±

    ¡°How dare she smile as she defies her Duchess?¡± Valvert muttered. ¡°It¡¯s disgraceful.¡±

    ¡°On the twenty-sixth day of the third month, between the hours of midnight and sunrise, Lady Annette pushed the late, great Duke Fouchand from his balcony, killing him instantly as he hit the courtyard below.¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°An awful way to go, all the worse for the betrayal from such a close member of his own family. When Soleil rose from beyond the horizon, the Duke¡¯s body was found, while Lady Annette was barricaded in his chamber.¡±

    Because someone or something locked her in. There was room for argument, there, an alternative narrative based on what actually happened.

    ¡°She might deny what she did, but it¡¯s totally obvious what happened!¡± Laura glowed bright. ¡°Not only was she the only one who could have been in his room when he fell, I¡¯ve got a witness that saw her push him. She¡¯ll tell you the whole harrowing tale, when we call her up, cementing the Lady¡¯s guilt beyond all doubt.¡±

    She took another bow, flames on her fingertips tracing streaks through the air as her hand moved.

    ¡°Excellently put, Laura.¡± Slowly, Lumi¨¨re turned his head to Fernan. ¡°And the defense? Your account of events?¡±

    ¡°Exactly as I wrote it,¡± Guy hissed. ¡°It¡¯s the entire reason you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re, members of the gallery, I offer you the simple truth, penned by the esteemed Count Valvert of Dorseille himself, in defense of his innocent cousin.¡± He stood straight, projecting his voice across the room. ¡°Lady Annette is your Duchess, the ruler of your city, who stands above us all through the ancient and hallowed blood Debray that runs through her veins, a bloodline as old as the Empire itself. This very trial is an affront to her authority and her birth, and in a just world each of you would suffer horribly for even allowing it to take place, let alone attacking her personage over falsehoods.¡±

    Amazingly, the people in the room didn¡¯t jeer at that, rather staring with rapt attention, their eyes all focused on Fernan as one.

    ¡°The vile calumnies spread by duplicitous lowborn filth are nothing more than that, a pathetic attempt to besmirch the character of a woman who has faithfully served not only Duke Fouchand, but all of you. Who was it that planned the last six festivals of the sun, where feasting and merriment were given to even the lowest among you? Who is it that protected our shores from smugglers and brigands through her bureau of the sea, and ensured that the burden on those entering our fair city was never more than they could bear? Who is it that caught, tried, and executed six pieces of human filth attempting to do all of us great harm not three months ago?¡±

    As he spoke, a chorus of muttering began to spread through the gallery, though quiet enough that Lumi¨¨re made no move to arrest it.

    Was Guy¡¯s horrid, condescending speech actually working?

    ¡°All of you who have ever walked the beach safely, secure in the knowledge that her harbor guards would protect you, all of you who have ever feasted at the festival of the sun, or caught sight of its famed tournaments, you owe a fair judgment not only to your noble Duchess, but to yourselves. You, Lord Lumi¨¨re, most of all.¡±

    At that, the sun sage leaned forward in his seat.

    ¡°Lady Annette has done nothing to act against you, and you must know she would never harm her grandfather. Do not allow what is convenient to trump what is right. Declare her innocent before all the world, for she is.¡±

    A few scattered bits of applause echoed off the glass walls of the room before Lumi¨¨re flared pure white and called for silence.

    Really? That worked?

    ¡°I told you,¡± Valvert said smugly. ¡°This is a question of perception, emotions. Camille of all people told me that once, and as horrid a woman as she was, she was also right. Discredit Annette¡¯s accusers and defend her character, until Lumi¨¨re has no choice but to concede to reality.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still his decision, in the end.¡± And he hardly looked convinced, leaning back in his chair as the witness was brought to the center of the room. ¡°But I see what you¡¯re doing.¡± Fernan allowed himself the slightest of smiles. ¡°If we can convince the people of her innocence, Lumi¨¨re will have a riot on his hands the moment he rules against her.¡±

    ¡°Precisely. If he wishes to rule the city, his pawn must actually prove Annette guilty, not merely ram a judgment through.¡± Valvert gave him a hard pat on the back. ¡°All the more so when you consider who¡¯s gathered here: courtiers, nobles, even some merchants, who for all their common trade are at least influential in their own right. Aurelian wanted a firm show of power before the most important people in the city, but they knew Annette better than the riff-raff, and their opinion matters far more.¡±

    You were so close, Guy. ¡°I wish we could have done this outside. Then everyone could see it.¡± Some fresh air would have helped ameliorate the heat, too.

    ¡°Well that simply isn¡¯t done, boy. The better part of the city is still here to bear witness, and I knew just the argument to craft for them.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Now pay attention. That maid is going to spread her disgusting lies, and you must tear them to shreds.¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°Since Annette didn¡¯t do it, there¡¯s got to be something in her account that contradicts reality. If I can pick it apart just right¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. She¡¯s just a maid. Attack her birth, her character, the very audacity that she would betray her liege lady. Her word alone against Annette¡¯s is worthless, and it¡¯s galling that Aurelian would imply otherwise with this farce of a trial.¡±

    ¡°He seemed genuinely mad at Annette. Whatever this maid¡¯s account of things is, it seemed like it convinced him, at least along with everything else.¡±

    Valvert scoffed, but remained silent as the proceedings began.

    ¡°Alright, what¡¯s your name?¡± Laura leaned comfortably against the back wall. ¡°And like, what¡¯s your deal?¡±

    Lumi¨¨re turned his head to her, probably glaring given the hush in the air.

    Laura jumped up from her slouch nervously. ¡°Uh rather, I mean: Please state your name, lands, and titles for the benefit of the magistrate.¡±

    ¡°M-my name is Blanche, if it please milady.¡± Her posture was stooped with age, her movements shaky. ¡°I haven¡¯t got any lands or titles, just supervise the cleaning some nights.¡±

    ¡°As if that doesn¡¯t speak for itself,¡± Guy muttered.

    ¡°The representative of the Empire may begin her direct examination,¡± Lumi¨¨re spoke gravely, ignoring Valvert.

    ¡°Right!¡± Laura stepped out from behind her podium. ¡°Where were you on the twenty-sixth night of the third month? The night Duke Fouchand was murdered.¡±

    ¡°Wait, hold on,¡± Fernan interrupted. ¡°We haven¡¯t established that the Duke was murdered. That¡¯s what the whole trial is about. You can¡¯t just proceed as if it¡¯s already proven fact.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re laughed. ¡°He¡¯s got you there, Laura. Please rephrase the question.¡± That worked too? It was getting less and less clear what Lumi¨¨re¡¯s goal was, here.

    Guy nodded approvingly. ¡°He¡¯s meant to be a neutral arbiter. If something seems amiss, don¡¯t hesitate to object. And be ready for Laura to do the same.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Fernan nodded.

    ¡°Fine.¡± A flicker of flame accompanied Laura¡¯s breath. ¡°Where were you the last night of the Duke¡¯s life?¡±

    Blanche¡¯s aura was barely visible as her head turned back and forth to follow the exchange. When she spoke again, the hesitance in her voice shone through even more strongly than before. ¡°I was working in the East Tower. Was in there all night, really.¡±

    ¡°The whole time? Did you leave that tower at any point?¡± Laura asked rhetorically.

    ¡°I did not, milady. Couldn¡¯t, with the state of that place.¡± Interesting.

    ¡°How is the visibility of Duke Fouchand¡¯s balcony from the East Tower? What could you see from where you were working?¡±

    ¡°A-all of it, near as I could tell. Milord¡¯s balcony is just over on another tower close by. Right next to East Tower, really. You can¡¯t miss it.¡±

    Laura flared brighter. ¡°Tell us what you saw that night.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Was horrible, it was.¡± Blanche shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. ¡°Lady Annette came out from inside, ran up behind him while he was all unsuspecting, and pushed him right off. I didn¡¯t have a second to think before he hit the ground.¡± She sniffled. ¡°I ran for the guards as fast I could, and they asked me all the same questions.¡± And probably gave her the Guy Valvert treatment, if her obvious fear was anything to go by.

    ¡°Well, there you have it.¡± Laura vaulted back over her podium. ¡°Nothing further, Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°Good. And rather definitive, it would seem.¡± Lord Lumi¨¨re nodded, sunken back into his chair. He didn¡¯t sound particularly pleased, but maybe that was a front. ¡°Does the defense have any questions of its own, before the witness is dismissed?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Fernan walked out into the center of the room, trying to maintain his composure.

    ¡°Go for the throat,¡± Guy whispered as he passed, admittedly probably trying to help in his own way. ¡°Do this right and the gallery will be throwing things at her before long.¡±

    Just let it lie. There were more important things to focus on right now. ¡°Blanche, you mentioned having to work late because of the state of things. Was there some unusual mess that night? And if so, what was it?¡±

    Blanche blinked. ¡°Oh, it was awful, it was. Scorched walls, burned tapestries, half the shelves were knocked over, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Laura cut in. ¡°None of this is relevant to anything.¡±

    ¡°It could be! Something like that happening the same night the Duke died probably isn¡¯t a coincidence. It sounds like a fight happened, probably involving a flame sage.¡±

    ¡°No, Laura is right,¡± Lumi¨¨re spoke hurriedly, leaning forward intently. ¡°Some sages getting into a scuffle in the halls is hardly relevant to the situation here. Move on to another line of questioning or dismiss the witness.¡±

    Fuck. That had seemed promising, too.

    Fernan jumped back to the table with his evidence, trying to see if any of it contradicted what the maid had said.

    ¡°You know,¡± Guy said as Fernan was rifling through. ¡°The East Tower is where my uncle put the rooms that locked from the outside.¡±

    ¡°It was a prison?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. The accommodations were up to the standards of the rest of the castle, as was the view. They were perfectly suitable for any noble guests that might be staying there. But some ¡®guests¡¯ cannot be allowed to roam freely, while remaining too well-born for a dungeon. Those chambers serve as a¡­ compromise between security and diplomacy.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Of course. ¡°Someone was escaping captivity, or trying to. They got in a fight and she had to clean it up.¡±

    ¡°It seems the most likely possibility. Though I can¡¯t recall anyone occupying those rooms at the time.¡± Guy shrugged. ¡°Most likely it¡¯s as irrelevant as Aurelian says. Just impugn this vile liar and be done with it.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡± Lumi¨¨re called out. ¡°May the witness be dismissed, or do you wish to try more of my patience?¡±

    Fernan started to walk back, trying to think of anything else to ask that might help. Some¡ª

    He stopped, and turned back to Valvert. ¡°What floor were those rooms on?¡±

    ¡°What? Uh, on the ground.They don¡¯t exactly deserve a view. What does it matter?¡±

    And there it is. Fernan allowed himself a smile as he stepped back into the center. ¡°Blanche, you were cleaning on the ground floor, is that correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes milord. All night, I was.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a¡ª¡± He shook his head. ¡°Anyway, you were at ground level. Duke Fouchand¡¯s balcony is many stories into the air. I visited it myself, and the ground seemed awfully far away at the time.¡± Especially climbing up that accursed ladder blind. ¡°You could really see it clearly?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± She put her hand to her mouth. ¡°I was looking up, is all. If you crane your neck up enough, you can still get a good look. It¡¯s nice to look at, pretty thing, it is.¡±

    ¡°Fernan, please don¡¯t waste my time going over the same material as the Empire¡¯s representative already did.¡± Lumi¨¨re drummed his fingers against the wood under them.

    Fernan stepped closer to her. ¡°I¡¯m just concerned by the perspective, that¡¯s all. Imagine the sightline. Most of us in this room have seen the courtyard ourselves, perhaps the Duke¡¯s balcony as well. If you¡¯re looking up at it from that far beneath, most of what you see is the floor of it from the bottom. Only the very edge would be visible at that angle. So if you were where you say you were, I don¡¯t see how you could have seen anyone push the Duke from behind. I doubt you could even see the Duke.¡±

    ¡°I could so see the Duke!¡± she fired back. ¡°I saw him from below, saw him dangled over the ledge and then drop.¡±

    ¡°But not anyone behind him. Not from that angle.¡±

    Laura scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s pretty weak, Fernan. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s impossible that she might have seen it.¡±

    ¡°Unless she can see through the floor, it pretty much is. She claims Annette ran out from inside the apartments. That, indisputably, wouldn¡¯t have been visible from that low angle.¡± I should have thought of it sooner. But then, I can see through the floor. ¡°We can walk over there right now and take a look. Put someone up on the balcony for a demonstration, even. I¡¯m confident it will back up what I¡¯m saying.¡±

    Blanche jumped up, facing Laura with a jittering, weak glow. ¡°I-I¡¯m no liar! Please, don¡¯t¡­ Lady Bougitte, I¡¯m only saying what I was supposed to.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Guy growled with satisfaction. ¡°Now end her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not calling you a liar,¡± Fernan said instead. ¡°But it¡¯s easy to embellish, especially if it helps assuage the people interrogating you.¡±

    ¡°S¡¯ not emblement though! Lady Annette was the only one in the room. She had to have pushed him. It couldn¡¯t have been anyone else. It¡¯s just like you said, Lady Bougitte.¡±

    Laura hissed a stream of fire, clenching her fists tightly together. ¡°All you had to do was tell them what you saw!¡±

    ¡°But the guards said¡ª¡±

    ¡°Idiots.¡± She banged her head against the back of the wall. ¡°Probably thought they were helping too, coaching you like that.¡±

    ¡°It is distressing indeed,¡± Lumi¨¨re said. ¡°Rest assured, the witness will be disciplined for any falsehoods spoken today. Speak to what you saw, not what your interrogators told you to say.¡±

    ¡°Y-Yes, m-milord.¡± Blanche shrunk down even lower into herself. They must have threatened her badly for her to have done it. ¡°I just saw the Lord Duke dangling over the edge, and then he dropped.¡±

    Dangling¡­ She¡¯d mentioned that before as well. ¡°You¡¯re positive he was hanging off the edge? He didn¡¯t fall in one smooth motion?¡±

    Blanche scratched nose. ¡°Wasn¡¯t hanging, really. His arms weren¡¯t grabbing onto nothing, just flailing in the air.¡±

    ¡°Lady Annette twisting the knife before plunging it in, obviously.¡± Laura was breathing more evenly now, her posture returned to the slouch. ¡°You see? This quibble changes nothing.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true.¡± Fernan pointed to the Duchess, sitting silently to the side with her fists closed tightly, aura dim. ¡°Lady Annette is capable of many things, but I highly doubt that lifting an adult man and holding him over the edge for an extended period of time is one of them.¡±

    ¡°She pushed him and then he grabbed the ledge, then,¡± Laura said. ¡°It still doesn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Both his hands were flailing, she said. Someone was holding him up, and it couldn¡¯t have been Annette.¡±

    Laura shook her head. ¡°It had to have been Annette. She was the only one in his locked chambers when he fell. Is it so hard to believe that she¡¯s stronger than she looks?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Fernan insisted, though he felt the weakness of the argument. ¡°It means someone else must have been in there too, someone strong enough to hold the Duke over the side for that long without dropping him.¡±

    ¡°There was no one else in the room! I don¡¯t know how many times I have to say this, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Lumi¨¨re announced. ¡°The only evidence that this alleged dangling even took place is the word of one proven to be prone to deception. I can¡¯t in good conscience accept her testimony as evidence of anything.¡± He leaned back. ¡°Rest assured, she will pay for this misdeed in time. For the moment, we must continue the trial.¡±

    Blanche erupted into tears, as the guards forcefully grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

    ¡°It¡¯s so unfair. They bullied her into adding that, and now she¡¯s the one they¡¯re punishing for it.¡±

    ¡°I know, it¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Valvert patted him hard on the back again, in exactly the same spot as last time, which made it hurt even worse. ¡°Not as vicious as I might have hoped for, but it got the job done.¡±

    ¡°Laura,¡± Lumi¨¨re called out over the sound of the poor woman¡¯s sniffling. ¡°Please call your next witness.¡±

    ¡°Next witness? I thought we said that he was unnecessary here since we had another witness anyway. And more complicated than he was worth.¡±

    ¡°Well, it looks as if that may have changed.¡± He held up his hands. ¡°Of course, I am merely a neutral arbiter. The case to bring against Lady Annette is yours, as is the manner by which you do so. Just don¡¯t disappoint me.¡±

    ¡°No, of course.¡± She took a long, deep breath. ¡°I call forth as my next witness Magnifico of Avalon.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Lumi¨¨re said. ¡°Guards, go fetch him from his quarters.¡±

    Magnifico?

    Fernan couldn¡¯t help but grin. No wonder they¡¯d been reluctant to call him! He¡¯d even helped Fernan build his case, hardly the easily-bullied maid who would say whatever they needed her to.

    It would also give him an official chance to ask him about the locking mechanism. Jethro had mentioned binders, and Magnifico might have some unique insight there, being from Avalon. It was a stretch, but there was a chance he might be able to offer more than the sun sages at the temple had. Something more definitive could conclusively prove Annette¡¯s innocence, now that the locked door was the only real evidence against her.

    Perhaps the scrap of cloth too, on the off-chance it was actually relevant. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to ask, anyway.

    Guy took the opportunity to step out for some fresh air while Magnifico was being fetched, and Laura returned to boxing the air. Lumi¨¨re remained silent, staring out from his seat with calculated calm.

    Fernan decided to use the time burying himself in the rest of the evidence, trying to pare down his questions to the essentials and ensure that he could secure Magnifico¡¯s help as fast as possible, before Laura and Lumi¨¨re could confuse matters.

    The shuffling sounds of people standing up pulled him out of his study. As they parted, he could see Magnifico¡¯s familiar dark aura making its way through the room.

    ¡°Hello Fernan,¡± he said as he approached. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been around it for decades, but all this courtly intrigue still feels strange to me. I wasn¡¯t exactly raised as a prince.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± Fernan assured him. ¡°I¡¯ll help you, if you need it.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s a very kind offer, Fernan, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to refuse.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    He patted Fernan on the shoulder gently. ¡°Because I know that Annette killed the Duke, and I¡¯m about to go prove it.¡±

    A pit settled deep in his stomach, his eyes flaring bright and hot. ¡°You¡­ you¡­ How could you? You know she¡¯s innocent! We talked about this!¡±

    Magnifico put his hand on Fernan¡¯s head and ruffled his hair before Fernan could jerk his head back. ¡°I said I had doubts. Now I don¡¯t.¡± He shrugged casually, as if condemning an innocent woman to death was nothing to him. ¡°That¡¯s just the way it is. Nothing you can do about it.¡±

 Luce VII: The Interloper

    Getting into Charenton had taken a few hours, securing quarters at an inn another few more. Securing passage on a ship had taken most of the next day, with Luce choosing five potential captains and Eloise choosing from among them, to ensure that neither of them could direct the other onto a hostile ship. Getting to the point that he felt halfway alive again had taken the longest, and Luce still wasn¡¯t sure he was all the way there.

    ¡°What¡¯s in this broth? It tastes amazing.¡±

    Eloise¡¯s lips curled up slightly, barely noticeable. ¡°Fish.¡±

    That was probably sarcasm, but it was difficult to tell.

    ¡°It actually is,¡± she assured. ¡°Just, you know, seasoned and cooked with vegetables and stuff. Beats the fuck out of gnawing on those bony little guppies every night, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°You were the one catching them.¡± Luce took a sip from the bowl¡ªapparently they didn¡¯t serve it with a spoon here¡ªthen set it back at the table.

    For once, the day was fair, and the inn¡¯s common room was empty. Even the proprietor had retired after doling out the last ladles of the evening meal, leaving only the two of them to discuss their arrangements with some semblance of privacy.

    ¡°Next time I won¡¯t. See how well you fare then.¡± She set her empty bowl aside, clearing a space for herself on the table between them.

    ¡°I think if there¡¯s a next time at all, everything that possibly can go horribly wrong will already have.¡± He drained the last of his broth. ¡°The species of fish we eat won¡¯t exactly matter in a world of ruin where existence itself is suffering.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? Small comforts matter all the more when the whole world¡¯s gone to shit.¡±  She tilted her head back. ¡°Which is basically all the time, I guess.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s degrees, surely. I¡¯m not exactly delighted by our circumstances, but we did get out. We¡¯ve got a fresh meal, a warm roof over our heads for the night, and a path back to Malin before long. It isn¡¯t as if Khali¡¯s returned and blackened out the sky.¡±

    ¡°Give it time.¡± She smiled, pulling out a stack of blank paper and a fountain pen. ¡°I¡¯m still half afraid that when I close my eyes tonight, I¡¯ll hear another explosion tear my life to shit.¡±

    Luce sat up when he noticed. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Dreading what¡¯s to come. I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard of it. It¡¯s a very productive activity. You should try it.¡±

    As if I don¡¯t do enough of that already. ¡°I¡¯m talking about the pen and paper. Are you writing a letter?¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Not that it¡¯s any of your concern, but yes.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic.¡± Luce sighed. ¡°Do you not see why that¡¯s a problem?¡±

    ¡°The very thought of a literate commoner terrifies and enrages your royal blood? If that¡¯s so, you¡¯ll probably want to have words with your country, since I learned from Lord Airion¡¯s School for the Tragically Orphaned.¡± Did Uncle Miles really call it that?

    ¡°No.¡± He placed his hand to his face. ¡°If you¡¯re sending out letters to acquaintances, you could be setting up an ambush. The fact that you tried to get me not to notice isn¡¯t very reassuring either.¡±

    ¡°Please, it has nothing to do with that. That letter I¡¯m sending a trained pigeon for. It¡¯s an old pirate tradition.¡± She smirked as she picked up the pen. ¡°This is just reaching out to an old friend in Malin.¡±

    ¡°In Malin?¡± Luce clenched his fists. ¡°Why? We¡¯re heading there anyway! Can¡¯t it just wait a week?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Eloise turned her head down towards the paper and began to write.

    ¡°I¡¯m extending you a lot of trust, taking you along this far. Working to get that ransom so you don¡¯t come after me again.¡±

    ¡°Extend a little more,¡± she said without looking up from the page. ¡°You can write a letter if you want. I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ve trusted you this far not to reveal yourself and call the guards on me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s different.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡±

    Luce took a deep breath. ¡°Look, and I don¡¯t know if this isn¡¯t clear, but you can leave at any time. If you¡¯re that worried about it, then just walk away.¡±

    ¡°With nothing.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but you¡¯re choosing not to. It¡¯s a calculated risk for you, with a large reward in the balance. I get nothing from you sending out letters to your pirate buddies, and if it¡¯s instructions to find our ship, I stand to lose fucking everything.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Finally, she pulled her head away from the letter. ¡°That sort of atmosphere of distrust might be just the thing to prompt a prince to pull out of his promise, fetch the guards.¡±

    ¡°It just might.¡± He reached his hand across the table. ¡°If it¡¯s really that innocuous, why can¡¯t it just wait?¡±

    Eloise frowned. ¡°I want someone specific to meet me when we get there. Before any of my other¡­ associates. If I mail it now, I¡¯m giving them enough notice for it not to be an issue.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound important enough to be worth the risk.¡±

    ¡°What risk? Honestly, Luce, what the fuck do I stand to gain by doing that? You¡¯re taking me to get my ransom anyway.¡±

    Safety. Leverage. A feeling of victory to make up for your failure, however hollow it is or however little difference it makes. ¡°Who¡¯s it even for? Not that girl you left behind after she gave me that book?¡±

    ¡°Her?¡± Eloise snorted. ¡°Definitely not. She wanted out of this whole life, I could tell. Me included. I don¡¯t know if she¡¯s even there anymore, and I doubt we¡¯d have anything to say to each other if she is. The girl of the moment never lasts; that¡¯s the point. They wear out their welcome or I do, either way, and then it¡¯s time for the next.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of reasons,¡± Luce noted. ¡°One of your smuggling buddies then? Another pirate?¡±

    ¡°No. Just a friend, really.¡± She picked up her pen, paused, then set it down. ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t exactly get my start at sea, alright? I had people there, commitments.¡±

    ¡°In the criminal underworld, no doubt,¡± he said, unimpressed. ¡°Probably stealing as we speak.¡±

    ¡°Less than you¡¯d think, honestly. Before I met Captain Verrou, before I escaped, I was mostly managing the account books for a candle shop.¡±

    ¡°The horror!¡±

    She frowned. ¡°It was stifling. Interesting work, sure, and I was treated fairly. Pay was fine, enough for what I needed anyway. But¡ª¡± She glanced down at the letter, then tilted her head back.

    ¡°Clocha?ne, right? That¡¯s the surname Cya tried to give you. The man who raised you, and named you his successor?¡±

    ¡°Fucking spirits,¡± she muttered. ¡°Jacques, we all called him. He saw something in me, I guess. But it was my mom who raised us, till your lot hanged her anyway. Dad did his best too, even if he wasn¡¯t in much condition to help. When she died, someone had to step up so we didn¡¯t starve. Just my luck I got a job selling candles instead of unloading ships at the docks or something.

    This is why your approach is so self destructive, Perimont. You¡¯re creating enemies with every execution. Luce winced, trying to pick his words carefully. ¡°I think it¡¯s very noble that you went to help your family like that. Especially at such a young¡­ How old were you?¡±

    ¡°Fourteen, fifteen.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Nothing noble about it. I had to eat, Dad had to eat, Margot had to eat¡­ In a year I was doing Jacques¡¯s books, and in another two I was managing supplies for his whole business. By the time I met Captain Verrou, Jacques was even talking to me about getting me set up with a shop of my own, to run as I pleased.¡±

    ¡°So why didn¡¯t you do it? I mean, maybe I¡¯m missing something here, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re missing the wear of it, day after day. No changes, no progress. Stagnant, save the entanglements that just kept getting worse and worse. More depending on me, waiting on my signature, more people getting more and more attached¡­ It¡¯s too much. Nothing I was doing mattered, and I was only sinking deeper every day. Clocha?ne never understood that because whatever ambition he once had was long gone by the time I met him. He had his city, and that sufficed. When he fought, it was merely to preserve what he had.¡±

    ¡°His city? Didn¡¯t you say he was a candle salesman? And for that matter, how would you have possibly met a notorious pirate captain in a job like that?¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°Not trying to give you the whole story of my life. Just explaining this letter.¡±

    ¡°Are you? I fail to see the connection.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Her posture sagged. ¡°Well, those entanglements? Obligations and responsibilities? Not all of those people took it that well. Not just Jacques, but every wolf in his pack. Too much was going through me, and they didn¡¯t seem to get that that was exactly the reason I had to go.¡±

    How could someone just run away from their whole life like that? Even with the weight of Avalon and its history on his shoulders, Luce had never once felt the urge to just pack up and leave. You can¡¯t fix anything, doing that.

    ¡°This guy¡ª¡± She tapped the half-written letter in front of her. ¡°He gets it. Always did, I think.¡±

    ¡°That¡ª¡± Luce searched for the right words that could convey his point without being insensitive. ¡°That sounds like a trivial concern, though?¡±

    Eloise¡¯s stare in response felt like it was cutting through him.

    ¡°I just mean, you can meet him later, can¡¯t you?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°The moment I step foot in Malin, it¡¯s only a matter of time before one of Jacques¡¯s wolves finds me. And not all of them were as polite about me leaving as he was.¡± She sighed. ¡°You really can¡¯t just trust me on this?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª I suppose maybe if I read it first?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She snatched the paper away. ¡°You know enough as it is.¡±

    ¡°Not that one, then. But write something new you wouldn¡¯t mind me seeing. Then I can rewrite it in my own words and send it out.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Rewrite it?¡±

    ¡°To mess up anything you might try to slip by, writing in code.¡±

    Eloise nodded approvingly. ¡°Nice catch, genuinely. I guess I can agree to that.¡± She spent a minute scratching down a replacement letter, then threw the first atop the simmering embers of the fire in the hearth.

    Luce grabbed it when she was done, looking it over carefully, but there was almost nothing to see. Just a few paragraphs saying they¡¯d arrive in Malin in a week, and to meet in the old Great Temple at midnight when they did.

    Easier to rule out anything in code that way, at least. With more extraneous details it would have been easier to slip in a mention of a brother that didn¡¯t exist or an event that never happened, as a tip-off to the recipient.

    ¡°With everything that you had,¡± he asked as he folded the new letter, ¡°why give it all up?¡±

    ¡°I had to be free.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I think everyone does, in the end.¡±

    Then why are you still here with me?

    ?

    ¡°Wow, it¡¯s really sinking into the water.¡± The entire temple had once been a monument to a water spirit, a place where people had gathered together to convene and give offerings, when they weren¡¯t too busy with ritual human sacrifice.

    Certainly, there was no small satisfaction in seeing it in ruins.

    ¡°Why would they build a temple on the shore like this?¡± The cool ocean breeze was appreciated now, since it turned out that when Harold had called Malin ¡®sunny¡¯, he¡¯d meant that it burned with the torturous fire of the Sun Spirit himself. Staying here through the summer would be even more fun, with that in mind.

    But a summer breeze was hardly worth the cost of constructing a monument at the water¡¯s edge, as evidenced by the state of it now.

    ¡°Well, the Leclaires used to maintain it. Worked fine then, and now there¡¯s none of them left to mourn the state it¡¯s in. We¡¯re lucky a lot of their other shit didn¡¯t need the maintenance to last this long.¡±

    ¡°Ah, like those tunnels we went through.¡± Suddenly, those inexplicable passages burrowing their way through the earth spirit made a lot more sense. ¡°I take it they were some kind of sewer system?¡±

    Eloise blinked. ¡°Wow, you¡¯ve got it. That¡¯s why they smelled so horrific. And were too small for humans to walk through.¡±

    ¡°Well, what are they for, then?¡± Obviously, now, they let people travel through the city undetected, but they surely hadn¡¯t been designed and excavated for that.

    She smiled. ¡°You notice that it¡¯s so fucking hot you can barely move?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Apparently before the Foxtrap, they used to pull up water from under the gardens and disperse it back into the air like mist. Cooled the whole damned city off, and all they had to do was run around underground for a few hours blasting it through. There was some irrigation stuff too, I think, but the mist is what people remember.¡±

    ¡°Mist powered by the sacrifice of untold human lives!¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± Eloise shrugged. ¡°What¡¯s the difference, if they were going to die anyway? Might as well get some benefit out of it.¡±

    Luce bit his tongue. ¡°Some relief from the heat does sound nice,¡± he said diplomatically.

    Luce hid when Eloise¡¯s friend Claude arrived, so as to better set him at ease. It didn¡¯t hurt that this way, if there was a trap being sprung, Claude might let it slip before Eloise could explain the situation.

    But at this point, it seemed pretty unlikely.

    It seemed that the run of luck he¡¯d been on ever since finding those woodsmen was continuing, though, because they talked for what felt like hours, without the slightest indication of any treachery. Eloise was mostly reminiscing and catching up with him, though she did take the time to explain the role he would need to play.

    Eloise hadn¡¯t wanted to follow Luce into Perimont¡¯s office, which was honestly fair enough, so they needed a third party to bring the terms of negotiation to him before the ransom could be secured. A bit of extra trouble, perhaps, but at this point he was just ready for it all to be over.

    Then the other pirate arrived, the black haired girl who¡¯d given him Olwen¡¯s Song to read, sprinting up the beach out of nowhere. The person who¡¯d killed Cassia, and had the slight decency to feel guilty about it.

    How did she know to find us here?

    ¡°Hey killer,¡± Eloise greeted her with her usual charm. ¡°Did you miss me?¡±

    ¡®Killer¡¯ blinked, clearly taken aback. ¡°I thought you were dead. You know they caught your ship off the coast of Avalon? Everyone was executed¡­¡±

    ¡°First good news I¡¯ve heard in a while.¡± Eloise laughed. ¡°Those fuckers kicked me off my own fucking ship. Serves them right.¡± I knew it!

    ¡°They what?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, turns out pirates don¡¯t love a steady job, even if the money¡¯s better. When Prince Lucy blew a giant hole in it and threw himself off the deck, that was apparently the last straw. They couldn¡¯t appreciate what a good thing we had going.¡±

    ¡°So why didn¡¯t they vote to stop doing it? It¡¯s not like you were forcing them against their will.¡±

    Eloise sucked in air through her teeth. ¡°Yeah, well, voting doesn¡¯t really work if the majority are fucking idiots. I was the Captain, and I knew better than them. If they didn¡¯t like it, they could leave.¡±

    ¡°And many of them did,¡± Luce added, stepping out of the shadows. ¡°I saw new faces every time I came up from belowdecks.¡±

    ¡°Fuck!¡± ¡®Killer¡¯ jumped when she saw him. ¡°Does anyone ever actually die? Khali¡¯s curse.¡±

    What is she talking about? ¡°Did people find out about my kidnapping?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you could say that. They didn¡¯t exactly miss that it was your ship being crewed by pirates. The fact you weren¡¯t on it had most people give you up for dead. Shit, I was just talking to a bunch of your people doing exactly that.¡±

    ¡°You were?¡± Eloise said incredulously.

    ¡°Who?¡± Luce added.

    ¡°Captain Whitbey, Sir Gerald Stewart, Perimont¡­¡± I haven¡¯t seen any of them in years. Well, other than Gary, but his memory was about as fallible as it was humanly possible to be. Would they even recognize me, if I¡¯m presumed dead?

    ¡°You talked to Perimont,¡± Eloise said flatly.

    ¡°Well, the younger one. Simon, I mean. And his sister Mary a bit too, but she was mostly doing her own thing.¡±

    ¡°How the fuck¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s not important. Jacques is going to kill Claude if we don¡¯t get him out of the city immediately. Yse told me like it was a done deal. Too much of a fucking coward to cross Jacques over it. This was the last place I could think to check.¡±

    Jacques Clocha?ne the benign candle magnate? Eloise had definitely taken some liberties in her story. It was a name to watch out for, if he made it out of this mess.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Eloise breathed deep. ¡°This is fine. The ship we took sets sail for Guerron tomorrow. From there Claude can get passage to anywhere outside Avalon¡¯s control. It looks like you have enough for fare and ¡°no questions asked¡±, so we can get him on it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Claude muttered, head in his hands. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything! I didn¡¯t do anything! Nothing that would go against Mr. Clocha?ne, or Pierre.¡±

    ¡°They got your name,¡± the girl said. ¡°They have this crazy ripped genius detective poring over every inch of the railyard heist, and they figured out you were arrested the same night it happened. That¡¯s all it takes, apparently. That¡¯s the loyalty Jacques shows to the people that serve him.¡±

    Did someone rob the railroad? As technology went, it was far from the worst to fall into the wrong hands, since building the networks depended so heavily on existing infrastructure for it, but if there were any schematics of the internal combustion engines¡­

    I¡¯ll deal with it if I make it through today, he assured himself, adding yet another problem to a list that already felt a mile long. This would be hard enough already.

    ¡°I can see the logic. Nothing worse than a rat, after all.¡± Eloise clenched her fists, staring down at Claude. ¡°But leaving town would work just as well. And he has to know you wouldn¡¯t say anything.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he just doesn¡¯t care.¡±

    Sounds like he¡¯d make an excellent Governor.

    ¡°Look, Eloise, I¡¯ll take care of him. Just tell me the ship and I¡¯ll take him now. And then¡­¡±

    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothing more to say.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Luce stepped closer to them. ¡°We need her, don¡¯t we? Claude can¡¯t exactly negotiate with the Governor if he¡¯s busy fleeing the country.¡± He turned. ¡°Could you talk to Simon again? Or his father?¡±

    ¡°Trivially.¡± The girl folded her arms, something about the pose strangely familiar.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Eloise scratched the back of her neck. ¡°It might be better if you¡¯re not involved with this.¡±

    The girl sighed. ¡°I¡¯m the one who found him, and killed his cousin. I¡¯m about as involved as it gets.¡±

    She wasn¡¯t wrong.

 Fernan IX: The Revelator

    ¡°Please state your name, lands, and titles for the benefit of the magistrate.¡± Laura¡¯s aura was diminished, a pale shadow of what it¡¯d been not an hour ago.

    ¡°My name is Magnifico.¡± The bard twirled his arm in a bow, his cloak trailing behind. ¡°By the generosity of His Grace King Harold of Avalon, I have been granted modest lands in the Wall¡¯s Town, to the north of Cambria, and the title of Royal Bard. It is my honor to present my testimony before the esteemed magistrate.¡±

    Why are you doing this? Magnifico himself had said that the evidence against Annette was weak. He¡¯d even helped Fernan investigate the Duke¡¯s chambers¡­ He couldn¡¯t be trying to frame her; that wouldn¡¯t make any sense. Something had to have convinced him, so firmly that his entire position had completely reversed. But what?

    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough,¡± Fernan cut in. ¡°By the man¡¯s own admission, Magnifico is merely an alias, a name of the stage. Is this not a legal proceeding? Surely he must supply his real name.¡±

    Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s head tilted up smugly. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think that will be necessary. Magnifico is well known to us all after his time in Guerron. His identity as King Harold¡¯s bard is a matter of public record. That shall suffice. Unless the name he was born with holds some particular relevance to the proceedings?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Fernan was forced to admit. Magnifico¡¯s name being ¡®Harry Martin¡¯ didn¡¯t really prove anything; it was merely a way to frame him as deceitful. Which, given his sudden reversal without any warning, was hardly an unfair way to portray him. But it was still incredibly weak. Even I¡¯ve lied about my name. Laura had forgiven him, even; she would hardly care about this, and it was hard to imagine Lumi¨¨re feeling any differently. Pressing the issue wouldn¡¯t get him anywhere.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Magnifico clapped his hands together. ¡°Shall we begin, then?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Lumi¨¨re added. ¡°The representative for the Empire may begin her examination of the witness.¡±

    Said representative took a deep breath, her posture slumped. ¡°Where were you on the twenty-sixth day of the third month, between the hours of midnight and sunrise?¡±

    ¡°Why, in the castle of course. Lord Lumi¨¨re himself saw me that very night.¡±

    ¡°Where specifically?¡±

    Magnifico leaned casually against the wall behind him. ¡°The East Tower, of course. Duke Fouchand was kind enough to offer me quarters across from his own, no doubt a token of friendship between our two nations.¡±

    And just above the cells where highborn prisoners were kept, Fernan noted. It could be a coincidence, but it didn¡¯t seem unlikely that Duke Fouchand had carried more suspicions of the bard than Magnifico had let on.

    ¡°What floor?¡± Laura asked, the hesitation fading from her voice.

    ¡°Why, the top floor, of course. Just across from the Duke¡¯s own quarters, in fact. A great honor for a mere bard such as myself, but Duke Fouchand was esteemed for his generosity.¡±

    Oh no.

    ¡°Did you notice anything of note that night?¡±

    ¡°Certainly! I saw Lady Annette dangle the late Duke from his own balcony, then cruelly drop him. The very thought of it is no less than horrifying.¡±

    ¡°You did?¡± Fernan asked through grit teeth. ¡°Because when we spoke, you mentioned that Lady Annette didn¡¯t seem the type for parricide. You thought the whole thing was suspicious.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall saying anything of the sort.¡±

    Why are you lying like this? ¡°It was one of the first things we talked about after I returned! That¡¯s why you helped me investigate the Duke¡¯s chambers! I can''t believe you could just forget that.¡±

    A crack split the air, waves of light rippling through, emanating from Lumi¨¨re¡¯s hand. ¡°The sage of the defense will refrain from interrupting the Empire¡¯s direct examination without cause. Unless you have an objection to one of Lady Laura¡¯s questions, you can wait until your own turn to ask your questions. Am I understood?¡±

    Fernan gulped. ¡°Yes, Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°Laura, please continue.¡±

    ¡°With pleasure.¡± Some of her fire had returned, more visible in her energetic posture than her aura. She stepped out from her podium again, walking purposefully back and forth across the room. ¡°Magnifico, the visibility of the balcony was called into question earlier today. Please confirm for the magistrate exactly what you could see.¡±

    ¡°My balcony was directly across from Duke Fouchand¡¯s. I could see the entirety of his outdoor space, and when the doors were open as they were that night, most of the interior of his apartments as well. I could count the books on his shelf; seeing his granddaughter throw him from the balcony was, alas, indisputably clear. There isn¡¯t a shadow of doubt in my mind as to who killed the Duke.¡±

    ¡°Is there any possibility that anyone other than Lady Annette killed the Duke?¡±

    ¡°None.¡±

    Laura vaulted back over her podium and crossed her arms. ¡°Nothing further, Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡±

    The sun sage nodded. ¡°Distressing tidings indeed, but at least we are closer to the truth. The representative for the defense may begin his examination, if they have any questions.¡±

    Fantastic. ¡°I do have a number of questions.¡± ¡®Why?¡¯ was foremost among them. Jethro made him out to be a creature of pure ego and malice, but there had to be a reason. ¡°First of all, Magnifico, why not come forward with this earlier? The Empire¡¯s representative was quite reluctant to summon you, and when we spoke earlier, you seemed far less certain about what had transpired.¡±

    ¡°Well¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t answer that!¡± Laura cut in. ¡°Fernan, you can¡¯t just testify your own account of events unless you¡¯re called up yourself. Keep your personal reccounting out of it and stick to asking the witness about his.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Lumi¨¨re added unhelpfully. ¡°You aren¡¯t the witness here, Fernan.¡±

    Well that guts my whole fucking question, then. Either Magnifico was lying now or he¡¯d been lying back then, acting like he was skeptical about Annette. ¡°Why weren¡¯t you the first one called up, then, if your view was so much better?¡±

    Magnifico shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s the Empire¡¯s business. I couldn¡¯t begin to speculate as to Lady Laura¡¯s motives.¡±

    ¡°Nor should you,¡± Laura added. ¡°Fernan, you shouldn¡¯t be asking him about his best guess for other people¡¯s motives. Not if they¡¯re still alive, anyway. Ask him about his own stuff. We were just talking about this, come on!¡±

    Fernan clenched his fists, fighting the fire rising in his throat. ¡°Should I call you to the stand then? Your reluctance to bring in Magnifico seems pretty relevant. We all deserve an answer.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re remained impassive, but at least that got the gallery muttering, wondering why Laura had started with a lowly maid instead of a landed bard. I wish Guy hadn¡¯t been so fucking right about how elitist this audience would be. At least it was working in his favor, for the moment.

    ¡°If I may save us all some time,¡± Magnifico announced, causing the room to fall silent. ¡°While I am indeed a bard, my travels here were diplomatic in nature. As a representative of Avalon, no doubt the esteemed Magistrate thought it prudent to avoid involving me if at all possible, lest any complications reflect poorly on the hospitality of the Empire of the Fox.¡±

    ¡°No one asked him about that.¡± Guy poked him. ¡°You could rightly object, ask that it be stricken from Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s consideration.¡±

    ¡°And what, call Laura to the stand to talk about her strategy? I¡¯ve got a better idea.¡± Fernan stepped out from behind his own podium, steeling himself for more lies. ¡°Thank you, Magnifico. That clears things up, at least. I presume you misrepresented yourself to me for the same reason?¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± His head turned to the side. ¡°I hope you can understand.¡±

    Of course not, you prick. ¡°I want to get back to the issue of your view. You mentioned being able to even see inside the interior of the Duke¡¯s quarters?¡±

    ¡°Indeed, and with great clarity. After months here, I dare say I knew the great wooden door at the entrance and the magnificent library nearly as well as Fouchand himself.¡±

    ¡°Did anything strike your fancy about the library, then, if you know it so well?¡± Fernan paused, but Laura didn¡¯t object or question the relevance of the inquiry. Strange.

    Magnifico turned back to face him. ¡°My eyesight is better than most, but even I couldn¡¯t read the titles on the spines from that distance. All that stuck out was a row on the bottom all in blue, probably multiple volumes of something. That, and the book on the table.¡±

    Got you. Fernan smiled. ¡°The library doesn¡¯t open onto the balcony. It¡¯s the first room from the back, and to the left from there. Its only windows are at a cross angle from the doors, in fact. So I find it curious that you are so familiar with such a detail.¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡± Magnifico chuckled. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine why. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right, but that changes nothing. I must have picked up that impression from a time when I visited the chambers in person. Easy to gather all the details together in your mind, when you have all the information.¡±

    ¡°The Duke invited you into his personal chambers?¡± Laura asked, aura bright. ¡°He would never!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Guy added quietly. ¡°Fouchand was quite clear about that in the council meetings before his arrival. Too risky.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡± Magnifico folded his arms. ¡°I visited after his death, along with Fernan here. Despite the futility of his efforts, I couldn¡¯t help but extend him the kindness of my help. We investigated quite thoroughly, allowing me an even better picture of the room than my view from the balcony afforded.¡±

    You bastard. Fernan growled. ¡°That¡¯s why you wanted to help me! To explain any knowledge of the room you weren¡¯t supposed to have.¡±

    He¡¯s duplicitous, and selfish, and he won¡¯t balk at using you as he used everyone else in his life, Jethro¡¯s words from the beach echoed. It¡¯s all a self-indulgent exercise for him, all of us mere extensions of his ego at best, obstacles at worst.

    ¡°Fernan, please, listen to yourself. That¡¯s completely ridiculous. What motive could I possibly have for doing that? I wasn¡¯t even supposed to be testifying here, if you¡¯ll recall.¡±

    ¡°But the possibility was there. You wanted all of your bases covered, so you used me, pretended to help just to¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Lumi¨¨re¡¯s voice was firm. ¡°None of this has any relevance to the proceedings.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ask any last questions untinged by your personal biases, or declare the examination at its end. I won¡¯t ask twice.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t save Annette this way,¡± Guy added quietly. ¡°Magnifico is no lowborn maid, spreading lies out of the common wickedness in his heart. You must discredit him by other means.¡±

    Fernan felt his nails digging into his palms. ¡°How?¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°His birth is more respectable, but he remains a foreigner. An Avalonian, no less, they who execute without cause, who subjugate and conquer for no reason at all. Lumi¨¨re may have forgotten that, but the proud people of Guerron have not.¡±

    ¡°Attack him for being a foreigner¡­¡± Fernan sighed quietly. ¡°Brilliant, Guy. Thank you. Helpful as ever.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Fernan exhaled a jet of green flame, small enough to dissipate into the air harmlessly. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to your balcony, Magnifico. Duke Fouchand must have trusted you greatly, to give you a sightline on his own quarters.¡±

    ¡°A trust I would never abuse,¡± he said calmly.

    ¡°Sure.¡± Fernan snorted. ¡°In any case, you arrived here for a reason. You said it to me, and unless you want to deny it now, it seems pretty clear to me.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t a question.¡± Magnifico chuckled. ¡°But I shall indulge you anyway. Yes, I was here to negotiate with Duke Fouchand on behalf of my king for the future of relations between Avalon and the Empire of the Fox. What¡¯s left of it, anyway.¡±

    The gallery lit up at that, though Lumi¨¨re silenced them quickly enough. Shouldn¡¯t he be insulted by that too though?

    Laura¡¯s entire head was red. ¡°You¡¯re telling us that King Harold sent a bard to negotiate in his name? On something so important?¡±

    ¡°Precisely. I assure you, I have the King¡¯s full confidence.¡±

    Fernan picked up the Duke¡¯s book from the table. ¡°On Malin and Empire, by Jehanne Corelle, the final book the Duke ever set eyes upon, given it was sitting open on his table. Buildings, populations, laws, all the logistics of the city since the era of the Three Cubs.¡±

    Somewhere in the room, a quiet gasp escaped into the air.

    ¡°What of it? Are you going to take out the last hairbrush the Duke used as well?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think he was reading it to make a better decision about your deal?¡± That same gasp sounded again, louder this time, and higher pitched.

    Lumi¨¨re split the air apart with another great crack of light. ¡°Lady Annette, you have named a sage to speak with your voice in your defense. You have no right to disrupt this trial. Make another sound, and I shall need to have you taken from the room.¡±

    Annette stepped forward gingerly, still hunched in against herself. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to say something. That¡¯s the book Camille always pointed to, to show the decline of Malin after the Empire splintered. I¡¯m positive grandfather was reading it because of her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s that book?¡± Guy leaned his head forward. ¡°I always thought she was showing him the Fox Queen¡¯s memoires or something.¡±

    ¡°It is distressing,¡± Lumi¨¨re acknowledged. ¡°Distressing to think that Duke Fouchand might have taken that dead fool¡¯s words so seriously. Whatever impossible dreams Leclaire might have carried about reuniting the Fox Queen¡¯s domain, they have no relevance to this case. Move along, Fernan.¡±

    Magnifico was lying, trying to implicate Annette, following along with Fernan¡¯s preparations to make sure there was nothing that could hurt him. Jethro had said he set his son up to die, that he was an untrustworthy monster, but this¡­

    Fernan felt his eyes burn brighter as he faced all the information he had, and the awful conclusion it pointed to.

    As horrible as it was to imagine, so much of it fit. The proximity, the power, the ruthlessness¡­ The motive. ¡°Magnifico, earlier, you asked what reason you could possibly have to lie about what you saw.¡±

    ¡°And you had no answer, you impudent boy, because there is none.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s one,¡± Fernan corrected, heart heavy. ¡°You offered Duke Fouchand a deal: closer ties to Avalon, at the very least, more likely a protectorate like Charenton, where your king rules in truth. Instead, he read the book Camille gave him with the explicit purpose of winning support for reuniting the old Empire.¡± Fernan took a deep breath, an intense ball of fire forming in his stomach. ¡°He was going to refuse your deal, so you killed him.¡±

    A roar erupted through the gallery, a quell of voices overlapping so heavily it was impossible to make anything out. It took Lumi¨¨re  four blasts of light, each louder than the last, before they finally went silent.

    ¡°The representative for the defense shall remain civil, and conduct himself a sense of decorum.¡± His voice was firm. ¡°Accusing the witness of murder is highly improper, as I might have hoped would go without saying.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention desperate.¡± Laura¡¯s red shone bright. ¡°Are you going to accuse me next? Aurelian? Honestly, it¡¯s pathetic.¡±

    ¡°This is not the sort of discrediting I had in mind!¡± Guy hissed.

    ¡°What else could it be?¡± Fernan fired back. ¡°Blanche saw someone dangling the Duke off the balcony, so he didn¡¯t just fall. It¡¯s not Annette. Who else?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Blanche?¡± Guy asked by way of response.

    Fernan sighed. ¡°The maid. She was coached into exaggerating what she saw, but she insisted on that much even after the lies were uncovered. I don¡¯t¡­ I hate to think of it, but who else is there?¡±

    ¡°Annette, obviously.¡± Laura waved her hand dismissively, sending red sparks sailing through the air. ¡°What a terrible line of logic! She was the only one in the locked room! No one else could have gotten in.¡±

    ¡°Unless Magnifico leapt across to the other balcony.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on! He¡¯s not a sage, it¡¯s not like he can jump thirty feet over a drop that would kill him.¡±

    ¡°Not a sage, no, but he does have access to magic. He¡¯s a binder.¡± That sent another murmur echoing through the crowd until Lumi¨¨re silenced it, this time with only one blast.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Laura snorted fire. ¡°Your arguments just keep getting more ridiculous. What could possibly make you think he¡¯s a binder?¡±

    ¡°The Great Sun Spirit Soleil told me himself, when Lord Lumi¨¨re took me to see him. Even if such an illustrious one¡¯s word weren¡¯t unimpeachable, spirits cannot lie when they have sworn to speak truth. Magnifico is a binder. To say otherwise would be to declare Soleil the first spirit to lie.¡±

    ¡°According to you.¡± Magnifico seemed to be breathing more heavily. ¡°Soleil¡¯s word may be beyond reproach, but yours, Fernan, is anything but. I¡¯m sure the Great Sun Spirit would never concern himself with a mere bard such as myself.¡±

    ¡°I saw you talk to him directly!¡±

    ¡°You did?¡± Magnifico flashed white.

    ¡°He did, while supervising my son,¡± Lumi¨¨re said gravely. ¡°And while Soleil did not confirm you by name to be a binder at our next meeting, he did say as much about ¡®the bard¡¯ he¡¯d spoken with last. There¡¯s no point in denying that much, Magnifico.¡±

    Now he¡¯s helping? Lumi¨¨re was the only one who could confirm either time Fernan had seen Soleil. If he¡¯d simply denied it, as Magnifico had, the bard¡¯s version of events could have stood. So Lumi¨¨re wasn¡¯t his collaborator in full, not completely. There was still a chance to convince him.

    ¡°Aurelian,¡± Magnifico said coldly. ¡°Don¡¯t forget what I¡¯m doing for you. Without my help, that serpent girl would already have killed you.¡±

    ¡°I am acting as the magistrate. It is my duty to remain impartial.¡± His hair began to float slightly  above his shoulders, pulsing gold and white. ¡°I will have the truth of you, no matter the cost. Any dealings we might have had stand apart from that. Help us dispel all doubt.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Magnifico shrugged, the intensity gone from his voice. ¡°I picked up a few trinkets imbued with the power of long-dead spirits back in Cambria, a reward for my service to the Crown. Soleil probably recognized me as a binder because of that. But it certainly doesn¡¯t mean I could jump from one balcony to another and back, let alone harm the Duke. I didn¡¯t even bring them to Guerron! A binder has no power without his tools; that much is well known.¡±

    ¡°The maid would have noticed it too,¡± Laura added. ¡°Something like that would be extremely noteworthy. There isn¡¯t a chance she would have kept silent about seeing a man jump like that, and we know she was looking the right way at the relevant time.¡±

    ¡°And there you have it.¡± Magnifico took another bow, cloak trailing after his arm once more. For a moment, Fernan wondered if it were the same purple one he¡¯d worn when they¡¯d first met, since the material looked surprisingly ordinary to his sight. ¡°I shall forgive you for these accusations if you agree to let the matter lie now. Exterminating all doubt has value, I¡¯m willing to grant.

    Then you still haven¡¯t addressed the biggest reason to doubt you.

    ¡°Look at this lock, though!¡± Fernan picked up, holding it out to Lumi¨¨re. ¡°My lord, your own sages at the temple said there was evidence of magic clogging the mechanism. Obviously his binder abilities locked Annette in after the fact to make it look like she did it after Magnifico escaped.¡±

    ¡°Oh Fernan, you do grow quite tiresome. The fact remains that I had no way to get to his chambers, certainly not without being seen by the maid.¡±

    ¡°But the magic in the lock is dark, as is your aura. You could fade away into the night.¡± Like when Jethro suddenly disappeared at the end of every conversation with him.

    Laura tilted her head. ¡°Does anyone have any idea what he¡¯s talking about?¡±

    ¡°None,¡± Lumi¨¨re replied. ¡°But my doubts are assuaged. The fact is, there¡¯s no real evidence that Magnifico was ever in the Duke¡¯s chambers before his death. The lock was destroyed when guards bashed the door in, which accounts for the damage in the mechanism perfectly fine on its own. How many powers must you invent to fit Magnifico into your theory? He can fly, invisibly, then seal a lock with darkness without opening the mechanism?¡± He sighed. ¡°I hope you never have to go to war as I did, Fernan. But if you do, you¡¯ll soon learn that the simplest explanation is nigh-invariably the correct one, however much we wish it weren¡¯t so.¡±

    Fuck. Why couldn¡¯t he just¡ª

    Have to try something. ¡°Look at this scrap of cloth,¡± he said, presenting the strange black material to everyone. ¡°It was hidden under weeks of ivy growth when we found it; clearly not placed after the Duke¡¯s death. Magnifico¡¯s cloak probably snagged on the balcony as he left. If you dig through his stuff, you¡¯re sure to find one in that same strange black material.¡±

    ¡°According to you!¡± Laura slammed her fist against the podium. ¡°All we have is your word for it that it was even there! You¡¯re not a witness here, Fernan. I don¡¯t know how many times I have to explain that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m willing to entertain the possibility,¡± Lumi¨¨re said. ¡°Provided it has direct relevance to the matter at hand. And of course, it¡¯s not firm proof of anything.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Fernan wasn¡¯t quite able to keep the befuddlement entirely out of his voice. ¡°To begin with, look at the material. That strange glossy black is like nothing I¡¯ve ever seen before. It¡¯s incredibly distinctive.¡±

    ¡°Distinctive? It¡¯s a piece of purple cloth. Are you blind?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Did you not know that?¡±

    Laura shook her head back and forth. ¡°Are you fucking with me?¡±

    Fernan turned to Lumi¨¨re. ¡°Look, it could be a coincidence, sure, but surely if you found the larger garment it came from in Magnifico¡¯s effects, you¡¯d accept that as evidence he was there that night.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re shrugged. ¡°Sure. And if the Fox Queen rose from the grave and denounced him, I¡¯d accept that too. It doesn¡¯t mean what we have right now actually proves anything.¡±

    Magnifico laughed. ¡°So in your demented fantasy where I¡¯m capable of plotting the perfect murder, I¡¯m also such an imbecile that I hold onto the clothes I wore doing the deed, even after they tear in the process? Which is it, Fernan? Am I an innocent fool or a master criminal? It can¡¯t be both.¡±

    Shit, he probably burned them months ago. Just like Jethro had said, the best way to get rid of something forever. But Fernan couldn¡¯t give up, not when it would see Annette condemned for something she obviously didn¡¯t do.

    Gingerly, his fingers wrapped around the final piece of evidence on the table, Jethro¡¯s crown. ¡°Look at this, then!¡± he called out, trying to hide his lack of confidence. ¡°This evidence clearly contradicts Magnifico¡¯s story.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± Lumi¨¨re asked. ¡°AlI I see is a black metal crown.¡±

    ¡°It, umm¡­¡±

    ¡°This is just sad, Fernan.¡± Laura leaned back against the wall. ¡°I respect the stubbornness, but you¡¯ve got to know when to quit.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Then we have no further cause for disagreement.¡± Magnifico bowed once more, the mundane material of his cloak flapping behind him, barely visible from the heat radiating off of his body.

    ¡°Wait, is that¡­¡± Laura stared at him, her aura so dim as to be near invisible. ¡°There¡¯s a hole in your cloak, Magnifico.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Please. There¡¯s no¡ª¡± He looked down, then jumped back. ¡°It¡¯s a coincidence!¡±

    ¡°He has a point,¡± Fernan muttered quietly. ¡°The material doesn¡¯t match. It¡¯s not from the same cloak.¡±

    Guy dug his fingers into Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone,¡± he whispered. ¡°This is our only chance at letting Annette go free.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°I will ruin you. Stay silent!¡±

    ¡°Magnifico.¡± Lumi¨¨re blazed bright, his hair glowing gold as it floated behind his head. ¡°Explain yourself at once.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s there to explain? It¡¯s a hole. I probably tore it on a nail or something.¡±

    Lumi¨¨re shook his head. ¡°The color, the material, the size and shape, they all match perfectly. Fernan wouldn¡¯t lie about this. Either you wore that cloak to Fouchand¡¯s room that night, or someone else did, but it was there.¡±

    ¡°Seriously, Aurelian? Do you even understand what I¡¯m doing for you? You can¡¯t exactly go to a bulletin board and find someone who¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not now!¡± He silenced the muttering gallery with a final flash of light. ¡°We are not here to rule on Magnifico¡¯s guilt. That shall be determined at a later time, with a trial of his own, as he is entitled to, with a sage of his own for defense.¡± He stared at Magnifico as he said it, disgust radiating from him. ¡°In the meantime, it is obvious that Annette is innocent. I declare her the victor of the duel, and command that she be allowed free.¡±

    Clamor erupted at that, unsilenced by Lumi¨¨re. He merely walked out through a door in the back, his head bowed the whole way.

    Fernan could barely feel Guy slapping him on the back, or Annette hugging him close.

    The thanks washed over him, almost inaudible in the din, but he found himself walking back to the hall, giving a need for fresh air as an excuse. The sounds gradually faded as he made his way out to the courtyard, though the rumble was still audible in the background.

    This isn¡¯t how it was supposed to be.

    It was good that Annette was free, that Lumi¨¨re had recognized the true killer, but¡­

    ¡°Hello Fernan!¡± Jethro appeared in front of him in an instant. ¡°Do my ears deceive me, or did you do an excellent job back there?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    Jethro laughed. ¡°Noticed my assistance, did you? I¡¯ll admit, crafting the right cloak and slipping it into his things wasn¡¯t easy, but that¡¯s what I¡¯m there for! Couldn¡¯t have done it if you didn¡¯t find that cloth and show it to me, either.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª It¡¯s a forgery? All of that was built on a lie?¡±

    Jethro patted him on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡±

 Gary IV: The Lover

    Gary¡¯s eyes opened slowly, bracing themselves against the harsh midday light. The first thing they glimpsed was a bare shoulder, curved so perfectly as to follow the earth spirit himself. ¡°You¡¯re perfect,¡± he muttered, a poet even when first rising from the murky depths of slumber.

    ¡°I¡¯m so not though,¡± Mary muttered back, still facing away from him. ¡°Then I wouldn¡¯t be so appealing and relatable. I¡¯m a Lady, just like anyone else. I¡¯ve got human flaws like caring too much about everyone, even those filthy peasants, or being so beautiful that people start wars over me. It¡¯s happened before.¡±

    ¡°I can see it.¡± Gary smiled. ¡°What wars?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you know¡­ Wars¡­¡± She rolled over, showing her impossibly gorgeous face. Although, something about it was off compared to last night, like she was sick or tired or something¡­ The color was off, too, less pale than it was supposed to be. ¡°Too many to keep count of, really.¡±

    ¡°I know what you mean,¡± he said with a yawn. ¡°I mean, when I try to think back on all the duels I¡¯ve won, all the glory I¡¯ve brought to Avalon¡­ It¡¯s such a flood that pointing to any specific example is an impossible task.¡±

    ¡°I thought nothing was impossible for Sir Gerald Stewart of Forta.¡± She flicked a finger at his nose, an assault so painful it nearly drew blood. ¡°Champion of the Prince, son of the kingdom¡¯s best pirate-catcher. Weren¡¯t you close to catching that harbor bomber too? Clock¡­ chain¡­ I think?¡±

    Oh fuck, I knew I was supposed to be doing something.

    ¡°Indeed, fair lady!¡± Gary ripped the covers from himself, honestly a relief anyway in the oppressive heat, and leapt out of bed with the energy of Pantera. ¡°The vile Jacques Clocha?ne will soon have his criminal ways exposed to all the world. Governor Perimont himself noted that the problem would be taken care of today.¡±

    ¡°He said we have to take care of it today!¡± a distant voice sounded through the door, shrill and nasty.

    ¡°Are you expecting visitors?¡± Gary asked his courtly paramour as he began to dress himself.

    Mary shook her head. ¡°People just take any excuse to see me. It¡¯s a real problem just getting around the city through my swaths of adoring fanatics.¡±

    ¡°I know what you mean. Every time I accompanied Prince Harold through the streets of Cambria, we couldn¡¯t go ten feet without someone trying to talk to me.¡± Luckily, Prince Harold was such a gentleman that he would always talk to them first, before Gary had any need to intervene.

    ¡°Gary, I know you¡¯re in there. I can hear you!¡±

    ¡°I think she¡¯s talking to you,¡± he whispered to Mary, hoping she would take care of the interruption so he could go back to sleep.

    The door slammed open with a resounding crash, leaving a dent from the knob in the opposite wall. Familiar light hair and muscle loomed in the doorway menacingly.

    ¡°Oh, hello Charlotte!¡± Mary called out. ¡°Staying fit, I see.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ Thank you?¡± Charlotte blinked. ¡°Look, Gary, the Governor gave us one day to find enough evidence to move against Clocha?ne. Because of you, he thought we still had Claude in custody, but he¡¯s in the wind. Temple Acolytes said he disappeared last night.¡±

    ¡°Probably dead,¡± Gary noted dispassionately. ¡°Clocha?ne tying up a loose end.¡±

    ¡°Actually, that does seem like the most likely possibility. Are you alright, Gary? You seem different today.¡±

    He grinned as he put on his shirt, completing his elegant gentleman¡¯s ensemble. ¡°Love can inspire all sorts of change in a man, all for the better. Even such a pinnacle of masculinity as myself.¡±

    ¡°Love?¡± Mary muttered, blown away that the depth of her feelings had been laid bare. ¡°Take it easy there, Gerald.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always easy when I take things, and I would know, since I do it a lot. It¡¯s because I¡¯m so strong and powerful.¡± He patted her head lightly. ¡°But thank you for the concern.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this!¡± Charlotte slammed her fist against the wall, creating a dent next to the one made by the doorknob. Perimont was really miserly with that wall plaster.

    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Mary said from under the covers. ¡°And turn around. I want to see you walk away.¡±

    Charlotte sighed, not moving out of solidarity for him. It was nice to see her so offended on his behalf at the insinuation that he could not easily take things. ¡°Lady Mary, it¡¯s a pleasure, but your father expects Sir Gerald and myself in his office in less than an hour. I need to brief him on the situation.¡±

    ¡°Oh sure, go ahead.¡±

    ¡°In private.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Mary nodded. ¡°My room is as private as it gets. Proceed as you will.¡±

    In response, Charlotte grabbed Gary by the wrist and dragged him out of the room.

    ¡°Hey! Stop!¡± Gary tried to pull his hand free, but stopped once he encountered resistance, since the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her with his awesome strength. ¡°I know there¡¯s this burning tension between us, but I have a lady love now, and I must remain faithful to her. I suppose if you really wanted to join us, I could discuss the matter with¡ªOw!¡± She let go, causing him to collapse to the floor, obviously because her freakish strength had flung him into it. ¡°Don¡¯t take your amorous frustration out on me!¡±

    ¡°Just get up.¡± She held out her hand to him, and Gary grabbed it and pulled himself to a standing position. ¡°I need to get you ready for our conversation with Lord Perimont. We have less than an hour.¡±

    Gary rolled his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re in his mansion right now! What¡¯s the rush? Honestly, why did you have to get me up so early?¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°It¡¯s three hours after noon.¡±

    ¡°The night after a party! I don¡¯t know if you forgot, but it was kind of a big deal. And it lasted a while. What time did you get up, if you¡¯re so perfect?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ yesterday, I guess? I haven¡¯t really been able to sleep. That¡¯s not what¡¯s important right now.¡± She did look tired, now that he looked more closely.

    ¡°Insomnia.¡± Gary nodded. ¡°Prince Harold has been known to suffer from the same thing. Fear not, for if he can live with it, certainly so can you.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter!¡± She smacked her forehead, mystified that such a royal personage could suffer from the same affliction as a lowly peasant like her. ¡°Claude is gone! He¡¯s the only reason Perimont thought we could turn up this evidence in the first place. Lady Carrine completely abandoned her promise to help me find him, or even talk to the Temple leadership for us¡ª¡±

    ¡°She was probably drunk enough to forget about it. Did you see how wild she went?¡±

    ¡°Are you thinking of her servant Celine? The one playing the knife tricks? Because Carrine seemed pretty lucid, no slurring or anything.¡±

    ¡°I said what I meant! She called me a gormless imbecile!¡± Only copious alcohol could drive a woman to spew such hurtful lies.

    Charlotte snorted, imagining Simon¡¯s imperious friend in such a state.

    ¡°I think she was trying to flirt with me or something.¡±

    ¡°...Sure. Anyway, without her, I couldn¡¯t get anything from the Acolytes. They wouldn¡¯t even tell me if Claude was a member or not, so I had no way to follow up on Lady Carrine¡¯s impersonator theory.¡±

    ¡°The impersonator theory? Is Claude a shadow doppelganger? Of who though?¡± Gary scratched his chin.

    ¡°There¡¯s no shadow doppelganger! That¡¯s not what I¡¯m talking about at all!¡±

    Gary ignored her jealous ramblings. ¡°Prince Luce disappeared when those pirates kidnapped him. Perhaps he was simply biding his time to usurp noble Harold and make a play for the throne, aided by the fell magic of Cambrian kings past. He was always looking at that old lore before he became so obsessed with science, and he¡¯d know the value of being in two places at once. Plus, the Grimoire arcane library of artifacts is so extensive that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse, no! Stop!¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you spend so much time talking about it?¡± The shadow doppelganger theory was a pretty crazy one, especially since it had been decades since anyone had seen any, or the dagger that could create them, but Gary had at least been generous enough to entertain the idea. The least she could do was be grateful for that.

    Her eye twitched with self-awareness at her irritating behavior. ¡°The point is, we don¡¯t have enough on Clocha?ne for the Governor to be satisfied. Which means that if I want to walk out of there with my head still on my shoulders, we have to give him something else.¡±

    ¡°Maybe a hand?¡± Gary offered. ¡°A foot, perhaps? I know it¡¯s not ideal, but surely it¡¯s better than losing your head. You can try for a finger or an ear or something, but I think that¡¯s offering too little. Lord Perimont might be insulted.¡±

    Charlotte grit her teeth, contemplating what she might have to sacrifice for the safety of Avalon. ¡°Something else in the way of information. A way to point the authority Prince Harold has given you at the right target. Win ourselves some favor.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do have plenty of favor, but I guess it never hurts to have more. What do we have for him?¡±

    ¡°We? You slept through the day while I was out¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine. What do you have for me?¡±

    By way of response, Charlotte pulled out a single gleaming blue earring.

    ¡°Oh, nicely done! Mary¡¯ll love it!¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Although perhaps it would look better on me. Ever since the Princes began doing it, single earrings have been super fashionable. I don¡¯t know¡­ What do you think, Charlotte?¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    She exhaled sharply. ¡°It figures that this would be the first time you ask me that.¡±

    ¡°Well I know fashion isn¡¯t your usual area, given¡±¡ªhe waved his hand up and down her body, and the simple shirt and trousers upon it¡ª¡°you know, all of that. But it¡¯s still nice to get an outside voice sometimes, and I can¡¯t exactly ask Simon. Prince Harold took that blue earring from him after the harbor bombing. He¡¯d get way too jealous if I brought this up to him.¡±

    Charlotte waved the earring in her hands in his face. ¡°It¡¯s the same earring!¡±

    Gary scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°Well, not literally the same earring, but it¡¯s part of the matched set. Celine found it on the beach in Guerron.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just up the coast, right? I can¡¯t keep track of all these fox names.¡± His eyes darted back and forth across the hallway. ¡°This isn¡¯t Guerron, is it? No one told me what the locals called this place, and it¡¯s been so long I don¡¯t think I can ask.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Malin, as I¡¯m sure many people have told you many times.¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m going piece-by-piece as if you¡¯re following along to figure it out. The point is, I took this to a jeweler to examine it this morning, to see if anything stood out.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the old trade-in-the-evidence-for-store-credit routine. Very clever!¡± Of course, it was polite to cut your superior officer in, in such a situation, but Charlotte definitely had a tendency for thoughtlessness.

    ¡°Actually, it cost me most of what I had, especially since I had to have them rush it.¡± She twisted her mouth. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose Prince Harold left you any funds for the investigation?¡±

    ¡°Oh, tons! Like way more than I know what to do with, and I just keep getting more every month!¡± He was earning every penny though, putting in such hard work to seek out Prince Harold¡¯s enemies and destroy them.

    ¡°Would you mind reimbursing me, then? It wiped me out for the month.¡±

    Reimburse¡­ What a strange word. ¡°Are you flirting again?¡±

    Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath, caught off guard by the deft observation. ¡°Hey, I just remembered,¡± she said through grit teeth. ¡°Can I borrow a thousand mandala?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure.¡± Gary pulled out one of his smaller coin purses and tossed it to her. ¡°Make sure you keep close track of everything, because I don¡¯t really know how much is in there.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± She tucked it into one of her pockets. ¡°Anyway, that jeweler asked around, and apparently some master craftsman named Georges Volcain created a pair of sapphire earrings imbued with Levian¡¯s energy about thirty years ago for Lady Sarille Leclaire, as a wedding gift. The fact that no one from Avalon found the pair after the Foxtrap means they probably followed Camille Leclaire into Guerron when she fled.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that we found something no one in Avalon ever has before? I discovered a lost artifact?¡± Prince Harold loved lost artifacts, and apparently blue earrings as well. This was a golden opportunity. ¡°I must write the Prince at once.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m saying that if one of these earrings turned up on our beach right after the bombing, and the other washed ashore in Guerron, it implies that someone messed up and left one on the ship. It implicates Guerron in the harbor bombing, and Camille Leclaire in particular. It¡¯s not like she doesn¡¯t have a motive, trying to sabotage Avalon¡¯s hold on the city, no matter the cost in human life.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes sense,¡± Gary said strategically, despite not totally following what she meant. That way he could keep her on her toes, test her to make sure she was capable enough to assist him. ¡°So we can bring Prince Harold the head of this Camille character and inform him that the city''s been saved.¡±

    ¡°If only. I could retire on that goodwill.¡±

    ¡°Well, why not? What¡¯s this Camille Leclaire so busy doing that we can¡¯t just grab her?¡±

    ¡°Being dead.¡±

    Gary shook his head sadly. ¡°A damn shame, that. How recently? If we can find the head and dip it in tar, then maybe¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sir Gerald?¡± a mannered voice called out. A servant, by the looks, though servants worked by definition, and this person didn¡¯t seem to be doing any labor. ¡°Lord Perimont is ready to see you now.¡±

    ¡°Just back me up, alright?¡± Charlotte stepped forward hesitantly, though her pace grew more measured as they continued down the halls, probably because she realized what exalted company she was working for.

    ?

    ¡°...and this jeweler can testify to that fact?¡±

    Charlotte shook her head. ¡°Voclain took up residence in Condillac after the Foxtrap. But his apprentice remains in the city, and confirmed the earring¡¯s origin for me. He would do so again at a trial, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°Or could be made to, if necessary.¡± Perimont stepped towards the window, a smooth motion since his office still didn¡¯t have a chair. ¡°But what good to us is motive for war on Guerron? As soon as that girl is found guilty at her trial, the sun sage will open the gates to us anyway. Prince Luce¡¯s unfortunate demise would be grounds enough, anyway, should the Crown desire to do so.¡±

    ¡°But it lets the truth get out! Camille Leclaire destroyed the harbor, she killed dozens!¡±

    ¡°And the sun sage killed her before any of it came to light anyway.¡± He shook his head. ¡°A day late and a ¡®dala short, as His Majesty would say.¡±

    ¡°Short? I¡¯m not short! I¡¯m just still growing! Just you wait and see, my father¡¯s almost seven feet tall, and all my brothers are¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cease your prattling,¡± he said, though Charlotte hadn¡¯t said anything to him. Wait, is he talking to me? ¡°I gave you a very simple task: find evidence of Jacques Clocha?ne¡¯s many brazen illegal dealings before the impending war makes it difficult to rid ourselves of him. You failed.¡±

    ¡°Well, she tried her best,¡± Gary offered.

    ¡°You, Sir Gerald. You failed, you incompetant buffoon. Clocha?ne negotiated the contracts today, and at the Crown¡¯s insistence I had no choice but to accommodate him. It¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°But we caught the harbor bomber!¡±

    Cold brown eyes stared down at him. ¡°You found weak evidence against a dead woman and a city already in our grip, whom we already have good cause to invade should it prove necessary. All this time, all these resources, and you¡¯ve accomplished nothing!¡±

    Gary puffed up his chest. ¡°I don¡¯t serve at your pleasure. I was happy to offer a favor, but my charge here was to find the harbor bomber for Prince Harold, and I¡¯ve done that singlehandedly. If that doesn¡¯t satisfy you, then it¡¯s not my problem.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± He shrugged. ¡°So be it. It was folly to waste my time with you, no matter the authority Prince Harold vested you with. You say your mission is complete? Fine. Then you have no further cause to remain here.¡±

    ¡°If this is about Mary¡ª¡±

    ¡°Mary?¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°If you have done the slightest harm to my daughter, then I assure you I shall weather the Prince¡¯s displeasure as necessary.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t,¡± Charlotte hurriedly said, eager to defend his honor. ¡°He was just so drunk he could barely stand. Mary was nice enough to let him stay here, but nothing happened.¡±

    What is she doing? Was this what Mary was talking about, downplaying one¡¯s accomplishments to seem more relatable?

    The Governor exhaled sharply. ¡°Easy enough to believe, but rest assured that the matter will be investigated closely. Sir Gerald will remain in my care until I can be certain.¡± He turned around from the window to face Charlotte. ¡°As for you, I would normally leave the disciplining to Captain Whitbey. But as he is indisposed at the moment¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, hold on. Disciplining? She did nothing wrong.¡±

    Perimont¡¯s cold stare returned to him. ¡°Her task was a simple one, and she failed. Not because the task was impossible, for it obviously was not, but the delays rendered your findings completely pointless. With a deadline of one day, you proceeded to drink yourselves into a stupor for half of your time and sleep away the remainder. Captain Whitbey even mentioned contraband being circulated there, which neither of you made any attempt to confiscate.¡±

    ¡°We were gathering intelligence,¡± Charlotte said. ¡°We couldn¡¯t disrupt the festivities without giving away the reason we were there.¡±

    ¡°A likely excuse. Guards!¡± The instant he shouted it, a dozen of his forresters flooded into the office, surrounding them. ¡°Sir Gerald is to be escorted to guest chambers as befit his station. He shall remain there until such time as I inform you otherwise. As for the girl, I believe we have an opening in today¡¯s execution schedule. If I¡¯m mistaken, place her in whatever opening is next.¡±

    Gary whistled. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about getting the seats with the best view, but I didn¡¯t realize there was a wait list.¡±

    Charlotte pounded a fist against her knee. ¡°No, idiot, he¡¯s going to kill me. All because¡ªmmfpht.¡± One of the guard¡¯s hands covered her mouth the moment Perimont gestured.

    ¡°See that she remains silenced for the duration, as a precautionary measure.¡±

    Something about seeing her like that¡­ For all her insensitivity, she had done a lot for him. I probably never could have made it so far with Mary without her, either. And they were so close to catching the villains, giving them the punishment they so deserved.

    Charlotte should be able to see them hang too. She deserves nothing less.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t right!¡± Gary shouted. ¡°Charlotte was a huge help! She basically¡­ I couldn¡¯t have done it without her. And I¡¯ll tell Prince Harold!¡±

    ¡°Prince Harold has far bigger things to worry about right now than the likes of you.¡±

    ¡°Are you calling me short again? Because¡­¡± He saw Charlotte shaking her head. Right, even Lord Perimont wouldn¡¯t be rude enough to do it twice in one conversation. ¡°I¡¯m his personal emissary in this city. Any mistreatment I suffer reflects on you. How do you think he¡¯ll feel when he hears that you had me jailed? That a crucial person to uncovering who blew up the harbor was killed because she didn¡¯t do it fast enough?¡±

    ¡°There are greater issues at play. The pre-emptive strike¡ª¡± He cut himself off with a shake of his head. ¡°This isn¡¯t worth belaboring. Prince Harold has never even heard of this girl, and you shall suffer no harm from me, have no cause to speak ill of your time here.¡±

    ¡°But I will! I¡¯ll tell him everything! Shit, I already have! I¡¯ve been writing to him for months, telling him all about Charlotte and our progress¡­ He was looking forward to meeting her, if I recall correctly.¡± Not that I can really remember. It sounded right, though. Gary wasn¡¯t one to spare any details in his letters other than the ones that made him look bad, which were incredibly rare.

    Perimont¡¯s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath and began to pace the room, hands behind his back. ¡°If you insist on being difficult about it, there are other options.¡±

    ¡°Great! I¡¯ll pick one of those! Maybe I could help guard Mary the way I guard Prince Harold, or help catch any remaining spirits, ooh or¡ª¡±

    ¡±You, sir, are done. You are no longer welcome in Malin. If Prince Harold wishes otherwise, he can grant you an official writ to return with and I shall honor it. In the meantime, begone.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s still so harsh! I¡¯m an investigator, a great detective, here to help you bring order to this lawless city. You¡¯re not giving me anything I want!¡±

    He turned to Charlotte without comment. ¡°As for you, given the circumstances, I can understand your shortcomings. I am not without mercy, and I grant you this rare chance to make up for your mistake.¡±

    The hand over her mouth drew back, but she still didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°A large number of pigs went missing today. Use those Guardian investigative skills you were trained with and find the poacher.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°What? I need to help cement the case against Leclaire for the bombing, and I¡¯m so close to catching Clocha?ne! I just need the in through the Temple, and I have a plan to¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is an order, not a request. Your reassignment begins tomorrow.¡±

    The guards dragged her off after that, presumably to escort her to whatever hovel she called home. Gary, befitting his status, was instead marched to the door and lightly shoved into the road, which was incredibly rude.

    Despite the heat, he pulled up the collar of his jacket as wandered the streets, lost in contemplative and internal but still totally dispassionate and rational thoughts.

    The noble hero, burned for doing the right thing¡­

    Even after uncovering a vast conspiracy, catching corrupt merchants and bombers, murderers, Perimont still refuses to see the light. But then, perhaps it was all about Mary, in the end. According to her, it would hardly be the first time something like this had happened.

    It wasn¡¯t until he made it back to his room that he realized the guards had pilfered his coins, vile thieves that they were.

    When Prince Harold heard about this, Perimont would be sorry.

 Florette IX: The Emissary

    ¡°Well, can you help?¡± Florette consciously bit her lip, hoping the mirroring of the gesture might help with persuasion. ¡°All I need is a meeting, and I can bring the terms for negotiation.¡±

    ¡°Fuck me, Florette.¡± Camille sighed. ¡°Can I get you a meeting with Perimont by talking to Simon? Of course. But think this through.¡±

    ¡°Not usually my strong point, that.¡±

    Camille used her hand to try to cover a bout of laughter, but it was still rather obvious. ¡°He knows you as a pirate kidnapper. If you dump him at the Governor¡¯s mansion, the first thing he¡¯s going to do after a hot bath is have his minions hunt you down and ready you for the gallows.¡±

    ¡°Eloise said¡ª¡±

    ¡°Eloise the manipulative asshole? That Eloise? Did she say it would all be ok?¡± Camille¡¯s tone was sweet to the point of being saccharine. ¡°Understand, this affects me just as much. Everyone knows you as my guard, ¡®Celine¡¯. If word gets out that you¡¯re a criminal, who do you think they¡¯ll look to next?¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°You, probably.¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡± She spared a glance towards the rising sun cresting the castle ruins behind them. ¡°Why do you care, anyway? Did you not assault and kidnap this person?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem! I have to¡ª¡± Florette pounded a fist against her leg. ¡°I killed his cousin, on the boat. She was young, and I saw her jump out¡­ I didn¡¯t have time to think.¡±

    ¡°This will not make up for that. All you¡¯ll do is upset the delicate preparations I¡¯ve been making here.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No, this won¡¯t do at all. We have to get him out of here before he can tell anyone about you.¡±

    ¡°Eloise wouldn¡¯t be able to get her ransom that way, she wouldn¡¯t like that. And he said he wanted to be here! Apparently Daddy Grimoire sent him to Malin to clean up Perimont¡¯s messes, and he was on the way here when we found him. Even if we send him back to Avalon, there¡¯s a good chance he¡¯ll be right on the next boat back.¡±

    Camille bit her lip again. ¡°There are¡­ other ways to make sure he can¡¯t tell anyone about you.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± She slammed her fist against the wall. ¡°Not an option. I couldn¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t have to be you. I could step in, or maybe one your criminal friends.¡±

    ¡°Remember what you said about killing Whitbey? This is the exact same thing, only a thousand times worse. We¡¯re not considering it. End of discussion.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Camille held up her hands. ¡°Then get him back to Avalon and get out of here right after. I¡¯ll say you¡¯re returning to Guerron or something. Even if he does come back, all he¡¯ll have to go on is a description. I don¡¯t like it; we still run the risk of someone putting the pieces together, looking at the timing as too coincidental. Maybe it¡¯s better if we fake your death.¡±

    ¡°Is that really necessary?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how you could avoid it. The fact is, as long as this Prince resides in Malin, it puts both of us at enormous risk, but you especially. One way or another, you¡¯re going to be on your way soon.¡± She sighed. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t Prince Grimoire have just stayed dead?¡±

    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you?¡±

    Camille cracked a smile. ¡°I see your point.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to mess up what you¡¯re doing, but I have to do this.¡±

    ¡°You say that, but it¡¯s more than a bit of a betrayal of what we were doing here. I understand your regret, I do, but it¡¯s not worth throwing everything away just to save some Avalon prince, especially if he is more competent than Perimont, like the King clearly thought. That would only make things worse.¡±

    Betrayal¡­

    ¡°Wait, I have an idea. Tell Simon to set up the meeting.¡±

    ?

    Murderer Duchess Escapes Justice, the journal read, thick black letters stretching across the page.

    ¡°In a stunning farce, Duchess Annette Debray was acquitted last week for the murder of her grandfather Duke Fouchand Debray. Her trial was conducted according to the traditional procedure of the Erstwhile Empire, a barbaric trial by battle where their practitioners of human sacrifice set aside all hope for truth and justice and instead fight each other to the death.¡±

    ¡°If you want to read that, you have to pay for it,¡± a gruff voice sounded from behind the news stand. ¡°Twelve mandala for the issue.¡±

    ¡°Twelve?¡± Florette screwed up her face as she fished for the coins in her bag. ¡°Yesterday it was eight!¡±

    ¡°Yesterday it wasn¡¯t flying off the shelves. You¡¯re lucky The Cambrian prints so many copies there¡¯s even any left. I ran out of local editions hours ago.¡± The clerk shrugged. ¡°Bad news is good for business. People are worried it¡¯ll mean war.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Florette dropped the coins on the counter with one hand and grabbed the journal with the other, stepping back out onto the street.

    ¡°Despite the best efforts of Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, friend of Avalon, the trial was disrupted by a savage sorcerer known as Fernan Montaigne, who acted in the murderer¡¯s defense.¡±

    Florette choked, tracing her eyes over the words once more. Fernan? ¡°Looks like you managed to get caught up in something even without me,¡± she muttered, words dissipating into the hot, humid air. Why are they calling him Montaigne, anyway? All it meant was ¡®mountain¡¯, and it wasn¡¯t as if it were his surname, either.

    ¡°A brute more comfortable with sacrifice than the law, he soundly defeated Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s representative. Then, unsatisfied with merely that brutality, he callously pinned the crime on an innocent bard known as Magnifico, a talented musician sent to play for the Duke by His Highness, King Harold. Details are scarce, but witnesses of the duel say that Montaigne was so possessed by fell magic that it burst forth from his eyes with the fire fueled by human lives.

    Lord Lumi¨¨re may have tried his best, but ultimately he failed to enforce justice and protect the innocent. Can we truly say that his stewardship is sufficient to maintain friendly relations with Avalon anymore? How can he be trusted after so stunning a failure?¡±

    Alright, that¡¯s enough of that. She tucked the journal into her bag, walking the rest of the way with her eyes pointed clear ahead. It wasn¡¯t long before she arrived at her destination.

    The governor¡¯s mansion hardly looked like a palace of tyranny. The squat, boxy rooms and square, clear windows barely broke up the monotony of the fa?ade. Even inside, only a few tapestries lining the hallway provided any sense of personality, mostly showing people with axes cutting down a forest. The waiting room outside the Governor¡¯s office was hardly any better.

    ¡°Lord Perimont will see you now,¡± his assistant told her after what felt like an eternity.

    If the rest of the building had been boring, the office was downright bizarre.

    A crowded table sat in the center of the room, positioned at the same height as a bar, but with no chair or stool in sight. An enormous painting filled most of the back wall, showing the Governor with his children, who looked around ten or eleven, and a woman that was presumably his wife.

    Unnervingly, Perimont didn¡¯t seem to have aged a day since the portrait had been painted.

    ¡°What is it you want?¡± he asked, eyes not looking up from his papers. ¡°My son insisted it was important, and yet somehow he couldn¡¯t give me any details. I trust Malin¡¯s hospitality is treating your lady well?¡±

    ¡°It is, thank you.¡± You child-killing fucker. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t be more forthright faster, but I was instructed to speak to you and only you.¡±

    ¡°Instructed?¡± He lifted his head from the papers.

    ¡°It¡¯s Prince Luce Grimoire. He¡¯s alive.¡±

    Perimont blinked. ¡°Impossible. He¡¯s been missing for months, and we caught the pirates that took him. Loath as I am to admit it, the Prince is dead.¡± He did not, in fact, look particularly loath to admit it.

    Florette shook her head. ¡°Some of the pirates disembarked with him before the rest were caught, they said. They ambushed me in an alley, told me I needed to speak to you. They still have him, and they¡¯re demanding a ransom from you in exchange for his safe return.¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°An obvious ploy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it was him! He had the dark hair, the cheekbones¡­ He looked exactly like the engravings of King Harold in the journal.¡±

    ¡°You had met Prince Luce before, had you?¡±

    ¡°No..¡± Not in any way I can admit to. ¡°But¡­ you¡¯ve met him, haven¡¯t you? And Simon and Mary? It would be easy to confirm that it¡¯s him.¡±

    Perimont stared coldly. ¡°You would ask me to risk my life, and the life of my children, meeting vicious criminals in person just to see their feigned imposter? Out of the question.¡±

    You cannot possibly be this thick. ¡°You could set the terms, send out anyone else who might know him¡­ Once you see him I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll realize¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you deaf? There is not a person alive who has seen his face that I would throw away on such an obvious trick. I will not negotiate with criminals. Prince Luce is dead. There¡¯s nothing else to say.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Have you told Luce yet?¡± Florette looked up from the papers in front of her, lit by candles in the dim blue tunnels. ¡°If you can trust him to stay put while we have a private conversation, surely you can trust him with¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡± Eloise folded her arms, leaning back against the opposite wall. The poor lighting hid her features, but Florette could still tell how much the trip had transformed her. She looked even thinner now, and her hair had grown out enough that it looked off, like it was matte instead of glossy. ¡°He¡¯s had a lot of chances to screw me, and obviously since I¡¯m standing here he took them, but this¡­ This fucks up the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°Perimont just needs to see him,¡± Florette assured her. ¡°Once he recognizes¡ª¡±

    ¡°Once anyone recognizes the Prince openly, he loses his best excuse to take up arms. The other prince too, the brother. Even Avalon likes a pretext, however thin. It¡¯s not worth it to Perimont to fuck it up.¡±

    ¡°Shit. I knew he was being stubborn, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Brings up a whole new set of problems, complicates this shit even further. I¡¯ll get to it, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I get it.¡± She reached into the wall beside her, lifting the stone to reveal a bag she¡¯d kept hidden there. And now I¡¯ll need to hide it somewhere else, to be safe. She pulled a roll of paper from the bag and unfurled it. ¡°I¡¯m dealing with a complicated mess myself.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s a crack about me, you should know you live in a glass house. I¡¯m always down for a bit of rock-throwing, myself, but¡ª¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°Messy situation. Have to deal with Carrine, and the train. They¡¯re going to start conscripting people into Avalon¡¯s forces¡­ And now this. It¡¯s such a fucking mess.¡±

    ¡°Most things are. What do you mean the train though? Your railyard heist?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Something new.¡± She traced her eyes over the diagram once more, committing the layout of the strange machine firmly to memory: the combustion engine to the front, its fuel one coach behind, storage and supplies down to the back, then an officer¡¯s quarters at the rear. ¡°It¡¯s like it was fucking designed for us.¡±

    Eloise raised an eyebrow. ¡°Us?¡±

    ¡°Me, then, I guess.¡± Florette shrugged. ¡°The point is, the operations manual says that if any obstruction of a certain size is visible on the tracks, the train¡¯s engineer has to stop and clear it before proceeding.¡±

    ¡°Like wagon wheel tracks in the dirt? Why would they care?¡± Eloise grabbed a corner of the paper, orienting it to face her.

    ¡°They¡¯re very obsessed with cleanliness.¡± Florette cracked a smile. ¡°More to the point, all we need to do is keep the crew at the front distracted enough that they don¡¯t call for the soldiers, and the cargo¡¯s basically ours.¡±

    ¡°Military cargo,¡± Eloise said slowly, squinting at the paper with an irritated look on her face. ¡°A few pikes and some shitty rations sure seem like an invaluable haul worth risking life and limb to get. Maybe we¡¯ll even get a threadbare raincoat!¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t come. Fuck off and leave me here again, to wait for you like a stupid dog awaiting its master¡¯s voice.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°Are you seriously mad at me? You agreed to stay.¡±

    ¡°When I thought you were coming back!¡±

    Eloise laughed, gesturing to herself. ¡°Voil¨¤. I¡¯m back.¡±

    ¡°So you are.¡± Florette narrowed her eyes. ¡°After your new ship blew up, along with all of your plans. Be honest with me, were you planning to return, before everything went wrong?¡±

    ¡°Eventually, I¡¯m sure. As long as stuff¡¯s banned here, there¡¯ll always be a market for my services.¡±

    ¡°But back to me? Back to us?¡±

    Eloise stared back silently.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought.¡± Florette pushed the papers back into her bag, ready to be dropped back between the stones when she was alone again.

    ¡°It was for your own good, alright? I saw how you acted after that raid. You¡¯re not cut out for this life.¡±

    ¡°So why couldn''t you be honest with me?¡±

    Eloise frowned. ¡°More trouble than it¡¯s worth. Dropping you here let you keep your dignity and go be a farmer or a clerk or something. You figured it out eventually, right? Less pain for everyone this way.¡±

    ¡°Less pain for you, maybe,¡± Florette scoffed. ¡°While you were inciting a mutiny against yourself, I robbed the railyard from right under the Governor''s nose. Without killing anyone.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, brilliant job you did there, getting Claude arrested, nearly getting him killed.¡±

    ¡°Oh please, that¡¯s on your beloved Jacques and you know it.¡±

    ¡°Jacques is a prick, but he wouldn¡¯t have been put in that position if you hadn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t what, Eloise? Done the exact same shit you and Verrou do all the time?¡±

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have involved Claude!¡± she growled. ¡°He¡¯s one of the good ones. And he¡¯s not cut out for it.¡± She sighed. ¡°Being on the run is going to be rough for a guy like that.¡±

    ¡°He knew the risks. Stood tall in jail, not saying a word to anyone. He even helped get a friend of mine out while he was in there.¡± Or an ally, at least. ¡°He¡¯ll be happier outside this awful city. Who wouldn¡¯t be?¡±

    Eloise sighed. ¡°I could have really used a friend here. For longer than the two hours it took to load Claude onto the boat, I mean.¡±

    Florette narrowed her eyes. ¡°Maybe if you treated people better, you¡¯d have one. Maybe you¡¯d have many!¡±

    She folded her arms. ¡°You know, we met the spirit of the woods in Refuge. Cya.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re still alive and unharmed?¡± Her mind flashed to G¨¦zarde, and the unbalanced proposition he¡¯d forced Fernan into. ¡°Did she make you do anything?¡±

    ¡°Fed us mushrooms, to give us spiritual visions. What a great fucking favor, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªWhat?¡±

    ¡°It was really great. I saw my dad¡­ he looked clearer-headed, more like his old self, drinking tea with a one-eyed wolf.¡±

    Is she messing with me? Florette crept closer.

    ¡°The best part was, I got to see my mom die again, her face going blue as she clawed at her neck. Her hands were supposed to be bound, but she slipped out somehow. Didn¡¯t help, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Do they even mean anything if you aren¡¯t a sage? It might just be your mind, messing with you because of the¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had psyben before. It was nothing like this. There was some spiritual¡­ something. I don¡¯t know. Luce had them too, though. He looked really freaked out, after.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Florette said, not knowing what else to say. ¡°I can¡¯t even remember my parents. They went off to war when I was two, and didn¡¯t come back.¡±

    Eloise frowned, placing a hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°Was there anything else you saw?¡± Why bring it up now, out of nowhere?

    ¡°A few things, none of them as bad as¡­  Captain Verrou was there for a bit with tears in his eyes, talking to someone who looked a lot like Luce. And I saw a woman fighting, mowing through people faster than it took their blood to hit the ground. But then she was old, that same sword at her hip, but dying. She was completely alone, Florette.¡±

    Oh.

    ¡°I can see why that shook you.¡± She pulled her into a hug. ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t shake me. I¡¯m fine.¡± She turned up her nose. ¡°I¡¯ve had to deal with a lot worse than a bad trip through the wilderness. Just made me think, that¡¯s all. Cya laid out my whole life like it was nothing, just some list of everything I¡¯d done, everyone I¡¯d been.¡±

    Florette wrapped an arm around her. ¡°You won¡¯t die alone, Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she muttered, so quiet it was almost inaudible. ¡°I suppose when I die, at least one other person will be there. Someone¡¯s got to do the killing after all.¡±

    I guess most people in this business don¡¯t exactly pass in their sleep.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m probably going to have to leave town after this. Luce has seen my face.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine what that¡¯s like.¡±

    Florette flicked her on the nose. ¡°Exactly, you¡¯ve got the same problem.¡±

    ¡°Eh¡­ I don¡¯t think Luce is like that. He had a thousand chances to screw me in the wasteland, or after. Shit, he could be running away right now, it¡¯s not like we can see the spot we left him in from here. But I doubt it. I¡¯m pretty sure if I leave him alone he¡¯ll do the same for me.¡±

    ¡°Do you really believe that?¡± Do you of all people really trust someone that much? ¡°You think we¡¯ll be alright staying? Like he won¡¯t tell anyone?¡±

    ¡°You? I don¡¯t know. You did kill his cousin.¡±

    ¡°Prick.¡± Florette gave her a slight shove from the side. ¡°Anyway, it couldn¡¯t hurt. Get back out there, see the world a bit once all this shit is behind us.¡±

    Eloise turned to face her, mere inches separating their faces. ¡°Are you asking me if I want to skip town with you?¡±

    ¡°I guess I am. Further from Avalon¡¯s reach the better, right? I¡¯ve always wanted to see Paix Lake.¡±

    She took a deep breath. ¡°Sure. Why not? I could certainly use a fucking break.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Florette leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the lips. ¡°Now let me show you what I¡¯ve been planning with this train robbery. I think it¡¯s going to be my best yet.¡±

    ¡°Wait, hold on.¡± Eloise stood up abruptly. ¡°I have to talk to Luce. He needs to know. And¡­¡±

    ¡°I get it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back!¡± she called as she ran down the tunnel, the words echoing across the stone.

    I¡¯ve heard that one before.

 Camille VIII: The Imminent Arrival

    ¡°I was shocked to see it, I must admit.¡± Camille picked up the journal on the table before her, libelous dreck better fit for the lining of a pig''s pen. ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s grip on the proceedings seemed quite firm.¡±

    But Fernan broke it. That unassuming peasant had even managed to implicate Magnifico somehow. Camille had to admit that she had underestimated the boy, both in moral character and ability. The pressure from Lumi¨¨re could only have been immense, the task nigh-impossible, the rewards for falling in line just like the others beyond compare, and yet Fernan had managed it.

    Framing the guilty party, no doubt. Details were somewhat scarce, but it seemed as if the bard had snagged cloth on the Duke¡¯s balcony and then kept the offending garment for months after, even wearing it to the trial. Either the journals were unreliable beyond their editorializing, admittedly likely, or the boy had moved past a great deal of his hesitance. It was hard to believe he¡¯d had such a brazen act of fraud in him.

    Annette and Lucien are lucky to have him by their side.

    Meanwhile, I did nothing. Lumi¨¨re¡¯s pistol might have killed her, for all the difference it had made.

    Her time in Malin hadn¡¯t been wasted, certainly. Influence and knowledge, carefully built up behind enemy lines was an invaluable resource, but nothing in comparison to the life of a friend. I stayed because I thought I couldn¡¯t help her, and Fernan proved me wrong. As much as it rankled to have made such a severe mistake, the more important thing was that Annette and Lucien were safe. For the moment, anyway.

    Camille set the journal back down, leaving it folded to show an engraving of the missing prince in grayscale, a large circular scar visible over his eye and half his face. Or perhaps it was a smudge? ¡°One might think a Prince of Avalon would merit a better quality of depiction than this.¡±

    Across the table from her, Simon Perimont shook his head lightly. ¡°Father owed a favor to the artist. A few words to the editor took care of the issue.¡±

    Sounds about right. ¡°I suppose he¡¯s too dead to complain,¡± she lied easily. If I had to make this last longer, helping Perimont rebuke him might have been the pragmatic thing to do. With his soldiers gathering more conscripts by the day, the governor was helping rouse sentiment against Avalon better than Camille ever could.

    Simon frowned. ¡°I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t joke about that. Prince Luce had a good head on his shoulders, the few times I met him. Nothing like his brother. Having his damned memorial announcements use a portrait that actually looks like him doesn¡¯t seem like too much to ask, does it?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. I meant no¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s just eat. I¡¯m sorry for the dour mood.¡± He snapped his fingers, summoning a servant to relay their orders to the kitchens. ¡°Steak for me, in the usual fashion.¡±

    Camille raised an eyebrow. ¡°And what fashion is that?¡±

    ¡°Cooked through, half pink, and dusted with mushrooms.¡±

    ¡°Half pink?¡± Why am I even surprised? ¡°You know it ruins the meat to overcook it like that.¡±

    ¡°Malins,¡± he scoffed. ¡°You¡¯d probably bite straight into the cow if no one stopped you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to taste the blood.¡± Camille turned to the servant. ¡°Pork tenderloin, if you please, dusted with black truffle.¡±

    ¡°Nice choice.¡± Simon nodded as the servant scurried away.

    Camille took a moment to straighten her posture, choosing her words carefully. ¡°No offense was intended. I only meant that your father can do as he likes, no matter if it¡¯s in poor taste. With the journal as with anything. It¡¯s not as if there¡¯s anything anyone could have done.¡±

    ¡°Nothing realistic, I suppose.¡± He sighed heavily. ¡°This war is beginning to feel just as inevitable. If Malin had a wholly working harbor, I expect we would already have a blockade surrounding Guerron.¡±

    ¡°Why Guerron? Didn¡¯t you tell me you expected the Crown Prince to invade the Condorcet Collective?¡±

    ¡°I did, then.¡± He exhaled ruefully. ¡°As things stood, it was the most likely target amidst a sea of them. Wipe out a few cultists and expand Avalon¡¯s influence to ¡®avenge¡¯ Luce without needing to make too much a mess of things. But now?¡±

    Ah. ¡°Now Avalon¡¯s ¡®friend¡¯ isn¡¯t going to let you roll into Guerron without spilling a drop of blood. Now the target is obvious.¡±

    ¡°Terribly obvious. Prince Harold is already sending troops to Lyrion as a launching point, to prepare for the inevitable while Father does his part here.¡± He drummed his fingers against the table. ¡°It¡¯s a shame it couldn¡¯t have been done diplomatically. That¡¯s how King Harold has always championed the acquisition of new territory.¡±

    ¡°What does it matter to you?¡±

    ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t, not directly.¡± Simon shrugged. ¡°But the markets abhor uncertainty. When war breaks out, it always upsets the apple cart. Weapons and warship manufacturers soar while all manner of other necessities descend ¡ª not exactly the underpinning of a strong economy. Trade gets disrupted with embargoes, passages and routes become unsafe or blocked off¡­ It¡¯s all a mess, even if it always settles out eventually.¡±

    ¡°Quite a tragedy.¡±

    ¡°Well, you asked why it mattered to me in particular. Really, all this farce of a trial did was ensure that Guerron will be destroyed instead. Their grain stores will run low, their animals slaughtered, the florin soon worthless¡­¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°What horrid timing, too. This Fernan fellow sprung up out of nowhere so conveniently I¡¯d almost wonder if he¡¯s working for the Harpies.¡±

    ¡°With the flow of information so unreliable, almost anything is possible.¡± Not that, though.

    ¡°Ugh, exactly. Somehow we¡¯ve ended up with the fog of war before the war even begins. I asked for a copy of the journal that hadn¡¯t been through the censors yet, but it read almost identical to what the public got.¡±

    ¡°They know what will make it through and what won¡¯t. Most of that editing probably happens before they even put their pen to paper.¡±

    Simon nodded glumly. ¡°This is where it would be useful to have a spy in Guerron.¡±

    ¡°One not in the public eye after being accused of murder, anyway.¡± Depending on Magnifico¡¯s pedigree, it wasn¡¯t impossible that he would have some use as a hostage, but none of the reports had mentioned him being captive after the trial, so it was impossible to tell if he was even in the city anymore.

    Simon didn¡¯t get a chance to reply before the servant returned, an austere woman in white clothes walking beside him.

    ¡°Master Simon, Lady Carrine, you have my sincerest apologies, but I will not be able to make the pork tenderloin you requested.¡± The chef twisted the pipe in her hands. ¡°The Governor¡¯s stores of pork are entirely depleted.¡±

    ¡°How is this possible?¡± Simon stood from his seat. ¡°Lady Carrine made a very specific, reasonable request. My hospitality demands that I provide her with it.¡±

    ¡°Does your father not keep pigs aside to supply this place?¡± Camille asked, hiding a smile.

    ¡°Of course he does. Any self-respecting nobleman would¡ª¡± He turned his head back to the chef. ¡°Please explain how this could have happened.¡±

    The woman lit her pipe with a nearby candle. ¡°Master Simon, your father¡¯s entire drove of hogs disappeared today.¡±

    His eyes narrowed. ¡°Disappeared? Did they grow wings and fly away?¡±

    ¡°It appears they were stolen, Master Simon. Their keepers were in the process of moving them to a quarantine pen after they all suddenly took ill.¡± She inhaled from her pipe, breathing deep, then exhaled a cloud of smoke. ¡°Apparently hogs have been going missing all over the city, the past few weeks. Your father has already dispatched a Guardian to apprehend the culprit. That these brigands struck so close to home will only get them caught faster, I¡¯m sure. The Guardians take this business seriously.¡±

    Already? That could be a problem. ¡°Say Simon, remember that Charlotte girl who was helping poor Sir Gerald through his investigations? Perhaps she could use a reprieve, assisting whoever your father dispatched.¡± Not as subtle as I might have liked, but¡­

    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent idea. I believe Gary¡¯s business here is done anyway. I¡¯ll put in a word with Captain Whitbey.¡±

    The chef stifled a cough, smoke trailing from her nostrils. ¡°Master Simon, other pigs can be had from the surrounding farms. Cost certainly isn¡¯t an issue. But bringing them here and slaughtering them is likely to come with a delay that your lady companion would rather avoid.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Why hadn¡¯t you already purchased a set to have on hand?¡±

    ¡°Master Simon, I spoke with the quartermaster and¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Camille held up a hand to stop him. The point was never the food. ¡°I¡¯ll have the same as Simon, only cooked blue rather than burned to oblivion.¡±

    ?

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± Florette stood at the mouth of the tunnel, silhouetted by the bright sunlight behind her. At her feet was a collection of almost three dozen pigs, all tied together. ¡°Wasn¡¯t exactly easy to wrangle this many. Way harder than when we were doing two or three at a time. Harder to slip the berries to them all, too.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Camille said.

    ¡°It¡¯s still so weird that that works. Goats could eat the head of a pickaxe without getting ill, but I guess pigs are more fragile.¡±

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t know anything about goats, but you¡¯ll be glad to know that taking all of these hogs was worthwhile. Everything played out exactly as planned. Apparently Perimont already put someone up to finding the culprit, but Simon¡¯s going to make sure Charlotte is put on the case and out of our hair.¡±

    ¡°Does that mean we can be done with this? I don¡¯t think I¡¯m cut out to be a tunnel rancher.¡± The statement was all the more absurd for the massive collection of pigs just behind her. ¡°The route you gave me through the tunnels worked perfectly though, got to say. Did Claude tell you about these before he left, or something?¡±

    ¡°Is that a joke? My family built these as a way to help cool the city down. Our sages and acolytes were the ones running through them spraying mist on mercilessly hot summers like this.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Florette nodded in realization. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to figure out why they were built ever since I got here. No one could give me an answer. It¡¯s one thing for no one to know, but I couldn¡¯t even find someone curious about it in Jacques¡¯s crew.¡±

    ¡°Our lands in On¨¨s are just north of Malin; we¡¯ve been wrapped up in Imperial politics as long as there¡¯s been an empire to speak of. Castille of On¨¨s even built the whole palace out of blue stone as tribute for the Fox Queen.¡± Camille frowned. ¡°It¡¯s disappointing to see those contributions going so ignored.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°Probably because the palace was totally destroyed, and no one¡¯s used the tunnels for that since the Foxtrap. Who¡¯d appreciate what isn¡¯t even happening?¡±

    ¡°The more circumspect, I imagine.¡± Camille sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a travesty. Without maintenance and direction, the other ones set up for sewage don¡¯t drain properly anymore.¡±

    ¡°Wait, are these not the sewage tunnels?¡±

    ¡°Obviously not!¡± Camille sighed. ¡°These are designed for people to move through. You¡¯ll note that they don¡¯t smell foul or have liquid running through them. The sewage tunnels are sealed off, closer to the surface. A good rain, or a sweep from our sages, and the streets looked pristine. Back when it worked properly, it drained out to the surrounding farmland to irrigate and fertilize it. A bit of rotation and filtration, and the disgusting detritus of the street found another life helping farmers and such.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of disgusting, can you please take care of these pigs? There¡¯s way too many of them packed in here.¡±

    Camille nodded, squeezing out the tunnel and onto the beach. Hidden by rocky cliffs on all sides, this particular site had been set aside for the sort of sage business that required discretion, allowing anyone unfortunate enough to cross the Leclaires to give back to the spirits in private.

    Camille helped Florette wrangle the pigs towards the water with one hand, clearing a path with the other.

    The first time had required another expenditure of her life, though at least a small one, but each sacrifice thereafter had been fueled with the energy of the previous. Or rather, a fraction of it. Each time, Levian¡¯s power grew, and with it, Camille¡¯s.

    It does nothing for the thousand souls I promised him, though. Unfortunate, that, but the risk of grabbing deserving targets for this was far higher, and would barely put a dent into it in any case. Even a full-scale invasion might not be enough. But that was a thought for later.

    Right now she had a task before her that required focus.

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian,¡± Camille spoke calmly to the sea. ¡°Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.¡± The spirit would remain in the water, out of sight, as he often did.

    This time it¡¯s a necessity, though. I promised him a thousand souls before next I saw him, at year¡¯s end. It had seemed so far away, then, but now the summer solstice was already on the horizon. ¡°In accordance with our ancient pact, I present these living swine, the stock of high nobility. Fat and hale and hearty, may the energy of their life swell yours in turn.¡±

    This part carried the most risk, watching the drove of pigs waddle their way down the path through the sea. It needed to stretch so far, as well. Pigs were surprisingly adept at swimming. Still, only the entrance needed to be exposed to the air, careful manipulation holding the water above their heads as the path proceeded deeper and further.

    When she was sure it was safe, Camille collapsed her undersea tunnel, letting the water fall with a crack, and killing them all.

    She didn¡¯t release the breath she was holding until she felt the energy flow into her, confirmation that there had been no error in the ritual. A pig was nothing compared to a human, but quantity counted for something, and she only needed so much energy to get back to Guerron. ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± she told Florette. ¡°I have enough.¡±

    ¡°What, already?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what happens when you do three dozen at once.¡± Camille took a deep breath. ¡°Lumi¨¨re and Magnifico are next, once I make it back.¡± In an ideal world, she would have enough energy left to fight them, but the world was seldom ideal. Better to start by sacrificing one of the sun sages who¡¯d hurt Lucien.

    ¡°Good. Fuck both of them for trying to screw over Fernan like that.¡± Florette turned her head out to the water. ¡°So, what, are you going to swim back?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s closer to surfing. I still need to breathe.¡±

    ¡°Surfing?¡±

    Right, she grew up in the mountains.

    ¡°With the right board, you can ride the water¡¯s waves even without magic.¡± Unbidden, the image of Mother training her flashed to mind. Camille had fallen from her board what felt like hundreds of times, but each time there was a friendly face to lift her from the water. ¡°In my case, there¡¯s no need for the board when I can sculpt the water around my feet accordingly. You¡¯d have to use magic for a long trip like this, anyway.¡± She took a moment to breathe in the soft sea air, chilling breeze cutting through the horrendous heat. ¡°And it¡¯s far safer than trying to book a ship right now. The Avalon navy¡¯s taking a close look at everything going in and out right now, especially with the harbor still half a ruin.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Florette nodded. ¡°Sounds like a plan, then. Sure you can¡¯t stick around to help with the train heist?¡±

    Camille snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere near that disaster, no offense. My Lucien¡¯s been trapped in a tower thinking me dead for months. Annette was nearly just executed. I have to go back to them.¡± Go back to them a failure, the sage who returned from death only to accomplish almost nothing while the world moved on without her. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s time.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine. Suit yourself.¡± She folded her arms defensively. ¡°I think it¡¯s time I go, then.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to see Eloise and that Prince?¡±

    Florette nodded. ¡°In a couple hours. Wasn¡¯t sure how long you¡¯d be.¡±

    ¡°Good. I want to check in with you on all that before I go. I don¡¯t want my work with Simon Perimont to go to waste either. Not more than it needs to, at least.¡± I can hardly expect you to just pick up where I left off.

    ¡°Ok, we can meet here at sunset, then.¡± Florette turned around and began walking back into the tunnel. Camille waited until she was out of sight, then followed.

    ?

    ¡°Eloise told you, right?¡± Florette was leaning against the rocky cliff face, rippling slightly through the blue. ¡°Perimont even made sure to print a terrible engraving of you in the journal so no one would recognize you.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she told me. She¡¯s coming too, just going to be a bit late.¡± The Prince himself stood straight, head held high. So this is the meek scholar? ¡°Getting me recognized isn¡¯t the important thing. We could just find Simon if it came to that. But Lord Perimont holds dominion here. Even if I came forward, his Guardians could pack me on a ship to Cambria or a train to Lyrion before I could say a word. It could be weeks or months before I make it back.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s not good enough?¡± The vibrations of Florette¡¯s voice warbled, almost muted.

    ¡°It¡¯s not! My brother¡¯s on the warpath because he thinks you two killed me, essentially. I¡¯ve seen those flags the Forresters put up on people¡¯s houses.¡±

    ¡°Disloyalty.¡± Even through the water, the disgust was plain to hear in her voice. ¡°It gets taken down when they get their conscript. Until they do, it¡¯s supposed to be a mark of shame for the household.¡±

    The Prince scratched his chin. ¡°The King sent me here to help with Perimont¡¯s mismanagement, but it¡¯s not written down anywhere. And he¡¯s in no position to help.¡±

    ¡°No kidding. That whole fucking Governship is a lost cause.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure. Simon may seem lazy, but he¡¯s got an incredible grasp of economics and commerce. He wouldn¡¯t stand for this, that¡¯s for sure. But I need to step in now. It¡¯s going to be impossible to demilitarize in two months, and it¡¯ll be pointless anyway because Guerron will have been leveled by then. What a fucking disaster.¡± He let out a long sigh. ¡°I claw my way back from certain death and it¡¯s still too little, too late.¡±

    So Prince Grimoire fancies himself a pacifist after all. Florette had hinted at his attitude being more relaxed, but it was another thing entirely to hear it from his own mouth. Reformers in Avalon weren¡¯t unheard of, apparently. The dominant Owl group in their Great Council preferred economic supremacy and defensive armaments, and a splinter called the Jays even advocated outright pacifism.

    But a Prince¡­

    Perhaps he was a viable alternative to Perimont after all. Stirring up hate and discontent counted for a lot, especially with such an apathetic populace. But it was nothing compared to weakening Avalon¡¯s grip directly. A relaxation of censorship, perhaps? Discussing the Empire no longer being considered treason alone could count for a lot, if the Prince intended to pursue it.

    But that was speculation. If nothing else, his policies would make winning back control of Malin far easier in a direct, concrete sense. Fewer soldiers and ships guarding it might be the only way to wrest it back in a direct contest of arms.

    More important, though, was Guerron. Lucien was as good a fighter as ever there was, and Annette was definitely up to the task of coordinating the city¡¯s defense, but still¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s not like it¡¯s nothing.¡± Florette stepped forward, then stopped herself. ¡°You¡¯re alive. That¡¯s what counts for the most.¡±

    ¡°I suppose.¡± He clenched his fists. ¡°But at this point, short of storming the governor¡¯s mansion, there¡¯s nothing I can do to avert this war. We¡¯re fucked.¡±

    I can protect them better here. Guerron could wait a little longer.

    Camille spun the water around her, bringing her bubble of air to the surface. With a vortex of water beneath her feet, she rose above the water, launching herself into the air.

    She landed in front of them amidst a shower of droplets, the wave crashing down behind her.

    ¡°Then storm it we shall.¡±

 Luce VIII: The Liberator

    Luce crouched low behind the wall of brick, careful to avoid letting the top of his head show above it. Father would be apoplectic to learn how easy it is to get this close unseen. The exit from the tunnels had put them at the foot of Fuite Gardens, a literal stone¡¯s throw away from Perimont¡¯s grounds.

    Whatever madness had possessed Fox-Kings past to dig out these tunnels under their own city for such minimal gains, he could not say, but it was a wonder that rebels hadn¡¯t been putting them to use against the Governor long before today.

    The Governor¡¯s mansion was an administrative building more than a fortress, inherently trading some security to allow dozens of officials to make their way in and out each day, but it was nonetheless a seat of power.

    It would be defended accordingly.

    A sudden clattering sound drew Luce out of his thoughts, though he willed himself not to look above the wall.

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± a sharp, high pitched voice sighed.

    ¡°Shit,¡± a deeper one responded, a hint of mirth in his voice. ¡°I knew you were clumsy, but I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d drop your weapon for no reason at all.¡±

    ¡°Got slick with sweat.¡± The guard grunted, a light scraping sound audible as she presumably picked it back up. ¡°This heat is murder.¡±

    The other guard laughed. ¡°A pleasant sunny day would be murder for you. You¡¯re not in Forta anymore, kid.¡±

    ¡°If only. Guarding Malin almost makes me wish for the return of Khali¡¯s darkness.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t joke about that. My thatha told me about it when I was little. People starving, getting sick, even freezing to death sometimes, if you stepped too far out of town. Half the kids he grew up with didn¡¯t make it to the other side.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine, sorry! Wow. It was like a hundred years ago, man.¡±

    ¡°Now!¡± A voice hissed beside Luce. ¡°While they¡¯re distracted.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Luce whispered back. If everything goes according to plan, I¡¯ll be leading these people and thousands just like them. It would only help to know their perspective better.

    ¡°...not like I haven¡¯t thought about it, you know,¡± the woman said. ¡°My term¡¯s not up for another two years, but I was thinking I might be able to transfer. Anya Stuart¡¯s representing the homeland, and her squad just got a few vacancies. Pays better, too.¡±

    The man sighed. ¡°Why do you think those vacancies are there, huh? Robin Verrou cut a bloody swath through this time, the fucking traitor. You¡¯d be a fool to jump on his sword instead of standing still here every day. Seriously kid, this is about as good as it gets.¡±

    ¡°Luce, what are we waiting for? Come on!¡±

    ¡°Just wait a minute!¡±

    ¡°I got into this to fight the bad guys, you know? Ripping people out of their homes to fight for us, putting up those flags on their houses¡­ I don¡¯t know. Killing pirates is more my speed, I think.¡±

    ¡°Combat Isn''t how it looks in the plays, you know. You¡¯ll get orders you don¡¯t like anywhere, trust me. Better to have to hold your nose here than on a battlefield, where it could get you killed. Lord Perimont cares about keeping us safe more than most.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake.¡± The guards didn¡¯t even have a chance to cry out as a wave of water as tall as their heads slammed them into the wall. ¡°Come on.¡±

    ?

    Eloise had her arms behind her back when she came for him. ¡°Oh, you didn¡¯t run off. Shame. I was hoping for a good manhunt to start my day.¡±

    ¡°Sorry to disappoint you.¡± Luce shrugged. ¡°What did Florette say? Did she manage to meet with Perimont?¡±

    ¡°She did¡­¡±

    ¡°And? Did they work out the ransom?¡±

    ¡°Well, not exactly.¡± She rubbed her arm. ¡°Perimont doesn¡¯t want you. Claims you''re just an imposter. He won¡¯t risk having anyone who knows your face confirm who you are. Won¡¯t hear of it.¡±

    ¡°Not if he recognized me. If I could just see him¡ª¡±

    ¡°Luce, you¡¯re being stupid. Stop.¡± He folded her arms. ¡°He wants his war, and you¡¯re in the way. You could walk right up to the front gates and he¡¯d spit in your face and arrest you. He all but told Florette.¡±

    ¡°I could force the issue, reveal everything to the public.¡± Even as he said it, it felt weak. Perimont ruled, here. Even if Luce could confirm his survival, the Governor could simply have his Guardians pack him onto a ship and back to Cambria. I have no official authority here, not that I can prove.

    Eloise seemed to notice him realizing, leaning back against the wall of the tunnel.

    ¡°That traitor. I knew he was ruthless, but this crosses a line.¡± A pretext for war, no matter the cost. Inexcusable. ¡°He¡¯ll pay for this.¡±

    ¡°No doubt.¡± Eloise frowned. ¡°You¡¯re taking this surprisingly well. Do you have a plan?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea.¡± He clenched his fists tightly. ¡°But it makes things clearer, I suppose. Alleviates the need to be gentle, once the world knows I¡¯m alive.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°If they get the chance to learn it, anyway.¡±

    Right. ¡°I could talk to Simon, somehow? Or Mary? They¡¯d recognize me, at least. I think so, anyway. When I look at my reflection I can barely recognize myself.¡±

    Eloise snorted. ¡°Truly, you are eternally scarred.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°A shave and a haircut will take care of that. But listen, about the ransom¡­¡±

    Even now, greed wins the day. ¡°Perimont will never give it you. He¡¯d pay you more to kill me, most likely.¡± Luce put his head to his temples, massaging them lightly. ¡°I suppose I could arrange a payout myself. Eventually. If I¡¯m packed on the ship back to Cambria, it could be difficult to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not what I meant.¡± She bit her lip, closing her eyes as her fists clenched. ¡°You¡­ can¡­¡± She took a deep breath. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the ransom. I don¡¯t need it, anyway. Plenty of other ways to get what¡¯s mine.¡±

    She really trusts me that much? ¡°Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m only being practical, that¡¯s all.¡± Her posture relaxed just the slightest bit. ¡°Just don¡¯t set your thugs on me and we¡¯ll call it even, alright? Once this is done, it¡¯ll be like we¡¯ve never met.¡±

    ?

    Does anyone ever actually die? Florette had said that, when he¡¯d first stepped out of the shadows. He¡¯d thought she¡¯d been talking about Eloise, even if it wasn¡¯t much of a jump to guess that one of them might be alive if the other was.

    This made more sense, though.

    Camille Leclaire stood tall and confident, the green cape flapping in the wind behind her somehow already dry. This was the woman Father had his pawn kill, and yet she barely looks worse for the wear.

    He¡¯d heard a hundred different stories from every port: that she had been thrown into the sun, that her flesh had been seared away when Aurelien Lumi¨¨re burned her armor, even that she¡¯d turned into a serpent when defeated, only to die when Lumi¨¨re cut off her head.

    Whatever the truth of it, she didn¡¯t look any worse for the wear. Her skin was unblemished; no evidence of any wounds was visible. Her hair looked awful, light brown and gold sprouting out of the top before it jarringly transitioned into washed-out pastel blue, but apparently that was her style anyway.

    The very smirk on her face seemed to be daring death itself to claim her, to return her to the earth spirit¡¯s cold embrace. ¡°Prince Grimoire,¡± she greeted. ¡°You seem to have lost your tongue. Allow me to help you find it. You need not fear me right now, for I plan to help you.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Florette¡¯s voice was impassive. ¡°I thought you were going to be leaving.¡±

    ¡°Soon,¡± Leclaire agreed. ¡°But first, I thought I might rid this city of Perimont as a gift of departure.¡± She turned to face him directly. ¡°Prince Grimoire, I know you not, but I have heard enough to see what an improvement you would be over Perimont. For the moment, our interests align.¡±

    ¡°Do they?¡± he finally asked. ¡°You¡¯re Avalon¡¯s enemy. A spirit sage who partakes in mass human sacrifice. You wouldn¡¯t even let that Duke negotiate a treaty with our diplomat, staked your very life on it. And that didn¡¯t work, so now you¡¯re here. You expect me to trust you?¡±

    ¡°To the contrary. I certainly can¡¯t trust the prince of a nation that murdered my parents, drove me from my homeland, and sent a spy to assassinate the man who took me in when all was lost, then framed my best friend for the crime¡­¡± Her expression grew dark.

    Father¡­

    ¡°Trust, rather, in mutual benefit.¡± She smiled, though it failed to reach her eyes. ¡°On my honor as a Lady, I plan to return to Guerron at the first opportunity. My fianc¨¦ has been freed, my friend¡¯s innocence firmly established. I need to help them.¡±

    ¡°So go! I won¡¯t stop you.¡± Not that I could, with things as they are right now.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    She sighed. ¡°Your brother would tear Guerron apart for revenge, with Perimont at the tip of the spear. Am I wrong to think that you might put a stop to that? That Perimont¡¯s deposition and your reveal as alive could halt any bloodshed before it can begin?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Luce said carefully, trying to avoid falling into a trap. ¡°I¡¯m trying to do things better than the likes of Perimont or my grandfather.¡±

    ¡°Excellent, so you understand.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m willing to work with a mass murderer.¡±

    Florette snorted. ¡°Have you looked at the country you¡¯re a prince of? Just let her help.¡±

    It felt like a slap in the face, but he had no choice but to continue. ¡°Your very magic is borne of blood and death, Lady Leclaire. To accept your help is to accept that suffering as necessary, simply to gain power here. I won¡¯t crawl to the top of this city over a pile of bodies. As I said, I wish to do things differently.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Leclaire stroked her chin, head tilted back slightly. ¡°I could tell you that demanding moral perfection from your means is an excellent way to ensure your intended ends never arrive. That you would perish the death of a thousand cuts before implementing a single one of your reforms. I could tell you that, but I won¡¯t. That¡¯s your business, Prince Grimoire. Instead I shall simply say this: the spiritual energy I currently hold comes not from humans but mere pigs. If you truly cannot stand another death, there are other means of incapacitation. Your¡­ limitations do not prevent us from a mutually beneficial arrangement.¡±

    ¡°Please. Pigs?¡± You must think me fool, just as the Harpies do. But even they would not condescend with so blatant a lie.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s true.¡± Florette placed a hand on his arm. ¡°She didn¡¯t have anything left after that duel with Lord Fuckface. We only even gathered the pigs so she could make it home without getting caught. No one died for it.¡±

    They can do that?

    Leclaire nodded. ¡°My grievances lie not with you, Prince Grimoire. Not yet, anyway. I¡¯m simply trying to protect my people.¡±

    ¡°We need her,¡± Florette added. ¡°Eloise and I can do what we can, but there¡¯s no way we¡¯re enough to get you into the governor¡¯s mansion. Not publicly, the way you need.¡±

    ¡°If you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just want to make sure I heard you correctly. You sacrificed animals for your magic? That works?¡±

    ¡°Why, yes.¡± Leclaire blinked. ¡°It¡¯s monstrously inefficient, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you people do it every time?¡± Luce sucked in air steadily, trying to maintain his composure. ¡°Why does anyone need to die?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°Most of the time, that is the form our offerings take. A prized sow, a banquet, even a stick of incense. As long as it once lived, the spirits will accept it. The vast majority of our offerings do not end the life of a single person.¡±

    ¡°Every time you execute someone¡ª¡±

    ¡°How often is that, do you think? It¡¯s telling, really, that the boy from Avalon presumes dozens of executions each week. Have you even seen the rotting corpses on the beach, the reminders of what great fortune Avalon brings to its territories? I assure you it¡¯s quite different to witness it in person.¡±

    Surely she¡¯s exaggerating. Even Perimont wouldn¡¯t kill so many¡­

    But he would, wouldn¡¯t he? ¡®The price of civilization¡¯, he¡¯d once said.

    Camille smirked. ¡°Sages take a more civilized approach. Only the foulest of crimes merit death. I¡¯ve sacrificed perhaps a score in my entire tenure. And when one is to die, why let them go to waste? People dying for nothing is the greater injustice.¡±

    Luce grit his teeth tightly. ¡°Dying for ¡®nothing¡¯ is a lesser evil than dying to fuel the power of evil spirits and corrupt sages. Your excuses are so transparent. All you¡¯re after is maintaining your own power.¡±

    ¡°The same could be said of all institutions.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t justify¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop!¡± Florette pounded her fist into the palm of her hand. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time for a philosophical debate. You two can right back to hating each other after we get rid of that loathsome governor.¡± She turned to face him directly, her eyes looking surprisingly vulnerable. ¡°Luce, you didn¡¯t want to get back into power using the fruits of human sacrifice. If Camille helps us, you won¡¯t. Unless you think killing pigs is some unpardonable crime?¡±

    Luce sighed. ¡°No. But it¡¯s not that simple. The entire philosophy of the Erstwhile Empire is that life is but a resource.¡± He turned back to Leclaire. ¡°Your precious Fox Queen fed my ancestors to her pet wolf to sacrifice them. As if driving us from the continent wasn¡¯t enough.¡±

    But those ancestors were no better, he remembered suddenly, the horrifying images of beachside sacrifice returning unbidden. Was that why Cya had shown it to him?

    ¡°Oh, please,¡± Leclaire scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s a common misconception, based on the Fox Queen¡¯s propaganda after the Battle of Lyrion drove out the Grimoire invaders. All she really did was chase their retreating forces into her uncle Ysengrimus to mop them up. They called him ¡®The Wolf¡¯, so when people took her accounting of it too literally¡ª¡±

    A failure at scholarship, too. ¡°Eug¨¨ne de Latraverse disproved that theory half a century ago when he found wolf skeletons at the site of the battle, right next to human remains.¡±

    ¡°How outdated are your sources?¡± Leclaire¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°De Latraverse¡¯s conclusions run entirely contrary to scholarly consensus about the nature of that era¡¯s warfare. Wolves were employed during the battle, and many of them died. If they¡¯d been fed by humans afterwards, why would their skeletons be there?¡±

    ¡°Scholarly consensus? De Latraverse¡¯s archaeological evidence from his Lyrion excavations is incontrovertible. What he found was completely untouched over the centuries, about as reliable a source as you can get.¡±

    ¡°In his time!¡± She scoffed once more. ¡°Even he wanted to conduct more excavations, but he had to flee when Avalon came calling. Ren¨¦ Corelle¡¯s treatise on the Fox Queen¡¯s conquest has the definitive modern understanding of it, with a direct citation from de Latraverse recounting the theory before he died in exile. Scholarly conversation doesn¡¯t just stop because it¡¯s not happening in countries you own.¡°

    Shit, she might be right. Luce stopped, taking a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯ll need to review those books before I can provide a fully informed opinion. But ultimately primary archaeological evidence is always going to be more definitive than secondary interpretive sources.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Florette¡¯s eyes were wide with incredulity. ¡°What did I just say about arguing with each other?¡± She sighed. ¡°At least this one was more civil. Where did you guys get those books, anyway? I¡¯ve never even heard of them.¡±

    Leclaire shrugged. ¡°Tutors. Knowing the right people.¡±

    ¡°My family¡¯s library,¡± Luce added, nodding in agreement. ¡°I would sometimes send for items from the Territories as well, if it were otherwise unavailable.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Florette muttered, shaking her head slowly. ¡°Look, Luce, I know I¡¯ve done something unforgivable to you. I¡¯m not¡­ this won¡¯t make up for it. It can¡¯t. But I want to help you. I have to. And I honestly believe that Camille joining in is the best way to do it. Can you live with that, just for as long as it takes to get back where you need to be?¡±

    Do I have any other choice?

    ?

    A blast of water smashed down the door, flooding into the room beyond.

    As Luce stepped through, he saw only Perimont¡¯s desk still standing upright. The chair must have been reduced to splinters.

    Leclaire followed a step behind, gathering her water back up off the floor as she did.

    Gordon Perimont was much the way Luce remembered, tall, robust and healthy, but a coldness to his eyes. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± he asked calmly, as if scolding a child.

    ¡°Lord Perimont.¡± Luce took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯d think you¡¯d be happier to see me alive.¡±

    The Governor tilted his head up, staring down his nose. ¡°I¡¯m delighted. Your brother will be even happier to hear it. Of that I have no doubt.¡± He stepped out from behind his desk. ¡°Would you care for a cup of tea? Coffee?¡±

    Luce looked to the woman at his side and gave a quiet nod.

    In an instant, a burst of water crashed over Perimont, its blue color washing out as it did. After a moment, a chill filled the room as the tyrant found himself bound in ice.

    ¡°You misunderstand my intentions, Lord Perimont. My father sent me here to fix the mess you¡¯ve made.¡± Luce narrowed his eyes. ¡°I was waylaid, and once I finally reached my destination, you went to every possible effort to avoid seeing me.¡±

    ¡°A simple error, Your Highness. Imposters run rampant in the wake of such tragedies. I feared for my life, and the life of my family.¡± He blinked, expression impassive. ¡°I¡¯m pleased to see you found a way to force the issue, and offer my apologies that it was necessary.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯ve been doing here. Red flags over the doors of houses who haven¡¯t sent you conscripts yet¡­ What happens to them next, exactly? What¡¯s your plan, Lord Perimont?¡±

    Still, he kept his face neutral. ¡°Prince Harold commanded that I ready myself for war, and so I did. It¡¯s that simple.¡±

    Beside him, Luce could see Leclaire biting her lip, but she remained silent, as she¡¯d promised.

    This was his duty.

    ¡°Prince Luce, if I may call a footman, I¡¯m sure I can have you on a ship to reunite with your brother by tomorrow morning. The harbor¡¯s still in a frightful state, I must confess, but with the rail line complete, you can take a train to Lyrion and ship from there. It might even be faster.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Luce stepped closer, close enough to see the traces of frost on his face. ¡°But remember, I was given a duty here. To right the ship, so to speak.¡±

    Perimont blinked. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to stay for as long as you like, of course, but I imagine after the ordeal you¡¯ve been through, family is first on your mind. Return as soon as you feel you¡¯re ready, and it will be my great honor to take you into my council.¡±

    ¡°And the attack on Guerron?¡±

    His face moved slightly in one direction, then the other. A suggestion of a head shake, though his neck was bound too tightly to manage it. ¡°Orders are orders, I¡¯m afraid. Everything is ready, as it is. If all goes to plan, the Fox Queen¡¯s line shall end, and with it, the rot at the core of this continent. Sweeping aside their corruption and decadence will take much time and effort, but without the fox boy to rally around, and under proper stewardship, a shift in paradigm is inevitable.¡±

    The ice around his head tightened, prompting Luce to shoot a glare at Leclaire. Fortunately, she relaxed it back.

    ¡°Do you plan to introduce me?¡± Perimont asked, the movement of his jaw sending tiny ice crystals to the floor. ¡°I had thought myself familiar with all binders of this sort of power, and yet I find myself at a loss. Esterton, perhaps? Though that would mean the harvesting of a new spirit.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s none of your concern.¡± Luce wrapped his fingers around Perimont¡¯s neck. ¡°Nor is Malin.¡±

    No, this feels wrong. He pulled them away almost immediately. ¡°Let him go.¡±

    Leclaire waved her hand, and the ice binding the governor collapsed back into water.

    ¡°By the authority of my father, King Harold IV Grimoire, I hereby strip you of the rank of Governor. You are relieved of command of the Territorial Guardians under your authority. You have one day to make the necessary arrangements for your departure, then you will report to my brother in Cambria for further instructions.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Perimont let out a small laugh. ¡°I¡¯m afraid the trials you¡¯ve endured might have scrambled your understanding of things. But I was appointed by His Majesty, and only His Majesty can recall me from my position.¡±

    ¡°His Majesty delegated authority to his sons while away on an important mission concerning confidential matters of state.¡± Luce pointed his arm towards the door. ¡°I can make you leave here in chains, if it proves necessary.¡±

    Finally, finally the man scowled.

    After a silent moment, he pulled himself to his feet and stepped through the door, his head bowed in defeat.

    ¡°That was so easy,¡± Leclaire muttered. ¡°The security was a joke. I could have done this months ago.¡±

    ¡°And where would you have been then?¡± Luce fired back. ¡°It may be hard for you to believe, but there are lords far worse than Perimont. Far more powerful ones, as well. One of them would doubtless have been appointed the next governor, and the real consequences would have fallen on the people of this city.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± She sighed. ¡°That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t. If Florette had had her way, the whole city would be swimming in blood by now. Still¡­¡± She wiped off her forehead with the back of her hand.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to find Simon next. Now that his father lacks the power to force me out, he¡¯s the best way to ensure everyone in the city knows I¡¯m back.¡±

    ¡°And then our work is done.¡±

    ¡°Yours, perhaps. You can return to Guerron and do as you will.¡± Luce clasped his hands together, mind racing as he considered his next steps. He gazed out the window towards the harbor, still half a ruin. And the beach beyond, where all of Perimont¡¯s gallows still lay, their victims still swinging in the wind. ¡°My work, though, is only just beginning.¡±

 Florette X: The Great Train Thief

    It figures that this would have to go down on the hottest day of the year.

    Florette lifted her mask to wipe sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She readjusted it back into place, staring out at the irritatingly still plain before her, vast grasslands interrupted only by a lone ridge in the distance and the trail of metal and wood stretching out towards it.

    The Summer Solstice had arrived, the longest day of the year, when the sun spirit Soleil spent more time present than any other. Given that the High Priest of said spirit was apparently a colossal prick, that might mean trouble for Fernan, but he could probably handle it.

    He¡¯d managed a lot more, even when it had seemed like he was destined simply to return to that village of mediocrity, content to follow the path before him unquestioningly. It was impressive, really.

    Perhaps he¡¯d taken her words to heart. It was a nice thought, anyway.

    Meanwhile, here I am.

    There wasn¡¯t much in the way of cover, not yet anyway, and what was available further ahead was far more crucial to employ later. But Florette had managed to find a patch of grass tall enough to conceal her when scouting the area before. Eloise had spot-checked to make sure, standing far closer than any potential witnesses might.

    Even if it was monstrously uncomfortable laying on her stomach to stay out of sight. The mask she¡¯d made only exacerbated the problem, turning a task as simple as itching her nose into a potentially dangerous maneuver.

    Malin had been bad enough, but at least there the sea had provided a breeze from time to time, especially near the beach. Why couldn¡¯t they have taken a ship? It all came back to that stupid harbor bombing.

    According to Camille, Charlotte was still alive, so perhaps she had found the culprit after all, or at least learned how the blue earring connected to all of it. The detective might have just used Perimont¡¯s departure as an opportunity to drop it, though. Without talking to her, there was no way to really know for sure.

    The whistle of the steam powered monstrosity sounded in the distance, prompting Florette to flatten herself further against the ground.

    This is it.

    A ways down the tracks, she¡¯d left a wagon of hay sitting square atop them. With its axle broken, it would prove an innocent-looking obstruction that would nonetheless require the train to stop. The manual had made it clear that this was a common problem, especially on this continent, where people weren¡¯t yet used to the advanced technology.

    Even in Avalon, it had apparently taken years for the campaigns against ¡®provincial walking¡¯ to catch on; they¡¯d framed anyone walking or resting atop railroad tracks as a witless rube. With tracks most often built over common roadways and passageways, people had had to learn to avoid the paths they¡¯d once traveled as a matter of course. At least, a worker on the railyard she¡¯d bought a drink had said that while explaining how he¡¯d ended up in Malin after being arrested for walking atop them, then fined within an inch of his life.

    Regardless, this train would stop when the engineer at the front saw the obstruction. The manual had been utterly unambiguous about that much.

    Indeed, as it barreled closer, Florette heard the telltale screech of its brakes, hissing and whining as it approached.

    The train had slowed to a crawl by the time it passed, the joyous gust of wind still traveling in its wake enough to alleviate the heat for an instant, though only that.

    With one final shudder, the train stopped.

    And now my true work begins.

    Florette crawled forward slowly, careful to remain out of line-of-sight. As she approached, she saw several people dismount at the front, walking forward to examine the obstruction. Once they saw it was simply an unattended wagon, they would move it and be on their way. All told, all it would really do was delay them by a few minutes.

    That was all she needed.

    A bit of surveillance had been enough to be sure this was a standard military convoy train, the sort used all over Lyrion to the north, and that gave it a very predictable layout: a luxury caboose at the back for officers, followed by a barracks car packed tight with soldiers.

    Then, cargo. Rations, uniforms, munitions, and so on. The contents would vary on any given voyage. Several more barrack cars would be interspersed throughout, leading up to the front. No more than four cargo cars between them was the rule, according to the assembly manual.

    But this time, the bounty would be far greater than mundane military equipment. This time, there would be guns.

    Florette counted out the cars carefully, then shimmied towards the third one from the back. When she was close enough, she rose to a crouch and quietly climbed up the side. The sightlines were important, since the caboose had windows, but still easy enough to avoid. Especially after practicing so much in the past weeks.

    By the time it started moving again, Florette had perched herself on the front of a cargo car, far outside the sight of any soldiers or officers.

    ¡°Wow, you made it,¡± Eloise said flatly as she approached up from the other side, breaking into a slight jog to keep pace with the train. ¡°Give me a hand?¡±

    Florette reached out and pulled her up, letting her fingers linger a bit longer than necessary. ¡°I beat you here.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°Fair enough. Good to go?¡±

    ¡°Everything went perfectly.¡± Florette unhooked the latch on the door into the cargo car in front of them. She pulled the door back as quietly as she could manage, easy enough with the wind whipping by as they picked up speed, then waved a hand inside. ¡°After you.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Though it seems a futile gesture, I do feel compelled to ask one final time: please refrain.¡± Camille looked better than she had in months, with no bags under her eyes and a dark green dress that fit her perfectly. Her hair had grown out enough for the blonde atop to look less like a mistake and more like a choice, if a questionable one, and the wind blowing it back framed her face nicely. It stood out like a beacon against the grass behind her, almost entirely brown now.

    ¡°Did you go to a tailor?¡± Florette asked, pointedly ignoring the question. ¡°Since when do you even have the money to do that?¡±

    ¡°Since it became a priority. I can¡¯t return to Guerron looking like some windswept wastrel. Prince Grimoire understood.¡±

    I bet he did. ¡°He just wants you out of here as soon as possible. It¡¯s overdue already.¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°I know. But Perimont dragged his feet, departing, and so I had to do the same. The last thing I need is to hear that he clawed his way back to power the moment I left.¡±

    ¡°Luce should have packed him on a ship weeks ago, or better yet, hanged the bastard. What happened to that conviction?¡±

    ¡°The soldiers here answered to Perimont for over a decade. The Prince walks a precarious position, and forcing the issue could see him being the one exiled instead.¡± Camille¡¯s lips curled up smugly. ¡°At least, if I¡¯m not here to prevent it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank the spirits you¡¯re here. We¡¯d all be lost without you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re managing to lose yourself enough as it is with this stupid robbery. Please, I beseech you, don¡¯t.¡± She raised her hands, pleading, eyes soft and wide.

    I love seeing you beg. ¡°Nope. I¡¯ve been planning this for ages, I¡¯ve gathered the crew, practiced all the motions, even done all that annoying math. It¡¯s done. I¡¯m just waiting for the right train.¡± This was the sort of thing one only got to do once, after all. It would be a laughable shame to go to all that effort for a train car full of military raincoats or something.

    Instantly, Camille¡¯s expression hardened once more, making it all the clearer that her supplicant pose before had simply been an act. ¡°That prince whose cousin you killed won¡¯t like this.¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°He¡¯s a pacifist, and we¡¯re stealing weapons. Don¡¯t tell him or anything, but my conscience is clear.¡±

    ¡°How comforting.¡±

    ¡°Look, what are you worried about? Everyone¡¯s identity is going to be hidden. ¡®Celine¡¯ won¡¯t be compromised, and so neither will you. Even then, Luce knows you¡¯re Camille.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the same thing as knowing I brought the railyard robber into the city as my bodyguard, which is what Simon and the rest will all think if it gets out that it¡¯s you. I¡¯ve already been running around trying to distance myself from you enough as it is. I made it clear our contract was severed and the like, that I never knew where you truly came from.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°It won¡¯t be enough, I don¡¯t think. Not if you¡¯re found out.¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°But you¡¯ll be gone by then! Who cares?¡±

    She blinked. ¡°Did you ever think that maybe I just don¡¯t want you to get caught and executed? This is a stupid risk. Don¡¯t take it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. You¡¯re just worried it¡¯ll mess up all the work you put into manipulating Simon.¡±

    Her gaze turned to the side, not disputing it. ¡°There¡¯s no talking you out of this? Truly?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡± Florette smiled. ¡°You¡¯re still welcome to come. It would make things a lot easier.¡±

    ¡°Pff!¡± She covered a laugh with her hand. ¡°I think not.¡±

    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothing more to say.¡± Florette turned her back, ready to leave.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Camille exhaled sharply as Florette looked back over her shoulder. ¡°Simon came to me, he said¡­ The Summer Solstice. Perimont and Grimoire agreed, after a bit of negotiation. He¡¯ll be leaving then, with a host of his most loyal underlings and everything he requisitioned from Lyrion before. That¡¯s why it took him so long to get out, collecting it all back up and getting everyone ready. Grimoire doesn¡¯t know that part, though.¡±

    Florette grinned. ¡°How kind of him to gather everything in one place. I¡¯ll be sure to thank him when I see him next.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Really seeing those classic Avalon smarts on display here.¡± Eloise carved an ¡®X¡¯ into the crate she¡¯d been looking at, conveniently labeled ¡®Lightbringer Mark II; 31¡¯. Similar labels of paper were nailed into each of the crates, conveniently showing which contained what, at least provided you knew the code.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know why they bothered.¡± Florette kept the sheet in her pocket, just in case, but nothing had come up yet that she hadn¡¯t memorized. It helped that most of the codes were simple: ¡®lightbringer¡¯ for the elongated guns, ¡®ambrosia¡¯ for rations¡ªwhich seemed wildly optimistic¡ª ¡®black tie¡¯ for the uniforms¡­ ¡°They should have just picked arbitrary code, then used one of those cyphers or something.¡±

    Eloise laughed. ¡°You think the people hauling boxes around are going to decrypt a cypher? Those poor saps probably struggle enough with just this when they¡¯re sorting it.¡±

    Florette nodded. ¡°I suppose it wasn¡¯t really designed to stop something like this, anyway.¡± She glanced at the final crate of the car, labeled ¡®Thronebreaker Mark VII; 6¡¯. ¡°Interesting¡­¡± She carved an ¡®X¡¯ into it with her own knife.

    ¡°Thronebreaker? Was that on the list?¡±

    ¡°Nope. But it¡¯s just one crate. Couldn¡¯t hurt, even if it¡¯s not worth much. In fact¡ª¡± she picked up the crowbar and began prying open the crate. ¡°Let¡¯s take a look, shall we?¡±

    Inside were dozens of pistols. Just like the one Lumi¨¨re used. It was hard to be sure when she¡¯d only seen it once, but they looked nearly identical.

    Florette pulled one at and held it at different angles, trying to get a better look at the weapon. She kept the tube pointed at the wall, just in case.

    Lumi¨¨re had put his index finger into the hole underneath the tube, which probably meant that it triggered the cannon to fire, but there was a catch at the back, too. Gingerly, Florette pulled it back, causing it to click into place, but the weapon didn¡¯t do anything else.

    A prerequisite, then. Most likely, anyway. Lumi¨¨re had done that thing with his thumb first, which was probably clicking it back. It had been hard to tell at a distance, though.

    Still, I might have just figured it out. With that done, she could put her full attention on the unloading.

    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± Eloise¡¯s lip curled. ¡°Captain Verrou always said to be careful not to get sidetracked. Maybe it¡¯s fine here, but stick to the plan.¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    You¡¯re one to talk, after all that extra smuggling. ¡°Ugh, I know. I still think we could have gotten more. Could get around the barracks cars by climbing over the roof, and then later when we¡¯re unloading¡ª¡±

    ¡°Florette.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know!¡± She turned back around. ¡°We¡¯re done, then. Next car¡¯s full of soldiers. Protocol is to run a patrol through every hour, so we¡¯re more than fine.¡±

    ¡°Shame about the miniscule haul then. Almost isn¡¯t worth it.¡± She was smiling as she said it. ¡°How are we on time?¡±

    Florette poked her head out of the door, wind blasting her face as she did. The mountain towered ahead, the landmark she¡¯d picked out still in the distance before it. ¡°Ten minutes before we need to be ready, to be safe. Probably more like fifteen in practice, though.¡±

    ¡°I should have just stolen Luce¡¯s wristwatch. Would have made this so much easier.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s done enough.¡± According to Eloise, he¡¯d directly inspired the next step, and even helped with as much of the math as she could share without being suspicious about it. ¡°The less that¡¯s tied to us, the better.¡±

    ¡°Just like life in general, really.¡± She folded her arms, shockingly bony now. Her hair had grown out a bit too, now, but it was lacking the slight reflective sheen it should have had. Behind the mask Florette had made for her, it was impossible to see her face, but Florette had seen enough before: sunken eyes, blotchy skin. Better now than when she¡¯d first arrived, but still¡­

    This would help.

    ¡°I can see why you feel that way.¡± Especially after what you¡¯ve been through. It was almost too horrible to contemplate, stranded amidst hostile spirit-touched with barely anything to eat or drink, trudging along the coast of Refuge for weeks on end without anyone she could trust for company.

    Eloise hadn¡¯t even said that much. Florette had had to get it thirdhand from Camille from Luce, and even then she got the sense that he had left out a lot of details.

    ¡°I finally talked to Jacques,¡± she said after a moment of pause. ¡°I think it went alright.¡±

    ¡°Alright? He tried to have Claude killed!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that was heavy handed. He might be slipping, but I think everything going on just made him extra paranoid.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Anyway, I told him I killed Claude. Close that loop, you know.¡±

    ¡°What? Why would you do that?¡±

    ¡°He offered me my old job,¡± she said instead of answering. ¡°Said the books have never been the same since I left. Hard to believe there¡¯s no hard feelings, but¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±

    I do.

    It wasn¡¯t hard to connect the thoughts. Eloise had set off on her own, captain of her own ship, and failed almost immediately. Somehow she and the prize hostage had been thrown from the ship, and then the crew had ended up captured by Avalon.

    But what good would bringing that up do?

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she said instead. ¡°Jacques is a murderous asshole. Once this job is done we can get the guns to Captain Verrou and we¡¯ll be set for a while. Travel, like we talked about. Maybe we could visit the High Kingdom! Get out of the heat, and see all the landmarks from Olwen¡¯s Song.¡±

    ¡°Yeah...¡± This isn¡¯t working.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve had this conversation with Fernan a thousand times. What¡¯s familiar seems comforting, it¡¯s safe. But it¡¯s bullshit. Life only moves in one direction, and that¡¯s forward. You got out already. Why would you ever settle for going back?¡±

    Her face was unreadable behind the mask.

    ¡°Just because things didn¡¯t go well when you were a captain¡ª¡±

    ¡°Our time¡¯s up.¡± She opened the front door of the train car and pointed ahead to the next landmark, a fence post they¡¯d planted in the ground yesterday to mark the right time.

    ¡°Right.¡± Florette followed her out, reaching down to the large metal latches keeping the train cars connected to each other. With Eloise¡¯s help, she positioned herself just right to pull the final lever and disconnect them.

    The seconds before the post were agonizing, her eyes fixed ahead to get the timing exactly right. When the moment arrived, she pulled it up as rapidly as possible.

    The train pulled ahead slowly, momentum still propelling the cars they¡¯d disconnected nearly as fast, for now. Mass times velocity, just like we calculated out.

    Very convenient, to find all those formulae amidst the schematics. They¡¯d been almost unintelligible at first, but Eloise knew the language and her numbers better, and that had been enough. At least, after several days going over it, and then several more double checking everything.

    They¡¯d still made sure to leave a generous amount of leeway, just in case. Especially when the cargo contents would vary the weight of each train car slightly. And if things went really wrong, they¡¯d still be clear themselves.

    The distance grew wider, until it was more than the length of a single car. They slowed more and more, while the engine ahead seemed to be maintaining its speed.

    They would notice soon and stop; that was inevitable. But it would take a minute, with visibility of the back from the front so obscured. Especially with the tunnel through the mountain coming up ahead.

    The gap was huge now, as large as they could have hoped for. Certainly, it was enough.

    ¡°Remember to roll,¡± she told Eloise. ¡°The section of the manual about bailing out said it helps you come to a stop more gradually.¡±

    Eloise nodded, then jumped from the train. An instant later, Florette followed from the other side.

    Then the ground shook as the explosives went off.

    Perfect.

    The tunnel collapsed, cutting the back off from the engine at the front. If they wanted to come back now, they¡¯d have to hike over the mountain or go around. Either could take hours.

    Inside, people were probably panicking now, but it was impossible to see. Either way, they continued slowing down. By the time they actually collided with the rubble blocking the tunnel, the impact was soft enough that it wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone inside too badly. That was the plan, anyway. There was a reason they¡¯d jumped off first, just in case.

    Now that the train had stopped, it was easier to hear the screams of panic, shouts of dismay.

    All of the windows of the caboose had been blown out, shards of glass scattered everywhere around it.

    Florette stood, ignoring the pit in her stomach, and marched forward towards the luxury caboose and the separate train car full of soldiers in front of it. Eloise fell into step beside her.

    She nodded to Jean and Paul as she saw them wheel a wagon out from under the tree branches they¡¯d been hiding it under, bringing it closer to the train. The horses were stashed further away, where it would be easier to conceal them. But now that the explosion had sounded, their handler would be gathering them to bring to the mouth of the cavern.

    ¡°Thanks again,¡± she said as they got closer. They¡¯d been her ticket into the railyard, all those months ago. She¡¯d paid them off, enough to leave, but an Avalon customs agent had stolen everything before they could make it out.

    ¡°Pleasure¡¯s mine.¡± Paul, the older man, shrugged. ¡°With pay like you promised, I¡¯d be stupid not to.¡±

    Jean, the boy, nodded in agreement. ¡°I¡¯ve never gotten to set off explosives before! That was insane!¡±

    ¡°You timed it just right.¡± Florette patted him on the shoulder as she passed, but kept walking. ¡°Wait for the signal, either way. Go ahead and run if it¡¯s the bad one. Otherwise, gather the others and start unloading.¡±

    She took a deep breath as she approached the front of the barracks car, where it was attached to the cargo containers ahead, steeling herself.

    ¡°You¡¯ll do fine, Flor. I¡¯m not worried.¡± Eloise patted her on the back. ¡°Come on.¡± She hopped up and held out her hand.

    Florette grabbed it and jumped up alongside her. Then she kicked the unblocked door to the barracks car open. ¡°No one move a muscle! There¡¯s a lot more gunpowder where that came from.¡±

    She strode confidently into the car, brandishing the pistol, daring the soldiers to attack her.

    There were more than thirty of them crammed into the windowless train car, with the largest two standing in front of the back door, and the threshold of Perimont¡¯s caboose.

    Eloise remained at the front, not saying a word.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got enough explosives under the tracks to blow this whole train into the sun. If you don¡¯t fancy meeting Soleil, you¡¯ll let us do our work here and leave. That¡¯s all it takes. Just do nothing!¡± She pointed her pistol around the room, leveling it on each soldier for a moment before moving onto the next.  ¡°You¡¯ll all need to drop your weapons too, of course.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± a familiar voice called out from their ranks.

    Florette scanned the room as fast as she could, stopping when she glimpsed none other than Captain Whitbey. Fuck, why didn¡¯t I see him sooner? This mask was really messing with her peripheral vision.

    ¡°You¡¯re bluffing.¡±

    ¡°Fucking try me.¡±

    Whitbey clasped his hands together, leaning back in his seat. Even in the cramped car, he¡¯d manage to fit a larger chair and desk for himself. ¡°You aren¡¯t assassins, or the rear cars would have been your first targets. Indeed, with what you¡¯ve managed, destroying the entire train would be trivial.¡±

    ¡°I never said we were here to assassinate anyone. Your precious Perimont can live, if you cooperate. Otherwise, things will be more difficult for you.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°No, I suppose not. You¡¯re thieves, obviously. Criminal scum here to steal Avalon¡¯s ideas because you lack any of your own. Selfish and foolish, no doubt, but not suicidal. You wouldn¡¯t set off explosives that would catch you in the blast. I¡¯m doubtful that you even planted any more than what already went off.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Florette began laughing. ¡°How narrow minded are you?¡± She folded her arms. ¡°There¡¯s a rat in your ranks. Nothing worse than a rat, is there?¡±

    Whitbey blinked.

    ¡°How do you think we knew to target this train, at this time? With your precious Governor and his precious guns aboard. Do you think it was a coincidence?¡± She laughed again, making sure to shake her whole body. ¡°I won¡¯t lie; we¡¯d rather have the guns ourselves. But destroying them would be just as good. Maybe better, with Perimont gone.¡±

    ¡°There are thieves and there are idealogues. I¡¯ve hanged enough of both to know¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve killed children.¡± Florette pointed the pistol at him. ¡°Innocents. If you and I were to die together, the world would be a far better place. I have nothing left. Avalon took everything from me. You, and Perimont and King fucking Harold. This is it.¡± She laughed again, or perhaps it was crying. They sounded much the same through a mask. ¡°So, fine. If you insist.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Arm it!¡± she shouted outside. ¡°Get this shit ready to blow!¡±

    That was not, in fact, the signal.

    Whitbey didn¡¯t look like he entirely believed her, though his composure was beginning to break.

    That didn¡¯t matter. He wasn¡¯t the one she needed to convince.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Perimont¡¯s voice called out from the caboose, muffled through two layers of doors but still barely audible. ¡°Do what she says!¡±

    Whitbey wrinkled his nose. ¡°Very well,¡± he sighed. ¡°Guardians, drop your weapons. It seems we¡¯ll be waiting here for a bit before we can disembark.¡±

    Florette smiled behind her mask, spinning the pistol around her finger like she¡¯d seen Lumi¨¨re do back at the duel. Then she thumped the side of the train car twice, the actual signal for everyone else to begin.

    She stepped outside to supervise while Eloise kept an eye on the soldiers, taking in the buzz of activity.

    Several wagons had been gathered, a pair of horses already hitched up to each. That had been enormously expensive, but this was about to make it all worth it. Unless things went horribly wrong, she could still sell them after, anyway.

    With the valuable crates marked in advance, the crew carried them out like a machine, quickly loading each wagon and sending it on its way. Once they made it to the city, they¡¯d duck into the tunnel entrances at the north end and scatter it at the drop point.

    Not everyone could be trusted completely, but there were a few people who came close, like Jean and Paul, and one of them would be with every group. Hopefully it would be enough, but even getting these weapons out of Avalon¡¯s hands was a win, as far as Florette was concerned. Separating them out would mitigate some of the potential damage, at least.

    When they were done, Florette ducked back into the barracks, a flutter in her chest. ¡°Thank you for your hospitality on this fine summer¡¯s day. It¡¯s been a pleasure!¡±

    Whitbey scowled, but didn¡¯t say a word.

    ¡°Make sure to count to one thousand before you leave the car. It would be a shame to have to blow you up after you were so nice about this.¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°Still, you know, we¡¯ll do it if you give us a reason. Au revoir!¡±

    She felt a giddy energy as she hopped down off the train, Eloise following closely behind.

    All the wagons had left by now, leaving only the horse left for the two of them, tied up at the very end of the caboose. Mercifully, Eloise could ride, something Captain Verrou apparently made everyone learn for purposes just like this, which meant they got to go together.

    ¡°...nothing to be worried about, Joseph. It¡¯s just a minor setback. As if those mongrels have the slightest idea how to use them.¡±

    ¡°Hold on a second,¡± Florette said as Eloise walked ahead towards the horse.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°...The better part of our armaments will make it to Lyrion, and more are coming from Cambria anyway. The important thing was making sure that royal brat couldn¡¯t use them against us.¡±

    Florette hopped up the side of the caboose, peering in through the broken windows as covertly as she could.

    ¡°As you say, sire. I still think she was bluffing.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a risk worth taking, not over something so trivial. A few hours¡¯ walk around the side of the mountain and we¡¯ll be back on the train to Lyrion in no time. The offensive needn¡¯t even be rescheduled.¡±

    ¡°Flor!¡± Eloise hissed, mounting her horse. ¡°Come on!¡±

    ¡°...to shreds, no doubt. Guerron will be leveled as a lesson to those who stand against us. We should have done it seventeen years ago, but at least Prince Harold has seen the light. If Lumi¨¨re can¡¯t get his house in order, there¡¯s no other recourse.¡± The slight rumbling of a laugh trailed out from the caboose, muffling a few of the words. ¡°...still be killed, of course. Lucien Renart, Annette Debray, Fernan Montaigne. Any of those barbarians who submit themselves to evil spirits.¡±

    Fernan.

    ¡°Come on!¡± Eloise called again, slightly louder this time.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Florette muttered, not sure who she was saying it to. She clicked the back of the gun, aiming it carefully. Once it pointed right at Perimont¡¯s chest, she fired.

    The shock was so strong she fell over, the gun flying out of her hands.

    Before she had a second to think, another shot rang out, even more deafening than the last. Her left ear could hear only a high-pitched whine, and when she held her hand to it, she felt blood.

    Blinking away tears, she saw Whitbey leaning his head out of the window, looking down and shouting. ¡°That¡¯s Celine! From the party!¡±

    Fuck.

    Only then did she see her mask lying on the dirt, cracked at the edge, bloody where it had covered her ear.

    The sound diluted to nothing as the air filled with overpowering ringing, pitched so high it felt like a splinter in her skull. But there was no time.

    She leapt to her feet as fast as she could and ran south, towards the city.

    They would be following. If she so much as tripped¡­

    Eloise swept in beside her not a moment too soon. She said something inaudible, probably along the lines of ¡°You gigantic fucking idiot,¡± then pulled her up onto the horse.

    A chill passed through her as they fled into the omnipresent twilight, the sunset stretching across the entire horizon as the light slowly decayed to nothing.

    ¡°Thank you!¡± she said to Eloise as they passed out of sight of the train, riding towards the fading light of the day. She couldn¡¯t even hear herself over the sound of the painful ringing, nor could she hear what Eloise said back.

    But she felt her grab her bloody hand, and for now, that was enough.

 Camille IX: The Burning Heart

    Camille braced herself for the cold as she plunged into the water, frigid salt seeping into her being with every step. It wasn¡¯t enough, not after what had happened.

    It wasn¡¯t rational.

    And yet she had no choice. If Mother came back, it would be here, and she had to be the first to see it. Had to.

    She inhaled deep before dropping her head beneath the waves, feeling the shock of the cold on her face. Despite the stinging salt, she forced her eyes open, trying to glimpse anything out in the depths.

    ¡°...got it completely surrounded. I fear Ombresse isn¡¯t long for this world.¡± That was Uncle Emile¡¯s voice, clear despite the water¡¯s distortions of the sound. ¡°Not without help, anyway.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t, Emile. The only reason Guerron doesn¡¯t have a boot on its neck this very minute is the fact that it would be more trouble for them than it¡¯s worth. If that changes¡­¡±

    Camille poked her head slightly out of the water, making sure not to splash too noisily. A quick wipe of her eyes, and the other figure on the beach was clear enough to make out. Duke Fouchand, he was called, the one who had surrendered.

    ¡°I know, I know¡­ It¡¯s just¡­ After Sarille and the Foxtrap and everything, it seemed like that was at least the end of it. Avalon accepted our terms of surrender, they stopped advancing past Malin¡­ Are we just supposed to wait until they decide to come here? I have my niece to protect, and her people besides.¡±

    Duke Fouchand granted him the barest hint of a smile. ¡°Can you keep a secret, Emile Leclaire?¡±

    Uncle nodded. ¡°Of course, sire.¡±

    ¡°Did you hear about the mutiny of the Fortan Flame? It seems poor Jeanne Verrou¡¯s boy finally came to his senses.¡±

    ¡°It certainly took him long enough, serving beside those monsters. Even then, I heard it was all about pay anyway.¡±

    Fouchand smiled. ¡°You heard correctly. It seems the Grimoires stumbled their way onto the gravestone of many a nation: failing to pay your soldiers. Verrou might have had an attack of conscience, or not, but six ships wouldn¡¯t have followed behind him if they were getting what they wanted. It¡¯s an opportunity.¡±

    ¡°An opportunity?¡± Emile scratched his chin. ¡°Ah, I see what you mean. Deniable, so long as no one finds out who¡¯s paying them. Still, a very dangerous game you¡¯re playing, sire. And even then, not likely to help Ombresse.¡±

    ¡°Ombresse we will have to sit and endure, I¡¯m afraid. But every penny spent camping an army along its walls will only cost Avalon more. My Aunt Jeanne was at the Siege of Salhaute, and she told me that it was almost as bad for the besiegers as the people inside. They had access to the outside world, but all of their provisions needed to be hauled up the mountain, constantly pelted by sallies from those infernal pegasus knights of theirs. If the High King hadn¡¯t acted when he did, they could probably have only maintained the siege a few more weeks.¡±

    Emile laughed, though it was hard to be sure why. ¡°If only Ombresse can hold out a little longer, they might have a chance.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the best we can hope for.¡± The Duke dipped his head, brown hair blowing behind him in the wind, then turned to go. ¡°I seethe myself, to think of all who starve within those walls. But we must restrain ourselves. For the children.¡±

    ¡°For the children.¡± Emile nodded, though he didn¡¯t turn around.

    Camille lifted her head higher, gasping for air as quietly as she could manage.

    ¡°I see you, Camille.¡± He sighed. ¡°You can¡¯t keep spending all day out here. It¡¯s not healthy. We¡¯ve talked about this.¡±

    ¡°But Mother¡ª¡±

    He grimaced. ¡°She¡¯s not here, Camille. It¡¯s been months and no one¡¯s found her. I know it¡¯s hard to hear, but you have to stay strong. People are depending on you.¡±

    She took a few steps closer to land, feeling her wet clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin as she emerged. ¡°I know they are. But I have to¡ª¡± She shook her head, spraying water from her hair. ¡°I need to be stronger. I need to make them pay.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t dispute that.¡± Emile frowned. ¡°But being a strong leader is about more than just being the most powerful sage. You¡¯re the High Priestess, now. Only you can commune with Levian in the same way Sarille did, and our mother before her.¡± He held his hand to face. ¡°I can do what¡¯s needed today, for you. But Levian won¡¯t look upon it kindly. It will probably make things harder for you in the long run, if he sees you as living in my shadow. But I will, Camille. If you¡¯re not ready to offer a sacrifice¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She planted her feet firmly in the sand. ¡°I¡¯m ready. I have to be. For her.¡±

    ?

    I still have enough power.

    Camille had worried, at first, that seating that Prince in the Governor¡¯s Mansion might have required more spirit energy than she could afford to spend, that she might need to secure more sacrifices or draw on her own life to ensure she could make it to Guerron, but it hadn¡¯t been necessary.

    Almost insultingly easy.

    And if half of what Florette had said about him was true, half of what he¡¯d said himself, Malin would only be more lightly defended under his charge. It was the correct course, the sensible approach.

    And it¡¯s kept Lucien and Annette waiting even longer for me. Were they standing on that same beach, wondering if she was alive? Wondering if she¡¯d ever return?

    Guerron would be filled with sages, perhaps even an influx of spirits to settle things after what had happened there. But Lumi¨¨re was defeated, Annette restored to her powers and Lucien surely as well. Guerron would have power in abundance, but a comparative dearth of threats.

    Dark skies loomed over the water, a vast array of stars reflected within it.

    One step, then another, a channeling of the power of the waves, and she could cast all their doubts aside. She could feel Lucien¡¯s embrace once more, spend hours with Annette in her office just talking and enjoying each other¡¯s company. She could thank Fernan, bestow him with anything he desired, for it would be heartily deserved after what he¡¯d done.

    One step, and she could leave Malin behind. It would make returning here with an army at her back far easier, when the time came. After what had happened, there probably wouldn¡¯t be a better opportunity. Avalon had too much else to focus on, right now. It would allow her to honor her compact with Levian, and grant him the souls he¡¯d been promised.

    One step, and she could leave her people to their fate.

    ¡°What happened to you, lady? You look terrible.¡±

    Camille wrenched her head away from the water, looking back at the man who had spoken.

    His hair was shaggy and unkempt, accompanied by a wild beard floating in front of him just as his hair trailed into the air behind. In the dark light, his face seemed washed of all color, his lips and eyes blue.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, do I know you?¡± There was something familiar about him, hard to place as it was.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The man smiled, eery for the lack of color in his face. ¡°Could say we met a few times, yeah. You wanted to know more, but I wasn¡¯t supposed to say nothing.¡± Wait, is that¡ª ¡°Still took care of my family, after we got to talking. I kinda hate you, but I do appreciate that.¡±

    The chill of the night pierced Camille¡¯s skin, creeping down her spine. ¡°The harbor brigand. Jean. I¡ª¡± She blinked, trying to piece the image together. ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    He let out a quiet laugh. ¡°My son thinks I¡¯m still on a trip, but I¡¯m actually dead.¡± His smile disappeared. ¡°Would have been nice if you could even remember.¡±

    ¡°I remember everything.¡± Camille took a deep breath, stepping closer to the shade. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t explain what happened or who put you up to what you did, but you did choose Levian over Soleil. You chose me over Lumi¨¨re.¡± For some reason, she placed a hand on his shoulder, cold and wet. ¡°I killed you.¡±

    She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    When she opened them, she stood on the beach alone. The night¡¯s chill was only growing worse, would only get more severe out on the water. This was the time to go, if ever there were one.

    ?

    Prince Grimoire looked more animated than he ever had, practically clawing at his own face as he paced the office that had once belonged to Perimont. ¡°This could ruin everything. What were they thinking?¡± He slammed the back of his head against the wall, then winced. ¡°Leclaire, you have to explain this.¡±

    Camille did her best to remain composed, despite the apocalyptic disaster that had just unfolded. How did this even happen? ¡°I don¡¯t know as much as you¡¯d hope. Unfortunately I don¡¯t magically absorb people¡¯s plans just by meeting them a few times. Khali¡¯s curse. I couldn¡¯t even tell you which of them did this, honestly, though I have my suspicions.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± Grimoire clenched his fists tightly, breathing heavily in and out. ¡°Whoever was responsible is a question for the courts. I need to know how to deal with this! I need to know what happens next! How long¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± she cut in. ¡°You¡¯re acting like a child, while Malin needs a leader. This is a crisis, yes. It¡¯s not insurmountable. Even Khali¡¯s rampage was stopped eventually. Assess what¡¯s needed and put it into action. I should have to be telling you this.¡±

    ¡°I know!¡± His voice cracked on the second word. ¡°I already sent out the order to gather up every forester in the area and send them out immediately. The moment I¡¯m done here, I¡¯m headed back to my workshop to try to engineer a good solution, or at least something helpful.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°I know this isn¡¯t your problem. You held up your end of the bargain. But I need to save these people somehow. And now with Perimont dead, and my brother doing who-knows-what¡­ The only people I know here are part of the problem, one way or another. Or grieving. I can¡¯t burden Simon so soon after losing his father.¡±

    How is it that a prince of darkness could be such a mess? Malins were not even his people, not remotely. He wanted to replace the boot with a velvet slipper, but leave it on their necks.

    But then, given what had happened, perhaps it wasn¡¯t that hard to understand.

    ¡°Whitbey told me this could be an opportunity, you know. Before Perimont¡¯s body was even cold. He got a shot in at Florette and revealed her face.¡±

    ¡°Like I said, I had nothing to do with that. She knew who I was, and that put me at her mercy.

    ¡°Whitbey doesn¡¯t even know that you¡¯re Camille, or that she¡¯s a pirate, and he still knows it¡¯s as good an excuse as the Harpies could ever have asked for. Guerron is weaker than it¡¯s ever been, after what¡¯s happened. There¡¯s no way that they aren¡¯t.¡± He pounded his fist against the wall, his hand curling open at the impact. ¡°The world is on the brink of ruin and I¡¯m still stuck trying to stop a stupid war!¡±

    ¡°Good luck,¡± Camille said, and found that she meant it. ¡°I¡¯ll write to you from Guerron, in case there¡¯s any way that helps.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still leaving?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s time. I have to go back to the people who need me.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Oh, come on, Lucien. The feast is basically over!¡± She touched his arm lightly, tracing her fingers over muscle. ¡°Haven¡¯t you had enough?¡±

    Lucien ran his hand through his hair, almost down to his shoulders now. Long hair was a good look for him, the red nicely framing his face. ¡°It¡¯s been a hard decade. I want to stick all the way to the end, to show my solidarity.¡±

    ¡°Oh, who cares? It¡¯s a feast; The whole purpose of the thing is to get everyone together to eat and drink and cavort.¡± She smiled at him. ¡°Myself, I¡¯ve had my fill of eating and drinking for the night. Haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry anymore, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±

    I know you¡¯re not this thick, Lucien. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± He placed a hand on her arm, returning her smile. ¡°This is part of rule, Camille, such as it is. To be seen, to be talked to. People fight harder for someone they know, someone who walks among them and always stays in their corner. It¡¯s my duty.¡±

    ?

    Florette was late, again, as if that were a surprise. Camille could only hope it was out of an abundance of caution, moving through the tunnels in the dark, but knowing Florette she¡¯d probably just forgotten or something.

    She was holding her head to her ear when she finally emerged from the tunnel, a wad of cloth bunched up against it.

    ¡°Good evening, Florette. I have a quick question: what the fuck is wrong with you?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a quick question at all.¡± Florette turned her head to the left, bringing her good ear closer. ¡°And I¡¯m alright, by the way, thank you for asking. Other than this fucking ringing in my head, anyway. Did you get that when Lumi¨¨re shot you?¡±

    ¡°If I did, I was too preoccupied by everything else to notice.¡± Camille sighed. ¡°Why? Killing Perimont accomplishes nothing. He was already on his way out!¡±

    ¡°He was massing troops to invade Guerron, Camille. I heard him planning it. The robbery wasn¡¯t even going to put a dent in his plans.¡± She pulled a glinting metal pistol out from her belt, causing Camille to reflexively flinch. ¡°You know better than anyone how much damage one of these things can do. There must have been hundreds on that train alone. Can you imagine hundreds of soldiers firing them en masse?¡±

    For a moment, she did, each crack of thunder sending someone bloody to the ground in an instant. Lucien had trained with the sword his entire life, but this would cut him down before he could ever close the distance.

    ¡°They were going to kill Fernan. They singled him out by name, along with your Fox-King.¡±

    Camille bit her lip, staring into the haunted eyes of this disaster of a girl. ¡°He deserved to die, and more than most. But there is a time and a place. We went over this with Whitbey! What difference does it make if Horace Williams is leading the attack on Guerron instead of Perimont? You didn¡¯t accomplish anything.¡±

    Florette looked ashamed as she tucked the pistol back into her belt. ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of. I could practically hear him saying it to me this morning. Well, if you can call it a morning.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, what a mess.¡± She clasped her hands together, pressing them to her face. ¡°So many people are going to die, Florette. In Malin, in Guerron, everywhere.¡±

    ¡°You think we could have stopped it? Did I waste my time when I should have been¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes. But I still don¡¯t know what would have been enough. I should never have lost that duel, that¡¯s where it all went wrong. I should have killed him when I had the chance.¡± She locked eyes with Florette. ¡°So I do understand. I¡¯m not ignorant to your motivation. But if it made any difference at all, it probably only made things worse.¡±

    Florette stared back, her voice wavering. ¡°I hope not.¡±

    ¡°Well, this disaster kind of eclipsed it anyway. The Prince practically had a fit, to me of all people.¡±

    ¡°He probably thought you could help. You¡¯re the only one who really has any meaningful knowledge of spirits, certainly the only one in the city with any magic. That could count for a lot, in a time like this.¡±

    It¡¯s my duty.

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving town soon, right? Even this prince can¡¯t just let you get away with an assassination.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Eloise got me a spot on a ship leaving at midday. Well, in a few hours, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Is it stopping in Guerron?¡±

    ¡°Why would that matter?¡± Florette tilted her head. ¡°Do you want to meet up there, or something? Because yeah, it is. I thought it would be good to see Fernan again, maybe help against Avalon, if it comes to that. ¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± I thought you might. Camille pulled a sealed envelope from a pocket in her cloak, borrowed from Mary on short notice. ¡°Give this to Lucien when you get there. It¡¯s got messages for Annette and Fernan, too.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure.¡± She blinked. ¡°Why can¡¯t you just talk to them yourself? You¡¯ll probably get there before I do.¡±

    ¡°I will not, because I¡¯m not going to Guerron.¡± She took a deep breath, turning away from the starlit beach to face the city. Her city, filled with her people. ¡°I have to go back to the people who need me most.¡±

 Epilogue: The Sun Sage

    ¡°The Duchess refuses your request, my lord. Guerron cannot afford the costs of a solstice feast, not with Avalon poised to attack.¡± Fernan¡¯s words came slowly, a reluctance clear within them. Somehow even with blazing green flame in his eyes, he managed to look unthreatening. Frankly, it would have been impressive, were there any indication it was deliberate.

    Peerage ill became him, his appearance made clear. Finely tailored robes trailed listlessly, apparently without a speck of effort put into presentation. He wore no jewelry, and he still lacked a crest. I suppose you can take the boy from the countryside, but not the inverse. The true sorespot, however, was his hair. Guy¡¯s barber had managed to get it looking halfway presentable at the trial, but it looked as if it had been left entirely unattended since. Wild, untamed, and only growing longer by the day, it halfway looked as if his eyes had already set it alight.

    ¡°How irritating.¡± Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re glanced down at the boy, not bothering to hide his displeasure. ¡°The people need their celebrations. Already they have lost the Festival of the Sun, to herald the coming of spring. Must they lose the summer solstice as well?¡±

    The fire in Fernan¡¯s eyes shrank slightly in intensity. ¡°You tried to have her executed for murdering her own grandfather after killing her best friend. She¡¯s not going to let you run a festival to your patron spirit.¡± He rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°With war on the horizon, I can¡¯t imagine people are in the mood to celebrate, anyway.¡±

    She seemed the only one who could have done it. Anyone rational would have done the same, in my place. ¡°I acquitted her when new evidence was brought to light,¡± he insisted. At great personal cost, no less. How much easier things would be today, were he still in power. Still, justice prevailed.  ¡°Ultimately it was nothing more than an inconvenience for her.¡±

    To think that that treacherous cur could kill poor Fouchand and frame it on Annette so expertly. Whatever his differences with the new Duchess, Aurelian was honestly grateful to Fernan for exposing the deception. If he could have done it sooner, this entire situation might have been avoided.

    It was almost enough to make Aurelian regret working with Magnifico. Almost.

    But had he refused the bard¡¯s help, he might very well be dead right now. That alone was justification enough, distasteful as it was, let alone what was to come.

    Success, no matter the cost. Aurelian could strive for nothing less. ¡°Justice prevailed,¡± he spoke thought aloud. ¡°Due to your actions as much as mine.¡±

    Fernan practically flinched at his response, shrinking into himself as his eyes dimmed further. Acting as an emissary between Annette and I is wearing on him, clearly. In the long term, it could prove untenable, freezing Aurelian out even further from the Duchess and her city¡¯s politics.

    After today, though, she won¡¯t have any choice in the matter. ¡°In any case, one of my acolytes can conduct the ceremonies if it¡¯s such an issue. The important thing is that people have hope. They must witness the power of Soleil, must understand that the warm embrace of his light will protect them against the trials ahead.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Fernan raised an eyebrow, barely visible behind the fire from his eyes. ¡°Is Soleil going to help fight against Avalon? When I met him, he sounded like he was minutes away from turning you into a smoking pair of boots.¡±

    Aurelian smiled knowingly. ¡°Soleil would never deign to involve himself in our petty conflicts, no more than you might intervene in a contest of ants. It matters not. Through me and his sages, his power shall protect.¡± And indeed, a great deal more than that.

    That elicited only a quiet frown from Fernan, no doubt scheming once again to end up on the winning side. His origins were base, but the Duchess had granted him peerage now, with lands soon to follow. No doubt he would continue grasping upwards in his timid way, as those of low birth were inevitably wont to do. Luckily for you, Sire Montaigne, your course shall soon be quite clear.  After today, there would be no room for doubt.

    Still, it brought a smile to Aurelian¡¯s face knowing the boy would soon be firmly in his camp once more. ¡°How old are you, Fernan? Nineteen?¡±

    ¡°Seventeen, Lord Lumi¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°So young.¡± Perhaps stress has stripped the fat of youth from his face. The boy had certainly endured enough, weathering the attack of that barbarous spirit and his lacertillian minions. ¡°You were born after the Foxtrap, so I will do my best to educate you. King Romain fought bravely, as did my father, and all who died that fateful day. But no one truly comprehended the threat that Avalon represented. It is one thing to hear of distant mechanisms, marvels of technology in faraway places. Quite another to see thunderous cannons destroy your walls in a matter of hours.

    ¡°We had no idea what we were up against, Fernan. None of us, not truly. I slew fourteen men and removed countless more from the battle, Sarille Leclaire destroyed their entire fleet, and King Romain wounded Harold the Hungry so grieviously he didn¡¯t live another week. Yet the battle was lost. I think back often to that day, imagining what might have been. But truly, we had no chance of victory. Not against such a threat, with what forces we could bring to bear. The Foxtrap was lost before it had even begun, for want of appropriate might.¡±

    The boy stared with unblinking trails of flame, rapt.

    ¡°We fought for a doomed cause.¡± Aurelian patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. ¡°This time, things will be different.¡±

    Fernan seemed too apprehensive to properly appreciate the comforting words. Ever since the trial, he¡¯d been skulking about with all the confidence and poise of a battered puppy. A victim from first to last, savaged by a flame spirit, used as a pawn by Annette even when it meant turning him against his own temple¡­ It wasn¡¯t difficult to see why he remained in such poor spirits, even after so great a victory.

    Pitiable, really, though only so much. The boy could have spared himself a world of pain had he simply gone to Aurelian first.

    Today¡¯s events should lift his spirits, though. Soon, everything would be set to right.

    ¡°How is Aubaine?¡± Fernan asked. ¡°Things have been so chaotic, I hope he¡ª¡±

    You declined the honor of serving him, and then you rebuked my trust. His well-being is no business of yours. Aurelian almost spoke the words aloud, despite the inevitable consequences. They would be moot before long, anyway. But the reality of politics meant that words of truth were seldom as valuable as the alternative. ¡°He fares well,¡± Aurelian said. ¡°He¡¯s asked about you and your familiar.¡± He¡¯d even mentioned something about flying with them, which didn¡¯t seem likely to be within Mara¡¯s capabilities. But the imaginations of children were known to be wild, and Aubaine¡¯s more than most.

    ¡°We would be happy to visit again, if he wants. He¡¯s a good kid.¡±

    ¡°After the solstice, perhaps.¡± And not without my close supervision. ¡°In the meantime, thank you for relaying the Duchess¡¯s words. I shall simply have to celebrate the solstice in private. If I leave now, I can reach a suitable summit to pay my respects in person by midday.¡±

    The fire in Fernan¡¯s eyes shrank. ¡°In person? Lord Lumi¨¨re, I was there the last time you talked to him. I know what he¡¯s like. If you see him now, after what happened at the trial, you might not make it back alive.¡±

    ¡°How touching.¡± Aurelian smiled sincerely. ¡°Your concern is appreciated, Fernan, but I am well aware of my limits. My family has served the sun for hundreds of years, an unbroken chain, father to son, since the Debrays first migrated from the Isle of Soleil. If I thought I wouldn¡¯t survive the encounter, I wouldn¡¯t go.¡±

    ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Fernan gulped, but didn¡¯t press the point. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow, then?¡±

    ¡°Certainly.¡± Aurelian gestured towards the doorway. ¡°I hope you enjoy the solstice.¡±

    ¡°Same to you,¡± he said as he exited, the green fire trailing from his head growing larger and stronger the further he walked.

    ¡°Bring me my son,¡± Aurelian ordered once Fernan was out of sight, and a servant rushed to comply.

    Soon enough, Aubaine was brought before him, cheeks smeared with the remnants of some sweet he¡¯d been eating.

    ¡°Come here.¡± Aurelian bent down and wiped his son¡¯s mouth with the boy¡¯s own sleeve. ¡°You must take care how you present yourself, Aubaine. People will always be watching, judging you for the slightest sign of weakness.¡±

    Aubaine jumped up, wrapping his arms around Aurelian¡¯s neck. ¡°Does that mean I can have another sweet? I¡¯ll show you how clean I can get it after! I¡¯ll do better I promise!¡±

    ¡°Clever boy.¡± Aurelian held him close. ¡°Tell your governess I said you could have another two.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± His eyes grew wide. ¡°Really really?¡±

    ¡°Only if you¡¯re spotless after the first.¡± Aurelian lifted him up into the air, perching him against his waist. It¡¯s getting harder to do, the bigger he gets. Soon he would be old enough to bear his cup at council meetings, better learning the temple¡¯s functions, and then it wouldn¡¯t be long before he began squiring.

    After that, tradition demanded taking him to meet Soleil.

    ¡°Father? What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Aurelian set him down gently, then patted him lightly on the head. ¡°You¡¯re growing up so quickly, that¡¯s all. My mother told me this would happen, but it¡¯s one thing to hear it and another to experience it.¡±

    Aubaine beamed. ¡°It¡¯s because I¡¯m going to get big and strong like you! And like Fernan and Mara and Yves and Adrian and King Lucien and¡­¡± His face twisted. ¡°Who else is strong, Father?¡±

    He still doesn¡¯t know Adrian¡¯s dead. There had never seemed to be a good moment to tell him. ¡°The Fox-Queen was perhaps the strongest of all, for she was clever too, and that made all the difference.¡± He patted his son lightly on the back. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you all about her tomorrow, alright? Right now your Father has important business to attend to.¡± For you, most of all.

    ¡°Oh¡­ Okay¡­¡± His face fell as the servant led him away. ¡°Goodbye, Father!¡±

    ?

    When he¡¯d been as young as Aubaine, Aurelian¡¯s parents had often taken him hiking up the long trail to Soleil¡¯s Summit. It had felt so long and arduous then, even being carried half the time, but in truth the hike only took a few hours.

    With concentrated light at his feet propelling him skyward, even less.

    The towers at the Temple of the Sun had been built to commune with Soleil, to summon him before the masses and demonstrate their power. Even simply seeing the streak of light descend down to the temple every so often would assure the more simpleminded of their true power, let alone formal ceremonies.

    It had also allowed him to secure certain proof of Magnifico¡¯s capabilities, but now a different approach was needed.

    Better to keep things away from populated areas, just to be safe.

    A glance behind him towards the trail ensured that he hadn¡¯t been followed. Not that anyone could easily follow him up the face of a mountain, not quickly, but it was nonetheless reassuring to see the path lie barren, unpopulated.

    Only a dark coat lying on the ground showed any evidence of humanity¡¯s presence here at all. Good, that much is ready, then.

    Everything had to be immaculate in an operation this delicate, and so Aurelian had left himself ample time to spare in case of any unexpected complications.

    For once, it seemed luck was on his side, for the time passed without interruption. Every minute crawled slowly by, anticipation building as the sun charted its course across the sky.

    When it shone down directly above, true noon, Aurelian held his head skyward and began. ¡°Great Spirit Soleil, Surya of the Sky, Master of the Heavens, Champion of Warmth and Light, I call upon you. Make your presence manifest, and honor my family¡¯s pact.¡±

    The sun¡¯s rays remained, filtering down from the sky into the blazing summer heat, but from that golden circle descended a pillar of light, so bright to look upon that Aurelian had to avert his gaze.

    ¡°Twice you have called upon me now, Lumi¨¨re, without bringing the slightest offering. You shall not live beyond a third such slight.¡±

    ¡°There will not be a third time, Great Spirit Soleil.¡± Aurelian kept his gaze firmly on the ground, his waist bent in a deep bow. ¡°I have called upon you to make the depths of my devotion clear on this most hallowed day. Thanks to the boy and his flame spirit, Levian¡¯s influence in the city continues to wane. The people in the Villemalin district by the harbor, where Leclaire¡¯s influence was once its strongest, turn only further to the mountains, and to flame. They draw upon the mountains for ice to trade, and collaborate with creatures touched by the same flame spirit.¡±

    ¡°Mere trivialities, a waste of time. Even the likes of you should know better.¡± The very ground was almost too bright to look at as Soleil¡¯s power pulsated outwards. ¡°You tempt fate by irritating me.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t all, Great Soleil. War looms. Avalon and her binders are amassing even as we speak, preparing to strike at Guerron. Frankly, as things stand, it¡¯s not a fight we can win.¡±

    ¡°Again you come to me with failure, sage. Defending those who follow me from war and death is the sworn duty of a sage. And should the city fall, your soul is mine.¡±

    ¡°It will fall, without vastly more power being brought to bear. The old way of doing things is not sufficient to stand against Avalon. The Foxtrap proved that.¡± If Leclaire could simply have realized that instead of provoking him, they might even have been able to work together on this. But the girl was a pissant brat, and it was scant wonder she¡¯d chosen death instead, antagonizing him as she had. ¡°We need the power of a great spirit on our side. Directly. I know you think it beneath you, but Avalon poses an existential threat to our very way of life.¡±

    ¡°You dare demand my aid in your affairs? Truly, you are no use to me, human. No matter how firm your grip of Guerron, tis worthless should the city slip your grasp. I only hope your son will prove abler when he succeeds you as my highest sage.¡±

    ¡°My grip on the city is not what it was either, I¡¯m afraid. Annette¡¯s trial proved her innocence, and she¡¯s taken full power as Duchess. The Fox-King was freed from his regency, under her auspices. At this exact moment, I¡¯m simply the High Priest of Soleil. No more, no less.¡±

    ¡°There is no ¡®more¡¯, no greater honor than your service to the spirit of the sun.¡± The ground grew even brighter, hot energy pulsing and crackling through the air. ¡°If you could realize that, you might have lived.¡±

    Finally, it seemed Soleil had decided to kill him.

    Aurelian stood up, facing Soleil square in the eye, despite the pain it sent shooting through his face. Even with his eyes closed, the image of the floating spirit burned its way into green trails on his eyelids.

    He put his hand in front of his face, but the image only burned brighter. An instant passed in hours, as Soleil readied the blow that would reduce him to ash.

    A thin black line appeared across the spirit¡¯s midsection, halting his blast. The line grew thicker, a void of darkness, as Soleil¡¯s power faded further.

    Aurelian opened his eyes, squinting at the two halves of the spirit getting sucked further into the yawning abyss.

    Soleil was without expression, without movement. For the first time, without anger or malice or vile demands. Whatever happened next, Aubaine would never have to serve as his sage.

    Magnifico had really done it.

    Weeks on the run, avoiding a trial he most definitely deserved, and he had still returned to do as he¡¯d vowed to do. And it had worked.

    The bard landed in a crouch, his Cloak of Nocturne flapping behind him, curved black sword in hand.

    The pieces of Soleil circled around the imploding black sphere slowly, gradually consumed by the darkness.

    ¡°The sun is still out,¡± Aurelian noted, looking out over the solstice-scorched city. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be setting? Or dark already?¡±

    Magnifico stuck his blade into the black hole in the air, its handle stretched out horizontally in the air. ¡°We have eight minutes until anything happens. More than enough time.¡±

    ¡°I can barely believe it,¡± Aurelian admitted, staring at the spirit¡¯s tattered corpse. ¡°Soleil was practically without peer. Khali, perhaps, but she has long been exiled. And Terramonde, but the earth spirit has never manifested itself before humanity.¡±

    ¡°Binders kill spirits, Lumi¨¨re. This is what I do.¡± He grinned, placing his hands on the handle of the floating sword. ¡°Would have been a damn sight harder without your distraction, though. That I¡¯ll grant. Pantera was a far weaker spirit, and she was a hundred times harder to kill.¡±

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Even after Soleil confirmed you were telling the truth, it was hard to be absolutely certain.¡± Aurelian walked to the other side of the dark vortex, plunging his hand inside and piercing it against the dark blade within. ¡°If we only have eight minutes, you must work quickly, lest darkness fall.¡±

    ¡°Patience, Lumi¨¨re,¡± Magnifico choked out over a bout of laughter, gripping the handle more tightly with both hands. He held them firm, even as his belly shook. ¡°Wow.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    The bard maintained his smile even as his laughter slowly died down. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t get it.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t terribly comforting, but there was no going back at this point. The impossible had already been accomplished, anyway. ¡°Is this the right time?¡±

    The bard nodded. ¡°The energy has a will of its own. With an object, the binder has to do everything. But here, it should help if you step in.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± He took a deep breath, feeling his blood run out as it dripped into the vortex. ¡°I, Aurelian Lucianus Apollinaire Lumi¨¨re, do hereby claim the power of the sun. Let its energy join me, that I might succeed him as the Great Spirit of Light.¡±

    It did seem to make a difference, for he immediately felt warmth radiate out through his body, starting at the arm the blade had pierced. ¡°I vow that truth will bind me in all things, at all times. I vow that the light of the sun shall always fill the sky at daytime, and retreat to its proper place at night.¡± Every word sent another surge of strength through him. ¡°I vow to do better than he who came before me, to act as a bridge between the world of humanity and the affairs of the spirits, and defend our way of life against those who seek to end it.¡±

    Magnifico snorted, but continued on nonetheless.

    Aurelian had asked him, when they¡¯d first begun plotting, why he couldn¡¯t just take Soleil¡¯s power for himself.

    Magnifico had laughed at that, as if the very idea were preposterous. ¡°Why would I want to limit myself so? I have the Blade of Khali, the Claw of Pantera, the Dagger of Gemel¡­ Lies are my trade, and artifacts my power. You can have Soleil confirm my intentions on that: I have no designs on the power of the sun, not for myself. A cooperative spirit would be far more valuable.¡±

    Confirm he had, and a thousand other things besides. Soleil had been none too pleased at that, but something so audacious had to be confirmed thoroughly.

    And now, Magnifico needed him, unless he wanted to live in a world without sunlight.

    ¡°We¡¯re running out of time,¡± Aurelian noted, feeling the movement of light across the sky. Already, hints of orange tinted the horizon, as if the sun were setting in all directions at once. ¡°Two more minutes, perhaps, at most.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t rush me. I haven¡¯t had to seal anything this powerful in decades. This is a delicate operation, and the consequences of a mistake could be quite dire. If I lose control, the energy might end up binding itself to me, god forbid, or killing us both, which would be quite inconvenient.¡±

    A master of understatement, this one. ¡°Very well.¡± Aurelian remained silent until the bard finished, watching as the light descended on all sides. A cold wind was beginning to blow, the chill of night settling in the air.

    But soon that could be put to rights.

    ¡°Done.¡± Magnifico pulled the sword free and sheathed it on his belt.

    Aurelian withdrew his arm, now glowing gold with streaks of dark blood trailing down it.

    The bard snapped his fingers, and the vortex closed, not a trace of Soleil remaining. ¡°Congratulations, new Sun Spirit.¡±

    Aurelian inhaled deep, though it probably wasn¡¯t even necessary anymore, then willed himself off the ground. Far from the unstable fire at his feet he¡¯d managed as a sage, the air carried him gently, without a trace of flame to buoy him up.

    It was as if the sky was his natural place.

    He rotated to face East, looking out over the empty mountains. He pointed a finger at one in the distance, and nearly jumped as it exploded with a golden burst of light. Smoke and rubble trailed into the distant air, half of the mountain collapsing in on itself. Excellent. He flipped around, facing the water, and sent forth another blast.

    A column of water filled the sky in the wake of the blast, a wave of water rippling out past it. Even at such a distance, he could see with perfect clarity the height of the wave, taller than the Temple of the Sun, but far enough away that it would dissipate before reaching the coast.

    The power spent was like nothing. A drop of water in the ocean.

    He felt points of light trace across the earth. Offerings, great and small. A stick of incense in Guerron, a prized calf in Porte Lumi¨¨re, even faint traces in Malin, though few in number. He saw them all at once, the information filling his head as fast as he could comprehend it.

    ¡°Nicely done.¡± Magnifico¡¯s words snapped Aurelian¡¯s attention back to him. ¡°Our business should just about be at an end, then.¡±

    ¡°Almost.¡± The sound of his voice shocked him, like a great blast of fire burning his throat raw. ¡°You killed Fouchand.¡±

    ¡°Sure I did.¡± Magnifico shrugged. ¡°Helped you out, didn¡¯t it? Until you completely blew it, anyway. Honestly, what were you thinking at that trial? Fernan was minutes away from figuring out the Duke arrested you, and then the whole city would have known. I made things so easy for you, and you still managed to screw it up.¡±

    ¡°You murdered a wise and just man, an innocent in all this. You may have been a necessary evil, but now that monstrosity is at an end.¡± The fire filled his throat, burning hotter with each word as the feeling erupted from his chest. ¡°You¡¯ve outlived your usefulness, Magnifico.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± The bard chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s funny, I was just about to say the same thing.¡±

    ¡°If you wanted to turn against me, you seem to have done it too late.¡± Aurelian felt the heat within him, the words nearly burning his throat raw. He floated higher into the air, then sent a targeted burst of light directly at Magnifico.

    The impact was enough to make the cliff face crumble, stirring up so much dirt and dust that a mere man would never be able to see, or perhaps even to breathe.

    But I am a mere man no more.

    Magnifico had dodged out of the way somehow, for he wasn¡¯t within the cloud of dust. His Cloak of Nocturne was hiding him in darkness, just as it had hid him from Soleil. But Soleil hadn¡¯t known there was a threat.

    No matter.

    Aurelian crossed his arms, feeling the pulse of light tear through his body as he built up power. He pushed it outwards, sending a massive blast of energy in all directions.

    A blast a fraction the size would have been enough to drain his entire reserves as a sage, but this, he barely felt.

    Soleil¡¯s Summit was vaporized, leaving a perfectly spherical crater in the face of the mountain. No matter his petty binder tricks, no one could survive such a thorough obliteration.

    And now my true task begins.

    He turned his eyes north, brimming with white-hot power. Across the Lyrion sea, to Avalon.

    Obliterating Cambria so thoroughly no life remained would be the work of a minute. Another city or two, and even King Harold would surrender. And if not, well, I could always continue.

    There was a delicious satisfaction to it, outmatching their mechanical proficiency with the power of the spirits, an advantage more thorough than they¡¯d had even at the Foxtrap, or the Fall of Refuge.

    Soleil could have done it at any time. Almost any spirit could.

    And yet they remained aloof as their followers suffered and died for them.

    No more.

    Aurelian rose higher into the air, the wind scraping past his skin as he did. Soon, Avalon would be cowering, begging for reprieve. And they would find none. No less than they deserved.

    ¡°Now this is more like it. I was hoping for a bit more of a fight.¡± Magnifico hovered high in the air, a thick gauntlet around his arms blasting wind downward hard enough to keep him aloft.

    Damn it! How had he survived?

    Aurelian willed himself towards him, closing in on his prey.

    The air scraped him skin once more, simmering in the blistering heat radiating from his skin. His view changed faster than he could blink, streaking across vast stretches of the sky in an instant. In fact, he¡¯d moved so fast that¡ª

    ¡°Nice aim!¡± Magnifico called out from behind him, making it clear just how badly Aurelian had overshot. ¡°Did they teach you that before or after they showed you how to burn people alive?¡±

    Bastard.

    This time, Aurelian took care to move deliberately, flying more like he had as a sage, slow and steady. Once he was close enough, he pointed his arm at the bard and took aim.

    A cone of light sprayed out of his hands, gold and unyielding and forceful. So forceful it blew him back into a spin, all the more disorienting with how thorough his new vision was. His hands burned with the power, glowing red and gold and white in turn.

    By the time he regained his composure, it was obvious that Magnifico had dodged once again.

    Aurelian forced himself to stop, to take a deep breath and assess. As he exhaled, flame filled his throat and burst forth into the air, gouging a golden scar into the sky that slowly faded. This is a set of powers to learn, just like any other.

    Of course he wouldn¡¯t be a master of them immediately. Power might be immediate, but skill took time.

    Time I might not have, if I don¡¯t want Magnifico scurrying away.

    Perhaps there was another option.

    Distant specks were already amassing on the trail, figures scurrying and skittering towards them.

    Aurelian¡¯s eyes seared a trail into the ground as he readjusted to see them, feeling them as they glowed gold, then red. He felt his sight turn upon himself, floating in the air with hair of gold and his bloodstained arm, and his eyes burning hotter and brighter, the fire surrounding his face as if consuming it.

    A shake of his head forced his sight back to the figures on the trail, twin spouts of green flame lighting their way.

    That¡¯s Fernan.

    He was riding his familiar, Jethro beside him. Other geckos carried other riders, albeit more slowly, less confidently, their riders mere passengers directing nothing.

    An opportunity, if ever there was one.

    Aurelian formed a sphere of light in his hands, the burning heat searing deeper stains into his bloodied arms. He formed the shell as his fingers began to crackle, wrapping it around Magnifico as fast as he could.

    It wasn¡¯t enough to catch him, but it did force a readjustment of his position, a descent through the sky as his wind gauntlet was knocked off course.

    ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re?¡± Fernan gasped as his gecko grew closer. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°I won,¡± he said succinctly, trying to minimize the overpowering heat scraping his throat. ¡°I am the Sun Spirit now.¡± He coughed, sending a massive golden streak of fire into the sky. ¡°I found Magnifico¡­ he betrayed all of us¡­ kill him.¡±

    Daggers of light scraped his throat as he turned back to Magnifico, still diving through the air without any apparent worry.

    Aurelian smashed one hand into the palm of the other, calling down a pillar of light from the sky above.

    For a moment, the world was still. But for the golden energy crackling along his hands and the swirling dust in the air, there was finally calm.

    ¡°Is he dead?¡± Fernan asked as he and Mara approached, far ahead of the others.

    ¡°No. I would know.¡± Jethro lifted himself from the gecko and landed on the dirt. Up close, it was easy to see the blue earring he¡¯d stolen from Leclaire, a silent reminder of the horror they¡¯d perpetrated together.

    At the time, it had seemed the only way. Avalon¡¯s superiority was impossible to deny, its encroachment, its conquests, inevitable. But there were degrees of failure.

    With a pretext to prompt it, a small loss of lives rather than a full scale war, Guerron could negotiate peaceful annexation, and maintain some sovereignty, along with its culture. Charenton had managed it, and ?le Dimanche. Fouchand and the children would capitulate, in the face of crushing inevitability. He was too sensible not to. At that point, when Jethro presented it, it had seemed by far the best of uniformly horrible options.

    That was before Magnifico had arrived, with a significantly superior course.

    Murderous bastard that he was, he had done his job. With this power, I can end Avalon forever.

    Jethro¡¯s solution was merely a cheap imitation by comparison, the spy himself little better. Even his appearance flickered as if he weren¡¯t entirely present, dipping in and out of darkness every few seconds.

    So strange that they would oppose each other. But then, politics always made for strange bedfellows.

    In contrast to Magnifico¡¯s smug confidence, Jethro looked genuinely scared. ¡°We have to capture him. Killing him is not a viable option. This is the only way.¡±

    At that moment, the rubble exploded outward with a gust of wind, a black speck flying into the air above it.

    ¡°How¡ª¡± he suppressed a fiery cough in his throat. ¡°How do you expect to do that?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a binder,¡± Jethro said hurriedly, pulling a bag from the gecko¡¯s side. ¡°He¡¯s nothing without his tools, and we have a solution for that.¡±

    ¡°The crown.¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes burned brighter. ¡°Is that why you gave it to me? In case Magnifico tried to fight his way out?¡±

    Jethro nodded, pulling the metal object free of the bad. ¡°It seals his power. Well, any binder¡¯s. But I brought it for him. Put this on his head, and he¡¯s nothing but a man, artifacts or no artifacts. They¡¯ll be useless in his hands.¡±

    Aurelian nodded, not sparing the breath to respond. Jethro¡¯s words had a ring of truth to them, as if the very energy within him could verify it. He took to the skies, pursuing the bard with measured deliberation, careful not to repeat his first mistake.

    Beneath him, Jethro disappeared into the darkness, slipping entirely into shadow with the crown still in his hands.

    Mara raced further up the mountain, Fernan still on her back.

    They can handle their end. The greater part falls to me.

    Aurelian blasted as lightly as he could from his feet, relying on honed instincts from his time as a sage. The power was still overwhelming, searing through his feet as he slammed forward into the air.

    Still, this time, he didn¡¯t overshoot.

    ¡°Finally decided to show up, eh?¡± Magnifico slowed his ascent, his gauntlet beginning to pulse with power. ¡°You know, my people remember Eulus as a wind spirit, before I killed him, anyway. But he also held sway over storms.¡± He adjusted his hand, shooting crackling lightning from the gauntlet directly at Aurelian.

    Who does he think I am?

    Aurelian simply flew through it, feeling the power burn through his flesh as he absorbed it into himself. By the time he was close enough, his whole body was aflame, burning across the sky and crackling with remnants of the lightning.

    He willed the flame into a condensed point, a ball hot enough to melt iron, then thrust it towards the bard.

    Magnifico backhanded it aside with the gauntlet, sending it careening off into the distance. He used the momentum to shoot a gust of wind above him, shooting himself downwards.

    By the time Aurelian could re-orient himself, the bard had already risen back from above and taken the opportunity to blast him with more lightning. Why does he keep trying that when he knows it doesn¡¯t work?

    Still, the maneuver almost reminded him of his duel with Camille Leclaire. The same rise and fall, the same misdirection.

    Leclaire¡­

    Aurelian focused his attention onto the gauntlet, rapidly gathering heat from the surrounding air and channeling it into the metal of the gauntlet.

    Just like he¡¯d done with Leclaire¡¯s armor, to buy himself enough time to shoot her.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Magnifico flung the red-hot metal from his hands, sending it tumbling into the mountains. He realized too late what that meant for him, lacking any way to stay in the air.

    Jethro said capturing him is the only option¡­

    But he¡¯d been wrong before, about Avalonian motives and politics especially. Even if Jethro¡¯s warning was honest, that didn¡¯t rule out his being mistaken.

    That bastard had killed Fouchand, and tried to betray Aurelian too, even if the latter case had been mutual.

    Aurelian plunged downwards, far faster than the bard, and landed hard in the crater below, sending up huge bursts of dirt and flame.

    Jethro was still wreathed in darkness, hidden from view. But Fernan¡­

    That poor, naive boy.

    Green jets of flame spat out of his hands and feet as he shot up into the sky, trying to meet Magnifico before the ground could.

    I could stop him.

    He flew past the plummeting bard as his accent slowed.

    I could help him.

    Fernan kicked his feet up and readjusted his angle, flying downward to match the bard¡¯s speed. Once they were aligned, he grabbed hold of him, then adjusted his angle once more, so he could slowly break his fall with flame from below.

    By the time they were ten feet above the ground, they were practically moving at a crawl.

    Magnifico wrenched himself free of Fernan and dove downward, rolling when he hit the ground. Without another word he sprang to his feet, somehow undamaged, and began running down the side of the mountain.

    He didn¡¯t make it very far before Mara sprang up from below and grabbed his leg with her mouth. She dragged him back and spat him out on the ground in front of them, his leg clearly burned.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Magnifico spat, putting his hand to his sword. ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to come to this, but¡ª¡±

    Jethro emerged from the shadows behind him, planting the crown firmly on his head.

    Before there was even time to blink, he retreated back into the darkness, leaving only a defeated Magnifico, clawing at the crown on his head. He set his fingers against the brim and tried to rip it off, but it refused to budge.

    ¡°It¡¯s over¡ª¡± A fit of coughing blasted clouds of gold into the air, distant mountainsides, even the ocean. Aurelian could barely direct himself enough to avoid hitting the city or any of the people.

    ¡°It is over.¡± The bard sneered. ¡°You might not know it, but you¡¯re already dead. No mere human can withstand the entire power of a spirit within their body, especially not one such as Soleil. Already, that energy is tearing you apart, killing you from the inside. You must have felt it.¡±

    What? Aurelian¡¯s eyes widened, burning pain filling them as they did. ¡°You¡­ you swore¡­. You swore, before Soleil, that I would survive this.¡± He managed to hold the blasts in, but his throat felt fit to burst.

    ¡°I said I could perform the ritual such that you would. It¡¯s as simple as forgoing some of the power. Bind a fraction to the man, still far beyond what a sage or binder could ever boast, and the body can survive. It¡¯s happened before, albeit by accident.¡± He smiled, though it looked forced. ¡°I didn¡¯t, though. You got all of it.¡±

    No¡­ No¡­

    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed bright, though the green color was tinted with gold. ¡°If he dies, there¡¯s no Sun Spirit. The world will be shrouded in darkness until the spirits convene to pick a replacement. That could take months! Years! Do you know many people will die?¡±

    Magnifico clicked his tongue. ¡°Better than anyone here, I imagine. Such is the price of ridding the world of spirits who make humanity dance to their bidding, throwing ourselves on a pyre for their enrichment. They care not for our wellbeing, and yet they do not hesitate to murder, to sentence captured souls to fates worse than death. Ending their tyranny justifies any means, no matter the cost. Soleil¡¯s replacement will be weaker, even easier to kill. Just as Levian is nothing compared to Pantera, Lunette pitiful next to Khali.¡±

    Aurelian could only steal a glimpse of the darkened skies before his eyes burned with such light that he had to shut them. Even the ring of sunset around the horizon had nearly faded, the last echoes of the day forever lost. Soon, the whole world would be plunged into darkness, just as Khali had brought forth over a century ago. As Soleil¡¯s light tore him apart from within, he struggled to hold himself together just a moment longer. He was the sun, and now he was about to die. ¡°Aubaine¡­¡±

    ¡°One by one they¡¯ll die, each weaker than the last. It¡¯s inevitable, entropy. With the right nudge from me here and there, their power and numbers will keep decreasing over time. Until eventually...¡± He looked up at the darkening sky with a smile as Aurelian felt his body come fully apart. ¡°Extermination.¡±

 Prologue: The Fallen

    Camille Leclaire stood at the edge of the water, a vortex of emotions and impressions swirling around her. Tethers to the fallen, those she had known and those whose lives met their end at her hand.

    For a sage of Levian, she hadn¡¯t felled many ¡ª most likely as a result of the Foxtrap. Strange, then, that her guilt would be so much greater than a sage¡¯s wont. It made options more limited. Perhaps her first?

    ¡°Please, we were just having a bit of fun! You know how a man¡¯s liable to get when his blood runs hot.¡± The knight spoke earnestly, letting his thoughts fly free.

    ¡°Quiet.¡± A tremor filled her voice, not as firm as she would have liked. It filled the prisoner with a sense of confidence, bolstered by the manner in which he towered over the girl. ¡°In the name of my betrothed, the Fox-King Lucien Renart, Duke Fouchand has sentenced you to die.¡±

    ¡°No child should be doing this, Camille. Your mother would give me a stern word and a demotion and that would be the end of it. You must tell your uncle to commute my sentence. You don¡¯t have to do any of this. It¡¯ll be fairer, and spare you the need to bloody your hands.¡±

    She bit her lip, eyes hardened, and the man knew he had failed to sway her. ¡°If you have any last words, speak them now or let them be forever drowned beneath the waves.¡±

    No, no, that wouldn¡¯t do at all.

    Too distant in the past, too unlikely to engender any sympathy at all. The memories were scant, Camille¡¯s being one of the clearer recollections remaining. The other girl had the face etched in her mind forever, but no sense of personality, merely a caricature of charm and aggression.

    Counterproductive.

    Something more recent?

    ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re said I¡¯m not supposed to talk to no one, specially not you.¡± The guilt dripped down Jean¡¯s back, the face of the wineseller who he had slain with his hands, the masses dead in the harbor bombing whose faces he would never see, responsibility he could never truly grasp. ¡°He was very clear, he was. I¡¯m fucked if I don¡¯t follow his intructions.¡±

    Leclaire wore a hood to cover her distinctive hair, bangs of blue still peeking out as she adjusted her posture. ¡°You¡¯re a dead man anyway, Jean. Whatever leverage Aurelian had over you, it¡¯s useless now.¡±

    ¡°My family¡­¡± He winced immediately after speaking, realizing he should not have brought it up to yet another. ¡°If I say anything about what happened, he said they¡¯ll disappear. He¡¯s a lord, miss, he can do it.¡± The secret would not die with him, but the sun sage had apparently considered that sufficient. ¡°Can¡¯t say nothing.¡±

    A twisted smile crossed Camille¡¯s lips. ¡°Then say nothing. I seek not information. Whatever happened at the harbor, it is no concern of mine.¡±

    Jean of the harbor let out his breath, longer and deeper than any he had taken since Aurelian Lumi¨¨re had first approached him to place that device in one of the crates of sundials, and the blue earring alongside it. ¡°Then what do you want?¡±

    ¡°I believe we can be of use to one another. Make a simple request of your jailors, and your family could be taken care of long after you¡¯re gone.¡±

    Perfect.

    The Fallen coalesced, presenting the solid form of the drowned man, allowing reflections of his thoughts to surface. The memories of others, what legacy he left behind, given a face in the world once more.

    What would Jean of the harbor think, seeing his slayer before him once more? The thoughts came easily, impressions from Camille herself, among countless others. The mournful husband, the distant father, the diligent worker¡­

    ¡°What happened to you, lady?¡± The words left blue lips, startling the sage. ¡°You look terrible.¡±

    ?

    ¡°For the fallen!¡± The cry flew from the knight¡¯s lips as his lance bit into the chest of a fleeing soldier, one small trail of many on the battlefield.

    ¡°For the Fox-Queen!¡± another shouted. ¡°Hail Renart!¡±

    Death was death, but those did little by comparison.

    ¡°For the fallen¡­¡± This time, a slight foot soldier from the opposing army. Her shout was inaudible, her kill more of a mercy than anything, slitting the throat of an enemy with a chest crushed under the weight of their horse, begging for release. Still, a life was a life. Death was death.

    The strong and the weak succumbed alike, for reasons heroic and just and pointless in turn. It was easy to feel most of them drift downward, souls unpromised to another claimed by the earth spirit, Terramonde.

    Few dared to speak its name, but they held the knowledge, and that was enough.

    The remnants of the fallen could not remember when they had begun to coalesce, could not understand in truth how they had come to be. Early memories were distant, limited by human memory and perspective.

    They could always remember strife and conflict best, frozen into the minds of the fallen with the stark clarity that only a human¡¯s last moments could provide.

    There had been more and more with time. Human numbers grew, armies amassed, and the path of bloodshed running through the continent grew thicker with every passing day.

    Fallen spirits had followed the army of the Fox-Queen, Marie Renart, for devastation was always greatest in her wake. Enemies retaliated, and her allies would respond in turn¡ªa cycle of revenge, running in tandem with the inevitable onslaught of conquest.

    In time, she had passed to Terramonde, but her offspring had carried on her tradition. In truth, the devastation was far greater now, her realm torn apart so soon after its assembly. More personal too, once distant enemies given faces and names, their crimes and affronts given clarity. Already the fallen had gained more from the three cubs than their mother had granted in her entire lifetime, and the people of the battlefield seemed to think it would last far longer still.

    With each battle, the fallen gained new perspective, adding more energy to their midst. Some few were aware enough of the spirits to fear Terramonde¡¯s reprisals for not getting what was due. Even in this facsimile of the fallen souls, the hole they left behind more than the person who had once lived, fear ran dominant.

    How could it not, for a collection of the dead? Not everyone lived afraid, but the only scarce few who died without fear were killed too quickly for reality to set in. At least, of those killed for the fallen.

    Memories existed of deathbeds, of elders accepting their fate, but none had ever joined the fallen. It seemed likely that none could, by the very nature of what they were.

    ¡°You fucks killed my sister, you bastard!¡± Another addition, trampled under the feet of the fleeing army, one of many lost in a rout. Others cried of territory lost, identity eroded, lives taken by famine and disease.

    All would serve. So long as the lives were taken for the fallen, to the fallen their energy would go.

    ¡°This is for Ti¨¦celin, you son of a bitch.¡± Air condensed around a sage like dark wings, pressing the face of the Plagetine mercenary into the dirt. It was not long before the human stopped breathing.

    The fallen felt the pull, another for their number, but something was wrong.

    The blood and screams faded into the background as a great winged beast grabbed the body in her talons, leaving streaks of black and green as it rose into the sky.

    The fallen found themselves following, obligated to enforce their claim over the one destined to join them.

    ¡°This human is mine in entirety, Lamante, including its face. My sage declared that all who she slew this day would be in offering to Corva, to me. You have no claim. Relinquish your hold.¡±

    Lamante?

    Fear was near-unanimous amongst the fallen spirits, a caution that they had lacked in life, or perhaps had lacked any chance to exercise. No small number had died with protest on their lips, arguments that they ought to be spared. And yet all had perished just the same.

    They relinquished their hold and withdrew, slinking away from the battlefield in search of the next.

    Perhaps Lamante could help explain whatever transgression had led to this.

    ?

    Florette had not cried out when she took the governor¡¯s life, and yet her motives were felt. Revenge for the Blue Bandit, for her parents, for a war lost and a nation ceded. Well within the Fallen¡¯s dominion.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Gordon Perimont¡¯s energy rested comfortably within them, a man of conviction and ideals, hindered by neither in his monstrosity. The Fallen did not have him in truth, none of the trairs and experiences that made him who he was, for they did not in truth have any human¡¯s, but that was of no concern.

    Ultimately, all of it was merely energy.

    The Fallen spent a fraction fashioning a corporeal form in imitation of the dead governor, planting solid boots onto the stones of the tunnels.

    In the gloom, it would be difficult to see clearly, but that would only help. Appearing before people after the Foxtrap always carried a risk of danger¡ªall it would take was an alert that reached the ears of the right binder, and everything could come to an end¡ª but in this case, the risk was small.

    ¡°Girl,¡± the Fallen snarled imperiously, letting impressions of Perimont guide expression and words. The man had died so recently, with so many alive who still knew him well, that it was easy to draw on their impressions to complete the image. Even one who had known him might not notice the difference with any alacrity. ¡°I might have expected wastrel scum like you to steal, reckless fool that you are, but murder? Another one?¡±

    Florette stopped, staring at the murky apparition. ¡°I have a lot of regrets, but killing you isn¡¯t one of them. If ever someone deserved it, it¡¯s you.¡±

    A phrase sprung to the forefront, an impression from her lover. ¡°Luckily, what someone deserves has nothing to do with what they get.¡± The words were wrong for Perimont, the source causing a clash that threatened to disrupt the form, but that was a solvable problem. A slight expenditure of energy, and the image was sufficiently shored up to remain stable. Still, better to hew to Perimont for now. ¡°You accomplished nothing, you ignorant fool. My plans have been carefully crafted to remain relevant in my absence. I¡¯m confident Captain Whitbey will continue our good work.¡±

    ¡°Should have fucking killed him, too. Ugh!¡± She pounded her fist against the wall, sending an echo through the tunnels. ¡°I know this is a mess, and maybe getting rid of you just means Avalon will send another butcher, but there¡¯s only so many. If you all keep dying then they¡¯ll have to stop sending them eventually.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your plan? Continue your spree of theft and murder until Avalon runs out of people?¡± Perimont laughed. ¡°By all means. It would comfort me to see your neck snap at the gallows, having accomplished nothing.¡±

    ¡°I know. It¡¯s just a fantasy, would never actually work that way in practice.¡± She sighed, a defeated look in her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t keep going like this. Even if Eloise¡­ It¡¯s not going to work. That¡¯s why I need to get out of here, get a fresh start. A quick stop in Guerron, and then¡­ the world.¡± Her head tilted up, meeting the Fallen directly in the eye. ¡°You¡¯re dead. You can¡¯t hurt me. You can¡¯t hurt anyone anymore.¡±

    An emotion, there, a hesitation. A lie?

    The Fallen felt themself shifting, something more suitable to get the desired reaction, with less overt hostility. ¡°You know that isn¡¯t true,¡± Cassia Arion said, causing Florette to run away in tears.

    ?

    She was not so different, it so happened. A scavenger, nibbling at the edges of the battlefield for scraps of the plentiful humans left ripe for harvesting in their wake.

    Once the fallen knew the name, knew to look, it had taken mere years to find her. Their knowledge and power only grew as the conflict soldiers were calling the War of Three Cubs raged on, and so too did their aptitude at seeking things out.

    Seven feet tall, her carapace light green streaked with pink and red, Lamante was collecting a face when the fallen came upon her, crushing a fallen human¡¯s head between her mandibles, antennae bouncing with each movement of her head. A bag perched on her back, too large even for her, and so covered in human faces that the material could not even be seen. But even as the hollow faces jostled and rattled, they all stayed in place.

    We wish to speak. But how to convey it?

    Humans had physical shape, while spirits possessed energy to make their whims manifest.

    Perhaps the fallen could incorporate both.

    They drew within themselves, trying to find the most solid shape among them. The most connections to the living, the best remembered, the closest the fallen could boast to a living presence.

    A Rhanoir general, captured and tortured to death in retaliation for her success. Her death was recent, survived by an entire division of soldiers who could still remember her fondly.

    The fallen spirits felt themselves compress, squeezing into the lone human form. They felt skin touch the air, interlaced with wounds and scars. Pain, as always, but no worse than their regular existence.

    The spirit rotated her head to face them, the human she had been harvesting falling out of her mouth. As her weight shifted, the faces on her back readjusted, making room for their new addition.

    ¡°L¡­ Lamante,¡± the fallen managed to speak, drawing on memories so reflexive that they eluded conscious thought. ¡°Lamante,¡± they repeated. ¡°Help?¡±

    In unison, every face at her back smiled, though Lamante¡¯s head remained expressionless. ¡°I cannot say I recognize you,¡± dozens of faces said in dozens of voices. ¡°Why do you want my help?¡±

    ¡°We¡­ I¡ª¡± They drew on the general¡¯s pattern of speech, allowing the words to come more easily. ¡°A collection of the fallen. Those who kill in retaliation mark their victims for me.¡± The general was no stranger to death, and her pose remained casual as the words passed through her lips.

    ¡°A new one? It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve seen a new spirit on this side of the Lyrion sea.¡± She scuttled forward, reaching behind her for a face. ¡°How long can you last in that shape?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Even saying that much made the form harder to maintain, at odds with the general¡¯s inclination to always appear knowledgeable in front of others. The memories didn¡¯t fit.

    Lamante held the face in front of her head like a mask, pressing it tightly against herself.

    In an instant, with no sign of transformation, the spirit¡¯s body was gone, along with her collection. In her place stood a human woman, aged perhaps twenty-five. She wore a green summer dress, blowing behind her despite the lack of wind. Blonde hair curled into a braid around her head, adding an innocence to her gentle smile.

    Beautiful, so many of the fallen thought, but the overriding emotion was a longing only loosely connected to lust. They yearned for home, above all else, but the spirit¡¯s form seemed to embody it perfectly.

    ¡°I can see why you sought me out.¡± She smiled demurely, holding her hands behind her back. ¡°Seems like we might have a fair bit in common.¡±

    ¡°I hope so.¡± The fallen nodded their head, a stiff gesture well-practiced from years of rote military training. ¡°But what we have, it¡¯s hollow, empty. Memories and impressions from others, little more. ¡±

    ¡°My faces are much the same.¡± She held out her hand. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. You¡¯re not a collection of humans, and you never will be. You have to hold onto who you are.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what we are. What I am.¡± The fallen hesitated. ¡°We are defined by humanity and yet lack it.¡±

    Lamante laughed. ¡°You must not have met too many spirits yet. This is something all of us have to figure out, one way or another. You have to claim your identity, define yourself. Once you can manage that, you can wear as many faces as you like without losing yourself.¡± Her hand gestured to the faceless corpse. ¡°You¡¯re a predator, and this is your food. It¡¯s that simple.¡± She reached out and snatched the hand of the fallen. The contact made it firm, solid. If not real, then real enough to touch the face of the world. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll help you figure it out.¡±

    A spirit of many, yet a distinct individual. The possibility felt enticing, the opportunity tantalizing. The spirit composed of fallen humans felt the definition, and they became it.

    Not a collection of the fallen, but the Fallen.

    ?

    Soleil was dead.

    That much seemed rather indisputable.

    Only one other possibility existed to explain the darkening of the sky, and she was sealed away. Khali¡¯s presence would have been felt, had she managed to break free of her prison world two thousand years too early.

    Too, the Fallen felt the sun¡¯s absence, warmth already retreating back into the sky. The pit of void, into which Soleil had fallen.

    Lamante had told them that the death of great spirits was rare, that some of those with a domain to uphold and enrich had held it since before humans walked Terramonde.

    But Pantera the Undying had effectively perished nigh-immediately after Khali had seen herself sealed, and now Soleil had fallen into the abyss as well.

    The Fallen were born of turbulence and conflict, conveyed and empowered by it, but that of humans alone. They drew upon the thoughts of killers to show them what they had wrought, presented a mirror to humanity as a reminder to restrain itself.

    After the last few centuries of existence, there was little need for more. The Fallen had grown strong and numerous, beyond all aspirations, and still they held onto their self, composed into a cohesive whole. Unnecessary volumes of additions could jeopardize that, or bring responsibilities they had no desire for.

    Above all, as always, they wanted to go home.

    But where was home, to a thousand separate souls from a thousand separate homes? Nothing unified them beyond their demise on this continent, joined in empire once and then forever torn asunder.

    Avalon had brought that much into sharp relief, at least, butchers and binders slaying every spirit that caught their eye. Pantera, and Corva¡¯s partner, Eulus, had been the first to come to the Fallen¡¯s attention, but countless others had followed. Pierrot, of the garden, Tervo of the Sartaire, Zardon of the caverns¡­

    The Foxtrap had been the latest battlefield to call the Fallen, though the retaliations were comparatively few, and they had lacked any choice but to simply watch the slaughter. Such was their nature, or at least their origins.

    One could always define their nature. Even a collective could define itself.

    Just as they had for Khali and Pantera, spirits would convene in Soleil¡¯s erstwhile seat of power to choose his replacement. It would be a chance to see so many of them again, joined together once more by tragedy. Young as the Fallen were, they felt the absences more strongly than most.

    Guerron, then. That would be where the others would amass. Spirits of flame and light, making their claims, rulers of vast dominions asserting their authority in the process, and throngs of lesser spirits and humans to accompany them, striving for the slightest chance to make their voice heard amidst the proceedings.

    Lamante never missed one, but it was difficult to assess whether that was a reason to go or not to.

    Still, they now knew what they had sought to know. Camille would stay here, looking to protect her people from the cold of endless night.

    Florette would move on, taking up her fight elsewhere, or not at all.

    The girl stepped onto the ship, looking back over her shoulder with glassy eyes. She would arrive in Guerron soon, however short her stay there. The ship was headed there as well.

    The Fallen coalesced into Cassia once more, then set her feet down aboard the ship. Anchoring the position, conceptually if not literally. It would be easier to follow it, this way. The most direct route to Guerron, without a convenient battlefield to pull them there.

    The Fallen would attend, and they would make their voice heard.

 Camille I: The Sole Expert

    No time for regrets now.

    Camille glided through deserted city streets, chill settling in her skin. Her cloak, borrowed from Mary Perimont, had been tailored for a far shorter woman and stopped irritatingly above the knees. At least the hood did its job, with the added benefit of helping obscure her identity.

    Not that there was any particular need for privacy.

    After all, Prince Grimoire himself had asked for her help. For the first time in almost two decades, I¡¯m not a fugitive in my own home.

    Of course it would be at a time like this.

    The Governor¡¯s mansion spewed out guards like a beehive, tides of people organizing hurriedly as they dispersed from the central building, a grey box silhouetted by faint moonlight. As Camille ventured closer, it became clearer that Territorial Guardians didn¡¯t account for all of the throngs gathered around the blighted structure, for many lacked the uniform, some holding small hatchets or axes in place of Avalon¡¯s usual pikes.

    ¡°Governor¡¯s mansion is closed, miss, on account of the crisis.¡± A burly guard tried to get her attention as she neared the door, plotting a path to duck between the waves of departures. He was one of a pair standing with their hands on their weapons next to the entrance. ¡°Return to your home and await further instructions.¡±

    You people destroyed my home. All that¡¯s left of the castle is a few blue stones on an overgrown cliff. ¡°Prince Grimoire is expecting me.¡± Her stride didn¡¯t slow as she approached. ¡°Move aside.¡±

    The guard narrowed his eyes. ¡°His highness didn¡¯t mention he was expecting any visitors. Wait here while we¡ª¡± He was interrupted by his partner tapping on his shoulder. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the lady who was with him when the prince busted into the palace. WIth the¡­ you know¡­ the magic?¡±

    Camille smiled, continuing to walk forward past the first guard¡¯s dumbfounded face, him making no move to stop her.

    Better to avoid explaining herself, regardless. Luce Grimoire would doubtless have come up with some lie or excuse for soliciting her help with that, and without knowing it, playing along could have been difficult.

    The hallways within were no less crowded, and the manner of dress changed greatly. Colorful capes and doublets flared out against grey brick, clearly well born administrators of some kind.

    Camille took careful note of several of their faces, good people to keep in mind for the future, but she had more immediate concerns.

    Finding Luce¡¯s workshop was trivial, for practically the entire hallway around it was choked with guards and messengers, each squeezing slowly past each other on their way to and from the room. No matter.

    Keeping her eyes firmly forward, Camille ducked and slinked through the crowd, cutting ahead of forlorn messengers through heavily-breathing guards until she stood before the door. Not one to waste time, she rapped the back of her fist against it.

    ¡°What now?¡± a hoarse voice called out through the door. ¡°Who is it?¡±

    ¡°Your savior, it would seem. And twice over, at that.¡±

    The murmurings of the crowd died down as some of them turned to stare.

    ¡°Let her in!¡± Grimoire ordered, one of his guards opening the door in response.

    Camille strode in easily, allowing them to close the door behind her.

    Prince Grimoire stood behind an enormous wooden worktable, better fit for a craftsman than a prince, wrestling with two pieces of metal that seemed determined to repel each other. Massive coils of copper twine looped around the table from their spools, seemingly doomed to be tangled up with each other.

    He set the metal bars down as Camille entered, looking up at her with a face covered in a film of grime. ¡°Camille. I thought you were leaving?¡±

    ¡°That was the plan. But Guerron has more sages in the vicinity right now than you have spools of copper. They can manage without me for a little while.¡± I hope. ¡°Malin, though? I¡¯m sincerely worried that if I leave, everyone here will die.¡±

    Grimoire frowned. ¡°I¡¯d ask for a bit more credit, but honestly, I¡¯m worried you might be right.¡± He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe this happened.¡±

    I find it suspicious, myself. To see the sky engulfed in darkness, on the day of the solstice no less¡­ ¡°The cause could prove important in informing the solution. I was planning my next steps in that direction, provided nothing more urgent arose here.¡±

    ¡°The cause?¡± The prince furrowed his brow. ¡°Surely it''s Khali, returned from the world where she was imprisoned? What else could engulf the sky in darkness?¡±

    ¡°The sun.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°Or rather, the lack of it. Just as Soleil shone uninterrupted for weaks at the dawn of the Age of Gleaming, in Khali¡¯s absence. Or as the tides ceased to move with the death of Pantera, before Levian was elevated to her place.¡±

    His eyes widened. ¡°You think someone banished the sun like the Great Binder banished Khali?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a possibility. If so, the spirits will be convening at the seat of his power to choose a replacement. As important as it might be to ensure that they choose quickly, too must they also choose correctly, as they did with Levian.¡±

    ¡°Fuck me. If the fate of the world ends up resting on a bunch of monsters to make the right choice, we¡¯re all doomed.¡±

    ¡°Right this moment, it doesn¡¯t matter. These first days are the most important, before the temperature drops below the threshold for freezing.¡±

    ¡°I know. Father¡¯s been preparing me for the possibility for years, the hierarchy of needs to keep people alive. Even if Khali is about nineteen hundred years too early.¡±

    ¡°What? Nineteen hundred years?¡±

    Grimoire paled, as if realizing he had said too much. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. First, warmth, to ensure that none perish in the cold. I¡¯ve got practically half the city out cutting wood while it¡¯s still safe enough to do it. The Woodcutter¡¯s guild organized their own forays, while the Guardians are gathering up any townsfolk who can swing an axe.¡±

    ¡°Guilds¡­¡± Camille sighed. ¡°If they¡¯re out on their own, you¡¯re going to lose half the forest to their pockets before the wood gets back here.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I sent a bunch of Perimont¡¯s Forresters to shadow them and make sure everything gets back intact. Keeps them out of the city too, where they could do more harm than good.¡±

    ¡°Smart,¡± Camille admitted. ¡°And what are you doing, exactly? Trying to wrap the entire city in copper?¡±

    Grimoire rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a generator. With an appropriately magnetized core surrounded by coiled wire, we can convert force from turning a wheel into voltaic charge, which¡­ This is too complicated to explain.¡±

    ¡°Clearly, and it doesn¡¯t matter for the purposes of this conversation. What¡¯s important is what it does. I would hope it¡¯s significant, if you¡¯re spending all your time on this.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, address point two: food. I¡¯m not an expert on this part, but too long without sunlight could ruin the entire harvest. Surviving right now only does us so much good if we all starve come winter. I¡¯m hoping I can grab an optics specialist to help configure the lights, but ideally, it could mean reproducing sunlight using another means of power.¡±

    ¡°Reproducing sunlight, really?¡± Camille tried to contain her skepticism. Avalon had all manner of strange technology, but this seemed considerably greater a gap than even Fouchand had realized. ¡°So your copper string¡­ wire, it lights up? Is that supposed to be enough to grow plants?¡±

    ¡°No, this is just the generator. It converts kinetic energy to voltaic. We¡¯d need to attach it to a turbine, or a windmill, or¡­ You know, it doesn¡¯t matter. It might not work anyway. No one¡¯s had much luck scaling the illumination enough to be useful. But I have to try.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    And destroy the entire forest while you¡¯re at it. ¡°Aren¡¯t you thinking a bit short-term?¡± she asked diplomatically. ¡°Trees need sunlight to grow, too. Once you cut down all of the accessible forests, that¡¯s it.¡±

    He scoffed, turning his eyes back to his disorderly pile of copper. ¡°What would you have me do, Camille? We have to keep people warm enough to ride this out. If it¡¯s Khali, she¡¯ll appear in Avalon, and it will fall to our binders to seal her away once more. Who knows how long that could take? Who knows if it even can be done? She¡¯s had an entire world to feast on, to grow her power. Father said¡­ I don¡¯t have a lot of options here.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t limit yourself. Now that I¡¯m here, the possibilities are far greater.¡±

    Grimoire slapped himself in the forehead. ¡°What the fuck was I thinking? Of course, your magic! How much energy can you produce?¡±

    Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m quite capable. Lumi¨¨re may have won our duel, but I assure you, it was only because of Magnifico¡¯s weapon.¡±

    He paused, staring at her. ¡°Not what I meant. How many¡­ Do sages have units for spiritual energy? Something I could convert to martins?¡±

    ¡°Units? I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±

    ¡°Measurement! The way one measures distance in feet or miles.¡±

    How pointless. ¡°I have intimate awareness of exactly how much energy I can bring to bear at any given time. Quantifying it like that would not only be pointless, but impossible. How would I apply a ruler to my reserves? The very prospect is nonsensical.¡±

    For some reason, that made the prince smile widely. ¡°You¡¯ve never studied this scientifically? None of you sages?¡± He rubbed his hands together. ¡°Alright, it looks like a new task just went to the top of my priorities list. Let¡¯s see, a beaker of water to get the volume precise, would be better if someone could send over a good thermometer from the Tower, but there should be something around¡­ Interesting¡­¡±

    Scant surprise he¡¯s the younger brother, with his priorities so far from ruling. ¡°While you work on that, I¡¯ll be determining the source of the all-consuming darkness filling the sky. The proper next steps could vary considerably, depending on whether or not Khali has returned.¡±

    ¡°Ok, good. I¡¯ll try to have the diagnostic tool ready as soon as I can. If funneling power through your spiritual energy is more efficient than steam turbines, it might be better to use your magic than our¡­ Hmm¡­¡±

    ¡°I need authority,¡± she interrupted, cutting through the technological babble.

    ¡°What, like, pathologically?¡±

    ¡°No, you fool.¡± Camille sighed. ¡°I need to make inquiries and negotiations. It¡¯s important that everyone be aware that I have your confidence.¡± Even if I surely don¡¯t yet, not truly. But they were allies in keeping Malin alive, at least. That much trust seemed possible. ¡°An official position would be ideal, something indicating that I¡¯m in charge of all magical affairs. Spiritual Liaison, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Fine, whatever. Just get back soon. If your magic works the way I think it does, we could have you turning water wheels round the clock in a matter of hours. That could make all the difference.¡±

    Is it wrong to hope it doesn¡¯t, then? ¡°Say it. Make it official.¡±

    ¡°What? There¡¯s not exactly time to make an announcement or anything. I¡¯ll introduce you when I have time to gather up a cabinet, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just say it, so I can move on.¡±

    With no small amount of bewildered irritation on his face, the prince acquiesced, waving his hand in a sloppy salute. ¡°You are now my official Spiritual Liaison. Satisfied?¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Camille opened the door and exited into the murmuring throngs outside, each turning to stare as she walked by.

    ?

    ¡°I, Camille Leclaire, High Priestess of Levian and Lady of On¨¨s, do entreat you for a conversation, fair spirit. I offer you my full protection from harm for the duration of our discussion, and full secrecy to the extent you desire. I come alone, with none else to bear witness. My soul is yours should I lie.¡±

    She shouted to the banks of the Sartaire, the third spot she¡¯d tried that¡­ night? Morning? Keeping track of time was already growing difficult, and this ordeal had barely begun.

    Camille had done a round of searching when she¡¯d first been free to move about the city, but hadn¡¯t been able to find any spirits remaining. Pierrot¡¯s garden, Teruvo¡¯s forest, and now the banks of the Sartaire river. Mother hadn¡¯t taken her to every spirit¡¯s domain around the city, but Camille still knew where many had resided. That was before the Foxtrap though. In the wake of Avalon¡¯s invasion, many spirits had stood their ground and died, while others fled, but there had to be some still in hiding.

    Avalon could hardly have wiped them all out, especially outside the city like this. And circumstances were different now, even aside from being able to shout safely and cover more ground. The sky was dark, a great spiritual reckoning on the horizon, and¡­

    ¡°I speak with the authority granted from the ruler of this city. You shall not come to harm, and word of your openness shall be passed to the Great Spirit Levian. All this I swear, with my soul in the balance.¡± If that didn¡¯t work, she had two more sites to check, and then would have to venture further afield. The desert, most likely, since Avalon had surely not bothered to conduct a thorough campaign of extermination there, but that presented challenges of its own.

    If only I could simply ask Levian¡­ But it was impossible to see him before the culmination of their deal, unless she wanted him to steal away with her soul.

    ¡°I accept your offer, Camille.¡± A vortex began to form in the river waters, a large ball of dark green within the center. The head curled back, antennae unfurling behind it, revealing a lighter colored belly.

    ¡°Fenouille!¡± Camille carefully scrambled down the riverbank, approaching the frog-like spirit in the water. ¡°I hoped you might be around! The Sartaire is more than just what borders Malin, after all.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± HIs voice was impossibly deep, bubbling up from the muddy soil beneath. ¡°Had I known it was you the first time, I would have shown myself then.¡± Atop his whirling cloud of water, he crept closer. ¡°How long has it been? Fifty years? You humans grow so fast.¡±

    ¡°Seventeen,¡± she corrected, smiling up at him. ¡°I¡¯m really glad you¡¯re still here. After I heard what they did to Pierrot¡­¡±

    ¡°Monstrous, indeed. Not many felt inclined to stay after that. Deeper east or further south, for most, though some few did stay. There was even a new arrival from Paix Lake, the Fallen.¡± Fenouille stroked the bottom of his chin. ¡°I see that you yet live as well. Without Levian¡¯s presence, it was difficult to be sure. How fares your mother?¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°She died so that we could escape, back when Avalon first arrived. I¡¯m the last Leclaire.¡±

    Fenouille¡¯s vortex dipped downwards, bringing him closer to ground level. ¡°Such condolences as I have to offer are yours. Sarille was wise and strong indeed.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I¡¯d love to keep catching up, but I was actually wondering if I could ask you about something.¡±

    ¡°The sky?¡± Fenouille¡¯s tongue, pale green, shot out of his mouth, gesturing towards the darkened horizon. ¡°So soon after Khali¡¯s rampage, no less,¡± his voice continued, unimpaired. ¡°What is Terramonde coming to?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all because of Avalon. They¡¯re like a flood bursting through a dam, expanding their tyranny across the world without thought or care.¡± She smiled. ¡°I have a plan for that, though. Now that I know you¡¯re alive, I¡¯ll talk to you more about it later.¡± She took a breath, staring at the stars reflected in the river. ¡°Is Khali back? She wasn¡¯t killed, only sealed away, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I cannot deny the possibility with certainty, but nothing gives me cause to believe so.¡±

    Camille let out a deep breath, allowing herself a hearty sigh of relief. At least one disaster averted, for once. ¡°It¡¯s Soleil, then.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, indeed. I felt the call myself, an invitation to say my piece at the congregation of the spirits. But I have no great opinion on the next sun, and I trust Levian to speak for me in any case.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s smart of you.¡± She bounced on her feet as possibilities began to fill her mind. ¡°Guerron¡¯s going to have more spirits than sages soon.¡± Avalon could try to begin their attack if they desired, cruel though it would be in the face of this crisis, but it would be at their own peril. The convocation of spirits would not take kindly to their meeting being interrupted. ¡°I think you can make more of a difference here, anyway.¡±

    Fenouille stared in silence, an unspoken question resting in the air.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep the city alive as best I can. The first priority is keeping people warm, making sure that no one freezes to death before we can deal with the larger issue. But then the problem is food. Unless the spirits can make their decision soon, crops will start to fail.¡±

    ¡°And you hope to make use of my riverbanks to grow replacements, enriched by my energy rather than sunlight?¡± His tongue retracted back into his mouth. ¡°Paul Cadoudal asked me much the same, when Khali covered the world in darkness. I granted my sage the privilege then, but circumstances have changed since the binders arrived.¡±

    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s just a thought. I¡¯m not asking you for anything yet. But I hope you can think about it, and think about what you would want in return.¡±

    ¡°What are you prepared to offer?¡±

    Camille steepled her fingers. ¡°I have authority within the city, delegated by the Prince of Avalon himself. I¡¯m the official Liaison to the Spirits, and uniquely positioned to negotiate terms. I believe he might be willing to part with some of the artifacts that were so cruelly torn from fallen spirits. Perhaps even Pierrot.¡±

    ¡°Indeed? Then I shall consider your proposal, little Camille.¡±

    ¡°Could you pass it on to any of the other spirits still around, if you see them? And let them know I¡¯m safe to talk to?¡±

    ¡°That, I cannot guarantee to them with certainty. But I shall pass your remarks along, and make your authority known.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Fenouille. It was really good to see you again.¡± Camille turned and began to deliberately scale the riverbank, making her way back up to the road.

    As dire as Soleil¡¯s death was, it only validated her decision to stay. Guerron didn¡¯t need her right now, and Malin absolutely did.

    Play things right, and I just might save them.

 Eloise I: The Benefactor

    Play things right, and I just might come out ahead.

    ¡°Make sure to handle everything carefully,¡± Florette said, being massively hypocritical in the process. ¡°We don¡¯t have schematics yet, but these things use the same powder as their cannons and explosives. It could be volatile.¡±

    In the gloom of the sunless sky, this far from any of Malin¡¯s lamps, that was more difficult than it might have seemed. Even the moon hadn¡¯t made an appearance. No one had thought to bring candles to a job taking place around noon, so they were stuck making do with the faint light flickering out of smokers¡¯ tinderboxes to make sure everything was packed up securely.

    ¡°You heard her,¡± Eloise added. ¡°If you want to blow yourself up, do it somewhere else.¡±

    When every crate had been loaded back into the wagon, each crewmember arranged themselves in a line before them.

    ¡°Right, which of you had the flat fee?¡± Eloise folded her arms, surveying the people they¡¯d managed to gather.

    A little over half stepped forward, including the two Florette had managed to recruit. Jean and Paul, apparently, who had managed their role with no cause for complaint. Scant surprise they needed the immediate payoff, given what had happened to their last one.

    ¡°Make sure not to spend it all at once. Guardians are liable to break your legs if you flash too much silver, whether or not they figure out how you got it.¡±

    Florette lifted a purse from her side, fumbling it with one hand while the other was stuck holding a wad of gauze to her ear.

    Fuck¡¯s sake.

    Eloise snatched the purse out of her hands, earning herself a glare as she pulled out the prepackaged wad of paper mandala bills and handed each out. ¡°Your part in this is done, and you¡¯re welcome to go on your merry way. Of course, anyone who did a good job might see us come calling next time.¡± She tossed the empty purse into the wagon along with the crates of weaponry.

    ¡°That¡¯s all of you, to be clear. Excellent work!¡± Florette called out as they began to disperse, slightly ruining the effect. ¡°Everyone else, you have your notes of percentage for when the sale goes through. Should be higher than the flat fee, given your patience, but please keep in mind that things are volatile right now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, advanced weaponry¡¯s going to be less valuable during a cataclysm. Obviously.¡± Eloise hoisted herself up onto the driver¡¯s seat of the wagon as the remaining crewmembers said their goodbyes and left.

    That didn¡¯t matter too much, honestly. There were far larger issues to deal with now.

    Florette followed behind, trying to clamber up with only one hand.

    ¡°Here.¡± Eloise rolled her eyes as she held out her own, helping Florette up to the seat beside her. To her left, given the ear with the injury. ¡°You¡¯ve got to strap that to your head or something, maybe bandage it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Clearly her hearing was still far from its full capacity. ¡°Something about a bandage?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, wear one, you idiot. I¡¯ll grab you one once we¡¯re done.¡±

    Florette nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve got to be close, right? How many left?¡±

    Eloise smiled as she picked up the reins. ¡°Seven. Wanted to spread them out thoroughly, as a matter of logistics, you know.¡±

    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± Florette visibly sagged in her seat, head drooping. ¡°I was hoping for, like, two.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯re in luck, because that was the last one.¡± She chuckled as she got the horse to begin moving. ¡°A pleasant surprise, no?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ sure. Why do we have to move them again, anyway? Couldn¡¯t we have just brought everything to your little cache from the start?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s brilliant! Why didn¡¯t I think of that? We could have just told everyone to take it straight there, given them the exact location!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass.¡±

    ¡°Impossible,¡± Eloise said with a smirk. ¡°Honestly, if Captain Verrou were already here, it would probably be overkill. But with all of this¡­¡± She gestured vaguely at the sky. ¡°It¡¯s always better to be safe. Minimize risks.¡±

    ¡°Sure. I guess that makes sense.¡± Florette put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°We can take it easy for a while, once we leave. I don¡¯t have a ton of money left after paying the crew, but it should be enough to lay low for a bit. Enjoy the reprieve we¡¯ve got from summer, you know?¡±

    Are you patronizing me? ¡°There¡¯s no time for that. This is going to shake everything up. It¡¯s an opportunity like no other.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°Sorry. I just thought, you know, after what you went through and everything¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s over now. There¡¯s no need to discuss it.¡±

    ¡°No need, maybe, but it¡ªNo discussion, sure. Fine.¡±

    Eloise spared a glance away from the road ahead to look at her partner of the moment. On the surface, she hadn¡¯t changed much. Still twig-skinny, arms still lithely muscled. Her hair had gotten even longer, trailing elegantly behind her in the wind. The grime nested in it only diminished the effect a little, an understandable result of lying in the grass while they waited for the train.

    Her eyes were still adorable, big soulful windows so dark a brown they were practically black. She always seemed so eager, so passionate it was cute, really, if wildly na?ve.

    Now, though, they were full of pity.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Eloise muttered. I suppose I have to say something then. ¡°It was horrible, alright?  Trekking through a wasteland with nothing but fish and warm water, knowing it was all because my fucking crew betrayed me. Knowing that maybe some of it was my fault, too. But I got out. It¡¯s done. Finished. No reason to spare it another thought.¡±

    Florette hugged her closer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t even imagine what you¡¯re going through.¡±

    Fuck you for that. ¡°This helped,¡± she said instead, which was also true. ¡°Nice to know I can still organize a job at least.¡±

    ¡°You can organize a job?¡±

    ¡°Help organize, then. Come on, you knew what I meant.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Fine, you did a great job. Is that what you wanted to hear?¡± Eloise clapped her hard on the back. ¡°Everything went perfectly until you shot the fucking governor for no reason. What the fuck was that?¡±

    ¡°Not now, please.¡± Florette adjusted the gauze against her head. ¡°Later?¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Only fair, I suppose.

    ?

    What a mess. Clothing littered every surface, haphazardly scattered like the wreckage of an explosion. Against the window, stacks of paper towered feet off the desk, looking ready to collapse at any second. They nearly blocked the sunlight coming in through the window, keeping the room in a murky half-light.

    Eloise snatched a paper from the top, examining the header as she continued to move through the room.

    Mr. Mahoney

    Advanced Algebra

    14 Cinqui¨¨me, 118

    Over a month old. At least, presuming they weren¡¯t using that stupid old Avalon calender with 13 months, but it had been about a hundred years since anyone had, so more likely it was just neglect. If that was one from the top, it didn¡¯t say good things about the rest.

    She lifted the covers from the bed, dipping her head down to look underneath. A familiar wooden chest sat there, so Eloise hauled it out into the room. A minute of lockpicking, and the latch released.

    Inside was nothing but a single note, folded sloppily. Fuck you, Eloise, it read, in surprisingly neat script. Better than what had been written on the papers at the desk, anyway. Must have put some real effort into it.

    Eloise closed the latch and shoved the box back under the bed, reluctantly impressed. She checked between the mattress and bed frame too while she was down, finding only a few hundred mandala notes wedged at the center, which she left.

    The next stop was the closet, where clothes at least had the decency to be hung up properly. A few uniforms, a leather jacket dyed black, even some dresses Eloise remembered from back when she¡¯d worn them, what felt like a lifetime ago.

    Sweeping them aside revealed a board hanging on the wall behind them, papers pinned to it written in some kind of code, the words not matching Avalon¡¯s language or her own. A substitution cipher, by the look of things, since there were so many two and three letter words sprinkled through. Shouldn¡¯t have left the spaces, makes it even easier.

    Worst of all, what was unmistakably a balance scale sat at the bottom of the closet, clumsily hidden under a few blankets, just begging for someone to come across it.

    Nothing else looked suspicious, so there was nothing else for it.

    Eloise ripped a paper from the board and took it to the desk. Fortunately there was a pen visible in the mound of messiness, although the ink needed refilling. I was never good at doing that without spilling it. Damn frustrating thing, that, and then if it was during class she¡¯d have ink all over her hands to show off her clumsiness for the rest of the day. Worse if it got on her clothes, since whatever they used was practically impossible to wash out.

    Fuck it.

    She popped open the inkwell and simply dipped the fountain pen inside as if it were a quill, then began inscribing notes as she decrypted the cipher.

    It turned out even more trivial than expected, since each letter had simply been shifted by six. Not even arbitrary substitutions. Eloise clicked her tongue as she wrote out the original message, trying to drip as little ink as she could manage.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Jasmine owes forty-three, but her grandfather just died. Give her some time.

    Michael paid 500 to Anne last time. Make sure he doesn¡¯t find out how much he overpaid. Could be trouble otherwise. Be ready to make Anne apologize and give the difference back, if necessary.

    Ms. Foster is suspicious, tell everyone in her class that you have to cool off for a couple months to be safe. Might have to figure out something else for Eustace, since he¡¯s not going to want to stop.

    Celeste seemed interested in micro-dosing, let her try it out for free. If it¡¯s not for her, no harm, no foul. Same story for James.

    A faint noise sounded through the door, approaching footsteps. ¡°Is your roommate going to mind?¡±

    ¡°No roommate! My sister got me a single. It¡¯s fucking amazing! No need to deal with some mouth-breathing idiot getting into my space.¡±

    Eloise took the opportunity to pin the sheet back up against the board, covering it with clothes once more.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s already unlocked¡­ I definitely locked it when I left.¡±

    ¡°Floor supervisor?¡±

    ¡°She knows not to mess with my stuff. What¡ª¡± The door swung open, revealing Margot and some other boy with her around the same age, or perhaps a bit older. It was hard to tell, for kids that age.

    Margot had gotten a lot taller since last time, her hair cut shorter than shoulder length, but she had the same defiant cast to her face as before. She was wearing the school¡¯s uniform, at least, that stupid frilly-looking white shirt and long blue skirt, but she¡¯d torn off the sleeves and hemmed up the skirt, by the looks of it. At least that much is fairly benign.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing here?¡±

    Why is it always like this when I come back?

    Eloise smiled, leaning back against the wall. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you too.¡±

    The boy bumped his elbow against her. ¡°Hey, do you know this lady?¡±

    Margot sighed. ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s my sister.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to excuse us,¡± Eloise added, waving her hand to shoo him out the door. ¡°Goodbye.¡±

    The kid looked incredulously at Margot, who didn¡¯t seem to have any answers for him. He sighed, then retreated back down the hall.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Margot set her bag down on the bed. ¡°I was kind of in the middle of something.¡±

    ¡°My last trip was excellent, thank you for asking. Everything went brilliantly. I even brought another present for you.¡± She wasn¡¯t entirely sure why she always brought souvenirs from her trips, but it seemed to help.

    ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡±

    Eloise reached into her pocket, pulling out the piece of bleached wood she¡¯d managed to carry all the way from Refuge.

    ¡°It¡¯s a remnant of a spirit-touched tree in Refuge, petrified by blight. It might even still have some slight traces of Cya¡¯s power locked within.¡±

    ¡°You were in Refuge? That¡¯s so cool! Did you see the ruins?¡±

    ¡°I did. I had to fight off some of the spirit-touched to get inside, then scavenge them for supplies. I even met Cya.¡±

    ¡°Shit, really? Wow!¡± Margot grasped for it, but Eloise pulled it back out of her reach.

    ¡°Not yet. I have some things I need to discuss with you, first.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Margot frowned, all traces of excitement disappearing from her face. ¡°Go ahead. What?¡±

    I wonder where she gets that charm from. ¡°You got the money, right? Should have been a few months ago?¡± Florette said she dropped it off, but¡­

    She blinked. ¡°Uh¡­¡±

    Wonderful. ¡°I had someone leave it at the place I got for Dad, just like always. Are you telling me you haven¡¯t visited him once since then?¡±

    ¡°I was going to, ok? I¡¯ve just¡­ I¡¯ve had a lot going on. And it¡¯s¡­ I mean, you know what it¡¯s like to go see him.¡± Depressing, though she was at least being polite enough not to say it. ¡°I haven¡¯t run low enough for it to be an issue, and my tuition¡¯s paid up through the year.¡±

    ¡°Really? I¡¯m impressed how well you managed to make your savings last.¡±

    ¡°Heh¡­ Yeah, that¡¯s me. I¡¯m¡­ thrifty, you know.¡±

    Why even bother with such an obvious lie? Even as a child, she¡¯d always blown whatever Eloise could give her on sweets within hours of receiving it. And these days, she seemed to burn through whatever Eloise gave her directly almost as fast as she could send it. I¡¯ve probably spoiled her, giving her too much. Eloise took care of the essentials herself, like room, board, and tuition, so there wasn¡¯t any risk of Margot spending her way onto the street, but still¡­ She doesn¡¯t remember how it was. Too young.

    Margot rubbed the back of her neck. ¡°Well, thanks for letting me know about the money! It was great seeing you, can¡¯t wait to do it again. Hope your next trip goes well, etcetera etcetera.¡±

    Eloise laughed. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not done with you yet.¡± She ripped the blankets off of the scale in the closet, leaving it indisputable. ¡°Doing some measurements?¡±

    Let¡¯s hope she can do better this time.

    Margot''s fists clenched tightly, her eyes searching the room for an explanation. ¡°It¡¯s for my physics class. We¡¯re comparing mass and displacement, you know.¡±

    ¡°Then why is it under a pile of blankets?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ the assignment was a long time ago. Haven¡¯t needed it in a while.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Eloise picked up the scale, wedging the base in her lap as she put her hands around the thin metal arms supporting each vessel. ¡°Who was the kid with you?¡±

    ¡°Who, James?¡± Margot blinked. ¡°Nobody. Just a friend. An acquaintance, really.¡±

    ¡°A friend who wants to try microdosing.¡± Eloise pulled on the thin supports of the scale until they snapped, ruining the scale. ¡°How kind of you, to help him try it out for free.¡±

    ¡°Wait, how did you know that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not as smooth as you think you are.¡± She tossed the mangled wreck of a balance to the floor. ¡°Really, Margot, a substitution cipher with a six letter shift? Were you trying to hide your secrets from a seven year old?¡±

    She gulped, eyes turning to the decoded message Eloise had written on the desk. ¡°I can explain.¡±

    ¡°I told you to stay out of trouble. You could ruin everything you have with this.¡± Eloise tore the paper into the shreds, letting them drift down to the floor. ¡°You may not remember how things were right after Mom died, but it was bad. These people here? Your school chums? They might value the service you¡¯re providing, but if you get caught, they won¡¯t stand by you for a second. The Guardians¡¯ won¡¯t care that you¡¯re fourteen, they¡¯ll lock you up just the same. That¡¯s if the Governor doesn¡¯t decide to fucking kill you.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re exaggerating. There was an older kid, Mark, he got caught with eight pounds of naca extract and a knife. Do you know what they did to him? Suspension. For three days. He graduated fine, and no one cared.¡±

    Eloise folded her arms. ¡°And what was this Mark¡¯s last name? Where are his parents from?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Esterton. His parents live here, but his uncle¡¯s some official in Cambria.¡± Margot seemed to realize the implication as she finished speaking. ¡°But still, they treated it like it was no big deal. They wouldn¡¯t treat me that differently.¡±

    ¡°Yes, frankly, they will. It¡¯s a certainty.¡± Eloise sighed. ¡°Malin may be your home, but as far as these people are concerned, you¡¯re still a foreigner. They¡¯re the ones running shit, and they¡¯re never going to forget that you don¡¯t have some cousin in the Great Council. You don¡¯t even have a surname, Margot. They¡¯ll toss you aside the moment it suits them, or for no reason at all. Even James, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    She gulped. ¡°But you took that risk. You take it every day when you¡¯re out on that ship with Robin Verrou. Probably more that you don¡¯t tell me, right?¡±

    That hit her like a slap to the face, but she maintained her composure. ¡°What do you know about risks? I had to do what I did. Have to do what I do. You don¡¯t.¡± Eloise grabbed her hand, forcefully pulling her up. ¡°Now take me to your stash so we can get rid of it.¡±

    Margot snarled, but she did lead the way.

    ?

    Jacques¡¯ shop had hardly changed since last time, save the displays being rotated around a bit. More of the lit candles had been clustered towards the front, casting their light far into the street. Most likely they were the cheapest inventory, but lighting them for marketing at a time like this still seemed wastefully extravagant.

    Then again, it did seem to be working. A line stretched down the street, pressed against each other and the walls where they could for warmth. Periodically, someone would step out through the door with a few candles under their arms, and the next would be allowed through. Limits per customer, then.

    Smart.

    There were only so many candles, after all, only so many lights available. The Governor¡¯s people had already come through to extinguish more than half of the street lamps for similar reasons, which meant that lamp oil, too, was probably in limited supply. A potential opportunity. This crisis seemed to be presenting so many, but better first to focus on the task at hand.

    Eloise slipped an eyepatch out of her pocket and fixed it on her face, keeping one eye adjusted to the dark just in case there was any need to leave quickly, or through the tunnels.

    Eyes clung to her, full of rage, as she shouldered past the front of the line and into the store. Nothing compared to the glares I¡¯ll get inside, though.

    A wall of light assaulted her eyes deeper within the store, but it was nothing that couldn¡¯t be adjusted to. It helped that it was warmer inside, too, allowing her to shrug off her heavy coat and leave it on the rack at the back. Elsewhere, she might have kept it with her to ensure it was kept safe.

    Here, no one would dare.

    Eloise opened the door to the back room, slipping in quickly and closing it behind her before any customers had a chance to see.

    Jacques was talking to a few of his lieutenants, placeholders to help spread his influence more easily across the city without needing any thoughts of their own. Mince was among them, notably, the tall woman with a scarred face to whom Jacques had delegated operations at the north end of the city.

    What he offered me, before I left.

    Scant surprise that she didn¡¯t look pleased to see her, really. Not that that was particularly unusual, anyway.

    ¡°Hello, Jacques.¡± Eloise nodded to him, then turned her head to each of the others. ¡°Mince, Marco, Aneoeuf, Ms. Sunderland. A pleasure as always, especially under such bright circumstances.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°I need to have a discussion with Jacques.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in the middle of something,¡± Mince growled. ¡°Wait outside.¡±

    Eloise smiled. ¡°Privately,¡± she added.

    Jacques nodded, waving his hand towards the hatch on the floor. One by one, the lieutenants exited the room, descending down into the tunnels beneath. Mince shot her an extra special glare on her way down, too, which was nice.

    ¡°Ysengrin tells me that you took care of our little issue,¡± Jacques said once they were alone. He was thinner than the last time she¡¯d been in town, his hair greyer, but otherwise much the same. Same fancy coat, same collection of rings, same frown perpetually plastered to his face. ¡°It¡¯s done?¡±

    ¡°No, I just figured I¡¯d say that to fuck with you, see what happens. Claude¡¯s talking to those detectives right now, telling them all about you.¡± The corner of her mouth curled up as she leaned back against the wall. Claude wouldn¡¯t have said a word, you paranoid old prick. Eloise completely understood the logic, minimizing risk above all else, but when the risk was negligible and the actions you took to eliminate it unnecessarily bloody¡­

    After the disaster on her ship, it was all the clearer how important it was to keep underlings happy, even idiotic ones. The more of them you killed, the harder that would be, even if fear could keep them in line for a while.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Jacques sighed. ¡°Sometimes I fear that you took what I said about the benefits of speaking indirectly rather too literally.¡±

    ¡°At least it¡¯d mean I was following your advice.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°True enough. Perhaps I should be grateful.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no to that.¡±

    Jacques cleared his throat. ¡°Have you given any more thought to that job offer?¡±

    Not really. In practice, saying yes meant committing to staying; saying no meant committing to Florette. ¡°I¡¯m still mulling it over. It¡¯s been a long time, Jacques. And not everyone¡¯s so happy at the thought of having me back.¡±

    ¡°Eh!¡± He waved his hand. ¡°They¡¯re irritated at you for leaving. That¡¯s a slight that your presence can mend. I¡¯ll make sure that it does.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s kind of you to offer, but¡ª¡±

    He held up a finger. ¡°Just think about it. This business with the sun, it¡¯s an opportunity like nothing I¡¯ve seen since the Foxtrap. A logistics problem without peer, with potential rewards untold. I¡¯d like to have you at my side again for that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. Just give me a bit more time.¡±

    Florette should be done seeing that Leclaire girl by now. Just a few hours left until her ship leaves.

    Or is it our ship?

    Eloise put her coat back on and left the store through the front, grabbing a few candles on her way out. Why not?

    It never hurt to have a little extra light.

 Fernan I: A Shining Example

    ¡°There!¡± Fernan shouted, pointing down at the glowing blobs below, distance obscuring their shape. He lessened the flame emanating from his hands and feet, carefully descending towards the people he¡¯d managed to spot, making sure not to jostle the bag strapped to his back. As the fire lessened in its intensity, he felt the drain on his power reduce in turn, spiritual energy flowing more slowly from his eyes downard, more restricted.

    It still felt excessive, using so much of it like this, all the more so knowing what it had cost, but ultimately it was for the better. A small sacrifice for a larger benefit, no matter how repulsive it still felt, knowing where it came from.

    With the last traces of sunlight days old by this point, the ambient warmth of random surfaces had already mostly faded, making it even harder to parse the landscape, but it also made sources of warmth stand out even more.

    Especially people.

    Up close, it seemed like they were clustered within a house. Not unlike the ones back home, though without the same slope to their roof. They better hope they don¡¯t get any snow, or it could collapse in on them.

    Hopefully this could help with that too, but it was always dangerous to take risks based on assumptions.

    Fernan landed as softly as he could manage, at least keeping his footing.

    All this flying was rough, even when he could get the landings right. He inhaled deep, trying to catch his breath before entering the house.

    Laura Bougitte landed beside him as he walked towards the door, her body rolling haphazardly as it hit the ground. ¡°Fuck.¡± She righted herself, spitting out dirt as she dusted herself off. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you got the hang of this so quickly,¡± she panted, even more winded than he was.

    ¡°I had to,¡± Fernan said, offering her his hand. ¡°Things were so dire then, it was the only way out.¡±

    ¡°This is dire enough, I¡¯d think.¡± She ignored the offered hand, pushing herself off the ground. ¡°Was that when your patron spirit was trying to kill you? I think I heard something about that.¡±

    ¡°After Camille¡¯s duel, actually. Florette and I had to get clear of the fire and the fighting.¡±

    Laura¡¯s aura curdled, cracking with lines of purple amidst the red. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to. You could have stayed to fight. Might have saved Adrian.¡± She shook her head. ¡±That fucking duel¡­ Even winning it wasn¡¯t enough to save Aurelian from dying in another few months. I can¡¯t believe that bastard did him like that.¡±

    Unbidden, the image returned to his mind: Lord Lumi¨¨re crawling forward, clouds of warmth and smoke trailing up from his body as the smell of searing flesh filled the air. His skin browning and then blackening, the streaking white trails of his eyes melting down his face.

    ¡°Fernan?¡±

    He shook his head free of those thoughts. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m just thinking about it. What he looked like, after. He was in so much pain. He suffered for so long. I just¡­¡±

    A dim trail slid down Laura¡¯s cheek, a tear. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he would do that. How could any sage turn on their patron? And for what? A gruesome death? Failure?¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°I have no fucking idea, Fernan. It¡¯s like I never knew him at all.¡±

    ¡°He did it for his son.¡± Aubaine, that was his last word. ¡°For power and revenge and everything else too, I¡¯m sure. But I think that¡¯s what mattered most to him in the end. At least he succeeded at that much, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Fernan, what the fuck are you talking about? Aubaine was set to succeed him as the high Priest of Soleil. Aurelian ruined that. Eventually he can pledge himself to another flame spirit, maybe even Flammare, but he won¡¯t be the High Priest of the Arbiter of Light.¡±

    ¡°I think that was the point. Have you ever actually met Soleil?¡±

    Laura shook her head. ¡°I suppose I never will, now.¡±

    ¡°Count yourself lucky, then. He was horrible. Every second it seemed like he was seconds away from leveling the north end of Guerron, or blasting Lumi¨¨re apart for failing to do it himself. Based on what he said, I¡¯m pretty sure that the duel was all at his behest. He didn¡¯t want to subject Aubaine to that.¡±

    ¡°Or he just wanted the sun¡¯s power for himself that badly. Soleil doesn¡¯t sound pleasant from that, I¡¯ll grant you, but he had every right to expand his influence, and Aurelian had every obligation to help in turn.¡± She scratched her chin, seeming to give it genuine consideration. ¡°If he really had this planned all this time, I¡¯m amazed he managed to keep it from Soleil. It¡¯s a delicate line when you have to be truthful and they ask you questions. Silence can be just as damning.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ surely that isn¡¯t normal? Your spirit isn¡¯t like that, is he?¡± You called him ¡®presumptive heir to Soleil as Arbiter of the Light¡¯. If Flammare were a true heir to Soleil, in temperament as well as domain¡­

    Laura held up both hands, miming a scale. ¡°Flammare wants me to defend his influence, of course. If for whatever reason I refused, or failed him greatly, he probably wouldn¡¯t take kindly to it. But he¡¯d never threaten to kill me. That would be so pointless. It wouldn¡¯t help him any, it would just be spiteful.¡±

    ¡°I think spite defined the relationship between Soleil and Lumi¨¨re, honestly. Based on the way he talked about him, probably between Soleil and Levian too.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Maybe. Much as it pains me to say it, you probably know better than I do. I just wonder how it could deteriorate so badly. Lumi¨¨re brought him a lot to be satisfied with, and he was never open in his insubordination, right?¡±

    Fernan shook his head.

    ¡°Well then I don¡¯t get it, I guess. Shit, maybe I never will. As complicated as it is dealing with one spirit, you can learn them, get to know them. Once they start bouncing off each other, there¡¯s no way not to go in blind.¡±

    ¡°I guess I wouldn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Right, your G¨¦zarde is a hermit. He missed all of the previous convocations, and I¡¯m sure this won¡¯t be an exception, right? Flammare barely even remembered him when I brought him up. I can see why you wouldn¡¯t really understand the push and pull between different spirits.¡± She tilted her head back and forth. ¡°Although I guess none of us really can, not truly.¡±

    He¡¯s surrounded by his children, Fernan almost said, but it would have been pointless. The greater point still stood. Mara hadn¡¯t even heard G¨¦zarde mention another spirit, not once, let alone clash with them in a bid for power. Given his predilections, G¨¦zarde was probably as much an outsider to the rest of the spirits as Fernan had been to the sages when he¡¯d first arrived.

    That¡¯s a thought.

    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±

    They walked up to the door of the house as the people within cowered back from it, Laura a half step ahead of him. She banged her fist against the door. ¡°Open up!¡±

    Fernan narrowed his eyes, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°We¡¯re sages from Guerron, here to help.¡±

    After a moment, one of the figures crept forward and opened the door. ¡°Begging your pardons, milord, milady.¡± It was impossible to read her face, but based on her height and proportions, the curve of her aura, she seemed to be in her teens, the two others huddled further back in the house adults, probably her parents. ¡°Had to be careful about anyone with a mind to come foraging here. My name is Lucie.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. A pleasure to meet you, Lucie.¡± Fernan held up a hand dismissively. ¡°Do these fields belong to your family? You¡¯re the ones who tend the crops?¡±

    ¡°The fields belong to Count Valvert, Fernan,¡± Laura said, disbelief clear in her tone. ¡°They¡¯re just tenants.¡±

    ¡°Fernan? Are you Sire Fernan Montaigne?¡± Lucie stood straighter. ¡°I heard all about how you bested that evil binder in a duel! Is it true that he killed the Duke trying to summon Khali? Is that why the sun¡ª?¡±

    Laura scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s Magnifico¡¯s fault alright. Bastard. Should have stopped him when I had the chance.¡± She shook her head ruefully. ¡°But you¡¯ve got most of the rest wrong.¡±

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    The girl¡¯s aura dimmed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It takes so long to get any news here.¡±

    ¡°I know what you mean. My mother said it took us half a year to know that the Foxtrap was lost, back in Villechart.¡± He shrugged. ¡°The sun¡¯s gone because Soleil was killed. It¡¯s supposed to return once the spirits choose a replacement.¡± It better, or we¡¯re all dead. ¡°But we don¡¯t know how long that will take, so we¡¯re going around to try to make sure this year¡¯s harvest can survive. Does your family handle the fields around here?¡±

    ¡°W-We do work it, Sire Montaigne. Everything from here to the coast.¡± She turned her head away. ¡°If milady is worried about our rent¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your rent to Guy? Toss it into the ocean for all I care.¡± Laura laughed. ¡°Nah, we¡¯re here to make sure we don¡¯t all fucking starve.¡±

    Fernan nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out one golden spirit sundial no larger than his fist, freshly infused with power. ¡°This is infused with the power of flame, along with a shard of the sun spirit¡¯s essence.¡± At least he hadn¡¯t had to harvest it from Aurelian¡¯s body himself, small mercy though it was. ¡°If you have a file, or something else that can shave off¡ª¡± The girl nodded. ¡°¡ªOk, good. Sprinkle a pinch of the dust over your crops every morning, and it should help them get the day¡¯s sunlight.¡± It had apparently worked a hundred years ago, at any rate. It wasn¡¯t exactly worth waiting to test it again when entire fields were liable to fail.

    ¡°Prioritize food,¡± Laura added. ¡°And whatever needs the least sunlight. You¡¯ll need to make it last at least two weeks before Lord Valvert can coordinate resupply from Dorseille. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, milady.¡± She grabbed the sundial from his hands, taking a strangely long time to do it. ¡°Is it true that you were born a farmer, Sire Montaigne, and the Duchess granted you your title?¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°I was never a farmer, no. I handled scouting for my village, making sure the route was safe when we had coal to trade. But Duchess Annette did grant me peerage, yes, so that I had proper standing to defend her in the trial. Usually all sages are nobles anyway, so we weren¡¯t sure I¡¯d be able to represent her otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Wow¡­ And look at you now.¡±

    ¡°Heh, well, I can¡¯t, but I appreciate the sentiment.¡± He gave her a nod, then gave another look to the older figures still in the back. ¡°Are your parents shy, or something?¡±

    The girl shook her head. ¡°Dad can¡¯t get up until his leg heals. Mom¡¯s just staying by his side, just in case.¡±

    ¡°Heals?¡±

    ¡°When the sun first went, he was out watering, wanted to finish before going back inside. Only he couldn¡¯t see the hole the mole had burrowed until it was too late.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s terrible! Of course I understand.¡± Fernan twisted an arm behind his back. ¡°Laura, could you wait outside for a moment?¡±

    Her aura flared at that, bewildered, but she did step out the door and close it behind her.

    ¡°Sire Montaigne, if I may ask, what¡ª¡±

    He pulled another sundial from his bag, then tossed it to her. ¡°Hide the extra one, for now. I¡¯m only supposed to give out one each. But if your dad¡¯s hurt¡­ This way you can spare some extra savings to sell, or keep more of your crops for longer.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Her light pulsed bright. ¡°I hope we might be fortunate enough to see you again, Sire Montaigne, that I might properly convey my gratitude.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± He opened the door. ¡°I hope things¡­ Good luck, Lucie.¡±

    He stepped out to meet Laura, closing the door behind him.

    ¡°That was quick.¡± Her arms were folded, aura muted. ¡°But hey, it happens. Nothing abnormal. Especially given the circumstances. Mind¡¯s probably elsewhere.¡±

    Fernan blinked, securing the bag behind him. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±

    ¡°Fine, play it that way if you want.¡± She laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m one to judge your business. Nothing to do with me.¡±

    ¡°Laura, what the fuck are you talking about?¡±

    She chuckled, shaking her head. ¡°That girl? Come on, she was all over you! Don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t notice that look in her eyes.¡±

    ¡°How exactly would I see that?¡± he asked, before his brain caught up to the implication of what she was saying. ¡°Wait, are you serious? That¡¯s what you think I needed an extra minute in there for?¡±

    ¡°Well, I thought it might be a bit longer than a minute, but again, that does happen.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°Can we go now? We¡¯ve got like thirty more of these to go. I can¡¯t exactly tell what fucking time it is, but I do know I want to be sleeping some time in the next twelve hours.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± He checked the bag again, making absolutely sure it was secure, then projected flame down from his feet, lifting himself slowly off the ground. ¡°I would never do that, though. Not when I have so much power over her. Wouldn¡¯t be right.¡±

    Laura jumped up next to him, trying and failing to start her own launch off the ground. ¡°You¡¯re a peer now, Fernan. You¡¯ve got more power than anyone we¡¯re seeing today. That¡¯s just how it is. It¡¯s not supposed to limit you, man, it¡¯s supposed to free you. Don¡¯t you know anything?¡± She blasted fire from her feet, slightly misaligned, and spun into the ground with a thud.

    Fernan allowed himself to float back down to the ground, offering her his hand once more. ¡°Not with this. It¡¯s too¡­ It¡¯s not right.¡±

    She refused it again, sitting hunched over on the ground. Probably scowling, though there was no way to be sure. ¡°Was it the girl? Because I¡¯m sure there¡¯ll be other comely milkmaids as we go. And farmhands, and what have you. You¡¯ve got your pick, holding their lives in your hands like you do.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly the problem.¡± He sighed, sitting down next to her. ¡°There¡¯s this inn, The First Post, down in the pass near my old village. I used to go there all the time on my scouting runs.¡±  I hope they¡¯re doing alright in all of this. ¡°Tax collectors would stop there too, sometimes, post up for a night. Sometimes they¡¯d bring locals with them up to their room, you know, giving them reprieve on what they owed.¡±

    ¡°So they¡¯d do a favor and people were grateful. I don¡¯t see the problem.¡±

    Fernan tilted his head back, sighing towards the black sky. ¡°It¡¯s not like any of them would have done that if they didn¡¯t have to. It was all about surviving, keeping going one foot in front of the other. My village always had enough coal, but others weren¡¯t so lucky. For some people, it was the only way they could really pay.¡± At least, the few who had actually talked to him about it, but it wasn¡¯t difficult to see how the issue applied to the rest. ¡°It¡¯s exploitation. An abuse of power.¡±

    Laura¡¯s flame had dimmed, her head cocked sideways. ¡°Did these tax collectors force them to do anything? Hold them at swordpoint?¡±

    ¡°No, but that¡¯s not the point.¡±

    ¡°And they had a right to collect, granted by the owner of those lands?¡±

    ¡°I assume so.¡±

    She stood up. ¡°By that logic, paying them with money¡¯s just as exploitative. Or any of the work peasants do to live. I think you might be confusing the issue.¡±

    ¡°It would feel wrong.¡±

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s your choice.¡± Laura shrugged. ¡°Wait, but then what did you want? Why¡¯d you stay back?¡±

    ¡°Uhh¡­ I just wanted to make sure that she¡¯d¡­ that they would¡­ you know, with the father injured, they might not have been able to tend to all the fields.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh.¡± Laura folded her arms. ¡°And you needed to send me away for that? Come on! What was it?¡±

    Fernan stood, looking her in the eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it, alright?¡± He double-checked his bag once more, tightening a few of the straps.

    ¡°You gave her an extra one, didn¡¯t you? Or money or something?¡±

    Fuck. ¡°I¡¯m going to make it up out of my end, alright? I have enough energy to make an extra. I¡¯m not doing anything wrong.¡±

    ¡°How much difference do you think it makes to that one family, that one patch of land? Now think about your people, back in Guerron?  Everyone! You¡¯ve got to be efficient, like Annette was talking about.¡±

    ¡°Maximum benefit for minimum expenditure,¡± Fernan repeated the instructions from their briefing. ¡°I get it, I do, but I don¡¯t want them to starve. Can you keep this to yourself?¡±

    ¡°Fine, whatever.¡± Her aura shimmered red, energy vibrating under the surface. ¡°Noblesse oblig¨¦ has to be learned, it doesn¡¯t just come naturally. There¡¯s a balance to it, taking care of your people without confusing them about everyone¡¯s place in things. You¡¯ll get the hang of it eventually, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    She jumped, blasting red flame from her hands and feet, trying to reach a stable equilibrium. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±

    That doesn¡¯t seem like the right approach. He couldn¡¯t articulate why, though, and they did have to get going. ¡°Next one should be a few more miles north.¡±

    Laura nodded, blasting herself further into the sky.

    Fernan followed, wishing he¡¯d had a better answer.

    ?

    It was hard to know what time it was supposed to be, but almost certainly late. After all of those deliveries, Fernan felt dead on his feet. Only the spiritual energy blasting out from beneath him had been enough to keep aloft for the final stretch. Even these last few steps, he took with leaden legs, sore from uncountable landings.

    Laura had looked even worse when they¡¯d parted ways, looking ready to collapse at any moment. He¡¯d accompanied her to Guerron to make sure she reached it safely, but that last landing had still been rough.

    And then he¡¯d had to set back out again, even as he could feel his body begging for sleep.

    Still, this last stop was important. Possibly as important as any of the families he¡¯d helped.

    It¡¯s strange revisiting this place. For all the differences in the darkened world above, G¨¦zarde¡¯s cavern had barely changed. There were fewer geckos, especially the larger ones, but that was because Mara had taken so many to Guerron with her.

    ¡°And so you return once more, human-spawn, brimming with power anew. Why?¡±

    Fernan faced G¨¦zarde, taking in his enormous winged form through the heat it cast into the cavern. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you saw, but the Sun needs a replacement. All the other spirits are meeting to decide its successor.¡±

    ¡°It has not escaped my awareness. What of it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hoping you can help. I want you to come to the convocation.¡±

    ¡°Why should I waste my time listening to those scoundrels chatter and fight? I care not which among them shall be the next Arbiter of Light. One is much the same as another. My words make no difference.¡±

    Fernan took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m not just asking for you to speak. I want you in the running. You could be the next Sun Spirit.¡±

 Luce I: The Scientist

    Firm walls of brick insulated Luce from the incessant commotion beyond, allowing him to actually focus on his work. The roar was inaudible, the clamor out of sight.

    It was no Tower office, certainly, but despite Perimont¡¯s apparent disinterest in the subject, he¡¯d manage to stock and furnish a surprisingly adequate workshop within the Governor¡¯s mansion. Requisitions Luce had made in the weeks since his ouster had helped bring it up to more appropriate standards, including the liquid vessels and weights necessary for this next experiment. Not a moment too soon, as it turned out.

    Unfortunately, walls could only help so much when someone would knock on his door seemingly every five minutes, but as annoying as messages and requests from Guardians, clerks, and other underlings could be, it was hard to deny their importance.

    Why couldn¡¯t I have had a nice, calm minute to settle things once I arrived? No, instead there was a murderous traitor governor that had to be dealt with, conscription to be repealed and people returned to their families, an entire war to curtail, and just when that seemed like it might be getting slightly under control, the entire bloody sun had had to wink out. Either because of a preemptive invasion from an evil spirit of darkness or the seemingly random banishment of one of the oldest, most powerful spirits in the world.

    The sun was the source of almost all energy on Terramonde; that much was covered in classes for ten year olds. Light for plants to photosynthesize, to turn into energy humans and animals could consume. Warmth, to keep Terramonde from being the spirit of nothing more than a lifeless, icy rock.

    And power, above all.

    A mule pulling a wagon ate those same plants that absorbed that same sunlight; a ship catching natural wind harnessed the differences in air pressure, the fluctuations across the surface all stemming from the same source; the food people ate; the logs in their hearths to keep them warm; some biologists even suspected that humans needed a nutrient from the sun directly to survive.

    All the energy simply shifted in form, changing from one state to another while passing its power along. But not all of it; each time there would be loss. Entropy would wear away, dissipations of heat and useless byproducts at every transition.

    Eventually, consuming all.

    The problem before him was one of efficiency, of best using what sources of fuel remained to keep people alive as long as possible: firewood, from trees whose leaves would not know light; food, already harvested and stored, or fed to animals whose flesh could provide its own; and perhaps, another fuel, stored yet another way. Deposits of coal beneath the surface, gasses like hydrogen to burn, even flowing magma, if necessary.

    If only Malin had a Nocturne gate as well. Harnessing energy from Khali¡¯s world was far from a complete project, barely beyond the simplest proof-of-concept, but if ever there were a time to pour money and hours into the project, this was it. No choice but to trust Harold and Sir Julius to manage it back home. If they arrived at a breakthrough, the resources resulting could be shared.

    In the meantime, I have to work with what¡¯s here. Nothing could be dismissed out of hand.

    Even alternative sources of power entirely. Even energy wrought by suffering and oppression, if it could be turned towards saving civilization.

    And so Camille Leclaire stood before him, somehow managing to look like she¡¯d slept in the past two days. Khali¡¯s curse, maybe she even did. Not everyone cared so much, even with so many lives on the line. She would be conditioned not to, even, given her role in the Empire of the Fox.

    ¡°I have good news.¡± She examined the tips of her fingers, not looking particularly bothered by the dire circumstances. ¡°Excellent news, as a matter of fact. I think even you will see it that way, given the dire circumstances.¡±

    That last part doesn¡¯t make it sound too promising.

    ¡°It can wait two minutes. Observe.¡± Luce directed her attention to the apparatus he¡¯d prepared in her absence, taking some small pleasure in the irritated look on her face at being ignored. ¡°This could be the key to everything, potentially. Even if not, it¡¯s important to rule it out.¡±

    Leclaire raised a skeptical eyebrow at the half-closed basin of water, a wooden paddle wheel dipping into it from above. Beside it, connected to the paddles, a string of metal weights hung in a line held in place by a catch mechanism. A pulley connected them to the wheel through a series of string and gears, letting their movement to turn it. And most importantly, at the bottom of the basin lay a mercury thermometer, the best the city had been able to offer. ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ waterwheel? Millers used to have some on the Sartaire to grind their flour, if they had Fenouille¡¯s permission.¡±

    Luce rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a measurement tool.¡±

    ¡°So I¡­ you want me to turn the wheel with magic?¡±

    ¡°In a minute. Have to get a control first.¡± Luce released the catch, allowing the weights to begin dropping slowly as the thread connecting them to the paddles spooled out. ¡°Not ideal laboratory conditions by any stretch, but if the difference is big enough to matter, it should still be noticeable.¡± The wheel turned as the weights fell, stirring up the water as they went.

    Leclaire leaned back against the wall, looking bored. ¡°If you¡¯re trying to prove I can be replaced by a string of metal cubes, I think your model is a bit limited.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about replacement, it¡¯s about setting a baseline.¡± Slowly, the mercury within the thermometer began to creep up, the kinetic energy of the paddle wheel heating up the water as it went. ¡°Pay attention, by the way. You¡¯ll want to match the speed.¡±

    Once the weights reached the end of their thread, the wheel stopped. Luce wrote down the temperature it had reached, then reset the device. ¡°There. 2 degrees, though by necessity it¡¯s rounded. I¡¯ll want to recreate this once I can get more granular measurement tools.¡±

    ¡°This is enthralling, Prince Grimoire. Malin is in excellent hands.¡±

    Luce disconnected the weights from the pulley, allowing the paddle wheel to spin independently. ¡°It¡¯s a way to measure energy. The water, the weights, and the gravity that pulls them are all known quantities, so by looking at the ratio of what weight causes what increase in temperature, you can measure the energy it took to heat the water. If you can feel your energy reserves within you, and feel the difference once you turn the wheel enough to heat the water by the same two degrees, then we¡¯ll know that it¡¯s the same as what the weights exerted. It¡¯ll let us quantify your reserves in martins, in real units we can convert and compare.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I see the point..¡± Leclaire waved her hand idly in a circle, swirling the water enough to move the paddle wheel on its own. Quickly, it reached the same speed the weights had exerted, then remained steady.

    When the thermometer reached the same temperature, 2 degrees higher than its starting point, Luce signaled her to stop. ¡°There, now keep careful track of how much energy you expended there. You said you have a keen awareness of the energy within you, right? Precise, exact?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    Luce nodded. ¡°Then the next step is to sacrifice something that will give you exactly that much back, or an exact multiple of it. We can get rougher if it¡¯s really needed, but it makes the math harder.¡±

    ¡°That might involve some trial and error, to be honest. But that really wasn¡¯t much. I¡¯d guess maybe half a stick of incense, as a starting point? Could be less, honestly.¡±

    ¡°Incense?¡± Luce blinked. ¡°I thought you said it had to be alive for you to sacrifice it.¡±

    ¡°At one point, not necessarily the moment of. Though the return is far better if it is.¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Why else would people offer things like incense and food to the spirits?¡±

    ¡°Superstition?¡± That earned him a glare despite his honesty, but he continued anyway. ¡°As a starting point, try that when you next get the chance, then. But it looks like we¡¯ll have to scale the experiment way up to get the level of detail we need.¡±

    Irritating, not to have the answers now, but such was the way of things. There would always be more to test, more to build, more to write. ¡°What was your news?¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°I met with the spirit of the Sartaire, Fenouille.¡±

    ¡°Wait, I thought Uncle Miles killed that one. The giant spider thing that ate people, right?¡±

    Leclaire narrowed her eyes, staring at him like she was ready to tear out his throat with her teeth. ¡°That was Teruvo, who lived in the woods to the south. Despite your best efforts, Fenouille lives, as do a few others scattered around the outskirts of the city. It seems like he¡¯d be willing to consider a deal with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not making a deal with spirits.¡± Luce shook his head. ¡°Too many ways to get tricked into a fate worse than death. Even Eloise agreed with that, when Cya was trying to get tricky with us.¡±

    ¡°When did¡ªHow?¡± Camille shook her head, eyes closed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Fenouille can help with food. He can infuse the banks with energy to grow things, even without the sun. It¡¯s what he did during Khali¡¯s rampage, due to his good relations with nearby sages.¡±

    They can do that? Directly translating energy into growth had to be more efficient than circuitous workarounds using artificial lighting, even if the latter was still worthwhile to pursue for the benefits in reliability.

    Leclaire smiled. ¡°Thought that might catch your attention. He¡¯s passing the word around to the others too, who might be able to offer you similar exchanges.¡±

    Exchange¡­ Of course, nothing without a cost. ¡°What does he want? I¡¯m not giving away any people. If it¡¯s a net loss, then there¡¯s no point in¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nothing you can¡¯t spare. Spiritual artifacts, mostly, a memento of departed friends and kin that your people mercilessly slaughter and bound. You¡¯ve got to be able to spare a few of those.¡±

    Luce breathed a sigh of relief. That might actually work. ¡°If they can make more of a difference helping people¡ªand I¡¯d have to be sure that it would be worth it¡ªI could be amenable to those terms, roughly. The problem, again, is fixing myself to a deal with a creature that would gladly condemn me to a fate worse than death.¡±

    She patted him on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s what you have a Spiritual Liaison for. I¡¯ll handle the details; don¡¯t worry. Start with whatever you bound Pierrot into. If I can produce that, I can probably get the rest of them on board. You¡¯ll want to get the new crops in the ground as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t have any here. Most binders took their trophies home after the war ended. They don¡¯t even really belong to the royal family.¡±

    Leclaire folded her arms, tilting her head up. ¡°Are you the prince, or aren¡¯t you? They¡¯re not going to do anyone any good sitting in a dusty vault. Start with your uncle. That¡¯s Lord Arion, right? The butcher of the Foxtrap? Have him send you whatever¡¯s become of poor Teruvo and anyone else he killed back then.¡±

    Luce blinked. Uncle would understand, if I explained it to him. Even in a letter.

    I still need to tell him about Cassia¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m still not committing to a deal with a creature that¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make the deal. Khali¡¯s curse, Grimoire, I¡¯ve been dealing with spirits since I was four, and Fenouille¡¯s a friend. As were Pierrot and Teruvo.  You don¡¯t have to put your name to anything, just get me those artifacts.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± No skin off my bones if she traps herself in eternal torment. ¡°I¡¯ll start reaching out. It¡¯ll still take time to transport them here, even if things go as well as they can in transit. We¡¯re going to need faster solutions for warmth.¡± He scratched his chin as she turned towards the door. ¡°Come to think of it, did you see how the woodcutters were progressing while you were out and about? Was everyone doing their job?¡±

    ¡°They were out there, alright, hacking away. They¡¯re lucky Teruvo¡¯s dead.¡± Leclaire looked back over her shoulder. ¡°Can I give you some advice, Prince Grimoire?¡±

    Ugh, now what? ¡°Sure.¡± He pulled out his pad, trying to sketch out an appropriate test to recreate the experiment on a larger scale. Burning a log vs. sacrificing one, perhaps, as an indication of which carried greater efficiency¡­

    ¡°This isn¡¯t really my business, but people are restless out there. You¡¯ve been holed up in here for a while now, shouting orders through the door when you can spare a second to.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m working on saving all of them.¡± Luce grit his teeth. ¡°Are you telling me to take time out of that to, what, give a speech? Clap them on the back and say it¡¯s all going to be alright?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a terrible idea. People working for you can understand it well enough, but the ones out there are mostly hearing orders from Guardians when they hear anything at all.¡±

    ¡°An authority they know, as opposed to a stranger.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I suppose. It¡¯s also an authority that¡¯s been peddling Perimont¡¯s orders for over a decade. People have been conditioned to distrust them, and they only obeyed out of fear. Isn¡¯t that exactly what you¡¯re trying to avoid with what you¡¯re doing here?¡±

    Luce sighed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°It is. But this is a crisis; I don¡¯t want to muddy the waters with some halfhearted speech to strangers ready to hate me. It¡¯s not a good use of my time.¡± Time, just like everything else: always fading away, consumed by entropy. ¡°Come back in a few hours and I should have some plans for the next experiment to run by you.¡±

    She chuckled quietly. ¡°¡®Muddy the waters.¡¯ Do you know what my name means, Prince Grimoire? I believe you know how to speak our language.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Luce tilted his head at the non-sequitur. ¡°Like, what does ¡®Camille¡¯ mean?¡±

    ¡°Leclaire,¡± she corrected with a shake of her head. ¡°It means ¡®the clear¡¯. Clear eyed, a clear mandate, a clear path. It means not to let what¡¯s inconvenient get in the way of what¡¯s necessary.¡±

    ¡°Wait, shouldn¡¯t it be ¡®Laclaire¡¯, or Leclair with no ¡®e¡¯ at the end? Because you have that weird thing with gendered words?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your takeaway?¡± Leclaire blinked. ¡°Castille of On¨¨s founded the family, and she wasn¡¯t much one for gender conformity. It makes it stand out more anyway. Names are weird, and that¡¯s not the point.¡±

    ¡°Well, what is it, then?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°You know what you have to do here. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re being so reluctant about a simple address to the public, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°That was never supposed to be my job! I have Harold for that.¡± He inhaled. ¡°Do you realize how scary it is to go before hundreds or thousands of people with a good reason to hate you and tell them that they could all die? That you have ideas that might work and might not, or it might all come apart anyway because fucking Khali defied the Great Binder¡¯s prediction and crawled back out of her prison now?¡± Not to mention, making an official announcement like that would mean using my full name.

    ¡°Oh right, I almost forgot. Khali has nothing to do with this. As far as any spirit knows, she¡¯s still trapped in her prison world.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ So, was Soleil banished as well? Somehow?¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°He¡¯s dead. I couldn¡¯t tell you how, but Fenouille was positive. There¡¯s a pull when the Arbiter of a domain dies, directing spirits to their seat of power to select a replacement.¡±

    So it falls to the monsters that consume us for sustenance to return a sun to us. ¡°That¡¯s hardly reassuring. It just makes the work I¡¯m doing all the more important.¡±

    ¡°Framed the right way, it could be reassuring. Most of them probably think it¡¯s Khali, ready to wreak her revenge against us at any moment. At least this way, this is as bad as it gets.¡±

    ¡°As bad as it gets?¡± Luce stared her down. ¡°It¡¯s going to keep getting colder, forever, until a new sun is picked. If you think Terramonde can¡¯t get to a point where it¡¯s impossible to sustain human life, any life, you¡¯re wrong.¡±

    Leclaire shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s the way you think about it. Maybe some of the others out there, but I¡¯d bet it¡¯s not many. Tell them it¡¯s not Khali; that much is definitely good news. Tell them the sun is coming back, even if we don¡¯t know when. And tell them you have solutions in the works to ensure their food and warmth, because I do.¡±

    Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t notice that slip up at the end, there. He could never forget that this woman was an ally of convenience, someone who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to turn against him if it would help her and her spirits.

    Still, looking at it clearly, she had a point. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Until next time, then. I¡¯ll be back in a few hours. I¡¯ve some things to take care of, people to meet.¡± Her tone was casual, as if she were meeting friends to see the shops. ¡°Find someone to practice with, before you go out. I always rehearsed with my uncle, or Lucien when I was little. It helps to know you can get the words out, first.¡±

    ¡°I will, thank you.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure.¡± Her hand pulled the knob to open the door. ¡°At least you don¡¯t have an angry spirit ready to jump you if you make a mistake. It¡¯s pretty low stakes, honestly.¡± She took a step forward, but stopped.

    Simon blocked the doorway, the first time he¡¯d left his room since the Governor had died. ¡°You,¡± he growled.

    Leclaire bit her lip. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come in, Simon? Let¡¯s talk about this.¡±

    Fine, use my workshop to sort out your issues. ¡°Do come in, Simon. Close the door and have a seat. We need to talk as it is.¡±

 Eloise II: The Heartbroken

    The wind pierced through Eloise¡¯s coat like the point of a compass through a finger, the chill too great for even her coat to block. She folded her arms tightly against herself and faced away from the wind, trying to preserve as much warmth as possible.

    I should have just met him in the stupid caf¨¦. Four walls would do a world of good against this frigid ocean wind. But it also would mean an enclosed space, one person blocking the door away from being trapped. Given the circumstances, it wasn¡¯t worth the risk.

    Just an hour left before the ship leaves.

    It was barely visible out in the bay under the moonlight, anchored far enough from the shore to avoid the splintered remnants of Malin¡¯s docks, but close enough to row a dinghy out to. The Guiding Light, it was apparently called, which the captain hadn¡¯t had any sense of humor about. They¡¯d also demanded more money for passage than originally agreed upon, but that was fairly understandable.

    Circumstances had changed, after all.

    At least Scott was on time. Eloise could see his burly form in the distance, slowly shuffling across the sand towards the water, and her. He couldn¡¯t be trusted in the slightest, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t useful.

    Who could be, really?

    ¡°Eloise!¡± Scott called out as he came within earshot. His muscled chest was practically bursting out of his coat, his shoulders looking ready to tear open the sleeves like a prop from a play. ¡°As I live and breathe, I never would have thought I¡¯d see you again.¡±

    ¡°Never? Even after I set this meeting with you?¡±

    ¡°Ha! Same as ever, I see.¡± He stepped closer, close enough that they could speak without having to shout over the wind. ¡°Pirate¡¯s life didn¡¯t agree with you?¡±

    Eloise raised her eyebrows, trying not to exaggerate the gesture too much. ¡°Pirate? I have no idea what you mean.¡± I¡¯m not going to contradict whatever excuse Jacques gave when I left. ¡°What gave you that idea?¡±

    Scott snorted. ¡°It¡¯s my business to be in the know! You¡¯d know that if you ever read my articles.¡±

    ¡°But they make for such excellent kindling! I wouldn¡¯t want the journal to go to waste, after all. All the more valuable these days, with the need to keep warm.¡±

    ¡°You can joke all you want, but I provide a valuable service to the people of Malin.¡±

    ¡°The owners of Malin, maybe. I can see why you¡¯d have trouble telling the difference.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I actually did read that one about the Duchess¡¯s trial in Guerron, you know. ¡®Maniac Escapes Justice¡¯, or something, right?¡±

    Scott smiled, self-congratulatory. ¡°That one even got picked up by The Cambrian, deferring to our proximity and experience. I can definitely see why; it was a tough one to piece together. It¡¯s hard to find reliable sources, the further you get from Avalon¡¯s sphere of influence. I won¡¯t tell you who eventually came through, but the whole thing was extremely circuitous.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen fertilizer wagons with less horseshit. Fernan Montaigne has all the killer instinct of a soggy pair of pants. And he¡¯s not exactly some elite sorcerer, either. He¡¯s from nowhere, some little mining village too small to even fit on the map.¡± Florette had told her the name of her own village, Enquin, but Fernan¡¯s had apparently been different. ¡°Not to mention you called Magnifico a talented musician. I assure you, he is not.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you wanted to meet? To give me notes? Because I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s already been published. And my editor was more than satisfied.¡±

    ¡°Really? I had no idea!¡±

    Scott rolled his eyes. ¡°Get to the point, Eloise. It¡¯s cold as shit out here.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°I have a tip for you. What do you know about the Governor¡¯s death?¡± Not too much, obviously, or you wouldn¡¯t have met me at all. But that didn¡¯t mean the risk was gone. Someone could still have figured out something dangerous.

    Even if they did, I can skip town in an hour.

    ¡°Ah, that¡­¡± Scott shook his head ruefully. ¡°Any other time and it¡¯d be the biggest story of the year. The decade! The last Territorial Governor to die in peacetime passed from pneumonia, thirty years ago. It¡¯s got that poetic narrative to it too, undone by his own hubris. Though I doubt too much of that could have made it to print.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Well, he was the one overseeing the rail line projects, by way of overseeing the city. Thorley, Whitbey, everyone involved ultimately answered to him. And yet he was too careless to have the tunnel inspected properly before it caved in on his head. That''s what happens when you rush the work: it¡¯s not as thorough, and someone always pays the price. It¡¯s rare that it¡¯s the one actually responsible, though. The new Director might even learn from it. Who knows?¡±

    So now I have the official story.

    Florette had said that Whitbey spotted her, even called out to her by name. There had been other guards with him too, everyone on the rear of the train would have known it was an attack. They¡¯d obey Whitbey if he asked for silence, but why would he? Why wouldn¡¯t he have simply told the truth?

    Who benefits from this lie?

    ¡°Well, obviously, I do. The Director¡¯s going to be the same as the old, except maybe they¡¯ll know better than to send the Governor on the train.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Scott shrugged. ¡°I heard the Prince is grabbing some young buck from the Tower, though. Not exactly a Thorley type.¡±

    ¡°Of course¡­¡± The prince! He would want to keep it quiet. He doesn¡¯t want to have to lead a reprisal, or hunt us down. If he ordered it directly, and Whitbey passed it on, none of the people who¡¯d been there would rat on him. Nothing worse than a rat, after all.

    It brought a smile to her face, imagining the Captain of the Guardians having to sit there and take those orders, covering up the assassination of his piece-of-shit boss.

    ¡°My editor warned me to be ready for a shake up in how we do things, just like when Perimont took over from Arion. We wouldn¡¯t dream of printing it, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard the rumors about how the prince came to power here.¡±

    ¡°I may have heard something.¡± Actually¡­ ¡°How does the ownership stake work out for your journal, now that Perimont is dead? Is his son the owner now?¡±

    ¡°If only. Simon knows what¡¯s what.¡± Scott sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a mess, frankly. Lord Arion passed enough of his shares to cede control when he retired from the governorship, but he still owns something like forty percent. And the Crown owns its customary five percent, of course. Prince Grimoire is trying to argue that gives him a controlling interest, as the closest proximate with Grimoire and Arion blood, and it¡¯s not as if anyone wants to be on the bad side of the new governor. He¡¯s the one running the censors anyway, setting the tone for the content.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. That does sound complicated, and not extremely simple. Poor you.¡±

    ¡°Lady Perimont is officially in control of her late husband¡¯s share of the business, but she¡¯s in Avalon for the moment, in no position to argue. But, it being no secret that the Prince and the late Governor had their differences, it¡¯s a delicate balancing act. Simon¡¯s still here and he can speak for his mother¡¯s shares if he has a mind to. If there¡¯s friction, it¡¯s not the sort of thing you want to be in the middle of.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be fine. You know how to do what you¡¯re told.¡±

    Scott turned his head towards the sea, not disputing it. ¡°It¡¯s made things difficult, with the sky as it is. In Perimont¡¯s day, we could just print something saying it¡¯s still blue and not spare a second thought to it. Maybe the Prince wants us to admit it¡¯s black. Maybe he doesn¡¯t, or maybe it¡¯s not his call. It makes things complicated. That¡¯s all.¡±

    This is going to apply to half the business in the city. The Perimonts even owned shares in Clocha?ne Candles at Jacques¡¯ behest, though far from a controlling interest. It ensured that they had a stake in their success.

    Gentry will be at each other¡¯s throats, fighting over the scraps. Distance and disaster could go a long way towards smoothing over any seizures outside the strictest confines of the law, especially if someone in power could codify the ownership, give it legitimacy.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Eloise?¡±

    Shut up, I¡¯m thinking. ¡°Just thinking it through.¡±

    ¡°You said you had a tip for me. That¡¯s the whole reason I dragged myself out here.¡±

    ¡°I do, but it might rock the boat if you move forward with it. Given your¡­ paradigm, I think you¡¯d probably be happier not knowing. At least for now.¡± That was always going to be my excuse, but it seems like it¡¯s actually true.

    ¡°Fucking really?¡± Scott clenched his fists, grotesquely bulging his arms even harder against his sleeves. ¡°Is it about the late Governor?¡±

    Obviously. ¡°It¡¯s about the prince. Just trust me. You think you¡¯re caught in a tough position now? Reach out when things have settled down, and you know which narrative you¡¯re being paid to write.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Fair enough. Shouldn¡¯t be more than a week. You¡¯ll be at Clocha?ne¡¯s?¡±

    If I haven¡¯t skipped town completely. ¡°Yeah. Same as always.¡±

    By the time Scott was gone, only about a quarter hour remained before the ship would send its dinghy out to pick up its extra passenger, or extra passengers. Still too hard to be sure.

    It was maybe cutting things a bit close, but Florette was guaranteed to cut it closer.

    Eloise began pacing, trying to keep herself warm as she waited.

    Sure enough, it took Florette another ten minutes to show up. The cold-weather clothes she¡¯d borrowed practically tripled the thickness of her silhouette, and her posture was curled inward to match. It didn¡¯t suit her, really, but practicality came first. In her arms were a pair of bags, packed with whatever personal items she¡¯d wanted to take, as opposed to the smuggling cargo they¡¯d already loaded. The wound on her ear had scabbed over, at least, although it looked like a nick was going to be permanently missing from it.

    ¡°Hey, El.¡± She set her bags down on the sand. ¡°Why weren¡¯t you waiting in the tunnels? This wind is colder than you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡± Eloise shrugged.

    ¡°I guess it¡¯s not haunted, at least.¡±

    Haunted¡­ ¡°You saw one, didn¡¯t you? A shade of someone you killed?¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Two of them, one for each. How did you know that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been known to happen.¡± She shrugged. ¡°People talk, you hear things. For a while, no one wanted to mention it. For some reason, they thought that seeing specters of dead people might harm their reputation. But once one person talks, the rest see that they''re not alone.¡±

    ¡°But.. What is it? How?¡±

    Eloise put her arm around her, pulling her closer. ¡°Could be a trap one of the sages left, or a spirit that dodged Avalon¡¯s clean-up crew, maybe someone got spirit touched as they died? I don¡¯t know, it could be anything really. But it¡¯s not just you. Even I¡¯ve seen them from time to time. Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Florette nodded slowly, burying her face in Eloise¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    It doesn¡¯t usually affect people this much. Everyone had a reason for what they did, after all, and that¡¯s just as true later. ¡°It¡¯s only in Malin anyway, don¡¯t worry. Once you set sail your days of seeing ghosts should be over.¡±

    Florette pulled herself back, taking slow breaths as she composed herself. ¡°You can¡¯t imagine what a fucking relief it is to hear that.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Why were you up here, though?¡±

    ¡°I was meeting someone, getting info on how your little improvisation played out.¡±

    Florette raised an eyebrow. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in the clear. Looks like Luce and Whitbey covered the whole thing up. They¡¯re playing it as a cave-in, poor structural support on the tunnel the train went through.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ people will think it was just an accident?¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°For the minute. I wouldn¡¯t stick around to find out, if I were you.¡±

    ¡°No, no, of course. But¡­ Fuck!¡± She caught her fist in the palm of her hand. ¡°I was kind of hoping this could inspire people, you know? Show that these assholes aren¡¯t untouchable. That¡¯s the biggest problem really. No one thinks they can be beaten, so they¡¯ve given up trying.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious? Are you fucking¡ª¡± Eloise sighed. How do you still not get how futile that is, how pointless? ¡°How old are you?¡±

    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± She blinked. ¡°Twenty-fo¡ªtwenty-five. I¡¯m twenty-five.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± she asked flatly. ¡°What year were you born?¡±

    ¡°Ninety¡­ uh¡­ ninety-three.¡±

    Eloise folded her arms. ¡°Alright, now let¡¯s acknowledge I¡¯m not a fucking idiot and you can tell me how old you really are.¡±

    Florette bowed her head. ¡°Nineteen.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, with those legs? ¡°You¡¯re so short, I would have thought you were even younger,¡± she said reflexively.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± She tapped her hand nervously against her leg. ¡°I don¡¯t think five years is a big deal, alright? We¡¯re within that half plus seven rule, I checked.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s comforting.¡± Eloise massaged her temples. ¡°It¡¯s not the five years, it¡¯s the life experience. I mean, when we met, you were ripping off brandy from a bar. Now you¡¯re assassinating Governors and complaining when you dodge the blame. I just¡­¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s about life experience, I think you just proved that I more than caught up. Where is this coming from?¡± A trace of indignation laced her tone, a defensiveness she fell back to when her insecurities were prodded. It had been the same on the boat.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m¡ªUgh. I just can¡¯t¡­¡± Eloise tilted her head back, searching dark skies for answers they would never give her. ¡°Am I bad for you?¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Are you bad for me?¡±

    ¡°Think about your life before we met, and think about it now. You¡¯re wracked with guilt over things I pulled you into doing. And then even when we were apart¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°It seems like you were doing all this to impress me, or something. I feel like I¡¯ve pulled you down this road because I wanted you, and then you changed your whole life to match, even though it destroyed you¡­ I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m wondering if you wouldn¡¯t be better off going without me.¡±

    Florette closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. As she opened them, she brought her hands together, touching at the fingertips. ¡°What a shitty, egotistical, condescending thing to say to me. What are you, trying to take credit for my accomplishments while turning it into an accusation? What is wrong with you? I live my life, on my terms. You of all people should understand that better than anyone.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Flor, please, just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking ¡®oh Flor¡¯ me! You¡¯ll just take any excuse to cast off people who aren¡¯t useful to you anymore, huh?¡± She clenched her fists. ¡°And I fucking fell for it again, fool that I am. Ysengrin laughed in my face when I said you were coming back for me, and I still fucking believed in you. What an idiot, right? Just another lovelorn schmuck left in your wake, one of hundreds.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not hundreds, you prudish¡ª¡±

    ¡°And then! And then, when you came back, you never apologized. You just moved on from dumping me here like it was nothing to you. And I thought ¡®ok, she¡¯s been through something horrible. Give it time. We can work it out.¡¯ I got you involved with the train heist I¡¯d been planning for months, I took you into my arms again. And now you¡¯re just pulling away again? For the same self-serving, bullshit, paternalistic¡ªFor what? Why are you doing this to me again?¡±

    Eloise blinked a few times, since the stiff wind was drying out her eyes. No room for doubts now. ¡°For your own good.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to decide what¡¯s ¡®my own good¡¯. I decide.¡±

    She wiped her eyes, even more irritated from the wind than before. ¡°Fine. Make your decisions. I¡¯ll make mine. That¡¯s all I wanted anyway.¡±

    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me? That is not what you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m staying,¡± she declared, hardening her voice. ¡°It¡¯s too good an opportunity to pass up.¡±

    ¡°Tch, of course. We couldn¡¯t have precious Eloise miss out on an opportunity while the fucking sun is gone! Oh, no, what a terrible tragedy that would be, for you to avoid working for that murderous scumbag while he bleeds people for the right to live.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about that, you irrational little¡ª I have people¡­ I have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Have to take care of yourself. Just like always¡­¡± She shook her head slowly. ¡°You fucking disgust me, Eloise. Enjoy your job.¡±

    Eloise folded her arms. ¡°Murderous scumbag, huh? Yeah, it¡¯s probably better that I rid myself of people like that and run away with you. Oh wait!¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, Eloise.¡±

    ¡°You know why I¡¯m staying and you have to leave? Because you got fucking seen! The Captain of the Guardians knows your face because you couldn¡¯t keep it together for two minutes in the middle of a job without killing someone. And for what?¡± She wiped her eyes again. ¡°You accomplished nothing.¡±

    Eloise turned and walked away before Florette could try to get the last word in, forcing herself not to dwell on it. She rubbed away some piece of detritus that the wind had swept into her eye as she began planning out her next move. Without thinking, she felt her feet carrying her towards Margo¡¯s school.

    Focus on the future. Focus on you. Anything else would just make things harder.

 Camille II: The Timely

    Simon Perimont shut the door slowly rather than slam it, veins bulging from his hands as he did. With a pointed glare at Camille, he stepped up to the worktable Prince Grimoire had been using.

    ¡°Have a seat, Simon,¡± Grimoire repeated. ¡°Please.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll stand. It¡¯s better for circulation. Father knew that.¡± He folded his arms. ¡°Until Carrine and her bodyguard murdered him, anyway.¡±

    ¡°My condolences,¡± Camille said, as sincerely as she could fake. ¡°Your father was no favorite of mine, but he was a principled man, and his motives were not selfish. That¡¯s more than many can say.¡±

    Simon blinked, mouth open. ¡°Are you hearing this shit, Luce?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have the full story.¡± Grimoire turned his head away, not making eye contact. ¡°Let her explain.¡±

    ¡°Celine shot him in the chest with a pistol, and Captain Whitbey recognized her! What could there possibly be to explain?¡± He pointed his finger towards Camille. ¡°Don¡¯t even try to say you didn¡¯t know about it. That girl was your shadow the entire time you¡¯ve been here. She came with you from Guerron and you vouched for her.¡±

    To my unending regret. Why couldn¡¯t Florette have just kept her impulses under control?

    The question was how to handle this. The Prince saw her as a monster, so she¡¯d taken the role of the necessary evil. But Simon Perimont wouldn¡¯t be moved by pragmatic appeals to help the people; he barely cared about them.

    No, it would have to be another approach.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have a choice, Simon. She had my life in her hands.¡± Camille turned her head demurely to the side, shrinking back into her chair. ¡°To begin with, I do have something I must apologize to you for. You and your sister both, really.¡±

    ¡°I should fucking hope so.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°My name is not Carrine Bourbeau, but Camille Leclaire.¡±

    He blinked. ¡°The dead girl?¡±

    ¡°Or so I let on. I had to, to keep myself safe.¡± She consciously bit her lip, adjusting her posture inwards to look more vulnerable. ¡°I barely survived that duel after Lord Lumi¨¨re shot me with his pistol. By the time I washed ashore, half dead, he had imprisoned the city¡¯s leadership and assumed full control. If I¡¯d returned to Guerron, I wouldn¡¯t have survived it.¡± Better not to mention Lucien by name, in case it reminds him I¡¯m betrothed.

    Simon¡¯s head tilted to the side, taking it all in. ¡°So you thought you¡¯d try your hand at sabotage. Why else would you come here? Under a false identity, no less. Is that supposed to make me feel better about¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± she cried out, willing tears to her eyes. It usually wasn¡¯t hard, just a matter of remembering what had happened to Mother. Tearing apart those ships as screams and splinters filled the air, slipping beneath the water never to return... The real sadness panged her for a moment, but she moved past it. ¡°I was just trying to keep myself safe. I had to find somewhere outside of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s influence, but where I could still blend in.¡±

    ¡°And yet you kept your hair blue?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have time to dye it,¡± she sobbed. ¡°The moment I arrived, Sir Gerald arrested me. I was stuck in that horrid jail for weeks, being baked alive in that cramped, dark, disgusting place. By the time I finally made it out, I had no idea what to do. ¡®Carrine Bourbeau¡¯ was a way to¡­ to belong, to be around people I knew could protect me.¡± She wiped red eyes with the back of her hands, feeling the salty wetness that marked her success. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for deceiving you, Simon. I just¡­ Once you caught my eye at that party, I knew I had to¡­ to¡­¡± She covered her face with her hands, sobbing loudly.

    When she pulled them free, she could see that Simon was beginning to crack, his stern gaze softening as he shrank back into himself. Perfect. ¡°And Celine¡­ That¡¯s not even her real name. She¡¯s a pirate named Florette, a monster.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Grimoire tilted his head up. ¡°She wasn¡¯t without her humanity¡­ Kinder than the rest of them, for certain.¡±

    That¡¯s right. ¡°She was one of the pirates who kidnapped the prince! She recognized me, and blackmailed me into helping her. If I¡¯d said anything, all she had to do was give my name to Lumi¨¨re, or your father, Simon. Then I¡¯d just be another corpse swinging the gallows on the beach.¡±

    Simon let out a long breath, fingers tapping nervously at his sides. ¡°You had nothing to do with it?¡±

    Just one more push. ¡°She told me she was robbing the train, but I couldn¡¯t say anything! I never knew she was going to assassinate your father. I could never have¡­¡± She reached out and grabbed Simon¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. We will stop her, and avenge your father. I owe it to you.¡±

    He kissed her hand, and she knew she had him. ¡°It¡¯s terrible that you had to go through that. If my father were a different man, maybe you could have been honest. He was such a¡­¡± He trailed off, then quickly shook his head. ¡°From now on, no more lies, alright?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she agreed, allowing herself a smile. It was in-character, anyway.

    That¡¯s one.

    ?

    Pierre Cadoudal led the Acolytes of Levian now, despite his near-total break from the water spirit himself, and the centuries-old traditions of the Temple. I have to remember that, even if it rankles.

    His temple building, an ugly edifice of grey stone, seemed fit to burst, clustered with people warming themselves in front of a roaring fire at the back of the room.

    Camille surreptitiously pulled her scarf over her nose and mouth for the smell, and because such a large gathering risked disease, then shouldered her way to the hearth.

    Pierre sat against the wall next to it, placing a log at an angle above the rest, allowing the fire to flow up from under it. He turned his head around to face her without getting up. ¡°If you have another place that will keep you warm, Lady Bourbeau, I recommend sheltering there. Everyone is welcome, but space is at a bit of a premium here.¡±

    It wouldn¡¯t be at the real Temple. ¡°I was actually hoping to speak with you. Outside?¡± She reached her hand out to help him up, which he accepted.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a moment,¡± he said to those gathered as he and Camille made their way back out to the street.

    Camille felt her blood turn to ice as the cold wind blasted into her face, but she still pulled the scarf down so he could better read her expression. ¡°Thank you for meeting with me.¡±

    ¡°Of course. What can I do for you? I was under the impression that you were headed back to Guerron.¡±

    ¡°Circumstances changed.¡± She waved her hands up to the sky. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you noticed.¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course.¡± His words sent puffs of fog into the air. ¡°You need passage back, and that¡¯s not exactly easy to come by. I can speak to Mr. Clocha?ne when I get the chance, but it could be some time before¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not that.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Guerron has plenty of sages to keep people warm and safe.¡± Including one who had better get my letter soon. We need to coordinate. ¡°But Malin is in a dire situation only I can help with.¡±

    Cadoudal raised an eyebrow. ¡°Guerron is home to Soleil and his flame sages. I wasn¡¯t under the impression that your skill with water would help.¡±

    That¡¯s because you never learned it yourself. Instead you disdained it for money and respectability, selling out our every belief. Camille smiled widely. ¡°Fortunately, I can. Prince Grimoire is quite the expert in energy and thermodynamics, as it happens, and I¡¯ve been working with him to help craft a solution.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful news!¡±

    ¡°Indeed it is. I can¡¯t promise anything yet, but our first experiments were very encouraging.¡±

    He folded his arms, rubbing them with gloved hands in an attempt to keep warm. Good. ¡°What is it that I can do for you, though? I don¡¯t see much of a connection.¡±

    ¡°There isn¡¯t one, aside from me. That¡¯s not what I came here to discuss with you. Rather, it¡¯s my position as Malin¡¯s Spiritual Liaison.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I beg your pardon? I¡¯m aware of the Liaison of Commerce, the Liaison of Dwelling, of Curriculum¡­ All the spirits are dead, my lady.¡± His head was tilted, his eyebrows furrowed in what was either genuine befuddlement or an extremely convincing act.

    The latter couldn¡¯t be ruled out, but it seemed like it was safe to proceed. ¡°Not all, not even after Avalon¡¯s campaign of extermination. And it looks as if some of those who remain are willing to help us.¡±

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s¡ª¡± His eyes narrowed. ¡°You, a foreigner of Guerron, managed to seek out and negotiate with spirits that have eluded Avalon for seventeen years?¡± He didn¡¯t say ¡®eluded us¡¯, so it seems like they weren¡¯t even looking.

    That was fine as far as this plan went, but still distressing to hear. ¡°About that¡­ My mother did you a disservice, not letting you come with us. All of you. Space was at a premium, the circumstances dire, but still¡­ You and your order have more than proven yourself resilient, adaptable, and kind hearted enough to thrive here even in our absence. That¡¯s commendable. Please accept my apologies on her behalf.¡±

    A thin stream of visible fog escaped his lips as he exhaled slowly. ¡°Camille¡­ I wondered when I first saw you, but it¡¯s been so long. And you were meant to be dead.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°The very same. Thank you again, for letting me in the gate, by the way. I might never have made my compact with Levian otherwise.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome¡­¡± He breathed into his hands, rubbing them together. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°To make peace,¡± she replied, mostly honestly. ¡°At first, I resented you for capitulating to Avalon, but what else were you supposed to do? We didn¡¯t have your back.¡±

    ¡°You were a child, that¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all in the past anyway.¡± She breathed deep of the crisp air, feeling ice creep into her chest and fill her with strength. ¡°You adapted to survive, even if it meant abandoning so much of what it meant to be an Acolyte. But you preserved the core, that essence that stands more important than anything else.¡±

    He shivered, rubbing folded arms. ¡°Helping people, you mean. I certainly try.¡±

    ¡°You do, and it¡¯s commendable. I want to help. I want to reunite your compassion with spiritual tradition, now that it¡¯s no longer a threat to the Temple¡¯s survival.¡±

    ¡°In what way is it not?¡±

    Camille laughed. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me? I have the prince¡¯s ear, and official authority invested in me from him. I¡¯ve been meeting with spirits, negotiating a way to help secure crop yields, perhaps better supplies of fuel for warmth as well. It¡¯s a price that Grimoire looks willing to pay, given our last conversation.¡±

    ¡°Camille, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to take over your operation,¡± she lied breezily, a smile on her face. ¡°I¡¯m doing my best to help the people here, to secure them a future, with or without Avalon. Don¡¯t worry, I have my position and you have yours.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a relief.¡±

    Camille ripped a blanket off of the crate she¡¯d left by the door. ¡°Blue hair dye, if you desire it. I pulled a cache from the seafloor. Consider it a gesture of friendship.¡±

    His face twisted for such a brief instant that Camille almost missed it, then readjusted to a smile. ¡°Thank you! I¡¯ll be sure to ration this carefully, so as not to waste the gift you¡¯ve given us.¡± Liar. But then, she was hardly in a position to blame him for that.

    ¡°I just wanted you to have the truth, and to know that if you hear about meetings with spirits and negotiated deals, it¡¯s no longer prohibited. I hope you can see me as a resource, a bridge between the old and new ways.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I could even introduce you to Fenouille, if you¡¯d like to be more involved with that side of things.¡±

    ¡°... I think perhaps it¡¯s better if I don¡¯t. Each to their own role, no?¡±

    Phew. ¡°Of course. And don¡¯t be surprised when I come to help. I¡¯ve a lot to do on a larger scale, but there¡¯s plenty of worth in what you¡¯re doing as well, and I¡¯d like to be part of it when I can find the time.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re always welcome here. And I appreciate the gesture. I¡¯ll let the other Acolytes know to expect you, too. In case I¡¯m elsewhere when you return.¡±

    ¡°You have my thanks.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Are you feeling alright?¡± Simon asked with what sounded like genuine concern once she returned, a pleasant reminder that appearing to debase herself like that had at least been productive. ¡°You were gone a while.¡±

    ¡°Much better,¡± Camille replied. ¡°I think I just needed some fresh air.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s freezing out. And I don¡¯t think Mary¡¯s clothes fit you very well.¡±

    ¡°I managed. It¡¯s fine. Thank you.¡±

    Grimoire looked up from the device he was tinkering with. ¡°It¡¯s freezing out? Already?¡±

    ¡°Not literally. Just cold.¡± Camille shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s really not a big deal.¡±

    ¡°Could you plant this thermometer in the ground on your way out? I want to see how fast things are declining.¡±

    Simon scoffed. ¡°What, you don¡¯t have some formula to tell you?¡±

    ¡°I have ways to guess, but that¡¯s all. No one was taking the kind of measurements I want, the last time this happened. And according to Camille, it¡¯s not even the same cause, so the effect could well operate on a different time scale.¡±

    ¡°Different how?¡±

    ¡°Soleil¡¯s dead.¡± The one silver lining in all of this. ¡°It has nothing to do with Khali, so far as anyone knows.¡±

    ¡°So far as anyone knows¡­ No one knows anything. How is that supposed to help?¡±

    Camille turned to Grimoire. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell him?¡±

    ¡°Tell me what? Luce here hasn¡¯t budged from his desk. I can¡¯t even get him to go out and make a speech.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m now the Spiritual Liaison for Malin. I¡¯ve been talking to some of the remaining spirits, and all of them felt a pull to Guerron to choose Soleil¡¯s replacement. None of them are aware of Khali returning from her prison world. No word from Avalon about Khali¡¯s world either.¡±

    ¡°Nocturne,¡± Grimoire chimed in. ¡°Easier to give it a real name than to keep calling it ¡®Khali¡¯s world¡¯ and the like. Especially since Khali¡¯s only been in it for a hundred and eighteen years, and it was presumably empty before that. Nocturne is the preferred term for experts and scholars now.¡±

    ¡°Whatever, fine.¡± Camille exhaled wearily. ¡°The point is, I¡¯m doing my best to help work things out to keep people alive.¡± For as long as I can¡­ It was getting harder and harder to imagine giving Levian the thousand souls he was due in time, even purely on a practical level, but failure meant worse than death. ¡°The prince still hasn¡¯t gone to talk to people?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I know.¡± Simon sighed. ¡°It¡¯s baffling. He¡¯s the de facto Governor, and a prince besides. He needs to reassure people that things will go on as normal.¡±

    ¡°As normal?¡± Camille felt her voice, louder than she would have liked. ¡°Have you looked up recently? Nothing about this is normal.¡±

    ¡°So what?¡± Simon shrugged. ¡°We have wood, we have candles. Life can go on mostly as it has, for a while anyway. Why panic people? The best bet is to downplay the problem, reduce uncertainty and disruption to everyday life.¡± Disruption to your pocketbook, maybe.

    ¡°That would mean lying¡­¡± Grimoire set his tools down on the table and looked up, finally joining the conversation. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Camille. ¡°The last thing you want to do is lie so blatantly. No one¡¯s going to believe you over their own eyes.¡±

    ¡°Sure they will. People will believe whatever you tell them to believe, as long as you do it forcefully enough. I¡¯m not saying I¡¯d go this far, but my father would probably have just said that the sky was still working fine, to proceed as usual.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly a persuasive speaker, let alone a forceful one. Or a good liar.¡± Grimoire sighed. ¡°If Harold weren¡¯t definitely dealing with so much worse right now, I¡¯d kill to have him here.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to lie, not necessarily.¡± Simon opened his hands. ¡°Camille, these spirits are going to choose a new sun, right? And then things will go back to normal?¡±

    ¡°Eventually¡­ There¡¯s no way to know how long it will take, though. In the past, for some spirits, it took years.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Simon nodded. ¡°So you can tell them truthfully that this will pass, and until it does we have candles and firewood and shelter and everything else we need to keep going.¡±

    ¡°Not food.¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah, so don¡¯t mention that part.¡±

    ¡°I have to agree,¡± Camille said reluctantly. ¡°Today¡¯s problem is the cold. Bringing up food right now would only muddle things.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Grimoire raised an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯re working on a solution, though. I would think you¡¯d want to mention it. Honesty is the best approach in a crisis like this.¡±

    ¡°Uh, no.¡± Camille laughed. ¡°You¡¯re making deals with spirits that your people falsely demonize as vicious monsters. I¡¯m working on it, but right now people here who know me at all will, at the very least, not be particularly confident in my ability. Saying that I¡¯m negotiating with the spirits for the food issue, right now, before I¡¯ve laid the proper groundwork, it would reassure no one. At least, none of the masses.¡±

    ¡°Well, there you go.¡± Grimoire flicked the back of his hand towards Simon. ¡°Now, if you both will excuse me, I have work to do.¡±

    Seriously? ¡°I¡¯m not saying you should stay hidden in your little hole. You absolutely need to go out and talk to people. Whatever your hangups, it¡¯s long past time. Reassure people that it¡¯s being handled. Be vague, and calm. Tell them that they don¡¯t have to do anything, because the problem is being worked on by top experts and scholars. By your esteemed self, in fact.¡±

    ¡°And that in the meantime, they can go about their business,¡± Simon added unhelpfully.

    ¡°Look, give whatever speech you want to give, but you have to do something.¡±

    Grimoire frowned. ¡°Even setting aside that the last thing I need is hundreds of people staring up at me, hearing my full name and jeering at the stupid awkward foreigner, I don¡¯t have time to write a speech.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it for you,¡± Camille and Simon volunteered at the same time, then exchanged a look.

    ¡°Fine. Work together and get a draft to me by tomorrow morning. The Guardians can gather up whoever has the clothes to keep warm and is willing to attend, and the rest can read it in a journal the next day.¡±

    ¡°Excellent choice, Prince Grimoire.¡± Camille forced a smile.

    ¡°Yeah, I guess that¡¯s fine. I¡¯ve got an office we can work in, Car¡ªCamille.¡± Simon smiled back at her, a slightly wistful cast to his face.

    Yet another thing to add to the list. But as busy as her schedule was getting, this was an invaluable opportunity, even diluted with Simon¡¯s mercantile ramblings.

    Ultimately it was just like Annette always said: sleep was for those without anything better to do. And I certainly have my work cut out for me here.

 Fernan II: The Interrogator

    For once, Magnifico stood out due to his warmth, a purple glow fading into the cold blackness of the surrounding dungeon.

    Only his cell was occupied, the rest emptied in the past few days. The few remaining jailers, all there to monitor one man, had ominously refused to mention where the other prisoners had been moved to.

    They¡¯d recognized Fernan on sight, too, which felt more than a little strange. Though I suppose I do look distinctive. Stranger still was hearing ¡°Sire Montaigne¡± used to address him, the mark of peerage bestowed upon him for exonerating Lady Annette at that trial.

    A reward, for underhandedly framing someone, for sending them here.

    ¡°I was wondering when you¡¯d come calling.¡± The bard rose quietly, purple-tinged darkness wrapped around him like vast wings. The crown remained fixed to his head, metal only visible for the way it obstructed the glow behind it. ¡°Knowing you, I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯re here to gloat.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Fernan took one step towards the bars, then stopped. ¡°First I need to hear it from you: Did you kill the Duke?¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡­¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°Fernan, you¡¯ll never win the war if you¡¯re too busy fighting the previous battle. I¡¯d think you have more pressing concerns right now.¡±

    ¡°I do. But I need to know for sure. To¡­ how did you say it at the trial? Exterminate all doubt.¡±

    Magnifico laughed. ¡°Oh, I see it now. You just came to ease your conscience, ensure that you really did frame the guilty party. How terribly noble of you.¡±

    Maybe this was a mistake. ¡°Answer me.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°It was such a shame it came to that. Duke Fouchand was an admirable man in many ways, committed to his principles to the last. Even if they were misguided principles.¡±

    ¡°Misguided principles¡­¡± That¡¯s as good as a confession. Not that anything else had seemed possible, given his behavior at the trial and after. But I put him here; I said nothing after Jethro admitted his scheme. And everything that had followed, Fernan had had a hand in that. ¡°For that, you threw him off a balcony?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say ¡®dropped¡¯, really. A throw has more power behind it.¡±

    Fernan grit his teeth. ¡°That distinction doesn¡¯t really seem important, here.¡±

    ¡°To the contrary. All the details matter, Fernan. You can¡¯t overlook anything, even if it seems insignificant.¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°For example, you might go through an arduous ordeal to remove a power-inhibiting crown from your head, defeat the villain that put it there, and then save the crown in your vault, out of sentimental value. A quick decision, years ago, in the heat of the moment, that¡¯s paying quite the dividends now.¡±

    Jethro must have pilfered it from a vault, then. That just raised further questions, foremost among them being why a spy would have a vault with a crown at all.

    ¡°Still, I wouldn¡¯t weep too much for poor Fouchand. He invited it on himself, scheming against me as he did. Refusing peace is one thing, but gathering allies for war under the guise of a simple tournament, parking their boats within a stone¡¯s throw of our territory¡­ Something had to be done, you understand?¡±

    ¡°I understand that your ¡®solution¡¯ was murdering him and framing his innocent granddaughter.¡±

    ¡°An adult, and an official in her own right. There¡¯s no way she wasn¡¯t in on the scheming, anyway. Not with how close she was to Leclaire. Still, that was more an opportunity of the moment. Once she came barging in, locking the door behind her was fairly trivial with Osah¡¯s lockpick, and then what was everyone going to think?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t even know?¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°That¡¯s no justification at all. It¡¯s almost pitiful, really.¡±

    ¡°You do your business as you see fit and I¡¯ll do mine.¡±

    ¡°No, you won¡¯t. You¡¯re locked up here, your powers inaccessible. And even that¡¯s¡­¡± Fernan trailed off.

    ¡°Only until they get around to executing me?¡± Magnifico nodded. ¡°I assumed as much. Frankly, I¡¯m surprised it¡¯s taken this long. It¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing to worry about?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I can see where it looks more dire from your perspective, but I assure you it¡¯s not a concern. For that matter, all I¡¯d have to do is say four words, and they¡¯d never dare to kill me.¡±

    Four words¡­ unless magic somehow tied into it, it was hard to imagine anything that could grant him that level of confidence. It had to have something with what Jethro knew about him, the reason it was supposedly so important to keep him alive.

    The pieces were there, but it seemed impossible to fit them together. Probably best to discuss it as a group.

    In the meantime, that wasn¡¯t the main reason Fernan had come. ¡°If you¡¯re not worried, we can move on.¡±

    ¡°Oh, was that not all? I¡¯ve given you the truth; what else would you have of me?¡±

    Fernan took a deep breath, centering himself in the flames in his eyes. ¡°You killed Soleil. You performed the ritual to give his power to Lord Lumi¨¨re, and you made it so he¡¯d die after.¡±

    Magnifico snorted, head tilted. ¡°Surely you¡¯re not coming after me for that? You met Soleil, he was the worst of the worst. Lumi¨¨re didn¡¯t want that for his son, and I obliged him. Whatever happened to him next, he got the better part of what he wanted.¡±

    ¡°He self-immolated from the inside!¡±

    ¡°Well, he was a human-sacrificing, double-crossing, elitist piece of shit. I can¡¯t exactly say I¡¯m broken up about that, either. Nor should you be. You knew what an asshole he was, and you were willing to pretend to be his friend to get what you wanted. Or his subordinate, really. How is what I did any different?¡±

    Unbidden, the image returned, white and gold and melting, the horrifyingly almost-pleasant smell of burning flesh, his agonized final scream. ¡°Because you killed him.¡±

    ¡°Fine, sure, I did. But again I ask, so what? If I could have done it more humanely, I would have, certainly, but I had to be able to give him the power he asked for, or I wouldn¡¯t have been able to honestly promise it beforehand.¡±

    ¡°Easy to say now.¡± He doesn¡¯t even care¡­ That complete lack of remorse. Even now, with his lies laid bare. But it wasn¡¯t worth fixating on, not now. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough of that. Your excuses are worthless, but I¡¯m not really here to talk about Soleil and Lumi¨¨re, or Duke Fouchand. Clearly you¡¯ve made your own peace with that.¡± He clenched his fists. ¡°But you intended all of this, right?¡±

    ¡°Just according to plan, indeed.¡± He paused. ¡°Well, other than ending up here, of course. I¡¯d rather have avoided that.¡±

    ¡°You planned to leave us with no sun at all. You planned to shroud the world in darkness, condemning I-don¡¯t-even-know-how many people to death. It¡¯s only been a few days, and it¡¯s already starting.¡±

    That actually seemed to sober him, his posture shrinking down as he let out a quiet sigh. ¡°I know it¡¯s not without cost. Better than most, in fact. But Soleil had to be destroyed, and this was the only opportunity I was likely to get. If his replacement is chosen quickly, the collateral damage should be relatively minor. For a while, it¡¯s only as bad as a winter, more or less.¡± He swallowed. ¡°When you say that it¡¯s already started¡­¡±

    ¡°Two ships wrecked themselves on the rocks before we could set things up. They were suddenly blind, when they needed to coordinate just right. No one expected a winter. Four of the villages I¡¯ve been to had people out on their own who haven¡¯t come back yet, too. And that¡¯s only what I know of.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a shame¡­¡± He sat down on the floor of his cell, slowly folding his legs together. ¡°A terrible shame. But if I¡¯d waited, that number would only be higher. At the rate the population¡¯s growing, the sooner this was done, the better.¡±

    ¡°Unless you just didn¡¯t do it all.¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°And leave this world at the mercy of the spirits? Fernan, you know how they are, what they do. That¡¯s no choice at all.¡± He rested his chin on clasped hands. ¡°It will be less severe next time. Whoever the new Sun Spirit is will be weaker, their hold on their domain less firm. And less and less again each time after, until it makes no difference at all whether they live or die. That¡¯s when we¡¯ve won.¡±

    ¡°Avalon?¡±

    ¡°Humanity.¡± He turned his head upwards, making eye contact with Fernan. ¡°What are you hoping to get out of this conversation? You¡¯ve assuaged your guilt, you¡¯ve learned details that might matter down the line, or not. Yet you¡¯re still here. Am I really such enjoyable company?¡±

    ¡°My skin is crawling every second I spend in your presence. No. It¡¯s about what you said, as Lumi¨¨re lay there dying. You said it again just now, too. ¡°

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d know ¡®better than most¡¯ the cost of a dead Sun. You have some unique knowledge, or insights, somehow. You must have, or you never could have planned this whole thing. Maybe a secret tome hidden in your vault? Instructions given by the royal family when you were sent on this mission, maybe? I think you know what happens next, and I want to hear it.¡±

    ¡°I do. Very clever of you to pick up on that.¡± Magnifico grinned, his jaw stretching so wide it was visible even in silhouette. ¡°Though I think it''s better if I don¡¯t say why. That would only complicate things.¡±

    ¡°Things are plenty complicated. Explain it all.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will.¡± He leaned back against the wall, stretching his arms out with a yawn. ¡°What happens next is what happens in any slow-motion disaster. People try to avoid thinking about the problem, they do their best to keep living as they have, brainless ennepissix following the script they¡¯ve known their whole life.¡±

    From context, it was easy to glean the meaning of the unfamiliar word, so Fernan didn¡¯t bother to interrupt.

    ¡°Someone figures out how to profit from telling people what they want to hear, taking their money and propagating idiocy. I¡¯ll bet you anything there¡¯s already people right now still saying the sky is blue, that it¡¯s just a little cold spell. Even a slap of reality isn¡¯t enough to jar most of them out, it just shifts the rhetoric. Early on, they say: ¡®This isn¡¯t a problem. This is fine. No need to do anything.¡¯

    ¡°But then, as time goes on, it becomes impossible to ignore. They lose loved ones, freedoms, amenities. That¡¯s when you start to hear that it¡¯s impossible, too late to solve the problem because it¡¯s already gone too far. You¡¯ll notice that either way, no one feels the need to do anything about it.¡±

    Depressingly, it was all too easy to see that prediction coming true. A good fraction of the farmsteads Fernan had visited had barely seemed to understand, asking about selling the sundial or continuing to grow their cash crops. Hardly a majority, though. ¡°So your advice is to beware the brainless masses? Disappointing. It looks like Lord Lumi¨¨re rubbed off on you.¡±

    ¡°Not at all! Really, you can¡¯t condemn the masses too much, because the higher level players aren¡¯t any better. Spirits operate on the highest level, and our suffering is of no concern to them. If you¡¯re expecting a fast resolution from them, to blunt the damage before it gets out of hand, you will be sorely disappointed. The nobles beneath them are just the same. They¡¯ll backstab each other and count their buttons until the whole world is a lifeless rock, feeling like they¡¯re winning every step of the way. The problem doesn¡¯t affect them until it¡¯s too late. Though I suppose I should be saying ¡®us¡¯, Sire Montaigne.¡±

    ¡°No, you shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m speaking in generalities, of course. The politicians, the businessmen, noble peers and sages, here. Most of them are worse than useless, but you do see a few brave souls try to do the right thing. Knowing you as I do, Fernan, I could certainly see you fitting into that category. Most end up dead for it, or otherwise out of the running, not part of the decision-making. Perhaps some limited victories, temporary stays of the execution. A new source of energy, but one that can¡¯t last. Or the darkness holding itself back as long as it can, but not forever.

    ¡°Really though, that only exacerbates the problem. No matter how limited, how temporary, it¡¯s an opportunity to go back to ¡®normal¡¯, to pretend the sun still flies high in the sky, beaming down those summer rays. Some scant few of them succeed, be it by luck or aptitude, and save the rest, though they may never receive proper appreciation for it.¡±

    This was a waste of time. ¡°You¡¯re saying that some people are just naturally better, that they¡¯ll lead the world to salvation because of how amazing and great they are, surrounded by a desert of mediocrity. It¡¯s just Lumi¨¨re¡¯s condescension, applied to an even larger group.¡±

    ¡°Once again, you misunderstand. That¡¯s all about blood, and birth. It¡¯s crap. A great figure can come from anywhere, Fernan. Many of the best start out unremarkable, but they rise to the occasion. The first King Harold, the Fox Queen, even the Great Binder. They weren¡¯t handed their greatness at birth; they earned it. The Great Binder was no queen, nor even the most powerful binder of spirits, but she found a solution to Khali when no one else could. That solution wasn¡¯t without its drawbacks either, its own collateral damage. But flawed though it was, it was the right choice. It kept this world safe for as long as Khali remains trapped in Nocturne.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s awfully self-congratulatory. I still remember you talking about entering Cambria with nothing but the clothes on your back, rising up to become the royal bard. Or the royal spy, I suppose. Is snuffing out the sun supposed to be some expression of greatness? Condemning thousands or more to death just because you¡¯re the big man with the big stick?¡±

    Magnifico shrugged. ¡°Better thousands than millions. But it doesn¡¯t matter anyway. You can assume I¡¯m full of shit if you want. You¡¯ll come to see that I¡¯m right as this goes on. Until you rise to the occasion, and do what¡¯s needed.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°The world needs a new sun spirit, does it not? And quickly, at that. Far faster than a few dozen bickering Soleils could decide on, to be sure. Do you know how long it took after Pantera died? No, you can¡¯t simply stand by and let it be.¡±

    And I won¡¯t need to, not with G¨¦zarde. But it would be stupid to tip his hand to win an argument.

    ¡°I¡¯m confident you¡¯ll step up,¡± Magnifico continued. ¡°I believe in you.¡±

    ¡°Step up and do what? What are you even trying to say, here?¡±

    ¡°Why, assume the mantle of the sun spirit, of course. You¡¯re a powerful flame sage, already touched by the spirits. You have access to Lumiere¡¯s remains, filled to bursting with solar essence. If you took it into yourself, Soleil¡¯s precedent would back your claim. No need to waste time picking a successor if one¡¯s already chosen.¡±

    What? ¡°Are you serious? I watched Lumi¨¨re die in agony because he thought he could trust you on exactly this same proposal. If you¡¯d wanted a friendly Sun Spirit, you¡¯d have just given him what he expected. Instead you played at being his friend and then set him up to die.¡±

    ¡°Because he sucked, and he deserved it. You don¡¯t. I swore before Soleil that I was capable of performing the binding in a way that wouldn¡¯t kill him; I simply elected not to. I could swear that I would keep you alive, before any spirit you liked. Happily.¡±

    ¡°You must think I¡¯m an idiot.¡±

    ¡°Not at all!¡± He jumped up to a standing position, shaking his head. ¡°If I wanted you dead, there are a thousand easier ways to do it even from in here. I don¡¯t. Again, I¡¯ll swear it before whatever spirit you like.¡± He ran his hand through his hair, matted and tangled purple stuck to the all-pervading darkness. ¡°Well, I¡¯d have to kill you eventually, of course. But not for a long time. Hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Certainly longer than you¡¯d live otherwise. And I promise it would be quick, painless. If we set things up right, weaken your connection to your domain slowly over time, you could even be the last sun spirit that has to die.¡±

    ¡°You say that like you¡¯ll still be around. In hundreds, thousands of years.¡± What is he actually trying to get here? A manipulative liar like Magnifico would obviously be playing at something else, but it was hard to see what. Sympathy through flattery? Was he putting on a brave face about the possibility of execution? He surely didn¡¯t think Fernan was stupid enough to go along with this plan, not after watching what happened with Lumi¨¨re. But then why present it as an option at all?

    ¡°I expect so, yes. Avalon has the best science in the world, experience working with complicated and powerful magical artifacts. And draining life to sustain your own is certainly within the bounds of possibility. What do you think keeps spirits alive for eons? I¡¯m confident it won¡¯t be an issue.¡±

    Is he really this arrogant and delusional, or is he playing at something else?

    ¡°And in any case, even if all else fails, I have my son and my lineage to follow.¡±

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to kill his son. Jethro¡¯s words echoed back. How did it all connect? I have to talk this out with other people; clearly it¡¯s not a puzzle I can work out on my own. But it seemed as if Magnifico¡¯s son could be crucial to figuring it out. His lineage.

    ¡°Fernan, to be clear, I don¡¯t expect you to believe me right away. You¡¯ll stand by for a while, first, watching the world crumble around you as humans and spirits alike are poisoned by inaction. But I have a feeling you¡¯ll reconsider eventually.¡±

    Fernan turned, shaking his head, and began to walk away.

    ¡°When you do, you know where to find me.¡±

    The words echoed off the stone as Fernan made his way outside, nodding to the guards as he passed them, each of whom dipped their heads to him in a wave.

    ¡°Any luck?¡± Mara was curled tightly, warming and protecting her charge while remaining close enough to Fernan, in case a problem arose.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Fernan as he reached past her, pulling out a sleepy Aubaine from within. ¡°We¡¯re going back to the temple, alright Aubaine?¡±

    ¡°Ok¡­¡± he muttered quietly, burying his head in Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Will Father be back yet?¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡± Fernan sighed, pulling Aubaine in closer. ¡°Just go to sleep.¡±

    The dark gloom, the cold mountaintops faded into the sunless sky without a clear division between the two. Every day, the cold descended further, growing more extreme.

    There were still people there, he knew. Lone travelers from village to village, or simply living off the mountain on their own. They lived because they were prepared, but no one could have prepared for this. Evacuation after evacuation, and still frozen corpses remained. Some had relatives worried about them, still holding out hope. Doubtless, others had none to mourn them at all.

    This is what you¡¯ve wrought, Magnifico.

    He spent as long as he could looking up at those mountains, taking stock of those left behind, feeling the warmth of a sleeping Aubaine on his shoulder, the comforting fire of Mara at his side.

    It was over far too quickly, but Fernan had no choice. It was time to meet the Fox-King and the Duchess.

 Florette I: The Rejected

    ¡°And it will come about during this year that a most dreadful portent takes place. For the sun shall give forth its light without brightness, like the moon, during this whole year, resembling the sun in eclipse, for the beams it sheds will not be clear nor such as it is accustomed to shed. And from the time when this thing happens men will be free from neither war nor pestilence nor any other thing leading to death. Such is only the beginning.

    ¡°Khali is not omnipotent. That much alone appeared in doubt on her ascension, but ultimately I did seal her away. She can be defeated, though not without cost. So too shall it be two thousand years hence. A Day of Nocturne, when the dark spirit emerges from her prison to wreak havoc upon the world and its people.

    ¡°Versham assures me that spiritual visions cannot see the future, that true prophecy is impossible. Binders and sages and even spirits alike have tried to witness the future for millenia, without a single documented instance of success. His argument is compelling, yet I cannot deny the reality of what I saw. Deep in my very core, I felt the truth of it, fueled by Khali¡¯s very essence. I have learned to trust such feelings, for the world would be lost without them.

    ¡°Nearly the entirety of Terramonde looks to me as the world¡¯s savior. This, I do not say to boast, nor even affirm their praise, but simply to lend that weight of trust to my words. The world I saw in that far of day had grown complacent, ineffective. Weak. Readers in this Age of Gleaming may balk at the suggestion, still reeling from Khali¡¯s fury, still on guard against Pantera¡¯s incursions.

    ¡°But nonetheless I have seen it, and I believe it. No binders contest her upon her return, no spirits turn against her. For all the marvels of civilization humanity creates in our future, all of our accomplishments great and small, the world shall fall to ruin. All who could oppose her simply capitulate or flee, and the world shall never recover from it.

    ¡°If Versham is to be believed, this future is not written in stone. Perhaps it may yet be averted. If that ever is to be, we must be prepared. Some distant future generations may balk at my words, content in their listless mediocrity. They must hear them nonetheless. All must hear them. Khali¡¯s threat has not ended; her curse endures. Remain vigilant always. If the next two thousand years are spent preparing instead of forgetting, humanity may yet survive.¡±

    All of it was right fucking there in that book the whole time, and Florette had ignored it to focus on other things.

    How could a valuable text stolen from an Avalonian Director, apparently written by the Great Binder herself, have seemed like something worth setting aside?

    And the whole world is paying for it now.

    Not that she really could have done anything about it. Shit, said Avalonian asshole had had possession of it for far longer, probably years, and hadn¡¯t done anything. No one had.

    No one¡¯s even doing anything now. Fucking Eloise just saw it as a business opportunity, a way to get back in with her old asshole boss who¡¯d tried to kill Claude, just because she¡¯d been such a miserable failure as a pirate captain. Really, it was scant surprise that she¡¯d managed in a few months to alienate her entire crew enough to maroon her in Refuge.

    I could have saved you from that fuck-up, if you¡¯d kept me with you. Just the thought of it caused Florette to dig her nails into her hands, the audacious selfishness, dripping with condescension.

    Fuck her. It wasn¡¯t worth dwelling on. She wasn¡¯t worth thinking about. Bitch.

    Better to dive into this book, to see if there was anything to do now, whether or not it were too late to avert the greater tragedy of it all.

    So far, though, Florette hadn¡¯t had much luck.

    The Great Binder had led a fascinating life, assuming the book told the truth about it, but little of it seemed to be helpful here. Her astounding feats of magic and skills had defeated Khali, but if the darkness spirit really had returned, she would surely be on guard against them.

    And even that much wasn¡¯t certain. The Great Binder¡¯s descriptions of both Khali¡¯s initial rampage a hundred years ago and her hypothesized Day of Nocturne two thousand years after seemed slightly off, compared to what was happening now.

    For one thing, the sun always remained in the sky in her book, simply occluded and weakened by darkness, unable to perform its role. Not so, here. Nor had any of Khali¡¯s followers made an appearance, droves of evil spirits following her cause. More than half of the vaguely practical advice had to do with subduing or killing them, as did a great portion of the Great Binder¡¯s notable feats.

    Not entirely useless, if Florette ever got on the wrong side of a spirit, but nothing that seemed relevant enough to even help mitigate this, let alone resolve the problem.

    And maybe nothing can. It wasn¡¯t productive to think that way, but it was hard to avoid, staring up at the stars in the sky as the hours stretched on, sleeping in fits and spurts that made it nigh-impossible to mark the passage of time.

    At least she could move about the ship freely. The crew had been paid enough not to ask any questions, and the crates of weapons would have been too difficult to hide from them anyway. Eloise had kept about two-thirds, to better pay the remaining crew, but that still left a half-dozen enormous, heavy boxes sealed tightly in the general cargo hold. All of this would have been even worse if she¡¯d had to spend it trapped in a smuggling closet or something.

    Pacing helped, even if the ship was too small to do much more than that. It let her get away from the Great Binder and Khali and Nocturne and everything that had gone so suddenly wrong in the world. And the empty bed in her room.

    Even if it couldn¡¯t really help her escape her own thoughts.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have taken you for much of a reader,¡± Cassia said, suddenly appearing in the room before her. Messy red-brown hair, bloody shirt, all was exactly as it had been last time. ¡°Evil pirates aren¡¯t much for intellectual pursuits, are they?¡±

    Florette jumped, holding her hand to her sword. ¡°What do you want?¡± This isn¡¯t supposed to be happening. I¡¯ve left Malin!

    ¡°I just want to talk.¡± Cassia¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°We didn¡¯t get the chance earlier because you were too busy stabbing me to death.¡±

    The image filled her mind once more, Cassia bleeding out on the floor as the wood beneath her stained red. Florette pushed it out of her head as fast as she could manage, drawing her sword. ¡°Then talk. What even are you?¡±

    Cassia stretched and shifted, growing in height, until Governor Perimont entirely replaced her, hole in his chest where his heart would have been. ¡°I¡¯m something not much threatened by that.¡± He waved his hand dismissively at the sword. ¡°I survived King Romain¡¯s charge on the day of the Foxtrap. Your little knife is nothing, girl. It suits you.¡±

    Is this just how it¡¯s going to be, now? Will they follow me everywhere? The thought was almost too horrifying to contemplate. ¡°I killed you. That¡¯s not nothing.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, Malin will face challenges, bereft of my leadership. But the bones are strong. This is but a temporary setback, and a minor one at that. For the moment, Captain Whitbey is a capable steward, and he is not alone. Even now, my wife is returning to finish what I started, and Simon will grow into his role in time. You accomplished nothing.¡±

    He said that before¡­ Eloise had mentioned that it might be a trap left behind by a defeated sage to menace Malin¡¯s occupiers, and the repetition lent some credence to that theory, but it didn¡¯t quite fit. This was reactive, in a way that no trap could be.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Maybe it¡¯s just me¡­

    ¡°I didn¡¯t accomplish anything either.¡± Cassia sighed, slumping down to the floor. ¡°I never managed to slay a spirit or protect an innocent life. My life was cut short too soon to do anything, all gone to waste.¡± Abruptly, she hardened her gaze, jumping back up to a standing position. The transition was so sudden as to be unnatural, not unlike when her face changed back and forth from Perimont¡¯s. ¡°Nothing for it but to get right out and start making a difference now! Starting with the spirit conclave. It¡¯s important and it¡¯s necessary.¡±

    Wait, what? ¡°How can you change your mind just like that? And a Spirit conclave¡­¡± Florette blinked, competing possibilities racing across her mind. ¡°Are you a construct of some sage¡¯s magic? Someone spirit-touched as they died? Or¡ª¡±

    ¡°An evil spirit most foul,¡± Perimont interrupted, a snarl on his face. ¡°The sort of disgusting thing that feeds on misfortune, fueled by deaths taken in retaliation. The sort of deaths you took, stupid girl.¡±

    A spirit¡­ What would a spirit be doing here, on this ship? Why is it tormenting me?

    ¡°That¡¯s how you caught my attention, you vile little worm. You murdered me for the fallen, and so the Fallen took notice.¡± His form twisted and shifted again, shrinking to fit Cassia once more. ¡°I¡¯m adaptable. Fierce. I can take on whatever comes my way.¡± Abruptly, she began to sob. ¡°Even if it wasn¡¯t enough.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ Are you alright? Is¡­¡±

    Perimont nodded. ¡°I¡¯m no expert on spirits myself, but I¡¯m remembered by some binders that I fought alongside. Lord Arion, for example, among others. They might explain that a spirit such as myself, worthless carrion feeding on the souls of the damned, can only harvest their energy and not their being. Imperfect impressions drawn from living memory, rather than a true reflection of character.

    ¡°How might Cassia Arion react to her own death? None alive have seen her do so, and so guesses must be made, divined from what information still remains.¡± Perimont stopped talking, and Cassia continued where he left off. ¡°Father thinks I would mope and grieve because that¡¯s what he¡¯s doing. But my cousin Luce remembers my personal drive and ambition best, because that¡¯s where he connected with me the most, and the part of me that he feels most guilty about letting you snuff out.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to keep rubbing it in.¡±

    ¡°But I do.¡± Her voice took on an ominous tone. ¡°I appear before killers in the form of the lives they¡¯ve taken, that they might never forget. You were in real danger of simply moving on, compartmentalizing away the guilt.¡± Flames began to creep up around the sides of her face, smoke and haze obscuring the form until only a vague silhouette remained, a sword sticking out of its chest. ¡°You don¡¯t even remember me, after all. Stabbed to protect your friend Fernan on the day of the duel. I can see that I haven¡¯t entered your thoughts even once.¡±

    That¡¯s right¡­ In all the smoke and fighting, Florette had reached out almost blindly, just trying to get a sense of footing and avoid being killed. Was he one of the sun sages or one of the Fox-King¡¯s guards? In the smoky haze, there was no way to even tell.

    ¡°That had to be done. I was protecting us.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Perimont agreed. ¡°Sacrifices made to preserve things of greater importance. Civilization cannot expand without cost, after all. If a few rebels must hang to let the message sink in, what of it? In one hundred years no one will grieve for them. Even I might not be much remembered. But that matters not. Society endures. Civilization can persist long after the likes of us are gone, spreading and propagating without end and improving the lives of all under its care.¡±

    Florette frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not the same at all and you know it. I was protecting a friend by killing one person, not some vague elitist notion of civilization by killing hundreds.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the same,¡± the burning shadow agreed. ¡°But you ought to remember, just the same. Life is never taken without cost, and rarely does it not serve someone in turn.¡± Cassia took a deep breath. ¡°But I¡¯m not hostile to you, Florette. I¡¯m simply taking a ride to Guerron alongside you.¡±

    ¡°You know my name?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m drawing on your impressions and memories for this very conversation. Of course I know your name. It¡¯s time you knew ours.¡± The smoke from the burned man expanded slowly, drifting further throughout the cabin. ¡°We are the Fallen, the remnants of those past. A life taken for a life, a retaliatory strike. And we will be silent no longer. The convocation to decide Soleil¡¯s successor fast approaches.¡±

    A spirit, traveling to Guerron to decide Soleil¡¯s successor... ¡°He¡¯s dead, then? That¡¯s why the sky went dark?¡±

    ¡°I would say ¡®as dead as I am¡¯, but that would confuse the issue. Yes. Soleil is no more.¡±

    Instantly, things began to slot into place. The book¡¯s account of Khali didn¡¯t match what was happening because it wasn¡¯t what was happening. It explained this happening almost two thousand years before it was supposed to, too. ¡°And once Soleil¡¯s successor is picked, we¡¯ll have a sun in the sky again, right?¡±

    The Fallen nodded.

    ¡°Alright. Ok.¡± Florette took a breath, centering herself in the room. If that¡¯s true, then my next move just got a lot clearer. Had it somehow known she was thinking about how little she could do? ¡°If you can pull information like that, maybe you can help me. Do you recognize this book? Can you tell me whether it¡¯s real?¡±

    Perimont took it from her hands, flipping through dismissively. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it would simply be too expensive. You¡¯ve never met the Great Binder, insignificant little vermin that you are, and few remain alive who have. Fewer still that actually interacted with her in any meaningful way. Were one of them present, we could easily manifest her shade and determine how well it compared to this book, but there is no personal connection here, and drawing across such distance would waste an enormous amount of energy at a time when it¡¯s at a premium. Not to mention putting ourselves in grave danger for no clear benefit. It¡¯s simply not worth it, you ignorant fool.¡±

    Does it have to keep using the form that¡¯s so prone to insulting me? If the real Perimont knew his face and voice were being used to fuck with his killer like this, he¡¯d probably be laughing smugly right now

    Without being sure the book was real, it was hard to really know whether the spirit-fighting techniques within it were legitimate, and relying on bad information was an easy way to die. Luckily, Florette had someone else in mind she could talk to about it, even if they weren¡¯t fully reliable either. Still, more information was a good start.

    Before she could ask another question, Florette heard a knock against her cabin door. ¡°Almost there! Guerron¡¯s in sight now, if you want to come look.¡±

    Finally!

    ¡°We shall continue this at another time.¡± Perimont folded his arms, dissolving into smoke gradually until nothing visible remained. Which raised all kinds of other questions, since as far as Florette and the Great Binder¡¯s book said, spirits still had to exist somewhere. But that was a minor question, easily left for another time, after more important matters were attended to.

    For now, she crept out of her cabin and walked up to the deck, making her way towards the bow for a better look. In the ever-present darkness, moonlight was the only way to see anything, and the gibbous moon in the sky was casting less and less of it each night, light side on the left to show it waning.

    Florette braced herself to squint at distant shores, but she needn¡¯t have bothered.

    High above the water¡¯s edge, a giant circle of red fire filled the sky, deftly illuminating the shores beneath.

    ¡°Thank fuck for that, right?¡± the crewman said beside her, staring out at the horizon. ¡°We were thinking we¡¯d have to slow down even more, send out the dinghies to chart the safest path. Especially with the wind being so weird in all of this. And all the ice¡­ Cripes, that shit¡¯s only been getting worse the further we went.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡± That was worrisome. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been that long since this all started¡­¡± Alarmingly, though, he was right. By the light of the flame, it was easy to see large chunks of ice floating in the water, thankfully still looking distant enough from each other to navigate through, though not trivially.

    ¡°It would certainly be faster than last time,¡± the Fallen whispered with Perimont¡¯s voice, though by the time Florette turned to look, the smoke was already dissipating.

    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± the crewman asked. ¡°It sounded familiar, like one of my old mates from back in the day¡­¡± He breathed deep, staring out at the shores in front of them. ¡°Regrettable how all that turned out,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Just the wind, I think.¡± It was probably a bad idea to reveal the self-described spirit most foul to people they¡¯d intended to stay hidden from, especially on a boat with nowhere to run. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    Florette turned her eyes back to the shore, trying to make out the state of the harbor. She wasn¡¯t sure, but she thought she could just make out the tower where Eloise had¡­ the tower that marked the gate between the harbor and the city proper. South of that would be the wall, and¡­

    Florette blinked. ¡°Do you see that, to the south of the light?¡±

    The crewman followed her pointed finger, gasping when he saw it.

    Faint, for it was relatively distant from the light, but impossible to miss now that she¡¯d seen it, was a massive distortion in front of the wall, seemingly floating next to it in the water.

    No, wait, not a distortion. It was ice, transparent enough to show some of the wall behind it. Nor was it simply a chunk on the water¡¯s surface, or even a large block.

    That, just outside the gates of Guerron, was a massive, intricately carved ice castle.

 Fernan III: The Missing Piece

    Fernan crashed awkwardly into a stack of papers before he could even see it, scattering them across the floor.

    ¡°My fault!¡± Lady Annette called out from behind him. ¡°Sorry, I shouldn''t have put them in front of the doorway.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not exactly warm, either,¡± Fernan noted as he bent down to start picking them up. ¡°Clearly haven¡¯t been touched in a while.¡± It didn¡¯t help that everything grew dimmer and more uniform with each day, warmth leaching out of the ground and structures and dissipating into nothing.

    ¡°Let the servants get that.¡± She offered him her hand. ¡°I was trying to organize things for my successor at the Bureau of the Sea, but¡­ Well, other things keep coming up.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Fernan took her hand and lifted himself up. ¡°Didn¡¯t it block your way into this office, though?¡±

    ¡°I guess, but I use this office the least. I¡¯m mostly moved out, now that I¡¯m not the head of this Bureau anymore.¡± The massive towers of paper densely poking from the floor like stalagmites suggested that she was not, in fact, terribly close to moving her things out of the room.

    ¡°How many offices do you have?¡±

    Lady Annette rubbed her nose, turning her head away as she answered quietly, ¡°Oh, five or six¡­ Or seven.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse! How could you possibly need that many?¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°I just¡­ Why?¡±

    ¡°I have too much to deal with to keep in just one.¡± She grabbed a cup of tea from the large desk at the center, hurriedly gulping it down. ¡°Ugh, it¡¯s cold. Disgusting.¡± She tipped it all the way back and drained it entirely, then slammed it loudly against the desk. ¡°Hello? Another tea?¡± she called out, not making eye contact with anyone in particular.

    ¡°Are you sure you need more?¡± Fernan hadn¡¯t seen her without a cup once since darkness had fallen. ¡°When was the last time you slept?¡±

    She tilted her head, hand stroking her chin. ¡°Two days ago? Three? I think I dozed off when Guy was debriefing for a few minutes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alarming that you¡¯re not sure.¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°Ah yes, the exact certainty that comes from precise timekeeping, that thing that¡¯s been so easy ever since it¡¯s become impossible to tell one day from the next.¡± Fernan started to speak, but she held up a finger. ¡°Your concern is noted, but I have more important things to be doing right now. As do you.¡±

    ¡°I know, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, Fernan. Brighter minds than us have tried.¡± The Fox-King patted him on the shoulder as he walked into the crowded office, a spring in his step. ¡°How did it go with Magnifico? Anything useful?¡±

    ¡°Nothing too huge,¡± Fernan admitted. ¡°He confessed to killing Duke Fouchand, though, and admitted that the sun going out was part of his plan. He¡¯s got some special knowledge about how it works, but instead of explaining he just spouted a bunch of cynical philosophy.¡±

    Lucien Renart¡¯s jaw stretched into a hint of a smile. ¡°Well, that¡¯s it then. Now we kill him.¡±

    ¡°It does seem to be the sensible approach, at this point,¡± Lady Annette added. ¡°Certainly, he deserves it. And Avalon has bigger things to worry about than a royal bard right now, even if he is the King¡¯s spy.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s more than that. What about Jethro¡¯s warning?¡±

    The Duchess sighed. ¡°What about it? If he¡¯s not willing to be any more specific, then he can hardly complain that we don¡¯t take him at his word. Most likely, the consequences are meaningless to us but disastrous for him personally, or perhaps for Avalon.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes dimmed slightly, the flame shrinking back into his face. ¡°It doesn¡¯t bother you that he says something horrible will happen? He helped get you free just as much as I did.¡±

    ¡°Hardly! He dropped a cloak into his wardrobe to help prove his guilt. You stood up to Lumi¨¨re and the entire temple for weeks defending me, then nearly argued the bard into a corner even without the forgery of that evidence. You¡¯ve earned special consideration.¡±

    ¡°Well, thank you, but I think we need to talk about this more. Magnifico¡¯s clearly a powerful binder, and he knows what¡¯s going on right now better than anyone else. Isn¡¯t it a big risk to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Keeping him alive is a big risk. Aurelian learned that, to his undoing.¡± The Fox-King set a hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I know you¡¯ve been friendly with him in the past. And you didn¡¯t know Fouchand like we did. It¡¯s not the same for you. We shouldn¡¯t act like it is, right, Annette?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she asked, lifting her head up from a stack of papers. ¡°Yes, of course. You don¡¯t have to sacrifice him if you don¡¯t want to, Fernan. But we¡¯re going to need that power, and I can¡¯t think of a more deserving person for it to go to.¡±

    ¡°No one who¡¯s still around, anyway,¡± Renart added sadly.

    ¡°I just¡­.¡± It had been hard enough to accept the sacrifices of willing volunteers, offering themselves up that he might reach those farmers in time, and help save the harvest for everyone. Not one person had told him he shouldn¡¯t accept it, and almost everyone had told him he should. Nothing about the power surging within him felt tainted or wrong in any tangible sense, but that just made it all the worse. He had to be tactful here, though. ¡°It¡¯s not me, doing things like that.¡±

    Worse still, if Fernan were to sacrifice Magnifico, the lord¡¯s share of that power would end up going to G¨¦zarde,. Power that the spirit would desperately need, if it were going to present a credible candidate to succeed Soleil. That would be hard enough even then, and without it potentially impossible.

    But it was wrong.

    ¡°Do me a favor?¡± Lady Annette asked. ¡°Keep thinking about it. We want maximum efficiency here, no resources left untapped. Anything less might not be enough to get us through this.¡±

    ¡°Just like Laura said.¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just so cold and heartless. Like that noblesse oblige thing she mentioned, lording over everyone else because you know what¡¯s best.¡±

    The Fox-King flared red. ¡°That¡¯s not what it¡¯s about at all! The ¡®oblige¡¯ isn¡¯t just for show, you know. We have a duty to do what¡¯s best for our people. That¡¯s the reason they support us at all. I always loved being with my people, being of them. But we aren¡¯t the same. Bloodlines, aptitude, education, resources. Earned or inherited, they put us in a position where our actions and choices carry more weight. Even if it means going against our nature, or overcoming overwhelming odds. My father knew¡­ Camille knew¡­¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Fernan, they gave their lives to protect those beneath them, willingly, because it¡¯s our duty to do that. Can you really balk at doing something against your nature, when it¡¯s what¡¯s best for everyone?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI guess I just don¡¯t see why it¡¯s my decision to make for everyone else, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your duty. Surely you won¡¯t shirk that? I¡¯ve seen you stand up to far worse. This whole system depends on people like us, people like you, Fernan, making the right choices, doing the right thing. The moment a peer begins to see their role as a privilege rather than an obligation, they¡¯re unfit to own their lands and titles. Rotten apples, Fernan. The healthy are in precious short supply.¡±

    And yet you almost married Camille. Fernan didn¡¯t voice the objection; at this point, it wouldn¡¯t get him anywhere. ¡°I¡¯ll think it over,¡± he promised, though the sheer wrongness of it seemed unlikely to abate. ¡°In the meantime, I wanted to talk to you about search and rescue. There¡¯s already people missing in the mountains, and probably dozens at risk if we don¡¯t find them in time. It¡¯s already basically winter here; imagine things up there.¡±

    ¡°Dozens?¡± Lady Annette¡¯s voice dripped with scorn. ¡°Fernan, I¡¯m not a sage, so please correct me if I¡¯m wrong. But this search that you¡¯re proposing, it would involve more flying, yes? It would essentially have to, for you to have any chance of finding them up in the mountains. That means more energy, more of your time and attention, for extremely paltry rewards.¡±

    ¡°Rewards? This is peoples¡¯ lives I¡¯m talking about!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s peoples¡¯ lives you¡¯d be using to fly there. The same people who could instead be fueling food runs, messages, defense of the city. Those people didn¡¯t give their lives for you to throw them away searching for a half-dozen mountain hermits. They believed in you to do what was best for everyone. Be honest with yourself, here. It¡¯s not the best way for you to save the most people.¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Magic is so fucked-up. ¡°I could do it on my own time, what your big schedule set aside for resting. And¡­ Lady Camille said that a sage can draw on their own life, when they don¡¯t have any energy left from their spirit. So I could¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Lady Annette shook her head, exasperated. ¡°You¡¯re the only half-decent flame sage in the whole city at a time when that¡¯s more important than ever. You¡¯re one of the few people I can basically trust, after everything that happened. We need you.¡±

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°When did I ever become so important, anyway? I¡¯m just trying to¡­ to¡­¡±

    ¡°We all are.¡± Lucien Renart put an arm around his shoulder. ¡°But we don¡¯t have to do it alone.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely!¡± Annette agreed, stirring pixie powder into her new cup of tea. When had she gotten that? ¡°I¡¯ve got hundreds of people under me, working together to fix this. Lucien¡¯s right that I¡¯m the authority, but it doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t hear what they have to say. Sometimes good insights come from unexpected places.¡± She looked right at Fernan as she said it, but had the decency not to point him out directly in that condescending way these people so often fell into.

    Camille Leclaire, Fernan thought, would not have been so graceful about it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t just mean subjects, either,¡± Lucien Renart continued. ¡°I¡¯m sure you already know you can talk to your villagers. I mean, some of them are probably family and friends already anyway. But the two of us can help too. After what you did, we owe it to you.¡±

    ¡°And we want to,¡± Annette added. ¡°You saved us, and you helped Camille.¡±

    ¡°Even if it wasn¡¯t enough¡­¡± The Fox-King bit his lip. ¡°The three of us, we were a team, ever since the Foxtrap. Managing logistics, leading and inspiring our people¡­ And political maneuvering, dealing with the spirits.¡± His glow dimmed, almost blue in its stillness. ¡°We can all support each other now, Fernan. We have to, to get through this.¡±

    His implication was clear, and obviously well-intentioned, but it was troubling too. How could I possibly replace Camille? Why would I want to? Their approaches seemed to be nearly direct opposites, from the admittedly short time he¡¯d known her. All that lying and scheming¡­ It helped explain why they were pushing him so hard on this, though. Maybe King Renart doesn¡¯t even realize that¡¯s what he¡¯s insinuating.

    A loud crash sounded against the side of the wall. ¡°What was that?¡±

    Renart turned his head towards the sound. ¡°We¡¯re up against the seawall here, right? A big wave? The temperature being messed up could mean more storms.¡±

    ¡°I know what storms sound like here.¡± Lady Annette shook her head. ¡°That sounded more like glass.¡± As she finished speaking, another crash shook the walls.

    ¡°Or ice.¡± He¡¯d certainly heard the sounds of icicles crashing as they fell enough, that shattering crack. ¡°I¡¯m going up to look. You two should get out, head back away from the wall into the city.¡±

    Lady Annette nodded, running towards the stairwell with an armload of papers and a rapidly-spilling cup of tea in hand.

    Fernan thought he heard the Fox-King scoff as he leapt out the window, but it was over too fast to be sure. He pushed flame from his hands and feet, quickly rising above the Bureau of the Sea building until he reached the top of the wall.

    Oh, fuck me. Already, two gigantic spears of ice were embedded in the seaward side of the wall, with more sailing through the air towards them each moment. They seemed to be coming from nowhere, or simply rising up from the ocean itself. Only once they were close enough did their dark outline stand out at all against the black sky. Frigid black crystals spread out from them into the cracks of the stone like yawning holes in reality, expanding further across the face of the wall once they were embedded.

    The wall was one thing ¡ª that was just stone ¡ª but several of them seemed to be on-course to fly over it and hit the city behind.

    Fernan inhaled deep, then breathed out a stream of green flame towards them, trying to melt them out of the sky.

    He missed. He missed by an incredibly wide margin. An outside observer probably wouldn¡¯t have even guessed he was aiming at them.

    Most of the spears embedded themselves harmlessly in the ground, though their cold darkness started seeping out into the surrounding area, but two of them hit buildings, and one of those looked to have utterly destroyed a small house, black ice scattered and splintered amidst collapsed wood and plaster.

    I need to practice more, was his first, absurd thought, a half-second before the reality sunk in that doing so would be spending scarce energy and potentially human lives just to improve his aim.

    This time, he tried to follow the motion of the lances and aim where they would be, to somewhat better success. His breath clipped the side of a few of them, at least, turning the better part of their mass into steam and water that splashed harmlessly against the ground below.

    Except that water¡¯s probably near-boiling. Not so harmless if it hits someone.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s working.¡±

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Fernan whipped around, only to see Lucien Renart standing beside him atop the wall. ¡°You surprised me. How did you get here?¡±

    ¡°What, you think I don¡¯t know how to do a few pull-ups out the window and climb a wall?¡± He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he did. ¡°You¡¯ve got to stop them closer to the source. Could you just, like, lob a fire ball towards them or something?¡±

    ¡°Who is ¡®them¡¯? I can¡¯t even tell where they¡¯re coming from.¡±

    ¡°I know it¡¯s dark, and it¡¯s pretty far away, but you can¡¯t see the giant ice castle out on the water?¡± He pointed his arm uselessly towards the horizon, the line where dark waters met dark skies. ¡°See?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t. I think the temperature must be too similar. I can¡¯t be sure if there are people there, and I¡¯m not going to take the chance on a guess.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t tell if there are people¡­¡± Renart exhaled. ¡°Ok. Ok. That means we¡¯re dealing with Glaciel, of the Winter Court.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°Camille studied her when she was looking at potential allies. She seemed pretty promising at first because¡ª¡± He interrupted himself as he ducked out of the way of a narrow spear of ice, which sailed right through where his head had been a half-second ago. ¡°Anyway, with anyone else, there¡¯d be people whose warmth you could see.¡±

    ¡°Why is she attacking us?¡±

    Renart threw up his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know! She¡¯s an asshole. She probably wants to claim the area for the spirit convocation or something. Even back when the Fox-Queen was first assembling the Empire¡­¡± He lifted his head suddenly, his aura filling with red warmth. ¡°Take me over there.¡±

    ¡°What? I can¡¯t even see the place you¡¯re talking about, let alone¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll guide you. Come on, there¡¯s no time.¡± He firmly gripped each of Fernan¡¯s shoulders, ready to rest on his back as Fernan jumped from the wall and blasted flame beneath him, careful to avoid hitting his passenger.

    It was fortunate that he seemed to have the strength to hang on himself, because Fernan couldn¡¯t have carried him for long. Especially¡ª

    ¡°Drop!¡± Renart shouted, and Fernan obliged, feeling the woosh of another spear passing through the air above his head. ¡°Just keep going straight, and I¡¯ll tell you when to land.¡±

    Fortunately, the spears actually got easier to dodge as they made it closer. It seemd to have something to do with their intended range, but it also helped that Fernan could finally make out their source. The cold, dark void didn¡¯t do much to stand out from the cold, dark water and the cold, dark air, but it was more extreme than either, and that at least gave him an outline to work with.

    The Fox-King¡¯s callouts of incoming danger helped too, since even when it was possible to see them, it wasn¡¯t easy, and this sort of aerial maneuvering had never been necessary before.

    More alarmingly, once the frigid castle became possible to see, at least standing out a bit against the horizon, if not the water, it was impossible to miss that it was moving, sliding or floating across the water, and closer to Guerron with every moment.

    ¡°Now! Land!¡±

    Fernan dived downward towards the castle, then pulled up as it approached, blasting fire from his feet to slow his fall, and a bit from his hands to impede the forward momentum. Lucien Renart didn¡¯t wait for them to have solid ice underneath their feet, instead jumping from his back and rolling to a stop across the ice.

    The trail Fernan left behind of hot water and steam helped illuminate something, but at the cost of making the surrounding details even murkier, as if his eyes had adjusted to the cold and been shaken out of it.

    He blinked, or at least, felt the impulse to blink and acted on it. With his eyes as they were, he had no idea what was actually happening when he did that. It seemed to help, though, unless it was just the heat dissipating.

    The Fox-King was surrounded by dark figures with¡­ is that a humanoid shape? Were these ice servants, or something? It would explain why they hadn¡¯t been possible to see from far away, at any rate. They were slowly advancing towards him, cutting off any escape. Not that he could escape this place anyway.

    Fernan sped over to him, hovering slightly above the ice to avoid sliding, then touched down at his side. ¡°You said you had a plan?¡±

    Renart nodded. ¡°I¡¯m here to treat with Her Majesty, Queen Glaciel of Hiverre, Chancellor of the Winter Court! My name is Lucien Renart, of the blood of the Fox-Queen, Marie Renart.¡±

    The ice servants paused their advance, becoming slightly clearer as they did. Do they have an aura too? Did they get warmer?

    ¡°Camille would have known all her titles,¡± Renart muttered. ¡°Would have helped to butter her up.¡±

    A jagged, spiky face rose up from the ice beneath, expression unreliable to Fernan¡¯s eyes.The wind began to whistle through the unparseable ice surrounding them, chiming in an almost melodious voice. ¡°I would not have expected you here, Renart. You are a long way from Malin. Return to your place and leave me to my business, and in recognition of Marie I will leave you alone long enough to do it.¡±

    The face began to stretch, pulling higher out of the icy floor and narrower as it did. After a moment, a body stood there to match the face, with the same jagged, angular appearance. Her frozen darkness resembled her servants, but her body was taller, more slender. Elegant. And the points at the top of her head resembled a crown, though it was clearly part of her face. A vortex of frigid air and snow surrounded her as she rose, sending chills through Fernan¡¯s clothes. The whipping wind intensified as her voice returned, far harsher and more dissonant. ¡°I will not tell you twice.¡±

 Luce II: The Unfortunate Orator

    ¡°...and so we thank you for gathering here today. Please prepare yourself for an address from your new governor, the Prince of Crescents, Overseer of Ortus Tower, of the blood of the Great Binder, Prince Lucifer Charles Grimoire!¡±

    Luce took a deep breath, as fast as he could manage. Then he took four more, trying to steady himself.

    A sea of people stretched out before him, writhing and pulsing en masse as waves of movement rippled through them, amplifying even the slightest shift as it made its way down the line. The sound alone was almost deafening, a discordant, unintelligible buzz boring its way into his skull.

    The old opera house surely hadn¡¯t been designed to hold this many people? It was a safety violation, for one thing, probably a fire hazard. And in a closed space, they could run out of phlogiston to breathe. I mean, it¡¯s not an airtight building, so logically that shouldn¡¯t be an issue here, but it sure feels like I¡¯m not getting enough air. Who approved this?

    Simon and Leclaire stood at his side, each holding onto one of his arms. That was probably intended to comfort him, but it just felt like they were trapping him there on the stage, stopping any chance of him running away.

    ¡°Uh¡­ Maybe we should just call this off. Or someone else could give the¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Leclaire removed her arm. ¡°Stop complaining and do what you have to do.¡±

    ¡°Just show up, act like a basically competent, sane person, and tell them things are going to be alright,¡± Simon added, removing his own. ¡°Just think of it like a class presentation.¡±

    ¡°I always just did an extra credit assignment to get out of¡ªHey!¡±

    Leclaire pushed him forward, out of the curtain¡¯s comforting veil and into the center of the stage.

    As one, the amorphous mass of people turned to face him, and he felt a thousand eyes upon him.

    She is evil.

    Luce glanced back, but she had already ducked back behind the curtain and was now staring at him expectantly, her hands open, eyebrows so high they looked ready to depart her face.

    Why couldn¡¯t that pirate have just stabbed me?

    ¡°H-hi Malin. Hello!¡± He gripped the sides of the podium, trying to ground himself. ¡°W-we find ourselves in¡­¡± He could only croak the words out, flattened by the weight of his task. Still, they carried through the room, designed to project sound from this spot across the entire hall. I never really studied acoustics properly, did I? A shame, that. It was all technically physics, anyway. It wouldn¡¯t have been completely unrelated to his field. And¡ª

    And I have to focus, now.

    Digging his hands into the wood, he reached once more for the words he¡¯d wasted so much of his valuable time memorizing and practicing. ¡°We find ourselves in a crisis unlike any seen in the last century. One hundred and eighteen years ago today, Khali¡¯s rampage¡ª¡± Wait, fuck! ¡°Or rather, not one hundred and eighteen years exactly today, of course. That would be a ridiculous coincidence. Although, I guess we can¡¯t accurately say; dates from when darkness fell aren¡¯t really reliable since the sun and stars were blocked out and it went on for so long. That¡¯s why they had to start a whole new calendar with the ¡®AG¡¯ Age of Gleaming schema, in order to reset to a new start date that could be firmly verified¡­¡±

    Luce risked a glance back to the sides of the stage, where Simon was burying his face in his hands. Leclaire was badly failing to hold in laughter, but she at least had the decency to cover her mouth when she caught him looking.

    Alright Luce, you¡¯ve botched projects before. Nothing to do now but finish it out and hope it¡¯s at least passable, just like back in college.

    ¡°The point is that a disaster of this magnitude has passed from living memory.¡± Get back to the script. ¡°None of us can truly anticipate what will happen next, but thanks to the tireless efforts of everyone at the Governor¡¯s office and many Malinese¡ªMalinois, rather¡ªjust like you, we have managed to ascertain some important facts about the situation, which all of you have a right to know:

    ¡°Khali has not returned. All evidence points to her still being safely sealed in Nocturne. No great battle of good against evil will be needed to end this, nor the grievous costs that it would entail. Rather, the Sun Spirit, Soleil, has perished. By what means, we do not yet know for certain, but the lord¡¯s portion of the blame doubtless lies with Lord Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, High Priest of the Sun and former friend of Avalon.¡± Camille had added that part gleefully, and Luce hadn¡¯t seen much harm in it. This sort of thing was exactly what sages were allegedly supposed to prevent in return for their blood price, and even if the lord were entirely innocent of this, he was guilty of mass human sacrifice, including citizens of Avalon during the Foxtrap. ¡°Certainly, he has failed us for the last time.¡±

    Blank stares greeted that. Do they even know who Lumi¨¨re is?

    ¡°Whoever¡¯s hand it was that slew the sun, they will suffer for the crime, for they have betrayed not just Avalon but all of humanity. Not for ending the life of a monster, but for ignoring what it would entail for every human alive on Terramonde. I assure you, justice awaits them.¡± That statement was greeted by a smattering of applause, dying down again so quickly Luce almost thought he imagined it. ¡°But this too shall pass,¡± he added, using one of Father¡¯s old sayings. ¡°When the morning comes, all of this shall be naught but a bad memory. Even now, the process has begun to replace the sun, and once it is complete, light will shine in the sky once more.¡± Whenever that is.

    ¡°Until then, it falls to us to persevere. We need not defeat this apocalypse, simply outlast it.¡± He forced a smile, though it was hard to be sure how many of them could even see it. ¡°And what have the brave people of Malin done so well these last seventeen years, if not endure? You¡¯ve survived!¡± You¡¯ve survived war my grandfather brought, exploitation my father lent his power to, and the brutal whims of Perimont and his ilk.

    But he couldn¡¯t mention any of that.

    ¡°The task before us now is to wait and hope, to preserve what we have, that we might see the dawn once more. It will not be easy, and not a person in this city will make it through without making sacrifices¡ª¡± Wait, did Camille write that? It¡¯s an awful choice of words. Somehow it had never occurred to him until now. ¡°¡ªbut we will persevere.

    ¡°And to ease that burden, I have a few further announcements.¡± This time when he smiled, it was real, fueled by doing something he¡¯d wanted to do for his entire adult life. ¡°First, some of you no doubt already know that I¡¯ve repealed Governor Perimont¡¯s conscription mandate. Even now, Guardians are taking down the red flags of shame planted on uncooperative households. Effective immediately, I have also allowed any victims of this measure to sever their contracts and return home. Any who wish to serve the remainder will see an increase in pay, as compensation for their hardship. Everyone¡¯s help is needed right now, but it must be given willingly.¡±

    Finally, that got real applause from them, not the scattered excuse for it from before.

    It was a bit surprising, though. Repealing conscription had been one of the first things he¡¯d done after ousting Perimont, before all of this sun business. This should have been old news by now. Did they somehow not know about it? Had someone kept the news hidden, or minimized it?

    ¡°Second,¡± Luce said once the applause had died down. ¡°As the temperatures grow colder, firewood grows ever more important. I¡¯ve had the Forresters supervise the gathering of a stockpile, drawing on nearby woodlands, and it grows larger every day. I must also thank the woodcutters swinging the axes to gather it, and helping transport it back into the city. If you wish to add to their numbers, the Governor¡¯s office would be delighted to contract you for the work. Please see one of our recruiters on your way out.¡± No clapping there, but that wasn¡¯t the end of the world. The goal there was manpower, more so than approval.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°These supplies will be distributed to every household in this city. No one within my walls need freeze.¡± That brought it roaring back, far greater than any before, warmth and laughter and smiles. Gratitude. It was almost intoxicating. ¡°Finally, as a thank you for listening to my words, I have partnered with Clocha?ne Candles and Tender Flint¡¯s to provide every person in this room with a candle and tinderbox, to help keep your path bright in the days to come.¡± He took a bow, electricity tingling on his skin. ¡°Thank you all!¡±

    The cacophony returned as he took his leave from the stage, the loud conversations and thumping as the room began to empty out. It only got worse once he made it off the stage and saw people begin to swarm around him, a flurry of insincere congratulations and empty praise, all simply because his position made them feel like they had to. Some, by the sounds of it, were trying to get clarifications for their journals, but given how much he¡¯d managed to stumble over scripted words, talking to them would just be courting disaster.

    It reminded him of presenting his capstone project, lifting the coverings of the new windmills and watching in horror as the still day¡¯s weather failed to move them. They¡¯d barely even been visible, in the fog, and as far as anyone there was concerned, didn¡¯t even do anything.

    And they¡¯d applauded anyway. Uproarious, thunderous applause, filled with shouts of praise and feigned wonder. Harold had been the only one decent enough to show his true face, to sympathize at the failure of the demonstration instead of rejecting reality to substitute a more flattering one.

    Father hadn¡¯t been there then, but he¡¯d said something similar, years before, at another presentation of one of his projects.

    ¡°As my son, yours is a privileged existence, Luce. Moreso perhaps than any other boy around. It¡¯s easy to simply accept it, assume that they¡¯re telling the truth, but that¡¯s moronic. That little volcano of yours is cute enough, but it¡¯s no better than any other nine-year-old could manage. It¡¯s unremarkable, and beneath us. You didn¡¯t do anything to earn their praise, not yet. You have to rise to the occasion.¡±

    ¡°That was an atrocious start. Did you not practice or something?¡± Leclaire pulled him off to the side, away from the din.

    ¡°One thing to practice in private, another to¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. The rest was good enough to save it, I think. And at least you announced the policies. I was worried you¡¯d take Simon¡¯s advice about allowing the market to dictate prices.¡±

    Luce scoffed. ¡°What are we even here for, if not helping with stuff like this? Besides, we need everything we can get.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Leclaire bit her lip, staring past him into the darkness. ¡°You know, I was pretty nervous my first time in front of a crowd. I wasn¡¯t a stuttering mess like you were just now, but I felt that way on the inside. It does get easier.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a relief.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I was eight at the time.¡±

    Luce narrowed his eyes.

    ¡°Oh, come on! You¡¯re a prince, you should have been preparing for this just as early. I still can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t do it all the time back in Cambria. Weren¡¯t you the ¡®Overseer of the Tower¡¯?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed you remembered my list of titles enough to pick that out.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Operations there demanded secrecy. Operational security, and the like. There was never any need to address the whole building, let alone the public.¡±

    ¡°Well, you got an easy one to start with. Good news certainly goes down easier.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Your Highness!¡± The sound made Luce jump, turning back around to see the source of the noise. A sandy-haired girl, by the looks of it, her muscles bulging out of her Territorial Guardian¡¯s uniform, as if it didn¡¯t fit quite right.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, do you need something?¡±

    ¡°Ah, if I could just have a word with you¡­¡± She glanced towards Leclaire. ¡°In private?¡±

    Leclaire shrugged. ¡°I wanted to get in a word with Clocha?ne anyway. Go ahead.¡± She walked back towards the stage, leaving the two of them behind.

    A silent moment passed, until Luce folded his arms. ¡°Well? What?¡±

    The girl gulped. ¡°Your Highness, my name is Charlotte. I¡¯m a bronze-class officer in the Guardians.¡±

    Luce squinted, trying to remember their arcane ranking structure. ¡°That¡¯s like, bottom rung, right? You¡¯re a¡­ like a peon, or a grunt?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve served for two years, Your Highness! I was even dispatched to aid Sir Gerald Stewart in investigating the bombings that destroyed your father¡¯s ship.¡±

    Right, Sir Gerald¡­ Ugh. That was not going to be a fun meeting. ¡°I assume you¡¯re not here to read me your resume?¡±

    ¡°Uh, no, Your Highness. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s¡­ Recently, I was dispatched on a mission to find Lord Perimont¡¯s missing pigs.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°I¡¯m not intimately familiar with the Guardian¡¯s command structure, but I believe you have a superior to report these findings to, do you not? In case you didn¡¯t notice, Lord Perimont is dead. I don¡¯t think the fate of his pigs is weighing heavily on his mind.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not, Your Highness. But in the course of my investigation, I found bones washed up on the shore. Pig bones, Your Highness, and enough of them repeated that I¡¯d guess the entire drove drowned. And that got me to thinking about who would steal a bunch of pigs just drown them, and that pointed to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Camille Leclaire.¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°I was going to say Lady Carrine, the sage from Guerron you were just talking to. If she¡¯s stealing animals to sacrifice, then she hasn¡¯t renounced her ways. Not even temporarily while staying here. If she¡¯s willing to lie about that, who knows¡ª¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Luce clicked his tongue. ¡°You are way out of the loop, here. But that¡¯s not your fault, and it¡¯s an impressive deduction, getting that far from just a few bones. You said your name was Charlotte?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just report this to Captain Whitbey?¡±

    ¡°Well, uh, Your Highness, the Governor¡ªLord Perimont, I mean¡ªhe said that Captain Whitbey would be his choice to¡­ discipline me, for failing to catch the harbor bomber. If it weren¡¯t for Sir Gerald¡¯s intervention, I might have been executed already.  I didn¡¯t want to risk prodding at a sensitive subject.¡±

    Fucking Perimont and his fucking sadism. And now they¡¯d found the body in that train, which meant enduring his funeral too¡­ ¡°Look, Charlotte, I don¡¯t do things that way. But I completely understand. Thank you for coming to me with this. I appreciate the thought, even if it isn¡¯t new information.¡±

    ¡°You knew she stole those pigs and sacrificed them?¡±

    ¡°Well, I knew it was pigs, anyway. I don¡¯t love that she stole them, but it makes sense.¡±

    ¡°And¡ªWait, you¡¯re saying that she¡¯s Camille Leclaire, too? She, what, faked her death?¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t sound like it was on purpose. More like ¡®almost died and then didn¡¯t correct anyone¡¯, I guess. That¡¯s what it sounded like anyway.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Then why isn¡¯t she in a cell right now? You can¡¯t trust someone like that.¡±

    ¡°Of course not!¡± He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°She had a snake insignia sewn onto her dress. I don¡¯t trust her. But she¡¯s useful, and she¡¯s agreed to help.¡±

    ¡°Useful?¡±

    Luce gestured to the black sky. ¡°Energy is at a premium right now, and she has a way to get it that no one else in this city can duplicate. Anything more detailed would probably go over your head, so I¡¯ll leave it at that.¡±

    Charlotte inhaled deeply. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to bring this up, because it¡¯s not nearly as firm, but¡­¡± She held out a hand, a blue earring sitting in her palm. ¡°This was given to me by Leclaire¡¯s companion, found in Guerron. Apparently Lord Simon found a matching one on the beach here, right in the aftermath of the explosion. It suggests a connection, loosely, I know, but I can¡¯t ignore¡ª¡±

    What the fuck? ¡°That¡¯s my earring. My brother got it from Simon during his trip here, and gave it to me when he got home. And then the pirates¡­ Was the one who gave this to you tall and thin, with long black hair?¡±

    ¡°...Yes. How did you know?¡±

    He grabbed the jewelry from her and placed it in his pocket. ¡°Because she and her girlfriend stole it from me when I was kidnapped. And I got it from my brother, who got it from Simon. It seems like this thing just changed owners so many times it confused things.¡±

    ¡°...Oh.¡± She bowed her head for a moment, clearly crestfallen, before jerking it back up. ¡°Alright, true information is good information, even if it destroys your argument. That¡¯s the foundation of investigating.¡±

    ¡°And of science,¡± Luce noted approvingly. ¡°If there really is another earring out there somewhere, maybe it does point to the bomber. Who knows? It¡¯s something to keep an eye out for, at least.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of keeping an eye out, I still think you need more eyes on this sage. I could tail her for you, watch her every move to make sure she isn¡¯t plotting against you.¡±

    Luce scratched his chin. ¡°I appreciate the offer, but I need to verify your ability more first. This is an impressive start, but we did just meet two minutes ago.¡± I''ll probably talk to Simon and Whitbey, see if they know of her. ¡°I¡¯ll reach out again if I have anything for you. In the meantime I¡¯m counting on your discretion.¡±

    ¡°Of course. And Leclaire? Maybe the bombing was a stretch, but she¡¯s clearly up to something. You can¡¯t trust her.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I know.¡± Luce smiled. Leclaire might have been in her element with this politicking, but he¡¯d done some studying of his own. ¡°I have a plan.¡±

 Fernan IV: Adrift

    The spirit Glaciel stood unnaturally still, her sharp, icy face expressionless beneath her spiked crown. Or is it just that I can¡¯t make the details out? Things had been bad ever since darkness fell, but this was close to a worst-case scenario as far as visibility was concerned.

    Lucien Renart, the Fox-King, was the only sign of life on Glaciel¡¯s entire castle, glowing a fierce red even in the cold he was far from dressed for. He, at least, seemed to be able to see the situation for what it was, head turning between Glaciel and her servants as he bounced lightly on his feet. ¡°This city is mine, Glaciel, under my dominion as Fox-King. You helped my ancestor build her empire. Why would you disrespect it now?¡±

    That wasn¡¯t enough to get her to move, but it did cause a sound to pick up in the air, tinkling chimes of wind through the ice that somehow managed to evoke the sound of laughter.

    ¡°Lucien!¡± Fernan hissed, then cursed himself for forgetting to address the Fox-King appropriately. ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s willing to nego¡ª¡±

    He held up a finger before Fernan could continue, though.

    ¡°Marie has been dead for centuries, Fox-Boy, and her empire not long after. You may bear her blood, but so too do you descend from one or another of her idiot children who tore the realm apart. Her passion burned bright, but brief.¡± The air grew colder as she spoke, prompting Fernan to breathe out a slow trickle of fire. ¡°And yet I remain. My Court remains. Ice preserves.¡±

    ¡°And yet it¡¯s fragile, too,¡± Lucien replied, his voice steady even in the face of this. ¡°Cold preserves, but ice shatters. It melts.¡± He leapt forward and drew his sword, somehow plunging it into one of the ice servants in one fluid motion. ¡°Fernan, now!¡±

    One of the shadowy figures threw a javelin of ice towards him, but the Fox-King had already pulled his sword free and swerved aside before it could reach him.

    Now what? You never told me the plan. ¡°Prick,¡± Fernan muttered as he blasted green flame from his hands towards the ice spirit. Or at least, his best guess of where she was, based on where she¡¯d been standing before. Now that everyone was in motion, even their faint dark outlines were almost impossible to see properly. Other than Lucien, red aura effortlessly darting across the ice, Fernan could make out approximately nothing.

    ¡°Agh, fuck!¡± He felt a piercing pain in his thigh, cold immediately seeping in through the wound. Fuck this. Remembering the sphere of flame the geckos had used to trap Jerome, Fernan spun around, creating a circular vortex of fire to protect himself.

    Could we not have tried talking just a little longer?

    Somehow, the Fox-King remained alive and on his feet, though it was impossible to tell how effective his sword was against the nigh-invisible creatures. How is he even keeping his footing? It was like he¡¯d already trained to fight on ice. He turned his head to Fernan for a brief instant, nodded, then rolled out the way of what was presumably some kind of attack.

    What can I even do?

    Renart pulled a dagger from a sheath at his side, still warm from the heat of his body, then threw it forward.

    It stopped mid-air.

    Ah.

    Fernan immediately followed it up with a jet of flame, blasting himself up above his flame ring to avoid disrupting the protection. For a brief instant, it illuminated the silhouette of an ice creature, wafts of steam rising up above them.

    They were melting, sinking back into the floor below, as the hissing of the steam took on a tone of agony. Their sagging face lit up just enough for Fernan to see the pain and anger writ plain across a shockingly human visage, dripping and decaying.

    Immediately, Fernan redirected the flame up, allowing the creature to bury what was left of itself in the ice below.

    Below¡­

    Lucien threw another dagger, but this time Fernan only threw out a small ball of fire, no larger than his fist. It lit up the shoulder of another creature, melting parts of their arm and collar, but no more.

    He¡¯s not going for Glaciel herself.

    Fernan felt the ice crack beneath his feet, dark webs forming underneath it, and jumped into the air seconds before a spear of ice would have run him through. He pushed out more fire from his feet, rising into the air, but angled it away from the creatures as quickly as he could manage.

    In the air, he finally felt like he had a moment to breathe, to look down and assess.

    The Fox-King was out of daggers, already slowing slightly in his movements, and indiscriminate fire risked killing people, or even sinking the entire castle.

    That¡¯s a thought¡­

    Fernan threw five more smaller fireballs in different directions, keeping them level in the air to avoid hitting anyone.

    Three flew off uselessly into the horizon, but two found their mark in the ice castle¡¯s walls, illuminating intricate patterns of dark ice for an instant before extinguishing themselves.

    Fernan smiled as he threw more blasts towards the same area, gradually getting a better picture of the shape of it: four walls not unlike any other castle, surrounding a massive twisted spire far above them.

    A few went too high, glancing off the battlements enough to see that they were manned, which put them off-limits for anything more devastating. The walls, though¡­

    This time, Fernan went wider, a thin, curved sheet of fire about four feet across pressing against the icy side of the edifice. He melted four or five inches of the outer wall, by the looks, and sent another sheet to follow it up.

    Only the castle seemed to be repairing itself. A latticework of ice stretched across the holes he made almost as fast as he could make them. And there was only so much energy to spare¡­ People had given their lives for this, so that Fernan could help. And this was so far from that it was sickening.

    ¡°Fools, fools!¡± The tinkling sound of Glaciel¡¯s laughter filled the air once more. ¡°You cannot hope to exhaust my power. Each day more people succumb to the cold. Terramonde takes his share, to be sure, but the lord¡¯s portion remains with me.¡± Her face formed in the walls, crown poking out above the battlements. ¡°I am the best path remaining for humanity to survive, and it begins here, where Soleil once held power. If you would simply¡ª¡±

    Fernan felt the wall smack into him, knocking him forward into the air and sending a fresh spike of pain through his leg. He only barely managed to flail his way back into a standing position before he hit the frigid water.

    He rotated his position, scanning for Lucien¡¯s beacon of light amidst the dark chill, but he seemed to be gone. Even the vague hints of darkness against the sky to suggest the castle was there at all were gone, as were any traces of the flames he¡¯d left behind.

    Where¡ª

    Lucien was moving, far too fast for it to be under his own power. He didn¡¯t even look like he was fighting anymore, pressed flat against the ice. Was the entire castle in motion?

    Fernan flew closer, trying to take in as much detail as these pitiful eyes could manage, but he couldn¡¯t see any obvious cause. Glaciel would hardly have cut herself off in the middle of a sentence, but who else could move the ice castle like this, and so fast as well?

    He flicked his fingers outwards in its direction, sending out ten spurts of flame barely larger than a pin, just to see if it could illuminate anything. That was simply a speck of dirt on the mountain though, and casting a wider net with another ten more did little else to help. He was going to have to land soon too, to avoid those people¡¯s sacrifices going even more to waste.

    But first¡­

    Blasting himself forward, he flew lower and lower, closer to the water as he caught up. ¡°Get ready!¡± he shouted once he was close enough, and fortunately the Fox-King took his cue, jumping up into what, while quite wobbly, could generously be called a standing position.

    Fernan slowed as much as he dared, only to get a glacial lance whizzing by his ear for his trouble, but it was enough. His hand closed around Lucien¡¯s, and he heaved him off the ice and out towards open water.

    Another rain of spears seemed inevitable, and indeed Lucien had to maneuver him around several more as they adjusted to a more sustainable position, but the hail ceased abruptly when Glaciel¡¯s castle slammed into the side of the city wall.

    ¡°What now?¡± Fernan asked softly as he set the Fox-King down on the city battlements, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. ¡°We can¡¯t stop her without indiscriminate murder, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªAnd worse, probably not even then. Yes.¡± Renart sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much of that you caught, but I could barely keep myself alive down there. You helped me take a couple of the biggest brutes out of the running, but I was pretty much evading the entire time. Probably only brought down six or seven myself.¡±

    Only?

    ¡°Thanks for the save, anyway. How did you move the castle like that?¡±

    ¡°...I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Then who¡ª¡±

    A massive wave rose up from the water, then crashed against the side of the ice, pressing it further against the city¡¯s stone. And at its crest was a man, aura flickering around him, his hands pressed forward towards the wall.

    ¡°Emile,¡± Renart breathed. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Emile?¡±

    ¡°Camille¡¯s uncle. He went missing after¡­ after the duel. When Lumi¨¨re was in charge I thought he was hiding, or maybe in exile. I hoped, at least. But¡ª¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I believe a round of thanks is in order.¡± The man jumped from the top of the wave onto the wall next to them, landing with a flourish. His entire aura was so faint it was difficult to even see him up close, green streaked with red. Perhaps that was why Fernan hadn¡¯t spotted him earlier. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t count on it working again. That used up just about the last of my power from Levian, for the moment.¡±

    ¡°Emile, it¡¯s so good to see you again!¡± Lucien jumped forward and wrapped the man in a hug. ¡°After Fouchand and Camille I¡­ I was worried you wouldn¡¯t be coming back.¡±

    ¡°I always come back.¡± He put his arms behind his head. ¡°If you hear otherwise, you¡¯re sorely mistaken. It¡¯s kind of what I do.¡± He stroked his chin in a way that suggested he had a beard. ¡°Especially now. Soleil is dead, and the spirits will convene to choose a replacement. I couldn¡¯t stand idly by and let it happen without speaking up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to talk to Levian?¡±

    ¡°Of course! That brute wouldn¡¯t miss this any more than I would. The last time he came to one of these things, he was elevated from Torrent of the Deep to the Lord of the Lyrion Sea. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he made a play for more, here. Play kingmaker, perhaps, in exchange for concessions. It¡¯s a familiar strategy, and frankly, he needs it right now, what with the death of¡­ of poor¡­¡± He sniffled, burying his head in hands.

    ¡°Camille,¡± Lucien exhaled softly, then hugged the man tighter. ¡°She would want us to work through this.¡±

    ¡°She would,¡± Fernan agreed. And she wouldn¡¯t care who got hurt in the process.  ¡°I didn¡¯t know her long, but she was a woman with a mission, always.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the same way,¡± Emile Leclaire agreed, nodding his head. ¡°In the meantime we have a destructive brat to deal with.¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°Glaciel is always playing her own game, heedless of anyone else, but this takes it to a whole new level.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s trying to stop the selection of a new sun, isn¡¯t she? To maintain and grow her power?¡±

    ¡°Or delay it, at least. Every day like this brings her more power.¡±

    Fernan clenched his fists. ¡°Throwing away the lives of the entire world, just to swell her own ego. It¡¯s disgusting.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s childish, is what it is.¡± Leclaire sighed. ¡°Most spirits think of humans as little more than fuel, food. It¡¯s short-sighted, but at least it makes some amount of sense from their point of view. Easy to see how they would arrive at that conclusion. But Glaciel¡­ Ugh, what a fool, playing at being a human monarch, consorting with humans, even picking sides and fighting in human wars. This is just the latest bout of her self-serving mania.¡±

    The Fox-King nodded sadly. ¡°It served the Fox-Queen well, when she needed to bring the south into the fold, but now it could mean the death of all of us. I don¡¯t even understand why she¡¯s attacking us! We¡¯re not flame spirits.¡±

    ¡°To establish favorable ground, I would guess,¡± Leclaire said. ¡°Sweep the humans away, especially the flame sages such as yourself, young man, and the terrain is hers. It sets a precedent, and gives her ownership. Claim.¡±

    ¡°Metaphysically?¡± Renart asked. ¡°Spiritually?¡±

    ¡°In the sense that she¡¯s a spirit and would be doing it, but primarily in a very grounded, literal sense. With Guerron as her fortress, she could better defend it against any spirit she deems troublesome to her plans. If the likes of Flammare and Levian fail to show up at all, she¡¯s essentially already won.¡±

    ¡°Fuck that,¡± Lucien spat out. ¡°I don¡¯t care what it takes, stopping her just became our first priority. Fernan, how many lives do you think you would need to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hold on a moment there, Your Majesty.¡± Leclaire held up a single finger. ¡°Let me talk to her, first. I¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t work something out.¡±

    ¡°We tried that,¡± the Fox-King countered. ¡°The most she offered was letting me run away. And that was for a descendant of the Fox-Queen. You¡¯re just the sage of a rival spirit.¡±

    Leclaire shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure His Majesty meant no offense, Lord Leclaire, but that¡¯s how Glaciel will see you. Didn¡¯t you just say you were running out of energy? Fall back with us into the city. We can regroup and plan our next move.¡± Hopefully something other than whatever horrific massacre Lucien was just about to ask me to do.

    ¡°Go ahead.¡± He cracked his neck. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up.¡±

    ¡°Emile, I just got you back. Please, don¡¯t put yourself in danger like this. It¡¯s not what Camille would have wanted.¡±

    Leclaire snorted. ¡°I imagine Camille would have wanted you to live, most of all.¡± He jumped from the battlements, hitting the frigid water below with an audible splash.

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Lucien muttered. ¡°How could he just go off like that, leaping into danger with no say from the rest of us?¡± You mean like you did? At least Leclaire hadn¡¯t endangered anyone else in the process.

    ¡°We should make sure Annette is safe.¡± Fernan turned his head back to the city, examining where the damage from the icy bombardment was worst. Several more houses had been crushed, and vast numbers of them bit into stone and dirt, spreading their chill out from the point of impact.

    No one warm was pinned beneath them, but that didn¡¯t mean they hadn¡¯t hurt or killed anyone.

    ¡°I hate that you¡¯re right.¡± Renart vaulted over the city-facing edge of the battlements, hanging for an instant before his hands moved out of sight.

    ¡°There¡¯s a staircase¡ªeh, whatever.¡±

    The Fox-King beat him to the ground by a few minutes, since Fernan had no interest in flying, not when it would spend his energy frivolously. ¡°You should know, I saw you pulling your punches.¡±

    Fernan blinked, beginning to walk deeper into the city. ¡°I didn¡¯t punch anyone.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an expression, Fernan. You were holding back.¡± Renart matched his pace, breathing more heavily than he had been earlier in the day. ¡°Were you running out of energy?¡±

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s always in limited supply. I try to be careful to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Right, but you could have pushed harder, there. Incinerated those fuckers, melted them into slag. You almost got the first one, before he went to ground. I know it wasn¡¯t to conserve, because you went wild on the ice castle. So why? Why hold back?¡±

    Then why did you ask? ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t want to kill any of them. Is that a problem?¡±

    The Fox-King¡¯s aura, sustained bright since the minute Glaciel¡¯s attack began, finally dulled. ¡°They were trying to kill us.¡±

    ¡°Technically, you attacked them first.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Lucien rubbed his hands against his face. ¡°Are you serious? They attacked us first by throwing fucking missiles into our city.¡±

    ¡°But then they stopped when we were talking to them. It¡¯s, um, what was it called again? Parley? Parley. You broke the parley. We did, I guess. So I¡¯d be responsible for¡ª¡±

    ¡°Parley?¡± Renart pounded his fist against his forehead. ¡°This spirit wants to end all life on Terramonde as we know it. If she gets her way, both of us will be dead, along with everyone else in this city, even your precious villagers. The geckos. Everyone! And you¡¯re worried about¡ª I can¡¯t even believe I¡¯m hearing this. You¡¯re just going to let them, because, what, it would be poor form not to?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Fernan said firmly, trails of smoke curling up from his nose. ¡°That¡¯s why I fought back against them. That¡¯s why I saved you. That¡¯s why I got to work destroying the castle that Glaciel seemed so invested in protecting, and hopefully drew some of those spirit-touched away from you to get to work on me instead.¡± His eyes blazed bright as he stared the Fox-King down. ¡°So I ask again: Is that a problem?¡±

    Renart clenched his fists tightly, staring back at Fernan. A silent movement passed, and the Fox-King exhaled. ¡°No, it¡¯s not a problem. Thank you for helping. Seriously. If we hadn¡¯t gone over there and stalled them, half the city probably would have been ice before Emile made it here to help. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± More self-reflection than I might have expected.

    ¡°But stopping people like her is our duty, Fernan. It¡¯s the basic social contract of aristocracy: we are empowered and so we must protect. Sometimes that means ending a threat permanently.¡±

    ¡°Not them. Not like that.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± He held up his hands, then waved them away. ¡°You drew a line, and I get it. It¡¯s noble, really. But you can¡¯t let your honor come ahead of doing what¡¯s right. When the time comes, and you need to choose the greater good¡­ Well, I hope you can, that¡¯s all. Because that¡¯s the only reason we have any right to rule at all.¡±

    ¡°Well said.¡± Laura Bougitte emerged from one of the houses, burning away a patch of ice on the ground as she did. Duchess Annette walked a few feet behind her, head darting around nervously as she followed. ¡°Lucien, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re alright, Laura,¡± Fernan said. ¡°Both of you, I mean.¡±

    ¡°You are, aren¡¯t you? Even after we had that fight¡­¡± She laughed. ¡°One of the good ones, alright.¡±

    ¡°How bad is it?¡± Lucien asked. ¡°The path here didn¡¯t look too bad, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Four dead, that we know of. So far. A few dozen more injured.¡± Annette rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ¡°It could have been a lot worse. Although, you should know, there was another wreck in the harbor. Nothing to do with this, but I didn¡¯t find out until now.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse,¡± Lucien swore. ¡°We need to speed up construction on the lighthouse. It was supposed to be done before another of these.¡±

    ¡°Actually, I might have an idea there,¡± Laura said.

    ¡°Really?¡± Fernan tilted his head.

    ¡°Well, I thought about what you said, back at that peasant girl¡¯s house.¡± You did? ¡°And then I thought about you.¡±

    Lucien and Annette exchanged a look, but Fernan ignored them. ¡°You thought of a way to help?¡±

    Laura nodded. ¡°I talked to Flammare, and presented him with the idea of manifesting himself in the sky. At least for a while. It¡¯ll set a good precedent before he ascends to Arbiter of Light, and, well, it should help. I hope.¡±

    ¡°I hope so too.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a start, at least.¡± Renart exhaled long and hard. ¡°I really hope Emile¡¯s doing alright in there. I don¡¯t know that I have another fight in me without collapsing.¡±

    ¡°You were in a fight?¡± Laura asked, while at the same moment Annette asked, ¡°Emile?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fernan said. ¡°To both. We tried to negotiate with Glaciel, the spirit behind this.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t work.¡±

    Annette scoffed. ¡°What a surprise, that asshole. You know, Camille lectured me on the Winter War for a solid three hours and I swear, by the end, I was ready to throw Glaciel into the sun.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, exactly. But Emile saved us. He was the one who pushed them up against the wall, and now he¡¯s¡ª¡± Lucien was interrupted by an appearance of the man himself, walking quickly but elegantly towards them from the city walls.

    ¡°Good news,¡± he said casually once he¡¯d arrived. ¡°Glaciel has agreed to a ceasefire, at least until all of the spirits are assembled.¡±

    ¡°Wait, why?¡±

    ¡°I made her a compelling offer. You really should be grateful I arrived when I did, children, or there might not have been a Guerron left to host them all.¡± Leclaire patted Lucien on the shoulder. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have some urgent business to attend to. An old friend is arriving soon, and I need to make the appropriate preparations. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll all enjoy catching up soon.¡± Without another word, he walked away, heading north into the city.

    For a moment, they all stood there, dazed, watching Leclaire walk away.

    ¡°What the fuck just happened?¡± Lucien muttered.

    ¡°I need to get some sleep,¡± Annette said, shaking her head. ¡°This might be my last chance for a while.¡±

    Laura nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Flammare.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go help with search and rescue, make sure no one¡¯s trapped in the destroyed houses or anything.¡± Fernan spared another glance towards Camille¡¯s uncle, then set about his work. I suppose arrogance runs in the family.

    Glaciel was true to her word, whatever the nature of the promise she¡¯d given, and she and her spirit-touched stayed within her castle for the next two days.

    Actually helping people for that time was soothing, especially when he found a kid trapped under a caved-in roof that everyone else had missed. It was a break from conceited nobles whose self-righteousness was almost more annoying than their selfishness.

    Lumi¨¨re had been such a blatant prick that it had made Fernan forget, for a time, how much the rest of them had in common with him.

    Normal human contact like this, away from all the posturing and politics, it felt invaluable. It was the first time he''d had a conversation with his mother that had lasted more than an hour since arriving here, or learned the name of Chanteclair¡¯s new baby. It¡¯s not just for me, either. The time was long overdue to put in work here more directly, instead of just trying to head off disaster from afar. He¡¯d been away from his people too long, distracted by the trial, then the sun disaster, and now this. Finally, a moment, however brief, to recuperate and¡ª

    ¡°Hey, Fernan!¡± Florette jumped up out of nowhere and wrapped him in a hug. ¡°Did you miss me?¡±

 Eloise III: The Resilient

    ¡°Enfin, Is there no end of raging waves? Must we endure forevermore this tiresome lull?¡± The Captain winked at her, then swung his body around the mast of the Seaward Folly, somehow not filling his hand with splinters in the process. ¡°Oh, that I might hear the song of battle once again, or dupe once more a most deserving mark.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault you¡¯re bored, Captain Verrou.¡± Eloise rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s only been a few weeks since the Crescent Isle job. That wasn¡¯t enough excitement for you?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°For a time. Laying low is never the fun part.¡±

    ¡°Well, unless you like the feel of a noose around your neck, it¡¯s just as important.¡±

    Verrou opened his hands, conceding the point. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean I have to like it, though.¡±

    ¡°Have some fun, Captain. Relax. This is practically a vacation.¡±

    ¡°How do you not realize that those two things are diametrically opposed?¡± He scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not even shore leave until we get to Guerron. Nothing to do but wait.¡±

    Eloise leaned back against the door to the cabin, folding her arms. ¡°Fantasize about all the florins Duke Fouchand is going to give us for those airship plans; drink; play cards with the crew; I don¡¯t know! I¡¯ve been talking to Blaise about what kinds of repairs we can afford once the deal goes through. Even conservatively, replacing the cabins should be trivial, and there¡¯s been talk of upgrades besides.¡±

    He narrowed his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s your idea of fun? Tch, no wonder Jacques liked you.¡±

    Eloise stiffened at the mention of her erstwhile patron, trying to keep her face measured. She felt a thump from the wall behind her, but ignored it.

    ¡°You know, he used to try to fob me off the same way, when I wanted us to have a bit of fun. Always more inventory to do, more wheels to grease in local government. And you know what? When I managed to drag him out anyway to this or that tavern, he always ended up having a great time. Often he wasn¡¯t back at the shop until morning came. You could stand to learn from that.¡±

    ¡°You could stand to learn that there¡¯s no fun to be had if you get caught. I¡¯m honestly amazed you escaped the hangman for so long, especially before you had me.¡± She smirked. ¡°Besides, I do fine.¡±

    ¡°Not what I meant, but sure, that¡¯s another way to have some fun. What happened to that last girl of yours, anyway? Rosette?¡±

    ¡°Rosalyn,¡± Eloise corrected. ¡°She got really boring really fast. Turns out that self-serious, affected cynicism was fake and shallow rather than insightful. One thing to complain about the Harpies and monarchism, I get where her head¡¯s at, but it was just always the same thing, no variation. I doubt she would have come along even if I¡¯d offered, and I sure wasn¡¯t going to offer after that snooze-fest.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense. I figured it was mostly because she dressed all in black anyway.¡±

    Eloise shrugged, not contradicting him. It certainly hadn¡¯t hurt, and her personality had ended up being the issue anyway. ¡°It might be time for someone with a bit more sincerity; I don¡¯t know. At least those poor saps are willing to do things instead of just whining.¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll be in port soon. Easy problem to fix.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. No cure for a rupture like the hot new thing.¡± She smiled, feeling another thump from behind her, and kicked her leg back against the door in exchange, still leaning against it.

    ¡°I think someone¡¯s trying to get through the door, Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Are they?¡± she asked innocently as she could manage, which probably didn¡¯t amount to much. ¡°I didn¡¯t notice.¡±

    The Captain frowned. ¡°So are you going to move out of the way?¡±

    ¡°Who, me? Move out of the way? Oh, of the door! I see what you mean! Yes, I should probably stop leaning on it like this. People might not be able to get through otherwise. I understand now. Thank you for illuminating the problem; otherwise I might not have been able to notice. And I suppose now I actually should¡ª¡±

    ¡°Eloise.¡±

    She exhaled with a smile, stepping away from the door.

    Elizabeth emerged from below, a vicious glare on her face. ¡°Not funny, Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not for you. I enjoyed myself fine.¡±

    ¡°Bitch,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°I just wanted to see how close we are.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re very close, Elizabeth. You don¡¯t need to worry about our friendship.¡± Eloise patted her on the back smugly.

    ¡°To shore.¡±

    ¡°Well, does it really matter how close the ship is to Guerron if you¡¯re stuck belowdecks?¡±

    ¡°You were blocking¡ª¡±

    ¡°Ah-ah-ah! No excuses, Elizabeth. You have to own your actions, even if they¡¯re as nonsensical as camping out down there when there¡¯s a beautiful ocean breeze to lift your spirits.¡±

    The other pirate let out an inarticulate gurgle of rage, fists clenched tight. Perfect.

    The Captain frowned. ¡°You¡¯re watching the ship when we dock, Eloise. Can¡¯t leave it unattended.¡±

    That¡¯s such an overreaction! There was a rotation for a reason, and Eloise wasn¡¯t due for another three landings. Acting like it affected her would just give them satisfaction, though. ¡°Fine, I have inventory to catch up on anyway.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Premi¨¨r Renardeau, neat,¡± Eloise ordered, slumping down at the bar.

    ¡°Out of that, sorry.¡± The bartender actually did look sorry, which was unusual. Probably the owner or something; an employee wouldn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Any Lyrion single-malt at all?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°Might be a wagon in a few days, but it¡¯s hard to book shipments these days. I¡¯m lucky I even have enough beer and vodka to cover the basics. Ships are crashing left and right and harbor repairs from the bombing have slowed to a crawl, everything needs more lanterns and padding, and the rail line¡¯s down too, with that cave-in that killed Perimont.¡±

    Oops. ¡°Still, the rail line was for Avalon¡¯s uses. Military, mostly. I doubt they¡¯d be letting you use it to ship drinks down either way.¡±

    ¡°Maybe not, but it¡¯d free up roads and ships and wagons for the rest of us.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve still got whiskey.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, fine.¡± She took the glass once offered and drank deep, nearly finishing it in a single gulp. ¡°I¡¯m going to that table over there.¡± She pointed to a dark space in the corner, far from any listening ears. ¡°Be sure to send the next one there, and soon.¡±

    Eloise was halfway through her third when a severe woman sat down beside her, slapping a large folder down on the table in front of her. She looked to be in her thirties, or maybe a very well maintained forty, with blonde hair tied back tightly behind her. ¡°Rough day?¡±

    Eloise shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s nothing that can¡¯t be solved by moving on to the next thing.¡± She held out her hand, since she couldn¡¯t remember if they¡¯d properly met before. ¡°Eloise. Thank you for coming out to meet with me.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Clocha?ne says you¡¯re full of good ideas, and it¡¯s certainly an interesting proposal.¡± She grasped the hand firmly and shook it twice. ¡°Cynette Fields, as you¡¯re no doubt aware.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure, I¡¯m sure.¡± Eloise withdrew her hand, leaning back in her chair. ¡°What¡¯s with the folder? There aren¡¯t any documents on this yet. In fact, that would be a really bad idea, given that it¡¯s just in concept stages.¡±

    ¡°Nothing to do with us. Don¡¯t worry.¡± She flipped it open, turning it around so Eloise could see. ¡°I was just going over the transcript of Lady Annette¡¯s trial, over in Guerron. One of the Crown¡¯s spies managed to get a copy, and Mr. Clocha?ne had access.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Eloise shrugged. Not my problem, then.

    ¡°It still amazes me sometimes how backwards other legal systems are. There¡¯s no discovery, no verification of evidentiary robustness, seemingly not even the concept of recusing oneself due to personal bias. And it¡¯s all based on personal relations; they never cited a law or code even once. As hard as it is to get a solicitor¡¯s license in Avalon, you don¡¯t literally have to be born in the right caste to do it.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Eloise stifled a yawn; it wouldn¡¯t do to piss her off, not when she needed the help. ¡°Shall we get to the topic at hand?¡±

    ¡°Right, of course.¡± The solicitor shook her head briefly, then met Eloise¡¯s gaze. ¡°Mr. Clocha?ne gave me a rough overview of what you have in mind, but I think this will work better if you start by laying out your plan.¡±

    Eloise finished her drink. Then, because that wasn¡¯t enough to get started with this, she took a long sip from the next glass that the bartender had provided, letting the warmth emanate out from her throat through her body. It¡¯s no single-malt, that¡¯s for sure, but it¡¯ll do in a pinch.

    If this worked, it would mean real independence. Not taking sentimental handouts from Jacques, or sliding back into the lieutenant role she¡¯d barely had the strength to dodge last time. Not poring over accounts with an abacus and a pen for hours like she was still fifteen.

    It meant moving forward, and leaving all the rest behind.

    ¡°To begin with, this shouldn¡¯t be anything strictly illegal. I¡¯m hoping you can help keep us on the right side of that in the planning stages, to avoid any issues later.¡±

    Fields nodded, pulling a pipe out from her pocket. ¡°I hope you won¡¯t underestimate my utility in either case, though I do think it¡¯s a wise course. Certainly, as a solicitor more familiar with Mr. Clocha?ne¡¯s operations, I¡¯m well-versed in customs law. And, of course, it ultimately comes down to what they can prove, which is a considerably lower barrier of legality.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Eloise took a sip, smaller this time. ¡°What I¡¯m proposing, in essence, is nothing more than a market. Goods often have trouble finding appropriate buyers, and this would merely be a facilitation of that.¡±

    ¡°Contraband?¡± the solicitor asked, tipping a pouch of what smelled like tobacco into her pipe. ¡°Customs might be otherwise occupied for the moment, but that¡¯s not entirely the same as¡ª¡±

    ¡°None from us.¡± Eloise shook her head. ¡°What I¡¯m proposing is something closer to a large-scale fence operation. Clean goods, acquired less-than-cleanly. Maybe some contraband here and there, but not much, and strictly unaffiliated with the market. Jacques¡¯ got those sales figured out already, anyway. We host the space, facilitate the arrangement, and take our cut, but ultimately it¡¯s the buyers and sellers on the hook if they¡¯re caught with anything they shouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± She inhaled through her pipe, pink lips pursed around it. ¡°In theory, you could possibly avoid liability, in the event that thefts or contraband were to be discovered. At least, so long as the vendors and services staff were independent contractors, rather than official employees of the enterprise. They¡¯ll need to be reliable, though. Otherwise you risk ruination with a stool pigeon in your midst. And it will happen eventually.¡±

    Fuck. ¡°Which makes it easy for them to cheat me out of my cut. I see the issue. Either I need an extremely trustworthy yet still morally flexible agent to oversee the black books, or I put myself at risk by doing the same.¡± She sighed. ¡°Fucking rats have to ruin everything.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± She took another hit from her pipe. ¡°You might organize things more in the mold of Mr. Clocha?ne and associated sales. Keep it under cover of darkness, so to speak, changing locations frequently, going out into neighborhoods rather than coalescing business into a central hub.¡±

    ¡°No, that won¡¯t do.¡± Then I¡¯m just another one of Jacques¡¯ lieutenants. It¡¯s barely a new idea at all, at that point. ¡°I suppose I could oversee it myself. I¡¯d certainly feel more comfortable knowing what¡¯s going on, and it¡¯s well within my area of expertise.¡± Except you¡¯re in town with Margot now, idiot. What do you think happens to her if you get caught? ¡°Then again, if a reliable underling could be found, that would be greatly preferable.¡±

    Ms. Fields waved her hand away. ¡°That¡¯s just details. Of course, if you involved yourself directly, Mr. Clocha?ne would not want you working on the books for Clocha?ne Candles anymore. Compartmentalization, you know.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°In any case, you would have to make inroads with the Territorial government. You¡¯ll need permits to operate in public, and to be sure the operation is officially sanctioned. Otherwise it would all go up in smoke in a single raid; they¡¯d certainly deny you permission to set anything up again. Whoever your clean name is at the top would need to convincingly claim ignorance to even have a chance, and in practice, that means friends in high places.¡±

    Great, brown-nosing moronic aristos, just what I was hoping for. ¡°Jacques, of course, would not deign to draw on his contacts for such a thing. That would mean involving himself.¡±

    The solicitor nodded. ¡°Sending me to this meeting is the maximum extent to which he intends to do so.¡±

    No surprise there. Honestly, even getting a meeting with the solicitor was an unexpected coup. Maybe he¡¯s sentimental, now that I¡¯m back. Even as she thought it, though, the idea felt wrong. ¡°Alright so I need to decide how to insulate the leadership structure while maintaining control over it all, and find one of Luce¡¯s cronies to skip arm-in-arm with in case anything goes wrong. That about right?¡±

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Luce? You¡¯re on a first-name basis with Prince Grimoire?¡±

    Oh, fuck, right. Eloise shook her head calmly, giving nothing away. ¡°Nah, only met him once, after that awful speech of his at the opera house. When I shook his hand, he said ¡®call me Luce¡¯, that¡¯s all. Must not be one for formalities.¡±

    ¡°His nature could potentially prove to our advantage, then. If indeed that¡¯s the reason.¡± She tilted her head, as if insinuating that there might be another cause.

    Well, whatever, it¡¯s all a lie anyway.

    ¡°I think Mr. Clocha?ne could help arrange a meeting between the two of you. Why not start at the top?¡±

    Once this is done, it¡¯ll be like we¡¯ve never met, she remembered. A clean slate, in lieu of a ransom payment. He wouldn¡¯t go after her, perhaps, but there was a difference between that and¡ªNo, not Luce. ¡°He¡¯s certainly not a reliable contact. If we want to make inroads in the Territorial government, we¡¯ll need another avenue.¡±

    Fields nodded, inhaling deep through her pipe. After a moment, she exhaled a cloud of black smoke, courteously directing away from the table. ¡°Are you familiar with Lady Camille Leclaire?¡±

    ¡°Sure, we¡¯ve met. Rough-and-tumble lady, with a real sunny disposition. Very gracious, too, totally not the type to nearly drown me within a few minutes of us meeting.¡± Eloise shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. ¡°Isn¡¯t she a little busy being dead?¡±

    ¡°One might think so.¡± The solicitor smirked, pipe held between her lips. ¡°She¡¯s in Malin, actually. Prince Grimoire appointed her to the position of Spiritual Liaison, in order that she might lend her expertise in these trying times. And she owes me a favor. Will your prior engagements be an issue?¡±

    ¡°I barely remember it, and I had a lot going on that day to mark its significance. I doubt she¡¯ll care.¡±

    ¡°Good, then. I¡¯ll have my people set it up. You¡¯ll receive a communiqu¨¦ once the arrangements have been made.¡±

    Good, Eloise thought as she left the tavern. Getting legal help to ensure that the concept was viable was the most important step, frankly. If it were just going to be another store expansion or another territory to sell contraband for Jacques, the independence of the whole enterprise would be so limited as to be useless. Might as well just keep doing his books, at that point, and spare herself the effort.

    She had decided to stay, and that meant taking full advantage of it. Anything less wouldn¡¯t be fair to¡­ To myself.

    The next step was seeing Margot, since it had been a while. Not since picking her up from school, come to think of it. If only they¡¯d been able to keep classes going, this would have been so much simpler.

    Khali only knew what she was getting up to these days, with so much free time essentially unsupervised, but with any luck she¡¯d been chastened by their little conversation. Ultimately, that was temporary, though. It was already getting to be too cold to go out unless it was absolutely necessary, and it wouldn¡¯t be long before she¡¯d be stuck inside by the fire, with no way to make mischief.

    Of course, that would mean the crisis hasn¡¯t gotten any better. But there wasn¡¯t much use thinking about that. Either someone would solve it, in which case it was nothing but a perfect opportunity, or they¡¯d all die. Either way, it wouldn¡¯t have anything to do with her; it wasn¡¯t even possible to imagine a scenario, no matter how contrived, where she had any effect at all.

    So really, then, what was the harm in taking advantage of it however she could? It wasn¡¯t like anyone was really getting hurt.

    No, better to focus on the present, and act as if the world had a future. Otherwise it was all pointless anyway. In fact¡ª

    ¡°Fuck!¡± she yelled at the sound of a deafening bang. Her ears kept ringing afterward, throbbing with pain as a burning smell filled the air.

    Looking down, the thick padding of her winter jacket had been ripped through, a massive gash across her chest.

    Eloise ducked down, scanning the streets, but only caught the slightest glimpse of a black-robed figure sprinting away.

    Fucker tried to kill me. The sound couldn¡¯t mean anything but a pistol. Sometimes she felt like she could still hear the one Florette had fired on a quiet night, and this was no different.

    Eloise ripped her jacket off, trying to assess the damage, and felt the rapid breathing in her chest as she saw that her shirt didn¡¯t have a scratch on it.

    Three inches over, and I would be dead right now.

    She stood, still breathing heavily, and surveyed the streets once more. It¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t come close before¡­ Any battle was ultimately a risk, no matter how much it was slanted in their favor, and there¡¯d certainly been plenty of them aboard the Seaward Folly. She¡¯d come close in Refuge

    But this had ended before it even started. Not the slightest chance to defend myself, practically dumb luck¡­ An instant, and she could have been gone.

    But they missed, idiot! There was nothing stopping you from running after them.

    She clenched her fist as she took in the mistake, but as dumb as it had been to lie there stunned while the attacker fled, there was nothing for it now but to try to find them another way.

    A few of Whitbey¡¯s elite had pistols, presumably. But they could have just pulled her into a cell and ¡®stopped an escape attempt¡¯. No need to be so public about it.

    No, this had to be the work of someone on the other side of the law.

    Which means they used one of the ones we stole. Eloise pounded her fist against her head, trying to control her rage. Someone took one, and gave it to someone trying to kill me.

    There was a rat in her midst.

    And when I find out who tried to pull this, they¡¯re going to wish they could die so easily.

 Florette II: The Messenger

    ¡°Fuck!¡± The green fire in his eyes blazed brighter as he spun around, posture tense. ¡°Why would you surprise me like that?¡±

    He looks so different.

    Maybe it was the fact that Florette still remembered him with normal eyes when she thought about him, or maybe it was his longer hair or the scruffy beard now attached to his face, but that was all superficial.

    More than anything, it was the way his body seemed to sag with exhaustion. The glow from his face illuminated dark circles under his eyes with striking clarity. Fernan had always been a worrier, but it had never seemed to affect him like this before.

    ¡°Sorry, I thought it would be funny,¡± she admitted. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you¡¯d be so on-edge.¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t exactly have been difficult to guess, though,¡± Perimont¡ªwell, the Fallen, really¡ªwhispered quietly, reminding her that they were there.

    He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ve just had to deal with this horrid ice spirit attacking us, trying to stop the sun from coming back. That¡¯s in addition to everything else; it¡¯s a mess.¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she repeated.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you, though. I did miss you. Everything¡¯s been so¡­ complicated. Even if you¡¯re wrong half the time, it¡¯s hard not to envy it a bit, how easily the choices come to you.¡±

    ¡°I am not wrong half the time!¡± Still, she took the compliment for what it was.

    ¡°Indeed. Your success rate is arguably far worse than that,¡± Perimont added, nose high in the air. ¡°And the larger of your failures are more recent, so it isn¡¯t as if you¡¯re even improving.¡±

    Florette shot them a glare. ¡°You know, no one asked you.¡±

    With a tilt of his head, Fernan followed her gaze. ¡°Who are you talking to?¡±

    How do I even begin to explain this? ¡°Right, sorry. I should have introduced you already. This is the Fallen, a spirit who apparently sensed that I was finally free of Eloise talking shit about me every moment, and stepped in to fill the void. Fallen, this is Fernan. He¡¯s one of my oldest friends, and¡­ he¡¯s a good guy.¡± He managed to fix things here without shooting someone, or nearly getting a friend killed.

    ¡°Uhh¡­¡± Fernan scratched his chin. ¡°Alright, so, I do believe you. Um, I think, anyway. But, I guess what I really meant was, why were you talking to empty space? Is this Fallen exactly the same temperature as the air, somehow?¡±

    What?

    ¡°I show killers the lives they have felled, the sorrow they¡¯ve wrought upon the world.¡± Perimont folded his arms. ¡°This boy has killed no one. Manifesting at all would expend energy to no obvious benefit.¡±

    Oh, I guess that figures. Yet another way to rub it in.

    Frowning, Florette turned back to Fernan, trying to move past it. ¡°They say they can¡¯t appear to you without expending energy, and they don''t want to waste any without a good reason. Usually they take the form of the people you¡¯ve killed, but since you haven¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you telling me you killed someone, Florette?¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed bright, which made it hurt all the more. ¡°I never should have let you leave with those pirates. I guess I thought with you back, maybe you¡¯d come to your senses.¡±

    Ok, well, first of all, fuck you for that. ¡°You didn¡¯t let me go; you respected my choice. Don¡¯t regret that. Whatever happened after is on me.¡± She sighed. ¡°Besides, I would have been able to see him before. Remember when we were trying to get out of the aftermath of that duel, in the fire and smoke?¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Fire dimming in his eyes, he dipped his head. ¡°I forgot about that.¡±

    ¡°Me too. That¡¯s what Fallen here is for, making sure I can¡¯t.¡± She turned her head to address them directly. ¡°But now that we¡¯re in Guerron, they have important spiritual things to attend to, which will mean leaving me alone for a while. Possibly forever. Right?¡±

    Perimont chuckled. ¡°Perhaps you shouldn¡¯t be so quick to wish yourself rid of me. Without me, even worse will take my place.¡± He smiled, seemingly proud of the way his words worked for both Perimont and themself. Fitting enough, Florette supposed, given anything else would cost them more.

    But still, what an exhausting way to have to talk all the time. Maybe they could avoid the problem around other spirits or something, because otherwise even existing that way sounded awful.

    ¡°But yes,¡± they continued. ¡°I have an old acquaintance I would like to see before the proceedings begin, and she¡¯s already in this city, so far as I can tell. You¡¯re welcome to attend to your business while I find Lamante.¡±

    Probably another spirit. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Did they do something for you?¡± Fernan asked.

    ¡°Yes, they agreed to fuck off for a while. Genuinely quite courteous.¡± Florette kept them in her sight as she watched the form unravel, the spirit fading away. ¡°Sorry about all that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. Honestly, I was a little worried you¡¯d so something stupid and get yourself killed.¡±

    ¡°Your confidence in me is truly inspiring.¡± If only I could muster more offense at that. ¡°I¡¯m not planning to make a habit of it, you know. It was¡­ two people, since I left. One who absolutely deserved it, and one who really didn¡¯t. The second happened so fast, and I was sort of defending myself but¡­ not in a way that counts. It¡¯s on me.¡±

    ¡°Ok.¡± Fernan looked away, seemingly torn about what to say. For a moment, he just squirmed silently as Florette debated whether to cut in.

    ¡°You seem to have done well for yourself here, at least,¡± she decided to say. ¡°While I was away, I mean. The papers in Malin fucking hate you, which is always a good sign. They¡¯re mostly trash, but I think I got the gist. You gave that smug fuck Magnifico a black eye, and saved that girl from execution.¡±

    ¡°Girl?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the Duke¡¯s granddaughter.¡±

    ¡°Annette.¡± Fernan stifled a laugh. ¡°She¡¯s older than we are, Florette. Early twenties, I think.¡±

    ¡°Oh. The way the journals talked about her, she sounded¡­ Huh¡­ Why did you have to fight her battles for her, then?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the way the law works here. She needed a sage, and Lumi¨¨re ensured that no one else would help her.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like the law¡¯s the problem, then. I would have started there.¡±

    ¡°You would have burned the whole fucking place to the ground,¡± he muttered, and Florette did him the courtesy of pretending not hear. If it¡¯s rotten, that¡¯s the only thing for it.

    ¡°Either way, good job! I always thought I would be the one doing something that ended up in a journal, and you¡¯d be the one reading about it.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I would have expected the same. Although ¡®feared¡¯ might be the more fitting way to put it. That or you¡¯d get yourself killed.¡±

    ¡°Once again, thank you.¡±

    His face softened. ¡°But you¡¯re alright? Is there anything you need?¡±

    Well, since you asked. ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not totally sure how to ask this, but¡­ Do you have a good place to store something, somewhere no one else could find it?¡±

    ¡°Something?¡±

    ¡°A half-dozen crates, to be more specific. They¡¯re uh¡­ Well, maybe you don¡¯t want to know. I don¡¯t want to rope you into anything again. But if you can spare a hiding spot, I¡¯d appreciate it. I only rented the wagon for a day, so I need to get them somewhere and give it back by the next toll of the bells.¡± Basically the only way to keep track of time, these days. Even if the uniformity made it easy to lose track. ¡°Everything¡¯s so fucking expensive, now, and I have to ration my railyard money.¡± Jacques had offered plenty, but up-front payments for the train heist had mostly come out of that share, and completely wiped out anything left from the pulsebox theft.

    Fernan frowned, understandably. ¡°Please tell me they don¡¯t explode.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t explode,¡± she reassured him.

    ¡°And it¡¯s not something stolen?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Ugh, Florette. Really?¡±

    ¡°I took them from the old Governor in Malin! He was about to use them for war against Guerron. That much actually was a good cause, not a mistake, if it makes you feel better. It¡¯s the same kind of weapon Camille was shot with. It would have been devastating to deal with in Avalon¡¯s hands.¡±

    That only made the light in his eyes burn brighter. ¡°War?¡±

    Oh, right. Easy to lose track of who knew what, with everything going on. ¡°I wouldn''t worry about it now. I¡¯m sure all that¡¯s on hold while the sun is out.¡±

    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right. That¡¯s the last thing we need right now.¡± He scratched his chin again, possibly trying to validate the existence of that scraggly beard by touching it enough. ¡°If what you say is true, you could probably keep them in the castle. They have vaults that are better guarded than anything we could muster ourselves, and then we don¡¯t have to worry about anyone finding it.¡±

    Florette stared at him. ¡°That¡¯s not storing them, it¡¯s giving them away! I didn¡¯t steal them just to arm some other nobles, especially not for free.¡±

    ¡°Cut a deal, then. Make them an offer. It¡¯s what your pirates would do, right?¡±

    Yes. ¡°It¡¯s not about that. I need to be sure they end up in the right hands.¡±

    Fernan paused for a moment, then nodded. ¡°I know a place, a bit up in the mountains, but the wagon should still make it most of the way. Can the two of us lift a crate if we work together?¡±

    Thank fuck. ¡°Yeah, it shouldn¡¯t be an issue. Thank you, really.¡±

    ¡°Mhm. Let¡¯s just get this done.¡±

    ?

    At least the cold had made the sweaty work more bearable. Fernan had chosen a great spot, a hollow practically invisible from the outside, and certainly impossible to spot from any path a wagon could traverse. Unfortunately, that meant hours of heavy lifting, but Fernan luckily hadn¡¯t seemed to mind too much.

    It had given them a chance to catch up more, between grunts of exertion anyway, and being able to talk to someone about everything had been¡­ cathartic.

    He¡¯d judged her, that much was obvious. He¡¯d never been good at hiding his expressions, and since Mara had burned him, he¡¯d only gotten worse. But at least he¡¯d kept it to himself. His words had been kind, and that counted for a lot.

    It was kind of shocking, to realize how short the supply of that had been since she¡¯d left.

    ¡°Thank you, again,¡± Florette said as they made it back into town, less one rented wagon and six crates of guns. ¡°Drinks are on me, if you have time.¡±

    ¡°Maybe for one. I was supposed to be checking in on people when you showed up.¡± He was even more winded than she was, each heavy breath sending a ripple across his flaming eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve really let them down, to be honest. I got everyone here, I tried to get them used to the geckos, but mostly I¡¯ve been absent. WIth the trial, and then¡±¡ªhe waved his hand directionless¡ª¡±you know, everything. My mom¡¯s been running a lot of it, and that¡¯s not really fair to her. And everyone else¡­ I¡¯m just disappointed in myself.¡±

    ¡°Screw drinks, then. I¡¯ll help you with that.¡± She slapped him on the back. ¡°And I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t let them down. You were dealing with those stuffy aristos so they didn¡¯t have to, making sure everyone wasn¡¯t shaken down or executed or something. Just tell me what you need. Guarding supplies? Securing supplies?¡±

    He exhaled, though it was hard to tell whether it was out of amusement or weariness. ¡°You don¡¯t need to steal anything. Lady Annette¡¯s providing for us, as part of the deal for helping her, and I think a lot of people are working out other ways too. Or they were, before darkness fell. Now it¡¯s all pretty much centrally distributed, to make sure no one starves.¡±

    So Annette controls everyone¡¯s food, and directly at that. Powerful position to be in. And dangerous. ¡°Ok, I think I know how I can help, then. You need to get everyone independent of that supply. Or at least have alternatives. A single point of failure like that is dangerous, especially one resting on the good faith of some noble.¡±

    A silent scratch of the chin was his only response..

    ¡°Unless there¡¯s something specific you¡¯d rather have my help with?¡±

    ¡°No, I guess not.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Maybe once I check in with Mom, but that¡¯s not a bad idea. The issue is that it all ultimately comes from a single source. Nothing grows in the fields with solar power, and most of that is coming from a single corpse.¡±

    Right, Lord Prick¡¯s body is feeding thousands of peasants. The thought brought a smile to her face.

    Before she could respond, though, a man in his thirties approached them, half-circle glasses resting on his face. Rare to see that here, she realized, though they¡¯d been far more common in Malin. ¡°Excuse me, Sire Montaigne?¡±

    Sire Montaigne, right. Florette held a hand up to her face to hide her laughter at the thought.

    ¡°How can I help you¡­? I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m not sure we¡¯ve met.¡±

    ¡°I am called Michel, Sire. I¡¯m a solicitor your mother hired to help negotiate the contracts for¡­ Actually, that¡¯s not what¡¯s important right now.¡± He took a breath. ¡°One of Glaciel¡¯s spears took out the shed where we were keeping spare wheels and axles for the wagons. We haven¡¯t had any big breakdowns yet, but it¡¯s only a matter of time.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Fernan said.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t Annette supposed to help you with stuff like that?¡± Florette asked. It figures that she¡¯d be shortchanging them already.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but actually¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sire Montaigne, if I may, that aspect has already been worked out, but the guards turned me away at the castle. In their words, they didn¡¯t want to speak to ¡®some gawky minion, who could really be anyone¡¯. I was hoping you might accompany me, so they can see our affiliation?¡±

    ¡°Sure, of course¡­¡± Fernan frowned. ¡°They should have let you in already, though. That¡¯s disappointing.¡± If this is disappointing you, I can¡¯t even imagine how na?ve your expectations were.

    ¡°You need a way to show that people are working for you,¡± Florette noted. ¡°Like an insignia, or a pin. The way Camille has that serpent sewn into the breast of all her clothes. A burst of green flame, probably. Something so well-crafted it¡¯d be hard to fake.¡±

    Michel bowed. ¡°I would be honored to wear such a mark, Sire Montaigne. And it would spare you the time better spent on other things.¡±

    Fernan looked pretty uncomfortable at that thought, though. ¡°Maybe later. For now, I¡¯ll come along.¡± He turned his head towards Florette. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you remembered that about her. I think you two only spoke once, before she died.¡±

    ¡°Oh fuck, right! I almost forgot.¡± Florette reached into the bag at her side. ¡°Michel, could you give us some privacy, please?¡±

    The solicitor stepped back until he was out of earshot, waiting for them down the road towards the chateau.

    ¡°Camille wanted me to give this to you,¡± she said, handing him the letter written for him. She actually hadn¡¯t read it, although it had been tempting. Fernan would tell her, if it were anything important or sensitive.

    ¡°Like a bequeathment? How did you even¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, Fernan, she¡¯s alive. I actually spent a bunch of time with her in Malin.¡± She closed the flap of her bag. ¡°And wow, I do not envy you having to talk with her without having the upper hand. It was bad enough for me on more even footing. Sorry, again, for getting you caught up in that.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± He shook his head, bewildered. ¡°Thank you?¡±

    ¡°Of course. What am I, if not a courier for entitled aristocrats? But I repeat myself.¡±

    He snorted, patting the letter against his leg without opening it. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she didn¡¯t come back, if she¡¯s alive.¡±

    Florette shrugged, reaching into her bag for the others. ¡°I¡¯m hoping you can help get me an in to deliver the others. I mean, you saved Annette''s life, I¡¯m sure you could get a meeting, right? And maybe one with the Fox-King too?¡± Fucking please. This would be so much harder if she had sneak in to deliver it, or something. ¡°I have letters for the two of them, and she wanted me to make sure I gave them in person.¡±

    ¡°Not her uncle?¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°No. Why?¡±

    ¡°No reason, I guess. She probably thought he was dead, too. A lot of that going around, I guess.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying the old Leclaire guy is back, too? Fuck, I can¡¯t believe that being falsely presumed dead runs in their family. He¡¯s probably also an arrogant ass, then?¡±

    ¡°A little, yeah.¡± Fernan stifled a laugh as he brought the letter up to his face. ¡°He did save us though, when Glaciel was attacking. And Lady Camille¡­ Well¡­¡±

    ¡°I mean, she threw money in your face, right? What a prick move.¡±

    ¡°She did¡­¡±

    ¡°Anyway, there¡¯s apparently instructions in there. She wasn¡¯t very specific with me, but as long as it¡¯s nothing obviously evil, you¡¯re probably fine to follow them. She¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t know, still not great, but she wouldn¡¯t screw you over, I don¡¯t think.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± He unfolded the note, and began to read. He didn¡¯t make it five seconds before sighing. ¡°Force of habit. Could you read it to me, please?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right. Sorry.¡± Florette grabbed it, starting at the top.

    ¡°Florette, I told you not to read these letters, you nosy prick. Do you have no respect for other people¡¯s privacy at all? If you look away now, I shall be courteous enough to forgive you. If you continue, I will make you regret it.

    ¡°Fucker,¡± she muttered, continuing to read as Fernan cracked up.

    ¡°Day 14 of the seventh month. When the Hanged Man crests the horizon. Drink psyben tea or nightshade, something to start the visions.

    Thank you for everything you did for my friends.

    ~Lady Camille Leclaire¡±

    Florette handed the note back, not hiding the confusion on her face. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen her be that concise. By the Hanged Man, she means the constellation, right?¡±

    ¡°Presumably. What does she care if I have visions, anyway?¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°Most likely, there¡¯s something she thinks it¡¯s important for you to see.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s in three days, Florette.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Really reckless of her to pick that date. I could have been waylaid even a little bit and her plan wouldn¡¯t have worked. The ship was slow enough as it was. Honestly, I¡¯m surprised.¡±

    He buried his head in hands, somehow not burning himself with his eyes. ¡°Does it never end?¡±

    ¡°Chin up, Fernan. You¡¯ve got to eat some mushrooms on a certain day. You¡¯ll live.¡± Florette patted him on the back. ¡°I, on the other hand, have to go tell the Fox-King that his fianc¨¦e chose to stay in hostile territory instead of returning to him.¡±

    ¡°Switch?¡± His eyes lit up, a smile on his face.

    ¡°Oh, if only.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± He nodded firmly. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s nice to see you again, Florette. I¡¯m really glad to have you back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to be back.¡± She pulled him into a hug. ¡°I missed you.¡±

    After a moment, they broke apart, standing side by side, ready to face anything and everything. Entitled aristos, bloodthirsty spirits, and a sky condemned to ruin by both.

    It was good that they were ready, because they were going to need to be.

 Camille III: The Gardener

    It was too cold to even meet outside, these days. If it weren¡¯t for the relative insulation and blizzard protection of the tunnels under the city, getting around at all would have been near-impossible. As it was, Camille still had to meet Simon in the Governor¡¯s mansion, full of tapestries depicting the destruction of nature and the watchful eyes of her enemies.

    There was apparently potential in that history, some ancient feud between the Perimonts and the Prince¡¯s Arion family through his mother¡¯s side, but the fact that neither had brought it up meant that it probably wasn¡¯t of any particular importance to them. Shame, but it¡¯s not as if everything has to be an opportunity.

    The still air clung to her, thick and smoky and putrid in the way only a building full of people unable to bathe in the sea without freezing to death could be, but at least it was warm. The Prince¡¯s ridiculous contraption was due to be raised to the roof tomorrow, which would hopefully mean the end of the smoke in windier days; perhaps it would even provide a desperately needed chance to open the window for more than the minimum possible amount of time.

    Simon seemed fine, at least. Well-groomed, dry-eyed, he was even working at his desk when she entered. It felt rather akin to seeing a cat playing a harpsichord, but she supposed he did technically have official duties, and there were doubtless fewer parties to distract him these days.

    ¡°You look nice,¡± he noted, accurately.

    Camille gave a slight bow, bobbing her recently-cut hair. The blue was confined to the tips now, the last vestiges of her former presentation. It looked, she had to admit, far better than the messy half-and-half she¡¯d been stuck with before. Even if her natural blonde was starting to turn light-brown, which felt more than a little depressing.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t dye it again.¡±

    ¡°No need to attract that much attention,¡± she said, attracting his attention with a wink as she sat down next to him. More importantly, I haven¡¯t earned it back yet. She was still here, her home was still occupied and imperiled, and Levian¡¯s due looked like such a distant possibility now that she might not even have a year of life left.

    No, that only comes when I¡¯m myself once more. Even if she could use her name now, it was still playing a role, still hiding who she was. The change in color, the separation of the selves, it made that easier, and would probably help make her more palatable besides. For example, right now.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Luce didn¡¯t take your advice,¡± she said, using the Prince¡¯s nickname to imply greater familiarity. It would better suit her needs here. ¡°I know how important it is to keep things seeming normal. You can¡¯t have the ignorant masses panicking.¡±

    Simon narrowed his eyes. ¡°You argued directly against me. Fervently.¡±

    Because your plan was stupid.

    ¡°I did, because I believed it would be the right course. Action had to be taken.¡± The very idea of leaving distribution of firewood and essential services to business transactions and their motive of florins above all else was completely preposterous, and anyone proposing it was either moronically na?ve or cared not one bit for those who would die as a result. ¡°But from a pragmatic perspective, you had a point. Even if it eats into things long term, if there¡¯s riots before that, the long term won¡¯t matter. It¡¯s worth giving up a bit, to prevent something like that.¡±

    ¡°Well, thanks. I guess.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll win some, I¡¯ll win some. The important thing is that Luce makes the right choice. I think he benefits from having both of us for that. Don¡¯t you? It¡¯s a balance.¡±

    He shrugged. Not convincing enough, huh?

    ¡°Think of it this way: you¡¯re like an architect, right? You have a plan that you follow, economic principles, legal intricacies, and such. You draw up the blueprints and see them through to their end. You can¡¯t build anything without plans.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°I think Luce is the same way. Part of why he slipped into depending on you so easily, I bet. Even when you disagree, even when he isn¡¯t really listening to what you have to say, you have similar rhythms. Me? I¡¯m more of a gardener. I plant seeds for future advantage and watch them grow, always improvising the best solution in the best circumstances. I have plans, but they have to be adaptable by necessity, to the point that the end result might not even resemble exactly what I set out to do.¡±

    Annette had always been an excellent counterpoint, in that regard, grounding herself in papers and tasks that saw that everything functioned properly now, even having lost as much as they had.

    ¡°You need both to succeed. Otherwise you end up with something as messy as Fuite Gardens, or a house built on quicksand because that¡¯s where the plan said it should go.¡± She laid her hand on top of his, perhaps laying it on a bit too thick, but this was important, and Simon Perimont was not much one for subtlety. ¡°Luce has to value what you¡¯re doing for him, devoting all your time to helping him find solutions. Even he doesn¡¯t always appreciate the results. And you¡¯re staying silent about the truth of your father¡¯s death¡­ I can¡¯t even imagine what a burden that must be to shoulder, all to serve Luce¡¯s need for peace.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°I heard the funeral is coming up. I don¡¯t know if it would be appropriate for me to be there¡ª¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t.¡± Simon¡¯s voice was hard. ¡°Or Luce, or me, honestly. I don¡¯t even miss him, and then it hits me all at once and I¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°You and Luce helped depose him. Your friend pulled the trigger, even if she was really just your captor and abuser. It wouldn¡¯t be right.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. I¡¯m sorry for even asking.¡± Thank Levian. Who would want to go that? ¡°By any chance, did you manage to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He cut her off before she could finish the question, handing her a bag of powdered psyben root. There were other ways to get it, of course. Camille had made use of them several times, in order to get what she needed to practice. But people who gave gifts to someone often found that they started liking them more, even though the recipient had done nothing. Mother taught me that, she thought wistfully.

    Camille smiled, taking the bag and tucking it into a bag at her side. ¡°Thanks.¡± It also showed trust, the pretense of which was always valuable to maintain. It wasn¡¯t as if Simon would poison her, or as if she wouldn¡¯t be giving a sample away to some eager volunteer in one tavern or another, to at least test the purity. There was plenty of time.

    Truth be told, it might have been better to do this sooner, but with dark skies over dark seas, travel was delayed and shut down the world over. Who could know how long Florette would take? No, any sooner risked Fernan missing the date, and any later could delay her plans to the point of obsolescence.

    The fourteenth would arrive soon enough as it was, and then the next phase of things could begin.

    ?

    Camille drew on her power, freshly fueled by several trees from Perimont¡¯s garden which the Prince had set aside for her, and pushed the water back. Push and pull, amplify the tide rather than defy it. The whole point was to use as little as possible. She would maintain it until she¡¯d used an easy-to-measure amount of power, a concrete unit.

    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Grimoire swore, staring at the newly-cleared area; she¡¯d arranged it to look as if low tide had been extended twice as far back. ¡°Alright, go!¡± he shouted to the laborers and Guardians assembled before them on the beach. ¡°Grab anything alive, or that once was, but that¡¯s not worth as much. Highest score gets a monogrammed coat with their initials!¡±

    I note that you didn¡¯t offer that to me, without whom this entive venture would be impossible. ¡°I question whether this will really be worth it.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s why we¡¯re testing at a smaller scale first. Lower risk. But our harbor exploded. Over a dozen ships were damaged, and nine of them sank entirely. Even my father¡¯s ship, that enormous albatross. A lot¡¯s probably drifted away, but if we can hit the right spots of the treasure, it should be more than enough to come out ahead. Even here, it looks like we might just break even.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Right, the harbor explosion. ¡°Magnifico couldn¡¯t sail out of here because of that either, right? As I recall, that¡¯s why he took the land route through the pass. I didn¡¯t realize that King Harold was waylaid the same way, though.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico?¡± the Prince gasped, then rushed to compose himself moments later. ¡°Is that the name of a merchant ship or something? Simon would know better than I do about that kind of stuff.¡±

    That¡¯s actually a pretty good lie. A shame you delivered it so poorly. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not too important. Just a curiosity from a lifetime ago.¡± Did you send the man who gave Lumi¨¨re the weapon to shoot me, Prince Grimoire? Or stand idly by as your father did? It wouldn¡¯t change anything in the immediate term if he had, but nonetheless¡­

    Actually, he was the one caught in the lie this time. ¡°You definitely remember Magnifico though, your royal bard? We¡¯ve talked about him before.¡±

    ¡°Have we?¡±

    ¡°Yes. He was the one who gave Lumi¨¨re his pistol to murder me with. And of course, he very nearly did.¡±

    ¡°Right, of course. It¡¯s so easy to forget¡­¡± His expression hardened. ¡°It¡¯s none of your concern. Or mine. He¡¯s far away now, beyond help or helping.¡± I¡¯m not telling you, he was really saying, but that was fine for the moment. Magnifico¡¯s secrets could wait. ¡°Actually, how much do you know about pistols? This Lumi¨¨re fellow shot you with one, so presumably you¡¯d recognize the sound.¡±

    ¡°I still hear it some nights, as I lie awake. It¡¯s like thunder, a sudden crack through the air. You hear it before you feel the pain¡­¡±

    He frowned. ¡°That sounds like the reports I¡¯ve heard then. Someone fired one in the street. In public. I can count on one hand the number of people even authorized to carry one, and yet there it was out in the street for all to see.¡±

    ¡°Someone wasn¡¯t careful enough,¡± Camille suggested. ¡°They told the wrong person, maybe they had debts to be collected on, maybe they just lost it and felt too embarrassed to report it. If it¡¯s really that few people, your first step is to pull them all in. Keep them separate, make sure they can¡¯t synchronize their story. Offer the first one to talk¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡± He sighed, putting his hand to forehead. ¡°You know how Florette was robbing that train? Guess what they stole twelve crates of.¡±

    Those weapons, out on the street for anyone to take and use? Camille¡¯s concentration slipped, the edges of the water surging back into place.

    ¡°Oy!¡± one of the gatherers called out, but he was already dry by the time he¡¯d finished complaining.

    ¡°I¡¯ll track them down,¡± Camille announced. ¡°I¡¯ll need four of your guardians; we want to keep the operation small, and I know you have constraints on manpower. Something official would be better, but I know this has to be kept off the books. We can start with that obnoxious girlfriend of hers and work from there. If I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re overstepping. This is what the Forresters were made for, and they¡¯ve been champing at the bit for a task like this.¡±

    ¡°Forresters, really?¡± Camille didn¡¯t bother to keep the disgust out of her voice.

    ¡°It keeps them busy doing something actually helpful, and at least harmless. Would you rather I disband them? Leave a bunch of disgruntled sadists to run amok in my city preying on everyone else?¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I¡¯d rather you executed them. ¡°Still, you need someone you can trust to keep an eye on them. It¡¯s only reasonable to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust you.¡± He said it like he was completely baffled she might think otherwise. Fine, not everyone¡¯s a Simon Perimont.

    ¡°You can trust me to keep an eye on the Forresters, surely? My interests and theirs aren¡¯t exactly going to align. Even if you can¡¯t trust either of us completely, which I do understand, you¡­¡± She trailed off as the prince loudly groaned.

    ¡°Ugh, what is your angle? Just cut the bullshit for a second and tell me!¡±

    Camille laughed, careful to keep the water steady as she did. ¡°That¡¯s your solution? Just coming right out and asking?¡± She scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re so lucky you have nothing to worry about from me. It¡¯s like I said, I¡¯m here to help the people of this city. It¡¯s really that simple.¡± She bit down another bout of laughter. ¡°But I hope you can do better with the Forresters.¡±

    Prince Grimoire stared her down, unamused. But honestly, what was she supposed to say to something like that? He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. ¡°You¡¯ve been talking to the spirits, right? When are you going to see them next?¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°Uh, two days from now. Fenouille said he managed to find a few wood nymphs wandering far from home, so we might be able to get a message to their patron too.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be attending.¡±

    ¡°You? I thought you were too scared of their wrath. Something about¡­ ¡®fates worse than death¡¯, ¡®saying the wrong thing¡¯, all of that. That¡¯s why you¡¯ve got me.¡±

    ¡°If all goes well, it¡¯ll only need to be the one time.¡± He smiled. ¡°For you see, Camille, I¡¯ve thought of a way to be sure I can trust you. You¡¯re going to swear not to lie before the spirits, and then you¡¯re going to answer all my questions.¡± This prick is enjoying this far too much. ¡°After that, we¡¯ll see.¡±

    Another fucking problem in my way. And what a generous sense of timing Prince Grimoire had, forcing her to figure out how to lie about this using only the truth. Still, I can hardly blame him. ¡°I must admit, I¡¯m surprised. Every reason you had not to meet the spirits still stands.¡±

    Grimoire nodded slowly, eyes staring past her. ¡°It won¡¯t matter if you¡¯re going to stab me in the back. I survived Cya and her visions, I can get through this. I¡¯m already planning to be honest in my dealings with them anyway.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you¡¯ve talked to Cya? She gave you visions?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ When El¡­ When I was stuck in Refuge, after that shipwreck. She forced this mushroom down my throat, and I saw all these scenes from the past.¡±

    ¡°Scenes¡­ A pure window into events, rather than a metaphorical representation?¡±

    He tilted his head. ¡°Yes, it was very clear. Alarmingly so. Everything else was completely shut out, much as I¡¯d love to dismiss it as errant hallucinations.¡±

    ¡°No, that was definitely important. She wouldn¡¯t have shown you otherwise.¡± And it suggests that what I have in mind could be even easier. Scenes in her mind¡­ Yes, this could help. ¡°Thank you, Prince Grimoire. I understand your concerns, and will be happy to allay them.¡±

    ¡°In the meantime, I believe this exercise is at an end.¡± If she let the water rush back, it would correspond exactly to the three trees¡¯ worth, which made it a convenient time to stop. And a convenient way to get me out of this conversation.

    ¡°Oh, right.¡± He signaled to one of his guards, who blew a loud whistle. He checked a bracelet on his wrist, then wrote something down in his notebook. ¡°Not bad for three trees on timing, at least. We¡¯ll have to see how much we brought in, though.¡±

    Everyone stopped collecting detritus and ran back up the beach, stopping when they reached dry sand. ¡°Was there anything else you needed?¡± he asked Camille. ¡°Because we have a lot of sorting to get through with this, so you can probably come back in a few hours to make your sacrifices.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s all.¡± You can see the rest when that energy is mine.

    ?

    The Hanged Man¡¯s rope poked out of the water on the horizon, three stars above his head. Ancient peoples had dubbed it the Shepherd''s Crook, but they hadn¡¯t sacrificed a dozen traitors to the spirits of the stars in a single night, so the other name had stuck. Still a bit early, but that¡¯s better anyway. It meant there was time to make a show of it.

    Camille inhaled deep, swirling frigid water around her as she stepped past the dry sand of the beach, careful not to let a drop touch her. Higher and higher, the vortex swirled, until Camille could see naught but raging waves.

    Her left hand helped maintain her focus, an old trick Uncle had taught her, matching the movement with gestures. With her right, she pulled a flask from her side, filled with psyben tea, then tipped it back.

    Still warm. She smiled. Say what you will about Avalon, but they know how to insulate a flask. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to get her hands on more of the material, whatever it was.

    Moving the water meant heating it, technically, if half of what the prince had been nattering on about were true, but it wasn¡¯t nearly enough to alleviate the ambient cold. Fortunately, it didn¡¯t need to be.

    Lumi¨¨re had turned the ice beneath them to steam, the day of that fateful duel. Camille herself had been turning water to ice for over a decade, a trick picked up during the Fox Queen¡¯s wars of conquest. How different was it really, to bring it to a boil?

    As the waves surged, wisps of steam began to trail from the top, no doubt further confusing anyone still looking on. Good.

    Camille shrugged off her winter coat, a dull brown number that had been the best fit of Mary Perimont¡¯s spares. It was clearly meant to go down to the knees, but it looked relatively fine ending at Camille¡¯s hips. Relatively. She folded it in half, then set it gently on the sand. If only every tailor and seamstress in the city didn¡¯t have a backlog two miles high. But it was more important that new garments go to those lacking anyway, ultimately, and there were other ways to impress.

    She closed the top above her, creating a whirling dome of water, already rising to a pleasant warmth, better than any hurried bath in stolen moments. And it serves another purpose, too. As the air filled her nostrils, she felt the psyben take root within, the walls of water around her beginning to skip and stutter, vibrating in place even as they swirled.

    Shut it all out.

    Camille sat on the sand cross-legged, clasping her hands together in front of her as the water began to dance before her.

    The Prince would be confused, most likely, but she had made the importance of this clear, and if all went to plan, perhaps he¡¯d even be grateful, once he saw what it brought her. And if it doesn¡¯t hurt me to reveal it. That was all a matter for later, though. In the meantime, anyone who¡¯d missed her anticlimactic invasion of the governor¡¯s mansion would have a fresh chance to be afraid, and ideally, also impressed.

    She thought she saw Luce in the waves, for a moment, shaking hands with a skeleton, but when she blinked it was Magnifico who stood before, only decades younger, black hair only shoulder-length.

    Interesting. Picking up dirt on Avalon was hardly the primary purpose of this, but she had time, and it couldn¡¯t hurt.

    Camille focused harder, expanding the image to a massive colored tableau across the flowing walls. The skeleton rippled and shimmered, flesh crawling across it until it came to resemble none other than Robin Verrou. She popped her ears with a yawn, and the sound came rushing in.

    ¡°Father says I shouldn¡¯t worry about it, that my sister will handle it just fine.¡± Magnifico lacked any of his future self¡¯s easy demeanor, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. ¡°But how can I not worry? What if we run out of money?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Verrou shrugged, arms folded. Camille blinked, caught off-guard to see him in an officer¡¯s uniform for the Avalon navy. The same as those people Mother drowned. ¡°Didn¡¯t Elizabeth say that people are only ever nine meals away from blowing up the whole thing? If you can¡¯t pay your army, you don¡¯t have any army. You have an enemy.¡±

    ¡°I think she just heard that from Father.¡± Magnifico frowned. ¡°I wish he would include me more. I¡¯m an adult now, and I have no idea how I¡¯m supposed to grow into a job like that. He¡¯s always helping Elizabeth, but whenever I ask for advice¡­¡±

    ¡°You could hardly do worse than him.¡± Verrou patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Look, it¡¯s almost over already. Maybe he¡¯s right, and you¡¯re better off not worrying about it. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s anything you can do about it, Harry.¡±

    ¡°I guess so.¡± He hunched over, looking almost a different person entirely. ¡°When my boys ask me a question, I always help them find the answer. Always. And I love doing it! What kind of father would brush me off like that?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s always other things on his mind. He¡¯s not someone you want to take advice from anyway, trust me. You¡¯ll do better, I guarantee it.¡±

    Mildly interesting, but not all that illuminating. And there was only so much time to go. Need to get back on-task. Camille held Magnifico in place, swiping the rest of the world around him away in a puff of steam, trying to reconcile the image with bursts of green flame. When it settled once more, he sat atop a high mountain peak, a black metal crown sitting upon his head. A crown?

    ¡°Ending their tyranny justifies any means, no matter the cost. Soleil¡¯s replacement will be weaker, even easier to kill. Just as Levian is nothing compared to Pantera, Lunette pitiful next to Khali.¡± Bright yellow clouded the edge of the frame, a corona of sunset around the entire world.

    Was Magnifico the one that killed Soleil? Aside from the basic impossibility of anyone pulling that off, it fit remarkably well, and that impossibility was an issue with literally any candidate. Short of Terramonde swallowing the sun spirit whole, nothing and no one should have been able to end him.

    And yet, apparently, Magnifico had. Why was he wasting time playing games in Guerron if he has that kind of power?

    Fernan stood facing him, which was good, but even better was the sight of Aurelian Lumi¨¨re¡¯s smoldering body on the ground between them, writhing in agony as flames consumed him from the inside. That might be metaphorical, but I really hope not.

    A pettier woman might be mad that revenge had been denied to her, at least personally administered revenge, but Camille was more pragmatic than that. She could get plenty of satisfaction from simply seeing his demise, all the more so with it so drawn out and painful.

    ¡°Aubaine¡­¡± he croaked out, voice raspy.

    Camille blinked, biting her lip. That poor boy¡­

    Magnifico smiled, continuing his rant. ¡°One by one they¡¯ll die, each weaker than the last. It¡¯s inevitable, entropy. With the right nudge from me here and there, their power and numbers will keep decreasing over time. Until eventually¡­ Extermination.¡±

    Extermination¡­

    Camille¡¯s concentration broke, the image dissolving into a chaotic swirl of water.

    Is this mad man really planning to wipe out every spirit? Life was barely hanging on with one gone, built off the desperate hope of his successor arriving soon. How could he even¡ª¡± Later. You¡¯re on a time limit, here.

    Pushing her hands apart, Camille opened a hole in her steamy bunker, a gust of chilling air instantly flowing through the gap and into her bones.

    Three stars for the noose. Two for the head. Four for the corpse.

    It was time.

    Camille closed the gap again, feeling the steam loosen her as the walls began to swirl once more.

    Fernan, she thought intently, trying to conjure the cliffside image from before.

    A green gecko scuttled up onto the walls, breathing a jet of fire around the circle until it ignited a hearth, itself filling with green flame.

    Fernan, she thought again, pulling her mind into the mountains of Guerron.

    In the gloom, two blades advanced and retreated, each fighting for space, for control. Their wielders each had their hair tied back, one red and one black. The push and pull slowed as red disarmed black, sending the other sword tumbling to the ground.

    Fernan. She saw the water on the walls, and she felt the water within herself, the psyben trickling through her. She breathed in steam and warmth and comfort, and let it all out.

    Usually, trying to get any meaning out of these, steering them yourself, felt akin to fumbling in the dark: not entirely hopeless, but dangerous to bet success upon. This time, though, it felt like someone was reaching back.

    Fernan was meditating on top of the Sun Temple, swishing his hand as apparitions and images danced in flames before him, each refracting through the glass roof beneath him, and diffusing colorful patterns into the temple below.

    Camille pulled water from the walls into the sanctum, compacting it into a ball. She pulled Fernan¡¯s image from the wall into the sculpture, filled it out to match, until a watery echo of Fernan sat on the ground in front of her.

    She willed herself into the green fire still remaining on the walls, holding it steady as she expanded and solidified.

    Until Fernan sat before her, and she sat before Fernan.

    Visions could let you see many things, in the far past or impossible distances.Only the future was truly beyond their grasp, and anything blotted out by light. When two sages find each other at the same time¡­

    ¡°Hello, Fernan.¡± Camille smiled, clasping her hands together as the ethereal Camille on the wall did the same, its movements a half-second behind her own.

    The light in his eyes flared up as he stumbled back, flame-Camille flickering but managing to hold herself steady. ¡°Is that really you? Florette said you were alive, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I see your powers of observation are as keen as ever.¡± Camille breathed deep of the steam, letting warmth flow through her anew. ¡°I thought it best we had a chat, you and I.¡±

 Florette III: The Nameless

    ¡°...So they feed the coal into the box, and then it pushes the train?¡± Mara looked like she¡¯d gotten even bigger, though that might have been the cloud of vapor emanating from her warm body.

    Florette¡¯s breath matched it as she spoke, standing out against the cold night air. ¡°It¡¯s called an engine, and it¡¯s like the least important part of what I¡¯m talking about. I told you, it¡¯s a heist! We had to trap the rear of the train on the other side of a mountain from the rest of it using these explosives, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°But how does it move? What does it eat?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter!¡± Florette turned, better taking in the gecko¡¯s curious eyes. She sighed. ¡°Alright, fine. I¡¯m not an expert, but I did my best to decipher those plans I stole from the railyard before selling them to Jacques. Basically, the coal heats up water, turns it to steam, and then the steam turns a big wheel. That wheel¡¯s connected to a ton of other stuff that makes the train go, including its own wheels along the tracks. They all move together, fueled by the coal.¡±

    ¡°That is so cool! They¡¯re like mechanical geckos!¡±

    ¡°Mecha-geckos,¡± Florette supplied.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfect!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it rolls off the tongue as well as ¡®train¡¯, but at least this way there¡¯d be no confusing it with supply logistics or long dresses. You should send Luce a letter about it; I¡¯ll dictate for you.¡±

    Her head tilted to the side. ¡°Really? Can we do it right after you deliver that letter?¡±

    ¡°Uh, maybe once all of this shit has settled down a bit. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s at the top of his priority list right now.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡±

    ¡°We can still write it out right away, if you want. I¡¯ve got a bit of time.¡± It felt strange, smiling at a creature who¡¯d burned Fernan¡¯s face and probably eaten people she knew personally, but after everything they¡¯d done for the villagers and Fernan, it felt a bit easier to look past it. Or rather, take the bad and the good together. It wasn¡¯t as if one erased the other.

    ¡°Duck down!¡± Mara hissed quietly. ¡°You¡¯re so tall, it¡¯ll see you!¡±

    ¡°What will?¡± Florette whispered, dropping to a crouch behind the corner of a villa¡¯s wall.

    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the castle, alright? Let them know that you¡¯re coming.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait a few minutes, then go ahead. They won¡¯t hurt you.¡±

    ¡°But who¡ª¡± Florette couldn¡¯t even get the question off before Mara had skittered off into the distance. And I can¡¯t even look myself without being exposed.

    The Spirit Quartier was nearly vacant, most of its occupants probably moved into the castle or the greater city for better warmth together. There weren¡¯t many people it could.

    After what was probably close enough to ¡®a few minutes¡¯, Florette poked her head up, and instantly everything became a lot clearer.

    One of Glaciel¡¯s monsters, the ice creatures Fernan had fought with the Fox-King.

    They sure look weird, don¡¯t they?

    Florette approached the icy figure warily, debating whether or not it was worth it to take another path through town entirely.

    It was taller than most men, but shaped in a noticeably feminine way, its proportions longer and thinner. Flakes of snow dusted its hair, though it was hard to be sure whether that was a result of the weather or its nature, and its face lacked all trace of warmth. Strangely, it wasn¡¯t all-white, the way she might have expected an ice monster to appear. More clear, transparent, with a hint of blood red running beneath it, more visible in three rings around its wrist. Did ice replace their skin?

    At its feet were two halves of a fire gecko, separated by several feet and a blade of ice embedded in its flesh. It was smaller than Mara, closer in size to a goat, and no fire remained in its eyes.

    Even after everything they¡¯d done, it was hard not to wince at seeing that.

    ¡°Move along, girl.¡± The voice had that same ethereal quality that the geckos¡¯ did, like it wasn¡¯t quite meant to come out of that mouth. ¡°Her Majesty¡¯s agreement protects you humans.¡±

    ¡°I believe it protects everyone in the city,¡± Florette said, having no idea whether or not it was true. ¡°It definitely wasn¡¯t meant to allow this.¡±

    The spirit-touched creature shrugged in a surprisingly human way. ¡°Humans might be bound by intentions, but Her Majesty is bound only by truth. She agreed to cease hostilities with the people of this city until the spirits have assembled, but made no such vow against spirits and their spirit-touched followers.¡±

    Florette resisted the urge to swear aloud. Well, shit.  She met the creature¡¯s eyes with her own.

    ¡°I won¡¯t say it again. Move along.¡±

    ¡°What did the gecko do?¡± Florette found herself asking despite herself. ¡°Did they provoke you?¡±

    ¡°Their very existence is provocation. Servants of flame, they prop up flame spirits with their power and offerings, and in so doing, give succor to monsters like Soleil and Flammare.¡±

    Fernan had mentioned Flammare, another flame spirit whom that Laura girl served. He was the one hovering in the sky right now, acting as a beacon to guide travelers to safety. ¡°I know Soleil was a monster. I believe it was one of us pathetic humans that killed him, actually. Did you and your queen a huge favor.¡±

    Amazingly, the creature smiled at that; nothing smug or menacing, simply an expression of joy. ¡°Even as a third-ring descendant, I did not expect to live to see that day. Yes, humans have our own importance, our chances to prove our usefulness, but it pales before the overwhelming power and wisdom of Queen Glaciel. We can only inherit but a sliver, after all.¡±

    ¡®Our¡¯ importance? ¡®Inherit¡¯? Florette felt her stomach drop as she contemplated the origins of Glaciel¡¯s followers. ¡°You were human, once.¡±

    ¡°I am human now, girl. Much as your spirit-touched gecko friend remains a gecko. My great grandfather was blessed to be a consort of Glaciel herself, and so a share of her greatness runs through me, her power, her longevity.¡±

    Pushing past her disgust, Florette drew her sword with her left hand, trying to make it look as smooth a motion as she could.

    ¡°Careful, girl. We wouldn¡¯t want to break the peace now, would we?¡±

    ¡°My name isn¡¯t ¡®girl¡¯, it¡¯s Florette. And I¡¯m not going to be breaking anything.¡± She patted her coat, hoping the thickness for winter would help at least a little. ¡°You and me, right now. No ties to anything greater, no revenge, no breaking the peace. Just the two of us.¡±

    The monster¡ªthe woman, really¡ªbegan to laugh, all the more discordant for how warm and natural it felt. ¡°A duel, then.¡±

    ¡°A duel,¡± Florette agreed, remembering back to hundreds of books she¡¯d read. Somehow, they¡¯d never seemed to have any regular people issue the duel, always an aristocrat on their behalf. ¡°For your crimes against this innocent, I, Florette, challenge you to a duel for justice, dark skies above to bear witness.¡± She omitted the last name she lacked, but everything else was phrased perfectly.

    ¡°I accept your challenge, Florette of no surname.¡± That made her laugh harder, irritatingly, as if a fucking spirit monster had any reason to care about that. ¡°A nameless child, daring to challenge a scion of Her Majesty, ha! As you failed to learn sense before committing yourself to your death, I shall illuminate you.¡± She smiled again, but this time her teeth were pointed, her fingers growing longer and sharp. ¡°My terms are a duel to the death, all power allowed, with none else involved. When you meet Terramonde, tell him you were sent by Candice Valois, of the Third Ring.¡±

    Florette took a deep breath, holding her sword as level as she could.

    ¡°Begin!¡± The spirit-touched lunged towards her, closing almost a third of the distance between them in a single jump.

    Florette dropped her sword, jumping back.

    Valois stopped, laughing to herself. ¡°It¡¯s too late now, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Florette pulled her pistol out with her right hand, held her breath, and set it off.

    The noise was easier to bear this time, now that she was expecting it. Better still was the fact that the icy murderer had been blasted onto her back, a fist-sized hole in her chest. ¡°You¡­¡± she choked out weakly.

    ¡°Yeah, I thought so.¡± Florette tucked the pistol back into its holder, breathing heavily. ¡°Offer your surrender, and I¡¯ll accept it.¡± Even in a duel to the death, that was allowed, right? The alternative seemed idiotic.

    Red dripping, steam hissing, Valois lifted her head in what looked like quiet acquiescence.

    That was still too close. I didn¡¯t realize she¡¯d move so fast. She must have been drawing on spiritual power, or perhaps¡ª

    ¡°Agh!¡± Florette felt chilling knives rake across her back as she dove forward. She turned back to see Valois on her feet, fingers dripping with blood.

    ¡°I said it was to the death. Did you forget the terms already?¡± She walked casually closer, a spring in her step. ¡°That little artifice of yours is a fancy trick. It was nearly enough.¡± She held a hand over the hole in her chest, now emitting a trickle of red as steam hissed into the air. ¡°But ice endures. It wears you down. Until eventually, inevitably, you succumb.¡±

    The pain didn¡¯t properly hit until Florette tried to stand, feeling a lattice of cuts ooze and tear all across her back.

    ¡°If you insist, I suppose I can kill you,¡± she bluffed, brandishing the empty pistol still gripped in white-knuckled hands. They¡¯re people, right? They¡¯ll want to live. ¡°By your own admission, one was almost enough.¡±

    Valois slowed, tensing into a crouch.

    Florette forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural enough. ¡°Trying to dodge? This thing has six shots, and I¡¯ve only used one. You can¡¯t run forever.¡±

    Blue eyes narrow, Valois limped forward. Scowling mightily, she wrapped long fingers around Florette¡¯s throat.

    ¡°You¡¯re just making this easier.¡± She didn¡¯t flinch, pressing the end of the pistol against the spot where her heart hopefully was. ¡°Do you really think you can slice through my neck faster than I can slightly move my finger? If you do, please, by all means, go ahead.¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you ¡®go ahead¡¯, nameless? Is it perhaps because you can¡¯t?¡± She didn¡¯t sound smug about it, didn¡¯t sound certain, which was probably the only reason Florette wasn¡¯t a pile of ribbons on the ground right now.

    ¡°Because this isn¡¯t about killing you. I don¡¯t care who you are, or who your great-grandmother was, or whatever. Innocents are off-limits. Human or otherwise.¡±

    Valois snorted, probably, though it was hard to be sure when it was laced with what sounded more like wind.

    ¡°Spread the word, and I¡¯ll let you live.¡± Florette tried to avoid injecting too much bravado, nothing that would oversell it.

    For a moment, the hissing steam from the spirit-touched¡¯s wound was the only sound in the air.

    Then, gingerly, Valois unwrapped her fingers. ¡°This is not the end, Florette of no name. Another day, when the convocation is ended and Queen Glaciel reigns, you will pay for this insult.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Wow, so if the whole world is already fucked anyway and nothing matters, I¡¯ll also have to fight someone I¡¯ve already beaten. Scary stuff, Valois. Now move along.¡±

    She waited until the spirit-touched was out of sight, then waited another two minutes to be safe.

    Only then did she allow herself a breath, staring at the bloody tatters of her winter jacket lying on the cold ground.

    I can¡¯t keep living like this. I need to do better.

    ?

    A gray-bearded man stood beside the door as she approached, arms folded menacingly. He looked around forty or fifty, something like that, with posture so stiff it looked like he had a pole running up his ass.

    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m here to see the Fox-King?¡± she tried. Last thing I need is another fight here. ¡°I have an important message for him.¡±

    ¡°I have an important message for you, girl: tread carefully.¡± The light caught his beard just right, illuminating faint traces of blue. ¡°I don¡¯t much enjoy my time being wasted.¡±

    Oh, I know who you are. ¡°Lord Leclaire, I presume?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m no lord at the moment, with the Leclaire homelands under occupation. I was never born to lead them anyway; that was Camille¡¯s mother. But I suppose you¡¯re close enough.¡± He sidestepped, planting himself firmly in front of her only way in. ¡°Are you going to tell me what you want, or must I remove you?¡±

    ¡°I really see the resemblance with your niece,¡± Florette said, doing her best to put it diplomatically.

    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. I would hope I looked the part.¡± Breaking his posture, he held his hand in front of himself, admiring it in the light. ¡°Are you here about the bard?¡±

    ¡°The bard? Magnifico? No, why? Did something happen with him?¡± Fernan had told her about his imprisonment, but that would be old news to these people. ¡°Are they finally executing the fucker?¡±

    Leclaire grinned, his mouth just wide enough to look slightly off. ¡°Soon. That wee little flame sage refused the offer of his power, and so the Fox-King was at a loss as to whom he ought to give it to. None of the other sages could be trusted, after all. They all bowed to Lumi¨¨re and refused to help him. Fortunately, I helped resolve that dilemma for him with my arrival.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Given what she¡¯d heard of the trial, it made sense that Fernan would have been offered the bard¡¯s energy, and given what she knew of Fernan, it was no surprise at all that he¡¯d refused, but still¡­ All that means is that this prick ends up holding the reins instead. How is that better?

    ¡°It¡¯s good to hear that he¡¯s not long for this world, at least. Are you going to drown him, like Camille would?¡±

    ¡°I suppose that would be the sensible thing to do.¡± Leclaire chuckled. ¡°Of course, if I had my druthers, it wouldn¡¯t be nearly so quick. I¡¯d love nothing more than to rip his face off, confront him fully with every horrible thing he¡¯s done, every life he¡¯s ended.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Politics, though.¡±

    ¡°He would deserve it, I guess. After what he did.¡± Although the whole thing felt more than a bit grotesque.

    It made her think of Perimont, for a moment. He¡¯d surely deserved worse than the quick end she¡¯d given him, right? After everything he¡¯d done, a bullet to the heart was surely too good for him.

    But did that even matter?

    I shot him to stop him, not to punish him. Perhaps that was the difference, although Magnifico¡¯s evils were on another level entirely. Perimont had oppressed a city, while the bard might have doomed the world. And for what?

    Fernan was friendly with him too, for some reason. Can¡¯t forget that. ¡°I guess it¡¯s good you came back from the dead when you did, then, Lord Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°I was never dead.¡±

    Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a figure of speech. Returned from your absence after faking your death, then.¡± Which, really, is a completely insane thing to have run in the family. You and Camille just both did this independently, at the same time, with no coordination?

    ¡°I never faked my death either. People are always quick to assume.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s certainly true.¡± I wouldn¡¯t have been allowed to roam around Malin for months with Camille, otherwise.

    ¡°It can be an asset,¡± he said, echoing her thoughts. ¡°In politics and elsewhere. Say the right things, and they¡¯ll assume they can trust you with anything.¡±

    Florette scoffed. ¡°Earning people¡¯s trust is a lot of work, whether you¡¯re genuine or not. It takes fucking forever.¡± Especially if they¡¯re stupid standoffish jerks who aren¡¯t really worth your time anyway. Then it might actually be impossible, and it¡¯s definitely not worth trying.

    ¡°You might be surprised at how readily people will spill their secrets, if they find a sympathetic ear. I find it best to hold back, allow people to supply their own fears and desires, then you can use that to proceed. Don¡¯t ask, but rather, let them tell. Then, once you know, you can use the information as you see fit.¡±

    ¡°That really works?¡±

    ¡°How do you think I talked Glaciel down from her folly?¡± Well, you couldn¡¯t talk her out of trying to exterminate the geckos. ¡°I made her trust me, and I made it look like backing down was her own idea. The key is to listen, above all. She made it clear what she wanted, and I made it clear how she could get there. You¡¯ll seldom be able to trick anyone if you don¡¯t first hear how they want to be tricked. But if you wait, they will usually tell you.¡±

    Florette sucked in air, nodding along. If Camille learned manipulation from this guy, that explains so much. It¡¯s good advice, too. That¡¯s how I got Magnifico to show us where and when to steal the pulsebox, what feels like a fucking eternity ago.

    But then, if a confessed manipulator is speaking, and you¡¯re listening along, taking him at his word, what does that make you?

    ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Leclaire, but I really must be going. The Fox-King needs to hear what I have to say.¡±

    ¡°I would say the same, but I remain unimpressed.¡± He did step out of the way, though, returning to his post at the side of the door. ¡°Run along, Florette.¡±

    Wow, thanks!

    She took the opportunity to move on, stepping into the room to find the Fox-King dripping with sweat, sword in hand. He wasn¡¯t fighting anyone in particular, by the look of things, just practicing each form, dashing and sliding across the room as he maneuvered through them.

    ¡°Uh, hello, Your Majesty.¡± Florette walked further into the room. ¡°I was just here to¡ªFuck!¡±

    She almost smashed her head on the ground as she fell, only managing to block it with her arm at the very last second. Bit my tongue, too. At least she hadn¡¯t fallen onto her back. ¡°Is that ice on the floor?¡±

    The Fox-King nodded, offering her a hand to help her up. ¡°I wasn¡¯t satisfied with my performance against Glaciel, and I know she¡¯ll only be more trouble down the road. I thought it best to practice accordingly, and fortunately Emile obliged me. He didn¡¯t tell you on your way in? He was supposed to wait right outside.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she grunted spitefully, hauling herself up. Fucker. ¡°He was there, but he didn¡¯t say shit.¡±

    ¡°Ahhh¡­¡±

    ¡°Fucking Leclaires,¡± she muttered. ¡°Ugh.¡±

    The Fox-King¡¯s face twisted into a frown. ¡°I remember you. You were insulting Camille the day she was killed.¡±

    Oh, fuck me, of course he¡¯s the one noble that does recognize me. ¡°You remembered that?¡±

    ¡°It would be hard to forget, on such a tragic day. Honestly, it¡¯s a bit distasteful of you to insult her memory like that. If Fernan hadn¡¯t vouched for you, you¡¯d be answering for it, I assure you of that.¡±

    ¡°Hey! I wasn¡¯t insulting her! I was just¡­ complaining¡­ that she¡¯s super annoying¡­ just like her uncle apparently is.¡±

    His eyes hardened, the point of his sword lifted to face her. ¡°Draw, now.¡±

    Florette couldn¡¯t help but laugh, nervous chuckles erupting as she backed slowly away from the sword in her face. ¡°Alright, listen, we¡¯re going about this all wrong. I earned the right to talk about Camille that way, because I¡¯ve been there with her. I know her. You could too, if you wanted. I think it¡¯s the least anyone¡¯s entitled to after enduring her presence.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I helped her lie and steal and¡­ I guess not murder, though. Huh.¡± Even fucking Camille managed to avoid killing anyone while we were in there. ¡°She survived her duel, King guy, washed up on the shores of Malin.¡±

    The sword remained where it was, the grip tighter.

    ¡°I found her in disguise. Well, sort of. I think almost dying just kinda made her look like that. But anyway, I didn¡¯t say a word! I helped her keep her cover, until the time came that I had to leave.¡± Florette reached into her jacket, flinching back as the King brandished his weapon at her. ¡°She gave me a letter! To give to you! And Fernan, and the trial girl, Annette, who apparently isn¡¯t a kid, which admittedly does explain a bit, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s alive?¡± The sword clattered to the icy floor.

    ¡°I¡¯m positive. Seriously, I hung out with her for months while she was pulling this scheme on the governorship, helping back up her cover.¡±

    ¡°Months¡­¡± He bent down to pick up his sword, then stopped himself. ¡°Let me see the letter.¡±

    Florette flicked it towards him with two fingers, the way she¡¯d been practicing with playing cards, then smiled as it arrived perfectly in his hands.

    It only took him a minute of reading to gasp.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s really her.¡± He took a deep breath, jittering in place. ¡°She¡¯s alive.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I told you. What finally convinced you?¡±

    ¡°Uh, nothing.¡± He turned his head away quickly, trying to hide his reddening face. ¡°Just let me finish this.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Florette shrugged, then rubbed the arm she¡¯d fallen on top of.

    What followed was an excruciating stretch of time that felt like half an hour as he read the letter in silence, making no effort to acknowledge her at all. She considered saying something, or looking around more at least, but the last thing she needed right now was to faceplant on the floor again.

    ¡°You killed Perimont?¡± he asked, finally.

    ¡°Sure.¡± Florette smiled, folding her arms smugly. ¡°Wait, she put that in there?¡±

    The Fox-King laughed. ¡°No, she just said I should ask you; that way you¡¯d confirm it. A bit less incriminating that way, in case of discovery.¡±

    ¡°Not much.¡± She frowned. ¡°Anyone getting their hands on that letter would probably already have killed me anyway; I don¡¯t really see the point.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to get your hands on it to read it, necessarily.¡± He threw the letter into the hearth, watching as the flames devoured it. ¡°Sages can sometimes glimpse information like that through their visions; that¡¯s what she tells me, anyway. It¡¯s hard to do and usually they don¡¯t get much control over it, but you¡¯re better off ensuring it¡¯s not an issue at all. Burning helps, blotting out any useful information with a wash of light, but it¡¯s not always perfect, and you¡¯d have no way of knowing if it failed. If you really need to keep something secret, don¡¯t write it down or say it. Ever.¡±

    Thanks for mentioning that now, Camille¡­ It¡¯s a good thing most of what I need to hide isn¡¯t from sages.

    Come to think of it, had Camille omitted that info just to be able to keep tabs on Florette? A creepy possibility, but not one easy to dismiss, given they¡¯d been in a criminal fucking conspiracy together for months and it somehow hadn¡¯t crossed her mind to mention it.

    ¡°You finished the letter then, I assume. Would be pretty stupid to burn it otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He breathed deep, then exhaled. ¡°I¡ªI suppose I should thank you, for helping her as she stayed there all those months instead of¡ªThank you.¡±

    This is where Eloise would ask for money. ¡°Pleasure was all mine. It was for a good cause, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯ve been dreaming of revenge for seventeen years and the first blow is struck by some nob¡ªby someone I¡¯ve barely even talked to.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to say ¡®you¡¯re welcome¡¯ again?¡± Ingrate. She rolled her eyes. ¡°There wasn¡¯t much of a blow, anyway. Luce covered the whole thing up to avert a war. The journals all said Perimont died in a cave-in.¡±

    ¡°Fuck.¡± The swear seemed strange, coming out of him. ¡°How will that inspire anyone? They need to know that Avalon¡¯s power can be broken. Hopelessness is the worst of this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­.¡± Florette tilted her head. ¡°Yeah, exactly. I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re saying that.¡±

    ¡°Why? It¡¯s a pretty obvious thought.¡±

    ¡°Uh, because you¡¯re married to Camille. And she seems to like you or love you or whatever. So I sort of figured you¡¯d be more of a¡­ Uh¡­ I mean¡­¡± What is wrong with me?

    The Fox-King laughed. ¡°We¡¯re not much alike, but that¡¯s a strength. You ever hear that opposites attract? If she says he had to stay in Malin even now that I¡¯m free and there¡¯s nothing stopping us from being together¡­ If she has to stay, she has to say.¡± Khali¡¯s curse, she did a number on him. ¡°She plans, and I execute. I like to think I understand people, and she capitalizes on that understanding much better than I do. I run hot, and she runs cold.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, she¡¯s a lot hotter than¡ª¡± Florette interrupted herself with her own fist in her mouth. Did you just completely forget how to filter yourself, once you stopped playing a role?

    Luckily, the Fox-King only smiled at that. ¡°I don¡¯t disagree. In any case, you¡¯ve done me an immense service in helping her. Her letter said we don¡¯t owe you anything after the shenanigans you pulled, but I¡¯m inclined to disagree.¡±

    Bitch. ¡°That¡¯s nice of you, but all I did was help reinforce a lie and then deliver a letter. It¡¯s not like I rescued her from a tower or anything.¡±

    ¡°What would be an appropriate compensation?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± She glanced down at his legs, bare muscles standing firmly even on the floor. His sword lay on the ground next to them, a gleaming ruby embedded into its handle that was probably worth more alone than her entire florete. ¡°Would you pick that up?¡± she asked, pointing down at it.

    ¡°You want my sword?¡±

    ¡°I want you to pick it up, and I want you to help me learn how you fight.¡±

    He picked up his sword, eyebrow raised at Florette¡¯s own. ¡°Have you been carrying that thing around without knowing how?¡±

    Oh, fuck off. ¡°I¡¯ve been practicing with sticks since I was old enough to walk, and I¡¯ve had this sword for months.¡±

    ¡°But no training?¡±

    ¡°The pirates taught me enough to get by. I¡¯ve been in two battles, sort of, and I¡¯m still here. It¡¯s usually better to avoid direct combat anyway, if I can.  But Fernan said you were spinning through Glaciel¡¯s spirit-touched like a dancing top with blades. Camille said you¡¯ve fought sages and won, even Lumi¨¨re.¡± Florette pushed her left foot back, dropping into a fencer¡¯s profile. This is how I can help. ¡°Teach me.¡±

    The Fox-King smiled warmly, adjusting his own stance to match. ¡°It would be my pleasure.¡±

    The Great Binder¡¯s books had useful information, though much of her strategies for fighting spirits used artifacts that Florette lacked, but a real, experienced teacher would be far more valuable.

    And the Fox-King isn¡¯t the only one I can talk to, either.

 Fernan V: The Peer

    Fernan buried his head in hands, careful to avoid burning them with his eyes. ¡°How long did it take you to go from ¡®trying to do better¡¯ to ¡®shooting people in the street¡¯? I¡¯m really curious.¡±

    ¡°Are you angry at her?¡± Mara asked before he could hear a response. ¡°She stood up for us, just like you.¡±

    I never had to kill anyone for that. He held himself back from saying it out loud, though. Whatever the spirits thought, the whole situation with Jerome had been awfully murky. It¡¯s not like I couldn''t have predicted what would happen to him, if I¡¯d really thought about it. ¡°It¡¯s about thinking before you act.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s there to think about?¡± Florette squirmed nervously, unable to properly keep herself still in the ornate chair. ¡°She was bragging about it, Fernan. Calling them vermin. It sounded like¡­¡± She trailed off, sparing a glance at Mara.

    Like the way we used to talk. Fernan lifted his face, taking in the dim candlelight valiantly attempting to fill the room. ¡°Did you know them, Mara?¡±

    ¡°His name was Emet.¡± Mara shrank back against the wall. ¡°He was getting old enough that I thought I could start sending him out to collect things. I told him to be careful, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°What kind of question is that?¡± Florette cut in. ¡°They¡¯re family, Fernan. Children of that same spirit. All of them. You never forget family.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m sorry, Mara.¡± Still, whatever he meant to Mara, Florette could surely have moved past it, if it meant maintaining an absurdly fragile peace with an evil snow queen.¡°Did she live?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I shot her once and then¡ª¡± Abruptly, Florette cut herself off. ¡°Actually, could you make a big ball of fire around us or something? Something that would block line of sight?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡±  Mara let out flame in the same breath as her words, a massive disc emanating from her mouth and floating above them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t set anything in the room on fire,¡± Fernan requested wearily. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re doing this, but whatever it is, you should really be doing this outside.¡±

    ¡°This might be hard for you, Fernan, but keeping fire contained is actually really easy. It just takes more energy to hold it in place.¡±

    The entire world was shut out, the three of them contained a dome of green fire. ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°I bluffed,¡± Florette admitted. ¡°I shot her once and it didn¡¯t kill her. Didn¡¯t even keep her down long. She was hurt, but she still could have killed me if I hadn¡¯t talked her out of it.¡±

    Mara hissed dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s still less than she deserved.¡±

    Fernan tilted his head back, letting out a slow sigh of relief. ¡°I can¡¯t be sure, but it looked like they could heal in the cold much easier. That¡¯s the way it seemed when I fought them, anyway. Glaciel shouldn¡¯t have any cause to break the peace, unless she¡¯s feeling particularly petty.¡±

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t rule that out, if she¡¯s anything like her underlings. But that¡¯s why I didn¡¯t want her to know I was bluffing.¡±

    ¡°How would she know? People would notice an ice creature with their ear against the door, I¡¯m sure of that.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s a spirit, she¡¯s got people with spiritual stuff in ¡®em, or whatever. I wouldn¡¯t want to take the chance that Valois hears it on a vision quest and starts to think she should come back for more.¡±

    At his puzzled expression, she continued. ¡°The Fox-King didn¡¯t tell you about this stuff? They can show events from the past, or far away. Only way to block it is to blot it out with light and fire, apparently. Floods it with too much information to get anything useful out of it.¡±

    You can use the visions to spy? Admittedly, Fernan had only experienced it once, and under considerable stress and panic, but that discordant chaos seemed so impossible to get anything useful out of that the thought felt almost preposterous.

    Then again, it wasn¡¯t too hard to believe a spirit queen could manage better, if she had a mind to.

    And the light¡­

    ¡°Jethro¡¯s note¡­ That¡¯s why he wanted me to burn it!¡± Which I never did. ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Uh, Jethro?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t know, some weird creepy guy who skulks around and acts mysterious and stuff. He¡­ I guess you could say he helped with the trial, but it was awfully underhanded.¡±

    ¡°I told you, Fernan, you did what you needed to do. Now you have to move forward from that. Magnifico deserved it anyway, after what he did. You should have eaten him, really. That would have been way better than that trial thing, however it works.¡±

    Perhaps he did deserve it, but it didn¡¯t help it sit any better. And now¡­

    Fernan racked his mind, trying to remember the exact wording of Jethro¡¯s note. Would burying it be enough, or could someone have glimpsed those words who wasn¡¯t supposed to?

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to murder his son¡­ It was something like that, anyway. Was he worried that Magnifico would find out he was working against him?

    ¡°I know that name.¡± Florette¡¯s fingers rapidly drummed against her leg. ¡°He¡¯s a spy for Avalon, but he sells their secrets to enrich himself.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªWhat?¡±

    ¡°Eloise told me he sells information to Captain Verrou all the time. He tipped us to a royal-class vessel headed for Malin, and we managed to intercept it. It turned out Prince Luce was on board, too. And¡­¡± Her hand gripped the sword at her side, metal glowing faintly in the ambient warmth. ¡°He was never in it for the money. There¡¯s no way that¡¯s a coincidence, if he¡¯s messing with Magnifico here. He wanted us to find the Prince, and take him out of the game.¡±

    Lucifer Grimoire, the one that went missing. The ¡®precious Prince¡¯, he said. ¡°That was you? Florette, those pirates were executed.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s complicated. But clearly he wasn¡¯t trying to make a few florins, he was using us. Dead, captured, ransomed, as long as it took him out in one way or another. I¡¯m guessing he was supposed to die though, or he would have told us the Prince was on board and we¡¯d have made sure to keep him for ransom accordingly. Whatever Jethro¡¯s plan, this was targeted.¡±

    ¡°Unless Magnifico directed him to do it without explaining everything, and he found out later.¡±

    ¡°To get his own Prince killed? I doubt it. Everything that bardic bastard¡¯s done, he still thought he was helping Avalon. Even this, now, with the sky, I¡¯m sure he thinks he¡¯ll come out ahead.¡±

    ¡°He does¡­¡± Fernan frowned. ¡°He acted like he knew exactly how everything would go, though a lot of it was just unhelpful cynicism.¡±

    ¡°Something¡¯s not right here¡­ I think it would be best if this Jethro and I had a little talk. Magnifico, too. See where their stories contradict, where they line up. We can figure this out.¡±

    ¡°Not a lot of time for that. Leclaire¡¯s going to execute him soon, to absorb his power. And Jethro just comes and goes; it¡¯s not like I know where to find him.¡±

    ¡°Let me worry about that. What does he look like¡ªOh, right. Sorry. But is he tall? Short? Thin, fat? Do you get a decent idea of people¡¯s ages, can you make out hair?¡±

    Slow down, Florette.

    ¡°Uh¡­ His aura is darker, kinda like Glaciel¡¯s underlings. It stands out because it¡¯s colder than the air around it, rather than warmer. Or it looks like that, anyway. And I know he wore a disguise when he snuck into the castle, so that might mean he¡¯d be recognized by someone. Although, given what he was up to during the trial, he might just have wanted to avoid being tied to anything that happened if someone saw him later.¡±

    ¡°Is he¡ª¡±

    Dancing into nothing, the flames around them faded to wisps, and then dissolved entirely, leaving only the warmth in the air to imply they¡¯d been there at all.

    The King and his council had entered the chamber. Lucien Renart, Annette Debray, Laura Bougitte, and now, apparently, Emile Leclaire. ¡°Oh good, she¡¯s here already.¡±

    ¡°I thought I¡¯d get the story out of her first, since we have a history.¡± And so she wouldn¡¯t say something that would make you want to execute her. ¡°Glaciel¡¯s servant survived, and given the way they healed out on the water, I¡¯d imagine she¡¯ll make a full recovery.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d assume so as well.¡± Renart took his seat at the head of the table, down on the other end from Fernan. ¡°Even if it¡¯s a unique property of the ice of Glaciel¡¯s castle, Valois has that at her disposal.¡±

    Leclaire took a seat at his side, the cold air from the window outlining the seat behind him. It had been sealed shut to conserve warmth, but heat still managed to slowly leak out, drawing a trail from the sage to the wall. ¡°The terms of our deal were quite clear: Glaciel would not harm the humans of this city, and in turn our forces would not combat she or hers.¡±

    ¡°Valois said much the same.¡± Florette¡¯s voice rang out across the room, all traces of nervousness gone. ¡°But I am not a force at your disposal. Not a sage of your temples, not a soldier of your armies. I wasn¡¯t even in the city when this deal was made. We agreed it would just be the two of us. I had her word, and can explain the same to Glaciel, if needed.¡±

    ¡°She can verify the truth,¡± Fernan added. ¡°And then there¡¯s no need for any disruption.¡±

    Lady Annette rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn. ¡°Glaciel¡¯s word binds her until the spirits have convened, but what then? Even with a new sun, she¡¯ll remain a threat on our doorstep. And weaseling out now will only increase her ire when that moment arrives.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention the threat of Avalon and her binders.¡± Leclaire folded his arms. ¡°The dark skies may have stayed their hand for the moment, but once it returns, what¡¯s to stop them?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t afford to fight them both. Either one alone is long odds, really.¡±

    ¡°But, perhaps, if Glaciel¡¯s goodwill is maintained, one challenge might be turned against another. Simply make her an offer of amends.¡±

    Fernan leaned forward, placing his hands against the table. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Who is this girl, anyway? Is she connected? Kin to anyone?¡± Leclaire stroked his beard. ¡°I¡¯m aware that one of the lesser spirits has taken some kind of shine to her, but the Fallen¡¯s very existence is defined by death, which ought to make it easy for them to get over. And Glaciel¡¯s friendship is surely more valuable.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fernan hissed out. ¡°To me. She¡¯s off-limits.¡± Thank fuck Guy is in Dorseille, or I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be making this even harder.

    ¡°Perhaps Glaciel and I could work this out ourselves,¡± Florette said. ¡°I could swear the truth before her, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And she¡¯d kill you,¡± Fernan interrupted. ¡°No. If you were off-limits before, you certainly aren¡¯t now. Not unless we escort you there and guarantee your safety.¡±

    ¡°But I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you all fucking serious?¡± Laura slammed her fists down against the table. ¡°They agreed to terms that set it all apart from Glaciel¡¯s deal. It was a duel between two consenting adults.¡± She punched Florette on the shoulder. ¡°Some fuckers needs a smack down to get the right idea, and Valois was asking for it.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Leclaire frowned. ¡°Still, perhaps we ought to consider the greater good, here.¡±

    ¡°The greater good?¡± Laura scoffed. ¡°All of our hands are tied because of this deal you made with the biggest fucker of them all, who should have gotten the biggest smack. But this girl¡­ Florette, right? Like the Duke¡¯s mother?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°Florette did what every one of us here wishes they could have done. She¡¯s not affiliated with us, she¡¯s not part of the deal. If Glaciel wants her, she can come try, but until then, we have someone to help thin out her herd of pricks. This is a good thing, people.¡±

    The Fox-King swept his gaze across the table, meeting each person¡¯s eyes for an instant in turn. ¡°Thank you all for your valuable input. Certainly, the last thing we need is to be caught between a gunship and a glacier the moment the sun returns, and some sacrifices are warranted to prevent that from happening.¡± He fixed his sight on Fernan. ¡°But not this. Her forces may come after you, Florette, but we won¡¯t hand you over. So long as you act only in defense, I believe we can even maintain our arrangement.¡±

    Thank you, Fernan mouthed at Laura, trying to contain his surprise. ¡°Really, this is all just a result of a bigger issue.¡± He felt the flames in his eyes grow brighter as he leveled his stare at Leclaire. ¡°Why weren¡¯t the geckos included in your deal? They live here just as much as we do, yet Glaciel¡¯s minions were killing them for sport.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, did the peace settlement I managed to reach with an ancient bloodthirsty spirit of ice with everything to gain from keeping the sun out of the sky and wiping out all life in Guerron not meet your every satisfaction?¡± Leclaire snorted. ¡°They have a patron spirit who¡¯s touched them. They¡¯re not without power, and power uniquely suited to combating Glaciel¡¯s court, no less. But by all means, if it¡¯s too much for them, they¡¯re welcome to flee back into the mountains. I certainly wouldn¡¯t stop them.¡±

    ¡°But they have a right to be here!¡± Fernan felt his stomach squirm as he noticed the council nodding along with Leclaire. ¡°They¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Fernan.¡± The Fox-King¡¯s posture did seem apologetic, but that didn¡¯t count for much. ¡°At least your friend can help them, now.¡±

    Like she¡¯s going to make any difference.

    ¡°Alright, it seems like that matter is settled, then.¡± Lady Annette pulled out a stack of papers. ¡°Florette, could you please excuse us? There were other items on today¡¯s agenda.¡±

    Florette scoffed as she stood up. ¡°Enjoy your meeting.¡±

    A glance down showed that Mara was following her out. Probably for the best.

    ¡°Now, if we could discuss the matter of the lesser spirits. Laura, you said Flammare gave you some information?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, thanks Annette. Corva and Fala arrived today, and settled in nicely at the Sun Temple. No signs of Lamante yet, but according to Flammare, she¡¯s never missed a convocation. Lunette¡¯s sending a follower in first so that she can stay in the sky longer, which means we should expect Corro of the Wastes shortly, possibly with a sage in tow. We¡¯ll need to make accommodations for the poison¡­¡±

    On and on the list went, as Fernan rested his head against the table.

    They¡¯d come uncomfortably close to tossing Florette to the wolves, even after everything she¡¯d done for the Fox-King and Camille. It hadn¡¯t escaped Fernan¡¯s notice that Lucien Renart hadn¡¯t spoken up until the end, and hadn¡¯t really made any firm promises either.

    Worse, the geckos were being left entirely on their own. They hadn¡¯t even provoked anyone, simply left for the slaughter.

    The Fox-King had even said that sacrifices were warranted. Florette in particular hadn¡¯t been chosen this time, but that was scant comfort.

    Is there anything that these people wouldn¡¯t sacrifice, if they thought it was worth it?

    ?

    A silhouette of a woman sent out tendrils of darkness into a multicolored surface, almost like the glass in the Sun Temple. Behind the glass was a putrid cesspool, the smell filling his nostrils even though he knew it wasn¡¯t real.

    One by one, tendrils of darkness pulled people from the filth through the glass, only to be devoured on the other side. Only one escaped.

    Have to focus. Camille wants me to see something specific. Fernan waved his hands, distorting the flames in front of him to refresh the image. He wasn¡¯t sure what, exactly, was guiding his hands, but the movement felt natural even as the power of Laura¡¯s mushrooms seemed to fill the air around him, causing it to pulse and vibrate with energy.

    As strange as it all was, the change in scenery felt refreshing after enduring that council meeting.The cool glass beneath him, the dark skies above. The air was frigid as ever, but the fire inside kept him warm as he conjured fire before him.

    A dessicated tree, faintly lit by green flame, finally collapsed, tipping over into a river.

    But what does it mean? It wasn¡¯t hard to see how people went mad doing this, feeling this deluge of incomprehensibility and yet knowing its certainty was backed by spiritual power. Hadn¡¯t that been part of what caused the Winter War?

    A woman stood behind a waterfall, a winged horse lying dead at her feet. She was crying, alone in there, with three large slabs of stone dug into the earth beside her, writing on them that couldn¡¯t be made out.

    This can¡¯t be it, it¡¯s so disconnected.

    Beneath a mound of stone, melted smooth to hide all imperfection, a waxy piece of paper lay, a voice echoing its words.

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to have his son killed, and would think nothing of doing the same to you if it suited him. There is no greater monster in all the world.

    Burn this letter as soon as you can. It¡¯s the only way to be sure it¡¯s truly destroyed. Darkness leaves traces but the light blots out all else.

    -Jethro

    Traces of darkness¡­ Was that what the silhouette meant? Was Camille trying to tell him something about Khali? Or¡­

    Just focus on Camille. She¡¯s the one who wanted this at all.

    He reached out blind into the darkness, flames curling around his hand, and felt it grab onto something. Not truly solid, slippery and wet and ephemeral, but something. He traced his hand across the shape, drawing it in with flame as he had the other visions, unable to comprehend why.

    By the time he finished, Camille sat in front of him, a green ghost of fire with a smile on her face. ¡°Hello, Fernan.¡±

    The light in his eyes flared up as he stumbled back, flame-Camille flickering but managing to hold herself steady. ¡°Is that really you? Florette said you were alive, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I see your powers of observation are as keen as ever. I thought it best we had a chat, you and I.¡±

    She¡¯s really talking to me¡­ ¡°Of course. Are you alright? Unhurt?¡± Are you just a shadow of the dead that Florette saw through her spirit friend?

    ¡°I assure you I¡¯m quite vibrant, though I¡¯d be lying if I said I emerged entirely unscathed. And for my part, I will assume that you are no shade, either.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. But¡­ we can really do this? Talk across how many miles? Did you just think of this?¡±

    Hands clasped together, Camille grinned. ¡°I¡¯m not the first, I don¡¯t think. Once I figured it out, pieces of history, coincidences and fortunate turns, a lot of it began to make a lot more sense. I think, wisely, sages who discover this tend to keep it to themselves and those that they trust.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t trust me, though. I mean¡ª¡±

    The flames around her mouth curled, a bite of her lip. ¡°You saved my best friend, Fernan. And my Lucien too, the poor bastard. I¡¯m sorry if my letter was curt, but I¡¯m incredibly grateful. Really. Part of why I wanted to discuss this face to face was so I could get a better idea of what you wanted, so that I might repay you properly.¡±

    What I want¡­ ¡°I want to be able to go two seconds through my life without a catastrophe! I want my people to be safe and secure, hale and happy. I want to go back to the way things were, before everything went so horribly wrong.¡±

    ¡°In that, we are much alike.¡±

    ¡°And I want to do it better. Cooperation, with the creatures we feared. Peace, and understanding.¡± I want to live in a nice little house in the mountains and tell stories to the children about the awful bad days, and have them unable to understand because they¡¯ve known only peace.  ¡°What do you want, Camille? The last time you talked of repaying me, you threw money at my face.¡±

    ¡°I did?¡± The flames flickered. ¡°Are you sure? That doesn¡¯t sound like me.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Her head bowed. ¡°Then I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have done that. I¡ªThey¡¯re alright? Lucien and Annette?¡±

    Fernan frowned. ¡°Florette¡¯s alright too, and I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be touched to know that you asked. Arrived safely despite Queen Glaciel invading our harbor.¡±

    ¡°Fernan.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re fine. I mean, Lady Annette hasn¡¯t slept in a while, I think this disaster is taking a big toll on her.¡± Strangely, Camille smiled at that, so he continued. ¡°King Lucien¡¯s health is better. He¡¯s not coughing much anymore, and he seemed in fighting shape, given how he fared against the winter-touched.¡±

    Eyes wide, the flames swirled around their sockets, leaving holes into darkness. ¡°Health? Coughing?¡±

    Oh right, she wouldn¡¯t even know. ¡°From the smoke. When, uh, after your duel, the stands burned down. He was fighting the Sun Temple and the flame sages.¡±

    Was that a tear on her face, or simply the flames around her eyes constricting as her posture stiffened? ¡°My Lucien would go to war with Terramonde himself if he thought he could save me¡­ If he knew my life was¡­ Regardless, that doesn''t mean it would be the right thing to do. If you ever marry, Fernan, you might have to keep things from your partner, for their own good. Personal problems you need a personal solution to.¡±

    ¡°Uh, noted.¡±

    She wiped a hand across her face. ¡°Alright, we have limited time, and if our focus wavers, this might end prematurely. Would you be willing to do this again, in a week¡¯s time?¡±

    ¡°Again, really?¡±

    She tilted her head. ¡°If I only had one message, I could have just put it all in Florette¡¯s letter. But this way we have an open line of communication, a way to collaborate from afar. Not just you, but with you as a conduit, I can coordinate things with Lucien and Annette. And in turn, they can draw upon my expertise to help navigate the convocation of the spirits. I have a few things in mind already, but circumstances might have changed there enough to make them a bad idea. This way we can plan as one.¡±

    Great, stuck in the middle again. Still, it was hard to deny the potential good. ¡°One week from now, when the Hanged Man crests the horizon.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± She smiled, flames shifting and contorting to represent it. ¡°Did you gain any insights from your visions? I believe this would have been your first time.¡±

    Fernan sighed. ¡°I struggle to imagine how anyone could. Images of a dark woman on glass that kept changing color, a woman mourning her mount, a dying tree collapsing into a river¡­ A letter someone wrote for me. They asked me to burn it, but I didn¡¯t understand why until today, so I didn¡¯t, just in case.¡±

    ¡°A private letter?¡± she asked with palpable curiosity in her voice. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing this for six years, Fernan, always analyzing afterwards, trying to divine the meaning without latching onto the wrong things and ending up like High King Somet. I bet I can help clarify things.¡±

    Should I? Jethro and Magnifico seemed so distant from any Camille-related concerns. Could it really hurt? ¡°It was from a spy for Avalon, a turncoat by the sounds of it, named Jethro. He told me not to trust Magnifico. That he had tried to kill his son, and would think nothing of doing the same to me. There was more, putting me on the track about suspecting him for killing the Duke, but that was the important part, and that¡¯s what was repeated.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico tried to kill his son? I wasn¡¯t aware he had children.¡±

    ¡°At least two, I think. Florette mentioned he had a falling-out with his oldest, and that I reminded him of his youngest. I¡¯d guess he tried to kill the older one, if that¡¯s true. It would certainly explain why they¡¯re on bad terms.¡±

    ¡°Certainly¡­¡± Camille stared intently, eyes flickering blue.

    ¡°Honestly, it was practically incomprehensible noise. Even when I was first touched by the spirits, it was easier to comprehend things.¡±

    ¡°Oh? What did you see then?¡±

    ¡°A serpent and a fox¡­ That was you and Lucien, wasn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine so. What were we doing?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Suffocating each other, as I recall. ¡°Embracing.¡±

    ¡°Aw, that¡¯s so cute!¡± The flames in her cheeks changed slightly in color. ¡°What else?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been so long. Um. My family. People from my village. There was also a man with no eyes, wreathed in flames. I guess that was me?¡±

    Camille shrugged. ¡°Presumably. You¡¯d already been injured by that point?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Strange, to think I¡¯d seen myself from the outside like that. ¡°There was also a boy, falling from a glass tower onto a sandy beach.¡±

    She blinked, head tilted. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that one too. It might have wider significance.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Not sure what it could be though. Do you have any ideas?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°A ray of light over a sinking ship. I suppose that could be Lumi¨¨re? But I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯d have to do with ships. Was he traveling a few weeks before we met?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She frowned. ¡°But there was an explosion in the harbor, here in Malin. It sank Magnifico¡¯s ship, and Luce''s father¡¯s too¡­ Hmm. Was that all?¡±

    Fernan shook his head, trying to remember the rush of images assaulting his eyes. ¡°Just one more thing. A crowned jester, dancing and swaying.¡±

    ¡°Crowned jester¡­¡± Camille¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Fernan, has Magnifico been executed yet?¡±

    ¡°No, but your uncle¡¯s going to do it soon. A couple days, I think.¡±

    ¡°Uncle Emile¡¯s alive? That¡¯s¡ªNo time. Listen, you have to tell Lucien not to do it. Magnifico¡¯s too valuable to kill.¡±

    ¡°Jethro said something similar. Why?¡± Even as the words left his mouth, though, he felt the connections align in his mind. Magnifico was a crowned jester now, with the way Jethro had bound him, but that hadn¡¯t been true back then¡­ Unless he¡¯d already worn a crown of another color.

    Magnifico¡¯s a jester with a crown that tried to kill his son.

    Prince Lucifer of Avalon was set up to die by Jethro, and probably Magnifico too.

    Camille smiled, probably seeing the recognition on his face. ¡°All this time, I was looking for some edge¡­ Some way to stand a chance against Avalon¡¯s might.¡±

    ¡°And now we know,¡± Fernan said, excitement slowly giving way to dread. ¡°Magnifico is King Harold of Avalon.¡±

    ¡°And we have him captive and powerless.¡± Camille let out a low laugh, echoing off the glass of the roof. ¡°Entirely at our mercy.¡±

 Camille IV: The Monument

    Camille IV: The Monument

    Well, that went remarkably well.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking.¡± Prince Luce¡¯s size had more than tripled in his thick winter coat, giving him an appearance rather reminiscent of a puffy starfish. ¡°We¡¯ve helped each other. Whatever you¡¯re working on behind the scenes, I do want to recognize that.¡±

    ¡°Likewise.¡± The fog of Camille¡¯s breath filled the frigid air, faintly illuminated by the lantern she carried. ¡°Arranging to save this city would have been much harder had you endeavored to murder me.¡± As your father did. It might have been nice to throw that in his face, but it was important to keep that tidbit of information to herself until the time was right, lest she spoil Lucien¡¯s leverage over Avalon. It was even possible that the Prince didn¡¯t know, though it seemed unlikely.

    ¡°Mhmm.¡± He didn¡¯t seem particularly amused. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re an old hand at dealing with these spirits, but swearing truth before them is no small thing. If you lie to preserve your deceptions, it could haunt you for all eternity.¡±

    ¡°And if I trip and fall on a pair of scissors, I could run myself through. And yet I still take the risk of using them, because the trade-off is worthwhile. What¡¯s your point?¡±

    ¡°My point¡ª¡± His horse stumbled, tripping over a root hidden beneath the snow, then righted itself as Luce scowled. ¡°My point is that I¡¯m offering you a way out. Whatever you¡¯re really planning here, if you leave right now, I don¡¯t care. There aren¡¯t many ships that can make it to Guerron right now, but I¡¯m willing to bet you could clear a path for them. I¡¯m giving you an out.¡±

    How terribly gallant. Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯d only need that if I had something to hide.¡± Something I couldn¡¯t get away with hiding, anyway.

    ¡°Seriously?¡± The Prince scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°Your old ¡®partner¡¯ Florette assassinated the governor and stole a larger supply of advanced weaponry than this continent has ever seen, and you claimed ignorance. All the while she¡¯s probably smuggling the lord¡¯s portion of Avalon¡¯s pistols over to your Fox-King, or the highest bidder, while the rest of them spill over onto the streets.¡±

    ¡°Well, I offered to help track them down, and you refused me any official sanction. Besides, the only person attacked so far was that pirate, Eloise. The way I see it, no harm done.¡±

    ¡°Because she survived?¡±

    ¡°...Sure.¡± Camille shrugged. The thought of dozens of those monstrous devices in the hands of lowly criminals was revolting after seeing how much damage even one did in Lumi¨¨re¡¯s hands, but what was she to do? Poking her nose in it was bound to get back to Grimoire, which could jeopardize plans of far greater importance. If he insisted on handling it, she would leave him to it. ¡°At any rate, I¡¯m almost positive she didn¡¯t take any to Guerron. They¡¯re probably all still in the city, travel being what it is.¡±

    ¡°What makes you so sure?¡±

    Because I asked Fernan directly, and he said no. His courtroom chicanery had been something of a surprise, but after he¡¯d clarified that Jethro had been the one who¡¯d truly done it, it was clear the flame sage was just as reluctant a liar as ever. If he said Florette had come empty-handed, she surely had. A shame, too. They¡¯d do far more good in Lucien¡¯s hands than whatever ruffians were holding onto them now.

    ¡°I suppose I¡¯m not,¡± she lied. ¡°Call it a suspicion. Losing an entire train¡¯s worth of advanced technology would be a shameful failure for Avalon, but your official story has gone unchallenged. Lucien would have every reason to trumpet it from the mountaintops, had Florette gone to him with them.¡±

    ¡°He might fear Avalon¡¯s wrath.¡±

    Camille sighed. ¡°Before darkness fell, Avalon was preparing to invade Guerron. He wouldn¡¯t have much to lose on that front, and everything to gain from showing your weakness, both for internal morale and to inspire allies.¡±

    ¡°Or you¡¯re just saying that so you can keep it up your sleeve for later.¡±

    If only. ¡°It¡¯s the truth, so far as I know. I¡¯ll have to confirm that before the spirits soon, anyway. There would not be much point in dissembling.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you do.¡±

    Prince Luce mostly fell silent after that, likely realizing there was little point in interrogating her now, when he would so soon have a perfect measure of her honesty.

    As their horses trudged through the snow, Camile watched the vapor from her breath dissipate out into the air, errantly wondering whether she¡¯d be capable of controlling it. According to the Prince, what one exhaled was partially water, along with, somehow, the same thing they used to make that fizzing soda water. The whole thing seemed somewhat suspect, though it did fit Levian¡¯s assertion that that was primarily what the human body consisted of. Perhaps she could even warm her blood directly, but experimenting with that now seemed rather ill-advised.

    Fenouille was the first to greet them, emerging from the frosted riverbanks with a vacant look in his massive eyes as his antennae uncoiled. ¡°Well now, I did not expect little Camille to bring a guest. I hope you did not request me to arrive early simply to declare your vows of love. Seldom does it end well, and we have more important matters to discuss.¡±

    ¡°What is he talking about?¡±

    Ugh. ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s an old tradition at sage weddings, but no one¡¯s done it in centuries. For obvious reasons.¡±

    ¡°Why would they ever do that?¡±

    Camille scoffed. ¡°To strengthen political ties, obviously. Not to mention it¡¯s incredibly romantic, even if it¡¯s ill-advised. And¡ªthat is not why we¡¯re here at all. Fenouille, this is Prince Lucifer Grimoire, of Avalon. A descendant of Harold Grimoire, if that means anything to you.¡±

    ¡°The authority to whom you answer in this city.¡±

    ¡°For now. He needs to be sure he can trust me, so I offered to let him ask me some questions when I¡¯m sworn to the truth. Would you mind being the arbiter?¡±

    ¡°That is not the relationship you implied to me. You said he endowed you with official authority, that you could guarantee safety. Do not think that our history entitles you to endanger me so recklessly, Camille.¡±

    ¡°I did!¡± the Prince said quickly. ¡°I did and she can. This is just a matter of due diligence, you understand.¡±

    Fenouille¡¯s eyes remained impassive, his round belly slowly expanding and contracting. ¡°Proceed, then.¡±

    Camille nodded, staring past the spirit, out over the still-slowing Sartaire. ¡°I vow that the truth shall bind me in all things, until this conversation¡¯s end. Should I lie, may my soul be granted to you Fenouille, to use in any way you see fit, or barter away.¡±

    The prince¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You know each other, though. Couldn¡¯t you have conspired to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fenouille, did we discuss this at all before the Prince and I arrived here?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± His antennae curled in the hint of a smile. ¡°Not will I extend any exceptional kindness to her soul, should it find its way into my possession. I understand the nature of what you intend, Grimoire.¡±

    Luce gulped, fists clenched, but remained steady. ¡°Very well then. Let¡¯s start with an easy one: Are you planning to betray me?¡±

    Easy one indeed. You should have run these by a solicitor first. ¡°Betray? We don¡¯t have any mutual trust to be betrayed. I don¡¯t believe it¡¯s even possible. If I acted against you, would it surprise you? Would it challenge anything you believe about me?¡±

    He sighed, burying his face in his hands. ¡°Lady Leclaire, the idea is that I walk away from this with some level of trust in you. If I can¡¯t, I¡¯m sending you away on that ship regardless.¡±

    ¡°Then note that I¡¯m saying that to you, instead of just believing it honestly and keeping the rationale to myself while saying ¡®no¡¯. We want the same things right now, and as long as Avalon is in control of Malin, I want you to be the one running things here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a start.¡±

    ¡°If your rule here is imperiled, I might even act to preserve your hold, as I did against Perimont. Certainly, barring extremely exceptional circumstances, I can vow that I will defend you against others acting in Avalon¡¯s name. You can trust that I will, or I¡¯ll suffer for eternity for it.¡±

    His gaze softened an instant, then hardened once more. ¡°Every waking moment is an extremely exceptional circumstance. The bloody sun¡¯s gone out! You¡¯re essentially promising nothing.¡±

    Damn. Perhaps it had been too much to hope to get away with that one, but it had been worth a try. ¡°Barring circumstances that would result in many deaths, then. Say, one hundred.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°More. Not to mention the time frame, given how consequences ripple out. There¡¯s all kinds of circumstances I could envision where one hundred people¡ª¡±

    ¡°Nine hundred, then. And ninety-nine. If I earnestly believe that preserving your power against a challenger from Avalon would result in that many deaths within the year, I might refrain from helping, but for nothing less. Satisfied?¡±

    ¡°I suppose, on that point. What follows is more important though: Are you planning to take back Malin for the Empire of the Fox?¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°Obviously yes! When the moment of crisis has passed and I can return to Guerron, all the reasons to want to liberate this city would be just about as valid as they were before, give or take a kinder governor.¡±

    ¡°But before then?¡±

    ¡°Barring circumstances exceptional within the already-exceptional circumstances in which we find ourselves, no. Currently, I have no plans to liberate Malin before the sun returns. I honestly can¡¯t imagine anything plausibly changing that, as long as you remain in control until then. If you get dethroned by Magnifico or something, and he ends up the new governor, I reserve the right to contest that.¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Magnifico?¡± he scoffed, remarkably convincingly. ¡°He¡¯s a bard. What could possibly make him fit for such a political appointment?¡±

    ¡°A reward for nearly orchestrating my death, perhaps.¡± Twist the knife. ¡°A heartless rogue like that certainly wouldn¡¯t hesitate to turn on you, if he thought it benefitted him. We should both be thankful he¡¯s locked up where he can¡¯t do any more harm.¡±

    His shrunken posture suggested that her words had affected him even more than she¡¯d planned, the starfish collapsing in on itself. ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°Surely you¡¯re satisfied now? So long as the sun remains gone, I¡¯ll defend you against enemies from your own nation trying to supplant your rule, and I won¡¯t be liberating Malin as long as you do rule.¡± She forced a smile, though she had hoped for better from this. ¡°That ought to close me in, right? Set your mind at ease?¡±

    ¡°So long as the sun remains gone, huh? And then all bets are off?¡± His tone remained hesitant, like he was still mulling over the Magnifico barb. Perhaps the perfect prince isn¡¯t so close with his father. That could certainly be an opportunity.

    ¡°What do you want me to say, Luce? This is an alliance of convenience, to protect the people of this city. Without knowing the moment it happens in advance, there¡¯s not much I could do before your thugs marched me onto a boat, anyway.¡± Resisting the urge to smile smugly was essential here, so fortunately she pulled it off with aplomb.

    ¡°You could fight. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a fight you could win in the long-term, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t. I promise I won¡¯t, if it gets to that point. Once the sun is up, and you tell me it¡¯s time to go, I¡¯ll leave without a fight.¡±

    The Prince took a deep breath, then let out a stream of foggy breath into the air. ¡°And long-term?¡±

    Camille raised an eyebrow. ¡°Would you tell me your long-term plans for my city?¡±

    ¡°I would,¡± he said with no hesitation. ¡°I have nothing to hide on that front.¡±

    Shit.

    ¡°I want to set a precedent,¡± he continued, ¡°of rational, scientific results trusted over emotional, punitive outbursts. Efficiency, and yes, kindness, as you mentioned. Since you were so candid with your plans to oppose me I¡¯ll say that I have no great objection to my father¡¯s plans for the spirits and their sages, long term, though Fenouille¡¯s generosity here is certainly making me reconsider that. As long as the barbaric practice of human sacrifice is outlawed, maybe¡­ Certainly, I intend to deal in full good faith with the spirits to gather here today.¡±

    ¡°Would you swear it?¡± Fenouille asked, breaking his silence as the sounds emanated up through the snow.

    ¡°I¡ªI would, really. Without your help, thousands will starve, and I have no desire to cheat you. What I offer is genuine. But I don¡¯t swear vows to spirits. That¡¯s a fantastic way to end up as an eternal slave, suffering an eternal struggle in a fate worse than death.¡±

    Fenouille¡¯s feet began to sink back into the ground as his body slowly lowered. ¡°I trusted you, Camille.¡±

    Camille thought herself a good reader of character, and so far it had served her well. Her greatest failures had more to do with hidden dangers, failing to anticipate the unanticipatable. But could she afford to stick her neck out for this?

    Could she afford not to?

    ¡°I¡¯ll swear to his intentions.¡± You¡¯d better be grateful for that, you little inquisitor. ¡°I who am bound to truth and entrusted to serve Malin in matters of the spirits declare the prince shall be honest in his dealings this day, may my soul be yours should he cheat you.¡±

    Fenouille stopped. ¡°Then be it on your head should he dissemble.¡±

    Prince Luce opened his mouth, a finger raised in the air, then closed it with a shake of his head.

    Just as well. The other spirits were due to arrive soon anyway, a convenient way to cut the interrogation short. That better be enough to satisfy him, or I¡¯ve greatly limited my options for nothing.

    Possibly even condemned myself to a fate worse than death, if this means I can¡¯t fulfill Levian¡¯s deal.

    That wasn¡¯t the plan, of course, but was any plan ever so certain it was worth betting so much on it?

    Cya was the first spirit to arrive at their little meeting, the half-dead woods spirit of Refuge. She was more alive than the devastation of her domain would have suggested, but that was damning with faint praise. Only her tail had made it through truly intact, as vibrant and green as she was reputed to be, and standing out starkly against the endless plains of white.

    But the blight had touched her, or she¡¯d changed to reflect the changes to her domain. Either way, half her hair stringy and thin, and nearly half her body was wilted and dead, one gnarled oaken arm hanging limp at her side. Even her eye on that side was clouded, she who had been so known for her vision and insight.

    She had come with numbers, at least, a pack of similarly wilted wood nymphs easily thirty-strong surrounding her, their bleached, desiccated bodies nearly lost in the white snow. Fenouille had made contact with one to set the meeting up, but Camille hadn¡¯t realized the spirit would take so many with her, this far from Refuge.

    ¡°We welcome you, Cya, Spirit of Life and Protector of the Forest.¡± Perhaps it was in bad taste for Camille to use such ironic titles, but it seemed more respectful than omitting them. ¡°Thank you for gracing us with your presence.¡±

    The wind picked up suddenly, whistling through her assortment of nymphs while the spirit¡¯s mouth remained still. ¡°Camille Leclaire. You, I had kept an eye on even before your involvement in this. You fancy yourself an Expert, a Gardener cultivating the seeds to better your position. Schemes within schemes, selfish manipulations. In your own way, just as reckless as your friend Florette.¡±

    ¡°How dare you¡ª¡± She swallowed the words before she could complete the thought. ¡°My apologies. Your wisdom exceeds my expectations.¡±

    ¡°This is kind of what she does, Camille.¡± Luce patted her on the shoulder, his arm swinging awkwardly in his huge jacket. ¡°She knew everything about me and Eloise before we even met her. Spirit visions, apparently. And she uses them to fuck with people.¡±

    Cya¡¯s lips curled into a shockingly human smile at that, though the dead side of her face drooped instead of continuing the expression.

    ¡°I see.¡± Camille nodded, bowing her head to give herself a moment to marshall her face into position. It seemed appropriate that the very sun had fallen from the sky, seeing as a Prince of Avalon was educating her about a spirit. ¡°Your sight was famed far and wide, noble spirit. I am pleased to see that it remains strong.¡±

    ¡°Take care, young Camille,¡± Fenouille said, approaching from the water. ¡°You remain bound to speak the truth until we adjourn. Do not give praise you do not mean.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Fenouille.¡± She hadn¡¯t forgotten, but it was nice that he cared enough to warn her. ¡°I am pleased, though. The Fall of Refuge was a travesty, an atrocity beyond all reckoning. That you, Cya, managed to emerge not just alive but¡­ well, not unscathed, but in possession of your life and much of your power, is both impressive and heartening. Do you intend to speak at the convocation of the spirits?¡±

    The wind picked up again, rushing discordantly through the nymphs without forming into any particular words. A sigh? ¡°I would, for I have words I desperately wish the others would heed, but I lack the credibility.¡±

    ¡°I thought spirits couldn¡¯t lie?¡± the prince asked inanely.

    ¡°Credibility of a different sort, Architect. To make your voice heard in a gathering of spirits demands strength, the force to impose your will. The others must know this, must recognize what you are capable of. I am naught but a monument to failure, a half-dead wretch who lost so thoroughly I struggle to even keep the woodcutters out of what remains of my lands.¡±

    Camille blinked watery eyes, dispelling the liquid with a thought as her eyes met the spirit¡¯s. How terribly familiar. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate, but I can understand.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you would, Revenant.¡±

    And, of course, she knew about all that too. ¡°I take it you knew to come even before we reached out?¡±

    The woods spirit tipped her head forward slightly. ¡°I saw the shape of what you planned, Camille the Strategist, but I waited to see whether or not my involvement would be welcome. I am pleased that our prior encounter was not enough to dissuade you, Luce Grimoire.¡±

    Gingerly, the prince took a small step towards her. ¡°It was a near thing, Cya. You can¡¯t drug people without their consent!¡±

    ¡°Obviously, I can and have. But I understand the shape of what you say.¡± She paused for a moment, the whistling wind dying down without dying out. ¡°It was my intention to grant you a boon of truth, since you were so averse to the prospect of a transaction. Goodwill, that you might remember when you returned home.¡±

    ¡°You force-fed me some mushroom that sent me into a nightmare, then you left us stranded in the wasteland! We almost died.¡±

    ¡°Do not exaggerate, Unfortunate Orator. You had fish to eat and water to drink. Perhaps these were not the most pleasant of accommodations, but you survived, Survivor that you are.¡±

    He grumbled something about having to fight her monsters for the water jug, but it was past time for Camille to step in anyway, so she interrupted. ¡°The past is the past. But we can work together now for our mutual interest. All of us.¡±

    Luce stopped himself and sighed. ¡°Agreed. Cya, back in Refuge, you told me you asked only for good faith. I¡¯d like to grant that now, and ask only the same in return.¡±

    ¡°Then you have it.¡±

    Fernouille¡¯s antennae bobbed up and down in an agreement of their own. ¡°Just as well. It seems our final guests are arriving.¡±

    One started as little more than a purple speck dotting the moon near the horizon, growing slowly larger as it approached. It flowed more than it walked, the snow dissipating behind it in a trail as wide as a wagon. It condensed once it was closer, the flowing purple¡­ stuff coalescing into a more humanoid form around five feet tall, its face utterly blank save for a massive grinning mouth. ¡°You¡¯re Leclaire?¡±

    This would be Corro of the Wastes, a spirit of poison and decay. Probably no stranger to Cya, given the state of her domain, though he was truly sworn to Lunette.

    ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± His body rippled and flowed as he spoke, but the sound actually seemed to be coming from his mouth, an oddity for a spirit. ¡°I was hoping the other one would be here.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Luce stuck out his hand hurriedly, then seemed to realize belatedly that a shake might be a bad idea and turned the gesture into an awkward wave. ¡°I¡¯m Prince Lucifer Grimoire, of Avalon. I¡¯m currently acting as the Governor for Malin, and have designated Camille as my spiritual liaison.¡±

    ¡°Not you.¡± He shook his head with a scoff, continuing to walk over to Cya. ¡°Am I the last to arrive?¡±

    ¡°There was supposed to be¡ª¡± Camille jumped back as the ground began to shift beneath her feet, narrowly avoiding the small spirit jumping into the air where she¡¯d been standing. ¡°Ah, Peauvre, good.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure as always, Camille.¡± Three feet in height, Peauvre¡¯s skin was peeled back, exposing the flesh beneath. Mother had always warned that she would come for the lazy, and visited misfortunes upon them, but then she hadn¡¯t been particularly keen once Camille had actually met up with the spirit in person and started to help her with her chores. ¡°I hear you¡¯ve met with an accident of your own. I¡¯d assure you I had no hand in it, but I can never really be sure.¡± She laughed, scrambling up Camille¡¯s leg to her shoulder without asking. ¡°You¡¯re so big now! Maybe this time you can tip the ladder.¡±

    It was easier to understand Mother¡¯s impulse, now, but this was no time to be picky, either.

    Besides, Peauvre had survived the purge visited upon the city by Avalon¡¯s binders. That necessitated some level of restraint.

    ¡°Wait, you already know this one too?¡± It was hard to tell with his face all bundled up, but he looked a bit unnerved by the state of the spirit¡¯s flayed skin. Grow up, Grimoire. It¡¯s not like Avalon hasn¡¯t done plenty of things grislier than this.

    Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s my job to understand the spirits, Luce. It has been my whole life.¡±

    ¡°How many do you¡­ Uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, obviously, it used to be a lot more.¡± Camille turned to the assembled group, humbled or lesser spirits all, save the prince who had insisted on coming. ¡°Alright, now that we¡¯re all here, I think it¡¯s time we begin.¡±

 Luce III: The Territorial Governor

    Luce III: The Territorial Governor

    Luce did his best to remain composed while staring at this menagerie of monstrosity. They had agreed to meet, and if monsters could be civil, so could he. Ultimately, he needed their help more than they did his.

    ¡°Thank you all for coming,¡± he said, trying to keep his eyes off the horrifying flayed imp thing without being conspicuous enough about it to be impolite. ¡°I appreciate you being willing to speak with me, despite everything my nation has done.¡±

    ¡°Your nation, you say.¡± A disgusting tendril of purple slime circled around him, leaving dead patches in its wake.This would be Corro. ¡°You serve them still, rather than rebel.¡±

    ¡°My father is King! Of course I¡ªCorro, meaning no disrespect, but I¡¯m here as a representative of Avalon. I¡¯m governing Malin in her name.¡± He noticed Camille sneering slightly at that, but whatever. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I want to continue doing things as we have done. Hundreds of thousands of people are facing a dire crisis right now within that city, many of whom honored you and yours for decades in the past.¡± Camille had told him to emphasize that point, since spirits often had trouble properly parsing human timescales. The centuries before counted, even if no one had been performing blood sacrifices in Malin for nearly two decades.

    ¡°I want to help them live, even if it means bucking tradition,¡± he continued. ¡°The entire way Avalon has been running these Territories is frankly disgraceful, and I want to set a precedent of respect and compassion, whatever blowback I might get from back home.¡±

    ¡°Bold talk, but I¡¯ve seen this before. Stray too far out of line, and they are wont to pull you back, or cast you away.¡± He assembled back into the more humanoid form, which was only barely less horrifying given his enormous mouth. ¡°Deviation is seldom tolerated within a system, for a system exists to perpetuate itself above all else.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ Ok.¡± What am I supposed to say to that?

    ¡°You speak of eventualities, do you not, Corro?¡± Leclaire, mercifully, seemed to be stepping in here. It would have been nice if her interrogation had made it possible to rely on and trust her, but he could at least be confident now that she was limited in firm, specific ways. The fact that she¡¯d been honest when she didn¡¯t have to be, that she¡¯d come and accepted the interrogation even knowing she¡¯d have to reveal she was planning to take back the city, it counted for a fair bit.

    ¡°I do.¡± Its voice was deep, cracked and ragged the way an old smoker might talk, only slippery, echoes emanating from within its sinister maw. ¡°I speak of futility, foremost, and the many would-be upstarts who could never see their plans through.¡±

    ¡°Then you have nothing to worry about,¡± Camille assured him, though Luce hadn¡¯t the faintest idea what emboldened her to. It wasn¡¯t like anything the creepy spirit was saying was wrong, it was just frustrating, and it didn¡¯t mean he would fail. It¡¯d be a challenge, but a fitting one, and the only one truly worthy of Luce¡¯s position with all it entailed.

    ¡°Eventualities may come, and Prince Grimoire may fail,¡± she continued, ¡°but we are here tonight to speak of relief, temporary agreements, most of them likely slated to expire when the new sun is chosen.¡±

    ¡°That may not be so eventual!¡± The tortured imp thing hopped from one foot to other, looking restless in the brief moment Luce could manage to look at her. ¡°Not inevitable either. I hear that human-lover Glaciel is trying to pull something to stop it, and this climate probably gives her a good chance. Plus, accidents happen! No one can be sure any plan will ever work.¡±

    ¡°Especially not one you found out about, Peauvre.¡± Camille chuckled, completely glossing over the horrifying crimes against humanity that this creature had admitted to. ¡°But if that¡¯s so, we can simply set a term of time as an expiration. Two years, perhaps. If the sun hasn¡¯t returned by then, we¡¯ll likely be dead in any case.¡±

    There¡¯s a good chance we¡¯ll all die even if it comes back next week. Food stores were already growing perilously low, not yet stocked for winter, crops on fields hastily scrounged without being anywhere near ready for harvest. ¡°Exactly,¡± he said instead. ¡°This isn¡¯t about whether I can succeed, anyway. This is about this deal, right now.¡±

    ¡°It depends on what you mean by ¡®this¡¯.¡± Corro croaked. ¡°But you may continue.¡±

    ¡°What I mean is that many of your fellow spirits are dead. Some, at my nation¡¯s hand.¡± Most of them, the world is better off without. ¡°Our binders secured a number of spiritual artifacts from the Foxtrap, and some are surely from spirits you knew.¡±

    ¡°We seek your help.¡± Camille nodded. ¡°Food and warmth are our greatest priorities. If you can spare energy for that, Prince Grimoire is prepared to offer you relics in return.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I descend from a great line of binders, all the way back to the Great Binder herself, who rid this world of Khali for humans and spirits alike. Most of what has been taken remains in my family vaults. Others belong to friends, people upon whom I could call for favors.¡± He turned to the muddy frog monster. ¡°Fenouille, my uncle, Lord Miles Arion, slew your colleague Pierrot during the Foxtrap. He has in his possession the Star of Pierrot that resulted from it, and would bring it here on my command. In return, I¡¯d request the use of your riverbanks, everything on this side of the Sartaire down to the border of the Condorcet Collective. Our farmers would plant their crops there and harvest them, over the course of one season. Do you agree?¡±

    The frog turned to Camille without responding.

    She flicked her eyes to Luce, then nodded. ¡°I vow that his word is true regarding the Star of Pierrot and his intentions to return it for you. I vouch for this deal.¡±

    Luce blinked in confusion, but still managed the presence of mind to pull off his glove and stick out his hand to the spirit. If I¡¯d been lying about that, Camille would have just ended her own life. Either she actually trusted him, or she was taking an enormous risk here. ¡°You shake it, if you want to.¡±

    The frog thing held out a muddy flipper, enveloping Luce¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Then it is agreed.¡±

    ¡°Camille will suffer the consequences if you dissemble, Prince of Crescents, but do not think I will forget you, either.¡± He withdrew the appendage, leaving Luce¡¯s hand covered in a half-inch of cold, brown grime.

    Great.

    Still, the implications were huge. Fenouille had basically agreed to this beforehand, but that was the word of a trickster filtered through Camille, hardly reliable. This, though. This was certain.

    A way to help avoid famine for the entire city, if handled right. It would be an enormous help, at the very least. Come to think of it, I¡¯ll have a chance to study how he powers the ground in lieu of the sun, too. Does it supply energy to the ground itself? Does it supply the needed nutrients, or just the light equivalent? Actually, the energy would probably have to convert to light, since the plants couldn¡¯t photosynthesize otherwise. Luce was beginning to regret neglecting biology, which was not a feeling that came to him often. Still¡ª

    ¡°Luce?¡± Camille glared at him.

    ¡°Right, of course. Thank you.¡± He shook his head to free his thoughts. Fenouille¡¯s deal had been precedent; it would hopefully help get buy-in from the other spirits. ¡°Cya, I believe I know what you want.¡±

    ¡°Rejuvenation, Scientist, of Refuge and my domains. I showed you the truth, and you beheld the devastation your kingdom¡¯s mighty works wrought upon the world. I will have my restitution, and it must not be bought, but freely given.¡±

    ¡°I do see that that¡¯s fair, and I will say¡ªI¡¯m not going to do the whole life-threatening swear before the spirits thing¡ªbut I can just tell you that I want to do that. I intend to.¡± You were supposed to be one of the easier ones.

    ¡°Eventually.¡± The wind whistled past in a manner reminiscent of a scoff. ¡°Her Verdance said much the same thing. Always tomorrow, or the next day after.¡±

    ¡°Then help us now, and we can do the same for you,¡± Camille asked. ¡°We can get to work right away if Refuge is part of our reseeding efforts like what we¡¯re doing with Fenouille¡¯s domain. We would all get what we want.¡±

    ¡°And you would turn my forest into mere farmland? Endless flat wastes or unvaried fields?¡±

    ¡°As a starting point we would then move on from in a few years. This way we¡¯d clear the blight, work on the ground, get things livable again. Then once they are, we can start planting your forests.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to talk about restitution, I do think it¡¯s worth mentioning that you drugged me without my consent,¡± Luce added, though Camille¡¯s point was the stronger one as far as actually enticing her.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Cya said. ¡°My forests in five years or fewer, or you shall die trying. I will do what I can to help you rejuvenate the land, and allow you to place your¡­ crops on it.¡± Her face was human enough to tell that her nose had wrinkled with that word. ¡°The agreement is made.¡±

    ¡°I vouch for it,¡± Camille added, to seal it properly.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move on to you, Peauvre.¡± And get you out of the way so I¡¯m not distracted while talking to Corro. He¡¯d have done her first if the precedent of successful agreements wasn¡¯t so important. ¡°I have several artifacts I could get ahold of that might interest you. The Crescent Rod, perhaps? Or the Everlasting Torch?¡±

    ¡°No, those are all boring!¡± A flap of not-skin curled on its face in the vague suggestion of a wink. ¡°Those spirits are all dead already. I have no interest in that. What I want is your people.¡±

    ¡°No sacrifices. I made that extremely clear with the information I gave Camille. Not criminals, not anyone. Under no circumstances.¡±

    Peauvre responded with a fleshy smile. ¡°No sacrifices, indeed. I simply wish to do as I did, before your binders made it impossible to move about safely. I wish to witness and reward the diligent with fortune, and imbue the shiftless with commensurate accidents. Everything in balance.¡±

    ¡°And none of them die from that?¡±

    ¡°If they died and it were my fault, it would not be an accident, and I would have no claim on their soul.¡± Notably, she wasn¡¯t saying ¡®no¡¯ to the question.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t work.¡± He sighed. Having her inside the walls would be a nightmare, even before all the risks it poses to the entire scheme. This spirit wasn¡¯t as essential as Fenouille, based on how Camille described them, but her earthmoving and small-scale manipulations would not only be useful in a variety of circumstances, but scientifically fascinating.

    Although the prospect of studying her had lost a lot of its appeal, now that Luce knew what he¡¯d be looking at. ¡°Isn¡¯t there anything else you want?¡±

    Peauvre laughed in a high-pitched whine. ¡°Things might be different for you humans, but I¡¯m actually capable of doing things on my own without needing to steal from spirits to do it.¡± She jerked her head towards Camille. ¡°Or supplicating before a spirit for a sliver of their power. I conduct my affairs as needed, my own way.¡±

    Luce crushed his loose glove in his other hand, holding himself back. ¡°Why did you even come if there¡¯s nothing you want aside from what you know I won¡¯t give?¡±

    ¡°I thought it might amuse me. Camille certainly did.¡±

    ¡°Ok, good, so¡ª¡± Luce cut himself off as he saw the spirit tunnel back into the earth as it reformed behind them, leaving a perfect bare patch of ground behind. ¡°Damn it.¡±

    Camille bit her lip apologetically, leaning in to whisper in his ear. ¡°There¡¯s a good chance she¡¯s just bargaining. The Peauvre I knew would never balk at new toys, and nothing she said directly contradicted that. We¡¯ll try her again and you can mention more powerful artifacts, or maybe more of them.¡±

    We can only hope so. Even then, the damage seemed to be done with Corro, who was already wilting into a puddle in front of them.

    ¡°Hold on!¡± Luce called out. ¡°You haven¡¯t even heard our offer.¡±

    ¡°I heard your offer to Peauvre, and I heard your agreements with Fenouille and Cya.¡± He sounded different without his mouth, more watery squelching accenting the deep pitch. ¡°What you¡¯re proposing is little different from what sages have been doing for centuries. Your solutions for this crisis are as mundane as they are ephemeral, incapable of touching the source of the problem.¡±

    ¡°Artifacts would empower you though, Corro,¡± Camille said. ¡°They¡¯d help grant you the strength to change what you see fit to change, to attack the problem at its source.¡±

    ¡°In exchange for what? Clearing land of snow and pollution for you to plant your crops? Calling down rain through the clouds above?¡±

    ¡°That would be so useful, yes. Any or all of that. Name your price.¡±

    Corro reformed in one slick motion, arching forward until its mouth stared up at Luce. ¡°End the line of Harold Grimoire. That is my price.¡±

    ¡°End the¡ªYou¡¯re saying I¡¯d need to kill all my family. Are you fucking serious?¡±

    ¡°It would show commitment to your course, rather than these feeble half-measures, and do your nation an enormous favor as well. And you might not have to kill to do it. I might otherwise have asked you to end the life of a spirit older than humanity, but such a task would be far harder. Either way, I imagine I know your answer.¡±

    ¡°No, obviously.¡±

    Its mouth closed and opened briefly, a motion more like the blink of an eye than anything related to mouths. ¡°As expected. You will excuse me, then, for I have business in Guerron.¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Guerron, huh. That¡¯s where the con¡­ convalescence of the spirits is going to be, right? You want to play a role in picking the new sun?¡±

    ¡°I will have a role to play, I am sure. The two of you, I am beginning to suspect, will not.¡±

    Camille raised a finger. ¡°Hold on. Can you pass a message on to someone in Guerron? What would be your price for that?¡±

    ¡°For you? Your confidence that I would be a good partner, sworn to honesty as you are. It would have to be true, of course, but under the right circumstances, it would be. From the Prince, the contraption on his wrist.¡±

    ¡°My watch?¡± That was definitely worth it to pass a message on to Father, if he could. There were less than ten clocks small enough to fit on a wristband in the world, but four of them were in the Tower, and by the time things calmed down it would probably be pretty easy to get another. ¡°Is there anyone you wouldn¡¯t pass a message to? Any limits?¡±

    Camille shot him a look at that, probably wondering who he possibly had to talk to in Guerron.

    ¡°I can speak with any human in the city. If we strike a deal, I will.¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± He unlatched the band around the watch, careful not to get it any muddier than it already was, and passed it to the poison spirit. ¡°I¡¯d rather tell you who and what in private, if that¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s sensible. I¡¯d like the same.¡± Good, at least Camille doesn¡¯t seem suspicious.

    Camille took the spirit aside, walking far enough to be out of earshot, then whispered something to his giant mouth. How can he even hear, anyway? It¡¯s not like it has bones in its ears to vibrate, or bones or ears at all! Can its brain just process the vibrations in the air naturally with no other medium? Actually, does it even have a brain as we understand it? Spirits are supposed to be embedded into their domain, so maybe it¡¯s more a distributed system, everything interspersed through the whole body. That would fit with the liquid form thing, but then it raises the question of¡ª

    ¡°Your turn, Luce.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± He nodded, stepping aside as the spirit followed. Once they were out of earshot of the others, he asked, ¡°Can you get a message to Magnifico?¡±

    ¡°Is that his true name?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ He always told me that in the moment, it is true. When he¡¯s being Magnifico, he really is Magnifico. Becoming the mask he wears, you know. It¡¯s key to spycraft.¡± And then he can pull it off later and be his same old self, but it wouldn¡¯t help me any to tell you that.

    ¡°It is possible that that will be an issue.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not giving you another name for him. The message isn¡¯t worth that risk.¡±

    ¡°Then simply tell me the message.¡±

    Luce clenched his fists, looking down into the gaping maw, far darker on the inside than the exterior. ¡°Tell him¡­¡±

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to have his son killed. The words were inescapable.

    Tell him that I survived, and his plan didn¡¯t work? Then I¡¯m a monster if I¡¯m wrong, accusing him based on hallucinations and coincidences. Even if the pieces seem to fit disgustingly well¡­

    Tell him that I¡¯m trying, and I¡¯m sorry? Then I¡¯m a fool if he really did send me to die.

    ¡°Tell him I almost died because he called me here. And tell him he¡¯d better have an explanation the next time I see him.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Corro burbled, the watch floating in and on him rising up to the top of his head. ¡°Good luck, Prince Grimoire.¡±

    ?

    He looked serene, lowered into the ground in his pristine white robe. The silk caught the lantern-light just right to make it almost look like the man was shimmering. The body, too, was amazingly well-preserved, all things considered, without even a sign of injury.

    Laid out on a flat palette of solid gold, soon he would be returned to Terramonde, his body rotted to nothing.

    A fate that awaits us all, one day or another.

    ¡°It¡¯s so wrong for him to be buried in this dump of a city,¡± Mary muttered next to him, hunched over in her seat. Her white coat either wasn¡¯t thick enough to insulate much, or was just tailored so well it didn¡¯t stand out, but if she was cold, she wasn¡¯t letting it show. ¡°He was the Lord of Carringdon first and foremost. He should be back home.¡±

    Maybe, but we can hardly send him there now with the water so impassible. There were a few metal-hulled navy ships of Fortan make, designed to pierce through ice and go along their way, but not nearly enough to supply all of Avalon, let alone her territories. And there certainly wasn¡¯t space aboard them for a corpse.

    It reminded Luce of his first funeral, when Grandfather had passed. He¡¯d perished not far from here, outside the crumbled ruins of Malin¡¯s northern walls, triumphant in his victory if not enough to live through it. They¡¯d brought him back, eventually, but only his skeleton.

    The great King Harold III, Bringer of Civilization, reduced to a pile of bones on an iron slab, a crown of gold resting atop his skull.

    He¡¯d only been six or seven then, but the memories still stuck in his mind. How Father had acted like nothing was wrong, as he could shrug everything off, while Mother only stared, quietly. She¡¯d left not too long after that, returning to her home in Fortescue.

    Two seats over, Simon shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that. This place was his mission. He¡¯d want to stay and see it through, a vanguard for future progress.¡± He sighed, breath fogging up the air in front of him. ¡°If he couldn¡¯t just be satisfied in life, he certainly wouldn¡¯t be now.¡±

    Probably right, but this ceremony isn¡¯t lacking for things that Perimont would despise.

    Luce¡¯s own presence here, for one thing. Covering up the robbery had been necessary, in the moment, when the truth would inflame things further. Time had only further proved its importance, since the deal with Fenouille and Cya would have been impossible otherwise; dealings with sworn enemies during war rather than unsavory parties in a crisis. Even if he¡¯d been able to pull it off, it would have cost him every scrap of legitimacy as his governor, to the point that even Harold might have struggled to protect him from the consequences.

    No, that had been the right decision. It still was.

    And yet¡­

    ¡°And now, everyone, please rise and grant Lord Gordon Perimont his gifts of departure.¡±

    Luce stood from his seat, just as the others around him did, spinning a gold ring in his hands. He¡¯d given Grandfather a bracelet at that rite of departure, something his mother had slipped to him just before the ceremony so he could pass it onward.

    That had been so confusing at the time. What use could a pile of bones have for jewelry? But he¡¯d done what was expected of him, as he¡¯d had to, just like every other attendee.

    Like Grandfather had been, Perimont¡¯s body was soon showered with gifts, mostly the customary jewelry, but Luce caught a glimpse of a few swords being dropped in too, sheathed for very obvious reasons. Fitting for Perimont, he supposed.

    He held the ring up to his eye, giving it one last look-through. One of many ingratiating gentlemen had given it to him when he¡¯d first driven Perimont out, and assured him that it was a priceless heirloom. Perhaps it was even true.

    A small inscription read Never a victory without loss, glinting under the light of the lanterns as Luce held it up to his eye, then tossed it down with the rest, one tiny cog in the gilded machine burying Perimont in riches.

    By the time Luce returned to his seat, the body was impossible to see beneath the glittering heap.

    Camille was still standing towards the back, not having granted Perimont a gift of departure nor otherwise participated in the ceremony. Simon had allowed her to come after all, though Luce had no way of knowing what had prompted the change in his attitude. She looked uncomfortable with a white shawl awkwardly covering her winter wear, but in a way that was comforting, the dearth of her smug smile implying she wasn¡¯t trying to pull anything here.

    It was all for the better, really. Camille had been the one to soften the earth, pouring a massive volume of boiling water down into the dirt so the shovels could actually get at it properly. Massively more efficient than building great bonfires to heat massive drums of water to do the same, at least based on the rough calculations from prior experiments.

    More importantly, it kept her where he could see her, rather than free to conspire as she desired while all of Avalon¡¯s leadership was concentrated in one place.

    Once everyone was seated again, several teenagers in white suits sprang forward and began shoveling dirt back overtop of him. Luce had thankfully been too young for that honor at his grandfather¡¯s rite of departure, and was old enough to get out of it now. These were the children of various officials at the Governor¡¯s mansion, for the most part, though Luce didn¡¯t really recognize any enough to be sure.

    Unnatural as it felt, Luce had an obligation here, so he pulled Simon into a hug once the ceremony had ended. ¡°Thank you,¡± he whispered before pulling back.

    Simon¡¯s face remained downcast, but he nodded nonetheless. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t help anything. Camille said¡ªWell, anyway. This is the right place for him, up on a hill looking out over the whole city. Whatever happens, he¡¯ll be here watching, seeing the progress we make. He¡¯ll understand eventually. I have to believe that somehow he¡¯ll know.¡±

    He¡¯s a corpse in the ground. He¡¯s not going to have any more realizations than my office chair will. Luce just patted him on the back instead. ¡°You know he died loving you.¡±

    That seemed to comfort Simon in the moment, since he released his grasp and turned back to talk to his sister. She doesn¡¯t even know how he really died, or how complicit we all are in covering it up.

    ¡°He¡¯s remarkably intact for having been crushed under half a mountain. The undertakers did an impeccable job.¡± An austere woman appeared behind him, her hair a sandy brown with streaks of grey. She was wearing white, like everyone else, her jacket filled with rows of metal ornaments, boons granted in recognition of various accomplishments in Avalon¡¯s navy. It didn¡¯t look particularly warm enough for the weather, but she didn¡¯t look particularly bothered by it either.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met.¡± Luce held out his hand for her to shake. ¡°I¡¯m Luce Grimoire, Prince of Crescents.¡±

    ¡°As if there could be any doubt as to that. You¡¯re the spitting image of your father at your age.¡± The woman chuckled. ¡°Captain Anya Stewart. I believe you¡¯ve already been acquainted with my son.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Gary¡¯s mother?¡± Oh no. ¡°The pirate hunter, of course. It¡¯s-uh. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.¡± Just keep calm, don¡¯t let anything show.

    ¡°Likewise. I always told Gordon that he should have renewed his officer¡¯s commission instead of¡­ this. He was a peerless commander, in his own way, but I do not think peacetime much suited him. A governorship allowed him to fight for the cause on another front, but I suspected that it wouldn¡¯t fit him as naturally. I always wondered if he regretted it, but I suppose now there¡¯s no particular reason to doubt it.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you had arrived in the city, Captain Anya.¡± Why now? Aren¡¯t there a hundred fires back in Avalon you have to put out? What are you doing here?

    ¡°Lady Perimont needed transport, and there aren¡¯t many ships capable of crossing the Lyrion sea at the moment. I put most of Forta¡¯s icebreakers at your brother¡¯s disposal for the duration of this crisis, but I still have my personal vessels, Ferrous Ram amongst them. What better use of such a ship than reuniting a poor widow with her departed husband?¡± Something about her words gave off an air of insincerity, but Luce couldn¡¯t identify anything specific. ¡°It was a terrible tragedy, his accident, and so soon before darkness fell, which rather eclipsed it in importance for most.¡±

    ¡°Y-Yes, of course. A terrible thing, to be forgotten.¡±

    ¡°Some call it the final death, the last time your name is spoken,¡± Lady Perimont said, walking up to join them. Fantastic. She had Mary¡¯s same short stature, same light brown hair, same bearing. If it weren¡¯t for the slight wrinkles on her face, they could have been sisters. Her mourning dress was unadorned white, though, absent any flourishes or patterns. ¡°I can only hope my husband escapes such a fate for a good while yet. I certainly don¡¯t think anyone here will soon forget him.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not.¡± Luce covered the bottom of his face with his hands, hiding his expression under the guise of a gesture to breathe into them and warm himself up. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to see you again, Lady Perimont, though I wish it were under better circumstances. My deepest condolences for your loss.¡±

    ¡°Good of you to join us, Lillian. I was just getting to know Prince Lucifer as we discussed the purpose of my visit here.¡±

    Lady Perimont narrowed her eyes, nodding curtly at Stewart before turning to Luce. ¡°I heard you forced my husband out of his house, not long before his death. You ransacked the Governor¡¯s mansion with some demonic wastrel and removed him from power, cast him away from all he¡¯d built in Malin. Is that true?¡±

    Fuck me. ¡°Well, um¡­ The circumstances were very¡­¡± How could I walk away from a meeting with monsters in a decent position, only to get ambushed by my own people at a simple ceremony? ¡°Complicated. It was all terribly complicated, and¡­ I don¡¯t wish to speak ill of the departed, so I think it best that I leave it at that.¡±

    ¡°Do you, now? Because I think it best that you tell the truth. You¡¯re not even denying it! How could you show your face here, after what you did? Sitting next to my children like you had no hand in it!¡±

    How could I, indeed? ¡°This was a mistake,¡± he muttered, holding up his hands. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ If I could have predicted that this would happen¡­¡± I probably would still have done it. With Perimont in charge when darkness fell, the entire city would probably be dead within a month. ¡°There was no malice in anything, I just¡­¡±

    Camille slid in next to him, apparently materializing out of thin air. ¡°Luce, there¡¯s no need to be so coy. Lady Perimont is owed the truth, is she not?¡±

    Where did you come from? ¡°I¡ªOf course, the truth¡­¡± There¡¯s no way she wants me to say what really happened; that would screw her over even more than it would me. ¡°You see, Lady Perimont¡­ Um¡­¡±

    ¡°Luce wanted to spare your feelings in this trying time,¡± Camille cut in, wrapping a cold arm around him. ¡°It¡¯s valiant, but if she wants the truth, I¡¯m sure she can handle it. Just say it, Luce.¡±

    Say what? What do you want from me? Was this some sort of scheme to catch him in a lie? She¡¯d vowed to support him against anyone from Avalon, surely she wouldn¡¯t be so reckless as to hope that this wouldn¡¯t count? If Luce¡¯s part in the coverup were uncovered, there was a very real risk he¡¯d be removed from his post, and Leclaire in turn would have her soul taken by Fenouille. What the fuck are you playing at?

    ¡°Fine.¡± Camille sighed. ¡°If you won¡¯t tell her, I will.¡± She removed her arm, creeping closer towards Lady Perimont with a sympathetic, open-armed posture. ¡°Luce was just acting on his father¡¯s orders. Kind Harold summoned him to Malin as fast as possible, with orders to relieve your husband of duty and assume command himself.¡± Not as such, but remarkably close. How did she guess that? Why didn¡¯t I think to say it?

    ¡°No.¡± Perimont shook her head firmly. ¡°The Harold I know would never do that to us, not without at least a discussion first. He¡¯d be the one to issue the order himself, at the very minimum.¡±

    ¡°He did, Lady Perimont,¡± Camille cut in before Luce could say anything. ¡°He was in Malin months ago, and told your husband that he would have to step aside for Luce. A direct order from His Majesty himself. When the time came to follow it, he refused. That¡¯s the only reason all the unpleasantness with his removal had to happen.¡± Wait, actually, why didn¡¯t Father do that while he was here? He clearly wanted me to take over from Perimont, based on the letter he sent, but¡­

    Do not trust Magnifico. The words came to him unbidden yet again, a memory of Cya¡¯s visions. He tried to kill his son, and would think nothing of doing the same to you.

    With narrowed eyes, Lady Perimont turned accusingly towards Luce. ¡°Is this true? Your father tossed his loyal servant aside just to put his son in power, and you used that mandate to drive my husband into the wilderness, to his death?¡±

    Luce took a deep breath, then looked to Camille. She gave him the slightest of nods, leaving him to speak for himself. ¡°Your husband was running this place into the ground. He was conscripting people to fight against their own countrymen, executing dozens every week for crimes real and imagined, putting the entire city in a constant state of terror.¡± It felt good to say, finally letting the truth out, even in service of a lie. ¡°My father recognized that he was driving them to open rebellion, and he asked Lord Perimont to either stop or step aside.¡±

    ¡°He did neither,¡± Camille said, maintaining the rhythm of his words. ¡°Instead he exploited poor Luce¡¯s captivity at the hands of those pirates to remain in power longer. When the Prince arrived, he pretended not to even recognize him.¡±

    Oh, of course! ¡°There¡¯s old journals with pictures that look nothing like me,¡± Luce added. ¡°They shouldn¡¯t be hard to find. So no one would recognize me for who I am. He was trying to ensure I could never fulfill my father¡¯s orders.¡±

    Or he never heard them, because Father never gave them to him.

    Lillian Perimont¡¯s eyes remained narrowed, accusing, though now they glistened with water.

    Captain Anya sighed. ¡°Lillian, I understand this is a difficult time for you, but if you would just leave me to my job, please. I don¡¯t think that this is terribly productive. I¡¯ll look into the journals for you.¡±

    ¡°Your job?¡± he choked out.

    ¡°Investigating Lord Perimont¡¯s death, of course. The circumstances of his accident were highly suspicious, and Lady Lillian desired a more thorough examination. Your brother was most accommodating of my taking the time needed, and granted me an investigative mandate.¡± She smiled. ¡°I think he was happy to be able to send someone to check on you, after your misadventure with those pirates.¡±

    ¡°How sweet of him.¡± Damn it, Harold. He¡¯d been the one to choose Gary, too. Did he just have a massive blindspot for getting the right investigators? Except, no, Anya was the right choice to uncover what had happened. It would just be a disaster if she did.

    Just bad luck, I guess.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Prince Lucifer,¡± Captain Anya said with a self-assured smile. ¡°The truth will come out. It always does.¡±

 Florette IV: The Pursuer

    ¡°In the name of Queen Glaciel, I sentence you to die!¡± The spirit-touched man had four red rings around each arm, his skin darker and less shiny than some of the others she¡¯d had to deal with. The butt of his spear still froze the ground it touched, though, and his charge towards Florette was still pretty fast.

    Not fast enough, though. She was already stepping out of the way, letting him pass her by without landing a scratch. ¡®Evasive maneuverability,¡¯ the Fox-King had called it, prioritizing getting out of the way above everything else. The Great Binder had echoed a similar sentiment, assuming that book was actually hers. Time after time, her compatriots would die trying to absorb an attack with armor or artifacts, only to be undone by a magical effect bypassing it.

    Considering that the icy gash on Fernan¡¯s leg still hadn¡¯t fully healed, even a nick from that spear wasn¡¯t something she wanted to risk.

    Instead, let them expend themselves. Lucien Renart had beaten Lumi¨¨re in duels with only a sword, while Camille had lost despite all her power. Different circumstances, perhaps, but it was telling.

    Florette advanced in profile with her sword drawn, keeping her exposed area slim. ¡°Catherine Valois was Third-Ring, and she still ran from me in fear. What¡¯s your plan, exactly?¡±

    He only growled in response, leveling his spear in her direction.

    ¡°No plan, then. I suppose that¡¯s not a surprise.¡± Florette stepped closer, approaching the spear¡¯s stabbing range. ¡°I let her live, but do not think I will be so quick to show you mercy.¡±

    The display of confidence was important. Every hunter deterred was one less that she had to fight, or worse, use the pistol on. Between stuffing the black powder packets and metal balls and resetting the mechanism, the damn things took so long to get in working order again after a shot that they were effectively only viable once per fight, and that was assuming they even hit.

    So far, Glaciel¡¯s minions wouldn¡¯t have had any reason to pick up on that, since every shot she¡¯d fired had ended the fight, but that could only work so many times before an inevitable miss ruined her reputation, likely seconds before ending her life.

    Unfortunately, it looked like this one wouldn¡¯t be so easily scared away. He slammed his spear into the ground between them, sending an advancing sheen of ice across the ground, probably intended to trip her the same way Camille had used it in that duel.

    Florette was already moving though, taking the opportunity of the misdirected weapon to close the gap, plunging the tip of her sword through the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yield,¡± she ordered.

    She wasn¡¯t sure what she expected next, exactly. Probably more defiance, since he¡¯d proven stubborn, but it wasn¡¯t the anguished cry that escaped his lips. ¡°Agh! Glaciel, why?¡± He slumped to his knees as Florette pulled her sword back.

    The blood that coated it was as red as any human¡¯s, just the same as the torrent spilling out of the hunter¡¯s shoulder. The same as the pool on the wooden floor of the boat.

    ¡°Are you going to live?¡± she asked, an instant before realizing that it might not be the best idea. Showing mercy or kindness could paint her as a softer target in the future and only draw more of them towards her. ¡°I don¡¯t know how well you can heal something like this. Catherine Valois seemed relatively fine after a gunshot, so I thought¡ª¡± Stay in-character. ¡°What possessed you to start a fight you would never win?¡± Even if you probably could have if you¡¯d done it a month ago.

    ¡°You¡¯ll not have my blood for your gecko spirit, girl. I yield.¡± He clutched his hand over his bloody shoulder, spewing unrecognizable curses from the southern dialect the spirit-touched used, apparently a perfect preservation of spoken language from 600 years ago, though it was probably easy with Glaciel right there to correct them when needed.

    ¡°And you¡¯ll live?¡± She wiped her sword on her new winter cloak, whose red color had already proven useful an unfortunate number of times.

    He choked out a sound that resembled a laugh. ¡°It would take far more than that to take down Henri Valois, you fool. I am of the Eighth Ring, a descen¡ª¡±

    ¡°A descendant of Glaciel herself. You all are. It¡¯s not impressive.¡± Another Valois, too. So far that made six of them, plus three Capets, two Gr¨ºleaux, and one Deneige. Either Glaciel hadn¡¯t sent representatives from very many families after her, or, more disturbingly, there just weren¡¯t that many different families in Hiverre at all. The fact that one of the Valois had claimed to be Catherine¡¯s great-granddaughter while being Fourth-Ring rather than Sixth seemed to point towards the latter.

    ¡°Should have just gone after the geckos¡­¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Oh, I see. I look like an easy trophy by comparison.¡± Florette leveled her sword at his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± Not that she particularly wanted to shirk her share of the Ice Queen¡¯s ire, but the geckos usually stuck together, which made them far better at handling situations like this. Mara had helped in the past, but she would draw too much attention for what Florette was here for today.

    Flammare¡¯s presence in the sky cast a thin shadow in front of her as she slipped out of the alley she¡¯d led the spirit-touched into and returned to her route. The air was brisk and the light faint compared to the sun, but it was still remarkably better than the climate by the harbor, outside the area of Flammare¡¯s primary attention.

    Finding a person who didn¡¯t want to be found was difficult. If they had some kind of access to darkness magic, all the more so. It didn¡¯t help that Fernan couldn¡¯t give a real description of what he looked like, though the information he¡¯d had was still valuable.

    Jethro¡¯s aura was dark; he would be more at home in the cold than most, and thus it would be less of an inconvenience for him to move about on the outskirts of the city, or during the simulated ¡®night¡¯ when Flammare vacated his position in the sky to move about the earth.

    According to Laura Bougitte, the noble girl always hanging around Fernan who was Flammare¡¯s premier sage in the city, Flammare¡¯s sacrifices had grown more than ever as people looked to thank him for his aid. Especially with so many who were used to giving to Soleil now left without a patron spirit. Also according to Laura, he¡¯d been a good friend of Soleil and his handpicked successor, which was less than comforting as far as the next sun went.

    The Singer¡¯s Lounge was even livelier than it had been in Spring, with so many trying to while away the crisis in a warm place with friends and drink. Back at the port, it had been easy to blend in, using nautical knowledge and drinking capacity to subtly work on the sailors and stevedores between shifts.

    A spy, especially a spy used to communicating with pirates, would definitely want to keep his ear trained towards the port and the words it carried from the world at large, and probably send reports and missives of his own out. All Florette had to do was catch him at the right time, which wasn¡¯t going well so far.

    A week of rotating through spots by the harbor, and she¡¯d learned that most ships couldn¡¯t make it through the steadily-freezing water; only the largest and most durable could even get around by hugging the coast. Avalon, of course, had the best vessels for the job and was keeping nearly all of them to itself.

    She¡¯d also learned that Camille being alive was now public knowledge. The Fox-King had sent out an official proclamation and everything, though it was intended more for other nations than Guerron. Apparently she¡¯d been sent as an aid worker in an act of charity towards the poor dispossessed Malin, a city so poorly prepared to take on the challenges of darkness.

    It had Camille¡¯s signature all over it, plotting and scheming even from miles away without ever giving up deniability of her own involvement. Oh, to be a bird looking down at the Avalon nobles when they see that.

    No one had seen a creepy guy with an aura of darkness about him ¡ª Florette had phrased the questions more obliquely than that, of course ¡ª although a few sailors mentioned a ¡®fine young man¡¯ coming through to ask questions about the arrival of certain spirits like Lamante and the Fallen, which might have been Jethro.

    Even if it was him, he hadn¡¯t come back, and it was beginning to look less and likely that he would.

    Thus, the Singer¡¯s Lounge. After the castle, where Florette had limited access and Fernan was already keeping an eye, this seemed like the next best spot to try to find him. Magnifico had chosen it, after all, and Jethro seemed to be an infiltrator of much the same mold.

    A blast of otherworldly static greeted Florette as she opened the door, the pulsebox beeping and chirping along to Edith Costeau¡¯s new composition. Copies of the device were springing up all over the city, but as many of them as there were, there was still only one Edith Costeau.

    I wonder if she¡¯d even recognize me now. After almost half a year and darkness falling, it wouldn¡¯t really be fair to expect it, but it would be nice for her part in things to be appreciated. Either way, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for.

    Florette ordered the cheapest ale of the bar¡¯s offerings, which was still an outrageous twelve florins. Grain was legitimately sparser now, and being directed towards subsistence uses like bread, so it did make some amount of sense that existing stock would go up in price. Some. It was hard to ignore that costs that should have been entirely unrelated, like the entry fee, had gone up just as much. No one¡¯s wasting the chance to gouge with an excuse.

    It wouldn¡¯t have been so annoying if she¡¯d had more money left, but doling out the upfront payment for the train job had nearly wiped her out, and weeks of reconnaissance after hadn¡¯t exactly filled her coffers back. If she could find a trustworthy buyer for the guns, that would be one thing, but who would that even be?

    Lucien Renart was an able combat instructor, but his hesitancy with the Glaciel thing hadn¡¯t exactly inspired confidence, and his gaggle of creeps, ready and eager to throw Florette to the wolves, weren¡¯t exactly the kind of people she wanted to hand those weapons over to. Leclaire, especially, seemed like he had all the family bastardry with none of Camille¡¯s flashes of remorse, let alone restraint.

    Captain Verrou, maybe, but I doubt the Seaward Folly can even navigate these waters. He¡¯s probably busy trying to steal an icebreaker or something. In any case, his potential arrival here was completely outside her control. Not something to be counted on.

    Although, come to think of it, Jethro might know a way to reach him. Florette picked one of the few seats at the crowded bar and waited until she could get the keeper¡¯s attention. ¡°Woods Nymph, please.¡± Guerron had no trouble sourcing the correct ingredients every time, which made it a more reliable prospect than it had been in Malin.

    As she waited, Florette scanned the lamp-lit faces inside, most of them red-faced old people ranging in age from around thirty to fifty. Some of them even had children with them, shyly hiding in their seats or creeping through the crowd for a better look at Edith Costeau.

    No one looked particularly like a shadow-y figure, though, and Fernan had guessed mid-twenties for Jethro¡¯s age, which no one here seemed to fit.

    That was fine. These things took time. She couldn¡¯t reasonably expect to find him on the first day in here.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°You look frustrated, Miss. Buy you a drink to cheer you up?¡±

    Florette turned to face the voice, ready to politely decline while inquiring about Jethro, only to find the half-circle glasses of that solicitor Fernan¡¯s mom had hired. ¡°Michel?¡±

    He nodded, unashamed. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll forgive me forgetting your name, but I remember you accompanying Sire Montaigne from a trip up into the mountains. I can only assume it was important, confidential business.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡± She shrugged. ¡°If you¡¯re buying, sure, I¡¯ll have another.¡± The first was nearly empty anyway. ¡°Hey, you wouldn¡¯t happen to have heard about anyone hanging around asking questions, would you? Probably a young guy, possibly cloaked in shadow or otherwise disguised?¡±

    Michel shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve been keeping an eye out ever since Sire Montaigne asked to put out feelers, but no luck as yet.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± She sighed quietly into her drink. ¡°How did those contracts go, anyway? Didn¡¯t a lot of it depend on the ice trade that¡¯s now pointless and the geckos that Glaciel¡¯s court are now preying on? Can¡¯t imagine that made for a great bargaining position.¡±

    ¡°Alas, no. I managed to negotiate excellent provisions with the Crown and several vendors once the sun rises anew, but until then, we are unfortunately dependent on Lady Debray¡¯s generosity.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. That food isn¡¯t a gift; it was part of the deal Fernan made for freeing her. And it¡¯s not like we¡¯re exactly top of mind, either. Flammare¡¯s light is on the center of town; most of the Malinoises are bundled up tight by the castle; and of course, no one¡¯s lifting a finger to help the geckos that helped make sure we didn¡¯t starve.¡± Even among the villagers from the mountains, few wanted to renounce their protection from Glaciel¡¯s ire to stand with them, though they were happy enough to benefit from their warmth.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me.¡± A glint of light shone off his glasses as he pushed them into position, gone almost as soon as it appeared. ¡°The Imperial Crown protects its own power above all else, whatever the Fox-King¡¯s supposed virtues, just as merchants support only the mechanisms for profit. It¡¯s the nature of institutions to sustain themselves first, with their alleged goal only following after.¡±

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± That¡¯s a long way to go without much prompting. It did make a certain amount of sense though, considering how stubbornly Perimont and his ilk had clung to the system they knew, far beyond the bounds of practicality. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean that stuff going on the way it has is inevitable, though. If you have rotten boards in your retaining wall, you don¡¯t resign yourself to living above them, waiting for the day they collapse. You tear them out, come what may.¡±

    Michel smiled, setting a green pin on the counter. A burst of flame fashioned after Fernan¡¯s eyes, just like she¡¯d suggested when she¡¯d first gotten back here. ¡°Montaignards have to look out for each other, because they certainly won¡¯t.¡± He stood, clutching a leather folder close to his chest. ¡°I heard you were in town right when Governor Perimont suffered his accident. Based on when you arrived, you would have to have left right after to make it in time.¡±

    If you¡¯re trying to fucking blackmail me, I swear it will be the last thing you do. ¡°Your point?¡±

    ¡°Keep up the good work.¡± He patted her on the back, then began pushing his way through the crowd towards the door.

    Finally, she couldn¡¯t help but think over the next few hours. Smoothly sliding into conversations and subtly asking about Jethro only really took half her attention, anyway. Better were the implications of the ¡®Montaignards¡¯, which it wasn¡¯t hard to guess that Fernan hadn¡¯t had too active a hand in shaping. He was spending most of his time focusing on spirit stuff, these days, and he was honestly welcome to it. Nice for someone with an ounce of decency to be involved in all of it, anyway.

    In Malin, people had been cowed in the face of obvious evil, but here, it seemed, some were willing to acknowledge even the subtler oppression of the Empire and spirits like Glaciel.

    Florette examined the pin as she left in the cold night air, Flammare having left for the evening. Montaignard, meaning a follower of Fernan Montaigne, the stupid surname he¡¯d probably picked in five minutes before that trial so he could have one at all. Still, the design is cool.

    She put it in her pocket rather than affix it to anything, then pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

    ¡°You, my lady, are quite persistent.¡± A shadowed figure stood on a rooftop in front of her, silhouetted by moonlight. ¡°If you wanted a conversation with me, you might simply have asked.¡±

    ¡°Jethro.¡± Florette couldn¡¯t contain her smile, and so simply let it show. It worked! No spy would want their sources of information primed to be suspicious, and so she¡¯d couched every question she¡¯d asked to slowly pour poison into his well. In theory, it would only be a matter of time before he decided to address it himself. That or leave town, which while unsatisfying would at least mean he couldn¡¯t work his mischief here. And with travel being what it was, a confrontation seemed the more likely solution.

    ¡°Florette,¡± he greeted back, remaining in position on the roof. ¡°Or is it Celine?¡±

    How did he¡ªNo, of course he¡¯d be in communication with people in Malin. Whitbey or Stuart probably dropped the name in some letter before darkness fell and Jethro just guessed based on that. Especially with Camille¡¯s identity coming out. ¡°You¡¯re not in a position to criticize aliases, ¡®Jethro¡¯.¡±

    As her eyes adjusted more, it was easier to make out his confident smile and what looked like black-haired bangs hanging over his eyes, but most of his face was hidden under a hood and its shadow. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a criticism. Simply an observation. Notice how one can observe without disrupting a delicate ecosystem of information-gathering like a blundering walrus.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to get in touch, and it worked. Answer a few questions and there won¡¯t be any need for me to continue doing it.¡±

    ¡°Very well, provided you answer mine first.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± What? What could she possibly have to tell him that he wanted to know?

    ¡°Prince Lucifer Grimoire of Avalon. He was alive when you saw him last? Unharmed?¡± Oh. That.

    ¡°Yes. Despite you selling out the position of his ship.¡±

    ¡°And despite your crew slaughtering its way through it. Was he acting suspiciously? Paranoid about anything?¡±

    Mostly just anxious. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t suspect any foul play in setting up your attack? He remains ignorant that anyone tipped you off?¡± Was he scared?

    ¡°He¡¯s as ignorant as one of your citizens. Don¡¯t worry. None of us ratted on you. Nothing worse than that.¡± It was theoretically possible Eloise had, she supposed, but as much of a prick as she¡¯d turned out to be, she wouldn¡¯t do that. Even without morals, giving up a source like that meant you couldn¡¯t use it again. Poor business sense to do it. ¡°But, you know, your plan to kill him failed. Badly.¡±

    He took a short breath, straightening his posture slightly. ¡°You assume I did this knowingly, but I was simply following my orders from the royal family. Luce was called over after reading a letter calling him to come immediately in the name of the King. A king with no particular compunctions about disposing of unwanted progeny, at that. Did it occur to you that perhaps I¡¯m simply trying to get to the bottom of things, just as you are?¡±

    He didn¡¯t deny it, though. ¡°Fernan tells me you don¡¯t lie, be it by choice or some other limitation. Can you tell me, right now, that this was all just an accident? You didn¡¯t know you were setting Luce up by tipping us off? Because I think you¡¯re just trying to assuage your guilt. Why else go to all this trouble? Your plan failed and now you¡¯re stuck dealing with the aftermath, trying to find someone else to pin the blame on.¡±

    ¡°Would you believe me if I did?¡± He scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°It is true that I refrain from lying, but that doesn¡¯t do anything to lend me credibility, at least not in this identity. Better you talk to the man whom Luce was traveling to aid. ¡±

    ¡°The King of Avalon? Yeah, I¡¯ll just waltz into Cambria and call for an audience. Brilliant plan, Jethy.¡±

    Jethro smiled. ¡°He¡¯s closer than you¡¯d think. Ask the Fox-King, if you can¡¯t figure it out yourself. They would have tried to execute him weeks ago if they hadn¡¯t known, and I would have had to step in. Better this way, though of course some will remain in the dark.¡± He flipped around and ran away the moment he¡¯d finished his sentence, a considerably less dignified exit than the way he¡¯d disappeared for Fernan. Likely, that method only confounded his specific flame vision.

    Florette didn¡¯t call out as he left, since that would have been pointless. She didn¡¯t chase him down, either, though there was a chance she might have scaled the rooftop in time even with the wounds on her back. No need anymore, now that I know I have a way to reach him.

    No, the next step was comparing his story to the King of Avalon¡¯s, seeing where they contradicted each other to properly determine the truth. And Khali¡¯s curse, is it quite a story. If what Jethro was implying was true, King Harold of Avalon was none other than Magnifico, sneaking into enemy territory alone for his audacious sun-killing gambit, only for it to blow up in his face shortly thereafter.

    If it was true.

    One of them had set Luce up to die, and Florette had to know who.

    She had just started walking again when a dark shape appeared back in the street in front of her. ¡°Really, Jethro? Forgot a question before your ¡®mysterious¡¯ disappearance into the night? It would be easier if we just set up our next meeting.¡±

    The figure stepped into the glow of the moonlight, illuminating a short body with a head consisting almost entirely of a mouth. Stranger still, his skin looked purple, and seemed to flow over his body like ripples through a steam. ¡°I would rather avoid such a prescribed meeting, as I tend to find them a waste of time.¡±

    ¡°Are you affiliated with Glaciel?¡± she asked, trying to force her voice to sound casual as she reached for her sword..

    ¡°No more than you are with the Prince of Crescents. My path has crossed hers in the past, but broadly, our goals are at cross-purposes.¡± The gaping maw on his head tilted up at the corners, an impression of a smile. ¡°That human-loving fool is in dire need of incineration, as I see it.¡±

    ¡°Agreed¡­¡± Florette stepped closer slowly, hand near her sword¡¯s hilt. ¡°And you are?¡±

    ¡°Corro, Spirit of the Wastes.¡± The smile curled higher. ¡°Word of your works is beginning to spread, young one. The irritating vermin whom Glaciel cannot stamp out; too weak to justify more personal intervention from her upper rings, yet too strong for her toadies to eliminate. A slayer when needed, but not defined by it. And, as yet, unaligned with any of our kind.¡±

    ¡°Well, most of your kind haven¡¯t exactly made the best impression.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he chuckled ominously, the sound dripping out of him with a creepy squelch. ¡°I imagine they did not. Still, I would like to discuss a proposal with you now. I imagine you¡¯ll find it to your satisfaction, given your prior activities.¡±

    Not getting any less ominous. ¡°What is it that you want me to do?¡±

    ¡°To help overturn that which is believed to be immutable. To strike back against the order of things, that we might establish something better. To kill someone the world would benefit enormously from being rid of.¡±

    Florette gulped, self-consciously pulling her hand away from her sword.

    ¡°I always regretted leaving the Queen of the Exiles to her fate, young one. She was poised to change everything, but it was my folly to believe that she would do it alone or not at all. Who was I to judge her inadequate, when I had accomplished even less in the Winter War? If we could simply have worked together, the face of Terramonde might be very different.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ¡®left her to her fate¡¯? The Queen of the Exiles is still alive.¡± She was supposed to be, anyway. ¡°Wait, did something happen to her when darkness fell?¡±

    ¡°Nothing so recent. In any case, while far too many of my peers seem to revel in their unchanging nature, I find it far more useful to learn from mistakes. That is my intent here, working with you. I met with your previous partner in Malin, and she gave an assurance while sworn to truth that you and I would be compatible partners.¡± He held out his hand in the Avalonian style, though where a spirit would have learned that was completely beyond Florette. ¡°Are you willing to work together?¡±

    Florette blinked, trying to process everything without tripping up. When the fuck would he have met Eloise, and why would she want me working with a spirit anyway? Spirits couldn¡¯t lie, but the stories were rife with examples of hapless rubes condemned to fates worse than death because they thought they could get the better of one, or simply thought they could trust them. Add that to the cavalcade of pricks Fernan and Camille had mentioned, from Soleil to Levian to G¨¦zarde, even if the latter had apparently mellowed of late, and there were a lot of reasons to be cautious.

    But he was talking about changing things. Overturning the ¡°natural¡± order. Ripping out the rotted boards. ¡°I think, first, you should tell me exactly what it is you¡¯re proposing.¡±

 Eloise IV: The Circumnavigator

    Eloise IV: The Circumnavigator

    Florette¡¯s hair billowed out behind her, her face carefully turned to minimize the time it spent whipping her in the face.

    If she were smart, she¡¯d cut it short. But what a shame that would be. With it blasting up into the air behind her like that, she looked like those old carvings of the Undying they¡¯d nicked from that museum, striding confidently across the sea to claim her kills.

    Eloise leaned against the railing next to her, earning herself a warm smile as she put her hands behind her head. ¡°You look absolutely miserable. A matter of global importance, I don¡¯t doubt, weighing you down.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°I mean, in a way.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? What¡¯s on your mind?¡±

    ¡°Terramonde.¡± She laughed, the sound lighting up the air around her head. ¡°A bit literal, maybe, but you¡¯re dead on.¡±

    Must have spirits on her mind, after that duel. ¡°I know what you mean. I live my whole life in fear that the earth spirit will suddenly swallow me whole. Makes it impossible to do anything, that certainty hanging over my head.¡±

    Eyes might have rolled at that, but her smile remained. ¡°I was just thinking, you know? The Seaward Folly¡¯s probably one of the fastest ships in the world. It can cover more ground faster, and so it can go farther with the same amount of supplies. Even around the other side of the world, maybe. Have you ever done the math?¡±

    ¡°I wrote the proof, obviously. That¡¯s why we¡¯re heading due west right now.¡±

    ¡°I mean it, though. No one¡¯s ever done it before. That guy who disappeared¡­ Uh¡­ I¡¯m forgetting his name. But he was working with the ships of half a century ago, way slower, and with a much larger crew.¡±

    Eloise couldn¡¯t help but frown. ¡°That guy thought the earth spirit was a third its size. Most likely, he died of thirst out on the open ocean, if he didn¡¯t end it himself first to spare himself the pain. Same for his crew.¡±

    ¡°I suppose¡­¡±

    Seeing the way Florette¡¯s face fell at that sent a pang through her. Have to say something to save it. ¡°Look, don¡¯t worry about sailing around the world. It¡¯s just a vanity prize, anyway. Once it was over, you''d end up right back to where you started.¡±

    ?

    Eloise scowled at the discolored patch on the front of her coat, the result of lacking supplies and  the like. It wasn¡¯t so objectionable in principle, much like a scar ¡ª the fact that it was there meant that she¡¯d survived. That whoever had tried to kill her had failed. It wasn¡¯t as if the fashion of it particularly mattered.

    But the fact they¡¯d been able to get so close was a failure on her part, and an impossible one to ignore.

    Worse, I¡¯m sitting on a pile of weapons I can¡¯t sell. ¡°Idiot,¡± she muttered quietly to herself. Always find the buyer first. Now anyone getting ahold of them in the city would attract too much attention, and shipping was too closely inspected and limited in capacity to find a buyer further afield. Might as well have sent them all with Florette, for all the good they¡¯re doing me here.

    I have to clean up with the crew, too. One of them had stolen from her and set her up to die. Whoever gave the order was more important, but Eloise was in no position to allow liabilities like that in her midst either. It¡¯s going to be a nightmare tracking them all down, too. Florette had handled most of the personnel once Eloise had made a few recommendations. The people she knew were the least likely to do something like this, but that also meant that the most likely culprits could be near-impossible to find without a name or face she could remember.

    ¡°Bad day, Eloise?¡± Mince, the woman Jacques had supervising distribution on the northwest of the city, sported a scar herself, an extremely visible jagged line across her face, and it sent a similar message. Something that would pose issues on the legitimate side of things, perhaps, but that wasn''t an area where she¡¯d ever shown much interest anyway.

    ¡°How could it possibly be a bad day with your sunny visage to brighten it? It¡¯s almost blinding.¡± Eloise brushed past on her way into the room, not sparing her another look.

    Better not to look too fixated, or it might give away her suspicions.

    There weren¡¯t many pistols floating around. Florette had taken about a third with her to sell in Guerron, and a few of Avalon¡¯s elite could be expected to have them. They had on the train, anyway.

    Neither would want to kill her, at least not by sending someone to gun her down the street. Florette was a reckless child half the time, but she was also direct. If she¡¯d really been that torn up about things, she¡¯d probably have asked for a duel then and there.

    Better not to dwell on that, anyway.

    No, undoubtedly the weapon that had nearly ended her had been slipped out of her own supply, by one of her own people. A fucking rat.

    Why did this always keep happening? The kids at school, the crew on her ship, and now people who¡¯d been well-paid for a simple job. And Florette¡­

    Jacques gave her a quiet nod as she took her seat, a gesture she returned. She knew what was coming, and he¡¯d need the support. The numbers didn¡¯t lie, no matter how much everyone else in this room might.

    Here I am, back again. Almost ten years, yet it looks just the same.

    ¡°Good, it looks like everyone is here.¡± Jacques¡¯ meetings didn¡¯t abide by Captain Verrou¡¯s Rules of Order; he could afford no ambiguity as to who was in command. ¡°Ms. Sunderland, report.¡±

    Sunderland looked around fifty or sixty, her short hair gray but not yet white. In her hand was an ornate teacup, steam wafting up from it into the room. Did she bring that with her? These meetings aren¡¯t catered. ¡°People are on edge, Mr. Clocha?ne. No matter how many bulletins instruct them not to panic, too many have seen how low the city¡¯s wood stores have run. Avalon¡¯s apparatus is potent, but not yet sufficient to compel people to disbelieve their own eyes. They grow more suspicious, more paranoid.¡±

    ¡°How terribly specific,¡± Eloise couldn¡¯t help but say. ¡°Next you¡¯ll tell us that no one¡¯s happy about the sun being gone.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your input, Elise,¡± she responded with a gentle smile, as if she weren¡¯t purposefully messing up the name. ¡°As I was saying, suspicions are only growing. Per your instructions, I¡¯ve closed down the eight Aranea¡¯s locations without easy tunnel access and hearths sufficiently voluminous to meet the condensed demand. An additional seventeen have been modified to vent heat from the bakery area to the dining chambers to save on fuel. My eyes and ears bring me word of several topics potentially of interest, though as always I must caution you that the pulse of public discourse often has only a tenuous relationship with reality.¡±

    She began a long speech, reccounting every useless bit of trivia the random fools discussed over their cups of coffee, all that had caught her agents¡¯ eyes. Jacques liked to be abreast of the city, even if it meant boring everyone else to tears at the start of every meeting.

    Eloise listened carefully, though, since there was a chance that this was the person trying to kill her. They¡¯d never had any particular quarrel, but that hardly made it impossible. It wasn¡¯t like her old crew had needed much provocation to leave her to die in a desolate wasteland. Why do people always act the same, wherever I go?

    ¡°...the Prince is spending more and more time in the company of his Spiritual Liaison, prompting many to speculate. An affair, perhaps, though many go so far as to suspect that she enticed him to make sinister pacts with her dark patrons. Lady Perimont held an event for the forresters and guardians, honoring them for their efforts maintaining law and order in this dark time. Captain Anya Stewart has been seen at four locations, meeting with her territorial counterparts. No questions for our staff or direct indication of suspicion against us.¡±

    Jacques frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t be concerned. They¡¯ll take any excuse to go after us. Any word on what she¡¯s looking for?¡±

    ¡°Nothing firm, but she arrived with Lady Perimont. It¡¯s not a stretch to imagine she might be following up on the late Governor¡¯s accident.¡± She stared at Eloise, her smile going flat. ¡°The timing of the incident is certainly suspect.¡±

    Fuck. If one of the grunts they¡¯d hired was willing to fob guns off on someone trying to kill her, it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine that they or others might have let something slip within Ms. Sunderland¡¯s long grasp, but Eloise had been hoping the whole thing would just be buried.

    Florette was gone, after all. Safe.

    Jacques looked at her, the rest of the room following their eyes. ¡°She may well come talk to you, Eloise, with questions about the attempt on your life. I trust you know what to say.¡±

    Of course she will, right at a time when my image needs to be cleanest. Brilliant.

    Eloise forced a laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll invite her to one of our meetings, that way she can learn everything she needs to.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a joke,¡± Mince growled. ¡°We¡¯re all tied up in this shit because of you, and I¡¯d sooner die than go back to prison. Mr. Clocha?ne asked you a straight question. He expects a straight answer.¡± Consider that a tally in your column, then. Mince was at the top of the list already, really, but Eloise had been in this business too long not to recognize the flourish with one hand while the other picked your pocket. She could be putting on a show to cover for a subtler architect of destruction.

    Her arms folded to maintain an aura of strength. ¡°The Prince isn¡¯t Perimont. It¡¯ll take more than suspicions for him to turn against us.¡± On me, anyway. Probably. ¡°In any case, there aren¡¯t any threads left for her to pull. At least, none on my end. I¡¯m aware that everyone has a different tolerance for risk in how they conduct their operations.¡± Mince, for example, had spent two years in a cell for checking on a stash being monitored by the Guardians. ¡°As for this Stewart woman, I expect her to be enthralled by my descriptions of our charitable discounts on candles for the impoverished. I¡¯ll wish her good luck in catching my assailant.¡±

    ¡°Weak,¡± Mince scoffed. She isn¡¯t even being subtle. Though she doesn¡¯t really have to be, either. ¡°If you want to be convincing, you should be pissed off. You know who doesn¡¯t have much to say, just wants to end things as soon as possible? Guilty people.¡±

    ¡°Well, you would know.¡± That was terrible advice, too. The first lesson in this business is to talk to authorities as little as possible, ideally never, and everyone in this room ought to know that. Mince was setting her up to go down, in her own clumsy way. So perhaps my getting caught would be enough for her? A hangman¡¯s noose wasn¡¯t that different from the tip of a sword, in the end, though it would certainly be an ignoble end.

    Mince bristled at the observation. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to get whoever tried this on you? You were so close to bleeding out in the street.¡±

    ¡°Nothing good ever came from seeking revenge,¡± Eloise said, giving Mince a pointed look. ¡°Better to let it be. That¡¯s what I¡¯ll tell her.¡±

    That was enough to get her to drop it, at least.

    Aneoeuf was next to report. ¡°Had to water down the product to stretch the supply far enough. Even then, we¡¯re going to run out in a matter of weeks. I already closed everything down at the market, had my crew go out woodcutting and find a nice forested spot to sell to the other workers. Going alright so far.¡± The lieutenant for the east side had apparently gotten his nickname from some incident involving a mule and a breakfast gone wrong, but no one had ever been willing to tell Eloise what.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Jacques sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°We agreed that everyone would raise the prices. It¡¯s a basic economic principle.¡±

    ¡°Tried that the first couple days.¡± Aneoeuf shrugged. ¡°We cleared almost double stretching it out like this.¡±

    ¡°But diminished the reputation of our product in the process.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s plain that with shipments so limited, this approach is untenable. Even your ¡®solution¡¯ only buys a bit more time. Unless anyone has had any more success?¡±

    No one had.

    ¡°Which brings us to Eloise.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure I speak for everyone when I say that it¡¯s great to have you back.¡± You might actually be speaking for no one but yourself, come to think of it.

    ¡°Right.¡± Eloise frowned, running through the people in this room as she had a hundred times before, though this time not directly speculating about who would want to kill her. She glanced at them all, seeing each pair of eyes look to her, waiting for her to begin. ¡°Well, it¡¯s just like you¡¯d expect. The sun going out has completely ruined the market for candles. No one needs them anymore, it turns out. We¡¯re deep, deep in debt.¡±

    She forced a smile, holding her arms tighter against her. ¡°Jacques always joked that his greatest enemy was the sun, but it turns out he was right. Revenues have more than doubled, with sales exceeding that by another third. Most of the delta consists of charitable grants and partnerships with the Governor¡¯s office, more than paying their way in goodwill. Not to mention those who will grow to know and prefer our brand. Now that Marco¡¯s crew has taken care of Caring Candles and Dayglow, we can only expect returns to rise even further in the months to come.¡± No asymptotic ceiling here.

    ¡°Excellent, Eloise. Thank you for taking the initiative on those contracts, by the way. I¡¯d had a mind to do something similar, but I couldn¡¯t get to implementing it very quickly.¡± He clasped his hands together. ¡°And the supply? Could you enlighten this table as to how long we can meet such demand?¡±

    He already knew, of course. They¡¯d gone over all of it at the meeting before the meeting. This wouldn¡¯t be an easy message to deliver to this group, after all.

    ¡°Assuming growth continues at or near this pace, three months. Eight, if you¡¯re willing to compromise on the formula and accept more diversified sources of materials.¡±

    ¡°Circumstances must.¡± He nodded. ¡°Any competitors using purer wax formulas can be addressed in other fashions.¡± As he waved his hand around the room, the many rings on his fingers each glistened, shimmering at different angles as the candles¡¯ light touched them. ¡°I hope the issue is plain to see, for all of you, and the wisest course to follow.¡±

    It is. Aneoeuf had his hand resting on the back of his neck; Mince was grinding her teeth; and Marco¡¯s hand gripped firmly around the hilt of his sword, knuckles white.

    ¡°As of now, all extralegal operations are suspended while we explore alternatives for local supply. You will be compensated as contractors in the meantime, as will up to four people from each of your respective crews, chosen at your discretion. Some performance of candle-related work will be necessary to maintain the fa?ade. The rest will have to make their own way for the time being. Given the circumstances, they should understand; they¡¯ve seen the shortages themselves, after all.¡±

    None of them dared to object. Not one. They might be willing to kill Eloise, but they knew they were in no position to argue with Jacques.

    No, their resentful eyes turned to her instead, practically everyone in the room. And one of them wanted her dead. If the rest don¡¯t too.

    Why does it always come back to this?

    ¡°Dismissed.¡±

    ?

    Eloise slumped down against a withered husk of a tree, splashing pink sand into the air.

    The prince kept walking for a few paces, then stopped. ¡°What, already? You¡¯ve been complaining about me stopping to rest for the last three days. There¡¯s got to be over two hours of sunlight left!¡±

    ¡°Oh, sunlight in summer! What a scarce resource! Especially in this fucking wasteland. Yes, brilliant, conserve our sunlight.¡± She put her hands behind her head, leaning back against the tree. ¡°I¡¯m the one who has to catch all our food, and I say it¡¯s time for a rest. At least one of us is completely exhausted, and I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s both.¡± Hard not to sleep like shit on this sand. ¡°Come on, set your stuff down. We can take an hour and I¡¯ll still have time to fish before it¡¯s dark.¡±

    He glanced briefly at the bracelet on his wrist, then swore. ¡°There are only six wristwatches in the world, you know. If I can¡¯t repair this, I¡¯m taking it out of your ransom.¡± Setting his portion of the water-boiling thing gently down in the sand, he chose the shade of a different tree to rest under, seven or eight feet away.

    ¡°Hey, Prince Cipher, you¡¯re obviously the expert on destroying ships. Know anything about building them?¡±

    ¡°Of course. I have to,¡± he insisted with a frown. ¡°I¡¯m the Prince of Crescents, Lord of Crescent Isle. The entire shipbuilding facility there is under my command.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one in charge of that place?¡± Eloise laughed. ¡°Probably a bit late to be telling you this, but the security¡¯s a joke.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡± He ground his teeth. ¡°The Director supervises it, anyway, he just reports to me.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± she said with a smirk. ¡°But you¡¯re informed, yes? Kept abreast of all the latest developments in the world of shipbuilding?¡±

    Eyes narrowed at that. ¡°You might be able to steal some of Avalon¡¯s secrets, but you¡¯re not going to get me to give them away just by asking.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I was just wondering what the reach on your new stuff was. Ships keep getting faster, you know. Traveling further. Like those new ones, they burn coal instead of just using the wind, right? Do you think they could make it all the way around the world?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s bound to be a ship that can, eventually,¡± the Prince agreed.

    ¡°But it hasn¡¯t happened yet?¡±

    ¡°Not to my knowledge, and I¡¯d be the one to know. Maybe a few of the hybrid models, if they caught the right¡­ current? Windstream? Trade¡­something? Ultimately it¡¯s all just convection applied to fluids, but the vernacular¡­¡±

    This is the man in charge of building the most advanced ships in the world? ¡°Tradewinds are the ones we already know about and use for trade. Not unknown streams on the other side of the world. You mean as long as the heading is fair. Which it could be, for all we know.¡±

    ¡°Fine, sure. But you run into the tyranny of the ox and the grain.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me Avalon has a legend about a cow that guards the ocean.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s a principle. The ox can carry a wagon, but it can only go as long it¡¯s being fed. If you pile the wagon with grain, the ox will stop when it runs out. Bring another wagon, and you need another ox. It¡¯s the same with coal and steam-power. Combustion engines still need fuel.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± That makes a lot of sense, honestly. ¡°Why not use that hybrid you mentioned, then? Didn¡¯t you say they could do it?¡±

    ¡°Well, we couldn¡¯t guarantee the safety of the crew, for one thing. Those models might manage it under the best of circumstances, but you need a healthy margin of error on an expedition like that. We¡¯re at least twenty years off from a design that could manage it, and that¡¯s if the function of our progress over time remains constant or better. As long as we don¡¯t hit an asymptotic ceiling, you know?¡± I do, but it¡¯s ridiculous that you expected me to. ¡°It¡¯s hardly unheard of for technological progress in a field to see diminishing returns over time.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s something you¡¯re working towards? Even if it¡¯s not really worth anything beyond being able to say that you did?¡±

    ¡°Of course it is! Circumnavigation is a key global milestone in cartography and science alike. Temperature readings from the other side can give us insights into the entire earth spirit¡¯s climate. Measuring the¡­ headings, can help us fill in our maps of winds and currents, look at how heat transfers across the entire surface. It could create an entire field of global fluid dynamics. Maybe there¡¯s a correlation with Terramonde¡¯s magnetic plane! Or a pattern to which areas have more concentrated spiritual energy.¡± He rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°That last one¡¯s more of a pet theory, admittedly. The correlation¡¯s pretty loose on this side, but getting data on the back of the earth spirit would at least let me put it on a slab if I¡¯m wrong.¡±

    ¡°How did I come this far just to end back in school again?¡±

    ¡°Maybe we should teach more classes about how to avoid being a complete scoundrel. Clearly yours failed.¡±

    Eloise ignored the jab, sliding down further against the remnants of the tree. ¡°Would you do it, then? Sail around the world?¡±

    The prince wrinkled his nose. ¡°After this, if I never set foot on another boat in my life, I¡¯ll die happy.¡±

    Oh, right. ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck then. There¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll die happy before the month is even out.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for that,¡± he said with a childish frown. ¡°It¡¯s not like I would have said yes before all this, either. Once the technology is up to the task, all some sailor needs to do is pilot it on-course for a few months and they get credit for the whole thing, even though they¡¯re practically a passenger. No, sailing on a trip like that would be a waste of my time. Better to focus on more important things¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°Like, for example, not dying in this desolate wasteland, miles away from all my family and friends. Failing that, at least dying second so you can¡¯t eat me.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me. I¡¯m really sick of fish.¡±

    That got the slightest smile out of him, gone as soon as it was there.

    ?

    ¡°Man, I would have had it locked down. People are so bored now, cooped up inside to stay warm, ready to meet in the tunnels for a little escape. I was going to stock up, right before this all started. If you hadn¡¯t stopped me.¡± Margot was leaning back against the wall, hands behind her head. ¡°Flushed what I did have out to sea, too. My big, brilliant sister. Really outdid yourself there, huh?¡±

    Eloise pulled a coin purse from out of her pocket. ¡°I¡¯m not apologizing for keeping you out of a cell, you nitwit.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. The guardians are stretched so thin right now, they¡¯d probably let the Blue Bandit walk on by. Nah, the issue isn¡¯t security. It¡¯s supply.¡± She sighed. ¡°Whole city¡¯s dry, the way I hear it.¡±

    I have the exact opposite problem, an abundance of product with no one to sell it to. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you think me catching you is somehow a license to brag about being a small-time criminal. It¡¯s disappointing and pathetic.¡±

    ¡°So says the pirate! Come on! Besides, this would have been my chance to move up from small time. I could have revolutionized this whole business! You know, if you hadn¡¯t ruined it.¡±

    ¡°It seemed simpler than breaking you out of prison, itself easier than finding a school that would take you, afterwards.¡± How did she become like this? ¡°Wait, you remember the Blue Bandit?¡±

    Margot turned her head away, mumbling. ¡°Mom talked about her a lot.¡±

    Eloise lifted her hand, then let it drop. ¡°You have a good memory. What were you, three? Four? I don¡¯t remember anything from when I was that young.¡±

    Mom did talk about her a lot. The girl no older than I was, fighting tyranny. Funny to think about, after all that had happened since. I¡¯m almost ten years older, but she¡¯s still forteen.

    ¡°Some things you never forget.¡± Margot slumped down onto the bed beneath her. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to talk about this.¡±

    ¡°No, of course not.¡± Eloise sat down on the bed next to her, maintaining a respectful distance.¡°I guess it always comes back to that, in a way.¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s always traveling in circles. People don¡¯t change.¡±

    Eloise frowned. ¡°You¡¯re way too young to be saying stuff like that. You¡¯ve changed, for one thing.¡±

    ¡°Have I? Or are you just now noticing who I am because this is the first time you¡¯ve spent more than a week here in years?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ You have to understand, I was keeping you safe¡­ Providing¡­¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Margot shrugged. ¡°And thank you for that. Honestly. But this is just the way things are. Mom saw what was going on with the Blue Bandit and she vowed to do something about it.¡± And she died the exact same way. ¡°She was a good person, that¡¯s just who she always was. Us¡­¡± She shrugged again. ¡°But it¡¯s not like there¡¯s anything you can do to change that. Just the way things are.¡±

    Traveling in circles¡­

    ¡°Oh,¡± Eloise said with a start. ¡°Oh, fuck.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Just realized something, that¡¯s all,¡± she said as she stood. ¡°Could be a solution to my problems. Even catches two fish with one hook.¡±

    ¡°Uh, good?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it is.¡± Eloise gave her a firm nod. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a few days. Stay out of trouble.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, fine, sure. What are you doing that¡¯s so important anyway?¡±

    Eloise turned back to look at her sister, forcing the words out of her mouth. ¡°The right thing.¡±

 Fernan VI: That Human

    Fernan VI: That Human

    The intensity of the auras was nearly blinding. Reflexively, Fernan squinted slightly at the sight, but of course it made no difference.

    Dozens and dozens of blinding lights were standing or floating or slithering across the snowy crater, as varied in color as shape. Many of them left a melted trail behind them where they went, auras even brighter than the rest. The other flame spirits.

    After what had unfolded the day darkness had fallen, the mountaintop was practically unrecognizable, so cold it was almost black. There were craters everywhere, not just the largest they were assembled in, but massive chunks taken out of most of the surrounding mountains. Piles of rubble strewn about as the hillside had collapsed and slid. The dust had cleared from the air, at least, from time and snowfall, but traces floated into the air where the snow cover was too disturbed.

    Aurelian Lumi¨¨re had taken on the power of the sun for only minutes, fighting against a single man, and still he had wrought this much destruction. His predecessor, Soleil, had been ready to burn down half the city because the people who lived there didn¡¯t respect his authority.

    There was no doubt he would have been capable of it.

    And now one of these spirits will replace them, inheriting that power and inhumanity alike.

    G¨¦zarde¡¯s body was pressed against the edge of the crater, tail wrapped behind him. ¡°Fernan of Villechart, you arrive at last.¡± The voice sounding off the cold dirt echoed more faintly than usual, less powerful outside its domain. ¡°It seems you must have deceived me, for there are far too many gathered here. It appears as if the true convocation is upon us, despite your lies through truth.¡±

    ¡°Well, it isn¡¯t.¡± Fernan frowned. ¡°Come on, we talked about this.¡±

    ¡°We discussed cultivating allies from a select group of spirits, chosen carefully.¡± His aura faded slowly between green and orange. ¡°More spirits are here than could even fit in my den, in the event I graced them as their host.¡±

    ¡°And who do you think we select that group from? We have to converse and listen, above all. Hear their grievances, and present yourself as the solution.¡± Camille¡¯s advice, verbatim. I can¡¯t believe I almost didn¡¯t tell her the plan. G¨¦zarde wouldn¡¯t even be here right now.

    ¡°A solution demands a problem.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°To present myself this way requires something in the way of malady or misfortune. Perhaps malair. You have, it seems, neglected a factor of key importance.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t see the problem here?¡± Fernan hissed. ¡°Even if we don¡¯t freeze under Glaciel, we¡¯ll probably starve soon after. The entire world is in ruin for want of a sun. You are the solution to that problem. A new sun spirit, without ties to their existing order. Nothing like Soleil. Do I really need to go over this again?¡±

    With a flash of red, G¨¦zarde whipped his tail out behind him. ¡°The failure to prepare is yours. Reflect on it as we return.¡±

    ¡°As we¡­¡± He¡¯s scared, Fernan realized with a start. He hasn¡¯t seen any spirits in decades, and here¡¯s almost a full convocation he has to impress. And yet he¡¯d had no such trepidation in sending his children out to devour people in droves.

    But then, we¡¯re nothing to them but insects. That seemed to be the sentiment with most, at least. What Camille had said about Levian, how to talk to him, what to expect, it certainly didn¡¯t present a flattering image. And Soleil¡­

    G¨¦zarde wasn¡¯t there yet, honestly, but he had to be closer than any of the rest. He¡¯d been cheated and wounded by humanity, so he could recognize their strength. Uncomfortable as it was, that meant recognizing a kind of worth in turn. And I gave everything back, which has to mean a lot, too. Mara certainly seemed to think she was winning him over, at least.

    Perhaps it would fail, but if the ideas ¡ª that respect for humanity ¡ª could be acknowledged in their own right, that was a kind of victory too.

    And frankly, G¨¦zarde has nothing to lose by trying. Whatever these spirits¡¯ opinion of him at the end of all this, he¡¯d have no need to see them again. Returning to his isolation seemed inevitable even in victory, especially given the way he was acting now, but his ties to his children would keep him tethered to the people in a way Soleil clearly never had been.

    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving yet,¡± Fernan said softly. Listen to what they want, and show them how your plan gives them that. That had been Camille¡¯s advice for the spirits¡­ ¡°According to Laura, her spirit demands loyalty. Patronage. Succeed or fail, you need to show strength and aptitude here if you want all these spirits to leave you alone. Otherwise they might think you¡¯re too weak to be worth any consideration. This is the only way to be sure no one can impose anything down on you, at least as far as I see it.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± His glow faded slowly back to its normal green.

    ¡°Anyway, you¡¯re already here. People have seen you. Leaving without saying anything would make you look worse than never coming at all.¡± Fernan turned around, starting to walk away. ¡°Camille gave me some useful names,¡± he said over his shoulder. ¡°Soft targets, in her words.¡±

    ¡°The promise of a human¡­ The reliability of that has certainly been proven.¡± Still, the spirit followed.

    Fernan approached the large, birdlike spirit that Camille had told him was called Corva. A spirit of the wind, she was the patron to someone Camille had sought out as an ally, someone who might be amenable to hearing them out, with any luck.

    Next to her was an aura without a fixed shape, constantly burning and crackling with flaming tongues of sharp blue lightning in roughly the shape of an open book.

    ¡°Great Spirit Corva, Keeper of the Winds, I am honored to stand before you tonight.¡±

    The bird tilted her dark head, leaving a pale trail behind her as she adjusted her position. ¡°No doubt you are¡­¡± The wind whistled here in a voluminous screech. ¡°Who is your patron, human?¡±

    ¡°By the deal we made, I draw my power from G¨¦zarde, Flame of the Mountain and Father of Geckos.¡±

    Corva stared into him silently for a moment, as if considering something, then turned back to the incorporeal figure next to her.

    ¡°Wait! Hold on. Camille Leclaire, High Priestess of Levian, recommended that I speak with you. We have something important we wish to discuss.¡±

    The wind spirit turned back, looking above Fernan¡¯s head at G¨¦zarde. ¡°Does your human do all your speaking for you, Flame of the Mountain?¡±

    In response, G¨¦zarde stepped back, starting to edge away. This idea was doomed from the start, wasn¡¯t it?

    ¡°The Flame of the Mountain speaks when he chooses to, and not before.¡± Technically true here, which was important given the company. ¡°He doesn¡¯t enjoy his time being wasted.¡± Who would, really? And if saying that implies something else, well, it¡¯s not a falsehood.

    ¡°I sense weakness in your patron, human. I think I could eat you and he would not have the courage to respond. Oh, and the taste¡­ It is not often that I have the opportunity to consume humans who¡¯ve braised themselves over so long a time as you have.¡± An unsettling purring sound emanated from the air, coming from no particular direction.

    What the fuck was I thinking? Why did I ever consider that this was a good idea? How did Camille supporting it so readily not send up any flares?

    The crackling flame next to her grew brighter in intensity, briefly louder before abruptly going silent as the wind carried its sound out of reach.

    Corva¡¯s aura pulsed briefly to a dull gray, halfway between the white of the wind and the dark of its body. ¡°However, I must take care to remember that all of us once came to our first convocation, facing spirits far older and powerful than us, yet unsure of how best to speak with them. We welcome you here, G¨¦zarde, and your human as well.¡±

    ¡°You have my thanks,¡± G¨¦zarde said, finally. ¡°I am pleased to meet so esteemed a spirit in person.¡±

    The condensed lightning crackled again, this time the sound ringing out across the crater without interruption.

    ¡°My companion reminds me. You are that human who witnessed Soleil¡¯s demise, are you not? Aurelian¡­ something¡­ Bougitte?¡±

    ¡°Sire Fernan Montaigne, Great Corva.¡± Wait, companion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t introduce myself earlier, to you and your companion.¡± Don¡¯t ask who anyone is, you can¡¯t remind them of your ignorance. Another lesson from Camille, though it was hard to be sure it was really the better choice here.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The fire pulsed once more, its aura tinting slightly green as two trails of flame separated themselves at the front, streaming upwards.

    ¡°Fala is pleased to meet you as well, Sire Fernan. You were, perhaps, witness to an event of great importance to us.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hope I can help, then. I must admit, I didn¡¯t see the moment Soleil passed, only the aftermath, and the failure of the one who tried to take his power.¡±

    ¡°Two humans fought, did they not? The usurper and the binder?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And the binder, he wielded a gauntlet that kept him in the air?¡±

    ¡°He did.¡± What does it matter to you?

    Slowly, the wind pulsed out from the spirit, then gradually flowed back in. Back and forth it went, for long enough that Fernan was beginning to contemplate breaking the silence.

    Fortunately, he was spared the need to when Fala sparked. It almost sounded like it was saying ¡°you¡± before the words were snatched from the wind.

    ¡°The reason for its value to me is beside the point. My wind and my storm were slain, and only that gauntlet remained. I would like it returned to me. I could not locate it in that stone house your people live in.¡±

    Fernan rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°I can¡¯t say where it is for sure. I think it fell into the chasm when it was knocked off Magnifico, though I suppose it¡¯s not impossible that someone found it after. Aren¡¯t there spirits here who could probably find it with magic? I¡¯m not familiar with everyone here, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°They would want something for it in return. In any case, had it been simply tossed out into the open air, I would have found it myself. No, one of you humans took it and I demand it back. You miserable insects couldn¡¯t even content yourself with killing him, you had to desecrate him further, bind him into one of your tools. And when I make the simple request of laying him properly to rest, you¡ª¡±

    Fala¡¯s aura pulsed white as it relayed another message to her, this time kept entirely silent as Corva snatched it from the air.

    ¡°...until next time, human. If you can find what I seek, my gratitude will be considerable.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Fernan backed away as fast as he could politely manage, G¨¦zarde leading the way.

    They passed a younger boy with dark hair over his eyes and similar aura to Corva, but sages could be met with later. This was about spirits.

    At the center of the crater was Flammare, the spirit of the hearth that Laura served. His aura glowed brighter than any of the other flame spirits, though not so hot as Soleil. A creature of twisted metal bars, he resembled a man in shape, though instead of arms his metal rods stretched across massive wings of flame. In the center of his chest, it appeared, a metal box contained a heat even stronger, a brighter spot on his already-bright body.

    According to Laura, he was the obvious choice as the next sun, known for decades as Soleil¡¯s heir as Arbiter of Light, in part because of their close friendship.

    Like minds, with like consequences. Flammare ascending would be far better than Glaciel succeeding, but so too was it far from the ideal. If G¨¦zarde could be presented right, a compromise between extremes, then maybe--

    ¡°To all assembled here tonight with me, the true inheritors of Terramonde, I call upon you now to heed my words.¡± Flammare¡¯s voice rang out from his body, steel clanging against itself in sonorous discord. ¡°To those who know me not, however few, I am Flammare, the Guardian of the Gold, the Champion of the Hearth and all within, first claimant to be Arbiter of Light, should all the spirits here respect my claim. But first we must address our purpose here, a gathering so soon after the last.¡±

    The other spirits had stopped talking, turning to orient themselves towards Flammare.

    ¡°We are assembled here to make a choice, to try to find the one who could replace the great Soleil, a spirit without peer. That he, so strong, has met his end so soon, is tragedy beyond mere happenstance. I ask you how one such as he could die, at human hands, no less, without our help. We, who have failed to learn from our mistakes, and left the sun to his burden alone.

    ¡°For long millenia we did respect each other¡¯s claims to our domains and left ourselves to tend to our affairs alone. ¡®Let not again the surface of our earth be claimed by only one of us,¡¯ we said, those few of us who saw the world begin. And so this promise served us well for years, a pact before the spirit of the earth that none could dominate all of its land, not stray nor venture from their proper place. To all you spirits great and lesser both, alike in recognition of our roles, do not forget the order of the earth, nor what would follow for those fool enough to think that they¡¯d survive defying it.¡±

    That¡­ Ugh. The words could have come right out of Soleil¡¯s mouth. Well, if Soleil had talked through his mouth, anyway. Boxing everyone into positions like that is part of what led to this in the first place. If the sun spirit had just left well enough alone, if Lumi¨¨re hadn¡¯t feared so much for what would happen to Aubaine if he didn¡¯t act¡­ Not that that absolved him of anything, but still.

    ¡°Not long ago, each spirit here was called upon to once again renew that vow, or swear it for the first, were they too young. All spirits wise and true could see the threat that Khali posed, not only to ourselves, but to the very earth where we reside, the spirit Terramonde beneath the dirt. And they, those horrid curs who stood with her, were banished just the same to Khali¡¯s world. Their ruination is instructive, here, at least to those of you with any sense.

    ¡°Fair Terramonde must face again this threat, at risk of losing all that lights its way, assaulted by a spirit no less vile than she from whom the world was saved last time. ¡®Queen¡¯ Glaciel¡¯s an insult to the earth, a scourge upon our dignity and grace, who lays with humans and conspires with them, who may indeed have killed our fair Soleil, whichever human hands performed the deed.¡±

    Fernan stifled a gasp. He thinks Glaciel was part of that? She wasn¡¯t even here yet! And yet Camille¡¯s words returned, the emphasis on strength, of presenting truths and possibilities to lead people and spirits to your desired ends¡­ So how does it benefit him to imply that? There was nothing to do but listen.

    ¡°She threatens now to keep the world in black, to spread her cold until naught else remains. And all she needs to meet her aims is us. Should we continue as we have before, fragmented and dispersed, domains apart, I do expect she will succeed at that.

    ¡°Pantera the Undying thought herself above the reach of anyone at all, yet she did not last even fifty years beyond the time of Khali¡¯s banishment. Soleil, may he find peace in Terramonde, could not with all his power stop his death. Even the best of us alone can fail, and so many of you are not the best. Even Soleil was no impediment; how could we hope for, any one of us, success where he did fail so thoroughly?

    ¡°She counts on our respect to hold us back, retreating from the growth of her domain. I say we must instead contest her aims, and raze her motley court to ash and bone, so nothing of her works remain to tempt the fools who¡¯d seek to follow in her wake. Our firm respect for Khali saved her life, yet it did not deter ¡®Queen¡¯ Glaciel. Instead, it only took one hundred years and eighteen more for her to leave her place, and move against all spirits of this world. We cannot let our mercy block our way. This selfish, human-loving filth must die, and all abominations from her blood, lest she inspire others down the line.¡±

    Fists clenched tightly, Fernan strained to control the blazing flame streaming from his eyes. A spirit finally wants to step up and help, and their idea for it is exterminating an entire nation. In a way it was fitting, really.

    ¡°The sooner I ascend to Soleil¡¯s seat, the less ¡®Queen¡¯ Glaciel¡¯s domain can grow, the safer all of us will be from her, and any human pawns she points our way. I do respect the need to choose with care, and bid you all to take the time you need. But tarry not too long in your choosing, lest evil¡¯¡¯s icy grip subsume us all. Three cycles of Lunette, I think, suffice, considering the nature of the seat.¡±

    And there it was, the perfect cap to such a horrifying call to action. I¡¯m not sure we could survive three more weeks like this, let alone three months. Flammare, it seemed, was content to let humanity starve, then mop up what was left under Glaciel¡¯s authority.

    ¡°Take heed of all that¡¯s been declared tonight. Let all who have the wisdom choose what¡¯s right.¡± Flammare spread his wings, propelling himself from the ground as they blasted flame beneath them. ¡°All spirits of the light and flame, to me. We have important matters to discuss.¡± He alighted back down near the edge of the crater, far enough away to be out of earshot of most other spirits. Or, far enough if they¡¯d been human. Corva, at a minimum, could probably listen in, and who knew how many others were capable of it?

    More importantly, how many are capable of standing up to that. How many would even want to.

    Fernan grabbed G¨¦zarde¡¯s claw and pulled him forwards. I have to hear what he has to say. It would probably just mean hearing about even more calamities to prepare for, even more assertions of how certain he was to succeed. But, depressing as it was, that information was important. Everyone opens themselves to danger when they speak, but it¡¯s true a hundredfold for even the weakest spirit, Camille had said, and Fernan could only hope she was right.

    As the flame spirits assembled, Fernan recognized several, like the spirit of flashing glass panes of multicolored light that Yves had served back at the sun temple, or the pulsing Fala he¡¯d met earlier that night, but most were unknown. At a glance, G¨¦zarde didn¡¯t seem to recognize any of them. Has he met any spirits, come to think of it? This plan was just falling apart more with every moment.

    ¡°Come hither Fala, now. I need a word.¡± Flammare beckoned him closer, staring down as the other spirit approached. ¡°Are you an imbecile or merely mad? In crises, we must demonstrate our strength. And unity¡¯s the greatest strength of all. The only realistic challenger to my ascension is Soleil¡¯s daughter, along perhaps with foolish flame spirits who¡¯d dare defy my rights as Soleil¡¯s heir. If one did waver from my side in this, they¡¯d be an enemy like Glaciel. And in this time, somehow you thought it wise to make your entrance in that black bird¡¯s arms, a spirit of the wind and not of flame, and not unknown to Lunette¡¯s company.¡±

    This time, there was no Corva to meet Fala¡¯s high-pitched response.

    ¡°Have you the slightest realization what your foolishness could cost me, and us all? In opposition to that wastrel wretch, she who consorts with lowly creatures and even creates abhorrent spawn with them, we must defend the natural way of things. Tis more important now than e¡¯er before, and yet you thought it wise to test me here. If you are seen in Corva¡¯s company again, you shall not long regret the act, for I will reunite you with the earth.¡± Flammare waved his hand through the ball of sparks and sent them flying off in different directions, dispersing Fala into thousands of wisps. Then he turned back to the rest. ¡°I hope you all take my advice to heart. T¡¯would be a shame if I were forced to show the rest of you the cost of such an act. We must, always, comport ourselves with care.¡±  The other flame spirits awaited his next words with rapt attention. ¡°And now, please go. Converse with other spirits if you must, but only to enshrine the strength of light. You would not fancy the alternative.¡±

    Fernan didn¡¯t have to drag G¨¦zarde this time; clearly they both wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. They scrambled past the edge of sunken earth, over to the other side where the mountain¡¯s steep slope led back down to the city.

    Somehow, of course, Florette was down there climbing up, the sheath of her sword thumping each time it bounced off the rocks as it dangled from her from her waist. Next to her, a blob of purple slime slithered up the rocks, leaving a faint trail of warmth behind it.

    She wedged her feet against the rocks well enough to free her hand, then gave him an enthusiastic wave.

    Whatever she¡¯s here for, she¡¯s not going to like what happens next.

 Florette V: The Interrupted

    ¡°I think, first, you should tell me exactly what it is you¡¯re proposing.¡± Florette stared the oozing creature down, trying to discern what exactly it wanted her for. Trying to stop and think for once, before getting tangled up in a gigantic mess again.

    ¡°In a way, nothing more than acting in my nature, young one.¡± Corro¡¯s words were slick in the air, steaming unnaturally out of the enormous mouth that filled his entire head.

    ¡°As a poison spirit?¡± Did you seek me out because I wreck everything I touch? That was distressingly plausible.

    ¡°Poison accounts for one part of my being, but it is not the sum of it. No more than fencing is yours.¡± Condensing tighter, his body rose in height until Florette could almost stare down his mouth at eye-level. ¡°I am of the Wastes, desolation and perdition and, above all, decay. Both catalyst and witness to it, for every instant of my existence since the first splinters of my being coalesced in the throats of the doomed and held onto what remained as they were pulled to Terramonde.¡±

    ¡°And so when you heard about me, you thought I¡¯d be a kindred spirit,¡± she said resignedly. ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not flattered, but¡­¡± Fernan has his plan here, getting a sun back that¡¯s more empathetic. I don¡¯t want to mess things up for him. Even if he could be so condescending it was hard not to want to, sometimes.

    ¡°When I heard of you, you seemed unremarkable. A human killer amongst countless others, momentarily relevant in that you were an impediment to Glaciel, and perhaps destined for a premature death within my purview, but otherwise unremarkable.¡±

    ¡°Did you talk to the Fallen? Because you seem to have taken some notes from them?¡±

    ¡°I have met none by that name. My perspective changed when I talked to my friend, a wiser spirit than I, and with greater vision and insight than any alive.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve met any other spirits.

    ¡°I just told you.¡± Was that a smile on his massive mouth? ¡°Her sight reaches far, and she said that Glaciel was not the first powerful figure you angered heedlessly. In fact, it seemed to be something of a habit for you.¡±

    Florette buried her head in her hands. Is he drawing on his spiritual power to destroy me?

    ¡°That vizier you killed on the metal monster, why did you do it?¡±

    ¡°What, Perimont? He was actively preparing to wage war here, to attack people I care about, people he mentioned by name. I had to stop him.¡±

    ¡°Reactivity?¡± A drop of purple fell from his teeth, sinking deep into the ground with a faint sizzle. ¡°You saw a threat to your established situation, and acted to stop it from changing things? I have seen such from many who called themselves heroes, and it is wholly unremarkable.¡±

    ¡°Maybe don¡¯t ascribe a motive to me just to criticize it then.¡± Not unexpected, to see a spirit who talked about overturning the natural order taking a dim view of protecting the status quo. ¡°Fuck no I wasn¡¯t acting to keep things as they are. I just saw that he was about to make them worse, it was an imminent threat to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Allow me to help you, then. This Perimont figure, you say that he posed an imminent threat. What if he had not? Suppose you found him alone in the woods, defenseless before you. Would you have killed him then?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I feel like I¡¯m supposed to say no, but if he were the same person, having done all the things he¡¯s done¡­¡±

    ¡°Do not tell me what you believe I want to hear.¡± Corro sagged back to his shorter form, dipping further onto the ground as he did. ¡°Concern yourself less with what is expected of you.¡±

    ¡°That might be the first time anyone¡¯s ever said that to me. But honestly, it¡¯s a stupid hypothetical anyway. A man like that is never without his guards, never really defenseless like what you¡¯re talking about. And the world is better off without him, no matter how he died.¡±

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    Corro sat silently for a moment, his mouth turning slightly to follow her hand as she drummed it against her leg. ¡°You have just skipped past the construction of my analogy. I cannot help but admire the ruins into which you have just rendered the intended course of this conversation.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Already, you grasp that some are never truly vulnerable by their very nature, a fact far more true for my kind than yours.¡±

    Florette frowned, waiting for him to get to the point. Right now he seemed to be trying even harder to act suspicious and creepy than the last shadowed figure she¡¯d met in the dark of night, and that had only been a few minutes ago.

    A shame, too. He¡¯d had such a promising start.

    ¡°I was incompatible with the Undying by our very natures, and yet I served her just the same. I think she must have enjoyed thinking she had mastered her opposite force and turned it to her own ends, an ultimate expression of her strength. Like so much of what I find myself amidst, she was impressive while her power lasted. Lunette is different. She is weakened, for want of offerings. She lacks coordinated followers or active sages, and now lacks her father to act as her benefactor as well, contentious as that relationship was. Too weak to turn down my help, even knowing what happened to the last spirit I served.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°I thought spirits only followed strength?¡± Which is why you¡¯re all so fucked up.

    ¡°Most do,¡± he said resignedly. ¡°Most do.¡±

    Setting her hand back on the handle of her sword, she took in the disgusting form of this spirit anew, processing the obvious intent behind his words. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not going to kill anyone for you until I¡¯m extremely clear on the details and what exactly they did to deserve it, confirmed by others. This is sounding more and more louche by the minute. You know, dubious.¡±

    The sound that emanated from his shaking mouth was unmistakable laughter, even as wet and distorted as it was. ¡°I explained to you that I am a spirit of death and decay, of premature demise and ruination, and you thought that I would go to a human if I wanted someone dead?¡±

    ¡°Well, it certainly seemed to be what you were building up to.¡±

    ¡°I can admire your audacity, at least, and I suppose I cannot blame you for thinking so little of me, given what you know.¡±

    ¡°Well, likewise, I guess. But you still sought me out, and I asked for a straight answer about what you want like an hour ago by now. Could you please just¡­ explain?¡±

    ¡°It has been thirteen minutes.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Florette clicked her tongue. ¡°Well, that¡¯s still a long time to wait for an answer while you talk about the distant past. I was pretty excited there, for a moment.¡±

    ¡°You killed a powerful arbiter of your society, a despot. As pitifully weak as he might have been, I am given to understand that, by your standards, his power was nonetheless quite notable. The act saw you injured and cast out.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ yeah.¡±

    ¡°Would you do it again, knowing what you know now?¡±

    Florette didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Yes. He had to go.¡±

    ¡°What I propose is much the same. Terramonde¡¯s surface is divided in one sense, ruled by disparate arbiters of massive domains encompassing the essentials of existence, and yet they stand together when their power is threatened. One need look no further than Khali for that. And we must serve them without question, should we desire to avoid the same fate. The patronage of the better of them might spare some individuals from the wrath of others, but not many. Such is a privilege I have been fortunate to benefit from, but a rare one, and swiftly revoked for the slightest disobedience. Everyone else lacks even a voice within the arbiter¡¯s domain, let alone formal power. All is left to strength or direct utility to the strong.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Florette whispered, her eyes widening with realization. Still, I can¡¯t get ahead of myself. Need to actually verify this first.

    Corro nodded. ¡°It was not my intent, yet it was in my presence that even the Undying ceased to exist as she had, her power never again to be used by her own hands. Instead, it was wielded to kill another arbiter, perhaps the most powerful of all. Only to plunge the world into darkness. Their power is too consolidated to allow them to fall, and so it falls to us to raise them up. Arbiters depend on us, our offerings, our efforts, our followers, and yet they do not consider us. Their right to their domain comes from strength alone, leaving the rest of us too shattered and weak to challenge it.¡±

    ¡°So entrenched it seems almost impossible to even contemplate anything else¡­¡± Florette muttered, her thoughts turning to Malin. ¡°But it¡¯s not impossible.¡±

    ¡°Precisely. Not for nothing did I see the Queen of the Exiles in you, young one, for she too saw that her peoples¡¯ condition could not stand. I would have complemented her well, had I stepped in. Arbiters must, to an extent, stand on ceremony, by their very nature. By my nature, I corrupt and degrade the pristine, twisting health into sickness, glory into failure. I bring things to their premature, unnatural end, leaving only twisted waste behind. But for some, such an end is better than allowing them to continue.¡±

    ¡°So you¡ª¡±

 Gary: The Washout

    Sir Gerald Stewart poured himself a stiff drink, a bottle of Lyrion single malt he''d stashed in his luggage and forgotten about when times were better. No longer the Prince¡¯s investigator, nor held in any esteem by the Governor¡¯s office, there was nothing to call himself but a failure in this grim, dark world.

    The room he¡¯d rented had been paid up until the end of the month, so it had seemed just as well to stay until then, to delay the need to face Mother as a disappointment. She thought so highly of me; it would break her heart. This had been his opportunity to honor the Stewart name, and instead the world had fallen into darkness. What kind of heroic knight could allow such a thing to come to pass?

    Even worse was the prospect of reporting to the radiant Prince Harold again, and having to admit he¡¯d failed.

    The harbor bomber was still at large, and the railyard thief besides, assuming they weren¡¯t the same person. Which they probably are. The execution and motive seem identical. His old assistant Charlotte had been spared the worst of it, but that was cold comfort.

    Gary took a long sip of his drink, staring contemplatively out the window. The bad guys are still out there, and there¡¯s nothing I can do to stop them.

    Truly, his plight was horrible, perhaps worse than any alive, and yet he persisted, pulling strength and conviction from within, feeling it burn pleasantly through his body.

    He was startled from his musings by a knock on his door. About time, he thought. People always say they¡¯re going to come and visit, only to get too intimidated by my reputation. Although with his latest string of failures, that felt like little more than a twisted joke.

    ¡°It¡¯s open!¡± Gary called out, leaving his visitor to find out whether or not it actually was.

    The knob turned and the door creaked open, causing Gary to stumble back in surprise. ¡°Mary¡­¡±

    His old flame, the one who got away, a tragic love for the ages¡­

    ¡°Hi Gary.¡± She looked as beautiful as ever, her perfect form unhidden by the shapely winter coat clinging to her sides. ¡°I was going to say that I hoped this wasn¡¯t a bad time, but then I realized that you have nothing going on in your life at all, so it probably didn¡¯t matter! You must be so glad to see me!¡±

    I am. ¡°Perhaps,¡± he said smoothly, hurriedly pulling the drink to his face to hide his smile. ¡°I guess you finally couldn''t stand being apart from me? Because if you think I¡¯m just going to take you back like nothing happened¡­¡±

    Mary blinked, puzzled that his detective insights could have deduced her purpose so quickly. ¡°Um. That¡¯s not why I¡¯m here. Also, you totally would! I could probably ask you to scrub the floor for me in your underwear and you¡¯d beg for the privilege.¡±

    Why did I ever tell her about that fantasy? He scowled as he flicked moisture from the top of his tunic. ¡°What do you want, then? Are you here just to hurt me again?¡±

    Her face twisted to the side, capriciously toying with his feelings right in front of him. ¡°I was hoping you could help with something. I can¡¯t go to anyone else with this.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, because you¡¯re a detective, right?¡±

    ¡°Oh. I guess, yeah.¡±

    She frowned. ¡°It¡¯s my father¡­ Everyone says he died in a cave-in, an accident in the tunnel, but it doesn¡¯t feel right. If there were the slightest risk of danger, he¡¯d have sent in someone expendable first to check.¡±

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    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s the smart thing to do.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and Father was a smart man!¡± Mary nodded enthusiastically. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t make sense. I tried to ask Simon, but he brushed me off. When I tried talking to the guardians, they told me it was a closed case. No one¡¯s investigating this, and I¡¯m worried that someone told them not to. Mother¡¯s utterly distraught, even with her new bodyguard, and it¡¯s just¡­ Could you look into it, please? As a favor to me?¡± Her eyes swelled, pleading, impossible to deny their wishes.

    Here it is, the call anew to adventure. A chance to redeem myself with a new, epic quest. ¡°How could I refuse you, Mary? I will pursue it with all my power, finely honed skills from a lifetime as a knight and investigator. I have no doubt I shall catch you father¡¯s fell killer, no doubt the same elusive thief who defied me at the railyard. I shall set right what once went wrong.¡±

    ¡°Really? Thank you!¡± She pulled him into a hug, but released her grip before things could get interesting.

    ¡°As a first step, I¡¯ll need my loyal assistant once more. There¡¯s no one else I¡¯d rather have by my side for this task. Since I¡¯m not acting in an official capacity, Charlotte might need to resign from the Guardians, but I¡¯m sure she¡¯d understand that this is more important. She owes me, anyway. The next step is--¡± He cut himself off as he heard the door creak open once more. ¡°Oh.¡±

    It was Mother.

    ¡°Lady Anya?¡± Mary looked almost as surprised to see her. ¡°I thought you were guarding my mother. Lady Perimont is very delicate, she needs the security your presence provides.¡±

    Mother ignored her, walking right up to Gary. She towered over him, staring down with her usual narrowed eyes. ¡°My son.¡±

    ¡°Mother,¡± he croaked out. ¡°I was just offering to help--¡±

    ¡°You were preparing to muck things up again with your usual brand of stupidity. How is it that I can send you to the far end of Avalon, travel to another continent, and still you plague me?¡± She was using the same playful teasing she¡¯d often employed back in Forta, but somehow this time it felt a bit menacing. ¡°Since you have so clearly failed to make yourself useful, I shall have to give you more personal instruction, in the hopes of rendering you even slightly less of a disappointment. From now on, you will report to me. You will do as I say.¡±

    ¡°Well, I was actually going to--¡±

    Lady Anya turned her head back to Mary. ¡°Lady Perimont has already employed my services for this task, Miss Perimont. You had no need to conscript my moronic son. From now on, please, in the interest of your father¡¯s memory and the success of my duties, stay out of it.¡±

    Without changing the angle of her head, she grabbed Gary by the ear, pulling his head down to her waist as he groaned with pain. ¡°Come now, you¡¯ve bothered Miss Perimont enough.¡± She flicked her eyes to Mary one more time, then marched out the door, Gary scrambling to keep up.

    ¡°You will thank me before long, Gerald. I¡¯m helping you to honor the family name.¡±

    He tried to pull his head free using a cool dive he¡¯d practiced in combat training, but her grip was firm.

    ¡°The first thing you need to learn is to pay attention. Unfortunately, in your case, it¡¯s liable to be the hardest. Look out there.¡± She pointed south, along the coast, dimly lit by the faint light of the moon.

    ¡°Water? It looks like--agh!¡± He winced as her grip tightened.

    ¡°Look at the edge, the discoloration running in a streak across the Sartaire. Were it a boat, one could almost think it was headed to Guerron.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s not a ship!¡± he exclaimed, finally getting it. ¡°That¡¯s what you wanted me to notice! It¡¯s just a streak of purple.¡± He felt her foot on his back as she pushed him into the dirt.

    ¡°The Prince and his private sorceress departed tonight in disguise, hiding their trip beyond the city walls. A servant of spirits, Gary, and now an unnatural purple streams across the water from the direction they were headed.¡±

    ¡°Why-¡± He sneezed, dirt flying into the air from his face. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just follow them to their meeting?¡±

    She tilted her head. ¡°A mildly intelligent question. It seems my tutelage is already helping you shape up. In any case, I followed as far as I dared. But the last thing I need is to be caught out by some spirit monster or other.¡± Her eyes narrowed further, looking out at the faint purple streak in the water. ¡°In fact, if the dossier the prince gave me was correct, I believe I have all the confirmation I need to proceed.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Of course. That was the poison monster, from a time when Pantera still preyed on Cambrians. Prince Lucifer must have had quite the offer for him to show his face again after so long.¡±

    ¡°Luce? Are you saying he¡¯s in league with evil spirits?¡± The purple steak was nearly gone, stretched to the other side of the water. ¡°I thought--¡±

    ¡°Your first mistake, given how manifestly unsuited you are to it. Now cease with your insipid questions. Simply follow, and listen. No one has any interest in hearing your thoughts, and I don¡¯t imagine any will invite you to share them again unless you can finally get your head on straight.¡± She glanced towards the fading echoes of the poison monster in the water, and¡ª

 Florette VI: The Deliberate

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Fernan hissed quietly as Florette crested the cliff. ¡°This is a delicate situation.¡±

    ¡°And I have a delicate touch,¡± she joked, dusting herself off. ¡°Seriously, though, we have to be careful about what¡¯s explicit and what¡¯s not. With this many spirits around, a few of them are bound to be able to hear us. Even if most of them probably wouldn¡¯t care what a couple of humans had to say to each other.¡±

    Fernan exhaled, eyes burning a bit brighter. ¡°Fine. Being as safe about this as you can, could you please explain why you thought it was a good idea to come to a gathering of dozens of spirits when one of them is actively trying to kill you?¡± Probably trying to avoid mentioning Glaciel by name.

    ¡°That actually ties into why this is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Does it?¡± he asked through clenched teeth. ¡°How could you possibly-¡±

    ¡°Look, I have to be careful what I say. I¡¯ll explain the whole thing once we¡¯re done, I promise. In the meantime, I¡¯m basically here to do two things and one of them is helping you with your plan. I had an idea.¡±

    ¡°And you had this idea conveniently too late to tell me, so I¡¯d have to go along with it before understanding what it was?¡± He buried his face in his hands. ¡°And-wait! Do you even know what I¡¯m planning to do here? How can you be so sure it¡¯ll help?¡±

    Something must have gone wrong before we got here, or he wouldn¡¯t be in such a horrible mood. Even Fernan is never this judgmental. ¡°I do know, because Mara told me. Satisfied?¡± It wasn¡¯t a terrible thought, trying to place Gezarde as the sun in lieu of the venerable ancient Flammare, but Fernan clearly hadn¡¯t thought through the mechanics of it very well. ¡°I honestly think this is something you¡¯d be fine with if you knew the full story. Trust me? Please?¡±

    He turned his head, looking out at the glimpses of light from the city below. ¡°This idea of yours doesn¡¯t involve anyone dying, does it?¡±

    ¡°Not a soul.¡± She removed the band from her hair, tied back for the mountain climb, and frowned at the dust that jumped out as her hair flopped down. ¡°Trust me, I wish I¡¯d thought of it earlier, too. You could have flown me up here or something. It¡¯s pretty innocuous, honestly. I just need to be here for it. And it¡¯ll help.¡±

    Fernan took a deep breath, eyes smoldering green as they trailed up into the night sky. ¡°Fine. Please don¡¯t make me regret this.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Florette said as she turned to walk towards the gathering.

    She couldn¡¯t help but be amazed at the sight of them, milling around the floor of that crater. It was one thing to see the Fallen haunt her with the faces of the dead, but at least those were human faces. Quite another thing to meet a gaping maw sculpted from flowing flesh and ooze, let alone over thirty spirits in one place.

    Stranger still was the fact that instead of simply appearing in order to torment her, Corro had invited her into a conspiracy for revolution. Or so he said, at any rate. Corro perhaps could not lie directly, but that left an enormous amount of room to mislead her. And Florette was not going to get herself into something again without careful consideration. She would see the proof of it here or decline his offer. From now on, it would be different.

    Compared to Corro or the Fallen, most of the spirits here were far more impressive in scale.

    One of them was easily ten feet tall, an enormous fanged rabbit whose skin reflected and shimmered like a mirror, casting a thousand different points of light across the crater. Another was embedded halfway to the earth, with only massive arms and a bull¡¯s head above ground, still probably six feet by themselves. The enormous raven near the edge, white streaks running across her wings, had a little boy at her feet, only emphasizing her size further.

    Most of the smaller ones looked no less intimidating. Like the horned pegasus spirit, so white she was almost glowing, teeth looking sharp enough to pierce steel. Or the glowing little child with a crackling ball of lightning for a head. Not to mention a familiar specter of the dead, holding the hazy form of the burned man next to a pink and green mantis creature, a pack on her back affixed with what looked like human faces. Probably Lamante, given her name.

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    At the center of them all was Flammare, a network of metal bars caging red and white flame within and beneath, massive wings stretched behind him. One thing to see him far up in the sky as a big red ball, quite another up close like this. The intensity of the flames almost hurt her eyes to look too long.

    It¡¯s so easy to see why they think us beneath their concern. But they were wrong to do it.

    ¡°Fallen!¡± she called out as she led Corro over to them. ¡°I was hoping to see you here.¡±

    ¡°Were you now?¡±  they asked in Perimont¡¯s form. ¡°Last we spoke, it seemed you wished to be rid of me.¡±

    ¡°Sorry about that. I hope you can understand why it was hard to have you around for me, but that¡¯s my problem to get over, not yours.¡± She gestured to her companion. ¡°Please allow me to introduce you to Corro of the Wastes, a spirit in service to the moon.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to see you, Corro,¡±  the Fallen said in the shape of a short woman in her mid twenties, a cutlass hanging from her side. ¡°Even if it had to be like this.¡±

    The purple maw shrank back. ¡°I understand your reputation now, Fallen. Still, we are as we are. The pleasure is mine.¡±

    ¡°And would you be Lamante?¡± Florette asked the mantis spirit, even more terrifying up close. ¡°I¡¯ve heard excellent things about you from the Fallen.¡± It¡¯s not like I¡¯m unable to lie. All she¡¯d really heard was that the Fallen were going to meet her, but that was enough to guess who she was.

    ¡°We have already met.¡± She turned to the Fallen, currently a radiant blonde woman with a braid in her hair. Why couldn¡¯t they look like that more around me? ¡°You know I mislike my time being wasted. We have more important things to be doing.¡±

    Charming. ¡°You must forgive me, but I don¡¯t recall us ever having met before. Perhaps you were hidden to me at the time?¡±

    ¡°You were aware of my presence. We even spoke to each other.¡± The Fallen leaned in and whispered something to her, a strange sight when she didn¡¯t really seem to have ears. ¡°You do not recognize me because I wore another face.¡± She reached behind her back and pulled out a mask, holding it up to her head.

    In an instant, the same braided girl as the Fallen stood next to them, like twins. ¡°It¡¯s such a nice feeling to get inside the skin of someone, don¡¯t you think, Florette? Inhabit a role beyond your own, to push people into the position where you need them? As far as the Fallen tells me, you¡¯re no stranger to it.¡± She smirked, the light from flame spirits behind her creating an outline of light around her head. ¡°But you are a rank amateur at the task, while I am a master.¡±

    Florette felt her stomach sink. She could have been anyone. The slightest errant word could have pissed off a disguised spirit, or convinced her of something, or¡­ Or whatever unique assets my position here brings me, she could just kill me and steal my face and have them as well. ¡°I understand now. Thank you for clarifying.¡±

    Lamante smiled as she removed the mask, ascending back to her monstrous mantis form from before. With a short nod that sent her antennae bouncing, she moved the smiling dead woman¡¯s mask back onto her pack.

    Glancing back at Fernan, it looked like he was talking in hushed tones with Laura, still oblivious as ever to the way she was looking at him. Probably for the best, though. His plan with Gezarde was fundamentally incompatible with her goals, if she served Flammare.

    And speaking of¡­ The heat from the hearth spirit grew more intense as he approached, so thoroughly blasting through the chill of the night that sweat was already forming on her brow. ¡°And you must be that human pawn, Florette. Though not without your use against the ice, I caution you against reaching beyond the natural state to which you were once born. Annoying Glaciel is not nothing, but neither can one such as you contest a spirit who no longer humors you. Once Glaciel does strike you down, I will attempt to not forget your small efforts, though I must say that I cannot promise.¡±

    ¡°Wow, thanks.¡± Nothing unexpected though, given his reputation. Well, maybe the weird way he spoke. No one had mentioned that. But, otherwise, just as was to be expected from the heir presumptive to be Arbiter of Light, ruler of light and flame.

    ¡°You would be wise to do the same, Corro, and not forget your place in things tonight. Upon the moment that Lunette arrives, the patron spirit whom you are to serve, I¡¯d hope you would convince her to see sense. Were she to make a claim to Soleil¡¯s seat, no matter what her lineage might be, she would not long regret that foolish act. Nor would you much enjoy what would result.¡±

    Corro looked as polite as he ever did, which was basically the same way he always looked. ¡°I will certainly counsel her as best I can. By your leave, Flammare.¡± He melted down, dissolving into a puddle that spread across the ground beneath them.

    The signal.

    It was time to start the plan. Time to help Fernan.

 Fernan VII: The Farmer of the Fable

    Fernan VII: The Farmer of the Fable

    ¡°Fine,¡± Fernan agreed, resigning himself to whatever thoughtless chaos Florette was surely planning. At this point, things are going so poorly that I might as well let her try. And what an indictment of his own plans, to allow things to get to that point. ¡°Please don¡¯t make me regret this.¡±

    Florette answered with a nod, turning away to walk towards the center of the crater, into the waiting throngs of spirits.

    Off to create the sort of mayhem her plans always seem to.

    Fernan was here to court spirits to his side, to try to persuade them that there were better candidates than Flammare. That had seemed important before, but meeting the spirits now, it was clear that it was essential.

    Otherwise an entire nation would be exterminated by the most powerful creatures alive. Even if they were led by an egotistical asshole, they still had a right to exist.

    And yet it seems more impossible now than ever. The spirits hadn¡¯t applauded or anything, probably because they didn¡¯t do that, but it was obvious enough that most approved of what Flammare was saying. And even the ones that disagreed, they didn¡¯t gainsay a thing he said.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered, even knowing that there might be a spirit who could hear it somewhere around.

    ¡°Is this venture not now at an end, Fernan?¡± G¨¦zarde asked, his bright green aura showing shrunken posture. ¡°I have no desire to be rebuked as Fala was.¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡± Fernan sighed, looking over his shoulder at Florette, apparently engaged in conversation with thin air. Presumably that Fallen spirit, though knowing Florette, it¡¯s not a guarantee.

    No point in engaging with that. There had to be something he could pull from this gathering. Even though Flammare just ensured that no spirit of light or flame would dare break ranks in his presence.

    Fernan had to control his breathing, trying to calm the flame within himself, lest it emerge unprompted. The night air helped, though the massive gathering of flame spirits was doing its best to counteract that. He kept his face away from the crater for a few minutes, trying desperately to think of a way out of this.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d show up. This doesn¡¯t really seem like the place you¡¯d want to be.¡± Laura leaned on the rock wall next to him, apparently not caring about the effect of the dust and dirt on her no-doubt ludicrously expensive clothing.

    ¡°I¡¯m here with my spirit,¡± he said neutrally, mindful of her attitude back at that farmhouse. ¡°It seemed prudent to introduce him, since he hasn¡¯t seen these spirits in decades, if ever. Good to get an impression of Flammare, too. He has quite the way of speaking.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t see it much anymore, outside of poetry. My family still has to do it when they address him, though. One of the first things you learn.¡± She exhaled red flame through her nose. ¡°It would be one thing if it were just ten syllables per line, but you need to get the stresses right, too, da-dun-da-dun-da-dun, like a heartbeat. It¡¯s a huge pain to make sure it¡¯s right every time.¡±

    ¡°Sounds awful.¡±

    ¡°It is what it is.¡± Laura shrugged. ¡°Anyway, a decade¡¯s not all that long, for beings like them. Your spirit might not be as forgotten as you¡¯d think. I do see the point, though.¡± She pulled a warm box from a pouch on her belt, removing an inert little rod thing that looked a bit like a stick. She seemed to catch him staring at it, and laughed. ¡°I know I probably shouldn¡¯t, but just one won¡¯t hurt.¡±

    ¡°One stick?¡±

    She shook her head, holding the object up to her lips. A thin jet of flame burst out of her index finger, gone almost as soon as it appeared, but it left the end of the thing with a smoking red circle. ¡°Hand-roll. I don¡¯t have a pipe because I try not to make a habit of it.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Fernan nodded. ¡°I guess I hadn¡¯t¡­ ¡®seen¡¯ one before.¡±

    ¡°Probably not much to look at before it¡¯s lit, the way your gift of sight works.¡± She shrugged again, the roll hanging from her lips. Something seemed off, but it was hard to tell quite what. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to have one if you¡¯d like. Should probably get rid of these as soon as I can.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± he asked as he waved her offer away. Not the night to try new things; I need to keep my head clear.  ¡°Florette mentioned Avalon saying they killed you, but they say that about everything. They¡¯ll hang you over mushrooms. It¡¯s just propaganda.¡±

    ¡°No, not that,¡± she scoffed. ¡°But too much and you¡¯ll get winded faster. Hard to last as long, hit as hard. It¡¯s not a good choice for a fighter.¡± She blew a stream of warmth into the air around her head, creating a glowing cloud to frame her face. ¡°Ultimately, that¡¯s what I am.¡±

    ¡°Not every fight¡¯s the same. Like that trial.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± The aroma of smoke emanated out from her, crisp and inviting as a summer¡¯s bonfire. And yet she barely shrugged, keeping her body against the rock.

    That¡¯s it. No energy! Laura was always moving, always jittering with anticipation if she had to sit still. Even at that trial, when decorum had been hugely important, she¡¯d been practicing boxing stances before the event had begun.

    Seeing her like this was strange, to say the least. ¡°This fight¡¯s definitely going to be the usual, though. Flammare¡¯s going to fuck em up good, make that ice queen wish she¡¯d never stuck her nose in.¡± If she¡¯d sounded more enthusiastic about it, he¡¯d have left right away. But something in her tone¡­

    ¡°He wants to eradicate everyone with her blood. That¡¯s pretty much her entire kingdom at this point, not just the ones she brought here. Farmers, potters, tanners.¡± He deliberately inflamed his eyes brighter, squared directly against hers. ¡°It¡¯s not much of a fight, at that point.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She exhaled another stream of warmth, this time pointed off to the side, as if her face was twisted. ¡°It is what it is. Once everyone¡¯s agreed, at least we¡¯ll have a sun again. Things can go back to normal, maybe.¡±

    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°You know I do. I¡¯m sworn to serve Flammare. Shit, if you fight him on this, I¡¯ll probably have to fight you back. Please, just don¡¯t. It¡¯s like the Farmer and the Forager, you know? Take the situation as it comes and make the best of it.¡± She jumped up from the wall, throwing the remains of her hand-roll to the floor of the crater. ¡°We get to fuck up an evil ice spirit, at least. And who knows? If you and G¨¦zarde pitch in, it could mean good things for you.¡±

    Fantastic. Still, there seemed to be some level of reluctance there, some hesitation. Or there¡¯s not, and you¡¯re just too eager to see the good in people.

    He almost asked her about the Farmer and the Forager, since he¡¯d heard a few versions of it, but it wouldn¡¯t really change what she¡¯d said.

    The setting changed depending on who was telling it, but the one Fernan had heard most happened during the War of the Three Cubs, when the Fox Queen¡¯s heirs had warred and the whole continent had bled.

    Massive armies had moved across the land, in need of massive stores to feed them. But it was impossible to take your own grain very far, since the animals carting it around needed to eat, too. And so, the further from home an army ventured, the higher the necessity of ¡®living off the land¡¯.

    In name, foraging. In practice, stealing.

    The Forager of the tale was a knight entrusted with ¡®procuring¡¯ supplies from a local village, his army in dire need of rations on the eve of a momentous battle. He came upon the houses of three successful farmers, their fields ripe for harvest, and requested the lord¡¯s portion of the grain, the threat unspoken but not unheard.

    The first farmer was a patriot, a true partisan loyal to his sovereign above all else. He could not countenance a season¡¯s hard work feeding the mouths of the enemy, granting them fuel and respite on the eve of a great battle, so he refused.

    The forager ran him through with his sword, and all his grain was gathered up before his blood was even cold.

    The second farmer fancied himself a businessman, more educated than most of his like. He knew the position of the army, and thought it gave him leverage. He asked the knight for five thousand florins as recompense. More than the field was worth, to be sure, but not ridiculous as an opening for negotiation, especially given the army¡¯s desperation.

    He and the knight haggled long into the day, slowly approaching an acceptable middle ground, as the knight grew more and more frustrated. Eventually, an accord was reached, and the fields were harvested. Once the work was done, the forager left the second farmer rotting in a ditch for daring to waste his time, his debt unpaid.

    The third farmer was small and humble, and knew he could not oppose the forager. He opened his gates, and bid the knight take to his heart¡¯s content. He even threw a banquet for the army, slaughtering a cow in the honor of their impending victory.

    And when the day of battle came, the army won their victory and defended their camp, leaving the third farm untouched by the flames of war. In recognition of his kindness, the knight offered the third farmer a ruby ring that would last in the farmer¡¯s family for generations, a reminder of the rewards for the right choice.

    He¡¯d heard Guy Valvert tell the story once, and it had ended there, the kindest farmer rewarded for his generosity, but every peasant knew how the story really ended.

    After the merriment was over and the army marched on its way, destined for glory or defeat, the fields were still stripped bare. When winter came, the farmer starved, for what little food that remained was only enough to feed his children. Not himself.

    The best option in a scenario without victory still meant loss.

    If Laura was using that story as her rebuttal, whichever version, it probably meant that her mind was made up, even though she could see the problems with what Flammare was proposing. But he had to try, at least. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been thinking about something, Laura.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Spirits can¡¯t lie, and they don¡¯t. They honor all their deals, they play everything straight, at least in a certain sense. Their heads are only ever in reality, the tangible.¡±

    ¡°Ehh¡­ I¡¯ve met more than a few you¡¯d call ethereal, but I think I get what you mean. The way they think.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, exactly. I don¡¯t know if they can even tell stories, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯d be inclined to even if they could.  It¡¯s kind of antithetical to that whole thing. Language can limit imagination, in that sense. It shapes the discourse. I¡¯ve only ever heard history from them, at any rate.¡±

    ¡°Huh, I guess so.¡± She tilted her head, taking it in. Hopefully. ¡°Never really thought about it like that.¡±

    ¡°Mara prompted me to think about it, when she mentioned learning proper dueling form.¡±

    ¡°She remembered that?¡± It was easy to hear her voice light up. ¡°I guess it was more of a demonstration than a lecture. That always helped, for me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it helped her, too. But I think what I¡¯m talking about came into play as well. You know, it¡¯s a strict set of rules, a proper procedure. You might do different things at different times, but if you¡¯re perfect, you¡¯ll react every way to the same opponent fighting the same way.¡±

    ¡°If the opponent were completely devoid of creativity, maybe. Nobody really fights like that.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but¡­ You know, Mara and I both got here around the same time, we both knew barely anything about this city, or life here. My whole village could fit in some of the houses in the spirit quartier with room to spare. It was a shock, you know? But I adjusted. So did she, coming from a background even more different. Some things faster than, some much slower. And dueling isn¡¯t much on its own, but to remember something so specific, something that barely even applies to the way she fights beyond as a novelty¡­¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°She¡¯s better at the tangible,¡± Laura finished his idea, nodding her head thoughtfully. ¡°She was raised by a spirit and others like herself, embedded in the way she thinks. I¡¯ve seen what you mean when we spar. It¡¯s not like she isn¡¯t creative; she can do it, but it comes harder. I got her with the same feint for weeks on end before she picked up on it.¡± She scratched her chin thoughtfully. ¡°You think all spirits are like that?¡±

    ¡°It fits with the ones I¡¯ve met, anyway. There¡¯s a standard of good faith that¡¯s higher than anything we could manage, but it makes it harder to imagine anything else. When the imaginary is totally outside your vocabulary, it¡¯s hard to really conceive of things being different. Easier to envision the end of the world than the end of ¡®the natural order¡¯ that Flammare was so eager to talk about.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Laura fiddled with another hand-roll, then opted not to light it, tucking it back into the pouch.

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean it can¡¯t be done. I mean, Soleil couldn¡¯t have imagined he would meet his end that way, but he still did. Nothing is truly set in stone. And if we¡ª¡± He stopped as he saw Florette¡¯s creepy poison spirit dissolve into the ground in front of her, Florette addressing Flammare directly.

    Oh fuck. Why did I let her do this?

    ¡°Oh Great Flammare, the Guardian of the Hearth, I have just one more thing before you go, while I still have the honor of your ear.¡± Florette stood tall, chest puffed out, though her hand was at least nowhere near her sword, suggesting that she hadn¡¯t quite gone completely insane yet.

    ¡°What is she doing?¡± Laura hissed.

    ¡°If only I knew. Excuse me,¡± he said as he started walking towards Florette, as fast as he could manage without looking too panicked.

    ¡°Wait, you shouldn¡¯t get involved with¡ª¡±

    He felt G¨¦zarde¡¯s warmth sidle up next to him as he approached, falling into step at his side.

    ¡°And who are you, you lowly, feeble girl, to ask even an instant of my time?¡± Flammare¡¯s flames remained level, unperturbed. And why would he be, really? It wasn¡¯t as if Florette was a threat to him.

    ¡°I am the one who truly took up arms, instead of merely spouting empty threats. And more than me, G¨¦zarde¡¯s children as well, uncowed by her audacious words and deeds, did take the fight to Glaciel and live. We¡¯ve even won, much of the time with ease. Persisting, certainly, and often more, even without resounding victory.¡±

    ¡°For that, you felt the need to make demands? What you describe is much as I propose.¡±

    ¡°What you propose, Flammare, but have not done,¡± she said with force. ¡°You claim that spirits here must choose you soon, to lead the fight against the winter queen. And yet another spirit of the flame has already struck back against the ice. Only G¨¦zarde has demonstrated strength.¡±

    Fernan felt his mouth drop open. That is legitimately brilliant. She even seemed to be copying his manner of speech, speaking to the spirits on their level, in a voice they¡¯d been proven to find commanding.

    ¡°It is true that this human defied Glaciel before even you, Great Flammare,¡± Corro added, materializing alongside Florette. ¡°Could we not simply end her before our deliberations?¡±

    ¡°You might as well propose the end of light, you glory-seeking, reckless fool, Corro. Should Glaciel triumph, the world could end, subsumed by darkness as Khali threatened. The meek successes of a mere human¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are proof enough that victory is near, within our grasp should we reach out and fight.¡± She smiled brightly as Flammare blazed, livid to be interrupted. If Florette hadn¡¯t chosen her moment carefully enough to maintain the pattern, she might have been dead already. ¡°If e¡¯en the likes of me are not afraid, then what exactly do you have to fear? G¨¦zarde has seen no need to tarry long. Instead, with me, he takes the fight to them.¡±

    Better still, Florette was using her relative weakness against them. How could a great spirit be shown up by a mere human and a few children of a lesser hermit? It demanded an immediate response without giving any explicit disrespect.

    She should have talked to him first, though. That much still seemed to be a problem. Though in this case, she¡¯d been right that he¡¯d have agreed. They were out of any better options.

    ¡°Ah, here, this is good Sire Fernan Montaigne.¡± She twirled her hand towards him with a flourish, inviting him in closer. ¡°He too has crossed his blade with Glaciel. First sage, and best, of brave G¨¦zarde, he is, and likewise without fear to fight her wrath.¡±

    Oh, great, just cue me up without any warning¡­ Still, this was necessary. He¡¯d come in order to be involved anyway. ¡°It¡¯s true, I am the sage of flame¡­¡± Shit, 2 more syllables. ¡°who fought,¡± he finished. ¡°I filled the halls of Glaciel with flame, as my companion slew the servants of¡­¡± Fuck! Florette had probably known to practice this, but he hadn¡¯t. ¡°...her fatal loins, the children of the ice.¡± There, done. Better than good, it was good enough.

    Florette¡¯s aura flared, her posture confident enough he could be sure she was grinning. ¡°What does it say of you that ¡®mere¡¯ humans have already achieved what you propose? Spirits ill need a savior such as you.¡±

    ¡°The power of the spirits filled your veins, you boy who tumbled down the mountainside.¡± Flammare turned his fiery gaze from him back to Florette. ¡°And you, who lack the sense to shut your mouth, your work was done, in gross, by spirit-touched. I have no doubt of that, despite your zeal.¡±

    Fernan hid a grimace. True enough, but Florette¡¯s just one person. Of course all of the geckos together would be doing more.

    Fortunately, she didn¡¯t seem bothered at all. ¡°Indeed, without G¨¦zarde we might have died. I¡¯ll not dissemble there, for it is true.¡±

    ¡°And who is this G¨¦zarde, who lacks Flammare¡¯s trepidation?¡± Corro chimed in, not bothering to maintain the pattern, but still probably more helpful than not, on balance. Relatively speaking, he was a peer here in a way no human ever could be, and he didn¡¯t have as much to prove. ¡°One might think his expertise most useful against the Winter Queen.¡±

    Slowly, the rhythm was shifting. It was hard to tell if they were truly winning them over, but heads were turning towards him and G¨¦zarde, standing proudly next to him. Pressure was being applied. It¡¯s working.

    The flames within Flammare burned white and gold, his anger crackling off him in waves too plain to miss. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ve been remiss with you, G¨¦zarde, spirit of flame beneath my wide aegis. A commendation, you deserve, and soon. I promise that you¡¯ll see your due reward, upon the moment I ascend my seat, if not before. You¡¯ll get what you have earned.¡±

    Fernan felt his eyes blaze in response to the obvious threat, but G¨¦zarde either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°And yet, I see the Winter Queen persists,¡± Flammare continued. ¡°Your efforts have been miniscule, if brave, and failed to truly weaken her at all. Abominations dead, or even less? Tis well that it were done, I won¡¯t deny, but still the greater threat remains at large.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± G¨¦zarde said, speaking for the first time in his echoed voice. Corro might be able to get away with it, but I¡¯m not sure you can afford not to play his game. Then again, probably better not to even try if he wasn¡¯t sure he could manage it. Appearances were everything, here.

    That was Camille¡¯s first and most important lesson.

    ¡°Then I would hope that I have your support against this fearsome threat we must defeat. I see now that you are a fair soldier, and wish you luck upon the fields of war. But we cannot allow ourselves to miss the dire importance of good leadership.¡± Flames writhed around the metal of his wings as he ascended, rotating to face each of the assembled spirits. Clearly, this was about to be the moment where he reiterated the case for himself, but¡ª

    ¡°The best of leaders know when they must act,¡± Florette announced, not allowing him to finish. ¡°The time to act is now, you must see that. But then, perhaps you don¡¯t? I couldn¡¯t say. Good thing that your opinion matters not.¡±

    ¡°If you dare speak another word, you wretch¡ª¡±

    Corro¡¯s slimy aura curled around Florette, his head poking out beside her own. ¡°I offer her my protection, until she¡¯s finished speaking. Any spirit with sense would do the same, so long as they did not fear what she has to say. Easy enough to kill her after, otherwise.¡±

    Gulping, Fernan readied himself to jump in, to rescue Florette from her lunacy, but the moment never came.

    ¡°I did not mean any offense, Flammare,¡± she lied blatantly. ¡°I simply meant that we are not in need of your great talents or your leadership, though I am sure that both are without peer. But you have said you wish to wait three months, and that, we simply can¡¯t abide at all. How fortunate then, that we need not wait. You see, we can defeat dread Glaciel without your help or e¡¯en your wise guidance, we lowly humans and G¨¦zarde¡¯s children.¡±

    Since fucking when? Lucien and I almost died just trying to hold off their opening salvo. And Camille¡¯s uncle had secured a peace until the sun was chosen. No one could even mount an attack without forfeiting all protection he¡¯d secured. We might be fucked after that, but¡­ He glanced at Florette, wishing for the thousandth time tonight alone that she would just coordinate with him in advance. Her face shone against the dark night, aura fierce and strong as he had ever seen it.

    But that won¡¯t matter if we¡¯re all dead after another three months of dark skies.

    ¡°We humans have secured a deal of peace,¡± he began, earning himself a few turned heads, Florette and Corro among them. Serves you right. ¡°We are protected from the Winter Queen until a new sun spirit¡¯s in the sky. Any of us who wish to take up arms, we must renounce¡­¡± Our safety? All¡­ recourse? ¡°¡ªany protection gained, and leave ourselves fair targets for her wrath.¡±

    Florette nodded, seeming to understand. ¡°Fernan is safe, for now, from Glaciel, but I have never had nor needed it, no benefits from that accord, in fact. Because there simply was no need at all. I mean to end her foolish ambitions, ensure she ne¡¯er again threatens the world. I am resigned to face this task alone.¡± She let out a low chuckle. ¡°But then, perhaps some others wish to fight? To seize the day and act without regret?¡±

    ¡°I too will make a stand against her now,¡± G¨¦zarde growled. Really? Don¡¯t you just want to go back to hiding under your mountain? Perhaps Fernan hadn¡¯t given him enough credit. ¡°Her spawn have taken my children from me,¡± he added, as if anticipating the thought.

    ¡°I see the wisdom in this course as well,¡± Corro added, to no one¡¯s surprise. He¡¯d been by Florette this whole time, leaving the unsettling implication that this was his plan more than hers. But it was too late now, regardless.

    The mantis spirit scuttled forward, jostling the enormous pack atop her back. ¡°By oaths I¡¯ve sworn, I must decline this fight. But others would be wise to heed her words.¡± Not as good as true aid, but it was still support.

    No one said anything for a moment after that, possibly because a spirit whose speech wasn¡¯t comprehensible to humans was talking. Perhaps they were just taking a moment to ruminate on what was happening.

    And then the shimmering rabbit bared its fangs, a tinkling sound emitting from its mouth that caught the air, forming ethereal words. ¡°Why wait? The Arbiter of Light concerns me not, but Glaciel is a threat to us all.¡± It nodded its head towards Florette, fangs glistening in reflected light from the flame spirits. ¡°Khali¡¯s end tore holes in Terramonde through our carelessness, and I would sooner avoid the same mistake.¡±

    Flammare looked halfway towards being the sun already, the way his heart was burning. ¡°I thank you for your thoughts, fair Miroirter. But surely you can see the folly here? We must unite the light, and that takes time. We must give all consideration due, and only then expunge ¡®Queen¡¯ Glaciel.¡±

    The light caught Miroirter angular face just right to suggest a sneer, though it was hard to be sure. ¡°Across countless realities, I see no need for hesitation save your self-interest, Flammare. Do as you like, but so shall I.¡±

    Flammare ignited into a giant sphere of flame, causing Florette to jump back, hair singed.

    A red sun, just as he had formed in the sky on countless days. ¡°You reckless fools may do as you desire, but all who join this madness earn my ire. We can afford disunity no more. This fractious mess will sort itself, most like. But any of you who even remain won¡¯t long survive your lack of wisdom here. I have the power to enforce that now. As Arbiter of Light, it¡¯s trivial.¡± His fire dulled, leaving only the red-hot metal frame and the corona of flame around it. ¡°Spirits of light and flame, with me. We¡¯re done.¡± He took off into the sky, followed by almost half of the spirits. Nearly all of the ones under his authority and influence.

    After a tense moment, most of the rest began to disperse too, floating and crawling and skittering off the mountainside before there was time to much more. Even the ones who¡¯d been in support, like Corro and the shiny rabbit.

    Fernan took a moment, making sure that there was no one left to leave unimpressed, then ran to Florette, flame at his heels propelling him faster. Luckily the damage looked superficial, her skin unmarred by flame and heat, but his sight was somewhat limited, and not all wounds left scars. ¡°Are you fucking crazy?¡± he whispered as he offered a hand.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked, pulling herself up. She sounded fine, at least, if a little winded. ¡°I did things your way.¡±

    Had Fernan still possessed his old eyes, they would probably have been bulging out of his skull right now. ¡°My way?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. With the sun sages, with Camille, even spirits, you¡¯re always blending in. Playing their game, even if they¡¯re total assholes about it. Like that trial, or the council meeting with King Lucien.¡±

    He blinked, mind racing to see if her words were true. ¡°Do I really? I just¡­ I¡¯m doing the best with the circumstances people put me in.¡± He directed a stare her way, with that. ¡°Sure, play their game, if you want to call it that. It¡¯s better than getting stabbed for flipping the table.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you need to do the stabbing first.¡± Florette laughed. ¡°But this was your thing, so I thought it best to do it your way. You know, an approach you could agree with.¡±

    ¡°I think we might have very different definitions of agreeable¡­¡± He trailed off as his eyes rested on the last remaining aura, a flickering candle against the night sky.

    Laura¡¯s eyes caught his for just a moment, and then she was gone.

 Luce IV: The Prince of Darkness

    Luce IV:  The Prince of Darkness

    Putting the Grim in Grimoire, Prince Lucifer no Light Bringer.

    by Scott Ecrivan

    In those last quiet days before darkness fell, a man rose to power in Malin over the bones of his predecessor, proudly imposing his new vision upon the city just days before the world would crumble.

    What do we know of Prince Lucifer Charles Grimoire, truly? Last month¡¯s informal polling of our readers confirmed that less than half had even heard of him before his ascension. Of those aware of his existence, only one in four could provide a single fact about him. Next to the beloved Prince Harold, perhaps it is inevitable that the younger brother would keep to the shadows.

    Or perhaps there is a darker reason for his silence.

    Lucifer was appointed Overseer of Cambria¡¯s Ortus Tower in the year 115, shortly after his graduation from the Cambrian College. An advanced research facility in the capital, Ortus is responsible for many of Avalon¡¯s most important advancements, from cannons to trains to the airships one might see grace the sky on occasion.

    All that, of course, before Prince Lucifer was appointed to his post. Instead, his greatest achievement in the years since is his recovery from a failed pirate abduction, enduring long enough for Prince Harold to bring the vile perpetrators to justice.

    Still, the ordeal must have shaken Prince Lucifer, as he refused to return home to reunite with his family, instead insisting on administering Malin personally, even at the cost of Governor Perimont¡¯s standing. One witness John, age 56, reported the former Governor leaving in a state ¡°dripping with rage¡±, while taking care to mention ¡°the blue woman¡± casually defenestrating several guards in order to grant the Prince entrance.

    ¡°I feared for my life, I did,¡± said Eustace, 34. ¡°When a big wave comes crashing down like that, you¡¯d better hope your affairs are in order, because there¡¯s no telling if you¡¯ll make it through.¡± Janine, 41, added, ¡°I¡¯d heard tell of them cultists before, you know. My husband saw one of the blighters light an entire field on fire, back during the war. To this day, he still doesn¡¯t see right.¡± Her face took on a somber cast as she relayed the next words to this writer. ¡°I thought we were past all that, but now the blue woman¡¯s dredging everything up.¡±

    Said ¡°blue woman¡± turned out to be none other than Camille Leclaire, the daughter of the man who sank the better part of Avalon¡¯s navy on the day of the Foxtrap, calling upon his fell power to drown thousands beneath the sea. Fueled by human sacrifices, these cultists offer souls to monstrous spirits in exchange for personal gain, power that can then be turned against any they might call an enemy.

    Though betrothed to Lucien Renart, rump heir to the Erstwhile Empire, Leclaire is seldom seen outside Prince Grimoire¡¯s company, prompting many to speculate on the nature of their relationship. Post Malin reported catching sight of the two of them at a restaurant under assumed names, feasting together as the city clung to life in the darkness.

    Leclaire initially entered the city under an assumed identity, attempting to worm her way into several venerable city institutions such as the Convocation of Commerce and the Malin Historical Society. After that failed, Renart officially announced her presence, providing transparent cover for her actions.

    Much remains unknown about Governor Perimont¡¯s mysterious death, timed so conveniently for Prince Lucifer, or what role Camille Leclaire might have played, but it would not be the first time she was suspected of foul play.

    The third month¡¯s harbor bombing saw 72 people killed in the final death toll, with 407 seriously injured. An attack from the sea, the child of the last cultist to attack Malin¡¯s harbor was an obvious suspect.  The Territorial Guardians were contacted but declined to comment, though a verified confidential source from within their leadership confirmed that she had been the subject of months of investigation, with efforts having been aborted after her supposed death.

    The source also mentioned that the matter is a topic of active investigation, and that Leclaire and Prince Lucifer were spotted coming back from outside the city walls alone at the same time as a verified spirit sighting. No other sources have yet confirmed this, but -

    Luce threw the journal down on the table with a loud thud, the displaced air blinking out a couple of the closest candles. ¡°How did this happen?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a consequence of the marketplace of ideas,¡± Simon said. ¡°Drivel like that competes with proper journals and proper journalism, and the public decides with their coin which is more deserving of merit. There must be muck for the outliers to rise above ¡ª that¡¯s inevitable.¡±

    Camille scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s a consequence of the marketplace of journals. Drivel like this is far easier to sell to the unsuspecting masses than anything true might be, and they¡¯ll buy it accordingly. This same prick had the gall to ask me for comment on another story all about how terrible I am. He couldn¡¯t even get the Foxtrap right, demeaning my mother¡¯s sacrifice like that. It¡¯s a disgrace to her memory, and the world would be better off if never again could his wrist hold a pen.¡±

    ¡°Is it not better to have the accusations out in the open, where the truth might disperse them, the subtle hand of commerce guiding the public to the proper conclusion?¡± Simon¡¯s tone wasn¡¯t confrontational, more curious. ¡°Without my father¡¯s intervention, I¡¯d have had enough gossip rags written about me to fill the Grimoire Archives. Now that Luce has laxened the censors, they¡¯re probably making up for lost time as we speak.¡±

    ¡°This is not a joke!¡± Luce pounded the table, sending several screws flying off the work surface. That¡¯s what I get for having the cabinet meetings here. Moving them out of Perimont¡¯s villainously imposing conference room to the workshop had seemed like a great idea, but having to complete every experiment before guests arrived was only slowing it down more, if anything, and it pierced the mental barrier between his productive space and the meetings he had to endure, half of which could have been summarized in a two page report instead.

    And what a time to have work interrupted so constantly! The river spirit Fenouille had casually revolutionized agriculture in a few weeks ¡ª which was more than an entire tower of the world¡¯s best scientists had managed in three generations ¡ª and no one else even seemed to realize it.

    ¡°You don¡¯t hear me laughing,¡± said Camille. ¡°My mother would have had this man hanged by his tongue until he learned to use it with respect. I¡¯d wager Simon¡¯s father¡¯s form of discipline was not dissimilar.¡±

    ¡°Other than the details, not really.¡± Simon scratched his chin. ¡°How would that even work, though? It¡¯s not like you can tie a noose around a tongue.¡±

    Camille greeted his inquiry with a roll of her eyes. ¡°They put an iron bar through the tip, obviously. No one needs to hang long, just enough for the message to sink in. And they walk away with the lesson forever etched into their body.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Not that I ever saw it personally. Such things were ¡®inappropriate for a child¡¯, apparently.¡±

    ¡°But why not just cut out their tongue? It seems like that would save a lot of time and effort for a similar result.¡±

    ¡°Well, that would be overkill, and it¡¯s difficult to be sure you¡¯ll keep them alive. Regardless, it¡¯s more about the impression of¡ª¡°

    ¡°Ahem,¡± Luce cleared his throat quietly as he gathered up the stray detritus that had fallen. ¡°Can we please focus on more pertinent matters?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s to deal with? Let it lie; they¡¯re just making a living in their own way.¡±

    Luce shot Simon a glare to melt steel.

    ¡°Fine! I get it. But it¡¯s not as if anyone of even moderate intelligence would put any stock in it. I mean, you and Camille? It¡¯s absurd. Not to mention all that spirit stuff.¡±

    ¡°Be that as it may, we have to deal with it somehow. Even the insinuation is dangerous.¡± How would anyone ever accept my reforms if they¡¯ve already tarred me as a cultist making deals with spirits? ¡°And we¡¯ll do it without any maiming, to be clear.¡±

    ¡°Obviously. That wasn¡¯t a serious suggestion.¡± Camille flicked a blue-tipped strand of hair from her face. ¡°Silence him in so public a fashion, and you only lend truth to his words. Better establish your own narrative, and take control of the public discourse. It¡¯s the first of the three pillars of rule my mother taught me.¡±

    ¡°The same mother that ripped people¡¯s tongues for speaking out of turn?¡±

    Camille¡¯s eyes narrowed for an instant, gone almost as soon as it appeared, then she laughed. ¡°Oh, Luce, if you live in a castle made of sand, take care where you pour your water. If we¡¯re to judge each other by our parents, I assure you that my list is far longer than yours could hope to be.¡±

    There¡¯s nothing wrong with my mother, she just wasn¡¯t around, he thought briefly, until his brain turned to Father, playing his games in faraway lands to make them his own, and empowering the person who¡¯d plunged the world into darkness. ¡°Fair enough. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m all that inclined to listen to any advice telling me to execute people for speaking ill of me. We¡¯ll be dealing with this another way.¡± Somehow. There were options, obviously, like sending the censors after the journal, or arresting its leaders for fomenting sedition, but all of them came at the cost of a society where people could speak without fear. It was the exact opposite of the reason he was here, and yet now that was biting back at him. ¡°So, what were those pillars of rule?¡±

    Leaning back in her chair, the lady pressed her thin spider-leg fingers together as a wry smile filled her face. ¡°One,¡± she said as she flicked her thumb out. ¡°As I mentioned, maintain control of the narrative. You establish a version of reality that suits your needs, and live in it so long as you are in public, as must any who follow you.¡±

    ¡°Let the truth speak for itself.¡± Simon nodded, not realizing that Camille was implying the exact opposite. We really did sneak away to meet with spirits, and I made a deal with them. Luce would have to live with that.

    ¡°It¡¯s not as if it would be necessary here,¡± she continued without giving anything away, ¡°but this strategy has been known to work even when disseminating lies to counter truth. Mother once got Lord Corn¨¨s¡¯ entire keep thinking he was infertile, despite his having a daughter in his spitting image. Mother didn¡¯t even have to reconcile it for them, they came up with their own justification that the daughter was illegitimate, a product of an affair. The lies were so constant and consistent that people had no choice but to doubt their eyes. The lord had to disinherit her to avoid the backlash, and my mother would tell you to this day that even he had begun to believe her lies.¡±

    Luce had to pull his mouth shut to avoid it stupidly hanging open. How could she say something so horrifying without even realizing it? ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°His inheritance passed to his brother instead, who happened to be her aunt Flarielle¡¯s husband. And that poor girl got out of the marriage to a fifty-year-old her father had arranged. Everyone got what they wanted.¡±

    Luce sighed. ¡°I suppose.¡± If only I could say my father had never done something similar, but the Siege of Ombresse disproves it handily.  ¡°Dare I even ask what the other pillars are?¡±

    Camille smiled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing that would offend your sensibilities, Prince Lucifer. Two, for example¡±¡ªshe held out her index finger and thumb¡ª¡°is to know and maintain the sources of your power. That includes social groups. Each has to be kept in its proper place, with everything not in yours to be cast out.¡±

    I guess that¡¯s not so bad, though it did seem obvious. And yet¡­

    ¡°Like people without even a single course in economics talking as if they know how to fix everything?¡±

    ¡°Sure, that would be one example. If they can¡¯t say anything informed, they shouldn¡¯t be part of the conversation. And it¡¯s an important part of pillar three.¡± She popped out her middle finger in addition to the others, making Luce realize that she¡¯d been counting the whole time and he¡¯d somehow missed it. Idiot. ¡°Cement yourself at the top of the hierarchy.¡±

    ¡°Your mother has a talent for stating the obvious,¡± Simon noted idly. ¡°Any ruler would tell you that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the broader principle, there are obviously details about how to ensure it.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°She might have told me more of them, had she been given the time to do so.¡±

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°I¡¯m not at the top of the hierarchy anyway. There¡¯s Harold, and Father, and Aunt Elizabeth, and - wait, your mother wasn¡¯t either. She was a vassal to the Fox-King, wasn¡¯t she?¡± The worrying feeling was beginning to creep up on him that Camille¡¯s entire speech had been a joke. Or worse, that it hadn¡¯t.

    I can¡¯t forget she could be trying to bring me down. Even if that advice did seem to fit with her personality, if genuinely given.

    ¡°That¡¯s the point. You have your place in the greater scope, so your corner of it must be impeccable for you to excel there. Your hierarchy, the lines along which this city you rule is drawn, has to accept you as absolute sovereign, or your power will crumble.¡±

    ¡°They accepted Perimont as such, and his grip was wrested away all the same.¡±

    Camile frowned, flicking her eyes over to a visibly uncomfortable Simon.

    Oh, shit, I wasn¡¯t thinking about that. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Simon. No offense was meant.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said when it was clearly not, the words hanging in the air for a long moment after.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Camille said, mercifully moving the conversation forward. ¡°You could do all three in one stroke. What if the journal had to work for you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes!¡± Simon sat up. ¡°Buy it from them, overthrow their leadership by making the journal yours!¡±

    ¡°Or fold it into the Governor¡¯s bureau as an arm of your power.¡±

    Simon glared at her as if she¡¯d just caught fire, then turned to Luce. ¡°Are you hearing this?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t do that,¡± Luce said to Camille. ¡°Avalon has a reasonable right to property enshrined in our laws. Seizing it would violate that.¡±

    ¡°And? Do you think anyone¡¯s going to enforce it on you? The only person they can appeal your power to is miles away, unreachable by all but the best-equipped travelers. Your word is law within these city walls. The sooner you realize that and start acting accordingly, the faster you¡¯ll see obstacles like this ¨¦crivain disappear. If you¡¯re ridding them of scoundrels and liars, the people will love you for it. You can do whatever you need to do to save them.¡± Her eyes were filled with energy, electric blue.

    You want me to tell them about Fenouille and the spirits. The message was unspoken, but that seemed to be her meaning. You want me to stain myself in public so I lose my grip on power, he thought first, before considering the alternative. Or you want to acclimate them to the thought of these partnerships without blood. This could be a real, long-term solution.

    Even the latter was self-serving in a way, but it was certainly a nicer thought.

    ¡°No need to rule as a tyrant for that.¡± If his suspicions about spiritual energy were correct, spirits might not need to be involved at all. At least, not in this world. Every second I¡¯ve put into the Nocturne Gate project would be rewarded a thousandfold.

    ¡°As you wish, Prince Lucifer. I¡¯m simply offering my advice.¡±

    ¡°And don¡¯t call me that! It¡¯s bad enough that all the journals do it.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not fond of your pre-name?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ embarrassing, that¡¯s all. Lucifer is such an old man name, it¡¯s hard to take seriously on someone my age.¡±

    ¡°My great-grandfather was a Lucifer,¡± Simon added. ¡°Sweet old man, he lived to be almost a hundred.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure, like Agn¨¨s. It¡¯s a product of certain names being popular for babies at the same time. When they hit a critical mass, it becomes indelibly associated with the specific generation until after they pass from living memory, and then it¡¯s often fashionable again. I saw it all the time going through the birth and death records from the temple.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Luce turned his head. ¡°I guess that explains it, then. Most of them would have been born just after Khali was sealed away, and Lucifer means light bringer.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Camille nodded her head up and down slowly. ¡°So that journal¡¯s headline was a game of words. I suppose I can respect that, where it¡¯s due.¡±

    Simon shook his head. ¡°That just makes it all the more despicable.¡±

    ¡°I agree. But, speaking of the journal, if we could please get back to the matter at hand?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Camille waved her hand, as if the whole matter were a trifle. ¡°Simon and I are telling you the same thing. One way or another, you need to gain control of the journal itself. You need not touch the offending writer if the institution rejects him and his ilk as a matter of course. And then, afterwards, all the better to establish your narrative.¡±

    ¡°All the better to establish the truth,¡± Luce corrected.

    ¡°In this case, they¡¯re one and the same, are they not?¡± she maliciously taunted. ¡°Simon suggests purchasing them, which will work for a time. But bonds of silver are always weaker than bonds of authority. They would be mercenaries in your hire, of the word rather than of the sword, but just as unreliable, for mercenaries seek not to serve but to profit.¡±

    ¡°You should come to Avalon, Camille, and see what bonds of silver have built. I think you would change your attitude.¡±

    ¡°Is that an invitation, Simon? I¡¯ll confess I have at times imagined my arrival at Cambria¡¯s gates.¡± At the head of an army, no doubt.

    ¡°Could I buy it, Simon?¡±

    ¡°Well, in a sense, you already have. Shares of it, at least, from your uncle, assuming he wouldn¡¯t mind you acting on his behalf. It¡¯s less than half, though. Father¡¯s shares passed to Mother, so they don¡¯t belong to the Governor¡¯s office anymore. You could try to buy her out, but¡­¡±

    But she thinks I killed her husband. Like as not, Lilian Perimont was behind this anyway, or at least had lent her protection to the effort.

    Why oh why must I spend my time on this instead of advancing science by centuries? In twenty years I could have an automatic farm, in fifty a self-sustaining airship island in the sky. The power that was coming out of the Nocturne Gate on the Tower roof alone¡­

    ¡°These shares still entitle you to consideration, even if less than half, do they not?¡±

    ¡°If they¡¯re printing this, apparently they don¡¯t.¡±

    Camille shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s because no one representing you has reached out to them. They chased their silver with salaciousness because they could, all you¡¯d said on the matter was that you were suspending several duties of the censors. They took it for free rein, and that was their mistake. We must simply correct it.¡±

    Since when is it my job to manage every business in the city? I have more important things to be doing. Luce frowned. ¡°What do you propose?¡±

    ¡°Reccomend the hiring of a representative to set the editorial tone. Even having one in the room will make them think again before printing something like this. It¡¯s projecting your power, demonstrating it without needing to lift a finger.¡±

    ¡°Fine, you do it.¡± He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°If your advice is true, you¡¯ll make sure I see the results of it soon enough. Otherwise we¡¯ll try something else.¡± If I start in the next hour, I can start processing that sample of earth from Fenouille¡¯s first batch by the end of the day. ¡°Are we done?¡±

    ¡°Um, just one more thing,¡± Simon said, at least having the decency to sound guilty about it. ¡°This was kicked upstairs from the permit office.¡± At Camille¡¯s puzzled look in response, he explained, ¡°Every city in Avalon has one. They review new buildings and developments to ensure they meet specific standards. The whole thing ought to be abolished, if you ask me. It¡¯s criminal not to let people build as they please on their own land.¡±

    ¡°Well, the one who runs it reports to you. Do what you want. Was that all?¡± Please can we just be done?

    ¡°I¡¯ll instruct them to allow the expansion, then. Thank you, Luce.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what expansion?¡± Luce asked. ¡°Is this a new granary or something? I¡¯d imagine it¡¯s not worth building with things as they are unless it¡¯s truly essential.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a new office for Euler Maritime Insurance. With so many ships lost at sea, they¡¯ve had to deal with a surge in claims, so they need to hire more underwriters to help find ways to mitigate their losses.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°A disaster happened. I¡¯m not going to let them hire more people to get them out of doing their one job. Fuck that!¡±

    Camille snorted, grinning up at him.

    ¡°The rule of law is still important, and I¡¯m given to understand that our office evaluates according to objective standards,¡± Luce said eventually. ¡°So if the project can meet them, I won¡¯t stand in the way. Their job is to find a way to ensure it doesn¡¯t, no matter what. They can have a solicitor on my dala, if they need it.¡±

    ¡°An excellent solution, Luce.¡± Camille nodded approvingly, unless she was happy because she thought it was a bad idea, and wanted him to fail, or¡­ Gah, it¡¯s maddening just to think about this. The sooner he could find a way to link food production to the energy from the Tower¡¯s Nocturne Gate, the sooner he could stop relying on her and have no more need for her riddles. ¡°Shall we adjourn?¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you!¡± Luce knocked his fist against the table. ¡°We¡¯re done. You both may go.¡±

    Simon nodded stiffly and marched right out the door, but Camille lingered, draping her arm across the doorway. She turned around and closed the door.

    Oh great, yet another thing before I can get to work.

    ¡°You know this won¡¯t stop, right? If Lilian Perimont is attacking you in the journal, then she already has no qualms about opposing you before the public. Captain Whitbey stopped attending your meetings the moment she arrived. You currently have no one in your council, other than myself I suppose, to maintain your monopoly on force. The perception of legitimacy, you ruling by royal decree, is all that¡¯s keeping you in power here. Lose control of the narrative, and you have nothing. You need to take this part seriously too, Luce. It¡¯s not all going to be magic experiments and clandestine meetings in the snow.¡±

    Luce flopped back in his chair with a sigh. ¡°I know. I¡¯m so bad at this! I just - This is never who I was. I always had Harold for stuff like this. And I can see a solution right here in front of me, if only I could have the time to work on it. Not just to this crisis, but so many of humanity¡¯s ills.¡±

    ¡°If you lose your power, you might never get the chance.¡±

    Reluctantly, he nodded.

    ¡°You just need to take a breath. We have crops growing on the Sartaire banks right now. Peauvre is cycling soil to the neighboring fields, and our food stores only need to last until the harvest, instead of forever. Those farmers are helping the city and they love you for it, since you¡¯re bailing them out at their darkest hour. Almost no one within city walls is starving or freezing. We have peace. All of that is because of you.¡±

    ¡°Well, I think you deserve some credit too, but thank you. Do you really - ¡° He was interrupted by the sound of a knock against the door. ¡°Who is it?¡± he called out, then cursed, because he¡¯d soundproofed the workshop.

    He got up and opened the door, only to find the muscular guardian girl from before looking up at him.

    ¡°Hello, Your Highness. I-I have something rather sensitive to tell you. In private.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Camille, would you mind?¡±

    ¡°Of course not. Until next time, Luce.¡±

    Charlotte stepped aside to let her through, then waited a moment to let her pass from earshot before speaking. ¡°It¡¯s about some of the Guardians.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°Not the harbor bombing? Or Camille?¡±

    ¡°No, she has nothing to do with this - ¡°

    He poked his head out the door and called out to Camille, gesturing to invite her back into the room.

    ¡°Really, Your Highness? I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s wise to trust her.¡±

    ¡°On this, I can be sure that our interests align.¡± He stepped out of the way to let Camille back in, then closed the door behind all of them. ¡°So, you were saying that this involves the Guardians.¡±

    Charlotte looked quickly at Camille, then back to him. ¡°Yes, Your Highness. I was part of a squad of five providing security for a supply run on the north end. But before we were halfway there, the Guardians I was with absconded with the lord¡¯s portion of what we were there to distribute. We ran out ten minutes after we got there, because there was so little left. I¡­ I notified my superior, but he insisted I keep quiet about it. Guardians have to look out for their own. But I couldn¡¯t abide by the injustice of it.¡±

    ¡°Nor should anyone.¡± Camille¡¯s voice was cold. ¡°You don¡¯t need me to tell you what I recommend, Luce.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He felt for the first time like he actually understood her, even if only for a moment. ¡°Apprehend them, Charlotte. Once they¡¯re in custody, we¡¯ll arrange as fast a trial as possible. We mustn¡¯t let this rot set for long.¡±

    ¡°Um, I¡¯m afraid my word in that matter would not be respected, even if I told the truth that this order came from you. A superior officer - ¡±

    ¡°Ugh, the one time I need Whitbey and he¡¯s nowhere to be seen,¡± Luce muttered. ¡°Fine, then I need names. Tell me who did this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll also need to know where I¡¯ll be able to find them,¡± Camille added. ¡°Obviously we can¡¯t trust the Guardians to apprehend them.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Luce said. ¡°Tell Camille what she needs to know.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s mouth hung open for a moment, but she recovered quickly and began reciting the names. No one Luce had ever heard of, though that was scant surprise.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to go to the Guardians,¡± Camille said to him once Charlotte was done. ¡°They need to know that mine is a sanctioned operation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it now.¡±

    ¡°No, take an hour. You¡¯re appearing in person to impose the law, appearances need to be just right. Wear royal regalia, if you have any. Perhaps try to style your hair after the king, though it¡¯s a bit short for that. Purple, for certain. Your king¡¯s always in purple.¡±

    ¡°Right, right, ok.¡± Luce thumped the table as he rose. ¡°I can¡¯t fucking believe people would pull something like this in a crisis! It¡¯s so despicable. So - So - I just - Who would do such a thing?¡±

    ¡°Most people, if they thought they could get away with it.¡± She put her hand on his shoulder, her fingers cold. ¡°You have to show them that they can¡¯t.¡±

    But right now you¡¯re the only reason, he thought with dread. Clearing out corruption from the Guardians could help make the remainder useful in time, but in the meantime they were showing themselves to be completely unreliable.

    It¡¯s a good thing I have Simon to help put her opinions in check, balance things out. Otherwise this problem might just be too dangerous to solve.

 Camille V: The Narratrice

    Camille V: The Narratrice

    ¡°Alright, I admit it, this wine is better than anything in Avalon.¡± Mary Perimont took another sip, only barely managing to avoid spilling the glass on herself with a last-moment correction.

    Our bilgewater is better wine than any in Avalon. Scant wonder they felt the need to conquer everything in sight, with their own victuals so thoroughly lacking in quality.

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased you think so,¡± Camille said, swirling the Rhanoir red inside her own glass. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to get any more for a while, but this vintage from the Norforche Valley is what I have the most of.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s excellent news! This whole supply issue has really been rather annoying, hasn¡¯t it? The fine courtiers of the capital have no idea what trends I¡¯m pioneering. They¡¯re so terribly lost without me, you know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± she lied easily, filling Mary¡¯s cup just slightly enough more than the appropriate amount to still maintain an air of good taste. ¡°Mary, we are friends, are we not?¡±

    ¡°Of course! Sometimes I feel like you¡¯re the only one with the courage to give me praise without hesitation. Other people are prone to being intimidated.¡±

    ¡°Raised to be admired, I¡¯m sure.¡± If taken far past the point of logic. ¡°I was hoping I could ask you about a sensitive matter. It¡­ Well, it concerns your late father.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Mary blinked, setting her wine down on the table. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I should - ¡°

    ¡°Of course.¡± Camille waved her hand to dismiss the thought. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have asked. It¡¯s sensitive but you don¡¯t strictly need to know, and I would hate to burden you with forbidden knowledge just to help me out. That wouldn¡¯t be fair.¡±

    Wide eyes flicked back and forth across the girl¡¯s lavish chambers, ensuring that they were alone. ¡°It¡¯s a secret?¡±

    ¡°In need of the utmost discretion,¡± Camille agreed. ¡°All the more reason not to burden you with it, really. The last thing you need weighing on you now is - ¡°

    ¡°Tell me.¡±

    Holding back a smile, Camille slouched back in her chair, balancing her wineglass on the armrest. ¡°Did you read that article in the journal about Luce and me?¡± The offensive, slanderous, garbage in it was unfortunately less dangerous than the actual journalism to Luce¡¯s rule here, given the myriad efforts that needed to be covered up. But there were ways to leverage the rest.

    Leaning forward, Mary pressed her hands together tightly. ¡°Are you two really having an affair? I knew it! Because I introduced you two, you know.¡± No, you didn¡¯t. ¡°Well, you¡¯re welcome. And don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t tell a soul! Hah! I knew you weren¡¯t perfect.¡±

    ¡°If only it were so simple,¡± Camille said, affecting a grave tone of voice. ¡°Mary, have you ever had a suspicion that your father¡¯s death was not an accident?¡±

    Mary choked into her wine, slamming the glass onto the table hard enough to almost break it. ¡°You¡¯re working with Gary¡¯s mom, aren¡¯t you? To find out what really happened.¡±

    And there it is.

    Shit.

    At least Camille knew, now. Steps could be taken to mitigate the damage. Or¡­

    Or there might be an even better way to go. She took another sip of her wine, considering the appropriate response. If Anya Stuart had set her sights on the prince, that as good as confirmed that Lillian Perimont had allowed that story through, perhaps even planted it there. But how deep did this go? ¡°I¡¯m trying to find the truth, too. As is Captain Whitbey, I believe.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Mary shook her head. ¡°He¡¯s working with Captain Stuart directly. Gary saw them meeting just yesterday. You should probably just meet up with them. Work together, you know? I¡¯d be helping too if I weren¡¯t so busy with everything I¡¯m handling for the city.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± And there it is. Whitbey had helped cover up the accident directly, under Luce¡¯s orders. If he was willing to talk, the whole structure of lies about the Governor¡¯s death could crumble in the face of the truth. At least, absent a more appealing narrative.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± This was a risk, absolutely. But it was just a matter of time as it was. This way, the losses could be mitigated, the course of the enemy¡¯s actions limited. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell anyone about this. Not even Captain Stuart. I¡¯m not sure if I want to collaborate with her yet. But¡­ That woman who was with me at those parties, before darkness fell?¡±

    ¡°Celine, sure. A bit too skinny, but her hair looked good.¡± Khali¡¯s curse.

    ¡°Right, well, she was never really my bodyguard. She was a vicious pirate, whose real name was Florette¡­¡±

    ?

    ¡°Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie.¡± Camille waggled her finger, staring down at the Territorial Guardian pinned down in the dead-end alley. ¡°Your name wasn¡¯t even on the list, you know? But your friends gave you up. They didn¡¯t even need any convincing. If they were going down for stealing supplies, why not you as well?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t steal any supplies.¡± Ronald of no particular family chuckled nervously. ¡°But if you have a problem, you¡¯re welcome to take it up with my superior, or Captain Whitbey. They¡¯ll be happy to assure you - ¡°

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure they would be.¡± She advanced down the alley, forcing the thief to scramble further and further back. ¡°Fortunately, my work is not subject to their jurisdiction. Do you know who I am?¡±

    Ronald gulped, pinning his body in the corner at the back. ¡°You¡¯re the witch. The Prince of Darkness¡¯s sorceress.¡±

    She chuckled in response, pressing her fingertips together. ¡°I am Lady Camille Leclaire of On¨¨s, High Priestess of Levian, the Revenant Survivor, Liaison to the Spirits, Defender of Malin, and, today, the bane of your miserable existence.¡±

    The thief swore quietly, shivering with fear. ¡°Wait! I didn¡¯t want to, ok? It was just¡­ Bertie and Reggie were skimming, and I saw them, and they saw me see them. And after that¡­ I mean, people have to know you have each other¡¯s backs, otherwise the Guardians fall apart. If you don¡¯t partake then they might get the wrong idea, think you could be a rat. And the only thing worse than rats is what happens to them once they get what they deserve.¡± He spat. ¡°I bet it was Reggie, wasn¡¯t it? That pompous ass, he¡¯d do anything to save his skin, even screwing me over like that.¡±

    It was the other one. But there was no real point in mentioning it. Charlotte¡¯s five names had been apprehended, and soon, so would the additional six names they¡¯d given up under questioning. Of course, now this crop could use a round of questioning of their own. It wasn¡¯t as if Camille could afford to spend all her time on this, but it certainly wouldn¡¯t hurt to begin with a strong opening effort. This had to look perfect, after all.

    ¡°Look, they¡¯re the real culprits here! You¡¯ve got to understand! I was just¡­ getting by.¡±

    Camille laughed in disbelief. There always has to be some reason to duck the blame. ¡°I don¡¯t care. You¡¯ll be accompanying me to the Governor¡¯s Mansion while you await your trial.¡± She grabbed his wrist without resistance. Disappointing. Three of the others had stood their ground and fought, which had been far more interesting. Before that, she hadn¡¯t had a real fight since¡­

    Well, perhaps having it this easy wasn¡¯t the end of the world either.

    ¡°A trial?¡± Ronald asked softly. ¡°You¡¯re not going to burn me alive to feed your spirit?¡±

    ¡°I would never do that! Levian prefers his offerings to be drowned.¡± Camille chuckled, readying a dagger of ice behind him in case he escaped. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s usually pretty quick. Usually.¡±

    ¡°B-but-but you said - ¡°

    ¡°A trial, yes.¡± She shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ll just have to hope it goes well.¡±

    ?

    Unbelievably, the journal was named The Daily Quotidien, a staggering demonstration of redundancy to anyone familiar with either language. But then, their target audience probably wasn¡¯t that educated.

    Camille passed under the hand-painted sign and through the door with a conscious confidence to her step. Control the narrative. Presentation was, as ever, a vital part of that.

    She¡¯d covered the blue in her hair with a green scarf, not an uncommon sight in these times, with a warm but trim black coat to match. One of Avalon¡¯s colors, and one of mine. It was a helpful framing for herself, let alone the impression it would make.

    ¡°Excuse me, do you have an appointment?¡± The boy behind the desk began thumbing through a large book in front of him, likely to organize his dates. ¡°Oh, were you Mr. Eserly¡¯s masseuse? He keeps a side door in his office for that, but since you¡¯ve already come in anyway¡­¡± He trailed off as Camille walked right past him, not deigning to answer.

    The entire bureau was arranged strangely, grey walls that didn¡¯t quite reach the ceiling dividing the main room into cells, one for each worker. Past the sea of grey, a few offices occupied the far wall, their view looking out over the water.

    It¡¯s brilliant, Camille realized, hiding her horror. Keep all the underlings divided and they can¡¯t organize to oppose you. Each would have to bring only their scant individual leverage to bear against the weight of the entire journal, should a conflict arise. A few flimsy dividers wouldn¡¯t do that alone, but it would certainly help set the tone. Especially given the murky lighting. Despite the roaring hearth at the back, each cell needed its own candle just to get enough dim light to write.

    ¡°Hey, where are you going?¡± the boy called out as she left his view.

    Jane, Horace, Jaya, Hari, Ellwood, Sheila¡­ If the Quotidien employed anyone native to Malin, they clearly kept them far out of sight.

    Of course, the impudent fabulist was an exception.

    ¡°Scott ¨¦crivain, just the man I was looking for.¡± The writer so creative he chose the word ¡®writer¡¯ for his surname.

    ¡°It¡¯s Ecrivan,¡± he grunted, not looking up from his desk. ¡°Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m busy?¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°I just wished to congratulate you on your most recent story. I¡¯m given to understand that it shattered sales records. In fact, I¡¯m here to express the sentiments of several of the Quotidien¡¯s partners.¡± Avalon¡¯s word for owner, according to Simon. Honestly the vagaries of their absurd economic system weren¡¯t the important point here anyway. One didn¡¯t need such knowledge to establish control of a system.

    ¡°Oh! Well, I appreciate you coming out all this¡­ way.¡± His eyes widened as he turned his head, recognizing her. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the woman in blue.¡±

    ¡°You will address me as Lady Leclaire.¡± She tapped the notebook he was writing in, covered in scarcely legible pen strokes. ¡°See? You already know it. It¡¯s right there.¡±

    Scott swallowed. ¡°You can¡¯t kill me here. It¡¯s a whole room full of people. They¡¯ll hunt you down, they¡¯ll¡­ Listen, be smart about this.¡±

    ¡°Why would I kill you?¡± She leaned back against the dull grey wall. ¡°As I said, I¡¯m here to convey the sentiments of the partners.¡±

    ¡°You¡­what?¡±

    ¡°Specifically Lord Arion of Fortescue, who is currently unable to personally exercise his rights given the difficulties of travel, and has thus ceded them to his nephew, Prince Lucifer Grimoire. I believe you know him, too. Though of course, Simon and Mary Perimont are also good friends of mine, so you could say that I speak in the interest of their family as well.¡± It would be a lie, but you could say it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that gives you the right to - ¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s her, Mr. Eserly. She just walked in with no explanation or anything.¡± The boy from the desk was pulling on the arm of a middle-aged man in a horrifically dull brown waistcoat.

    ¡°Ah, good, I was hoping to speak with you.¡± Camille exited the cell with a quick glance back at the writer. ¡°We shall have to continue this later.¡±

    ¡°Young lady, all I need to do is ring a bell, and the Guardians will be here in the space of five minutes. Please exit the premises.¡± He pointed to the door, only to gasp in bewilderment when Camille took it as an excuse to grab his hand and shake it in the Avaline fashion.

    ¡°Mr. Eustace Eserly, I presume? Lady Camille Leclaire. Honestly, I can¡¯t believe we haven¡¯t met yet. I¡¯m glad to remedy that now.¡±

    He blinked. ¡°Leclaire¡­? What could you possibly - ?¡±

    ¡°In your office, please. This is a conversation better held in private.¡±

    Furrowing his brow, he looked back towards the desk boy.

    ¡°Nothing for another half hour. Although you wanted me to remind you about Junior¡¯s anniversary. I took the liberty of preparing a catalog of potential gifts, but I thought you would want the final say.¡±

    ¡°Later.¡± He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    So he has children¡­ That¡¯s useful.

    Camille followed him into his office, isolating him from his underlings as she closed the glass door behind her. Glass, even better than I could have hoped. For once Avalon¡¯s habit of pouring an extravagant amount of money into the dully mundane was actually doing some good.

    ¡°Please, Mr. Eserly, have a seat.¡±

    Eustace Eserly, chief editor of The Daily Quotidien, merely scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re here to complain about the article. Fine. It got a little mud on you and the Prince. My apologies. But nothing we printed was unsourced, it¡¯s all in accordance with Avalon¡¯s right to speech. I know the Erstwhile Empire is a bit behind the times on that front, but people¡¯s rights matter under a civilized government.¡±

    ¡°You misunderstand me, Mr. Eserly. I come to you not as an aggrieved member of the public, but a representative of the partners. As I said, I think it would be better if you were sitting down for this.¡±

    He simply continued to glare at her, his aggressively brown sleeves wrinkling as he folded his arms.

    ¡°Very well, suit yourself.¡± Camille shrugged. ¡°Before we begin, I have a question for you, and I do hope you¡¯ll do me the courtesy of answering honestly: Do you enjoy being a pawn? Does it bring you happiness?¡±

    ¡°Alright, now - ¡°

    ¡°I ask only because, in the manner of all pawns, your time has come to be callously sacrificed by those who consider you their lesser. A decision has been reached that you will resign your position here, effective immediately.¡±

    Eserly laughed. ¡°By who, you?¡±

    Correct. Far easier to ask forgiveness than permission. ¡°By the partners. Namely Lord Arion and Lady Perimont, who collectively own almost nine parts in ten of this journal.¡± Somehow. This system makes no sense at all.

    ¡°The fuck they did. I specifically cleared this with Lady Lillian before it got anywhere near the presses. She told me to hold nothing back.¡± He scoffed. ¡°That issue sold as well as we used to before darkness fell. It¡¯s sending more money her way than anything else we could print. She would never allow this.¡±

    ¡°You want to cry to Perimont? Cry to Perimont. Myself, I don¡¯t much care. What I can tell you is that Lord Arion was none too pleased with your unkind libel about his nephew, nor Simon and Mary Perimont on behalf of their friend here before you. Lady Perimont was put in an impossible position, you must understand. The needs of a parent against the needs of profit.¡± Camille stared past the large wooden desk, free of papers or clutter, and dared the editor to challenge her.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± Eserly shook his head at her. ¡°If that were a concern, she would have stopped me from printing it.¡±

    ¡°Because the powerful never change their mind when it suits their needs, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces.¡± Camille sat down in the chair across from Eserly¡¯s, putting her feet up on his desk. ¡°Have you heard the tale of the Farmer and the Forager? I¡¯m given to understand it reaches far. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re today¡¯s farmer.¡± The one from Florette¡¯s version, where he starves to death.

    ¡°She¡¯d tell me herself, if she wanted me to go.¡± His tone was wavering. Getting close.

    Camille scoffed. ¡°She doesn¡¯t even know who you are, other than the reason her children won¡¯t talk to her. And why should she? Eserly is no great name that commands respect.¡± And this is where the research pays off. ¡°I can see your whole life before my eyes, Eustace Eserly. Born to gentry, able to support your family only through labor. You saw opportunities in the Territories, and set out for opportunity, but you found only a miserable backwater. Years on, and you remain a plaything of higher powers, to be used and discarded. You have no titles, no great fortune, no land. No legacy, with a son who¡¯s half a stranger.¡± A guess, but an easy one to make. ¡°Whatever dreams you held when you got on that boat are long dead, only the pitiful impulse to grasp ever upward for every stray copper remains.

    ¡°Meanwhile, the Prince knows you as the greedy hack who peddled lies for a few precious coppers. The Perimonts know you as a convenient sacrifice, easily removed to rid them of their family strife. No one fought for you. Easier to simply change the leadership, clean out the bad and set things back to the way they were.¡±

    ¡°I knew I was playing with fire.¡± Eustace Eserly slumped down in his chair, and she knew she¡¯d won. ¡°Back in Avalon, there¡¯s no way to get out of the shadow of The Cambrian, it¡¯s all encompassing. How could you compete with the journal created by the man who invented the printing press? I¡¯d hoped it would be different here.¡±

    ¡°Look, this is a good thing. No one will be pushing you around anymore. There¡¯s no risk of you being caught in the middle.¡± Camille removed her feet, then leaned forward over the desk. ¡°Really, this is a good time to be getting out of this business. Take some time with your family, and move on. I can tell you that the next thing will be better, because it always is.¡±

    ¡°Junior could use more attention. He¡¯s been falling in with a bad crowd.¡± He nodded, slowly breathing in and out. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s a good time to be getting out of this business. Scott¡¯s piece still only brought us back to what we were bringing in before darkness fell. No one has enough money, and they¡¯re only spending it on the essentials.¡±

    ¡°There you go!¡± She held out her hand again to shake. ¡°Look, I happen to have some connections in the candle trade. Perhaps I could put in a word? You¡¯re an organizer, a manager, a lord of the business. That¡¯s a skill that¡¯s useful anywhere. I¡¯d certainly think that¡¯s better than wasting your talents here. And the owner is a worker as well, no lands to his name. No need to be pushed around by the petty whims of nobility.¡±

    Eserly took her hand and shook it. ¡°I appreciate you being reasonable about this. I had to do something with sales falling so flat, but¡­ Just give me a few minutes, and I¡¯ll tell the others.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Camille gave him what hopefully looked like a sympathetic nod, then opened the door. ¡°You¡¯ve handled this like a gentleman, with quiet dignity and grace.¡± She closed the door, then walked across the room towards the front desk.

    The boy looked confused, but he wasn¡¯t challenging her, probably because he¡¯d read the body language through the door. Another benefit of perfect presentation. ¡°Could you gather the workers here, please? There¡¯s going to be a speech from the chief editor.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Um, yes, of course. Just a moment.¡± He ducked off to round them up, abandoning his post in the process.

    A quick flip through the datebook on the boy¡¯s desk revealed little, but enough. No meetings with Stuart or Whitbey, and the only instance of Lillian Perimont was recorded weeks before the offensive article had been published. She didn¡¯t allow this, she instigated it. In a way, that was good. It made things more predictable.

    She put it away before the first people started to stream in from elsewhere in the dull office. Fortunately, they seemed to be an attentive bunch, since it wasn¡¯t long before all of them were assembled. Perhaps they want to get it over with, that they might get back to work. Something to be investigated later, since such an attitude would prioritize speed over quality, but nothing that needed to be dealt with now.

    Now, it is time to manage the social hierarchy.

    ¡°Members of the Quotidien, some of you know me, while others I¡¯m meeting for the first time, but we all have something in common. We believe in the power of journalism, of spreading the truth to the world no matter the cost.¡± So long as it¡¯s the right truth, anyway. ¡°It is with a heavy heart that I announce the departure of Mr. Eustace Eserly from our fair journal. After years of leal service, Mr. Eserly has decided to take some time to spend with his family, and will no longer be able to continue in his position here.¡±

    Camille wasn¡¯t sure what she expected, perhaps performative sadness or at least a polite pretense of sorrow. Instead, she saw many of the assembled workers simply shrug. A few were even sporting smiles! I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that the Avaline system fails to engender loyalty.

    ¡°While Eustace oversaw much of this paper¡¯s rise, he also was left with the unfortunate task of leading you through our darkest days. How can anyone bail out a sinking ship with a single cup? It is beyond anyone, and thus we do not blame them as it sinks. And yet! Our ship still rides the waves. We are not yet beyond hope.

    ¡°Bold, radical action is needed to navigate these dark waters, and I will be counting on each and every one of you to contribute not just your best, but the best. I wouldn¡¯t ask if I didn¡¯t know you were capable of it.¡±

    They mostly looked bored rather than confused, but Camille supposed that was something. Scott Ecrivan at least had the decency to look terrified.

    ¡°I will be meeting with each of the writers individually over the next few days to discuss our strategy moving forward, but for now, I leave you with one word: truth. Too long have we needed to scrabble for wide appeal, capturing people¡¯s money with the shocking and the grotesque without providing any service to them, or to the public interest. Right now our city faces a crisis, and we must do more than survive! We must lead the people through it! Keep them informed and aware, rather than anxious and depressed.

    ¡°I have no doubt that each and every one of you is talented and true of heart, but you have for too long been serf to the overmighty beast of profit, endless growth to line the pockets of this journal¡¯s owners. No more, I say to you. I¡¯ve been appointed personally to ensure that the Quotidien protects the public, instead of shaking them down. And guaranteed all funding necessary to make it so. I understand that this will be an adjustment for many of you, but I hope a commensurate adjustment of pay will help to ease the transition.¡±

    It¡¯s Avalon¡¯s money anyway, why not spend it? It wasn¡¯t as if Camille needed Eserly¡¯s enormous salary for anything else. ¡°Your erstwhile editor will be emerging in a few minutes to reiterate the news himself. In the meantime, I¡¯d like to get started right away.¡± She smiled, removing the scarf to reveal the blue in her hair. ¡°Scott, let¡¯s start with you. My office is still occupied for the moment, so we can meet by your desk.¡±

    And cement yourself at the top.

    Camille felt an energetic chill flow through her as she led the irritating writer away from his colleagues.

    Lady Perimont and her followers would have to respond to this. There was no way they could let something so bold stand, no matter what technical share was held by Luce¡¯s uncle. Camille would have to spend all of her next few days here during working hours, just to make sure she¡¯d be around when they arrived. Whitbey, I¡¯m guessing, though perhaps the Stuart woman.

    But whoever it was, they would come to strike back.

    And when they do, they¡¯ll fall right into my trap.

 Florette VII: The Intruder

    Florette VII: The Intruder

    ¡°Please tell me we¡¯re going to slay this fiend,¡± the Fallen demanded in Cassia Arion¡¯s voice. ¡°He plunged the world into darkness and they¡¯re just keeping him here. It¡¯s unfair.¡±

    ¡°It is. And yet, when it suited them, they let him be.¡± Florette didn¡¯t turn to face the spirit, keeping her eye pressed against the lens of the spyglass. ¡°Hence the need to do this quietly.¡±

    Magnifico was being held in a tower cell within the castle, apparently one ¡®befitting his station¡¯. Fucker gets to relax in the castle while the world starves. He¡¯d plunged the world into darkness, and he had been days from execution for it until news of who he was had stayed the Fox-King¡¯s hand.

    That was the explanation that made the most sense, anyway. Letting him live just because it¡¯s politically convenient, getting away with everything.

    But if anything, that just made it worse. King Harold of Avalon had personally infiltrated Ombresse and torn the city down, rendering the entire island nothing more than one of Avalon¡¯s puppet states. He ultimately carried responsibility for every one of Perimont¡¯s atrocities, all the abuse and exploitation of the wider Territorial government. The death of thousands, even before his latest atrocity.

    And he probably set Luce up to die.

    ¡°Perhaps it is unjust to acknowledge political reality, but it would also be foolish to ignore it,¡± Governor Perimont whispered, taking in the castle. ¡°If what you say of his identity is true, keeping him captive is the ultimate leverage. We could not press the attack without risking the life of our king. A hard but necessary decision, when our Crown prince is a soft man incapable of rising to the occasion.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s side are you on, Fallen?¡± Florette asked, pushing back even as she knew the argument was weak.

    If a knife at a monster¡¯s throat held back another Foxtrap until there was time to get ready, to steal more plans and match Avalon cannon for cannon, it was hard to argue that it wouldn''t be for the greater good, even if the injustice of it rankled. Still, they could throw him in a dank, moldy dungeon and prevent him from ever seeing the sun again.

    If any of us ever do, anyway.

    ¡°I¡¯m on humanity¡¯s side, Florette. The spirits¡¯. The world¡¯s.¡± Their form took on a different cast, small and withdrawn in a way that made it difficult to tell if they were fifteen or thirty, with brown bangs falling over startling green eyes. ¡°Yours, so long as I have read you true.¡±

    ¡°Whose form is that?¡± she asked with dread. Glaciel¡¯s minions should have all lived; it wasn¡¯t as if Florette had gone out of her way to finish them off, nor had any of them looked remotely like this. Please, don¡¯t tell me I¡¯ve killed someone by accident.

    ¡°I believe our collaborator here is simply responding to my presence.¡± Corro¡¯s purple puddle coalesced into the image of a man halfway out of the ground, though his lower half spilled out over the ground rather than forming legs. ¡°Rather cruel of you to prod at so recent a wound, Fallen.¡±

    ¡°Such is my nature.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Nature is often cruel.¡± Corro turned the massive mouth on his ¡®head¡¯ towards Florette. ¡°My only obligation is to deliver my message to Magnifico. That much, I have promised. As to keeping him alive, however, I have sworn no oaths.¡±

    ¡°Good, that gives us options.¡± Florette turned back to the Fallen, still the small green-eyed girl. Honestly, it was comfortable seeing them like this, no longer a knife of guilt in her neck, so she saw little reason to question further. ¡°But the Fallen had a good point. Unfortunately. Keeping him as a hostage against Avalon¡¯s good behavior might do more good, in the end. There¡¯s a lot to be said for preventing war.¡±

    ¡°Forestalling war. As soon as Magnifico¡¯s natural life should end, the threat arises once more, renewed. The King would be free to act once more.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Florette sighed. ¡°But kill him now, and the king¡¯s free to act now.¡±

    ¡°Not if there is no king.¡±

    Florette smiled. ¡°Good point.¡±

    ¡°If we cannot end things permanently, then, better to avoid it at this time. Wait until you have confirmation from me.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Something about his binder abilities?¡±

    ¡°Along those lines, if my suspicions are true, though far more complicated than could easily be explained. I¡¯ll know one way or another, once I see him.¡±

    ¡°Alright, good then. We want to play this safe and cautious. Nothing reckless.¡± As non-reckless as breaking into the castle to have a chat with the probably-King of Avalon could be, anyway. ¡°The guard should be changing now. Fallen, do you have what you need?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Family and friends have moved along, but the soul remains alight in the heart of its killer.¡± The Fallen turned her head towards the castle atop the winding path up the hill. ¡°Shall we, then?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d never let me see him otherwise.¡± Florette had obliquely alluded to it with Fernan after her meeting with Jethro, but that had gotten shut down hard. If she¡¯d played dumb about Magnifico probably being the king, maybe she could have swung it, since no one would have thought she¡¯d be there to kill him. But lying to Fernan felt like kicking a baby goat off a cliff. Easier to ask forgiveness, or better yet, never get discovered at all. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s go pay this bard a visit.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Well, it isn¡¯t as if the very concept is unheard of.¡± Michel gestured with his hands, as if waving to the world beyond. ¡°Plagette has endured as a republic for over eight hundred years.¡±

    ¡°Oh, please.¡± Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°The Fox-Queen was appointed as their First Speaker instead of abolishing their government outright, as a courtesy for their surrender to annexation. The Empire ruled them from afar for the rest of her life. and through that of several descendants. When Cyrin Renart tried to get them to pay their tribute for the war, they appointed a Merlan instead as a show of defiance, and he lacked the strength to call them on it.¡± Florette didn¡¯t know which Merlan, exactly, since Camille had used ¡®fucker¡¯ in lieu of a prename when telling the story. ¡°There¡¯s only been forty five cumulative years that an Aureaux or a Merlan wasn¡¯t their first speaker.¡±

    Michel smiled. ¡°Read your Corelle, have you? Still, I think it¡¯s meaningful that none since King Cyrin have deigned to call themselves king over Plagette.¡±

    I had to read Corelle, or Camille would have kept taunting me over my historical ignorance for another hundred years. Somehow, it seemed impossible to plot rebellion with someone who wasn¡¯t a pain in the ass.

    ¡°Marguerite Merlan is Queen in all but name.¡± Camille had even been counting on that, apparently, since her interest in curbing Avalon would supposedly endure into the longer term than that of a mere office-holder. ¡°Certainly, she¡¯ll be First Speaker until she dies.¡±

    ¡°Most likely.¡± Michel shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s also Condorcet. Although perhaps the less said, the better.¡±

    ¡®Those fucking freaks¡¯ had been the Lady Leclaire¡¯s eloquent epithet, and it was frankly hard to dispute. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯d even bring them up. It kind of destroys your argument.¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t work in Condorcet; that doesn¡¯t make it impossible.¡± He tipped his teacup back, only to frown at its emptiness. ¡°Don¡¯t allow cynicism to push you to inaction. You of all people ought to believe that a better world can be realized.¡±

    ¡°Really, ¡®for a better world¡¯? That¡¯s Avalon¡¯s motto. Or the translation of it, anyway. It¡¯s printed on all their military shit.¡± Florette took the last sip of her own tea. ¡°I¡¯m not being cynical. I just¡­ How many times have I charged off without thinking something through? Without actually considering the risks? ¡°Even the thought of what you¡¯re talking about is¡­ delicate. We have to be realistic.¡± Just killing the worst offenders isn¡¯t enough.

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to be stupid. Just consider the idea for a moment. This salon is a safe space to talk, I can assure you.¡± He stood from his velvet seat, giving her a nod. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have to go. A client of mine isn¡¯t being allowed to collect on his claim after the icy sea swallowed his ship.¡± He dropped around forty florins on the table, unfortunately the necessary price for this small meal for two. ¡°Malin is at the cusp of incredible transformation, transformation you helped make possible. Why not Guerron?¡±

    And why not? It certainly merited thinking about, but still¡­ The whole thing had the air of something too good to be true. And I¡¯m done blindly following my first idea instead of the best. That time was over.

    Florette took a minute to look out the window, a glimmer from Flammare barely visible in the sky above. The hearth spirit gave the city a weak facsimile of daylight for about eight hours, insubstantial as it was on this side of town. Small piles of snow clustered at the corners and crevices entirely out of his light, and none remained out of doors for longer than they could help. Even venturing as far as a salon demanded a fortitude that many lacked, if the sparse patronage was anything to go by.

    ¡°Is this seat taken?¡± A lanky blond boy sat down in Michel¡¯s seat without waiting to hear her response. ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I was just leaving.¡± Florette frowned, annoyed. ¡°You can have the table to enjoy your own company.¡±

    The boy let out an exaggerated gasp, his face twisting unnaturally to a caricature of surprise. ¡°But I¡¯m here to speak to you, Florette.¡±

    ¡°Really? You went about it rather poorly, then.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t particularly care about your opinion on my presentation. I need you to pass on a message to Fernan for me, since I¡¯m leaving town.¡±

    ¡°No thanks.¡± Florette stood up, trying to emulate the way Camille stared down her nose at people like they were insignificant minnows.

    ¡°To think you were so eager to speak with me before.¡± He smiled, pressing a finger under his chin. When he spoke again, a different voice came out. A familiar one. ¡°Though I suppose I never formally introduced myself.¡±

    ¡°Jethro¡­¡± Florette blinked. ¡°Did you wear fake black bangs to skulk around the rooftops, just to make yourself even less recognizable? Because I definitely saw your hair then, and it didn¡¯t look like this.¡±

    The spy blinked, clearly annoyed. Good. ¡°That was rather the issue, really. Fernan made his royal patrons all-too aware of the role I played in Magnifico¡¯s well-justified downfall, and while I cannot in good faith begrudge him his honesty, it is rather less than ideal for one in my position to have a recognizable identity, attributed recognizable deeds.¡±

    ¡°Hence your leaving.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. It became all the more necessary with the news of the Condorcet contingent¡¯s imminent arrival. My absolute last desire is being recognized by the likes of them. I dared not even seek out Fernan so disguised as this, given his status as a public figure. I was hoping you could pass along my good tidings, and my thanks.¡±

    ¡°Your thanks¡­¡± Florette raised an eyebrow. ¡°You didn¡¯t need to stick around for that, or show yourself to me again.¡±

    ¡°I did not. And yet here I am.¡± As he finished, a server arrived with a glass of red wine, placing it on the table in front of him. ¡°Ah, good. It¡¯s Jaubertie. Would you care for a glass?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Florette let her hands fall to the table. ¡°Why are you really here? I can¡¯t see why you¡¯d show your new identity to me like this just to pass your thanks along.¡±

    ¡°A limitation of your vision, then.¡± He smiled, tapping his temple. ¡°In truth, this face is as disposable as any other, thanks to Lamante¡¯s power.¡±

    The face-stealer. ¡°Is that¡­?¡±

    ¡°The very best of disguises, empowered by Lamante. I thought you might want to know that the mantis spirit is not above selling her trophies, for the right price.¡± He drained his wine in a single sip, then set it down gracefully on the table in front of him. ¡°You helped me more than you know, killing Perimont when you did. Especially on a military convoy like that. There¡¯s not a chance he wasn¡¯t surrounded by caches of weapons, all thought lost in that cave-in. Would it not be a shame if the Arboreum happened upon them?¡±

    Jethro alighted from his seat gracefully, rolled his arm into a bow, then swiftly left the room.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    What?

    Florette drummed her fingers against her leg, feeling the vibration resonate through her as the energy built up.

    Was that the most transparent attempt at manipulation ever, or a double-bluff? Jethro had no great loyalty to Avalon, if his gleeful framing of its probably-king was any indication, but if he was an outright turncoat, could he not have simply asked her help honestly as an ally? Had he, and he was just incapable of refraining from his infuriatingly cryptic facade?

    Unless he wants to be certain that the Arboreum remains without advanced arms.

    Ugh, better to simply pass his message along and investigate on her own. It had seemed wise before, but now it was a necessity.

    And there¡¯s one person who¡¯d know more than anyone else.

    ?

    Magnifico was at the top of a tower cell. The exact layout of a prison, even a gilded cage for high born offenders, was something it was generally safer to keep a secret, for obvious reasons.

    Fortunately, its sightlines had been an important subject at the Duchess¡¯s murder trial, which made avoiding them a relatively easy undertaking.

    Well, easy since I¡¯m cheating, anyway.

    A few paces in front of her, Corro wore away at the stone and dirt, withering and cracking and decaying until it was mere dust, subsumed within his purple form. Florette followed behind, propping up support posts in place to err on the side of caution, for all that Corro had claimed to have done this hundreds of thousands of times. Most likely, he never had to keep anyone else alive doing it.

    She reached another ten paces, then scuffed a mark in the dirt to show it. ¡°Seven paces more,¡± she said, and Corro proceeded to slow, stopping after a few moments.

    Florette walked up to count out the final distance, and nodded. ¡°Now up. This cellar is only for opium wine, and no one¡¯s set to be sacrificed for another three days. Anyone who is in there shouldn¡¯t be, which means they¡¯ll run if they hear anything and deny being there if asked later.¡±

    Ideally, it would just be empty, but it was good to have backup plans for other possibilities.

    Corro finished clearing the way up, and the Fallen was the first into the room, carrying the least risk with their inability to be seen by those who had yet to take a life.

    ¡°It¡¯s vacant.¡± Perimont¡¯s voice called down softly. ¡°You would be wise to move swiftly, that you might avoid wasting any further time.¡± They must like taking the form of that prick; there¡¯s no way this is being spread around evenly.

    Florette leapt up into the corroded hole, pressing her arms and legs against the sides to climb up the rest of the way. Once she emerged into the empty cellar, she unrolled a winter coat from under her shirt and threw it on, hiding any lingering dirt or muck.

    Not that she would be spotted at all, if everything went to plan, but it was better to be safe.

    ¡°We¡¯re past the pair at the tower¡¯s entrance,¡± Florette told her co-conspirators. ¡°There will be one more in front of the door to his room, but there shouldn¡¯t be anyone else milling around the halls. He¡¯s their only notable prisoner; the rest would be in the common jail.¡±

    ¡°It matters not to me. The bars on the window are no obstacle, nor is climbing the walls to reach it.¡± That was encouraging, actually. Corro could make it in on his own easily, and he was still helping anyway.

    ¡°Stay out of sight, obviously. I¡¯ll meet you in there.¡± She dismissed him with a nod as he began seeping between the stones in the wall.

    ¡°Fallen, your turn.¡±

    Cassia flashed a smile and proceeded out the door, its lock already corroded away by the spirit of decay before he¡¯d left.

    Guarding one of the most powerful men in the world was none other than Eug¨¨ne, a guard in the Fox-King¡¯s service who¡¯d earned belated distinction for his bravery in the beachside inferno, where he¡¯d managed to slay one of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s sun sages in single combat.

    Most people would be scared to see anyone come back from the dead, let alone a spirit sage. The right threats and a well-timed exit all but guaranteed that poor Eug¨¨ne would abandon his post. Someone had to be alerted, after all. A coup by the Sun Temple was of far more dire importance than some bard, especially one whose prison was already guarded by two others.

    It wouldn¡¯t buy much time; provided Eug¨¨ne had the slightest amount of intelligence, he¡¯d return to his post the moment he saw the Fallen shift form into a less corporeal apparition and credibly present themself as a hallucination. But that was good enough for what she needed.

    Florette waited a minute, then crept silently into the empty hall, making her way towards the staircase at the back and slowly ascending out of sight.

    Sure enough, a few minutes was all it took to hear footsteps running down the hall.

    She ducked quickly into an empty cell, sparse but luxurious with its feather bed and bookcase, and waited to hear the guard pass by. I wonder if any of them are valuable. There wasn¡¯t time to look, and she wasn¡¯t here to steal, but still¡­

    Once the steps began to echo from the stairwell, it was time to leave, so she slid out and ran towards the end of the hall where Magnifico¡¯s door would be.

    She rounded the corner on the final stretch, and¡ª

    Yes!

    Corro was ready for her, the door already swung open. Perfect.

    When the guard returned, they would already be inside.

    Florette slipped within, closing the door behind her.

    Magnifico¡¯s hair was even longer, the slightest hints of grey visible near his temples, but he otherwise looked much the same. His purple cloak remained unruffled, his expression still calm.

    Corro was assembled in solid form before him, gaping maw staring up at the bard. But upon Florette¡¯s arrival, he pressed his liquid against the door, decaying any sound that might otherwise leak through. ¡°It seems you call yourself Magnifico, now.¡± The sound emerged even from the liquid flattened against the door. ¡°I come bearing a message from the Prince of Crescents.¡±

    ¡°Again, Corro? You must be feeling awfully nostalgic.¡± Magnifico tilted his head back far enough that the crown would have fallen, had it not been fixed to his head. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine old Cressie is sending many messages; he¡¯s been dead a bit too long for that.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s alive,¡± Florette spat. ¡°Despite your best efforts.¡± That confirmed it then, the King was the mastermind and the spy the pawn. Certainly the more intuitive result, but¡­ ¡°To think that even you would be capable of doing that to your own son.¡±

    The bard scoffed. ¡°My son? What¡ª¡± He blinked, noticing Florette¡¯s presence. ¡°Haven¡¯t we met before?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve shared a few drinks at the Singer¡¯s Lounge,¡± Florette told him honestly, omitting that the purpose of it had been to better steal from him. ¡°Of course, you were in your bard guise.¡±

    ¡°Guise? What ever do you mean?¡± He smirked, a fucking smirk when he was trapped here, stripped of his powers and at their mercy. ¡°I am a bard, as it happens.¡±

    ¡°And a diplomat. And a binder.¡± Florette folded her arms. ¡°And a king.¡±

    Magnifico raised his eyebrows, as if daring her to elaborate. ¡°I have often been called exceptional at my craft, but seldom has that praise extended so far as to name me royalty. Fans like you are why I keep doing it, you know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about your music, asshole. You¡¯re the King of Avalon. Harold the Fourth. He hasn¡¯t been seen since his ship was blown up in Malin, after which you had to walk to Guerron. You killed one of the world¡¯s most powerful spirits and plunged the world into darkness, then got yourself caught, and yet you remain alive.¡±

    ¡°That suggests I¡¯m important. It doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m secretly another person entirely.¡±

    ¡°Mmm. Sure.¡± Florette turned head over to Corro. ¡°Give him the message from the Prince of Crescents.¡±

    ¡°...hundred years dead¡­¡± Magnifico muttered, but he did turn his head towards Corro.

    ¡°The prince bid me tell you the following: ¡®Tell him I almost died because he called me here. And tell him he¡¯d better have an explanation the next time I see him.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Well there you have it.¡± Florette smiled. ¡°Unless you want to argue that a mere bard has the power to command a prince.¡±

    He was ignoring her, though, stroking his chin. ¡°The current Prince of Crescents. You¡¯re talking about Luce¡­¡± He let out a deep breath, hand over his face to poorly hide a smile. ¡°He made it through after all.¡±

    ¡°What are you so happy about, royal fool? Your plan failed. Even as we speak he¡¯s governing Malin, fighting against the house of tyranny that you and your forefathers build brick by brick. He¡ª Stop laughing! You don¡¯t just get to smug about everything.¡±

    Magnifico pounded his fist against the floor, the hint of a tear in the corner of his eyes. ¡°How could I, when you¡¯ve brought me the best news I¡¯ve heard since darkness fell? My son is alive.¡±

    ¡°So you admit it, then?¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± He sat down on his bed with a thump. ¡°The message was damning enough on that front, and the Fox-King already knows. Why hide it any longer?¡± He leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head. ¡°Well? This is hardly the strangest place I¡¯ve ever held court. What do you want?¡±

    Somehow, this is even worse. ¡°Why did you do it? A world in darkness hurts Avalon just as badly as it hurts us. Even if you don¡¯t care in the slightest about innocent lives¡ª¡±

    ¡°What on earth gave you that idea? I take no pleasure in this, but it must be done to end the tyranny of spirits, and bring this world into a more enlightened age. And given that it must be done, it¡¯s only rational to do it sooner, when the population is lower and the impact isn¡¯t as great. Would you rather I waited three hundred years for Soleil to decide to wipe us out? Destroy all we¡¯ve built? Allow another Khali situation to emerge? There¡¯s no good ending, once a god turns against humanity. Someone always suffers. That doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not the right choice to rid ourselves of them.¡±

    How nice of you to make that choice on everyone else¡¯s behalf, without consulting anyone.

    ¡°Despite this setback, the world will survive. My works will persevere.¡± He thrust his head forward proudly, looking for the first time truly like a king. ¡°Avalon is on the cusp of limitless free energy to weather the cold, better agriculture has almost doubled our population in just one hundred years, and our strength protects us from evildoers. Even now, Ortus Tower and its scientists are working tirelessly to combat this crisis.¡± He was speaking a touch too quickly, as if assuring himself more than her, though maybe that was wishful thinking, looking for humanity where there was none left. ¡°And even in this hour of darkness, my son lives. I thank you, truly, for delivering this news. Last I heard, he was held by pirates, his fate uncertain.¡±

    Florette rolled her eyes. ¡°Sure¡­ As if you didn¡¯t send those pirates after him in the first place. I¡¯ve talked to Jethro; I know the whole story. You summoned him away to go to Malin, then leaked the path of his ship, omitting that there would be a valuable hostage aboard in the hopes that he¡¯d die in the fighting. All because he had a soul, unlike the rest of your miserable family.¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°He was leading your precious Tower, too, away from your warmongering influence. You were a fool to build your plan for survival around his talents and then kill him. How could you be such a stupid hypocrite?¡±

    ¡°How indeed? Luce is my son. He¡¯s smart, loyal, humble, and he has a good heart. Better than mine, you¡¯ve seen that much. Everything I¡¯ve pushed him into, he¡¯s succeeded at, and one day he¡¯ll make an able right hand for the next King of Avalon. I¡¯d sooner jump from a cliff than see him dead.¡± He stroked his chin again, breathing slightly more heavily. ¡°Now tell me who this Jethro is. Luce demanded an explanation, and I intend to give him one.¡±

    Florete shook her head. ¡°You¡¯ll never breathe free air again. Even if they never execute you, you¡¯re stuck here with that crown on your head until the day you die.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Still, if you¡¯re so invested in my son¡¯s well-being, surely you¡¯d rather I catch his would-be killer?¡±

    How could he expect me to believe him?

    Jethro at least claimed to never lie, whatever the truth of it, but this king had been welcomed as a guest and thrown the Duke from a balcony for the favor, then proceeded to scheme with Lord Lumi¨¨re just long enough to betray him too. And condemn the world to darkness.

    Asshole that he was, he still managed to sound convincing, a genuine note in his tone that would be hard to fake¡­ but not impossible. It would have been easier to believe him if he weren¡¯t so smug about everything, as if she¡¯d been a fool to even suspect him.

    There was only one thing, really, that this treacherous bastard could be trusted to do. ¡°Are you truly so eager to help, King Harold? For a start, when our conversation is finished, you¡¯ll call out to the guard outside, tell him you wish to confess to the Fox-King.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°You want me to confess?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. I want you to get the guard away for a minute so we can slip out with no one the wiser. It¡¯s in your interest, too.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°We broke in here. It¡¯s hardly beyond our ability to break you out. Certainly, I¡¯d consider it if you proved helpful to me.¡± Consider and then immediately reject it, anyway. ¡°Do I have your word before Corro on that, may he take your soul should you lie?¡±

    Corro let out a slight bubbling sound at that, though he spoke no words. He¡¯s been strangely silent the whole time, really. Didn¡¯t he want to confirm something about Magnifico¡¯s power? But then, perhaps this passivity was his way of doing it. No way to be sure until afterwards.

    ¡°I don¡¯t make deals with spirits, and I would never risk my soul on something so petty. No.¡± King Harold twisted his head, glancing quickly out the window. ¡°But I will do it. As you say, it¡¯s in my interest. You¡¯ll just have to trust me on that.¡±

    Well, there goes the possibility of verifying anything he says. But he couldn¡¯t call for the guard until Corro moved, and he gained literally nothing from trying to get them caught.

    Regardless, the situation was the same before and after she asked. Nothing else for it now.

    ¡°Soleil was older than humanity, the Arbiter of Light, the very sun in the sky. And you killed him.¡± Florette stepped forward, hand on her sword for comfort as she readied herself. ¡°I¡¯m looking to deal with other spirits, chiefly Glaciel, though I don¡¯t think it matters much to you which ones. I¡¯ve read through the Great Binder¡¯s book, but it¡¯s more of a memoir and a warning for the future than instructional in any detail.¡±

    His expression darkened at the mention of the book, though it quickly faded. Interesting.

    It was a risk, absolutely. Nothing he imparted could truly be trusted unless it was verified somewhere else first, but still.

    Soon, Florette and the geckos would be leading a raid against the Queen of Winter, the threat of eternal chill and darkness in the balance. So far, Florette had dealt with some of her lesser followers, always on at a time in a duel, often easily dispatched with a single firing of the pistol weapon.

    All of them at once, with their Queen leading them on the battlefield? Even the threat of it, even as a last resort... she needed every edge she could get.

    ¡°You want me to teach you binding?¡± King Harold asked in disbelief.

    ¡°Who better to learn from than the best?¡±

 Fernan VIII: The Raider

    Fernan VIII: The Raider

    ¡°You did well to come to me for help.¡± A circle of blue fire curled around the eyes of Camille¡¯s ethereal image, rippling in the wind above the cliffside. ¡°Fighting outside enemies is a key to building legitimacy, both for yourself and your preferred candidate. You¡¯ll never have the leverage to deal with internal politics without establishing your own bona fides first.¡±

    ¡°Some way to do it,¡± Fernan muttered, once again silencing the part of himself that wished that Lady Leclaire¡¯s advice lacked merit, if only so he could ignore her and her arrogance. ¡°On some level, I do get that spirits work that way, it¡¯s a value they hold¡­ but must we?¡±

    Camille shrugged. ¡°It depends on what we want. Every sovereign on this continent depends on vassals to some extent or another, and since the Fox Queen¡¯s death, their personal strength is far outweighed by that of their vassals combined. Even King Romain, trying to rally an Imperial Army to stand in our defense, only fielded perhaps a fifth of the forces arrayed against Avalon in the Foxtrap. The rest were composed of vassals, underlings, minions. However inferior they might be in individual stature and, collectively, they were crucial, and the smart ones knew it. There¡¯s power there, Fernan. My mother would never have had the leverage to arrange my betrothal to Lucien had she not proved herself on the field of battle.¡±

    And here I thought that underlings who moved above their station were executed for it.

    ¡°It¡¯s a balance, as all things must be,¡± she added, as if reading his mind. ¡°Saving Annette helped you, without a doubt, but that debt, in truth, is personal. It matters most to three people, and significantly less to anyone else whom it did not benefit. It earned you enmity with the Sun Temple if anything, I¡¯d wager.¡±

    ¡°I still get along with the people I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it, but personal friendship will only go so far. Aurelian was to be the rising tide lifting their boats, and instead he was an anchor around their necks. Laura Bougitte, especially, has probably got your name carved into the knife she¡¯s readying for your back.¡± The illusory Camille bit her lip, flames curling and twisting on themselves. ¡°Though our association isn¡¯t helping there, either. That goes back years, probably Aurelian filling her head with that same shit he peddled to the commoners. My apologies for any inconvenience that might cause you with Flammare. When all is said and done, he¡¯ll still most likely be the next sun spirit, and I can personally attest to the difficulties posed by being on the wrong side of one.¡±

    Fernan breathed in and out slowly, feeling the warmth fill his body in the snowy darkness. ¡°It must have been horrible. Florette said that just standing next to one of those pistols sends a shriek through your ear that never fully leaves.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right¡­¡± Camille frowned. ¡°But I made it through. I survived, entirely because I could call on the kind of cachet I¡¯m advising you to build now. The last thing I¡¯d want to see is the same thing happening to Annette or Lucien¡­ or you, just because we were too insignificant to even consider. Humanity doesn¡¯t even have a seat at the table of the spirits, and so we sages must build, maintain, and exercise our influence where we can.¡±

    ¡°You survived a chest wound by calling on influence?¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no harm in explaining it. I called Levian to me, bleeding away in those depths, and we made an arrangement. It may sound strange, but some spirits have domains that extend far enough to heal, if only incidentally. Flesh is largely water, and Levian¡¯s command over that is without peer. Had I not served him so faithfully for years, advancing his interests and mine, my death would have been certain.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry it came to that.¡± He reached out a hand in support, only for it to pass through the flames making up her arm. ¡°I really don¡¯t want to do this. But if Flammare has his way, humanity will freeze, and then an entire nation of people will be burned and killed. His ¡®solution¡¯ for Glaciel is unacceptable.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Camille agreed, luckily. A part of me was worried she¡¯d be fine with that as long as it helped her. ¡°Flammare has no experience with the crown. An overmighty vassal, extending himself too far and too fast because he feels he has waited so long. Levian said that Flammare spent every third sentence at the meeting after Khali was sealed calling for Glaciel to be destroyed, and now he has the power to make his wishes manifest. To be the heir for millenia, I can scarcely imagine the anticipation, but in this and other things, he¡¯s doubtless been planning for centuries if not more, perhaps since before humanity even arrived on the earth spirit.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡±

    Camille smiled. ¡°It is great, Fernan. His plans failed to take us into account, and he is fixed with them. Now we get to prove him wrong.¡±

    ¡°Easy to say. But can we, without endangering everyone¡¯s lives? Glaciel could take it as a pretext to attack the city again.¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s lives are already in danger. Now it falls to us to make the hard choice of the smaller risk over the greater, allowing one danger to prevent another.¡± Camille clicked her tongue, fire popping around her mouth. ¡°And the pretext gets her nowhere. We humans cannot break our word without the potential consequence of eroding trust we¡¯ve earned and devaluing all future dealings, but unless we swear something before a spirit, it can be done. Do it well enough and you can even avoid negative consequences. A spirit, however, is trapped by their explicit words, no matter the intention of them. Now we get to take advantage of that.¡±

    Just hear what she has to say, and you can take the good and leave the bad. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Where to begin¡­¡± The fire in Camille¡¯s eyes condensed in their center, so blue and bright it looked more like a gemstone than a flame. ¡°Well, for a start, an affair like this is ultimately all about presentation.¡±

    ?

    The Fox-King¡¯s aura was immaculate, shimmering out beyond his long red hair, above his cold, metal crown. ¡°Thanks to the peerless efforts of Lord Leclaire, uncle to my betrothed, an accord with Queen Glaciel has been reached.¡± He paused, allowing the gaze of hundreds to wash over him. ¡°For a time. Once the sun returns to the sky, our reprieve is at an end, and all with wisdom know we shall have to contend with her full strength, growing even now as the world slips further into ice and darkness. Should she prevail at the convocation of the spirits, our world is doomed. Should she fail, her spite and anger are sure to be directed to us. She promised me as much on the day I dueled her.¡±

    No she didn¡¯t, and you never dueled her personally, either. At least Fernan wasn¡¯t being asked to corroborate the lie, but it still felt disappointing that the Fox-King would resort to this. It wasn¡¯t as if there weren¡¯t plenty of true reasons to do this, like the way they attacked the geckos and any who defended them, or Flammare¡¯s promise to murder thousands of people.

    Lucien¡¯s face brightened, probably a smile, though the aura flared with too much intensity to tell. ¡°I mean to make her answer for those words, and her attack on our fair city. Tomorrow, when Flammare first rises, I ride for her castle. I officially renounce my protection from Glaciel, and withdraw myself from its bindings, on the Winter Queen and myself.¡±

    He raised his arms, as if daring the distant spirit to strike him down. A silent moment passed as the crowd watched him stand there unharmed, until it seemed to sink in that an attack was not forthcoming. Almost as one, the swirling vortex of warmth from the crowd subsided, the tension receding.

    Fernan caught sight of Florette poking around the outskirts, her aura recognizable even at a relative distance. And she¡¯s got others with her too, probably more of our people from the mountains. He¡¯d warned against trying to steal from anyone, with things being as desperate as they were, and she had agreed, if indignantly, so hopefully she wasn¡¯t getting into too much trouble.

    Though really, it would be naive to think so.

    The crowd began to murmur again as Camille¡¯s uncle stepped forward, facing Lucien with a nod of his head. ¡°My word is my bond, Your Grace. It is my deal with Glaciel that keeps the humans of this city free from her wrath, however temporarily. I could no more break my promise than wave my arms and fly away. I must remain behind, and for the good of all.¡±

    Lucien placed his hand on Leclaire¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You serve us all best by showing that the Empire of the Fox is just and true. I fight today against a threat to the entire world, and in your own way, so do you.¡±

    As Leclaire receded back to the rest of them on the balcony, Lucien continued his speech.

    ¡°In fact, I would not ask any of my subjects to abandon their protection from her wrath, nor permit anyone to call them cowards for staying to protect our city and the innocents within. Guerron needs those who stay behind just as much as it needs Glaciel stopped.¡± His aura burned bright orange and red, radiating out over the crowd below. ¡°And yet¡­¡± Performatively, hand over his eyes, he peered out over his subjects. ¡°Are there any among who would join me, and put an end to Queen Glaciel¡¯s terror?¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    The great sea of orange and yellow cheered for blood, a great roar filling the air so thoroughly it would surely echo through the mountains for days.

    We¡¯re not the ones breaking the peace, have to remember that. They¡¯ve been hunting Mara and her siblings for weeks, and doing the same to Florette, for that matter.

    ¡°I am your loyal servant, Your Grace.¡± The king¡¯s master of arms bowed at the waist towards Lucien, aura condensed and strong, but still. ¡°I, Sire Christine de Monflanquin, withdraw from this agreement, and renounce my immunity.¡±

    Florette probably never intended to set that precedent, and yet it''s saving her idea now. ¡°I, Sire Fernan Montaigne, sage of G¨¦zarde, Flame Under the Mountain, renounce my protection.¡± Glaciel will definitely take what I¡¯m planning as an attack, regardless. The last thing I need is that being used as a pretext to attack the city.¡±

    He was the first of the sages of light to speak, but others followed after them, those few Fernan had managed to convince to risk Flammare¡¯s ire while also opening themselves to Glaciel.

    ¡°I, Yves de Lougratte, sage of Phoenicia, do hereby renounce my protection.¡± Yves, Fernan was watching closely. He¡¯d been friendly enough at the temple, and even under Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s reign, but he had been the sun sage¡¯s man from the beginning. But now Lumi¨¨re was dead and the Fox-King ruled in his own name, apparently a preferable choice to remaining one light sage of many under Flammare. His reasons were far from selfless, but they were pointing him the right way in this instance.

    ¡°I, Charles des Agnettes, sage of Fala, withdraw from all protection.¡± Fernan barely knew Charles, honestly, but a few words about how his patron spirit had been treated had been all that it took to win him over. He¡¯d hoped Fala himself might participate, but the poor spirit could barely hold himself together after what Flammare had done to him, let alone fight.

    The knights followed one by one, most of whom Fernan was only hearing the names of for the first time. On and on it went, until every person on the stage save Leclaire had pledged their sword to the cause.

    Once the ceremony was done, Lucien¡¯s personal guard were ready at the pass back to the city, each verifying the recruits¡¯ words with their own ears, lest any break the deal instead of withdrawing from it.

    In only two minutes, they were almost totally overwhelmed by people at arms presenting themselves to join the fight, lines stretching all the way back to the castle.

    ¡°Christine, get more people out there, would you? The last thing we need is anyone getting crushed to death.¡±

    ¡°At once, Your Grace.¡±

    All about presentation, apparently.

    ?

    ¡°Are we really doing this?¡± Fernan dug his hands through the sand on the beach, finer than any riverbed silt back home.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have a choice,¡± Florette said, lying down next to him. ¡°Even if Guerron can make it through three more months without a sun, the rest of the world is fucked. That asshole Flammare doesn¡¯t just get to win because he said mean things about a bigger prick without ever actually backing it up.¡±

    ¡°It feels wrong to be the first to break a peace.¡±

    ¡°What peace?¡± Mara hissed. ¡°Twelve of my siblings are dead already. As long as G¨¦zarde remains here, we need to, too.¡±

    ¡°They started it,¡± Florette agreed. ¡°And, more to the point, they¡¯re an existential threat to humanity. You can¡¯t get tangled up on procedure with something like that.¡±

    ¡°When do you ever?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°You got me. But I am trying to be better about this, think everything through for once. I¡­ I can¡¯t keep making the kind of mistakes I have. I have a plan here, I tried to think through every possibility, but I can never really know¡­ Neither can you, however cautious you play it.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°The Fox-King¡¯s jumping at the opportunity. I think part of him never wanted that peace deal in the first place. He¡¯s a man of action.¡±

    ¡°He jumped into a fight the moment Camille lost her duel, which got him imprisoned and let Lord Lumi¨¨re take over the city. A man of action, sure, but that doesn¡¯t make him wise. Don¡¯t make his foolishness be permission for your own.¡±

    Florette¡¯s aura darkened at that, though she didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°You talked to Eleanor, right?¡± Mara asked, breaking the silence.

    ¡°Yeah, Mom¡¯s gathering everyone who can fit into that cavern you found, just in case. I¡¯m going to ask Lucien to order the whole city to stay inside, too. The last thing we need is more people getting hurt by those javelins, if they turn them on the city.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t Camille say that they couldn¡¯t, though? That¡¯s part of the deal.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me if I don¡¯t want to bet their lives on that.¡±

    ¡°Of course, yeah.¡± She drummed her fingers against her leg, jiggling the sword hanging from her belt. It still feels so wrong. They¡¯d grown up together, she¡¯d been a peer, and now she was a killer. ¡°But if this goes well, we get everything we want. Discredit Flammare and neutralize Glaciel.¡±

    ¡°Or kill her!¡± Mara added. ¡°It could be our best chance to make sure she can¡¯t hurt anyone else.¡±

    ¡°If this goes well¡­¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°You know, I was talking to Camille. Half a year ago, she was in the exact same position. One fight away from solving all her immediate problems, building influence and legitimacy for the trials ahead. It was the perfect opportunity, and all she had to do was win.¡±

    ?

    Flammare was hours late to the sky, the first break of his pattern since Laura had first convinced him to help. Whether he was expressing his disapproval or, more worryingly, up to something else, was impossible to say.

    All that could be done now was press the attack.

    Atop the wall, warm braziers cast their glow down at Glaciel¡¯s castle, taller now than it had been before, its base seemingly wider across too.

    ¡°She¡¯s been drawing on the water below to build her castle¡¯s strength up. As long as it has water to draw on, it can just keep expanding,¡± the Fox-King noted grimly. ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give to have Camille here.¡±

    It was hard not to agree, staring down another fight on that treacherous ice perched over the sea. If the castle could be separated from the water, it wouldn¡¯t be able to restore itself, and by extension, eventually, neither would Glaciel. That was the hope, anyway, but it matched what they¡¯d seen the first time they¡¯d fought her, and Camille and her uncle had both concurred.

    ¡°It¡¯s not the source of all her power, but it¡¯s what she brought here to make her claim. It stands to reason that without it, she at minimum would lack the confidence to continue her scheme. Perhaps she¡¯ll even die for it.¡±

    ¡°We can only hope,¡± Florette muttered, then turned to the Fox-King. ¡°Shall I, then?¡±

    Lucien stroked his beardless chin, looking slightly silly in the doing. ¡°Christine, are we ready?¡±

    ¡°Your generals await your order to sound the attack, Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°Then do it,¡± he ordered Florette. ¡°We¡¯ll see how quickly they respond, but keep going even if they target you.¡±

    Inspiring stuff.

    ¡°We¡¯re all going to be counting on you down there,¡± he continued. ¡°Honestly, hearing that idea was half the reason I even thought this would be viable. My archers will do their best to target the javelin throwers, but in this light it¡¯s practically a lottery. Fernan, if you would cover her?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± He¡¯d made his reticence to targeting Glaciel¡¯s children clear, and Lucien had eventually relented. Having other sages of light with fewer compunctions about it certainly helped matters there, though it did little to help Fernan¡¯s conscience, given that he had been the one to convince them. Every person Yves and Charles burn alive is on me, too. And yet they needed all the help they could get.

    Mara and the geckos, too, had few compunctions here today, but they¡¯d at least been attacked first. They weren¡¯t breaking any kind of honor by perching, hidden, on the outer walls, ready to descend and burn.

    If they failed this morning, Flammare¡¯s passive inaction would doom huge swaths of the world to cold starvation, and thousands more to a fiery death.

    And even if we prevail, I¡¯ll still be responsible for inflicting burning agony on the people down there now.

    Florette took her place at the top of one gigantic drum of sand, gathered from the beach and lifted to the wall at apparently considerable expense, if the Crown¡¯s payment was indication. Beside her, others ascended as well, until all ten were in position on top of their respective silos.

    The Fox-King nodded, and they all tipped forward in unison, spilling their load down the wall and towards the castle below. The ramparts had been outfitted with a sloped surface under the pour area, sending the torrent out at an angle rather than straight down. Every granule was one more bit of traction, an opportunity for even those untrained in such combat to traverse the ice.

    It wouldn¡¯t reach the center of the castle, but a start was a start.

    It only took moments for a light to appear at the top of the central tower, a cold blue that bit into the night air.

    Fernan braced himself for a rain of nearly-invisible spears, but it never came.

    Something in the tower was changing, given the way the light shifted in and out of visibility, even splitting into two by the look of things, but¡ª

    ¡°Queen Glaciel,¡± the Fox-King called out at what Fernan realized was probably her face, formed from the tower¡¯s ice. ¡°I¡¯ve withdrawn myself from your deal, as have all assembled here before me. Those within the city walls remain bound by its conditions, and will bring you no harm so long as they are. Just as was agreed upon.¡±

    The two blue flames were cut off from the top and the bottom, Glaciel¡¯s eyes no doubt narrowing. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve slipped your bonds, Fox-King. Perhaps you are a true successor to Marie after all.¡± A deeper chill filled the air, carried by the wind. ¡°But her life has ended, and so will yours.¡±

    Lucien nodded, then turned back to face the forces under his command. Sages of light, knights of the realm, geckos of the mountain, soldiers of households and fortune, and even regular people, all ready to defend the world from darkness. ¡°Attack!¡±

 Luce V: The Trailblazer

    Luce V: The Trailblazer

    Announcing a New Change in Editorial Staff

    -By Lady Camille Leclaire

    Prince of Darkness Unveils Bold New Plan to Combat Starvation

    -By Jaya Frampton

    Clocha?ne Candles to Introduce New Formula

    -By Horace Greeley

    Society: Lady Mary¡¯s Four Essential Tips to Stay Fashionable and Warm

    -By Lady Mary Perimont

    Luce rolled his eyes at the final article, tossing the journal aside. At some point I should probably read more than the headline, but this is fine for now. Camille had really done it, and in an impressively short time as well. According to Simon, they were even selling better, not that that was the main concern anyway, but it helped with the enormous subsidies for staff time Camille had insisted she needed.

    Still, hard to argue with what works.

    The most significant impact was that it gave Luce the free time to actually study the real problem, and find the real solution.

    The earth from the riverbanks that Fenouille had empowered was strange to study, definitely outside of his usual expertise, but he¡¯d been able to coax it to expend its energy heating water, giving a way better handle on how spiritual energy could be measured in martins than the sloppier-by-necessity experiments he¡¯d managed to get through with Camille.

    More interesting, though, was the implication of converting energy into something usable by plants in lieu of their usual solar fuel. A synthetic photosynthesis, if you will. He smiled at the thought, turning back to the lamp he was trying to craft on the table in front of him.

    Copper wire was extremely hard to come by here and now, with shipments from Avalon so few and far between, so he¡¯d repurposed it from a motor he¡¯d been messing with before darkness fell. Converting Fenouille¡¯s power into light would be nice, and a significant breakthrough in its own right, but uncoupling food from sunlight and farming would be far more valuable still, and it seemed within reach.

    Right now, spirits as a whole were an unfortunate necessity, but if their functions could be replicated on a human level, powered through the Nocturne gate¡­ Even if such farms only supplied a portion of Avalon¡¯s food, they would be that much better prepared the next time something like this occurred.

    And it will. It had already happened twice in just over a century, and if Father¡¯s words were any indication, the next Sun Spirit would be weaker still, even more susceptible to removal.

    Desperation had forced him to deal with monsters, and it had already taken him so very far. To think what we could have done if we¡¯d started earlier.

    Luce held one end of the wire over a candle, getting it soft enough to fix it against the turbine he¡¯d mocked up. The idea wasn¡¯t new, using the way a wire heated up when filled with current to give off light, but most applications so far hadn¡¯t been very practical. It was wildly more expensive than even the most elegant oil lamp for a light not half as bright, and logistically far more difficult to power besides.

    But it could be a way to pass spiritual energy on, to stimulate growth in the same way the soil Fenouille¡¯d empowered did. No guarantees it would work, but there were other avenues to try if not.

    Still, a lamp seemed the most promising place to start, closer to the light that plants normally relied on.

    To light a room, it wouldn¡¯t be worth much. But a farm?

    As long as the return justifies the power expenditure, and this certainly would¡­

    Even now, laborers were collecting the first harvest from the river spirit¡¯s soil to add to the city¡¯s stores of grain. As long as it was indeed safe, they¡¯d have another two weeks of life from that alone. And it¡¯s just the beginning.

    He directed a thought of thanks towards Fenouille for agreeing to help, and Camille for making it possible.

    He must have passed another hour in his workshop trying to get the wire lamp to work before another damnable interruption imposed itself at his doorstep.

    ¡°Captain Anya Stewart and her son, Your Highness, here on behalf of Lady Perimont,¡± the voice rang out through his no-longer-sound-proofed door. Easier to let people shout things through it and hear his response than to interrupt himself for even longer every time someone wanted something.

    And of course it¡¯s her. The impossible day had arrived when Gary Stewart wasn¡¯t the last person he wanted to see.

    Luce steeled himself and opened the door. ¡°Welcome to my workshop, Captain Anya. Please, come in.¡±

    Though Captain Stewart towered over her son, the resemblance was otherwise plain to see. They sported the same sandy hair, give or take a streak of grey, gripped their swordbelt with the same defensive posture.

    Gary looked guilty where Captain Anya looked severe though, which did not bode well.

    Luce shut the door, waving them towards his work table, his draft lamp design still sitting atop it, burning a black streak into the wood. Shit! He dashed over and disconnected the wire from the waterwheel, then shoved it all aside.

    ¡°I see you share your father¡¯s exacting standards for cleanliness,¡± the Captain noted, head tilted up with obvious distaste. ¡°Though setting a fire is a new touch, I will admit.¡±

    ¡°How can I help you, Lady Stewart?¡± He set his arms down over the scorch mark. ¡°As you can see, I¡¯m quite busy.¡±

    ¡°Busy? You¡¯re just playing with your toys again.¡± Gary turned to face his mother. ¡°It¡¯s like I told you, Mother, Luce is just a feckless child that couldn¡¯t live up to Prince Harold. It¡¯s not like¡ª¡±

    A dry crack echoed across the room, and Lady Anya returned her hand to her side. ¡°You will speak when spoken to, Gerald, or you¡¯ll never learn.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Mother.¡± Gary rubbed his cheek, flicking his eyes towards Luce before hurriedly withdrawing them.

    Am I a bad person if a part of me enjoys this?

    Gary had darkened the palace for years as one of Harold¡¯s guards, incapable of containing his imbecilic bravado for even a moment, but he couldn¡¯t be dismissed without creating problems with the very woman before them now.

    Harold leaving him in Malin was unfortunate in that it meant the harbor bombing investigation was guarenteed to be bungled, but he could only be blamed so much when Sir Gerald was otherwise so hard to be rid of.

    Until Perimont saved me the trouble. Probably the best thing he ever did.

    ¡°Since you are so terribly busy, Prince Lucifer, I shall endeavor to be brief.¡± She examined the back of her hand, still slightly red. ¡°I know what you did, and I have proof.¡±

    What? Luce curled his nails towards his palms, straining to maintain a calm expression. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±

    The corner of Captain Anya¡¯s lip curled into a hint of a smile. ¡°On the day of Lord Perimont¡¯s death, his train was robbed by pirates and criminals, stealing crates of advanced weaponry and spilling it out into our streets. One of these pirates, a girl named Florette, turned a stolen pistol against Lord Perimont and assassinated him. Then you covered it up because your heart is too soft to allow the necessary reprisals.¡±

    Luce froze. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ um¡­ quite a story.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it gets better, my prince. As you must know, Florette was a close companion of your woman in blue. They vouched for each other, and helped each other with their criminal connections. My son and his partner even found evidence implicating her in the harbor bombing, a signature earring amidst the wreckage.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He shook his head, glad to be on slightly firmer ground. ¡°I knew about that already, and discussed it with Camille. Those earrings were stolen and planted to frame her, an attempt to falsely incite Avalon to war by none other than Lord Or¡­¡± What was his first name again? ¡°Lord Lumi¨¨re,¡± he finished. ¡°He was a liar and a manipulator, never a friend to Avalon in truth. She explained she didn¡¯t do it, and that¡¯s the end of it.¡±

    The Captain chuckled. ¡°And you believed her?¡±

    She was compelled to speak the truth or lose her soul. It was so convenient being able to do that, really. It made a reliable asset out of an unreliable snake. ¡°I verified it myself. So if baseless accusations are all you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, I have proof, Prince of Crescents. You have been caught.¡± She looked him up and down briefly, nostrils flared. ¡°It is out of respect for your father that I come to you at all. Leave this city, and return to Cambria.¡±

    Luce scoffed. ¡°Leave? My father appointed me governor here.¡± Possibly as part of a ruse to get me killed, but¡­ ¡°I¡¯m certainly not going to truncate the important work I¡¯m doing because an overzealous pirate catcher read too many sensationalized journals.¡± He pointed to the door. ¡°You are dismissed, Captain Stewart.¡±

    She stepped closer instead, leaning in so close he could feel her breath. ¡°I witnessed you treat with monstrous spirits myself, conspire with their human collaborators and cover up the murder of a royal governor, and yet still I offer you this grace as a prince of the blood. Lady Perimont has ordered Captain Whitbey to gather the Guardians and apprehend you first thing tomorrow. That gives you the rest of this evening to pack your things aboard my Ferrous Ram and say your farewells to this city. Leave poor Lillian to grieve, and go hide behind your brother¡¯s cloak. My son insists our future king would be distraught at your death, no matter how just. Harold was always a boy of extreme emotions, and it may well be that he¡¯d prefer his traitor brother remain alive. I offer you this one chance. Otherwise, you will be brought to justice.¡±

    The walls seemed to shrink in, the workshop all of a sudden far too small to fit so many within its confines, sucking the air away.

    Stewart stepped back, lifting her coat to reveal a pistol on her belt. ¡°Now get packing.¡±

    Luce shut his eyes, pressing his hands to his temples.

    She¡¯d almost cornered him at Perimont¡¯s ceremony of departure, but Camille had swooped in to save him then with the perfect mix of truth and lies, effortlessly conjured in the moment without her even knowing the full context.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Why am I always a week from disaster? It felt like years since things had been remotely normal, and every time things finally stabilized enough that he felt like he could get his feet under him, start improving the machine instead of just keeping it running, some new calamity had to arrive and smash it to pieces.

    Enough is enough. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± He slammed the table in front of him. ¡°I am the son of the King, the Prince of Crescent Isle, second in line to the throne, of the blood of the Great Binder herself! I am the Overseer of the Tower that invented the device you¡¯re pointing at me, and a thousand more important things besides. I am one of seven living people to have gazed beyond the veil to Nocturne. I am saving the fucking world right now, you small-minded thug. Now begone from my sight or you¡¯ll be stripped of your rank. Move too slowly and you¡¯ll face trial for your illegal investigation as well.¡±

    Gary¡¯s eyes went wide, his mouth dropping, but his mother remained in place.

    ¡°Are you finished with your tantrum?¡± She approached him, her weapon still visible. ¡°Once I leave this room, I warn you, it shall be too late to run.¡±

    Luce turned around, walking slowly towards the water-wheel at the back of the workshop. ¡°Don¡¯t you have more important things to be doing, Captain? Robin Verrou remains at large. No one¡¯s seen him since he left me with my kidnappers. The ones from whom I escaped, now hanging from a noose in Cambria thanks to Harold, who takes a hard stance against those who thwart his brother.¡± Other than Eloise, anyway. But I¡¯d have died in Refuge without her.

    ¡°And that gives you license to plot Avalon¡¯s downfall with Camille Leclaire?¡± she asked, approaching to keep him within close range of her weapon. ¡°She¡¯s a monster, you know. She¡¯s sacrificed those it was convenient to sacrifice since she was a child.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a monster, and we still keep you on Avalon¡¯s payroll.¡± He lifted the lid of the tank, dipping his hand into the water beneath. ¡°My father has deemed you more dangerous to Avalon¡¯s enemies, more use to us inside the system than out. Leclaire is no different.¡± And I¡¯d sooner be rid of you than her.

    ¡°Then you are a traitor or a fool.¡± She placed her hand on her belt near the handle of the pistol, the threat unspoken. ¡°Either way, I have proof of your treachery. Perhaps not enough to grant permission, but certainly enough for forgiveness. Think very carefully about your next action.¡±

    ¡°I just don¡¯t think so, Mother,¡± Gary let out, hesitantly. ¡°He was messed up by those pirates, never the smartest or the bravest to begin with¡­ Harold would never forgive you for killing him.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not some child playing scientist anymore, Gerald. Even if it stems from stupidity, he remains responsible. You would understand that if you¡¯d ever once been held responsible for your own foolishness. Now be silent.¡±

    I am responsible; that¡¯s why I can¡¯t just run away. ¡°Do you know how that weapon you¡¯re holding works, Captain Stewart? My Tower developed it, though the basic idea has been around as long as the cannon. Striking the flint ignites the gun¡¯s powder, compacted into a space so small it builds up enormous pressure, until it bursts, expelling its projectile from the pipe. An explosion in miniature, even smaller than that of a cannon.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a point?¡±

    Gritting his teeth, Luce slammed his fist into the tank of water, splashing a trail of water all over the Captain. And her weapon.

    ¡°My point is that the powder can¡¯t ignite if it¡¯s wet.¡± He walked back around the tank, trying to control his breathing. ¡°I¡­ You know I could have you killed for threatening me like that.¡±

    ¡°Good luck finding a Guardian who would seize the crown¡¯s agent, acting on orders from Lady Perimont.¡± Frowning, Anya Stewart brushed what water she could from the front of her coat, jingling her medals against each other. ¡°That was a mistake, boy.¡±

    ¡°Mother¡ª¡±

    She slapped him again, spraying water from his face as the wet smack connected. ¡°I instructed you to be silent. Has this simple task somehow eluded you?¡±

    ¡°No, Mother.¡± Half of Gary¡¯s face was so red the blood looked ready to burst from his skin, red enough to make Luce feel guilty about his amusement at the first blow.

    ¡°The Prince has made his choice, and now we shall leave him to the consequences.¡± She turned to give Luce a final glare. ¡°Remember that I showed you mercy, Prince of Darkness. It is a luxury afforded to few, and one that you may yet use. In a matter of days, your tenure here will be over regardless.¡± He lip curled. ¡°It would be more convenient if you were to survive it, but not insurmountable in the alternative case.¡±

    ¡°Goodnight, Captain Anya.¡± Luce opened the door, waving her and Gary through.

    ¡°Goodbye, Governor Grimoire.¡±

    ?

    ¡°We are so fucked, Camille,¡± Luce whispered, handing out another basket of food from behind their enormous table.

    The whole exercise was honestly moronic. Anyone could pass out baskets of food, but only he could conduct his research. The job was worth doing, but doing it himself was just a waste of his all-too-limited time. Essential to maintain goodwill with the public, apparently, so he would suffer through it.

    Charlotte sat at one end of their table, the only guard he could really trust, while one of the Quotidien reporters sat at the other, scribbling notes into a small book.

    Other Guardians were there to help manage the crowd, but it was hard to be sure with them. Almost a third had refused to show up to their post after Camille had arrested the thieves, and the forresters had been reporting to Whitbey instead of him, defecting en masse.

    Which left Camille sitting next to him, able to hear what the others could not. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s as bad as you¡¯re worried about.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°She got practically everything right!¡±

    ¡°But where¡¯s the proof?¡±

    ¡°She said she had¡ª¡±

    ¡°If she had any, she would have shown you.¡± Camille paused long enough to pass a basket of her own without prying ears.

    ¡°She saw us meeting Fenouille herself. She must have followed me or something¡­¡± Even though we were so careful to ensure that no one was.

    ¡°Or perhaps she learned of our meeting place and set up there to observe. We would have seen someone walking behind us through the snow.¡±

    ¡°How would she even know to look outside the city like that?¡±

    Camille shrugged. ¡°I couldn¡¯t say. But that¡¯s one of the safest things for her to uncover. I¡¯m already warming the city up to alternative sources of food. Another few weeks of the right messaging, and I¡¯ll be able to publish Scott¡¯s My Interview with a Spirit piece.¡±

    ¡°You want to admit it?¡±

    ¡°Set a precedent, like you said. You¡¯re not doing anything wrong, and when we control the narrative, we can ensure that everyone knows that. Fenouille¡¯s the best, anyway. He¡¯ll make a good impression.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±

    ¡°Trust me, please. I¡¯ll defend you against people like her, just like I promised. But unless there¡¯s something big she isn¡¯t saying for some reason, I really think that¡ª¡±

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± a dry voice spoke from beside the table, rather than the front where the public approached. ¡°I was wondering if I could have a minute with the Prince of Darkness.¡±

    ¡°Oh, hey, Eloise.¡± Camille nodded to her. ¡°You two go ahead; I¡¯ll hold down the fort.¡±

    Eloise? Since when does Camille talk to her?

    Luce blinked, rising from his seat and stepping back from their station. They¡¯d filled the opera house again, so getting clear was as simple as exiting through the doors and walking until none were around to listen in. Unless Stewart is hidden behind a potted plant or something.

    Eloise followed after, until they were alone in an alley, far from prying ears. Her hair had grown out a bit, though it was still quite short. She¡¯d filled out back to her normal proportions, still thin, but a far cry from the wasting slip on the edge of death she¡¯d been when he¡¯d seen her last. Not that I was any better, then. Tramping through the wasteland on a diet of only fish wasn¡¯t exactly a boon for one¡¯s constitution.

    ¡°What do you want, Eloise? I didn¡¯t say anything. That was our deal, right? You wanted a fresh start?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°And fortunately it was that easy. No other weight to carry, no complications to deal with.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all on you. I gave you what you asked for.¡± He took a deep breath. This is the last thing I need to deal with right now. ¡°Well, what is it? Because I really can¡¯t be dealing with¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, just get to the point, please. My understanding was that we were even now, and even that¡¯s more than a bit generous to you, frankly.¡±

    She looked down, scratching her nose. ¡°No, I mean, that¡¯s what I¡¯m here for. I wanted to apologize to you.¡±

    Luce scoffed. ¡°Is this a joke?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course it is. Happy anniversary!¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Look, the kidnapping¡­ That was a setup, apparently, and I didn¡¯t know that. I mean that part¡¯s all in the game, you know, but keeping you after that wasn¡¯t. Should have just ransomed you right away.¡±

    ¡°Oh, because then you¡¯d still have my ship to your name.¡±

    ¡°No, because keeping you like that was unnecessarily prickish.¡± She clasped her hands behind her back. ¡°The whole thing, honestly, but especially that.¡±

    ¡°Well, thanks, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve been doing some re-evaluating and¡­ My whole life¡¯s been going in circles, and I¡¯m no better off for it. It¡¯s time to make a change, go back to the reason I got into this business in the first place. As soon as I can, I¡¯m getting my family out of here.¡±

    ¡°To go where? Back to Verrou?¡±

    ¡°Probably Lyrion. Maybe Ombresse.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Lots of good places to start. I just¡­ I wanted you know that I¡­ Well, I wanted you to hear what I said.¡±

    Could it be that she was telling the truth? She was no serpentine manipulator in the wasteland, nothing like Camille, although those had been very different circumstances¡­ It helped that there didn¡¯t seem to be anything for her to gain from doing this.

    ¡°Thank you, Eloise. Really.¡± He reached out a hand for a shake, but changed his mind and used it to scratch his neck instead. ¡°Good luck, wherever you¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that. If you¡ª¡± She blinked, turning her head back the way they came. ¡°Did you hear that?¡±

    ¡°No. What was it? If you could explain¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡± She glared at him like he was an idiot. ¡°Listen.¡±

    He stepped gingerly back towards the entrance of the alley, trying to identify whatever she was talking about.

    Oh.

    It was a dull roar, chanting or shouting people, though far enough away that it could barely be made out.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming from the beach,¡± Eloise said.

    ¡°Who would start a gathering at the beach anymore? It¡¯s cold as shit. Pitch dark. There¡¯s so many better places to meet inside.¡± Luce rolled his eyes. ¡°Can you tell what they¡¯re chanting?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get closer.¡± She grabbed his wrist and led him closer to the sound, something he was honestly grateful for in this strange city. He¡¯d been trying to learn his way around when the world had plunged into darkness and made everything even harder to recognize, and with most of his time spent inside now, Malin¡¯s layout was still very much foreign.

    Eloise¡¯s short nails dug into his skin as they reached the beach, and took in the cursed wooden structure erected on the sand.

    ¡°I took all of Perimont¡¯s gallowses down¡­¡± Why set up another one?

    Lillian Perimont, Captain Whitbey, and Anya Stuart were all standing atop the platform, surrounded by dozens of forresters and several guardians as well. So much for their vaunted loyalty.

    ¡°I must thank Captain Stewart for her valiant efforts in tracking down this scoundrel,¡± Lady Perimont announced. ¡°A servant of dark spirits, this criminal not only robbed from the very city all of you call home, but conspired with other pirates and crooks in the assassinsation of my dear husband. A confession was obtained for proof, as were the names of the co-conspirators, soon to be apprehended. Starting with Camille Leclaire.¡± She turned to Whitbey and nodded. ¡°Now he pays the ultimate price.¡±

    They need to have a trial first. It doesn¡¯t matter what he did. That questioning sounded suspiciously like the sorts of interrogation that Avalon¡¯s officers were banned from employing. Did they just stop caring completely? Even Gordon Perimont had known to toe the line enough to stay in power for over a decade.

    Whitbey pulled the lever, and the prisoner dropped.

    ¡°Who do you think that was?¡± Luce asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

    ¡°They found Claude.¡± Eloise wiped her eyes, her voice breaking over the words.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Claude?¡±

    ¡°The last one I¡¯ll ever let them get.¡± She clenched her fists. ¡°Goodbye, Luce.¡±

    ¡°Wait, can you just stop and explain what¡­¡± He trailed off as she turned and ran, back away from the beach.

    Stewart said she had proof.

    Luce took a few half-hearted steps, but Eloise was already long gone. He turned back to the beach just in time to see Perimont wave a lighted torch against the night sky, almost as if it were pointed directly at him.

    Dozens of faces turned his way, and Luce realized his mistake.

    He made it twenty feet before they were upon him.

 Fernan IX: The Quenched

    Fernan IX: The Quenched

    The scary thing was just how fast everyone sprang into action.

    At first, Fernan hadn¡¯t needed a full view, since he and the other sun sages only had to maintain a wall of fire to screen the warriors¡¯ descents. That was essential enough, with the rain of ice that immediately followed the Fox-King¡¯s command. Each time one hit his green portion of the fiery shield, Fernan felt his energy take a noticeable dip, cutting into the reserves he¡¯d built up burning down what felt like half the mountainside.

    But those trees and plants would never grow again if Glaciel had her way, while they could be replanted in the spring if they succeeded here.

    At least Fernan didn¡¯t have any need to see the projectiles this way. They could simply slam against it out of nowhere, and the flaming shield could still do its job. He could see the intensity diminish where each spear of ice impacted it, along with the splash of water that did make it through, and it looked like Charles and Yves, the other sages of light from the temple, were holding their own just as well.

    Still, holding the wall like this wouldn¡¯t be sustainable, not with what was needed later.

    Once the massive drums of sand dumped all of their contents onto the ice, they¡¯d been pulled back from the ramparts to leave more space for soldiers to gather and ready themselves, organized by their respective captains to line up behind about a dozen rope ladders hanging from the stone.

    Fernan took the chance to glance down below, where Glaciel¡¯s island had embedded its icy grip into Guerron¡¯s seawall. The whole icy Chilled tendrils of crystal slithered their way between every stone, constricting so tightly that some looked ready to bulge out of the wall. Concentrated fire might have been enough to break them loose, but right now the fact that the isle was fixed in place only served as a boon.

    The whole icy plain of the island stretched beyond the wall, solid and rigid where once the sea had ebbed and flowed. And near the back, hard to make out against the cold air behind it, Glaciel¡¯s castle stood tall and strong.

    Now that sand covered the ground, Glaciel¡¯s children were easier to make out against it, each dark silhouette readying a weapon skyward. Hard to tell, but it looks like less than last time. Florette and Mara¡¯s efforts had doubtless made a dent, but the more likely cause was the rest of them being holed up in the castle itself.

    Within Glaciel herself, perhaps, if her nature were truly so tied into her domain.

    Florette¡¯s idea to cover the ice served a greater purpose than granting Fernan a better view, though. With the last grain fallen, Mara took her cue to jump from her hiding spot under the wall¡¯s lip, a bright green spot landing amidst the darkness. Five of her siblings followed, children of G¨¦zarde, and representatives of his power.

    Even if they were better at using it, their vision had all the same limits Fernan¡¯s did, which made making out Glaciel¡¯s children from the chill around them difficult at best. Fortunately, precision wasn¡¯t what was required here.

    As one, they blasted a line of fire out and upwards at an angle, careful not to melt the ice beneath their feet and ruin the preparations. Florette must have warned them about that. The high angle only clipped a few of Glaciel¡¯s children, but mostly sailed over their heads. More importantly, it forced them to scuttle back away from the wall, lest they be caught in the next blast.

    Granting the army above a foothold on the island.

    Time was of the essence, for the barrier of fire could only protect them for so long. Everyone had to make it down quickly, or they¡¯d have to do it unprotected. Or I¡¯ll have to give up on the more important plan to avoid that. Either would be disastrous.

    The Fox-King was the first to drop, leather gloves warming as he slid down the rope in one smooth motion. Near the bottom, he kicked off the wall and dove out, landing with a roll. Ringed by slowly advancing green flame, he raised his sword aloft, signaling his army to join him.

    I can¡¯t imagine Camille¡¯s happy with that. Her final words of advice had been to keep her Lucien safe. But he¡¯s the King. I can¡¯t stop him if he wants to lead from the front.

    ¡°Credit where it¡¯s due, he¡¯s consistent,¡± Yves muttered beside him, holding his hands out to maintain his own sparkling yellow barrier. ¡°I suppose at least we¡¯re on the same side, this time.¡±

    One company descended after, led by the Christine woman from the speech. Or is it a brigade? A platoon? It was hard to believe nobles could keep all these rankings and jargon straight, but, Fernan supposed, they were trained for it from birth, which ought to make it easier.

    Another followed after, then another, each spilling into the space the geckos created as they slowly advanced, until a third of the island was covered in the flaming auras of warriors. Between the geckos and the sages on the wall, the ice javelins had few avenues to hit, though each one shielded was a drain on power.

    Still, some managed to slip through the gap, and at least one hit the lines when it landed, sending a cluster of people to the ground. The first casualties.

    The Fox-King lifted his sword again and called out something that sounded like ¡°rotate,¡± though it was hard to be sure under the roar of the sea. His soldiers seemed to understand though, stepping forward the instant the geckos stopped emitting their flames.

    Most of the ones at the front were hunched down, pushing their weapons towards the ground and then thrusting them forward, far away from any chance of them hitting anyone. What on earth is he having them do?

    Glaciel¡¯s ilk responded to that, jumping forward in the absence of Mara¡¯s deterrent fire and swinging their chilling weapons into the bafflingly composed front lines.

    Another call from the King, and Mara¡¯s band of geckos began again, still careful to keep their fire clear of the floor.

    Why¡ª?

    Fernan realized as the geckos stopped anew and another group of warriors rotated forwards, still throwing their arms under them and out.

    They¡¯re using buckets, flinging the sand further up to make the path.

    And they¡¯re dying in droves for it.

    Mara and the geckos couldn¡¯t really maintain their footing on the slippery ice, that was true, but how could it possibly be worth people¡¯s lives just to allow them forward? And Lucien knew, and¡ª

    Abruptly, one gecko flame went out. Only one, out of sync with the pattern of the others.

    Mara let out a roar of flame, low enough to burn almost a dozen of Glaciel¡¯s children and let a burst of steam from the ice below. It looked like some of the water had melted, briefly, but angled spikes soon rose to replace it, far harder to clear without disrupting their own footing.

    The Fox-King saw the issue, apparently, since he added a group with actual weapons to the rotation, hammering the spikes away for the sand throwers, then the geckos, and so on.

    If only Camille were here, or her uncle were able to help. He¡¯d been the one to save them last time, after all. A good wave could have knocked most of Glaciel¡¯s forces clear away before they even descended, without even needing to slaughter them so.

    But slaughter they did, and Glaciel¡¯s army did in turn.

    Fernan kept waiting for the moment when the battle would descend into a chaotic melee, a sea of duels and blood, but it never did. The front lines on each side held as the bodies continued to drop, Glaciel¡¯s children slowly being pushed back towards the castle.

    And who do you think he has carrying those buckets, Fernan? Not his professional soldiers. Not his knights. Avalon might have abolished levy service, but the Empire hadn¡¯t. Every person here had voluntarily renounced protection from Glaciel, the whole structure had made sure they were there willingly, and yet¡­

    How many would say no, crowded into that square of cheers and calls for blood? How many who said yes knew they were only fodder for the advance?

    It was impossible to count the bodies anymore, impossible to tell who among the fallen was injured and who was a warm corpse.

    They¡¯re not even hurting anyone directly with those buckets of sand, just helping the effort. If I weren¡¯t a sage, perhaps that¡¯s even where I¡¯d be right now.

    ¡°It¡¯s time to go.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Yves kept his focus on the protective wall. ¡°There¡¯s still a hundred people that need to get down. Easily.¡±

    ¡°More grist for the mill,¡± Charles muttered from his other side. ¡°Yves, there¡¯s plainly enough people there to make it to the castle. Once the Winter Queen¡¯s ilk are penned inside, the rest of ours can make it down without our help.¡± He flicked his head towards his own wall, two panes of crackling blue that resembled Fala himself. ¡°If Fernan thinks it¡¯s time our talents were better spent elsewhere, I¡¯m inclined to agree.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°Thank you.¡± I should have gotten to know you better when I was working at the temple. The other sage had largely been withdrawn and taciturn then, but that was no reason Fernan couldn¡¯t have tried harder. ¡°If you two can push your walls towards the front, it keeps everyone down there out of the line of fire better. Um¡­ Ice javelin fire, I mean. Missiles. You¡¯ll obviously want to keep them out of range of your fire too though.¡±

    ¡°That sounds sensible to me.¡±

    ¡°Shall I ask permission from the wall¡¯s commander?¡± Yves asked, taking the proposition in. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to leave anyone in the lurch.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°I believe Sire Eug¨¨ne Bourbeau holds command. I think I could reach him while maintaining my barrier.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ll tell him.¡± Fernan shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m the one who¡¯s going¡­ Well, anyway, can you two close ranks for a minute while I go? I¡¯ll send out a flare if we¡¯re good to go.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t be an issue,¡± Charles assured, while Yves simply nodded.

    Fernan stepped back, watching the shimmering gold meet the crackling blue as each sage¡¯s wall expanded.

    Immediately, he felt the drain on his own power end, walking slightly lighter for it. Still, that¡¯s half of it gone already. It was just as well this had to be done now, or things could be even worse.

    Sire Eugu¨¨ne Bourbeau was probably the man standing tall above the rest, directing others to organize the rope ladder descents.

    ¡°Stop your men,¡± Fernan told him. ¡°The people below need better cover to get to the castle. Up here, there¡¯s shelter behind the wall. The sages of light will be advancing to assist.¡±

    ¡°Who are you to command me?¡± Bourbeau scoffed. ¡°King Lucien was very clear with his instructions, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And he¡¯ll understand the need for this.¡± I hope. ¡°I¡¯m Fernan, sage of G¨¦zarde. I helped¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, the trial. Of course. But the fact remains that I have command, and my orders were to get every last soldier down to that island. Now return to your post immediately.¡±

    Fernan looked into his aura, a calm, unruffled orange even atop all this carnage, then back towards the dead below. ¡°Stop your men,¡± he said again, and fired the signal into the air.

    Before Bourbeau could respond, Fernan jumped from the wall, diving towards the water so he could slow his descent without melting the island.

    At least his allies were clear, humans and geckos with auras fierce and bright against the eternally dark horizon.

    Glaciel¡¯s ilk were far harder to make out, a shifting sea of cold worse than the air, of rippling darkness only illuminated briefly if they surged forward towards the flame from the geckos.

    From just three of them, now.

    ¡°Mara, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª Fernan?¡± She kept up her rhythm, but spared a glance back as the bucket carriers charged in once more. ¡°Teo wanted revenge, but the others just wanted to help end this.¡± Her aura was plainly dull, her fire dimmer. Drained, if not of energy then of spirit. ¡°Will it ever end? I thought¡­¡±

    ¡°Go back home, Mara. Take the others.¡± He kept his voice low, careful not to get anyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Yves and Charles are coming to take your place. You¡¯ve lost enough today.¡± He pointed to the advancing walls of blue and gold fire above their head, protecting less but still most of the front lines, at least from the air. The sun sages might be one fewer in number, but they¡¯d had far greater opportunities to amass their energy than the geckos, and needed only to largely match their function rather than exceed it.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Mara rotated in once more, advancing across the sandy ice to push the ice creatures back with green fire, swiveling her head to cover more ground, now that there were fewer of them doing it. Once she was done, she turned to Fernan anew. ¡°That¡¯s why I can¡¯t leave now. Besides, weren¡¯t we going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not as important as keeping you safe.¡±

    Mara¡¯s mouth shifted, her face twisting in contemplation. ¡°Radah, Shia,¡±  she called to her siblings. ¡°It¡¯s time to go. Fernan brought help.¡±

    The other geckos nodded, then scurried off towards the wall. This has to be ok. They¡¯ve lost enough.

    Still, probably better not to wait for the Fox-King to call him out on the change of plans. They were almost at the doors of the ice castle anyway. A few more minutes, and yet more dead, and they would be there.

    A siege, of a sort, rather than open battle.

    From what Camille had said, that was historically no less deadly. And they didn¡¯t have enough time to protract it anyway.

    That was where he and Mara came in.

    Glaciel had spoken of ice enduring, hardened and strong even as others melted away. She was replenishing herself with the island, the castle, and the most powerful of her children could do the same.

    As the battle lines inched closer, the terrain only grew more hostile, greater numbers of spikes and pits forming up out of the ground. Closer to the seat of her power. No doubt, by the time they even arrived at the castle doors, they¡¯d have frozen solid shut, if not melted away into the wall entirely.

    And why not, for an ice spirit on an island of ice?

    The Fox-King could concern himself with the grisly conflicts of ice creatures and warriors, but there was a way to accomplish far more without shedding a drop of blood.

    ¡°Just like we practiced,¡± Fernan muttered to Mara, though their drills without expending actual flame were severely limited in how useful they could be. He jumped into the air, careful not to melt the ground, then exhaled another stream of fire.

    He could see every errant mote, ever licking tongue pulling at the air, sucking the cold away. All of it, he swirled around himself, first a disc above his head, then gradually lowered sides.

    Camille had said that a sphere was the most resistant shape to impact, diffusing force across its surface. Confirmed it as scientific fact, even, because of something about superficial area. Where she¡¯d heard that from, Fernan had no idea, but given his needs right now, it served to minimize his energy loss while keeping the flame far enough from his skin.

    He took a deep breath as the half-dome descended to just a few feet above the ground, more than sufficient to shield their advance without unduly making things difficult for the people shoveling sand. The bucketeers, Fernan thought with a smile. Even marched to the front, they¡¯re doing more with sand than a dozen times their number with swords.

    Mara squeezed under the gap, and Fernan jumped atop her back.

    As clumsy as a gecko was on the slick ice ahead, Fernan would be almost as bad himself. At least this way, come what may, they¡¯d be shielded together. Keeping close let him keep the dome smaller too, which was good, since every instant it remained drained his power, and sacrifices of the mountains.

    They split off to the side, trying to avoid the largest concentration of foes. Though it was hard to tell exactly where that was when they blended in so well.

    Still, crossing the front lines instantly turned his shield into a pincushion of icy polearms, followed by an irritating splash of lukewarm water. Some of it even got in his eye, which made for a terrifying moment of blindness until he reignited it with his remaining flame.

    Fortunately that was the worst of it, though several continued to pepper them as they continued on. Most of the winter forces needed to keep their eyes on the advancing line of soldiers, after all, lest they let the entire island be overrun.

    One crashed into the dome in the shape of a body, but another pulled it back before it melted.

    Fuck, that was close. Fortunately, the assaults died down as they broke past the thickest concentration, giving a moment to recover.

    I¡¯m already down to a third of what I stored up, and the battle¡¯s barely begun. ¡°Mara, now,¡± he signaled, as close to the castle as he dared approach.

    Not missing a beat, Mara blasted flame from her mouth, pointing it towards the place where it would do the most damage as she continued skittering forward as best she could across the increasingly-treacherous ice.

    The castle itself could be repaired, drawing on the enormous mass of the island that they could never hope to exhaust. Fernan had thought to try collapsing it from the foundation, but what need had Glaciel for normal structural integrity? She controlled the walls and the ground; even a clean slice of the bottom layer held no promise of felling the structure.

    Embedded into her castle like this, Glaciel¡¯s control of the ice had to spread from there. She was master of all within its walls, but the further away, the more her control would cost. Camille had mentioned that in the context of her secretly investing power into the ground outside the walls of Hiverre over the course of weeks. Once she was ready, she erected it in a matter of minutes and captured the city for the Fox-Queen in one fell swoop. A triumph for Glaciel, but the story exposed a weakness they could work with.

    Mara¡¯s flame spat downwards in a thin, concentrated stream, boring a sharp hole into the ice. Once it made it a few feet deep, she advanced forward, slicing further through the ice faster than Fernan had ever managed to cut through the castle.

    There was a real chance she wouldn¡¯t even notice, prideful as she was about her eternal castle. Especially when Lucien¡¯s forces were almost at its gates.

    Flying might have worked better, but sustaining himself in the air with the shield and blasting fire where he needed to was a great way to run out in about five minutes and plummet back into the sea. And without the shield or the ability to see them coming, he¡¯d be speared through in even less time.

    Along the ground though, Mara made amazing time, circling nearly halfway around the castle before the first of Glaciel¡¯s children began to attack in earnest.

    And that¡¯s my cue. Fernan jumped from her back, shooting fire from his finger towards the shadowed silhouette.

    It looked like only a few had been sent after them, though he had no way of knowing how powerful they were. Still, it looks like she hasn¡¯t figured out our real plan.

    Florette had fought them many times before, as had Mara, though the latter often depended on the former to act as a spotter. I might have taken her along for the same, if she weren¡¯t busy with something more important right now.

    Instead, Fernan expelled a stream of green from his lungs, pursing his lips to condense the stream to a finger-thin line, much like what Mara was using on the ground. His aim was low, disabling at the legs with a lesser risk of hitting anything vital.

    That was cold comfort once he heard their screams, though. Nor did it help that the noise alerted another company on the back lines to turn towards them and begin the attack anew.

    Without time to focus on each faint javelin, Fernan simply slammed a wall of fire down in front of them, though it burned through far more of his energy than the targeted blast. It didn¡¯t help for long, either, though it gave time for Mara to skirt out of their way.

    Fernan covered her back, spewing large balls in their direction, hopefully easy enough to dodge while still covering him from any spears they might throw.

    Another grisly scream told him that one had hit, but all of the shadowed figures were still moving. None of them died. In fact, most still seemed unharmed, though they needed a second to regroup.

    Looking back, he could see that Lucien had nearly made it to the doors, though heaps of warm bodies had been swallowed into ditches and holes the Winter Queen had formed under them.

    Faster, then. With a wince, he tightened his focus and shot out blinding light, feeling his power fade with every jet of flame. A slower loss than the continuous shield, but a steady depletion all the same. Already he was at less than a quarter, and they had to hold out longer still.

    If Camille had been here, perhaps she could simply sweep them off with a wave. Hopefully she was doing something important right now, because her command of water could have spared countless lives in this battle.

    One spear almost managed to catch him in the leg, and only a reflexive shield of fire saved him, though it cost him dearly.

    More fire would make a world of difference, right now. Did I make a mistake?

    But the geckos had suffered enough.

    Fernan rose into the air, feeling the last of G¨¦zarde¡¯s fire leave him. But a sage always had a last resort.

    He reached for the flame within himself and pushed it out, choking as he felt it leave him. Each blast drew on his life, and there was no replenishing that.

    A day, then two, then weeks. Months.

    Lord Lumi¨¨rte had spent two years of his life to survive his duel against Camille; Camille hadn¡¯t even said how much her loss would have cost her if she hadn¡¯t been able to leverage her influence.

    Still, it was enough to keep afloat, keep him burning the surface below, circling around the castle.

    Lucien¡¯s forces had penned the rest of Glaciel¡¯s children back inside the castle, if anything only increasing the rain of javelins down from its walls. It was hard to see, but it looked like the doors had indeed melted away into a solid wall. And who knows how thick she made it?

    But javelins could not be conjured from nothing. Each thrown could only be replaced with the castle¡¯s ice, stretching Glaciel ever thinner.

    Fernan felt a year pass as he continued, jerking back and forth in the air as unpredictably as he could while still keeping Mara shielded from her pursuers. Walls of flame were enough to keep them blocked and separated, but more and more of the ice creatures were taking notice.

    Just how many children does Glaciel have? How long can we keep this up before she gets suspicious?

    Back at the battle lines, a crackling blue bolt of flame blasted the wall open, Charles¡¯s wall momentarily dismissed. Yves followed soon after, cycling his own fire with the wall. Just the way everyone made their way up the island.

    Perhaps Lucien had instructed them to do it, or perhaps they¡¯d taken the initiative.

    Either way, it bought enough time to finish softening the ice around the foundation, a thin slice through, hopefully far enough from her castle that Glaciel hadn¡¯t noticed.

    But even if she did, it¡¯s too late now.

    Fernan shot a green beam of light straight up into the air, his signal to Lucien¡¯s army to retreat.

    With the walls closed off, no one pursued them back, but that wouldn¡¯t hold for long. Even now, Glaciel was surely beginning to sense the trap, and every second only made it more likely that she could react in time to spoil it.

    Lucien lifted a banner from one of his knights and waved it high, the signal for Florette, waiting wherever she¡¯d managed to hide herself.

    For a terrifying moment, nothing happened, and it seemed as if all their plans would amount to nothing. Every distraction, pushing Glaciel¡¯s forces back to the castle, weakening the foundation without drawing her attention¡­

    A deafening blast split the air, louder by far than even the battle above as a cloud of icy splinters and dust flew through the sky. After a moment, the island split open, the small cuts around the castle turning into massive tears in the ice as the whole area beneath began to collapse. A few jagged cracks even stretched out from the circle across the island, forcing a few of Lucien¡¯s army to jump to one side or the other, but none of them fell.

    The same could not be said for Glaciel¡¯s castle.

    As the battle had raged above, Florette and Corro had burrowed beneath, planting countless charges of gunpowder directly under Glaciel¡¯s seat of power, just far enough to avoid her notice. Being imbued with the influence of a spirit of wasting and decay hadn¡¯t hurt either, nor did Corro¡¯s ability to set them off without harm to himself.

    Fernan allowed himself a breath as he alighted back on the ground, short five years of his life.

    The castle hadn¡¯t crumbled completely, reinforced as it was by Glaciel, but the ground underneath had completely collapsed in the explosion, dropping the edifice deep below. Even the top of the tower was beneath the ground level now, though damage to the lower floors probably accounted for a lot of that.

    Lucien called something out to the troops and began organizing them to rain fire and arrows down into the hole to draw Glaciel out, but Fernan couldn¡¯t hear him clearly.

    The fire was still buzzing in his ears, simmering in his blood even after he¡¯d stopped.

    Mara blasted apart a chunk of ice in her way, kicked up by the explosion. The flame in her breath was clearly fainter than it had been even minutes ago, but she looked thankfully unharmed.

    Breathing heavily, Fernan crept slowly across the icy ground, still slippery even if it was no longer actively trying to kill him. He wrapped an arm around Mara and pulled her close, then let go. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± she hissed. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you go all out like that. It was so cool!¡±

    ¡°Well, nothing without a cost.¡± He glanced out over the water, then back to the ice pit where Lucien¡¯s forces were already assembling wooden walkways and walls for cover. Now that people could descend from the city unmolested, they had the time and people to do better than sand.

    Build up enough to convince Glaciel she couldn¡¯t win, and they might even be able to end the day without further bloodshed. At the very least, it would give them a needed edge.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Mara asked, an instant before Fernan saw it too.

    A swirling vortex of snow was forming above the hole, covering the black sky with grey and white.

    ¡°Snow?¡± Fernan guessed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure it¡¯ll really make a difference. If it can, you¡¯d think she¡¯d have used it earlier, when everyone was crossing the island.¡±

    Perhaps it was just invisible to his sight, but no snow seemed to fall either. It didn¡¯t really seem to be doing anything.

    ¡°Just clouds, by the look of things. None of her monsters ever did this, either, so I don¡¯t think it¡¯s for fighting.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully nothing serious, then.¡± I only have so much life to burn. ¡°For now, we have to trust that the people here can push her to surrender. Our part is done for tonight.¡± He held up a hand as he saw her start to object. ¡°Mine, anyway, but I think you should stop too. Be content with what we¡¯ve accomplished.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Mara pouted, though her heart obviously wasn¡¯t in it.

    ¡°I want to talk to Lucien before we head back. Yves and Charles, too. I don¡¯t want them getting any flack for my decisions.¡± And it¡¯s one last chance to make a case for mercy. Otherwise, if Glaciel didn¡¯t surrender, Fernan didn¡¯t even want to think of what would happen to everyone penned inside the sunken castle. This ought to have earned me some credibility, but it¡¯s impossible to be sure it¡¯ll be enough.

    The vortex continued to swirl in the sky, still appearing to do nothing, though of course there would be more to it.

    Still, it was hard to see exactly what it could accomplish¡ª

    Fernan felt a chill to his bones as his face slammed into the ice, a damp cold feeling seeping in through his clothes.

    A wave¡­

    Camille? Or¡ª

    Another wave crashed down over the island, scattering besigers everywhere. Fernan struggled to regain his breath, trying to force himself back up in time, but he couldn¡¯t even inhale before another surge of water pushed him from the island.

    The water beneath was even colder, even harder to see, but still Fernan forced himself to the surface, squeezing his eyes closed to keep them protected from the frigid depths.

    Fernan tasted air for only a moment before he felt a deep growl filled the air, blowing his wet hair back as it sent a shiver down his spine.

    A scaly limb curled around his ankle, and pulled him under.

    The last thing Fernan saw before the water extinguished his eyes was a dark, twisted shape gliding across the waves.

 Eloise V: The Hunted

    Eloise V: The Hunted

    The shrine wasn¡¯t much. It couldn¡¯t be, really, when they¡¯d get knocked down every time one of the Governor¡¯s thugs got wind of one. Sometimes that was because they found it themselves, but usually someone tipped them off, hoping for a reward.

    Nothing worse than a rat.

    It wouldn¡¯t do them any good anyway, not anymore. The Territorial Guardians had had to stop giving out rewards once they realized people were just setting up their own fakes and then reporting it for a few extra coins.

    It wasn¡¯t like the Guardians could know every hidden shibboleth; they certainly weren¡¯t capable of grasping the difference between an old florin pressed into the clay of a brick before it hardened and, say, an engraving of a wolf chasing its tail, even if the latter was clearly making fun of them.

    Prohibited, all of it, and battered apart with hammers the moment it became known, reward or no reward.

    Still, it was a good way to make a few hundred dala while it lasted. The best part had been setting aside a few with more effort put into them, though, knowing she¡¯d never be the one to leak it. That much, at least, she could still do.

    Sharp wind whistled past blue stone, biting fall air warded off by a coat, cold as that left her nose. The old castle walls had largely been picked clean of anything intact enough to use and loose enough to take, but Eloise had only needed a few.

    Yse had swung the hammer to smash them into shards, more as a favor than because he had any particular interest in it now that the money had dried up, and then Eloise had impressed the shards into the ground in a mosaic pattern, or at least an attempt at one.

    It didn¡¯t really look like the Blue Bandit, at least not the way she looked in the journal engravings or as a speck in the distance with a noose around her neck. But it at least captured a face in blue; it still stood for something.

    And pressed low into the ground, maybe it would even survive the Guardians¡¯ purges a little longer. Being out of the way on a random cliff would hopefully help too.

    Then, when I come back to visit, I can still pay my respects.

    That was why they didn¡¯t want people doing this, really, why the Blue Bandit was lying in some unmarked patch of Fuite Gardens, packed into a row with countless others, rather than being granted even the most perfunctory freedom in death.

    The Bandit, and everyone who helped her.

    Eloise set down a final shard at an upright angle a few feet away from the meager shrine, supporting it from a distance far enough away to hopefully spare it, unlike the woman it represented.

    ¡°Looks good,¡± Claude noted as he came up from behind her, brushing fair hair from his face. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you wouldn¡¯t save this design for somewhere it won¡¯t be found. Looks like it took a lot of work.¡±

    Didn¡¯t I? ¡°Yeah, no one ever comes here.¡±

    Claude laughed as if she¡¯d been making a joke. ¡°Right. And that huge Vogel Day party isn¡¯t going to have entire tents up here either. No way anyone would ever find it.¡±

    Drat. Eloise glowered, imagining drunken snobs kicking the shrine apart, or worse. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anyway. As soon as I¡¯m on that boat, the whole city might as well not exist, let alone a pile of rocks.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to tell Yse and Margot that you said that.¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    Claude shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re saying it like it¡¯s a joke, but a part of me thinks you¡¯re just telling the truth in a funny tone of voice and pretending it¡¯s sarcasm.¡±

    ¡°I have never once in my life done any such thing,¡± she assured him. ¡°And Margot knows the score; I explained the whole thing. The money she¡¯s got now should keep her in that school through the year, and Captain Verrou told me we¡¯ll definitely have done a job by then. But just in case¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll take care of her.¡± He turned his head back, sending his bangs running wild in the wind. ¡°Ysengrin is going to want to know why you have to leave.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a kid, he¡¯ll get over it.¡± Safer for him not to know, the way things are headed. Working for Jacques was one thing¡ªhis runners were never in much danger since even if they got caught, the Guardians tended to go easier on children¡ªbut Robin Verrou was the most wanted man in Avalon. Better he know as little as possible.

    ¡°Mmm.¡± Claude sighed. ¡°Alright, I want to know. Could you please do me that courtesy? I mean, Robin Verrou?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like he¡¯s some stray arrow. Jacques was his partner for years, and even now they work together in some form.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s the best pirate there ever was. It¡¯s still a lot more danger for a little more money. I don¡¯t get it.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a lot more money, for one thing. And split between everyone, rather than Jacques taking the lord¡¯s portion.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t do you any good if you¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°Neither does anything I do here. This way I can accomplish something lasting, instead of just treading water, getting rooted in place. I¡¯ve been surviving for years, and it isn¡¯t good enough. Everything that sucks about the world stays exactly the same, and the more time passes, the more I¡¯m stuck being a part of it.¡± Trapped. She forced a shrug, trying to make her words look less passionate. ¡°Captain Verrou isn¡¯t a mercenary like Jacques; he¡¯s Avalon¡¯s number one enemy.¡± She gestured to the blue stone below. ¡°And still alive.¡±

    Claude sighed again. ¡°I guess I get it. If Robin Verrou can¡¯t do it, no one can. Best chance at a change¡­ Just be careful, alright? Being a pirate is a lot more dangerous than a ledgermaster, no matter how much silver you have to hide for Jacques. Don¡¯t be reckless.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me, reckless. You¡¯ve got me pegged, Claude.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯d better get going. Thanks for keeping an eye on Margot.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Have fun on the high seas.¡±

    ?

    Dead.

    Somehow, after all this time and everything she¡¯d been through, another one of the few people who mattered was swinging from Avalon¡¯s gallows.

    And this time there¡¯s no doubt it¡¯s my fault.

    She felt the cold air fill her lungs as she ran, feeling the uneven but familiar stone of the road beneath her feet.

    A roar erupted from the seaside crowd of cretinous animals, happy to cheer for any blood at any cost. Perhaps they¡¯d killed someone else, but it was just as likely they¡¯d worked themselves up to it over nothing. As stupid as most people were alone, they degraded each other exponentially in crowds.

    I should have thought of this. Claude had made it onto a ferry to a quiet beach town to the north to lay low, with a long-hauler ready to take him south to Plagette a few weeks after. Eloise had arranged that herself, using a trustworthy contact¡­

    As if anyone¡¯s capable of that kind of loyalty.

    Still, the more likely possibility was that the fall of darkness had delayed or canceled the departure, and Anya Stewart had found him before he¡¯d secured his own way out of town.

    Or he just liked the easy living in On¨¨s, and never bothered to try to find another way out. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine easy-going Claude doing that, delaying a day at a time until it was too late.

    Perhaps Stewart had even tricked him, pretending to be the captain sent to extract him, until he was trapped aboard her own ship. Captain Verrou had warned his crew what she looked like and how she operated, but the Acolytes would normally have no need to learn such suspicion. Eloise hadn¡¯t even heard of her before leaving Malin, and Claude likely wouldn¡¯t have either.

    And what of it? He shaped his own fate, the sum of all his actions and mistakes. I tried to help, but it wasn¡¯t enough.

    Since when was it my job to save people from their own stupidity?

    Eloise¡¯s foot slipped on one of the stones, cracked where slick ice had split it apart, and she nearly fell before righting herself.

    But he never gave me up. He couldn¡¯t have, considering Anya Stewart would never be stupid enough to hang him without first apprehending Eloise if she knew about her. The pirate-catcher could have just walked into Clocha?ne Candles and grabbed her; it wasn¡¯t as if anyone would have stopped her, especially with Cynette Fields to get her out without much disruption.

    Claude had backed her up, kept her secrets, stood by her decisions¡­

    That means something, even though it won¡¯t save me.

    The moment Jacques heard about Claude¡¯s escape and capture, Eloise¡¯s term of employment at Clocha?ne Candles would be over, followed shortly by a similar terminus to her life.

    So Eloise sucked in more air and kept running.

    ?

    ¡°So, Eloise, have you given any more thought to that job offer?¡± Jacques leaned back in his seat, showing off the fancy gems on his rings as he placed his hands behind his head. ¡°The books have never been the same since you left.¡±

    ¡°No, I figured I¡¯d just give an answer without sparing it a second thought. Why complicate things by thinking?¡±

    Jacques smiled at that. ¡°I know you want your freedom, but Robin¡­ As much as you two had in common, I don¡¯t think his brand of recklessness ever suited you, let alone that idealism.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°I made out alright. Speaking of which¡­¡± She waved her hand out, inviting him to make the first offer.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Jacques leaned forward, setting his ringed fists down on the table imposingly. ¡°You¡¯d be doing the same thing as before, but you are more experienced now, which I think merits a 12% adjustment in payment.¡±

    ¡°50%,¡± she countered, folding her arms. ¡°And I want a 40% cut of anything illicit I hide.¡±

    Jacques blinked. ¡°You have to know there¡¯s no way I¡¯m doing that. You always got bonuses for the black accounts. What¡¯s to complain about?¡±

    You, and the way you¡¯re getting too paranoid.

    Eloise smirked instead of giving anything away, leaning back. ¡°Remember Claude? The Acolyte who stuck his nose in too far and got pinched by the Guardians for it? The one they¡¯re about a day from hauling in and putting the screws to until he cries your name?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he hissed. ¡°I¡¯m aware he¡¯s an acquaintance of yours, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Already taken care of. Can¡¯t have anyone catching on, right?¡± Which getting him out of town would do just as well, you stagnant old fool. ¡°My gift to you.¡±

    Jacques raised his eyebrows, but nodded after a moment. ¡°Then thank you.¡±

    ¡°Show me that appreciation, then.¡±

    He snorted, shaking his head slowly with a hint of smile. ¡°30% adjustment of your base rate, with a 12% commission on the black books. Final offer.¡±

    ¡°Well, now that¡¯s a bit more appealing.¡± Eloise kept her tone dry, maintaining an ambiguity about her sincerity. ¡°I¡¯ll have to think it over.¡±

    Using it to squeeze him for more money felt good though. Even if she turned him down in favor of leaving, the decision would still come back to bite him.

    And if this train heist goes right, I might never need to work again. There was a good chance it¡¯d give enough to retire on with the right buyer, which wouldn¡¯t be hard to find. Weapons always sold best of all of Avalon¡¯s treasures, and this would mean selling them by the wagonload.

    ¡°You really did save me a lot of trouble,¡± Jacques mused idly. ¡°When the Guardians are involved, everything comes under that much more scrutiny. Deny any connection, disavow all ties, ensure that they¡¯re never found¡­ Phillippe doesn¡¯t have the stomach for it, so it always falls to me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the Guardians are a real crack team. It must be super hard to find one Acolyte before they can.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s doing it quietly that¡¯s the issue.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I was planning to send Mince to handle it; she¡¯s the most experienced in these matters, but¡­ Well, it¡¯s best for Claude that you found him first. I¡¯m sure it was cleaner that way.¡±

    ¡°Thirty people taking turns with rusty axes would do a cleaner job than Mince.¡± Really good thing Florette found us in time. ¡°But I guess if finding someone fast is the highest priority, she¡¯s got her uses.¡±

    ¡°That she does.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°She¡¯s not going to be happy she was denied the chase.¡±

    ¡°Oh, how terrible. Poor, poor Mince doesn¡¯t get to play with her food.¡± Eloise stood, readying herself to go. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know about the job. Meantime, keep things quiet. I hear there¡¯s been problems with Acolytes getting involved in some seedy business. It¡¯s a hard world out there for the humble, law-abiding businessman.¡±

    Jacques let out a short laugh. ¡°Certainly. But rewarding, should you choose to return to it.¡±

    ?

    Eloise couldn¡¯t help but pant as she reached the threshold of the house she¡¯d bought before she left, a place to keep Dad and a space for Margot away from school, though the latter had been more in theory than in practice until darkness fell.

    Two stories of faded green wood were pinched between two smaller buildings on either side so tightly there wasn¡¯t even an alley between them, but the windows on the second floor had glass. Of course, in this climate that was more of a hindrance than a luxury, but it wasn¡¯t like the wood to keep the place warm was out of reach either. Though it could be now.

    Once Eloise ascended the stairs, she threw the door open with a sloppy jerk of her arm. Why couldn¡¯t the fucking stage coaches just use sturdier wheels or something? The ice slick isn¡¯t that bad.

    So much for all of Jacques¡¯ horseshit about things still being normal.

    No one seemed to be in the front room; the armchairs facing the hearth were empty save a half-open book on one arm. The candles on the wall were lit though, and the hearth was still roaring. In fact, it¡¯s brighter than usual, like someone put too much fuel in.

    ¡°Time¡­ to¡­ go¡­¡± She sucked in more air, bending over, then called out once more. ¡°Margot, we have to get out of here now. Come on.¡±

    She wrenched herself forward, grabbing the railing next to the staircase up. ¡°You¡¯d better be packing.¡±

    She considered sparing an instant to knock, then decided against it, pushing open Margot¡¯s door and storming inside.

    And of course the fucking room was empty.

    Five more minutes of panicked searching revealed that the whole house was too, though the candles were lit throughout. Even Dad was gone, and he never left on his own.

    Did Jacques manage to have someone beat me here? Eloise hadn¡¯t been willing to risk using the tunnels, since they were a regular smuggling route at best and now often occupied by random wanderers too. Still, it seemed hard to believe. The way she¡¯d had to come wasn¡¯t that much slower. Unless he had advance notice about Claude¡­ But then why wouldn¡¯t he have killed her first?

    There were no obvious signs of a break-in, no threatening notes, nothing. They were just gone.

    Either they were all just off doing something else in freezing temperatures at the world¡¯s worst possible time after leaving the house a mess, or Jacques already had them.

    Although knowing Margot, there¡¯s a chance of the former¡­

    Eloise froze as she heard a familiar voice approaching from the street.

    ¡°...I¡¯m just saying, she was supposed to be at that charity event. There¡¯s a good chance she saw Claude before we did.¡± Ysengrin. His hair had darkened, and he wasn¡¯t bothering with his usual eyepatch, probably only useful indoors these days, but it still looked like the same kid. ¡°If she did, she¡¯s miles away already. She was always best at cutting and running. Five florins says this place is empty when we get here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that bet. You¡¯ve got her on too much of a pedestal. She couldn¡¯t hack it as a pirate, couldn¡¯t manage here. And when she comes stumbling home in a few hours, she won¡¯t manage it anywhere else.¡± And that would be Mince. Of course. She was still taller than Yse, stalking slowly closer with menace in her eye. ¡°All we need to do is grab the sister and sit on this place.

    So they don¡¯t have Margot¡­

    As much of a relief as that was, it only raised further questions.

    Eloise kept her ear primed as she crept up the staircase. Her best bet would be squeezing out the window in Margot¡¯s room while they searched downstairs, since it would be hard to miss her sneaking out otherwise.

    I just had to buy this stupid place before I knew how important alternate exits were. This whole thing just seemed like a great formula to end up with a broken leg, especially with no way to be sure how deep any snow was. And that was assuming no one heard her land.

    But it¡¯s that or practicing my farce routine by trying to sneak out the front door, maybe ducking behind a chair and hoping they don¡¯t notice. No, unfortunately this was her best chance of getting out of here alive.

    ¡°Let me go in first? Antoine knows me, and Margot¡¯s at least seen me before. Less chance of a scene.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got two minutes.¡±

    Eloise squeezed through the half-open door to Margot¡¯s room, careful not to make a sound. Since when does Yse know my father? It wasn¡¯t like they¡¯d met before she left.

    She heard Yse¡¯s footsteps on the wood, covering the bottom floor and then moving back towards the staircase.

    Fuck, if he checks the room remotely thoroughly, I¡¯m dead.

    She could hear him approaching the door now.

    Margot¡¯s closet was closed, and knowing her possibly even locked. It certainly wouldn¡¯t be a silent hiding place.

    And if I jump now, Mince is right there to greet me.

    Bereft of better options, she slinked next to the door just as she heard Ysengrin start to open it, with a loud creak that made her glad not to have nudged it on her way.

    The door swung back, covering her. Hopefully. She reached for her knife as Yse set one foot inside the room, then another. She could just about make out what he was doing through the slice of space between the door and the wall where the hinges connected it.

    He turned his head back and forth, searching, then walked up to the closet. ¡°Margot?¡± He knocked his fist against the door, receiving no response. He tugged at the closet a few times, then seemingly gave up.

    ¡°Guess who owes me five florins?¡± he called down from the window. ¡°All three are probably halfway to the Arboreum by now; we¡¯re five minutes from the harbor.¡±

    ¡°Or out for a walk.¡± Mince shook her head. ¡°You stay in the house, I¡¯ll keep an eye on the street.¡±

    Fuck.

    If she never got out of the way, then¡ª

    Yse turned back from the window towards the doorway, staring directly at her.

    Or maybe he¡¯s just looking at the doorway? The thought seemed wishful, but he hadn¡¯t called out yet¡­

    He blinked as Eloise held her breath, keeping as still as she possibly could. At least I can manage that for a while. Before serving on a ship, she¡¯d have been lucky to hold her breath for half of one minute, let alone the three she could manage now.

    Stepping closer, Yse kept his eyes fixed at the door. He reached out one hand towards it¡ª

    And shoved the door up against the wall, squeezing Eloise in the middle.

    Fuck, that hurt. The impact made her gasp out the air she¡¯d been holding, but luckily the noise of that was lost in the sound of the impact.

    ¡°Just come inside,¡± Yse called down as he descended the stairs. ¡°It¡¯s cold as shit, and she left the hearth running when she left. It¡¯s well stocked.¡±

    Eloise breathed the quietest sigh of relief she could, then crept towards the window.

    If I can climb around to the side, I can get to the roof of the place next door. That would hopefully let her avoid Mince¡¯s sightline long enough to get away.

    And after that?

    Margot was nowhere to be seen, and once she came back from whatever stupid walkabout or criminal sale she was up to, Jacques¡¯ deadliest lieutenant would be waiting in the wings.

    A quick glance showed that Mince was out of sight, which meant she was probably under the porch roof.

    Breathing steadily, she maneuvered one foot out of the window, finding footing on a slightly misaligned plank. It held the other foot as well, once she got it through, which meant that she could manage the slightest, slowest shuffle along the side, conscious every moment that a simple creak could spell her demise.

    It was worse once she got far enough that holding the window wasn¡¯t possible. There weren¡¯t any good hand-holds, so she had to make do by just balancing. If I sneeze right now, it might spare Mince the trouble. After what felt like agonizing hours, the corner of the house was close enough to reach with her fingertip. A few shuffles more and she had a real handhold again, which made the final stretch much easier.

    The other roof wasn¡¯t exactly flat, but the drop was only a few feet, which meant she could lower herself down for footing slowly  instead of having to make a potentially-noisy jump.

    Hugging the corner, she crouched down, then removed one leg from her foothold on the house. She was barely tall enough for her toe to tap the roof below. Fortunately. Her other leg soon followed, and then she could let go of the green house.

    Now all she had to do was shuffle across the rooftop long enough to find a hidden way down, and¡ª

    A hand closed around her ankle, tugging her off the roof.

    Eloise barely had time to think before her side erupted with pain. In an instant, she was half buried in the snow, groaning, as Mince¡¯s smug face smiled down at her.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t think it would be that easy, did you?¡±

 Florette VIII: The Binder

    Florette VIII: The Binder

    Twin trails of flame lit Fernan¡¯s face with an eerie green, making him easy to find. He was sitting cross legged on the ground with his back turned, facing out at the dark city below.

    ¡°Anything good?¡± Florette asked, coming up behind him. ¡°Camille knows her history, so I¡¯d hope she has something to offer.¡± Even if it¡¯s delivered in an unbearable manner. ¡°Any weaknesses?¡±

    Fernan turned his head back, then rotated to face her. ¡°A few things we can use, maybe. A few more we probably can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But it couldn¡¯t hurt to know.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, exactly.¡± His mouth twisted. ¡°You came up, actually.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I bet.¡± Florette folded her arms, mostly just to keep them warm. ¡°Let me guess: she twisted herself into a scheme so convoluted that it¡¯s already falling apart, and she wishes I was there to just cut through it?¡±

    Fernan smiled for an instant, then abruptly shifted his face to a more neutral expression. ¡°It was more of a warning. She said I shouldn¡¯t trust you for anything important because you¡¯re liable to do something reckless and mess up the whole plan.¡±

    ¡°Hah! What did she do when you told her where to stick her advice?¡±

    Fernan opened his mouth, then closed it.

    ¡°Seriously?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a totally irrelevant point. You have been known to¡ªLook, you don¡¯t hesitate to do what you think is right. That¡¯s great. I admire it, even. But¡­¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she muttered, sitting down on the ground across from him. Can I even blame him? ¡°Look, it¡¯s not going to be like that anymore. We¡¯re going to make a plan, and then we¡¯re going to execute it. No improvising, and no surprises.¡±

    ?

    Magnifico¡¯s Cloak of Nocturne was¡­ uncomfortable, to say the least. Wearing it cast its bearer into shadow, which was all well and good from the outside, but from within it was exerting a pressure, like it was trying to drag Florette somewhere she might never return from.

    And he wore it for hours to be sure he could ambush Soleil¡­

    Really, the more thought she gave it, the crazier this king was. The last guy died in battle, so this one thought he¡¯d one-up his dad by sneaking in alone to stir shit up. Avalon even had infiltrating shit-stirrers like Jethro to do it without the fucking king intervening personally.

    Although considering Jethro seemed like a traitor to Avalon, maybe the personal touch was slightly more understandable.

    Still, I¡¯m surprised he was willing to part with an artifact like this, even for a limited time. Florette had sworn before Corro to return it to the crater she¡¯d found it in, provided it hadn¡¯t been taken from her against her will, or destroyed, and amazingly that had been enough.

    ¡°You¡¯ll have enough trouble succeeding without ridding yourself of my help,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°And it¡¯s for a good cause. I¡¯d lend you the Gauntlet of Eulus too, but either your fox-boy got his paws on it, or it¡¯s lying in some chasm, picked at by birds.¡±

    It was almost as if he actually wanted her to succeed, and wasn¡¯t setting her up for some kind of trap. Almost. It made Florette wish she¡¯d spent more time asking Captain Verrou about it when she¡¯d been aboard his ship, since that would give her a lot more ways to verify Magnifico¡¯s claims now.

    Instead, she¡¯d had no choice but to test what she could and try to cross-reference the rest. The sword was particularly bad, on that front. The Blade of Khali, a bound sliver of the spirit of darkness that persisted here after her exile. Fernan had at least managed to confirm it was the sword used to kill Soleil, which meant that it should work as needed here, but it was shaky. No one else had any information, and testing it against regular materials revealed it to be¡­ a sword. Not even a particularly sharp one; it had taken several swings to get through a melon.

    Still, everything the fake bard had said about the specific ritual had fit with what the Great Binder¡¯s book said, and what Corro remembered from fighting binders in the past. Florette had even tracked down Corva to ask about her partner¡¯s death in the hopes it would better help her find the gauntlet he¡¯d been bound to. Which her account will help with, too, it just also lets me verify.

    ¡°They¡¯ll never breach the castle anyway. What does it matter?¡± A scratchy voice echoed from around the corner, prompting Florette to press herself against the wall and hold still.

    Florette activated her cloak, sinking into the abyss as she felt herself disconnect from reality. She grabbed the cloak firmly as she slipped beneath the floor, hanging beneath it, out of sight.

    The Cloak of Nocturne hides you in darkness, but the cloth¡¯s still there. Hard to notice in the dim light, blended with shadows, but still present. She¡¯d tested it with Michel, and no trace of him had been visible save a black rag, lying on the ground in a heap. Easy to miss, so long as it wasn¡¯t moving.

    It was possible to hide the cloak with you in darkness, even to push the abyss away from below and walk the ground above. Truly hiding and even able to move, with nary a cloak to see.

    But the pull to the other side was much stronger. Florette had only managed about ten seconds in practice before she¡¯d had to release its hold on her.

    If the Fallen had been able to come, it would have been even more useful, since they¡¯d be able to walk her through without needing to risk the call of the void. But, as suspected, too many of Glaciel¡¯s children wanted revenge for the Winter War. The Fallen would be busy flitting around the battlefield, consuming the energy of those slain for such a purpose.

    She held her breath as the first Hiverrien walked around the corner, looking surprisingly normal save the five red rings around each arm. He looked slightly pale, his features just a hair more angular, but could have easily passed as human.

    ¡°The Queen will not look fondly on your tardiness, should she become aware of it. I do not look fondly on it, and I am aware.¡± Another walked beside the first with far more graceful steps. She was more ethereal, her skin visibly reflective.

    ¡°But you¡¯re tardy too. I had to shake you awake when you slept through the announcement.¡±

    ¡°Ice endures, unmoving, unassailable. It¡¯s only as a reflection of that, that I¡­¡± She stopped, right in front of Florette. Her head turned downward with eerie precision, putting Florette¡¯s eyes right in line with hers.

    If this fucking thing doesn¡¯t work on Glaciel¡¯s upper ring children, and she can see through it¡­

    The worst part was that now it was too late to pull the cloak into Nocturne, since it would visibly disappear before their eyes. And I might tumble inescapably into Khali¡¯s world.

    ¡°Something wrong?¡± the first one asked.

    The Hiverrien frowned, eyebrows so straight they formed a triangle. ¡°Someone left their cloak on the floor.¡±

    ¡°Oh, first we¡¯re so late we¡¯ll be entombed, and then suddenly you have time for cleaning? Someone dropped it. Who cares?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s unbecoming.¡± She squinted. ¡°But someone else will suffer for that. We must be going.¡±

    The lower-ring Hiverrien sighed, then continued, the other mercifully following after him.

    Florette didn¡¯t let out her sigh of relief until it was impossible to hear them bickering.

    This is only going to get harder as I ascend the castle. But there was nothing else for it. The moment the explosives went off, she¡¯d only have a brief window to act while Glaciel was distracted.

    No time to waste.

    ?

    The collapse was glorious. Seeing that frigid asshole¡¯s ostentatious domain collapse in on itself wasn¡¯t just satisfying, but fitting. It kicked up a plume of icy dust into the sky, circling above like rainwater in Malin¡¯s street drains.

    If she¡¯d just left well enough alone, she¡¯d be sitting pretty in Hiverre right now, power growing with every day in darkness. Instead, Queen Glaciel was in for her worst day since the Winter War.

    The instant that the tower collapsed, Florette was ready with the Cloak of Nocturne, disconnected from the physical reality of the crumbling construction.

    In the moments after, as Hiverrien cries filled the air, Florette could calmly shuffle away from cracks in the floor, the cloak hidden with her in darkness every time she moved.

    When she and Eloise had blown up that tunnel for the train job, they¡¯d had to carefully craft a durable fuse from candlewick, long enough to set the powder off without dying, and durable enough to carry the flame that far without going out.

    Endless tests and practice, making sure it wasn¡¯t just good enough to work but good enough to work every time, perfectly reliably¡­ Worth it, for sure, but it had taken forever.

    I didn¡¯t have a spirit of decay on my side then. Florette grinned as the cracks in the floor grew wider, the whole castle of ice threatening to collapse.

    Streaks of pure ice shot back and forth across the walls and floor, Glaciel trying to stabilize it. Even if she succeeded though, the whole thing was stuck in a hole now. Fernan and Mara had clearly done their jobs too, since an even circle formed the top of the pit, ensuring that none of the humans above were at risk.

    Then tendrils of purple snaked their way up through the remaining cracks, eating through any ice they touched.

    Corro hadn¡¯t just survived a detonation in his face, he¡¯d gained power from it.

    Disadvantageous ground for Glaciel, to say the least. All Florette could do was hope it was enough.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Glaciel¡¯s children had finally recovered enough to respond, stabbing into Corro¡¯s appendages and trying to freeze them in place. Some of the higher rings looked like they were succeeding here and there, but they were stabbing at the toes of giants.

    And this is the top of the tallest tower. I can only imagine how it is below.

    Glaciel popped up occasionally to give an order, but the bulk of her focus was keeping the castle standing, which to her credit she was managing. Even as Corro tore more holes, the shaking and settling largely stopped. Once or twice a minute, a curtain of water would fall from above, probably a result of some interaction between gecko fire and ice, but whatever it was wasn¡¯t enough to outdo Glaciel¡¯s efforts.

    But with luck, it wouldn¡¯t need to. The hope was that this would leave her occupied enough to attack, to fix her in place just long enough¡­

    ¡°Come out and face me, coward!¡± The winter spirit¡¯s words were sharp and shimmering, yet scraping and raw, more powerful and emotive than any of the children had ever come close to. ¡°It¡¯s time I sent you back to Flammare in thirteen pieces.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡±  Corro rumbled back as one of his tendrils sprouted a gaping maw. ¡°It is past time we spoke.¡±

    The Hiverrians began jabbing at it with their icy spears, but Glaciel erupted from the ground in a human-sized body, waving her arm for them to stop. ¡°Let him talk.¡±

    ¡°So courtesy has not abandoned you entirely. I must confess some surprise at that.¡± Corro¡¯s form condensed further, his color darkening.

    ¡°Corro.¡± Somehow there was more venom in her voice than that of the poison spirit. ¡°I am disappointed to see you once more as a servant to an unworthy master. Was getting that girl killed truly so demoralizing that you would prostrate yourself before Flammare?¡±

    Florette moved as fast as she dared from the stairwell. She needed to get there before her grip on reality weakened too much to risk.

    ¡°Her life came to an end, as all things must.¡±

    Glaciel tilted her head back, an impression of amusement carrying through the movement. ¡°As must the day, the Arbiter of Light, the sun. You ought to know better than any.¡±

    ¡°And yet such ends can come before their time. I am decay and ruin. I know my place and I know where I am not yet welcome. Have you any such restraint?¡±

    ¡°You are not welcome here.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    Florette cracked a smile as she kept dashing across this far-too-large room. .

    ¡°Human wars are great, destructive things. So many think them beneath notice, empowering followers with no thought to how it amplifies the deterioration. You know better, Glaciel.¡±

    The ice spirit stood unnaturally still, the air free from the chill of her words.

    ¡°You who are Queen once served as well, and saw the value in it. While Soleil remained in the sky and Pantera in the deep, you claimed the South in the Fox-Queen¡¯s name, and only after her death did you make it yours. You took humans for your lovers, and mixed your blood with theirs.¡±

    ¡°And Flammare dares to oppose me for it. What right has he?¡±

    ¡°None. I say this in the hopes that you will understand.¡± He paused, his ooze growing even darker. ¡°Out of Pantera¡¯s old domain, a threat continues to grow, a nation of humans dedicated to ending our very existence. Already they have driven those of the islands to hiding or extinction, and yet we do nothing, foolishly believing that any spirit so killed is exceptionally incompetent, that such a thing might never happen to any of us. Lunette¡¯s power has shriveled more in two decades than it grew in two centuries because her offerings dried up, undertaken only by the most determined, at risk of death each time. Even after the death of Soleil, on the eve of the Convocation to choose his successor, none yet have so much as uttered the name Avalon.¡±

    Glaciel remained still, though the temperature of the air dropped noticeably. Some of the lower-ringed Hiverriens even started to shiver.

    ¡°I have taken one small action to fracture it, but I cannot know if it will succeed, nor for how long. If we do not take action, their entropy may well consume us all, bit by bit. An end to the age of spirits long before that of humanity, or Terramonde. I fear that you might be the only spirit capable of understanding this threat, of being willing to act before it is too late.¡±

    Corro slid closer to her, slicing through the floor as he moved. ¡°Retreat back to your true domain before the Convocation, and I will follow you. We can collaborate against them, ready the world. Leave now, and the sages and children of another flame spirit will have carried the day. Flammare could not easily contest G¨¨zarde of the Mountain, and perhaps never become the Arbiter of Light at all. He is absent today as another fights the threat he so despises. Who could respect a spirit such as that? Certainly, the will of the others to deal with your nation so urgently would diminish. Appetite to consume you would fade.¡±

    Glaciel was turning her head down to face him as he approached, still silent as the air grew colder. Is she actually considering this? All Corro had said was that he knew how to stall her. That much was certainly true, but he¡¯d never implied that there could be a way to get her to back off.

    Florette began to approach Glaciel, ready to execute her plan. If I even should anymore. The rule had been no improvisations. No surprises. And it wasn¡¯t like Glaciel didn¡¯t deserve it, after all she¡¯d done. An ¡®elegant¡¯ monster, from a more brutal time. The world would still be better off without her, wouldn¡¯t it? She didn¡¯t just get to walk away because she finally started thinking of her self interest longer-term.

    ¡°You impress me, Corro.¡± She clasped her hands together, spindly fingers interlacing like a rippling spider¡¯s web in the wind. ¡°And yet you underestimate me. My victory will mean the end of all humans who are not of my blood. This threat will fade to nothing, decay just as you of all spirits should most desire. Flammare will not stand in the way of that, and neither shall you.¡± She raised a hand into the air, signaling her children.

    And I¡¯m not close enough. Fuck!

    Glaciel reached to the ground and pulled out a massive spear of ice, twenty feet long and two feet thick. She twirled it behind her, forcing Florette to jump back just as she was getting close enough to strike, but the spear wasn¡¯t there for long. Glaciel lightly flicked her wrist and sent it flying towards Corro.

    The spearhead landed in his mouth, rapidly freezing his form in place. The ice traveled down the tendrils rapidly, but the core of Corro was far below. He would be safe, hopefully. They had planned around this.

    At the very least, he was performing one amazing distraction. Directing his appendages in from the sides helped to flank, but it also made sure that most of room wasn¡¯t looking as Florette lunged for Glaciel, including the spirit herself.

    Florette had to jump over the sweep of another enormous spear as Glaciel twirled it anew to throw, but she somehow managed to make it over. Even if her foot did slide out from under her on the ice right after, sending her painfully to the ground.

    Pain radiated up her side, but there was no time to dwell on it. Florette pushed herself carefully off the ground, getting her feet back under her just in time to see another massive spear headed towards her.

    Why does she have to do the stupid spin? It doesn¡¯t do anything except look cool. She¡¯d be faster without it!

    She barely made it out of the way, at least keeping her footing this time.

    But Glaciel was only growing, pulling ice into herself from the center of the floor, then the floors below, until a shaft stretched all the way to the bottom. Corro¡¯s appendages were still burning through ice a few floors below, but the Hiverriens were fighting back, and the top few had all been frozen.

    Glaciel stood above it all, twice as tall, with movement just as elegant.

    Fuck!

    The plan had been to stab her in the back while she was distracted. Corro was supposed to give her more time!

    But he did what he could, and so did you. No point in grasping at what went wrong, the issue was what to do now.

    The first step has to be not getting crushed by a spear that isn¡¯t even aimed at me.

    The movements were as unpredictable as they were pointlessly fluid, meaning there was no obvious safe spot.

    Except¡­

    Florette waited for another swoop of a spear, then sprinted over the ice towards Glaciel. She¡¯ll hardly swing at herself. That still meant avoiding her footsteps, but that was considerably easier, since she wasn¡¯t moving around very much.

    That changes the second Corro¡¯s too far away, though. Already, the walls of the tower were so thin they could be looked through, and the hole in each floor was only growing wider.

    Florette drew the Blade of Khali, the weapon that had ended Soleil. When it sliced him in half. The blow had to be a lethal one for it to kill, unless Magnifico was really fucking with her, and somehow it seemed unlikely it would be as easy as stabbing the regenerating ice spirit in the leg and calling it a day.

    Still, do I have any option but to take the chance? The first blow Glaciel felt would probably be the last Florette had a chance to make, since she could just collapse the floor.

    I could try throwing it into her back. It was a long way to throw a heavy sword straight, and missing would mean she accomplished nothing, but¡­

    Florette jumped back as the floor retreated, revealing a low-ring Hiverrien stabbing at one of Corro¡¯s tendrils futilely. Each point of contact left a frozen patch, but one immediately consumed by the surrounding Corro ooze.

    I¡¯m going about this wrong. Florette wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, gazing into the darkness of the sword for a moment before the movement completed.

    Killing Glaciel and surviving was basically off the table at this point. Hoping for a way to do both wasn¡¯t helping, it was just exhausting very limited time.

    Breathing deep, Florette closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the sword. She readied herself, watching Glaciel¡¯s movements as the remaining strip of floor narrowed. Any moment now, she¡¯d jump down to attack Corro, probably taking what was left of the floor with her.

    Florette waited, picked her moment, and swung.

    Her first thought was that she¡¯d missed, feeling the impact of the sword¡¯s blade into the icy floor below, but the shriek that filled the air suggested otherwise.

    Glaciel plunged down the shaft, impacting the writhing purple floor with the tip of her spear, causing a wave of ice to erupt out from it across Corro¡¯s reach. The ooze froze and it remained frozen, color fading away as Glaciel strengthened her hold.

    Looking down, the blade was buried in the ice, stuck in by about an inch. To one side of it rested one of Glaciel¡¯s toes, weeping drops of water at the edges.

    Finally, something goes according to plan. Corro had made his retreat, feigned his defeat just as they¡¯d discussed. Glaciel would live, but Florette had a piece of her.

    A share of her power, to be bound.

    Have to act fast; it¡¯s already melting. Glaciel¡¯s power was probably fading from it, disconnected from her larger body. Left alone, the foot would drip away and grow back, most likely.

    Florette wrenched her sword out of the ice and sheathed it. She made sure to grab the toe with a gloved hand, but it still burned to the touch. She dropped it, then readied her bag to sweep it in quickly.

    Once it was secure, she made her way towards the stairs.

    It helped that Glaciel was already repairing the castle. The floor was beginning to grow back, solidifying water from above and below flowing into place and then freezing.

    For some reason, Lucien¡¯s forces weren¡¯t putting up much of a fight from the top. Maybe they were waiting to see how the Corro thing played out?¡± They should have known more or less what to expect, though, and even if so, it was over now.

    The Hiverriens were still reeling as Florette made her way down, many having fallen to the bottom of the tower. She cloaked herself in darkness and managed to maintain her connection to reality just long enough to make it down the stairwell, though it left her strained afterwards. Think that¡¯s my new record. It was getting more and more unbelievable how long Magnifico had managed to do this.

    The hole Corro had left for her in the side was still there, just as planned. Florette stepped into the tunnel and continued in, walking until she was far out of earshot and sight.

    She opened the flap on her bag to check on the foot, only to see that the smallest of the triangular toes had already melted away.

    Half tempted just to start the binding ritual here in the tunnel, Florette nonetheless decided that experimenting with magic in a space that could collapse and kill her seemed like a bad idea.

    The instant she reached the surface, she set the spirit¡¯s foot down in its bag, opening the flap without letting it touch the ice directly. From another of her pockets, she pulled an unadorned steel ring and set it down beside the shard of Glaciel.

    And now¡¯s the true test, she thought, ready to begin the binding ritual.

    That was the moment a waterlogged Mara reached her, and explained what had happened.

 Camille VI: The Liminal Traveler

    Camille VI: The Liminal Traveler

    Camille took care to keep her pace measured. Sprinting away from a charity event would make her look guilty at best and incompetently terrified at worst.

    Deep breaths. A retaliation was accounted for in her plans; indeed, it was a crucial phase of them. Goad the Avalon traditionalists to a breaking point, and then wipe them off the political map in one fell swoop with the force of legitimacy behind her.

    Good for Luce, and better for me.

    All Camille had to do now was meet up with him, explain the next steps they were to take, and perhaps put on a quick show of begging for forgiveness, if he were too shortsighted to understand the benefit of it.

    After they¡¯d erected another gallows on the beach in the image of the late Governor¡¯s tyranny, though, it seemed likely that Luce wouldn¡¯t need too much convincing. Just as planned.

    She ducked into a tunnel entrance just outside, wading through a crowd emanating out to find the source of the commotion. Smart ones should be headed in deeper.

    Orange light flickered from the blue stone, candles, lanterns and even hearths, where Luce¡¯s workers had dug chimneys up to the surface. As well insulated as an underground pathway could be, ventilation was apparently a huge issue otherwise.

    Really, it¡¯s an issue now. The smell of roasting fish, while overpowering, was insufficient to cover up the inability of so many in the crowd to bathe. And to think, I just saw dozens pouring back out to the surface. It¡¯s usually worse.

    Adding to the discomfort was a high-pitched chirping noise that only grew louder the further Camille walked. But Whitbey¡¯s thugs will have quite the time grabbing me here if they try anything. It was a fairly direct path to her destination, too, though a horse on the streets above would have been faster, assuming it didn¡¯t slip.

    Good luck finding me amidst all this clutter, let alone making your arrest.

    Camille even passed a few market stalls, selling clothing and food and jewelry and¡­ Books? That reckless salesman is letting their pages be permeated with foul odor each minute they spend down here. None of them looked too valuable, but still¡­ Camille had once spilled water on Mother¡¯s third volume of the Grim Desert history and had the rest of her glass poured over her head for her trouble.

    Books deserved respect. History deserved respect.

    They hacked away at the stones my mother placed to keep this city clean and pleasant. A massive favor, once King Romain had enticed them back into the fold. Camille had never gotten the full details, and it seemed rather too late now, but a part of her still twinged with disdain seeing it reshaped and settled like this, dragged down to something base.

    It was a small part, though.

    People had to do what they needed to survive, and keeping these tunnels a family secret stood in the way of that. Not everyone had a home that could survive this. Even for those who did, it was no small thing to live one¡¯s life alone inside, every trip forth carrying a risk of freezing to death.

    Something clicked into place with the noisy chirping as Camille passed its source: a bard manipulating a large box with a hand crank and a harpsichord¡¯s keyboard. The machine King Harold brought when he infiltrated us to orchestrate my fall. When the bard lifted her hand to reveal the lettering on the wood, though, it read: This Pulsebox Created by Edith Costeau.

    Camille smiled, imagining Magnifico¡¯s smug face when he saw that the technology he¡¯d brought had fallen into the fox¡¯s hands. Someone must have grabbed it after he¡¯d been imprisoned and passed it to the singer to fund a reverse-engineering of the design. And if the copies made it into occupied territory this fast, they¡¯ve probably spread all the way down the coast. Something about the music sounded brighter, after that.

    Perhaps it was the charbon poisoning Luce had been ranting about, but the whole passage of people seemed somewhat like a facsimile of the arcades above on market day, arched overhangs and alleys filled with the sounds of haggling and laughter, children playing¡­ Lucien trying on that ridiculous hat and insisting it made him look regal, wearing it for weeks afterwards¡­ It had been hard to let go of teasing him for that. So hard I never really succeeded.

    Somehow the accursed thing had even made it to Guerron with him, when far more priceless treasures had needed to be left behind. Probably at the bottom of some forgotten trunk for years on end, until Camille discovered it on Lucien¡¯s head after her twentieth anniversary celebration. He¡¯d been waiting in her room wearing nothing else.

    Regal indeed. The thought brought a smile to her face, though this wasn¡¯t the time to dwell on happy memories. There was work to be done, a tension in the fetid air that even these people were beginning to pick up on.

    Even before this coup, there couldn¡¯t have been much laughter here. A city on the edge of frozen oblivion with no end in sight, and an attempted coup underway, the implications of which these people couldn¡¯t possibly understand.

    But they¡¯re alive. At least for now.

    And as for understanding, that was where the Quotidien came in.

    Once Camille emerged into the crisp air, it was only the work of a few minutes to walk to the journal¡¯s building.

    Men and women with pikes stood outside the doors, thick and mismatched coats hiding their exact affiliation, but it wasn¡¯t hard to guess.

    Forresters. Guardians had standardized uniforms, crushed together in some machine on distant shores to ensure every soldier looked identical. But Perimont never would have outfitted his personal army with heavy winter wear. In a particularly cold winter, Malin might see a few days of hail. Snow was another thing entirely, and fabric was scarce enough these days that few could be picky about the design, so long as it worked.

    Scant surprise that they¡¯d fallen in with Perimont¡¯s widow, that much had been fully accounted for. But they weren¡¯t supposed to beat me here. That could pose significantly more of a problem.

    ¡°Lady Leclaire?¡±

    Camille turned just in time to catch the sight of breath in the air. ¡°Scott.¡±

    Despite his cheerful willingness to spread calumny, he¡¯d shown a remarkable aptitude at actually doing the job properly. Shockingly, he¡¯d even managed to interview Fenouille respectfully without soiling himself or fleeing in terror, a task beyond any of the others. Even if it¡¯ll be weeks or months at best before that article can ever see the light of day.

    Her journalist nodded, a hint of displeasure on his face. ¡°They locked us out. No one in or out.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s inside?¡± And whose side are you on?

    ¡°Just Mr. Eserly. He came at the same time as the forresters, but his keys didn¡¯t work anymore, I assume thanks to you, but they just battered the door down. Went in with just him and sent everyone else packing.¡± Scott laughed. ¡°They must think he can run the presses for them, perhaps even write their narrative for them.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have to be Chaub¨¨re; false information can be devastatingly difficult to contain even when poorly written. Did they say anything about me?¡±

    Scott shrugged. ¡°Wasn¡¯t really time for that. But given you don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on here and Lady Perimont owns part of the paper, it¡¯s not too hard to guess they¡¯re looking for you.¡±

    Of course. ¡°And once I leave, will you be telling them about this?¡±

    ¡°Well, that depends.¡± Scott smiled. ¡°A man¡¯s got to earn a living.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯m happy to make it worth your while.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but that¡¯s no good if you¡¯re hung up on the beach and me along with you. This here¡¯s an ambiguous situation, many parts going around. I intend to work in this town by the end of it, come what may.¡±

    ¡°Would you prefer to die now and resolve the ambiguity?¡± Camile didn¡¯t bother to ready any water; the threat was obvious enough anyway. ¡°If Lady Perimont is as forgiving as her husband, you¡¯ve already written more than enough to slip your own death warrant into your portfolio. ¡®Just doing the job¡¯ isn¡¯t going to be much of an excuse.¡±

    ¡°It worked with you.¡±

    ¡°So you can see that this isn¡¯t a matter of two equally valid sides, the wall between which you might happily sit atop until one falls. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re just as happy going back to your lazy fabulism, either. I don¡¯t doubt you¡¯d do it if that were all that remained, but that doesn¡¯t make it the same.¡±

    He smiled, shaking his head. ¡°Well, I guess you got me. Have fun storming the castle.¡±

    Camille shook her head. If they beat me here, they¡¯ll already have people surrounding the Governor¡¯s mansion. Luce was probably holed up back inside right now, banging scraps of metal together at his crafting table while the walls crumbled around him.

    ¡°Stay here,¡± she ordered. ¡°When Eserly messes things up enough for them to get frustrated and come back out, offer your services.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite magnanimous of you, Lady Leclaire. If you survive this, I¡¯d be happy to work for you again.¡± He smirked, deliberately pretending to miss the purpose of her command.

    ¡°No, imbecile, you¡¯re going to sabotage them.¡± Camille began walking back, trying to withdraw before any of the forresters spotted her. ¡°You¡¯re a writer, not a mechanist. It¡¯s believable enough, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve absorbed enough to look more knowledgeable than Eserly and get in the door. Nothing outrageous, nothing that explains Lady Perimont¡¯s crimes or the attempted coup against King Harold¡¯s son and personally appointed Governor.¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°So, what, exactly? It¡¯s not like I can print blank leaves of paper. None of the type is in place for any of the old articles. What exactly do you want from me?¡±

    ¡°Something like that. Figure it out. Just don¡¯t let them control the narrative,¡± Camille spoke over her shoulder as she turned to go. ¡°Nothing at all is still an improvement on that.¡±

    Most likely he wouldn¡¯t come through, but it might mean at least a delay before things got out of hand. Not much risk pushing him into it, when failure would mean flight or death anyway.

    Camille took a different entrance back to the tunnel thoroughfare, even though it meant an extra ten minutes trudging through the snow. Last thing I need is any of them following me.

    This was supposed to be a key piece of the plot, and it ended up nothing more than a frustrating detour. But it was too soon to come out into the open. The message was not yet ready for the city¡¯s ears.

    With all of the workers sent home, it wasn¡¯t as if she¡¯d be able to print the needful even if she did bury the forrester detachment in ice and force her way in. Not worth the energy or the time, when I could just come back tomorrow with the press mechanists in tow.

    At least the bulk of the trip back to the Governor¡¯s Mansion would be more private. While the existence of the tunnels was more widely known, there were still passages that remained hidden, barricaded by hardened ice that blended in with the wall.

    All she had to do was slip out of the main thoroughfare and into one of the empty tunnels walled away to keep the heat in.

    Camille squeezed past a thin wooden wall, not quite large enough to cover the whole passageway, then began walking into the empty darkness beyond it. Once she was far enough, she lit the lantern at her side with a strike of flint against tinder, and continued on, counting each step she took.

    One frozen wall looked much like another in the darkness, after all. And thank Levian I did all this before a tenth of the city took up residence down here. All she had to do now was sneak under the inevitable barricade at the mansion and rendezvous with Luce. He had a certain na?vet¨¦, but surely this would be enough. From there¡ª

    ¡°Stop,¡± a voice called out from the darkness, followed by a mechanical click. ¡°Turn around.¡±

    Why does that voice sound familiar? Camille plastered on a defensive smirk and rotated to face it. ¡°You should be careful, you know. I doubt whoever sent you to kill me prepared you adequately.¡±

    ¡°Well, experience tells me that this works, at least.¡± The dim figure stepped closer, beginning to be visible by the light of the lantern.

    As did their pistol, shining orange as its metal tube caught the light.

    Now that¡¯s just untoward. ¡°Are you sure? I¡¯ve heard reliable accounts that I was thrown into the sun, and the poor spirit couldn¡¯t survive it.¡±

    ¡°Quite sure,¡± said Charlotte, throwing back her hood. ¡°Now tell me where you¡¯re keeping the guns, or you¡¯ll get another hole in you to match the first. Something tells me you won¡¯t survive this one.¡±

    Now of all times. ¡°I was just going to meet the Prince, actually. You¡¯re welcome to follow, but then I had best take another route.¡± It might help, actually, having a Guardian in tow. ¡°He ducked out of our event early again, no doubt some experiment to run.¡± She let out a quick, genuine, chuckle. ¡°Only he would manage to miss a coup against him by accident.¡±

    ¡°So you admit to it, then.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°Me? I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve seen Whitbey and Stewart, but I just came from their celebration of the late Governor Perimont, and they were a bit too faithful to his memory. All but insisted Luce¡¯s governorship is illegitimate, that he¡¯s involved in some sort of conspiracy, plotting with pirates in a cover-up of Perimont¡¯s death.¡± They¡¯re correct, but that doesn¡¯t stop me from using the fact that the truth sounds ridiculous. ¡°They even hanged some poor sap, from what I hear.¡±

    ¡°What you hear? What, you¡¯re trying to tell me you weren¡¯t even there to see it?¡±

    Camille rolled her eyes. ¡°I heard a crowd chanting ¡®Hang Leclaire¡¯. No, I didn¡¯t run towards it to get a better look. My sincerest apologies if that makes your job more difficult.¡± She flicked her head to Charlotte¡¯s weapon. ¡°Since when do you even have one of those? They¡¯re reserved for officers, and high-level ones at that.¡±

    Now it was Charlotte¡¯s turn to smile, raising the unnerving question of exactly how much she knew. If she tries to sabotage my deal with Luce before it comes to fruition¡­ ¡°I was tracking down a lost cache of them, entire crates lifted from the cave-in. No one reported the theft, but the supply manifests didn¡¯t match.¡±

    ¡°So some looters¡­¡±

    ¡°And then people reported a girl getting shot in the street by some random criminal.¡±

    ¡°Avalon¡¯s soldiers covering up another atrocity, I don¡¯t doubt.¡±

    ¡°Do you? Because one of the witnesses recognized a man named Donnie Peacock, known to his criminal associates as Paon. Paon runs contraband for a lady named Mince. She spent two years in a cell and started running distribution in the northwest of the city once she got out. According to Paon, Mince put him up to shooting the girl over some old feud that left her scarred.¡±

    Camille tried to keep her composure, to maintain the illusion of control, but it was possible that some of her utter confusion slipped past her face anyway. ¡°How is any of this important?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not, except that he used a pistol stolen from Perimont¡¯s train. The Railway Robber took the lord¡¯s portion, but about a third remained in the city, and the thieves there were considerably less careful guarding it. Word got out along with the weapons once some of them got it in their head to start selling them off early.¡±

    ¡°So¡­¡± Camille couldn¡¯t help but blink in confusion a few times. ¡°You tracked them down? I mean, good. Last thing we need is more of those things spreading out. Why is this the first I¡¯m hearing of it?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Charlotte wiped her face with the hand not holding the pistol. ¡°You¡¯re asking me why I didn¡¯t inform a suspect about my covert investigation in Prince Lucifer¡¯s honor?¡±

    ¡°He put you up to this, huh? Interesting¡­¡± Perhaps he kept his guard up more than I thought.

    ¡°Well¡­ Not exactly. He told me to drop it once I explained things to him. But it was in his interest that I continue investigating.¡± She snarled. ¡°You might have clouded his eyes with darkness, but I see right through you. Manipulating, deceiving, seducing, with no regard for anyone caught in the middle. Since the moment you met him, you¡¯ve been scheming to bring him down, to plunge us into a war with Avalon we can¡¯t win, just to assuage your ego.¡±

    Camille suppressed a flinch, trying to read the Guardian¡¯s face in the flickering light. Could she be bluffing? ¡°Bold accusations, with no evidence to support them.¡±

    ¡°You sent your partner off to steal advanced weaponry, then play it off like you were her victim. I saw you and Florette together; there isn¡¯t a chance in the world she was holding you hostage through all of that. Your innocent act might have fooled them, but not me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a very good actor. I was just doing what I needed to do in order to survive.¡±

    ¡°You are, but not good enough.¡± Charlotte lifted her arm, aiming her pistol at Camille¡¯s head. ¡°Tell me where the rest of them are stashed.¡±

    Curse you a thousandfold, Florette. May Levian drag you forever beneath the waves. ¡°I have no idea. As I have already so laboriously explained, I wasn¡¯t part of it. Now if you¡¯re smart, you¡¯ll note that the Prince didn¡¯t want you poking your nose into this. The official story of Perimont¡¯s death must remain in place, or he would suffer for it. Right now Lady Perimont is launching a coup for the governorship over these lies, as I have stated. If you value what the Prince is doing at all, you¡¯ll respect that and let me go save him, as I have sworn before spirits that I would do.¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s all just a coincidence? It¡¯s not part of your plan?¡±

    Well, it is, but¡­ ¡°Does it matter? We need to mount a counteroffensive now, and you know how valuable I¡¯ll be. Do you think Luce will be happy to hear that you shot me over some lies he¡¯s already told you to disregard?¡±

    She bit her lip, hand gripping the pistol tighter. ¡°It¡¯s not about what he wants, it¡¯s about what serves him best. I¡¯ve been waiting my entire life for a governor like him, free of corruption, full of compassion, aware of Avalon¡¯s cruelties and mistakes. If you really plan to blow all of that up just to get a few weeks of your shredded glory back before Avalon burns this city to the ground, I have no reason not to shoot you now.¡±

    Why couldn¡¯t she have just stayed stuck on that pig assignment? ¡°I¡¯m not trying to get my own people killed. I¡¯ve thought this through.¡±

    ¡°Have you?¡±

    Camille opened her mouth to respond, but a flickering light back up the tunnel caught her eye. ¡°Wait, what¡¯s that? Behind you.¡±

    Charlotte visibly rolled her eyes, slowly circling Camille. Her weapon was still aimed at Camille¡¯s head once she¡¯d made it around her, now in position to see both Camille and the way back through the tunnel.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to trick you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe that when you¡¯re dead. Even then, you¡¯ve been known to deceive on that front.¡±

    ¡°Well, do you see it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She frowned. ¡°It looks like they¡¯re setting up a bonfire or something. Didn¡¯t the Prince warn everyone about carbo-phlogiston poisoning, doing that without good enough airflow?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d better go cite them for it. It isn¡¯t as if there¡¯s anything more important we ought to be doing as forresters seize the city.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that, it¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°Run!¡± a girl¡¯s voice shouted, soon visible as a figure sprinting through the dim tunnel. She was at the head of a pack, too, a veritable horde scrambling over themselves to make it through, silhouetted by a raging fire behind them.

    Camille tensed, readying herself for the arduous, horrible task of running away. ¡°I swear, I had nothing to do with this.¡±

    Charlotte grit her teeth. ¡°When Prince Lucifer hears about this¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve got him locked up!Could be dead already, way things are going,¡± the girl shouted as she got closer. ¡°Guardians are sweeping everything.¡±

    Locked up?

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Charlotte swore.

    The fleeing masses were getting closer, Guardians visibly following them, lit by the fire behind them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot me for a moment, I need to deal with this.¡± Camille lowered herself to the ground, feeling the icy slick on the tunnel beneath her fingertips.

    ¡°I¡¯m a Guardian, I¡¯ll just explain¡­¡± Charlotte swore again. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re doing, do it quickly.¡±

    Camille drew on her power, far earlier than she¡¯d hoped to need to, but¡­ Nothing else for it now. She swept ice from the ground with a wave of her arms, dissolving it to water as it left the ground. A sweep from her other hand melted her barrier from the wall, revealing the hidden passage. ¡°In here,¡± she called, both to Charlotte and the rapidly approaching crowd.

    ¡°It¡¯s Lady Camille!¡± the girl at the front called out, prompting a chorus of murmuring behind her.

    Had to reveal my secret passage, my identity, my abilities¡­ She bit her lip as she hardened the water above, pushing it just past the furthest-back runner, just in front of the most advanced Guardian, and slammed a wall down in front of them, blocking their way.

    It¡¯s too thin though. Even without torches, it probably wouldn¡¯t take them long to smash it down. If the Malinoises hadn¡¯t made it yet¡ª

    Charlotte was already guiding the last of them through. The ones that had come this way, anyway. No doubt far more were still pinned inside with the flames, or being dragged off to a cell. ¡°Go on. I can¡¯t have them killing you before the truth gets out.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re acting like they could,¡± Camille said as she crossed the threshold.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve forgotten where we stand. If this is part of your scheme, if you¡¯re truly out to seize control of Malin¡­¡± She glanced back at Camille¡¯s hasty wall of ice, already half-shattered from the battering of a few spear butts. ¡°You¡¯ll face justice for it.¡±

    ¡°Well, I have nothing to worry about then,¡± Camille lied, sealing the passage behind her.

 Eloise VI: The Righteous

    Eloise VI: The Righteous

    Why am I even here? It¡¯s not too late to turn back.

    Eloise steeled herself to plunge into this abyss, to speak with the girl that had almost drowned her over a minor insult.

    Doubtless this would be difficult, but¡­

    What¡¯s the alternative? Running around in circles for the rest of my life, until I¡¯m just as hardened into place as Jacques? Avoiding that had been the whole point of leaving. No, as painful as this would be, it had to be done.

    Eloise ducked her head down to pass through a gap in a crumbling wall of Levian¡¯s temple, only to see that the other end of her rendezvous had already arrived.

    Under her winter coat she was wearing a stunning green dress, lines of black tracing across it in serpentine patterns. Her hair was mostly light brown now, and cut shorter, though the tips remained the same blue. A bit ostentatious, perhaps, but something about her bearing helped her pull it off. Certainly, it looked far better than the blue streak Claude and the acolytes had borne as a sop to their ostensible status as priests of Levian.

    ¡°Camille Leclaire,¡± Eloise began. ¡°You¡¯re looking better than the last time I saw you.¡±

    ¡°And when was that?¡± the lady asked, either pretending or genuinely not remembering their meeting on the deck of the Seward Folly, when she¡¯d pulled the ship deep underwater to hide it.

    Fine, play it that way if you want.

    ¡°When that Lord of Soleil shot you in the chest with a pistol,¡± Eloise answered, though she hadn¡¯t been particularly close enough to see it directly. ¡°It¡¯s a high bar to surpass, I know, but you managed it anyway, you great achiever, you. Felicitations, truly.¡±

    Leclaire narrowed her eyes. ¡°I survived. It¡¯s more than most could say when an Avaline super weapon is fired directly into them.¡±

    ¡°Is it? I barely noticed when someone fired one at me.¡± Because it only grazed my jacket. ¡°Though I suppose some of us are more fragile than others.¡±

    Delightfully, Leclaire clenched her fists at that, not quite able to contain her obvious displeasure. ¡°Do you have a point, or are you simply here to taunt me?¡±

    ¡°Jacques told you, but I suppose it¡¯s difficult to remember such a thing with your oh-so busy schedule. Being who you are, I imagine even the most basic details often elude you.¡± She smirked. ¡°I¡¯m looking to set up a tradehall in the north end of the city. A fixed place for people to meet and exchange goods, sheltered from the harsh elements.¡±

    ¡°A marketplace¡­ I suppose one of your ilk would look to such base endeavors even at a time like this. There is always another excuse to profit in lieu of the moral course for those lacking the fortitude to follow it, after all. But you must be quite desperate to come to me.¡±

    Maybe. ¡°Am I? You¡¯re a sage. A key rite of yours is consuming psyben and the like. Still banned in Malin under Avaline rule. Acolytes used to be our main customers before the demand dried up, and a little alouette told me you¡¯re carrying on the tradition, in sight of the prince, even. Doesn¡¯t it help you to give people a better opportunity to acquire things they otherwise couldn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to help you for that.¡±

    ¡°But you could.¡±

    ¡°I could.¡± She smiled. ¡°You have yet to offer me a compelling reason.¡±

    Eloise smiled back, leaning back confidently. Fuck. The market affair was an excuse for the meeting, but it was meant to get her more amenable first. Negotiating. That was why she¡¯d framed it all about selling banned substances, rather than fencing stolen goods from other cities.

    Apparently, it hadn¡¯t helped much.

    Right, enough of this, then. Time to make a change. ¡°Officially, you¡¯re here as an emissary of the Empire of the Fox, lending aid to a struggling city in a trying time. Right?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± The sage raised an eyebrow. ¡°I would hope such an obvious point would not have eluded an entrepreneur prevailing upon me for a favor, but I suppose some of us are better informed than others.¡±

    Prick. ¡°That¡¯s the official story. And obviously you¡¯d never dare to try anything beyond that. I mean, you¡¯d never dream of driving Avalon out of Malin and liberating the city. Not a chance, no ¡®my lady¡¯, the very thought is unthinkable.¡±

    ¡°If this is an attempt to incriminate me, it¡¯s as transparent as it is moronic. It¡¯s certainly not going to help you get the permissions you need to open your market. Really, you¡¯re asking me for the favor here. Remember who needs whom. I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that your usual base nature is sufficiently abhorrent that you undermine even your own selfish goals.¡±

    So you do remember me, then. Awful petty of you to pretend otherwise.

    ¡°Scant wonder Florette fled the moment you returned. I¡¯m amazed she managed to tolerate you even that long.¡±

    Fucker. Eloise narrowed her eyes. ¡°That was personal. This is business.¡±

    ¡°And our business is concluded. You have nothing to offer me but outrageous demands.¡± Leclaire turned to go, icy wind causing her hair to stream out behind her.

    ¡°Well, far be it from me to contract your reading of things, ¡®my lady¡¯. I¡¯ll just be on my way then.¡± Eloise smiled. ¡°Along with my crate of pistols.¡±

    ¡°Pistols?¡± Leclaire blinked, surprise wiping the smugness from her face. Delightful. ¡°Magnifico only had the one he offered to Lumi¨¨re. High level guardians have perhaps a few dozen more. An entire crate¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is the least of what we stole, but other buyers have beaten you to the rest.¡± Take it. Take it and get these murderous fucks out of my city.

    Mom had tried to do the right thing, and the Blue Bandit before her. Directly. They¡¯d brought a dagger to a sword fight; the result was inevitable, no matter their righteous intentions. A noble stand, but¡­

    ¡°Bluff all you like, but I know you want it.¡±

    ¡°Do I? That very weapon nearly killed me. They ought to be destroyed.¡±

    ¡°And no one ought ever have to steal to survive. Prisoners ought to be allowed to live. All of us ought to go to bed sated and warm, and wake the next day free of worry.¡± Eloise forced a shrug, looking as unbothered as she could. ¡°Furthermore, Avalon ought to be destroyed. And yet it remains. Do you want them or not?¡±

    A way to catch two fishes with one hook, to foist the remaining weapons on a willing buyer and make a stand against the assholes that had killed Mom. The Blue Bandit, too, amongst countless others.

    Undone by their own weapons. Isn¡¯t that a nice thought?

    Leclaire twisted her mouth, staring past Eloise in an obvious negotiating tactic. ¡°That¡¯s assuming quite a bit. I¡¯m here to provide aid, given Avalon¡¯s total inadequacy in the face of spiritual crises. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m here to contest their rule.¡±

    Eloise rolled her eyes. ¡°And I¡¯m sure you had nothing to do with covering up the train job either, from your position deep in Prince Lucky¡¯s council. Get real.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± She bit her lip, somehow lush and red even in this dry mockery of a true winter. ¡°One who realized how crucial a favor I did for you and your paramour might think to thank me for it, rather than throw it in my face.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, I¡¯m sure the impropriety of it all is just chafing you raw. Terrible, terrible shame.¡± Eloise swung her arm down in a bow, far too sloppily to convey anything but mockery. ¡°And I¡¯m equally sure you¡¯re so wounded that you¡¯ll throw away the best tools against Avalon you¡¯ve ever had the chance to touch.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Eloise handed her a slip of paper with her price, substantially discounted for the cause.

    Leclaire¡¯s eyes looked ready to exit her face when she read the figure, and it probably wasn¡¯t because she was impressed at the discount.

    ¡°Duke Fouchand paid us that much for the airship schematics we nicked from Crescent Isle. Plans, requiring expertise, technology, and time before they¡¯d be any use to his aims. I¡¯m offering you dozens of weapons in hand that you could use tomorrow. I¡¯m even making it easy for you.¡± I¡¯m doing the right thing, you arrogant asshole. Did you really grow up so rich that you can¡¯t even see the opportunity in front of you right now? ¡°You¡¯re set to be the fucking queen. Don¡¯t tell me you can¡¯t afford it.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Leclaire crumpled the paper in her hands, then shoved it into the pocket of her coat. ¡°No, that¡¯s not the issue. I don¡¯t trust you.¡±

    ¡°Smartest thing you¡¯ve said all day.¡± Eloise scoffed. ¡°Honestly, clever people never trust anyone. That¡¯s not the point.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? Prince Lucifer is suspicious enough of my loyalty, and I know you two had your little expedition through the Refuge wasteland. There have been tests, which I have passed because I could honestly grant him certain concessions, backed by my word before the spirits. And yet he remains suspicious. As do I, seeing you of all people coming up to me and setting aside the profitable cause in favor of the just one.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°What is more likely, do you think? That Florette completely neglected to inform me of remaining weaponry in Malin, then perhaps the worst person in the world arrived to offer me everything? Or that Luce invented another crate of pistols to test my loyalty, and paid you to execute the plan?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Eloise couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Florette never even told you. She didn¡¯t even give you a chance to bid on them¡­¡± Her smile filled her face. ¡°Perhaps if you were nicer to your lessers, they might cut you in on opportunities before the world slides into darkness.¡±

    She kept laughing as Leclaire stared pensively, no doubt trying to gauge her intentions.

    ¡°But if it¡¯s Luce you¡¯re worried about, you should wait until you hear my conditions.¡±

    The sage raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°I¡¯m not looking to muck things up for him here, not right now.¡± We had an understanding. ¡°There¡¯s better targets. Why not go where the tyranny is at its cruelest, the oppression most hardened?¡±

    ¡°Ombresse?¡± Leclaire scratched her chin. ¡°Lyrion? ?le Dimanche? It¡¯s not as if there¡¯s any one obvious choice, if we¡¯re excluding Malin.¡±

    ¡°Any of them. All of them. It doesn¡¯t matter. Just not here.¡± Not when it could see that thick head of his penetrated with lead as a result. ¡°That¡¯s my condition.¡±

    Half a smile traced across Leclaire¡¯s face, her eyes lighting up with dancing blue energy. ¡°You¡¯re under the same constraints I am, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re not making a moral stand, you¡¯re just stuck!¡± She laughed. ¡°Pressed to make an oath before Cya, were you? It should hearten you to know that she didn¡¯t even think it was worth mentioning. I suppose Luce deserves more credit than I was giving him.¡± She laughed again, confident in her misunderstanding. ¡°My word, framing it as a condition of the deal¡­ You haven¡¯t changed a bit, have you?¡±

    Whatever works. She does have a point about what¡¯s more likely, I guess. ¡°So you accept?¡±

    ¡°Not yet. As I said, I¡¯ve made certain commitments. Liberating, say, Lyrion before their term has ended would pose difficulties for me.¡±

    Eloise blinked. ¡°Yeah, makes total sense. You¡¯re leaving Malin and the prince alone, yet completely breaking your word. Somehow.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. But it would lose me his trust, and prematurely. Such a thing would damage him, with investigators poking around the Governor¡¯s death. If those pistols end up assassinating Horace Williams, his mark will be tied to it, be it through incompetence or betrayal. I won¡¯t purchase them until the sun returns. Anything else risks jeopardizing the greater prize.¡±

    ¡°Are you fucking negotiating again?¡±

    ¡°No. As I said, the payment isn¡¯t an issue.¡± She flicked her eyes to the side, appearing to choose her next words carefully. ¡°The blowback is the issue. Once the sun returns, however, in Luce¡¯s own words: all bets are off.¡±

    ¡°That same issue with the whole thing fucking him over won¡¯t matter then?¡± Eloise grit her teeth. I¡¯m just supposed to carry on the same way, waiting for a day that might never come?

    No, there were other avenues to explore. Even it meant leaving Malin. There were supply chain reasons she could contrive to square it with Jacques, though it would be monstrously hard to keep Margot out of trouble from afar¡­

    ¡°Will that be an issue for the oath you swore?¡± Leclaire asked. When Eloise couldn¡¯t respond, she simply continued. ¡°Don¡¯t think about Luce, consider the abstract. The greater scope of history.¡±

    And ignore all the people too small to mention in it, of course. Still, Eloise listened.

    ¡°There¡¯s an old Gaspardi legend about a hole in the center of the world, a gaping chasm from which nothing can ever escape. A bridge is suspended over the hole, allowing those imbecilic Condorcets to cross, closer to the dark void than any living soul could ever boast.¡±

    ¡°An aspirational goal.¡± Eloise rolled her eyes.

    ¡°I never claimed to believe in it, but it¡¯s a useful framework.¡±

    ¡°I can see that. It¡¯s so obvious, really. Masterful, even, in the way it so neatly ties up every point in our conversation¡ª¡±

    ¡°If you possessed even the slightest modicum of patience, perhaps you¡¯d understand the parallels.¡± Leclaire flicked a strand of hair from her face. ¡°Those who earned Khali¡¯s disfavor were sentenced to hang off the side of that bridge, forever on the precipice of oblivion, only their grip keeping them tethered to Terramonde. Stray too close to the edge as you cross the bridge, and you risk one grabbing you and pulling you down, that they might rise and take your place in the world above.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating and relevant.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s him or you, in that hypothetical. However despicable it might be to pull a soul down to the void, the alternative is annihilation.¡±

    ¡°Just like it is for you, totally, it all makes perfect sense. I mean, you could never just stop, and go home. I mean the Fox-King hates you, I¡¯m sure, and that Duchess from the papers. Just enemies, in the end.¡±

    Leclaire frowned. ¡°There is so much you do not know, and even more you cannot understand.¡±

    ¡°Well, unless you¡¯re going to drop dead the moment you leave the city, I don¡¯t really see¡­¡± Eloise trailed off, seeing the haunted look on the aristo¡¯s face. She dealt with spirits every day, making pacts and bargains to build her power, and then she returned from the dead¡­ Not a certainty, but it would explain things. What did they ask of her in return? ¡°I get it,¡± she said, instead of continuing the thought.

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Eloise nodded, taking in the weight of things. ¡°Everything has a cost.¡± Especially morality.

    ?

    Mince¡¯s hands were cold, lifeless talons choking the life out of Eloise¡¯s neck. Her side was sore from the drop from the rooftop, her leg on fire beneath the snow she¡¯d landed on, and none of it mattered so much as the lack of air.

    ¡°Thought you could slip away again, did you? Not this time.¡± Mince removed one hand from her neck, then used it for a hard punch to the nose. ¡°You set me up, you dirty rat. Two years in that prison, marked for life. And somehow, that wasn¡¯t even the worst part.¡±

    The worst part is having to live your life as such a useless asshole, Eloise tried to say, but only a faint wheeze escaped. Rippling patterns of black and white traced across her eyes, obscuring Mince¡¯s grinning face as she continued talking.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t even use it. You got me out of the way and then you just fucked off like it didn¡¯t even matter to you, like you were better than all the rest of us. And then you had the fucking balls to come crawling back like nothing had happened. You interfered, again, and all it got Claude was a public, painful death when you know Jacques does it clean and fast. You lied to him, betrayed all of us again. And for what? Some mincy Acolyte so far on the fringes that Jacques didn¡¯t even know he existed until he fucked his way up into an arrest?¡±

    ¡°Like¡­ you¡­¡± Eloise choked out. If I¡¯m going to die, I¡¯m at least going out leaving her pissed off.

    ¡°Because you told the Guardians!¡± Mince squeezed her neck harder. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t figure it out, the way your pissant little sister ended up at that fancy school right after. You must have done a big favor for someone in a high place to pull that off, huh? Always so ¡®legitimate¡¯. That might have been enough to get you into Jacques¡¯ graces, but I always knew. And now even he realizes I was right.¡±

    I only set you up because you were sending her our as a mule without telling me, you fucking shit smear of a human being.

    ¡°Funny that it¡¯s Claude who finally brought you down. Even Ysengrin was on board when it was time for him to die, and they¡¯ve been friends for years. Real shaken up about it, but he understood what had to be done. Everyone did, except the arrogant bitch who thought she could just saunter back in like nothing had happened. You never could just get with the program. Never could follow orders. Never could pull your inflated head out of your selfish ass for even two minutes.¡±

    Eloise¡¯s vision was darkening around the edges, the pain starting to feel more distant, muted. Margot got away. That¡¯ll have to be enough.

    ¡°I always knew you¡¯d fail out there, but I am so glad that you came back here so I could kill you myself. It¡¯s honestly the nicest thing you¡¯ve ever done. Now look at me. I want my face to be the last thing you ever see. If you can think about¡ª¡±

    A crack filled the air, and Mince¡¯s hands loosened, then fell away entirely.

    Eloise sucked in air like she¡¯d been underwater for days, feeling the cold and pain flow back into her as her life did. It hurt so much she could barely move, but she forced her head to turn, to follow where Mince had gone. To see her lying there, face down in the snow, a circle of red pouring out into the white.

    Ysengrin stood above her, holding a blood-spattered log in his hands.

    ¡°Yse?¡± she croaked.

    ¡°She was wrong,¡± he said, a tremor in his voice. ¡°Saving Claude was the nicest thing you¡¯ve ever done.¡± He let go of the log, letting it drop down with its bloody end embedded into the snow. ¡°I thought there were no other options, but Florette was right. I was just a coward. You were stronger.¡±

    ¡°Thank¡­ you¡­¡± she managed between long breaths.

    Yse nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°But what now? Jacques is going to expect a report and he¡¯s going to expect Mince to give it. What do we¡­? I mean¡­¡±

    ¡°Grab me?¡± Eloise asked, her voice starting to come back. ¡°Please, I could use some help.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure.¡± Ysengrin bent down, sliding his arms under hers and lifting her to her feet. ¡°But I meant¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know what you meant.¡± Now that she was upright, Eloise was pleased to find that at least one leg supported her weight just as well as it normally did. A walking stick could make do for the other, until it healed. Even if it hurts like a bitch. ¡°We need to go to the beach, to the temple.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Eloise started to respond, but she was interrupted by a loud groan.

    On the ground, Mince was starting to lift her head up.

    ¡°Shit.¡± Eloise shuffled forward, making sure she was out of the range where her leg could get grabbed again. She always was tough, I guess.

    Yse was looking a bit more conflicted about it. ¡°We were sent on this job together. I was just trying to get you out, I didn¡¯t want¡­ I can¡¯t kill her just for doing her job. I was doing the same thing! It¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°I understand completely.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Really.¡± Eloise nodded, reaching for her belt.

    ¡°Oh, good,¡± Yse said, just an instant before Eloise threw her knife into Mince¡¯s back.

    That stopped her wriggling.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said again.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°To the temple? You never said why¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where I stashed the guns. It¡¯s about time to use them, don¡¯t you think?¡±

 Florette IX: The Cold

    Florette IX: The Cold

    That bastard.

    ¡°What do you mean you won¡¯t do anything? This is Fernan Montaigne, the guy who completely saved your ass! Levian might have moved on, but he¡¯s going to die out there if we don¡¯t rescue him.¡±

    The Fox-King glowered, all of his amiability from their sword training completely absent. ¡°Do you have a boat, Florette? I had six, and all of them have been sunk. I have a battle line I can barely keep together long enough to avoid Glaciel¡¯s entire army pouring out of the castle before¡ª¡±

    Another of Levian¡¯s waves swept across the island¡¯s surface, throwing both of them to the ground. The cold water wasn¡¯t there long, but it was long enough to seep into clothes, to penetrate otherwise-warm boots and ruin them with wet socks. Florette¡¯s jacket was thick enough to not be rendered immediately useless, as were the Fox-King¡¯s and those of several of his knights, but most people would be even more miserable now, if they hadn¡¯t just been swept away to their doom.

    The Torrent of the Deep had not deigned to leave his domain in his efforts to aid Glaciel. And apparently, he didn¡¯t need to.

    Renart sprung into action as soon as the wave had passed, calling several of his builders to renew their focus on the wooden platforms, building them higher, embedding them more firmly into the ground.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to die out there!¡± she shouted, feeling the seconds tick by. It wouldn¡¯t be long now before Glaciel¡¯s toe melted away entirely, all of her efforts useless. Corro¡¯s paranoia and care had still been insufficient to account for Levian¡¯s arrival, and now that could mean the ruination of everything. Even the final backup plan seemed unlikely to work if Glaciel weren¡¯t unbalanced, if there were no artifact to help get things into position. ¡°It¡¯s the first thing you learn in a mountain winter. The cold seeps in, and your skin gets nibbled away bit by bit as it freezes off. It makes you numb, confused. People get found naked because they stripped their clothes off in a blizzard.¡±

    ¡°Fernan¡¯s not the only person in the water.¡± Renart stared at her incredulously, gesturing to the dozens of remaining warriors scrambling to recover. ¡°And he¡¯s a flame sage. The last one remaining on this battlefield, in fact. He¡¯s better equipped than most.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s burning energy every second. How long before he¡¯s down to harvesting his own life? How long before it runs out?¡± If he¡¯s even conscious enough to do it. ¡°I have to perform this ritual right away, or everything Corro put into this will have been for nothing.¡± Dealing with Magnifico will have been for nothing. ¡°Just send someone to grab him.¡±

    ¡°No. There¡¯s no one I can spare on a suicide mission. Anyone sent into that water isn''t going to make it ten feet before they freeze to death. We just have to hope he¡¯s still alive once all of this is over. Then we¡¯ll find him, I promise.¡±

    ¡°You fu¡ª¡± Florette bit her tongue. ¡°Useless.¡± She turned and ran, nearly tripping on the slick ice once more. How did we dump so much sand and still cover so narrow a path? Levian probably hadn¡¯t helped on that front, admittedly.

    ¡°Did you find someone?¡± Mara asked when Florette returned to the water¡¯s edge, still sizzling from a recent wave. ¡°I wish I could just cross the water myself.¡±

    ¡°I know you can¡¯t. It¡¯s fine.¡± One of the first things I learned about you, even. ¡°I¡¯ll just have to go myself.¡±

    And Glaciel¡¯s toe? The binding?

    ¡°Mara, when the waves crash down, and you warm it up so fast it turns to steam, are you doing that on purpose? Or does it happen without you thinking about it?¡±

    How many times have I wished I stopped to think, to take the measured course over the impulsive one?

    The gecko tilted her head. ¡°It just happens. I¡¯m sure Fernan¡¯s doing that too. I can see that he¡¯s not moving, but he¡¯s warm like he¡¯s alive.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Florette took a deep breath. Wait a second, that must be how Camille survived. Didn¡¯t she say she was down there for days? How much longer does she have to live? That wasn¡¯t important, though. Not even slightly, with everything going on.

    ¡°Okay,¡± she repeated, holding the cheap iron ring in one hand and the rapidly-disintegrating toe from Glaciel in the other, currently about the size of a single die. And it falls to me to cast it.

    Forgive me, Fernan.

    ¡°Toe of Glaciel, I claim your power.¡± Florette held it firm in her right fist, willing its essence out of the shard of the ice spirit and up into her arm, remembering Magnifico¡¯s instructions. First, draw the power into yourself. If you want to avoid dying horribly, keep it far away from your heart and your mind. Speaking the words wasn''t necessary, but a helpful crutch for beginners. And somehow I¡¯m ever the amateur.

    She felt the power flow through her, cold and evil and stunning, intoxicating. It wasn¡¯t hard to see how Lumi¨¦re had gotten himself killed. Now, down. The idea was to curve, avoiding her heart so it could pass through her other arm and into the ring.

    Nothing was happening in her left arm, though. Glaciel¡¯s energy was flowing downward too far, too fast.

    Whatever. I¡¯m not performing here. Florette dropped the ring onto the ice below, then pressed her foot down against it.

    The pull towards the earth spirit made it easier, somehow, like everything was flowing back into place. Perhaps it was just eager to be reunited with the ice. Not that it will be. ¡°Be sealed within this ring,¡± she muttered, willing it to be true. ¡°Be bound, forever more, trapped within until all your power fades away.¡±

    She clenched her fists, expelling the last of Glaciel¡¯s power from her, then inhaled once more.

    It¡¯s done. She lifted her foot, then bent down to pick up the ring.

    It felt cold to the touch, but not unnaturally so, simply a metal ring exposed to the elements. It gleamed a pale blue color, though, a reflection of its source.

    And there¡¯s no time to waste.

    Already running, Florette slipped the Ring of Glaciel onto her pinky finger. Resting against her skin, the chill was anything but comfortable. Surprise, surprise. But as soon as the ring was in place, her hand drained of warmth to match, taking on a pale blue color.

    Just wearing it felt uncomfortable, but at least it didn¡¯t burn in the way cold metal so often did. Perhaps because my entire hand is already bereft of sensation. Still, nothing else for it but to continue on.

    She¡¯d already wasted an unconscionable amount of time.

    Every artifact is different, the royal monster had said, but each follows in the function of their source. Eulus for wind and lightning, Gemel for duality, Khali for the ultimate mastery over darkness itself.

    And ice beats water, right? That seemed intuitive enough. Even if it was a small fraction of the power, over which she had no mastery at all, against an unfathomably ancient and unknowable monster of the deep.

    Florette reached the water¡¯s edge and plunged her hand downward, willing the ring to do something, calling its power forth with her mind as she had with the Cloak of Nocturne.

    Her fingers were slower to move, stiff, encrusted with crystals, but still she managed to curl them inwards within the water, closing her hand around a newly created ball of ice.

    At least it did something; she hadn¡¯t messed up the binding entirely. But still, a chunk of ice versus the Torrent of the Deep?

    ¡°Where¡¯s Fernan?¡± she asked Mara, since between the blizzard above and the darkness beyond, the water stretching outwards was entirely opaque.

    ¡°There!¡± Mara whipped her neck about three quarters to the left. ¡°His flame is fading.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°No time to waste, then,¡± Florette muttered guiltily, stripping off her winter jacket and diving into the frigid water.

    Khali¡¯s curse, that¡¯s cold as a pirate when you have nothing she wants. Her entire body tensed at the touch of it, all the worse once her hair became soaked. Only the one hand remained as it had, no better or worse, though the ice accumulating in it made keeping a steady swimming form prohibitively difficult.

    ¡°You¡¯re drifting!¡± Mara called from the shore, blasting a line of light to her left to indicate the correct path.

    Of course I am. Of course the fucking thing she¡¯d wasted precious time to make was worse than useless here.

    It¡¯s unforgivable, is what it is, Florette thought as she removed the ring. Her hand went numb the instant it was gone, nearly making her drop it into the endless deep, but her other hand managed to grasp it before her grip slipped, then slid it into a pocket on her trousers. At least swimming went more smoothly after that, though it was still so hard to see that Mara had to play spotter several more times.

    Was it hard to tell which way to go, or just hard to swim straight? There¡¯d been the streams back home, and bathing in Malin¡­ It had seemed so much¡­ easier, then. Am I fucking uncoordinated too now? Really? It was so unfair, but she forced herself to focus.

    Every moment carried a risk of Levian turning his attention away from the beleaguered soldiers and towards her or Fernan. Shit, there¡¯s a good chance this ring sticks out to his sight the way it does to Mara¡¯s, brimming with spiritual energy. Once again, worse than useless.

    Half a year ago, I¡¯d never have hesitated like this, damned myself with doubt. Her breaths grew heavier each time she surfaced for air, straining to keep her teeth from chattering lest an open mouth let any water in. I¡¯m not swimming so far¡­ Why is this so exhausting?

    By the time she reached Fernan, it was hard to imagine having the strength to carry him back.

    His body was warm to the touch, floating unconscious with his head towards the sky. Mara had said she¡¯d be able to tell if he¡¯d died, that she knew he was still too warm, but¡­

    His eyes were empty, vacant holes of darkness absent any flame, any recognition.

    What the fuck is wrong with me?

    Florette wrapped Fernan''s arms around her shoulders, feeling a tightening of his grip so slight she might have been imagining it, and began to swim forward.

    The flame within him radiated out, warding every point where he touched her from the worst of the cold. Several times, a wave knocked her off-course, but Mara was ready each time to guide her back towards the shore.

    Despite that bastard Lucien¡¯s best efforts. Why couldn¡¯t a nice spirit ever try to kill everyone? It wasn¡¯t like they didn¡¯t exist. There was Corro, and the Fallen, and¡­ probably others. Lamante looked cool at least, but it was hard to tell what she really wanted. And Jethro was annoying, but he¡¯d stolen one of Camille¡¯s earrings, which made him at least a little bit alright.

    It felt like it took a hundred times as long to get half as far, even with Mara¡¯s light so much easier to see. Just swim towards it, stupid. This is too easy for even you to mess up.

    It was sort of fitting, though. Lucien was the spirit of water, and he was a total jerk. And Camille was his sage, and she was super mean too. And her uncle, whose name couldn¡¯t easily be recalled; he wasn''t any better.

    I wonder if there¡¯s some stunning but horrible sage Glaciel has back in Hiverre, bossing people around and lying and getting mad at them for being less evil than she is. Glaciel probably had children for that, though.

    ¡°Over here, Florette!¡± Mara called out between jets of flame, even though it was super obvious where she was and all Florette needed to do was swim in a straight line.

    ¡°I know that!¡± she called back, though she only made it about halfway through the sentence before her mouth filled with freezing water. She spat it out as best she could, but the chill still trickled down her throat.

    Wait, is it even freezing water though? Wouldn¡¯t that just be ice? Words could be so strange sometimes.

    Florette wasn¡¯t exactly sure when she reached the island, but she felt her hand bump against it with a thud. It didn¡¯t hurt much, at least.

    Mara helped pull Fernan free with her mouth and onto the ice just in time for another of Levian¡¯s waves to wash over all of them, punishing her for her terrible decision. That¡¯s always me, shooting that girl, stabbing the governor, following her.

    ¡°They¡¯re getting faster,¡± Mara hissed, shaking herself free as steam wafted up from her skin.

    ¡°Moving faster as they go, or there¡¯s less time between them?¡± Florette asked, hauling herself up the edge of the island. Somehow the surface was even colder, air biting through even the slightest adjustments her body had made to the water.

    ¡°Less time. Does it matter?¡±

    ¡°That means¡­¡± She felt her head nodding forward, tendrils of her own hair piercing her scalp on Glaciel¡¯s frigid orders. ¡°It¡¯s more frequent¡­ Not faster¡­ I was just talking about this with you, words are funny¡­¡±

    ¡°Florette? Are you ok?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ fine. It¡¯s just so cold¡­ I need¡­¡± She blinked, trying to keep focused. ¡°What do I need, Mara?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. You¡¯re acting really strange. When my brother Teo wandered too far into the cold, G¨¦zarde helped get him going again. Do humans have someone they go to for that? ¡±

    ¡°Their wife,¡± Florette said, and laughed. ¡°But I¡¯m going to die alone. And Fernan¡¯s sleeping! I need to sleep too. It¡¯s so late, it¡¯s been night for like a thousand hours.¡± She stuck her hand out towards him, but it didn¡¯t reach. Useless again, Florette. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the Ring of Ice Queen. Why do my fingers look so grey? One of her nails had even come off in the water, though she thankfully hadn¡¯t felt it. That¡¯s the last thing I¡¯d need right now.

    They were so clumsy, too, numb enough that the ring slipped out the moment she pulled it from her pocket. It tumbled from her hands, but instead of bouncing on the ice below, it slid across the ice, twirling in a perfect circle, unnaturally smooth. ¡°Did you see that, Mara?¡±

    The poor gecko didn¡¯t understand the importance at all. She completely ignored the ring! ¡°I¡¯m going to try to warm you up, Florette. Don¡¯t fall asleep. Just stand still and try not to get burned.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll get burned,¡± she muttered, resting her head against the soft ground. ¡°You play in the fire, can¡¯t complain if you get burned. That¡¯s my whole life.¡± Her eyes closed. ¡°It¡¯s about time, really¡­¡±

    She managed to rest her eyes in Mara¡¯s warmth for a few minutes before another wave swept across the ice towards them.

    Wait¡­

    Florette jumped for the ring, closing her fist around it just before the water reached them.

    For a brief instant under the water spirit¡¯s assault, everything was horrible again, but Mara¡¯s exhalation helped calm things down again. Holding the ring helped to center her too, to focus on why she was doing this.

    ¡°Fucking Luci¡ªLevian, I mean.¡± Florette shook herself, shivering. ¡°Has to ruin everything.¡±

    ¡°We need to get you and Fernan back to the shore.¡± Mara¡¯s words carried warmth, glorious warmth. ¡°Once you¡¯re warm enough to move, we¡¯ll head back to the wall.¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°Take Fernan. Get him in front of a fire so he¡¯s not burning his own power. I need to duel Glaciel.¡± I need to¡­ She glanced down at the ring in her hand, surrounded by skin of frostbitten grey.

    If I¡¯d been faster, maybe there¡¯d have been enough time to get more power out of her. She scowled. If I hadn¡¯t wasted my time with the Fox-King, thinking he might care about the person who¡¯s saved his fucking life twice.

    Experimentally, she slipped the ring back on, once again causing her hand to take on a pale blue pallor, seemingly unaffected by the frostbite.

    She removed it again, only to find her fingertips still looking awfully grey. Better than before though, if I¡¯m not imagining it. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to do a pass over everything later, at any rate.

    There was Michel, and Corro, and the plan. There was¡­

    The Ring of Glaciel, gliding across the ice.

    I¡¯m an idiot.

    Florette ripped her boot off, stripping off the wet sock right after.

    ¡°Oh right, you can molt away the wet skin to warm up faster! I should have thought of that!¡±

    At least there was a lot less frostbite on her toes. Apparently her boots had still accomplished something.

    Florette gave it a slight nod, then slipped the ring onto one of her toes.

    The cold swept across it once more, pallor shifting to match the ice beneath it. And when she took a step forward¡­

    ¡°Wow!¡±

    Florette slid smoothly across the ice, in no danger of losing her balance. She kicked off with one boot to propel herself forward again, and managed a faster slide, more evenly distributing her weight.

    ¡°Take Fernan back,¡± she repeated, bending down to pick up her thankfully-warmed-and-dried jacket. ¡°I¡¯ll cover you if Levian or Glaciel try to start anything.¡±

    Mara hesitated, then nodded her head. ¡°Stay safe.¡±

    When do I ever? ¡°I will.¡±

    Florette drew her sword, then pushed herself into another slide, sword forward. There was still a spirit of ice to defeat, after all, and even a plan that might just make it possible.

    It¡¯s the least I owe Fernan. With any luck, he¡¯d wake tomorrow to news of G¨¦zarde¡¯s acclaim and Glaciel¡¯s downfall, positioning the scaly prick to beat out the far worse Flammare.

    Levian¡¯s arrival had been catastrophic, but the night wasn¡¯t over yet.

    Stepping out of range of Mara¡¯s comforting warmth was anything but pleasant, but she¡¯d done her job and then some.

    Now it¡¯s time for me to do mine.

 Camille VII: The Malinoise

    Camille VII: The Malinoise

    Now that Camille was rid of that bothersome Guardian, left behind to deal with her thuggish comrades, it was hard not to see this as a success even beyond her initial hopes.

    Almost a hundred Malinoises were following her through the tunnels, each of them personally victimized by Avalon in the last hour due to the violent eviction of the tunnels that Perimont¡¯s minions had enacted.

    That last refuge of so many without warmth or shelter, a place of conviviality not designated for dwelling or labor, where people could get together for a brief instant and forget the bleak world above, all of it was now closed to them.

    The fact that it was a vaguely foul-smelling hole in the ground made no difference now that it was behind them, only the story of lost greatness and the ends it could be turned to.

    Walking through the lively impromptu shelters beneath the ground had served its primary purpose of keeping the Guardian¡¯s at arm¡¯s length, but those fools had gone and followed the backup plan as well, rousing the whole of to flee on penalty of imprisonment or death. They¡¯d burned and blocked off the last possible home that remained to most of these people, however humble the habitation.

    And to think, some of them would have friends, family, those outside, all of them now with more reason to be sympathetic to the plight of occupied Malin.

    Arriving here had been a rude awakening in so many ways. Malin found new ways to fail to live up to Camille¡¯s dreams and memories nearly every day: Fuite Gardens was overgrown to the point of anarchy, with several rare species dead from neglect alongside poor Pierrot who¡¯d so loved attending to them; the castle where Mother had spoken strategy with King Romain, reduced to crumbling half-towers and stray stones on the ground; and the Temple of Levian, home, sinking into the sea it had been built to coexist with, to draw strength from, destined to be buried beneath the waves.

    It was visible at the end of the tunnel now, Lunette¡¯s moonlight glinting off the cracked blue stone at the top of the pyramids. The serpents heads that had once adorned them were missing entirely, rather than damaged. Probably stolen. Perhaps they were sitting in a Cambrian museum right now, a footnote to the greater defeat. Luce had mentioned that Colin Renart¡¯s old lanterns on the New Bridge had been taken for such a purpose, leaving everyone to stumble blindly across it on moonless nights.

    But the worst of it was that no one seemed to care. The few notable families whose reputation and resources survived the Foxtrap had only managed it by renouncing everything the city had once stood for. The Acolytes of Levian, mother¡¯s followers, reduced to an instrument of political cover living off the largesse of a criminal, however noble their leader¡¯s aims. Even the commoners, so many of whom would have lost parents and siblings in the Foxtrap, seemed numb to all but what they needed for survival, no room left to care about lost honor and traditions.

    But those arrogant fools had given them a reason to care again, something they couldn¡¯t ignore. Doubtless, similar actions would follow. It¡¯s impossible to enact a coup without some kind of crackdown, all the more so in occupied territory. Curfews, edicts, prohibitions¡­ Clearing the tunnels would only be the beginning.

    And thanks to Luce and the vows I made, I have every permission to do my utmost to oppose it. After so many miserable months here, finally, everything was coming together.

    Camille allowed herself the slightest smile as she held up her hand, signaling everyone to stop before the end of the tunnel. She turned back to face the crowd following her.

    A few winter coats were scattered throughout, mostly the same wool garments from northern Avalon that Camille had spent so much time handing out, though one boy bore a down jacket fit for a man thrice his size, depleted and patched in several places. The rest were dressed for a Malin winter, a few layers of doublets and raincoats with the odd hat. Prepared as they might be for the rainy and the humid, no one here was properly equipped for the unbearable cold.

    No one save myself.

    Next to the Malinoises of Guerron that Camille had spent so many years attending to, arbitrating justice for, and plotting the homecoming of, these people were a puddle before an ocean. How could these scraggly poor even compare to ¨¦tienne Marcel, the king¡¯s own groom of the vestments, or Sire Raoul de Montgallet, hallowed veteran of the Winter War? Lady Madeleine Lazare, the Mesnil brothers¡­ The very comparison was unfair, when Mother had so carefully chosen who would join them in exile and who would be forced to remain.

    But they have Lucien, and freedom, while these people have only me standing between them and Avalon¡¯s oppressions.

    ¡°Avalon¡¯s Guardians are no longer following,¡± Camille declared, to set them at ease. ¡°For those of you who have homes to return to, places you can stay, I intend to lead a group through the tunnels anew, taking care to remain out of their sight.¡± A few nods responded to that, but not many, and one of the children looked visibly uncomfortable at the very thought. ¡°As for the rest, beyond us lies the Great Temple of Levian, a monument of better days.

    ¡°I have stocked it with provisions ample enough to feed thrice your number, in anticipation of this day.¡± The freezing temperatures made preservation easy, at least. ¡°For, though I had every hope to the contrary, some dark part within me knew that the day would come that Avalon broke its word. Prince Grimoire might have relaxed the worst of it, but he remains a foreigner, accountable to a system incapable of understanding.¡± A foreigner I need to see back in power before the end of this, lest my soul end up enslaved for eternity. ¡°Perimont, Whitbey, Grimoire, all are limbs of the same giant stepping on us, holding us down, disrespecting our character and our glory.¡±

    Some of the older ones looked alert and engaged, but mostly, they all seemed numb. Hard to blame them, with the last place they¡¯d had to call home up in smoke.

    ¡°This is our home!¡± Camille shouted, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls. ¡°Ours! And yet we are made to be foreigners in our own nation, serfs before a tyrant lord. We toil in their fields and factories while they grow fat off our labor, their armies bolstered with our strength, their very tools of destruction created off of our industriousness, their lies upon our lips lest we be punished. I appear before you today not as Lady Leclaire, not as the Spiritual Liaison, but a Malinoise. This city is my home, and I would sooner lose my soul than let it fall further into depravity without defending it!¡±

    That got applause, at least. Finally.

    ¡°¡®Cept it¡¯s not really your home, is it?¡± a dark haired lad of about seventeen shouted from within the crowd.

    ¡°She just saved us, you ingrate!¡±

    ¡°Stop,¡± Camille said, cutting off the chatter before this could devolve any further. ¡°Come here, you of the provocative question.¡±

    ¡°Guy,¡± he corrected, stepping towards the front, eyes still defiant. Of course your name is Guy. ¡°You abandoned us. Ran away with your knights and your servants and left us all to rot. How can you say this is your city when you haven¡¯t even lived here as long as I¡¯ve been alive?¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, an entire life of exile. Camille narrowed her eyes. It¡¯s terribly rude to make someone feel that old. ¡°I was seven, following my mother¡¯s orders, though it pained me to do it. She did abandon you, and for that, I want to offer my apologies to each and every one of you. If I¡¯d had the choice, I would have stayed to fight.¡±

    ¡°You have no idea what we¡¯ve been through. You¡¯ve never gone hungry, or felt the cold. From your first day to your last you¡¯ve been coddled, offered the world and indignant that you cannot also possess the stars.¡±

    I should see if he wants to work at my journal, turning a phrase like that. ¡°Have you ever seen the inside of an Avaline prison, boy? I have, for months. Living off scraps of bread and water in a tiny box somehow bereft of light yet exposed to all the elements. All for daring to question oppression. Have you faced death?¡± Camille pushed the shoulder of her coat back, revealing her bare shoulder, the round scar from Aurelian¡¯s bullet still visible.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    A mark of failure, and vulnerability. It was painful just to acknowledge it, let alone show it to the teeming masses, but¡­ The situation demanded it, and it was true besides. ¡°I was punctured and discarded, slain by a superweapon of Avaline make. From there, my last remaining home was taken, burned and subsumed by the same sage of flame who betrayed us all and ushered in the darkness.¡±

    She tugged her shirt and jacket back into place, smoothing out the resultant wrinkles. ¡°I conquered death so that I might return and fight. I could not choose on the day of the Foxtrap, but I can today, as can we all. My Lucien lies over the water, longing for the day I can return to him, and yet I choose Malin. I returned to liberate you, and I won¡¯t stop until I do.¡±

    Next, Guy would probably object on the basis of practicality, arguing that all of it was still hopeless, futile. Camille had a rebuttal ready, emphasizing Avaline division and weakness, and the hidden strength of Malin. She¡¯d given it a thousand times before when courting allies for reclamation, and while it rested more on emotion and rhetoric than fact, that had often been no obstacle. She readied herself to rebut, but the moment never came.

    Her response seemed to satisfy the annoying boy. His eyes were still narrowed, no doubt skeptical that she could live up to her promise, but he didn¡¯t raise another objection, and neither did anyone else.

    You can¡¯t forget that this is a different audience, with different expectations. Mother and Emile had both emphasized that, each in their own way.

    ¡°Now let us go!¡± she finished. ¡°A most busy night awaits.¡±

    ?

    Busy indeed. Camille had needed to spend hours organizing everyone at the Great Temple, ensuring that they had warm fires and food while the bulk of the supplies remained hidden, and the smoke could vent out through underwater tunnels meant to deliver Levian his offerings so as not to give them all away. But of course those had been designed for largely symbolic purposes, and for small burnings of candles and incense rather than roaring fires.

    That meant not only digging around in the walls with decades-old rusty pipes, but also constantly walking far enough back to assess the risk posed by the remaining smoke trailing into the dark sky. Eventually, it had seemed simpler to get the temple baths back up and running than to spot-check half a dozen different fires, but that in turn meant hours more work and more energy burned.

    At least it worked.

    The bells marking hours had ceased since the coup, so it was impossible to gauge exactly how much time had passed, but it certainly felt like days. Many of the Malinoises had slept and awoken several times, while Camille considered herself lucky to have stashed enough pixie powder to avoid falling over on her feet.

    And that was before having to lead all the errant Malinoises home.

    Those who¡¯d merely been visiting the tunnels, who¡¯d had other homes to return to, had melted away as they¡¯d walked under the city, Camille directing each along the most efficient path to their respective quartier. Efficiency was vital for all who wished to avoid detainment and questioning, just as much as it was for her.

    None of them knew this place like I do. Some of the old paths she¡¯d favored had frozen over or flooded, but neither was an issue for her beyond a bit more power expended, and each obstacle overcome had the benefit of making pursuit less likely. A benefit to avoid Charlotte just as much as the others, really.

    The expedition became a seemingly never-ending task as more gathered to join them at every entrance, most mercifully headed back to the Great Temple with the others, but so many more in need of a way home outside of the Guardian¡¯s watchful eyes. Apparently Whitbey had instituted a curfew above, with any remaining on the streets after nightfall subject to detainment and then, presumably, torture.

    Of course, that meant no one was allowed out at all. The entire city had ground to a halt while the coupists consolidated their control, nothing allowed to resume until it was indisputable and complete. The deliveries of firewood had ceased, operations into the forest suspended. No one was allowed in or out of the Governor¡¯s mansion. Even the journals had replaced the entirety of their content with an elegant engraving of a swan intended for a fluff article on migratory patterns, blown up to fill the page.

    Scott came through, it seems.

    Such actions made a certain amount of sense, of course. For all their reckless butchery, they weren¡¯t entirely stupid, at least not all of them. It was certainly in their interest to behave this way, seizing the means of legitimacy through force of arms, but fortunately it also made them predictable.

    Already, it was working against them. At every juncture, there had been long overdue words of appreciation and thanks, hanging sweetly in the air.

    ¡°When King Romain ruled, we never had to deal with nothing like this,¡± an old man had said under the exit to the old merchant quartier, his ears grey with frostbite. ¡°The whole city¡¯s been going to shit for twenty years, and it¡¯s about time we got things back to the way they¡¯re supposed to be.¡± He¡¯d given her an encouraging nod before going on his way.

    ¡°Way I hear it, you was part of the reason the Governor got himself buried,¡± a middle aged woman had said, then winked. ¡°Keep up the good work.¡±

    ¡°Levian¡¯s blessing to you, Lady Leclaire,¡± a few others had said, which was perhaps the most encouraging of all.

    Beyond mere words, some of the children had gone so far as to offer gifts, from a green ribbon to a glass marble to a woven doll of straw. Somehow, a boy no older than twelve had managed to scratch Camille¡¯s likeness into paper with charcoal merely in the time they¡¯d been walking. One audacious little girl had even slipped her a handful of psyben root along with a scrap of paper advertising her services when her father¡¯s eyes were turned away.

    Camille had accepted every one. Regardless of their lack of utility, each represented appreciation. Gratitude. Belief in me, and free Malin.

    At last.

    You were right, uncle. Adoration cannot be assumed, it must be earned. Camille spared a moment of worry for him, caught in the middle of complicated and vicious politics in a city occupied by spirits. He¡¯d been trained as an Acolyte and the brother of the High Priestess, but his latest fights were decades behind him. His duties since the Foxtrap had largely been caretaking, rather than martial.

    And yet, returning from his disappearance proved that he was a survivor. He¡¯d escaped Camille¡¯s and Lucien¡¯s downfalls in the wake of the duel and bided his time, choosing the moment to return when he was needed most. Even if it didn¡¯t suit his nature, he would acquit himself as he had to, no matter the cost.

    As must I, Camille thought, turning back to the man before her.

    ¡°It¡¯s inevitable that word will get out, and then the coupists will have no recourse but to march on the Temple. What do you think they¡¯ll do to the people inside?¡±

    Pierre Cadoudal, current leader of the Acolytes, kindhearted provider for the misfortuned, and part-time puppet in service to Jacques Clocha?ne¡¯s business interests, met Camille¡¯s eyes evenly. ¡°Yes, that is a very dangerous situation which you have contrived. And now you want me to send everyone sheltered here to your tinderbox, expel them from safety that they might find danger?¡±

    ¡°Danger will find them no matter what. The only reason you haven¡¯t gotten a knock on your door yet is that they know to go through Clocha?ne first.¡±

    He frowned at that, but didn¡¯t dispute it. ¡°I have, as it happens. Captain Whitbey himself appeared before me and demanded a list of every soul taking shelter within my halls. Lady Perimont needed to be sure that no subversive elements were taking advantage of my kindness, that¡¯s how he put it.¡±

    ¡°And you refused?¡±

    He rubbed darkened eyes, clearly not well-rested himself. ¡°I told him it would take a day to prepare. We don¡¯t question those who enter, for all are welcome.¡±

    ¡°Stalling,¡± Camille summarized. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you went to Clocha?ne for help, and he didn¡¯t even bother respond. Too busy, no doubt.¡±

    ¡°He sent a message,¡± Cadoudal hissed through grit teeth. ¡°Until all of this finishes shaking out, none of us are to make any waves. Or any enemies.¡±

    Even better. ¡°If I were in your position, and didn¡¯t want some fraction of those in my care hauled away for ¡®subversiveness¡¯, I would probably be pretty grateful to find that a colleague had prepared an alternative site with warmth and supplies.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s taking a stand, which endangers everyone else.¡±

    ¡°What is the alternative? The death of a thousand cuts? Whitbey will not spare you unless you follow his every whim. Before long you¡¯ll be writing lists of everyone who enters your temple and passing them along to the forresters. At that point you may as well die, for all the good you¡¯d be doing them.¡± She gestured back to the main hall, where malinoises continued to shelter around Pierre¡¯s fire. ¡°You do not trust me, not fully, and I cannot blame you for that. So instead¡ª¡± She flicked over the marble she¡¯d been given over to the Acolyte, who caught it with one hand. ¡°¡ªI want you to supervise it. Whatever you think of me, I trust you to have the people¡¯s interests foremost in mind. Lead your ward to the Great Temple, and take charge of all who have gathered there. Draw on my supplies, tend to their needs, ensure that order is maintained, and¡ªshould the worst come to pass¡ªlet a signal blaze high into the sky, and I will return to aid you.¡±

    Pierre bit his lip, weighing the decision. For the first time, he truly looks like an Acolyte of Levian.

    ¡°I¡¯ve framed this as a choice, but for a man such as you, it really isn¡¯t. If you refuse me now, then soon Whitbey will return, and you will be asked to commit a betrayal to those under your protection, one I know you are not capable of. Then you¡¯ll need to make a stand just the same, in this indefensible place, with no power behind you. Then you¡¯ll be able to help no one.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± he said, managing to make it sound like a curse. ¡°I¡¯ll begin gathering everyone. There are sick who cannot be safely moved through the cold, but I shall¡ª¡±

    ¡°I leave the details to you.¡± Camille patted him on the shoulder. ¡°And thank you.¡±

 Eloise VII: The Pillar of Commerce

    Eloise VII: The Pillar of Commerce

    Hobbling down from the north end to the beach was absolutely miserable. Eloise felt the constant ache in her leg jump to flaring pain with every step she took, forcing her to lean on Yse and a makeshift walking stick lifted from the hearth all the while. Though better than the alternative, I guess.

    The city was strangely quiet for all of the shit-stirring that had been happening earlier, mostly just patrols of Guardians to avoid upon hearing them coming, with an occasional regular person fleeing that didn¡¯t need to be avoided at all. Even the residences wealthy enough to have glass windows, rare on this side of town, had thick curtains of fabric covering every exposure.

    A good thing, too. Last thing we need is some patrol deciding to pick a fight. Yse could maybe take out a couple with surprise on his side, but Eloise was in no condition to help. Most likely, they wouldn¡¯t bother, though. If those idiots thought they could take over the city, they¡¯d have better things to do than camp out at an old ruin.

    The empty streets didn¡¯t exactly let them make good time, after the shit Mince had pulled, but it at least helped balance things out.

    Eloise winced as she stepped onto the beach, her stick sinking into the sand enough to mess up her movement, almost tripping her until Yse grabbed her arm.

    Fucking Mince. Even dead she¡¯s a pain in my ass.

    ¡°Uh, Eloise?¡± Yse asked, pointing towards the old temple in the distance.

    She followed his gaze, looking at the conditions of the¡ª¡°Fuck!¡±

    ¡°No guardians, at least. Unless they¡¯re infiltrating without their uniforms.¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, no problem at all then. Fucking brilliant.¡±

    Without any fire to light it up, the effect was hard to notice at first, but impossible to miss once it became visible. The accursed temple teemed with people, flowing in and out of the tunnel entrance like ants to their burrow, each shadow scurrying across the sand to reach the old ruin with minimal exposure.

    ¡°Maybe we should come back later?¡± Yse ventured. ¡°They¡¯re not being all that subtle. Guardians are bound to find them eventually.¡±

    ¡°And then what? If Jacques doesn¡¯t have Margot, then the Guardians got her already. You know? The guys with all those qualms about killing children, who like to wait a while before executing people? We¡¯ve got a day at most, and that¡¯s if they bother to keep track of time in the midst of this.¡± Eloise slammed her stick into the ground, leaving it with a long crack down the middle. Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°Look, I know you¡¯ve already done a lot. I¡¯m not asking you to storm the prison with me, but¡­¡± But aren¡¯t I? It¡¯s not like I could do it alone, and there¡¯s no one else left.

    A burst of pain flared up, though she hadn¡¯t done anything to cause it.

    ¡°I get it. You¡¯d stick out trying to sneak in there.¡± Yse nodded, then turned his head towards the temple. ¡°Where did you stash them, then?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± In that underground chamber with the pool of water, up on stilts in case it floods. The entrance had been firmly shut and covered with dust and muck, clearly unused and unfound since the Foxtrap. And with a cloth over them, even someone who¡¯d brought a torch down would struggle to make them out in the darkness.

    But what happens when I tell him that? He¡¯d saved her from Mince, that seemed like the sort of thing that ought to earn some trust¡ªNo, some confidence in his reliability. But her old crew should have too, longtime allies on the Seaward Folly and their handpicked replacements. So should have the train heist crew, but instead they¡¯d been teeming with fucking rats, handing weapons over to Mince to try to kill her, forcing Eloise to dig up all the stashes that were left and haul them out here by herself.

    Yse had defied Jacques in whacking Mince like that, but it¡¯d be easy enough to explain away if he had to, if the return were good enough. Mince hadn¡¯t exactly made many friends. Yse would be aware of the value of what Eloise knew, and what he could accomplish with it.

    No, Yse was probably about as trustworthy as they came, but that didn¡¯t stop the whole exercise from being stupid.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to show you. Some of those people look like they¡¯re limping anyway; I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡± He took a step towards the temple, then stopped, belatedly realizing the issue.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to double back and go through the tunnels, blend in with the crowd.¡± More walking, for fuck¡¯s sake. How nice it would have been just to wait here.¡°You might want to take a dive in the sand before we go; your jacket is looking a bit pristine for this crowd.¡±

    ¡°What, and you don¡¯t have to?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m covered in blood, with a broken leg. I think I¡¯ll manage.¡±

    Yse glared, but clearly he saw the sense in it, since he began to unbutton his jacket. He peeled it off with a shiver, clearly contemplating leaving it behind entirely, then wrapped it around his arm. ¡°This cost me seven hundred mandala, you know. From a store that doesn¡¯t stock them anymore because they¡¯re made of the finest Fortan wool.¡±

    ¡°I could wipe some blood on it, but the sand is probably easier to wash out.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Or you could chance it, leave it as it is. That¡¯s not what I¡¯d recommend, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Every sheep is infused with a trace of power from a dead flame spirit,¡± he muttered, wiping his jacket along the wet ground, flipped inside-out. ¡°Buy one now, and you¡¯ll use it for life!¡±

    ¡°Maybe give it a rip too, just for authenticity.¡±

    ¡°Maybe we should break your other leg while we¡¯re at it.¡± He pulled on the jacket, mucky lining facing out. ¡°I can¡¯t even dry this over a fire without it shrinking. And good luck getting anywhere with a clothesline in this frigid, sunless wasteland.¡±

    ¡°My heart bleeds for you, Ysengrin, wasting so much of your money on something so impractical.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not the only thing you¡¯ve got bleeding right now. Let¡¯s just go.¡±

    An alternative tunnel entrance wasn¡¯t far, but somehow that only made it worse, spending twenty minutes shuffling glacially down a path that should have taken five.

    And then the tunnel itself, illuminated only by half a candle that Eloise had fallen on and broken apart, still more than many of the other people there could manage.

    A boy of maybe fifteen was manning the exit, gesturing for another group to run across the sand once the previous one made it to the temple, controlling the flow of people. As they got closer, it was easier to see the streak of blue in his hair, the same Acolyte marker Claude had worn. ¡°Guessing you can¡¯t run?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly setting any tourney records.¡±

    The boy smiled, waving another group through. ¡°Just wait a few minutes, and I¡¯ll get some of the lads to carry you. Two¡¯s probably enough; you¡¯re just a slip of a thing.¡±

    And you¡¯re just a stupid child playing at gallantry. That was much the same for the adults who tried their hand at it, admittedly, and this was no time to protest.

    I could have just sent Yse by himself and avoided the ¡®sack of flour¡¯ treatment. If he¡¯d taken the guns and thrown her to Jacques, though, this hardship paled in comparison.

    ¡°Actually, Colin, I¡¯d like a word with her first. And her friend.¡±

    Oh, what now?

    ¡°The woman in blue¡­¡± Yse turned his head to face Camille Leclaire, great spirit of talking herself up and then getting shot without accomplishing anything. ¡°Wait, didn¡¯t I see you in Clocha?ne Candles?¡±

    ¡°No, obviously that was some other girl with her entire head dyed blue.¡± Eloise rolled her eyes, feigning a lack of concern. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±

    Camille led them back a ways, then into an alcove out of earshot, the beginnings of a tunnel down that was sealed off, filled with ice. She¡¯d cut her hair, the blue now only a ring around the outside, while most of it was dirty-blonde with a heavy emphasis on the ¡®dirty¡¯. Her coat didn¡¯t fit very well, almost completely obscuring her figure, and even smelled faintly of sweat.

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    How the mighty have fallen.

    ¡°What are you smiling about? You look like you tried to fight a bear and lost.¡±

    Eloise smiled harder. ¡°You look like you tried to fight a sun sage and lost.¡±

    The aristocrat scowled at that, delightfully. ¡°You haven¡¯t introduced me to your fine friend here, Eloise. Where are your manners?¡±

    Probably buried next to my mother. ¡°This is Ysengrin. He¡¯s solid.¡±

    ¡°Ysengrin?¡± She smiled. ¡°You, sire, know your history.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t know shit. He saw a tapestry of a wolf with that written under it and insisted that it was his alias from then on.

    ¡°I do,¡± Yse lied, returning her smile.

    Oh no.

    ¡°Obviously you¡¯re aware of how crucial Ysengrimus was to the Fox Queen¡¯s victory in Charenton, but did you know that the spirit-touched shadow dogs were named ¡®grims¡¯ after him? That in turn is one suspected origin for the Grimoire family name, though of course that could also come from the Old Imperial word ¡®grammaire¡¯ for scribe, since only the upper echelons of their society could read and write.¡±

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s both,¡± Yse offered, trying to contribute without having any of the knowledge needed to do it.

    ¡°Speaking of history, Yse, this is Camille Leclaire. She fled Malin to leave it occupied, then returned only once she¡¯d ruined things in her Guerron hideaway and had no other options.¡± If you let her get her hooks into you just because she¡¯s a pretty face capable of banal compliments¡­

    ¡°When I was seven, after my mother sacrificed herself to give us a way out, that we might survive to fight another day, to return and liberate our people. I¡¯ve been preparing my entire life for this moment.¡± She shrugged. ¡°But I suppose there¡¯s also value in aimlessly burglarizing people.¡±

    ¡°Actually, I mostly focus on distribution.¡± He adjusted his jacket, transparently showing off. ¡°Though it never hurts to have a little muscle.¡±

    ¡°I dare say not.¡±

    How can you not see through this? She doesn¡¯t even look that good right now. ¡°Well, happy to make these introductions. Every new face could be a new friend, as they say. Now, if that will be all, we should really be¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sneaking into my temple?¡± Leclaire finished. ¡°I thought you might be here to see me, trying to get my help weaseling out of your vow to the Prince of Darkness. But you stashed the pistols there, didn¡¯t you? Why else would you be so eager to go?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself. Most people feel that way pretty quickly when they¡¯re talking to you.¡± Fuck! Why did I have to get sentimental about the hiding place? Really, Eloise should have moved them again the moment she¡¯d started negotiating with the aristocrat, but if Camille had been watching the temple or Eloise, that would have been a great way to give it away for nothing. Even now, it could be weeks before she found them. Leclaire would have often frequented the temple as a child, but a child would hardly have explored every forgotten crevice, and the hatch down thoroughly blended into the floor.

    Next time, instead of telling anyone, or picking the place she¡¯d kissed her first girl, Eloise would just pick a random spot and dig a hole. No co-conspirators, no complications. None of this shit that was progressively eroding everything.

    If there even is a next time.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest with you,¡± Leclaire began, obviously lying. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept since the coup started; I¡¯ve been running back and forth across town trying to get people to shelter before the Guardians club their head in; and I still don¡¯t know where they¡¯re keeping Luce, if he¡¯s even still alive. I vowed to protect him against Avaline enemies, and I would hazard the guess that you are in a similar boat after your deal before Cya. Not screwing him over, etcetera.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. He was captured?¡± I just saw him, right when the¡­ ¡°Fuck me.¡±

    ¡°Captured at a minimum, but I have to imagine they¡¯d want him dead publicly if he were. Otherwise they risk parts of the Avaline apparatus continuing to act on his behalf. I have a contact who¡¯s close to Lady Perimont, and an inkling that he might better know what¡¯s going on, but I can¡¯t get within a mile of him without a Guardian grabbing me.¡±

    ¡°Really? With that hair, you blend right in.¡±

    ¡°They know my face too. I¡¯ve spent most of the last two months coming and going from the Governor¡¯s Mansion. I was hoping I could send someone to talk, get an idea of where we can plan the jailbreak. Charlotte would have been better, but I was already pushing my luck there. She barely trusts me enough not to shoot me.¡±

    Eloise rolled her eyes. I can¡¯t imagine why.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine why,¡± Yse said, concerned. ¡°But I can¡¯t help but notice that you¡¯re asking us to do something and offering nothing in return.¡± There you go, Yse! Nicely done. ¡°This whole beach colony thing is going to poke a fork into Avalon¡¯s eyes, and I¡¯m all for that, but I don¡¯t work for free, and neither does Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Liberating Malin isn¡¯t enough?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re talking about rescuing the dark prince. Not exactly the same thing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all part of a plan to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got a great plan, but even then, we¡¯re not here to do your bidding.¡±

    Camille chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s cute that you think I¡¯m talking about you, Ysengrin, but it¡¯s Eloise that I need. Perimont is gathering up the Convocation of Commerce in a few hours to ensure they¡¯re all behind her, and I need someone who could credibly attend, like Jacques Clocha?ne¡¯s lieutenant.¡±

    Yse shot Eloise a look, apparently not experienced enough in negotiating to know to avoid that sort of thing.

    Leclaire exhaled a visible stream of air through her nose. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Jacques¡­ might not take kindly to seeing me there. We had what¡¯s referred to in the candle business as a professional disagreement.¡±

    ¡°I mean, he¡¯s not going to attack you then and there, right? Not in a room full of businessmen.¡± Yse scratched his chin. ¡°Ms. Sunderland goes to those things too. He¡¯d have her and her people watch you, make sure you¡¯re followed every step of the way until you¡¯re out of sight. Then¡ª¡±

    ¡°Buy me a cup of tea, no doubt.¡± Stop giving away details in front of her. At least he hadn¡¯t mentioned Margot. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t underestimate his brutality. With me, there¡¯s a good chance he¡¯d want to do it personally. Normally I think I¡¯d be able to slip out of Sunderland¡¯s grasp, but like this¡­¡± Once again, Mince, from the bottom of my shriveled black heart, fuck you. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s all beside the point until we talk about payment.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Leclaire clicked her tongue disapprovingly. ¡°I¡¯ll purchase the pistols, as we discussed, with further compensation for your help in this matter. Perhaps an additional quarter of the price?¡±

    ¡°Double it.¡±

    ¡°You¡ªfine. I don¡¯t have time for this. Double the price, once Malin is in our hands once more. Now show me where you hid the pistols.¡±

    Eloise scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s not how this works.¡±

    ¡°Money up front,¡± Yse added.

    ¡°I¡¯ll find them eventually, you know. There¡¯s not an inch of the Great Temple I haven¡¯t explored.¡±

    ¡°Seventeen years ago. And it¡¯s filled with people now. Can you afford to wait, just to steal what I would so happily sell you?¡±

    Eyes narrowed, Camille bit her lip. ¡°Have you no loyalty at all? This is hardly the time to be haggling over trivialities.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s so trivial, then just pay us. I¡¯m the one with the high card here, I get to set the terms. Unless you want to spend the next week on your hands and knees scrubbing every inch of that place while Malin collapses around you, shut up and pay me.¡±

    With a growl, the aristocrat slammed her hand against the wall of the tunnel. ¡°I can¡¯t, alright? Not until we link up with Guerron and get florins from there.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that is such bullshit. You¡¯re richer than a hundred of the people back there put together. I already gave you a discount, you ingrate.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°Do you think I took a sack of gold with me into the watery depths? This is how it has to be.¡±

    ¡°Money up front,¡± Yse repeated.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been palling around with princes and lordlings since the minute you arrived here. I¡¯m sure you can scare up a few thousand mandala.¡± Even if the price is considerably more than that.

    ¡°That prince is captured or dead, the lordling just as far out of reach for me. I have a salary as Spiritual Liaison, but¡­¡± She bit her lip, putting on a sheepish face.

    No, that¡¯s not possible. ¡°You spent all of it? The whole point of money is using it to get more money.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been funding a journal far above its budget, buying candles and blankets by the wagonload to try to keep people alive. I gave the last of it to Pierre Cadoudal for supplies. If I win, I won¡¯t need it.¡± You won¡¯t need it if you lose either. ¡°I could help with the Clocha?ne issue. Ensure that he doesn¡¯t show up to this meeting. That would smooth your path quite a bit, would it not?¡±

    Eloise looked to Yse, who shrugged. ¡°I could maybe keep Ms. Sunderland clear long enough to give you an out. They don¡¯t know where I stand.¡±

    She turned back to Camille, with her baggy eyes and messy hair, someone whose first and last thought on hearing that Eloise didn¡¯t want to screw Luce over was that a spirit had compelled her to do it, who was trying right now to alter their deal in her favor for a nebulous plan.

    But if Margot¡¯s in a cell, I might not have a choice. Whether or not she told Camille anything, using this contact of hers could be her best chance of finding her sister. And if Luce were really on the ropes¡­ Well, it couldn¡¯t hurt. He¡¯d probably pay well after too, softy that he was.

    ¡°Alright, Yse, you were right, I should have just sent you in alone.¡± Eloise folded her arms, letting her cracked stick lean against the wall. ¡°There¡¯s a good chance I¡¯ll have a few names to add to that prison-break list.¡±

    ¡°No such thing as too many.¡±

    ¡°Throw in seven hundred mandala for Ysengrin, and I agree.¡±

    ¡°Done.¡± Camille took Eloise¡¯s outstretched hand and shook it. ¡°I¡¯m glad you can see things my way.¡±

    You are so full of shit, you poncy prick. ¡°The meeting, and guns, in exchange for double the initial price. And if you don¡¯t honor that, I¡¯ll shoot you myself.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Camille clasped her hands together connivingly. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can get you some clothes that are a bit less¡­ covered in blood. I think I know where to get you a proper cane, too. A nice serpent¡¯s head handle¡­¡± She continued prattling on, leading them back to the beachside exit.

    There¡¯s a sixty percent chance she¡¯s plotting to dispose of me the moment it¡¯s convenient.

    If she tries, she¡¯ll get more than she bargained for.

 Florette X: The Insect

    Florette X: The Insect

    It seemed almost impossible, at this point. As Florette¡¯s head began to finally clear, that only became more obvious, the delusion of success harder to humor.

    For all that Glaciel¡¯s castle was embedded deep in a pit, the Hiveriiens were still managing periodic sorties, covering their ascent with a hail of javelins and retreating back before Lucien¡¯s wet and scattered forces could manage to regroup from Levian¡¯s waves. Apparently all of the boats had capsized too, which meant that Florette¡¯s plan there would amount to nothing either.

    The only upside was that Fernan was alive, and being taken to safety far away from this battlefield. Only to wake up to the news that this entire endeavor was a failure.

    Florette had had a plan, had taken time to consider every angle and come up with the best solution, but now that was all in ruins. And yet, what else is there? She had the Ring of Glaciel, at least, allowing her to traverse the ice by smoothly sliding across, rather than clumsily slipping and stumbling, but she was still just one person. She could only do so much against the Hiverriens, let alone Glaciel or Levian.

    But is that truly all it can do? The ring had turned the water around it to ice, when it had rested on her finger. That didn¡¯t mean anything else for certain, but¡­

    Florette pushed herself forwards, sliding up to the edge of the island. She planted one boot firmly on the ground, and lowered her bare foot bearing the Ring of Glaciel towards the water.

    Yes! Where it touched, ice formed beneath it, floating on the surface of the water.

    Cautiously, Florette shifted her weight towards the water, but the ice beneath it held. She pushed off Glaciel¡¯s island out over the water, and skated across the surface as if it were solid. All the more useful, then. That opened up genuine possibilities.

    And also makes me an absolute idiot for swimming after Fernan. I could have died for no reason, even trying to take the more cautious course. The days of being bludgeoned over the head with her own follies, apparently, were far from their end. But that was no reason to stop now.

    Fernan had been saved, and there hadn¡¯t been time to mess around with the new artifact while he froze to death. What¡¯s done is done. Now it fell to Florette to use it as best she could.

    She awkwardly paddled forward, trying to get a visual confirmation of Levian¡¯s presence before the next wave hit.

    As if that would be possible. Florette pushed herself back to the shore with a frown, her efforts at spotting the water spirit come to naught.

    The Torrent of the Deep lurked beneath the waves, not even poking his head out. Maybe Fernan or Mara would have been able to see his aura through the water, but as it was he could wreak havoc on the island with impunity from underwater, completely unreachable by normal means.

    And Glaciel, locked up tight in her regenerating castle, was little better. Florette had barely managed to infiltrate once with the element of surprise. Even with a Cloak of Nocturne, Glaciel would be watching vigilantly this time, spreading her presence and awareness through the castle.

    The spirits were just in another realm entirely, their power exceeding armies a thousand times their number. They were mortal, ultimately, even vulnerable, but chopping off a toe with the element of surprise differed so vastly from winning an honorable duel with her ace in the hole gone that committing to it would practically be choosing to die.

    That wouldn¡¯t make it the wrong decision, necessarily, but¡­

    The Winter Queen seemed most invested in restoring her castle, thickening the areas she¡¯d weakened and smoothing out walls that had collapsed entirely. Occasionally her face was visible in the side of the castle, or poking up above it, but she never ventured out directly. Probably no need, when her soldiers can pour out the moment the Fox-King has his britches down.

    Still, it seemed strange. Why not dispose of the invaders first, then repair in peace? Lucien Renart was hardly threatening the physical integrity of the castle at the moment, so busy with keeping some semblance of order amongst his sodden, freezing forces. Why fixate on the structure?

    Levian, too, remained out of sight, and clearly he didn¡¯t need to show himself to be effective. Waves continued to sweep over the ice every minute or so, knocking most of Lucien¡¯s forces out of formation, even pushing the most remote off into the water. They came fast enough that few had even quite recovered from the last when the next arrived, though some of his field engineers were making a valiant attempt to build up the wooden walkway on stilts to have a protected platform.

    Glaciel and Levian. They¡¯re the real problems, and they refuse to show themselves. Doing anything about them even if they did would be hard enough, but as things were, they were untouchable. Put that way, it was easier to envision a course of action, perhaps a way to accomplish something, at least, whether it could salvage this effort or not. I could hardly do anything less.

    The next wave arrived, no doubt sweeping many behind Florette off their feet, but she was focused on the source, looking for Levian. In the murky dark, it was hard to tell with any certainty, but it did seem to be rippling out from a central point, thankfully. That meant there were options.

    Florette jumped into the air, planting her foot down on the wave as it reached her and vaulting over, using the bit of ice that formed to lengthen her reach. Levian would be under the water beyond it, though he still had not deigned to surface.

    ¡°Coward!¡± Florette shouted, directing the sound of her voice towards the water. Flammare had definitely had an ego, and Soleil all the more so. This might work, so it was worth a try. ¡°Afraid to show your face in front of a few humans? It¡¯s pathetic.¡±

    Her words were greeted only by the crashing of mundane waves against the icy shore.

    Levian, apparently, would not take the bait.

    Fine.

    Florette kicked out further, gliding across the water and leaving a trail of ice behind her on the surface. As she looked back, the part of the trail closest to shore was already beginning to break apart with the movement of the waves, but that was fine. There were other ways to return.

    ¡°I met your High Priestess, Levian,¡± Florette shouted again towards the water, reasonably confident that the spirit would be able to hear her. ¡°She was much like her master: callous, selfish, and weak. She wielded your power deftly, yet it all came to nothing. She failed against Soleil¡¯s sage, and again in the city of her birth. I would say you chose your champion poorly, but really, she suits you. One self-absorbed coward playing at power to serve another.¡± That was slagging Camille more than even she deserved, really, but Florette had no prohibitions on lying, and the point was to piss him off.

    Yet still, he remained silent.

    ¡°When I return to Malin, I think I¡¯ll kill her. Finish the job that Lumi¨¨re started. I don¡¯t expect it will be difficult.¡± Florette reached a distance that seemed about right based on what she¡¯d observed on shore, the rough location Levian might have been several minutes ago. As if he isn¡¯t constantly moving anyway.

    ¡°Emile Leclaire is no better. He turned his tail and fled the moment his people lost control of the city, then spent months licking his wounds. He made a deal with Glaciel on behalf of humanity, working against your partner for the sake of us lowly insects. Doesn¡¯t that make you mad?¡±

    Another tall wave approached, destined to sweep across the ice once more, but nothing marked it for Florette in particular, no indication that her words had reached him.

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    What the fuck? All she had to do was get someone to try to kill her; that was supposed to be the easy part! It happened all the time.

    ¡°If you¡¯re helping Glaciel, that must mean you think she can win. Otherwise you¡¯d just be ruining your reputation for nothing. If that¡¯s so, where do you think you sit in all of this? Your followers will die if she prevails, along with any potential others. The only remaining humans in the world of eternal night will be kin to Glaciel, eager to serve her and no others. Your influence will wane as the oceans freeze over, gradually whittled down to nothing. It just doesn''t make any sense.¡± It actually doesn¡¯t. ¡°What do you even want? What are you hoping to get out of this?¡±

    Thinking like a spirit, an embodiment of power and ego, with humanity a distant concern at best¡­ It still didn¡¯t fit. Whatever the details of Emile Leclaire¡¯s deal with Glaciel, Levian surely couldn¡¯t have been bound to them without choosing to be. If a victory for the Winter Queen didn¡¯t help him in some way, he would never have agreed to be bound by a deal. And if he hadn¡¯t, then why was helping her?

    ¡°You don¡¯t think she¡¯ll win,¡± Florette realized, gliding to a stop over the water. ¡°You¡¯re killing the humans fighting her, but¡­¡± He could never have expected us to be able to kill her. I came the closest, and I still never had a real chance. That was with Magnifico¡¯s artifacts, which Levian wouldn¡¯t have known about. ¡°But we¡¯re no real threat to her. Rats nibbling at her toes. You¡¯re wiping us off the board so there¡¯s no chance we can drive her to flee before Flammare can finish her permanently.¡±

    Perhaps it was Florette¡¯s imagination, but it looked like the pattern to the waves stopped for a moment, an interruption that said as much in its silence as a thousand words.

    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll tell Glaciel that. I could swear it to be truth before her and watch when she realizes she can¡¯t claim my soul. How might things go for you then, Torrent of the Deep?¡± Florette could barely finish talking before the water began to swirl around her, a draining vortex pulling her down and in.

    She kicked uselessly against the water, failing entirely to outpace the current. Well, I guess I got what I wanted. Would Levian emerge from the deep to drag her under, or allow the whirlpool to do the work for him? That affected how to approach things.

    The Ring of Glaciel could maybe let Florette push off of the water spirit the way she¡¯d vaulted over the wave, using the right burst of energy at just the right moment, but the window would be narrow, and it depended on Levian deciding to play with his food.

    The Blade of Khali could threaten him, but out on the water, there was hardly a chance Florette could land a blow against the serpentine spirit, and he would know that. If anything, brandishing it would make it more likely he¡¯d stay at a distance, giving her even less to work with.

    That left the Cloak of Nocturne, and hiding herself in darkness. Glaciel hadn¡¯t noticed, so there was at least a good chance it would help hide her.

    And then what? She could dive into the water and start swimming and maybe fare a bit better against the current than paddling with her feet, at the cost of probably freezing to death. She¡¯d barely made the swim last time, and that was without a spirit of water actively trying to kill her.

    I just had to taunt him, had to run my fucking mouth¡­

    At least she was distracting him. On the shore, lit torches illuminated a raised platform around the hole Glaciel¡¯s castle had fallen into. Lucien and the others were taking advantage of the reprieve to strengthen their position and gather themselves back into a semblance of order. In the gloom it was hard to be sure, but it looked like stakes for the stilts they sat atop had been buried deep into the ice. It might even be enough to ride out Levian¡¯s next assault unharmed.

    I set out to goad him, and that much did work, sort of¡­

    Swirling in a wide circle towards her doom, Florette began to laugh. ¡°That was so easy, Levian! I expected better of the Torrent of the Deep.¡±

    He didn¡¯t respond directly, but that didn¡¯t necessarily mean this wouldn¡¯t work.

    ¡°I just had to distract you long enough for them to build those walls and towers, and you fell for it like a fool!¡± Florette watched for any change in the movement of the water, but none appeared. ¡°You think I just figured out your plan just now? The Fox-King is betrothed to your High Priestess. It¡¯s been obvious from the start, and all I needed to do to halt you was put on a little performance of discovering it.¡± She let out another loud, forced laugh. ¡°Kill me now if you like. I¡¯ve accomplished what I set out to do. A minor sacrifice, to render your efforts hollow. By the time your next wave approaches, it will break uselessly against their fortifications. You¡¯ll have to go out and show yourself if you want to make any difference at all.¡±

    Was that a slight hitch in the current?

    ¡°That, or you allow us to prevail. We were winning before you showed up. Glaciel is backed into a corner, injured, having spent inordinate power defending herself. Already, I swear, she was close to accepting a retreat when Corro spoke to her. Take my soul if that¡¯s a lie. She refused because she believed she could win, but now that you¡¯ve allowed yourself to be distracted and manipulated like a simpleton, her withdrawal is all but certain. All because you took your eye off the prize, chasing a gnat while your house burned down.¡±

    The vortex stopped moving, and Florette felt a brief moment of satisfaction before glimpsing the towering wall of water forming in the distance, taller by far than any of the fortifications that had been built. Once again, ¡®success¡¯ can mean so much and yet so little.

    No doubt Levian planned to splatter her against the ice, showing how wrong she was as he tore down humanity¡¯s every toehold in Glaciel¡¯s domain.That was at least better than killing her first, but it didn¡¯t leave a lot of options.

    And now I really have to pull this off, or I¡¯ll have been better off shutting up and dying. Florette stabilized herself on her tiny platform of ice, way smaller than what should have been needed to hold her weight, come to think of it, and readied herself for the moment of impact. Sliding her foot slightly across the water made it large enough to stand on with both feet, and angling it forward would hopefully keep it straight once the wave hit.

    Florette felt dizzy as the water swelled beneath her, but her footing held steady. Something about the ice from the ring made it easier, thankfully.

    She rose higher and higher as the wave began to break, and before long the shore was upon her, and then the pit.

    As she had when the castle collapsed, Florette cloaked herself in darkness, withdrawing from Terramonde to fade halfway into Khali¡¯s world as she tumbled down onto the ice below. It felt euphoric, freeing herself of earthly ties in the midst of all this stress and chaos, but there was work to be done.

    Resisting the pull into darkness, Florette returned the moment after impact, momentum sliding her forward across the ice as water sprayed high into the air.

    The wooden structures were still standing, looking more precarious than ever up on their stilts.. The flame sages must have put up a wall to block the wave, she thought, before realizing that none remained. Had they just been crafted that well? It seemed unlikely, but whatever the cause, it wasn¡¯t worth dwelling on.

    Florette crouched down, took a deep breath, and pushed off, sliding across the ice far more smoothly than she had the water.

    As she¡¯d hoped, Levian¡¯s water had half-submerged Glaciel¡¯s castle in its hole, and taken off the top of the highest tower. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but there seemed to be more annoyance in Glaciel than before as she shifted her attention between the various damaged areas and dealt with the water.

    I¡¯m on the right track, then. ¡°Hey Levian!¡± Florette shouted towards the sea. ¡°I was lying about everyone else knowing. I did just figure it out! Take my soul if I lie. Now I¡¯m going to go tell Glaciel and you can¡¯t stop me!¡±

    If there was anything human in the spirit at all, he would fucking hate that. Who knew spending time with Camille would be such good practice?

    Sure enough, a vertical slice of water tore its way up the shore after her, Florette only barely managing to slide out of the way in time. Another two followed, coming at an angle that blocked another side-step from properly dodging. Nothing else for it, then.

    Florette propelled herself towards the pit with as much speed as she could manage, waited until the last possible second, and jumped.

    She reached the tower, tried to grab onto the ice, failed, and nearly fell to an ignoble death before her ringed foot managed to get solid traction against the sloped roof. That relief didn¡¯t last long though, as another wall of water immediately began crashing down the side. This time it was continuous, submerging more and more of the castle from the bottom up.

    Florette was so preoccupied that she almost missed another narrow blade of water, ducking down an instant before it would have decapitated her. Instead, it sliced through the top of the roof. A quick kick was all it took to send it sliding into the pit below.

    Once she got the hang of it, scrambling about the tower was surprisingly easy. Only one foot had good grip on it, but that counted for a lot when she still had three other limbs to maneuver with, and the Cloak of Nocturne to help protect her if she missed a step, or if Levian cut out the ground from beneath her. Absent the stakes and the extremely high risk of dying stupidly before she could accomplish anything, it was almost fun, though it was entirely impossible not to think about the rest of it.

    It only took a few minutes for Levian to cut the upper fourth of the tower to ribbons, sending the Hiverriens within fleeing to lower floors.

    Then, finally, Glaciel showed her face, forming a physical body around eight feet tall on the highest floor still standing.

    ¡°Oh good,¡± Florette said, jumping over another of Levian¡¯s attacks. ¡°I was hoping to talk to you.¡±

    But Glaciel ignored her, jumping out of the castle with inhuman grace, then landing on the edge of the pit above. She¡¯s going to talk to Levian. She couldn¡¯t be happy that he was wrecking her domain.

    Florette tried not to feel too relieved. The hardest part was yet to come. The only thing that had happened now was that she had a chance.

 Camille VIII: The Instigator

    Camille VIII: The Instigator

    Camille still felt dirty. That was inevitable, really, with the bay too cold to bathe in and no time to draw a bath, but it rankled. This would be better done presentably, and at the moment she was anything but. Even her clothes were far from fresh, being the warmest things she had to wear. Standing in the cold street hardly helped either, as she peered down the road through the arches of the arcade.

    He deals with lowlives and thugs, she forced herself to remember. I¡¯ll be immaculate by comparison.

    Eloise and her dashing friend had made that point all too clearly, covered in grime and blood that was no doubt a result of her ¡®professional disagreement¡¯ with one Jacques Clocha?ne. It was a lucky thing that word hadn¡¯t had time to get out, or her scouting at the Convocation of Commerce would be just as impossible as Camille trying it herself.

    Still, it¡¯s far from ideal. Who could know what Simon would think of a mere lieutenant without any prior familiarity, and one who worked for a living at that? It almost didn¡¯t bear thinking about, and yet it remained the best chance of learning Luce¡¯s whereabouts.

    Whatever else happened, he needed to be freed and restored to power if Camille didn¡¯t want to spend the next eternity enslaved to the spirits. Fenouille might not have the heart to treat her ill, perhaps, but he had made a vow, and could easily trade her soul to another who would, so that he might abide by his words.

    And Levian will have no such compunction, should I fail him.

    The walls were closing in from all sides, fates worse than death waiting behind each. Such a promising plan had almost been ruined because the Prince of Darkness had been stupid enough to get himself caught, and now everything was on the verge of falling apart. That infuriatingly passive little princeling hadn¡¯t even managed the most basic level of self-preservation in a city that his grip on was so tenuous and fragile. What kind of idiot couldn¡¯t even¡ªUgh.

    It wasn¡¯t productive to think that way, but it was hard not to, sitting here waiting like this. One of Cadoudal¡¯s had known the route, but not the exact timing, and the cold conditions meant that the candlemaker would want to be giving himself plenty of time in advance.

    Which means I have to show up here even earlier to be safe.

    Camille had grabbed a journal to try to help pass the time, but it lacked any printed text, showing only an engraving of a swan paddling across Paix Lake, advertisement for a new opera that might now never see the light of day. Scott came through, and it could make all the difference, but of course it also had to make things harder for me too.

    Doing things the right way could be such a thorough pain sometimes, even if it was entirely necessary, as it was here. And indeed in most situations. And so it falls to me.

    Camille spent a moment straightening her horridly greasy hair under her warm woolen hat, one of the few things Mary had lent where the fit wasn¡¯t an issue. She¡¯d even had it in green.

    It might not be a bad idea to give her some lands if she¡¯s still standing when the dust settles, and on the right side of things. Perhaps a marriage too. Good service deserved rewards, so long as loyalty was without question. Something to think about, at least.

    But the carriage was coming, and it was time to get to work. No way to tell the time, but it certainly feels as if he didn¡¯t give himself all that much extra. It seemed fitting, really, that he would take the course that left Camille lying in wait for as long as possible.

    Clocha?ne¡¯s coterie for the Convocation of Commerce centered on a creaking carriage containing the candlemaker and his closest cronies, crowded by criminals, certainly cutpurses and cretins, clearly contrasting the candlemakers at the core.

    Camille sighed, taking in the merchant¡¯s motley entourage. It was relatively easy to see them even at a distance, with so many lanterns adorning the carriage. It was absurdly wasteful, and gaudy besides, but apparently neither was an obstacle to Jacques Clocha?ne.

    The carriage would only have room for maybe four at most, Clocha?ne himself and whomever he planned to take to the Convocation. Ten of his thugs were walking beside it, each carrying a lantern of their own that served to illuminate their ragged winter wear and glint off the steel at their side.

    Does he truly expect to show up before Simon Perimont with the very people he¡¯s been using to flout Avalon¡¯s laws? No doubt he was valuing security above appearances, not a totally senseless thought, but it failed to reckon with the fact that appearances were a sort of security in and of themselves. Power wielded deftly, softly, would be far more effective in a circumstance where his conventional arms were so outmatched anyway.

    Really, I¡¯m doing him a favor.

    There wasn¡¯t much spiritual energy left at her disposal after guiding so many people past the Guardian¡¯s gaze, and the few hurried offerings to Levian she¡¯d managed to make with a couple of Cadoudal¡¯s acolytes amounted to a raindrop in a tempest.

    Already, Camille would die long before her time, half her years stolen away by that bastard Lumi¨¨re. Already, she might never live to see her children grow up, never grow old together with Lucien. At worst, never reclaim her birthright and country for her people.

    No matter how much I try not to think about it, it¡¯s always there, lurking in the deep, waiting for me.

    No, as much as it would make things easier in the moment, drawing wantonly on her life could only be the very last possible option.

    That meant she had to be sparing, expending each drop of energy in exact accordance with the level of need. Diverting a candlemaker so a sour rapscallion could glean information was probably vital, yes, but also so far from where things needed to end that Camille couldn¡¯t justify allocating much power on it.

    That meant getting creative.

    A thick layer of snow coated the ground already, freshly fallen in the days past, and Camille had tried to add to it in advance, too, though she hadn¡¯t made it further than a few shovelfuls before having to give up. Collapsing of exhaustion wouldn¡¯t help anything, and the work was surprisingly draining, not to mention something she was manifestly unsuited for.

    Hopefully it would do.

    Clocha?ne¡¯s carriage emerged from underneath the covered arches of the arcade, out onto the open street. His horses hardly missed a beat, transitioning onto the snowy cobble with the sort of grace that could only be bred through generations of cultivation.

    They made it only a little ways down the road before a cobblestone gave way beneath a horse¡¯s hoof, propped up by nothing but loose slush. And thank Levian for that. Preparing the entire row had been utterly exhausting.

    Perhaps that would be enough on its own, but there was no need to take chances.

    The animal was whining and stumbling, trying to pull itself free, but with ice hardened around its leg, it seemed it never would on its own.

    Seeing it thrash in pain and distress was a disturbing sight, certainly, but Camille couldn¡¯t help but smile as she watched the coachman try and fail to salvage the situation. It took him a good ten minutes of calling and stomping and hacking away at the ice before he gave up the cause, and another few minutes before he mustered the courage to give Clocha?ne the news.

    Accustomed to comforts as he was, the candlemaker ruminated for another ten before finally deigning to get out and walk.

    Apparently he had been the only one in the coach, because no one else got out when he did. Two thugs remained with the coachman, with the rest of the candlemaker¡¯s subordinates flanking him on all sides as he proceeded toward the meeting hall.

    Camille watched the vapor from her breath float out into the air, waiting for the right moment to strike. The further she let them get, the better, within reason, as it put distance between them and the horses and carriage. The former would serve as direly-needed sacrifices and transportation, if they could be recovered discreetly.

    She lifted thin sheets of snow into the air, filling them with energy until they became water, then vapor. Even using as little energy as she could manage, this was by far the most expensive step, so Camille took care to ensure she only had to do it once.

    The streets filled with fog, growing thicker and thicker until even the copious lanterns were insufficient to see beyond a few feet. Camille certainly couldn¡¯t make the party out any more, but as long as they remained in the same formation, lines of five on either side of Clocha?ne in the center, guessing would have to be good enough.

    Camille tried to pick them off one by one, starting at the outer edges.

    She couldn¡¯t see it, but she could picture it, following their pace through the fog. First, a thug took a step, expecting another patch of crunchy snow. When instead his foot landed on a slick sheet of ice, with no warning at all, of course he would struggle to keep his footing.

    And sure enough, Camille heard a groan of pain an instant after she sprang her trap. Shattered glass sounded as well, the lantern winking out. The snow he¡¯d have landed in hardened to ice, hopefully trapping him in place.

    The next one kept hold of hers, by the sound of it, but that wasn¡¯t enough to save her.

    Clochaine called out for the remaining six to condense, but that confusion only resulted in more and louder cries of alarm. Hopefully none had died, since that would pose difficulties with the next phase of the plan. Once again, she tried to keep Clochaine clear of the slick, but erring on the side of caution was hard with no way to see for certain.

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    She waited to hear his voice, to see if she needed to soften the ground to let him free, at risk of also letting some of his underlings go. Or perhaps he would stay with them, trying to pull them free or get them help.

    But Camille needn¡¯t have worried. After a moment of pause, the candlemaker stumbled out of the fog alone.

    Up close, splashed with light by the lantern in his hand, Clocha?ne was easier to take in. With gloves hiding his gaudily massive collection of rings and what had to be one of the only proper jackets left in the city, a sharp dark blue no less, he actually looked significantly better in the frigid dark. Perhaps I should tell him that, just to see his reaction. But enough people probably had already, and there were more important things to discuss.

    ¡°Lady Leclaire.¡± He didn¡¯t look surprised, which made sense. Camille was the most obvious culprit. But he didn¡¯t look scared either, and that could become a real issue. ¡°If you wanted a meeting, you might have simply come by my shop. You were willing enough when you were still using that pathetically dull disguise, the name barely even different from your own.¡±

    ¡°Wearing your wealth on your fingers is pathetically dull, Clocha?ne. It¡¯s the provenance of mercenaries and criminals, needing their wealth always about them.¡± Needling him probably wouldn¡¯t succeed where her prior efforts had failed, but it remained possible, and it couldn¡¯t hurt considering her priorities here. ¡°You can take the bell-ringer out of the slums, but apparently the inverse eludes you.¡±

    That got him to frown, but not to blow up. Shouldn¡¯t this be easier? He was perfectly willing to chew out Claude right in front of me the first time we met. Perhaps he hadn¡¯t felt the need to control himself then, in the presence of no one of particular import. Or maybe he¡¯d simply learned in the time since.

    He certainly still didn¡¯t look worried. Content, Camille realized. He¡¯s gotten everything he wants since Soleil died.

    ¡°Could you please get to the fucking point, your ladyship? Obviously you¡¯re not going to kill me, and I have a meeting to get to.¡±

    I should kill him just to prove him wrong, the upjumped prick. But there was still information to be gained, and offers to be made. The last thing I need right now is to pull a Florette.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to decide whether I can use you,¡± Camille told him, honestly. ¡°Your position is not insignificant, nor the underlings you can bring to bear. You¡¯re aware of the goings-on here, finger in the stream of the city¡¯s lowlives. And experienced working around Avalon.¡±

    Clocha?ne laughed. ¡°Use me? You¡¯re overvaluing yourself a lot there, girl. Right now you¡¯re a wanted fugitive, a ¡®practitioner of espionage working to subvert Malin from within¡¯. Lady Perimont put six thousand mandala on your head, double if you¡¯re alive so she can ransom you back to that buffoon of a fox-boy like a sack of flour.¡±

    ¡°That price is awfully low. If she thinks I helped kill her husband, especially, you¡¯d hope she wouldn¡¯t underestimate me so. Regardless, I¡¯ve had to hide before, and look at me now.¡±

    He laughed again, doubtless forcing it to look confident. That sort of thing could be powerful in a negotiation, or even a simple conversation, elevating the perception of your dominance and power. That was part of the reason belittling people could so easily disarm them.

    That was, of course, provided that your opponent didn¡¯t realize you were doing it.

    ¡°Where did you spend the night, just before we met for the first time? Wasn¡¯t it the city jail, because you couldn¡¯t make it one day in the city without getting caught? I had my people dig around a bit, once you tore off your mask. You arrived as a fucking wreck, some incoherent wastrel walking the beach in rags. Then you asked a bloody knight where to buy contraband, and managed to get yourself arrested by Gary fucking Stewart.¡± He snorted, shaking his head slowly. ¡°Then you showed up at my store practically begging for my help, looking for any excuse to earn a few coppers for yourself. Claude had to lead you by the nose the entire time you were doing my bidding.¡±

    Camille felt her lip burn, and realized she¡¯d been biting it again. The urge to knock sense into him was strong, but that could close off useful avenues for later. He was just playing the same dominance game, shoving old failures in her face, as if she could ever forget them anyway. But perhaps there was something there¡­

    ¡°You¡¯re admitting to knowing Claude, then. The same one they just hanged for treason to kick off this entire coup. I should tell the Guardians; I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be interested.¡±

    His eyes widened for a second before could compose himself again, easy to miss for someone who wasn¡¯t actively studying his reaction. ¡°I don¡¯t know any Claude, and if you imply otherwise, it¡¯s your word against mine. I don¡¯t imagine it¡¯ll count for much when you¡¯re their prisoner.¡±

    So he¡¯s going that way. It wasn¡¯t certain, but that probably meant he hadn¡¯t been the one to give away Claude¡¯s location. Otherwise he¡¯d simply be a trusted informant, rather than having to feign ignorance. If so, that meant he at least hadn¡¯t been working with the coupists from the beginning. There could be room to maneuver, perhaps.

    ¡°So you¡¯d betray your future queen to a pack of wayward Avaline nobles? They broke their word with the Lyrion Emperor. Do you think they¡¯ll be more honorable with a brigand?¡±

    ¡°With a trusted pillar of the community, perhaps they might.¡± He¡¯d flinched again a little there. ¡°That¡¯s what you imperial aristos don¡¯t understand. You demand my help as if it¡¯s yours by right, while Avalon will pay for it honestly. My business is legitimate, and it¡¯s been carrying this city on its back for months.¡± He waved his lantern to demonstrate the point. ¡°My accountant is indisposed right now, but last I checked, I¡¯ve profited more in the time since darkness fell than I did in entire years, across all of my businesses. Lady Perimont seems to recognize the importance of that, and appreciate it.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you rather continue all your business, with all of it legal and respected? You¡¯ve kept spiritual materials like psyben and nightshade flowing through what I can only imagine are enormously difficult circumstances. You could continue under significantly easier ones, if that prohibition should end. ¡±

    ¡°After you conquer the city yourself?¡± Clocha?ne scoffed.

    ¡°That¡¯s one possibility, but I believe Prince Lucifer might be persuaded as well. He¡¯s not a fool, and all too aware of the goals behind that prohibition. Once he¡¯s been recovered, it shouldn¡¯t take much convincing, and he¡¯ll have all the leverage he needs over the hardliners.¡±

    ¡°Amazing. ¡®Once he¡¯s recovered.¡¯ As if he¡¯s not hours away from joining Claude on that gallows. Neither you nor me have the slightest idea where they¡¯re even keeping him. Anywhere predictable means idiots like you trying to rescue him there. That means if they¡¯re smart, he¡¯s not at the Governor¡¯s Mansion, not in the city jail, not anywhere you would ever find him before it¡¯s too late.¡±

    Camille spoke through gritted teeth, trying to explain the obvious to this obtuse merchant. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to commit now, but simply imagine the possibilities. Consider if this coup does fail. Or it succeeds, only to meet an Imperial army before long. If suddenly trade and cultivation of your premier products were legal¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then my services would lose their value. Security, transportation, distribution¡­ Any dick or jane with a regular merchant ship could decide they¡¯re my competition, and prices would plummet. As a legitimate venture, it¡¯s worth less to me than before.¡±

    ¡°I also wouldn¡¯t mind a controlled eye on the criminal element, nor a good source of information. You could rid yourself of rivals that way, while I could ensure that the law would only be broken on my terms.¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have any opposition left in the city. They¡¯ve all been killed or made to bow. That¡¯s a lesson you could learn from, girl. In Guerron you hesitated, and that sun sage nearly killed you for it. You spent the next half-year riding one coattail after another, never accomplishing anything in your own right except pissing off the real rulers of this city.¡±

    Camille took a deep breath, centering herself. I have to remember why I¡¯m doing this.

    The most important thing was to keep him occupied so that pirate could get Luce¡¯s location, with learning anything useful from Clocha?ne as a secondary possibility. Demonstrating her strength and making any deals were distant concerns, by comparison.

    ¡°So what I¡¯m hearing is that you intend to go over to Perimont, because she treats you with respect, and it¡¯s more profitable. You have no idea where the Prince is, and wouldn¡¯t tell me if you did. It¡¯ll never be in your interest for Malin to return to the Imperial fold. Which is all you care about, because you¡¯re a dirty, money-grubbing pig without a speck of nobility to your character. Why, exactly, shouldn¡¯t I bury you beneath the waves?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± He was still doing it, trying to throw her off by sounding amused instead of scared. ¡°You sages need fuel. Energy. But every speck of it is limited, until you¡¯re drawing on your own life instead. You might have survived a plunge in the ocean, but you¡¯re not special, not exempt from the basics. Those ¡®experiments¡¯ of yours with the prince gave that much away, to anyone paying close attention. You can bluster all you want, but you¡¯re going to need every drop to make it out of this alive, and I sincerely doubt you hate me enough to waste your own life killing me. It¡¯s an empty threat.¡±

    Blustering scum. The worst part was that he was right. Hesitating with Lumi¨¨re really had cost her everything, and the days after that largely scrambling from one mess to another. That Fernan boy had saved Annette and Lucien; the King of Avalon had rid the world of Lumi¨¨re; even now there was a fight against eternal winner going on that Camille had nothing to do with save giving advice.

    Everything in Malin is depending on this going to plan. And it already hadn¡¯t, with Luce captured. Now it falls to me to salvage the wreckage and seize victory. She¡¯d cut herself off from all other options.

    But killing the candlemaker really wouldn¡¯t be worth it, not at the cost of her own time on earth. Enough of that was gone as it was, all the more if she couldn¡¯t fulfill her deal with Levian.

    All I had to do was distract and delay him. Remember that.

    ¡°What happens to the Acolytes?¡± Camille found herself asking, though she felt she knew the answer. ¡°You coopted them, took what should have been the burning heart of resistance and twisted them into an impotent instrument of petty trade games. If you¡¯re so certain that I¡¯ll fail and Perimont will win, what becomes of them?¡±

    Clocha?ne merely shrugged. ¡°Whatever happened to your mother and the rest of them, I imagine. After that Claude debacle they¡¯re too toxic to be of any use to me.¡±

    Camille pulled her knife from its sheath at her side and pointed the tip towards the candlemaker.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re just embarrassing yourself,¡± Clocha?ne said as he pulled a pistol from his coat and pointed it at her. He took marched confidently forward¡ª

    ¡ªand slipped on the fresh ice beneath his feet, suddenly solidified at the last possible moment. Comically slow, compared to Lumi¨¨re, and this time I know to expect it. He could barely gasp in surprise before Camille¡¯s knife traced its way under his chin, drawing the red line between sacrifice and murder.

    What choice had he left her? He¡¯d made it completely clear that there would be no collaboration. He was beholden to Avalon, practically enamored of it. There would be no accord, and then what was left?

    Leaving him to his own devices? Letting him supply the coupists and serve at their pleasure?

    If he¡¯d shown the slightest bit of empathy, of care, of regret, anything to make him more than a sniveling trader and criminal¡­

    Flecks of red dripped onto his coat, staining the blue and ruining the pristine pattern. The lord¡¯s portion flowed down to the street, tainting the snow with its bloody touch.

    Granting Levian his due had a peace to it. Most people would be resigned to their fate by that point, marching calmly into the water, never to be seen again. Their lives were ending, but it didn¡¯t feel like killing to send them. Even if it truly is no different.

    Camille forced herself to remember the sight, to hold it in place whenever the time came to do her duty. Levian had demanded a thousand lives by the end of the year, and providing them would be the only way to live beyond that.

    If men like Clocha?ne keep showing themselves, perhaps I¡¯m even capable of it.

 Eloise VIII: Clad in Shoes of White

    Eloise VIII: Clad in Shoes of White

    ¡°Let¡¯s begin. Everyone, please take your seats.¡±

    For all that she¡¯d done in the last few days, Eloise would have expected Lady Lillian Perimont to cut a more fearsome figure. Instead she was short, soft eyes twinkling as they reflected back light from the enormous chandelier above. Perimont was well-preserved, to be sure. According to Camille she was over forty, which was hard to believe. But while she could hardly be called plain she nonetheless felt unremarkable, and fairly soft-spoken too. Hardly the commanding presence you¡¯d expect of someone seizing power like this.

    Standing at Perimont¡¯s side, refusing the chair in front of her, Captain Anya Stewart fit the bill better, lean and muscular body tightened with discipline and age alike. Her sandy hair was tied back so tightly it looked painful, not a strand of it touching her Coat of Nocturne, unmarred by time yet adorned by rows and rows of medals, each polished enough to glisten in the candlelight.

    And, of course, she¡¯s here. After so many close calls aboard the Seaward Folly, the pirate-catcher was bound to have caught a glimpse of Eloise at one point or another as Captain Verrou just slipped her grasp. And thank fuck it could only be a glimpse.

    Keeping to the background was definitely paying off right now. Eloise hadn¡¯t been there when Stewart dueled Captain Verrou on King¡¯s Beach at sunset, or when she left him for dead after he jumped from the top of Cascade into the raging torrent below. Not even the time she¡¯d accidentally stumbled into him buying a cask from a wineseller in L¡¯Arr¨ºt and nearly burned down the whole town, though that one was a near-miss since Eloise had been supposed to go with him.

    If Eloise hadn¡¯t been too otherwise occupied to go on that supply run, Anya Stewart probably would have gotten a good look at her, and this entire ruse at the Convocation would have been doomed from the start. Thank you, Caroline, and your linguistic talents too.

    Rounding out Perimont¡¯s party were the children. Feels like the appropriate thing to call them, even if they barely look any younger. That was probably Stewart¡¯s son with the pirate-catcher, given their resemblance, though he looked more confused than fearsome. He started to take a chair with everyone else, then abruptly stopped when he saw the elder Stewart still standing.

    And then Lord Simon Perimont of Carringdon, the ostensible reason she was here. He had circles under his eyes from staying up too late at parties, his face slightly puffy and red. Not much to look at, especially compared to his mother, but it wasn¡¯t as if that mattered. The important thing was that he was amenable to talking, or could be made to be.

    Camille Leclaire said he was a better man than his father, which meant about as close to literally nothing as it was possible to get, and that she thought she¡¯d earned his trust, which made him a fool. An inspiring manifest, to be sure.

    Then again, if he were more canny, getting Luce¡¯s location might have proved impossible. Unlike now, when it¡¯s of course practically guaranteed, vouched for an aristo that lies as easily as she breathes.

    Even the basics couldn¡¯t be taken on faith. If Jacques had actually showed up, Eloise might already be dead. Only the fact that he hadn¡¯t showed that Leclaire was being true to her word on some level.

    When Jacques finds out, eventually, after the fact, I wonder whether he¡¯ll be furious or amazed at the audacity. It wasn¡¯t like being their pursuer¡¯s proxy was a time-honored typical practice for fugitives. Maybe that¡¯s just a tradition I¡¯ll have to start.

    Eloise would certainly be needing audacity today if she wanted to make it out of this alive, let alone save Luce and come out ahead.

    Especially with Ms. Sunderland in attendance, representing the Aranea¡¯s caf¨¦s. Shit. She was supposed to have traveled here with Jacques, and gotten caught up in whatever he did to keep her out. ¡°Should we not wait until Mr. Clocha?ne arrives? He is the chairman of the Convocation.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not coming,¡± Eloise declared as forcefully as she could manage. ¡°Jacques appointed me as his proxy, as he had other matters to attend to.¡±

    ¡°You?¡± Sunderland¡¯s hands gripped the handle of her teacup tightly. No doubt she knew that Eloise was supposed to be dead; perhaps she¡¯d even seen or heard about the bloody clothes Camille¡¯d been planning to use as ¡®proof¡¯ to help distract him. ¡°I find it very much doubtful.¡±

    Eloise plastered a smug grin across her face. ¡°He¡¯ll resume his position once he arrives, but he¡¯s been delayed by important stuff. Really important.¡± Why don¡¯t you believe me, Ms. Sunderland? Is it because with the information you have it¡¯s extremely obvious that I¡¯m lying?

    ¡°And what is it that Mr. Clocha?ne found so important?¡± Sunderland asked, voice convincingly innocent. ¡°I¡¯ve never known him to miss a meeting of the Convocation of Commerce in the two decades I¡¯ve known him.¡±

    ¡°Well, you must not know him as well as you think you do.¡± Eloise made a show of flipping through the papers in front of her, materials Perimont¡¯s people had prepared. ¡°Lady Perimont, please proceed.¡±

    That earned her a raised eyebrow from the Lady herself. ¡°I will, thank you.¡±

    At her side, Anya Stewart shook her head.

    ¡°But first, I¡¯d like to hear what exactly is so important to Mr. Clocha?ne that made him miss this very important meeting.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± I have no idea what she¡¯s doing to delay him, or if there¡¯s any nicer way to dress it up. Camille might have given her any further information, were she capable of being anything other than infuriating to deal with. ¡°Fucking Leclaire,¡± Eloise muttered, trying to think of a convincing lie about where Jacques¡ª

    ¡°He received a tip as to the whereabouts of Camille Leclaire. Given how slippery an individual he¡¯s dealing with, he thought it too important not to follow up in person. If the day is fair, he¡¯s apprehending her as we speak.¡± Hopefully that¡¯s good enough. Eloise even slipped an Avaline expression in there to put them more at ease, wildly unsuited for the current climate though it was.

    But then, I¡¯m wildly unsuited to all of this. Sure, she was among the most respectable of Jacques¡¯ people, not a complete stranger to above-board deals and powerful merchants. But keeping your foot out of your mouth long enough to make a deal and living an elaborate lie were two very different things, and Eloise tended to stay away from the latter for good reason. All of this, really. It was what Captain Verrou was good at, or even Florette, the way she told it.

    I¡¯m supposed to have people for this. The whole thing made Eloise want to snarl, but she smiled instead. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be with us soon,¡± she finished.

    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll know what to do if he isn¡¯t,¡± Ms. Sunderland warned, staring like a lighthouse beam over the rim of her teacup. ¡°Or in the event you prove unable to adequately represent him.¡±

    Yeah, she¡¯s definitely going to have one of her people knife me the second I¡¯m out of these people¡¯s sight.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen her around, working at those candle giveaways with Luce and the like." Simon shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sure she knows enough for this meeting.¡±

    You did? That whole thing was wrapped up inside of an hour. ¡°Not giveaways,¡± she corrected. ¡°That was an investment, expanding the impact and reputation of Clocha?ne Candles for a pittance. Daily sales rose 12% afterwards. Whole thing paid for itself in a few hours.¡±

    Simon Perimont tilted his head at that, scratching his chin. Deciding how judgemental to be over the fact that I have to work for a living? Let me help you, you fop, it¡¯s ¡®not at all¡¯.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s true,¡± Lady Perimont added. ¡°Though, if you would be so kind, please provide Mr. Clocha?ne with his informational packet if he doesn¡¯t make it today. I think it¡¯s exciting stuff!¡±

    ¡°Uh, sure. Of course.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. I¡¯d like to thank all of you titans of commerce for gathering here, Mr. Clocha?ne excepted. Standing in his place is¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Miss, what was your name?¡±

    ¡°Eloise,¡± she supplied easily. Just like Leclaire had said, Eloise was here as herself, just a version who wasn¡¯t on Jacques¡¯ lethal shitlist.

    Lady Perimont stared at her expectantly, not proceeding. It felt like the entire room was staring along with her. Ms. Sunderland surreptitiously sipped her tea, no doubt hiding a smile underneath it.

    They want more. I gave them my name, but¡­

    Oh.

    ¡°Eloise Clocha?ne,¡± she finished, using Jacques¡¯ stupid made up surname in the absence of anything better. She needed something here, and there wasn¡¯t too much time to think. Still, it rankled.

    He doesn¡¯t get to claim me. That was what Cya hadn¡¯t understood, trying to tar her with that name.

    Ms. Sunderland didn¡¯t bother to hide her extremely skeptical expression, but she didn¡¯t bother to gainsay anything Eloise had said. Probably because she¡¯s planning to kill me in a few minutes anyway. Why bother to make a scene here?

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Immediately all the tension went out the room, the curiosity gone. Simon even nodded to himself, as if it explained everything. Fucker.

    ¡°Well, that makes sense,¡± Lady Perimont said with a nod. ¡°The rest of you, I¡¯ve met before, so with that, let¡¯s begin. If you open your folio to the opening page, you¡¯ll see the agenda for tonight¡¯s meeting.¡±

    Eloise already had it open from her earlier shuffling, but she actually looked down to read it now. The words were printed like a journal, an overdesigned black spiral of vines circling around the list of topics.

    ¡°To begin with, the time has come to bid the Prince of Crescents farewell. After the revelations of his involvement in the late Lord Perimont¡¯s murder and the cover-up thereof, Prince Lucifer has resigned his post and will be leaving the city shortly.¡± Feet-first in a mahogany box, most likely, though perhaps they¡¯ll just toss him off the ship.

    ¡°With a change in leadership comes a chance to re-evaluate our priorities, to move forward. I know I¡¯m not alone in hoping that all of you are ready to grow with us together, reaching towards a brighter future. On a personal note, thanks to the tireless efforts of Captain Stewart here, the conspiracy against my husband has been uncovered, and now it¡¯s only a matter of time before the perpetrators are brought to justice. I¡¯m looking forward to that closure, as are the rest of my family. In the meantime, we reach forward to a better world.¡± The poison dripped sweetly from her mouth, not a trace of malice in her tone. ¡°Simon, sweetie, please continue with the next item.¡±

    The young lord glared at his mother briefly, but turned back to the assembled merchants quickly enough. ¡°Every one of you here got where you were through your own hard work. No one handed your success to you. You wanted it, and you made it happen. People might call you selfish for it, but that selfishness is the heart of progress, innovation, growth. Endless growth, and each of you are the ones making it happen.¡± Interesting. His gaze even lingered on Eloise as he said it. ¡°Right now we face a time of unprecedented hardship, with working conditions more difficult than ever, cost of goods rising endlessly and even, when reprieve seems completely beyond our reach, the eternal tyranny of taxation.¡±

    His mother nodded. ¡°I wish I could tell you that I returned from the Great Council with better news, but the Prince regent issued a declaration, passed with majority support from the Great Council, to return one grain out of every four grown in the Territories back to mother Avalon.¡± She barely finished her sentence before the room erupted into a cacophony of jeers.

    ¡°That¡¯s bloody robbery!¡±

    ¡°What does he think is going on?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll starve!¡±

    Eloise debated using the distraction as an opportunity to slip away before Sunderland could sharpen her knives, but then she¡¯d be leaving empty-handed.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Stewart said softly, and the room immediately quieted.

    ¡°I cannot overrule His Highness, nor the Great Council, only soften the blow as best I can. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s seen as essential back home.¡± Perimont shook her head sadly. ¡°Only barely could the Harpies even pull the Prince back from the brink. His initial proposal was for over half, and those damned Owls would have rammed it through just the same. Instead we came to a compromise, as politics demands. So too do I intend to reach an accord with all of you. To begin with, every business represented in this room can expect an infusion of two hundred thousand mandala from the territorial budget to continue the normal course of business. The Convocation of Commerce as a whole will be granted veto authority over all upper-level appointments within the governmental apparatus. Given the trying times, worker contracts¡­¡±

    She continued on for quite a while, going over each and every bribe and concession she was granting them to help shore up her own power. Eloise was starting to feel her eyes glaze over when she noticed Lord Simon quietly slip out of his chair and head outside.

    Eloise waited a moment, then ducked out after him. Not going to get a better opportunity than this.

    It was snowing again, piles of slush and ice building up outside the guildhall so fast that one even looked like it was moving. Things just kept getting colder, with no end in sight.

    Simon Perimont was leaning against the wall, a lit hand-roll in his fingers. Laced with naca too, by the smell of it.

    ¡°You alright?¡± Just tell me where the fuck Luce is so I can get out of here. ¡°Couldn¡¯t handle being called ¡®sweetie¡¯ in the Convocation of Commerce?¡±

    Simon snorted, then passed Eloise his thin tube of herbs. ¡°My condolences, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Huh? Oh.¡± Camille had scrounged up whatever presentable clothes she could from the people clustered at Levian¡¯s Temple, which in this case included a green jacket that barely fit and a pair of white boots, so thoroughly bleached by the sun that it passed as intentional if you weren¡¯t looking too closely. Not enough time, not enough options.

    And, of course, neither of them had remembered that in Avalon white was the color of mourning.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, hoping that her reaction had been believable enough. ¡°My mother¡­¡±

    ¡°I understand. So much death flying around these days.¡± He shook his head sadly. ¡°You know that ¡®compromise¡¯ they¡¯re talking about? It¡¯s a fucking war. Milk the territories for all they¡¯ve got, or go claim some new ones. Either way the Prince gets a feather in his cap, and Avalon thrives.¡± He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just not right.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Eloise inhaled, then passed it back to him. Definitely naca. ¡°Either way, you come out ahead.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just so stupid. If they would just lay off and let us grow, allow¡­ Everyone¡¯s talking about Luce like he was some massive fuck-up, but I really respected what he was doing, handouts aside. People like you, the businesses, the fucking beating heart of our entire economic system, he was smart enough to leave alone. He didn¡¯t need to squeeze Malin dry because he was growing it to be something better. Even where we disagreed, at least he listened, you know? Now I¡¯m stuck at the kid¡¯s table again, suddenly a peer with Gary fucking Stewart.¡±

    ¡°And Camille?¡± Leclaire had been extremely insistent that Eloise not drop her name, super paranoid about being associated with someone after Florette couldn¡¯t just follow the plan. But that basically meant Eloise had to.

    He took a long pull from his hand-roll. ¡°She was part of the cover-up, sure. So was Luce. Even me, I didn¡¯t say anything until Mom got here. I¡¯d say we all deserve something for that, but ¡®deserve¡¯ has nothing to do with it. It¡¯s about what¡¯s smart.¡±

    Did he really just say that? ¡°Yeah, people just get so hung up on right and wrong when it¡¯s completely meaningless. Treating people like shit is brilliant right? Don¡¯t even worry about the knife at your back. Do whatever the fuck you want.¡±

    ¡°Treating people badly is a mistake, but not because it¡¯s wrong. It¡¯s because it¡¯s dumb, on account of that knife at your back. Just like starting a war we don¡¯t need to. You¡¯d have to be a complete fucking idiot to piss off everyone beneath you if you weren¡¯t getting something really important out of it to be worth the trade-off.¡±

    Going straight to the personal attacks, huh? ¡°Isn¡¯t your mom kind of doing that now?¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± Simon waved his hand. ¡°She¡¯s offering them the farm in there, your father too, even if he isn¡¯t here to hear it. Ultimately the grain tax mostly affects their workforce, not any of them directly. Offset the cost enough, and it¡¯s a rational decision for them. Just not for Avalon. It¡¯s meddling in markets that are supposed to be free.¡±

    ¡°Jacques is not my father.¡± Eloise sighed, but didn¡¯t elaborate further. Let him think what he may. ¡°Why do you care, anyway? You¡¯ll be fine either way.¡±

    ¡°Because I believe. Avalon is a place where the truly great among us are supposed to rise to the top, where greatness can come from anywhere. Blocking people on account of birth is just illogical, when they have just as much right to empower themselves. If they have the ability, that ineffable greatness, they¡¯ll reach it.¡± The corner of his lip curled into a smile. ¡°Even if they have to make up a family name to do it.¡±

    ¡°No idea what you mean.¡±

    ¡°Take the pistol, for example.¡±

    Eloise had to stop herself from audible choking. ¡°That?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a weapon, but more than that, it¡¯s a product of economics. On the field, they¡¯re not that much better than bows. Worse than cannons, in dala per dala effectiveness. But they¡¯re just parts, metal that can be thrown together in a factory en masse. And anyone can use them with a bit of training. An archer needs the strength to pull a hundred pounds, but all you need to do with a pistol is point and shoot. Now that the design¡¯s been proven, we could have thousands of them ready to go within a few years.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that would be super great and not a total fucking disaster for humanity.¡±

    ¡°Humanity¡¯s been killing each other since we were using rocks and sticks, and we¡¯ll keep doing it until we¡¯re eradicating entire worlds as a warning to the others. But that doesn¡¯t mean we have to indulge in that foolishness. Plagette has dominated arms sales for centuries while largely staying out of the actual conflicts, and it¡¯s served them brilliantly. Avalon could do the same with a far bigger stick. Let the splinters of the Erstwhile Empire fight it out amongst each other while we sit back and take in all the profit.¡±

    ¡°And this pistol that you used in your example, it was created by one of those joint-stock companies? Avalon¡¯s buying them?¡±

    Simon frowned. ¡°Well, the design was created and refined in Ortus Tower. There¡¯s not a company in the world that could compete with them yet, though the day is coming. But the actual parts and all of the assembly will be handled privately, deriving their value when the Crown or anyone else purchases them to use as they will.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡±

    ¡°The point is, people act according to their own interest. That¡¯s not being selfish, it¡¯s just being human. If you can recognize that and lean into it, and if you¡¯re truly up to the task, you can go anywhere in life.¡±

    It had a certain logic to it, even if the specific example didn¡¯t much support it. Still, ¡®get what you can and fuck everyone else¡¯ definitely had its appeal. Eloise would be lying if she said she hadn¡¯t basically lived by that creed for the past few years. Doing ¡®the right thing¡¯ hadn¡¯t really amounted to much either, though there were a lot of reasons for that.

    But there were people depending on her now, Margot most of all. I fucked her up almost as badly as me by trying to keep her out of sight, out of mind. It wasn¡¯t fair, having to deal with that. It wasn¡¯t.

    But here I am, and she needs me.

    ¡°You know that Luce is never making it back to Avalon, right? That¡¯s just your mother acting in reasonable self interest.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t think¡­ Prince Harold almost started a war just to punish the pirates that messed with his brother. She would never¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why she has to. What do you think happens if Luce gets back to his brother and starts crying about what Lady Perimont did to him? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s without precedent; your dad tried to throw him to the wolves just to hold onto Malin.¡±

    ¡°...Fuck.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think your mother is better for Malin than Luce was? Better for Avalon, even?¡±

    Simon threw the blackened end of his hand-roll into the snowy ground, then rubbed his eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I can¡¯t turn on my family again. I¡¯m already¡­ I mean what could I even do? It¡¯s not like I know where Camille is, or how to... I can¡¯t just walk onto Stewart¡¯s ship and get him out. He¡¯ll be gone in a few hours.¡±

    Stewart¡¯s ship!

    Eloise patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Well, I guess there¡¯s nothing you can do. Until next time.¡± She leaned on her cane and began walking into the snow, pace as infuriating as ever.

    ¡°Wait, Miss Clocha?ne! Where are you going?¡±

    She turned back, looking over shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t turn on family. So I¡¯ll leave it at that.¡±

    The wind sent a chill down her spine as she crept slowly forward. She¡¯d done her job, and apparently Camille had done hers too.

    Now all that remained was the bottom line. Time to finish this.

 Fernan X: Awakened by the Midnight Sun

    Fernan X: Awakened by the Midnight Sun

    Something was missing.

    Thin rays of orange light flickered across walls of faint yellow, points of light across swathes of shadow. Their source was an orange maw embedded into the wall, encircled by twisted iron hotter than the flame it guarded.

    Fernan felt warmth at his back, and turned his head back to see Mara¡¯s comforting green glow, simmering quietly as she slept.

    It¡¯s a good thing she¡¯s back in good shape after¡ª

    Fernan jolted up, feeling a rush of cool air at his back. The battle¡­

    Everything had been going to plan, and then¡­

    Sitting up, it was easier to take in the room, to see the rows of faintly glowing bodies laid out as furious red figures skittered around them.

    Levian showed up, and pulled me under. Waking up here, it meant that somehow Mara had saved him, braving freezing water when she couldn¡¯t even swim. It was such an amazing explanation that it didn¡¯t make sense.

    And yet here I am. Most of me, anyway. Fernan was completely bereft of spiritual energy, but it was more than that. Something had been left beneath the waves, something crucial, completely gone. Fernan couldn¡¯t understand it, entirely, but he felt it. A yawning absence deep within his soul.

    ¡°Sire Montaigne?¡± one of the bodies called softly from atop a nearby bed. ¡°Is that you?¡±

    No, it¡¯s someone else with burning eyes, taking a nap on a fire gecko. ¡°Mostly,¡± he answered instead. ¡°I think so, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Superb! I just wanted to thank you for that excellent showing, sinking Glaciel¡¯s castle so neatly. Not to mention screening our advance. I dare say you made an excellent showing, especially for your first combat.¡±

    ¡°Uh, thank you¡­¡±

    ¡°Sire Dominique Mesnil de Torpierre.¡± That¡¯s where Laura¡¯s family is from. ¡°I was with the Fox-King and you when he rallied the people to battle, though I suppose you must have been so overwhelmed by all of it. I felt much the same that fateful day when Lady Camille fell.¡±

    ¡°You were there too?¡±

    ¡°Of course I was! There¡¯s no better place for a king¡¯s man than at the king¡¯s side. There I was, having lived my whole life waiting for my first real battle, ready to strike the chains of oppression as I pierced Avaline skulls with the tip of my lance. And yet it was Lumi¨¨re¡¯s pack of traitors on whom I first bloodied my blade. Bastards nearly burned my arm off too. If I¡¯d been just a little slower, I¡¯d have been as dead as poor ¨¦tienne, run through in the abdomen and forced to die so slowly.¡± He shook his head sadly. ¡°Viles sages to a vile spirit of a vile domain, effecting our ruination even in its absence¡­ Erm, present company excluded of course. You¡¯re one of the good ones.¡±

    ¡°So I keep hearing.¡±

    ¡°I say again, good show! All the more so for getting out unscathed. When that peasant girl dived after you, I confess to thinking you were already gone, life forfeit the moment your flame winked out under the water, like the story of Br?l¨¦zarde. Even allegory aside, no one can survive in freezing water for long, even if you manage not to break your ankle.¡± He wiggled his feet as if making a joke, one far more full of warmth than the other. ¡°Regardless, I¡¯m pleased to see I was wrong.¡±

    ¡°Florette?¡± I didn¡¯t give her enough credit; she saved my life. ¡°Where is she? Did she make it out?¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s made it out of anything yet,¡± Mesnil said with a rueful chuckle. ¡°When they carried me off, the sky was still white with snow, fair Lucien was still fighting the tides. Your Florette was flitting across the battlefield in and out of sight, and at such blinding speed. I never knew she was one of Lady Leclaire¡¯s acolytes.¡±

    What? ¡°If she heard you say that she might legitimately try to stab you.¡±

    ¡°A strange custom, but I suppose the peasants do have their little rituals. An aggressive form of modesty, I presume, though not one I could bring myself to countenance.¡±

    Fernan blinked. ¡°No, it¡¯s because she and Camille don¡¯t get on at all.¡± Not something I can blame her for too much, but it wouldn¡¯t be that hard to be a little more polite to someone helping us either.

    ¡°They conspired together to kill Malin¡¯s abominable administrator, did they not? That ¡®accident¡¯ was timed terribly suspiciously, after our fair queen-to-be spent so much time infiltrating Malin. It¡¯s a prelude to returning the city to its rightful rule, mark my words.¡± Despite his confident tone, his aura dimmed. ¡°She¡¯ll have to do something about that spirit of hers, though. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s had other issues to worry about, but it¡¯s the role of a sage. If you neglect it, you end up with a mess like this. Levian is punishing us.¡±

    ¡°That was Levian then. You¡¯re sure?¡± And if it really was, then¡­ ¡°That wouldn¡¯t be Camille¡¯s fault though. Spirits do as they please.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m reasonably sure. Though I¡¯ve known many, I myself am no sage, nor an expert on the spirits. Nonetheless, if you see a scaly serpentine creature from the deep, wielding water as his weapon, it seems the logical thing to guess.¡±

    ¡°But Camille¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is the High Priestess of Levian. She¡¯s the bridge between her spirit and her people. Lord Emile might be older, but his position¡ª¡±

    The other Leclaire. ¡°He was the one who negotiated a deal with Glaciel, Sire Dominique. A deal we¡¯ve never heard the exact wording on.¡± He¡¯s the cause of all of this. In his mind, Fernan could hear Florette pleading to just kill him and move on. ¡°Do you know where he is?¡±

    Mesnil shrugged. ¡°Back at the castle, presumably. He¡¯s bound by word not to fight.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t think that¡¯s suspicious?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a standard condition of such pacts. A ceasefire means little when even the negotiators are permitted to kill each other. I¡¯ll tell His Grace your theory, to be sure. It bears investigating. But Lord Emile has served the Empire faithfully since before either of us were born. I¡¯m sure he and Lady Camille both did their best to prevent this. In the future, they¡¯ll learn and do better.¡± Despite his confident words, the man¡¯s aura only continued to dim as he spoke, until his feet were almost black. ¡°And in the here and now, it¡¯s a good thing we knights are here to fight for the innocent. I¡¯d take a hundred wounds as bad as this so long as justice was assured. Every true knight in this hospital would say the same.¡±

    If only I could be so sure. Fernan stood up, careful not to wake Mara, and slipped out of the room with an ungainly shuffle.

    The air was eerily quiet, no sounds of battle from this far away, only the whistling wind in the air.

    If he¡¯d had any energy left, Fernan might have flown up to the top of the wall to better take in the scope of the battle. But it was easy enough to imagine, a desperate scramble for survival on the ice, pelted and drowned by Levian¡¯s attacks as Glaciel weathered them within the walls of her castle.

    Florette could be hurt. It was so easy to imagine, making just one mistake in a situation that had killed three of Mara¡¯s siblings and filled an entire makeshift hospital with trained knights.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Who knew how many more bodies were floating in the water outside?

    And I helped make it happen. Whatever Fernan had lost, perhaps it still wasn¡¯t enough. Drawing further on himself was an option to consider, if it could bring an end to the fighting. Better to lose two years than the rest of your life, as Lumi¨¨re had said.

    Without consciously making the decision, he felt himself walking up the spiraled steps to ascend the wall.

    Each step was harder than the last, an exhaustion soaked into every inch of his body. Before long, he felt himself leaning against the wall as he lurched forward, trying to stay on his feet. Perhaps he was losing precious seconds, but burning more of himself to climb could waste even more. It was impossible to know the right choice.

    Perhaps it was already too late for either to matter.

    Emile Leclaire stood still at the top of the wall, hands clasped behind his back. His clothing flowed around him in the wind as if it were looser than winter wear had any right to be, but he didn¡¯t seem bothered by it. It was strange that he could be here alone, such a contrast to the buzz of activity mere hours ago. Patrols and defenders still manned the walls, but on this stretch, at least, Leclaire remained alone.

    Sire Mesnil said he¡¯d be at the castle. What¡¯s he doing here? It made everything with Levian even more suspicious.

    Glaciel¡¯s island was almost completely obscured by the thick vortex of snow, the air around it so cold it was impossible to tell where it ended and the sky began.

    Beneath the wall, in the gloom of dark waters, points of light scattered across swathes of darkness, the fading warmth of the dead and the dying. There must be dozens of them, and that¡¯s just the ones I can see. How many more were already so cold they were invisible, or so far out to sea they were out of sight?

    One of them could be Florette.

    ¡°Admiring your handiwork?¡± Fernan asked, fire in his voice.

    ¡°My handiwork? I confess, I¡¯m not entirely sure how to respond to that.¡± He didn¡¯t turn to face Fernan, didn¡¯t move at all.

    ¡°You brokered the deal with Glaciel. You¡¯re a sage of Levian. Levian appeared out of nowhere to start attacking us and help Glaciel. Surely your esteemed noble mind can understand the implications.¡±

    ¡°Clearly, you¡¯re laboring under severe misapprehensions as to my nature. A sage serves their spirit, they cannot command them. Only his own word can truly compel Levian, not mine.¡± Finally, his composure broke, head shaking with a scowl. ¡°Do you think I want this? Do you think it isn¡¯t agony to have to watch so many meet their end while I¡¯m entirely helpless to intervene?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m considering it.¡± Just standing was beginning to be draining, so Fernan leaned against the doorway. ¡°I didn¡¯t accuse you of anything, I was only asking a question. You have to admit how it looks.¡± Half the aristocrats I know would have just said ¡®yes¡¯ for the sake of rubbing my nose in their superiority.

    ¡°Questions can so often be misleading. They don¡¯t commit you to any truth, nor bind you to any firm statement. Yet they can steer the conversation anyway. A declaration without declaring, an accusation without accusing.¡± Sighing, he stroked his chin. ¡°But I think I understand your purpose here. The Leclaires serve the Fox-King and Levian, and so it must seem strange for one to work so thoroughly against the other. I assure you, it is not. Levian serves nothing but his own self-interest. I¡¯m told you¡¯ve met Soleil, so you ought to be familiar with the type.¡±

    Unfortunately. ¡°He was about as awful as it gets. It was hard to even see it, this fundamental force of the world so petty and malicious.¡± The erstwhile sun spirit hadn¡¯t had much regard for his sage either. ¡°But once they were at odds, Soleil¡¯s sage Aurelian Lumi¨¨re put everything he had into a plan that would spare his son from Soleil¡¯s wrath. It even worked, though it cost him everything.¡±

    ¡°You think I ought to have done the same with Camille?¡± Leclaire shrugged. ¡°Perhaps I should have. She¡¯s certainly endured enough. But it¡¯s far too late now. Even back then, I doubt her parents would have wanted me to intercede.¡±

    ¡°The past isn¡¯t as important as what we do now. How limited are you exactly? What were the exact words of your deal? Maybe there¡¯s a way around it, like there was for the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°My, you¡¯re presumptuous, aren¡¯t you? Unfortunately, by the vows I¡¯ve sworn, I cannot disclose the deal to anyone. Regardless, I assure you my word is not so easily broken.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re just sitting here watching? You could be helping the sick, or comforting the people sheltering back in the city, or¡ª¡±

    ¡°I could do a great many things. Certainly, I intend to attend to the wounded once I have the time to spare. I¡¯m aware that my limitations need not wholly stifle action. Louise de Montflanquin, advisor to two Fox-kings, was bound by an unbreakable vow of pacifism for the duration of her royal service, and still she managed to craft an alliance between Leclaire and Renart where before their enmity had only been growing. At the moment, staying informed is more of a priority for me.¡±

    Informed? ¡°Can you see what¡¯s happening down there, through all that snow and fog?¡± Even I can¡¯t, and my sight is better suited to the task than most.

    ¡°I can call upon Levian¡¯s power to do so. Every few minutes, in order to assess the conditions of the battlefield, I do.¡± Before Fernan had the chance to ask, he said. ¡°Your friend remained alive, for now. When they can spare it, as they are drawn back and forth across the ice, the Fallen are looking out for her, creating just the right distraction to stay a hand that might otherwise strike her. Corro lives, though he had to retreat after a confrontation with Glaciel. Lucien is in a difficult position, Levian on one side and Glaciel to the other, but with each wave that knocked his forces down, he has rallied them to rise again. Many have died, and most likely many more will, but for the moment, they are holding. Not progressing, mind, but the stalemate continues.¡±

    Fernan let out a long sigh of relief. If she¡¯d killed herself diving into freezing water to save me¡­ It was hard to be friends with someone so careless about her own well-being, but it meant everything that she would go so far to protect him.

    ¡°If you¡¯re telling the truth, Levian is still here for a reason. What does he get out of it? With Flammare and the spirits here, I don¡¯t think Glaciel can really win an absolute victory. And anything less means that Levian isn¡¯t protected from all the other spirits he¡¯s defying.¡±

    ¡°Defying? He¡¯s demonstrating his strength. I don¡¯t imagine Glaciel will block Flammare¡¯s ascension entirely, but once the conflict is over one way or another, Levian will have proven the dangers of opposing him, and weakened Flammare. The Torrent of the Deep is too deeply entrenched to easily be removed, and while this will test that, he imagines it will not break it. In a few centuries, his reputation of strength will allow him greater influence, claim over adjacent and subordinate domains. Spirits will concede before challenging him, only ceding him greater power. With a large enough surge of power in a short enough time frame, he might even manage it sooner.¡±

    ¡°That¡­ maybe I¡¯m overestimating spirits, but it¡¯s hard to imagine that being worth it.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Leclaire stroked his beard again. ¡°It¡¯s not a plan I think will end up benefiting him, in the end. But Levian is new to his seat, and he acquired it through force and dominance. It¡¯s hardly surprising he would look to what worked to expand his influence.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s still a fucking awful thing to do, and it could end up killing everyone in the world if it doesn¡¯t go exactly as predicted.¡±

    ¡°Then he¡¯d be the right hand of one of the only spirits whose followers could survive. Still an improvement on his current position. But either way, the world endures more conflict and strife. More people slowly bleeding out on the ground, alone and unloved. Do you think I want that? Camille and Lucien have to live in this world, and it¡¯s not hard to guess that their parents would want me to make sure it¡¯s still there for them, no matter the cost. I¡¯m doing what I can.¡±

    ¡°But how can we trust you on that?¡±

    ¡°Where did you get the impression that I have any need for your trust? A short-lived sage to a minor flame spirit of no particular renown, headed rapidly towards your own demise. You have done favors for young Lucien, and earned his recognition. That isn¡¯t nothing, but it hardly makes you indispensable, as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡±

    ¡°Favors? I saved his life from Glaciel! I rescued him from Lumi¨¨re¡¯s captivity and let him rule in his own name. I¡¯ve been feeding his subjects, helping keep everything going. Not to mention dealing with the spirit side of things, where I notice you were no help at all.¡±

    ¡°You use an interesting definition of help, to exclude moving Glaciel¡¯s castle into the position that allowed this attack and brokering a deal for her to leave the city alone until you were ready to fight.¡±

    Damn, he¡¯s right. So cold and exhausted, it was easy to let the heat of the moment carry him away. But that wasn¡¯t productive, it didn¡¯t accomplish anything, didn¡¯t save anyone. ¡°I apologize. Of course that was important.¡±

    Leclaire nodded. ¡°Your actions prove that you have your uses to the Empire, certainly. It would be easier if you took me at my word. It¡¯s not as if I¡¯ve ever lied to you.¡± A brief click of his tongue left his mouth. ¡°It seems your heart is behind young Lucien, and your backward manners ought to be expected, given your upbringing. Do you wish to rejoin the battle? I could escort you. The share of Levian¡¯s power I can call on allows me to move rapidly and safely across the ice and slick terrain.¡±

    ¡°You can get me there?¡±

    ¡°Quickly and safely, provided nothing unexpected occurs. I cannot participate in the fighting, so Levian¡¯s spiritual power is of limited use for the moment.¡±

    That¡¯s a surprisingly quick turn. Is he plotting something else, manipulating me?

    Probably. It could even be as simple as betting that I get myself killed.

    But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s help that I can turn down.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Fernan. ¡°I think I might have a way to win this battle, though not without cost.¡±

    ¡°Where do you wish to go?¡±

    Fernan pointed out the spot he needed to go, and Leclaire¡¯s aura pulsed with surprise.

    It¡¯s not ideal. Nothing about this is. But if the alternative is frozen annihilation?

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Florette XI: The Kindness of the Night

    Florette XI: The Kindness of the Night

    Florette scrambled to the top of the decaying ruins of Glaciel¡¯s tower, trying to get a better view of the two spirits talking to each other, but Glaciel was already out of sight above the lip of the crater.

    Fine. I could always try to jump back.

    Judging by the distance, though, there wasn¡¯t much chance of that unless the Ring of Glaciel also gave her super jumping powers. I mean, maybe? Florette willed power from her foot and sprang into the air.

    Exactly as far as she normally would have. She barely even managed to keep her footing on the landing.

    Khali¡¯s curse, I have to be part of this conversation. The idea was that Glaciel would ream out Levian for destroying her castle and stuff, ideally removing him from the fight entirely while exposing herself.

    Left to themselves though, they might just talk it out like adults and ruin the whole thing. Nor would anyone be in a good position to go after them while they were out in the open.

    Florette had the ability to incite them to anger, that much she was sure of. She¡¯d already managed it with both of them.

    But what good is that if I¡¯m stuck in a pit? She pounded her fist into her leg with impotent frustration. Plan ahead, Florette! How many fucking times do you need to learn this lesson?

    She rubbed her hands, trying to warm up her mind. I can¡¯t make the jump, so there¡¯s no point in trying that. The Hiverriens just had Glaciel make a bridge whenever they wanted to sortie, so they didn¡¯t leave anything for me.

    It was, she supposed, technically possible that the tunnel she¡¯d used to get out before was still there. After all of the fighting and disruption and re-shaping of the ice and waves and explosions and¡­

    Not bloody likely. Even if it were somehow still there, Hiverriens were spread out across the ground in battle formation, regrouping after the destruction to the castle. Unless I can pull a Robin Verrou and fight like thirty of them at once to get through, it doesn¡¯t even matter if the tunnel¡¯s intact.

    But it did give her one idea, however unlikely.

    ¡°Corro, did you come back?¡± she called out, without much hope. Glaciel had shredded through him, even with all the power he¡¯d gained from the explosion. He¡¯d barely escaped, and it wasn¡¯t fair to expect him to stick around after.

    One of the Hiverriens must have heard her, because she had to duck out of the way of a javelin in response, but Corro was definitely gone.

    ¡°Fallen?¡± she tried again, with even less hope. ¡°Fallen?¡±

    This was an active battlefield, filled with probably dozens of revenge killings, all the more once people on both sides began to lose their comrades. The Fallen would be filled with power from it, certainly, but constantly pulled to the latest source. They had made that much clear, that they wouldn¡¯t be able to contribute much directly.

    And yet¡­

    A murky white figure jumped from the edge of the hole, solidifying as they fell.

    Florette reached out and grabbed Cassia Arion¡¯s hand as she slammed against the side of the tower, then pulled the Fallen up to her perch beside her. ¡°You came!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t stay long.¡± Perimont snorted. ¡°Bloody animals are killing each other by the dozens. It¡¯s quite a sight to see. I haven¡¯t acquired this much power since the Foxtrap. First the geckos wanted to avenge their brethren, then Glaciel¡¯s children had grievances of their own from the battle, their comrades, then back again to the Imperials¡­¡±

    Are you seriously taking pleasure in this? ¡°You must feel so strong.¡±

    Perimont shook his head, sneering. ¡°On the contrary, it is the battlefield where I am at my weakest. The fallen join one by one, flowing in with barely a minute between them. It takes all my concentration to maintain what I am, to hold onto such self as I have. If you have ever found it difficult to be a good person, Florette, and I believe you have, I encourage you to imagine facing the same challenge when every revenge-killing on a night full of them fills you with power and chips away at your sense of self.¡± Their face took on the burned cast of the nameless man Florette had stabbed on the beach. ¡°When I was with Lamante, she centered me. She helped make sure I could hold on to what I am. The Foxtrap was my first great battle without her, and it took everything I had. I had hoped there would never be another.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I misjudged you.¡± Florette reached out and patted the burning figure¡¯s shoulder, unharmed by the char and flames. ¡°You and Lamante were apart that long? I thought¡ª Well, it doesn¡¯t matter. I was hoping you could help get me out of here so I can talk to Levian and Glaciel.¡±

    Perimont raised a judgemental eyebrow. ¡°Should I start with the fact that you want to present yourself before two spirits who both want you dead, or the fact that you jumped into a hole with no plans for how you¡¯d get out?¡±

    It hurts worse when they¡¯re right. ¡°If you could start by helping, that would be even better. But I understand if it¡¯s too much to ask.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Perimont stroked his chin, looking every inch the scheming, imperialist villain he¡¯d been in life. ¡°I can¡¯t take you with me when I feel the call. That¡¯s not how it works. So we only have until the next one slain in vengeance. Perhaps one after, if I can hold myself back, but that won¡¯t be easy.¡±

    ¡°Is there anyone whose form you can take? I know¡­¡± You can avoid thinking about it all you want, but that doesn¡¯t make it less true. ¡°I¡¯ve been fighting with the Hiverriens for weeks, and Corro and I just exploded a building full of them. There¡¯s no way that they all lived.¡± It was easier to think that, each small step at a time, but easier doesn''t mean right.

    The Fallen smiled, quickly cycling through four or five faces that Florette couldn¡¯t recognize at all, each with a slight pale cast to their skin, but none of the upper ring descendants. ¡°I was waiting to see if you would acknowledge us. You know all too well that the spirit-touched remain people.¡± They settled on a tall woman with slightly shiny skin, the iciest-looking so far. Experimentally, the Fallen waved their hands over the ice, but it didn¡¯t move. ¡°We are too weak. The strong survive, just as Queen Glaciel preaches. Those with the power to move ice could also draw upon its sustenance. None of the superior upper-ring descendants perished in your pathetic attack.¡±

    Great, so I preyed on the weakest and left the biggest bastards alive. ¡°Shit. I appreciate you coming, anyway. Maybe you could relay a message, at least? If the Fox-King¡¯s alive, he needs to go for the throat now. This is the moment. And tell him that I arranged a signal. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll work; I heard that all the boats capsized, but maybe¡­¡±

    Telling Renart would be dangerous, as far as what it meant afterwards, but for any of that to matter, they first had to survive the night. Ugh, what fucking mess. ¡°You know what? No. I have to fix this. I started so much of it.¡±

    ¡°No one you murdered has the power to get you up there on the time scale you¡¯re looking for.¡± Perimont folded his arms. ¡°But it is within my ability to call the form of another of the fallen, one whom you never even met. Someone with the fell sorceries to remedy this. It will consume far more power. Always more, the more distant from the memories of the living. I won¡¯t be able to do much afterwards.¡±

    ¡°Oh, fuck yes! Thank you!¡± Who, though? Another spirit? It did seem logical that the Fallen would take on spirit appearances when alone in their company, though it was hardly certain. Honestly, it didn¡¯t really matter as long as they could help.

    ¡°This is the course you wish to take? By the same ability, I could call someone who could get you to safety.¡±

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    ¡°No, that wouldn¡¯t fix anything.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Please turn around.¡±

    ¡°Turn around? What, is it a state secret?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Cassia calmly asked. ¡°It would make things much more difficult for me if you saw.¡±

    Score one for the spirit theory, then. Perhaps their true form would just melt Florette¡¯s eyeballs if she saw it, or something. It was hard to really put anything past spirit anatomy.

    ¡°I really appreciate this, Fallen,¡± she said, her back turned. It felt great, someone having her back again, even if they were judgemental. But all that went for Fernan too, and he still managed to be the best friend anyone could ask for. He backed me up on this audacity and almost died for it. That couldn¡¯t be for nothing.

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble for me at all, Florette. That¡¯s not the issue. It just takes more energy to resist the pull. All of it has a cost, always. You forget that at your peril.¡± The sound of splashing water filled the air for a moment, probably the Fallen doing their thing but possibly something Levian-related above seeping down. I really hope I¡¯m not too late when I get there.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve jumped into a situation you weren¡¯t ready for. You must take care that it doesn¡¯t become a habit, lest it damage you permanently. Or worse. You¡¯ve shown that you¡¯re capable, but only in the moment. Use your compassion, let it guide you.¡±

    It felt strange to hear the Fallen speak without berating her for once. Are they expending more energy to speak as themselves, rather than the dead? Or was this random dead person just way more polite than any of the people I¡¯ve killed?

    Perhaps it was neither, and Arion and Perimont just had reason to hate Florette particularly. That would certainly make sense on its own.

    Either way, it was nice.

    ¡°You can turn around now,¡± the Fallen said, using Cassia Arion¡¯s voice again, and so Florette did.

    A thin rod of ice stretched all the way from where they were standing to the edge of the pit, no larger than a log. Anchored in the tower, it flowed out into a taper so quickly that it didn¡¯t really look firm enough to hold her weight. But Florette had an edge there, and apparently the Fallen already knew about it.

    ¡°I cannot thank you enough for this, Fallen.¡± Florette pulled them into a quick hug, belatedly realizing the strange wrongness of embracing the body of someone she¡¯d stabbed to death. ¡°Really, it means a lot.¡±

    Cassia nodded, a slight smile on her face. ¡°I have to go, and so do you. I¡¯ll see you after the battle, so long as you survive it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, see you then.¡±

    As the Fallen faded away into the sky, Florette gingerly tested the escape pole with her foot, making sure to use the one with the ring on it. Almost certainly because of that, it seemed to hold her weight, even when she lifted the other foot. But since hopping across it was out, Florette shuffled across slowly and carefully, making sure the entirety of her weight was never her normal foot, already aching and cold in its boot.

    A sword pointed at her face once she crested the edge of the pit, but it pulled back once its wielder saw she was human. The man was armored, a symbolic viaduct sewn onto the fabric of his sodden clothes. Weary shadows traced around the edges of his eyes.  ¡°Florette de Montaigne?¡±

    ¡°I mean, kind of. I never took that for my name, but I am from the mountains so¡ªLook, can you point me to where the spirits are talking?¡±

    The man stared incredulously for a moment, then pointed behind her. Past the pit, at the far shore of the island, an eight foot ice giant was putting her weight on an enormous spear, eerily still. Across from her, a scaly head with slitted blue eyes peered up from the edge of the water.

    ¡°Ah, thank you. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me¡­¡±

    ¡°Sire Miro Mesnil de Torpierre, fair lady. If you need an escort from the battlefield, I¡¯d be happy to arrange it for you.¡±

    Hah! ¡°Do as you like, but I have business with Glaciel and Levian.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± He cut himself off, mouth agape. ¡°This is our one reprieve. King Lucien¡¯s regrouping us into stable battle lines as we speak. If you¡¯re part of that, you need to be in formation, not shortening the very brief time we have to try to save ourselves.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m skipping to the ¡®save ourselves¡¯ part. Nice to meet you.¡± She kicked herself into a slide, traveling around the castle pit towards the hopefully-currently-arguing spirits. Of course I¡¯d come up on exactly the wrong side, too.

    Luckily, with Glaciel¡¯s ring, it still didn¡¯t take too long to make it there. Florette used the Cloak of Nocturne as she approached, trying to hear as much as she could before she made her move.

    ¡°...depths of your ingratitude. If you have no more desire for my aid, simply say so, I shall depart.¡± Levian¡¯s voice rumbled deep, the water shifting and splashing to accent every sound.

    ¡°If destroying my domain is what you consider aid, Torrent of the Deep, then there is scarce cause to wonder why your sages keep dying.¡± Glaciel¡¯s tone was almost as windy and confident as it ever had been, but not quite. She was feeling pressured.

    And good. Whether Florette could survive their duel or not depended on something totally outside of her control. But making it count, putting her out of the fight¡­ The more off-balance she was, the better.

    ¡°Leclaire lives, due to my intervention. I sent her forth to carry out my will, to spread my influence across the homeland of your precious fox-girl and sacrifice those heretical invaders by the thousands. She remains useful to me, while you, should you find yourself exiled by those humans you love so much, or incinerated by Flammare, have nothing to offer at all.¡±

    Florette had to stifle a laugh. Yup, just as much of an asshole. Considering Camille fell under his sway when she was like eleven, it was really remarkable that she could even be as functional as she was.

    A dark part of her wondered what would happen if she told Levian about exactly how well Camille was carrying out his will, but there were basic standards of decency to hold to, even for haughty aristos.

    ¡°I must regain what was taken, for myself and by myself. Cease with your violent encroachments on my domain until I finish crushing the lowly insect who stole it from me.¡± That got a smile out of Florette, because how could it not? I maimed a centuries-old spirit today, and she deserved the shit out of it. If only there were more time to savor that before the inevitable moment Glaciel tried to kill her for it.

    ¡°What do you want, Glaciel of Hiverre? The humans arrayed against you occupy your domain. Shall I sit here and wait for them to leave? Do you wish that I spend my energy drowning the lone vessel of humans left alive at sea, already on the verge of capsizing?¡± Levian snarled. ¡°I loathe those who waste my time. You do not want to earn my disdain, Glaciel. By the terms we have set, I could drag this entire island under. Weak as you are, I doubt you would offer much resistance.¡±

    The pull to Nocturne from the Cloak was strong, but that news sent a pulse of life through Florette, allowing her to hang on longer. If that¡¯s the boat I think it is, I might just have a chance.

    ¡°By the terms we have set, I could freeze you in place and leave you to watch as I win without your help. We who possess true strength must know when best to wield it, and conflict between us helps neither of our aims. It only emboldens the Spirit of the Hearth and arms him for his grand designs. What do you expect he will do with the cause of Pantera¡¯s death?¡±

    Levian grumbled softly, but didn¡¯t respond with words.

    ¡°Continue as you were, untouchable within your domain, and there need be no dispute between us. I know not why you even stopped.¡±

    ¡°The human-spawn with your toe,¡± he snarled. ¡°She must die before I leave your icy rock alone.¡±

    ¡°She will,¡± Glaciel declared, sharp wind emphasizing her words. ¡°But it was I that felt her bite at my heels.¡± The air cracked sharply, sending an echo across the ice. ¡°Hold yourself back for the few minutes it will take me to find and end this miscreant thief, and begin the assault anew. Once my domain is secured, the city is yours to drag into the depths.¡±

    Florette gulped. Uh oh. Looks like that reprieve is coming to an end. Still, in a way it was good that she was the focus. If she could lead Glaciel away, that would delay Levian too. With the ring on her foot, the mobility to do that might even be achievable. And then with the boat¡­

    ¡°Very well. The human-spawn you seek is close by, hiding under a scrap of Khali¡¯s skin.¡± Levian flicked his tail under the water, sending a cold splash onto Florette with perfect accuracy.

    ¡°Oh fuck,¡± she muttered as her concentration broke, forcing her to withdraw from Nocturne lest she succumb to its pull.

    By the time Florette wiped her eyes and shook herself slightly-less-wet, Glaciel was already striding towards her, the tip of her spear aimed squarely at Florette¡¯s head.

    Well, nothing else for it now. ¡°Queen of Hiverre, Chancellor of Winter, Glaciel, I challenge you to a duel.¡±

    The wind howled with unmistakable laughter. ¡°You are lucky, girl. Thousands have died at my hand and faded unremembered into the depths of your pitiful history. But you¡­¡± Her face twisted into a wide grin. ¡°Minstrels will sing of your folly for generations. I¡¯ll ensure it, if need be. And the tale shall end with the unspeakable torment you are about to endure, knowing you brought it all upon yourself.¡±

    Shivering, wet, and exhausted, Florette drew her sword, staring white death in the face.

 Camille IX: The Undiscerning

    Camille IX: The Undiscerning

    As if Camille wasn¡¯t unpresentable enough as it was, Clocha?ne¡¯s blood had splashed all over the sleeves of her coat. Her gloves weren¡¯t really clean either, but in the dim moonlight, that was easy to miss. Less so for the green coat Mary had lent.

    In the end, Camille had been forced to turn it inside-out, then roll the sleeves back slightly, leaving a cold gap between them and the gloves where her wrists were exposed to the night air. But what¡¯s the alternative, walking around trying to inspire people while looking like I stepped out the back of a butcher''s shop?

    Sacrifices to Levain were so clean it was hard to even imagine them as comparable acts. Would Uncle Emile and Duke Fouchand have pressed me to step up and perform them when I was seven, if it had involved opening their throats and drenching myself in their blood?

    It was hard to imagine, and yet¡­

    If that had been the tradition established with Levian all those centuries ago, the safe path plotted out by brave ancestors forming invaluable traditions to guide the family, wouldn¡¯t they? And I¡¯d have been raised not to question it, not to be bothered by it, just the same. Had that been the way of it, Camille certainly would have been better prepared for this¡­

    Hopefully Eloise had found out where Luce was being held by now. If he died, if Camille failed to honor her deal, everything could fall apart.

    As if I don¡¯t have enough going on right now. The Prince of Darkness had really fucked everything up, getting himself caught like that.

    Camille spared a look towards the seaside before ducking back into the tunnels. If the Guardians had discovered the people sheltering at the temple, Cadoudal was to put up a signal fire, and Camille had promised to aid them.

    Not in front of a spirit. Not in a way that¡¯ll really hurt me, if they¡¯re all arrested or killed anyway. But it would be better not to have to choose. They could hang in until Luce was safe, and everything could go back to the way she¡¯d planned it.

    Fortunately, the sky was clear, so Camille moved on.

    The mass of people beneath the underground had mostly faded, returned to their homes or taken refuge at the temple, but the occasional few still stumbled by looking for directions one way or the other, and Camille did her best to oblige them. That included more of the temple-bound, who ended up following behind her for safety.

    The days of these tunnels being a secret network for Leclaires had basically come to an end, the situation growing so complicated and messy that the decay of secrecy had become a necessity. But it didn¡¯t rankle as much as it should have.

    They¡¯re a tool to be used, and I¡¯m using them to help people. Revealing intricate, hidden knowledge was a trick that could only really be used once, but it was still ultimately a tool, and this was the best way to use it.

    A pair of guardians spotted Camille¡¯s group through the murky shadows and cried out, but the same trick she¡¯d used with the candle criminals worked to subdue them without expending too much energy. By the time they were up, everyone was out of sight and on their way.

    Ysengrin arrived at nearly the same time the rest of them did, for some reason accompanied by a middle-aged man and, presumably, his daughter.

    Camille sent the people in her group on towards the temple run across the darkened beach, then turned to address the surprisingly knowledgeable criminal. ¡°Did you find out where the prince is being kept?¡±

    He snorted, shaking his head with a measure of careless insouciance that just couldn¡¯t be faked. ¡°Eloise was doing that. I had other stuff to do.¡±

    Unfortunate that he¡¯s got Eloise¡¯s sense of humor, though. ¡°Really though, where is he?¡±

    ¡°Really though, I haven¡¯t the slightest idea. Eloise went to that meeting, I was busy¡­ uh¡­¡±

    ¡°Collecting random people?¡± Camille turned towards the father and daughter, the former of whom was glaring at her like she¡¯d just thrown him off the docks, while the child seemed shyer, averting her face. ¡°Ysengrin, I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re aware, but this is a serious situation. I contracted the two of you to do something important, so if you¡¯re just going to run off¡­¡±

    He snapped, pulling Camille¡¯s attention back towards him. ¡°I had to! Eloise¡¯s ¡®disagreement¡¯ with Jacques¡­ She couldn¡¯t be free to do the work without¡­ Hmm, shit.¡± He rubbed his jaw, clean shaven and square, obviously trying to come up with a good lie to redirect Camille¡¯s attention.

    Oh, you poor thing, you are just hopelessly outmatched here. ¡°While her loved ones were being threatened, perhaps? She tasked you to secure them outside of the guardians¡¯ reach, so you brought them here?¡±

    Looking more closely at them, they had her same light brown hair, a similar cast to their features. And the girl¡­ ¡°Wait a moment, you were the one who offered me psyben root a few hours ago.¡±

    The girl opened her mouth, closed it, then smiled. ¡°Can¡¯t resist a good opportunity. And sages are even crazier about the stuff than their acolytes.¡±

    She¡¯s not wrong. ¡°If you actually have a supply source, perhaps we should talk later.¡± Malin¡¯s last importer just left an opening for the position.

    Ysengrin jumped in front of them, holding out his arms protectively. ¡°We¡¯re going to be going now. Eloise will meet up with you later.¡±

    ¡°Why? You need them out of the way, the temple¡¯s the perfect place for it. We¡¯ve got warmth, food, water, and it¡¯s free of nosy guardians. Obviously that was your first thought, so I don¡¯t see why¡­¡± Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°Do you actually think I¡¯m going to threaten them for concessions from Eloise?¡±

    The wolf boy grimaced. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be smart to risk it, the possibility of it, you know? El wanted me to keep it to myself, get them the fuck out of the city as soon as possible.¡±

    Eloise¡¯s probably-sister snorted. ¡°Yeah. Good luck finding a ship that can break the ice floes, or finding the supplies to walk through snowed-in roads.¡±

    ¡°Margot, could you just¡­?¡± Ysengrin wiped his face, still maintaining his protective posture. ¡°They¡¯re not part of the job. They have nothing to do with our agreement.¡±

    ¡°Of course! Obviously!¡± It was hard not to be a bit annoyed by the implication. ¡°You¡¯re both welcome in the temple,¡± she told Eloise¡¯s family. ¡°If you don¡¯t trust me, it might comfort you to know that Pierre Cadoudal is running the main operations inside. But you¡¯re also welcome to leave. As Ysengrin said, you have nothing to do with any prior agreements I made.¡±

    Ysengrin let out an audible sigh of relief, his posture adjusting. ¡°We¡¯ll just wait here for Eloise, then. She¡¯ll want to be with them either way.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re sure she¡¯ll be back?¡±

    ¡°Her leg isn¡¯t in great shape, but that cane you gave her helps. And Ms. Sunderland wouldn¡¯t just kill her in the middle of a business meeting, and she knows how to be slippery. As long as you held up your end of the bargain and kept Jacques back, I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ll see her soon.¡±

    ¡°Rest assured, I did.¡± Camille didn¡¯t elaborate further, trying to banish the bloodstained image from her mind. ¡°So it seems we¡¯ll need to wait.¡± That was frustrating, honestly; it wasn¡¯t like there was a dearth of places Camille was needed. But the alternative was giving the pirate a chance to break her word and leave the prince¡¯s location unknown. Better to see that through first.

    The man glared at her again, but Ysengrin patted him on the arm and helped lower him to a sitting position against the wall.

    ¡°Did you know Claude?¡± the child, Margot, asked, creeping up from the side. ¡°He was an acolyte of your order, right? You both have the same cool hair.¡± Finally, someone here understands!

    ¡°A little bit,¡± Camille answered honestly. ¡°He worked for Pierre Cadoudal first, and Clocha?ne second. Levian didn¡¯t really enter into it at all, like most of them here. But he helped me out of a very sticky situation when we first met, and was friendly enough afterwards.¡±

    ¡°What situation? Where did you meet?¡± Her clothes were rumpled and torn, but her face still beamed with bright childhood innocence.

    ¡°Jail. And jail,¡± Camille answered, the absurd thought that she¡¯d spent so much time there inadvertently bringing a smile to her face. ¡°He was part of Florette¡¯s scheme to rob the railyard for plans on their technologies. But distantly involved, so the solicitor was able to secure his freedom. And mine along with it, as a favor.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Margot smiled wistfully. ¡°I heard about that job. Claude never said a word to anyone. Not this time either¡­¡± She folded her arms, nostrils flaring. ¡°It¡¯s so unfair, what they did to him. He never hurt anyone.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes that¡¯s the way things go. Life is unfair until we make an effort to make sure it¡¯s not.¡± Camille inhaled. ¡°Like by wiping Avalon off the face of the map, starting with Perimont and Stuart.¡±

    ¡°Jacques wanted him dead too, for what he knew,¡± Ysengrin added. ¡°Your sister stepped up and helped him escape. If only it had been enough¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s horseshit. Doing everything right and still ending up dead for it. Even at that railyard, he was the only one who ended up in a cell and that started all of this.¡± She blinked. ¡°Wait, what were you doing in the jail?¡±

    Camille frowned, reaching back for a suitable lie that just refused to materialize before the little girl. ¡°I was hoping to have a spiritually fulfilling experience using the appropriate substances, but during the act of purchase, I was¡­ seen.¡±

    ¡°Really? I¡¯ve done it for years and I never had any problems.¡± Margot shrugged, plastering a smug expression on her face. ¡°Maybe you should have tried not getting caught.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Camille couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the girl¡¯s misplaced confidence. ¡°Something to consider next time.¡±

    Ysengrin raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn¡¯t comment.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Florette, though? Yse never told me about anyone else doing the rail heist with them.¡±

    ¡°Probably blocking out traumatic memories.¡± Camille clicked her tongue. ¡°Your sister certainly could have chosen someone with a bit more of a head on her shoulders, but I suppose their relationship is probably over anyway, being in different cities and all.¡± Somehow, both of them seemed too unpleasant to wholly justify inflicting one on the other.

    ¡°Relationship? Did¡ª¡±

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough,¡± Ysengrin cut in. ¡°Your sister¡¯s already going to kill me for letting Lady Leclaire see you, no offense to you, Leclaire. But enough questions, please, Margot.¡±

    ¡°But we were going to negotiate a deal! I did the networking and everything. Never thought those classes would actually be useful, but there you go.¡±

    Camille patted the girl on the shoulder, holding back a smile. ¡°We can talk about all of that once the dust settles.¡±

    ¡°But if we have to leave, then¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s here,¡± Ysengrin announced as Eloise hobbled into view of the dim light.

    ¡°What an introduction,¡± Eloise said dryly. ¡°Did you have any luck with¡ª¡± She dropped her cane and lunged forward, sweeping Margot into her arms. ¡°Where were you?¡±

    Margot scoffed. ¡°I was just in the market. Calm down. Even when the guardians came in and started busting heads, we lost them in the tunnels.¡±

    Camille raised an eyebrow. ¡°I seem to recall leading you to safety because you were lost.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we got away, is the point. Even got a lead on a new business relationship.¡±

    Eloise grit her teeth, looking back and forth between Margot and Camille and Ysengrin with an expression alternately relieved, irritated, and befuddled. ¡°You were just¡­ going to market? Are you serious? Do you have any idea how worried¡ªI can¡¯t fucking believe this.¡± She stopped and took a deep breath, releasing her sister and standing to face the other adults.

    Camille couldn¡¯t help but be amused at the sight, Eloise¡¯s awful personality apparently receding in at least some circumstances. ¡°How did the meeting go?¡±

    ¡°Jacques showed up and killed me, obviously. Total failure.¡± And now it¡¯s back. ¡°I know where Luce is. Don¡¯t fuck me on this deal, and I¡¯ll tell you.¡±

    ¡°Why does everyone assume I¡¯m being sinister? We made a deal and I intend to honor it. I¡¯m not¡­¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°About your ¡®professional disagreement¡¯, was Clocha?ne a danger to you?¡±

    Eloise snorted. ¡°He¡¯s just mad I lied about Claude. Planning to kill me, tarnish my name, hurt my loved ones, that kind of thing. It¡¯s fine.¡±

    Alright, it should be safe to say, then. ¡°Better than fine. He¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I got him alone, offered him a deal, and he refused. Backing Avalon and Perimont to the last.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªHow?¡±

    ¡°Slit his throat, it was nice and quick. No need for cruelty.¡± Try as she might, Camille couldn''t quite keep the shaking out of her voice, but no one seemed to notice it.

    ¡°...Good.¡±

    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Ysengrin barked out. ¡°He runs this town! You can¡¯t¡ª Do you know how many people are going to be after you now?¡±

    ¡°Do you know how many people are already after me? He corrupted the acolytes; he gouged people for basic candles they needed to stay alive; he supported the coup; he sent his people to kill Eloise, and he would have killed your friend Claude, given the chance. He had to go. I saw my opportunity and I seized it.¡±

    Silence filled the air for a moment, punctuated only by the sound of the old man tapping his fingers against his leg, pointedly facing away from all of them.

    ¡°So,¡± Camille began, cutting into the still air. ¡°If you felt like you needed to get out of town in a hurry, that might change things.¡±

    ¡°What? Aneouf and Sunderland and everyone else are just going to be even more invested in seeing me dead now. There¡¯s no way they don¡¯t think I¡¯m involved.¡±

    ¡°You were marked as his successor. You just went to a big meeting to fill in for him, incidentally giving you a perfect alibi for his death. I don¡¯t know what he put in his will, but if you¡¯re on good terms with his solicitor, I¡¯m sure that can be worked out too. It¡¯s an open seat, and it would be¡­ it would be nice to have someone predictable dealing with that side of things.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d seriously trust me with that?¡± Eloise didn¡¯t seem to have quite recovered, asking normal questions like a regular person instead of her usual thing.

    ¡°I said predictable, not trustworthy. I don¡¯t doubt you¡¯ll be another self-interested merchant criminal diving after every last copper on the table, but I¡¯m hoping you won¡¯t murder acolytes to make it happen.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°No, of course not, but¡­¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you just fucking did it,¡± Ysengrin exhaled.

    ¡°Sorry, were you close? I just assumed it was fine since, you know, he was trying to kill you and everything.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. And you¡¯re right. The last thing I need is uprooting everyone again.¡± Eloise folded her arms. ¡°He¡¯s on Stewart¡¯s ship. The Ferrous Ram, anchored out in the bay. I¡¯m not sure how to get there without her guns tearing so many holes in the boat that even the spirits don¡¯t want it, but there you go.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Other than the location itself, anyway. That steel-plated ship was a veritable fortress in its own right, and not liable to be flipped or disrupted without a life-ending amount of energy. But at least I know where he is. I can start planning a way out.

    Somehow.

    ¡°As I said, I don¡¯t have the funds to pay you right now, but once all of this settles out¡­ I know exactly what you have in mind if you don¡¯t get what you¡¯re owed. Hopefully my making it easier for you to stay here shows that I¡¯m perfectly willing to pay it. Now I just need to plan the rescue mission. Presumably Luce is being held¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re done.¡± Yse shook his head. ¡°Eloise has earned a rest. She got what you needed. She¡¯s injured, she needs to spend time with her family. We don¡¯t give a fuck about some prince of Avalon, whatever concessions you made getting into bed with him.¡±

    ¡°I did not¡ª¡± Camille took a deep breath. ¡°Fine, if you need to leave, leave. But I¡¯m not doing any of this for him, it¡¯s about Malin. My people. And if you think Avalon¡¯s going to be happy about where this ends up, I¡¯m afraid you haven¡¯t been paying attention.¡±

    Eloise hesitated, looked at her sister and presumably father, and then nodded. ¡°Good luck.¡± They left together, though Margot started complaining just before they were actually out of earshot.

    ¡°And you, Ysengrin? It¡¯s not like the wolf to flee.¡±

    He grit his teeth. ¡°I told Florette not to interfere. Once Jacques marked Claude for death, that was it. But she did anyway, and she got him away. For a while at least. It would have been enough without a fucking elite Avalon bloodhound after him. And then with Eloise¡­ It¡¯s easy to talk shit, you know. Complain about everything fucked in the world. But when the time came to do something, I didn¡¯t. Florette reamed the shit out of me for it, and she was right.¡±

    Camille forced herself not to smile too obviously. ¡°Are you offering to help?¡±

    ¡°Jacques went down. Avalon can too.¡± He nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s fuck em up.¡±

    They managed to avoid detection on the run across the darkened sands to reach the Great Temple, though Camille was thoroughly winded after the sprint, solely due to how exhausted and drained she was already.

    A couple pinches of pixie powder helped take the edge off, though, and Ysengrin was decent enough not to laugh at her for it. Sitting beside a warm, hidden hearth didn¡¯t exactly make staying awake easy, but there wasn¡¯t time to take a proper rest. Just a brief moment of respite before moving on to the next challenge.

    Luce had to be rescued, or Camille¡¯s soul was forfeit. No effort could be spared to defend him from enemies within Avalon, nothing to be gained from leaving him to his fate, not until the sun returned. And depending on how the battle went in Guerron, there was no telling exactly when that would be.

    ¡°Leclaire? I¡¯m really hoping this is part of your plan somehow.¡± Ysengrin shook her arm lightly, his hands warm at the point of contact.

    ¡°What?¡± Camille jerked her head up from where her chin had been resting against her chest, demonstrating her alertness.

    Everyone was standing, agitated but quiet as Cadoudal stood resolutely in the doorway. When his eyes reached hers, he jerked his head over his shoulder, then turned and left.

    Blinking, Camille roused herself and followed him into an empty courtyard beneath the temple¡¯s outer walls.

    Cadoudal pointed through a cracked sliver, and so Camille peered past it into the dark horizon, ready to focus her vision on some faraway threat.

    She needn¡¯t have bothered.

    Over a hundred torchlit guardians marched towards them across the sand, Captain Whitbey at their head. They were already starting to spread, encircling the temple on all sides but that of the sea, a crescent of fire and steel.

    ¡°Well?¡± Cadoudal asked, arms folded.

    And for once, Camille didn¡¯t have an answer for him.

 Luce VI: On a Slab of Iron

    Luce VI: On a Slab of Iron

    ¡°This is so boring,¡± Harold bemoaned, leaning back in his chair. ¡°None of it has anything to do with our lives. It¡¯s all just dates and facts.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s education,¡± Luce whispered back, trying to make sure the tutor didn¡¯t hear him. ¡°History isn¡¯t exactly my favorite subject either, but you need to know all about it if you¡¯re going to be king someday. That¡¯s the whole point.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not. What¡¯s keeping you here?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s what we¡¯re supposed to do. Father said.¡±

    Harold shrugged, clearly unconvinced.

    ¡°The Cambrian College won¡¯t let anyone in without a good grounding in all the subjects, even the humanities. It¡¯s not about what we care about, it¡¯s what we have to do to get there. First this, then that, then eventually the Tower for me and the throne for you.¡±

    That was what Luce clung to, in the worst doldrums of all the essay assignments and literary analysis. Five years, and he¡¯d be able to enter the hallowed halls of the College and truly blossom as a scientist.

    ¡°Oh please, like we¡¯re going to have any trouble getting in no matter what we do now. Just pull that stick out for a second and enjoy yourself.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? I don¡¯t have a stick.¡±

    ¡°Prince Lucifer!¡± the tutor snapped, her conversation with Cassia apparently over. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have expected you of all people to be so easily distracted.¡±

    ¡°But I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°He was just helping me understand it, my lady,¡± Harold said, coming to the rescue. ¡°I was having trouble following.¡±

    ¡°What a surprise,¡± the tutor noted with the minimum of plausible deniability necessary. ¡°Well, Your Highness, since you¡¯re so well versed in the material, perhaps you¡¯d like to explain why the Shining Prince remains so controversial.¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course¡­¡± Shining prince, shining prince¡­ Was that what they called the first Harold before he was king? No, then he wouldn¡¯t have asked the question that way. Learning the epithets had always seemed like a waste of time, even if so many primary sources used them instead of peoples¡¯ names. There¡¯d always be someone to explain that stuff, anyway, unlike the actual mysteries of the universe that had to be puzzled out through science and rationality.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he knows that, my lady. We were just talking about Arthur Williams a few minutes ago.¡±

    Thank you, Cassia. Luce shot her a grateful look, then turned back to the tutor. ¡°He led an army to invade Cambria, before Avalon really existed in truth. Even a hundred years later, people are still holding a grudge over it.¡± Stupidly. It wasn¡¯t like it had worked anyway, or like anyone alive even remembered it.

    The tutor twisted her face to the side, mulling over the answer. ¡°Adequate, though incredibly simplified and incomplete. I recommend looking over your Caldwell again.¡± She said the word ¡®again¡¯ as if he were sure Luce had never read it.

    Which is fair, honestly, because I pretty much just skimmed it when I had some extra time at the end of Sir Glen¡¯s physics lesson. That tutor wasn¡¯t bad, really, but he focused all his attention on Cassia and ignored any requests for additional assignments, which tended to leave Luce with a lot of extra time. He didn¡¯t invite me on his boat either, which is so unfair. But the subject was interesting. They¡¯d even recreated the first Harold¡¯s famous brandy still once, and had a tasting session for the results. He kept up the pace, too. Unlike History or Literature, which move with all the swiftness of a death march through Nocturne.

    ¡°That will have to do for the moment, though any of you are welcome to reach me in my office if you have further questions. I believe your literature tutor will be here in about ten minutes, so I leave you to your business until such time as she arrives. Good day.¡±

    Yeah, what a great day it is, having history and literature lessons back to back. Sometimes it was hard to hold onto how important these lessons were, when the return they offered was so distant in the future.

    Harold barely even waited for the tutor to be out of earshot before standing up from his chair. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to go to that. Shall we ditch it?¡±

    ¡°Hah, I know what you mean,¡± Luce agreed. ¡°Imagine if we actually did, though.¡±

    Cassia tilted her head. ¡°I did want to check something out in Alora Park. My cousin told me if you rub charcoal over paper against the Nocturne gate, words appear. And if we wait until lessons are done, it¡¯ll be dark.¡±

    ¡°Well, sure, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going.¡± Harold grabbed Luce¡¯s hand, helping him up out of his seat. ¡°Come on, do you want to sit in a stuffy room talking about poems or enjoy one of our seven sunny days a year out in a beautiful park?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about what I want, it¡¯s just¡­¡±

    ¡°That was rhetorical. We¡¯re going. Right, Cassia?¡±

    ¡°Definitely,¡± she said, arms already full of paper, as she raided an engineering cabinet for charcoal.

    I guess one time wouldn¡¯t hurt. It would be nice to get outside and take a walk, definitely far better than frantically leafing through a book he had no hope of understanding in the next ten minutes to prepare for an essay that would have no value to anyone.

    Somehow, Harold read the acceptance on Luce¡¯s face perfectly, stretching his own into a grin.

    ?

    Why must it always come to this? Getting kidnapped and force-marched into captivity aboard a ship once was definitely just misfortune, but happening twice in one year, it started to tilt more towards being Luce¡¯s own fault. Once more, and people would probably think he liked that sort of thing.

    Assuming I make it that long.

    Anya Stewart has assigned Sir Prashant of Nymphell as his guard, a knight of little renown but reputed reliability, and someone Luce would have expected she¡¯d want with her while violently seizing power in a city instead of babysitting him on a boat. He gave Luce a respectful distance as he led him into the interior of the Ferrous Ram, a courtesy the pirates certainly hadn¡¯t extended. The warm interior even felt pleasant after the forced march through the freezing night, for all that it represented naught but failure.

    The ship was bespoke in its design, heavily modified from the 115 model of steam battery produced in limited numbers at the Crescent Isle facility around the time Luce had started overseeing operations there. Despite its age, he had no doubt that it outclassed even the most recent models of its type, upgraded on a near-quarterly basis to better pursue the elusive Robin Verrou. The engine used a new model of pressure-boiler that allowed mobility competitive with the sleeker clipper designs, though it had yet to catch the Seward Folly. Apparently the latest round of modifications made it an able icebreaker, too.

    A year ago, Luce would have given his favorite pen for the chance to see it up close, but the circumstances made it difficult to appreciate the more detailed look.

    The odds seemed good that he would live, given he hadn¡¯t been hanged immediately on the beach, but now he was at Perimont¡¯s mercy, and she believed he¡¯d helped kill her husband. And I did help cover it up for the girl who did.

    It was almost laughable now, the thought that he¡¯d done it to avert war and conflict. That had certainly come to fucking nothing.

    Camille was always pushing me to do more, to push harder no matter the cost. She¡¯d been such a damned suspicious character that it was impossible not to regard her advice with distrust, to wonder if she was merely goading him to step into the thresher for her own benefit. Maybe she was, even, but clearly a part of her was right. Tiptoeing around people¡¯s feelings hasn¡¯t made them any less furious, and now my reforms could die with me.

    That was assuming they hadn¡¯t arranged the whole thing, anyway. Camille and Eloise, coincidentally shaping his movements to get swept up in everything while getting cleanly away themselves, strangely knowing each other despite being about as likely to get along as polar and nonpolar molecules, or phlogiston and a match.

    Camille was supposed to be bound by her word. It was extremely specific about her not leveraging other factions of Avalon against him, in fact. But perhaps she¡¯d found a way to worm her way out of it after all. Or bet that I¡¯d be too softhearted to call her on it and condemn her soul to perdition.

    And Eloise¡­

    People tell you who they are; the hard part is believing them, instead of hearing what you want to hear.

    Father had been very clear about that, and he would know, being a master of pouring poison in people¡¯s ears.

    He and Camille had a lot in common, really, worming their way in with affable charm as they worked to destroy all that you¡¯d built. Harold wasn¡¯t bad at it either, though at least he kept it pointed in the right direction. For all his protestations, he was more the King¡¯s son than Luce had ever managed to be.

    What I¡¯d give to have him here with me. He always knew what to say.

    Luce sighed, tilting his head up towards the low ceiling of the corridor.

    ¡°Are you alright, Your Highness?¡±

    Luce blinked, incredulous. I barely even moved, and you¡¯re inquiring about my health? ¡°Doing fantastically, thanks.¡±

    ¡°If you find yourself coming down with a chill, please do not hesitate to let us know.¡±

    Am I captive to you, or a porcelain doll? ¡°Yeah, I wouldn¡¯t want to be ill at my own execution. That would just ruin it.¡±

    The guard stopped walking abruptly, turning back to face Luce directly. ¡°Your Highness, please understand, Lady Anya is simply returning you to your brother¡¯s care. Whatever your crimes¡ªactions, I mean to say... Whatever the truth of it, you remain a prince of the blood. Lady Anya would never allow you to come to harm.¡±

    ¡°Someone should tell her about the mob chanting for my death back there, then.¡± Of course my birth is privileged enough to get me out of treason too. This should have been a good thing, but all it represented was another condescending sop to the fuck-up prince. Even in this context, that didn¡¯t feel great.

    ¡°Why do you think we moved so quickly to secure you?¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°Do not mistake me, Your Highness. It is not my place to comment on the fate of the late Lord Perimont, but you seem to be in dire need of an attitude adjustment, as I¡¯m sure your brother will agree. These strange doings of yours with that sorcerer woman¡­ The follies of youth can only excuse so much.¡±

    Great, returning home a failure while all of my work is undone, kept in a gilded cage to make sure I don¡¯t screw anything up again. ¡°Is an execution off the table?¡± he asked, though the guard remained unamused. They¡¯ll probably call me the Prince of Darkness back home, too, useless fop that I am.

    Really, whether Camille set me up or not, this is still on me. Father asked me to fix Avaline Malin, and instead I¡¯ve made a grand mess of it. Though perhaps he never intended to get me here at all, if the whole thing was a set-up. If he remained in a Guerron prison cell, Luce might never get the chance to truly find out. Sending the message with Corro certainly hadn¡¯t produced any results.

    ¡°Here are your chambers, Your Highness. Lady Stewart¡¯s own Captain¡¯s quarters, as befits your status. Ring the bell if you require assistance, or use of the facilities. She and Sir Gerald will be returning shortly to escort you home.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Wonderful.¡± If Father grew up getting this same kind of treatment, is it any wonder he thinks he¡¯s invincible? Even now, the same privilege is protecting him from execution in Guerron. One he might even deserve, given everything he¡¯s done.

    My whole career, I¡¯ve been trying to minimize it, but it¡¯s literally the only thing keeping me alive right now. Might as well use it for what I can, take the edge off of this whole blunderous mess.

    ¡°Sir, I was actually wondering if I might be permitted a tour of the engine room? I was a student of thermodynamics at the Cambrian College, and I¡¯m always eager to see the new advancements in our technology. If Harold permits me to resume my post at the Tower, I¡¯ll need to be abreast of the latest developments.¡±

    The guard didn¡¯t bother to stifle his sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll rouse our Chief Engineer and have him meet us down there to answer any of your questions. You¡¯re to look, not touch. This is a delicate piece of machinery, and the last thing we need right now is another delay for repairs.¡±

    Well, that¡¯s disappointing. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Well, this is disappointing.¡± Luce frowned at the paper in his charcoal-stained hands, the words on it entirely familiar and not an exciting Nocturne thing in the slightest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so cranky. Enjoy the moment. We¡¯re outside, the sun is shining, birds are chirping, we¡¯re far from the Literature tutor¡­ Days like this are meant to be savored.¡± Harold waved his hand around the admittedly beautiful park, largely empty at this hour, then shrugged. ¡°Who cares if it¡¯s just the Great Binder¡¯s Call to Action?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a piece of history right here, Luce,¡± Cassia added. ¡°These are the only words we have on record that the Great Binder ever wrote. So what if we¡¯ve seen it before? This is the source, from like a hundred years ago. It has to be.¡±

    ¡°She probably engraved them right after she was finished sealing Khali.¡±

    ¡°I guess¡­¡± Luce looked down at the words again. It¡¯s just the same thing they taught us when we were six. Then later they¡¯d had to analyze it with the Literature tutor, which was a thousand times worse. Dissecting the meter, the way certain topics appeared on holy line numbers¡­ Honestly, the Great Binder was a soldier anyway, not a writer.

    With flowers in her hair, and clad in shoes of white

    Awakened by the midnight sun,

    She brings them peace, and grants the kindness of the night

    Those few who do not run

    For whether on a slab of iron or of wood

    The earth spirit cannot discern.

    With blinded eyes, it matters not, the heart of good.

    When night falls, all will burn.

    We can accept our fate, and freeze and die alone.

    To leave the earth mere lifeless rock

    We only need to greet the darkness as a friend

    And give Khali her due.

    I refuse.

    With will of iron, heart of ice, I make my stand

    Though I cannot expect to live.

    Into the panther¡¯s den I travel once again

    And only one shall leave.

    A far cry from any insights into Nocturne or Khali, that was for sure. ¡°She was right about who won, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on! This is the woman who saved the world calling on everyone else to rise up and take action!¡± Cassia saw Luce rolling his eyes at that, and scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s what being a hero is all about. Everyone else was just sitting on their ass and wilting into nothingness. She knew it would be hard, but she knew she could do it, too. Good always wins in the end.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s really about that,¡± Harold said, though he wasn¡¯t usually so contrarian.

    ¡°What are you talking about? All of us wrote essays about how it is. I remember yours! It¡¯s the right answer.¡±

    ¡°For the tutor, sure. Give ¡®em whatever horse shit they ask for. You¡¯re an expert at that, Luce.¡±

    ¡°Thank you?¡±

    ¡°But this engraving, she doesn¡¯t sound confident at all. Literally, she says she doesn¡¯t expect to live. Verbatim.¡±

    Cassia shook her head. ¡°Standard heroic modesty. That was an even more important cultural value then, especially in Naudion. Were you paying any attention at all?¡±

    ¡°Probably not, admittedly.¡± Harold laughed. ¡°But I know how to read. She¡¯s speaking as a person who¡¯s doomed, trying to do what she can to make her mark on the world before it¡¯s too late. Success doesn¡¯t enter into it, it¡¯s about¡­ Not being passive, not being a slave to fate, you know? Even in death, she¡¯d have made her mark on the world.¡±

    ¡°But she didn¡¯t die,¡± Cassia said. ¡°She won.¡±

    Luce clicked his tongue. ¡°She definitely died. She was born like, over a hundred years ago. Super dead now.¡±

    Cassia rolled her eyes at the pedantry, which he maybe deserved.

    ¡°She¡¯s saying ¡®do something¡¯,¡± Luce offered, folding his arms. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly profound.¡±

    ¡°Simple, maybe,¡± Harold agreed. ¡°But not easy. Never easy.¡±

    ?

    ¡°But how do you avoid hydraulic shock when the engine shuts down?¡± Luce asked, still fascinated despite himself after an hour touring the engine facilities.

    ¡°Hehe, I feel like I¡¯ve been waiting my whole life for someone to ask that question.¡± Sidney Hauvent, Chief Engineer of the Ferrous Ram, looked positively delighted to be speaking with someone with actual technical knowledge.

    Looking at Sir Prashant over there, it¡¯s hard to blame him.

    ¡°If you redirect fluid too suddenly, it creates a pressure wave that can damage internal components,¡± Luce explained for the knight¡¯s benefit. ¡°It¡¯s the kind of thing that limits how reactive your systems can be to input, and how quickly controls can affect the interior.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful.¡± His eyes were practically rolling back in his head.

    ¡°We use a slow-release valve, where the aperture furls and unfurls gradually. No sudden closing, no water hammer mucking things up inside.¡±

    ¡°Can I see it?¡±

    ¡°The boiler¡¯s not running now, so the pipes should be empty. No disruption if we take a quick peek.¡± Hauvent turned to Luce¡¯s minder, who waved him on. ¡°Just make sure everything¡¯s back in place before we leave.¡± With a quick few tugs from his wrench, he unscrewed it from a boiler pipe and handed it to Luce to inspect.

    Sure enough, the interior was a series of curled apertures which opened and closed when a small knob on the side was twisted. Shockingly smoothly too, they keep their machinery well-oiled. In fact¡­

    Luce twisted the knob to close the valve, then kept twisting it further between his fingers, pushing against the resistance. A delicate machine¡­ Trying very hard not to show any visible strain, Luce wedged it further and further, willing this to work.

    ¡°Ah!¡± he couldn¡¯t help but exclaim when he felt it give, though the noise helped cover a soft ¡®snap¡¯ sound as the mechanism broke. ¡°It¡¯s brilliant! Though making such tiny components must have been terribly expensive.¡±

    Experimentally, he twisted it back and forth again, but it had no effect on the valve within. Sealed closed, no matter what they do from the outside. And it barely felt any different, either.

    ¡°What Lady Stewart wants, Lady Stewart gets,¡± Hauvent said as Luce handed the valve back to him. ¡°You think this is something? You should see the turbine. Just let me reinstall this first.¡±

    Luce spent another hour talking with Hauvent about the engine mechanisms, both as cover and out of genuine interest, occasionally explaining a concept to the ever-more-bored Sir Prashant as he went. He might have stayed even longer, but a horn sounded from the deck, announcing Stewart¡¯s return.

    ¡°Right, that¡¯s enough,¡± the knight announced, obviously relieved. ¡°Lady Stewart will want to see you right away.¡±

    Fine by me.

    Luce followed him up towards the deck, carefully masking any triumph from his face. Is this how Father feels, sneaking inside and sabotaging? It wasn¡¯t hard to see the satisfaction that came from it, but it was so stressful. Why would anyone with royal resources at their disposal ever choose this path of their own volition?

    ¡°...She¡¯s the railyard robber, too, I¡¯m sure of it!¡± Gary was shouting excitedly to his mother as Luce reached the deck. ¡°This is the master thief I¡¯ve been tracking. She¡¯s been wrapped up in this whole thing from the very start.¡±

    Lady Stewart marched briskly onto the deck, not sparing her son a glance. ¡°Your little book thief has nothing to do with the Governor¡¯s assassination. Why the earth inflicted you with such an ego, I fear I will never know. Not every crime is connected to your pet project.¡±

    ¡°Then who? Surely you don¡¯t think this ¡®Florette¡¯ organized something like this all on her own?¡±

    Stewart shook her head. ¡°It was Verrou behind this. I have no doubt about that. He¡¯d have trained her, put her on the path.¡± She practically growled the name, her voice dripping with hate. ¡°Ah, Prince Lucifer, good.¡±

    ¡°Lady Stewart,¡± he greeted coldly.

    ¡°Fear not, Your Highness. This folly of yours is at an end. I have my mission, to bring Lord Perimont¡¯s killer to justice, but first your brother will decide what to do with you once he learns of your crimes.¡±

    Is she leaving already? ¡°What about Lady Perimont?¡±

    ¡°This city is her prerogative. I am to find her husband¡¯s murderer, and the longer I wait, the more time she has to flee. Your part in this shall not go unexamined either, Your Highness. Your birth might prevent true justice, but I expect you¡¯ll never be allowed to leave the palace again. Or perhaps they¡¯ll toss you off to your insipid mother to get you out of the way.¡± She shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s not my concern. My work here is done.¡± Without another word, she marched past them into the bowels of the ship.

    I don¡¯t have long, then. What would Father do? What would Harold, or Camille?

    ¡°Hello, Gary,¡± Luce greeted.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± he grunted, obviously unsatisfied.

    The last obstacle between me and Malin.

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I think you¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°Of course I¡¯m right.¡± He paused. ¡°But as far as specifics go¡­¡±

    ¡°Verrou was with the pirates who kidnapped me, and one of them arrived in Malin long before I did. I heard about the theft from Director Thorley, and it might well have been her.¡± Or not, but who cares at this point? The important thing was getting off this ship.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Gary rubbed a red spot on his head, making Luce wince at the pleasure he¡¯d taken earlier. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure.¡± He stepped closer to the knight, wrapping an arm around his back. ¡°In fact she could still be in the city right now. I might have an idea where, even.¡±

    ¡°Tell me!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably better if I lead you there.¡±

    Gary shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Luce, but you¡¯ve been wrapped up in some nasty business. The Prince will decide your fate.¡±

    ¡°Well, I am a prince.¡±

    ¡°Prince Harold, I mean.¡±

    Not that stupid then, I guess. It felt mean, doing this, but what choice was there?

    Well actually¡­

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to let her treat you like that, you know.¡±

    ¡°Mary? She¡¯s just playing hard to get.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse. ¡°No, I mean Lady Stewart. No one deserves to be slapped around and demeaned like that, not even you. Why are you following her?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s family, obviously. And her strength speaks for itself. The epitome of everything a knight should be.¡±

    ¡°Should a knight slap their children?¡±

    ¡°If¡­ If they¡¯re asking for it. Right?¡±

    Luce shrugged. ¡°Speaking of Mary, though, she¡¯s really close with Camille. This has to be devastating for her.¡±

    ¡°Ah, because she¡¯s friends with a vile sorcerous traitor!¡± Gary nodded rapidly. ¡°You know, I had her pegged from the start. I even took her into custody, though Clockchain¡¯s corruption got her out before I had a chance to announce my findings. Damn shame, that.¡±

    ¡°Because of split loyalties,¡± Luce corrected. ¡°Whether to be loyal to Avalon, or to friendship. Family. It¡¯s a hard thing, to be pulled in opposite directions. You must understand that.¡±

    ¡°Of course I understand! I¡¯m a master of understanding. A master-stander, if you will. That¡¯s me.¡± He shifted his gaze back to the city behind them. ¡°The master,¡± he repeated softly.

    ¡°I just hope my brother understands you were doing your job at the end of all of this. He executed an entire ship of pirates just because he suspected they were involved with my kidnapping. What do you think he¡¯ll do to the traitors executing a coup against me?¡± Luce shook his head. ¡°I¡¯d love to speak in your support, if only I had anything to point to. You¡¯ve been an excellent follower to your mother, but in this case, that¡¯s hardly something to be proud of.¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°Now, if I took that rowboat back to Malin, say, and got things in order. That would be because you made it happen.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but then my mother would kill me. She said if I messed this up for her, she¡¯d throw me in front of the Ferrous Ram and show me why that¡¯s its name.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, what a monster. ¡°You¡¯d have a place in my court, and I¡¯m sure Prince Harold¡¯s too.¡± This is the kind of promise I¡¯m liable to regret, but¡­ ¡°Captain of my household guard, perhaps. A respectable station, and befitting a companion of a lady.¡±

    Gary stared at Luce, clearly using every ounce of his very limited brainpower to weigh his options.

    Luce unwrapped his arm and walked towards the ladder at the edge of the deck, giving Gary a meaningful look. Cautiously, he began lowering himself down, and the knight didn¡¯t stop him.

    He landed on the rowboat with a thud and began untying it from the larger ship. And when he looked up, Sir Gerald Stewart was descending the ladder too.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not what I meant.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Stewart shouted over the wind.

    ¡°I¡­¡± What exactly am I going back to? Between Camille¡¯s uncertain loyalties and the mass defection of the Guardians, will anyone be on my side? ¡°Nevermind.¡±

    It couldn¡¯t hurt to have some backup. With a mess like this, I¡¯ll take any help I can get.

 Florette XII: The One to Leave

    Florette XII: The One to Leave

    Well, I¡¯m in the panther¡¯s den now. With an official duel, no one else could be involved in the fight. It was just Florette and Glaciel.

    The ice spirit towered above her, striding over fathoms of ice in a single step as she readied her spear, almost twice as long as Florette was tall.

    All the rest had to stay in the background distant, a cry muffled heard underwater. Levian, the battle, the sun¡­ Even Fernan. I have to trust that he¡¯s safe now. For once it was nice that he was so reluctant and cautious. I can trust him to stay out of trouble and keep himself alive.

    Glaciel stretched upwards slightly, stretching into an enormous body about ten feet in height, her spear growing absurdly huge to match.

    I can¡¯t get within thirty feet of her without a risk of that thing gutting me.

    Florette had the Blade of Khali out, even though she was better practiced with her thinner florete. With Glaciel¡¯s abilities, nothing less would be able to do more than scratch her, and Florette had even less hope in the sort of prolonged battle of attrition that would necessitate.

    Except even that felt absurd, because how was she supposed to hit Glaciel with it? It was the same problem as back in the castle, except this time she didn¡¯t have any cover or surprise on her side.

    But I¡¯ve seen how she fights. All those elaborate twirls, fluid and graceful to be sure, but surely not practical even for a regenerating spirit.

    She was winding up now, spinning her spear in an admittedly-cool circle around her body, passing it back and forth between her hands as she stared Florette down.

    I hope this works.

    As Glaciel charged forward, Florette kicked off the ground with her sodden boot, fading into Nocturne with the same breath. She slid to a stop and whirled back to face Glaciel, fading fully back into reality to avoid the pull to the other side.

    The instant she was fully on earth, Glaciel whipped around to face her, somehow smoothly turning to her exact location as if she¡¯d already known it despite Florette not making a sound.

    Florette tensed, bracing herself for another charge. It looked like Glaciel could sense her through the ice, or something, which only made it more important to be ready.

    I¡¯m not even sure I reacted fast enough then, think I might have just read her body language and jumped ahead of time. Yet again, barely scrabbling by. If I live through all this I am going to have a very long conversation with Fernan about how to stop getting myself into this kinda shit.

    Glaciel hadn¡¯t moved yet, though, perhaps inviting Florette to make the next move. ¡°Hiding in the dark, human? How cowardly.¡±

    Like fuck I¡¯m jumping into that. I¡¯m not that reckless. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Florette called out, hoping to get her talking. ¡°I haven¡¯t done a lot of these duels, but I didn¡¯t think it was honorable to just sit around and wait.¡± You know, the way I¡¯m doing more than you are.

    ¡°Honor,¡± Glaciel spat, swelling in size. ¡°You carrion, harvesting Khali¡¯s corpse for parts, you speak of honor?¡±

    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t make them. It¡¯s on loan.¡± From the fucking King of Avalon, somehow. That really just got stranger the more she thought about it. He was dangerous, but trapped, like her own personal Khali handing out artifacts and giving lessons while being a complete fucking monster.

    ¡°If you seek to unbalance me with your sacrilege, you are mistaken as to my nature.¡±

    ¡°Sacrilege? I think it¡¯s fitting. Khali was an egotistical evil spirit that wanted to conquer everything and leave the world in darkness. Now, in a way, she¡¯s helping stop the next one.¡±

    The icy wind beneath her words condensed, harder and deeper, as Glaciel readied her spear once more. ¡°Khali had vision. She wished to overturn the old order, overthrow the Arbiters, change forever the role of the spirit.¡±

    ¡°She tried to exterminate practically all life on Terramonde. There¡¯s not a more evil figure in all of history, ever. Not even you, though you¡¯re clearly trying.¡±

    Glaciel responded with a charge, dashing ridiculously fast to the point that Florette definitely would have been stabbed if she hadn¡¯t faded into Nocturne. Her slide out of the way was barely over when Glaciel charged again, this time tearing the back of the cloak with her spear.

    Fuck, I hope that doesn¡¯t ruin it.

    Each time, Florette moved closer to the water¡¯s edge, trying to make out a boat amidst the gloom and snow, but there was nothing to see but white night. I just have to trust in things, and know that I¡¯m helping either way.

    Back towards the castle pit, she could see the Fox King forming up the remaining warriors into organized battle lines as sappers prepared entryways down to the castle. Lines of torches illuminated their formation surrounding the pit while the Hiverriens remained inside, either penned up or waiting for the duel to end.

    But I¡¯m getting distracted. Glaciel stood far in the distance, but when she swung her spear it still nearly cut Florette¡¯s face, missing by inches at most.

    ¡°Agh, fuck!¡± Pulling her hand away from her forehead, splashes of red covered the grey. Or hit by inches, since I¡¯m not lying on the ground with my head split in half right now.

    Was Glaciel toying with her?

    The ice spirit charged once more, but this time spun the spear as she moved so that the butt faced forward.

    Florette jumped away again, using the Cloak of Nocturne along with the ring at her foot to get better distance, but she¡¯d become too predictable, and Glaciel caught her out before she was fully divorced from the earth spirit. The blow struck her in the stomach, sending her sliding back across the ice.

    At least I made it close to the water first.

    ¡°Hhhhh,¡± she wheezed, the wind knocked out of her chest.

    ¡°She did everything they asked, and yet they still turned on her the moment she started asking questions. At that point her choices were to conquer all or be destroyed, and she made the only choice that she could. Yet it was not enough, backed into a corner and undone by a human of all things.¡±

    ¡°Yuuuuhhh,¡± Florette tried again. You seem to regret not helping her. Or perhaps she had, though all of Khali¡¯s followers were supposed to have been sent to Nocturne with her. ¡°Why?¡± she managed, though her voice remained strained.

    Glaciel towered above her, face without anger. ¡°Because she was set up to fail.¡± Glaciel looked back to the water where Levian lurked, face twisting. ¡°And by the time she realized, there was no alternative.¡±

    Florette shook her head, failing to stifle a cough. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you help her?¡± she rasped. The mass extermination part clearly wasn¡¯t an issue.

    By way of response, Glaciel spun her spear above her head, then plunged it down towards Florette¡¯s head tip-first.

    Barely able to move, Florette simply faded into darkness again, even the brief contact threatening to pull her in. And it was only harder to re-emerge the second time, and harder still on the third.

    Glaciel wasn¡¯t bothering to change her attacks, content to wait Florette out. And it would work, too.

    Well, I guess I just have to hope this is good enough. Florette reached beneath her cloak as the spirit of ice raised her spear a fourth time, readying the ignition on her pistol.

    When Glaciel readied herself to stab downwards once again, Florette fired directly at her head, sending a shimmering spark of ice from her crown flying off into the night as it caught the torchlight from the Fox-King¡¯s forces.

    Perhaps unsurprisingly, Glaciel began to laugh. ¡°Was that your secret plan? My children have been fighting you for weeks. Icy tendrils of cold began to worm their way in as the Queen of Winter bent down and ripped the pistol from her hands, taking another one of her fingernails with it, then tossed it into the sea. ¡°Even if your aim had been true, recovering the damage would be the work of seconds. This is no hidden surprise, merely a pathetic attempt to imitate one of Marie¡¯s gambits.¡±

    Florette bit her lip to get through the pain. Seconds, huh? This might actually work.

    The Queen of Winter slammed her spear into the ice, sending a wave of vibrations through the surface. Her other hand closed around Florette¡¯s throat. The spike of crown had already formed back into place, leaving the piercing tone in the air the only remaining sign the pistol had been used at all. ¡°Disappointing. The few who dare challenge me to honorable duels are usually great warriors, like the Sundered Queen or Olwen Chevoleur. After all your bravado and violations of Khali, weidling her dismembered appendages at me, I had hoped you would put up more of a fight.¡±

    ¡°Not¡­¡± Florette coughed, feeling the chill soak into her throat as her neck went numb. ¡°Not over yet.¡±

    Though if things didn¡¯t go right, it might be soon. It wouldn¡¯t take much. If they hadn¡¯t heard the signal, or hadn¡¯t made it to the right side of the island in time, or Levian or the Hiverriens capsized the boat, or one of the Fox-King¡¯s forces saw them and seized everything¡­

    It¡¯s out of my hands now, Florette realized as she inhaled painfully cold air, causing the grip around her neck to tighten.

    ¡°You seem ready to die, at least. When the legend of your arrogant folly spreads, I will note that you did meet your end with dignity, rather than the cowardice you displayed during the actual conflict. A hint of merit in a story otherwise lacking it. No true redemption, but¡­¡±

    Meeting her eyes, Florette willed it all to be ready. If she strained her neck to look for the boat out in the dark water, at best she¡¯d just be warning Glaciel.

    I might not be a great warrior yet, but I¡¯m not honorable either, and I¡¯m not limited to telling the truth.

    Suddenly, a deafening crack filled the air, then another, and another still.

    Shards of ice flew from Glaciel¡¯s body as it was pelted with balls of metal propelled from the stolen pistols, an enduring staccato that left Glaciel struggling to even stand, her body rippling and shattering.

    Florette landed on her ringed foot once the Winter Queen¡¯s grip loosened, panting for breath as she got her footing beneath her again.

    At the water¡¯s edge, the villagers were continuing their assault from the deck of their boat, swapping out pistols each time one fired. Michel the solicitor, Gaspard from Enquin, even the old drunk from Villechart. There were a few who¡¯d lived in Guerron before the mountain villagers had ever arrived, but fallen in with them once they settled in. Everyone who¡¯s willing to fight for this, or willing to die for anything. Fernan¡¯s mom was keeping the rest safe back in the mountains, sheltering with warmth from the geckos.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    They hadn¡¯t capsized. They hadn¡¯t been killed or seized or marginalized. Real people taking up arms to make this possible.

    And it falls to me to help them finish it.

    ¡°You might have been prepared for me,¡± Florette muttered as she picked the Blade of Khali up from the ice. ¡°But not for them.¡±

    To her credit, the Queen of Winter was remarkably alive for having just been filled with dozens of balls of metal, even managing to condense her size to better weather the attacks. Left as she was, she could probably pull herself together enough to retreat to her castle in a minute or so, and then they would be back where they started.

    But she won¡¯t get the chance. Wiggling along the ground trying not to get shot made for dangerous work, but the ring on her toe helped, as did the fact that most of the villagers were aiming up at her head, just as she¡¯d had them practice.

    Following the sabre form that the Fox-King had taught her, Florette sliced the edge of her blade through Glaciel¡¯s ankle and cleanly separated her leg from her foot.

    The titan of frost fell to her knees, so Florette sliced again and cut through her legs, Khali¡¯s blade slicing unnaturally smoothly and cleanly. Or perhaps that¡¯s the nature of Glaciel¡¯s body. Either way, it left the spirit of ice lying face down, the sight of it enough to halt the gunfire from the ship.

    And a good thing too, so there¡¯s no risk of them hitting me.

    Heavy in hand, the Blade of Khali plunged down once more, and then again, removing each of Glaciel¡¯s arms just below the shoulder.

    The scattered parts of her body did look like they were melting, slowly, as their corresponding joints on Glaciel¡¯s body gradually began to grow back, but the pace was glacial, her reserves to heal clearly deeply exhausted after the rain of pistol fire. When Florette kicked them away from the rest of her with her shoeless foot, the melting slowed so much it practically stopped.

    And if one toe was enough to give me a huge edge tonight, imagine what an arm could do. Or all of her. That was probably more advanced binding than Florette was ready for, but if she did it in small batches into many objects, that might get around the issue. And it would let me spread this power around, too. That was crucial with the pistols.

    However, it hadn¡¯t been enough for Glaciel, a collection of parts scattered across the ice as they desperately tried to reform their old shape. ¡°Coward¡­¡± The harmony in her voice had cracked, no longer resonating the way it had before.

    ¡°Call it what you want, but your dear friend Marie Renart herself wrote in her memoir that some opponents must be defeated no matter the cost, no matter what honor is lost or what sacrifices you make. And in her case, the world didn¡¯t hang in the balance.¡± And it ought never come to that, but if it¡¯s between Hiverre and the entire rest of the world?

    Her head shook back and forth once, so subtle it was almost unnoticeable. ¡°I was a coward. Khali had the right of it, but if I joined her, I risked putting my entire nation before Soleil as a target. It was foolish, and futile.¡± Her voice was almost painful to hear, a scratchy, venomous, tone of anger and regret. ¡°Flammare made the same proclamation anyway, though I remained neutral, and my hand was forced. Just as hers had been. Conquest or annihilation, with all options exhausted in between.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s always another option,¡± Florette said, though she wasn¡¯t sure it was true. ¡°And wiping out all life on Terramonde is never going to be the lesser evil.¡±

    ¡°You sound so sure. There is more to life than just Terramonde, girl. You¡¯ve already skirted the edges of Khali¡¯s new domain, and Miroirter could show you more, if he cared to do it. Khali knew¡­ This division, greater and lesser, human and spirit, life and death, light and darkness¡­ You speak it true, girl, for it is not inevitable. We can always choose another path, as I did with my court in Hiverre, or as she did in the wake of what she was asked to do.¡±

    Florette tried to push past the thousands of questions she had to focus on the task at hand. There¡¯s been enough deviations from the plan tonight.

    ¡°Regardless, I have no need to justify myself to you. Even now, my forces are¡­¡± She trailed off, prompting Florette to look back towards the castle in the pit.

    Without the spirits interfering, the Fox-King¡¯s forces looked to be occupying the upper floors of the castle, the fox banner flying  from the tallest remaining tower, half-melted and crumbled though it was. With the time and space to mount them, the fortifications above were mounted with countless lanterns, leaving it plain to see.

    ¡°Levian didn¡¯t promise anything either,¡± Florette realized, taking in the sight. ¡°If he were just holding back for the duel, he¡¯d be free to act now. And yet he isn¡¯t. He¡¯s gone.¡± Honestly, it¡¯s surprising he has the restraint to cut and run when the battle¡¯s lost. Although, his commitment to Glaciel¡¯s aims always had been dubious, setting her up to fall to Flammare before the humans had any chance of driving her away. Perhaps he simply got what he wanted.

    ¡°Then it truly is over¡­¡± A mournful wind whistled through the spikes of her crown, layering behind the words she spoke. ¡°Flammare will stop at nothing to wipe all of my descendants out. He has nothing to stop him, now. And soon, the power of the sun.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he¡¯ll be satisfied with just you dead?¡± Florette said, though she didn¡¯t really believe it. Not after the way he spoke at that spirit summit. ¡°Fernan and I will try to stop him, in any case.¡±

    Clearly, judging by her lack of reaction, Glaciel took no comfort from those words.

    If sacrifices are wrong because they turn human lives into grist to empower the execution, how would this be any different? So many justifications came to mind, but all of them rested on that same foundation. Better outcomes through more despicable means, grinding people down to serve your ends¡­

    Camille was starting to realize it, back in Malin. She¡¯d probably be salivating at the opportunity to throw my own words back in my face.

    ¡°They still matter,¡± Florette had told her. ¡°They still count. Even the monsters, they¡¯re still people. Whether or not they were going to die anyway, whether or not they deserved it, whether or not someone would have done it in your place.¡±

    That had been under the light of the sun, before these dark days had begun. Before the world itself had become imperiled.

    Yet when Florette raised her blade and looked Glaciel in the eyes, Cassia Arion¡¯s face stared back.

    This is different, though. This one deserves it. And no one¡¯s in a position to do anything except me.

    ¡°Spirits can¡¯t lie,¡± Florette said, still brandishing the blade above Glaciel¡¯s head. ¡°So if you make a promise, you¡¯re bound to it forever. Enduring long past the circumstances you made it in.¡±

    ¡°If you seek to make me beg for life in exchange for my service, I assure you, death is preferable.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that.¡± Trying to make her decision, Florette nodded once to herself, not caring whether the wounded spirit thought it was strange. ¡°You¡¯ve lost, today. If I so choose, you¡¯ll die for it, too.¡± If I make you swear an oath to leave humanity alone, to never wage war outside your borders, would you accept? Are you even capable of that?

    She wouldn¡¯t be hesitating at all if not for the way Corro had talked to her, almost convincing her to drop it even before she lost.

    But was it fair to the Hiverriens who¡¯d already died to let their leader live because she could better save them from Flammare? Why should Glaciel get that privilege when none of her followers did? It was just like when Captain Verrou called on them to spare anyone who looked noble to use for ransom, while the rest were fair game to kill. Regular people thrown onto the altar as a sacrifice for their ¡®betters¡¯ once again.

    And there was a chance Flammare wouldn¡¯t even be the next sun. A slim one, to be sure, but killing Glaciel here in G¨¦zarde¡¯s name would at least give him a chance. Though I¡¯m not as confident as Fernan that he¡¯ll be that much better.

    And what if killing Glaciel is the right thing to do, but it still won¡¯t be good for me to do it? Do I want another phantom haunting me, another face for the Fallen to taunt me with my every mistake? But isn¡¯t it selfish to care about that more than keeping everyone safe?

    It just¡­ Fuck!

    Slow as her healing was, Glaciel¡¯s stumps were already about halfway grown out, perhaps a minute off from her being able to move again. And do you doubt for a second that she¡¯ll kill you the second she can?

    This was the moment the whole night had been leading to, the opportunity to deal with Queen Glaciel once and for all, one way or another. And¡ª

    Florette felt a burning heat above her head, and ducked just in time to avoid a ball of red flaming slamming into the ice just ahead of her.

    Whipping her head back, she saw Laura Bougitte alight on the ice behind them, Fernan following a second later with a trail of green. Above them, Flammare cast his light down from the sky, spreading warmth and red over the entire island.

    Why are you back here? You almost died already. And more importantly,what the fuck were you thinking, bringing them?

    ¡°Need some help?¡± Laura asked, as if she were doing some enormous favor.

    No, I had it handled. And now you and Flammare showing up is going to ruin half the reason we did this, giving you credit for our work.

    Fernan seemed to realize it too, with how guilty he was looking. If you had just fucking trusted me, Fernan¡­ ¡°We needed to put an end to the fighting. I know it¡¯s not ideal, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Later,¡± she barked. ¡°We just defeated Glaciel, but now we need to¡ª¡±

    Though she only looked about four feet tall, Glaciel¡¯s limbs had regrown enough to let her start crawling, an opportunity she hadn¡¯t wasted.

    Fernan and Laura didn¡¯t seem to have noticed, which meant¡­ what, exactly? What am I supposed to do?

    From high above, Flammare let out a spherical blast of red flame around him, nearly large enough to touch the ground before it stopped, and began condensing back in on itself. With a flick of his metal wings, the red-hot ball plunged into the crumbling ice castle and melted all that remained. Along with no shortage of our warriors, I bet. Asshole.

    ¡°Wait here and watch the water,¡± she ordered Fernan and Laura, readying herself for another slide across the ice. ¡°Levian is still out there, and we need people to guard the coastline.¡±

    Fernan nodded swiftly, which only made her feel more terrible for the lie, but it was a temporary thing, only because Flammare¡¯s sage was standing right next to them. If you don¡¯t want to get lied to, don¡¯t stand next to the sage of a murderous asshole. Don¡¯t bring them here to take credit after the battle¡¯s over, either.

    ¡°Wait, but what are you¡ª¡± The rest of Laura¡¯s question was swallowed by the wind as Florette dashed away, burning Glaciel¡¯s ring down to nothing as she caught up with the spirit herself.

    She leveled the Blade of Khali at the crawling form as she approached. ¡°Wait, Glaciel! If you swear an oath not to harm humans again, never to wage wars of aggression, if you¡ª¡±

    ¡°If I do this, what? You¡¯ll let me live?¡± She shook her head as she rose to a standing position, her body more or less back to its proper shape save the missing toe. ¡°It¡¯s over, girl. All that remains is preparing Hiverre for the end and ensuring a fight for the unending legends. If Flammare spots me now, I am dead where I stand.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    Florette cut herself off as Glaciel jumped into the pit housing the steaming remnants of her castle, exploded and flooded and incinerated over the course of hours, with nary a structure standing.

    But that was still where most of her people were.

    Florette spent the next few minutes helping people out of the hole, trying to distract herself from the fact that she¡¯d held victory in her hands, so close, only to be undercut by a spirit that had contributed nothing.

    Cast in dim red light from Flammare, a smaller chunk of the island was floating away, crowded with Hiverriens and no doubt Glaciel, retreating back to their home.

    If someone pointed it out to him, Flammare would no doubt annihilate it in moments. But who says we have to?

    Returning to her work, it wasn¡¯t long before Fernan and Laura joined her again, Levian clearly having remained absent. The Fox-King¡¯s forces were mostly back above too, having already taken captive any remaining Hiverriens trapped on this side of the ice.

    And, of course, Flammare swooped down with his metal wings right after. ¡°And so fell Glaciel suffers defeat, a thorough victory for us and light over the monstrous fool who thought to fight. Though she survived the day and lived to flee, her time will come with haste, and all her spawn. Hiverre must count the days remaining there, for once I have taken my seat, I swear, this queen and her abominations shall, each and every one of them, expire.¡±

    Florette couldn¡¯t help but glare at Fernan, still angry despite her efforts to cool off. He¡¯d obviously been trying to help, calling in the cavalry to save the day when it looked like all was lost. If things had been more dire, maybe this would have been the lesser evil rather than a total failure. But as it was?

    You¡¯re one to talk to me about acting recklessly. Being friendly doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re always doing the right thing.

    And now an entire nation would pay the price. You didn¡¯t know, Fernan. I understand that. But does it even matter?

 Camille X: With Flowers in Her Hair

    Camille X: With Flowers in Her Hair

    Camille inhaled slowly, trying to wrap her head around the dismal situation out in the gloom beyond the walls. Captain Whitbey stood at the head of a massive formation of Guardians, surrounding the Great Temple on all sides but the water.

    Which does leave me an out, at the cost of some power. It would be a chance to rescue Luce and clear her obligations, moving things into the next phase of her plan.

    And leave everyone here to their fate. But if it were a choice between that and eternal servitude or death? Even Luce could probably understand, if it came to that.

    My hands are already stained today as it is.

    Pierre Cadoudal looked torn between whether to level his pained, judgmental eyes towards the enemy or Camille, and it was hard to blame him. I gathered everyone here, and now they¡¯re here because of me.

    At least it made the path forward clear.

    ¡°A proposal for you, Pierre. Whitbey¡¯s thugs are here for me, and yet they¡¯re unable to block my escape. What say I lead them on a merry chase? I doubt I¡¯ll be lucky enough to pull all of them with me, but it should give you a much better chance of fighting your way to the tunnels.¡±

    ¡°I have no taste for blood, nor entertaining your self-serving manipulations.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t fight. You can run too, while I distract them. There¡¯s a room I can show you with a tunnel that leads to the room where we¡¯d meet Levian. From there, anywhere is open to you from the sea.¡±

    ¡°Frigid water, and likely to kill half the people here if it¡¯s half as deep as the Torrent of the Deep might desire of a meeting chamber.¡±

    Shit, right. ¡°Ok, we can think this through. I can guide everyone up with magic, and even to shore.¡± Thinking through the distances, she could probably make a few trips until she ran out of energy, which would mean picking people off to offer in the doing. Not ideal at all, but better than leaving everyone trapped here.

    ¡°Do you think we have time for that?¡± He didn¡¯t sound dismissive or annoyed, just trying to work his way through the problem. ¡°I¡¯m not well versed in these Guardian operations.¡±

    ¡°It hasn¡¯t ever seen battle, but the Temple is defensible. As long as we can present a credible threat, they¡¯ll need to plan a siege instead of just storming in. That could take hours.¡± Which still might be cutting it close, given how many people we have inside. ¡°We¡¯ll want people on the walls, periodic volleys from inside¡ªOh, we¡¯ll need to string the bows in the basement first¡ªand a strong first impression can make it look like we have more arrows than we really do. Higher volume with less frequency, so it¡¯s not something any Guardian can just tune out and ignore.¡±

    ¡°Open war with the Guardians? Even if the Prince of Darkness prevails, an organization founded by sages taking up arms against them is not going to be something Avalon can ignore. It¡¯s a threat and a challenge.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re doing it in his name, we¡¯re just helping restore the ¡®rightful¡¯ ruler.¡±

    ¡°And aiding a failed coup, should he fail. He is already in their custody, is he not?¡± Cadoudal didn¡¯t look fully convinced, understandably. He¡¯s a man of caution and compassion forced into a position that demands violent action. And it was a plan that depended on a lot going right. ¡°Even if this gets us out of immediate danger, we¡¯re just dragging ourselves back into the muck. There must be a better way.¡±

    If only. ¡°If you have one, I would be delighted to hear it. Otherwise¡ª¡±

    ¡°If we can get a message to Jacques, perhaps he can intercede for the right price.¡± He scowled. ¡°Even if fifteen years ought to have earned us more consideration.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Camille said, emphasizing her certainty.

    ¡°The skies remain dark. I think a runner could make it out through the sea, provided they¡¯re hardy enough to endure the cold. As to our offer¡ª¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to offer! Can¡¯t you see that he abandoned the Acolytes? He doesn¡¯t care. He never did.¡±  He deserved it. He had to go. Had to. ¡°We have to deal with this ourselves.¡±

    Cadoudal¡¯s lips pressed firmly together like he¡¯d just sucked on a lemon, but he didn¡¯t disagree. ¡°How long would it take you to - ¡°

    ¡°Pierre Cadoudal!¡± Whitbey bellowed from behind the walls. ¡°In the name of Governor Perimont, I must detain you for crimes against Avalon and Malin. If you surrender yourself, there shall be no need for bloodshed.¡±

    What? ¡°They don¡¯t know I¡¯m here,¡± Camille realized, shrinking back from the crack in the wall to be sure she didn¡¯t rectify that for them. ¡°I¡¯ll be an even more effective distraction, if we time it right.¡±

    ¡°My ¡®crimes¡¯...¡± Cadoudal muttered. ¡°Does a man not have the right to know what he is accused of?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re looking for logic where you¡¯ll find none. Claude gives them an excuse to go after everyone else, and they have no inhibitions about it.¡± They¡¯ve probably been trying to contrive a justification for the last seventeen years.

    ¡°You have five minutes to disarm and present yourself in front of the gates,¡± Whitbey demanded. ¡°If you are not visible after that, I¡¯ve been authorized to raze this temple to the ground. Think carefully.¡± Through the crack in the wall, it was just possible to see the barrel of a cannon being wheeled into view.

    I have to fix this. ¡°I think if I slice across the beach on a diagonal, I can disrupt them with a big wave without them being able to follow. Double back a few times, and you¡¯ll have some time to get everyone to safety.¡±

    ¡°Safety? Running frenzied across the beach as Whitbey guns them down? You can¡¯t even be sure you¡¯ll hold their attention long enough to accomplish anything. And then we¡¯ll be stuck in the same position: packed into tunnels, or trying to scatter as they pursue us through empty streets.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, Levian¡¯s chamber is the safer bet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we can get everyone there in five minutes.¡±

    Cadoudal nodded, already starting a brisk walk back towards the inside of the temple. ¡°You¡¯ll make it in time. I¡¯ll see to that.¡±

    Is he willing to defend this place after all? Buying time?

    ¡°What happened?¡± the brigand Ysengrin asked as they returned, and he was far from the only one waiting with bated breath.

    ¡°Lady Leclaire will be directing everyone to a secret passage beneath the waves. The Territorial Guardians have decided that they can no longer tolerate our presence.¡±

    Camille wasted no time as Cadoudal kept explaining, waving people to follow her as she ran to the inner sanctum of the temple.

    No traces remained of the Great Altar, probably looted years ago, and the tasseled rug that had once hidden the entrance was gone too. Camille threw the hatch open and descended the ladder into the antechamber, still glowing faintly with the light from the pool below.

    Someone was right above her on the ladder, so Camille jumped back, bumping into a large crate in the process. Strange. That wasn¡¯t here during the Foxtrap. Even the smallest details of that fateful day were seared into memory, let alone a crucial room on her path to becoming a sage.

    And it¡¯s up on stilts, as if whoever put it here expected a flood.

    ¡°This is a dead end,¡± a girl in her teens said, looking down at the pool.

    ¡°For the moment.¡± Camille thrust her hands forward and pushed, forcing the water all the way through the tunnel, expelled in a geyser on the other end that was no doubt making the chamber much wetter, but hopefully not enough to damage the dome.

    ¡°There¡¯s a room underwater on the other end. Wait there and I¡¯ll return to lead you to the surface.¡± Camille paused, trying to think of her next move. ¡°Children first. Then the injured. Jump the queue and I¡¯ll make you answer for it.¡±

    With a shrug, the same girl hopped into the empty pool, something sacred that had stood for centuries as a conduit to Levian, and started walking down the pipe.

    Blasted away, the plants in the water no longer did a thing to light the room, leaving only a square stream from the hatch up above.

    Careful to keep an eye on the children walking the path to Levian, Camille pried the mysterious crate, hoping and dreading that it contained what she thought it would.

    Pistols.

    Eloise might have fucking told me where to find them, but I¡¯m not too proud to accept serendipity showing me now.

    ¡°You,¡± Camille called to one of Cadoudal¡¯s new Acolytes, recognizable by the blue streak in her hair. ¡°Make sure everything proceeds in an orderly fashion. Then, once everyone¡¯s safe, open that crate and pass out the contents to the other Acolytes.¡±

    She mostly looked confused at that, but she would just have to figure it out herself. There wasn¡¯t much time left. He said five minutes. It must have been that long by now, but I don¡¯t hear the cannon. What was Cadoudal planning?

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The gates were open when Camille reached the courtyard again, Pierre Cadoudal already standing in front of them talking to Whitbey in what looked distinctly like a parley, rather than a surrender. Wonder how he managed that.

    ¡°...Leclaire will turn up, that isn¡¯t the issue,¡± Whitbey was saying as Camille got into earshot, hidden behind the walls in the gloom of the night. Good thing we kept the fires deep inside. The Guardians had found them anyway, but it was at least accomplishing something now.

    ¡°She can¡¯t get out of the city without burning through her life, which would solve the problem just as well. The issue is you and your organization, Pierre Cadoudal.¡±

    ¡°My organization has been nothing but respectful of Avalon and her laws. All the nasty habits of the past have been left in the past. Mister Clocha?ne¡ª¡±

    Whitbey cut him off with a torrent of laughter. ¡°Your protector didn¡¯t even show up to his meeting with the Governor. He didn¡¯t even care enough to look out for himself, let alone the likes of you. Given the involvement of one of your order in the assassination of a sitting Lord and Governor, all members must clear themselves of suspicion of promoting or abetting subversive activity.¡±

    ¡°None of the Acolytes were involved. Claude had already been banished from our order long before Captain Stewart got her hands on him. You can drag us in with your suspicions, but a trial will make that more than clear, if this even gets that far.¡± Does he believe that, or is he just stalling?

    The Acolyte girl from before approached from the inside of the temple, holding one of the pistols in her hands. ¡°What¡¯s happening with Pierre?¡±

    ¡°Parley,¡± Camille answered, watching as other Acolytes followed behind her, each of them bearing one of the horrifying weapons. ¡°That was fast.¡±

    ¡°There weren¡¯t that many children or injured people,¡± the girl answered. ¡°Wasn¡¯t easy getting a couple people down the ladder, but they should be secure in there now.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what about everyone else though?¡± Did you really take my instructions so overly literally that no one else escaped?

    As if in answer, the last of the Acolytes made it out the door, but the flood of people continued. Aside from the evacuees, it looked like this was everyone who had sheltered here, some with pistols but most of them just as desperate as they had been this morning, fleeing the tunnels or sheltering at Cadoudal¡¯s temple.

    ¡°All I¡¯m asking for is a list of names,¡± Whitbey continued outside. ¡°Then you may return to your business until such time as your services are required again.¡±

    ¡°As I said, there are no names I could give that were involved.¡±

    ¡°Your best guess will suffice, then. I want the ten least loyal to Avalon, whose motives are most in question. Along with yourself, that will make for a good start.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no other way? What if I gave you Leclaire?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have her, and it doesn¡¯t matter. This hive of sedition cannot stand, and any who persist in illegal activity will see the consequences of their actions. I have my orders.¡±

    Cadoudal dipped his head, a performance of submission that bought more time. He¡¯s good at this. ¡°I should speak with Lady Perimont. I have no doubt that the truth will become clear. The Acolytes are a weapon of Levian no longer. We seek to help, that is all. We have sheltered and warmed those without a hearth in this eternal night. Lady Perimont¡¯s people, if she truly wishes to govern Malin. The truth is clear, but first¡ª¡±

    Almost too fast to see, Whitbey pulled a dagger from its sheath at his side and plunged it into Cadoudal¡¯s neck, spraying blood on the sand.

    No,no, no. This is not¡­ Fuck!

    ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± Whitbey announced to the Guardians behind him. ¡°You all saw Mister Cadoudal attack me unprovoked, during parley no less, but fortunately my reflexes were faster. As he was so kind as to leave the door open, I believe the time has come to deal with the rest of them. They serve the spirits, so do not underestimate any attempting to resist. Act first in your defense. You have your orders.¡±

    ¡°Close the gates!¡± Camille shouted, feeling slightly dazed. She scrambled up to the walls as fast as she could manage and turned her focus to the water.

    Push and pull, swell the tides. This was going to take almost everything out of her, but there didn¡¯t seem to be another option. She lifted her hands as a great wave began to rise, ready to engulf the beach, and walked into Whitbey¡¯s view.

    ¡°Ah, you were here. Lady Perimont will be most pleased. If you would be so good as to¡ª¡± He was interrupted by the wave crashing down, sweeping through the Guardian¡¯s ranks.

    ¡°Bastards,¡± the Acolyte girl nodded in approval. ¡°What now? How many of those can you do?¡±

    ¡°Maybe half of one more, at best.¡± ¡®What now?¡¯ indeed.

    Looking outside, about half of the Guardians were already getting back up, shivering and clutching at their sodden winter wear.

    Lucien always said that the terrain should shape a battle far more than any individual skill, and in this cold darkness, even just a disruption like that wave could be devastating. Provided they don¡¯t have the chance to recover.

    Camille turned back to everyone assembled there. The dispossessed and the desperate and the disowned. Unlike the Acolytes with their pistols, most had little more than a knife or a club, whatever could be scavenged or improvised from within the temple. All of them were looking to her. ¡°This is our chance. Avalon will grant Whitbey no justice for his horrific crimes, so it falls to us. They don¡¯t want us here, but this is our city! If we do not fight for it, we will be eradicated.¡±

    An arrow loosed from a bow, they were off, streaming out through the half-open gates to prey on the Guardians while they were still off-guard.

    Camille directed most of the Acolytes to their places on the ramparts, forcing herself to trust that they¡¯d figured out how to use their new weapons in time. The aim didn¡¯t really need to be true with a sea of people like that; they could still serve the same tactical purpose as clout archery might, thinning out ranks and deterring advances.

    Once everything was in place, Camille spared a moment to look out over the beach and catch her breath.

    One army meeting another practically never descended into the sort of anarchic m¨ºl¨¦e tapestries sometimes depicted, not unless the whole affair became a rout. But that was because soldiers were trained not to, disciplined and drilled and commanded by their officer.

    Not just scrambling to do something in a fight for survival.

    Despite the cold and wet, Whitbey was already reorganizing some of the Guardians into their formation, though stragglers on the edges were being stabbed and bludgeoned and slowly chipped away as the tide of Malin¡¯s people rolled over them.

    So dealing with Whitbey falls to me.

    Camille jumped from the ramparts, pulling water up from the sand to cushion her fall, and began running towards the vile Captain, sweeping Guardians aside with a blast of water whenever they got too close. Behind and around her, Malinoises punished any Guardian caught shaking themselves dry or picking themselves up from the ground.

    But some were ready.

    One man stabbed in the leg, another in the chest. A woman bleeding from the throat, another crying on the ground. More. All around, crying and wailing and filling the air.

    And then the thunder began, that awful sound echoing across the beach as the Acolytes began to use the pistols.

    Camille saw Whitbey¡¯s cluster of organized Guardians and rolled a wave towards them from the water¡¯s edge, trying to pull as much as she could manage without exhausting her energy entirely.

    The moment it crashed down over them, Camille had an opening to take Whitbey out and damage the discipline of the assembled soldiers. Perhaps even more, depending on the chain of command here.

    Though her lungs felt aflame for it, Camille ran behind the water as it crashed down once again, as much force as she could muster straight to the legs.

    Whitbey remained standing, of course.

    Caught up in her own momentum, Camille crashed into him, tackling him to the ground.

    He headbutted her for that, sending her sprawling over to the side. By the time she regained her footing, most of the Guardians around her had too, and Whitbey was gone.

    I wouldn¡¯t think you¡¯d run. But perhaps that would be good enough. If the commander turned and fled, it could mean a full rout. A chance to properly regroup and¡ª

    Camille felt her face slam into the sand, stinging with pain. When she put her hand to it, it came back red.

    Rolling as fast she could, Camille saw the face of Captain Anya Stewart glowering above her, bloody sword in hand. ¡°Disappointing.¡±

    Camille raised her hand to call up the water from the wet sand again, but Stewart managed to step away with perfect timing, not so much as a drop even catching her coat.

    ¡°This has been a day of nothing but disappointments, really.¡± She swung her sword through the rush of water Camille directed at her as she jumped over it, landing with a clean blade. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I¡¯ve got a deserving-enough target to work out my frustrations on.¡±

    Camille drew her knife and settled into a fighting stance, but Stewart disarmed her with a single circle of her sword, sending it to embed itself uselessly in the sand. An instant later, Stewart¡¯s sword was leveled at her throat.

    ¡°The blade, or the noose?¡± She pressed the point against flesh, forcing Camille to think very hard about not swallowing or moving too much. ¡°If you can locate Harold¡¯s foolish progeny for me, perhaps I¡¯ll even allow you poison.¡±

    She¡¯s talking about Luce! Somehow, he must have escaped. Maybe Charlotte had helped get him out, since she wasn¡¯t doing anything to help over here, and most of the city was locked down by this point.

    Regardless, it gave Camille some leverage, if perhaps not much. ¡°You¡¯ll never find him if you kill me. What will your king say then?¡±

    ¡°There is no escaping my pursuit. Not forever. If you don¡¯t want to tell me, I¡¯d consider it a kindness. I would much prefer an excuse to conduct a field execution.¡±

    Only problem is I have no idea where he actually is. ¡°I can take you to him.¡±

    ¡°I doubt that, and at this point, I don¡¯t much care either.¡± Stewart traced the underside of Camille¡¯s neck with her blade, looking almost bored as she did it. ¡°Goodbye, Leclaire.¡±

    Fuck. Drawing on herself would be really bad, considering how much of her life was already lost. And that might not even work. A pirate-catcher would probably be better than most at keeping her footing in wet conditions, and she¡¯d already dodged more direct attacks. She was even standing on the balls of her feet, ready to move at a moment''s notice if a layer of ice formed on the ground beneath her.

    Camille called the wave anyway, sensing the futility of it. It was hard to make out much of the beach at this point, but the Malinoises had definitely made it to this end of the beach. The discordant echo of the pistols continued to sound, driving daggers into Camille¡¯s ears, and the sand was bathed in red.

    ¡°In the name of King Harold, stop! Guardians, lay down your arms, I command you!¡± Luce?

    Anya turned to face the caller, Camille leaning her head back to follow.

    He was standing on a hill at the edge of the beach, Charlotte at his side. More or less the same face, same regal face and brown hair, but it was longer. How could he have grown his hair out so quickly?

    Captain Anya sheathed her sword as many of the Guardians did the same.

    Clutching at her throat, Camille stood to get a better look.

    ¡°Prince Harold commands you,¡± he shouted as more and more of the Guardians began to take notice. And all of them were obeying. Listening more closely, it didn¡¯t quite sound like Luce¡¯s voice either. Maybe it was a ruse, but if not¡­

    What could Prince Harold possibly be doing here? And what does it mean for Malin?

 Luce VII: With Will of Iron

    Luce VII: With Will of Iron

    Luce hadn¡¯t spared a second pulling Harold into a hug, as much as he didn¡¯t usually care for the gesture.

    It didn¡¯t even matter that him being here didn¡¯t make any sense, or that if Luce hadn¡¯t escaped from Stewart, their ships would have just passed each other in the night.

    It didn¡¯t matter, but it was strange.

    The Lyrion sea was an impassable wall of ice and storms, and no ships had been spotted in the harbor. How are you here, Harold? It was hard to care too much about the how of it with Harold sitting right in front of him, though. The important thing was that he was here.

    The hearth blazed bright in Perimont¡¯s solar, casting warmth and light into the room with a force it had lacked in days past. Harold probably asked for extra logs. It was slightly uncomfortable, but Luce simply moved his chair back a bit to compensate.

    The true comfort lay in knowing his authority was back. Stewart and Perimont had surrendered, Charlotte was rounding up collaborators even as they spoke, and Camille had managed to make it through the whole coup without betraying him, just as she¡¯d promised ¡ª even helping people fight back against the injustice of it all.

    The Acolytes remained a thorny proposition, now armed with stolen weapons that on its face disproved the official story of Gordon Perimont¡¯s death.

    It had been sobering, realizing everything he¡¯d been working towards could have been undone in one night if things had gone just slightly differently. Progress is fragile, not inevitable. We forget that at our peril.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Luce began, once they were sufficiently settled in. ¡°I have to ask: How in Khali¡¯s name did you get here?¡±

    Slouched in his chair, Harold swirled the glass of red wine in his hand, deliberating over his response. ¡°Jethro,¡± he answered after a moment. ¡°I arranged a meeting after the work in Guerron was done, and I ended up with the Gauntlet of Eulus.¡±

    Jethro, the fucking spy who set me up to die? Someone would have given him the order, and information about Luce¡¯s path of travel to pass on to the pirates. It was just a question of who had done it.

    And apparently he¡¯s still on good terms with my brother.

    ¡°The¡ªIsn¡¯t that the Williams family artifact?¡± It had come up during that interview for Tower staffing, what felt like a hundred and eighteen years ago. ¡°It was made from a storm spirit, right? Lightning and rain and stuff.¡±

    ¡°And wind, relevantly. Eulus was the consort of Corva herself, in fact. What Father was thinking, taking something so priceless to Guerron¡­¡± He shook his head in irritation. ¡°But it did help me in the end. Short of an icebreaker ship, it¡¯s one of the only ways back to Avalon right now, and certainly the fastest. It took a bit of practice to get the hang of it, but that still saved me days of travel time.¡± Harold smiled as he took a sip from his glass. ¡°It¡¯s Jaubertie. Would you care for a glass?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± As nice as a drink might be, this situation called for a clear head. I have to know the truth. ¡°That explains the ¡®how¡¯, I suppose, but who¡¯s running things back home? I mean¡ª¡± Luce couldn¡¯t help but press his hand to his face. ¡°You¡¯re always complaining that Father is too reckless, sneaking out alone. And now here you are doing the exact same thing.¡±

    ¡°Avalon can handle a few days without me. Rest assured, they¡¯ll not want for leadership. Your Sir Julius remains, for one, amongst others. And I have every intention to remove my face from this city at the earliest opportunity.¡±

    At least he picked the right person. As much as he was surely needed back, Luce couldn¡¯t help but wish Harold could stay a bit longer. His skills would be invaluable in setting things to right, here, and his loyalty was far more certain than the likes of Camille.

    ¡°But¡­ If you didn¡¯t know about the coup attempt, why did you come at all?¡±

    Harold laughed. ¡°Idiot! My brother was almost killed by pirates, and as soon as I learned he¡¯s safe, the bloody sun went out. Jethro¡¯s departure finally gave me the opportunity to come here and see how you landed. Of course I was going to take it!¡±

    Luce found himself smiling too. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have picked a better time, to be honest. I managed to sabotage the ship and escape, and Camille seemed to be doing alright at pushing back the guardians that backed the coup, but it was a near thing. If you¡¯d gotten here a day later, you might have been greeted by my swinging corpse.¡±

    Harold pursed his lips together, head tilted in deliberation. He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to change his mind as he took another sip of wine.

    What are you hiding? ¡°Can I be honest with you, Harold?¡±

    ¡°Always.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure Father ever actually sent me here to assume command. Gordon Perimont clearly wasn¡¯t expecting me, for one thing. And those pirates knew exactly where to find us, almost as if someone had told them ahead of time.¡±

    Harold took another sip of wine, clearly considering his response. What he says next could mean everything. Denying it wouldn¡¯t look good, but even if he were entirely uninvolved, it was a momentous thing to imply, something that would require a lot of thought to get one¡¯s head around.

    ¡°Jethro told them,¡± Harold said at last, confirming Eloise¡¯s words. ¡°Though he didn¡¯t realize it at the time. He was instructed to leak the travel path for a royal class vessel for the greater good of Avalon, and didn¡¯t ask any questions. His job often demands as much, but¡­¡± Harold set his wine down. ¡°Luce, I can¡¯t help but feel responsible. If you¡¯d just stayed in Cambria, none of this would have happened.¡±

    Decent answer, but not enough to exterminate all doubt. ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°The way I see it, you can count on one hand the people who knew the crucial details: Jethro, myself, you, and Father.¡±

    ¡°Succinctly put.¡±

    ¡°Jethro can¡¯t be above suspicion, but I find it hard to articulate a motive there. He was honest about his role in things, when he could have remained silent. He offered to give me his resignation and present himself to royal authority. If he were conspiring against the crown, why risk visiting me at all, let alone coming clean? There¡¯s no end of mischief he could have wrought in Guerron.¡±

    True enough. ¡°He seemed contrite, once he learned what his words had done?¡±

    Harold nodded. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I trust him absolutely. He¡¯s obeyed my orders and kept my secrets at great risk to himself, and he knows exactly how much you mean to me. You obviously didn¡¯t inform on yourself.¡±

    ¡°Leaving only two.¡± Either one almost too horrible to contemplate.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t blame you for being a bit suspicious of me, given everything you¡¯ve been through, but¡­ Well, I¡¯m hoping showing up to help you here proves my intentions. And when it comes to Father, I know a few things that you don¡¯t.¡±

    Do not trust Magnifico. He tried to have his son killed, and would think nothing of doing the same to you if it suited him. There is no greater monster in all the world.

    ¡°Do you think he would be capable of doing that? Setting me up to die for¡ªfor what, exactly?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. You were always his favorite, but maybe that sets expectations he didn¡¯t think you were meeting.¡±

    ¡°Definitely not.¡± Luce didn¡¯t even bother to deny the favoritism. And why not, when I was always the one putting in the effort? ¡°I did everything right, just as he wanted, my entire life.¡± I even sent that spirit to pass the message to him, to give him a chance to tell his side of things. But Corro hadn¡¯t relayed anything back, and Father seemed to be just as silent. Probably more because of the state of the world than because he has nothing to say, but¡­

    ¡°Did you?¡± Harold¡¯s tone was more curious than accusatory. ¡°You learned everything a prince ought to, but it just drove a wedge between you and the nation Father built. Perhaps he saw what you were doing with the Tower and took it as an insult.¡±

    Now, of all times? That felt more like an excuse than a reason. ¡°No one is petty enough to have their son murdered over matters of staffing in a research facility, least of all Father.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Lips curling inward, Harold reached for another sip of wine. ¡°Remember Ombresse? He doesn¡¯t take well to those he views as ungrateful.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯ve been nothing but grateful. Nothing but dutiful. He would never¡ªLook, Harold, I sent a message to him voicing my suspicions. I¡¯m sure once he responds¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll have some clever response for you; I have no doubt of that. You¡¯ve given him the time to craft the perfect lie. That¡¯s all he does, worm his way in to assuage his vanity. The entire Avalon project is just an excuse to have the adoring masses fawning over him.¡±

    ¡°Or your mysterious double-agent isn¡¯t as trustworthy as you think he is. No use in hunting for a more complicated solution when the simpler one fits all the facts.¡±

    Taking that in stride, Harold returned a reluctant nod. ¡°I suppose you can interrogate Jethro when you see him next, as can I. His whereabouts are well accounted for, and I¡¯m sure he would tell you the truth if you asked.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Luce said a touch too quickly, eager to put the matter to rest. ¡°How fare things back home?¡±

    Harold sharply exhaled, then drained his cup. Without answering, he poured himself another glass, tipped the bottle into an empty one until it was empty, then handed the second glass to Luce.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Drink it first. Trust me.¡±

    Taking his advice, Luce took a long sip, letting the sharp taste soak through his tongue. ¡°Stop waiting around. What happened?¡±

    ¡°What do you think happened? The sun was murdered, courtesy of our dearest father. At the height of summer, no less. Even where there¡¯s enough fuel to keep people from freezing to death, famine is everywhere. Half a harvest doesn¡¯t count for much when the crops aren¡¯t done growing. One of the professors from the college, the demographer, tried to get a handle on the numbers, but even she¡¯s sure we¡¯re missing deaths.¡±

    ¡°Missing deaths with what figure, exactly?¡±

    Harold mumbled the answer into his cup, inaudible.

    ¡°How many?¡±

    ¡°One in four people are gone. Almost certainly more on the western isles. There¡¯s villages just a few days'' ride from Cambria without a soul left in them save frozen, wasted bodies.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse.¡± Luce took Harold¡¯s cue and finished his drink. ¡°I should have been home. The first floor of the Tower could have produced something, or maybe using one of the binders¡¯ artifacts could have¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You were doing things here, and having quite the awful time of it from what I¡¯ve heard. No point in looking back now.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, but that¡¯s no reason to sit back now. I¡¯ve¡­¡± Hmm¡­ What¡¯s the best way to broach the topic with him? ¡°Comparatively we¡¯ve been doing much better here, thanks to a few of my projects. We¡¯ve already cultivated one harvest since darkness fell, and we¡¯ll be expecting another in a week or so. And clustering people inside has helped the wood stretch further, though we are running out of forest that¡¯s close enough to be practical.¡±

    Harold nearly choked on his drink. ¡°Luce, that¡¯s amazing. How?¡±

    The Prince of Darkness bit his lip. ¡°A breach of orthodoxy, and a break with Avaline tradition. The details are highly sensitive, and¡­ Just the rumors were enough to fuel a coup against me. We need to be careful about this.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying those rioters were right? You¡¯ve been conspiring with that sorceress and her monstrous masters?¡±

    ¡°¡®Conspiring¡¯ is the wrong word. I made a very specific deal with a small number of spirits to infuse land with their energy and move it into place. Fenouille of the Sartaire allowed us these harvests, and Cya of Refuge offered her land to grow fathoms more! We can feed Avalon too, if this operation grows enough.¡± That would mean more deals with more spirits, itself hardly an enticing thought, but Camille had proved herself before and she could probably manage it again.

    If things were truly that bad in Avalon, the discomfort and risk was more than worth it.

    To Luce¡¯s surprise, a wide smile was stretched across Harold¡¯s face. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you had it in you, Luce. You were always following the rules, and here you go breaking one of the biggest and oldest.¡± He raised his glass to Luce, a glint in his eye. ¡°To the hallowed traditions of Avalon, may they fuck off to Nocturne where they belong.¡±

    ¡°Cheers,¡± Luce muttered softly, sipping his own glass as he looked at a brother at once familiar and hard to recognize. ¡°You support it, then? The sooner we proceed with this, the more food for Avalon.¡±

    ¡°Of course I will! You¡¯re my brother. As soon as I¡¯m back in Cambria, I¡¯ll put my whole weight behind it as the Crown Prince.¡±

    ¡°That should address the worst of it, then.¡±

    ¡°If only it were so easy. As though he thought the ice and famine weren¡¯t doing enough, Robin Verrou¡¯s been cutting a bloody swath through Avalon. Edward Williams and Edith Marbury are both dead, while Srin Savian barely clings to life after the attempt, his keep razed to the ground. And now Verrou¡¯s disappeared, probably counting his riches on a beach in Condillac or something.¡±

    Two Harpies and a Jay died over this; that¡¯s sure to pour dust on the fire. ¡°Verrou is crafty, but he¡¯s not untouchable.¡± If the pirates he trained are any indication, it¡¯s amazing he¡¯s lasted this long.

    ¡°He needs to be caught, Luce. If the Great Council thinks the Crown is powerless to protect them, they might question the need for our very existence. And I¡¯m worried he¡¯ll find a way to kill Father. He has the motive and the means, and it¡¯s been a while since he was spotted in Avalon. Right now we¡¯re stuck relying on Guerron¡¯s security to keep him safe, and they might not even realize the value of who they have.¡±

    ¡°Shame our best pirate-catcher is a monster and a traitor, then.¡±

    ¡°Captain Stewart is the most experienced in tracking him, yes, and the best suited to the task. Robin Verrou cannot be allowed to live, and with that in mind¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Luce cut him off. ¡°I know what you¡¯re about to say, and I absolutely refuse.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hate to say it, but it¡¯s not really up to you, Luce.¡±

    ¡°She tried to kill me!¡±

    ¡°She tried to abduct you and take you to Cambria. A usurpation of authority, to be sure, but not a murderous one. You did much the same with the late Governor Perimont when he showed himself to be derelict in his duty.¡±

    ¡°That is not the same at all.¡±

    ¡°She was given leave to investigate Perimont¡¯s death, and it appears that you really did cover it up. I don¡¯t like her either, Luce, but she was acting within her mandate. And Lord Stewart¡¯s vote is needed in the Great Council. What will he think if I have his mother executed?¡±

    ¡°If she treats him anything like she does her other children, he¡¯ll probably throw you a parade. Of course you need his vote.¡± Luce rolled his eyes. ¡°A woman like that has no place in the world we¡¯re trying to build.¡±

    ¡°But she might nonetheless have a crucial role in allowing it to come to be. Do you realize how fucked I am if Verrou kills another noble?¡±

    Luce growled, but it was hard to contest the point. Harold¡¯s meeting me more than halfway on the spirit thing, and that¡¯s a much larger thing to ask. ¡°She can¡¯t be allowed in Avalon, or her territories. I don¡¯t want her undermining me or you.¡±

    ¡°Exile?¡± Harold scratched his chin. ¡°She would be all the more motivated to find Verrou and restore her honors. Perhaps that might provide a motivation that enmity alone did not. But if another noble dies on Avaline soil because she wasn¡¯t permitted to follow Verrou there¡­¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s on her head for not catching him sooner.¡±

    Harold shrugged. ¡°Fair enough. Given her reputation, I think the Council will see it that way too. I¡¯ll decree as much after we¡¯re done. As Lady Perimont has no such utility, she¡¯ll be stripped of her lands and titles.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s getting off too easy.¡±

    ¡°Then executed.¡± Harold stared, waiting for Luce to contest the point.

    But she made her choices. The injustice is that Stewart won¡¯t be hanging alongside her. He¡¯d felt much the same when they¡¯d found what was left of Captain Whitbey, though his torn and bludgeoned body made for a grisly sight. He¡¯ll be covered by a sheet when they put him on the slab, and I can¡¯t say I really mind. He¡¯d brought it on himself.

    ¡°We have to hold ourselves to the same standards we¡¯re holding our subjects to. Everyone in this city knows someone Perimont hanged over some imagined treason or another. Now they¡¯ll see that even Avaline nobility is not above the law.¡± They¡¯ll see the Forresters finally disbanded too, and all the collaborator Guardians drummed out of the organization. Charlotte was already finalizing the list. The best time to clean that house would have been months ago when Luce had first arrived, but the next best time to do it was now.

    ¡°You continue to surprise me, Luce. If I¡¯d known your spine wasn¡¯t made of jelly, maybe I¡¯d have done some things differently. Let you in instead of shutting you out.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Harold chuckled. ¡°Father is slippery. He thinks he¡¯s invincible, and so far he¡¯s been right. ¡®Magnifico¡¯ always escaped to manipulate another day. He murdered that old man, and he would have gotten away with it, too. Until Jethro stepped in.¡±

    ¡°He stepped in¡­ Wait, was Jethro that Montaigne fellow who proved Father¡¯s guilt?¡±

    ¡°No, Fernan was just trying to do the right thing. But Jethro made sure it actually worked, and provided the tools to make sure it would stick. Regretfully, after he¡¯d already killed Soleil, but at least he won¡¯t be doing any more damage.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ You planned all of this?¡±

    ¡°Not entirely. I couldn¡¯t know exactly what Father planned before Jethro was sent to Guerron, so there was a fair bit of reaction to things as they happened. But he was in position for a reason, and he succeeded beyond my wildest imagination.¡±

    ¡°You wanted Father to get captured.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Harold said with no shame in voice. ¡°He¡¯s the greatest monster in the world, and this stops him from doing any more harm. I didn¡¯t entrap him into anything; he¡¯s seeing the consequences of his own actions. I just made sure they would actually stick, for once. I mean, Luce, he tried to have his son killed! He plunged the world into darkness! He¡ª¡±

    ¡°I get it,¡± Luce said, though he still felt that there was so much he had yet to grasp. And Father still had the chance to explain his side. Perhaps there was an angle Luce was missing, a reasoning behind what he¡¯d done.

    And yet¡­

    Luce wasn¡¯t alone any more, no longer the white sheep in a flock of black, as Cya had once described him. Harold is just as committed as I am, just as willing to second-guess the war machine our nation¡¯s built. I don¡¯t how I never saw it before.

    ¡°We¡¯ll keep each other''s secrets. For a better world.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a promise.¡± Harold alighted from his seat gracefully, clapped Luce hard on the back, then swiftly left the room.

    Luce followed quickly behind him. There was work to be done.

 Fernan XI: The Bringer of Peace

    Fernan XI: The Bringer of Peace

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want any help?¡± Fernan asked cautiously as he stepped around a steaming puddle of water, remnants of Mara¡¯s efforts to clear the path.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Florette said through grit teeth. ¡°Believe it or not, you can trust me to walk up a hill in a straight line.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Just offering.¡±

    Florette did seem to be walking fine for the moment, but given everything she¡¯d been through, it seemed like a pretty reasonable offer. According to Laura, the tips of her hands were still mottled and grey, some of her fingers shriveled and missing their proper nails. Her gloves hid that, but not the large gash across her forehead or the stitches that stopped it from spilling open. Even now, Fernan knew she was rotating her magic ring between hands and feet every hour or so to better heal the frostbite. Her aura had a pale cast to it, still dim where it had once blazed so bright.

    All from saving me. ¡°You also don¡¯t need to come if it¡¯s a struggle for you. You¡¯ve definitely earned your rest.¡±

    Florette stopped walking, fists clenched. ¡°Fuck off.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I got enough of that condescending shit from Eloise. When I say I have it handled, I have it handled. If you¡¯d understood that with Glaciel, we¡¯d be in a way better place, but you could at least start now.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Fernan took the opportunity to drop the subject, leaving them plodding up the mountain in silence once more.

    What could I even say? She risked everything to save me, and I screwed it all up in return.

    Emile Leclaire had taken him to Laura, given him the opportunity to make his case, and she¡¯d actually understood, actually agreed.

    Arriving with help, relief at the final hour ¡ª it was supposed to be a good thing, finally turning the tides of a losing battle. Not without its costs, given Flammare¡¯s inevitable involvement, but Mara and the light sages had been so crucial in the battle, and things had turned sharply against them once energy began to run out. Getting Laura was supposed to be a way out of an unsalvageable situation.

    And instead it might have just ruined everything.

    Flammare had arrived at the hour of victory, the final culmination of what journals were calling the Battle of White Night, burning through the clouds of snow in the air and the Hiverriens it sheltered with equal fervor.

    The Fox-King had declared a great victory, Glaciel repelled so thoroughly, and Florette was the key part of that, along with all of the other villagers who had pledged their help.

    I knew the plan, and I still thought all was lost. It was impossible not to feel guilty about it. And yet, given what I knew¡­

    It wasn¡¯t condescending to doubt that Florette could pull it off, not after Levian had joined the fray. Anyone would fail fighting two spirits at once, at least if they were doing it alone. At that point mere survival was a lot to hope for, and¡­

    The image was still there in his head, almost as real as his actual memories of the battle. The final reversal, trails of flame touching down on the ice as Glaciel¡¯s eyes widened with shock. Her hand had been wrapped around Florette¡¯s throat, on the verge of killing her if no one intervened.

    But then the air was filled with thunderous noise, and the weight of his decision became clear.

    ¡°Fernan!¡± Mara hissed out as they arrived at the crater. ¡°I was worried you weren¡¯t going to be warm enough to come.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll take more than a couple of ancient spirits trying to kill him to put Fernan down,¡± Florette assured her, probably playing it up a bit in case any other spirits were listening.

    ¡°That¡¯s nice of you to say.¡± Even if it¡¯s blatantly wrong. It almost took a lot less. ¡°Where¡¯s G¨¦zarde?¡± The odds were slim by now, but if they could make the case for him as the next sun to enough of the spirits and block Flammare¡¯s ascent, an entire nation of people might be saved.

    Not to mention the fact that a fundamental force of the world wouldn¡¯t be a tyrant anymore.

    ¡°He¡¯s talking to that horse spirit over there, the one with the sharp fangs. Apparently she dwells in the mountains as well.¡±

    ¡°Oh, fantastic.¡± Building support on his own, for once. Every little bit gave them the slightest chance. ¡°We should try to do the same. Some of these spirits might yet be convinced, and the Convocation will start soon.¡±

    Florette nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve got Corro and the Fallen for sure, and hopefully Lamante too, since she and the Fallen are¡­ whatever they are to each other. I talked to Corva, and if any of us are willing to promise to return the Gauntlet of Eulus to her, she¡¯s promised a boon we could cash in here.¡±

    ¡°You already talked to her?¡± Maybe it was a bit uncharitable, but preparations and Florette didn¡¯t really seem like they belonged in the same sentence. ¡°That¡¯s great. Given what Flammare did to her partner Fala, I think we have a decent chance at getting both of them even without making that promise, especially if we can show that there¡¯s a real viable alternative.¡±

    ¡°Still worth tracking it down if we can. A boon from a spirit like that is no small thing, and I think I might have figured out an idea of where it would be.¡±

    ¡°Good, but there¡¯s no need to deal with that tonight. For the moment, we want to convince as many people as we can.¡±

    ¡°You mean, ¡®as many spirits as we can¡¯ though.¡±

    ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to be a pedant, but you need to remember how different their motivations can be. Showing that Flammare is an asshole won¡¯t be enough, or he¡¯d never have been in contention in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately.¡± Fernan turned to look out over the mountainside crater, warm water pooled in the center where snowmelt was accumulating, flame spirits burning a trail wherever they moved. Many of the auras were the same as they had been at the first meeting, like the winged horse by G¨¦zarde or the headless boy, but there were more tonight that Fernan didn¡¯t recognize, either late arrivals or those who only felt the need to appear for the Convocation itself.

    Among them was an almost alarmingly thin spirit, hair and aura as white as the snow around them. The tips of her toes floated a few inches above the ground, but her posture remained fixed. Perched on her nose were twin crescents at an angle perfectly matching the moon above. Lunette, the moon spirit. The fact that Corro, who served her, stood beside her only confirmed it.

    Florette was doing the same thing Fernan was, though trying harder to be subtle about it, by the looks of her body language. ¡°Remember Miroirter, the shiny rabbit? He was skeptical of Flammare¡¯s motives. Something about seeing worlds. I think he¡¯s worth a conversation.¡±

    ¡°For sure. I was just looking at Lunette, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. We should probably just trust Corro to talk her into it. We don¡¯t have much time.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t just assume that she¡¯ll share his perspective. I was just talking about this with Emile Leclaire, actually. We want to¡ª¡±

    ¡°That asshole? I¡¯ll bet you anything he¡¯s most of the reason you almost died. Him making a deal with Glaciel and then Levian showing up on the wrong side is about as suspicious as it gets.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but he at least claimed that it was out of his hands. And he helped get me to Laura¡ªI know, kind of a mistake, but he was helping me get where I wanted. The point is that it¡¯s a subordinate position, being a sage. If Levian wants to mess things up, there¡¯s not really much that they could do about it.¡±

    Florette tilted her head back at that, a gesture Fernan had learned by this point meant she was rolling her eyes. Fair enough, I guess. Leclaire is still pretty suspicious. ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to Miroirter. Can you do a round and make sure everyone we think is on our side actually is?¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± She was on her way before the words had fully left her mouth.

    Camille hadn¡¯t mentioned Miroirter at all, which meant he probably wasn¡¯t a spirit whose sages were relevant to her political maneuvering, if he had any at all. And yet his voice had carried weight at the last meeting, and he¡¯d spoken out against Flammare.

    ¡°Spirit Miroirter, could I have the privilege of talking to you for a minute?¡±

    The spirit¡¯s aura shimmered with reflected moonlight, distorting as it moved to face Fernan, then bared his fangs. ¡°Better to speak for an hour, or a year. A minute allows time for little but miscommunication and despair.¡±

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Fernan covered a sigh with his hand. So is that a no, then?

    ¡°I cannot blame humans for being content with shallower sensation, but I have no intention of limiting myself to the same.¡± Combined with his tinkling voice, the effect was almost maddening, but this was a spirit; it was hardly unexpected that it would be strange.

    Miroirter seemed to notice Fernan¡¯s eyes for the first time, tilting his head in turn. ¡°But then, your sight is not quite as limited as the rest of your ilk. Not sufficient to see the reflections of the world, nor to witness anything beyond Terramonde, but less terrible. Should you prove that you comprehend it enough that it would not be a waste, perhaps I might help you to do it. Though, of course, there are things I would want in return.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s generous,¡± Fernan said, willing himself not to ask what the fuck this spirit was talking about. ¡°I¡¯m actually here to talk to you about the Arbiter of Light, though. Flammare seems to think it¡¯s his role to lose, but there are alternatives.¡±

    ¡°The weak hermit and the gregarious leader. Diurne and Nocturne. The dark spirit and the light bringer. These are not reflections, but opposites. And yet they too orient around each other, their commonalities drawing parallels. And with the right passage, they too can be traversed.¡±

    ¡°Right. Well, anyway, I just wanted to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your purpose is transparent, sage of G¨¦zarde. As we lack the time to communicate properly, I shall be expedient in my response: Flammare will not have my support. He has proven inadequate to face the direst threat before us. He warned us of Glaciel¡¯s wrath with such fervor, yet remained absent until the very last moment, after the battle was already over. Little changed in the reflection where he arrived earlier beyond Glaciel¡¯s death, nor when he arrived late. After the damage Khali¡¯s exile wrought, we can ill afford a poorly exercised response.``

    ¡°Ok, great.¡± Whatever the fuck you just said. More importantly, he wasn¡¯t going to aid Flammare. Confusing spiritual riddles about Khali could wait.

    ¡°...And let it be known that Glaciel was at my mercy. If Flammare had not interrupted when he did, I could have killed Glaciel. I¡¯ll swear that before any spirit you put in front of me; we didn¡¯t defeat her because of him, but despite him. And without his interference, Glaciel wouldn¡¯t have ever gotten away.¡± Florette walked confidently up to them, Lunette floating gently just behind her.

    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Fernan assured the moon spirit when she arrived, damning himself with his own words because they were correct. ¡°Flammare didn¡¯t do much of anything besides mess things up with Glaciel. The battle was won without him, may you take my soul if I lie.¡±

    ¡°You do not need to explain to me the character of Flammare. I know him far better than you do, given everything he¡¯s done for Soleil.¡±

    Right, Soleil. ¡°My condolences for your father¡¯s passing, spirit Lunette.¡±

    ¡°That itself was no great loss, save for what it meant to those who dwelt upon Terramonde¡¯s surface. There is no doubt that Flammare was his chosen successor, but Soleil¡¯s choices are no longer of consequence to anyone.¡±

    Perfect.

    It wasn¡¯t that long after that that the Convocation convened in earnest, Flammare unsurprisingly running the show. He began with a verse about being strong together that didn¡¯t flow as well as they usually did, but then he invited the spirits to make their choices. For a spirit that had wanted to wait three months for this, things were moving shockingly fast, but perhaps he just tasted victory in the air and couldn¡¯t help but follow the scent.

    ¡°Flammare,¡± began the bull embedded in the earth.

    ¡°Flammare,¡± repeated a pale red boy with crackling lightning for a head.

    And so they continued. So many of them weren¡¯t even possible to understand, either communicating differently like Fala or beyond visualization at all, like the Fallen. They seemed to be speaking in some kind of order, but it was impossible to make sense of the pattern in any meaningful way.

    ¡°Lunette,¡± said Miroirter, the shimmering rabbit whom Florette had suggested talking to, the first vote for the moon spirit so far. At least he¡¯s not helping Flammare.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde,¡± voted a little imp spirit Fernan had never even spoken to, apparently convinced all the same.

    Fernan allowed himself the barest hope, but the rebellious votes were followed by seven in a row for Flammare.

    Either way, there¡¯s nothing left to do about it.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde.¡± The wind carried Corva¡¯s words, a pause for Fala following shortly after.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde,¡± repeated the face stealer, with the Fallen presumably voting the same way.

    ¡°Flammare,¡± said a burning candle with a crackling voice.

    ¡°Flammare.¡± By the blazing orange wings, that was probably Yves¡¯s patron Phoenicia, which was a shame.

    ¡°Flammare.¡±

    ¡°Flammare.¡±

    Again, again, it just kept going. G¨¦zarde voted for himself, as did Flammare when his turn came, but the flame spirits seemed otherwise in lock step behind the spirit of the hearth, bound by respect or fear.

    A few more scattered votes were cast for G¨¦zarde, from a spirit with spider legs bursting out of an otherwise-human body to an enormous worm creature whose aura seemed to be constantly crumbling to sand without ever quite losing its shape.

    But the conclusion seemed inevitable at this point, and it only grew more obvious the more time that passed.

    By the time the Convocation reached its decision, Fernan could do nothing but brace himself for inevitable failure.

    ¡°And so the Arbiter has been chosen,¡± Flammare announced, stretching out his metal wings with a burst of flame. ¡°Though some thought fit to try to rush their time, the natural order did prevail tonight. To all of you who chose to speak my name, I shall not soon forget your trust in me. The rest, I¡¯m sure, will learn the way in time. Decisions have a way of coming back around and making sure your fate arrives, the consequences your decisions wrought.

    ¡°Lunette, given your grief and suffering, I shall forgive your challenge and proceed.¡± He paused, the metal cage of his chest growing hotter as flame spilled out, then moved on without making any acknowledgement of G¨¦zarde. ¡°And now it falls to us to see this through. Queen Glaciel is weak, and running home. Her foul abominations have been bled, and now Hiverre has even less defense. Our task remains both simple and past due.

    ¡°Three days from now, in time if not in light, I shall ascend to Soleil¡¯s seat and claim my role as Arbiter of Light at last. Three days from then, we make for Glaciel. I vow before all of you spirits now, Hiverre shall not persist beyond year¡¯s end. Nor shall we let ourselves be picked apart, battered, betrayed, and killed by human hands. It won¡¯t be long before those days are done, and in their place, a true reflection of the natural way of things for all spirits.

    ¡°And then, at last, the need to fight shall end, for those who do oppose our aims will die, and all perversions of the natural way will be exterminated to the last, along with fools who thought to challenge me. I do believe we ought collaborate, and all unite beneath this one fair goal, and so I do invite you all to join. The spoils of th¡¯winter court shall not be slight, for e¡¯en abominations do have souls, which all of you might claim from those you slay. You may decline, but I will not forget. All spirits of the flame and light must fight, or know that they have earned my ire and more. And yes, G¨¦zarde, that does include you too. Fala, Lunette, Corva, and all the rest who cast their doubt against the rightful heir, this fight shall be your final chance to act.¡±

    And that was that. The next Arbiter of light had been decided, and Hiverre would burn in a week. And it¡¯s all my fault.

    Fernan wandered back to Guerron in a daze, following Mara¡¯s path and guiding Florette in turn to make sure no one lost their footing in the darkness.

    He left Florette and Mara behind when he ascended to the roof of the temple, a jug of nightshade in his hands.

    Camille had demanded to know when the new sun would ascend as soon as the spirits decided, and since Fernan already felt terrible, it wasn¡¯t like talking to her would make things much worse. Might as well get it out of the way now.

    He only saw one vision before he could focus enough to shift to Camille, and it was a sight he already knew.

    The fire in Fernan¡¯s eyes didn¡¯t yet blaze as bright, and Mara was nowhere to be seen, still hiding outside the bounds of the city back then.

    Florette, unscarred in body and mind, was searching desperately for justifications to steal from Magnifico even when they couldn¡¯t risk pissing him off. She¡¯d been wrong on that, and yet somehow her words had perfectly hit the mark.

    Fernan well remembered the sentiment behind them, but hearing the exact words again cut him to the bone.

    ¡°You never think you have a choice, Fernan. You always just follow the path in front of you, without any critical thought. You became a scout because it was expected of you; you became a sage by accident; you came to Guerron because of a plan your creepy alderman and I came up with! If Mara hadn¡¯t burned you, you never would have seen anything more than half a mile outside the path between Villechart and The First Post until the day you died, because you¡¯re that complacent.¡±

    And perhaps this was why: he just screwed everything up when he tried to take the initiative. The thought of everything staying the way it was felt more wistful now than it had even then, when the loss of his eyes had been so fresh.

    Florette hadn¡¯t yelled at him for bringing Laura and Flammare, though she¡¯d had every right to. She¡¯d even claimed some of the blame for hesitating to kill Glaciel, which to Fernan¡¯s mind was pretty thoroughly undeserved. She¡¯s stepping lightly for once, for my sake, even though she¡¯s been through so much worse.

    She¡¯d braved the frigid sea to save his life, and all she¡¯d asked in return was respect, confidence that she could pull off the plan. And I couldn¡¯t give her even that.

    It lingered in his mind even as he gave his report to Camille, supplying perfunctory words while his thoughts were elsewhere. Once that was finished with, sheer exhaustion was enough to get Fernan to sleep, but still he did not rest easy, for the image of Hiverre in burning ruin couldn¡¯t leave his head.

    Florette was waiting for him when he woke, pacing outside the door of his room. ¡°I think there might be another way,¡± she said once Fernan roused himself. ¡°It¡¯s risky¡ªyou might call it reckless¡ªbut there¡¯s no safe way to do something like this. I could really use your help, but at a minimum you can¡¯t get in the way. Promise?¡±

    I wish I could say that was unfair, but after the White Night¡­ ¡°I promise. But I reserve the right to try to talk you out of doing something if it¡¯s a bad idea.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°Fair enough.¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s going to screw over Laura. Not because I want that, but I just don¡¯t think there¡¯s a way around it. Are you sure?¡±

    Maybe we can still find a way to do it. Maybe once I hear¡­ It sounded delusional even in his head. Flammare was to be the sun, and any means of stopping him would inevitably blow back on his sage.

    But this is a decision I have to make.

    ¡°I trust you. What¡¯s the plan?¡±

 Camille XI: With Heart of Ice

    Camille XI: With Heart of Ice

    ¡°So long as the sun remains gone¡­¡±

    The visions were brief, for Camille was practiced at working through them to get to her objective by this point: a dark titan tumbling slowly to the earth, unable to stop its fall; uncle Emile standing in a pit of ice, trying to bridge his way out as walls of water crashed down beside him; a giant of purple ooze tearing his way through a frigid fortress, corruption seeping into every spot he touched.

    All worth thinking about later, but nothing compared to what Fernan had to say.

    ¡°We failed,¡± he said, his watery image fraying near his face. ¡°It¡¯s all my fault, getting Flammare involved like that. Now he¡¯s going to ascend in three days.¡±

    Three days.

    After everything, there it was, and yet the relief Camille knew she should be feeling failed to manifest itself. Perhaps because there was so much to do now, and so little time to do it. All the more uncertain for Prince Harold¡¯s inexplicable arrival. But it wouldn¡¯t do to show that uncertainty, least of all to someone who had just bled under Lucien¡¯s banner.

    ¡°Don¡¯t despair so, Fernan. In three days light will fill the sky again, warmth will return, and we can begin to rebuild the wreckage Magnifico left in his wake. A more amenable spirit would have been better, to be sure, but at least the night is nearing its end.¡±

    ¡°But Flammare¡¯s going to lead the flame spirits to war against Hiverre. He even demanded that G¨¦zarde join him.¡±

    Ah. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Fernan. G¨¦zarde can¡¯t compel you to join him, unless you left anything out when describing the vows you made. And if he distinguishes himself in battle, your position will improve in turn.¡± She pressed a reassuring smile to her face, hoping her flaming avatar in Guerron could match the expression. ¡°You won the battle. The White Night is over, and soon the time of dark skies will have passed as well. Take some rest. You¡¯ve more than earned it.¡±

    ¡°But all those innocent Hiverriens¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are beyond your help. Glaciel endangered them by attacking a convocation of the spirits, and she¡¯s to blame for what¡¯s to come. Not you.¡±

    ¡°But Florette had it handled! And I didn¡¯t trust her. If I¡¯d just stayed out of it, G¨¦zarde might be the sun right now. And none of this¡ª¡±

    ¡°Rest, Fernan. Take it as an order from your future Queen if you like, but do it. Your trials, for the moment, are over.¡± While I still have much to do. ¡°We¡¯ll speak again soon. Perhaps even in person, if all goes well.¡±

    The water of Fernan¡¯s forehead wrinkled, giving the impression of a raised eyebrow. ¡°Are you coming back to Guerron?¡±

    ¡°Better not to get ahead of myself.¡± Camille stood, starting to dismiss the image. ¡°We¡¯ll speak again in a week.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ª¡± He tried to say more, but his words faded away as the water supporting the figure crashed down to the beach, the real world seeping back into view.

    Sorry, Fernan. But I only have three days, and the last thing I need to deal with right now is more guilt.

    ?

    ¡°As long as Avalon is in control of Malin, I want you to be the one running things here¡­¡±

    Deafening cracks split the air, each one a nail through Camille¡¯s head that only set it ringing again.

    Despicable contraptions. But potent, that could not be denied. And now I have them at my disposal. A weapon like that couldn¡¯t be set aside, especially when the enemy was producing them by the dozen or hundred across the water.

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse!¡± Aude, the girl Camille had spoken to in the temple, dropped her pistol into the sand the instant after she set it off, its projectile sailing far above the target. Beside her, most of the other Acolytes weren¡¯t having much better luck. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we just be using swords? They don¡¯t deafen you every time you use them.¡±

    ¡°It takes years to master the sword. My hope is that most of you will be passable with these in a few days.¡±

    Across the darkened beach, the pistols fell silent as the other Acolytes turned to face her.

    ¡°In truth, even that might not be possible. But these are potent weapons, the thunderous power of a cannon in the palm of your hand. The Avaline will recognize that all the more, and rightfully fear it. You might well not need to do more than display it on your belt.¡±

    ¡°But we¡¯re terrible at using them.¡±

    ¡°The firmest reality pales in the face of a strong narrative. The power of the spirits wedded to the finest fruits of Avalon¡¯s mechanists presents an impossible foe.¡± And I¡¯m really hoping you don¡¯t have to use them. ¡°That said, the more practiced you are, the better. Three days isn¡¯t a long time, but Aurelian Lumi¨¨re only had a few weeks of practice that he had to split between all his other duties, and it still would have been enough to kill me if not for Levian¡¯s power.¡±

    ¡°But do we even need to do that? What¡¯s so important in three days?¡±

    Camille paused, looking out over the Acolytes who had joined her here, all the ones who had followed her out to defend themselves against Whitbey. ¡°Pierre Cadoudal gave them good faith and his word, and they stabbed him during parley. All of us are targets now, even more than before, but we can make sure that we are not defenseless before the threat emerges. "All of the Guardians are the same people they were before; as soon as Prince Harold leaves, they''ll be happy to raze our temple to the ground and kill everyone inside. The Forresters might have been disbanded, but they remain in the city, ready to strike back the moment they feel they can find a suitable target. Nor does the Prince of Darkness have the power or influence to stop them. He¡¯s already proven that. If we cannot defend ourselves, our entire order and everyone in it face extermination.¡±

    ¡°Well said,¡± a lanky blond boy said, his voice accompanied by obviously halfhearted applause. ¡°Doubtless King Harold would do the same to you first, given half a chance. Extermination is rather a fixation of his, of spirits and their followers alike; though he isn¡¯t much concerned about any innocents standing in the way. In that regard, the late Captain Whitbey and those aligned with him rather did manage to capture the Avaline spirit.¡±

    Belatedly, Camille realized that he lacked the perfunctory streak of blue in his hair that Acolytes had taken to wearing. ¡°Thank you?¡± This man is definitely not an Acolyte, and here he is intruding on our affairs.

    ¡°As it happens, I have some experience with these devices and their operation. Knowledge, such as it is, of a better stance to brace against the recoil, and training procedures to better safeguard one¡¯s hearing. If I could be permitted to share my expertise, it would be my delight to ensure that the city¡¯s true guardians are better able to defend themselves against any Avaline incursions.¡± He smiled, though the expression looked unnatural on his face, as if he wasn¡¯t used to doing it. ¡°Would you allow me the honor of assisting your order, Lady Leclaire?¡±

    If he tells the wrong person about this¡­ If this got back to Luce, she could tell him much the same as she had the Acolytes, for it wasn¡¯t untrue, but things would be more convenient if it never came to that.

    Given his expertise with the pistols, it was possible he was one of the recently disbanded ex-Forresters, but any of them with prospects back in Avalon wouldn¡¯t want to scuttle them by consorting with sages.

    And if he were truly a defector with ties to Avalon, that could prove invaluable this very night.

    He¡¯s seen this, which is a risk that can¡¯t be taken back without killing him, but he¡¯s exposed as well should any of his old friends find out.

    After a moment of consideration, Camille nodded. ¡°You shall not handle the weapons yourself, merely direct the Acolytes in their proper use. And first, I must have your name.¡±

    ¡°I accept your conditions. You can call me Mordred Boothe.¡±

    A surname, interesting. Reputedly, more commoners possessed them in Avalon, but it still implied a certain kind of upbringing that would give him less reason to defect.

    Now we just have to see if he¡¯s as knowledgeable as he claims.

    Whatever his motives, Boothe stayed true to his word, and after a few hours, most Acolytes could at least set the weapon off without flinching or losing their grip of it, which was frankly about as much Camille could have hoped for. With another session or two squeezed in, perhaps they¡¯d even be able to hit the rough vicinity of a target.

    ¡°Your service will not be forgotten,¡± Camille said as the Acolytes finished packing the weapons up. ¡°I¡¯m pleased that my reputation didn¡¯t scare you off.¡±

    Boothe laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve no need to be afraid of you, Lady Leclaire. As I¡¯ve just spent several hours demonstrating, I know my way around a pistol, and that has proven sufficient to defeat you in the past.¡±

    Camille scowled.

    ¡°Oh, come now, that¡¯s not an insult! You¡¯re far from the most frightening creature I¡¯ve ever encountered, that¡¯s all I mean to say.¡±

    ¡°High praise indeed.¡±

    The Acolytes had left by this point, sticking together with pistols at their belts to ensure that none tried to finish what Whitbey had started. Camille would have accompanied them, but she had a pressing engagement that couldn¡¯t be delayed.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask,¡± Boothe said once they were alone on the beach. ¡°Most people want to know the most frightening creature I¡¯ve met, when they hear me make such allusions. I¡¯m quite well traveled, as it happens, from Cambria to Oxton to the Giton desert to Condorcet. And Guerron, of course.¡±

    Camille pushed past his needling, beginning her walk towards her engagement. ¡°Perhaps other people have more patience with your propensity to be needlessly mysterious than I do. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯m afraid I must be going.¡±

    ¡°Your feast, of course. You¡¯ve already hurt the Forresters so much by disbanding their organization, it simply wouldn¡¯t do to make them wait as well. That would be terribly impolite.¡±

    Camille stopped walking, steeling herself to avoid asking a stupid question like ¡®How did you know that?¡¯, which would inevitably be followed by a smug ¡®because you just told me.¡¯ She needed to figure this Boothe out without giving anything away. ¡°Prince Grimoire disbanded their organization, which was well within his powers as Governor. After everything he¡¯s been through, who could blame him? As a matter of security, it was only sensible, as were his personnel evaluations within the Guardians.¡±

    ¡°His? Not yours?¡± Boothe laughed. ¡°How delightfully two-faced. As it happens, I¡¯m rather gifted in that area as well.¡± He reached behind his back, causing Camille to tense. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be alarmed. I just thought I¡¯d show you a memento from one of the top contenders for the scariest creatures I¡¯ve ever met.¡± He pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle from his pack. ¡°Have you ever met Lamante?¡±

    ¡°The face collector.¡± Camille blinked. He could be anyone, hiding behind a mask. ¡°Who are you really?¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°I told you what you can call me, and that continues to suffice. However¡­¡± He flipped around,  unfurling the cloth bundle as he pushed it up to his face. When he turned back around, a nearly perfect replica of Prince Harold of Avalon looked back at her, between his long hair and acutely angled face, it was easy to see the resemblance to Magnifico. It was with Luce, too, but only in retrospect. ¡°I got a face from Lamante, and now I can mimic Prince Harold¡¯s appearance.¡±

    ¡°Is that really his face? Lamante can only collect from the dead. And¡ªWait, has it just been you this whole time?¡±

    Boothe-Harold laughed, his voice different too. Higher pitched, thinner. ¡°I assure you that Prince Harold remains alive. I met him on my way out of Guerron, gave my report, and we went our separate ways. Once his business is done here, he''ll be back in Cambria just as he¡¯s been before. This¡ª¡± He tapped his face. ¡°Well, I went to Lamante with a very specific look in mind, and she was happy to oblige. I¡¯ve plenty of experience with disguises, and I¡¯ve spent enough time around Harold to get a sense of his mannerisms. It¡¯s good enough to fool the average person, like, for example, a noblewoman who has only met him a few times in passing, or an Avaline thug who¡¯s mostly just seen him from afar. Good enough for my purposes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±

    Prince Harold¡¯s presence here had complicated things for Camille, even if it had ended the fighting before Anya Stewart could kill her. Now one of his personal agents was turning his coat¡­ Or goading me into a trap. But could she afford to turn down help? Just a little more than two days left, and then the sun would return. The term of her deal with Luce would be over, and she would be on her own once more.

    ¡°I make a point of never lying, Lady Leclaire, and I assure you this isn¡¯t a trap. It¡¯s not hard to see what your goals are for Malin, and it¡¯s sure to give Avalon and her king quite the unpleasant surprise in the process. Should you succeed, at any rate. If I wanted you to fail, I could simply run to Luce right now and tell him you¡¯re training your Acolytes in warfare.¡±

    ¡°For the purpose of our defense. You might recall that not long ago every armed body in Malin was calling for our extermination. They assassinated Cadoudal during parley, in view of hundreds of people. Not even subtle about it. I think Luce would understand.¡±

    ¡°And if not?¡±

    Camille shrugged. ¡°By the terms of our deal, he could ask me to stop, and I would.¡± Technically, I haven¡¯t paid Eloise for them yet, anyway. ¡°Luce doesn¡¯t have many allies in the city, all the fewer once your patron leaves. And anyone working for me is certain not to turn against him as long as darkness rules the skies. This is just sensible.¡±

    Boothe laughed again. ¡°And in three days? I noticed you mentioned a specific timeframe.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s when Prince Harold is due to leave,¡± Camille lied. Though if all goes to plan, the Prince of Pantera probably will want to make himself scarce if he hasn¡¯t left already.  ¡°We need to be ready then.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡± With a wink and a smile, Boothe tucked the cloth back into his pack. ¡°And your meetings with the very people who tried to overthrow our dear Prince of Darkness? I can¡¯t imagine he disbanded the Forresters because he wanted you wining and dining with them.¡±

    ¡°Then your imagination is too limited. Many of them, perhaps even most, simply lack the moral fortitude to refuse an order even without otherwise objecting to his rule. Select officers could be taken into the Acolytes under strict supervision without much issue, but more importantly, I¡¯m hoping most of the rest can be convinced to stand down. I¡¯ll explain as much to Luce if it comes up, but he¡¯s an incredibly busy man dealing with the aftermath of a coup, and my loyalty is more assured than anyone¡¯s given the nature of our deal.¡±

    ¡°Pledged before a spirit? How terribly interesting. I wouldn¡¯t think Luce to be capable of asking such a thing, but I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be willing to make a deal with spirits either. I suppose you must be very convincing. I, too, can be convincing. If you¡¯ll allow me, I¡¯d be pleased to demonstrate it at your dinner tonight.¡± He smiled. ¡°I need something to do, anyway. It¡¯s this or paying a visit to the prince, busy as he is.¡±

    Camille narrowed her eyes, but she didn¡¯t send him away. Even talking to Lamante, let alone bargaining with her, showed a disdain for everything Avalon that couldn¡¯t be faked. At minimum, he was clearly the enemy of an enemy. So long as she didn¡¯t forget that he wasn¡¯t necessarily more than that¡­ He has the potential to be so useful I can¡¯t pass up the help.

    ¡°Yes? Excellent. Lead on, Lady Leclaire.¡±

    ?

    ¡°I¡¯ll defend you against enemies from your own nation trying to supplant your rule¡­¡±

    The crowd was less than Camille had hoped for, but about what she expected. Former officers of the Forresters had no cause to love her, but the smart ones knew where the balance of power in Malin now lay, and understood the value of enjoying good food and good wine while the world froze beyond the walls. They understood the importance of hearing her out, rather than spitefully refusing.

    ¡°I appreciate you all coming tonight. I know in these turbulent times, it can be difficult to know who to turn to. I want to be clear that I begrudge no one for following their orders,¡± she lied. ¡°Disbanding the Forresters was a heavy-handed measure, and one that I recommended against, but the Prince of Darkness was resolute in his decision. On some level, I hope that it is at least understandable. As for the Guardians¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a question for you, Leclaire,¡± a woman¡¯s voice called out from the far end of the table.

    ¡°There will time for questions, but please allow me¡ª¡±

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± The woman stood up, revealing herself to be Charlotte, the overly suspicious Guardian. ¡°What possible reason could you have to gather these people here?¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse.

    ¡°It¡¯s simply to regroup after everything that¡¯s happened. I want to give these people a chance to make their voices heard.¡± Or whatever¡¯s plausible enough. ¡°I¡¯ll be doing a similar meeting with some of the Guardians tomorrow, which you are more than welcome to attend.¡±

    ¡°Oh, am I? Are you going to pitch your betrayal at me, too?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve made vows before the spirits not to stand with Luce for the duration of this crisis. I fought for him during the coup, I arranged to discover his location to better mount a rescue. That information from Eloise was how you found him so quickly, was it not?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean anything. Whitbey was just as much an enemy to you as to Luce.¡±

    ¡°As is the darkness. Yet there¡¯s nothing untoward about me meeting in it. I¡¯m not going to sit here and bear these accusations in company. If you¡¯d like to have a conversation in private¡ª¡±

    ¡°Come with me, right now. You¡¯ll have your chance to explain everything to the prince, including why you¡¯re playing hostess for an array of officers who were dismissed for extremely good reasons.¡±

    Damn it, Charlotte, just walk away. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this?¡± One last chance.

    ¡°I¡¯m just doing my job, protecting the Prince.¡±

    ¡°Your job¡­¡± Fine, if you leave me no other options. ¡°Was it your job to rat out your fellow officers too? I seem to recall three Guardians being arrested after doing a supply mission with you. And then right after, the Prince elevated your position personally.¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°The¡­ thieves? They were stealing aid supplies, not even being subtle about it. People were going to freeze and starve as a direct result. Yes, absolutely, it was my job.¡±

    ¡°Four bright futures abruptly ended because they got between you and your career goals.¡±

    ¡°Because they were guilty!¡±

    I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not going to help you, with this crowd. ¡°Guardians have to look out for their own. How can anyone trust you to have their back? Forresters are under the same constraints. It¡¯s a life-or-death struggle, and they have to be absolutely sure they can rely on their camarades at all times.¡± Including when they¡¯re fucking over innocent people. As often as Camille lied, adopting this rhetoric felt particularly dirty, exceptionally distasteful. The ex-Forresters in this room certainly weren¡¯t worthy of the defense, nor the Guardians beyond who¡¯d be in this room tomorrow, hearing the same pitch.

    But you left me no choice.

    One of the ex-Forresters snorted. ¡°Whitbey told me all about this one. So self-righteous all the time.¡± He shook his head. ¡°You ought to be ashamed of yourself.¡±

    I know.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything wrong! They were thieves, criminals. Stopping that is what the Guardians are for.¡±

    Another of the officers shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve got to look out for each other, or the whole thing falls apart.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ She¡¯s trying to overthrow the Prince. You have to see that!¡±

    Everyone in this room already tried to overthrow the Prince, and all they regret is that it didn¡¯t work.

    Camille bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure. ¡°You are dismissed, Charlotte.¡±

    Around the table, most of the ex-Forresters were nodding, muttering ¡°nothing worse than a rat.¡±

    Charlotte snarled, but she could see that the room was against her. ¡°Fine. We¡¯ll see what Prince Luce thinks about all of this.¡± She did leave, which turned an immediate problem into a merely urgent one.

    If only she were on my side.

    ¡°Well, rat-catching business out of the way, I wanted to extend my hand to you brave defenders of peace. I¡¯m aware that Lillian Perimont¡¯s coup put us on opposite sides of a fight, but I have no doubt that you, too, were simply fighting for what you believed in. Now I¡¯d like to offer you the opportunity to continue that fight on new ground, to pick up your arms once more and have the whole city know that you are the arm of the law.¡±

    ¡°Really? ¡®Opportunity¡¯, when you¡¯re just putting things back the way they were always supposed to be? Did the Prince of Darkness finally realize how much he needs us, so he sent you to grovel?¡±

    ¡°Your name, sir?¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°Captain Banon, Chief of Investigations. Unless Jimmy got released, I¡¯m the highest ranking Forrester not locked up right now.¡±

    ¡°Well, Captain Banon, I assure you, I¡¯m here of my own accord, not on behalf of anyone else. And things will not only be as they were. I intend a great many reforms, not the least to your budget and standing. With relaxed oversight from Avalon, I see no reason to limit you, nor your return to the employ of Malin.¡±

    ¡°Relaxed oversight? The Prince of Pantera¡¯s in the city right now. He¡¯s the one who called off Stuart and Perimont. You¡¯re acting like this is some forgotten colony, but we¡¯ve got eyes on us right now, watching all the more closely after what happened.¡±

    ¡°Scrutiny, but not appreciation. Judgment. Charlotte ratting you out to the prince was just one example.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re hardly offering any different, making us bend over for your fucking temple headed prigs. We used to mean something, damn it!¡±

    If the world were fair, you''d mean nothing more than food for the sharks. Alas. ¡°You stand to mean far more than ever before, and all you have to do is stand aside. How do you like the sound of ¡®Sir Banon¡¯? Avalon would never grant a knighthood to lowly colonial servicemen, but I know who my friends are and treat them accordingly.¡±

    Banon scoffed. ¡°Great, a fancy title to carve into the slab I¡¯ll be lying on when Avalon executes me for treason. Get off it, Leclaire. We¡¯re not some lustful prince of darkness you can lead around by the nose. You¡¯re lucky we don¡¯t grab you right now and march you to Prince Harold.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but why march all the way there when I could come to you?.¡± Boothe sauntered in calmly, taking a seat next to Camille.

    And thank fuck. Without his help, Prince Harold¡¯s presence in the city could have really ruined things.

    Surprised as they were, the entire room of thugs fell over themselves to bow before this cheap imitation of their prince.

    ¡°Is Avalon not a land of freedom?¡± Boothe asked, despite the answer being an obvious ¡®no¡¯. ¡°Your contracts of service were severed. You no longer work for Prince Lucifer or the Territorial Governor. You are free to do as you like. Lady Leclaire¡¯s Acolytes were crucial to combatting that vile coup and enforcing the Crown¡¯s justice. And they¡¯ve got a great fashion sense! Should you wish to join their noble ranks, I would celebrate you for it. Certainly, I wouldn¡¯t execute you because of that!¡± He laughed, and the thugs laughed too, taking it as permission. ¡°My father is indisposed at the moment, but I know exactly what he would think of this. Just imagining his expression brings a smile to my face. Don¡¯t be so quick to count Leclaire out. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing what she does next. Should be interesting!¡±

    Camille smiled, picking up where he left off. ¡°The Acolytes welcome all who are willing to join our ranks, and have every intent of treating you with the respect you deserve. But if you refuse? Stand aside. Go back to Avalon, or find another of her territories. You could even be private security if you like; I know Clochaine Candles is short on bodies at the moment. But stay out of politics. Stay home, have a drink, I don¡¯t care. Don¡¯t cross me, unless you want to end up like the peerless Captain Whitbey.¡±

    With that, Camille stood to go, Boothe immediately following her out.

    She could hear Captain Banon whispering to the others even as they left. ¡°...Anyone takes her up on that, they¡¯ve got me to answer to. Whole thing¡¯s a damn trick, testing our loyalty.¡±

    There were more to talk to, more guardians, more training with the Acolytes, and all of it had to be kept plausibly deniable. I have to stay true to my vow, or even Luce might condemn me to eternal torment. Still so much to do, but none of it was treading new ground anymore. Just tightening things up more and more until there could be no failure.

    Or as close as I can get, anyway.

    ¡°Well, that went pretty well,¡± Boothe said once they were clear of the building.

    ¡°Banon¡¯s keeping them in line. They still defer to rank. I heard him threatening them about it the second we left.¡±

    ¡°Ah, shame. Well, you can¡¯t always win everyone over.¡± Boothe scratched his chin. ¡°Do you want to take care of him, or shall I?¡±

    Even if you¡¯re just playing a role here, you¡¯re certainly committed to the part.

    Camille nodded, already focused on the next thing she needed to do.

 Eloise IX: In the Pantheréˆ¥æªš Den

    Eloise IX: In the Panther¡¯s Den

    ¡°...To my faithful tailor Horatio, I leave the contents of my wardrobe, along with any other garments gathered by my estate.¡± Cynette Fields paused in her reading, waiting for an acknowledging nod from Jacques¡¯ white-haired clothier, then continued. ¡°To Ms. Marie Sunderland, I leave my two ships, Luminous and Cast in Wax, and such crewmates as remain contracted to serve aboard them. I hope that you and Jim can enjoy serene trips out on the water as much as I have come to.¡±

    Eloise could see Ms. Sunderland narrow her eyes at that, which was fairly understandable given the fact that the Cast in Wax had sunk recently after a boiler explosion on a nearby ship tore through its hull. That, and she probably had her eyes on the largest prize.

    ¡°My jewelry I leave to G¨¦rard Dupris, the best styled of my associates by far. I hope you can don my rings and think of me for many years to come, Anoeuf. Though I leave it to your possession to do with as you please, I will note that my Year 98 Porte Lumi¨¨re Commerce Award is meant to be mounted and admired from afar, rather than worn on your person. Knowing my feelings towards the city of my birth, I trust that you will treat it with the same respect I would.¡±

    Anoeuf cracked a smile at that, most of the room along with him. Jacques had indeed made his feelings towards ¡°that hole I crawled my way out of¡± quite clear, and it would probably bring him no small amount of pleasure from inside his mahogany box to see Anoeuf maintaining that disrespect long after his death.

    For the first time, it felt like coming to this reading might not have been a mistake.

    ¡°Eloise, you were far from the first to fall for Robin¡¯s charms in the throes of youth, but it warmed my heart to see you come to your senses and return home.¡± Great fucking start, you condescending ass. ¡°In the time since then, you¡¯ve returned to your role without the slightest decline in ability, pushed forward innovative ideas and partnerships, and conducted yourself with decorum and aplomb.¡± The solicitor paused again, setting the document down on the desk in front of her.

    Alright, the end kind of saved it. Really, it was hard to be too mad at him considering he was dead, and Eloise couldn¡¯t rightfully call her hands clean in the matter. It didn¡¯t mean she¡¯d turn down any money he left her, not when that could provide such a useful fresh start, but the whole thing still felt a bit wrong.

    ¡°To you, my one true heir and successor, I leave my ownership stake in Clocha?ne Candles, my rental properties in the city, such funds as remain in my estate once all other bequeathments have been dispersed, and all other assets and properties yet unaccounted for in this reading. I offered you my name once and you declined, but now again I leave to you the name Clocha?ne. I hope you have more tact than to disregard a dead man¡¯s wishes. I ask only that you continue my work and further my legacy.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Eloise said quietly. Or extremely wrong, as the case may be.

    Fields was glaring at her with stern eyes, which didn¡¯t necessarily mean much considering how often she just looked like that, but Anoeuf and Sunderland put no effort into hiding their bewildered distaste. Even Jacques¡¯ old manservant looked a bit put out, and he was set to walk out of here with ten thousand mandala.

    ¡°That concludes the reading of Jacques Clocha?ne¡¯s final testament,¡± Ms. Fields said, shooting Eloise a raise of the eyebrows that elegantly communicated, Good luck; you¡¯re on your own. ¡°As his estate¡¯s executor, I will see to the disbursement of the assets. For obvious reasons, you can expect substantial delays for any of his property currently outside easy reach of Malin. Ms. Sunderland, I¡¯m given to understand that Cast in Wax was insured for up to seven hundred thousand mandala, which will be made available to you as soon as the funds are disbursed. With that, I leave you to your mourning.¡±

    Fields wasted no time making her exit, as did most of Jacques¡¯ household service, but the lieutenants of his other business lingered. And why wouldn¡¯t they?

    Eloise gripped her cane tightly, as if it would be enough to fend anyone off. As if I¡¯m not a juicy, easy target. The cuts were mostly healed, but her ankle still kept her awake at night, courtesy of fucking Mince, a horrible irritation even dead.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss, Miss Clocha?ne.¡±

    Eloise clenched her teeth, turning around to tell this presumptuous well-wisher exactly what she thought of that fucking name¡ª

    Leclaire.

    Khali¡¯s curse, the disrespect. Not that Eloise usually cared too much about that, but crashing the testament reading of a man whose throat you sliced open? ¡°Wow. You¡¯ve got a really respectful way of grieving, Leclaire.¡±

    She was wearing white in the Avaline fashion, at least, a modest woolen dress under a thick green shawl, though considering her role in making this event happen, it was impossible to ignore the air of mockery to it. Combined with her weird brown and blue hair, she was a mess that somehow almost worked anyway.

    ¡°This is in poor taste, I know, but I needed to talk to you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, did you?¡± Eloise hissed. ¡°Well, the departure ceremony for the man you murdered certainly seems like an appropriate venue. Shall I stab that tall man with the tray of hors d''oeuvres, just to make sure the blood is fresh?¡±

    Leclaire shrugged. ¡°Do as you like, but listen to me first.¡±

    ¡°As long as you speak up. I want to make sure the whole room hears you bragging about what you did to the man they¡¯re here to mourn.¡±

    ¡°Mourn?¡± Leclaire let out the slightest laugh, tempered by the mood of the room. ¡°They¡¯re vultures picking at his corpse. Every single person is here because they want something.¡±

    ¡°Except for you, of course.¡±

    The noblewoman suppressed a smile, as gone almost as fast as it arrived. But it was there. ¡°I was actually going to say ¡®except for you¡¯, as it happens.¡±

    ¡°Oh, empty flattery, how wonderful.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s true that I can¡¯t know it for sure, but¡ªLook, can we talk outside? I¡¯d rather not have to whisper around the important things.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want everyone to see me leaving with you. They might get the wrong idea.¡±

    With a hand to her face, Leclaire sighed. ¡°The suspicions were already there from his testament. My being here doesn¡¯t make anything worse. No one knows but you.¡± Her voice trailed into a whisper by the end, breathy words hanging off red lips.

    ¡°That too.¡± Ugh, fuck it. ¡°Wait by the Sartaire. I¡¯ll come find you.¡± Eventually.

    ¡°You¡¯re just going to have me stand around out in the snow?¡±

    ¡°Or go home. I don¡¯t care.¡± Eloise grinned as she shouldered past her. By the time she reached the far wall, Leclaire was gone.

    It wasn¡¯t hard to guess what she wanted, since she¡¯d already alluded to it during the coup. Staying here, running things, partnering with the administration¡­ Dancing to her whims until the time came to be discarded.

    ¡°My condolences, Eloise.¡± Ms. Sunderland appeared before her, holding out a steaming cup of tea. She too was dressed all in white, but carried with her an austere dignity that Leclaire, for all her pretentious, had utterly lacked. Perhaps it was her age.

    ¡°And mine to you.¡± Eloise took the offered tea. ¡°Who¡¯s Jim, by the way?¡±

    ¡°My husband, though I don¡¯t expect he¡¯ll be going on any pleasure cruises anytime soon, since he passed away last year. Jacques must not have thought to update that part of his will.¡±

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°A personal slight against you, no doubt. It couldn¡¯t just be that he didn¡¯t want to contemplate his death.¡±

    ¡°And yet your portion was written quite recently. Otherwise you still would have been considered¡­ absent. How thoughtful of him.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Listen here, girl. I¡¯m not one for sentiment. Jacques had his time. I don¡¯t know how you got the solicitor on your side or the witch in your pocket, but it doesn¡¯t matter. Official assets are one thing, but there¡¯s other business that¡¯s relevant here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s one and the same,¡± Eloise countered, not really sure why she was pressing the point. ¡°The whole point is profit, everything else is secondary to that. Jacques knew it when he pivoted, after darkness fell. Official and legitimate business pays more, especially now. That¡¯s all.¡± That felt true to Jacques, at least, even if Eloise half felt like she was lying in saying it.

    Sunderland sipped her tea. ¡°Very well. Yes, it¡¯s related. Clocha?ne Candles is crucial, on all levels of business. But have you thought this through? You¡¯re a bookkeeper, not a leader, and hardly inspiring to those around you. We should take care not to forget what happened last time you assumed command.¡±

    Is she talking about captaining that ship? How would she know? Eloise folded her arms. Either way, fuck you. ¡°You¡¯re a follower too. Aranea¡¯s never would have happened without Jacques footing the bill for startup costs, nor would it have persisted without continued payments.¡±

    I ran the numbers myself, when Jacques was worried you¡¯d try to split off and make a go of it on your own. Taken on merit alone, they were losing money even before darkness fell and everyone had to stay inside to keep warm.

    ¡°Truly, his absence is a hole that cannot be filled.¡± Sunderland sipped her tea. ¡°However, we must do our best. With that in mind, I would like to make you an offer: Four million mandala for the business, with the understanding that this would also mean ownership of the business. I won¡¯t tell anyone about Claude, or your role in what happened to Jacques. You and Margot can start fresh, wherever you want, unburdened by all of this.¡±

    ¡°Coppers for gold.¡± The candle business alone was worth ten times that.

    ¡°If I had enough to pay fairly for everything Jacques had, I wouldn¡¯t have been subordinate to him in the first place. It¡¯s the most I can spare. More to the point, it¡¯s enough to live on forever. If you go south into the continent, it¡¯s worth almost double in florins. You¡¯ll never have to work another day in your life.¡±

    You don¡¯t have to either, and yet here you are.

    ¡°Someone already tried to kill you with one of those stolen weapons. It¡¯s not safe for you here. Just think about that. That money is more than enough to reinvent yourself. From accounting to piracy and back again, I know that must appeal to you.¡± She smiled, gave an awkward pat on the shoulder, then took her leave.

    Fuck. The pain in her ankle was getting worse, but sitting down would be a sign of weakness, in this crowd especially.

    For the first time in a while, Eloise felt herself thinking about Florette, what it might have been like to flee the city with her instead of staying. Sunderland was offering something similar now, assuming it was even possible to get out, though there wouldn¡¯t be any partner for company, nor any real adventures with a child in tow. Margot wouldn¡¯t be able to stay in the Master¡¯s School by the ferry, but there were other opportunities. The world¡¯s a big place.

    Yet somehow I always end up back where I started. Even doing the right thing hadn¡¯t been enough, or it hadn¡¯t been the right thing. Either way, just more of the same.

    I already tried running away, and it got me nowhere. Sunderland knew that too, or she wouldn¡¯t have spent her entire life in two cities. And it¡¯s probably been decades since she¡¯s seen Fortescue, either.

    Honestly, it wasn¡¯t the worst thing, having an excuse to get out of there. If nothing else, Leclaire¡¯s pitch would be something new.

    She was bent over the railing above the river, resembling an illicit engraving in pose if not in dress, bundled under a mismatched coat and hat. ¡°Oh good, you came.¡±

    Exhaling lightly through her nose, Eloise stepped up next to her spot overlooking the river. ¡°Well?¡±

    Leclaire took a deep breath, then began. ¡°When I was fifteen, a girl came up from Torpierre to be one of my ladies-in-waiting. Good family, sage to an ancient and venerable spirit, everything you could ask for. Even at that age, she was already a warrior, which endeared her to Lucien nicely. They held a spar not two days after she arrived, and while he carried the set, she did manage to take the first match off of him. None of us could do that then, and I doubt many could now. He¡¯s a peerless swordsman, and well-practiced at fighting sages.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, what an excellent offer. I think I¡¯ll take you up on that!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m illustrating a point. If you wouldn¡¯t mind, just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± It¡¯s not like I have anywhere to be.

    ¡°Then she challenged me, and¡­ It was humiliating. She had me pinned down inside of a minute in the first match, and the next two went even faster. I never landed a scratch on her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m listening. In fact, if you have any other stories about getting beaten up¡­¡±

    Leclaire rolled her eyes and continued as if Eloise hadn¡¯t said anything. ¡°By the rules we agreed to, it was fair play. She hadn¡¯t done anything wrong, really. But it rankled, feeling so helpless, seeing her acting so smug about it.¡±

    Eloise nodded. ¡°So you resolved to be the champion of arrogance, so thoroughly smug that none could ever deny your title.¡±

    That got a chuckle out of her. ¡°It¡¯s a contentious title. I just got out of a meeting where Anya Stewart had her ship confiscated and was sentenced to exile, and she still had this look on her face as if everything was going to plan. Even her son forsook¡ªAnyway, I was a petty girl, and I didn¡¯t like to be upstaged. So I said a few words in the right ears, and eventually her parents had her sent home.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d mostly put it out of my mind until the start of this spring. Lumi¨¨re was trying to push my people out, and I needed any kind of in with the Sun Temple that I could find. I was running down the list with my friend and we realized that there wasn¡¯t a single person there that didn¡¯t hate me. Much of that was on Lumi¨¨re, but Laura was completely my fault. I turned an ally into an enemy, and I did it for practically no reason. I¡¯d like to think I¡¯ve learned from that, at least a bit.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t, sorry.¡± Eloise folded her arms. ¡°Rambling on, refusing to get to the point¡­ Why, it makes me want to challenge you to a duel and shoot you, or throw you into the sun, or whatever that guy really did to you.¡±

    ¡°It was the pistol, and I think you know that.¡± Leclaire bit her lip. ¡°Look, my point is that we¡¯ve been¡­ tense, with each other. Acrimonious. And there¡¯s no need for it when we¡¯re on the same side. I think maybe I was carrying a grudge on Florette¡¯s behalf, or¡­ I don¡¯t know. But that¡¯s not how I want to do things. I¡¯m not a child anymore.¡±

    ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡± You really made up a whole story just to pretend you¡¯re someone you clearly aren¡¯t?

    ¡°I want you to take over Clocha?ne¡¯s operations, yes, but I really want you as an ally. How do you like the sound of Lady Eloise Clocha?ne?¡±

    It viscerally disgusts me, thanks.

    ¡°You¡¯d have your first pick of liberated lands, even On¨¨s if you truly insist.¡±

    ¡°What on earth makes you think I need to sell myself for that? I just inherited the wealthiest largesse in the city.¡±

    ¡°Because of me.¡±

    ¡°Ok, don¡¯t push your luck. Jacques¡­ He had his issues, but apparently in the end he actually cared. I wouldn¡¯t have thought either, but¡­ You don''t get extra points for killing him.¡±

    ¡°Of course. And I really am sorry for your loss. Even if he would have killed you and sold out Malin if he¡¯d been allowed to live, you¡¯re allowed to be sad about it.¡±

    Am I sad? It didn¡¯t seem like the right way to feel, not when the best way to honor Jacques¡¯ philosophy was valuing the benefit above everything else. No one else seemed to care, though Captain Verrou probably would whenever he eventually heard the news. Even Ms. Sunderland hadn¡¯t really cared, all but told Eloise that her anger at his death could be dismissed for a price.

    Is that what I¡¯m signing up for if I take over his business? Dying unmourned and alone, just like that spirit warned me about? Or is that what happens if I cut and run yet again? Life¡¯s supposed to move forward, yet somehow I always end up circling back.

    ¡°I¡¯m not the same whore for prestige that you¡¯re used to dealing with. Lands with annual incomes less than what the business makes in a month, and a title binding me to etiquette and rules?¡± Eloise shook her head. ¡°More to the point, you don¡¯t really have anything to offer me that Luce couldn¡¯t. All I¡¯d need to do is take a meeting.¡± And then he¡¯d laugh me out of the room because apologizing doesn''t even come close to making up for kidnapping him, but it¡¯s always good to mention an alternative in a negotiation.

    If that¡¯s even what this is.

    ¡°As long as he¡¯s still in power. That time could well be drawing to a close. I still don¡¯t know the exact words you swore to him before Cya, but if you told me, my guess is that there¡¯s a way out. Luce would hardly be an expert in crafting perfectly binding¡ª¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse, there was no oath! I didn¡¯t swear anything, because you¡¯d have to be an idiot to make a promise to a spirit that can suck your soul into eternal servitude for breaking it. How many times do I have to say it?¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Leclaire tilted her head back again, biting her lip. ¡°How do you think this ends for him?¡±

    ¡°Well, if you have it your way, probably your knife at his throat, same way you did Jacques.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to kill him. Honestly, all things considered, I like him. His heart¡¯s in the right place. But he wants to do what Avalon¡¯s already doing, only smarter and better. He¡¯s still a tool of their control.¡±

    ¡°And you work for him.¡±

    ¡°For now. But¡­ Do you want Malin to be under their boot forever?¡±

    ¡°Oh, definitely. I love the taste of leather soles. That¡¯s me. In fact I love Avalon so much, I spent years robbing their ships and selling their technology to their enemies.¡±

    Leclaire rolled her eyes. ¡°So you would want Malin liberated, yes? Maybe even the other territories eventually, but this place is as much your home as it is mine.¡± She swept her hand out over the water, though it didn¡¯t move in response. ¡°How do you think that ends for Luce?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    ¡°The fact is, at some point, it¡¯s liberation or him. And I don¡¯t know exactly what you two went through together in Refuge, but I know what this occupation has done to your family, and thousands of families like it. I know what freedom means to you, when you spent years traveling the winds without anyone to tell you what to do. What happened to the revolutionary pirate willing to sell me the pistols you and Florette stole to help tear Avalon down? Who assassinated the governor in his own train?¡±

    ¡°Florette did that all on her own, actually.¡± Idiot. ¡°She was always doing stuff like that.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hope the point still stands.¡± Leclaire paused, looking out over the water. ¡°Luce belongs in Avalon, helping them sort their own shit out without being in the line of fire here. I don¡¯t want him dead, not in two days, not in two years, and not in two decades. I even hope he outlives me, for as little as that¡¯s worth. You have my word, and I¡¯ll swear it before the spirits if you wish.¡±

    ¡°As if that means anything. You¡¯ve been weaseling through contracts with them since you were¡­ What did you say, fifteen?¡±

    ¡°Seven, actually. I made my pact the day of the Foxtrap.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, no wonder you¡¯re so fucked up. ¡°Speaking of, did I ever tell you that it was one of your mom¡¯s guards that bashed my dad¡¯s head in? Not enough room on the boats, apparently. That¡¯s why he doesn¡¯t speak.¡±

    The sage buried her face in her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I think¡­ I think the fifteen-year-old me had a lot more in common with her than I do even now. Maybe.¡±

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t worry about it. She bit it the same day too, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    While my mom didn¡¯t die for another decade, sentenced to death for trying to protect a child. That hadn¡¯t been some unique cruelty from Captain Whitbey, or the governor¡¯s whims. The punishment for rebellion was death. That was just as true in any territory, even in Avalon itself.

    It¡¯d be easier to pretend if I hadn¡¯t been to so many places, seeing the same shit everywhere. ¡°Always fucking going in circles,¡± Eloise muttered, feeling the chill of the wind on her face. ¡°Let me think about it?¡±

    ¡°Of course. But we don¡¯t have long before we miss our greatest window of opportunity. I need your answer within the day, as soon as you can manage.¡±

    ¡°And if I say no? Just walk away and start over somewhere else?¡±

    Leclaire dipped her head. ¡°Then I¡¯ll wish you and Margot well, and proceed without you.¡±

    And if I warn Luce? Eloise didn¡¯t voice the thought. She knew what Leclaire would say, anyway.

    Then you¡¯re only delaying the inevitable.

    ?

    ¡°Can I go now?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Margot paused, visibly counting to ten on her fingers. ¡°How about now?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Eloise turned to the next page of the ledger Ms. Fields had given her, laying out everything she was set to inherit. Profits had only grown with every month of darkness, despite the inferior formula, despite a massive shortage of laborers, despite¡­ fucking everything. This was set to be the best year for Clocha?ne Candles ever.

    Sunderland really low-balled me. Honestly, it''s kind of insulting. Though she had a point that four million was plenty to live on for three people, and giving up the responsibility was arguably worth a lot on its own. Just cut and run again, reinvent myself and hope it doesn¡¯t all come crashing  back to the start anyway, the way it has every time so far.

    ¡°Please?¡±

    Eloise sighed. ¡°Some shit¡¯s about to go down. Just because you lucked your way out of being a target last time doesn¡¯t mean you should take stupid risks now. You¡¯re going to be here for at least another few days. Deal with it.¡±

    Margot groaned, leaning back against the wall.

    Admittedly, there hadn¡¯t been time to get Margot¡¯s things from the house before taking her to this apartment from Jacques¡¯ bequeathment. But everyone knew she lived there, which meant risk. Mince had already known enough to stage an ambush, and there were plenty of smarter enemies who could do worse.

    Honestly, even this wasn¡¯t ideal, since Fields at minimum knew about it, but Jacques owned so many empty buildings in the city that sticking to one meant that any enemies still had a big field to work their way through. And this time I¡¯m not leaving her here alone.

    Not Dad either. Yse was even keeping him company in the other room, staying close in case anything happened. He really stepped up,  Eloise thought with a glance towards the door, and it¡¯s not like I gave him much incentive to.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like there¡¯s anything to do out there, anyway. It¡¯s so cold you¡¯re stuck in the tunnels or bundled into a puffy boulder barely capable of moving.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a puffy boulder barely capable of moving.¡±

    Impossible not to crack a smile at that. ¡°Juvenile, but sound. I¡¯d rate it at about seventy percent.¡±

    Margot tilted her head, mulling it over, then nodded. ¡°I can live with that.¡±

    ¡°Great, now I can sleep at night.¡±

    ¡°So is Camille your new girl?¡±

    ¡°What? No.¡± She was so dense she couldn¡¯t even pick up on what I meant by offering to buy her a drink, back in Guerron. ¡°Definitely not.¡±

    ¡°She walked you home. You plotted together during that coup. I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s not a ridiculous question.¡±

    ¡°Why do you even care?¡±

    ¡°Just because, if so, I mean, talk about trading up. I mean, do you remember Jeanne? Or Clarisse?¡±

    ¡°I try not to.¡±

    ¡°Or, Yse said that Florette lady that got Claude in trouble was another one.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s over now.¡±

    ¡°So she was?¡±

    Eloise slammed her book shut. ¡°You know how I love to talk about this stuff with you, but I¡¯m afraid I actually have to change the subject.¡±

    ¡°As long as it¡¯s not about my studies.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She set the ledger aside and beckoned Margot to sit on the bed next to her. ¡°I just got an offer from Ms. Sunderland. A substantial one, but it would mean leaving Malin.¡±

    ¡°No! You can¡¯t go again, you just got here!¡±

    ¡°Does it matter that much to you? You didn¡¯t seem very happy to see me. You were clawing at the walls just a minute ago, trying to get away.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I care or anything. Just, you know... Don¡¯t do it.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, it¡¯s like looking in a mirror.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t leave you again. You¡¯d be coming with me. Dad too.¡±

    Margot¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°So my life here would just be over? I have friends here. Eustace¡¯s dad just lost his job, he¡¯s been a total wreck. They¡¯re trapped here and can¡¯t get back to Avalon. Or Jasmine¡ªHer grandmother just died, and now she¡¯s been stuck inside all this time¡­¡±

    So caring for your friends. Eloise couldn¡¯t help but smile. Nothing like me, then.

    Good.

    ¡°We¡¯d find a new school. You¡¯d make new friends.¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t be the same! And what about me? I¡¯ve got connections here. Camille even offered me a stage apprenticeship in the Governor¡¯s mansion. Shit, what about you? I¡¯m not the only one who missed you. Are you just going to abandon Yse again? Right after Mr. Jacques died too. And Claude¡­¡±

    Am I?

    ¡°Where do you even want to go, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Probably ?le Dimanche, once the ships get going again. A little snake told me we¡¯re not far from the sun¡¯s return, so¡ª¡±

    ¡°So still in Avalon control.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s like you said about connections. There¡¯s stuff with Luce, and¡­¡± And if I leave, I¡¯m giving up. If I¡¯m giving up, I¡¯d rather not put roots down in a country that could be occupied in a few years. That was the issue going south, really, that and staying in Leclaire¡¯s sphere of influence. ¡°I¡¯m not set on any particular place.¡±

    ¡°So you just want to cut and run again. For its own sake.¡± Theatrically, Margot sighed, whirling her arms back as she collapsed onto the bed. ¡°What happened to doing the right thing?¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t really work out that way. I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯s just not for me.¡±

    Margot nodded. ¡°Knowing yourself is important. More important than following some stupid rules, or meeting people¡¯s expectations.¡±

    ¡°Nice try, but I¡¯m not letting you sell that stuff again.¡±

    That earned her a glare, but whatever. She was fourteen, she would be moody. And because I don¡¯t have parents for it, it¡¯s my problem.

    ¡°When you said that, I thought you meant doing something bold! Revolutionary, maybe. You know, pulling the stick out of your ass.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a fucking pirate. There¡¯s no¡­ Look, the revolution thing, maybe it¡¯s not about being effective. It¡¯s about what it means for who I am. Do I want to be a piece of shit that screws over my friends?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have friends.¡±

    Eloise rolled her eyes. ¡°Love you.¡±

    For some reason, Margot sat up at that. It wasn¡¯t like it was anything remarkable.

    Except¡­ When was the last time I said that to her?

    ¡°Just, please don¡¯t go. Please don¡¯t make me go.¡±

    ?

    It felt wrong, gathering everyone in the back room of Clocha?ne Candles without the eponymous man, like someone had cut a hole in the room at the head of the table.

    Because Leclaire did, and I¡¯m complicit.

    Eloise sat down in Jacques¡¯ spot, Ysengrin at her right.

    As Sunderland, Anoeuf, and the rest filed in, they took their seats starting at the far end, eventually leaving the chair to Eloise¡¯s left empty. An auspicious start.

    Eloise took the opportunity to open the meeting, standing from her seat. ¡°We¡¯ve suffered enormous blows these past few months. Product lines running dry, supplies cut off, what happened to Mince, and¡­ Jacques. Especially Jacques. No one should die alone in the street like that. Absolutely cold-blooded.¡± Eloise hardened her gaze, showing not the slightest weakness in this room of killers with ample reason to want her dead. ¡°I know what you¡¯re all thinking, so I won¡¯t waste any time. I¡¯m responsible.¡±

    Anoeuf pulled back from the table, muttering something to Sunderland as his posture stiffened.

    ¡°On the eve of the late Lady Perimont¡¯s coup, Jacques was keenly aware of the issues the new government could pose, but the opportunities as well. Concessions, in exchange for cooperation. For as friendly as Avalon has been to our business interests, he well knew that there¡¯s always an opportunity for more.¡± Probably true, which helps sell the lie. Sunderland didn¡¯t speak up to contradict anything, either, which seemed to support that. ¡°He and Perimont had already worked out the details before the Convocation of Commerce was to convene and hear her offer, but appearing and supporting her in person could have helped win over any uncertain owners.¡±

    Eloise paused, staring each of them down in turn and daring them to contradict her. ¡°The Prince of Darkness had other plans. He called a last-minute meeting and compelled Jacques to attend, leaving me as his proxy for the Convocation. On the road to the Governor¡¯s mansion, his carriage was attacked and Jacques was killed. Had I met with Luce instead, Jacques would be the one sitting here, mourning my death.¡±

    I¡¯m sorry, Luce, but what¡¯s the alternative? I¡¯m done running in circles, and I can¡¯t cut Margot loose from everything she knows or she¡¯ll end up like me. For Eloise, for her family, staying was the right choice. And for everyone else?

    As long as Avalon ruled over Malin, there would always be another Whitbey, another Perimont. I lost my resolve for so long, and Jacques never had any, but now there¡¯s a real chance to actually do the right thing. I can¡¯t let sentiment get in the way of that.

    ¡°We won¡¯t let him get away with it,¡± she finished, sealing her fate. ¡°Anoeuf, have your hitters gather at the Fuite mouth of the tunnels this time tomorrow. Yse, take everyone who worked for Mince and see that they¡¯re armed and ready, too. They¡¯re yours now. Leclaire will meet us there with pistols and soldiers of her own.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡± Sunderland asked, apparently content to go along with this.

    ¡°And then we throw him an anniversary party. What do you think? We ransom him back to his daddy for a fat sack of cash. That¡¯s the revenge that¡¯s truest to the Clocha?ne spirit.¡± Eloise folded her arms. ¡°You all have your orders.¡±

    The entire room nodded in sync, just as they had for Jacques so many times before.

    ¡°Dismissed.¡±

 Luce VIII: With Blinded Eyes

    Luce VIII: With Blinded Eyes

    ¡°And there we go,¡± Luce muttered with a smile, wiping grease from his hands with an already filthy rag, then switching to a cleaner one to mop up the sweat from his face.

    The Ferrous Ram¡¯s engine room had survived the explosion Luce had rigged up, technically, in the sense that it remained a room. Many of the brass pipes had only been dented and bent rather than fully split open, too. Most of the remaining equipment was a loss, though.

    Always making things harder for myself, aren¡¯t I?

    Still, the sabotage had done its job, trapping Anya Stewart in the city long enough for order to be reasserted. If Luce hadn¡¯t done it, she¡¯d be roaming free right now instead of exiled in disgrace.

    And I wouldn¡¯t have this beauty at my disposal.

    It might have taken many days, much of his workshop equipment, and enough of Sidney Hauvent¡¯s time that even the Chief Engineer had begun to lose patience with him, but the Ferrous Ram¡¯s engine could run once more.

    Rather than serving the whims of a murderous bully, now this ship could allow travel to Avalon and back, ferrying supplies and information and returning with more advanced technical components Luce had no access to here. If half of what Harold said about the situation in Avalon was true, they were in dire need of help, and thanks to the spirits, he was in a position to truly give it. Thanks to Camille, ultimately, though Cya and Fenouille deserved no less credit.

    And it will work better than it ever did, better than anything Avalon¡¯s ever made. Never had his research into spiritual energy felt so worthwhile. To be sure, there were many improvements to be made once the equipment could be upgraded and the damaged components replaced, but  now the possibilities were truly endless.

    As a safety precaution, Luce left the engine running while disconnected from the propellers, with Hauvent present to shut it down in case anything went wrong. But it had already been several hours, all the little issues worked out, so it wouldn¡¯t be long before it could set off with the full confidence of any passengers and crew.

    Feeling the dull hum fade as he left the engine room, Luce made his way to the deck for a bit of fresh air. The dark skies greeted him when he emerged, countless stars stretching into the infinite space beyond, but they were not alone in that.

    Cya was standing on the water as if it were land, her dead leg casting ripples across the surface while the living one did not. ¡°Trailblazer,¡± she greeted, cold wind whistling through her branches. ¡°I see that you are covered in the sweat of palm fruit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just lubricant for the engine, making sure all the parts run together smoothly.¡± Luce took a second to get his bearings, making sure that no one else was here to witness them. ¡°You caught me in a good mood, Cya. I just finished the Mark One design of this new propulsion generator. It¡¯s running right now under our feet¡­ Well, under my feet. You¡¯re welcome to come aboard if you¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°I do not fancy the thought of iron beneath me.¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t worry. It floats just fine. The air inside the ship is lighter than the water; even taking the weight of the iron into account, the average density is still lower than¡ª¡±

    ¡°That is not the nature of my objection, nor do I entirely understand what it is that you are speaking of, so I shall simply move past it.¡±

    ¡°Well, hold on. This concerns you, actually. This lets us spread supplies to the world, even with the seas so otherwise impassible. It¡¯ll finally let me get those artifacts to the spirits they were promised to, too. And instead of running on coal that there¡¯s less of every day, cut off at the source and whittled away to keep the world warm in darkness, it uses spiritual energy. Well, weeds specifically. Whatever sprang up between the crops we can actually eat in the fields Fenouille imbued was just set aside to burn, but now it can do so much more.¡±

    Cya turned away slightly, showing him the dead side of her face. ¡°It brings you joy to burn blessed strands of nature to fuel your artifice. Perhaps the sheep is not so white, after all.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s about efficiency. Plant matter in that volume would pale in comparison to coal, but whatever Fenouille did made it so much stronger, and it¡¯s just a byproduct! This is what I¡¯ve spent all this time working out with Camille, and now it¡¯s finally coming to fruition. A fusion of nature and technology.¡±

    ¡°The blight of my forest was much the same, human ingenuity integrated with natural phenomena to devastating effect. If you thought it would please me to hear you following this path, you were sorely mistaken.¡±

    Perhaps that was true. I always thought of the blight as just another weapon, but it was developed on the first floor just like all the other botanical research. Seeing its devastation in person hadn¡¯t done much to dispel that impression, when the eerie dead forest seemed even more brutally destroyed than the shattered remnants of Malin¡¯s walls, annihilated by cannon fire.

    But that doesn¡¯t mean we should just give up.

    ¡°Technology is just a tool, inherently neutral; it doesn¡¯t have any universal morality. Some, like the blight or the pistol, are developed as weapons that can only be turned to destructive ends, but this is just power! It¡¯s a way to save people, just like we¡¯re doing with the crops.¡± He sighed wistfully, looking at the stars above. ¡°This is our future, and Avalon¡¯s been ignoring it for so long. No, worse. Actively standing in the way. I just keep imagining what could have happened if someone had run these experiments five years ago, or fifty. There was no reason they couldn¡¯t have been conducted then save hostility and lack of interest. Why save the world and usher in the future when you can build better weapons that keep doing what they¡¯ve always done, only on a larger scale?¡±

    Cya remained impassive, which maybe meant that Luce had let that get away from him a little bit.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I know you have every reason to be cautious about this, and I promise I¡¯m not leaping into anything. I wouldn¡¯t even think about involving any of the husks in Refuge without your permission first, or anything I thought you wouldn¡¯t approve of. But spiritual energy works by its own rules, even while it interacts with our own. Burning organic matter means the same to a generator alive or dead, but spirits can tell it still lives and gain more power from it. There¡¯s ways to exploit this, and if we do it right, it could mean practically infinite energy for everyone.¡± That wasn¡¯t even getting into the Nocturne Gate, which could prove to be an even freer source. ¡°This is just the start, but if all goes well, your home could return to its former glory in a decade. In two, self-sustaining floating habitats could soar across the sky. Once the sun returns, even more opportunities are at our disposal. And I want to make sure we do it right. I want you to be that moderating voice, if you¡¯re willing, to make sure we¡¯re repairing the damage we¡¯ve done without recklessly inflicting more. I promised to revive Refuge, Cya, and this is a key part of it.¡±

    ¡°I will continue to hear your proposals,¡± she said, a breathy weariness in the wind of her voice. ¡°Change was forced upon me and my charges, and so I was forced to adapt. I understand it as a necessity, if not a goal in and of itself. But much remains necessary to return Refuge to its proper state, and measures this drastic might indeed be required. I certainly could not do it all on my own.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I ask. In the meantime, this project is using products from the deal with Fenouille, totally separate from ours, and Camille even said he wouldn¡¯t mind. After all, either way they¡¯re helping humans, and he already agreed to that.¡± As did you, Luce thought but did not say. There was no need to force this, since he had plenty of time for her to come more completely around.

    In the meantime, though, this iteration of the project was complete. As nice as it would be to dive right back in once better materials were available, now Luce had to stop and take a breath. There were other things to deal with, too, even if it wasn¡¯t nearly so pleasant to think about. ¡°Did you manage to look into that matter I asked you about?¡± Spirit visions could only be trusted so much, but the same was true for Jethro, Father, and, as unfortunate as it was to even think about it, Harold. His narrative about Avalon fit with the facts, but it never hurt to get another perspective. If Cya confirmed his words, that only helped exterminate all doubt.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Far outside Cambria¡¯s walls, humans prod fruitlessly at Terramonde¡¯s hardened skin. Their crops do not grow; their fellow humans unable or unwilling to help. Some few remain sequestered and provided for enough not to notice, most concentrated in the city of your birth. Elsewhere, even the humans fortunate enough to possess shelter from the cold cannot escape their need to consume. Some, already, have begun eating each other.¡±

    ¡°...Fuck.¡± Sounds like Harold was right about that, then. They need me all the more. ¡°And Sir Julius Arion?¡±

    ¡°I saw the Lieutenant in Cambria, but he was not ruling in your brother¡¯s stead, far from the throne, sequestered away in that same tower of yours.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Shit, is he dealing with a coup of his own? ¡°Who is, then? With Harold here, someone¡¯s going to be sitting the throne and overseeing everything. He told me it was Sir Julius, but¡­¡±

    ¡°Your brother, the Prince of Pantera.¡±

    Luce stifled the urge to sigh. ¡°I¡¯m talking about right now. Who did Harold really leave in charge?¡±

    ¡°Himself, Prince Grimoire. Even as we speak right now, I see him sipping the blood of grapes as he slouches on the throne, speaking with his supplicants.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°How can you be sure that it isn''t just old? I have no doubt that¡¯d be accurate a few weeks ago, and Julius too, but it doesn¡¯t make any sense right now..¡±

    ¡°I know my craft, Prince of Darkness. I have spent the better part of a century with naught to do but observe, and I understand the difference between the past and the present all too well.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t know then.¡± He blinked. I wasn¡¯t really hoping for a contradiction like this. Hopefully she¡¯s just wrong. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine darkness clouding her sight, or something, messing up the timing even when she¡¯d done it so much before. Too, some forgotten artifact from the Grimoire archives could be blocking, delaying, or distorting it, and Cya might never know. It was probably, hopefully, almost certainly because of something like that.

    Right?

    Harold certainly hadn¡¯t seemed like an imposter, the revelations about his attitude towards Avalon aside. And Father. But it was still him.

    Wasn¡¯t it?

    ¡°Alright,¡± Luce said at last, since his thoughts weren¡¯t going anywhere productive. ¡°Thank you for looking into this for me. I don¡¯t want to gainsay your ability, but I¡¯m honestly not sure what to make of it. I¡¯ll be visiting Cambria again soon, so it won¡¯t be hard to find the truth, no matter what it is. That should resolve all of this.¡±

    Cya lifted her living arm, green tendrils slowly extending from her fingers, barely illuminated by the lamps on the deck. ¡°Do not blind yourself to the truth, lest your grand ambitions all end in failure, your promises unfulfilled.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he insisted, vowing to make it true. ¡°That¡¯s the heart of science: you follow the truth wherever it takes you, regardless of your own beliefs.¡± Even if the evidence seems contradictory and strange, that just means you need to investigate further. ¡°I¡¯d like to talk to you again once I get back. There should be a lot more options on the table by that point. Until then?¡±

    ¡°Farewell.¡±

    Luce barely had a moment to collect himself before he saw a rowboat approach the Ferrous Ram, a sealed lantern illuminating large muscular arms at the oars.

    I suppose in a way this is convenient. I do need to deal with this, and Charlotte is the best person for the job.

    Even if it meant no reprieve at all.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± she said as she reached the deck. A large bruise was visible on her forehead, along with tears in her coat. Which was inside out, upon close look.

    ¡°Are you alright, Charlotte?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just a personal¡­ thing¡­ That¡¯s not why I¡¯m here. It¡¯s Leclaire, she¡¯s moving against you.¡±

    ¡°Well, even she admitted to that. But as long as the sun remains gone, she can¡¯t try to oust me without breaking her word. That would mean her soul being taken and passed around between the spirits.¡±

    Charlotte frowned. ¡°She¡¯s been holding meetings with the disbanded Forresters, and the guardians as well. It¡¯s nothing explicit, but she¡¯s pitting them against you. I managed to hear her full pitch to the guardians when I snuck in, and something big is happening tonight.¡±

    ¡°Why did you have to sneak in? You weren¡¯t invited?¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t a guardian anymore.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse, Charlotte, what happened to you?¡±

    She tilted her head back, letting the stars fill her eyes. ¡°Leclaire let out that I reported those guardians that were stealing supplies. But guardians don¡¯t report on guardians. It¡¯s supposed to be a brotherhood. So once they found out¡­¡± She grabbed her sleeve and pulled her coat off, flipping it in one smooth motion.

    On the other side, written in what looked like blood, was the word ¡°RAT¡± in thick, blocky letters. It wasn¡¯t hard to guess that the other damage to her person was related to that.

    ¡°I was dismissed from my position. I suppose technically I¡¯m not authorized to be aboard this ship anymore.¡±

    ¡°Fucking Whitbey,¡± Luce muttered. ¡°Even dead he¡¯s still commanding their hearts.¡± He let out a short exhale. ¡°Alright, so, obviously, that will not stand. Who specifically dismissed you? Who do you suspect were the vandals? As soon as you¡¯re officially reinstated, tracking them down will be your next assignment. And if anyone has a problem with that, their names are next on the list.¡± I can¡¯t deal with this shit anymore.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, Your Highness. This might be irreparable.¡± She twisted her lip. ¡°You can¡¯t outrun a reputation as a rat. I saw the same thing happen to a Guardian a few years ago. Guy ended up stabbed in some hovel in the north end when he started asking too many questions. Others ended up on the noose, and no one seemed all that disappointed to see them go. ¡®You don¡¯t turn on your brothers, because there¡¯s nothing worse than a rat.¡¯ Unless you get rid of every last one of them, I¡¯m poison.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to live out your days as a target. I understand.¡±

    ¡°I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Charlotte, you don¡¯t need to justify anything to me. Would you consider moving to Cambria? Ortus Tower is in dire need of trustworthy guards, lest the wrong people get their hands on the world¡¯s most important technologies. I¡¯m sure you could help make our lockup procedure even more secure.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s generous¡­¡± She rubbed her hand across her face, wincing when it touched the bruise. ¡°But are you listening to me, Your Highness? Camille Leclaire is moving against you right now. And¡­ Your brother was at those meetings too. He wasn¡¯t exactly contradicting her, either. I know it¡¯s hard to hear.¡±

    That¡¯s a second blow against you, Harold. Cya¡¯s sight could have just been distorted, but there was still a contradiction there. And now he¡¯s dining with the pricks that tried to overthrow me, too. ¡°Fuck.¡± Luce began pacing, trying to warm himself up. ¡°Camille is limited in what she can do. After Lillian Perimont¡¯s coup, the Acolytes are the only armed force in the city I can count on to avoid that kind of evil, however distasteful their origins.¡±

    ¡°Is Leclaire truly so limited? Did it occur to you that she just knows you well enough to see that you¡¯d never condemn her to eternal spiritual servitude? She¡¯s betting that you¡¯d rather give up power than sentence anyone to that.¡±

    Could that be? ¡°I¡¯m not sure that it works that way, me having to call her out on it. It¡¯s possible that Fenouille swoops in the moment she breaks her word. Damn it, I just had Cya here. She would probably have known. I think she used to have sages.¡±

    ¡°And the Prince of Pantera? What possible reason could he have for even attending those meetings, let alone supporting her during them? He¡¯s your brother, and you know him best, but¡­ Is there any reason he would want you out of the way?¡±

    ¡°None,¡± Luce said confidently. But is it really him? He looked like him; he acted like him; he even liked the same wine as him. Those little details were all perfect, but the bigger picture was cloudier. He schemed to get Father captured. His spy almost got me killed. He cursed out Avalon¡¯s traditions more vehemently than I¡¯ve ever seen him show feelings about anything. And he wasn¡¯t wrong to do it, even if it represented something new.

    ¡°Harold is my brother. He showed up just in time to save the day during that coup; he got everyone to stand down and agreed to execute Lillian Perimont. He¡¯s been working with me on so many things. I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t just do nothing and hope for the best. You need to act now, Your Highness. I¡¯ll row you back to Malin immediately, and we can take stock from there.¡±

    Luce grimaced, but he understood what he had to do. ¡°Yes. We need to get to the bottom of this. I¡¯ll speak with them as soon as we get back.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll want to talk to them individually, so they don¡¯t have time to craft a story together. I recommend speaking with Prince Harold first, then Leclaire. That¡¯s the best way to be sure you get what you want.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Luce said, though his heart sank with every step he took towards the rowboat below. Follow the truth wherever it takes you, regardless of your own beliefs. No matter how painful the result.

 Florette XIII: The Friend of Darkness

    Florette XIII: The Friend of Darkness

    ¡°I want to thank all of you for making this possible.¡± Florette addressed the villagers with conviction in her voice, trying to make it clear how much their efforts were appreciated. ¡°Together we faced down a spirit older than the city we¡¯re defending, and we won without losing any of our people.¡± Even if Glaciel lived through it, which might have made it all for nothing.

    It had taken all of her willpower not to scream at Fernan for that, dragging an enemy into things just in time to screw up the plan and take the credit¡­ But Fernan knew that. He realized he¡¯d screwed up, and now he was going to help fix it. It¡¯d be outrageously hypocritical to hold a mistake against him like that. It wasn¡¯t like chewing him out would have been satisfying anyway; somehow he still managed to look like a sad baby goat even with trails of fire shooting out of his eyes.

    Besides, even if things didn¡¯t work out tonight, it wasn¡¯t all for nothing. ¡°Before humanity and spirits alike, you¡¯ve proven your strength. You¡¯ve mastered arms so advanced that even Avalon is only beginning to understand them, took down a spirit so powerful that even the flame spirits feared to face her, and swayed the Battle of White Night even more than trained knights and well-born sages could manage.¡±

    Florette nodded to Michel, the solicitor who¡¯d balked at taking up arms himself before she could convince him, in large part because of what it meant to show their strength before the aristocracy.

    He smiled back, though the expression sat slightly strangely on his face, then produced a small wooden box from his cloak. When he opened the lid, dozens of pins were arranged in rows within it, each bearing the same flaming green insignia.

    Florette picked up one of the pins and affixed it to her coat, having removed her old one for the sake of better theater here. ¡°You are all Montaignards now, each and every one of you have proven it beyond all doubt. Now it falls to us to ensure that none forget it. Not the spirits, not Avalon, and not even the Fox-King himself.¡±

    ¡°Step forward,¡± said Michel, ¡°and accept your identifier. All shall know that we protect our own.¡±

    ¡°Please be sure to thank Abel, son of G¨¦zarde, for helping create these,¡± Florette added as she lifted one up. Closer in size to a cat, the little gecko couldn¡¯t really understand speech yet, but he¡¯d been fascinated by errant glass on the beach, and Mara had helped get the point across to him well enough to melt them into shape. Each was slightly different in color and shape, but clearly of a piece with one another.

    The first up, amusingly, was Gaspard, the boy she¡¯d spent so many hours practicing dueling with. Well, if hitting each other with sticks could even be called that. There hadn¡¯t been time to show him how far she¡¯d come, but that wasn¡¯t really something she needed to prove anyway. He¡¯d seen her tangle with Glaciel herself, surely even he knew he was well outmatched by this point.

    It helped that he¡¯d stepped up to help with this instead of staying a smug prick.

    He smiled at her as she pinned the flame to his jacket, which she returned with a slightly awkward nod. Better to just ignore that.

    Fernan¡¯s mom was next to step forward. Eleanor, that was her name. She looked so much like him, with the same narrow face and black hair, though the years she¡¯d weathered were plain to see on her face.

    Florette pinned the flame to her collar and proclaimed her a Montaignard, which caused her to snort with amusement.

    ¡°I supposed now I¡¯m truly from the mountains, as opposed to before?¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a name, that¡¯s all. We want to look out for each other, and have people know they can come to us.¡±

    ¡°True enough. I suppose I¡¯m a Montaignard and a Montaigne, if Fernan is. Unless names only go down lineages and not up? I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve ever thought about it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know either, to be honest. But either way, that title was granted by the Duchess. This, you earned yourself, keeping everyone safe who didn¡¯t fight. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I heard what you did to save Fernan, and I won¡¯t forget it. You¡¯re welcome in my home any time.¡±

    Florette blinked, not sure how to respond aside from a muttered ¡®thanks¡¯, then waved the next villager forward.

    There¡¯s a chance I won¡¯t be welcomed anywhere, soon enough.

    ?

    ¡°It¡¯s the thirteenth day of the month. I¡¯ve been keeping track ever since darkness fell.¡±

    It was. ¡°What does that matter?¡±

    ¡°You know, they didn¡¯t do it very well last time, and things got so muddled they had to start the calendar all over.¡± Magnifico scratched at the crown on his head, letting out an irritated grunt when his fingers caught on the dark metal. ¡°Thirteen is a venerated number, according to the ancient Grimoire tradition. Soleil took the first twelve hours, and Khali the next thirteen; the Great Binder separated out the thirteenth line in her call to action; the old calendar had thirteen months. It¡¯s fitting that you would choose this day, that¡¯s all.¡±

    I guess being trapped in here alone will get to anyone, even him. Good. ¡°I want an extension. I¡¯m returning the Cloak of Nocturne and the Blade of Khali to you as promised, now that the White Night is over. But I¡¯m hoping you¡¯ll grant them to me again.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any news about Luce? Your purple friend refused to return my message to him.¡±

    ¡°Corro has better things to do, as do I. Are you going to equip me for this or not?¡± Sneaking in here again had been risky enough, even with the Cloak of Nocturne to cover her most of the way.

    ¡°What about the First Speaker? Elizabeth Grimoire? Any news of Avalon?¡± He scratched at his crown again, once again failing to even nudge it. Looks like his hair¡¯s not doing so great, either. It couldn¡¯t be easy to wash with that crown stuck to his head.

    ¡°Luce is alive, last I heard.¡± Though that was from Camille through Fernan after downing nightshade, so the reliability was a bit suspect. ¡°Despite all the people he¡¯s pissing off in Malin. I don¡¯t know anything about Avalon¡¯s council or its ministers, though. You¡¯re on your own with that one. Now, please, could you make this official so I don¡¯t have to go bury these artifacts again to keep my word?¡±

    With the slightest tilt of head, the smug bard returned, his eyes alive once more. ¡°Consider your extension granted. If you can pull this off, the Cloak of Nocturne is yours to keep. My gift to you, for a job well done. You¡¯ve already excelled far beyond what I¡¯d hoped for.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± That¡¯s all I needed. No reason I can¡¯t leave now.

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad about Glaciel, either. Even managing to grab a share of her power is an impressive feat for a novice binder. And now you¡¯re all the better equipped to bind your next artifact.¡±

    Florette¡¯s mind jumped back to the moment of triumph, hacking away at the ice spirit like she were meat beneath a cleaver, focused on wringing out the benefit. Thinking like a binder. It sat ill with her still, but the plan would never work without it.

    ¡°In truth, the Blade of Khali wasn¡¯t the best tool for the job, only the best I had available here. You want to hit a spirit with their weakness. Fire for ice, darkness for light, earth for wind¡­ Once you build up a good collection, you shouldn¡¯t be hitting spirits with anything less than a killing blow. It makes the fights less interesting, but in your case that would be worth it to let you stay alive.¡±

    I¡¯m not building a collection of macabre trophies like you, you prick. Once tonight¡¯s work was done, there would be no need to keep using Avalon¡¯s heavy-handed methods. The spirit crisis would be resolved.

    ¡°If you give me the details, I¡¯d be happy to consult,¡± Magnifico offered, not even trying to keep the sinister tone out of his voice. ¡°You have my artifacts, and now one of your own. I hear you might even have some guns at your disposal. Where do they connect? How do you plan to do it?¡±

    ¡°Nice try. I managed to beat Glaciel without your ¡®consultation¡¯.¡± Even if saying ¡®I¡¯ beat her is wildly understating what the Montaignards did. Best to tell him as little as possible.

    ¡°You caught her by surprise. You lost the fair fight, and rather badly, despite Corro going so far to help you. If you try challenging the Arbiter of Light to an honor duel, you won¡¯t last thirty seconds before you¡¯re cooked alive. That¡¯s even if he doesn¡¯t clear the area of your adorable little militia first.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to fight fair.¡± That was the most she¡¯d give him.

    ¡°Then you do understand.¡± Magnifico grinned, managing to look five years younger just from the expression. ¡°Fine, if you don¡¯t want to give away what you intend, I¡¯ll simply give you an example to follow. You can adjust things accordingly, or not, as you please.¡±

    ¡°An example?¡±

    ¡°I killed Soleil, didn¡¯t I? I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t know the full story of how I did it.¡±

    Just what Fernan saw, and what came after. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    ?

    ¡°He asked about you,¡± Florette reported. ¡°Apparently he wanted to pass a message back to Luce, and you refused.¡±

    ¡°He wants to reconcile with his offspring, when that son is on the cusp of opposing him entirely. No benefit is to be had in helping him.¡± Corro was smaller than before the White Night, his form more fluid. Whatever he¡¯d gotten out of that explosion, he¡¯d more than spent it. ¡°That is why I helped set the pirate catcher against the young prince in the first place. In time, he may learn the value of turning Avalon¡¯s knowledge against them, much as you are doing with your binding.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I already stabbed his cousin to death, then Eloise spent months making money off of him. Now you¡¯re going to destroy his relationship with his father? You¡¯ve already stirred shit up for him in Malin? ¡°Hasn¡¯t he been through enough?¡±

    ¡°Your feelings of guilt are clouding your judgment, Florette.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± she admitted. ¡°Knowing Magnifico, it¡¯s probably healthier to have nothing to do with him anyway, even before you get into the greater good of a defector prince. I just¡­ I can¡¯t be making things worse anymore, or putting everything into something that doesn¡¯t actually change things at all. I hesitated with Glaciel, and if things don¡¯t work out tonight, then everything with that battle will have been for close to nothing. I feel like I¡¯ve been messing everything up, and now I¡¯m worried I¡¯m going to do it again.¡±

    Corro¡¯s gaping maw twisted into a grin. ¡°I disagree. Glaciel has been chastened in defeat, and you have earned her respect.¡±

    ¡°By using an underhanded trick in an honor duel?¡±

    ¡°How do you think she and Renart conquered the continent? Had it come down to raw power, sages of far mightier spirits would have carried the day.¡± His ooze rippled out from his mouth, smoothing itself out. ¡°Ultimately, she retreated before the Convocation, just as I requested her to. You helped convince her.¡±

    Florette blinked.

    ¡°I am pleased that you allowed her to live, Florette, though I would not have blamed you had you slain her.¡±

    ¡°If you were human, I¡¯d say you¡¯re just saying that to make me feel better¡­¡± Wait. ¡°She technically did what you asked, you said. Doesn¡¯t that mean you have to follow her to honor your word?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Once your business tonight is complete, I shall depart at once for Hiverre. I believe Glaciel will be more receptive to my proposals now, but if she is truly obstinate, I will be in position to bring things to their natural end.¡±

    ¡°After tonight¡­ So you will be here?¡±

    ¡°I am a spirit of death, of corruption, of decay. In my best moments, I see the imbalance and injustice and bring it to its natural end. Spirits are in just as dire need of that as humans.¡±

    ¡°Well said,¡± sang Lamante with her wings as she reached the cave where they were to meet. ¡°It is so terribly constricting, following the old ways at the behest of the eldest and strongest.¡±

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Thank you for coming, Lamante. Will the Fallen be here too? I asked them, but¡­¡±

    ¡°They are still recovering from the battle, gathering the strength to hold on to their self after so many have joined them. They will not be arriving tonight.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Fuck. Florette already owed them a lot, and wouldn¡¯t want to interfere with that, but they were the one who had the history with Lamante, who might actually be able to convince her to help.¡±

    ¡°I promised I would pass on their wishes to you, and so I shall. They are concerned for you, all the more so if you embark on this path. Already you have taken so many lives, easier each time. Scarcely weighing on you at all. Do not allow yourself to become comfortable with it. It cannot be your first solution to every problem.¡± Lamante pulled a mask from her pack.

    ¡°Is there another solution to this problem?¡±

    The face stealer held the mask up to her face, and in an instant took on the same blonde form she¡¯d worn at the Convocation. Then, using her human shoulders, she shrugged. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do anything. That is what they think, and as promised, I have conveyed it to you.¡±

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    ¡°I am less unimpressed than I was. Though I do not think your success is likely, there remains enough of a possibility that I am inclined to help.¡±

    ¡°Despite the Fallen¡¯s wishes?¡±

    Lamante inhaled, looking into the distance. ¡°They never truly understood the way of things, despite my best efforts. Sometimes people need to die for you to get what you want. I understand their perspective, but it is not one that I share. That was why we went our separate ways in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Florette glanced at Corro, who smiled in turn. ¡°So you are willing to help? What will it cost me?¡±

    ¡°The Fallen asked that I grant it to you, in recognition of the time we spent together. No cost.¡± She peeled the mask from her face, reverting back to the pink-streaked mantis. She returned it to the sea of hollow faces on her back, then withdrew another and handed it to Florette. ¡°Swear to return this when you are done, or within twelve hours. Whichever is first.¡±

    ¡°Or you¡¯ll take my soul?¡± Florette grabbed the mask. The Fallen called in a favor to help me do something he didn¡¯t even want me to? There was a puzzle there, or maybe a lesson. Or maybe they just realize that I have to do this.

    ¡°Your face, dear. I cannot imagine the appeal of an eternally servile companion. No chance to play the game, to truly get inside someone¡¯s skin¡­  There¡¯s the energy, but I have never unduly wanted for that. No, I do not want your soul, but you have connections enough to make your visage interesting. I can think of several uses for it. Perhaps I¡¯ll take a cue from Olwen Chevoloeur, and make you an eternal exile, a legendary symbol of defiance. I imagine you would like that.¡±

    From Olwen¡¯s Song? That¡¯s not how it ended, though. ¡°Great¡­¡± Florette sucked in air through her teeth. Just in case, I should warn everyone I know that being impersonated is a possibility.

    She looked down at the mask in her hands, with its short brown hair and vacant eyes. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look that much like her. I don¡¯t know her that well and I can tell the difference.¡±

    ¡°Lookalikes are not my trade. I am a collector of the interesting, not mere imitations of it. You are fortunate I possessed something even this close.¡± Lamante tilted her head, forelegs pressed together in a way that managed to look inviting despite how creepy it was. ¡°If you want the genuine article, bring me her face with the body attached, and I shall convert it for you, provided it passes to me when you are finished. Otherwise, content yourself with this.¡±

    Kill her, you mean. ¡°Be honest, do you think this will fool Flammare?¡± Apparently Soleil could barely tell Lumi¨¨re apart from his ancestors, and Flammare was easily as arrogant when it came to humans. But a lot was riding on that. If he saw through the mask¡­

    ¡°With a convincing performance, I believe it will. But if it does not, that falls on you.¡±

    ¡°Then we have a deal.¡± I hope it¡¯s enough.

    ?

    ¡°How does it feel?¡± Florette asked cautiously.

    Fernan¡¯s eyes were normal again, though she could still feel the heat radiating from his face. ¡°Awful,¡± he said with a high-pitched voice. He didn¡¯t really look that much like Laura, but the basics were there. The silhouette and height were fairly close, and the hair matched well enough. From a distance, it might even fool someone that knew her, though certainly not up close. ¡°It¡¯s not my body, Florette. The only things that aren¡¯t subtly wrong are unsubtly wrong.¡±

    It didn¡¯t help that he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

    ¡°I can wear it instead. There won¡¯t be any of that discomfort.¡±

    ¡°Have you tried it on? It might not be as bad of a disconnect for you, but it¡¯s still not your body.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, they¡¯ll be looking for her magic. It won¡¯t be convincing otherwise. Especially if he has a way to see my aura. It won¡¯t match, but yours won¡¯t even be close.¡±

    ¡°I think the mask covers that. Lamante would have warned about it, otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Still¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°I can suffer through a few hours of this to make up for what I ruined. You dove through worse to save me; it¡¯s the least I can do.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She reached out to hug him, but he flinched from the touch. Understandable.

    She had tried it on, and even just seeing from lower than normal in the shorter body was enough to create a sense of unease. Fernan was facing far worse.

    We just need to make sure it counts.

    ¡°Laura¡¯s accounted for?¡±

    ¡°Sparring with the Fox-King. She¡¯s not exactly excited for Flammare¡¯s crusade. And Mara¡¯s sister will run and signal if she leaves, so she can¡¯t catch us off guard.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Florette took a deep breath. ¡°I guess that¡¯s it then.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you should know, Gaspard said he saw the Seaward Folly pulling into the harbor.¡±

    ¡°Captain Verrou? Here?¡± He¡¯d practically disappeared since the raid against Luce. ¡°Did he say what he wanted? I suppose the Duchess might still be willing to buy from him in her grandfather¡¯s stead, but I can¡¯t imagine this is the best time to get a good price.¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s disembarked, so it¡¯s impossible to say. I¡¯m taking people¡¯s word for it that it¡¯s even the same ship. Do you think it¡¯s going to be an issue?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late for him to stop us even if he wanted to, and I can¡¯t imagine he would. We¡¯ll figure it out tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± He glanced past the rim of the crater, doing that thing where he saw through it. ¡°You should get into position. It looks like they¡¯re going to start soon.¡±

    ¡°You memorized the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes. Come on, it¡¯s time to go.¡±

    Florette paused a moment. ¡°Are we doing the right thing, here? We¡¯re intervening in the fate of the world, interfering with a primal, essential force. If the Duchess found out, or the Fox-King¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not jeopardizing anything; we have a replacement. One who will live, unlike the one Magnifico planned. It¡¯s completely different.¡±

    Florette tensed, readying herself to run to her position. ¡°If they do have a problem with it¡ªand I¡¯m hoping they won¡¯t, finding out after the fact when there¡¯s nothing to be done anyway¡ªbut if they do, I¡¯m taking all the heat, alright? Deny involvement however you can. Use that caution you love so much.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Promise me.¡±

    His lip curled. ¡°Fine. Now go!¡±

    She took off, fading into darkness with the Cloak of Nocturne as she sprinted around the ridge.

    Mara was already in place when she arrived, finishing off a pile of coal as quietly as she could. ¡°I have the energy. Just tell me when it¡¯s time, and I¡¯ll go!¡±

    ¡°Not yet. They haven¡¯t started.¡± Florette pressed herself down against the ground, shimmying forward until she had a decent view of the spirits below.

    With so many flame spirits, the darkness¡¯s reach was limited, and she had no trouble seeing the arrangement. Many of the others from the Convocation were absent, though about half of them still seemed to be spirits from outside light¡¯s domain, all of them kept separate on the other side of the crater.

    Flammare was at the center of it all, descending from the sky above with his metal wings fully unfurled. ¡°The time has come to seize our destiny. Mine is to be the Arbiter of Light, while you flame spirits all shall live to serve. We have too long remained scattered, alone.¡±  He started to rise higher into the air, metal glowing brighter. ¡°But now each spirit shall be forged anew, all strong together where we¡¯re weak alone.¡±

    The edges of the horizon were beginning to turn just the slightest bit purple, the most marginal change from the vast dark emptiness, but still a change.

    ¡°Now I, Flammare, the Spirit of the Hearth, do claim my role as Arbiter of Light, to rule as Soleil dictated I shall, with full support of the Convocation.¡± The higher he rose, the brighter he glowed, slowly making his way into the sky.

    The spirits below simply watched, and for the moment, Florette did the same. It wasn¡¯t time yet.

    After about ten minutes, the bars around his chest were glowing white, so brightly that Florette had to look away to avoid blinding herself.

    When her eyes moved to the horizon, she gasped.

    ¡°Does that look as beautiful to your sight as it does to mine?¡± Mara hissed.

    ¡°I can¡¯t know for sure, but it¡¯s really something,¡± Florette whispered back.

    Dawn stretched across the horizon with radiant red light, the hint of sunlight already bringing warmth.

    Eight minutes, that was the lag time between anything happening to the sun and seeing it from Terramonde, at least according to Magnifico.

    Seeing this meant that Flammare had already claimed the seat. He was the sun now, as much as Soleil had ever been.

    As far as he was concerned, it was over.

    ¡°Now,¡± Florette signaled, cloaking herself in darkness as she plunged into Nocturne.

    Taking her cue, Mara began blasting out a simmering, continuous jet of fire, carefully molded to keep the flame red and orange instead of the usual green. Which costs her more, and there¡¯s a chance she¡¯ll have to hold onto it for a long time.¡±

    Nestled in Nocturne¡¯s dark embrace, feeling that call to the other side, Florette was facing an endurance test of her own.

    This is his moment of triumph. He thinks he¡¯s already won and there¡¯s nothing to fear. Lumi¨¦re had felt the same way, and Soleil before him.

    Flammare returned to earth in a flash of brilliant golden light, his form too bright to look upon any longer. ¡°And now, spirits, our fight begins in truth. Ere long, we shall destroy the Winter Court, and rid ourselves forevermore of she who would disrupt the natural way of things, the mother of abominations and a challenger to my newfound domain. You spirits of the flame all stand with me, or you are naught but obstacles to us. And so our fight begins right here with you. Before we strike, we must burn out the rot.

    ¡°Corro, Lamante, Peauvre, and Miroirter. Corva and Fala too, and all the rest. All those who stood against me, soon you¡¯ll pay. I see your fear kept you from coming here. That course was wise, but one you shall regret. The more scarce years you steal to live, the worse your final punishment shall be from me.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde, I see that you at least were wise. You have the will to face your death this morn. For that, I shall be quick about my work.¡±

    Florette felt herself sinking deeper, so deep into Nocturne that she felt she could almost see it. A world of darkness, towers of glass tracing their way across the sky. She could almost touch it, and all she¡¯d have to do is let go.

    G¨¦zarde looked surprised to hear that, his head shrinking back. Sorry we couldn¡¯t loop you in on the plan, but a conspirator who can¡¯t lie isn¡¯t a good asset. Hopefully this wouldn¡¯t make his trust issues worse, but at least this surprise would be a pleasant one.

    ¡°Come hither now and face your fate, G¨¦zarde. You should have stayed beneath your mountain home, but now your death shall serve to feed my strength. You ought consider it an honor, speck.¡±

    ¡°Far greater than the likes of him deserve!¡± Fernan called out as he flew into the center of the gathering, adding a new line to better segue from Flammare¡¯s words. ¡°Great spirit of the hearth and sun, I come bearing grand news on this auspicious day. The vile sage G¨¦zarde took in is mine!¡± He was doing a decent job sounding confident, almost boastful. Even though the voice didn¡¯t totally match, it was a passable impression of Laura, which would hopefully be enough. ¡°Fernan Montaigne is bound, over that hill, awaiting sacrifice to you, Flammare.¡± He pointed back towards them, towards the fire Mara was still valiantly spitting out. ¡°The pyre is blazing now, awaiting him. It¡¯d be the greatest honor for our house if you bore witness to his death, Flammare. To see his eyes go wide with certainty, that even in his death, he¡¯ll fail G¨¦zarde.¡±

    It was hard to see what Flammare was doing, since looking at him for even a second burned, but the pause implied he was looking back up the hill. Come on.

    ¡°It would be but a moment of your time, and grant in turn a peerless honor to the House Bougitte, and your High Priest, and me.¡±

    Flammare seemed to glow brighter at that. ¡°A change of plans, G¨¦zarde. Now you will watch. Witness your greed destroy your sage before succumbing to your own ignoble end. The boy who came to me instead of you, for only I possess the strength to rule.¡±

    Deep in Nocturne, Florette smiled, gripping the blade of Khali tightly. Got you. Despite the pain to her eyes, she forced herself to look. This had to be lined up perfectly.

    Fernan flew towards them, the new sun spirit following behind with one effortless flap of his wings. He led the spirit down, until they were close enough to see that it was only Mara, at last able to release her breath.

    Florette jumped down onto him, feeling the rush of sensation as Nocturne faded away.

    ¡°You dare to¡ª¡± He gasped, feeling the Blade of Khali embedded in his chest.

    Florette felt her arms and legs burning where they touched the spirit, but she kept her grip, swinging the blade back and forth within his metal bars, ensuring that he would not survive it.

    ¡°Florette!¡± Fernan called. ¡°Get down, you¡¯re smoking! It¡¯s done!¡±

    It¡¯s done¡­

    She let herself fall, thudding against the ground with her arms and legs still burning.

    Fernan helped her to her feet, still wearing his disguise. Good. Wouldn¡¯t want him implicated.

    ¡°Get G¨¦zarde, right away.¡± She pulled out a dagger, ready to redirect the flow of energy, the white hot metal circling a dark void where the blade had cut.

    There was still a binding to be done, hopefully the last one for a long time. Passing some of the energy directly onto G¨¦zarde would help strengthen his claim, and then hopefully another vote of the spirits could happen right away. If they managed it quickly, the interruption to the morning would be slight.

    Only once the sun was in the sky again would their work be truly over. Only then could they be sure they hadn¡¯t made a horrible mistake.

    It¡¯s not done yet, Fernan.

 Luce IX: The Doomed Brother

    Luce IX: The Doomed Brother

    It was cold on the roof of the Governor¡¯s Mansion, as it was everywhere else. For all that the walls by the doorway helped act as a windbreak, it still hardly worked as insulation. At least the sloped metal canopy was in place now, the pointed slant ensuring that snow couldn¡¯t build up and risk collapsing the roof. It helped all the more right now, with the cold wind blowing flakes of tiny crystals through the air.

    It was almost beautiful, drifting out of the darkness, and it was certainly novel. It wasn¡¯t as if Cambria ever saw snowfall.

    Though it¡¯s surely seeing it now.

    ¡°You wanted to see me, Luce?¡± Harold, if indeed it was Harold, had glided so smoothly across the rooftop that Luce hadn¡¯t heard anything until he was standing right next to him.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Luce stepped back from the edge of the roof, getting a firmer footing. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed that you were meeting with Perimont¡¯s old Forresters. Some of the Guardians too.¡±

    Harold laughed. ¡°And you want to know why. Very understandable.¡±

    Hopefully that means he has a good explanation.

    ¡°To tell you the truth, I wasn¡¯t sure they¡¯d really absorbed the lesson from Perimont¡¯s coup. You disbanded their organization, terminated the employment of their comrades, exiled Avalon¡¯s finest pirate-catcher, and left them alive to stew about it. Some follow-up seemed warranted.¡±

    ¡°Without consulting me? With Leclaire?¡±

    ¡°Well, I hardly thought it was a good idea for her to meet with them alone. Khali knows what she would have tried to pull without someone in your corner to keep an eye on her. This way there were no surprises.¡±

    He¡¯s saying everything he should, but it¡¯s dangerous just to accept it blindly. Unless that was simply paranoia, the product of months leaning on a serpentine sorceress openly planning to oppose him.

    ¡°And they won¡¯t make any trouble?¡±

    Harold shrugged. ¡°We mostly asked them just to stand back, stand down. Full-throated endorsement would have been a harder sell. I think they¡¯ll at least honor that much, for the most part.¡±

    Luce couldn¡¯t help but breathe a sigh of relief, even if this was far from settled. Camille¡¯s story still needs to match. ¡°We can only hope so.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I know. Ever since you read that letter from Father calling you here, I¡¯ve been worried about you. I¡¯ve been thinking a lot about what would have happened if I¡¯d been a few days later.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m lucky you weren¡¯t,¡± Luce said, desperately hoping he meant it. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, wait with Charlotte downstairs while I talk to Leclaire? I might need you afterwards.¡±

    ¡°Certainly.¡± Harold swept his arm down in a cheeky bow, then turned to go.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Luce said, mind racked by a horrible realization. ¡°You said ¡®when I read the letter from Father¡¯, but I never read it. You read it, burned it, and told me the contents.¡±

    Harold tilted his head. ¡°I guess so. Sorry, I don¡¯t always have a perfect memory for the details.¡±

    ¡°Why did you do that, anyway? I couldn¡¯t see it myself?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s important for security. Burn it, and you block it out from any snooping spirits or sages. Nothing else is really as effective. Simply destroying it still means that they could glimpse it in the past, and burying it in a hole still leaves the words on a page. Darkness leaves traces, but the light blots out all else.¡±

    Now why does that sound familiar? ¡°Speaking of visions, one of the spirits I contracted with said she saw you in Cambria, right now.¡±

    He laughed. ¡°Just goes to show you the value of that, then. Obviously I can¡¯t be in two places at once. Whatever the spirits tell you, the visions aren¡¯t perfect, at least not once they pass through the mind of a living being that has to interpret them. I¡¯m sure she saw what she said she saw, but that doesn¡¯t mean she was right about the timeframe.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean she was wrong.¡±

    ¡°Luce, those visions¡ª¡±

    ¡°The visions! That¡¯s where I heard that. ¡®Darkness leaves traces, but the light blots out all else.¡¯ Right after saying not to trust Magnifico because he tried to kill his son.¡±

    Harold¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You heard that?¡±

    ¡°I saw a lot when I was in Refuge. I wasn¡¯t sure I could trust it completely, but¡­¡± Luce rubbed his temples, bracing himself to follow a path that would bring him nothing but pain. ¡°You found those pirates when they came back to Malin with my ship, right? The journals were still running across the water then, and they were clear that you executed every last one of them.¡±

    ¡°Because they kidnapped you! Surely you¡¯re not having a change of heart about that?¡±

    ¡°What was the captain¡¯s name?¡±

    The man calling himself Harold blinked, clearly unable to answer the question. ¡°He probably gave a fake name anyway.¡±

    Elizabeth, according to Eloise, and a defector from Avalon at that. Not something you¡¯d forget.

    Luce stepped up to the edge of the roof. ¡°It was a woman. I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t remember that.¡±

    ¡°There were both, I thought one of the men was the leader. Luce, I¡¯m not sure¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Luce kicked a pile of snow from the edge of the roof onto the ground below.

    A subtle signal, to bring relief. One intended for Camille, because her turning on me was the worst realistic scenario¡­

    ¡°Is my brother even alive?¡±

    The imposter furrowed his eyebrows, not quite managing to convincingly look confused by the question. ¡°Of course I¡¯m alive, Luce. I¡¯m standing right here.¡±

    ¡°You said you think about that letter from Father a lot, yet you didn¡¯t even know I never saw it. You were so driven by fury and vengeance that you hanged a dozen pirates, yet you couldn¡¯t even remember their leader¡¯s name? How stupid do you think I am?¡±

    The man sighed. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were stupid, Luce. That was never your problem.¡±

    ¡°Who are you, anyway?¡±

    ¡°I suppose the jig is up at this point. Fuck it.¡± He whirled around, swishing his cloak up to cover his head. Once he turned around, an entirely different face was staring back. Softer, with blond hair and, somehow, slightly shorter. ¡°You can call me Jethro if you like, but Mordred Boothe is a more precise way to put it, and I know how you love your precision.¡±

    Luce felt his whole body tense, staging in horror at the pretender. ¡°All along, it was you.¡± I pushed, and this is where it led. As horrible as the truth was, it was always better than living in the delusion. Now that the problem was laid bare, it could be faced.

    ¡°Credit to the face stealer for making it possible. I was lucky she had something suitable.¡± The blond man¡ªJethro¡ªsmiled, unnervingly confident for someone who¡¯d been found out.

    And if he really used the Gauntlet of Eulus to get here, he¡¯s powerful enough that that¡¯s warranted.

    Fuck!

    No wonder he¡¯d been so willing to trust Jethro; he was just talking about himself.

    ¡°How dare you impersonate my brother? You lying piece of shit! I can¡¯t believe I thought you actually supported me.¡±

    ¡°Hey now, Luce, I still saved you from that coup. The Prince in Cambria is fine, and he wasn¡¯t the one who came to help you; I did. You¡¯d probably be dead if not for me, by your own admission. And I never lied to you, not technically. I make a point not to, as a personal rule.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Admittedly, that stuff with the pirates and Father¡¯s letter wasn¡¯t the truth, but that was just a mistake. If I¡¯d known, I would have used that.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I mean, obviously. I didn¡¯t break my cover on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to tell me you¡¯re on my side? How could you possibly expect me to believe that?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, honestly. Because I¡¯m not. I tipped off those pirates, after all. Had to get you out of the way for a while, or you could have messed up everything Gordon Perimont was accomplishing here. After that bombing I set up, he was a frothing lunatic, going after supporters like Clocha?ne and hanging them by the dozen every week. His soldiers were right there, on the train, armed and ready! If that snooping pirate girl hadn¡¯t shot him just before the moment of triumph¡­¡±

    Jethro did set me up. Boothe. Whoever. He bombed the harbor. He¡¯s trying to escalate the tensions. Trying to start a war.

    And there¡¯s a chance Harold knew about it.

    ¡°Ah well,¡± he continued. ¡°It still all worked out. The King of Avalon¡¯s in a cell, and it didn¡¯t even take a war to do it. And most likely, you¡¯re not far behind.¡± He threw open his cloak, revealing a crackling metal gauntlet, illuminating the snow in the air around it. ¡°I know you¡¯re not a fighter, Luce. Don¡¯t make this harder than it needs to be.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he said. ¡°But she is.¡±

    The Gauntlet of Eulus sparked as a large bang echoed through the air, Jethro¡¯s hand getting wrenched to the side when the bullet hit the storm spirit¡¯s artifact.

    Charlotte tossed her empty pistol to the ground and picked up another from her belt, aiming it square at the spy. ¡°Next one goes through your heart.¡±

    Camille, standing just behind her, flicked her fingers up and sent piles of snow into the air, rushing for Jethro¡¯s legs.

    He sprang into the air with a gust of wind from the gauntlet, narrowly avoiding being iced to the rooftop.

    It didn¡¯t get him out of the way of the snow she dropped from the canopy onto his head, hardening to ice as it hit with a painful crack.

    ¡°Curse you, Leclaire! Why must you oppose me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sworn to,¡± Camille answered as Charlotte stepped back and fired another bullet, this time hitting Jethro in his left arm. Not the one with the gauntlet on it, unfortunately. ¡°But I¡¯d do it anyway. You disgust me.¡±

    Jethro roared with rage and pain, flinging his arm outwards and shooting forth a burst of lightning towards the sage of water.

    Camille fell to the ground in an instant, flattening herself as the lightning passed above her head.

    Charlotte was not so quick, engulfed in a brief crackle before another assault of snow knocked Jethro¡¯s aim off-course.

    ¡°Bastard.¡± Luce ran towards her as Camille dueled with the spy, desperately trying to recall what he knew of medical aid.

    The sleeve of her jacket was burned, and she didn¡¯t seem conscious, but she was still breathing at least.

    With Jethro distracted, Luce opened the door back inside and shouted for help, desperately hoping that this would all still work out.

    He pulled out his knife and cut the sleeve along the seam, farthest from the point of impact.

    The skin of her arm was definitely burned, but the damage seemed survivable. A nasty scar and nasty memories but nothing more, hopefully. Hopefully.

    ¡°Where¡¯s that fucking doctor?¡± he called down again.

    Silence greeted him once more.

    ¡°Prince Luce¡­¡± Charlotte croaked, her eyelids fluttering.

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    Thank fuck. You¡¯re the last person I can actually trust. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine. You¡¯ve got some burns, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°No¡­ Don¡¯t worry about me¡­¡± Her breath was ragged, her voice scratchy. ¡°It¡¯s not over¡­ Don¡¯t¡­ trust Leclaire.¡±

    Even after you fought right alongside her? Even after we uncovered the spy?

    Luce felt a hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Luce, he got away. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t stop him. That damned gauntlet¡­ Eulus was consort to the wind spirit herself, his speed is not something I can match.¡± Leclaire bit her lip, breathing heavily. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he was fooling us this whole time. Lamante¡¯s masks are convincing, but¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said again.

    Luce flicked his eyes to Charlotte, who reluctantly nodded.

    So Jethro did get away.

    Luce¡¯s back had been turned, but if Charlotte saw it, then it had happened.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have the journals print his likeness, and warn that he might disguise himself as a Grimoire. Nowhere will be safe for him. Charlotte can interview those Forresters he met with again, while I comb through the city. If he¡¯s familiar with explosives, I¡¯m worried he might have left us nasty surprises cached away where he thinks we won¡¯t see them.¡±

    Don¡¯t trust her. Don¡¯t trust Magnifico. Don¡¯t trust your own fucking brother, because he could be a magical shapeshifter that sent pirates to kill you¡­

    ¡°Hold on.¡± Luce reached down and helped lift Charlotte to her feet, making sure to grab only her unburned hand. ¡°Can you walk?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡± She took a few experimental steps, each surer than the last, until a drift of snow left over from the fight nearly tripped her up.

    Luce leapt forward to help steady her, then leaned in to whisper into her ear, ¡°If you can make it, go to the Ferrous Ram and tell them to keep the engine running. Have someone you trust row you out. I don¡¯t want to take any chances.¡±

    Charlotte nodded firmly, shaking herself free of his support and marching towards the door.

    ¡°Good idea,¡± said Leclaire, once they were alone. ¡°She can attend to her medical needs and then start investigating right away. The more time we give Jethro to run, the harder it¡¯ll be to find him.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s already drawn a wedge between herself and the rest of the Guardians, doing that. I¡¯m not sure she even wants to stay in Malin, let alone crack down even harder.¡±

    Leclaire, still panting, had the decency not to look too pleased about that. More confused than anything, really. ¡°The problem is with them then, not her. Why leave?¡±

    Luce sighed, running his hand across his face. ¡°Somehow word got out that she reported those thieves. Apparently tattling is worse than the crime, when it comes to Guardians. They vandalized her stuff in blood, beat her¡­ It¡¯s a fucking disaster.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Camille said quietly. ¡°That¡¯s terrible. Is that what you called me to talk about, before Jethro¡­¡±

    ¡°Not really. It was more the fact that you were meeting with Forresters and Guardians without my knowledge. That was suspicious enough when I thought it was my brother there with you, rather than a face changing infiltrator.¡±

    ¡°His idea.¡± She sighed. ¡°I tagged along because I was suspicious, even thinking he was Harold. It looked like your brother set you up to die, Luce. And Jethro was his man, so that could still be true. I didn¡¯t want them trying to scheme without anyone to keep an eye on them.¡±

    ¡°Funny, he said the same thing about you.¡±

    Charlotte said I¡¯m too good a person to call you on a lie, but I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s true. If you really betray me before the sun returns, and I have the chance to stop it¡­

    Condemning someone to eternal torment, someone who¡¯d been crucial to the spiritual synthesis projects, to arranging deals that had kept the city alive¡­

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t surprise me,¡± she said. ¡°I explained it to him before the meeting. He stole my motivation to try to convince you he was the innocent one. Obviously that didn¡¯t work out.¡± She paused, looking out over the city below, points of light poking out of houses with glass. ¡°What gave him away, anyway? Something personal from your past?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ It was nothing, really, just some details about the pirates and my correspondence. Everything deep and personal, he mimicked perfectly¡­ It was so convincing. Even now, it feels like it was really him.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a master of disguise, and he found you at a vulnerable moment. Don¡¯t feel guilty about missing the signs when you were the one to find him out. Now we know, and we can only move forward.¡±

    ¡°I suppose¡­ It¡¯s just, that still doesn¡¯t feel right. Our dynamic was almost exactly the same. Not just us, even. I saw it in the way he talked to other people around the mansion. He had that same chemistry, getting them into the same channel he was flowing through. Harold was a master of that, even in the Great Council where everyone is always hiding their motives.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s charismatic, and Jethro managed the same. Really, it¡¯s not surprising they¡¯d be similar in demeanor. This isn¡¯t worth feeling regrets about, Luce. Be glad he was here to help with the coup, then discovered before he could do any real damage.¡± She stepped up to his side, looking down at the city of her birth. ¡°What¡¯s chemistry, though?¡±

    Oh, right. ¡°Literally, it¡¯s the study of chemicals. Compounds, molecules, you know. A bit too micro for my tastes, but you need a decent understanding of the basics to be competent in physics.¡±

    ¡°So, your brother liked chemicals?¡±

    ¡°I meant it like the old slang from the College. The Chemistry department always joked that people worked the same way, chemical compatibility, reagents and reactions¡­¡± Camille looked stupefied, so Luce tried to cut the jargon down. ¡°It¡¯s a spark, basically. Getting along really well, having a compelling¡­ I mean, most of the time when people say it, they mean flirting, honestly. But it¡¯s a compatibility thing most of all. Most of the time only between very specific combinations of people.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that? I have that with everyone.¡± Camille smiled. ¡°So your brother¡¯s a flirt?¡±

    It doesn¡¯t seem like she really understood, but I guess it doesn¡¯t matter either. ¡°Of the highest order, even when he¡¯s got other things he should be doing. Jethro seems to have been etched from the same stone.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s also spent a lot of time with Harold. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s seen enough to mimic the mannerisms.¡±

    ¡°Enough to fool his own brother?¡±

    Camille tilted her head. ¡°Well, for a time. Ultimately, he didn¡¯t fool you. And also, and please know that I say this with all due respect, but you¡¯re not the most socially adroit. It¡¯s possible there were signs you didn¡¯t pick up on before the ones you did.¡± Honestly, fair. ¡°Moreover, what¡¯s the alternative? You saw him change his face, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± No answers there, then. Nor was Camille¡¯s loyalty really settled. Her answer had been good enough, nothing obviously wrong with it, but¡­

    It¡¯s not enough to be sure. Not nearly.

    But where did that leave him?

    If she really did betray him, what could he even do about it? The Forresters despise me; the Guardians just beat up the person in their order I can trust the most. Camille¡¯s acolytes were the only remaining armed force in the city. If she wanted to work against him¡­

    I¡¯ve doomed myself, and I didn¡¯t even notice until this very moment. I¡¯ve lost the city to her, whether she¡¯ll still work with me or not.

    Now all that¡¯s left is to try to salvage what I can.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking. Now that we¡¯ve got the Ferrous Ram, travel between here and Cambria is possible once more. I think you should come with me when I visit.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I want to give Malin representation in the Great Council. We¡¯re going to be leaning on Fenouille and Cya pretty heavily for a while, even in the best case.¡± And Avalon¡¯s in dire straits. ¡°We¡¯re taking so much from Malin, it¡¯s not fair to do without giving you a say.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ You want me to represent Malin in Avalon¡¯s government?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s precedent. The western isles negotiated their representation as part of the union the first Harold set up. In theory, the Territory designation is only supposed to be temporary anyway, though you¡¯ve seen what that means in practice. But I think I can force the issue, especially if the real Harold really is on my side. He could get them to pass a decree that the sky is red.¡±

    Camille¡¯s eyes were wide, her lower lip firmly set between her teeth.

    ¡°We need you, Camille. And the spirits, and the magic, and¡­ I need you.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I have to think about it. Helping Malin in crisis is one thing, but that¡¯s wholly legitimizing Avalon¡¯s control. It¡¯s drawing a line between Malin and the rest of the Empire in Guerron. Between me and Lucien. It¡¯s¡­ I have to think about it.¡±

    ¡°And probably try your visions too, right?¡± Poke and prod, see what sticks out¡­ Charlotte¡¯s suspicious for a reason.

    ¡°I suppose. You¡¯ve seen firsthand how potent it can be to have a window into the past.¡±

    ¡°Or the present, even far away. That¡¯s part of how I caught onto Jethro. Cya saw my brother still in Cambria.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Camille smiled. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you embrace it. I know your first experience was a traumatic one, but it¡¯s an invaluable tool.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps even more than I¡¯d thought¡­ When I was doing it, my thoughts sort of directed the flow of things. Cya, I know, is so good at it that she can basically scry on whatever she sets her mind to.¡±

    Jethro wanted to cover up the words by burning it, but if he was telling the truth, they¡¯d be visible as long as they weren¡¯t burned. I just stumbled upon it, but what if someone knew to look?

    ¡°If you had someone write a message down, then had someone else specifically look for it, wouldn¡¯t it let you pass information on asynchronously? You could have two sages in different cities pass messages to each other without dealing with travel or messengers at all. I¡¯m trying to think of a reason it wouldn¡¯t work, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°The reason is human limitations. I have no doubt Cya could pass a message to another spirit of her caliber, perhaps even hold a conversation, but it¡¯s entirely beyond the power of a sage. No human lifetime is enough to get as good as Cya.¡±

    Hold a conversation, huh? Interesting that she would bring that up. ¡°We could conduct experiments, though, and work our way up to something practical. I think even with those limitations in mind, a proof of concept should be perfectly feasible.¡±

    ¡°Eventually, I guess. We have much more urgent things to deal with for the next while, especially if I do accompany you to Avalon.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t take long. I actually have an experiment in mind that we could do tonight. I¡¯d only need a few hours of your time.¡±

    Are you betting on my good nature, or do you have more up your sleeve?

    Camille clicked her tongue. ¡°Do you really think that¡¯s the best use of our time? With Charlotte out of commission, my acolytes are the only reliable force in the city, and a traitor who can wear the face of a prince is in the wind. If we don¡¯t act fast, we could have another coup on our hands.¡±

    ¡°We have no idea when the sun will return, and until then, long-distance communication is nearly impossible. Solving that problem is urgent and important, yes. I think it¡¯s worth a few hours even now.¡±

    ¡°Respectfully, I disagree.¡± Her expression didn¡¯t crack; she wasn¡¯t visibly annoyed, but¡­

    She¡¯s pushing back too hard.

    Less than scrupulous scientists did this all the time, denying the possibility of something only to emerge six months later with a working prototype and no need to share the credit. They hid the possibility because they had an incentive to, and clearly Camille had one too.

    Is it just that she wants to use it later without me knowing about it? Possibly, but Luce would need a sage anyway to make much use of it. Likewise, it couldn¡¯t be ruled out that she just didn¡¯t want word getting around so that someone could beat her to it. But the people who¡¯d benefit from learning that were other sages, and she had to know that Luce had no intention of spreading strategies to them.

    The most likely possibility, what fit the best with the facts he had, was that she had already figured it out.

    As long as the sun remains gone¡­ The moment it rose anew, she would be free to act as she pleased.

    And if she had a confederate in Guerron to relay her information over the visions, a specific time she could plan around¡­

    Something¡¯s going down tonight, just like Charlotte warned.

    ¡°You alright?¡± Leclaire asked, the sweetness in her voice masking the venom.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    It¡¯s over.

    Perhaps his vision was deceiving him, but Luce thought he even saw the slightest tint of blue in the sky.

    Unless I want to try condemning her for breaking her word in planning this out ahead of time, holding those meetings and organizing it all¡­

    It was a way out, a way to maintain some control over Malin, at least a little longer, and punish her for her scheming¡­

    But I can¡¯t do it. Charlotte was right. No one deserved that fate, even a scheming, lying, human-sacrificing, fucking snake.

    Luce clenched his fists tightly. ¡°I am a bit cold, though. I¡¯m going to go grab another blanket.¡±

    ¡°Call a servant.¡±

    ¡°I could use the walk. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be right back.¡± He trudged out the door, feeling the weight of his fate crushing down upon him.

    The mansion was eerily deserted, his footsteps echoing ominously down the halls. By the time he reached the exit, it was plain to see why.

    Eloise was at the head of a small army, each of them armed and ready.

    You too.

    That should have been the smallest betrayal, the one he ought most to have expected. The cut-throat kidnapper remains scum, why should I be surprised?

    He feared for a moment that he¡¯d caught her eye, but she didn¡¯t call out.

    Luce backed away slowly and practically flew to the rear doors.

    The purple pre-dawn tint was already making its way across the sky as Luce scurried across the city, desperately hoping his stamina would be enough. He realized, halfway there, that he hadn¡¯t grabbed anything from his workshop, not even the spiritual engine refinements he¡¯d been working on, but it was far too late to go back.

    Just leave it behind, along with everything else from this cursed city.

    If Father really did send me here to help, I¡¯ve only screwed everything up.

    Streaks of red filled the sky as Luce reached the shore where Charlotte was already running towards him, pointing at a rowboat in the sand.

    ¡°Get in, fast.¡±

    Luce hopped down next to her as she began shoving it out to sea, still breathing heavily from his run across town. ¡°You were supposed to get someone else to row. You¡¯re injured.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just a flesh wound. But, with the sky, Leclaire is freed from her oath. You¡¯re going to be facing a coup in hours if not minutes.¡±

    Luce shook his head. ¡°She planned it all around this. People with pistols were already gathered by the mansion, ready to seize control. There¡¯s nothing for it but to leave. I¡¯m lucky I even made it out.¡±

    ¡°We can still¡­ Fuck!¡± Charlotte grit her teeth and picked up the oars, shoving Luce aside when he tried to grab one. ¡°This isn¡¯t the end, Prince Luce. She¡¯ll pay for this.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± said Luce, not believing it for a moment.

    ¡°Well¡­ We can¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll go to Avalon and regroup.¡± Where Harold might be readying a knife for my back. Where everyone will know me as a failure. Where people are starving by the thousands and my chance at fixing it just disappeared.

    ¡°And then?¡±

    Luce had no answer for her.

    I¡¯m the Prince of Darkness, betrayed by all and loved by none.

    The sun rises, and my reign is over.

 Epilogue: The Role Player

    Epilogue: The Role Player

    The flames still danced across his skin, even so many hours later, taunting him for intervening, for trying to salvage something from little Lucien¡¯s outburst.

    For all the terror that had followed, Emile Leclaire found he couldn¡¯t truly blame him either. Not after what that treacherous excuse for a sage had done to Camille.

    I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he directed his sages to make sure I was caught in the crossfire, either.

    Collaborating with the world¡¯s enemy, wielding their weaponry, even arranging the Duke¡¯s death, no matter what slanderous rumors he spread about poor Fouchand¡¯s devoted granddaughter.

    Trapped in the palace, there had been no chance to rescue Lucien or Annette. Or Camille, if she washes back up alive. I can only hope.

    The saddle beneath him bit hard into his legs, agitating the burns, but there was nothing to be done. Aurelian would do far worse, if Emile couldn¡¯t escape the city in time.

    If I don¡¯t pass out right now and never wake up.

    But that was no way to think. Sarille had left him to take care of her daughter, and he had already failed once. If Camille survived¡­

    She did. I must have faith in that. The alternative wasn¡¯t worth considering.

    And when she returns, she¡¯ll need me alive. She¡¯ll need allies to oust that bastard, Lumi¨¨re.

    The Duke of Condillac had taken the better part of valor and fled, but his ships would still be gathered on the Sartaire, ready at Malin¡¯s doorstep. If Emile could reach them in time, explain the plight¡­

    He won¡¯t do it for nothing. I need to give the young lord something he wants.

    Emile brushed his hand through his beard, gone to grey so very long ago. In that way, he¡¯d looked the part of an old man since the Foxtrap, but only now was it truly the role he had to play. The elder statesman, negotiating on behalf of empires, having to hide every trace of desperation.

    Sarille would have laughed to see it, her misadventurous little brother embarking on such an important diplomatic mission, but there was nothing else to be done. Malin had fallen seventeen years ago, and now Guerron was lost too.

    Camille had that same seriousness to her, and how could she not, after everything she¡¯d been through? She was smart, but never quite as smart as she thought she was. Confident, but often overconfident.

    She had to grow up too fast.

    Losing her parents so young, having to take on the responsibility of High Priestess not long after, all before she was even ten. It wasn¡¯t fair, and it wasn¡¯t her fault that it had damaged her, but it was impossible not to feel like it had.

    I shouldn¡¯t have let her assume those responsibilities so soon. And yet, could the Malinoise be able to respect her if she¡¯d been kept in the children¡¯s corner? The young Fox-King was sitting in on the Duke¡¯s meetings at the same age, training with Christine¡­

    And it was what Sarille would have wanted. Good or bad, Emile had no doubt about that.

    Sarille had always been conscious of image, presentation. It had taken her from the scion of an ancient patrician family with a modest summer manse in On¨¨s to the right arm of the Fox-King, finally returning the Leclaires to their vaunted position from the days of Marie Renart.

    But she¡¯d kept that image up in front of her daughter, and Emile wasn¡¯t sure he could truly agree with the decision.

    Children always saw their parents as deific figures, so much larger in power and size and scope and reign, and then they grew up and saw them as they truly were.

    Camille had reached that point with Emile and Duke Fouchand, but not with her mother.

    She never had the chance¡­

    It amused him, occasionally, to think about how little mother and daughter might have gotten along if Sarille had made it to exile with them. Camille had that same need to be in charge, and it wasn¡¯t compatible with a matriarch who demanded obedience. Camille needed to define her image for herself, where Sarille would have constrained her to her proper role.

    Camille had taken every lesson of Sarille¡¯s to heart, and then her mother had become frozen in time, still the same mythic figure, words of advice hardened into rigid creeds, the power of the spirits a way of life more than a vital tool.

    And yet she was idealistic, where Sarille had always been pragmatic. The mother would never have accepted that duel without a firm plan to win, whatever that meant for Lumi¨¨re or the Temple. Probably poison, if that story about the magistrate was true.

    Emile took a ragged breath, feeling the bumps of the horse judder through his bones.

    I¡¯ve failed her so badly.

    Camille would not return to a world in ruin. Even if every step this horse takes fills me with agony. Emile would keep his promise, no matter the cost.

    ?

    ¡°There won¡¯t be any spirits there other than Glaciel, Levian. That¡¯s my point.¡± Emile Leclaire¡¯s eyes stared down the brute of Lyrion, confident in his role. ¡°Few to none of them will care that you bumped off a few humans. Flammare might even be grateful to you for ensuring that they don¡¯t upstage him.¡± Though he¡¯d be a fool to show it. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t go well, just step back and leave.¡±

    ¡°If, you say, as though my prowess might ever prove insufficient. You forget yourself.¡±

    ¡°Never.¡± The word fell softly out of Emile¡¯s mouth. ¡°Though I have been pushed to the brink of that more than most. In this case, your prowess alone would not be the deciding factor.¡±

    ¡°You speak of my humans? Even now, Leclaire is gathering one thousand souls and delivering her homeland back to me. Should she fail, her soul is mine. Either way I succeed.¡±

    ¡°What I¡¯m proposing is similar. With your help, Glaciel has a fighting chance.¡±

    ¡°Glaciel is softer than her demeanor would imply,¡± the spirit of the deep hissed, words echoing through the water. ¡°She has spent the last six centuries fighting humans and basking in their worship, not testing herself against truly worthy foes. Before Flammare, she will crumple.¡±

    ¡°So Flammare believes, or he would have not pushed for so very long. All that held him back was Soleil¡¯s wish to keep the peace amongst the spirits.¡±

    ¡°And now Soleil rests in peace.¡± Levian¡¯s tail curled around Emile¡¯s neck. ¡°You always come to me with words, because you are too weak to do otherwise, but that does not make you clever.¡±

    ¡°No, a conversation with you proves nothing. But just as you must demonstrate your strength against worthy opponents, I too must act according to my nature.¡± Emile¡¯s fingers ran through his beard, a smile forming on his lips. ¡°Harold Grimoire lies in Guerron¡¯s castle. Trained by the warrior who sealed Khali, slayer of Eulus and Soleil and countless others. You could not find a worthier opponent, nor a better opportunity to provoke him to arms. On any other day, the humans would kill him before releasing him to fight you, but during a battle? Wipe them out, and you¡¯ll have all the access to him you need.¡±

    ¡°And if Glaciel fails before I get the chance¡­¡±

    Emile¡¯s shoulders shrugged. ¡°Then you didn¡¯t really lose anything in trying, did you? The other spirits will have witnessed your prowess, and Flammare will be too busy hunting her down to worry about you. You could make a play for whatever seat you desired, confident in the knowledge that he¡¯s too occupied to oppose you. Arbiter of Darkness, perhaps? Lunette is weak, dependent on allies to maintain her seat. Soleil is dead, and Corro has found himself a new pet human to play with and occupy his time.¡± Irritatingly, the Fallen had taken a shine to the girl as well, but bringing that up wouldn¡¯t do any good here. If Levian even remembered the Fallen, it would only be as the companion of Lamante. They were ever in her shadow. ¡°Flammare and Glaciel are at each other¡¯s throats. Who¡¯s left to stop you?¡±

    Levian relaxed his grip around Emile¡¯s neck, eyes staring deep into his. ¡°That you present yourself this way to me means nothing. I hear only the merits of your proposal, not the lips that speak them.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Even if I doubt it¡¯s fully true. Not a lie, but a delusion you came by honestly. ¡°What I propose is strong enough to stand on its merits. Glaciel has already agreed to grant you your pick of domains, should the two of you stop Flammare¡¯s ascension. Whether she wins or loses, you still come out ahead.¡±

    The spirit of the deep fully relaxed his grip, stretching his body out. ¡°You may continue.¡±

    Got you.

    ?

    ¡°Are you alright, sir?¡± A weathered arm shook the man awake, the face of a woman in her fifties looking up at him with seemingly genuine concern.

    ¡°Ugh¡­¡± He groaned, painfully pulling himself up to a sitting position. ¡°I must have passed out. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky you didn¡¯t fall off your horse,¡± she said. ¡°Are you by any chance headed from Guerron? I was hoping to try my hand in the tournament for the Festival of the Sun, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°There will be no tournament,¡± he croaked, a hint of disbelief in his voice at the thought of someone her age competing. ¡°The Duke is dead. Half the city¡¯s on fire, and that bastard Lumi¨¨re is feasting under the ashes he created.¡± What a lovely turn of phrase.

    The woman¡¯s finger tapped against her cheek. ¡°Do you know what happened to the Duke¡¯s body? Is his death widely known?¡±

    ¡°I expect that soon even Avalon will know about it. He was pushed from his balcony, by some agent of the sun sage, no doubt. So close to a peaceful end, and instead his head was dashed against the cobblestones.¡±

    ¡°Truly, that is a shame. It seems that your end approaches as well.¡±

    The man winced. ¡°I may not have long, but I can¡¯t stop with nothing to show for it.¡± He let out a dry laugh. ¡°To think I survived Avalon¡¯s assault and countless meetings with the Torrent of the Deep, only for a few measly burns to do me in.¡±

    ¡°Levian?¡± The woman¡¯s lips curled with interest. ¡°Are you a sage of his?¡±

    ¡°For as long as I still live¡­¡± His head slumped forward, only to jerk about halfway back up. ¡°I pushed myself so hard.¡± He ran his fingers through his horse¡¯s mane ¡±And I pushed poor Buttercup even harder, but I fear I¡¯ll never make it to the Sartaire.¡±

    A sage of Levian¡­ The woman couldn¡¯t help but lick her lips, though that did not fit the role she played. ¡°I can promise that you will not die alone, at least. I will stay with you, as long as it takes.¡±

    The words didn¡¯t seem to bring him much comfort.

    But that doesn¡¯t matter. The face of a sage, with that share of a spirit¡¯s power¡­

    There was so much that Lamante could do, and all she had to do was wait for this human to die and take his face.

    ¡°I am so pleased that I came across you. You can be sure that¡¯s not a lie, for I never tell them.¡±

    The man¡¯s eyelids fluttered open, realization creeping across his face. ¡°You¡¯re a spirit.¡±

    The old woman¡¯s shoulders shrugged, and then Lamante took off her mask, revealing her original form.

    ¡°I do not wish you malice, sage of Levian. But you present a priceless opportunity to me. The share of a spirit¡¯s power that a sage dies with remains in their form. Once I take your face¡­¡±

    ¡°The Face-Stealer¡­¡± he wheezed. ¡°I see now. You cannot kill, so you wait for me to die.¡± He took another ragged breath. ¡°I have a deal for you then, Lamante. I still have enough strength in me to throw myself from the mountains and leave my face as useless to you as poor Fouchand¡¯s. I¡¯m offering not to resist my fate, or prolong the inevitable. And in return, you have to help my niece. Swear to it.¡±

    Lamante tilted her head. A small request, to reduce the risk of him spiteful denying me everything. With so much power so close, it would be better not to take chances. ¡°I shall grant her one wish,¡± Lamante promised, already planning what she could accomplish with the strength of the Torrent of the Deep and the form of his follower.

    ?

    ¡°Giton,¡± they called it, the massive hive of stone and mud and dead trees and water and humans, so many of them in some places that it was impossible to even see the ground underneath their fat, bulbous feet.

    Humans had all sorts of words for things, spat out from their mouth like rotten food. Marran said that was because they had big bags of wind in their stomach, but Arrac could speak to them when she needed to, and she definitely wasn¡¯t a wind spirit.

    And they wrapped themselves in skins and plants, only first they all had to be woven together or soaked in urine or cut apart and then assembled together. It made every single one look different, even though their bodies alone were practically impossible to tell apart.

    And that one over there has a red one. The color of the sunset. It was such a contrast to the relentless green of the hive, every mantis so uniform in color. That had always felt normal before seeing the human hive, but now it seemed so limited.

    Despite all that time practicing their language with the matriarch, trying to wrap her wings around each of the sounds they used, she still felt so slow using it, while the humans talked incredibly fast, and a lot of the time they used words that even Arrac couldn¡¯t define.

    But she could still try.

    The mantis scuttled out from behind the rock where she¡¯d been lurking and approached the human in red.

    The human didn¡¯t even need the extra help standing out. The threads on the top of its head were pale instead of black, and were woven together into a line stretching down its back. It was smaller, which usually meant a male, but it was always hard to be sure of that trend being true for humans too.

    ¡°Good day!¡± The mantis rubbed her wings together just right to recreate the human greeting the matriarch had taught her, trying not to scare the human.

    Three had run away already.

    The human opened its mouth wide, loudly expelling a word Lamante didn¡¯t recognize.

    ¡°Friend,¡± she declared, making her intentions clear. ¡°I am friend.¡±

    ¡°No¡­¡± The human fell back onto the ground, adopting a common idle position. But why is she saying that? ¡®No¡¯ meant bad; it meant opposite; it meant¡­

    ¡°I can¡­ red?¡± Annoyingly, she forgot the word for ¡®touch¡¯, but that hopefully got the point across anyway. The mantis stuck her head forward, widening her mandibles as she reached out towards the red pattern on the plants the human had draped around her.

    The human got loud and incoherent again, sticking her hand out to greet Lamante but misjudging her strength, to the point that Lamante¡¯s head really hurt the moment after, throbbing and ringing and making it hard to see the pattern as clearly anymore.

    ¡°Leave me alone!¡± they cried, driving their foot down on the mantis¡¯s carapace, which hurt even more. Soon they were running, gone before Lamante could recover, and taking the red pattern with them.

    I must not know the language well enough yet, or this wouldn¡¯t keep happening. The matriarch had done what she could to help, but it seemed like there might be a better option.

    Hide, and listen. The humans spent all day talking to each other, and listening closely enough would let her hear more and more of the way they talked, even bringing words to the matriarch if she needed to. It was just a matter of time.

    ?

    ¡°Emile,¡± the red-haired boy breathed. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Emile?¡± asked the other boy, the one touched by the flames.

    ¡°Camille¡¯s uncle. He went missing after¡­ after the duel. When Lumi¨¨re was in charge I thought he was hiding, or maybe in exile. I hoped, at least. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°I believe a round of thanks is in order.¡± Lamante jumped from the top of the wave onto the wall, maintaining her poise as she landed. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t count on it working again. That used up just about the last of my power from Levian, for the moment.¡±

    More would come, in time, once the proper deals were arranged with the appropriate spirits. But first came information, always vital to playing a role properly.

    ¡°Emile, it¡¯s so good to see you again!¡± The red-haired boy jumped forward and wrapped Lamante in a tight hug. Emile is his name, then. Excellent. While the late sage had been true to his word, he hadn¡¯t been terribly forthcoming with details, which made Lamante¡¯s work harder. But then, I do love a challenge.

    The child continued. ¡°After Fouchand and Camille I¡­¡± Emile had mentioned Fouchand as well, the late Duke. Was Camille the niece? ¡°I was worried you wouldn¡¯t be coming back.¡±

    ¡°I always come back.¡± Lamante smiled, putting Emile¡¯s arms behind his head. ¡°If you hear otherwise, you¡¯re sorely mistaken. It¡¯s kind of what I do.¡± Each face, one of the dead given life anew, turned towards the purpose they had once lacked. Each face, a new form to take, a new challenge to face, a new role to play. ¡°Especially now. Soleil is dead, and the spirits will convene to choose a replacement. I couldn¡¯t stand idly by and let it happen without speaking up.¡± I always do, but this time, things will be different.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to talk to Levian?¡±

    ¡°Of course!¡± I¡¯m already having so much fun. Why should I stop? ¡°That brute wouldn¡¯t miss this any more than I would. The last time he came to one of these things, he was elevated from Torrent of the Deep to the Lord of the Lyrion Sea. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he made a play for more, here.¡± In fact, I¡¯m counting on it. His treachery brought him so much last time, he won¡¯t be able to resist. ¡°Play kingmaker, perhaps, in exchange for concessions.¡± Though Levian¡¯s nature is to seek the crown himself. ¡°It¡¯s a familiar strategy, and frankly, he needs it right now, what with the death of¡­ of poor¡­¡± What was her name again?

    ¡°Camille. She would want us to work through this.¡±

    ¡°She would,¡± the other boy agreed. ¡°I didn¡¯t know her long, but she was a woman with a mission, always.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the same way,¡± Lamante agreed, nodding Emile¡¯s head. A woman with a mission; I like the sound of that. And it was time to get to work.

    ?

    The girl had grown larger, older. Apparently she¡¯d been a child that first time, which was probably why she¡¯d reacted so strangely. Human children were dumb for much longer, and with their fat limbs it was easy to flail and hurt by accident before they got it under control.

    Still, the mantis kept to the shadows, as the matriarch taught. She didn¡¯t want a repeat of the repeat of the first encounter, which meant waiting until she was absolutely sure she was ready.

    The girl¡¯s name was Martine, based on the way the other humans always greeted her, and she had a different pattern almost every day. Red, yellow, brown, she even managed to make green look appealing and new. Of all the colorful humans, Martine was the brightest.

    And she was always surrounded by others! Almost every day they would gather by the hotsprings and talk for hours, discussing everything from their migration and mating patterns to predictions of the next day¡¯s weather. The extraordinary and the mundane all wrapped together in the same gatherings, bounced back and forth interchangeably by Martine and her other friends.

    Every day, the mantis could learn something new, and it only became easier the more her familiarity with the language grew.

    It took her almost ten years to be confident enough to try to speak to Martine again, venturing cautiously out from her hiding place amidst the greenery when the girl ventured into the garden once again, flocked by adoring companions, hanging on her every word.

    ¡°Martine!¡± the mantis greeted, scraping her wings with precision, careful not to leave the slightest syllable out of place.

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± One of the companions screamed, eyes widening in eager delight.

    ¡°I am enchanted to meet you,¡± the mantis said, repeating the phrase she¡¯d heard on those few occasions that strangers encountered each other in the garden. ¡°How goes the struggle?¡±

    ¡°I think it¡¯s one of those spirit-touched,¡± Martine muttered, not addressing the mantis directly. ¡°You aren¡¯t supposed to be here! This is protected land.¡±

    Technically true, insofar as Arrac had told her to stay away from the human hive, but where was the fun in that? Humans were so interesting. ¡°I have been watching you since you were larval, Martine of Giton, beautiful and courteous and elegant in equal measure. I wish to know you. I want to be your friend.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s grace,¡± Martine swore. ¡°You don¡¯t know me! You have no power over me, monster!¡±

    ¡°Get the Grimoire,¡± one of the humans with her said.

    ¡°Would he even listen to us?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the truth. He has to believe us.¡± Martine turned back to the mantis, her body shrinking into itself with obvious fear. And I got it! Gauging their reactions was no easy feat, but all that study had paid off.

    ¡°Those skins you wear look radiant. Even when you do wear green, it stands out from those around you. Did you soak them in urine yourself?¡± If the girl was afraid, it only made sense to cut through the tension with some casual chatter. ¡°Everyone in my hive is all green all the time. It¡¯s terribly boring by comparison.¡±

    Even Arrac, for all that she glowed with a brilliant aura, remained entirely monochrome.

    ¡°You can¡¯t scare me, beast! This whole village is a protected space. You aren¡¯t allowed here.¡±

    ¡°Did I say something wrong again? I only wish to get to know you better.¡±

    ¡°Again¡­¡± Martine blinked, clearing detritus from her unprotected eyes. ¡°You were the monster in the bushes! No one believed me¡­ Have you been watching me this whole time?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely!¡± the mantis assured her. ¡°I have loved getting to know you better.¡±

    Martine began breathing rapidly, shrinking back with embarrassment. ¡°You need to leave. Right now!¡±

    ¡°No I don¡¯t,¡± the mantis corrected. ¡°But your concern is touching. I¡¯m glad we¡¯re friends!¡±

    ¡°Fuck off!¡± she screamed, right as another human arrived, draped in skins dyed deep black.

    ¡°Hello!¡± the mantis greeted the newcomer as he raised his hand to the air, fingers fading into darkness.

    But the other human did not respond, only waving the void towards the mantis.

    She felt herself diminish as it impacted her, vibrant energy fading rapidly away. And when she looked down at her carapace, the darkness remained at the point of impact.

    ¡°Only warning,¡± the newcomer spat out. ¡°Giton is under Khali¡¯s protection.¡±

    ¡°Arrac said I should follow my passions. And I wanted to get to know you!¡±

    ¡°Kill it!¡± Martine shouted, shattering everything the mantis had loved about her.

    I want only to learn, and yet they refuse. What right have they? Arrac hadn¡¯t said what to do if your passions involved people who didn¡¯t want to be involved¡­ Would she want me to leave?

    That didn¡¯t seem fair.

    The mantis had bided her time for years, watching the humans in the garden age and grow as she learned so much from them. Why should she have to leave? What right had they to make her?

    She sprang forwards towards Martine, wrapping her forearms around the human¡¯s neck in a loving embrace. ¡°Your skin is so soft. It¡¯s like clutching a leaf.¡±

    Martine screamed out at that, so the mantis held her tighter, trying to salvage something from this moment she had waited so long for.

    ¡°Let her go,¡± the man in black ordered, raising his hand once more.

    With affection and spite in equal measure, the mantis held Martine tighter, then tighter again, until she began singing from her throat with halting, unintelligible grunts.

    Finally, she sees it.

    The performance didn¡¯t last long, and once it finished, Martine went completely silent, her head falling over to the side while her eyes stared vacantly forward.

    She put everything into that. Even as unfriendly as she had been, the mantis felt like she had to forgive her now that she¡¯d made amends. Making friends required patience. Humans were fallible in their own way, just as Arrac¡¯s children were.

    The man in black gathered another sphere of darkness from which no light could escape, flicking his hand towards the mantis, so she released her embrace of Martine and began running.

    We can meet back up another time, now that we¡¯re friends. But there was no need to get Arrac into trouble if that could be avoided, so it was time to return home.

    The mantis gave one last look to Martine, lying exhausted on the ground after her gesture of friendship, and set out for the hive, filled with an energy she¡¯d never felt before.

    ?

    The mantis had barely made it inside her hive before she noticed that something felt wrong.

    No one had greeted her at the entrance, but that was common enough. With the entrance hidden amidst the endless sands, her siblings only bothered to guard it during periods of particular fear, or when Arrac asked them to.

    But it wasn¡¯t just that. Something else.

    The mantis tried to put it out of her mind as she continued into the silent hive, thinking about the next time she¡¯d be able to see Martine. Now that they were friends, they¡¯d be able to properly talk, instead of the mantis just listening in. She could ask all the questions she never could, like where humans came from or what they ate.

    She could truly get inside her skin and examine everything from the top to the bottom.

    The mantis stepped over a pile of molted skin, rude to keep so far inside the hive. Probably Marran. She¡¯s so careless. The color was different too, a more vibrant green than¡ª

    That¡¯s Marran.

    Her sister was dead, green body stained with pink where she had been torn apart.

    Only then, as she reached the central chamber, did the mantis realize that the entire hive was silent.

    Something was hanging from the ceiling, darker even than the night. It looked almost like the humans had when sitting down in the garden, except inverted, with the legs touching the ceiling. Its hair was pulled upward too, somehow defying the pull to Terramonde, and seemed to have about double or triple the usual human number of arms.

    The only break in its unrelenting, uniform complexion was a series of rings around each wrist, each a dull gray with a picture inscribed on the front of it. A flower, a spear, a pair of wings, a fist¡­ The mantis tried to count them all and gave up before she reached twenty.

    ¡°Good. I was hoping I would not have to wait much longer.¡± The words crept out of the darkness, falling from above like rain. Soothing, yet stern, much like the matriarch. ¡°What do you call yourself?¡±

    The mantis looked up nervously, scraping her wings with intense deliberation to avoid the slightest sound out of place. ¡°I have not yet earned my name. All children of Arrac¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just you, now.¡±

    What?

    ¡°You were the last to return here, so you shall be the last child of Arrac. Call yourself what you want, but I do not enjoy killing the nameless.¡± A single white eye opened on the spirit¡¯s face. ¡°Nor shall I leave you without the courtesy of giving you mine. I am Khali, Arbiter of Darkness, mother of the moon, and protector of Giton.¡±

    ¡°My mother is sworn to your domain, great spirit. Arrac¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is no more, herself.¡± The spirit tapped a bracelet at her wrist, the one with the pair of wings. ¡°All power that was hers is bound to me.¡±

    Dead. They¡¯re all dead. All because of the Arbiter¡¯s whim.

    ¡°You broke the rules, mantis. That cannot go unanswered.¡± Khali flicked the bracelet, letting out a high-pitched ping. ¡°When my Grimoire told me that one of the young had been killed by the mantis, I suspected poor Arrac. The failure is hers for leaving you free to do it, but I might have exacted a different punishment.¡±

    ¡°Someone died?¡± The mantis felt another feeling joining her fear, flecks of pink and red filling her eyes as she beheld the devastation. This spirit made a mistake, and now all of them are dead. She clenched her jaw tighter.

    By way of answer, Khali fell from the ceiling of the hive, flipping in one fluid motion, then landed in a cloud of dust that did nothing to illuminate her form. Her hands wrapped around the mantis¡¯s neck, immovable and firm. ¡°Humans are so terribly fragile. The bravest and best of them come to us while the rest languish in their fragility. The one you slew might have come to be your follower in time, had she been given the chance to live.¡±

    I didn¡¯t really kill her, did I? It didn¡¯t seem possible. It didn¡¯t seem right.

    ¡°It was an accident, truly?¡±

    ¡°If the human is really dead.¡± The mantis still had her doubts. ¡°I was only trying to be friends.¡±

    Khali closed her eye, nodding her head as the humans did.

    In an instant, the shadows converged from the sides of the hive, silent and ominous dogs with blood in their jaws, the smallest of them twice the size of the mantis¡¯ eldest sister.

    ¡°What you sought was never within your grasp. Humans are not equals to be befriended; they are a resource, and resources must be kept alive. You interfered with mine, however unknowingly, and now you have nothing left save your own life. I see no need to take it, provided you learn the proper lessons. As short as human lives might be, they remain worthy of lamentation, and the girl was under my protection.¡±

    The mantis opened her mouth with confusion, feeling Khali¡¯s grip adjust to match.

    ¡°If you wish to live, you must be willing to promise. Follow this vow, or your soul is mine.¡±

    The mantis obeyed. ¡°I vow that no human shall die at my hands. I will wield no weapons against them, nor give them the slightest touch that could end in their death.¡± As her wings played the words, she felt something within her change, a shift of her nature. This wasn¡¯t a promise; it¡¯s part of who I am now.

    Khali had made that decision for her, imposing her rules from her high seat as Arbiter, killing and sparing whom she pleased, forced to answer to no one.

    And then, just like that, she was gone, with Arrac and Marran and all the others left only as still corpses and trophies on her wrist.

    The mantis returned to the human hive as fast as she could. She needed to be certain Martine was really dead.

    She was still in the garden, laying exactly where the mantis had left her. Exactly as she¡¯d left her, save for the red stains on the green dress.

    Save for the blood.

    Too fragile, Khali had said, but even that understated the girl¡¯s weakness. How could she let this happen? It was ridiculous to expect anyone to treat her so delicately, to venture out into the world while being so vulnerable¡­ How could you do this, Martine? What were you thinking?

    It seemed that Khali had been right about this, for all her tyranny. Despite everything she¡¯d done¡­

    She could, because she has the power for it. The mantis was starting to understand the power within herself, now, energy from the human whose life she had claimed. It hadn¡¯t seemed strange before, but now that she knew where it had come from¡­

    No one will ever force me to do anything like that again, she silently promised herself, willing it to be just as true as the vow Khali had imposed upon her. What right had the Arbiters? All they are is strong, and I can be strong too.

    Khali had her collection of trophies, showing every spirit she had overcome, and the mantis could build the same.

    Quietly, she crept towards the body of Martine. Even in death, her face was impeccable, perfectly symmetrical, unmarred by age or labor. Her skin was still soft.

    And after a few minutes of work nibbling it free, the mantis would have that face with her forever.

    She draped it over her own, trying to see out of the human eyes and gain that new perspective, but she was interrupted by a human screech.

    ¡°La mante!¡± they cried, using words the mantis hadn¡¯t learned. The next ones, though, she recognized. ¡°Kill it!¡±

    The mantis drew on the power within herself, what little she had inherited from Arrac and the greater amount she had claimed from Martine, ready to claim more faces, but she felt herself stop, bound by the vow she¡¯d made.

    Instead, the magic took another form, and so did she.

    ?

    Flammare was dead.

    That much seemed rather indisputable.

    Fallen, I should have given you more credit, seeking out that girl. She¡¯s surpassed my wildest expectations.

    ¡°The Arbiter of Light is dead once more,¡± Lamante announced as the girl climbed over the hill, a scrap of Khali¡¯s skin draped around her shoulders. ¡°Now it falls to us to choose the next.¡±

    The spirits seemed hesitant, caught in that same mute disbelief that made it so easy to manipulate humans. Though in this case, it was hard to blame them.

    Soleil had lasted countless millennia as Arbiter of Light, Flammare mere minutes.

    If the trend continued, they¡¯d be sitting here choosing suns for the rest of eternity as countless thousands burned out in seconds.

    Once was an event, but twice started a pattern, a curse on the role and those who held it.

    Or perhaps not. But the perception was enough, at least for any warier spirits.

    Phoenicia had been content to wait before, and would remain out of the way now. Fala had no interest in it, not seeing the need to amass power for one¡¯s self to preserve their way of life. And Lunette was weak, her followers scattered and dead, her offerings nearly dried up entirely; the last thing she would want to deal with would be a seat where humans would inevitably try to end her existence.

    In truth, any great spirit with a modicum of patience and sense would want to wait and see. Two Arbiters of Light dead at human hands in the space of only months was without precedent. The next shortest gap Lamante knew of was between Pantera and Khali, and had still lasted years.

    But G¨¦zarde was a hermit, isolated, ignorant of the danger and the need for caution; his sage had been the one to trick Flammare to his death.

    It¡¯s almost too perfect.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde of the Mountain was the Convocation¡¯s next most favored choice,¡± Lamante announced, taking charge of the proceedings and beckoning the flame spirit closer. ¡°I see no reason not to seat him right away.¡±

    The spirit in question looked entirely bewildered, curls of smoke trailing out of his half-open mouth, but he stepped forward all the same.

    ¡°The girl will channel what she can of Flammare¡¯s energy into you,¡± Lamante whispered with Martine¡¯s lips once G¨¦zarde was close enough. ¡°You can claim the seat outright, and then the rest will have no good choice but to acclaim you.¡± Most of them were cretinous followers as it was; now that their intolerable leader had been dealt with, they had no one left to follow but those whom they were pointed to.

    Lamante swept her vision across the gathered spirits as she removed Martine¡¯s face and placed it back with the others.

    ¡°What of Flammare?¡± Tauroneo asked, holding his bull head steady as the earth rumbled in concert with his words. ¡°What of us who acclaimed Soleil¡¯s rightful successor?¡±

    ¡°No punishment,¡± Lamante whispered to G¨¦zarde, feeding him the words he needed.

    He was a blank slate, isolated from all spirit society and conventions, entirely without the fixed mindset to gormlessly follow Flammare in his folly or serve and then betray Khali without a second thought to the implications of it. A lesser spirit among lesser spirits, singularly unworthy of the Arbiter position by all normal standards.

    G¨¦zarde took her advice. ¡°I am not Flammare, and will not punish any spirit for their choices.¡±

    He¡¯s perfect.

    He would look to her for counsel, but that was less important than what he represented, a permanent breakdown in the process by which Arbiters were chosen, leaving the door open for many more to come. Including me, when the time is right.

    ¡°How could any spirit choose freely, knowing the risk of reprisal?¡± Lamante added, laying bare the obvious problem with countless convocations since Terramonde itself had come into existence. ¡°G¨¦zarde will not wield his power against those who favored Flammare, so long as none stand against him now.¡± That didn¡¯t say anything about what Lamante would do, though. ¡°And now the Convocation shall make its selection,¡± she said, cutting off any possibility of waiting as G¨¦zarde flew towards what remained of Flammare.

    The girl would take it from there.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde,¡± she voted, locking the proceedings in.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde,¡± Fala echoed with a flicker of light, officially ceding his claim.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde,¡± Tauroneo continued, taking the last option available to him now. The first convert.

    He was far from the last.

    The only other votes were a scattered few for Lunette which notably did not include the moon spirit herself, paling in comparison to the groundswell of support for the mountain hermit.

    All because his followers were strong enough to kill the ones at the top. Flammare would not be the last.

    Ancient Arbiters had wielded their power too long, become too entrenched as lesser spirits languished, punished for their lack of offerings, subordinated to foolish crusades against the Winter Court or forced to help seal the very spirit of darkness they had so enthusiastically been commanded to stand behind¡­

    No more. Now we have control. Only one seat at the moment, but the most venerable and ancient among them. Darkness was sure to follow, recently replaced and currently held by a waning spirit.

    Khali was gone, Soleil and his heir presumptive were dead, Pantera the Undying no longer held dominion over the seas and her successor was a gullible brute. One by one, everything was falling into place.

    Filled with Flammare¡¯s energy, G¨¦zarde ascended into the sky, a lesser spirit claiming a seat nearly as old as the world.

    He was the first, but he would not be the last.

    As the humans were wont to say, the winds of change were in the air. True freedom was finally in sight, no matter the Fallen¡¯s qualms about it.

    The Fallen had always been so fixated on the value of life, failing to see the benefit in so very many deaths. Perhaps that was the essence from humans within them. They comprised countless dead, constantly rotating as new humans died for revenge and others passed forever from living memory.

    They wanted stability. Home.

    I do too, Fallen. But this is how we get there. We can live our lives in contented peace for centuries, but that means nothing if Arbiters can always disrupt it at their leisure. We¡¯re forever at risk unless we take control. There was no true freedom without power, and now that power was nearly in Lamante¡¯s grasp.

 Prologue: The Rogue Captain

    Prologue: The Rogue Captain

    Mahabali Hall was crumbling into ruin by this point, having missed years of proper upkeep. Undone by its own size. Four of the outbuildings were visibly abandoned, claimed so thoroughly by ivy and verdure that they looked centuries old, rather than the decades they were. The doors of the front gate were heavy with rot, not the slightest groove in the dirt implying that they¡¯d been recently closed. And even in the main building, the north tower had all but collapsed, its roof folded in on itself such that the top two floors were surely unreachable.

    As comparatively sparse in population as the Isle of Shadows was compared to Cambria or even Fortescue, Mahabali Hall was close enough to its only real city that transporting stone from the port would hardly have been impossible. No doubt, too, there were plenty of masons in Chaya that could have mended it, but that kind of work didn¡¯t come cheap.

    Eloise was right. Undone by its own size.

    Sometimes it was worth it to hold onto the files you swiped from the tax collector, rather than selling them to the highest bidder. Sometimes the long play paid off.

    It wouldn¡¯t have been possible without Blaise either, and the metal plating he¡¯d added to the Seaward Folly to break through the ice. Otherwise they would have had to wait until the sun rose again.

    Robin Verrou was sprawled out in the lord¡¯s most comfortable chair when he returned, claiming the space before the man even had a chance to react. ¡°Count Savian, I¡¯m pleased you were home. That makes this easier.¡± He didn¡¯t draw his sword ¡ª no need to frighten him yet. Reputation alone would do the work. ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad that you weren¡¯t prepared for guests. I imagine getting this place even remotely close to presentable is an epic affair.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be embarrassed, mind you. This sort of thing¡¯s surprisingly common. Nobles don¡¯t like to worry about finances like some grubby professional, so when a year of crops fail or, say, essence of nightshade is banned two years after your father dedicates half your fields to it, you turn to debt to maintain your station and lifestyle. It wouldn¡¯t do to fall behind, after all.¡±

    Whatever his other failings, Srin Savian had certainly kept up appearances in town. Before darkness had fallen, he¡¯d taken four of his aristo buddies hunting every week. Even now, he spent about half of his time in Port Chaya perusing rare silks and making his face known about town. Most likely, he hadn¡¯t invited anyone back to his home, or the ruse would have been over.

    Without Eloise poring over hundreds of papers to find the most eligible aristocrat, Robin would never have even heard Savian¡¯s name, let alone picked him out.

    She was an excellent quartermaster; if only her leadership had risen to the same level.

    At least she hadn¡¯t been on Luce¡¯s ship when the pirate-catchers had gotten ahold of it, if the rumors drifting out of Malin about Jacques¡¯ ¡®daughter¡¯ were anything to go by. If so, she retreated towards what was comfortable and easy after her failure. Not something Robin could really respect, but he could certainly understand it.

    ¡°Do you have a point, Verrou?¡± Srin Savian failed to keep his voice from shaking, though he made a valiant effort.

    ¡°Once you¡¯ve sold a bit of land to satisfy your creditors, your incomes are even lower, your operations less resilient. And so, soon, you find yourself needing to take on more debt. If it goes long enough, you end up in a cavernous hall staffed by one maid, with a leaky roof and a nightshade cellar being reclaimed by the forest. And with no guards left to keep King Harold¡¯s greatest enemy from sauntering into your home and helping himself to that exquisite Lyrion single malt at the top shelf of your bar.¡±

    That hadn¡¯t been part of the plan, but the Count had taken a while to get back from town, and it really had been excellent.

    ¡°Where is my maid?¡±

    ¡°Jaya? Looking for you in the city. A runner boy told her you needed your red jacket for the fox hunt.¡± Robin patted the quivering count on the back reassuringly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, she¡¯ll be back soon enough once she sees that you¡¯re gone.¡±

    ¡°G-Gone?¡±

    ¡°From Chaya, of course. Though if you wish to leave this plane of existence, I would be only too happy to oblige you. Your peers Edith Marbury and Edward Williams made such a request of me quite recently, as it happens, though not in so many words. Marbury¡¯s castle, too. The entire thing went up in flames.¡±

    Savian gulped, shrinking back. ¡°Are you here to kill me, too?¡±

    Robin smiled. ¡°In a manner of speaking¡­¡±

    ?

    ¡°Harry, if you don¡¯t put that book down, I¡¯m going to throw it into the sea.¡± Lizzie pressed her hand down gently against the prince¡¯s ledger, eyes entreating him to pay attention. ¡°We¡¯re celebrating. Come have a drink.¡±

    ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t. I still need to make sure that the payroll pencils out.¡± Deep in his books, a slightly confused pout on his lips, Harold Arthur Grimoire did not much look the part of a prince, let alone a crown prince following his father to war. His face was still soft, his clothes understated yet fine in quality, purple linen that made this sweltering heat halfway endurable.

    Robin¡¯s Cloak of Nocturne, by contrast, felt like it wanted to choke him every moment that he wore it. It was torn from a spirit of darkness; shouldn¡¯t it protect me better against the heat? Alas, no. ¡°It¡¯ll still be there tomorrow.¡± He reached over and closed the ledger, then lifted it from Harry¡¯s lap and passed it to the prince¡¯s sister.

    ¡°Now you¡¯ve got no choice.¡± Lizze smiled, not looking behind her as she walked it back to the captain¡¯s desk and shoved it into a drawer, then dramatically threw herself back into the only comfortable chair on the whole damned ship. Somehow, for all the heat and wet air and battle mere hours ago, she didn¡¯t have a single hair out of place, even after removing her officer¡¯s hat. Her entire uniform was immaculate, really, without a trace of blood on it, though she wouldn¡¯t have had any time to change. ¡°Anya, another round, please. Make sure you don¡¯t leave out the prince of gloominess over there, either.¡±

    Anya Stewart, by contrast, looked like she¡¯d just taken a bath in Imperial blood. Her face had been wiped clean, but the uniform was probably doomed to the furnace. She certainly took to the battle with gusto.

    Privately, Lizzie had been worried that her time away raising her children would have softened Stewart to the point of uselessness. She¡¯d been polite enough, but the task assignments had betrayed her skepticism, and Anya had acted accordingly.

    No one¡¯s going to doubt her after today, that¡¯s for sure.

    ¡°I¡¯d suggest we each drink for every kill today, but I¡¯d die before I made it halfway through.¡± Anya poured Robin¡¯s glass nearly to full, easily four or five drinks worth of the Lyrion governor¡¯s personal supply of single malt, a gift to the royal party as they readied themselves for war.

    It¡¯ll all be gone by tomorrow, Robin thought with a smile as Anya supplied the rest of their little group.

    Soon enough, they¡¯d have to make the final push against the capital and deal with the last of the royalists within the walls of Malin, but that was weeks away. For now, they could properly rest.

    ¡°That sounds fine to me,¡± Harry said with a wrinkled nose as Anya overpoured his drink and thrust it in his face. ¡°It leaves me out of it.¡± He let the glass sit in front of him, not touching it as his eyes focused on the captain¡¯s desk, and, doubtless, the payroll ledger within.

    Robin hadn¡¯t had the heart to tell him that the king had fobbed the job off onto him just to give him something to do, and Lizzie hadn¡¯t either. Maybe Harry already knew, and was just working that much harder to try to win his father over.

    If so, it wouldn¡¯t work.

    ¡°Let¡¯s leave kills out of it,¡± Robin said directly to Anya. You¡¯re trying too hard. Already, Officer Stewart had proved herself admirably. Lizzie had surely gotten over her doubts, at least, and her approval was what mattered to Stewart most.

    Back in the beginning, it was mine. Before I set her straight.

    ¡°What was that game your uncle taught you, Lizzie? Never¡­ something?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s ¡®not once¡¯, actually. And it¡­ Not my uncle.¡±

    Ah. Obviously the king had been the one to pass it on, in one of the many times he¡¯d met with his daughter and left Harry out in the cold. Lizzie was being polite enough to talk around it, so Robin took the hint and dropped the subject. ¡°Not once.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Like I say ¡®not once have I had children¡¯, and then Anya and Harry would have to drink.¡±

    Anya did right then, apparently deciding that the game had started, which forced Harry to reluctantly sip from his own.

    ¡°Something basic like that is fine as an example, but you want to be a bit more interesting with it. For example, ¡®not once¡¯ have I¡­ let¡¯s say, had an intimate conversation with a man beneath the belt.¡±

    Lizzie and Anya both glared at him as they drank, but at least Harry seemed grateful for the reprieve.

    A more self-conscious man would have felt bad about the boorishness, but something had to be done to break the tension, and small talk about people¡¯s children definitely wasn¡¯t going to do it. Making half the room feel old while the other half wondered if they were falling behind in life was almost tailor-made to ruin cohesion. They¡¯d probably forget it by tomorrow anyway.

    ¡°I suppose it¡¯s my turn?¡± Anya asked, her head already swaying a bit, legs dangling from the desk Lizzie had appropriated. ¡°Not once have I cried after seeing a play.¡±

    Robin chuckled as he sipped his drink, the only one in the room to do so. ¡°The turnaround is only fair.¡±

    ¡°What was the play?¡± Harry asked, leaning forward.

    ¡°I, Julius. But not because of the titular character, I want to be clear! Asshole deserved everything he got. But then when Horace was stuck ruling, trapped in that suit of white armor lest anyone realize who he was¡­ All he wanted to be was free, it¡¯s practically a fate worse than death.¡±

    Most of the room was amused, which was good, but Lizzie was laughing so hard her hand was pounding against the desk. ¡°Horace was the comic relief! He only ended up in power as a joke. It was a satire about the Shining Prince.¡±

    ¡°I know that, but¡­¡± Robin couldn¡¯t help but join in at that point, the moment fully taking him. Everyone here''s finally on the same page, laughing at me. A more self-conscious man might take umbrage at that, but Robin saw the value of the camaraderie.

    It hadn¡¯t been that long ago that brother and sister had fought so noisily that the entire ship could hear them, or since Anya had been seen as a load kept around out of nostalgia and obligation.

    Really, considering the personalities involved, it was amazing any of them got along at all.

    Lizzie was driven, ambitious, and she never lost sight of the details, but that lent itself to a kind of tunnel vision. She did as the king asked and she probably would until her dying breath, knowing it would let her rise right alongside him. It granted her a poise and confidence that served her well, attractive qualities for war and politics alike. The question was really what that would mean for everyone else, which was very much still up in the air.

    Harry, by contrast, presented a facade of the weak-willed scholar, a nice person, but a follower. And beneath it, deep insecurity, disbelief at the thought he could ever be king and fury at the father who barely even spoke to him. He had a lot in common with Anya Stewart, really, but where his fears were hidden beneath a veil of self-assurance, the Fortan knight was nakedly desperate for approval, worried about being discarded and replaced.

    Hard as it was to blame her, it didn¡¯t exactly make for pleasant company.

    ¡°I remember that,¡± Harry realized. ¡°We were¡­ fifteen? I think? I heard you behind me and thought you were laughing. Even at the moment when Julius died, which definitely seemed strange.¡±

    ¡°Oh, then, I actually was laughing. Bastard got what was coming to him.¡±

    ¡°He was a terrible person, no question.¡± Lizzie had already smoothed out her uniform, leaving not a trace of her fit of laughter. ¡°But it¡¯s a tragedy. He¡¯s an antihero. Despite everything he does, you still have sympathy for him at the end.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± Robin shrugged.

    ¡°Honestly, me neither,¡± Harry added, backing him up. ¡°Is it my turn, then? Let¡¯s see¡­ Not once have I taken a life.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not very good at this game,¡± Lizzie muttered as she drank, Anya and Robin silently following her.

    And we said we wouldn¡¯t talk about killing.¡°To be fair, neither were you. Somehow the Grimoires invented this game and they¡¯re terrible at it.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Lizzie smirked. ¡°Not once have I downed an entire bottle of marigold wine and then spent the next three days wandering around like a loon.¡±

    ¡°You told me you confiscated it from the enlisted. I thought it was a Rhanoir white.¡± Robin shrugged and drank again, the only one to do so, of course.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d drink the entire bottle. And besides, that was just payback for what you did to poor Charles.¡±

    ¡°I make no apologies.¡± He smiled. And me? I¡¯m the showboat. The best, and I know it, so why should I hide anything?

    Anya Stewart worked twice as hard to prove her ability, and an outside observer might assume Robin did the same to prove his loyalty.

    The scion of Verrou, rightful heir to Charenton, taken as a hostage when Magister Ticent turned over the city to Avalon. It had a kind of logic to it, but honestly, that was never something that really bothered him.

    If Avalon had never taken the city, he¡¯d probably be more or less the same person, only far more bored and decadent. More of an asshole, to put it bluntly, and he was already treading close to the line there.

    Jules Ticent hadn¡¯t done him a favor, exactly, that felt a bit too cloying, but it was hard to really have hard feelings about it. Charenton had partaken in human sacrifices, with the Verrous as their chief architects. No one was free to speak out, no one was free to rise above their station.

    And then, leadership had changed hands without spilling a drop of blood. Now, by all accounts, the Magister was running things just fine. Sacrifices had been abolished, people were free to speak their minds, and commoners occupied positions at every level of government. That was certainly worth paying some taxes to Avalon.

    It honestly didn¡¯t bother him much. Certainly not as much as some of the other things weighing on his mind after a day like today. ¡°I could use a bit of air. Anyone fancy a walk?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll come,¡± Harry muttered, rising slowly to his feet. ¡°A break sounds nice.¡±

    They walked in silence for a while, ascending through the decks and out to the largely empty deck.

    By now, it was late enough that the air wasn¡¯t too hot, as wet as it was. A breeze had even picked up, causing the Cloak of Nocturne to flap in the wind menacingly, completing Robin¡¯s image at the cost of being a bit too warm.

    Most of the enlisted were celebrating on the shore, plundering Lady Leclaire¡¯s finest wines and stuffing her silverware into their uniforms as fast as they could grab it.

    Lizzie had spent what felt like eons complaining about using spoils as incentives breaking down discipline and reducing loyalty, blurring the line between soldiers and bandits, but the enlisted seemed happy enough with their victory for the moment. The fires were visible in multitudes stretching across the horizon, but each was confined to its pit and overseen by a junior officer. There hadn¡¯t been any major trouble yet.

    Yet.

    ¡°How do you do it, Robin?¡±

    ¡°What, manage to be so devilishly handsome?¡±

    Harry¡¯s face twisted. ¡°No, I mean killing people. All of you are laughing and telling jokes while out there, there¡¯s a massive trench where we had to dump the dead. Not just cultists, either.¡±

    ¡°If they¡¯re with the cultists, they are cultists, right? That¡¯s what your father says, anyway.¡±

    ¡°He says a lot. ¡®Practice makes perfect¡¯; ¡®A penny saved is a penny earned¡¯; ¡®For a better world¡¯; Just meaningless aphorisms he can throw out to end a conversation he¡¯s gotten bored with while pretending to be witty. Sometimes I wonder if he even means any of it.¡±

    Robin shrugged. ¡°Does it really matter either way? Here we are. It is what it is.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t bother you, wading through blood on some faraway shore for the sake of some imperial criminals that¡¯ll curse our name anyway? Maybe dying for it?¡±

    ¡°Harry, no offense, but I¡¯m not going to die for Avalon because I¡¯m not going to die for anything. I¡¯m really not that political. King Harold says it¡¯s our job to police the world and stop Imperial atrocities? Fine, I¡¯ve got my sword ready. You¡¯re overthinking this.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not thinking at all!We can¡¯t even afford to pay our soldiers and we¡¯re sending them en masse to their deaths. For nothing!¡±

    Biting back a friendly jab, Robin instead patted the prince on the shoulder. ¡°Harry, I know the whole payroll seems important to you, but the king just sent you on a meaningless errand that keeps you out of the fighting without having to talk to him or get underfoot in strategy meetings. Stressing about it isn¡¯t going to win him over, it¡¯s making your life harder for no reason.¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯re not this simpleminded.¡± Harry pushed Robin¡¯s hand off. ¡°You never answered my question, but I think I got the answer anyway. You don¡¯t think about it. You push it to the back of your mind and throw up your hands at the mere suggestion of responsibility. So let me spell it out for you, Robin Verrou. You¡¯re not a hostage anymore, not in any way that matters. Nothing¡¯s stopping you from walking away right now and never coming back. You being here is you choosing to be here. You killing people in my father¡¯s name is you killing people you¡¯ve never met whom you have nothing meaningful against.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re performing human sacrifice!¡± Robin spat back, knowing it was in bad faith. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m here because I care about that.

    ¡°And that spirit of winter rules the south with an iron fist. On the west coast, they burn people alive in offering to the sun. In Micheltaigne they¡¯ll leave them strung up on a cliff so buzzards can eat their intestines. Are you over there liberating them? Do you actually care at all?¡±

    He¡¯s got me there.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like you¡¯re getting anything out of this,¡± he continued. ¡°Unless your true desire is climbing the ranks of the navy to even loftier heights, maybe becoming an Admiral? Sitting behind a desk while you order men to their deaths?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI never thought about it, really.¡±

    ¡°I saw what you were doing back there, you know? Trying to hold the team together. But that¡¯s four people. Lizzie and I will be fine no matter what. So will you and Anya, most likely. I certainly don¡¯t think you¡¯re doing it out of fear, anyway. What about all of them?¡± He swept his hand out, gesturing towards the hundreds of fires visible on the beach, each hosting a party of Avaline soldiers who, like Robin, weren¡¯t really getting anything out of this.

    Perhaps he was waving towards the trench too, invisible in the darkness, full of people who¡¯d gotten even less.

    ¡°This, Avalon, this whole thing works because we work together. We have to actually be more enlightened for our superiority to be anything more than propaganda. We need a lot more than that to justify sending people even younger than us to die for it.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re still going to win,¡± Robin offered weakly, staring at the spot he knew that trench to be.

    ¡°And then what?¡±

    Robin didn¡¯t have an answer for him, so they sat in silence a while longer, cooling off in the soothing summer breeze, the faint smell of blood still lingering in the air.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell Lizzie about any of this, or the others,¡± Harry said, eventually. ¡°Even if you think I¡¯m full of shit, please. The last thing I need is another mark against me with my father.¡±

    ¡°Done. Why say it to me, though?¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Harry tilted his head, scratching his clean chin as he took a moment to consider the question. ¡°Because you act like you don¡¯t care, but I think you do. I think if you spent a few nights out there with them, you¡¯d be just as worried as I am. And you¡¯d work just as hard to protect all our people as you do with me.¡±

    Say what you will about him, but the Prince of Pantera is no thoughtless follower.

    I misjudged you, Harry.

    ¡°Why are we so short on payroll, anyway?¡± Robin asked, changing the subject. ¡°We¡¯re the richest bloody country in the world, and the Great Council practically bent over to promise your father whatever he¡¯d need for the war.¡±

    ¡°Dead soldiers don¡¯t collect. That was the word from above. They¡¯re not sending anything until after Malin is ours.¡± Harry stood, his exhausted red eyes glaring at Robin, daring him to shrug again, as if this, too, wasn¡¯t really that important.

    ¡°A penny saved is a penny earned,¡± Robin muttered. Who knew the meek little prince could be so insightful?

    ¡°We¡¯d better head back.¡±

    ¡°I need a minute.¡±

    Harry smiled warmly, then turned to go, leaving Robin to think.

    ?

    Ultimately, you were just another follower. Look where it got you.

    Being held in some pampered cage was far better a fate than Harry had earned, after everything he¡¯d done, but being trapped in one place would surely grate at him.

    Especially if he lies awake wondering when or if I¡¯m going to kill him.

    Like I do.

    Robin was jolted from his thoughts as a screech split the air, followed shortly by a streak of feathered brown wings through the sky. As the creature slowed, flapping its wings above the deck, Robin got a better view of the pegasus flying in, noting once again how poorly the common heraldry of the winged horse represented the actual creature.

    It almost looked more like a sloth or a monkey with the way its clawed limbs kept it low to the ground, dextrous bladed wings jutting back from its elbows with webbing more resembling a bat, though heavily coated with feathers. It really didn¡¯t look like that should be enough to support its own weight, let alone that of its rider and the bow and quiver slung over her shoulder, but at least there was no additional luggage, armor, or weaponry to weigh it down even more.

    The so-called Queen of the Exiles traveled light, apparently.

    ¡°Your Majesty! A pleasure as always.¡± He grinned, voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°And might I say, you haven¡¯t aged a minute since last we met. You don¡¯t look a day over seventy.¡±

    ¡°So my appearance implies that I¡¯m a full forty-six days younger than I actually am? What flattery.¡± She dismounted, a sign of trust when it meant she couldn¡¯t flee as quickly, then leaned against her pegasus. ¡°It has been a while, boy. I was beginning to think you¡¯d finally gotten yourself killed doing something stupid. You ran that job on the Avaline prince, and then disappeared.¡±

    ¡°Just because I wasn¡¯t in view, that doesn¡¯t mean I was standing idle.¡± Robin thumped against the cabin door, giving Count Savian the signal to emerge into view. ¡°Savian, this is the Queen of the Exiles, whom I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of. Queenie, I would like to introduce you to Avalon¡¯s most eligible soon-to-be dead bachelor, Count Srin Savian.¡±

    In a rather unimpressive announcement of his presence, Savian merely raised a finger. ¡°I feel the need, once again, to clarify that you don¡¯t actually plan to kill me. No amount of money is worth that.¡±

    ¡°Once again, I¡¯m speaking lyrically. So far as the world believes, you¡¯re already grievously wounded, fighting for your life against injuries inflicted by the devastatingly devious dastard, Robin Verrou.¡± He turned back to the Exile Queen. ¡°Poor Savian here is going to fight like a spirit, but eventually he¡¯ll succumb to his wounds. His crumbling castle, his title, and most importantly, his debts, shall pass on to his designated heir.¡±

    The old woman got it immediately, though the Count remained confused. ¡°Do you have children, Count Savian?¡±

    He¡¯s liable to take that as a threat, Robin thought with a bit of amusement.

    ¡°No, milady. Um.. Your Grace? Majesty?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± she muttered, eyeing the count up and down. ¡°I don¡¯t have anyone I trust that also has the right look.¡±

    ¡°Not to speak too ill of the country where I was raised, but I highly doubt that any of them will notice an issue. Savian here is from the western isles, already ¡®different¡¯ and ¡®foreign¡¯ enough for most Cambrians.¡±

    The Queen of the Exiles narrowed her eyes. ¡°That may be, but I¡¯m sure there were also mainland aristocrats sliding into poverty that wouldn¡¯t be twigged as ¡®foreign¡¯ in the same way. Less suspicious.¡±

    ¡°Somewhere, probably, but they¡¯re harder to find. The Owls and Harpies tend to keep their members funded as a matter of course, and just replace anyone who¡¯s being too demanding with the party coffers. That, and it would be so much harder to find a good match.¡±

    ¡°A good match,¡± she repeated skeptically.

    ¡°Good enough to work.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ Still, I wish you could have found an older one. It sharply limits our options, keeping this believable.¡±

    ¡°Um, excuse me, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°How old are you exactly, Count Savian?¡±

    The aristocrat blinked. ¡°Fifty-four.¡±

    ¡°See? We could get someone pushing forty and it¡¯d still be possible. Don¡¯t need to go a lot younger than that for believability.¡±

    ¡°But it would be better¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m sorry, but could someone please explain what is happening?¡±

    ¡°I said I¡¯d wipe away your debts and leave you with a massive pile of gold to take anywhere in the world you could want. That¡¯s because they¡¯re going to pass on to your son when you die.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t have a son¡­¡±

    ¡°Your daughter, then,¡± the Queen of the Exiles offered. ¡°That part isn¡¯t really important.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± The count blinked, finally understanding what made him valuable. ¡°You¡¯re trying to slip an infiltrator in. An aristocrat handpicked by Avalon¡¯s greatest enemies to help tear it down from within.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a problem with that?¡± Robin asked.

    ¡°As long as I get what you promised me? By all means. There¡¯s no love lost between me and the Crown. I often think fondly of the time before Avalon¡¯s grip set in, my family growing our nightshade in peace.¡± By which, of course, you mean your servants and tenant farmers. You and your family had nothing to do with the actual work. ¡°If I may, I¡¯d recommend someone young enough to attend the Cambrian College. I¡¯m sure you can afford the tuition.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s precisely what I was thinking,¡± Robin said. ¡°Time and again, our lack of technical knowledge has made it harder to do our jobs properly. Do you have anyone that fits the bill, oh Queen of mine?¡±

    The Exile Queen wrinkled her brow, considering her answer for long moments. ¡°I might. He speaks Avaline as well as any native, and he¡¯s eager for adventure. The look isn¡¯t the best match, and teaching him etiquette will be grueling, but I think I can make it work. I¡¯ll send him to Condorcet when he¡¯s ready and you can begin the handoff.¡±

    ¡°Guerron,¡± Robin corrected. ¡°That is where the sun fell, and where it will rise again. That way we¡¯re not embarking on this venture ignorant of the greater metaphysics.¡±

    ¡°So be it.¡± Beneath her hard face, Robin caught the slightest hint of a smile. ¡°Well done, Captain Verrou.¡±

    That explanation was good enough, then. Good.

    He wouldn¡¯t want her to think that his personal business was getting entangled with anything, but in truth, there was another reason to depart from Guerron that had nothing to do with this venture.

    It¡¯s time to pay a visit to an old friend.

 Fernan I: The Inferno

    Fernan I: The Inferno

    So much about this felt good. Great, even.

    After watching the world languish in darkness, seeing people teeter on the brink of starvation, the sun had at last risen anew.

    After suffering under the face stealer¡¯s magic mask, feeling his body contort into a lie to match the ones coming out of his mouth, Fernan was himself once again.

    After failing on my own merits, I endangered the entire world to arrange a murder through deceit.

    Fernan had to hold on to that thought, because the scary thing was how easy it was to forget. With my patron spirit G¨¦zarde ascended, you could even see it as selfish, if you forgot about all the devastation Flammare would have wrought. Maybe even if you kept it in mind. How could the baser incentive be fully ruled out? Even by me?

    Every step taken after discarding the mask felt like marching along the edge of a cliff, where the ground would collapse beneath his feet the moment someone noticed the deception.

    At least there was less risk of that literally happening, now that warmth from the sky was already beginning to permeate across the surface, stronger here for the proximity to G¨¦zarde.

    Fernan wanted nothing more than to collapse into a heap and let the enveloping darkness of sleep wash the guilt away for however few hours it could manage, but first he had obligations. Basic honor and decency, really, however much those concepts might elude people here.

    Not that it will make up for anything.

    Laura¡¯s aura was flush with red, her breaths heavy. Clearly her sparring match with the Fox-King had been a spirited one, but Lucien Renart had left, so it would have ended already.

    I¡¯m not interrupting anything, but she¡¯s still got the rush from battle; this might be my best chance to catch her in a good mood as I deliver terrible news.

    ¡°Laura?¡± Fernan called out cautiously, his entire body rigid with tension. ¡°Can I talk to you for a minute?¡±

    Her head turned instantly towards him, a raptor tracking her prey. ¡°You? Always. I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you if you could grab Mara for the next spar, actually. Lucien wants more practice against spirit-touched after the White Night, and Mara¡¯s experienced fighting human opponents.¡±

    You¡¯re making this even harder. ¡°I¡¯ll pass it along. I¡¯m sure she¡¯d love it.¡± Right now, though, she was with her father at the site of his ascension. The site of my betrayal.

    The thought came to Fernan once more that he could leave things with Laura here, retreat to the Temple and let her discover it in her own way, on her own time. Or have Mom or Florette write a note to her. Or¡­

    Waiting isn¡¯t going to make this any easier.

    ¡°You said you wanted to talk. What about?¡±

    ¡°I just came from the Convocation of the Spirits, where they chose our next sun. You probably noticed from the light outside the window.¡±

    Her aura pulsed brighter at that. ¡°I figured, but good to hear it from someone who was there.¡± Her head turned, looking out through the glass into the green abyss. ¡°I guess that means I¡¯ll be leaving soon, then. Flammare wants all his sages on hand for the great offensive.¡±

    Fernan felt his throat somersault.

    ¡°Good thing I¡¯ve been practicing, right? Didn¡¯t even waste any spirit energy on it. Next time, Glaciel will have nowhere to run. Florette made a good show against her, and she doesn¡¯t even have magic, so I think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Laura.¡±

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t love it either, but I don''t really have a choice here. Thanks to you and Aurelian, I can fly out ahead of the pack. I figure if we take out Glaciel first, cooler heads might win out on the prospect of her children. It¡¯s the best option I¡¯ve got, anyway. I can¡¯t imagine you want to come, but I could really use your help, and you do kinda owe me after I got Flammare to come save the day during the White Night.¡± She paused. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got another plan?¡±

    I could still walk away. Spare myself all of this. ¡°I do, actually. A way to prevent the offensive from taking place at all.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. What have you got, then?¡±

    Fernan gulped. ¡°Well, I was thinking that Flammare didn¡¯t have to be the sun if we could get another candidate approved by the spirits. He¡¯s spent so much time antagonizing them that they¡¯d turn on him pretty fast as long as they had a good alternative. And as long as they knew they had nothing to fear from him.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­ I doubt I could talk him down though, especially if the end result would be him stepping aside. Flammare¡¯s waited for Soleil¡¯s seat for millennia; he¡¯s not going to just walk away now.¡±

    Red lines bent as Laura¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. ¡°Plus, it would get me in huge trouble with my family, and I cannot afford to let that happen again. I¡¯m already on thin ice as it is. You can try to talk to him if you want, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll go anywhere, and I can¡¯t be involved.¡±

    Fernan pressed his hands to his face, feeling the warmth of his eyes lick the palms of his hands. This is it, no going back. ¡°You weren¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The offensive isn¡¯t happening. The other candidate was already chosen.¡± Fernan felt his eyes dim to the scale of candle flame. ¡°It happened an hour ago.¡±

    Laura practically jumped back, flashing orange. ¡°What did you do, Fernan?¡±

    ¡°Flammare is dead.¡± No need to give away Florette¡¯s involvement unnecessarily, even if that much was sure to get out eventually. ¡°With broad consensus, the assembled spirits chose G¨¦zarde, the Flame Under the Mountain, as the next sun spirit.¡±

    ¡°What? But¡­¡± She thrust her fist forward, the same gesture Fernan had seen a hundred times as her opener in a fight.

    A tiny puff of smoke slipped out from between her knuckles, but nothing else. When she repeated the gesture again, it lacked even that effect.

    ¡°There¡¯s more.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more?¡± she roared. ¡°You took my power to fight!¡±

    ¡°I know¡ª¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know shit.¡±

    ¡°Listen, Lamante was involved. She lent someone a face that looked like yours in order to trick Flammare and lure him into the trap that killed him.¡±

    ¡°Flammare believed an imposter?¡±

    Fernan shrank back, choosing his next words carefully. ¡°I was there, and it did look like you from far away. I didn¡¯t even realize until afterwards, when Lamante started talking.¡± The first outright lie, but doing this at all is so bad that I doubt it makes much difference by comparison. ¡°As far as the other spirits saw, you lured Flammare to his death and then disappeared.¡±

    Laura glowed red with rage, fists raised against Fernan, but she didn¡¯t attack. She just stood there, frozen as her intensity burned brighter and brighter, until at last she broke the silence. ¡°Then I¡¯m as good as disowned already. Useless to my family, useless to the Empire, and useless in a fight. I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s going to happen to my familiar. He could be dead.¡±

    I forgot she even had one. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how it works. Sick, maybe, but as long as he has a source of fuel for himself¡­¡± I hope so. ¡°You might still be able to conjure fire, too, as long as it¡¯s fueled with your life instead of Flammare¡¯s power.¡±

    ¡°Do you think so, Fernan? Then help me understand why I shouldn¡¯t immolate you where you stand.¡±

    ¡°At the cost of your own lifespan?¡±

    ¡°Some things are worth it,¡± she spat, a day¡¯s worth of fire accompanying the words. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I ever saw in you. What happened to the courageous sage that bluffed his way into earning his magic? Who saved the Fox-King from an Avaline infiltrator¡¯s scheme, and snuck behind the front lines to help sink Glaciel¡¯s castle?¡±

    ¡°I never said I was involved.¡±

    She scoffed. ¡°And yet it was your patron spirit who ended up jumping the line. Why would you do this?¡±

    Admit nothing, that keeps you safe. This is only to soften the blow so she knows what¡¯s coming. Florette would doubtless think that even this was too much of a risk. But¡­ ¡°Flammare wanted to kill all of Glaciel¡¯s children, all the descendants. He called them abominations. Now they¡¯re not in danger anymore.¡±

    ¡°You pulled this shit for a bunch of ice monsters you¡¯ve never met? Not a chance. You just wanted the power for yourself.¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    I didn¡¯t¡­ ¡°Listen, I feel terrible about all of this.¡±

    ¡°Do you? Gonna mope around feeling guilty as if that makes the slightest fucking difference? If you could at least own what you did, I¡¯d have more respect for you. But this bullshit remorse is worse than nothing.¡±

    ¡°I could talk to G¨¦zarde. Maybe he¡¯d take you on as a sage. You could get your power back, maybe some standing with your family?¡±

    ¡°Go fuck yourself.¡± She blasted a ball of red fire, simmering with rage, that only narrowly avoided Fernan¡¯s face. By the smell, it had even singed his hair, but a wave of his hand cleared that up, along with the burning tapestry on the wall behind him.

    When the brightness had cleared, she was gone.

    ?

    ¡°What happened to your hair?¡± Florette asked as soon as they could meet again.

    ¡°Nothing. It fell down into my eyes. Easy enough to clear the flame.¡±

    ¡°Well, maybe you should trim your bangs then. And shave that beard! I feel like setting yourself on fire is a pretty important thing to avoid. What if it had happened while you were asleep?¡±

    ¡°It didn¡¯t! Look, it doesn¡¯t matter. How did things go once I left?¡±

    ¡°Smooth as a stream. Lamante really stepped up to help direct the spirits, and she gave me a break she didn¡¯t need to, either.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Well, the terms of our deal meant that I had to return that Laura lookalike face to her within ten hours or she¡¯d have the right to take mine. But she could have just fucked off and left instead of letting me return it. Realized that the second I handed it back to her.¡± She sighed. ¡°I can see why so many sages get themselves killed. You can think you planned for everything, but all it takes is a tiny mistake and suddenly you¡¯re a faceless husk. Even dueling them feels safer by comparison; at least you know where you stand.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, at least the world has small mercies. ¡°Maybe Lamante didn¡¯t think of it either.¡±

    ¡°No, we talked about it. She said she respects me now, and between that and the Fallen, she wouldn¡¯t want to mess with a good thing. Obviously, I¡¯m not just taking her at her word, but she can¡¯t outright lie, so that was nice to hear.¡±

    ¡°And everything really went fine with the spirits? No one tried to go after you?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, Fernan. I think they all hated Flammare as much as we did, though I tried not to stick around too long just in case. Mara¡¯s still with G¨¦zarde, though. She can fill us in on anything we missed.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Fernan sighed with relief, though he really had no right to. ¡°Then we¡¯re finally done. All of the hardship and suffering from the spirits and the darkness can finally be over.¡±

    Florette clicked her tongue, but she didn¡¯t voice an agreement.

    Fair enough, maybe that¡¯s just wishful thinking. But it helped to believe it, after what Fernan had done. It still had to be worth it.

    It had to.

    And either way, Laura¡¯s right that feeling guilty about it doesn¡¯t actually change anything.

    Florette looked like she was readying herself to give a more detailed response, though whether to dismiss him or reassure him, Fernan could not be sure, since she never got the chance to speak.

    ¡°Sire Montaigne!¡± an armored rider called out as he pointedly maneuvered his horse between Fernan and Florette. ¡°His Grace, the Fox-King Lucien Renart, requests your presence in the Chateau at once.¡±

    ¡°In a minute,¡± Florette said, hidden behind the bulky figure. ¡°We need to wrap this up first.¡±

    The knight¡¯s open visor turned back towards her, his lance following the motion. ¡°His Grace¡¯s summons are not to be ignored. This is not a request.¡±

    ¡°You said it was, though. You literally used the word ¡®request¡¯ not a minute ago.¡±

    ¡°Florette, please.¡± Fernan approached the knight, barely able to contain his exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ll walk right over.¡±

    ¡°Walk? Do you mean to tell me you have no horse? A chevalier sans cheval is naught but a man.¡±

    ¡°I barely managed to ride the garron I was lent; a horse wouldn¡¯t do me much good anyway.¡±

    ¡°None of us had horses out for the Battle of White Night, and we still managed that just fine. Though I suppose your knights didn¡¯t really do much, so perhaps you¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°Horses would have been a liability on the ice, fair demoiselle. It was hard enough to keep our own footing.¡± The knight hoisted his lance. ¡°Should you assail our contribution with such insults again, Florette de Montaigne, I shall have no choice but to make you answer for it.¡±

    ¡°No need for that!¡± Fernan hurriedly cut in. ¡°We were done anyway, right?¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± she hissed quietly. ¡°Just be careful what you say. You wouldn¡¯t want anyone to get the wrong idea about what happened. Remember what I said before about your reputation.¡±

    Hopefully it¡¯s not too late for that.

    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the old Delune manor afterwards,¡± Fernan assured her as he began walking, running through the story again in his head.

    I showed up late, after everything with Flammare had gone down. Everyone saw me arrive then, and not a moment earlier.

    They all saw Florette too, but if they didn¡¯t recognize her, so much the better.

    Keeping his thoughts straight amidst the pounding thud of horseshoes against cobblestone wasn¡¯t easy, though.

    ¡°Sire, would it not be more expedient for you to ride alongside me? I¡¯m happy to assist you in climbing up, should it prove necessary.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Fernan said, hoisting himself up onto the saddle. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Florette. She nearly died during the White Night, and it¡¯s been stressful for all of us.¡±

    ¡°Indeed it has,¡± he called over his shoulder. ¡°And your sister does not want for courage. I saw her haul herself out of the pit and waste not a moment before charging to confront Queen Glaciel herself, despite my objections.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Florette isn¡¯t my sister. We¡¯re not even from the same village.¡±

    ¡°But she is of your mountain, de la montaigne, no?¡±

    ¡°Sure, I guess. But that name was just to have something to use for the Duchess¡¯s trial. It¡¯s not really¡­¡±

    ¡°Do not be so quick to denigrate the title which King Lucien so generously bestowed upon you in recognition of your words and deeds. ¡®Montaigne¡¯ is yours, and you would be wise to treasure it as I do the name Mesnil.¡±

    Wait, I¡¯ve heard that before. ¡°Mesnil¡­ Are you Dominique Mesnil? I think our sickbeds were next to each other.¡±

    The knight laughed. ¡°Dom is my brother. My name is Sire Miro.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see. And how is your brother faring?¡±

    Miro¡¯s head drooped. ¡°He¡¯s going to lose his foot. I suppose he¡¯s lucky to be alive, but¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s awful. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    ¡°He may never ride again. His knighthood is over in practice if not in title, and all chance of fighting at the Fox-King¡¯s side is gone to ash.¡± He inhaled sharply, perhaps a sniffle, though it was hard to tell from behind. ¡°It¡¯s a tragedy, Sire Fernan, and I thank you for your kind words.¡±

    Fernan let a few minutes pass as they rode towards the castle together, not wanting to rudely break the silence.

    You didn¡¯t see anything. Remember that. Even if someone recognized Florette, she wants you to shut up about everything to avoid getting dragged into it.

    Even though I¡¯m the reason we did this at all.

    ¡°Do you ever worry that you could have prevented it?¡± Fernan asked. ¡°I ask only because I have my own regrets over my part in that battle, not as any kind of accusation.¡±

    Mesnil took a moment to consider it, then shook his head. ¡°It was not my hand that chilled his foot to ruin, but I battled at his side. Doubtless there was more I could have done, and I have no choice but to live with that fact, but ultimately the battle was won. His sacrifice was not in vain, and there is no use to be had in ruminating on it any further.¡±

    So if that¡¯s how he feels, perhaps I should do the opposite. Even if he was right that there was nothing to be done about it now. With any luck, Laura would reconsider his offer once she had time to cool off, but Fernan wasn¡¯t betting on it. ¡°Do you know what the Fox-King wants with me, Sire Miro?¡±

    ¡°You are the only sage in the city he truly trusts. He wants an unbiased accounting of the Spirit Convocation.¡±

    Great, so I am going to be questioned.

    ¡°Additionally, there is the matter of the confiscated Avaline weapons. Such powerful tools should not be left out in the wilderness for anyone to use.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Florette and the villagers have them.¡±

    ¡°Precisely. And by the end of the day, King Lucien wishes to be sure that all of them are in royal custody. You shall be granted one back, I am sure, but the safeguarding of them is of paramount importance.¡±

    Florette¡¯s not going to like the sound of that.

    But it might be the only way to stay on King Lucien¡¯s good side and make sure he doesn¡¯t look too closely into the Spirit Convocation.

    Hopefully that wouldn¡¯t be necessary, but it was good to plan for the worst.

    In the castle courtyard, three figures in dark hoods were gathered by the entrance, speaking with the door guard, who Fernan didn¡¯t recognize.

    ¡°They came,¡± Mesnil gasped.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Ah, excellent, it appears that individuals with the appropriate echelon of authority have at last arrived,¡± the tallest cloaked figure called out. ¡°Good sires, would you be so kind as to grant us an audience with the Fox-King? We have traveled long and far to reach the Convocation of the Spirits.¡±

    ¡°After a fierce expedition through the endless snow, we moved as swiftly as any could aspire to in these deleterious conditions, only to miss it by one day.¡±

    Fernan tried to get a sense of their aura, but it seemed muted in all three of them. ¡°I was just on my way to talk to him, actually. Who should I say you are?¡±

    ¡°And what is your business?¡± Mesnil added, a slight hitch in his voice.

    ¡°We are duly elected representatives of the Condorcet Collective, here to represent our patron spirit in the most hallowed convocation and ensure that only the most appropriate candidate is chosen to emanate their solar flares across the face of Terramonde.¡±

    The first speaker stopped, only for the next to jump in as if they¡¯d rehearsed it.

    ¡°Alas, it appears we were too late. But perhaps not all is lost; that much remains to be seen. In the meantime, as diplomatic emissaries of the most free and sovereign nation, we wish to confer with the Fox-King and discuss the most appropriate actions to be undertaken at the next available opportunity.¡±

    ¡°We hope you will be so kind as to prepare us lodging as well, for such time as our visitation lasts. We do not intend to stay long.¡±

    Mesnil still wasn¡¯t saying anything, so Fernan nodded back to them. ¡°I¡¯ll let him know.¡±

    ¡°You have my gratitude, then, Sire.¡±

    ¡°Fernan Montaigne,¡± he supplied. ¡°Who is your patron spirit, though? I would have thought they¡¯d come themself, rather than relying on sages.¡± If they have more of a collaborative partnership, it could be a good example to follow with G¨¦zarde.

    ¡°Alas, she has been unable to attend for some time now. Thus the task falls to her most devoted servants to see that her will is done in Terramonde.¡±

    What kind of spirit wouldn¡¯t be able to travel to a meeting? They make it sound like she¡¯s not capable of doing anything. And sages can¡¯t vote at the Convocation¡­ Barring something like what Florette and I did, what could they even have hoped to accomplish?

    Were they trying to pull something like what we did?

    ¡°Fear not, Sire Montaigne. The eternal night has passed, but it heralds a return to the natural order. Ere long, Khali shall return from Nocturne, and right the imbalance slowly throttling this world of ours.¡±

    Oh. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll let him know.¡±

 Camille I: The Maiden of Dawn

    Camille I: The Maiden of Dawn

    ¡°Are you ready? Because I want you to pay attention. This is important. This is the beginning of something, not just for us, but for the whole world, and we are standing right at the center of it.¡± Camille adjusted the collar of her coat, looking with satisfaction at the long shadow the gesture now cast across the rooftop. ¡°The reign of the Prince of Darkness is over, and with it, Avalon¡¯s tyrannical grip over our fair city. The louring clouds of eternal night have been buried beneath the waves. Our time trapped in shadow has ended, and now the healing can begin.

    ¡°Malin shall at last be ruled again by its rightful ruler, as it was in days of old. Ere long, my betrothed, the Fox-King Lucien Renart, shall return to the city of his birth at the head of an army, to ensure that none can threaten our newly restored sovereignty. As I have defeated the Prince of Darkness, he has triumphed over the Queen of Winter, and together we shall lead Malin into the glorious summer sun of a new day.

    ¡°No longer shall the humble Malinois need fear her ruler, nor wonder whether she has enough food to survive another day. No longer shall the inhumane gallows loom over the heart of our nation. No longer shall Avalon extract its price of blood and treasure, leeching our wealth to fuel their own. Now we are safe. Now we are free.¡±

    The sky was bright with the cold light of a blue dawn, the stars fading from view for the first time in almost two months. The new sun, Flammare, cast his light slightly differently, colors subtly off from what they should be, but perhaps that was just the jarring effect of seeing daylight again after so prolonged an absence.

    Hopefully, anyway.

    Knowing Flammare, though, he was probably pettily making his mark on things without caring or even noticing how it made things harder for humanity.

    But that¡¯s an issue for later. Fernan had done his part, and allowed the timing to be perfect. Not just for getting around her oaths to Luce, but also for what came after. Camille and the return of the sun would be indelibly linked for the people of Malin, however slight her actual role had been in its restoration.

    ¡°Any questions?¡± she asked, tilting her focus back down, signaling that she was done for the moment.

    ¡°Well, it looks like all those hours you spent rehearsing that didn¡¯t go to waste. That must make you proud.¡± Eloise folded her arms, willfully appearing unimpressed. ¡°I do have a question, though. Why is he here?¡± she added, pointing to Scott.

    ¡°He¡¯s been invaluable at my journal, and controlling the narrative of this is essential.¡±

    ¡°Scott Ecrivan? Invaluable? Maybe if you need something to wrap your fish in.¡±

    Camille blinked. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you even recognized him.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is easier in daylight. In fact, I might even take off my jacket.¡±

    Would it kill you to take this seriously?

    ¡°If I may.¡± Scott stepped forward, shrugging off his coat to reveal an implausibly muscled physique for a journalist. I guess I¡¯ve only ever seen him in winter wear. ¡°Eloise and I go way back. She¡¯s just messing with me. And, probably, you.¡±

    ¡°Me? Mess with someone? Surely not.¡±

    Camille resisted the urge to roll her eyes and proceeded. ¡°Scott, how soon can we get a late edition printed on the new day in Malin? I need to be sure that as many people know who their legitimate government is as quickly as possible.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s just focused on that? I think we could manage it before sunset. We finally fixed the last press that Eserly mangled during the coup.¡± He tapped his nose. ¡°Of course, getting it done so fast would require the right incentives.¡±

    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Eloise said. ¡°Pay this lout through the nose to spread the word far and wide, so Avalon knows to come kill us faster. Why be cautious? It¡¯s not like we have less than fifty people with pistols and they have hundreds.¡±

    ¡°She has a point,¡± Scott said. ¡°Lady Leclaire, I serve at your pleasure, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°You do serve at my pleasure. Don¡¯t forget that. No matter your title on paper, you report to me.¡±

    ¡°What title? I¡¯m a reporter.¡±

    ¡°Effective immediately, I¡¯m appointing you acting editor of the Daily Quotidien. I¡¯ll be too busy for the immediate future, and in the long run my duties as Empress will take precedence. Eventually, Scott, that could mean a position in the palace for you. Minister of Truth, perhaps?¡± Not anytime soon though, or probably ever. It was more valuable to have a journal in the pocket that appeared impartial, especially for a city so accustomed to Avalon¡¯s way of doing things. But Scott didn¡¯t have to know that.

    ¡°And Eloise?¡± Camille continued. ¡°Avalon won¡¯t attack us if we get the word out about our ultimate bargaining chip. It¡¯s the ultimate security.¡±

    ¡°Luce?¡± she asked dismissively. ¡°Because I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to find him. Yse¡¯s guys searched the mansion top to bottom and didn¡¯t find a trace. He hasn¡¯t popped up at the opera house or the beach, either, and if he made it onto Stewart¡¯s ship before it left, there¡¯s a good chance he¡¯s gone for good.¡±

    ¡°Not Luce.¡± Better to dwell on that as briefly as possible. It made things easier. ¡°His father. Do you remember Magnifico? Arrogant bard, murdered the man who raised me, plunged the world into darkness? Turns out he was King Harold the entire time. Now he¡¯s locked in a cell in Guerron, powerless. If the Prince Regent has his troops set one foot in our sovereign territory, he can say a fond farewell to his fearless father.¡±

    Scott¡¯s mouth was hanging open dumbly, so Camille assisted him. ¡°Be sure to print that. It wasn¡¯t just Avalon¡¯s agent condemning the world to darkness, but her very leader, the embodiment of the nation. Makes it easier to tie things to Luce, too. Let¡¯s say¡­ I don¡¯t know, he was trying to make the darkness last forever, conspiring with the Winter Queen? Making his father¡¯s work stick? We can work on the details, but it¡¯s absolutely vital that Avalon learn we have King Harold in custody as soon as possible. Otherwise they might try to retake Malin before they understand the consequences.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re the valiant hero who put a stop to Grimoire¡¯s evil machinations¡­¡± Eloise scoffed.

    ¡°We are. You helped.¡±

    A guilty look flashed across her face; understandable enough given their trip through the wasteland together, but that was acceptable. Where it counted, Eloise had been on the right side of things. An ally, however cantankerous.

    ¡°Try to think of a good title for me too, Scott. You coined ¡®Prince of Darkness¡¯, so my expectations are high. We want as little association with Luce¡¯s reign as possible. The Dawnbringer, or the Warrior of Light or something. And let me see the text before it goes to print.¡±

    Dopey smile plastered across his face, Scott bowed. ¡°At once, my lady.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and, this probably goes without saying, but please be sure not to mention or allude to sacrifices anywhere. That¡¯s not the narrative we want, and it could engender resistance.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± He turned towards the door. ¡°We¡¯ll keep things looking heroic.¡±

    The last traces of scarlet in the sky had faded by the time Scott left, leaving Camille and Eloise alone on the roof of the mansion, the spot where Malin had been liberated, if it could really be attributed to any one place.

    ¡°I need your help, Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Oh, again? What a surprise. You still haven¡¯t even paid me from the first time.¡±

    ¡°Is liberating your home from the oppressors that killed your mother not payment enough?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°And I¡¯ll be telling Margot to keep her mouth shut about our personal business, too. She should know better.¡±

    She knew better than you, since learning that made me respect you more. ¡°She¡¯s a smart kid. You did a good job with her. I don¡¯t know if she mentioned it, but I actually offered her a ¡®stage¡¯. It¡¯s a traditional apprenticeship that I think will help her go far in life, though I¡¯ll be breaking with tradition to pay her, too.¡±

    ¡°Keeping her close in case you change your mind about me, huh?¡±

    If you¡¯d asked me a year ago, probably. ¡°Not at all. I just want to help her live up to her potential. If she says no, I¡¯ll leave it be.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°The answer is no.¡±

    ¡°From you, but Margot¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is fourteen. This discussion is over.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Camille held up her hands placatingly. ¡°You¡¯ll get your payment once Lucien arrives, like I said before.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need extra for my crew, too, since we can¡¯t ransom Luce anymore.¡±

    Because you failed to secure him. Aside from which, you and your underlings would never have been the ones negotiating a ransom for him. But it wasn¡¯t worth fighting her on it. ¡°Fine. They can have an extra ten thousand florins each.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡±

    Camille grit her teeth. ¡°You can haggle with Annette when she gets here if you want. For now, come with me.¡±

    Though she threw out a few more sarcastic protestations, Eloise did follow, fortunately.

    Rivulets were already flowing down from the snow into the street, but it was easy enough to move them out of the way.

    ¡°Listen, Lucien is coming, but he doesn¡¯t know that yet. I need a few hours to talk to him, and it¡¯ll leave me vulnerable. Can you stand outside the door while I talk to him?¡±

    ¡°Talk to¡­ your fianc¨¦ in another city? Do you only write letters to him drunk, or something?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the details.¡± Though word is bound to get out eventually. Luce practically figured it out already, and he¡¯s not the sort to let that opportunity lie. ¡°More importantly, I was hoping you or Margot could get me some psyben root. Malin¡¯s been dry as a bone with no shipments in, and I¡¯m running so low I might not have enough.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse, I wasn¡¯t far off the mark! You¡¯re a weird one, Leclaire, but yeah, I can get you enough for the night. On the house, because that is just a hilarious image.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Meet me back at the Governor¡¯s mansion three hours after noon?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Eloise blinked. ¡°Weird to be able to say that again.¡±

    ¡°Things are going back to the way they should be; that¡¯s only part of it. And it couldn¡¯t have happened without you.¡± Drive it in.

    ¡°...Alright. See you then.¡±

    ?

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Camille. That doesn¡¯t sound like Luce. Not that I knew him that well, he was so boring to talk to when he started droning on about his gears and gizmos, but there was nothing sadistic about it.¡±

    Alright, so Mary didn¡¯t buy the Prince of Darkness narrative, which isn¡¯t a great sign, but she actually knew him personally unlike most people here.

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Camille nodded sagely. ¡°I don¡¯t believe for a second that his heart was in it. But Governorship wasn¡¯t for him at all, especially in a crisis. I think this was just a fatalistic way of abdicating his rule. It wasn¡¯t about actually maintaining darkness or hurting anyone, just taking any excuse to get on a ship and go home.¡±

    Mary nodded, sipping her wine.

    ¡°But that still leaves us here, without an official Governor.¡±

    ¡°And your first thought was me? Camille, I¡¯m so flattered! And I would be honored, of course, but it sounds like such a drag. All that paperwork and meetings and everything. Luce left for a reason! I¡¯m not going to second-guess his wisdom.¡±

    ¡°He had your mother executed, Mary. There¡¯s plenty to question.¡±

    Mary continued drinking until her glass was empty, leaving a long silence in the conversation. ¡°Prince Harold was the one that ordered that, I thought. And¡­¡± Tears in her eyes, she collapsed back into her chair. ¡°What am I going to do, Camille? I¡¯m sure I¡¯d be great as a Governor, but I don¡¯t want to do it! I can¡¯t go back home since those awful princes took our lands away. Am I supposed to go back to Avalon as a failure? The orphan of a traitor?¡±

    As Mary sobbed, Camille wrapped her arm around her. ¡°Everything is going to be alright. I have a plan.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°This city was once the heart of the Empire. My betrothed still has a claim to it. If I took over in his name, you wouldn¡¯t have to lift a finger. Avalon would read about you in the journals as the smart, successful, beautiful woman at the side of the Empress. They would look to you for inspiration. Lady Mary, the soul of Malin as before.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a nice thought.¡± She sniffed. ¡°But as soon as Avalon loses control of the city, they¡¯ll send in the navy to reduce it to a smoking crater.¡±

    ¡°Not if we have King Harold in custody.¡±

    Mary blinked. ¡°Do we?¡±

    ¡°My Lucien does, in Guerron. He was the one who put out the sun in the first place, and he was promptly arrested for it.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ but doesn¡¯t your empire do all those gross human sacrifices and stuff? I thought you came here to get away from that.¡±

    ¡°I did, and I have,¡± she lied. ¡°But Lucien defers to me on policy. He¡¯s more of a warrior than an administrator. Bringing all that stuff back to Malin wouldn¡¯t work at all, people hate it. No, when I¡¯m in charge, nothing essential will change. Avalon¡¯s businesses and gentry can stay if they want, their holdings are theirs, none of those backwards traditions would come back.¡±

    ¡°But what about Simon?¡±

    ¡°I talked to Simon this morning. He¡¯s in the same rough spot you are, and he doesn¡¯t have any interest in being Governor either.¡± Camille had done no such thing, but after Luce and ¡®Prince Harold¡¯ had spread the word of Lillian Perimont¡¯s folly and treason, Avalon would be in no hurry to elevate a Perimont anyway. ¡°He¡¯s going to be our new Minister of Finance, finally getting to spread his wings and really dictate policy. I just want to make sure that you¡¯re on board with this, too.¡±

    Mary looked up with her watery eyes, lost and alone with so much stripped away from her. Which I had no small part in, regrettably.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to answer now. Just think about it.¡±

    ?

    Mary was secured; even if she decided to refuse the offer at first, by the time she was in a position to, Camille¡¯s grip on the city would be uncontestable. At that point the choice would be too obvious to get wrong.

    Simon, though¡­ Simon was proving more difficult. ¡°No surprise that Mary agreed without thinking things through, but what you¡¯re talking about is treason.¡±

    ¡°So was what your mother did, and you followed her in that. For that matter, your father trying to expel Luce wasn¡¯t exactly him acting in Avalon¡¯s interest, nor do I think the King was happy to hear about it.¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯re both dead!¡± Simon spat back. ¡°Why would you try to follow them in that?

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to make the best of a bad situation.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Sure. And your solution just happens to involve you being in charge.¡±

    Fair enough, honestly. ¡°Simon, let me run through your options here, and please do tell me if there¡¯s anything I¡¯m missing. Option one: you do become Governor. The Forresters and Guardians will back you, I¡¯m sure, or at least the same ones who backed your mother and have more bloodlust than sense. Then, illegitimate as you are, you can count the days until Avalon sends a force to relieve you of command. If you¡¯re really good at negotiating your surrender, you might even survive it! But I have my doubts, especially with the family precedent.¡±

    Of course, if you did go that way, it could still completely fuck things for me here. Until Lucien gets here, until word gets out about Magnifico, this is so fragile¡­

    Simon scowled, but fortunately he didn¡¯t object. After Lady Perimont¡¯s pathetic coup, the name was mud in Avalon, and little better here.

    ¡°Option two: you return to Avalon the son of traitors, your lands and titles stripped away. Luce will soon be back there, and if he¡¯s got any hard feelings about things, he could make things even harder for you. Even if he decides to help you, his influence is limited, especially now that he¡¯s such a public failure. He could give you a comfortable life, at best, but not power.¡±

    ¡°And you could do better?¡±

    ¡°I can and I will. You¡¯ve been playing in a tiny pond, dealing with whatever budget is left after the bulk is sent back to Avalon. You never had the chance to influence things on a global level, but I¡¯m offering you a position for an entire nation, not a mere Territory of one.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡± He smacked his chair. ¡°Avalon is starving because they did things the way I was always taught you¡¯re supposed to: Austerity, growth of enterprise, playing things smart. Now they¡¯re going to have to fight a war just to keep the peasants from rioting. From everything Prince Harold told me, it¡¯s a disaster! And he was the one overseeing it! How much more do you think he kept back?¡±

    ¡°Plenty, I¡¯m sure. But you¡¯ll learn from their mistakes. Or if you truly feel you can¡¯t, you are still welcome to remain a gentleman and an aristocrat of good standing in the Empire. Certainly, your lands and titles will be recognized where Avalon would not. But I believe in you, Simon. You can be more than a comfortable lordling, whiling away your time with wine and parties. You have a vision, and all it needs is some refining. Then, at my side, you can execute it.¡±

    Simon didn¡¯t respond right away, which was good. It meant he was actually giving it proper thought.

    When he did, he spoke softly, his voice unsure. ¡°I accept.¡±

    ?

    The sun was high in the sky by the time Camille felt like she could catch her breath.

    Simon and Mary were hardly committed, but they seemed unlikely to make trouble in the near term, which was most important.

    Aude and the other Acolytes were patrolling the city as word spread of the change in leadership, and tomorrow there was to be a massive celebration. A true festival of the sun, though spring was long in the past.

    ¡°Looks like your plan worked.¡± Mordred Boothe stepped out from behind the building, blond hair falling down beside his true face. His arm was in a sling, and his clothes were stained with blood. ¡°I was worried that the whole ¡®Curse you, Leclaire!¡¯ thing was a bit too much, but apparently not.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a ruse that needed to last, anyway. Though if I¡¯d realized Luce would be so perceptive, we certainly could have gone about things better. But that¡¯s behind us, either way. How did things go this morning?¡±

    ¡°Had to kill maybe twelve Forresters kicking up a ruckus in a tavern, but that should silence the rest of them for a while. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ll invite most of them to leave once the roads are clear?¡±

    Camille nodded. ¡°Where did you put them?¡±

    ¡°By the water, like you said.¡±

    Then that¡¯s twelve out of a thousand, if I can do it discreetly. Public sacrifices could bring a swift end to liberated Malin, that much was clear after living here for so many months.

    Twelve out of a thousand.

    An absurdly low amount. Were there even a thousand die-hard partisans of Avalon left, let alone ones who would make enough trouble to justify ending their existence?

    Is there any possible way I could honor my deal with Levian?

    Perhaps not.

    But what was the alternative?

 Florette I: The Burned

    Florette I: The Burned

    Everything still hurt, but, in a way, that was a good thing. It meant that she still had feeling in her arms and legs, which was far from a given after a gecko attack alone, let alone jumping on top of the sun and ending his life.

    I still can¡¯t believe I did that, really.

    Glaciel was one thing; Florette might have been the one to take the largest risk, but Corro and the Montaignards had done the most damage there, and the Fallen had been the one to ensure that Florette was actually in position to execute the plan.

    This was just Fernan, a mask, Mara, and me. Against an ancient spirit of the hearth, ascended to the sun, it didn¡¯t seem like much, but somehow, it had been enough.

    And I might be ruined for it.

    Fernan seemed to hope that he¡¯d be able to talk the Fox-King around, but Florette had her doubts. Otherwise it wouldn¡¯t have been so important to keep Fernan¡¯s involvement a secret.

    She had meddled with a sacred spiritual ceremony, jeopardized the return of a role vital to humanity¡¯s existence itself, and permanently tarred the reputation of a woman who, whatever her other flaws, was innocent of deceiving her patron spirit to facilitate his murder, a violation liable to make even alderman Jerome blush.

    And for what? She could practically hear the Fox-King¡¯s voice in her ears, speaking with the same tone of voice he used to correct her dueling form. Some ice monsters who attacked us first? The willing followers of the most evil spirit not to be sealed away in a prison world?

    He hadn¡¯t even been willing to rescue Fernan; how likely was it that he¡¯d moved by the plight of distant Hiverriens?

    Ordinary people called to fight and die on faraway shores for their overlord, nearly eradicated over something they had no control over¡­

    We did the right thing, but is Lucien Renart a man who will accept that?

    She¡¯d already had Michel hide the pistols. There was a reason she hadn¡¯t handed them to Renart in the first place, and nothing had given her cause to regret that decision.

    Fernan was inside now, trying to argue her case without looking too much like he was affiliated, a high stakes deception that he of all people was singularly ill-suited for, but Florette being there would only make things more suspicious.

    Even if he keeps to the story, I doubt that¡¯s enough to save me.

    If it weren¡¯t for her Cloak of Nocturne, now a permanent possession, Florette wouldn¡¯t even be this close to the castle at all. Certainly not waiting in the courtyard for Fernan to come tell her her fate.

    But since I do have it, this is cleaner. I¡¯ll know before anyone else, and can slip away without being detected. If necessary, anyway.

    Waiting here wasn¡¯t exactly helping to take her mind off of it, though. It certainly wasn¡¯t very productive to stare at the door for what felt like hours while drumming her fingers against her leg, wincing every few minutes when her mind wandered too far and she hit a patch of burned skin.

    The creepy guys in hoods lurking around didn¡¯t exactly help either. They looked like they were ready to start chanting and sacrificing at any minute, so they had to stay dressed for it just in case.

    And one of them was staring at her intently, trying to be subtle by looking away before she noticed and failing badly to sweep his gaze away in time.

    ¡°What, have you never seen a sunburn before?¡± she called out, trying to distract herself. ¡°Mine is a bit worse than most, but you don¡¯t need to stare.¡±

    ¡°My sincerest apologies, fair maiden. Though none can truly say what feeling dwells deep within a man¡¯s heart, I assure you, as certain as the moon¡¯s turn, my intentions were not nefarious.¡±

    Fair maiden? That explained the staring, then. ¡°The intentions aren¡¯t really what matters here. Don¡¯t they teach manners in¡­ by the way you look, I¡¯m just going to guess Nocturne?¡±

    ¡°I should be so honored. Though some do claim that the Condorcet Collective is the nearest place on earth to it, so your perception ought to be commended, there.¡± He pulled his hood down, revealing an angular face, with short black hair and brown-green eyes. ¡°My name is Maximilien, though all who call me friend refer to me as Maxime. I should be privileged to learn how you call yourself, demoiselle.¡±

    ¡°Florette,¡± she answered, having no real reason to hide it. If they¡¯re in town another night, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll hear all about it anyway. ¡°You¡¯re really from Condorcet? I didn¡¯t think you guys left your borders much. And I hope you realize that when people call your country the closest thing on earth to Khali¡¯s prison world, they mean it as an insult.¡± Because you sacrifice so many people to Khali, you make Gordon Perimont look like the epitome of restraint.

    Maxime only nodded, but apparently their conversation had provoked the other two to approach, the taller one already sweeping his arm indignantly before he even began speaking. ¡°Those outsiders who levy such insults at us speak from a place of profound ignorance, locked within the shackles of their own hierarchically-trained minds. The Condorcet Collective is the only free nation on Terramonde, and the subjects of foreign oppressors would have you believe that this fact makes us evil.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s it. Fanatically serving an evil spirit that can¡¯t hear you and gets nothing from your sacrifices has nothing to do with it.¡±

    The hooded man thrust his arms back at that, puffing up his chest, but he didn¡¯t get a chance to open his mouth before his partner interrupted. ¡°Calm down, Citoyen Darce, I entreat you, please. Our florally-named young friend is simply laboring under the same delusions about noble Khali¡¯s nature that plague the world at large. Here, at the erstwhile seat of Soleil¡¯s power, we can expect nothing less than such ignorance in abundance. Is it not our responsibility to educate and advocate, rather than to judge?¡± Her voice sounded almost too sweet, teetering on the edge of condescension without ever quite reaching it.

    ¡°Of course you are right, Citoyen Courbet, though it pains me to acknowledge it. It behooves a duly elected representative of the Thirteen to comport himself in a more accepting manner, all the more so in this land of misinformed heretics, laboring under the cloud of their own delusions.¡± Is he just trying to find the longest, most obnoxious way possible to say absolutely everything? It sounded almost like Jethro, though the Condorcet representatives were all far more consistent about it than the spy had ever been.

    ¡°Some might say the people giving offerings to a spirit who doesn¡¯t deserve and can¡¯t receive them are the ones in a delusional cloud, but I suppose it¡¯s debatable.¡± Florette leaned back against the castle wall. ¡°Your whole nation is built on doing the illogical and the cruel, and no one¡¯s allowed to leave. I wouldn¡¯t exactly call that freedom.¡± Not that it¡¯s so great here, either. Michel had brought up Condorcet as an example that could be followed in some respects, but more as a basis to learn from their, as he put it, ¡®manifold mistakes and innumerable errors¡¯. Camille had put it more eloquently, calling them ¡®fucking freaks¡¯. According to her, their first leader had been a six year old child, the second one a horse, and things hadn¡¯t improved much from there. ¡°Plus you tried to turn Robin Verrou over to Avalon, if what I read was right. I can¡¯t help but take exception to that.¡±

    ¡°He robbed the manse of the most senior of the Thirteen of over eight million florins! All we were doing was prosecuting a criminal. So long as you obey the law, you have no grounds to object to that.¡±

    Florette didn¡¯t reply, suppressing a smirk as she shrugged, enjoying Citoyen Darce¡¯s bug-eyed bewilderment.

    ¡°You should take care to examine your reading materials with a sufficiently critical eye,¡± Maxime said. ¡°The reality of Verrou would likely fail to live up to the image you¡¯ve built in your mind.¡±

    ¡°Well, it did a little. His hair is thinning, and I didn¡¯t really expect the wrinkles. But at the same time, in the field he¡¯s chosen, age alone is a boast.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve met him?¡±

    ¡°Sure. He gave me my sword, helped me get out into the world. That¡¯s true freedom, I¡¯d say, not the prison to execution chute you¡¯ve built over in Condorcet.¡± And I had it, until I decided to go with Eloise and it all came crashing down.  It wasn¡¯t like it had all been a mistake, but it still felt unsettling to realize she¡¯d ended up right back where she started.

    ¡°Then you are at the very least a sympathizer for criminals, and I have little doubt that you¡¯ve been wrapped up in his violations or similar ones of your own accord.¡± Darce shook his head. ¡°It is fitting to see that the so-called Fox-King keeps such scoundrels in his court.¡±

    Citoyen Courbet shook her head. ¡°She¡¯s been made to wait outside, Darce, at this moment as ill-esteemed by the Fox-King as we are, it would seem.¡±

    ¡°Or I¡¯m enjoying the fresh air. It¡¯s a nice day, for the first time in a while.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Maxime cut in. ¡°Darce, she obviously hasn¡¯t heard what really happened, so berating her for it isn¡¯t going to get you anywhere. Why don¡¯t you just tell her?¡± He focused his eyes on Florette. ¡°If you¡¯ve traveled with Verrou, I think you¡¯d like the story, and it¡¯s not one that many have been inclined to spread outside our borders without so tainting it with calumnies that it bears only the slightest resemblance to the truth.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Sure, go ahead.¡± This is certainly a better distraction than I could have hoped for.

    ¡°Then please proceed, Citoyen Darce.¡±

    ¡°Not that you are under any obligation, particularly,¡± Courbet said.

    ¡°No, no, I shall do my duty as a duly elected representative.¡± Darce removed his hood, revealing a shaved head and closely-trimmed beard, then puffed out his chest once more to begin his rant. ¡°Two hundred years ago, the people of Pointe Gaspard labored under the same sort of callous overlords as you do now, none more menacing among them than the Lord of the Pointe, Georges Rive. He held the pointe for Plagette and paid his loyalty to the ruling Aureaux, eager to curry whatever favor he could from his overlord, no matter the cost to the people he ruled. No gift was too extravagant, no timeframe too short. Craftsmen who failed to meet his deadlines or refused his requests had their hands removed. Any who complained were not long allowed to keep their tongues. Rive taxed a prosperous gateway to the High Kingdom to the brink of ruin, and offered the souls of any who failed to pay their debts to Aureaux to sacrifice.

    ¡°Lord Rive represented Pointe Gaspard in the Plagetine Senate, but he did not represent its people. Indeed, one could hardly find a man who represented the people less, yet by the law and tradition of the Plagette Republic, his family held the seat. What right had he to play this role? Did the Senate not call for representation?

    ¡°On a warm summer evening while Lord Rive was away, casting his vote for the next First Speaker of the Senate, the people of the Pointe held a vote of their own, to choose who among them would serve as a fair representative, to ensure that the Senate could function as it had always been intended to, or so they thought. Nicolas Condorcet, a prominent patrician of the pointe who had served the city faithfully for years, won eleven votes of every thirteen, and vowed to travel across the lake to petition First Speaker Aureaux.¡±

    Florette grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ll admit I hadn¡¯t heard that part before, but surely they didn¡¯t think that would work out for them?¡± Even without knowing how things ended up, it wouldn¡¯t have exactly been hard to predict.

    ¡°Just so.¡± Citoyen Darce nodded in agreement. ¡°The First Speaker corrected their misconceptions quickly enough when she outfitted Rive with fourscore knights to mass outside the city walls, and sent the Condorcet¡¯s head sailing back over them. All agreed that the ensuing siege would not be a lengthy one, but the will of the people was unbreakable. For thirteen days, the walls stood, and the lord¡¯s knights failed to penetrate the city.¡±

    ¡°But they would not hold out forever. Despite the will of the people, the conclusion was forgone. If not tomorrow or the next day, then after the First Speaker gathered her ships to block access from the water and turn anyone who attempted to fish into pincushions with her archers.¡± Courbet smiled, her eyes lighting up. ¡°Nicolas the elder may have been dead, but his son of the same name, only twelve years of age, possessed the same courage and spirit as his late father. He slipped past the besiegers and wandered deep into the desert to petition for aid. Khali answered his call, and bestowed upon him a share of her power.¡±

    Darce nodded. ¡°When little Nicolas returned, he struck from behind, wielding Khali¡¯s power to drive the besiegers blind, freeing the people to rout them from the pointe and liberate themselves from the shackles of Plagette¡¯s rule. First Speaker Aureaux never regained her sight, and the Senate rejected her soon after.¡± He said the last part with a bit of a smirk. ¡°Every year after, the citizens elected one from amongst their number to venture into the desert and make a pact of their own, so that the collective would always be defended from outside threats. Each year their number grew by one, until Thirteen sages of Khali protected the collective and its people, chosen by the people.¡±

    ¡°Thirteen years on, Nicolas the younger retired from his position, knowing he was never elected to it, and willingly passed his seat and powers to whomever the people would choose in the next election. His first disciple followed after, and every single one of them since ¡ª thirteen elected representatives to govern Pointe Gaspard. So it was and so it has been. The Thirteen represent the people, are beholden to us, of us and not above us, and defend us from all threats to our freedom.¡± Courbet looked at Florette intently. ¡°And let there be no mistake: without Khali¡¯s grace, it would never have been possible. The Condorcet Collective would merely be another chained people, reminiscing about a failed rebellion. All that Khali wanted in return was souls, and so it behooves us all to grant her that which is her due, as much and as best as we possibly can.¡±

    ¡°Within reason,¡± Darce muttered.

    ¡°But she¡¯s gone. Sealed away.¡± I¡¯ve even got the book of the woman who did it, assuming it¡¯s real.

    Darce held up his hand again, so Florette cut in before he could get started. ¡°Anyway, the rest is interesting, and I can certainly agree with a lot of what you¡¯re saying.¡± It could definitely be instructive here, if we play our cards right. ¡°Thanks for sharing it.¡± As delusional and bloodthirsty as they might be when it came to all things Khali, they had a point that the peasants needed force for their demands to be taken seriously. As a credible threat, if nothing else.

    If only we had access to a few crates of Avaline super weapons that the Fox-King can¡¯t touch. If only some dashing pirate had stolen them from a high-speed contraption in a daring heist.

    ¡°Might I request a moment of your time in private, Florette?¡± Maxime asked, his head tilted up eagerly. ¡°That is, if you do not mind discussion of your acquaintance, Robin Verrou.¡±

    ¡°Why, certainmoniously! So long as your electedness would deign to speak with a lowly ignorant like myself.¡±

    ¡°Myself, I was not elected to anything,¡± he said quietly, leading Florette out of earshot of the other two. ¡°The citizens elected Darce and Courbet to serve as our representatives at the Convocation, but I am only present on their journey to help keep them safe.¡±

    ¡°Ah, a guard, eh? Not what I would have expected. You don¡¯t exactly look dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Maxime¡¯s voice fell to a whisper, forcing Florette to lean in to hear him. ¡°Legally speaking, I¡¯m not even technically a citizen of the collective anymore, but traveling with them was the least conspicuous way to make it here under the prior conditions.¡±

    ¡°Anymore? I was under the impression that ex-citizens went straight to the sacrifice ritual most of the time.¡±

    ¡°Alas, so it is. My people took leave of their senses when Khali was sealed, if indeed we ever truly possessed them. With Khali under siege, we were at war, you see, though the people¡¯s army never once left our borders. And in wartime, the Thirteen had no issues implementing temporary prohibitions against sedition and ¡®anti-collective¡¯ activities. When the next elections were held, few wanted to change boats mid-stream, and so the enforcement initiative carried forward long past the designs of its original architects. No crime was too small to merit punishment, so it went, and no punishment more just than fueling Khali.¡±

    ¡°No one tried to stop them? Isn¡¯t that the foundation of your identity?¡±

    ¡°There is an opposition faction, to be sure. Citoyen Darce numbers among them, in fact. His ilk take issue with the rampancy with which these sacrifices have been conducted, espousing a policy of moderation. Sometimes, they even hold the majority of the Thirteen. But all that means is a few years where things stop getting worse, the people grow tired of stagnancy, and the pace picks up once more. The problem is never that we execute more criminals than nations thrice our size, nor that criticizing the Thirteen is grounds for criminality, only that some people are a bit too enthusiastic or careless about it. We ought to declare the war against Khali over, in their words, but the measures passed because of it may stand forever.¡±

    ¡°Useless,¡± Florette summarized, nodding her head. Though if criticism is grounds for execution, it¡¯s curious that you¡¯d feel so comfortable doing it in front of a stranger. The distance doubtless helped, but it still seemed curiously reckless.

    ¡°They hold a bandage in their hand and an open wound on their breast, but the solution they arrive at each time is to tie on a blindfold. To think, I once hoped to rise to the Thirteen as a moderating influence! I believed I could help steer my nation back to its ideals from above.¡± He smiled ruefully at the thought. ¡°Fate had other plans for me, of course, but I might as well have wished to flap my arms and fly to Nocturne.¡±

    I need to introduce this guy to Michel and the Montaignards; this is a gold mine of insight. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°A duly appointed officer of the Thirteen found a pamphlet I¡¯d never even read in my bag, calling for an end to death as a punishment for criminality. If Robin Verrou had not been in town at the same time disrupting, distracting, and delaying, I would be nought but ash on the wind today. Fate snatched the future I¡¯d planned on away, but it granted me the opportunity to flee, and the Realm of the Exiles welcomed me, as it does all those who escape oppression. Though I may be able to re-infiltrate the Collective for this purpose or that, I¡¯ll never again be able to live there openly, and so many more shall never be permitted to live at all.¡±

    He¡¯s a spy for the Realm of the Exiles?

    Florette blinked, looking Maxime from a new angle. A thousand questions sprang to mind: Have you met the Queen? Is it true that she rides a pegasus? What¡¯s your mission in Guerron? How closely does Captain Verrou work with the Exiles?

    But before she even had a chance to pick one, Fernan stumbled out of the main doors, and that had to take precedence.

    He¡¯d never been the best at hiding his expressions, but since his injury he¡¯d understandably lapsed even further, which made the dejection plain to see on his face.

    Florette approached cautiously, readying her Cloak of Nocturne to cut and run if needed. ¡°How did it go?¡±

    Fernan shrank in on himself, posture wilting. ¡°Duchess Annette was livid that you jeopardized the return of the sun unilaterally, with no prior discussion of risks and benefits, nor sanction from the Crown.¡±

    ¡°Sanction I¡¯d never have gotten.¡±

    Lips pressed firmly together, Fernan nodded. ¡°But she and the Fox-King both agreed that you cannot be seen as affiliated with them in any way. After fighting together in the White Night and planning the operation, it could send a message that the Empire is deceitful, espousing bad faith with the spirits, which could ruin all credibility with humans and spirits alike.¡±

    I wish I could have expected any different. ¡°So he¡¯s going to arrest me?¡±

    Fernan shook his head. ¡°I talked them into giving you three days to leave the city. No contact with them starting now, and they don¡¯t want you anywhere near the castle, but they¡¯ll wait until you¡¯re out of pocket to start publicly condemning you.¡±

    You mean calling for my death. ¡°That¡¯s still better than I would have expected.¡± And it means you didn¡¯t give away that you were involved, which also counts for something.

    ¡°There¡¯s something else. They want us to turn over all the pistols to them, with the same deadline.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off! I¡¯m the one who rightfully stole them.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look, we can talk about this more when we¡¯re further from prying ears. Let¡¯s head back for now.¡±

    ¡°Miss Florette, if you have a moment, I would dearly like to finish our scintillating conversation. Might I accompany the two of you on your excursion? Presuming the representatives feel secure for a few hours here?¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah.¡± Fernan snapped his fingers in realization, pointing towards the Condorcet representatives. ¡°The Fox-King said that the servants will show you to your chambers, and that you are welcome to stay. I think he¡¯s sending someone to tell you that, but now you know a bit earlier.¡±

    ¡°I have no objection.¡± Darce shrugged.

    ¡°Nor I,¡± Courbet added. ¡°Take care to stay out of trouble, Maxime. We may be in a savage land, but you must take care not to comport yourself in a savage manner nonetheless.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Maxime assured her, not fully hiding the annoyed tone in his voice. He turned to Florette and Fernan, an expectant look on his face. ¡°Shall we?¡±

 Fernan II: The Culpable

    Fernan II: The Culpable

    ¡°How do you feel?¡± Fernan asked. ¡°Any different?¡±

    G¨¦zarde, the Flame Under the Mountain, Father of Geckos, and now Arbiter of Light, didn¡¯t look wildly different, with the same enlarged, winged appearance that had once greeted Fernan deep within his abode, though perhaps regular eyes would see it differently.

    His hue had changed, though, or perhaps it was in the process of changing. The harsh green that had burned so many villagers had softened, redder and more orange, perhaps as a result of the new role he was filling.

    ¡°I remain myself, and Mara assures me that all my children remain unaffected.¡± G¨¦zarde¡¯s eyes stood out more, too, a distinctly blinding white on either side of his head where once the green aura had obscured such details.

    ¡°That¡¯s good. It¡¯s easy to lose yourself when you¡¯re suddenly thrust up the ladder like this. I appreciate you being willing to do it.¡±

    The sun¡¯s aura darkened, though his posture did not shift. ¡°My will had very little to do with this. You and the girl conspired against Flammare without my knowledge and ensured my victory. Even Mara did not feel the need to inform me. And before that, it was she and her sisters that fought the Queen of Winter in my name, and proved my viability before the spirits.¡±

    ¡°Florette was involved in that too, actually.¡±

    ¡°As were you, I am told. But you two humans remain, while five of my children are dead. Teo and Yevela sought out Glaciel in her domain and never returned. Merin, Tova, and Yadid were pursued through your human streets by her children and hunted no differently from the parties organized by your alderman, Jerome.¡± Twin blasts of red and green fire erupted from the spirit¡¯s eyes. ¡°They died because they followed their father to this wretched human den with its wretched human conflicts they ought to have had no part in.¡±

    ¡°They did,¡± Fernan confessed, bowing his head. ¡°You have my deepest apologies for ever involving your children in this matter.¡± He took a deep breath, readying himself for a longer apology, but he was interrupted by a fierce burst of fire from Mara¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, father! It was the ice people who attacked us, and we sent them fleeing cold across the water. Teo and Yevela went with me because they wanted to fight! They understood what they were getting into.¡±

    ¡°Did they? Or were they eager to follow their eldest and brightest sister wherever she led them?¡±

    Mara exhaled a trail of smoke, but she didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Nor am I exempt from responsibility. I granted my leave, which I knew would be taken as encouragement. Culpability for their deaths rests with me as much as either of you. And you are merely children.¡±

    I¡¯ll be eighteen in a week, was Fernan¡¯s first thought, grossly ill-fitting to the situation. Instead, he said, ¡°We would never have won without them. Glaciel could have disrupted the whole Convocation and kept the world in darkness. Even if she failed, Flammare would be the sun right now, slaughtering his way through thousands of innocents.¡±

    ¡°Innocents.¡± The crater rumbled with the word. ¡°Are my children not innocent? Must they die to save the lives of distant humans whose kin attacked them?¡±

    ¡°Of course not¡­ um¡­¡± Why didn¡¯t I think about that more before we even started all of this? Mara said they were willing to help and I just accepted it. Every last body floating dead in the water can trace their fate back to me.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mara said, standing firm at his side. ¡°If we had buried our heads in our dens and left the humans to their fate, the entire world might stand in darkness. We would all be cold in the earth.¡±

    Fernan placed his hand on the back of her neck, staring into the sun. Thank you, Mara. ¡°I know that no life has a price that can be measured. Counting them is a path to ruin. But Flammare wanted to exterminate every last one of Glaciel¡¯s children. An entire nation drawn from her blood, most of them with no involvement in her arrogant attacks. Imagine a spirit trying to wipe out all of your children, every last gecko. I¡¯m sure that¡¯s what Jerome wanted. Teo and Yevela died for that. They shouldn¡¯t have. But they did, and they helped keep thousands of other children safe.¡±

    ¡°Human children.¡±

    ¡°Spirit-touched, just like Mara and me, threatened because of the actions of their forebears that they had no part in.¡±

    ¡°People!¡± Mara insisted. ¡°Humans aren¡¯t so different from us, really. They get hungry, they get cold, they huddle together to feel safe. They fear, and they look to their spirits to protect them. That¡¯s what we did, Father.¡± She lifted her head to the limited extent she could, facing her father directly. ¡°And we did it willingly. To defend ourselves, and our siblings, and you, and, yes, to protect the humans! They¡¯re so interesting! One of them showed me how to make glass from the sand on the beach, and now Abel is making these really shiny bauble things that the humans wear, and it looks just like our flame, and they¡¯re helping take our ice away on their ships and teaching their language, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And now you¡¯re in a better position to protect them than you ever were before.¡± Getting a bit off-topic, Mara. The ice trade situation didn¡¯t sit well with him either, since the little trinkets and tools the geckos were getting didn¡¯t really seem like a fair exchange for all of the work that they were doing. That was one thing in the darkness when no one anywhere had a need for imported ice, but it was worth addressing now.

    Probably without talking to G¨¦zarde though.

    ¡°Glaciel won¡¯t threaten us again, and any other spirit would think twice before going after the sun!¡±

    ¡°Any humans too, for that matter. They saw that your children helped win them the day; they fought alongside them. Our bad blood is buried deeper than ever, even with a lot of the old people.¡±

    ¡°And there¡¯s so much more to see! So much more to learn! It¡¯s amazing.¡±

    ¡°I quite agree,¡± Lamante said as she swept into view, wearing the same long-haired shape she¡¯d taken at the Convocation. ¡°I¡¯ve always found them endlessly fascinating. So secure in their delusions, every thought at odds with one another. Deceit comes to them so readily that, before long, their very existences are contradictions. And from such a perspective springs ideas that spirits could never come to ourselves. I do not envy such a life, nor am I capable of such lies and killings as they perform so routinely, but I would never leave unacknowledged how much they have to offer us.¡±

    Fernan blinked, surprised he¡¯d missed her entering the crater. ¡°You never kill anyone? You steal people¡¯s faces to worm your way into their trust.¡±

    ¡°And you use those faces to enact murderous conspiracies.¡± She smiled, briefly looking much younger and more innocent than any immortal spirit ought to. Unsettling. ¡°In my entire existence as a spirit, not once have I taken a life. I never will. It¡¯s simply not in my nature.¡±

    And yet somehow that isn¡¯t comforting. ¡°Florette said she returned the mask to you without any issues?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. I made myself available for her to return it upon seeing her success.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°She¡¯s quite grown on me, now that I see what she is capable of. It appears that the Fallen can choose their objects of interest better than I gave them credit for.¡±

    Fernan gulped. Maybe it¡¯s for the better that Florette¡¯s getting out of town soon. ¡°I see.¡±

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    ¡°And you, boy? I had thought to hear from you sooner, now that you¡¯ve tasted the joyous flesh of another, truly worn a person¡¯s skin as your own, and laid claim to their very essence. It¡¯s exquisite, is it not?¡±

    I wanted to rip my face off every second of it. ¡°I¡¯m grateful you were willing to help us.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°I would not object to you owing me a boon, if the need ever arises for you to borrow from my collection again.¡±

    I¡¯d rather jump from the top of this mountain. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Lamante nodded, then turned towards G¨¦zarde. ¡°Your High Priest is practiced in his words, diplomatic. Nothing is stopping you from learning to do the same. It is not only humans who are capable of misdirecting with truth, and it is all the more powerful coming from those such as us.¡± What is she talking about?

    ¡°It does not suit me,¡± G¨¦zarde rumbled.

    ¡°You have plenty of time to see the value in it and learn, so I will leave it alone. But, speak however you might wish, you ought to go. You are seen as culpable for Flammare¡¯s death. Some spirits even suspect you had a hand in Soleil¡¯s, so meteoric was your rise. You need loyal spirits, and your enemies driven from power.¡±

    ¡°Hi! I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve really met properly. My name is Mara! I was the one blasting that fire up on the hill to lure Flammare to his death, and I helped collapse Glaciel¡¯s castle in the White Night.¡±

    ¡°And you have a healthy appreciation for human works. Hello, Mara. I was just speaking with you father, so if you would allow me¡ª¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about? Where are you saying G¨¦zarde should go?¡±

    ¡°Torpierre. Flammare is dead, after all, and spirits will be convening to choose his replacement. Many gathered there already, expecting the manner of Flammare¡¯s retirement from the role to be rather different. Soon they shall begin their Convocation, and if we stand idly by, it shall be a coronation for Tauroneo. Spirits of rock and stone have sought the hearth for centuries. But things have changed since the likes of Ep¨¦us and Carrane set out. Flammare was to elevate him in exchange for his support¡±¡ªshe laughed, as if at a private joke¡ª¡°and now their deal lies in ruin along with Flammare.¡±

    ¡°Which one is Tauroneo?¡± Mara asked, sparing Fernan the need to do it.

    ¡°The Bull of the West. Even buried in rock to his waist, he still towers above most humans.¡±

    Oh, that one. He¡¯d been the first of the Flammare contingent to switch over to G¨¦zarde¡¯s side. I guess now I know why; he wants to keep what he was promised. ¡°If he was Flammare¡¯s choice, I can¡¯t imagine it would be good to give him any more power.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Lamante agreed. ¡°Therefore, G¨¦zarde ought to attend the Convocation with his supporters and push for another candidate. Fala, perhaps, or a lesser spirit of rock and stone whom we can be sure owes their position to us.¡±

    I thought there was only one earth spirit? And no one, not Lord Lumi¨¨re or Camille or the Duchess or even Florette talking about some story, had ever mentioned any sages with dominion over the earth. But Tauroneo was hardly hiding his existence; they must know.

    ¡°Why do the spirits of rock and stone refuse to make pacts with humans?¡± Fernan guessed.

    ¡°They deem it unnecessary.¡± Lamante shrugged. ¡°It leaves them weak, but they have yet to be suitably challenged to adapt. That gives us an opportunity.¡±

    ¡°Us?¡± G¨¦zarde asked, speaking up at last. ¡°I fail to see what reason you have for any of this, face-stealer.¡±

    ¡°The lesser spirits. The downtrodden, the unconsidered, the misfortuned. All those who chafe against the arbitrary whims and restraints of Arbiters who have not been truly tested since before humanity¡¯s existence. Several of them are dead now, another sealed away. Either they must adapt, or be replaced. And I do not find it likely that they will choose correctly. But their power is entrenched.¡±

    Like Georges Rive, in that story the Condorcet guard told me. ¡°It¡¯s nice that spirits actually get to have a say in who fills these roles. Humans seldom have the opportunity, even for far more minor positions.¡±

    ¡°I might express that sentiment with a stronger word than ¡®nice¡¯, but I must agree. Our convocations are sharply limited by who is able and willing to appear at them, as well as the will of Arbiters and the fear of reprisals for crossing them after the vote, but at least the mechanism exists for us to have choice in the matter. That¡¯s why I always make it a point to attend them, no matter how minor the spirit or far-flung their seat.¡± Lamante laughed. ¡°Though this was before my time, I have been assured that it is vastly preferable to our old way of settling disputes directly, which tended to leave lasting scars on the land like the Paix Lake or the Rhan.¡±

    ¡°It was dreadful,¡± G¨¦zarde agreed. ¡°Not for nothing did I choose to reside under an unreachable mountain for three millenia.¡±

    ¡°In any case, my point remains the same,¡± Lamante continued. ¡°We lesser spirits must stand together against them or they will push us back out of power. You, most of all, G¨¦zarde. The Arbiter of Light must keep order over some of the world¡¯s most volatile spirits. Whatever Flammare¡¯s faults, he certainly would have been capable at that task.¡±

    ¡°He wanted to wipe out an entire nation of people to the last child.¡±

    ¡°One fault of many, and certainly reason enough to keep him from G¨¦zarde¡¯s position. I assure you, by my estimation, Tauroneo is just as deserving. If you and Florette wish to take care of him as well, I would not object. But keeping him from power should be sufficient, for the moment. By your leave, G¨¦zarde, I would visit Fala and urge him to present his claim in Torpierre.¡±

    G¨¦zarde began to shimmer redder, his head tilted towards the sky. ¡°This sounds sensible. But sensible-sounding words have wrought great damage upon my hive many times before. Mara, what would you have me do?¡±

    Mara jumped up into the air a little, smoke trailing out of her mouth. ¡°Do it, Father! Fuck him up!¡±

    ¡°I am unsure as to your meaning, Mara.¡±

    ¡°Florette taught it to me! It means you make him regret trying to go against you. It would help keep us safe from another Glaciel trying anything.¡±

    His suspicious feelings about Lamante aside, Fernan had to agree in principle. Elevating another ¡®lesser¡¯ spirit could do almost as much good as G¨¦zarde, and without the need to kill again. ¡°I also think you should do it.¡±

    ¡°Your opinion was not requested, Sage of Villechart.¡± G¨¦zarde paused. ¡°But it is appreciated. I would not be here without you and your fellow humans.¡± His head turned towards Lamante. ¡°Bring Fala here. I will speak with him myself.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± Fernan said, grabbing Mara and turning to go. Nice to see G¨¦zarde finally taking the initiative to do something himself. A passive figure was leagues better than Flammare, but the real hope was a spirit who could actually do some good in the world, for humans and spirits alike.

    ¡°Thanks for backing me up,¡± he said to Mara, once he was reasonably sure they were out of earshot.

    ¡°I just told him the truth.¡±

    ¡°You know it wasn¡¯t your fault, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course it was, Fernan. I¡¯m their big sister, and Father never would have allowed it without me convincing him.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You did what was right. So did I. So did Teo and Yevela. They can¡¯t live with it, so we¡¯ll have to.¡± She continued on without turning back, so Fernan let the topic drop and kept following her.

    The city was buzzing once they returned, people flitting by so fast that Fernan could barely recognize their light ¡ª rebuilding from the White Night, transporting food into the walls from the Gold Road, even constructing new cabins in the same style as the mountain villages they¡¯d hailed from.

    Strange to see a piece of home right in the middle of the city, but I suppose we brought it with us.

    Mara had walked back slowly for Fernan¡¯s benefit all the way back, but she took off quickly enough once they arrived. Florette was taking her out on a boat, apparently, to show her that there was nothing to fear.

    As amusing as that sounded, and as nice as it would be to get more time in with Florette before she had to leave again for parts unknown, Fernan had an appointment to keep.

    He chose a nice spot on the rocks, far enough from the fray not to be bothered, and downed his flask of nightshade.

    Camille hadn¡¯t spoken to him since before the Battle of White Night. She didn¡¯t know anything about the situation with Flammare and G¨¦zarde, but she could offer her insight now. As imperious as she could be, her information had been invaluable for convincing the spirits, both at the Convocation and beforehand, when taking Glaciel down.

    If Lamante could not be trusted, which seemed likely, Camille Leclaire would be the one to know, complete with some three hundred year old story about her ancestors teaming up with the face stealer to kick some orphans, or something.

    And, sooner or later, she¡¯s going to learn what we did to Flammare. Better to tell her himself, to frame things as favorably as possible.

    If there existed any chance to commute Florette¡¯s exile, the girl she had helped so much in Malin, betrothed to the Fox-King himself, seemed like the best possibility, if still a distant one.

    Fernan leaned back on the rocks, warm in the sunlight, and readied his hands to conjure her flaming image.

    Or I might just make things worse. I¡¯ve been doing a lot of that, lately.

    But he had to try.

 Camille II: The Communicator

    Camille II: The Communicator

    A New Day in Malin

    by Scott Temple, Editor-in-Chief

    ¡°The sun is risen. The Sovereign of Darkness is in captivity. Our city is at peace.¡±

    So spoke the Maiden of Dawn, Lady Camille Leclaire, in the scarlet light of our first morning since the summer solstice. Though the need for security kept it secret until now, the Daily Quotidien is proud to be the first to report that Magnifico, the villainous bard who assassinated Duke Fouchand of Guerron while a guest under his roof, conspired to frame Fouchand¡¯s granddaughter and lawful heir, Duchess Annette Debray, and singlehandedly plunged the world into darkness, is none other than King Harold IV Grimoire of Avalon, father of the reviled Prince of Darkness, Lucifer Grimoire.

    King Harold, already being held in Imperial custody due to his crimes committed under the alias ¡®Magnifico¡¯, had his identity discovered as a result of prolonged investigation from the Imperial Bureau of Spiritual Affairs, headed by Lady Camille Leclaire. In order to make his darkness last forever and wipe out all of humanity, the King of Avalon conspired with his son Lucifer to slay our new sun, Flammare of the Hearth.

    This effort was thwarted thanks to the Fox-King, Lucien Renart, and his fianc¨¦e, Lady Camille Leclaire. Leclaire banished the Prince of Darkness at the moment of the sun¡¯s ascension, ushering Malin into a new dawn of peace, prosperity, and light.

    Essential to the effort was Chair of the Convocation of Commerce, Eloise Clocha?ne, whose interview can be found on Page 4. Clocha?ne¡¯s father Jacques, founder of Clocha?ne Candles, was found dead earlier this month in a gruesome scene whose chief architect was none other than Lucifer Grimoire, Prince of Darkness. Grimoire¡¯s obsessive pursuit of tyrannical power¡­ [Continued on Page 2]

    Camille set the journal down on the floor, far from the basin of water she¡¯d had set up in her office in the Governor¡¯s Mansion. Which needs a different name now. I¡¯m surprised I never thought of that.

    ¡®Maiden¡¯¡¯ feels somewhat infantilizing, and it¡¯s monstrously unfair to Luce, but those unfortunately only make it more effective. Scott had correctly pointed out that her image could use a good bit of softening after all the work he¡¯d done to paint her as a scheming adultering sorceress, and Camille had reluctantly had to agree.

    In a year, the appellation will be dead anyway, because they¡¯ll be calling me Empress.

    If Levian hasn¡¯t claimed my soul for failing him, anyway.

    Her new editor had apparently also taken her advice about the ¡®Ecrivan¡¯ name getting him laughed out of the room the moment Lucien and his entourage arrived and changed it to something more palatable, though still recognizable Avaline in pronunciation. He still wants the appearance of a foot in both camps, and I can hardly blame him when it¡¯ll only lend him credibility. Still, one to watch. His loyalty had proven plenty flexible already.

    Eloise deserved such consideration too, as a matter of caution as much as practicality, but so far she¡¯d given no cause for distrust save her foul attitude, which was clearly skin-deep. The erstwhile pirate had shown up in force before the dawn, her inherited rabble falling in easily enough under the command of the Acolytes to patrol the city in these first crucial days. Eloise had even sourced the psyben root Camille desperately needed from some dark corner of the city, despite supplies of the hallucinogenic having dwindled to nearly nothing after darkness fell. Even now, she was waiting outside the door, keeping watch as Camille waited for the visions to begin.

    Fernan was usually easy to find; Camille was practiced enough to skip past most of the uncontrolled visions. Useful as they had the potential to be, communication was the higher priority.

    The familiar thrumming energy began to overcome her as she conjured a roughly human facsimile out of the water, drawing on the power from the loyalists that Boothe had slain in her name.

    Speaking of uncertain loyalties¡­

    Lucien could not get here soon enough.

    As the water mannequin¡¯s eyes began to expand outward, it gradually took on Fernan¡¯s gangly form, looking rather distressed to see Camille. Though whether that was due to the sometimes metaphorical nature of these visions showing the boy¡¯s emotions, an echo of an earlier sentiment, or genuine reluctance in his face was impossible to say.

    ¡°Sire Montaigne,¡± Camille greeted him with a smile. ¡°While I am eager to hear all the details of the Convocation, I can see that events proceeded roughly as your schedule dictated that they would. First, I have vital news to share with you, and a message you must pass on to my beloved.¡±

    The water flickered, Camille¡¯s hands moving unconsciously to guide it in tandem with her vision of the flame sage. ¡°Lady Leclaire, it¡¯s true that the sun ascended on the night that I said it would happen, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I did it!¡± Camille erupted, not able to wait for him to finish. ¡°Malin is ours once more. Avalon¡¯s grip is broken. The Prince of Darkness fled, along with the greater part of the most ardent Avaline loyalists.¡±

    Fernan stayed silent for a moment, his head tilted to the side. ¡°Who is the Prince of Darkness?¡±

    ¡°Lucifer Grimoire,¡± Camille answered. A man willing to work with me to help people, who lost everything because it was the only way to win our freedom back. Because I set him up to fail then drove the final icicle into his eye. ¡°Magnifico¡¯s son, who¡¯d been controlling Malin in his name.¡±

    ¡°His youngest¡­ Magnifico called him Luce.¡± The water in the echo¡¯s eyes died down, matching the fire in Fernan¡¯s. ¡°He said he thought we would get along.¡±

    You¡¯ve never met the man, and yet even you feel the need to compound my guilt. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to join him in Avalon to find out. Or try Condorcet if you¡¯re so eager to meet Magnifico¡¯s ilk; those verbose freaks love darkness far more than the prince of it. In the meantime, Lucien needs to marshall his forces and lead them here immediately, so that we can fortify the city and consolidate Imperial control. Time is of the essence.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass the message on at once,¡± Fernan said, his head bobbing with uncharacteristic deference. ¡°I¡¯m glad I found you in a good mood.¡±

    ¡°You should be too! This is cause for celebration! Not only does the sun once again rest in the sky, but the Fox Queen¡¯s banner once again flies over her stalwart capital. The heart of the Empire has at last returned.¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± His head turned back, looking towards what Camille saw as the door to the room, though it was doubtless something else for him. ¡°Listen, Flammare did ascend as the Arbiter of Light. We do have a sun now. And it all happened when it was supposed to. That¡¯s all for the good, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± What on earth is he driving at? ¡°And thank you for ensuring that it all came to pass when it was supposed to. The timing was crucial for me here, and I wouldn¡¯t have even known about it without you.¡± A reward would not be inappropriate at this juncture, if the boy knew well enough to ask for it. ¡°Did Flammare try to delay things again?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he answered modestly, avoiding the slightest chance to embellish in his own favor. One of the good ones indeed. Haltingly, the water echo opened its mouth once more. ¡°But he was killed within minutes of his ascension. G¨¦zarde took on most of his energy and was acclaimed by the spirits. It is he who shines down from above as we speak, not Flammare.¡±

    ¡°You got your wish,¡± Camille said, a moment before her mind processed what Fernan had said. ¡°Killed? Flammare was a venerable and ancient spirit, more powerful than Glaciel by far. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°Florette surprised him, using the same weapon Magnifico used to end Soleil.¡±

    ¡°Florette? Her?¡±

    ¡°She believed she had good cause, given the war of extermination Flammare was determined to wage. The spirits seemed to agree, since none of them pursued her.¡±

    ¡°Only the weakest and most foolish spirits could ever meet their end at the hands of a human, so their logic tends to go. You might expect that Avalon would have put an end to that foolishness, but even the best of spirits are often slow to adapt. They would no more retaliate against Florette than you or I would conduct a manhunt for a mosquito that bit Guy Valvert.¡± Her words were automatic, reciting knowledge of the spirits deeply ingrained in her mind.

    ¡°That¡¯s a relief.¡±

    Camille tried to take a moment to think, even knowing her time in this conversation was limited. The ancient spirit of the hearth had been usurped by a nearly unknown hermit of little renown or power. Fernan seemed to be implying that Florette had done this of her own accord, in order to prevent Flammare¡¯s imminent war with Glaciel. Knowing Florette, that was believable enough on its face, but the fact that Fernan¡¯s patron had ended up taking the Arbiter seat spoke volumes. However much he demurred, Fernan had been involved. He might even have asked his friend to do the deed for him.

    And taking that risk had jeopardized everything. If the spirits hadn¡¯t swiftly chosen a replacement, if the conspiracy against Flammare had become known to him and delayed his ascension, if the slightest thing had gone wrong¡­

    My every plan would have failed, and my soul would be forfeit.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Camille had neared the brink of perdition without even being aware, all because Florette had once again failed to control her impulses and killed someone.

    ¡°I¡¯m hoping you can understand. She took a risk, but it paid off, and now our sun is far better than the last. Surely that¡¯s forgivable?¡±

    ¡°In gross, this is certainly for the better. Flammare was odious, and his ascension would have meant empowering Laura Bougitte, someone who understandably does not regard me fondly. That said, your friend¡¯s recklessness is out of control. I was hoping never to hear her name again, and instead you tell me that she nearly ruined everything. I have no idea how she killed Flammare, but it couldn¡¯t have been a foolproof plan. This was a gamble, undertaken without sanction or even notification, and the entire world hung in the balance.¡±

    ¡°She tricked him, using the same methods Magnifico used to kill Soleil. Flammare was lured away by someone he believed was his sage, then stabbed before he could react.¡±

    Camille¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°She deceived Flammare?¡±

    ¡°The Fox-King believes that someone impersonated Laura using one of the Face Stealer¡¯s masks, but not because of any evidence.¡±

    ¡°He always thought too highly of her,¡± Camille said, her nose wrinkled. ¡°In any case, Florette¡¯s culpability is clear, and it¡¯s not the sort of thing we can just ignore.¡±

    ¡°You won, Lady Leclaire. You got everything you wanted, and you couldn¡¯t have done it without me. Am I wrong?¡±

    ¡°You are not.¡±

    ¡°Then grant me a boon in exchange. Spare Florette, and ask the Fox-King to leave her alone.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to¡ª¡± Camille paused, really considering the offer. My owing you a favor is a powerful thing, Fernan. If you want to waste it on this, I suppose I have no objection. ¡°Very well. We can¡¯t be seen to let her shenanigans slide, but we can give her time to leave. Only once she¡¯s outside the Empire¡¯s borders will the truth of her involvement come out.

    ¡°That¡¯s what your betrothed already told her. She has to leave by tomorrow, with her attainder to come soon after.¡±

    ¡°Then Lucien and I are of one mind on this. I¡¯m sorry, Fernan, but if word were to spread that we had broken faith with the spirits, every compact we had ever entered and could ever enter in the future would be cast into doubt. Publicly, Florette has to be an enemy, or the spirits could never trust us again, and every free nation on the continent along with them. Even my pact with Levian would be at risk.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t consider your favor repaid yet, since Lucien already intended to grant it. But I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s the best we can do.¡±

    Fernan nodded glumly, the chin of the water homunculus folding into its neck.

    ¡°How is he, by the way? I know the White Night was a hard-fought thing. You told me he wasn¡¯t wounded severely, but¡­¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fine, despite Levian¡¯s best efforts. For all the peasants that died in the White Night under his command, Lucien Renart walked free, victorious.¡±

    ¡°Such is the way of war,¡± Camille said, relieved. ¡°Their deaths brought that victory, without which I am confident that your patron spirit would never have ascended. As for Levian, I¡¯m sorry that he did not show up to aid you, but spirits do not subject themselves to the whims of humans, even their High Priestess. Were I able to meet with him, I would have asked, but even then, the chances were slim.¡±

    ¡°Aid us? He nearly killed us all.¡±

    ¡°That seems a bit over dramatic. I was there with you when you formulated your plans, and they never assumed that Levian would help. He hardly deserted us in an hour of need.¡±

    ¡°He joined the fight on Glaciel¡¯s side! He only left once her cause seemed doomed. Because Florette beat her in a duel, no less.¡±

    Camille froze. ¡°What?¡± Has he finally figured out how to lie, but he¡¯s really bad at it? But any deceptions would be exposed as soon as she saw Lucien, and¡­ ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    ¡°Your uncle didn¡¯t seem surprised. Levian thought he would benefit from it without risking anything, and so far it seems like he was right.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ Levian knows that¡­ He wouldn¡¯t¡­ My family served him for generations, since before the Fox-Queen. He¡¯s not¡­ It wouldn¡¯t¡­¡± Wouldn¡¯t he, though? It wasn¡¯t as if the politics of Guerron were of any interest to Levian. He genuinely might not even know that he was opposing Camille by doing it. And if he did, would he really care?

    This is the spirit I¡¯m sworn to serve. This is who I must deliver one thousand souls to by the year¡¯s end, or die trying.

    ¡°I need to talk to Lucien.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how this works, though, right? I mean, you told me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Camille slashed her hand down, drawing a gash in the shoulder of the Fernan figure that left the real one unharmed. ¡°Just¡­¡± Fuck!

    What I wouldn¡¯t give for a sentence of Fouchand¡¯s advice right now¡­ Uncle Emile¡¯s voice would be soothing too, if only she could hear it. He had lost his mastery of the visions due to his injuries, and lost much of that warmth besides. The little that Fernan had spoken of him painted a portrait of a hardened man, almost callous after his failure, driven by pragmatism above all else.

    Not so different from me in that regard, I suppose. But that was not the fate she would have wished on her uncle.

    The relentless beige of the walls was starting to run together, the wooden door rippling in place as the same energy coursing through Camille flowed through it.

    ¡°La¡­ claire¡­¡± The image began to collapse in on itself, the water echo of Fernan slowly dissolving back into the basin. ¡°Flo¡­ette¡­ Please¡­¡±

    The clarity of the visions was fading fast, like Camille was losing her grip on them.

    I have been a sage for seventeen years. I have partaken of psyben and its ilk for more than five. I shall not let it best me with merely startling news.

    If Fernan¡¯s words were even real¡­ Had I lost control  already, when I heard them? Is my magic reflecting my fears back at me, rather than any universal truth?

    That had been the effect for the first year Camille had spent learning to master it, and it had taken another before she was confident in it. How Fernan mastered it so quickly, I cannot know, but now everything is unraveling.

    Her mother would shudder to see such a failure at something so practiced.

    ¡°Stop this,¡± Camille muttered to herself. ¡°Regain your poise.¡±

    ¡°If you insist,¡± Fernan responded, slouching against the back of the wall.

    Only, I¡¯m sure the water didn¡¯t move¡­

    It wasn¡¯t Fernan, either. His eyes looked normal, and his hair was dark¡­ ¡°Mordred Boothe?¡±

    ¡°My greetings to you, Camille Leclaire. I¡¯m sorry to drop in unannounced.¡±

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Camille blinked, trying to marshall her focus through the haze. ¡°Eloise was supposed to be guarding the door.¡±

    ¡°I heard you muttering to yourself like a lunatic, then say the name ¡®Florette¡¯ thirty times in as many seconds. Of course I¡¯d just sit and wait.¡±

    ¡°Eloise?¡± Camille pressed her hands to her face, trying to will back her control of herself.

    ¡°My opening the door did seem to disturb you, which I apologize for.¡±

    ¡°You weren''t supposed to be listening in at all.¡± Camille snarled. ¡°And I was very clear that I am not to be disturbed.¡±

    Boothe laughed. ¡°On account of the psyben you ingested? I was always partial to tasting it socially. Ernest Monfroy certainly knows how to take you on a journey.  But I suppose we all have our preferences.¡± He laughed, and the room grew dark in concert with his voice.

    ¡°Yes, encourage her, Jethro. That¡¯s a brilliant way to talk someone down.¡± Eloise¡¯s arms were folded, or perhaps that was simply an impression from the visions since she stood that way so often. But then, the fact that she stood that way so often made it more likely that she was doing it right now. The truth had done a loop through different mediums then returned to its place of origin, changed. But who could say where it truly began?

    Where did I even begin?

    ¡°Camille?¡±

    Where do I end?

    ¡°I¡¯m going to die.¡± She could feel a pain in her lip, though she wasn¡¯t sure where it was coming from. ¡°Half my life is gone already, and I¡¯ve spent it in service to a monster. And I¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey, come on.¡± Through a sneer, Eloise awkwardly patted Camille on the shoulder. ¡°I knew nobles were bad at mathematics, but even you should know your life isn¡¯t nearly half over, as long as you don¡¯t piss off the wrong person before your time. So, granted, you might have a point. But that¡¯s not something you need to worry about right now.¡±

    ¡°It could be even sooner, if I don¡¯t grant Levian his due. If I don¡¯t do something horrible for someone horrible. And myself.¡± Camille tilted her head. ¡°Perhaps the ¡®and¡¯ isn¡¯t even necessary. Rather, it ought to be a colon.¡±

    ¡°What is she talking about?¡± Eloise whispered, too loudly not to be heard.

    ¡°Don¡¯t focus on it too hard. Monfroy always told me to take the emotions, rather than the words. You ought to do the same, Camille.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to give her that advice!¡± Eloise hissed.

    ¡°Unless I die before the year is out. My soul would remain unclaimed, Levian unenriched by a thousand souls¡­¡± She stared through the ceiling to the starry sky above. ¡°That would be the right thing to do. I brought this on myself.¡±

    ¡°Likely,¡± said Eloise. ¡°But you get what you put in.¡±

    ¡°Unless fate conspires against you from your very conception.¡± Boothe¡¯s voice sounded cleaner, more full of conviction.

    More mundane.

    Pressing her hands against her face, Camille inhaled and reached for clarity.

    Eloise¡¯s arms weren¡¯t folded. ¡°You seem to be doing fine.¡±

    ¡°Appearances can be deceiving.¡± Boothe stood straight up and down, lacking his aura of darkness. ¡°I¡¯m quite interested to know how Lady Leclaire arrived at that one-half figure.¡±

    ¡°Just a guess,¡± she said, trying not to say any more than she already had. Your failure to behave yourself appropriately is an embarrassment, Camille could almost hear her mother say. Salvaging her reputation with these two would be an uphill battle from here.

    But somehow that didn¡¯t seem as important as the decision she¡¯d made.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be that long anyway. I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly when I said that.¡±

    Camille caught Boothe¡¯s eyes light up, and felt monstrously foolish for blurting so many things out. ¡°All I asked for was to be left alone! Eloise, all that you had to do was stand in front of a door, and you failed.¡±

    ¡°She was worried about you,¡± Boothe said. ¡°Rather understandably, in my estimation.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, worried about what horrible thing you¡¯d do next.¡±

    Camille nodded, feeling the words penetrate her flesh. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m not going to do it anymore. No matter what it costs me.¡±

 Florette II: The Exile

    Florette II: The Exile

    ¡°What is he like, Robin Verrou?¡± Maxime asked as they approached the harbor, warm rays of sun shining down from above.

    I guess you¡¯d want to know more about the man sending you on an apparently-vital mission to distant shores. Maxime had asked for an introduction, which Florette was happy to grant, but it seemed strange that he would know so little about his own business. I suppose it¡¯s safer, in case anyone interrogates him. But if that was the reason, it still spoke to a lack of trust from his benefactors. Strange.

    Regardless, it was an easy enough favor to grant, and it allowed her to mine his experiences for further details.

    ¡°Confident,¡± Florette answered. ¡°But why wouldn¡¯t he be? It doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s stupid or reckless.¡± I could have stood to learn the distinction a lot sooner, for my part.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t he have to be reckless, to conduct even a fraction of the operations he so regularly engages in? Stealing from the Thirteen is nearly unthinkable, and he was in and out of the Pointe before two days had passed. I wonder if he even remembers the expedition, now.¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Maybe not.¡± Florette shrugged. ¡°But don¡¯t underestimate him. Avalon¡¯s been trying to nail his head to the wall for seventeen years, and they haven¡¯t managed it yet.¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯s the greatest sword fighter the world has ever seen?¡±

    ¡°Because he has people to support him, who respect him. It surprised me, too, when I first boarded the Folly, but he¡¯s really the first among equals. They vote on almost everything.¡±

    ¡°Such is only the natural way for a group to make decisions.¡± Maxime clenched his fist. ¡°If only the world had not forgotten that. If only Condorcet had not forgotten, in practice if not in doctrine. What democratic decisions can be reached when critics are jailed and executed?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, your home sounds pretty dire.¡± Though still not as bad as people like Camille would have us believe. ¡°Even in occupied Malin, I never saw anyone jailed just for having a pamphlet in their bag.¡±

    ¡°Do not believe, simply because you did not witness it, that such events did not occur.¡± His voice sounded wise and knowledgeable, but his point was undercut when he stepped into a knee-deep puddle on the road with a loud splash. ¡°I would have thought a city inhabited for so long by a sage of water would have better drainage systems.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, this seems pretty good to me.¡± Florette waved her hand across the stone of the street, gesturing to the flowing gutters at the side which surpassed several mountain streams in size. ¡°We went from a sunless winter to late summer in the space of a night. All that snow has to go somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I suppose.¡±

    They walked in silence for another few minutes, Maxime furiously batting at his trousers in a doomed attempt to expel the water soaked through them. Shame we didn¡¯t take Fernan and Mara with us. They¡¯d have him dry in a heartbeat.

    And soon I won¡¯t be able to see them for a long, long time.

    ¡°I¡¯m an exile too now, I suppose. The Fox-King only gave me three days to vacate the city, probably the whole Duchy of Guerron, if I want to be safe.¡±

    ¡°His use for you expired, and so it was more convenient to discard you. Such is the way of aristocrats.¡±

    Yup, and now I need to find somewhere else to go.

    Maxime had apparently been allowed into Realm of the Exiles, but Florette had no idea how that would have worked in practice. Its borders were murky, its members defined more by the taxes they didn¡¯t pay to the High Kingdom than any real nationality. No one even knew where the heart of it lay, except that they had a hidden city somewhere between the mountains and the lake.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose the Realm of the Exiles is accepting new members?¡± Maxime had been tight-lipped about any specifics, but he clearly seemed satisfied, and the Queen¡¯s propensity for defiance was well-known, even dating back to the Winter War. ¡°I imagine you know the way in, since you¡¯ve lived there.¡±

    Maxime sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°She would be honored to have you, as would we all, but I¡¯m not permitted to disclose that secret to outsiders. No one is.¡±

    ¡°But then how did you find it in the first place? How does anyone?¡±

    ¡°I fled, and they found me. It was mere fate that I ran along the eastern shore of Paix Lake, rather than the west. If you wish to stumble around the region and hope for the same, you are welcome to do so, but I¡¯d sooner recommend you wait. The Queen told me that Verrou will send me elsewhere once we rendezvous, but he also has the fastest ship in the world. Once my assignment is done, I shall petition the Queen for your entry. Until then, simply lay low. Sit tight, as it were.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really do well, sitting still.¡± So the Exiles are out, for now. Malin has Camille and Eloise in it, which is reason enough to stay away. Condorcet won¡¯t hand me over, but I¡¯ll be forever on the edge of signing my death warrant for saying the wrong thing¡­

    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to be away for too long. I¡¯m sure you can manage a few months. At least, I hope this doesn¡¯t drag on too long.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Not a fan of running the Exile Queen¡¯s errands?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure that my mission will be of value; I can certainly trust her in that. But the moment my business is done, wherever Verrou sends me, I have every intention of returning here.¡±

    ¡°Here? You mean this ¡®here¡¯? Guerron?¡±

    ¡°Precisely. These Montaignards of yours are the beginning of something, mark my words. You fought of your own initiative, using your own arms. That¡¯s a threat to the power structure if I¡¯ve ever heard one. However this all shakes out, I¡¯m confident it will mean improvements to the peasant way of life here. Who knows? Perhaps even a revolution.¡±

    Wouldn¡¯t that be something? ¡°I certainly don¡¯t plan to give those pistols up. Maybe a few, with a lie saying it¡¯s all of them, but even that I¡¯m not sure about. I guess it¡¯s not my decision to make, in the end. But they threw us common people into the meat-grinder on the White Night, while Lucien Renart and his knights took all the credit.¡±

    ¡°Such is the way of structured power. But force of arms can challenge and has challenged it. In my native Condorcet, through Khali¡¯s magic, and in the Realm of the Exiles, through our Queen¡¯s prowess. Ultimately, violence is the means by which all authority is derived. Possessing that means without sanction from authority will inevitably invite conflict in one form or another. I dearly hope that it results in positive ends.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Florette muttered, Cassia Arion¡¯s face flashing before her mind, fresh and clear even now thanks to the Fallen. If violence is authority, then what good would it do to erect the same structures? But perhaps she was misunderstanding his point. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t positive results still be temporary, though? I mean, that¡¯s what happened in Condorcet, the way you describe it. The same authority and magic they used to defy oppressors was turned back on its own people.¡±

    Maxime frowned. ¡°To that particular problem, I have yet to find a firm solution, even among the Exiles. Please let me know if ever you do. But the best way I have found to conceptualize things, keeping in mind that all authority is ultimately derived from an expression of the means to do violence, is that authority itself need not be our only structure. Condorcet lost sight of that, deifing the Thirteen due to their powers from Khali, but we need not. We can collaborate, form group consensus at a level comprehensible to each citizen, rather than being beholden to elevated sages or senators or kings.¡±

    ¡°Would you say that the Realm of the Exiles does that?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    ¡°Yet it¡¯s ruled by a Queen.¡± A common-born pirate queen who told the real monarchs to piss off and got away with it seventy years, but still a queen.

    ¡°She is not so different from how you described Verrou: The first among equals, in practice if not in title. And her prowess serves as authority to back the equality of the exiles.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Like Khali did in Condorcet?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes. That¡¯s rather my issue with it.¡± Maxime looked over his shoulder, perhaps towards the hidden village. ¡°The Queen is pure of heart, and far from tyrannical, but her strength is known to all, and it backs her every action. Perhaps it is not my place to criticize she who took me in, but that is not a fair nor equitable arrangement. I¡¯ve been pushing for us to hold elections, but people are so spread out, so wary of authority¡­ Anything that looks like a census is liable to be met with fire and pitchforks, even if it truly empowers them.¡±

    ¡°And she must be incredibly old by now. Even if she were only twenty-five in the Winter War, she¡¯d be pushing eighty by now. What happens when she dies?¡±

    Maxime shook his head sadly. ¡°She will choose her successor, just like any king or queen might. Even if she chooses another who is strong but fair, willing to lead from consensus and provide fairly for all, they still must choose their own successor. It only takes one break in the chain to leave us in ruin. Something must be done.¡± His face brightened up, filled with energy. ¡°Here, though? The Montaignards have no king. Even the man they¡¯re named for is hardly more than a figurehead. Indeed, he scarcely seems to be involved at all. And the name itself is an invention, an expression of common birth and universal symbols.¡±

    ¡°Pleased you think so highly of us.¡± And apparently less highly of Fernan, though I doubt he¡¯d care.

    ¡°Indeed!¡± He sighed. ¡°If only I were not stuck on this assignment. It is so rare to see peasants with a monopoly on any kind of force, let alone machines advanced enough that even one could fell a high priestess at her moment of victory.¡±

    Florette laughed, thinking of Camille¡¯s likely reaction to someone impressed that she got shot. ¡°If you think that¡¯s impressive, you should see what they did to Glaciel. The Montaignards brought her to a standstill, to the point I could beat her in a duel.¡±

    ¡°You dueled the Queen of Winter and survived?¡±

    ¡°Won. Thanks to Corro and the Montaignards.¡± I¡¯m making them sound like a group of traveling players. ¡°I had a lot of help stealing the weapons in the first place, too, but that crew mostly stayed back in Malin. They didn¡¯t have as much scrutiny on them, since I was the only one whose identity was discovered.¡±

    Unbidden, Eloise¡¯s parting words forced themselves to her mind.

    You know why I¡¯m staying and you have to leave? Because you got fucking seen! The Captain of the Guardians knows your face because you couldn¡¯t keep it together for two minutes in the middle of a job without killing someone. And for what? You accomplished nothing.

    ¡°Honestly, assassinating the governor might have been a mistake. It¡¯s not like his wife was any better. But I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Mouth wide open, Maxime couldn¡¯t seem to stop blinking. ¡°You impress me more by the minute, fair demoiselle.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do it all for you.¡± Turning towards the water, Florette couldn¡¯t help but roll her eyes. You wouldn¡¯t be so impressed if you realized how haphazard it all was. I nearly died a dozen times over. ¡°Come on, you have a Captain to meet.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Of course.¡±

    Fortunately there wasn¡¯t far to go, by that point, all the more so now that moving around outside wasn¡¯t such a frigid, hazardous affair. The snowmelt did have an effect of its own, though, if the extremely high tide was anything to go by.

    Rushing streams from the street and mountains crossed across the beach at such size and speed that it rivaled the Sartaire, and the water line was higher besides.

    I suppose that¡¯s what happens in a time that¡¯s sort of summer, sort of winter, and sort of spring. Hopefully it would all balance out in time for a normal autumn.

    The Seaward Folly had transformed so dramatically that Florette almost didn¡¯t recognize it, covered in metal plating like the boats from the Foxtrap, a massive wedge at the front to presumably break through any sheets of ice in front of it. Alongside the mast ran a metal pipe that stretched up past the rigging, a decidedly mechanical touch for a sailing ship.

    Either they stole more plans from Avalon, or Blaise rigged this up all on his own. Either way, impressive. Even if it did make the ship far uglier.

    Once inside, though, things looked much the same as they had before, down to the way the hammocks hung down from the ceiling in the main gathering room. This time, the room was mostly empty, the pirates probably enjoying their time ashore in a friendly port. No need to hide from Magnifico or sequester their ship under the water.

    Captain Verrou was here, though, speaking with the shipmaster, Cordelia. His voice fell to a hush when he saw Florette and Maxime walk in, the conversation dying before Florette could catch a word of it.

    ¡°Thank you, Cordelia. I¡¯ll take this from here.¡± Verrou pressed a hand to her shoulder and smiled, waiting for her to excuse herself before continuing. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you alive, Florette. I was worried you¡¯d been caught with Elizabeth and the others on Eloise¡¯s ship.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t make it that far,¡± Florette said honestly. ¡°Eloise dropped me in Malin before her little crewmate kerfuffle. She¡¯s alive too, by the way. When Elizabeth mutinied, El and Prince Luce got tossed from the boat. They had to wander their way through Refuge eating nothing but fish for weeks, but they made it.¡± As little consideration as Eloise deserved, telling Verrou where to find her was just basic decency. ¡°She¡¯s in Malin, if you¡¯re looking for her.¡±

    ¡°So I thought, but it¡¯s good to hear confirmation.¡± Verrou stroked his chin. ¡°For all her limitations, I do wish her well, though I can¡¯t expect you to feel the same way. And I know that Jacques will take care of her, in his own way.¡±

    Should I say anything? Put like that, why should Florette hold her tongue? ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure. He ordered an Acolyte¡¯s death just for helping me steal something, when he was all ready to get out of town and lay low. Not to mention, Claude wouldn¡¯t have said anything even if they caught him.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it. Jacques is¡­ also limited, in many ways. But he cares about Eloise more than anything. If she wants to go back to counting his ill-gotten coppers, that¡¯s her choice.¡± He shrugged, smiling. ¡°She¡¯s allowed to choose wrong, Florette. Perhaps some day she¡¯ll even realize she did. But it¡¯s not our duty to save her from herself.¡±

    ¡°That¡­¡± Why do I feel better? ¡°Thanks, Captain Verrou.¡± Suddenly, she realized that Maxime had just been awkwardly standing there. And I promised him an introduction, too. ¡°And let me introduce Maximilien of the Pointe, emissary of the Exile Queen.¡± She turned to the infiltrator in question, shrinking back from her point. ¡°Maxime, this is Captain Robin Verrou, whom I believe needs no introduction.¡±

    Maxime nodded hurriedly. ¡°My apologies, Captain Verrou. I remained silent, as I was entirely unaware of what you and the lady here were talking about. If you wish to discuss anything further without me, I have no objection to waiting outside.¡±

    ¡°After,¡± Verrou said. What does he want to say to me that he can¡¯t in front of Maxime? ¡°First, your mission.¡±

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve been rapt with anticipation, wondering what it could be.¡±

    ¡°How is your Avaline?¡± Verrou asked in Avalon¡¯s tongue. ¡°An accent won¡¯t necessarily be ruinous, but the smoother you sound, the better.¡±

    ¡°I read more,¡± Maxime said in Avaline that even Florette could tell was slightly awkward. ¡°I liked to go read ancient texts in Condorcet, and the exiled village had Avaline books also.¡±

    Verrou didn¡¯t wince too obviously, but Florette could not manage the same.

    ¡°I can practice on the ship. You speak Avaline. You can help.¡± His face twisted as he switched back to Imperial. ¡°That is, if you do not mind assisting me in such a fashion. I did not realize that I would be underqualified, and had no intent to create issues for you, Captain Verrou. I assure you, I shall be naught be studious for the duration of the trip. I want to complete this task as efficiently, rapidly, and thoroughly as possible, whatever it may be.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±

    ¡°I have not had the opportunity to converse with a native speaker, so I have no doubt that under your tutelage, I shall excel.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t really look like Savian either, though I doubt most Cambrians would really know the difference. The hair¡¯s not bad, but you¡¯re a bit too pale and bulky for anyone to really believe it if they saw you next to each other.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon, Captain Verrou?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Verrou clapped his hands together. ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Maxime, and I¡¯m sure that you will rise to the challenge. Your mission is one of long-term infiltration into Avalon. You will be posing as the son of Count Srin Savian, attending the Cambrian College. We¡¯ve taken care of all the documents and your admission, but you must play your part flawlessly, or our best source on the inside of Avalon will be compromised, and we¡¯d risk losing years of work.¡±

    ¡°Years¡­¡± Maxime¡¯s eyes were wide. ¡°I didn¡¯t think¡­¡±

    ¡°Count Savian is ashore, but I believe you can find him in the Singer¡¯s Lounge. Speak with him as much as possible, follow his mannerisms, and above all, master the tongue. We don¡¯t have long before the term begins, and it will be suspicious if you arrive late.¡±

    Maxime turned pleadingly to Florette, but he didn¡¯t¡ªperhaps couldn¡¯t¡ªvoice any concerns. A moment later, he was gone.

    ¡°Seems like a nice kid,¡± Verrou said. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll figure it out in time. The Exile Queen wouldn¡¯t have sent him if she didn¡¯t think he was up to it.¡±

    I think the issue was more the timeframe, not ability. Though he had a fair way to go there, too. ¡°What did you want to talk to me about, Captain Verrou?¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, that. I¡¯m given to understand that the bard Magnifico is being held captive at Chateau d¡¯Oran. Is that still correct?¡±

    Florette laughed. ¡°You figured out he¡¯s King Harold, too?¡±

    Verrou smiled. ¡°He was an old friend, believe it or not. Before he was Magnifico, he was Prince Harry, and a better man than I. How things must have changed¡­¡± He trailed off wistfully. ¡°I was hoping to pay him a visit, and I¡¯d rather not go through the Fox-King to arrange it. You wouldn¡¯t happen to know any discreet methods to arrange such a thing, would you?¡±

    Well, this sure is convenient for you. ¡°I just saw him a few days ago. Unofficially. I can get you in.¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± Verrou clapped her on the back gently, his hand warm and inviting. ¡°Would you care to lead the way?¡±

    That depends, Florette thought, returning her captain¡¯s embrace. Are you planning to kill him?

 Luce I: The Failure

    Luce I: The Failure

    Luce spent hours peering through the mist, though he couldn¡¯t be sure what he was even looking for. His notebook sat beside him, untouched since leaving Malin.

    Somehow, none of my ideas really seem worth pursuing anymore.

    Usually the sun came out around mid-morning to burn off the fog, but today, it seemed that it would weigh heavy over the forest until nightfall.

    ¡°Prince Lucifer, I¡¯ve brought food. Moules from the cove, frittered potatoes, and these delicious little green beans that climb your uncle¡¯s rows of corn. Please eat.¡± The voice could only be Charlotte¡¯s, almost as out of place in Avalon as Luce had felt in Malin. But she, at least, was strong. Adaptable.

    She saw Leclaire for what she was from the moment they¡¯d met, and I was fool enough to disregard her warnings. Now she¡¯s as exiled as I am, cast out of the Guardians for her loyalty, and burned by Jethro¡¯s lightning. Really, it was a wonder she did not despise him.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t stopped eating, Charlotte.¡± Though it might be better if I did. It was just too easy to lose track of time out here. Hours could pass in an instant, while moments dragged on for days.

    It had been the same when he and Harold were children, visiting Uncle Miles¡¯ Fortescue estate for a change of scenery. Luce would bring his book up this or that tree with a skin of water and not climb down until both were finished, while Harold kept trying to climb higher and higher.

    Something about the misty forest centered him. It could keep him focused.

    It used to, anyway. I¡¯ve been out here for days with nothing to show for it.

    Just like my time in Malin.

    Charlotte held a large platter in one hand above her head, her other, as always, at her sword. She set it down at the foot of the tree, then glanced up at Luce¡¯s perch. ¡°You¡¯re like a cat, up there. The ground is just as nice. Your uncle¡¯s castle, too, even more so.¡±

    With a sigh, Luce hoisted himself down, slightly out of breath as he landed. ¡°You have to stop doing this, Charlotte. My uncle¡¯s household has enough trouble realizing you¡¯re not a servant as it is. You don¡¯t want to give them the wrong idea.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t want to starve.¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± he muttered, uncorking the wine.

    Charlotte¡¯s eyes narrowed, but she didn¡¯t voice her concerns. Because I¡¯ve taught her that I won¡¯t listen to them, to my detriment.

    ¡°They made a plate for you as well, I would hope.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll grab something from downstairs when I get back.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid.¡± He lifted the bowl of mussels in her direction. ¡°Eat. I insist.¡±

    She hesitated, then sat down beside him. ¡°I can¡¯t believe your family has a house like that and you¡¯re barely spending any time in it. I thought it was Avalon¡¯s palace when we saw it from the boat.¡± She grabbed a fistful of beans, flopping out of her fingers, and consumed it so fast that Luce couldn¡¯t be sure she wasn¡¯t swallowing them whole. ¡°There¡¯s a room made entirely of glass where you can look out over the Lyrion sea. And it¡¯s warm. Wouldn¡¯t that be a better place to sit and think?¡±

    ¡°Too many people.¡± Luce shook his head as he separated the mussel from its shell, throwing the latter into the lid of the pot.

    ¡°But you¡¯re the prince, and the Lord¡¯s nephew besides. Surely you could have the space to yourself if you wanted. Just talk to your uncle.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± I got his daughter killed, at the outset of a journey that led me nowhere, accomplishing naught save losing Malin to the Erstwhile Empire. Cassia died for nothing, all because of me.

    ¡°You can¡¯t? Or you won¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± He downed his wine, then stood up. ¡°Thank you for the food. Next time, send a servant.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Charlotte, you are dismissed.¡±

    She frowned at that. And why wouldn¡¯t she? But it had the desired effect, and soon Luce was alone with his thoughts once more. The wine was weak enough to feel no qualms bringing it up to the tree, and even when cold, the remaining fritters made for a decent accompaniment.

    And then, somehow, the forest was already beginning to grow dark.

    The quiet beauty of the fog was a blanket for his sorrows, but still, the ideas would not come. Not for Malin, or Harold, or what Luce could even say to begin to explain his failures. But that was nothing unusual. I¡¯ve proven manifestly incompetent at such matters.

    The real tragedy was that Luce was doing no better in his supposed area of expertise. Right now, it was difficult to even remember how animated his mind had been in Malin, filled with promise and ideas from the experiments with spiritual energy.

    Even if his political career was over, even if Father or Harold or both wanted him dead, this was supposed to be what Luce was good at. The saving grace salvaged from his miserable venture.

    But his thoughts were blocked. Empty. Even the idea of building from his existing sketches brought him no joy.

    Jethro said that darkness leaves traces, and it seems I¡¯m never to be free of it.

    The next day, it was Mother who came. That, at least, was different. Surprising she¡¯d even care enough to bother. Her hair was grayer, to the point that only about half remained brown, with creases around her mouth suggesting laughter. Signs of time passing, nothing more, but it had been jarring for Luce to see her so much older when he arrived.

    ¡°Mother,¡± Luce greeted her, not moving from his perch.

    ¡°Enjoying the forest?¡± She rested her arm on one of the lower branches, meeting Luce¡¯s eyes. ¡°I love it, too. Outside of Allora Park, there¡¯s nothing green in Cambria.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s planters,¡± Luce corrected her, frowning. ¡°I convinced Father to have the Crown plant and water them, to improve the urban environment.¡±

    ¡°Good for you, Luci! You were always so smart.¡± Her smile didn¡¯t reach her eyes, and it was immediately undercut by a shrug. ¡°Well, nothing left of nature there, anyway. Even Allora¡¯s just a big garden.¡±

    You can¡¯t just enjoy it, it has to be a comparison with my home. ¡°Was there something you wanted, Mother?¡±

    ¡°Could you please come down to talk to me? I feel like I¡¯m speaking to a bird, and I know you will not ask your mother to climb up there with you.¡±

    ¡°A bird would probably make for better company,¡± Luce muttered, lowering himself once more from the branch. ¡°Happy? Now what is it that you want?¡±

    ¡°Luci, we want to see you. Want to talk to you. Can¡¯t you at least join us for supper tonight? Nice as this is, I¡¯m sure you¡¯d appreciate a break.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± He glared down at her. ¡°No, thank you. What I would appreciate is being left alone.¡±

    ¡°Luci¡­¡±

    ¡°And stop calling me that! You don¡¯t even know me. You knew the empty-headed child you left behind, who¡¯d visit for a few weeks in the summer and then move on with his life. That¡¯s not who I am. That¡¯s not who I have been in a long time. If you¡¯d been there, you¡¯d realize that.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    She winced, evident pain draping itself heavily across her shoulders. ¡°I am sorry that I could not be with you for more of your childhood. Staying in Cambria would have killed me inside, so I made the hardest choice of my life and left. But you always have a place with me, here. You need never return to Cambria if you do not wish to, and I would be delighted to spend the time with you.¡± She paused. ¡°Of course, it would be nice to actually see you. I¡¯m hoping you won¡¯t spend the rest of your life in that tree.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just taking some time. I need¡­¡± What could even help, at this point? ¡°I need a way to get out of my thoughts.¡±

    Mother smiled, laying a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Be with us, and you will find no end of distraction from them. Come inside.¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡± He sighed. Darkness leaves traces but the light blots out all else. ¡°I need to¡­ to deal with this. With me. I¡¯m not ready.¡±

    ¡°My brother has lost his child. That is not your fault, Luce, nor Cassia¡¯s, nor anyone save that animal who killed her.¡± And Jethro¡¯s, for setting the whole thing up. ¡°He does not blame you.¡±

    ¡°How could he not? And why shouldn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Do you think that Miles does not know his own daughter? Her heart ever called her to adventure. Even had you turned her down, she would have stowed away.¡± Probably true, but I didn¡¯t even try to stop her. ¡°He is saddened, as are we all, but grateful that at least you did not also perish.¡± She inhaled, glancing up at the canopy through the haze. ¡°You insult him by believing he will misdirect his anger.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know what you meant, Luce. You always have to take on all the responsibility you can. But the blame is not yours. Not for Cassia, and not for whatever happened in Malin.¡±

    ¡°Of course Malin was my fault! I held power in the city, and I entrusted it to a lying snake who stabbed me in the back the moment it suited her. I didn¡¯t even realize how much my grip had slipped until it was too late to save anything but myself. I was a terrible governor.¡±

    ¡°So was your uncle, as he¡¯d be the first to admit. Talk to him.¡± Her voice hardened. ¡°I¡¯ve instructed the servants that you are no longer to be brought food out here. Autumn has arrived, and I¡¯ll not have you catch your death of cold. If you need time, take it, but you must emerge into the world again at some point.¡±

    ¡°The world¡­¡± Luce scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s better off without me and my ilk. Everything I touch turns to poison, just like every Grimoire since we were burying people for Khali in the desert. I¡¯m just the latest member of a long, unbroken chain of tyranny. Only instead of doing things great and terrible, like the first king of Avalon, my contribution is meager and all for the worse, not through malice but incompetence. I¡¯m closer to the Shining Prince, or my great-grandfather.¡± Another fuck-up prince who almost destroyed Avalon, as soon as it began. ¡°It¡¯s evil and stupidity all the way down. I¡¯m merely the latest in life¡¯s great chain.¡±

    Mother¡¯s eyes narrowed, but when she spoke, her tone was soft. ¡°You are not responsible for the actions of men you¡¯ve never met, dead long before you lived. Your grandmother died young, and you never had the chance to meet her, but she actually sat me down and talked to me about this, once. I was probably thirteen, and my tutor was telling me the history of this island, the settlement and the clearing and all that, and as he went along, I gradually began to realize that he was talking about Lord Arion¡¯s ancestor. My ancestor. And yours, Luce, just as much as any ancient Grimoire.¡±

    ¡°The Inferno.¡± Luce sighed, recalling the sobriquet of the first Arion King, whose northern campaign had razed most of what was now Carringdon to the ground, and miles of forest along with it. ¡°You¡¯re right, I forgot to add him to the list.¡±

    She opened her mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, then sighed as well. ¡°I had the same thought, and so I went to my mother, whom I had always thought so wise.¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s strange to think that she¡¯s younger than I am now¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Mother sucked in air, straightening her posture. ¡°Anyway, she told me that her family were once the rightful rulers of Mamela. Their lands were taken when Arion arrived, their estate turned over to his daughter. They were forced to live in the city, growing poorer by the day as their erstwhile allies deserted them one by one. Family legends say that there remained only one chest of silver after a few generations of that, sure to be gone before twenty years had passed. Wallowing in their misery was expensive, you see, and maintaining a lifestyle they could no longer afford served to fend off the shame, to the extent that anything could.¡±

    ¡°Wait, Uncle Miles told me this story. They used that chest to lend to a nightshade merchant named Versham, and it was returned fivefold each year. Which gave them more to lend, and more room to grow, until eventually grandmother was a suitable match for the Lord of Fortescue.¡±

    ¡°And now their line rules Fortescue once more.¡±

    Luce sighed. ¡°I get your meaning, Mother. Saying that my every ancestor was a tyrant or a fool is hyperbole. Of course there were good and bad among them, like anyone else.¡± And you clearly thought Father was among the bad, or you wouldn¡¯t have left us. ¡°It doesn¡¯t change that I¡¯m clearly among the worst.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°Luci, the point is that they swallowed their pride, cut their losses, and got to work. You really will be miserable the rest of your life if you can¡¯t do the same, with nothing to show for it. I love you, and I don¡¯t care if you want to live the rest of your life as a country dandy, I will still be with you, but I know that that is not what you would wish for yourself. You¡¯ve always wanted to change the world, and I love that about you. I admire it.¡± She hugged him then, and Luce returned it. ¡°You will get there again. I know you will.¡±

    ¡°I hope so¡­¡± he said, walking towards the Arion estate.

    Luce slept in the castle that night and the one after, but attending meals still seemed like too much, so he elected to take Charlotte¡¯s suggestion and brought his notebook to the solarium, fortunately empty with so little sun to view.

    It helped to get an elevated view of the countryside, being able to see over the tops of the trees instead of peering up at them disappearing into the fog.

    And he still got nothing from it but obviously-terrible ideas and empty pages.

    It was Uncle Miles that forced the issue, eventually. Tired of indulging me, no doubt. I should make plans to leave, if only I had anywhere to go.

    Broad and strong, with a wild tangle of red hair looking like it had last been combed some time last century, Miles filled the doorway with his presence. ¡°Luce.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he began, setting his notebook down. ¡°For not talking to you, and¡­¡±

    ¡°If you say ¡®for Cassia¡¯, young man, I¡¯m going to have very stern words with you. I¡¯ve heard it all, and I won¡¯t have you blaming yourself. No one but that dreadful pirate ought to.¡± He stepped into the room, then took a seat in the chair next to Luce¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. Nor mine, as much I find myself doing the same thing you are.¡±

    ¡°I know, uncle. I just¡­¡± He wiped his face, keeping his eyes pointed out the window. ¡°I messed everything up.¡±

    Miles sat in silence with him a moment, letting Luce¡¯s words hang in the air. ¡°Your mother is too nice to tell you this, but yes, you did. You butted into a situation you weren¡¯t prepared for, trusted someone you should have known couldn¡¯t be trusted, and now the heart of the Erstwhile Empire is lost. Many people will die to their human sacrifices now that wouldn¡¯t have if you¡¯d simply stayed home.¡±

    Luce inhaled, turning to face his uncle. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean that you give up, or resign yourself to being foolish or terrible or any of the other horrible things your mother said you¡¯re saying about yourself. You know what I¡¯ve done, Luce, in the Foxtrap and the years after. You know what it took to make me realize what a monster I was being. How far into darkness my blindness carried me before I saw the truth laid bare.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± I may never have found it in me to forsake Avalon¡¯s ethos of conquest and destruction if not for hearing it.

    ¡°I would call it just for a man such as me to lose my daughter, were she not wholly innocent of my misdeeds.¡± His voice shook slightly, but Luce didn¡¯t press him. ¡°And even then, I did not simply lie there waiting to die. I quit my behavior and my post, and I endured. I did my best to do the right from there on after, and encouraged all who would heed me that war was not the answer to our ills.¡±

    ¡°You should have hanged Whitbey, too,¡± Luce muttered. ¡°Would have saved me a lot of trouble.¡±

    ¡°He deserved as much,¡± Miles agreed. ¡°But then, so did I. I did not feel comfortable with the hypocrisy, and left that task to my successor.¡±

    And Perimont promoted him further instead. ¡°He¡¯s dead now, regardless. I don¡¯t know if anyone told you that.¡±

    ¡°Your Malinese friend mentioned it. I suppose it¡¯s better for the people of Malin to get to kill him than the likes of us, though I regret all the harm he wrought in the intervening years.¡± Miles leaned back in his chair, no doubt remembering that which he had sworn to never forget. ¡°Luce, even after all I¡¯ve done, I¡¯m still here. So are you, and you never did anything half as bad. You made a mistake. Perhaps it can still be fixed.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m capable of fixing anything.¡± He closed his eyes, remembering the site of his ancestors making sacrifices on the bloody beach. ¡°But I suppose I have to try anyway, don¡¯t I?¡±

    A smile flashed across Miles¡¯ face. ¡°I think it would help, yes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯ve been such a mopey, useless mess.¡±

    ¡°In my time, I was no better. You¡¯re forgiven, Luce, though I do hope you¡¯ll join us for dinner.¡±

    ¡°Breakfast tomorrow?¡± Luce offered, trying to compose himself.

    ¡°If you like, but tonight we have a guest from Carringdon dining with us, and I thought you might like to hear what she has to say.¡±

    Luce blinked. ¡°Lady Perimont was stripped of her lands because of me. I don¡¯t think any of their household is going to want to see me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s their steward, Agnes Delbrook. Functionally the Lady of Carringdon until your brother grants someone else their lands. She comes to us with a problem, one of numbers and logistics, so dire that she fears the north will starve without our aid.¡±

    Luce blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes and straighten out.

    ¡°I take it you are interested, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered, grabbing his notebook. ¡°It¡¯s time to make a difference.¡±

 Florette III: The Spy

    Florette III: The Spy

    ¡°I reinforced the tunnel Corro made so it should be pretty safe, but if anything goes wrong and we need to make a quick exit, we should take a window. You don¡¯t want to take chances with cave-ins.¡±

    ¡°Reinforced¡­¡± Captain Verrou repeated, somewhat skeptically. ¡°I don¡¯t mean any offense, but even trained sappers can mess this up sometimes, and you don¡¯t exactly have the expertise. This very year, Gordon Perimont got himself killed because he skipped a tunnel inspection.¡±

    Yup, and no other reason.

    Florette couldn¡¯t help but snicker. ¡°Captain, I grew up in a little village called Enquin, out in the mountains. It had absolutely nothing going for it except its coal mines, which I¡¯ve been in and out of since I could walk. When I say I reinforced it, trust me that I know what I¡¯m doing.¡± Florette walked out ahead of him, inviting him to follow. ¡°A secret tunnel to a valuable prisoner seemed like something worth keeping even with Corro gone.¡± In fact, I should probably tell Fernan about it before I go, so that the Montaignards have it in their pocket.

    ¡°Good thinking. However this goes, it¡¯s useful to have an entry into Chateau d¡¯Oran for the future. You¡¯ve seen yourself how quickly authority can shift between friendly and unfriendly to the likes of us.¡± Not without some hesitancy in his step, Captain Verrou followed behind her. ¡°I thought you were from the city, the way Eloise picked you up mid-pilfering. Enquin, you said?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Not that it matters. The mines are dry, with more prosperous territory ceded back to the geckos. Everyone who wasn¡¯t waiting to die followed Fernan here.

    ¡°Is that why you came back? Visiting home?¡±

    Florette shook her head. ¡°That place was never home to me. Guerron isn¡¯t really, either. Not sure I¡¯d say I have one. I¡¯m like you in that way, I think, going where the wind takes me, you know?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that.¡± His words echoed off the tunnel walls. ¡°Wherever Seaward Folly sails is home to me as long as I have my crew at my side and passion in my heart. If you really feel that way, you need to find your crew. People you know will back you up.¡±

    I thought I had that, but then she stayed behind to line her pockets. Corro had left for Hiverre; the Fallen wasn¡¯t talking to her; even Fernan, soon, would be unreachable. ¡°I tried,¡± she said, leaving it at that.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed that you got a spirit to work with you,¡± Captain Verrou said after a few silent moments. ¡°We tend to stay out of their business as much as we can. Most don¡¯t have any interest in humans unless we¡¯re doing their bidding or fueling their power.¡±

    ¡°Three spirits, not one,¡± Florette corrected. Sometimes I forget that you were raised in Avalon, Captain Verrou. You oppose it so fervently, but then occasionally you say something like that.

    ¡°Three? All the more so, then. I doubt many people have even talked to three spirits and made it out with their life, other than maybe sages and binders. But even Beckett would have been impressed by someone dueling Glaciel.¡±

    ¡°Beckett?¡±

    Verrou¡¯s posture straightened. ¡°Sorry. Baron Beckett Williams, the Binder Dominant of Avalon. I knew him briefly in my navy days. One of the most unpleasant people I¡¯ve ever met¡ªand there¡¯s stiff competition¡ªbut an incredibly potent binder. Between the artifacts he¡¯s amassed and his skill, he might be the best in the world.¡±

    And you haven¡¯t been able to kill him, either, which says a lot on its own. ¡°Better than King Harold?¡±

    ¡°Harry¡¯s a binder?¡± Verrou shook his head, befuddled. ¡°He would have learned it after I knew him, so I couldn¡¯t say. Regardless, you did well to even make it through a conversation with this spirit, Corro, let alone successfully calling on his help.¡±

    ¡°Corro and the Fallen were both key in the White Night, actually. I¡¯d probably be dead without them, and I definitely wouldn¡¯t have been able to fight Glaciel.¡± And as for Lamante¡¯s contribution, I think it¡¯s best I keep to myself. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you¡¯re wrong about them, if you define ¡®doing their bidding¡¯ so broadly that it doesn¡¯t mean anything anymore, but they weren¡¯t ordering me around. I asked for help and they gave it, just like the Montaignards, or the crew for the railway robbery.¡±

    Verrou let out a sharp exhale, half choking and half laughter. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy, haven¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I had to,¡± Florette answered. Eloise ditched me in Malin almost as soon as we left you, and I wasn¡¯t just going to sit around doing nothing.

    Avoiding guards and sightlines was so routine at this point that only the presence of an extra person forced Florette to spare the infiltration any thought at all, and before long, the two of them stood just outside Magnifico¡¯s richly furnished tower cell.

    When Captain Verrou reached for the door handle, Florette placed her hand on his. ¡°He deserves death more than anyone alive, but if you kill him now, it means war. Nothing would remain to stop Avalon from invading. Having the king captive is our best asset against them, and we can¡¯t ruin it on a whim, even for the most just of reasons.¡±

    ¡°You believe I want to kill him?¡± Verrou asked, withdrawing his hand. ¡°The thought has certainly crossed my mind. The King of Avalon deserves nothing less, and the young Harold isn¡¯t nearly as capable of sowing destruction as his father is. If any trace of my old friend remains, trapped in the husk of that royal monster, then perhaps it would be better to free him of his mortal shell, for everyone involved.¡±

    Florette reached out again, but he held up his hand. ¡°But then, perhaps not. Making an informed decision on that front was the purpose of this visit. Then, if it¡¯s warranted, I¡¯ll plot his assassination for a later date. I didn¡¯t survive this long in my chosen profession by acting rash.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Florette said, opening the door and leading the way inside.

    King Harold IV Grimoire looked markedly better than the last time Florette had seen him, dressed in fresh clothes with his hair tied up behind his crowned head. His smirk was back, too. ¡°Ah, Florette, it¡¯s good to see you again. And you brought me a present, by the looks of it. The notorious Robin Verrou. We meet at last.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Thank you, Florette. I¡¯ll let you do the honors of killing him. How did you trick him into coming here, into such an obvious trap?¡±

    ¡°Ignore him,¡± Florette ordered Captain Verrou. ¡°He¡¯s just trying to stir shit up.¡±

    ¡°Stir shit up? For such a stalwart ally? Florette, why would I want to make things difficult for you? You¡¯ve been here at my side more than any other. You¡¯ve become my apprentice in binding. I even gave you my Cloak of Nocturne.¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Florette grabbed a corner of his bedsheet and ripped it from the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll gag you if I have to.¡±

    ¡°And prove the truth of my words?¡±

    Fucker! With one hand, Florette ripped off the bedsheet, with her other, she drew her sword.

    ¡°Florette, that¡¯s not necessary.¡± Captain Verrou stepped forward, putting himself between Florette and the king. ¡°You should be careful, Harry. Lying that much is liable to wear out your tongue.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t get to call me Harry, pirate.¡±

    ¡°While a king can speak as he likes?¡± Verrou scoffed. ¡°I had to see it with my own eyes. What happened to you?¡±

    ¡°Life,¡± Magnifico answered, without further elaboration.

    ¡°Well, then there¡¯s an easy solution,¡± Verrou said, hopefully bluffing.

    ¡°I¡¯m not the man I was when I was twenty. Who is? You certainly aren¡¯t. Perhaps who I used to be was better, but this is who I am. Now, if you wouldn¡¯t mind, please¡ª¡± His eyes went wide as the creak of the door filled a suddenly-silent room. ¡°Hide, you fools!¡±

    Captain Verrou wasted no time, diving under the enormous bed and wrapping the sheet around the foot to hide any trace of himself.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Florette followed after, since there was easily room for both of them, and it seemed better than ducking behind a chair or trying to explain herself to whoever walked through that door. She caught the barest hint of red hair right before she was fully hidden, but whoever it was that was entering didn¡¯t seem to notice anything amiss.

    ¡°Hello, Magnifico, you wretched beast.¡±

    ¡°King Lucien, what a pleasure to see you.¡± Renart is here? ¡°I wish you would visit more often; I so love our conversations. You look just like your father, Romain, on the day of the Foxtrap, just a moment before he was cut down like a dog.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak my father¡¯s name,¡± the Fox-King growled.

    ¡°Romain.¡± Magnifico¡¯s words were followed by a creaking sound that Florette belatedly realized was him leaning back in his chair.

    ¡°He would still be alive if it weren¡¯t for your family¡¯s boundless capacity for evil. So would Duke Fouchand, who was a better man than either of us. Fouchand died trying to stop you, and my father fought nobly and bravely, and secured a path for us to escape that we might fight another day. He slew your father and king, even if it cost his life. You have no right.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not true. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything I don¡¯t have a right to, really. But yes, let¡¯s talk of other matters. How is your fianc¨¦e? I did give Lumi¨¨re that pistol, after all. Right before I threw that Duke from his chambers and watched his head splat open on the cobblestones like an overripe melon.¡±

    ¡°Silence!¡±

    ¡°The only true silence is death, fox-boy, and you are too much of a coward to impose it on me.¡±

    I knew Magnifico was reckless, but this is something else entirely. Captive in a cell, entirely at the Fox-King¡¯s mercy, and he was mocking him relentlessly, reminding him of loved ones that he¡¯d harmed and killed¡­ It was almost like he was trying to provoke the Fox-King, but to what end? What could he hope to gain by pissing off the one person who could call for his death without anyone above him to gainsay the order?

    Florette exchanged a look with Captain Verrou, confirming that he was hearing the implication too. He¡¯s trying to goad Renart into killing him. Only the need to be silent kept Florette from gasping when she realized it. Why any man would seek his own death was mystery enough, but Magnifico? The Crown Prince of arrogance?

    He was probably trying with Captain Verrou and me, too. That would explain the strange turnaround, anyway.

    But there wasn¡¯t time to focus on that. Lucien Renart was still talking. ¡°That¡¯s not cowardice, only good sense.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fortunate that Lady Leclaire survived, if only so that she could keep doing your thinking for you.¡±

    The conversation paused, and for a moment Florette was worried that the Fox-King had noticed them, but he spoke again, softly. ¡°How did you know she¡¯s alive?¡±

    I don¡¯t think that was because of me, right? I wouldn¡¯t have let that slip.

    ¡°How did you know?¡± he barked again.

    ¡°Because you just told me, fox-boy. Before, it was merely a suspicion.¡± He laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, a woman like that, something else will kill her soon enough.¡±

    Renart growled. ¡°It matters not. Soon, the whole world will know. Why not you? And, to answer your question, the Lady Camille is quite well. I just received a message from her that Malin has been liberated from Avalon¡¯s cruel grasp. The heart of the Empire is ours once more, as it was in days of old.¡±

    That finally seemed to shut Magnifico up.

    ¡°And Luce? The Prince?¡±

    ¡°The message did not speak of him. Probably dead, though I suppose he could be another hostage. You Grimoires certainly like getting captured.¡±

    Magnifico snarled, his response inarticulate.

    ¡°Well, I just thought I¡¯d let you know. I wanted to see the look on your face. I might not be able to justify killing you, but this, I can certainly enjoy.¡± Footsteps sounded across the floor, moving towards the back of the room. ¡°Just imagine if you¡¯d never donned that disguise. You¡¯d be sitting pretty in your palace right now, not a care in the world.¡±

    ¡°Like you?¡± Magnifico scoffed. ¡°A king must serve his people. Sometimes that means taking action personally, unadorned by adulation and finery. We are a symbol before we are men, and the people recognize when their Lord is willing to fight alongside them. Or tip the balance of power without firing a shot, as the case may be.¡±

    ¡°A shot was fired. And your efforts were undone.¡±

    ¡°As will yours and Leclaire¡¯s. If you want something done right, do it yourself. That¡¯s the whole reason ¡®Magnifico¡¯ exists. But I don¡¯t expect you to understand. Please, by all means, sit on your throne doing whatever your wife tells you as you grow fat and complacent and old. The moment I¡¯m not a hostage anymore, Avalon will pour into your little fiefdom with the fury of a thousand suns.¡±

    ¡°Which is precisely why you¡¯ll die a hostage, unless your son wants to pay a ransom that will bankrupt Avalon so badly it can¡¯t raise an army for generations.¡±

    ¡°Will I, now? I am happy to face capital justice for my crimes. Today, even.¡±

    ¡°Nice try.¡± The door opened, then closed again.

    Florette planned to wait a few minutes to be safe, but Captain Verrou jumped out seconds after he heard the door slam shut, so she followed.

    Magnifico leaned back in his chair. ¡°Well, now that we¡¯re alone again, what would you like to talk about?¡±

    Verrou shook his head sadly. ¡°I have nothing to say to you anymore. But your time will come, and I guarantee that you won¡¯t be as sanguine about it as you¡¯re pretending to be now. And it will still be less than you deserve.¡±

    ¡°What a harrowing thought! Heavens forbid!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Captain Verrou said, ignoring him, and so Florette followed once more.

    They were halfway back down the tunnel before Verrou broke the silence of their uneventful exit through the cellar. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that you came here from Malin?¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°Eloise dumped me there before her brilliant plan to lose her ship and wander through the wasteland. I was there for a few months.¡±

    ¡°So you decided to rob a railyard?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and a train, and I helped Camille Leclaire infiltrate the Governor¡¯s office, which apparently led to the city being liberated, so that¡¯s good to hear. I didn¡¯t really trust her to pull it off, to be honest.¡±

    Verrou scratched his chin, staring pensively. ¡°Gordon Perimont didn¡¯t really die in a cave-in, did he? That was you and Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°Leclaire had nothing to do with that one. Eloise and I were ripping off this miliary train, and Perimont was ranting about how he was going to reduce Guerron to ashes, so I¡­ I made a mistake, honestly. Just like with Cassia. I didn¡¯t stop to think, and one of the soldiers saw my face. He gave me this¡ª¡± She flicked her ear, indicating the triangle of flesh that was still missing from Whitbey¡¯s shot. ¡°¡ªand burned the identity I¡¯d been using. I had to get out as fast I could, stop everything I¡¯d been working on there.¡± And split up with Eloise. ¡°All to change one awful governor out for another just as bad. And this was the day darkness fell. It¡¯s not like he could have actually mounted an attack. It didn¡¯t do anything.¡±

    Captain Verrou patted her gently on the shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s a lesson I¡¯ve had to learn many times over. Sometimes it¡¯s nice to make sure that their particular brand of odiousness can¡¯t continue, even if the real change isn¡¯t much.¡±

    ¡°It was still a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Undoubtedly. Still, without that mistake, you might never have been in Guerron when we arrived, and I wouldn¡¯t have been able to meet you at so opportune a time. Perhaps it¡¯s fate.¡±

    Florette blinked. ¡°What, overhearing that conversation?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ When you were in Malin, infiltrating, did you learn the language?¡±

    ¡°As best as I could,¡± Florette answered in Avaline. ¡°Especially once we stole those books and schematics. Can¡¯t get a fair price if you don¡¯t know what they¡¯re worth.¡±

    Verrou laughed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me. It¡¯s hard to find good people for jobs like that, and that¡¯s a big part of why the Exile Queen and I refer people to each other where we can.¡±

    ¡°Like Maxime.¡± Florette nodded. ¡°That Avalon mission of his sounds really interesting. Mastering their scientific craft to turn it against them, infiltrating the heart of their power, dismantling it all without anyone even knowing he¡¯s there¡­¡±

    Captain Verrou nodded, a smile stretching across his face. ¡°Would you want to do it instead?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªMe? Spying on Avalon? Learning their secrets?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a slow-burn job. You can¡¯t be impulsive, or your cover will be ruined before the year is out. Don¡¯t make waves until and unless you can really make it count. For the first few years, that¡¯s going to mean doing your schoolwork, going to bed early, and not messing with anything. I think for you, that¡¯ll be the hardest part.¡±

    If you¡¯re trying to make espionage sound boring, it¡¯s working. But so was all the prep work for a job. Planning the Railyard Robbery had meant weeks of chatting people up for information and lying on a roof looking at patrol patterns in the camp. The train heist had been even more involved, relying on ten times as many people for a priceless reward.

    The work had paid off, and that made the boredom worth it.

    ¡°You can¡¯t go assassinating Governors, even if they deserve it. I wouldn¡¯t have even offered if you hadn¡¯t shown that you understand the situation with Harry. You could have killed him whenever you wanted without anyone even knowing it was you, but you held back because you knew it was the right call. Do the same here, and know that it will take years. The job is yours, if you want it, but you have to be sure you can do it. You have to be sure that you want to.¡±

    I¡¯m a better fit for the job. Maxime¡¯s Avaline isn¡¯t great, and his face looked like he¡¯d sucked on a lemon when he heard how long the job would run. I¡¯d be doing him a favor, if anything.

    And I don¡¯t have anywhere else to go¡­ ¡°I can handle it.¡±

 Fernan III: The Mountain

    Fernan III: The Mountain

    ¡°Thank you for visiting me, Sire Montaigne. I fear my hearth has been wanting for company, of late.¡± Dom Mesnil¡¯s legs were covered under a blanket, his missing foot hidden from normal sight, but his aura showed it clear for Fernan to see. ¡°I have nothing to offer, and so few seek me out. What use is a knight that cannot sit ahorse? Even walking is a challenge.¡±

    ¡°Happy to do it.¡± Fernan noticed that the fire in the knight¡¯s hearth had gone out, so he lit it again with a wave of his hand. ¡°We aren¡¯t in the exact same situation, but I do understand a bit of what you¡¯re going through.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± Mesnil sat forward. ¡°You¡¯re a sage, a knight, a savior and favorite of the Fox-King twice over. Don¡¯t condescend to me, Sire Montaigne. I have heard enough of that.¡±

    Seeing past the rising fire in his eyes, Fernan fixed his gaze on Mesnil. ¡°My eyes were burned from my head, with only magic to fill the hole that was left. That was my introduction to the spirits. Still, I cannot read. Color is lost to me, and so much of the beauty and detail in the world.¡±

    The knight¡¯s head slumped guiltily. ¡°I had thought that was just a result of your pact.¡±

    ¡°Other way around.¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°Sire Dominique, never again will I see the trees fill with life in spring, nor witness the true smile on my mother¡¯s face. I was a scout for my village, and that was torn from me forever.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Mesnil coughed. ¡°Uh, apologies for the turn of phrase.¡±

    ¡°When I say I understand, I¡¯m not just pulling it from the clouds. I¡¯m still here, as are you. I¡­ adjusted, even though it was painful at first. Nothing is stopping you from doing the same.¡± Fernan patted him on the shoulder. ¡°You survived the battle. Do not live as if you didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Easy to say, harder to do.¡± But he nodded. ¡°Still, you have the right of it, Sire Montaigne.¡±

    ¡°Fernan.¡±

    Mesnil glowed bright orange, lit up in an instant. ¡°Then you must call me Dom, Fernan, as my friends do.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ if you see my brother, please tell him that he does not need to stay on my account. Accompanying the Fox-King to the capital is a great honor, and I would not see him miss out on my behalf.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Fernan said, though he had little intent to do it. Marching in a parade is hardly a greater priority than being there for family. If Miro knows that, I¡¯m hardly going to persuade him otherwise. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to go. The Fox-King¡ª¡±

    ¡°No need to explain, Fernan. Though I do hope to see you again soon.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Fernan assured him, trying not to look too hurried as he scrambled out the door.

    In truth, he was already running a bit late for the council meeting, but he could fly to make up the difference if he really had to. Ever since G¨¦zarde had become the sun, the slightest expenditure of energy conjured a massive gout of flame, and so long as it could be managed, using magic was far more efficient than it ever had been before.

    Mara had wanted to test that out in practice, one final spar with Florette before she had to go, and Fernan was not surprised to find that they¡¯d run late as well. Nor was he shocked to see the streaks of glass stretching across the beach, marking where Mara had spat flame hot enough to melt the sand.

    Florette¡¯s crazy if she¡¯s letting Mara do that in a duel with her, but I guess it¡¯s very Florette not to care.

    ¡°Fernan!¡± Mara called out, a ring of green flame accompanying her words. ¡°You have to try this! It¡¯s amazing.¡±

    ¡°Maybe later.¡± His eyes searched for Florette, to no avail. ¡°You didn¡¯t kill her, right? I would hope you wouldn¡¯t be so cheery if you did.¡±

    As if sprouting from thin air, Florette appeared in front of him, latent traces of darkness clinging to her aura. ¡°Alas, you aren¡¯t so lucky. Just testing something with the Cloak of Nocturne with Mara before I leave. A success, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± No need to get into that. ¡°The Fox-King wants you gone by midday. Have you said all your goodbyes?¡±

    ¡°All but one.¡± She leaned in and gave Fernan a quick hug, over almost as soon as it started. ¡°Are you going to be ok here without me?¡±

    ¡°Me? How are you going to fare without me to stop you from taunting a dark spirit or stealing from kings?¡±

    Her aura lit up, the last traces of darkness dissipating into the air. ¡°I¡¯ll do those things, obviously. I¡¯ve almost died so many times by this point, I figure I must be immortal, like Pantera the Undying.¡±

    Fernan laughed. ¡°Please do not test that theory. Any more than you already have, I mean.¡±

    ¡°No promises.¡± He could read the smile from the glow of her face. ¡°Listen, where I¡¯m going, it will be dangerous to write to you. I¡¯m not saying I won¡¯t, because I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s a risk. I¡¯ll do my best.¡±

    ¡°Where are you going? I thought Maxime was trying to get you into Condorcet, or the Realm of the Exiles. They don¡¯t have messengers there?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s more complicated than that¡­ I¡¯d explain, but no one can know about it without risking the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t trust me to keep the secret?¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes narrowed to a pinprick of flame. ¡°After everything, really?¡±

    Florette took a deep breath, then sighed. ¡°Look, Fernan, you¡¯re a good guy. A great friend, to put up with all the shit I¡¯ve dragged you into. You¡¯re solid, like a mountain. Predictable. But the decisions you¡¯ve made¡­ It¡¯s like you¡¯ve forgotten who you are.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Going to Laura and Flammare during the White Night? You almost undid everything we were fighting for.¡±

    ¡°To save your life!¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t need saving, unlike you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s cold.¡±

    Florette rubbed her face. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to part on bad terms. I¡¯ll try to get word out as soon as I can, with as much detail as I can justify risking. But you can¡¯t¡­ You need to¡­¡± She looked up towards the sky, as if the clouds might complete her statement for her. ¡°Remember when we got into that big fight after Camille recruited you?¡±

    ¡°Constantly. ¡®Make your own decisions¡¯, you said, and I¡¯ve done my best to do it ever since.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ Really?¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to think I¡¯ve never listened to you. I just have my own approach.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Do things your way, but do them for the right reasons. Sometimes I think you¡¯ve forgotten who you are, where you came from. You¡¯ll only ever be another peasant to them, and their favor will last exactly as long as you¡¯re useful to them. Then you¡¯ll be discarded just like I was.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t exactly kicked up the same amount of trouble you did.¡±

    ¡°Fernan, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± She didn¡¯t say aloud that Fernan had been just as involved in killing Flammare, but the fact still helped her point. ¡°If you aren¡¯t ready, you¡¯ll be caught totally off-guard when the time comes. And then where will the Montaignards be? The people of the mountains look to you as their alderman, Fernan. All the more so once I¡¯m gone. You have to protect them, and I don¡¯t mean from Hiverriens.¡±

    ¡°Are you talking about those pistols?¡±

    ¡°In part. Look, I¡¯m planning to give the Fox-King five of them and say it¡¯s all we have. That¡¯s the smallest amount that¡¯ll be believable, given how people talk about the White Night, and it still leaves us almost two dozen in case we need them.¡±

    ¡°In case of what?¡±

    ¡°In case we need them,¡± she repeated, ¡°to protect us from tyranny. To support the people, if and when the aristocracy proves that they are unworthy to lead us.¡±

    ¡°If and when? Come on. You spent too much time talking to Maxime.¡±

    ¡°¡®If¡¯ for you, ¡®when¡¯ for me. And Maxime has a point. Lucien Renart was happy to let you die in the White Night, even after all you¡¯ve done for him. Do you imagine he¡¯d feel any different if you ever inconvenience him in another way? If fucking Camille just tells him to because she doesn¡¯t like you.¡±

    ¡°Camille and I get along fine.¡±

    ¡°Now, sure. We got along fine in Malin when fighting Avalon was in our sights. That doesn¡¯t make us friends now, and it certainly doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯d hesitate to burn me. Did you even bother to ask her for help with my exile?¡±

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    ¡°I did¡­ And she said the same thing as Lucien.¡± Fernan sighed. ¡°Lying about this still isn¡¯t the way to go. What do you think happens when the Fox-King finds out we deliberately disobeyed a direct order and kept hold of the same advanced weaponry that almost killed his fianc¨¦e. Will the villagers be safe then? Will a few pistols let us make a stand against the entire Imperial Army?¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll have a better shot than if you¡¯d given them up.¡± She stepped closer, gazing into his flaming eyes without flinching. ¡°Fernan, I¡¯m leaving. I don¡¯t really get to make the decision. Mara knows where they¡¯re stashed, so if you want to hand them all over to Renart, I can¡¯t stop you. I¡¯m asking you to keep them, as a friend, and as a piece of advice. Sometimes just being solid isn¡¯t enough.¡±

    Fernan bit back a counterpoint. It¡¯s not worth it, and I don¡¯t want to part on bad terms either. ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡±

    ¡°Do that.¡±

    He leaned in and hugged her again, careful not to set her hair on fire with his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you. Stay safe.¡±

    From the contact, it was easy to feel her laughter. ¡°For you, I¡¯ll try. I¡¯ll miss you, too.¡±

    ?

    In the end, Fernan was late to the meeting. Lamante had caught him on his way and asked him and Florette to go to Torpierre to scare the spirits into compliance with G¨¦zarde¡¯s choice. That had required Fernan to stop and explain Florette¡¯s exile and how he was needed in Guerron, and the face stealer had simply frowned with borrowed lips and ominously said she would see him again soon.

    Lucien Renart was in the middle of a conversation with Annette and Miro Mesnil when Fernan arrived, and didn¡¯t fully hide the disdain in his voice for Fernan¡¯s tardiness, but at least Fernan was not the only one. Camille¡¯s uncle, too, was late, even later than Fernan, and the Fox-King hadn¡¯t wanted to start without him, so it seemed that Fernan hadn¡¯t missed much.

    Though he hadn¡¯t made a great impression, either.

    ¡°My apologies, Lucien, I had a spiritual matter to attend to,¡± Emile Leclaire said as he took his seat.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry too,¡± Fernan added.

    ¡°He was with me,¡± Emile lied, covering for him for some reason. ¡°They¡¯re to choose a new hearth spirit in Torpierre, and it seemed only sensible to send a representative to ensure that they choose right.¡±

    ¡°Tauroneo is Flammare¡¯s designee, is he not?¡± Renart¡¯s voice carried through the room as Mesnil fell silent. ¡°Why should we interfere?¡±

    ¡°For protection,¡± Emile said. ¡°The White Night showed us the importance of having spirits on side, and the dangers should they stray. Tauroneo is no friend to humanity, while G¨¦zarde¡¯s choice, Fala, bears no ill will that I know of.¡±

    ¡°Then we shall hope the spirits choose him.¡±

    ¡°Or we could take steps to ensure it. The girl, Florette, I¡¯m told she¡¯s been exiled?¡±

    ¡°For good cause! We cannot be seen to support the killing of spirits, let alone deceiving them to do it. She won¡¯t come to harm, I¡¯ve given her time to leave, but if the world saw the Fox-King forgive such an act, no spirit could ever trust any of us again.¡±

    ¡°Still, she could go unofficially, without any writ from you. Simply delay her official exile until business has concluded in Torpierre.¡±

    ¡°So she can crash another convocation and attack another spirit before receiving any official rebuke for the last time? They would all see that as me endorsing it, or at least allowing it through negligence. Neither keeps humanity on the spirits'' good side.¡±

    ¡°There are spirits who would appreciate the change.¡±

    ¡°And more spirits, imbued with greater power, who would not. No, Emile, I¡¯m sorry, but as I already explained to Fernan, this isn¡¯t feasible. No.¡±

    Emile bit his lip. ¡°As you wish, Your Majesty. I will consider the matter closed.¡±

    I¡¯m surprised that he even cared enough to try. He¡¯d been far less disturbed at Levian¡¯s turn than his niece, and Flammare¡¯s seat was a lesser one by comparison. Camille hadn¡¯t seemed to care much either, so it wasn¡¯t a secret Leclaire thing either, as far as Fernan could tell.

    Fernan held his tongue, since asking ¡°Why do you care?¡± seemed like a poor way to talk to someone that had just backed him up. Even if I really want to know why it matters to you.

    Duchess Annette was the first one called upon to report, and jumped in without any preamble. ¡°The Bureaus have collected their materials for transport, including the more sensitive documents my grandfather purchased. For the moment, I¡¯m keeping land archives from earlier than twenty years ago here in what will become satellite offices, and eventually we can make copies for Malin to keep the backup. Staff from the Bureau of Land will largely be relocating to Malin with us, though those who stay will merge with the Bureau of the Sea under F¨¦lix¡¯s supervision. For our part, we can be ready to move by the end of the week.¡±

    Who¡¯s F¨¦lix?

    ¡°Excellent work, Annette.¡± Renart nodded to her. ¡°Miro, can the same be said for our soldiers? How soon will we be ready to march?¡±

    ¡°Casualties aside, they¡¯ve had plenty of time to recover from the White Night. And we should be able to keep them supplied through the pass easily enough now that the snow¡¯s melted. But I would like to once again renew my objection to your dismissal of the peasant levy. Lady Leclaire will need as many to defend her as possible, and a good share of your knights are already staying to guard the prisoner.¡±

    Levy? No one was levied for service for the White Night.

    ¡°Miro, we¡¯ve been over this. They were volunteers. If they want to go home now, that is their right.¡±

    ¡°By technicality! That was only because of Lord Leclaire¡¯s bargain with Glaciel, nothing more.¡±

    ¡°And yet it is enough. I gave my word that none were obligated to follow.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention the logistical nightmare of herding a thousand peasants across the Sartaire to Malin,¡± Annette added. ¡°It¡¯s going to be hard enough getting us over as it is.¡±

    ¡°That too,¡± Renart said.

    ¡°Mind you, if Sire Miro wants to supervise all of that himself he can lead the peasants behind us, he¡¯s welcome to it. Doesn¡¯t that sound like a fun time, Mesnil?¡±

    ¡°I take your point, my lady.¡±

    Good. If they really wanted to drag people from their homes just to make Camille feel safer, Fernan wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d do, exactly.

    Not just go along with it, though. ¡°Sire Miro, you might send people to the north end to recruit volunteers. Many of the mountain villagers are young and eager to see the world.¡± Gaspard will go in a heartbeat, as would the Florette of yesteryear. ¡°Not everyone who served in the White Night wants to return to their work.¡±

    ¡°Young like you?¡± Mesil exhaled through his nose. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not a bad idea, Montaigne. Perhaps you can accompany me, to better convince them? Your Majesty, a score of household knights would help clarify their position as well.¡±

    ¡°That is not what I meant.¡±

    Lucien Renart placed his palm on the table. ¡°You can have five knights, Miro. As long as you make clear that you¡¯re seeking volunteers for service. Stick to White Night veterans; we don¡¯t want to remove too many farmers on the eve of harvest season.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡± Miro swallowed. ¡°Um, if I might be permitted to ask, will the King of Avalon be accompanying us?¡±

    ¡°This transition needs to be as smooth as possible. We will not be taking unnecessary risks. Once everything is set up in Malin, we can move King Harold to more comfortable lodging there.¡±

    ¡°But if Avalon attacks Malin before word can reach him in Guerron, we risk losing the city with no way to follow up on our threats.¡±

    ¡°That is why we will be relocating him as early as it is safe to do so. If Camille were here, she could recount a hundred times a ransom went wrong when the captive was in transit. Death, escape, and if I recall correctly, the Fox-Queen managed to lead a mutiny once when she was captured by pirates.¡±

    Lady Annette laughed. ¡°Sounds absolutely perfect to throw onto the pile while we¡¯re moving the entire Imperial government.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. This is a delicate process. But by the end, everything will come together.¡± Renart clasped his hands together. ¡°In a month¡¯s time, I will be in Malin once more. I will rebuild the castle of my ancestors and the great shrine to the fox spirit, Renart. We shall send delegates to the Sunder¨¦ Dominion and Rhan Confederation with explicit entreaties to alliance, and renew our offer to Condillac, Plagette, the Arboreum, and the Rhanoir. Now that Camille has proven Avalon can be beaten, they must see the value in banding together against the threat.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s the smart thing to do, so you just know they¡¯ll get right to it,¡± the Duchess muttered. ¡°What about Camille?¡±

    Renart¡¯s aura lit up so brightly that Fernan momentarily worried he¡¯d been set on fire. ¡°We didn¡¯t want to get married until we could do it in the place of our birth. Now, there¡¯s no reason to wait. My people shall have their Empress, the second greatest Fox-Queen in history, and together we will beat back the Avaline scourge from this continent and send them fleeing back across the water to where they belong. Our wedding shall be the greatest in history, a festival of festivals, a marvel in itself, with all of my people welcomed to witness their liberation.¡±

    ¡°So I guess I¡¯ll need to vet Malin to handle thousands of visitors and prepare it for this massive festival.¡± The Duchess sighed. ¡°Thank you for telling me about this so far in advance, Lucien.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll manage. You always do. And Camille and I will do everything we can to help.¡± The Fox-King turned to Fernan. ¡°Now, you¡¯ve had some time to coax the weapons out of your people. Will you be able to honor the deadline and see them returned here by the end of the day?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Now I have to decide to honor the truth, or back up Florette and the Montaignards¡­ But if the lie is caught, I¡¯ll be harming them far worse than giving up some weapons. ¡°I have all of them gathered up, so¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± Leclaire cut in. ¡°Before we continue, I feel I must say something. For my part, I will not be going with you right away. As much as I would like to see Camille as soon as possible, there is too much that must be done before I leave. You may expect my arrival by the time of the wedding.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want.¡± Renart sounded puzzled, but he didn¡¯t press Leclaire. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind another person I trust in Guerron a bit longer. Though hopefully Annette¡¯s representative will be up to speed quickly enough.¡±

    ¡°This F¨¦lix?¡± Fernan asked. ¡°I¡¯m surprised I¡¯ve never heard of him before.¡±

    ¡°Not F¨¦lix.¡± Duchess Annette shook her head. ¡°He was a mid level functionary in the Bureau of the Sea. I¡¯m leaving him to run the satellite offices in Guerron. No, Lucien¡¯s talking about the man who will stand as Lord of Guerron and rule in my name while I¡¯m away in the capital.¡± She exhaled through her nose. ¡°We had to throw him a bone after everything he did for us. ¡®Loyalty can¡¯t go unrewarded¡¯, as Lucien is so fond of saying. Luckily there will be a river and a mountain range between us for the foreseeable future.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry. But he was willing to work with you before, and this shouldn¡¯t be any different.¡±

    ¡°Who¡ª¡±

    The door slammed open, and Guy Valvert rushed inside. ¡°At last, I have returned, and with good tidings from the hale and healthy in Dorseille, survivors of the darkness. You need weep no longer, for I am back!¡± He grabbed the chair next to Fernan and sat down with a thud. ¡°Why is the peasant boy still here? We only needed him for the trial.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, Guy.¡± Fernan felt his head tilt back towards the ceiling, catching a glimpse of a guilty flush in the Duchess¡¯s aura before he did.

    ¡°Oh, speaking of which, Fernan. Any issues collecting the pistols?¡±

    ¡°None.¡± Fernan shook his head, making his choice. ¡°I¡¯ll get all five to you by the end of the day.¡±

 Camille III: The Resolute

    Camille III: The Resolute

    Camille took a sip of her Ocean Wave as she carried the drinks back to the table, spilling a bit of the other one as she did.

    Apparently, in such rough accommodations, one had to walk to the counter themself to order, even when already seated, and Camille¡¯s turn with the task had come.

    This is what servants are for, she thought with no small amount of irritation as she spilled more of the other drink.

    ¡°Oh good, you made it back, and it only cost you half my Wood Nymph.¡±

    Frowning, Camille set the glasses down on the table.

    ¡°Kinda rude to do that when I¡¯m buying, you know. Seeing as how I have an actual job.¡±

    Clenching her fists tightly, Camille did her best not to rise to the bait. ¡°Stealing is not an actual job.¡±

    ¡°Neither is skimming off of other people because of who your parents were.¡±

    Camille bit her lip. ¡°You held me at swordpoint and named me a traitor. I spilled your drink. Is that not enough to declare things even, Florette?¡±

    The thief didn¡¯t answer directly, tipping her drink back and finishing what was left of it in a single sip. ¡°Tell you what: if you apologize, I¡¯ll let it drop.¡±

    ¡°We have actual business to plan. I¡¯m not going to waste time with¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just say: ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Florette. I didn¡¯t mean to spill your drink, I¡¯m just bad at holding my spirits and I lost control.¡¯ Then we can move on.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to recite the play you just wrote. No.¡±

    ¡°How about: ¡®I¡¯m sorry. I made a mistake.¡¯? That should be simple enough.¡±

    ¡°Including you at all was a mistake. Do you want to talk about handling your spirits? Already, I had to talk you out of throwing Whitbey off a cliff. You nearly blew your cover and mine by hanging around that inspector woman all night. And to top it off, you almost lost a finger playing that moronic pirate game.¡±

    The pirate¡¯s posture changed, a subtle slump that would have been easy to attribute to the late hour and downed drinks if Camille hadn¡¯t seen it occur so suddenly.

    ¡°Something wrong?¡±

    Florette sighed. ¡°I am sorry about that. Honestly. But they were saying that Eloise had been killed, and I just¡­ She is alive, not that I knew it then, but still. If I¡¯d been there, she wouldn¡¯t have had to wander starving through a wasteland with only a prince of Avalon for company. And even now that she¡¯s back, it¡¯s just¡­ not like it was, I guess.¡±

    And now it all slots into place.

    Camille extended a hand across the table, careful not to disturb the drinks. ¡°Forget about Eloise. She¡¯s not worth the time you spend thinking about her.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s part of the train heist now, so it¡¯s a little late for that. Not that I would, anyway. She¡¯s capable. And smart. Funny. Tough enough that you know she can handle herself, but underneath there¡¯s a heart of gold that she only shows to the people she cares about most. And¡ª¡± I have to stop her, or this could go on forever.

    ¡°She has a heart for gold, and she¡¯ll show it to anyone who¡¯ll listen. Mercenaries are unreliable enough, but pirates don¡¯t even have contracts. She left you in Malin because she didn¡¯t see any use for you. It¡¯s as simple as that.¡±

    Florette rubbed the back of her neck, still ignoring Camille¡¯s hand. ¡°Well, we sort of agreed on it together.¡±

    ¡°It was your idea?¡±

    ¡°Well, no, it was hers. But¡­¡± She saw Camille¡¯s amused expression and slumped, her face hitting the table. ¡°Ugh, I was such an idiot. She even had me deliver money to this other girl of hers, staying in some fancy house by the Sartaire. ¡®Margot¡¯... What was I thinking?¡±

    Camille withdrew her hand. ¡°That you wanted to help someone you cared about. That doesn¡¯t make you stupid.¡± Myriad other issues do, but not that. ¡°But throwing good energy after bad, that would be a mistake.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you even care.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t, really, though I don¡¯t want her or you jeopardizing my cover here. But aside from that, it¡¯s none of my concern. Do what you want.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Florette nodded, then, as if to reassure herself, did it again. ¡°It is none of your concern. The train job is mine to handle as I see fit, and including Eloise makes sense.¡±

    ¡°You really¡ª¡±

    ¡°And that¡¯s all I¡¯m going to say about it. I¡¯m not taking romantic advice from a half-dead sage that probably gets off on drowning people.¡±

    ¡°How dare you? Sacrifices are an ancient and hallowed tradition, descended from the very first humans making pacts with the very first spirits. It¡¯s not some bedroom folly. It¡¯s sacred. That¡¯s been self-evident for centuries. Millennia.¡±

    ¡°Not everyone always thought so.¡± Florette folded her arms, leaning back in her chair with a smug grin on her face. ¡°That Corelle book you were harping on me not knowing about? He mentions a peasant uprising on the Rhan before the Fox-Queen took over. They believed their king was being deceived by evil councilors, manipulating him into sacrificing them by the dozen, and they fought to stop it. In fact, that was key to letting the Fox-Queen take power at all.¡±

    ¡°According to Corelle. At minimum, she certainly leveraged the instability in the region.¡± Camille shrugged. ¡°But she had no trouble crushing it, and those revolting peasants didn¡¯t accomplish a single one of their goals. They were scarcely a pebble in the road.¡±

    Florette frowned, but she apparently didn¡¯t have a good rebuttal, because she got up to order another drink instead of responding.

    Remember this, then, and maybe watch your mouth next time, instead of ranting about history you don¡¯t understand.

    ?

    How did I fail to see it for so long?

    Camille had tied her hair back, keeping it in place despite the winds blowing off the Sartaire. The strength of this new sun was not equal to his predecessor, for the first traces of autumn were already in the air.

    Still, as the Avaline were so fond of saying, the day was fair, especially with the perfectly dappled blend of sun and shade shining through the verdant trellis above. Despite the cold and darkness, a few grapes had begun to sprout on the vines, though Camille didn¡¯t feel bold enough to test their flavor.

    The Sartaire stretched out beneath the patio, with the New Bridge the Fox-Queen had built fully in view, the rest of Malin visible beyond. No fires in sight, though Camille couldn¡¯t help but fear it every time she looked.

    ¡°Call me surprised, Leclaire.¡± Eloise walked out into the courtyard, Ysengrin and another of her guards walking behind her. ¡°When you said we¡¯d be meeting at your family¡¯s old manor, I assumed it would be something fancy. All you¡¯ve got here is a massive tower on the coast with a view to die for and a patio big enough to fit four normal houses. By your standards, it¡¯s positively restrained.¡±

    It was hard to tell if she was being sincere or not, so Camille answered her honestly. ¡°My family mostly split their time between the temple and the castle when I was young. This place predates our royal favor, and frankly much of our wealth.¡±

    Eloise¡¯s eyes narrowed, taken aback that Camille would agree to the building¡¯s modesty. Sarcasm, then.

    Well, it¡¯s her fault for not being clear. ¡°Ysengrin, it¡¯s good to see you. And I¡¯d like to meet up later. But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Say no more.¡± He bowed with a smile, then retreated indoors, the other guard belatedly following behind him.

    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± Eloise asked once they were alone. ¡°Both of us have been shot already. I need my guards on hand.¡±

    ¡°Aude is in command of the building, with six armed Acolytes guarding the way in. You¡¯re not in any danger.¡±

    ¡°Unless it¡¯s from you.¡±

    ¡°And I wanted to speak privately.¡±

    She frowned, folding her arms.

    ¡°I like Ysengrin. But if I¡¯d wanted him here, I would have invited him.¡± Camille gestured to the arrayed table in front of her. ¡°Come on, sit. Eat.¡±

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    Reluctantly, Eloise took the chair at the opposite end of the table, the furthest away that she could possibly sit. ¡°I should have realized that he wasn¡¯t good enough for the Maiden of Dawn.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. You know I wanted him in the Acolytes.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s still thinking it over.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Torn between common sense and a pretty face.¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I just be both?¡± Camille pushed a dish towards Eloise, a sweet egg tart infused with lemon flavor. ¡°I¡¯m trying, Eloise. This is the way to keep Malin free. You knew that when you sided with me instead of Luce, or you never would have done it.¡±

    Frowning, Eloise ripped off a piece of the tart with her bare hands and stuffed it into her mouth, ignoring the thoroughly polished, five hundred year old silver cutlery right in front of her face.

    Keep it to yourself, Camille. This isn¡¯t the time. ¡°It¡¯s good, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Eloise answered by grabbing another piece.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just take the whole thing? I¡¯ve had my fill.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t Jethro coming?¡± Crumbs flew from her mouth. ¡°Should leave him a bit.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t hold back on my account,¡± Mordred Boothe said as he entered, riding to the rescue to save Camille from enduring more of this stilted conversation. He was wearing the Prince Harold mask, for some reason, all the stranger for the fact that he would have had to put it on after entering the building, else the Acolytes wouldn¡¯t have let him in. ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s plenty of food to go around here, if not elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    Boothe seated himself across from Camille. ¡°I assume this is related to your recent psychedelic experience?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not unrelated.¡± Camille took a sip of wine, bolstering herself for the admissions to come. ¡°We¡¯ve all been so busy the past few weeks, overseeing the exodus of the Avaline hold-outs, vetting and inducting the Guardians who chose to stay, trying to get this last harvest out before winter sets in¡­ I do have work to discuss, but I thought it would be nice to take a breath and share a meal.¡±

    ¡°In truth, I¡¯m surprised at how many of them elected to stay,¡± Boothe said, pulling a basket of sausages towards himself and carefully arranging them on his plate. ¡°I assume these are chicken?¡±

    Camille nodded. ¡°My apologies. The governor¡¯s pigs were slaughtered right before darkness fell, and people understandably held on to whatever remained. Lucien will be bringing breeding stock with him when he arrives.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not an issue. Still more flavorful than the ones in Avalon.¡± He cut himself a bite, strangely switching the fork over to his right hand before putting the food in his mouth. ¡°I think it¡¯s the spices.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you can even eat with that mask on. Lamante¡¯s magic is more thorough than I¡¯d thought. Why are you wearing it, anyway?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t do to be too predictable,¡± he said, a non-answer if ever there was one. ¡°When one has as much to do as me and as little time to do it, it¡¯s necessary to always keep moving, flowing through identities as needed. Like Jethro, the verbose spy always looking for his next bribe, or the wayward Prince Harold, manifestly unsuited to rulership because he was never trained for it.¡±

    ¡°Or Mordred Boothe, traitor to Avalon,¡± Camille finished for him.

    Boothe smiled back, not bothering to deny it, then took another bite of sausage.

    ¡°Malin is their home,¡± Eloise said, unexpectedly returning to the topic of the Guardian converts. ¡°Even for the Avaline, anyone under thirty has probably spent most of their life here. And having their king in irons isn¡¯t a bad reason to believe we won¡¯t be smashed into ruin either. They were hired hands before, and they are now. What¡¯s so hard to believe about that?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Boothe scratched his chin. ¡°Well, in any case, it¡¯s to our benefit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it could never backfire if they saw the wind blowing the other way. It¡¯s foolproof.¡± Eloise leaned forward, elbows straddling her plate. ¡°Alright Leclaire, you wanted us to talk privately. What is it?¡±

    There¡¯s still time to back out. Camille downed the rest of her wine. ¡°I¡¯ve already trusted both of you with the safety of Malin and her people, many times over. Betraying me when Luce was around would have been completely trivial, but you both stood by me. I don¡¯t take that lightly. And that¡¯s why I¡¯m trusting you with this¡­¡± She trailed off, not wanting to finish her thought despite knowing that she had to.

    Eloise raised an eyebrow expectantly, while Boothe set down his fork.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been¡­ I suppose you could say ¡®rushed¡¯ ever since the sun rose, and I don¡¯t expect that to change even once Lucien gets here. Even if the peace holds.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°I need to work quickly, because when the new year arrives, I will not be there to see it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡±

    ¡°In the same way we all must leave Terramonde eventually. In truth, I¡¯ve been on borrowed time ever since Aurelian Lumi¨¨re shot me. At the end of the year, it will finally run out.¡±

    ¡°Spiritual curse?¡± Jethro asked, irritatingly casual in tone even as Eloise stared silently. ¡°I have some experience with that, and there may be ways around it. Especially if you are willing to die.¡±

    What could that possibly mean? If I die, that¡¯s not a way around anything.

    At least, not so far as Boothe would know.

    ¡°I will be fine, save for the fact that I¡¯ll be dead.¡± At that, Eloise badly failed to stifle a laugh. Camille frowned, but continued. ¡°My soul is not in danger. What is important is that I leave the Empire as well situated as possible with the time I have left. I¡¯m telling the two of you because you¡¯ve proven you can be trusted, and I need you to understand the time frame I¡¯m working with. The real tragedy will not be my death¡±¡ªwhich, in truth, is deserved¡ª¡°but if Malin and the Empire are not secure, if Lucien and our people are not safe.¡±

    Unexpectedly, Boothe reached his hand across the table, and Camille found herself grabbing it. ¡°I know what it is to be doomed by fate. Death comes for all of us. Even spirits have their time. But we can leave our mark on the world for those who come after, and ensure that our names are remembered. A man is not truly dead until the last time his name is uttered.¡± He squeezed her hand, a strangely intimate gesture. ¡°I want to help in any way that I can.¡±

    ¡°That explains a lot¡­¡± Eloise inhaled slowly, then let out her breath. ¡°I don¡¯t want Avalon wiping us out the second their king croaks, and that¡¯s a few decades off at most. I helped you to help people here. That¡¯s not going to change.¡± Her fingers curled. ¡°And I¡¯m going to tell Margot she can stage with you. She¡¯d kill me if she ever realized I took that away from her forever.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. She¡¯s good company. And I want to set her up for success.¡± Camille wiped her eyes. ¡°I hope I don¡¯t need to tell you both to keep this to yourself. Even once Lucien arrives, I need to find the right way to tell him myself.¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t know?¡± Eloise¡¯s head tilted. ¡°Aren¡¯t you two basically married?¡±

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve been apart. And I couldn¡¯t even admit it to myself until¡­ that outburst you both witnessed.¡± She bit her lip. ¡°We didn¡¯t want to get married until we could do it here, with his banner flying over the city. Now, that¡¯s finally possible, but¡­¡± This will be hard enough for him. He doesn¡¯t need to be a widower as well. ¡°I¡¯m not sure we¡¯ll be doing that anymore. So much of what we¡¯d planned is like that: rebuilding the castle, when those stone fortifications have been rendered completely obsolete; executing the turncoats, when so many of them have turned their allegiances back, and sacrifices themselves are so contentious; even reaching out to the other nations for alliances might be seen as an act of aggression that we would rather avoid. King Harold gives us leverage, but only so much, and if we push it too far, we risk Avalon deciding that his life is not priceless after all.¡±

    ¡°You might be surprised at how far you can push,¡± Jethro said, withdrawing his hand. ¡°Prince Harold will not allow his father to die, no matter the cost.¡±

    ¡°That may be, but Avalon does not bend to his will alone. If his lords decide that our price is too high, they may well overrule him.¡±

    ¡°Both factions of the Great Council regard him well, and carry deep respect for his father. But that does not mean they would follow him to the ends of Terramonde,¡± Boothe conceded.

    ¡°And he might think you¡¯re bluffing, if you play things wrong,¡± Eloise added. ¡°You¡¯ve got the right idea. Don¡¯t push your luck too far.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± Camille patted her face with her clean napkin, trying to return to a more presentable state. ¡°Simon should be joining us in a few minutes. As far as he can know, nothing is wrong. Understood?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Boothe agreed. Eloise nodded as well.

    ¡°Good.¡±

    They both assured her that she was back in form by the time Simon arrived, though it was impossible to fully trust their taste in that matter. Still, that was good enough to be reasonably sure that Simon wouldn¡¯t see anything amiss either.

    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late,¡± he said as he took the final seat at the table, though he¡¯d arrived precisely when Camille had meant him to. ¡°I know you¡¯ve all been waiting for my economic recovery plan, but I wanted to verify how much we can expect Plagette to lend us before I put the final touches on it. Should we start there, or with the war?¡±

    ¡°The what?¡± Eloise dropped the tart she was holding.

    ¡°The White Night?¡± Camille wouldn¡¯t have expected news of that to reach Malin yet, but she supposed that the seas were largely calm enough now that trade could start up again, and that meant news spreading along with them. ¡°What¡¯s there to discuss? Lucien and Fernan won. Glaciel slinked off with her tail between her legs, hopefully never to bother us again.¡±

    Simon blinked. ¡°I don¡¯t know who most of those people are. But I¡¯m talking about the Arboreum. You haven¡¯t heard?¡±

    Oh no. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Boothe pounded his fist against the table. ¡°I told him¡ª Ugh.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Eloise nearly shouted.

    ¡°Avalon killed all their spirits. They had nothing to get them through the darkness,¡± Camille realized, dread running down her spine. ¡°Now that the sun is back and waters are calm, they¡¯ll want to take whatever they can to claw their way back to where they were.¡±

    ¡°For all the benefits I was taught of austerity, it completely crumpled in the face of a crisis. The Great Council felt they had no choice but to claim resources abroad. The Arboreum was a rich target, and easily accessible from Lyrion and by sea. Lorraine is already under siege from the sea, and it¡¯s only a matter of time before the army makes it through the wasteland to their forests. Her Verdance chose to stay with her people, but a few managed to escape before the navy arrived.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re sending soldiers through Refuge?¡± Eloise blinked. ¡°What a brilliant idea. Not like armies need to eat or anything.¡±

    ¡°Cya wouldn¡¯t let them pass uncontested.¡± Camille clasped her fingers. ¡°We owe her much, and yet if we join the war, we open ourselves up to Avalon¡¯s attack.¡±

    ¡°Not that we¡¯re in any position to help until your beau arrives.¡± Eloise scowled. ¡°Fucking vultures. The sun hasn¡¯t even been back a month.¡±

    ¡°Simon, how did you hear this news?¡± If we¡¯re the only ones who know, that gives me a bit of time, though for what, I cannot say.

    ¡°The Cinnamon Tides docked this morning with refugees aboard. And dire news from Lorraine. The whole city¡¯s probably heard it by now.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m the last. Brilliant.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t be sated with the Arboreum,¡± Jethro said, his voice cold. ¡°It was King Harold¡¯s will that our wars of conquest cease. Now that he¡¯s out of power, and his edict broken, nothing¡¯s to stop them from pursuing the first Harold¡¯s dream.¡±

    Simon frowned. ¡°He accomplished his dream before he died: a united Avalon.¡±

    Boothe shook his head. ¡°History books say that, because it looks better for our illustrious founder to have realized all his goals, but his ambitions were greater than merely unifying the Avaline isles under one crown.¡± He paused, as if considering how much he ought to say. ¡°He wanted a united world, free from the tyranny of spirits.¡±

 Laura I: The Empty

    Laura I: The Empty

    Thousands of graves lined the riverbanks, each marked with a dull bronze spear slowly crumbling into dust. Somehow, after so many centuries that no one could really be sure what battle they had come from, the markers had never fallen or faded entirely. The riverbed stayed dry and the grass stiff and brown, even in the most verdant spring season after the wettest of winters.

    They¡¯re stuck, in time and place, even as the world¡¯s long moved on from whatever it was.

    The first time Laura had returned home in disgrace, the sight of those spears had been reinvigorating. The familiarity of home, even if she¡¯d rather not have come back under such circumstances.

    Fucking Leclaire.

    Today, the view from the Stone Tower brought no such comfort. Torpierre wasn¡¯t home anymore, but Guerron couldn¡¯t be either.

    Again.

    Because she¡¯d trusted someone to be decent, and instead they¡¯d stabbed her in the back.

    Again.

    For all that it was only visible from within the tower, apparently the macabre scene outside was real and tangible. ¡®A reflection of reality¡¯, according to Miroirter, although it seemed like everything was a reflection with him.

    Still, he was probably right. He was old enough to know, and it better fit the facts besides. Mere illusions couldn¡¯t burn your skin red, at least not any that Laura had ever witnessed, nor have a truthbound spirit vouch for their authenticity. The Stone Tower may have been the ancestral home of the Bougittes, but it predated them by millenia, to the point that no one was really sure how it had ever been built.

    Everything above the third floor of the Stone Tower was just as impossible to see from the ground as the rushing river outside was from within it, though the temple stretched so high that Laura had long lost count of the floors before reaching the top. That was all anchored to reality, true physical space, even if it couldn¡¯t be seen.

    Why couldn¡¯t an ancient graveyard be just as real, for all that it couldn¡¯t be touched? In the rooms old enough that the windows lacked glass, the air flowing through remained dry and hot, and when Laura stuck her hand out, she could feel the sun¡¯s burning heat on her skin.

    ¡°Did it still look like this before the sun came back?¡± she asked absently, not moving her gaze from the window. Her old chambers had been on the twelfth floor, still low enough to see the ground pretty clearly, but this time Laura was to stay on the thirty-eighth, sleeping in a bed that may well not have been used since before the Fox-Queen¡¯s day. From up here, looking East, she could see that the entire lakebed was dry, dotted with mud houses whose ruins were probably still under the water, if anyone cared to descend to find them.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Valentine answered, walking up to the window next to Laura. ¡°It faded to night and back, just as it always has.¡± She was wearing that dress with the high collar that Mother hated, the smallest trace of self-expression on her otherwise immaculate presentation as the eldest Bougitte daughter. ¡°It helped us keep track of time.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Whatever¡¯s down there, I guess they¡¯ve still got their sun.¡±

    ¡°If only we could say the same.¡±

    Laura frowned. ¡°Depends on the ¡®we¡¯. The world has one, in the form of some pissant hermit with a backstabbing scoundrel of a High Priest. House Bougitte, on the other hand, well¡­¡± She pulled out her pouch and papers, dropping them on a dusty shelf and rolling herself a bit of comfort. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Valentine scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to rat you out to Mother and Father. But try to blow it out the window. These drapes are older than some countries; it¡¯d be a shame to leave them with an odor.¡±

    ¡°Not that.¡± She held the hand-roll up to her lips and lit it with a spark from her fingertip, burning away an hour¡¯s life in the process. ¡°Thank you for not asking if I really betrayed Flammare. Everyone in Guerron was looking at me like some treacherous bastard.¡±

    ¡°I know you better.¡± She held out her hand, so Laura passed her the smoking roll. ¡°Not a treacherous bone in your body. And you don¡¯t exactly have the temperament for scheming, nor any aptitude for it.¡±

    Laura yanked the roll back out of her sister¡¯s hands and took a deep breath through it, watching the tip glow red. I thought the same thing about Fernan, and that was totally fucking wrong.

    ¡°That¡¯s a compliment, Laura.¡±

    Trails of smoke drifted out, the tiny flecks of ash within them destined to rain down over the ancient graveyard. ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel like one.¡±

    Valentine only answered with a shrug. ¡°You had the opportunity to foster with the Fox-King and nearly ended up getting disowned within a few months of arriving. Now it looks like you¡¯re in the same boat again. What am I supposed to say? Political genius, you are not.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Valentine.¡±

    ¡°You should try not to use your magic trivially like that, you know. With Flammare dead, we¡¯d be powering it with our own lives.¡±

    ¡°Whatever. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m ever going to get another way to use it. For that matter, it¡¯s not like I have anything better to do with my life.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± Valentine put a comforting hand on her back. ¡°Mother and Father want to see you. And the spirits are already here for the convocation. There could be a way out of this for us.¡±

    ¡°For you, maybe. Every spirit with Flammare saw ¡®me¡¯ lure him into the ambush that got him killed. If I get within half a mile of a convocation again, I¡¯ll probably be killed by a dozen spirits at once.¡±

    A frown traced its way across Valentine¡¯s face, but she had nothing to say.

    Laura threw what was left of the hand-roll out the window and watched the speck fade into the distance below, then steeled herself for what was to come.

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel like you need to back me up,¡± she told her sister as they descended to the fourth floor, home to the Count and Countess of Torpierre. ¡°I think at this point it¡¯s a lost cause.¡±

    ¡°You need all the help you can get.¡±

    ¡°That was last time. Save yourself.¡± Laura felt her nails digging into her palms as they arrived at the Count¡¯s chambers.

    Andr¨¦a led them inside, his tone noticeably icy as he greeted Laura. And why wouldn¡¯t it be? It¡¯s not as if we got along before, either. He was the eldest, the heir to Torpierre and Flammare, and now all of that could be gone. If he blames me for Flammare¡¯s death, it¡¯s not exactly going to help.

    ¡°We are to hang back, Valentine,¡± he said at the threshold of the door. ¡°Our parents wish to speak with Laura alone.¡±

    So it was.

    Count Bougitte and his Countess looked much the same as they ever had, though perhaps slightly fatter, and the Count¡¯s hair looked as if it were losing its battle against the ravages of time.

    ¡°Mother, Father.¡± Laura found herself gripping her belt, as if drawing her sword could accomplish anything here. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m not here under better circumstances.¡±

    ¡°A grossly inadequate apology.¡± Countess Hermine rapped her knuckles on the table in front of her, shielding Laura from the obligation to stand any closer. ¡°I will have the truth from you this instant, with all the contrition befitting a scion of this House.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± Laura tried not to sigh. ¡°Flammare was deceived by that peasant boy, Fernan Montaigne. They led him into a binder¡¯s ambush and saw him slain, so that his patron spirit could be elevated to Soleil¡¯s seat in Flammare¡¯s place.¡±

    ¡°And while this churl was plotting the greatest threat to our family since the War of Three Cubs, what were you doing?¡± Count C¨¦dric folded his arms. ¡°Drinking? Carousing? Shaming the name of our house once again?¡±

    ¡°Or were you conspiring towards our downfall?¡± Mother¡¯s voice was free of hesitation. ¡°The peasants have seen you with the Montaigne boy, and the spirits say that it was you who led Flammare astray.¡±

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t! I wouldn¡¯t! There was an imposter mimicking my form, maybe a sage of Miroirter, or someone with a face from Lamante.¡±

    ¡°Such paltry excuses.¡± Father shook his head. ¡°No, I think it¡¯s quite clear what happened.¡±

    ¡°Aile is dead! My power is gone, unless I want to kill myself to use it! Why would I ever aid them in doing this to me?¡±

    ¡°Aile?¡± The Count raised an eyebrow. ¡°One of your louche associates, I presume?¡±

    ¡°My familiar, Father. Without Flammare¡¯s power, or any warning, she¡­¡± She would have died instantly, after a much longer life than any normal hawk. It would have been painless, at least, just the light inside her going out.

    Just another misery to throw on the pile.

    ¡°Good riddance. A hawk ill-suited a sage of flame. Now cease prattling on about irrelevant matters.¡± The Countess knocked against the table again, jarring Laura from her memories. ¡°As your father said, it¡¯s quite clear what happened. You possess all the cunning of a soggy pair of pants, and no motive to rise against us save childish spite.¡±

    ¡°So we can¡¯t rule it out,¡± said the Count with a smile on his face, as if the thought amused him. ¡°However, it would not do to be overly punitive. Not in any way visible to the masses. That would as good as confirm your guilt, a stain our family name ill needs.¡±

    Laura felt her grip relax slightly. ¡°You¡¯re not disowning me?¡±

    ¡°We have arrived at a better solution,¡± Mother answered. ¡°I¡¯ve written to Guerron, and the Crown is willing to announce your innocence to the world, condemning the imposter as Flammare¡¯s murderer. The spirits will not be well inclined to listen, but perhaps humanity at least will regard you as more than a treacherous monster.¡±

    ¡°If only you¡¯d do the same,¡± Laura muttered. ¡°Why would they do that? Lucien and Annette have no affection for me after the trial.¡±

    ¡°Both have departed for Malin, leaving the Count of Dorseille to act as the Lord of Guerron in his cousin¡¯s place. I have corresponded with him personally, and ensured that he has a vested interest in proving your innocence.¡±

    ¡°How? Why? Guy Valvert is¡ª¡± The answer came to Laura belatedly, just a moment before her mother answered the question.

    ¡°In need of a wife. And as you have proven yourself manifestly unsuitable to furthering our family¡¯s interest as anything but a sack of flour to be traded, you will serve us in another manner.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a good match,¡± Father said. ¡°You would be the Lady of Dorseille. And if anything happens to the Duchess before she has children, Valvert would inherit Guerron, as would your children with him.¡±

    I¡¯d sooner die.

    ¡°And don¡¯t think I can¡¯t hear your muttering, you sullen child,¡± Mother said. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that we love all our children equally.¡±

    Father snorted.

    ¡°...As a starting point,¡± she corrected. ¡°Any disfavor you have earned is your own doing, and you are fortunate to be granted this chance to rectify it.¡±

    ¡°But what about fixing things here? The spirits will be meeting soon to choose Flammare¡¯s replacement. If I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your days of meddling in our affairs are over.¡± Father¡¯s voice was firm. ¡°No thanks to you, we have found a way to salvage our reputation. Andr¨¦a has pledged himself to Tauroneo, and Valentine and Edouard will soon do the same. Once he takes Flammare¡¯s seat, our position will be entirely restored.¡±

    Edouard is eight. He¡¯s in no position to pledge himself to anyone. ¡°That¡¯s not going to work. Earth spirits don¡¯t take on sages. They barely even talk to humans.¡±

    Mother shook her head. ¡°The gravity of the situation has convinced Tauroneo otherwise. Without human followers, he was left without the power to be secure in his role. Great spirits have been dying like flies of late, and centuries of refusal to deal with us have already left him disadvantaged. This solution benefits everyone.¡± Her voice went cold. ¡°Provided you do not ruin it, as you have ruined so many things before.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be fucking serious. Guy Valvert is almost twice my age, and a larger prick than Terramonde¡¯s. If you could let me¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. That will be enough of that.¡± Mother gestured to the door. ¡°And if you utter such vulgarities in my presence again, you do not wish to know what punishment I have in store.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Father said. ¡°Pack your things and prepare for the trip back to Guerron. You¡¯ll be wed within the month. You are dismissed.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Laura snarled, already halfway out the door.

    Andr¨¦a had already fucked off back to his room, scant surprise there, but Valentine was waiting for her, face twisted with concern. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re marrying me off.¡± Dread pooled in Laura¡¯s throat, dripping into her words. ¡°Guy Valvert, prick extraordinaire.¡±

    Valentine winced, pulling Laura towards the stairs so they could speak privately. ¡°I know that sounds bad, but at least you¡¯re still in the family.¡±

    ¡°Pfeh, not for long. This is just a way to be rid of me without losing face. No matter that they¡¯re throwing me into a life of misery.¡±

    After a moment of pause, Valentine sighed, putting her hand on Laura¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It might not be as bad as you think. He¡¯s older, for one thing, which means that he¡¯ll die sooner, and you¡¯ll end up with everything he had as his widow.¡±

    ¡°In like fifty years! You want to wait around until he dies, suffering through for decades?¡±

    Her face twisted, weighing whether or not to say what she was about to say. ¡°Guy is¡­ not one for monogamy. He will want to do as he likes, married or no. I think, if you approach him in the right manner, he would grant you leave to do the same.¡±

    Laura sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to bet on him not being a hypocrite. This is Guy Valvert. Who¡¯s to say he wouldn¡¯t impose rules on his wife that he had no intention of following? And either way, I¡¯m just as trapped there. No, I can¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Most marriages reach that point eventually. I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s great to start there, no love between you, but¡­ In ten or twenty years, what¡¯s the difference?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s hardly inevitable.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be na?ve. You¡¯ve seen Mother and Father.¡±

    ¡°They seemed to be on the same page in there.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but they sleep on different floors. Even that precious little Fox-King is going to get there eventually. Do you remember his anniversary party? All the girls throwing themselves at him? And you know Leclaire and her charming personality. I¡¯d bet he tires of her before they¡¯re forty.¡±

    That only made it worse, imagining what could have been, what could be, in a depressing future. ¡°Why bring up Lucien?¡±

    ¡°Because he¡¯s the perfect example. He could have any of the Empire¡¯s best, but he¡¯s never been tempted for a second.¡± Not true. ¡°And yet, still, it¡¯s inevitable.¡±

    Laura felt her hand grip her sabre, a final gift from Aurelian Lumi¨¦re. He¡¯d seen Soleil¡¯s cruelty, and the inevitable anguish that awaited his son. Had he meekly accepted his fate? No! Even when it cost him everything, he had spared Aubaine his own fate. Death was nothing, in the face of that.

    ¡°The spirits are gathered by the cave, right? That¡¯s the most fitting place to choose the spirit of the hearth.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ Yes? What does that have to do with¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Laura said, descending the stairs.

    ¡°Laura, don¡¯t do anything rash!¡± Valentine called down after her, but Laura left her sister there with her words.

    I¡¯m a warrior. I¡¯m not going to wither and die, surrounded by my failures. There was an honorable way out, here, and Laura would take it, no matter the cost.

    At the foot of the Stone Tower, she had to use a boat to get to the shore, so swollen was the Coul¨¦e Pierre from all of the snowmelt, but one of father¡¯s men saw to it without issue, and before long the cave was in sight.

    No spirits guarded the entrance, so Laura simply drew her sword and walked inside.

    Fernan took so much from me, but I still have sage¡¯s last resort. A good death need not elude me.

    Live as a sage, die as a sage.

    She sprouted a fire from her hand to light the way, since the spirits seemed to be too deep within for the light outside to reach them, keeping Aurelian¡¯s sabre firmly gripped in her other hand. Had he felt this way, holding this same blade, as Avalon¡¯s cannons thundered in the Foxtrap? Or when Leclaire held a guillotine of ice above his neck?

    As his body collapsed into slag?

    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been in here since I made my compact with Flammare, Laura realized, looking over the handprints and animals painted across the walls, remnants of a bygone age. It¡¯s worth savoring this last look.

    In the distance, she saw a faint green light bounce from the cave¡¯s walls, so she extinguished her own light to see it better. It flickered like a lantern, though no lantern had ever taken on a color like that. Still, it meant she was on the right track.

    ¡°Come out and die!¡± she called, hearing her words echo through the cave. ¡°My name is Laura Bougitte, sage of Flammare.¡± The spirits would know what that meant, or at least they¡¯d think they did: a treacherous human with the gall to conspire against her patron and the prowess to see him slain. None of that was true, of course, but it would give her the fight she needed.

    ¡°Where are you?¡± she called again. ¡°Is every spirit here too much of a coward to face me?¡±

    The light stopped retreating.

    As Laura got closer, she saw the spirit, a silhouette in green of a wispy snake swimming through the air, but it disappeared behind her almost the instant she caught a good glimpse of it.

    ¡°It seems that you wish for death, human.¡± Its voice was so quiet that Laura couldn¡¯t clearly make out the words until they were joined by their own echo sounding off the walls, perfectly in sync.

    ¡°Your death,¡± she said, whirling around with her sword. ¡°As long as you¡¯re worthy of the fight.¡±

    The spirit flickered by, gone as soon as it was there. ¡°If you are who you say you are, then I have a proposal I believe will serve you better. A way to regain power that you have lost, in exchange for a fight you already desire.¡±

    Holding tightly to her sword, Laura peered into the darkness to try to find it. For all that spirits were bound to truth, every word carried the menacing suspicion of a stinger in its tail. And yet, what did that even matter? What was there to lose?

    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

 Luce II: The Problem Solver

    Luce II: The Problem Solver

    For those who lost their lives in cold and darkness. May their departure not be forgotten, even in this age of gleaming.

    The message was etched into a stone plinth outside the city gates. It looked much like the memorial in Fortescue, though that one had the message twice, once in Avaline and once in the old tongue of the Mamela.

    This one had a line added on the end, off-center from the other inscription: And for all those who followed them, abandoned by their lord. ¡ªYear 118 AG.

    On the way up from the harbor, Luce¡¯s party had spotted bare earth piled up over farmland by the side of the road in the suspicious shape of a mass barrow. This marker seemed only to confirm that.

    While I¡¯ve been sitting around moping, people have been dying.

    ¡°That was unsanctioned,¡± Agnes Delbrook said, eyebrows creased firmly downward. She was only in her fifties, yet her short hair had already passed fully from the realm of grey into white, matching the color of her crisp dinner jacket. ¡°Rest assured, the perpetrator will be dealt with.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Luce stepped in front of her, ensuring that he was at the front of their party as they crossed the threshold into Carringdon. ¡°It¡¯s not wrong, is it? Perimont was too busy ¡®dealing¡¯ with ¡®perpetrators¡¯ in Malin to do anything for his people here. His wife fell into the same trap, even after darkness fell.¡±

    ¡°They desecrated a memorial, Your Highness. Ill will towards their lord is no excuse for that.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not.¡± You¡¯re here to solve a problem, not make more enemies. ¡°Someone must have wanted a place to grieve more easily accessible to the city. Where is the official memorial?¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°For those who did not live to see the sun again. The unsanctioned epitaph added them to the historical one, so where is the sanctioned equivalent?¡±

    Delbrook looked briefly like she¡¯d swallowed a lime.

    ¡°People need to grieve. If you don¡¯t give them an opportunity for it, they¡¯ll make their own.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness. A suitable monument is currently under construction, but in an effort to ensure the highest quality available, it will not be ready for unveiling for several weeks.¡±

    Liar. You¡¯re just trying to get me off your back about this.

    Luce supposed he shouldn¡¯t have expected anything less from Lord Perimont¡¯s chosen policy advisor, the woman who had taught Simon Perimont everything he knew of economics. Her attitude was not an unusual one, deeply ingrained among Avalon¡¯s nobility.

    She had swallowed her pride and come to Uncle Miles for help, and accepted Luce into Carringdon to examine the problem despite everything she would have heard about him. That merited consideration, and it meant that maybe she could even be an asset here, provided she were given proper direction.

    ¡°How many are dead?¡± Luce asked her quietly as they approached Woodfell Castle, former home of the Perimonts.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t been able to take a census yet, but more than half the farmhouses sit empty. In the city, those unable to provide for themselves froze in the street, and ended up in the barrow you saw. I think that was about two or three hundred, and we could guess that around that many more from the surrounding villages never made it inside Carringdon at all. As for the farmers out further afield, I¡¯m afraid I have no idea. If their hearths and larders were well enough stocked, perhaps some yet live.¡±

    They didn¡¯t even have enough to feed people within the walls? ¡°Almost a thousand in just a few months, and that¡¯s just what we know of¡­ Khali¡¯s curse. This is more desperate than I thought.¡±

    ¡°And if we cannot secure reserves before the onset of winter, that number will look small.¡± She paused as they reached the town square, smoothing out the front of her jacket. ¡°You are no friend of mine, Your Highness. Lord and Lady Perimont did well by me, and you slaughtered them both, then stripped Simon and Mary of their birthright. But I believe you hold the key to saving Carringdon, perhaps all of the western isles, and I am willing to put my feelings aside for the sake of this city.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that.¡± And also notice you conveniently omitting their barbarous treason in your little narrative.

    ¡°Gather your swords close as we pass through the square. The urbanites have been somewhat unruly of late, so it¡¯s best to be cautious.¡± Delbrook signaled to her guards, and they closed ranks around her.

    Luce nodded to Charlotte to do the same.

    Uncle Miles had not lent but given him twenty of his men to keep about him as a personal guard, both a kindly-meant gesture towards Luce¡¯s safety and an embarrassing reminder of his failures in Malin, where losing an advantage in swords had cost him everything.

    That was not a mistake Luce was liable to make ever again.

    Two of them had refused to serve under Charlotte¡¯s command, so he¡¯d left them back in Fortescue. The remaining eighteen circled around them, creating a bulwark against the crowd as they followed Delbrook through.

    ¡°Make way!¡± they shouted. ¡°Make way for the Prince of Crescents!¡±

    ¡°Make way for the High Steward of Carringdon!¡± Delbrook¡¯s guards were shouting too, slowly clearing the path, but it looked as if their arrival had prompted more of the crowd to come out and see them, and progress was beginning to slow.

    All these people gathered here for a reason. ¡°What happened?¡± Luce shouted to Delbrook, trying to be heard over the inarticulate roar of the crowd.

    ¡°Wait until we¡¯re inside!¡± she shouted back, a fair enough response given the noise.

    By the time they reached the castle gates, the crowd had settled on a single cry, chanting with one voice: ¡°No pay! No work! No pay! No work!¡±

    Luce could still hear them yelling it as he settled in Perimont¡¯s solar, a warm cup of tea in front him.

    ¡°You see what I¡¯m dealing with here, Your Highness. Not a scrap of gratitude in these shiftless layabouts.¡± Delbrook leaned back in her own chair, waving a command to her servant. ¡°I was worried enough as it was, but it seems that my voyage only emboldened them.¡±

    ¡°To do what, exactly? What is their grievance?¡± Other than you being the person in charge while hundreds died in the street, anyway. ¡°You said that you needed help with a logistical problem, not an insurrection.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be dramatic, Your Highness. They will fall in line as they always have, all the more so with your help, and the help of your guard in keeping order.¡±

    I¡¯m not letting that happen again either. ¡°My guard is here for my protection, not to bolster your own forces. Now I ask again: what is their grievance?¡±

    ¡°Treachery and laziness, though in what proportion I could not tell you. The sun is risen, and the worst of the crisis has passed. All I asked was that they honor their contracts and return to the fields to work. We may only get one harvest before the true winter, and yet they¡¯re wasting time whining about it in the square.¡±

    You¡¯re leaving something out, I¡¯m positive. ¡°Their contracts?¡±

    Delbrook smiled, and she began to speak in what Luce imagined was her ¡®tutor¡¯ voice. ¡°Your great-grandfather freed the serfs, Your Highness. Now each of them are free, and that seems to have put all manner of disreputable ideas into their heads.¡±

    ¡°But the contracts?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°Tenancy contracts. Each of them signed it in order to work on Lord Perimont¡¯s lands. They agreed to pay the necessary rent, and now they want to weasel out of it because they smell blood in the air.¡±

    Luce sucked in air through his teeth, trying to remain civil. You have hundreds starving and you¡¯re quibbling over rent fees? ¡°How is the rent collected? A percentage of their yield?¡±

    ¡°Better,¡± she answered. ¡°Each household need only provide three hundred mandala worth of crops per acre per month, as determined by the Lord¡¯s assessor, or two hundred fifty mandala in coin, should they wish to sell it themselves. Everything after that is theirs to keep, a potentially infinite source of revenue.¡±

    I have no idea if those are reasonable numbers or not. Though he wouldn¡¯t wish this ignoble exile on anyone, Luce did briefly wonder how much easier this would be if he had Simon here to help parse this. ¡°So¡­ the people outside are mad because you¡¯re bringing back that rent, now that the sun has returned?¡±

    ¡°Bring back? It never went anywhere. They signed a contract. Nothing¡¯s happened to nullify that, despite the record number of households that failed to pay. They¡¯re mad because their own failures put them in debt, and now they want to worm their way out from under it without simply doing the work. Plenty of peasants paid their rent without issue during the darkness, and you don¡¯t see them agitating things out there. It¡¯s only the failures.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see¡­¡± Interesting that more than half the city seems to be a ¡®failure¡¯, by your reckoning. ¡°But nothing was growing here after the solstice, correct?¡± You didn¡¯t have spirits aiding you, making possible the impossible. ¡°How would they pay that without any income from their lands?¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Preparation, of course. The farmers who were smart with their money saved it, and weathered the last few months just fine. Instead of spending it all on flashy clothing and brandy, they proved industrious. Resilient.¡± She paused, putting her hand under her chin. ¡°Deserving.¡±

    ¡°Did it occur to you that forgiving the debt might get them back to work?¡±

    Delbrook looked offended at the mere suggestion. ¡°I¡¯m a High Steward, not a charity. If I set an example that failure, that breaking your word and coming up short, that all of it is just wiped away as if no mistake had ever been made, how could anyone take our contracts seriously ever again? What does that say to the dutiful, the successful, who did pay their rent without needing to borrow?¡±

    ¡°You could give them the rent back too, so that it¡¯s even for everyone.¡±

    ¡°So that my word means nothing? Your Highness, I appreciate your zeal for finding a solution here, but selling out the word of Woodfell for the meager, temporary gain of getting peasants back to work faster¡­¡± She clicked her tongue. ¡°Worse, it would show them that such agitation bears fruit. The next time, their position would be all the stronger, knowing that they¡¯d succeeded at extracting concessions before.¡±

    That is, if they aren¡¯t dead, along with the rest of us, after your penny-pinching led Avalon to starve.

    ¡°No, I already have a solution for that. A few choice contracts for a chosen few will get them back in the fields even as the agitators starve. We¡¯ll peel them off one by one, and run out the clock until they have no choice but to give in and honor their contracts. If that proves insufficient, Lord Perimont left Forresters for a reason.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d attack them?¡± I need to talk to Charlotte right away. This can¡¯t be allowed to stand.

    I wish I¡¯d asked my uncle for more swords.

    ¡°They¡¯d attack us.¡± Delbrook smiled, grin stretching ear to ear. ¡°Captain Bainsbridge assures me that she has just the man for the job. And it wouldn¡¯t take much. All he¡¯d have to do is throw a brick or some such thing, and my guards would have the justification they needed to round them up, and take care of the most vocal. That should chasten the rest. Then the prisoners can be put to work. Everything will be fine, either way.¡±

    Luce could barely keep his jaw from falling open. How na?ve I was, to think that Perimont would rule Carringdon any differently from Malin, or that his chosen advisor would do anything to deviate from that path.

    ¡°Lady Delbrook, you came to Fortescue seeking my Uncle¡¯s help¡ª¡±

    ¡°But yours is all the better. Lord Arion doubtless has his own affairs to tend to, and your word will be even more valuable than his in this matter.¡± You must not have heard about my sterling accomplishments in Malin, then. She glanced up at a servant ducking into view, quickly nodding his head and retreating from sight. ¡°Your Highness, if you would care to join me in the dining room, I have prepared a feast in honor of your arrival.¡±

    ¡°A feast?¡± he couldn¡¯t help but say. So many people starved and froze that they couldn¡¯t have a grave to themself, the fields are fallow, and you want to feast?

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness! It is not every day that Carringdon is graced with the Prince of Crescents, let alone that we receive his aid. Showing due gratitude is only reasonable.¡± She smiled, standing from her seat. ¡°Come!¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Luce said quietly, remaining in his seat. ¡°We have business to take care of first.¡±

    ¡°How prudent,¡± Delbrook said, sitting back down herself. ¡°Then I shall dispense with further preamble. When I asked for your help, Your Highness, I had a specific favor in mind.¡±

    ¡°Swords, to keep your peasants in line.¡± Luce wrinkled his nose as he said it.

    ¡°Not at all, Your Highness! They are for your protection, as you stated. None can doubt your need for it after that misadventure with the pirates. No, I¡¯m hoping you can help ensure that shipments of Lyrion grain are rerouted. Right now, the lord¡¯s portion is going to Cambria, and as you can see, we sorely need a more equitable distribution.¡±

    ¡°Lyrion grain,¡± he repeated, slightly incredulous. Not so confident about getting a last harvest in before winter, then.

    ¡°Horace Williams will not be inclined to heed a mere steward, even one acting in the stead of the Lady of Carringdon. But a prince of the blood? Your words carry your father¡¯s weight. He will listen to you.¡±

    ¡°And when you¡¯ve taken your fill from the Territories, you¡¯ll have no need to capitulate.¡± Luce¡¯s frown was heavy, but Delbrook didn¡¯t seem to notice.

    ¡°Precisely!¡±

    Luce sipped his tea, readying himself for a bit of candor. ¡°I don¡¯t see why the Crown should reward you for your failure. If you¡¯d been better prepared, you would have what you need saved up instead of having to come beg us.¡± What was that worst thing she¡¯d said? ¡°I¡¯m a prince, not a charity. If I set the example that lords can starve their peasants and fall behind on their taxes, only for the Crown to swoop in and bail them out, what precedent does that set? How can anyone trust our word again?¡±

    Delbrook had a hand in the air, but it dropped as she saw Luce continue. Teeth grit, she leaned forward in her seat. ¡°Those peasants signed a contract that they must honor. I had to take over for my Lord and Lady when they were suddenly executed without warning, right at the moment Carringdon needed them most. I had hoped that you would be understanding, Prince Lucifer, given your role in the situation. I am not asking much, just a word in the Governor-General¡¯s ears.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to help you steal food out of Cambrian mouths so that you can hold firm on starving your own people!¡±

    Delbrook scoffed. ¡°As if the Cambrians are half so desperate. Their larders will grow fat with spoils from the Arboreum while the western isles don¡¯t see a single bushel. Even though our young men and women will die to take that land. What I¡¯m asking for is more than fair, and if you care one whit about those people out there, you¡¯d want food coming here instead of where it isn¡¯t needed. I think, on some level, that you know that, Prince Lucifer.¡±

    Eyes closed, Luce¡¯s hand rested against his forehead. ¡°What spoils from the Arboreum?¡± I suspect I know, but I dearly hope I¡¯m mistaken.

    ¡°The Great Council authorized your brother to send our forces south, in order to secure our safety and prosperity. I¡¯m told that Lorraine is already under siege, with our soldiers sweeping west from Lyrion through the forest. Soon, the Arboreum Territory will be entirely under our control.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse.¡±

    ¡°And from there, who knows what¡¯s next? The Rhan lands are lush and fertile, and easily accessed from the river forks. Or perhaps Micheltaigne. Even after the Winter War, their riches are legendary, and it would give us control over the waters of Paix Lake, to better spread our sphere of influence over the South.¡±

    Ever since I was seven, I¡¯ve been hoping that this moment would never come again.

    While I was flailing in Malin, Avalon set itself on a course of grievous destruction, condemning thousands to death after everyone has lost so much already.

    ¡°So you see, Prince Lucifer, there will be plenty to go around. With a word from you, I highly doubt your brother will object, nor Horace Williams. Carringdon would ever be in your debt, as would I.¡±

    I need to go to Cambria right away, was Luce¡¯s first thought, desperately reaching for some kind of way to get Avalon out of this. But then what would I do? Delbrook might not have heard the news yet, but after Malin, Luce was a joke, and Harold might not be kindly disposed to him. He might even want me dead. That, or Father does. Either way, a hostile city whose most powerful denizens had already set a course for war.

    What reason did they have to listen to Luce and his nineteen swords? What could he possibly do to convince the entire Great Council that Harold hadn¡¯t already tried? Unless he hasn¡¯t tried anything, because he actually wants this. Then he would stand against me, and getting anywhere with the Great Council would be that much more impossible.

    ¡°I need to find a way to fix this.¡±

    Delbrook looked confused. ¡°Of course, Your Highness. And my suggested course was a conversation with Governor-General Horace Williams in Lyrion. If you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not that. I think I know how to fix Carringdon¡¯s ills. It¡¯s doing the same for Avalon that vexes me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand, Your Highness, but if you need any further convincing, allow me to offer you this.¡± She snapped her fingers and a servant entered, carrying a small black pair of gloves with a faint glowing aura about them. ¡°These gloves were bound by Baron Williams in the Foxtrap, out of a spider spirit named Teruvo. I heard tell that you¡¯re hunting for spiritual artifacts, and I have no doubt that these will make an excellent addition to your collection.¡±

    ¡°The Gloves of Teruvo?¡± Luce had inquired after those back in Malin, as a bargaining chip to use with the spirits. The Star of Pierrot, his uncle had managed to return, but the gloves had gone missing just at the most inopportune moment, mere days before Luce¡¯s request had arrived. ¡°You found them?¡±

    ¡°Just three days hence. A servant was sticky-fingered, and has been dealt with accordingly. I hope this gift enriches your life, as it has enriched mine.¡±

    So, you definitely hid it away to avoid sending it to me, and now that I have something you want, you¡¯re pulling it back out to trade. ¡°That isn¡¯t yours to give, Lady Delbrook. You are the High Steward of Carringdon, but Lord Perimont¡¯s property is not your own to give away.¡±

    She frowned at that, but it didn¡¯t deter her. ¡°That may be, but surely it¡¯s within the power of a prince to forgive such a transgression. These gloves belong with you. Surely you see that? And I¡¯ll have them delivered to a site of your choosing the moment the first shipment of grain from Lyrion arrives.¡±

    ¡°No you will not.¡± Luce stood up. ¡°Charlotte! Get in here.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for that, Your Highness. You¡¯re among friends. Trust me.¡±

    Trust me.

    ¡°Silence.¡± Luce turned to Charlotte. ¡°Gather my guard and return here immediately.¡±

    Charlotte nodded and ducked away, soon to return.

    ¡°Please! Don¡¯t be so quick to leave. You¡¯ve traveled far, and endured much. Stay the night at least. I implore you.¡±

    ¡°I believe I told you to be silent.¡± Luce grabbed Charlotte¡¯s hand as she returned, his guards behind her, and set his other arm on her shoulder like he¡¯d seen Camille do when she wanted something. ¡°Effective immediately, Agnes Delbrook is relieved of command. I will be taking control of Carringdon under the authority of my father Harold IV Grimoire. You will inform the swords of Carringdon that they are under your command.¡±

    Charlotte smiled, nodding firmly. ¡°And if they don¡¯t want to follow orders?¡±

    ¡°I hear that there¡¯s a war going on, and I have no doubt that they would be most welcome on the front lines. Or, if they insist, death, though I would sooner avoid it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    As it turned out, no one insisted on it, though the Arboreum front gained six swords to aid its efforts, ex-Forrester Captain Bainsbridge being the most notable among them. And Luce¡¯s guard swelled in number to thirty-eight, though he had no doubt that Charlotte would cut that number down at the first sign of disloyalty.

    ¡°Send someone out to the square to tell them I¡¯m making an announcement.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s lip curled. ¡°Is that wise?¡±

    She¡¯s seen my last public speech. But even that had done more good than harm. ¡°Even if my delivery falters, they¡¯re going to love my news. All tenant debts are suspended until Spring. Apparently there¡¯s a feast laid out in the great hall that we should wheel out to sweeten the pot. And send word to my mother and uncle. We¡¯ll need a wise hand to rule here once I set out, and I want them to send someone as soon as possible.¡±

    We¡¯ll go to Lyrion, and deal with the grain at its source. Spirits are closer, and I just gained a new artifact to bargain. If the yields could be increased to the point that conquest was unnecessary¡­ If the day is fair, I might just find a means to end the war before it¡¯s even begun.

    ¡°Are you sure that will be enough for the people out there?¡± Charlotte asked, already scribbling out her next set of orders. ¡°And what about Lady Delbrook?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a solution to both.¡± I kept my velvet gloves on with Whitbey and Lady Perimont. With Camille¡­ Look how that ended. ¡°Hang her.¡±

 Camille IV: The Conciliator

    Camille IV: The Conciliator

    This was it, the moment Camille had been dreaming of for nearly eighteen years. Given how little time she had left, it was likely to be her crowning moment of achievement, so it made sense to savor it.

    Multicolored banners hung above the streets, attached to buildings and newly verdant trees. At the sides of the streets, large planters of flowers only added to the beauty, reinforcing the message of life returning.

    It hadn¡¯t been inexpensive, but this would be the last time Malin needed to get by without the resources of the Empire.

    Lucien was back.

    Despite everything, Camille¡¯s heart had still jumped when she¡¯d heard that he was fording the Sartaire at the head of an army. It scarcely seemed real, after everything they¡¯d been through.

    He rode at the head of the procession, brandishing an ornate sabre with enormous rubies embedded into its hilt, his hair blowing back in the wind. At his flanks rode Annette and Sire Miro Mesnil, followed by a parade of knights fresh from the White Night, each of them dressed in colorful silks and finery, adorned by circlets and jewels and all that was suited for ceremony, the sunlight of the age gleaming off every piece of metal.

    That was fortunate. If they¡¯d arrived a day earlier, the sky would have been cast with clouds, the symbolism lost. As it was, they rose with the sun, and at last the Fox-King returned to his ancestral seat.

    It was everything Camille had dreamed of, save the pit in her stomach, heavy with the news she would inevitably have to break to her beloved.

    From her conversations with Fernan, Camille had known that Guerron¡¯s food stores were better off than most, certainly better than Malin, thanks to the abundance of light spirits in its vicinity to ensure that the harvest remained uninterrupted. Far from a haphazard deal with a number of spirits countable on one hand, only two of whom were truly suitable to guarantee a harvest, Guerron had an entire temple of sun sages, myriad stored artifacts, and leaders who could focus entirely on maintaining what had been, rather than desperately scrabbling upwards to escape the earth spirit¡¯s cold embrace.

    Still, it was one thing to hear that and another entirely to see the massive chests of food that Lucien¡¯s people were giving out as if it were nothing. Though, knowing Lucien, he¡¯d give out his last crumb of bread to feed his people. This was the image they were presenting, he knew that as well as she did. The actual logistics of supply would have to wait until the King¡¯s council could confer in private, after the festivities.

    And after our festivities.

    After so much time apart, knowing that there was so little time left, Camille had every intention of pulling Lucien into her room at the earliest opportunity, locking the door, and renewing their love in every way imaginable.

    There was so much to do now, but she needed that, and had no doubt that Lucien did too.

    ?

    For want of a better location, Annette had set herself up in what had once been the Governor¡¯s mansion, her small army of bureaucrats still in the process of unloading the boxes and boxes of papers she¡¯d brought with her.

    In the parade, Camille had extended her a bow to welcome her into the city, along with Lucien and the notable knights. Now, she wasted no time running up and wrapping her into a close embrace.

    Annette let out a slight laugh, returning the gesture. ¡°I missed you too, Camille.¡±

    In truth, it hadn¡¯t even been half a year, but that felt like more than a lifetime. And in my case, it is. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry about Fouchand. He was a titan among men, cruelly taken from us before his time.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. And likewise to you. I know he regarded you and Lucien like his own children.¡± Annette loosened her grip, voice faltering slightly.¡°I hope you two enjoyed your little vacation, because now we have work to do.¡±

    ¡°We did, but you¡¯re right. Hopefully the Empire could afford to wait half a day.¡± Camille took a seat at one head of Perimont¡¯s mahogany conference table, leaving the other for Lucien. ¡°In fact, I came early because I needed to talk to you.¡±

    ¡°And here I was, thinking that you wanted to help me organize my files.¡± Smiling, Annette took the seat to Camille¡¯s left. ¡°Is this about your uncle? Because it might be for the best that he¡¯s not here yet. He¡¯s not entirely the man you remember.¡±

    Not all reunions will be so straightforward. At least that¡¯s an issue for another time. ¡°No. He¡¯ll get here when he gets here. I wanted to¡­¡± She bit her lip. ¡°I have a confession to make, and I didn¡¯t want you to be blindsided in the meeting.¡±

    ¡°Promising start.¡± Despite her words, Annette didn¡¯t look particularly annoyed, just exhausted, as she often did. Coordinating an army across a river grown swollen with snowmelt couldn¡¯t have been easy, but the worst of the crisis had passed. Camille had hoped she¡¯d be a bit better rested. If not now, when?

    ¡°Retaking this city wasn¡¯t free, even if I managed it without spilling a drop of blood. I had to make promises to people to get them on our side. Payment. And I¡¯m not in a position where I can grant it personally¡­¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course.¡± Annette drummed her hands on the table. ¡°Wealth, or lands?¡±

    ¡°The recipient is a pirate by trade, and puts more stock in hard silver. But she¡¯s with us now, plying her trade as a candle merchant, and my thinking was that lands would better bind her to our side, invest her in our success.¡± Besides, with all of Clocha?ne¡¯s riches at her fingertips, I¡¯m not sure that a big chest of silver would have much value to her beyond the symbolic. ¡°A title would be too presumptuous, for both ends of the deal, but if there¡¯s anything we can part with¡­?¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ My lands around the pass have been unproductive since before darkness fell, but in their time, the revenues were substantial. A sliver of them around the Villechart village was granted to Sire Fernan for his service, but your pirate collaborator could take the rest. It¡¯s a gift that none would balk at, even with the mines lying fallow right now, and if she has any talent as a merchant, she could be just the person to whip them back into productive shape.¡±

    Camille breathed out a loud sigh of relief. She and Annette had always been friends, partners, willing to support each other, but making a promise like that without being able to consult her had bordered on presumptuousness. ¡°Thank you. I hope I didn¡¯t overreach in offering.¡±

    ¡°Camille, the last time I saw you, you were plunging to certain death after suffering a grievous wound. You didn¡¯t just survive, but you retook your homeland and Lucien¡¯s, the crown jewel of the Empire, and you did it all on your own. I¡¯m delighted that I even have the chance to help retroactively. There¡¯s no impropriety.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m grateful.¡± Camille grabbed Annette¡¯s hand, working up the courage to speak the unspeakable truth. ¡°And I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not all¡­¡±

    ¡°Camille, you can tell me anything.¡±

    ¡°After I lost that duel, my injuries¡­ I¡­¡¯ I can¡¯t break the spell. She and Lucien only just got back. I can¡¯t. Not yet. Switching her approach, Camille pulled the top of her dress down slightly, revealing the scar that the pistol had left in her shoulder, a jagged red circle that only recently had stopped hurting at the touch. ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s ever going to fade.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and it¡¯s a gigantic eyesore. Totally overshadows everything else.¡± Annette rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re still beautiful, Camille. All that means is that you survived. I¡¯m sure Lucien told you the same, when he saw it.¡±

    Camille smiled, withdrawing her hand. Lucien didn¡¯t even notice it. Or if he did, he chose not to mention it. Perhaps, in his own way, that was a kindness, but it did help to hear something more explicit from Annette. ¡°You¡¯re right, of course. Thank you.¡± You might take my other news just as well, but I can¡¯t bear to say it.

    ¡°My pleasure.¡± Suddenly, Annette rose from her seat, dipping her head towards the door. ¡°Ah, you must be the famed Lady Mary Stewart of Carringdon. It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.¡±

    Eloise turned towards Camille, then back to Annette, then burst out laughing.

    Camille stood, moving between them to facilitate the encounter. ¡°Annette, please allow me to introduce Eloise Clocha?ne, merchant extraordinaire. I do not exaggerate to say that retaking the city would not have been possible without her aid, and the help of the men and women under her command.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Eloise said, holding out her hand in the Avaline custom.

    Annette raised an eyebrow, leaving the hand to linger. ¡°The pleasure is mine. I¡¯ve never before met a merchant with soldiers to command.¡±

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t call them soldiers. They need to use their brains instead of just following orders.¡± Eloise shot Camille a look, then stepped towards the table, hovering in front of the seat at the opposite end of the table from Camille¡¯s, the one obviously reserved for Lucien. ¡°Camille here tells me that you¡¯re the key to her finally paying some long-overdue debts.¡±

    ¡°We were just discussing that, in fact,¡± Camille cut in before Annette could reply. ¡°You¡¯re to be awarded lands to the East of Guerron, surrounding the pass through the mountains.¡±

    ¡°Productive lands,¡± Annette said. ¡°They¡¯re rich with coal ore, whose export kept Avalon off my grandfather¡¯s back for nearly twenty years. Of course, it wasn¡¯t enough in the end.¡±

    ¡°Florette¡¯s homeland,¡± Camille clarified, trying to move the conversation forward. ¡°Once the mines are operational again, their incomes will far exceed any one-time payment we might have been able to give you.¡± And it gives you a seat at this table that a landless merchant could never realistically get.

    ¡°Hmm, Camille actually delivering on promised payment? I should check the Sartaire, just to make sure it hasn¡¯t frozen over.¡± Eloise pulled out the chair, but Camille tried to dissuade her with a frown and a subtle shake of her head.

    Which she ignored, brazenly plopping herself down in Lucien¡¯s seat.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    This may have been a mistake. The idea had been to include city representatives, at least in some of the earliest meetings, to ensure that the consensus of Malin was still behind their decisions, and to avoid any unpleasant surprises after issuing edicts and setting policy. But if it sowed discord amongst the leadership, the benefit would not be worth the cost.

    ¡°Eloise, I believe you¡¯re in the Fox-King¡¯s seat,¡± Mordred Boothe said as he entered the room, wearing his true face. ¡°Show some decorum, or you¡¯ll make poor Camille regret inviting you at all.¡±

    Camille worried that would only cause her to dig in her heels, but apparently it was enough, since Eloise quickly shifted herself to the seat to her right. ¡°I should have known you¡¯d be such a killjoy, Jethro.¡±

    ¡°Jethro?¡± Annette¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°After you fled Guerron, I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever have the chance to see you. I know I have you to thank for planting the cloak that secured my freedom, and for that you have my sincerest gratitude. If there is anything at all that I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.¡±

    ¡°The consequences of my actions are their own reward.¡± Boothe bent down to kiss Annette¡¯s hand, then took the seat across from her, to Camille¡¯s right. ¡°I¡¯m pleased I could limit even some small part of the damage that King Harold wrought.¡±

    Annette smiled at that, then began asking him more questions about the details of the trial, which, astoundingly, Boothe was only too happy to provide. The whole thing was quite educational, given that Camille had only directly heard Fernan¡¯s account of things, but largely irrelevant to any current concerns.

    Aurelian was dead and buried, Laura likely condemned to a traitor¡¯s exile, Magnifico in irons, and Lucien and Annette¡¯s status restored. Ultimately, everything had concluded, and about as well as could have been hoped for.

    Simon arrived soon after, and then Lucien, the last in the room.

    That necessitated another long round of introductions, and by the time they actually could begin the council meeting proper, the sun was already beginning to set, casting scarlet light through the window.

    ¡°Sire Miro sends his regrets, but the journey has left him exhausted,¡± Lucien began. ¡°He felt confident that we could handle this without him.¡±

    ¡°My sister would like to convey the same,¡± Simon said. ¡°She thought it important that at least one of us remain in the vicinity of the festival that cropped up around your parade, Your Grace.¡± And probably also thought she would be bored stiff. Camille would have to talk to Mary about that; despite the pretenses between them, she had been a staunch ally, and such friends were hard to come by.

    Perhaps it was just as well though, since the table only comfortably seated six. Something would have to be done about that before they gathered the full coterie.

    ¡°I would like to begin by offering my profound thanks to every one of you in this room,¡± Lucien said, using the same warm but firm ¡®king voice¡¯ that he reserved for politics and the bedroom. ¡°Without your efforts, we would not be sitting here, at least in command of the city of my birth. Jethro, without you, I might never have been fully restored to my power. Annette, you¡¯ve kept our people together through the nightmare of darkness and the White Night, holding their starvation at bay. Lady Clocha?ne, I¡¯m told that you provided aid to the starving Malinoises, languishing under Avalon¡¯s yoke, and then helped my beloved snatch our city back from them. Lord Perimont, you were key to pacifying Avalon¡¯s remaining forces, and ensuring that our victory here would hold until I could arrive and reinforce you.¡± Most of his words were just repeating what Camille had told him, but she could tell that it helped to hear him say it, especially in Simon¡¯s case.

    ¡°And Camille¡­¡± He smiled at her from across the table. ¡°I love you more now than I ever have before. You took our dreams as dispossessed children and made them reality. I have no doubt that you will be the greatest Queen that our nation has ever seen.¡±

    If only that could be true, but in four months, I¡¯ll be dead. Camille bit her lip. ¡°To begin with, I¡¯d like to invite our new Minister of Finance to speak on his economic recovery plans. Annette, you¡¯ll love this. Lord Perimont?¡±

    Simon clearly balked at being referred to that way, but it was important that he be treated like a peer, and that started with his title. ¡°Thank you, Camille.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°Ultimately, as always, it comes down to revenues and expenditures. I¡¯m told that Guerron weathered the darkness well, drawing on magic, but Malin lacked the same resources, and its people are in dire need. I leave the process of magical cultivation to Camille and the sages, but securing a stable food supply must be our first priority.¡±

    ¡°Our army ate most of what we brought on the way over. Honestly, it¡¯s a miracle we even made it with any supplies to spare,¡± Annette said, tapping her fingers against a pad of paper scribbled with illegible notes. ¡°But four ships are already en route to supply us from Guerron. Depending on the remaining population here, that might get us through until the next harvest.¡±

    ¡°Might,¡± Camille repeated. ¡°But Guerron must remain well-supplied itself, and all the surrounding countryside. Too, we ought to gather more than the bare necessities for winter. If the people here are eating rats and shoe leather in six months, the shine of liberating Malin will wear off pretty quickly.¡±

    ¡°It shall not come to that,¡± Lucien agreed. ¡°Annette, I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever spent a winter here, so you should know that they are mild. With Fenouille¡¯s aid, we should be able to keep production up through until spring, and hopefully get back to self-sufficiency by this time next year.¡±

    Simon smiled. ¡°Excellent. Then with that in mind, I¡¯d like to turn to capital improvements. Our infrastructure is almost a century behind Avalon¡¯s, and it¡¯s limiting our ability to effect change. As of now, the Empire has exactly one railway, partially destroyed, and¡­¡± He swallowed, probably thinking of his father. ¡°And four trains. If we can expand the network across the empire, grain and troops alike can move overland without mules eating their way through all the supplies. Regions can specialize, with each contributing to a greater, integrated national economy. And, should these spiritual farming techniques remain commonplace past the crisis and depress the cost of grain, the project would offer employment to any farmers that might otherwise be dispossessed. I believe this should be our foremost goal, after keeping everyone fed through this winter.¡±

    Annette furrowed her eyebrows. ¡°Lord Simon, we are no stranger to borrowing Avalon¡¯s technology to aid our own people. My own grandfather secured schematics for your airship designs right before his passing, sure to be an invaluable aid to our military. But I can¡¯t help but wonder if this ought to be a priority. Something like ninety percent of our people live within fifteen miles of a coastline, and ships serve much the same purpose without requiring such expensive investments. Frankly, I doubt that Crown revenues are sufficient to cover something of this scale.¡±

    This is getting too granular. We should have everyone cemented on the same side before we start getting into the details.

    ¡°Which is where we turn to other sources. Plagette has capital to spare, and interest in the political leverage that comes with carrying our debt.¡±

    ¡°Interest,¡± Lucien repeated derisively. ¡°They¡¯d want to make us their client state, with me as their puppet. Lady Merlan can only be negotiated with from a position of strength. If we go begging before we¡¯re even certain to feed ourselves, we risk losing all autonomy.¡±

    ¡°With respect, Your Grace, this is silver, not land. Owing money is not the same thing for a state as it is for a man, and it invests Plagette in our success to ensure that it¡¯s repaid.¡±

    ¡°Are you an expert on Plagetine politics, Lord Simon? I wasn¡¯t aware.¡± Annette crossed her arms.

    ¡°No, but I¡¯m extensively trained in economics, and I feel qualified to recommend¡ª¡±

    ¡°Recommendation noted,¡± Lucien said, cutting him off.

    I need to step in, or this coalition is going to fall apart. ¡°Simon, when you were telling me about this, you said that that was just one option, right? Maybe the others are less politically contentious.¡± Lucien has a point, but if we¡¯re not a viable competitor to Avalon before the king dies, it won¡¯t matter what our relationship is with Plagette.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing contentious about graduating from feudalism to a real economy,¡± he grumbled. ¡°But yes, I have other proposals to increase Crown revenues, ideally implemented alongside significant borrowing, but not dependent on it. Many were already in place in Malin under Avaline control, but could be spread to the rest of the Empire, like business licensure and sales taxation, provided you have the bureaucracy to enforce it, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t impugn my bureaucracy.¡± Annette¡¯s expression darkened.

    ¡°But,¡± Simon continued through grit teeth, ¡°the single most significant, simplest improvement we could implement is an adjustment to your property taxes. I have no doubt that all Imperial lands are already assessed, your nobility practiced in granting the Crown its due. All we¡¯d have to do is adjust the rates, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Out of the question,¡± Lucien said with narrowed eyes. ¡°Our nobility fought and died to save Guerron in the White Night. The second King Harold dies, they¡¯ll be asked to do it again against a far more powerful foe. I can¡¯t stab them in the back and then ask them to fight at my side.¡±

    Eloise and Jethro, wisely, weren¡¯t getting in the middle of this. They have nothing to gain by throwing themselves into the crossfire. That was understandable, certainly, but it meant that they weren¡¯t doing anything to help.

    Camille felt a trickle of blood on her lip, the first time she¡¯d bitten so hard in quite a while. Some part of me must have known that this wouldn¡¯t be everything I dreamed of, but still¡­ ¡°Lucien, I think you should consider his proposal.¡±

    ¡°Camille, I understand that you did what you had to do to retake the city. Lord Simon, per the terms of your deal, you have a seat at my table. I will respect the word of my betrothed. But as to the specifics of what you propose, it seems to me that you wish to turn our fair nation into a replica of your own tyrannical homeland, and I¡¯m afraid I cannot abide by that.¡±

    ¡°Lucien, my love, please listen to me.¡± Camile wiped the blood from her lip. ¡°I did not win your capital back for you by doing what we¡¯ve always done. That¡¯s what got me shot and tossed beneath the waves. I adapted, and worked with the people who¡¯ve actually been living here while we were exiled. Like Eloise, and Simon, both of whom are here on their merits, not simply as a political favor.¡± Kind of a lie, but we¡¯ll never get anywhere if half the room thinks that they have no need to listen to the other. ¡°And you must know, in your heart of hearts, that the Empire will need to adapt as well if we are to succeed. Think of the military, if nothing else! In twenty years, do you want to be facing down Avalon¡¯s professional army with a coterie of knights and levies, each sworn to a limited term of service?¡±

    Lucien took a deep breath, keeping Camille¡¯s eyes locked in his own. ¡°I would have killed for some professional officers in the White Knight. As soon as Levian showed up, one wave disrupted our entire command structure. If I¡¯d died there, the day would have been lost, just as it was when my father died in the Foxtrap. That¡¯s not the Empire I¡¯d wish for.¡± He turned back to Simon. ¡°Find a middle ground with Annette. We can adapt without compromising our identity, build without compromising our sovereignty.¡±

    Camille smiled across the table at him, but his face remained hard.

    ¡°I should find Miro. If we¡¯re going organize an Imperial army, this is the time to do it, with so many knights dead from the White Night. Even he will see the necessity, I¡¯m sure. Winning Malin will do no good for us if we set ourselves on the path to another Foxtrap.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Your Grace.¡± Simon nodded stiffly to the Fox-king, then shot Camille a grateful look. ¡°Duchess Annette, we should probably meet in private to hammer out the details.¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Annette said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll come too,¡± Camille added. If only to ensure that you two don¡¯t rip each others¡¯ heads off.

    ¡°Then before we adjourn, we should discuss the matter of the Magister of Charenton.¡± Boothe seemed to have finally figured out how to speak now that the conflict was over. ¡°I spied his party assembled outside the walls, around thirty strong, and told him I would bring his concerns to the Fox-king. He claims to represent a covert coalition of Lyrion, Ombresse, and ?le Dimanche, along with his own Charenton.¡±

    ¡°The Territories¡­¡± Simon¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Magister Ticent¡¯s been in Avalon¡¯s pocket since before any of us were born. He¡¯s the one that turned Charenton over to them in the first place. What could he possibly have to say to us?¡±

    Boothe smiled. ¡°It seems our winsome Lady Leclaire set a dangerous precedent. Now that they know that Avalon can be defied, the prospect has become less unthinkable for the other Territories.¡±

    Or it¡¯s a ruse. There ever remained the danger of overextension, of pushing the leverage that their captive king gave them further than it could hold, and pushing Avalon to war against them. That kind of subterfuge came easily to Avalon, if Magnifico were anything to go by.

    We could be ruined before we¡¯ve even begun, all because we weren¡¯t content with what we have. ¡°I think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Invite him in,¡± Lucien ordered, a pensive hint of a smile on his face. ¡°Perhaps reassembling the Empire will not be a task for our children after all.¡±

    Camille glanced back at him, trying to force a smile of her own to match his.

    Perhaps. But this could also undo everything we¡¯ve worked for.

 Florette IV: The Stranger

    Florette IV: The Stranger

    Florette had to admit, Cambria ¡¯s skyline had taken her breath away when she¡¯d first arrived.

    Red brick towers that must have been six stories tall loomed above the marina, partially cloaked in fog. Past them, she knew, the palace lay at the top of the hill, but between here and there was an entire city, each building larger than the last.

    Honestly, the decadence was astounding. They had trains inside the city! Just to take regular people from one neighborhood to another. There was a ¡®park¡¯ within the city boundaries, a type of garden meant to mimic true nature instead of being neatly arrayed, that was by itself larger than Enquin or any other village. The fake wilderness they¡¯d put inside the city was bigger than most real towns in the real wilds.

    Then, once she¡¯d made it to Mourningside, where the College was located, she¡¯d been able to glimpse Ortus Tower itself, dark stone stretching so far into the clouds above that its crest could not even be seen. Aside from the tower, the buildings were older here, somewhat more conventional, but even then, houses of plaster greatly outnumbered wood and stone.

    It was all so big, so... I want to say ¡®grand¡¯, but that implies a goodness that I¡¯m not sure I can say it has. Some of the streets were so wide that carts zoomed through the center fast enough to kill someone, while everyone else clustered at the edges. Several times, Florette had only managed to narrowly avoid being trampled to death, and no one on the street had seemed to notice. All of the roads were paved, at least as far as Florette had managed to see, and shockingly even in their grey expanse.

    Up close, the towers that had looked so uniform and menacing in the distance seemed almost oppressive in form, grey stone instead of the red brick used near the marina, and tall enough to throw most of the streetscape into shadow. They definitely resembled the buildings Avalon had set up at the North end of Malin, though it was probably more accurate to say that those buildings resembled these. And it wasn¡¯t as if there was much sun to begin with, only the traces that occasionally peeked through the fog.

    Still, for all their uniformity in architecture, the people had made them their own. Colorful banners stretched across the street, reds and oranges evoking the same autumn colors that some of the trees displayed, though curiously many remained green even at this time of year. Laundry hung from windows and balconies, along with the occasional mural. Children played in the streets; families sat on the front steps drinking from steaming mugs and watching the world go by.

    Florette wanted to stay longer and explore more of Westfall, as the neighborhood was called, but it was out of the way of her path, and she had to be sure to make it to the College on time.

    And this is just a corner of Cambria. Florette hadn¡¯t even glimpsed the old part of the town up on the hill, with the castle of ancient Cambrian kings and the meeting hall of the Great Council, or the massive district of factories that the ship had needed to steer far clear of, since their process spilled oil and poisons into the adjacent water. She¡¯d barely had a chance to look at the marina before getting on the train, paying the fare with mandala coins that Captain Verrou had given her for the mission.

    Though I have to be careful. Those will only last so long. What she¡¯d stolen in Malin certainly hadn¡¯t lasted, though that was mostly because it had gone into paying the crew for the train job, and then she hadn¡¯t ended up seeing any money from the pistols. If the Montaignards put them to good use though, it will have been more than worth it.

    Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t help Florette any, here and now. And further thievery would almost certainly be too risky a method of refilling coffers, at least until she knew the city far, far better. Even then, the risk isn¡¯t really worth the reward. Perhaps there would be a way to find employment in between classes, though the thought didn¡¯t exactly fill her with excitement.

    A small, guilty part of her noted that, in some ways, Cambria was everything she¡¯d hoped Malin would be, a magnificent edifice at the heart of Avalon. Fitting, when the street that connected the train station to the College was called ¡®Magnific Avenue¡¯. Apparently King Harold hadn¡¯t been terribly creative in choosing his alias.

    But it was hard to take it all in when the wealth to build it all had been forcibly taken, countless lives ended or subjugated to extract whatever ¡®value¡¯ could be stolen from conquered peoples. Was it any wonder, with so great and terrible a machine resting beneath them, that Cambria would evince such splendor?

    You¡¯re allowed to be impressed, Florette. Srin Sabine is experiencing just as much of a shock as you are, and without the same reasons to have mixed feelings about it.

    Srin Sabine, of course, was who Florette was now. Who she would have to be, for years on end. Lamante had once told her never to let the mask slip while wearing it, and that advice held just as true metaphorically as it did literally.

    My name is Srin Sabine, daughter of Srin Savian, Count of Mahabali Hall, on the Isle of Shadows. After a dalliance on an exploratory tour in his youth, my mother raised me in Malin until two years ago, when as she lay dying she bid me seek my father in Chaya, and he accepted me as his own.

    Honestly, it was a bit overwrought, but it wasn¡¯t like Florette was going to narrate the whole thing to anyone. It was a framework to keep in mind, to pull details from if anyone asked and it seemed more suspicious not to answer.

    And it would hold up to scrutiny better than a simpler backstory. Captain Verrou had found a real gravestone in Malin for Sabine¡¯s mother, a pauper¡¯s grave with no kin to dispute any details. And Count Savian really had traveled to Malin twenty years ago, and he really had acted like he was hiding something for the last two years. In reality, that was the scale of his debts, not a secret illegitimate daughter, but if anyone went poking around in Chaya, they wouldn¡¯t find evidence to the contrary.

    Especially since, in a matter of months, Count Srin Savian would ¡®die¡¯, and Mahabali hall, along with his debts, would pass to his daughter.

    A daughter raised in obscurity, new to Avalon, let alone Cambria, who would logically be just as shocked to see all of this as Florette actually was.

    That in mind, she let her awe show as she passed through the gates of the Cambrian College, a modest building compared to the tower whose shadow was cast upon it, but certainly impressive in its own right. Especially impressive were several windmills mounted to the walls, presumably to make flour for the kitchens on-site.

    Past the gates, the path opened into a courtyard with a fountain of water bubbling up in the center, which Florette hadn¡¯t even realized was possible without magic.

    Unless¡­ She swallowed, hoping her imagination was running wild. If they¡¯re willing to kill spirits, might they not enslave them, too? What unspeakable horrors might a water spirit be enduring down below, that we might enjoy the sound of running water in this garden?

    Florette would have to find an unsuspicious way to ask, because she couldn¡¯t stand walking by this fountain every day with someone being tortured beneath it.

    Cautiously, she lowered her ear, then knocked against the stone of the fountain, but all she could hear was rushing water. Hopefully it¡¯s just some technology, though. Florette was fairly confident that these massive buildings had nothing to do with spirits, and Captain Verrou had assured her that their airships didn¡¯t either.

    After going through the registration process, though, being tortured underneath a fountain almost seemed like a preferable alternative.

    First, she¡¯d had to wander around the College until someone pointed her to the library. Then she hadn¡¯t been able to look at any of the books there because she¡¯d had to stand in a line for what felt like hours, packed in a stuffy room full of what must have been the entire Cambrian College student body, only more people kept filing in after her.

    Then, she¡¯d been told that all of the housing at the school had been reserved, which meant that she had to find the off-site building in Mourningside, lugging her class texts with her the entire way. For some reason, they were far larger and heavier than regular books, and she¡¯d been made to purchase them despite the fact that they were books sitting in a library, and the College clearly already possessed them.

    The books alone had taken nearly a third of Florette¡¯s money, and they¡¯d had the gall to ask her for donations at the very same table!

    It was impossible not to notice the frowns tracing their faces when they heard her accent, either. One woman assigning classes had asked if she was a ¡®westerner¡¯, which meant that the ruse was working, but apparently being from Avalon only went so far in Cambria if you weren¡¯t from the right part.

    I can see why Captain Verrou picked this for the cover identity; they¡¯re such pricks that they can¡¯t be bothered to tell the difference. But it was one thing to know that and another to experience it. Every time Florette needed to ask someone to repeat what they¡¯d said, it felt like a dagger in her heart.

    One mousy girl with a hook nose had even cut in front of the line, elbowing Florette out of the way as if she knew that Florette couldn¡¯t afford to make trouble by contesting it.

    Then, to top it off, her residence hall was woefully decrepit compared to the College, or even most of the other buildings in Mourningside, though tall enough that it could only be so old. Whatever its age, the construction was hardly robust, with a thin roof that let the wind chill blow straight through. That wouldn¡¯t have been a problem, except her room was on the top floor, tiny, and shared with a girl named Opal who barely had anything to say save annoyance that she¡¯d no longer have the room to herself.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    Petty issues, to be sure, but it wasn¡¯t exactly setting this mission off to the best start. This was going to be Florette¡¯s status quo for years, and she¡¯d have to hold herself back from doing what came naturally for the duration.

    Was it too much to ask that it be bearable?

    ¡°Yes,¡± Opal said, eyes peering over the top of her book. ¡°Get over yourself.¡±

    Florette couldn¡¯t help but laugh, more out of surprise than amusement. ¡°Fair enough. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

    ¡°Your accent could certainly use some work.¡± Opal turned to the next page. ¡°Where on earth are you from, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Malin, by way of Chaya.¡±

    Opal set her book down. ¡°You¡¯re Count Srin¡¯s little foundling, aren¡¯t you? Ho ho, wait until my brother hears about this.¡±

    Florette¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Is word already going around about that?¡± Did Captain Verrou spread rumors so that I wouldn¡¯t have to explain it myself?

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not every day that someone plucks an heir out of obscurity. That pirate attack must have scared your daddy shitless.¡±

    A sensitive one, aren¡¯t you, Opal? ¡°He¡¯s dying. The medecin¡ª the doctor says he only has a few months to live, at most. Robin Verrou is thorough.¡±

    ¡°But not enough to end the bloodline.¡± She smacked her lips together, clearly trying to decide what to say next. ¡°Sorry about that, I guess. I met your father a couple times, and he seemed like a dough-brained ninny, but no one deserves to die like that.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Opal picked her book back up, but Florette didn¡¯t want to miss the chance to connect with the only person here she¡¯d shared more than six words with, so she asked, ¡°where are you from, then? And why would your brother care?¡±

    ¡°Oh, just because he¡¯s serving as a pirate-catcher right now. He¡¯s hunting Verrou with Captain Stewart. Sir Ciq Prashant of Nymphell, if you¡¯ve heard the name.¡±

    ¡°No, sorry. Would that make you Ciq Opal, then?¡± Putting the surname first was generally the custom in the western isles, but each of them was different, and Nymphell hadn¡¯t come up too often in Florette¡¯s Avalon-related information binge on the ride over. Learning about the Isle of Shadows and Khali syncretism and the union with Avalon had been plenty, let alone all of the cultural signifiers that she¡¯d have to evince to maintain her cover.

    Returning to her book, Opal didn¡¯t dignify the question with a response. Fair enough. For Sabine, the answer would probably be obvious.

    ¡°What do you like to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look, if you¡¯re so desperate for something to do, maybe go find a tavern. You can get your readings done and still be out of the house. Lunacy is my spot though, so find somewhere else.¡±

    Fuck off, in other words. ¡°Sure. Fine. Not a problem.¡±

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t mean any offense, but I was supposed to graduate last spring, and then a week before the final examinations, evil spirits plunged the world into darkness, and somehow that means now I have to come back and do a whole other term. It¡¯s bullshit.¡±

    ¡°Soleil was killed by a binder.¡± By your king, she almost said, though who knew what the official story was in Avalon?

    ¡°Yeah, whatever. The point is, I already have friends, and I don¡¯t really have time to coach someone fresh off the boat. No offense. I¡¯m just here to get my work done and get out.¡± She pointed towards the door. ¡°Speaking of ¡®get out¡¯...¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I get it.¡±

    At least exploring Mourningside was more interesting. Right before the sun set, the fog finally started to lift, casting the whole city in a glowing scarlet light.

    Florette found Lunacy by sound more than anything else, as that same electronic music Magnifico had been playing was blaring out of it loud enough to hear from a block away.

    She couldn¡¯t help but smile as she entered, thinking about the fact that, thanks in part to her, now everyone the world over would have the chance to enjoy it.

    This did sound slightly different though, in a way that was difficult to be sure about. Richer? More layered? Clearly I¡¯m not much of a music expert. Fortunately, unlike the many other things Florette was here to learn, ignorance there wasn¡¯t something she¡¯d need to hole up and study rigorously. Thermodynamics, however, wasn¡¯t an area where she would be so lucky.

    Inside the tavern, covering the entire back wall, were massive painted words in strangely bubbly script, as if drawn with a single enormous calligraphy brush, reading The Midnight Madness. Which¡­ Was that not just a clumsier way of saying the same thing as the tavern¡¯s name?

    But then, in Avaline, it was considered best practice to use as many synonyms as possible, whether you needed to or not. It made learning it a million times harder, since there were like four alternatives for every single word and you¡¯d hear all of them in conversation. And you have to throw into your own speech if you want to avoid looking like a stupid foreigner.

    The tavern-keeper had an incredibly strange manner of dress, clad entirely in black from head to toe, with several circles of metal embedded into each of her ears in asymmetric patterns. Florette thought briefly that she might have been flirting as she served her drink, before remembering how tavern-keepers made their living. The friendly look disappeared the moment Florette paid, regardless, as if she¡¯d expected something else but hadn¡¯t received it.

    Why Opal had suggested this place to read, Florette hadn¡¯t the slightest idea, because the music was far too loud to focus, and it wasn¡¯t as if there was much space to place down the enormous text books either.

    Defeated, Florette left the tavern and returned to her new residence just as the last rays of light disappeared beneath the horizon.

    Opal was gone when she returned, a note left on her bed imploring Florette not to touch any of her stuff.

    I guess she didn¡¯t want to invite me, wherever she went.

    In an effort to prepare for her classes, Florette read by candlelight for a few hours, and actually managed to get through all of the passages that had been assigned, though her head was swimming by the end.

    The history was easy enough, and any new words could be looked up relatively easily in the dictionary book she¡¯d also had to purchase. Interesting stuff, too, looking at Avalon¡¯s perspective on what would now have to be called the first age of darkness and the sealing of Khali. Apparently the first King Harold hadn¡¯t had anything to do with it, being a baby at the time, but you wouldn¡¯t know it by the way they talked about him here.

    One page had even implied that his mere presence had inspired the Great Binder to action, which was almost as absurd as the fact that such ridiculous fabrications were in an assigned reading at all.

    The scientific texts, though¡­ The books she¡¯d stolen from Director Thorley had legitimately been easier to grasp, and they hadn¡¯t been assigned as novice readings. Most likely, they were assuming a level of prior knowledge that Florette simply couldn¡¯t gather in the time it took to sail to Cambria and also memorize everything about Chaya and Count Srin and her own origins.

    And this is what I¡¯m here to learn. I¡¯ll need to figure something out. The chances were that the students here had already learned the basics from their tutors, so perhaps Florette could do the same. Provided she could fund such a venture, which was looking more and more unlikely by the minute.

    A problem for later, though.

    The hour was late enough that Florette couldn¡¯t trust that she¡¯d wake in time, and she certainly couldn¡¯t trust Opal to wake her up for classes, so she elected to keep trying with the books for another few hours more, until at last dawn arrived, radiant in its splendor but for the fact that it was basically fucking invisible underneath all the fog that had apparently crept back from the sea overnight.

    I should have packed more of my winter wear. The sun had returned, yet there was barely ever a chance to see it.

    Squinting through the fog, Florette glimpsed one of Avalon¡¯s airships low in the sky as she approached the College for her first day of classes, probably coming from Crescent Isle. She kept walking until she saw four more follow it through the sky, seemingly headed towards the same destination.

    If I follow them, I might get turned around in the fog. But she had hours, and gathering information was the main reason she was here at all. That, and infiltrating her way up the ladder. In a few years, she might actually end up with some power in the Avaline apparatus, something she could use against them at a key moment. At a minimum, though, she was going to learn their science if it killed her. Once Florette was able to parse their plans, understand their structure, that knowledge would be invaluable for targeting important technology and engineering it properly in the Empire.

    By the time the ships stopped and landed, Florette was nearly at the shore. Ortus Tower stretched up above, the impossible void of the Nocturne gate just barely visible at the top of it through the gloom.

    A few floors below, an airship was moored loosely to the balcony, the ones Florette had followed slotting in on each side around it as she watched. In a few minutes, they cast off their rope and departed East, headed for parts unknown.

    Another few minutes after, four more docked with the Tower, then set off again.

    Florette stayed to watch for probably an hour, and counted thirty-six dirigeables, each outfitted with some unknown cargo from the most advanced facility in all of Avalon, flying across the Lyrion sea. And Avalon is at war.

    That had been a nasty surprise from a train station journal. It almost made Florette regret putting herself here, where she couldn¡¯t do anything about it without jeopardizing her cover.

    But it¡¯s too late for regrets now. Srin Sabine is your identity, and if you don¡¯t use it, everything that Captain Verrou prepared will go to waste.

    Still, even knowing about the fighting in the Arboreum, seeing this many ships in the sky was bizarre.

    The way their journals spoke of the war, it sounded as if they¡¯d already rolled through the Arboreum, and sacking Lorraine was just a formality yet to be realized. Certainly nothing that would require a fleet of airships raining down some horrific ordinance. That could have been unwarranted optimism on the part of the journals, but why lie about something where word would get out from Lorraine so soon? It would be incredibly short-sighted, and completely ruin the journals¡¯ credibility once the truth came out.

    Were they greatly overreacting to the final siege of Lorraine? The same country that broke the Siege of Ombresse without firing a shot by sending Magnifico inside to turn the people against the Duke? It was possible, but it didn¡¯t seem likely, even with Magnifico in chains in Guerron.

    But what was the alternative? Where else would they be going?

    And what atrocities are they planning to do there?

 Laura II: The Sword

    Laura II: The Sword

    Volobrin, the wispy green snake spirit called himself, flickering through the air and disappearing every time Laura could catch a glimpse of him.

    ¡°Most of my essence remains within Mt. Glastaigne,¡± he¡¯d given as the reason for his intermittent presence when Laura asked. ¡°I never fully vacate the seat of my power.¡±

    Soleil had done much the same, before his death, simultaneously remaining in the sky and sending down an avatar to talk to Aurelian, and any of his other sages exalted enough to communicate with him directly.

    But he¡¯d hardly lacked any presence, for all of that. Certainly nothing like Volobrin.

    The difference between a Great Spirit and a lesser one, I suppose. It wasn¡¯t like it really mattered anyway.

    Still, Mt. Glastaigne was the southernmost of the Plumard Mountains near the Eastern coast of the continent, covered in snow year-round, a strange domain for a spirit vying to replace Flammare as embodiment of the hearth. So perhaps that¡¯s not his aim. All spirits had a voice at these convocations, even if they weren¡¯t presenting themselves as a candidate to ascend the seat, and Volobrin could well be here to play kingmaker, as Levian had so disastrously attempted in Guerron.

    And either way, what¡¯s my place in all of this?

    ¡°I have heard about you, Laura Bougitte, erstwhile sage of the hearth, and your activities in Guerron.¡±

    Laura swallowed, bracing herself for the despicable lie she¡¯d been saddled with.

    ¡°You fought against that irritating little upstart, Glaciel, and the humans she favors as a tool for conquest. I commend you for it.¡±

    ¡°It was nothing,¡± she said, honestly. The battle was mostly over by the time I got there. Still, it was nice to be recognized for something she¡¯d actually done, rather than the rank calumny her parents had so easily accepted as truth.

    ¡°She stole half of my domain, forever sundering the dominion of winter, and has proved difficult to dislodge in the centuries since. Now her armies lie in ruin, and I may yet be able to take back what is rightfully mine. As soon as the sight of Glaciel¡¯s ignoble retreat reached me, I bid the humans of Sunder¨¦ to prepare for war, and now the hope exists to wipe out her winter court forevermore.¡±

    ¡°Knock yourself out. But I don¡¯t see what this has to do with me.¡±

    The green wisp blinked across her line of sight for an instant, the ghost of it lingering in her eyes. ¡°You are a warrior, and an enemy to spirits now, whether by your own doing or that of another. Glaciel called upon her humans once to sunder my dominion, but I have my own humans now, my own power. As the spirit of the Hearth, I would have nothing to fear by retaking my domain.¡± Volobrin swirled around her, more the impression of a vortex now than a snake. ¡°I had thought to lend my voice to decide the victor, be it venerable Tauroneo or miserable Fala, whichever could better commit to supporting me. But when a slayer of spirits wishing to die approaches my threshold, with all of the opportunity that holds? I need no longer limit my aims.¡±

    And then it all made sense.

    He wants me to be a weapon against the other candidates. ¡°A fight you desire,¡± he¡¯d said, and this could certainly count. Fala was the pick of Lamante, of G¨¦zarde, of Fernan, who¡¯d stood idly by as Flammare was slaughtered. A good fight, if ever there was one. ¡°I will fight Fala, and die, if that is what you mean.¡± With only her sword and a limited amount of life to burn, the outcome would not be in question, but that didn¡¯t change her intent to fight with everything she had.

    ¡°Even a close fight with a mere human might discredit enough to cost the victory, but I have other plans in mind.¡±

    ¡°A compact?¡± Laura asked, not daring to hope she could get her magic back for one last fight.

    ¡°Were I to share my power with you, my trace would be obvious, but so long as you act on your own, I can state truthfully that I never granted you my power, that I never made a compact for you to serve me. But that does not mean that you cannot benefit from it.¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah, seems like it does.¡± At least Volobrin wasn¡¯t demanding she speak in verse, but that didn¡¯t seem to stop him from being needlessly unclear.

    As if to underscore that point, the wispy spirit disappeared entirely without another word.

    Laura waited several minutes for him to return, squinting through the darkness, but it seemed that their conversation was over.

    Fine. Maybe he¡¯d just wanted to be sure she was pointed at Fala, or something.

    Conjuring a jet of flame from her hand to light the way, Laura proceeded further down the cave.

    The deeper she went, the more dense the ancient paintings grew on the walls, until she was following a massive tapestry embedded into the rock, showing thousands of tiny figures fleeing from an approaching flood.

    Laura was distracted enough looking at it that she almost tripped over the woman lying right in the middle of the path.

    In a flash, the woman jumped up, whirling her hands around with streaky green trails emanating from each of them. ¡°Stay back, or face the wrath of Volobrin!¡± She threw out a burst of power against the cave as a warning, leaving teal crystals hardened against the wall. The second warning burned through them.

    A spirit might be a hard sell, but I bet I could beat this sage. She doesn¡¯t seem to know what she¡¯s doing. Laura held up her sword in a salute. ¡°It¡¯s at Volobrin¡¯s behest that I¡¯m here. He said he wanted me to fight Fala for him, but he couldn¡¯t empower me directly.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes widened, but she didn¡¯t lower her hands. ¡°Laura Bougitte?¡±

    ¡°The very same.¡± Sheathing her sword, Laura approached the sage. ¡°I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t tell you so that he could have even more deniability. Your spirit¡¯s a tricky one, whoever-you-are.¡±

    ¡°Lady Bel of Serpichon,¡± she answered, trying very hard to sound confident and not entirely succeeding. She can¡¯t be more than sixteen.  ¡°Sage of the heart of the mountain, of fire and ice. The fact that a traitor like you would¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to stop you right there, because I don¡¯t really care about you or your spirit.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a surprise,¡± Bel said disdainfully. ¡°You betrayed the spirit you were sworn to serve.¡±

    I never did, but it¡¯s not worth arguing about when I¡¯ll be dead tomorrow. ¡°For the moment, I¡¯m going to be fighting your spirit¡¯s enemy. This I swear. I¡¯m pretty sure Volobrin wanted you to help empower me in some way, but whether you want to help him get what he wants, that¡¯s up to you. Not really my problem.¡±

    Laura made it probably ten paces past her when the sage relented. ¡°Wait!¡±

    Smile on her face, Laura stopped and turned around.

    ¡°Wise Volobrin said that I should wait for someone here, but I never thought it would be you. Hold out your sword.¡±

    Laura pointed the tip towards the sage, intentionally misunderstanding her meaning.

    Lady Bel didn¡¯t seem to care, though, grabbing the blade and letting her blood spill into it, green energy flowing out of the wound and into the sword. By the time she was done, the steel was faintly glowing, color slowly shifting between green, red, and light blue, never staying with one long enough to get a fixed impression.

    ¡°Do you actually have to bleed to do that, or did you just get caught up in the moment?¡± Laura asked as she sheathed her newly empowered sword. Either answer would make sense. Spirits might be limited to living things, but sages didn¡¯t have the same obstacle, at least not in absolute terms. Sometimes it was nice to have reserves of energy to fall back on, like with the spirit sundials Aurelian had always kept around.

    And only sages were practiced enough with magic to make much use of them, drawing on a reserve of energy they were already experienced with wielding. Weapons were another story entirely, and far more of a risk to create, let alone hand out.

    Not something done lightly, or often. Especially with Avalon¡¯s grotesque practice of binding in mind.

    ¡°Blood helps the transfer,¡± Lady Bel answered. ¡°But I should have cut my leg or something. Now I¡¯m going to have to keep my hand bandaged all week.¡±  She scoffed, looking down at the blood. ¡°I suppose the drama of the moment got away from me.¡±

    Laura smiled back at her. ¡°It happens. Maybe pour some liquor on it, if you¡¯ve got it. Helps with infections.¡± She glanced down at her sword again, the very same sabre once wielded by Aurelian. Someone who¡¯d actually done what everyone thought that Laura had, but all to protect his son. And now it¡¯s a spirit artifact too, for as long as the power lasts. Probably not long, but really, that fit fine with everything else that Laura was doing today.

    ¡°Hey, Bel, can you do me a favor?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Only if it aids wise Volobrin.¡±

    ¡°It will,¡± Laura lied. And she¡¯ll probably realize this has nothing to do with him, but I might as well try. ¡°Once the fight is over, could you take my sword to my sister Valentine? I don¡¯t want it lost to time.¡± And she¡¯s the only one left who¡¯s even close to worthy of it.

    ¡°I highly doubt that Volobrin could benefit from that¡­¡± Bel turned her head away. ¡°But if I can, I will. Last testaments are a sacred thing, and it won¡¯t be long before the power fades in any case.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Laura gave her a final look, then proceeded further into the depths, draining her own life to light the way.

    The seat of the hearth lived deep within, a forge set within the earth, so perhaps it was scant surprise that spirits would gather so deep within it.

    When Laura had first come here to make her pact with Flammare, she¡¯d felt like she¡¯d walked for miles and miles, but surely most of that had been youth, right? Even at the best of times, patience isn¡¯t exactly my thing. Still, the walk was agonizingly dull, especially once she passed the last of the paintings, and the path became naught but rock.

    Lamante was the first Laura came upon at the entrance of a larger cavern, softly lit by the glowing light of perhaps a dozen flame spirits, Fala brightest among them, the light from his blue crackling flames bouncing off of every wall. That didn¡¯t bode well for the fight, but it wasn¡¯t as if Laura had any chance regardless. If G¨¦zarde had lent him power for the contest, perhaps it might even be more satisfying, a death against a true enemy rather than his pawn.

    Tauroneo was there too, standing tall above all the other spirits, embedded into the cavern from the waist down, the tops of his horns nearly scratching the ceiling. If my parents get their way, he¡¯ll replace Flammare, and they can forget all about their wayward daughter who was once a sage. They were looking to the wrong place, but that was hardly knew. Flammare had been blinded by his hatred for Glaciel, and if even a tiny part of Fernan had been telling the truth, that had ruined him. The Bull of the West was scarcely any better, looking to Andr¨¦a for his first sage, enabling further evils by ensuring that nothing would change¡­

    And I¡¯m sure Volobrin would be just as happy if I took him on. Certain death, to be sure, but that was what she was here for.

    But first, Laura had to deal with the face-stealer at the mouth of the cavern, blocking her way. Lamante¡¯s one of the better candidates for who set me up, too. If her good fortune continued, perhaps there would be a way to kill her here. Lamante was no fighter, just a manipulator. The best way to thwart her would be to cut through all the bullshit and make things happen.

    The mantis¡¯s predatory mandibles tilted with her head in a rictus grin. ¡°What are you doing here, Laura Bougitte? Were you not exiled for betraying your patron spirit? Did you not lead Flammare to his death?¡±

    ¡°Settling things,¡± Laura answered, though she had no intention of doing that. ¡°What are you doing here, face-stealer? Don¡¯t you have a corrupt new sun to hang your laurels on?¡±

    ¡°G¨¦zarde is warm and kind; he cares for his children as Soleil never regarded his own, and the humans as well. Certainly, he is far better suited to the role than Flammare ever would have been.¡± One of the masks on her pack almost looked like it was trying to make eye contact with Laura, a silent plea frozen in horror. ¡°Now it falls to me to ensure that the hearth spirit, too, is chosen correctly. Having a traitorous human that murdered her patron present would only impede things.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t kill Flammare,¡± Laura said, cutting the face-stealer¡¯s argument apart at its seams. ¡°I didn¡¯t have anything to do with his death. I never even went to the Convocation. Any and all of you may take my souls if I¡¯m lying.¡± That ought to have settled it, but it seemed that Lamante had other ideas.

    ¡°You humans are well adept at lying with truth. With conspirators, timing, carefully chosen statements, you could well remain responsible for it.¡± She turned her head back to the other spirits, a paltry showing compared to who¡¯d shown up for the last convocation in Guerron. ¡°Any of you would be well within your rights to slay this girl where she stands. Avenging Flammare would surely add to your qualification to replace him.¡±

    Fala, probably the spirit she was most directly talking to with that, pulsed fervently, but remained in place. He doesn¡¯t want to attack yet? Is he scared? Even with all that power?

    ¡°Has Great G¨¦zarde not told you the tale of Jerome, Fala? We cannot afford to take any chances. And I have my own reasons for not doing it myself. They do not concern you. What should concern you is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do you believe that I had any part in Flammare¡¯s death, Lamante?¡± Because I think you gave Fernan a face so he could have someone impersonate me. Why else would she be so concerned with Laura¡¯s presence here?

    ¡°I believe that we must be cautious in the presence of a suspected traitor to her patron.¡±

    ¡°Suspected by many, mostly humans, but not by you, am I? Please, tell me otherwise if I¡¯m wrong.¡±

    ¡°I am suspicious of your motives for being here,¡± she answered.

    ¡°As am I,¡± added, of all spirits, Volobrin. I guess he¡¯s really taking that disposable weapon thing seriously. ¡°Regardless of her guilt or innocence, she has no need to be here, nor can I see any benefit to all of you from allowing it.¡± A part of Laura was annoyed at the ¡®betrayal¡¯, such as it was, but she wasn¡¯t here for Volobrin or his agenda.

    I¡¯m here for myself. ¡°As I am innocent, I can¡¯t see why you¡¯d need to keep me out. It certainly couldn¡¯t be fear, not for such a great assembly of spirits.¡±

    ¡°Caution is not the same as fear, nor¡ª¡± Lamante was interrupted by a burst of crackling static from Fala.

    ¡°Until her life is expended, Lamante, she remains a sage. Flammare¡¯s essence remains reflected within her.¡± Miroirter, amazingly, seemed to be coming to her defense too, a playful glint in his pointed teeth. ¡°It seems entirely appropriate for her to be present here.¡±

    ¡°My High Priest is here,¡± Corva added, flapping her wing in the direction of that adorable little moody kid that was technically the Duke of Condillac. Not someone I expected to see again, after he turned and ran from Aurelian¡¯s duel with Leclaire. Probably the smartest thing the kid had ever done. ¡°Are you proposing that we prohibit the presence of humans?¡± Corva continued. ¡°That is quite a request, after your schemes with the sun.¡±

    ¡°Which put your beloved Fala where he stands today.¡± It was hard to tell through the mandibles, but Lamante¡¯s face seemed to be twisting with displeasure. ¡°But if you insist, I shall let the matter drop. The Convocation must begin soon.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± thundered Tauroneo. ¡°You all know who I am: a child of Terramonde, the Bull of the West, Breaker of the Plumards, slayer of Weilarn. The hearth ever lay betwixt the flame and the earth, and I promise here and now to respect that unity, as Flammare would have wanted. You all know that he chose me as his successor, and I ask that you honor that choice.¡±

    Laura frowned. In other words: Flammare got himself killed trying to force spirits under his power, and I want to lead you all to ruin doing the same.

    Fala crackled out a long rebuttal to that which looked very spirited and even convincing, judging by the reactions of the other spirits, but Laura couldn¡¯t understand a word of it.

    The next part didn¡¯t need words, though.

    In a blinding flash of light, a green inferno tore through the ceiling of the cavern, sending stone and dirt flying in its wake. By the time the dust settled, the brightly glowing form of G¨¦zarde was floating in the cavern, not even bothering to use its wings. ¡°I am here to support Fala,¡± he said, apparently a spirit of few words. ¡°My vote is for him, and I hope that all of you will agree with what he said enough to see the need for change.¡±

    Laura tightened the grip on the handle of her sword, feeling the faint vibrations of its new power, but she left it in its sheath for now. Of all the fights I could never win, taking on the sun himself seems like the least likely to work. However much she might want some shred of revenge, that was worth keeping in mind.

    Of course, two suns had died in the space of months, so perhaps he was more vulnerable than Laura was giving credit for.

    ¡°Change,¡± Laura scoffed, though it was absolutely not her place to speak. What are they going to do, kill me? Who cares? ¡°Bold words from a usurper. You rose to power through deceitful humans and Lamante, who¡¯s practically one herself. You withdrew from all spirits for millenia and didn¡¯t return until you could seize an Arbiter seat in your grip.¡± She turned towards the rest of the spirits, none of whom had yet decided to kill her, apparently. ¡°How could you elevate their pick? The more power the likes of Lamante and G¨¦zarde get, the more knives they''ll have ready for your own backs. Her little group already saw spirits fighting spirits directly, for the first time in, what, a century? Since Khali, right?¡±

    ¡°There was another incident, about twenty years afterwards,¡± Lamante answered. ¡°But arguably it was fallout from the same issue. As to your absurd accusations, I shall not dignify them with a response. Yes, I have the favor of the Arbiter of Light. I am not ashamed of this. Any spirit here ought to want the same, for all of the power that G¨¦zarde is willing to share with those who have earned his support.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Laura didn¡¯t want to lose any momentum, or let the face-stealer steer the conversation, so she continued without much of a plan. ¡°Ok, so that¡¯s a century of peace between spirits, up until Corro and Glaciel crossed paths directly because of Soleil¡¯s death. Followed by a massive rash of deaths.¡± Even if Aurelian is the real reason Soleil is dead. Him and that bard. But that was a lot of agency for a spirit to ascribe to a human, and most of them seemed loath to grant that much credit. We¡¯re just weapons to them, not killers. ¡°Can¡¯t you all see it? She¡¯s doing this right in front of you, barely trying to hide her involvement. If you choose her candidate, you¡¯ll be gathering for another convocation before the year is out. And you¡¯ll wish you hadn¡¯t given such power out to the least deserving of it.¡±

    Her palm was slick with sweat, sizzling as it fell onto the sword beneath it.

    ¡°This human may be questionable, and inappropriate, but in this instance, she is right.¡± Tauroneo¡¯s booming voice echoed across the cavern. ¡°We must cease with this conflict and escalation between spirits, just as Flammare wanted. Unity. The way of the earth: solid, immovable, unchanging.¡±

    Laura could help but smile as she continued mouthing off. ¡°That¡¯s not what the hearth needs at all. It¡¯s a reflection of humanity, however much Flammare might have minimized that in favor of his service to Soleil. You earth spirits ignored us as Terramonde slept, and only now do you see how much you depend on our service. But you¡¯re late, Tauroneo! My brother Andr¨¦a is a cruel idiot, and he¡¯s to be your first High Priest? Your temple is doomed before it can even begin, because you have no idea what you¡¯re doing.¡±

    The earth began to rumble, first only slightly, but before long it was hard for Laura to even keep her footing. Still, she continued to goad him. ¡°You were unprepared at Soleil¡¯s convocation and you¡¯re unprepared now. You voted for G¨¦zarde! Did you just forget that or something? It¡¯s so clear that you have no idea what you¡¯re doing because you¡¯ve literally been living under a rock!¡±

    That did it.

    The earth beneath Laura collapsed, nearly pulling her down into a live burial, but she stayed in the air with fire at her feet, draining her life every instant it burned.

    Volobrin surged towards her, but Tauroneo held up his hand, bidding him to stay back. ¡°I will take care of this myself,¡± he said coldly, his very words shaking rock loose from above.

    There may be better deaths than this, but it¡¯s one I can accept. Laura drew her sword, gleaming in the cavern¡¯s green sunlight, and charged the bull.

 Fernan IV: The Token Representative

    Fernan IV: The Token Representative

    If Fernan had felt out of place at the council table before, it was nothing compared to his position now. The Fox-King and Duchess hadn¡¯t always agreed with what he¡¯d had to say, but their gratitude for the trial was enough that they at least listened to some extent.

    ¡°Their obligation is to us, not the other way around.¡± Guy Valvert waved his hand, as if shooing away the injured himself. ¡°I¡¯ve already released them from service; what more do they want?¡±

    ¡°Once again, there was nothing to release anyone from. The Fox-King asked for volunteers to fend off Glaciel, and hundreds of people lost their lives for it. Countless more were injured, many to the point that they can no longer work. All I¡¯m saying is that, since this happened in service to the Crown, it would make sense for us to provide for the families.¡±

    Valvert wrinkled his nose. Following his lead, most of the rest of the councilors did the same.

    With the Fox-King and the Duchess gone to Malin, the Count of Dorseille had brought several of his favorites from up north to aid him here, if ¡®aid¡¯ was the right word.

    ¡°Your first duty is to our own people. It is not an easy decision, but it is what Guerron needs.¡± Sire Louise de Monflanquin was his favorite, apparently blessed with long golden hair, not that Fernan could tell the difference, and she never passed up an opportunity for flattery.

    ¡°And might I commend your wisdom, my lord, for making the hard choices.¡± That came from Mar¨¦chal Augustin, a crumbling veteran of the Winter War here by virtue of his surname being Valvert.

    ¡°The injured I¡¯m speaking about are not just peasants,¡± Fernan added, in the hopes that it would better suit this audience. ¡°Take Dom Mesnil, for example. He lost his leg, and now he cannot sit ahorse. He¡¯s a knight of good standing, doesn¡¯t it make sense to ensure that his needs are met, and those like him?¡±

    ¡°No peer ought to need a hand-out, and the commoners, as you say, were volunteers. I¡¯m sure everyone got plenty when they raided Glaciel¡¯s castle, regardless. A spirit like that is bound to keep plenty of treasure around.¡±

    ¡°But the army never entered the castle proper! There was nothing to take. All I¡¯m asking is¡ª¡±

    ¡°And your request is noted,¡± Valvert said, not even bothering to look at him.

    Honestly, Fernan gave it about two more meetings before he stopped being asked to return at all. There was a good chance he¡¯d only made it this far because Guy hadn¡¯t bothered to consciously exclude him.

    ¡°Now, if we could move on to my wedding. I want a strong show of prosperity, of unity. A rift has formed in Guerron, deepened by the feud between Aurelian and Leclaire, and this is a way to show that such time has passed, that we are stronger and more firmly tied together than ever. People have endured so much hardship under the darkness, and as their stewards, we need to show that the crisis is over. Duke Fouchand never hesitated to feast his people, and our brave Fox-King has followed in his footsteps, and in the path of King Romain. I shall be no different. Now that flames burn once again in our hearths, we can be sure that the new spirit has taken his seat in Torpierre. I have no doubt that my lovely lady of Bougitte will follow thereafter, and I want all of you to be ready. The sooner Guerron can celebrate, the better we can banish the darkness from everyone¡¯s minds.¡±

    A surprisingly good case for it. He sounds almost like Camille.

    ¡°And I want a thirty-foot tall statue of myself to preside over the ceremony. We don¡¯t want the peasants close enough to stink it up for us, but they still should be able to see me, and this way they can be far away and still bask in awe. Then, forever after, it shall stand as a monument to our achievements in driving back the darkness.¡±

    And there it is.¡°If I may, before we move on, I don¡¯t believe we finished talking about the injured veterans and their families.¡±

    ¡°You believe incorrectly,¡± Sire Louise said, leaning back in her chair. ¡°I¡¯m surprised that even your soft peasant head struggles to follow such a simple conversation.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve moved on, Montaigne. Try to keep up.¡± The Lord of Guerron glanced impatiently at the sundial on the table. ¡°This is almost as bad as that boat from the Isle de la Lune you wouldn¡¯t stop prattling on about.¡±

    ¡°The refugees?¡± Fernan blinked. ¡°They braved a lot to escape the Avaline occupation, and if you ever want the island back for the Empire, I¡¯d think it smart to show that you stand with its people.¡±

    ¡°Bah! I turned them away in Dorseille for good cause, and the churls thought to try their luck with my softer-hearted cousin. Even she wouldn¡¯t have let them in though, I¡¯m sure. We¡¯ve just endured a crisis. It¡¯s hard enough to take care of our own without adding more unproductive mouths to feed.¡±

    Fernan felt his eyes burn brighter, and tried to tamp the fire down. ¡°Then let¡¯s take care of our own, and provide for the widows and widowers, the families of the injured. They gave so much in service to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you listening? My answer is no,¡± Valvert tutted. ¡°Can we move this along? The Singer¡¯s Lounge is throwing a f¨ºte in honor of my engagement, and it would hardly be lordly to be late. F¨¦lix, report.¡±

    ¡°I looked into your request, my lord Count,¡± F¨¦lix said, avoiding eye contact as he shuffled papers around the table. Barely over five feet tall, with what Valvert had once mentioned was dark curly hair, he was also of common birth, and seemed almost as out of place here as Fernan. But he¡¯d worked for years in the Bureau of the Sea, directly under Duchess Annette, and had been chosen personally to take over her work in Guerron. Valvert knew he needed F¨¦lix to keep things running, unless he wanted to do all of the work himself. That lent the functionary a credibility that Fernan could never really get.

    ¡°And? Spit it out.¡±

    F¨¦lix gulped. ¡°We think we can recreate the designs in those plans your uncle purchased, though probably only after many prototypes. The airships themselves are described in simple language, and the translation doesn¡¯t seem to have been an issue. That¡¯s so far, but issues always crop up once you actually get into the thicket. I¡¯d expect a workable prototype by the end of the year, assuming nothing goes wrong, which¡ªsomething always does.¡±

    ¡°Finally, you tell me something I want to hear!¡± Valvert beamed, glowing brighter than Fernan had ever seen him at a council meeting. ¡°Imagine Lucien¡¯s face when I fly to Malin for a visit. Our army will be equipped better than ever before, all thanks to my wise stewardship.¡±

    ¡°But, my lord, there¡¯s also¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear another word out of your mouth except for ¡®Yes, my lord¡¯. Am I understood?¡±

    F¨¦lix opened his mouth, frowned, then closed it again. ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±

    ¡°And the pistols?¡±

    Staring intently at the ceiling, F¨¦lix sucked in air through his teeth. ¡°As best as we can tell, all of the parts were made by separate machines, then assembled together afterwards. Each component is tiny, and requires its own casting. I¡¯ve had our best metalworkers on it, but at best they¡¯ll be able to make two more by the end of the month.¡±

    ¡°Two? Avalon has so many that they didn¡¯t even notice five missing. I want us to be properly outfitted for war¡±

    ¡°They have an entire industrial process set up to make weapons. There¡¯s a district of Cambria with over a dozen factories. We have one bureau workshop and a few metalworkers, who charge triple for their time as an Avaline factory worker. Honestly, it¡¯s a miracle that the reverse-engineering is going even this well without schematics to work from. Those books from Malin made a big difference, but even then, we¡¯ve been extraordinarily lucky. How Antoine thought to test saltpeter of all things for the powder package¡­ Keeping up with Avalon on this is an impossible task. Verrou stole five, but they could have hundreds for all we know. ¡±

    ¡°And my cousin chose you to make the impossible happen.¡± Valvert clapped him on the back as he stood up. ¡°You¡¯ll make it work for me, don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°Wait, my lord, I wasn¡¯t finished. The fuel is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes you are.¡± Not bothering to push his chair in, Valvert practically flew out of the council chamber, followed closely by all the hangers-on he¡¯d brought with him from Dorseille. In almost no time, Fernan and F¨¦lix were the only ones left.

    ¡°Do you mind telling me?¡± Fernan asked, not yet wanting to face the families he¡¯d just failed. ¡°Something about the fuel?¡±

    ¡°Might as well.¡± F¨¦lix sighed. ¡°According to the schematics, the balloons of Avalon¡¯s dirigeables are filled with a gas called dephlogisticated air. My top scientist, Antoine, told me he knows it can be synthesized from a reaction of zinc and spirits of salt, which in turn requires ammonia and vitriol in quantities that¡­ I¡¯m sorry, this is getting a bit deep into the thicket. The problem is that, for a single airship, we¡¯d need enough salt to bankrupt Plagette. Even with all its riches, Avalon can¡¯t be processing it the same way we are, or their fleet would be a tenth its size. But without knowing their method, we have no practical fuel for the balloons.¡±

    Fernan blinked rapidly, trying to take in the rush of information. ¡°That¡¯s a lot. You¡¯re a scientist?¡±

    ¡°Hardly. I¡¯m just the bureaucrat in charge of wrangling them. When the Duchess promoted me, I thought I¡¯d try something new by actually listening to what the people under me have to say, which meant learning enough to understand the decisions I¡¯m making.¡± He stared past Fernan, as if witnessing something out the window. ¡°Can I be honest with you, Sire Montaigne? I have no idea what I¡¯m doing. Valvert can have his airship, but as it is now, it won¡¯t get two feet off the ground.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Fernan started to hold out his hand, then thought better of it. ¡°I¡¯m in a similar position, honestly. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard my background. If I¡¯d headed home a few hours earlier one day, I¡¯d still just be Fernan the scout.¡±

    ¡°And if the Maiden of Dawn hadn¡¯t liberated Malin, I¡¯d still be doing my old job: reading stacks of manifests to look for smuggling and fraud. Instead I¡¯m sitting at the table with the High Priest of the Sun, doing the bidding of the Count of Dorseille.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    High Priest of the Sun¡­ I guess that¡¯s technically true now, strange as it sounds, but it¡¯s not like I¡¯m holding court at the Sun Temple the way Lord Lumi¨¨re did. Most of the sages that had served there had either followed the Fox-King to Malin or returned to their homes, though Mom and Yves, who¡¯d helped in the White Night, were still keeping track of things at the temple and looking after Aubaine when Fernan couldn¡¯t.

    Which is getting to be far too often. There was too much to do even without Guy Valvert; with him, it was a struggle just keeping the city from burning down. ¡°I can see that it isn¡¯t easy for you.¡±

    F¨¦lix shrugged. ¡°Lady Annette warned me about him. This is a flight of fancy, if you¡¯ll pardon the pun. Soon enough he¡¯ll be distracted by something else, and we can get to the real work under his nose. At least I¡¯m not stuck as an advocate for a group he has no interest in helping.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Lucky you. ¡°You know¡­¡± There¡¯s no harm, right? All we¡¯re doing is talking. Even if he doesn¡¯t like the sound of it, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll leave us alone. ¡°I¡¯m going to a little gathering tonight. Would you like to come with me?¡±

    ?

    ¡°I must say, I¡¯m surprised at how well you put this all together, Eleanor! I wouldn¡¯t think someone with your background would be so adept at hosting a salon.¡±

    Fernan frowned at the backhanded compliment, but his mother seemed to take it in stride. ¡°It¡¯s all in the venue, S¨¦zanne. Hard to go wrong when you can look up at the stars.¡± She gestured up towards the roof of the Temple of the Sun, then placed a hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, we should really talk to Michel before things get properly started.¡±

    She led Fernan away, leaving the arrogant doctor to his wine. ¡°This is about coming together to solve problems. Don¡¯t let it start with a fight.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m worried it will end with one. If Guy knew we were using his dead best friend¡¯s temple for¡ª¡±

    ¡°For a friendly gathering? I¡¯m given to understand that the sages of Soleil did it all the time.¡± Michel swept into view, arms pointed out in a way that was probably supposed to look amiable, but came off as faintly desperate. ¡°Do you see any such sages here? It¡¯s a temple of his no longer, nor Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, nor did it ever belong to Count Guy Valvert of Dorseille.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯re just talking,¡± Mother added. ¡°Nothing objectionable about that.¡±

    Fernan bit his lip. You haven¡¯t seen what Guy Valvert will object to. But that was the reason they were gathered here at all, there was no need to curse it by invoking his name aloud.

    ¡°You¡¯ve done a spectacular job, Eleanor. I went inside this place a few months ago to work out a taxation dispute, and it didn¡¯t look half so beautiful as it does right now. I especially love the floor. It really compliments the banners.¡±

    Fernan couldn¡¯t properly see either, but a symbol had been layered on both, a triangle missing its bottom line, with a circle behind it. On the floor, it was simply a thin sheet of cloth fixed in place with resin, easily removed after the event, while the banners backed the symbol with a stylized green fire, though in what style Fernan obviously couldn¡¯t say. There would be no removing the symbol from the banners, but they themselves could be taken down.

    I¡¯ll see to that. If one of Valvert¡¯s sycophants stumbles in, it would raise a host of questions we don¡¯t want to answer. ¡°I¡¯m still not sure this is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to attend,¡± Mother assured him. ¡°If your ties to the Chateau are too important to risk, I understand completely. Do what¡¯s best for you.¡±

    Not the point. ¡°I¡¯m not sure this is a good idea for us.¡±

    Mother¡¯s face hardened. ¡°That may be, but it is the right idea, and not just for us, but for everyone suffering in this city. I stared down the Queen of Winter, Fernan. I fired a pistol at her myself. I¡¯m not going to be afraid of a group of people just talking.¡± Seeing the look on his face, she winced. ¡°Not that you need to feel the same way! I support your decision, whatever it may be. But this is my course. We need to look out for our own, because Guerron¡¯s leadership will never see our needs as their first priority.¡±

    They definitely never will if we make ourselves an enemy. The past half year had given ample evidence of how aristocrats treated their foes.

    But something had to be done, and they¡¯d all be in a better position to do it if they talked through their options and came to a decision together.

    ¡°Will Mara be joining us tonight?¡± Michel asked, walking towards a statue near the window. If Fernan remembered the layout correctly from when he could see them in the daytime, it¡¯d be the one where Soleil held a nascent Lunette aloft. ¡°Her brother Abel is here, but he isn¡¯t yet terribly articulate in human speech, and it¡¯s important that we include the geckos.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s coming. I just asked her to guide a guest over, to make sure he found his way.¡± That, and to make sure F¨¦lix didn¡¯t balk at following Mara in, in which case he was no longer welcome in any case. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll be here soon.¡±

    ¡°Very good. And how did it go with Valvert?¡±

    Fernan grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s useless trying to talk to him. Either he can¡¯t understand, or he does and he doesn¡¯t care. Either way, no pensions for the wounded. Are you sure¡ª?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have the money, Fernan. What little there is is all tied up in the ice trade we¡¯ve been setting up. I know it¡¯ll work, things were going great before darkness fell, but right now ice is the last thing anyone wants to buy.¡±

    There wasn¡¯t a formal ¡®start¡¯ to the salon; it was just a casual gathering, after all. But once Mara and F¨¦lix arrived, Mother seemed to take it as a cue to make some announcements. ¡°Welcome friends, Montaignards, defenders of the people. Thank you all for gathering tonight. And thanks to my son, Fernan, for letting us use this temple as a venue.¡± She raised her glass, and the entire room followed. ¡°Last time, we had a very productive debate on natural philosophy, and I, for one, was stunned to hear Michel¡¯s beautiful singing voice. Why didn¡¯t you ever tell us you could do that?¡±

    ¡°I thought it better to show you.¡± Michel nodded, stepping up to Mother¡¯s side. ¡°And I must commend my sparring partner of the evening, Georges S¨¦zanne! I¡¯d still maintain that it¡¯s the brutality of nature which society elevates us from, rather than the inverse, but I must respect your rhetorical skills. And your confidence! None of us should be afraid to challenge ideas! That is the very purpose of our gathering. Any notions will only be stronger for surviving the debate.¡± The solicitor paused, facing Fernan.

    Does he want me to speak, or is he daring me to stop him? Fernan inclined his head slightly, giving Michel permission if he was asking for it.

    ¡°I had hoped to speak on taxation, and the morality of who administers it, under what rights¡­ But I¡¯m afraid I cannot ignore the dire news that Fernan brought with him. Count Valvert is deaf to our pleas. He does not or will not understand everything we¡¯ve sacrificed for the Crown in the White Night, or the plight of the two hundred and eighty seven souls who will never escape the darkness.¡± Michel held his shoulders back, sweeping his head across the crowd. ¡°We have no say in our own taxation, nor the ends to which these spoils are turned. We are left to suffer while our Lord builds statues in his likeness. We bled in the White Night, the front lines of the Fox-King¡¯s army, and now his emissary in this city would deny us the barest recompense. Guerron was given to him, but it is the people to whom it rightfully belongs, philosophically if not materially. Is not every soul within entitled to liberty? Is averting starvation not the most base of liberties, at the foundation of all the rest?¡±

    Fernan held his breath, waiting for some dreadful consequence to erupt, but the room stayed silent. Even F¨¦lix seemed more intrigued than offended, as Fernan had hoped for when inviting him.

    Mara, across the room, shot him a reassuring puff of smoke. ¡°It is,¡± Fernan found himself saying, trying to keep things together. ¡°And Valvert has been really difficult to work with. If the Fox-King could be persuaded to replace him¡ª¡±

    ¡°With another aristocratic relative of his?¡± interrupted one of the Condorcet representatives, Citoyen Darce. ¡°Do you expect that things will get any better?¡±

    ¡°They might,¡± replied his partner, Citoyen Courbet. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can kill them faster than they can send them.¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s killing anyone!¡± Fernan asserted, shooting F¨¦lix a guilty look. We should have never invited them. ¡°Banish that thought from your heads right now. All we need to do is make him see reason, or have him removed from the role he was appointed to.¡±

    ¡°What, by asking nicely?¡± Courbet scoffed.

    ¡°It¡¯s a better starting point than violence!¡± Please read how mortified I am from my face, F¨¦lix. Camille was more right about Condorcet than he¡¯d thought. ¡°We don¡¯t want to say or do anything we can¡¯t take back.¡±

    ¡°Our speech ought to be free, but in our deeds, Fernan is quite right. I understand that in Condorcet you have a certain way of doing things, and I don¡¯t mean to devalue your experience or expertise, but we¡¯re not looking to escalate so wildly,¡± Michel insisted, and fortunately the room seemed to back him up in that.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind Citoyen Courbet, she just can¡¯t help but turn to killing as the answer,¡± Citoyen Darce assured the room. ¡°Conversation and negotiation, compromise and collaboration, these are always the better way to get things done.¡±

    ¡°Cowardice, but that¡¯s the way of moderates.¡± Courbet darkened, looking around the room for an ally, but none spoke in her defense. ¡°Very well. I can see when my opinions aren¡¯t valued. You¡¯ll come crawling back to me when you realize I¡¯m right.¡± She pushed her way to the door, leaving it ajar on her way out.

    ¡°Do we have anything to be worried about, there?¡± Mother asked hesitantly.

    Darce shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s all talk. And she certainly won¡¯t go blabbing to the Count.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    ¡°But we have to do something,¡± a voice insisted, though Fernan wasn¡¯t sure who. Another person said, ¡°If Sire Montaigne pleading our case isn¡¯t enough to convince him, what hope have we?¡±

    ¡°We do have the power to make our voices heard, if we all stand together in negotiation.¡± Michel waved his hand around the room. ¡°There are far more of us than there are of them. We have the acolytes of the sun on our side. We were at the heart of victory in the White Night. The Count should acknowledge that, just as he recognizes the power of his vassals and the knights they command, and considers their wishes accordingly.¡±

    ¡°We already sent a Queen running,¡± Mother added. ¡°Getting what we¡¯re owed from a mere Count should be much easier.¡± Fernan heard chuckles around the room, though he couldn¡¯t find it in himself to smile.

    They did all that in the White Night, and I almost ruined it all because I couldn¡¯t trust Florette to keep herself safe. Or anyone here. ¡°But there¡¯s no reason to make enemies if we can avoid it.¡± If I can convince Camille¡­ Even as the thought entered his mind, Fernan felt himself losing hope. ¡°I humbly request a month¡¯s time before we take any firm action. I¡¯m still in Valvert¡¯s council, as is F¨¦lix here, who has worked closely with the Duchess. Her gratitude and the Fox-King¡¯s is considerate, and it might be enough to get them to listen.¡± Especially if Camille primed them for it. ¡°One month, and if we¡¯re still stuck with Valvert, acting as he has¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll make sure that we aren¡¯t ignored anymore,¡± Mother said. ¡°We can take to the street with demonstrations, if we have to. As Michel says, we do have influence, even if Count Valvert has yet to recognize it.¡±

    Michel nodded. ¡°He¡¯ll be better tempered at his wedding than he is now. Perhaps that will make him more amenable. In the meantime, I see no reason we cannot discuss alternatives. Purely as hypotheticals, of course. I wish Fernan all the best in his diplomacy, but we cannot be left bereft if he is unable to succeed. Even you would agree with that, I¡¯m sure. Right, Fernan?¡±

    If there¡¯s really no other way¡­ If the Fox-King won¡¯t listen, even after everything we did for him¡­ ¡°Right.¡±

 Florette V: The Student

    Florette V: The Student

    The first day of classes began with a memorial. Everyone was made to gather in the courtyard as one of the professors read out a dirge for the students who wouldn¡¯t be able to attend this year.

    Florette stood dutifully still as they read out the names, and the cause of their ¡®departure¡¯, which seemed to be Avalon¡¯s euphemism of choice. Each of the departed had a portrait raised at the central fountain when it was their turn to be honored¡ª a procession of largely similar-looking fresh-faced students, each with a grave expression on their face.

    Do all the students get portraits taken when they start here?

    The names were strangers all, even if their paintings looked young, and the lengthy dirge for each made it hard to keep them straight. The Avaline was archaic, and nearly impossible to understand, but when people spoke about the students, it was easier to parse the list.

    Wentworth Wooly, age 19, missing and presumed dead after he failed to return from a hike when darkness fell; Ophelia Dartwick, 22, exposure; Gregory Grambol, 20, despair. It was hard not to let them all blend together.

    We lost a lot more than six in the White Night, and some were even younger than that. The crowd seemed chastened, though, which made sense. These were their peers, their friends. Even if they hadn¡¯t had personal relationships, it would still be people they¡¯d seen every day here.

    Some of them even went up to speak for their friends, which was a hundred times as affecting as anything the professors recited, for all that it was lacking in eloquence. Most were dressed in white, which from context seemed to be the color of mourning in Avalon, and made Florette feel all the more out of place in her brown and grey vest and trousers combination, which the Captain had given her as appropriate wear for classes.

    A slight ringing sounded in her ears, faint behind the buzzing the crowd and the loud speaker for the dead, but not entirely possible to ignore, either.

    The next two names were Edith Marbury and Edward Williams, which was a bit of a shock.

    Captain Verrou had mentioned killing them as part of the Srin Savian ruse, but when she¡¯d heard it, Florette had imagined cackling old nobles high up in their castles, thinking themselves untouchable and proven fatally wrong.

    Not students here.

    He didn¡¯t just kill them to make Savian¡¯s ¡®death¡¯ look convincing, he was clearing a spot for me here.

    Better understanding her role in all this, Florette paid closer attention as the next name was read out. It was the least she owed.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± she muttered softly. I should have expected this. Perhaps she hadn¡¯t wanted to think about it.

    In front of the fountain, a starry-eyed portrait was placed to look out over the students. Round faced, with a mop of red-brown hair that nearly covered her eyes. Even after all this time, after all that happened, Florette recognized Cassia Arion immediately.

    ¡°At the age of eighteen, her academic journey with us had only just begun, but Cassia knew she wanted to see the world,¡± a grey-haired professor said, holding a white hat in front of his chest. ¡°I had agreed to take her on my next expedition, but she found adventure before it began. Before she was ready¡­¡± The man inhaled sharply. ¡°I hope, when those pirates were hanged, that they realized what they¡¯d taken from us, what spark and passion they¡¯d robbed the world of. I doubt it, but I can hope. All I can say is that I will do all that is within my power to ensure that her name is not forgotten, so that Avalon can forever mourn this promising young woman who was cruelly taken from us.¡±

    Florette couldn¡¯t hear the rest of his speech, because the ringing in her ears was too loud to focus on it. She simply endured the rest of it, and let out a breath she didn¡¯t realize she¡¯d been holding when the professor stepped aside and the next speaker moved forward from the crowd.

    Cassia had more students speak for her than any of the others, from a hook-nosed boy ranting about the glory of Avalon to a curly-haired girl in a red sweater quietly thanking Cassia for her optimism and inspiration. Even Prince Luce had an address, sent by letter, but by that point the pain in Florette¡¯s ears was strong enough that she couldn¡¯t parse a word of it.

    Why did I think this was a good idea? How did it excite me? What was I thinking?

    I don¡¯t belong here.

    And now it was too late to go back, lest she waste everything Captain Verrou and the Exiles had put into this mission. The only way out was to see it through to the end, and strike the strongest blow she could against Avalon from within.

    Her first class was called Introduction to Thermodynamics, with Professor Douglas Thorburton. Getting the papers for it had left Florette¡¯s head swimming, which was a bad sign for an introductory class, but much worse was hearing the other students complaining about how ¡®boring¡¯ the start of these ¡®easy intro classes¡¯ was, and a large murmur of agreement accompanying it as they filed into the lecture hall.

    You have to remember that every student there was tutored for years, with the best that money can buy. You¡¯re going to be catching up the entire way.

    In theory, that was fine. Florette didn¡¯t need to be the best scientist Avalon had ever seen, she just needed to learn enough to better target future strikes and robberies, and ideally position herself somewhere influential after graduation.

    The latter requires a bit more than squeaking through, though.

    Professor Thorburton was broad shouldered and barrel chested, looking more like a knight than a scholar, and his booming voice did little to dispel the impression. Nor did his opening demonstration, which involved setting a fire on the floor of the lecture hall and walking them through every step of what he called the ¡®reaction¡¯, from the life energy built up in the fuel through to orange flames and smoke.

    More entertaining than Florette had expected, maybe, but the technical details were no less bewildering than she¡¯d feared, and this was only the first day.

    I might just need to read the books for this class front to back before the next one. Not a prospect she relished, but this was one of the core reasons she was here. Giving a half-hearted effort was not an option.

    Next up was History, which at least had the chance of being slightly less bewildering. Florette had spent probably hundreds of hours reading at The First Post over the course of her life, and historical works had always been some of her favorites. Like Olwen¡¯s Song, I, Julius, The Pauper and the Principle, the Fox Queen¡¯s Memoires¡­ Some of that was fiction, but Florette had also read her Corelle, she¡¯d talked politics with the Fox-Empress to be, and made history herself countless times.

    Also, and more importantly, there wouldn¡¯t be any math.

    It was a shame that it had basically no value to her infiltration mission aside from meeting a requirement to graduate from the College, but since it was required, attending it was still technically a productive use of time.

    And less likely to make me want to tear my hair out. Not a guarantee, by any means. Florette knew better than to get her hopes up prematurely, but this was at least more promising than Thermodynamics, what had always promised to be a miserable slog.

    The professor was the grey-haired man from the memorial, still wearing his fancy white hat, now with a white dinner jacket to match. Up close, he had the kind of clean cut presentation that made him look younger than his hair color implied, as did his insouciant stride. It was definitely a look, if you were into that sort of thing, though something about his smile put Florette off.

    ¡°Welcome, students. I expect most of you know who I am, but for anyone who¡¯s dwelt under a rock, fear not. Excavation is my specialty.¡±

    Prick, Florette thought, rapidly losing hope that this class would provide any relief. That feeling only worsened as she noticed most of the class chuckling at the joke, apparently impressed by whatever celebrity he commanded with them. The girl sitting next to her was rolling her eyes, though, immediately becoming Florette¡¯s favorite person in the class.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°My name is Sir Thomas Alcock, and I do beg that you refrain from calling my ¡®Alc-ie¡¯, as my dear uncle is wont to do. I teach history, but, as we all must, I first investigate it through the most potent medium of archeology. As it happens, I just recently returned from my most recent expedition into the wild ruins of Refuge, remnant of an ancient, collapsed civilization.¡± His smile stretched wider as he pulled a large, narrow bundle of blue cloth up from behind his podium. ¡°Your classmates and fellow Cambrians will soon have the opportunity to examine it in the Tancredi Museum, but I thought I¡¯d give my students a little peek behind the curtain, if you will.¡±

    Immediately, the room lit up in murmured conversation, largely incomprehensible to Florette between the language barrier and the still-persistent ringing sound echoing through her ears.

    ¡°Cease your boundless prattling, please. Technically I¡¯m not supposed to show this to anyone until the exhibit officially opens.¡± With a flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a narrow, pointed sword with an intricately designed guard around the hilt, fashioned in the shape of a flower. ¡°Can anyone tell me what this is?¡±

    ¡°A sword?¡± one voice asked from the crowd, earning a small bit of laughter.

    ¡°While that is not incorrect, I was rather hoping for a more specific answer. What sort of sword?¡±

    ¡°A longsword.¡± Wrong.

    ¡°A broadsword?¡± Wrong.

    ¡°A dirk!¡± Even more wrong.

    This was Avalon¡¯s best and brightest? Any random knight from Guerron would have known in an instant.

    ¡°Wrong,¡± Florette couldn¡¯t help but mutter at the next baffling suggestion, shaking her head. Honestly, a mace?

    ¡°What is it, then?¡± the girl whispered from the side, whom she now realized was the same red-sweatered one who¡¯d given a eulogy for Cassia Arion that morning. Great.

    That wasn¡¯t for anyone to hear. ¡°A florete,¡± Florette answered quietly. I¡¯ve got one just like it stashed under the cobblestones down the street. That had seemed like the best balance between carrying suspicious weaponry and being totally unarmed if things really went sideways.

    ¡°Very good!¡± Sir Alcock cried out. ¡°Could you please repeat that louder, for the rest of the class?¡±

    Damn, I wasn¡¯t trying to call attention to myself. Florette repeated her answer, louder, while trying to shrink down into her seat.

    ¡°How did you know, Miss¡­?¡±

    ¡°Srin Sabine,¡± she answered. ¡°And it¡¯s because of the pointed tip.The Arboreum doesn¡¯t believe in edged weaponry because it can be turned against the verdure of the environment. Other places use foils, but the floral pattern cinches it. Either Refuge believed the same thing, which would make sense given their position, or they got their swords from somewhere that did.¡±

    ¡°An excellent answer, Miss Srin! This particular florete was nestled deep in the ruins of the old city. I barely made it inside alive, beset by the ashen husks left behind by the once-great civilization. Even once within the walls, the overgrown flora retained their hostile will, and harried me all the way to the old vault.¡± Hard to believe Eloise braved all of that just to grab a pot, but I guess they were desperate.

    Alcock pulled a glove from beneath the podium and put it on before grabbing the sword by its hilt. ¡°This one, based on the inscription, was a gift from Her Verdance around the turn of the last century. As best we can tell, Refuge was considered a holy kingdom to the peoples of the forest, and even the erstwhile empire at large.¡±

    As best as you can tell? You people are the ones that poisoned it. But Florette nodded rather than voice that, trying to look unsuspicious. ¡°That¡¯s why the Fox-Queen called off her attack on the Grimoires taking refuge there. Her army didn¡¯t have the will to risk it. She said in her memoires that waiting them out turned out better anyway, since it let her army harry them all the way to Lyrion under the cover of the forest.¡±

    With a chuckle, Alcock returned the florete to its cloth cover. ¡°I¡¯ll have to remember you, Miss Srin. It¡¯s not often that I find a first-year who¡¯s already read the Fox-Queen¡¯s memoires. I believe the last student to come so prepared was Prince Lucifer, in fact.¡± Shit, I¡¯m not supposed to be calling attention to myself. Alcock pulled off his glove and tossed it to the side, turning towards the rest of the class. ¡°Such is the Fox Queen¡¯s account of things, but never forget that all sources are biased, each in their own distinct way. Even primary sources, as any reader of Olwen¡¯s Song could tell you. Still, while I was there, I saw no evidence to contradict that narrative of the conflict, and ample discarded implements and buried camps in a line to Lyrion. Some day, when things are safer, I intend to take a full accounting of the path the army took.¡±

    Working very hard to keep her mouth shut, Florette tried to marshall her composure amidst the incessant ringing in her ears. It didn¡¯t help that a lot of the class was looking at her, now, probably wondering what business this ¡®westerner¡¯ had ingratiating herself with this apparently-famous professor.

    ¡°All that said,¡± Alcock continued. ¡°I¡¯m putting together an entire exhibit of ancient Imperial weaponry for the Tancredi, and, I assure you, this particular item is merely a taste of what is to come. The crown jewel, so to speak, will take a bit more doing to obtain, so I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll be absent for the next few weeks of classes. Professor Sohn will be leading a study hall during the time slot for anyone who¡¯d like to brush up, but I shall leave you the intervening time to complete your first assignment: a twenty page research paper on a historical topic of your choosing. We¡¯ll narrow focus once I return, but I¡¯d like to begin by sampling what interests you. And what better way to prove your dedication than an exhaustive report? The highest mark will be exempt from the final exam.

    ¡°You¡¯re free to form groups as large as four ¡ª all worthy work in the real world depends on collaboration, and it¡¯s a skill you would do well to practice ¡ª but individual submissions are permitted as well, since we all know that sometimes successful collaboration means doing all the work yourself, and in that case, I¡¯d rather not credit the hangers-on.¡± He winked as another murmuring of amusement flowed through the classroom. ¡°I leave you the remainder of this class period to form your teams and begin planning your projects. I¡¯ll be at the front if anyone has any questions.¡±

    Florette pressed her hands to ears, trying to deal with the high pitch tone, but to no avail.

    ¡°I know what you mean. I thought he was never going to stop talking. Find one lost underwater city, and all of Avalon will trip over themselves to fawn on you for the rest of your life.¡± The red sweater girl turned in her seat, facing Florette directly. ¡°You said your name was Srin? I think I heard about your father. How is he holding up?¡±

    ¡°Not well,¡± she answered, since that was the story. ¡°But thank you for asking.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. Verrou¡¯s a nasty piece of work.¡± Up close, it was easier to see her vivid green eyes, surrounded by freckles. Her hair was pinned up, making her face easy to look at. ¡°Almost as bad as the Headmaster. What were they thinking, making us do over an entire term? It¡¯s even more absurd than having to do this stupid history class in the first place. If it weren¡¯t for that idiocy, I¡¯d be working at the Tower right now.¡±

    ¡°Ortus Tower?¡± Florette asked. The height of Avaline science and technology, it was apparently the premiere destination for graduates, at least according to Captain Verrou.

    The girl blinked. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah. Is there another tower I could be talking about?¡±

    Fuck, I¡¯m sounding too foreign again. Florette shook her head, shrinking back into her seat.

    ¡°Listen, I¡¯m just trying to get this last credit as quickly and smoothly as possible so I can take the job I was promised half a year ago. You seem to know your stuff. Want to team up? I figure we can get most of the research done with one trip to the Tancredi, then go 50-50 on the paper. Play it right and we¡¯ll be done long before the deadline.¡±

    Wait, really? Maybe this mission wasn¡¯t doomed to be completely isolating after all. ¡°Sure. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Rebecca Williams. Meet you at the museum Saturday morning?¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­¡± Florette blinked. ¡°Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan.¡±

    ¡°Great! I¡¯m going to go now, then. Easier to get the prime spots in the workshop if you get there early. I¡¯ll have some ideas Saturday, but be sure to bring some yourself. Until then!¡± Before Florette could really react, the girl was already sliding out of her seat and marching past the throngs of students waiting in line to talk to Sir Alcock.

    After a moment, Florette left too. Not much more to be done, and even if she wanted to talk more with the professor, it didn¡¯t seem likely he¡¯d make it through the line before the class period ended.

    Better to go outside and get some fresh air.

    Herding dozens of students into a single room had a way of making the air stale and warm, and Florette had had quite enough of it huddling inside under the darkness.

    Even with the fog still thick in the air, the improvement was instantaneous and enormous.

    Still, the weight of everything pressed heavily on her shoulders. That was just one day, and doing this right meant getting through hundreds more. Maybe thousands.

    She found herself wandering towards Ortus Tower, or, she supposed, just ¡®The Tower¡¯. It was remarkably close to the College, and the seaside, though the tall walls bordering its base obscured any view of the water.

    The streets seemed largely deserted, not dissimilar to the Spirit Quartier in Guerron, though here the likely reason was that most people in Mourningside right now were either working or in class, and from experience, they¡¯d be abuzz again once the hour for lunch arrived.

    Fernan had always liked having the chance to be alone with his thoughts. Florette found the isolation kind of off-putting.

    Much worse at the College though. At least mouthing off had earned her a partner for this project, even if Rebecca seemed eager to be done with all of it as soon as possible. Perhaps it wouldn¡¯t be all bad, if¡ª

    ¡°Florette, it¡¯s you!¡± What?

    She¡¯d been made already? How? Had Prince Luce returned, even though he was supposed to be living in Fortescue now? Was¡ª

    Fuck! I really wish I¡¯d kept my sword somewhere more accessible.

    Eyes scanning rapidly to make sure no one was around to hear, Florette found the source of the voice, a lanky boy who looked maybe sixteen, and one she was positive she¡¯d never seen before. ¡°I come as an emissary of my ancestor, Queen Glaciel, here to repay you in her name for all that you have done.¡±

 Camille V: The Guardian of the Future

    Camille V: The Guardian of the Future

    Camille had never met Magister Jules Ticent in person before, but her mother had some choice words about his feckless treachery in years past. Why wouldn¡¯t she, when the man had seized the Count of Charenton and his family in the dark of night and handed them over to the enemy?

    That had been decades-old history even then, though, and the withered man standing in their council chamber now hardly looked the part of the scheming villain. White beard left to grow long, he moved with such agonizing lethargy that Camille almost wondered if he were doing it on purpose, as a kind of ploy for leverage.

    Doesn¡¯t change anything either way, though.

    Annette seemed to be on the same page, fortunately, opening with a brusque question the moment they¡¯d all sat down. ¡°Magister Ticent, as your visit here is extremely unusual, I will be blunt. What do you want from us?¡±

    That¡¯s even more terse than I would have been. ¡°Mordred Boothe told us that you represent all of Avalon¡¯s Territories?¡±

    Ticent coughed, then slowly reached for the glass of wine in front of him. It was probably minutes before he composed himself enough to speak. ¡°It would be more accurate to say that I represent a league of governors and officials from all throughout the Territories, petitioning for aid on their behalf.¡±

    ¡°Aid?¡± Camille scoffed. ¡°To Avalon¡¯s governors? You do know what happened to Perimont, right?¡±

    ¡°What happened to Perimont was inevitable, given the course he took. He never learned the lesson that good rulership is to be felt but not seen. If you present public executions on a weekly basis, and conscript the people to fight their kin, what surprise is it when the walls fall down on your head?¡±

    ¡°And your fecklessness is the model alternative?¡± Camille laughed.

    ¡°And why you?¡± Lucien asked, stroking his chin. ¡°If you truly wish to break from Avalon¡¯s chains, why send a known collaborator instead of one of our own?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­¡± Ticent coughed, then spent another moment straightening himself out. ¡°Because I am old enough to risk. If you seized me or killed me, the league would not be dealt a grave blow. And I remain Lyrionaise, Your Grace, and Charentine. The Fox-Queen¡¯s blood flows in my veins, as it does in yours.¡±

    Lucien¡¯s eyes narrowed, but Camille jumped in for him. ¡°The Fox-Queen lived half a millennium ago. There are probably cobblers with her blood, but that does not make them kin.¡±

    Ticent gave a slow nod, conceding the point. ¡°Still, as displeased as you are to see me, I can¡¯t imagine Horace Willaims would have earned a better reception.¡±

    ¡°The Governor-General of all Territories? He¡¯s part of your little conspiracy?¡± Camille could scarcely keep her disbelief in check. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly expect us to humor this.¡±

    ¡°I bring you nothing but the truth, Lady Leclaire. Williams is dissatisfied with Avalon¡¯s rule over Lyrion, as are all members of our league. A once-great nation¡¯s resources are being plundered to feed a nation giving us nothing in return. Our governors are granted no place in Avalon¡¯s Great Council, and our rule is recognized only as agents of the Crown. Their taxation is tyranny, and all but the greatest loyalists and fools see that this conflict will inevitably come to a head.¡±

    Reason enough for the self-interested to balk, perhaps, but it sounds thin as the motive for such a dangerous conspiracy.

    ¡°I guess I still don¡¯t understand,¡± said Annette. ¡°Why send you instead of a true Lyrionaise, instead of one of the oppressed? Why is it you who turns to us instead of the people?¡±

    Ticent stared her down and answered, quickly and clearly. ¡°Because scarcely any of them are left. When darkness fell, the fields were worked to their limit while they still remained fertile, using whatever dregs of spirits and artifacts remained, making whatever deals had to be made, just as I¡¯m sure you did. And the fruits of that labor? That sacrifice? All taken, and shipped across the water in icebreaker ships. What peasants remain are with us in opposing Avalon, I am sure, but if we do not act quickly, they will instead for certain be against us.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll eagerly await that day,¡± Camille said coldly.

    ¡°Lady Leclaire, I¡¯ve lived as long as I have because I can read the winds.¡± He flicked a pin on his coat that was presumably his personal insignia, a stylized weathervane. ¡°In Charenton, when I surrendered in Verrou¡¯s name, there was no will to fight. Not after the Fall of Refuge. A distant overlord was a minimal concern when I could keep things running there much as they had before. Now we¡¯re facing mass famine is not even as a disaster, but as a deliberate policy decision, handed down from across the water and left to us to enforce. The old people of the land are largely gone, and now colonists bear the brunt of starvation, their hard labor stolen by those who no longer consider them Avaline enough to protect.¡±

    And by they, you mean ¡®you¡¯. It was obvious enough what had happened to turn the governors against Avalon, and it had nothing to do with liberty for the people. ¡°They hung you out to dry, broke whatever promises assuaged you, and kicked the door shut on the last boat back. Now that the sun¡¯s up again, you¡¯ve realized you actually need to deal with this instead of crawling back to Avalon.¡±

    ¡°That is not the course we chose,¡± Ticent insisted. ¡°I understand your suspicions here, but Lyrion remains our home, better protected and free than occupied and oppressed. And so we mean to act. The Countess of Dimanche still rules her isle as I do Charenton, and provided a space for us to meet privately and gather allies. Once the sun returned, we were able to loop in the governors of the old Lunette Duchy and much of the rest of Lyrion. Even Horace Williams knows that he¡¯s weeks away from being hung up by his entrails. He just lost his son, and now he might lose everything else as well. Avalon left us to this position, I suspect, without so much as a thought for what it would mean for us, what impression it would leave of our rulership, and at just the time when Lady Leclaire successfully rose up against them. Even if rebellion means our annihilation, passivity would guarantee it just the same. But with your aid, your backing, we could take back what Avalon stole and grant the people freedom.¡± He finished, gasping for breath, and sank back into his chair.

    Camille let him finish his diatribe; she¡¯d been raised better than to be overtly rude, but she wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°What I¡¯m hearing is that you and your little Lyrion league followed orders to starve out the people of the land, seizing their food for your colonists and overlords, and now that you¡¯ve run out of our people to condemn to a miserable death, you¡¯re running here for our help before Avalon can do the same to you.¡±

    Lucien nodded emphatically. ¡°Camille has the right of it. We¡¯d be¡ª¡±

    Annette cleared her throat, causing Lucien to pause.

    ¡°We¡¯ll need to discuss this amongst ourselves.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Ticent said, starting the long process of rising from his chair. ¡°But do not forget what we offer in return. The members of our league have governed the Territories for decades, Dimanche and myself even longer than the rest. While the darkness has taken a toll, and many Guardians remain loyal to Avalon, we have thousands of men and women ready to fight. King Harold knew the wisdom of accepting former enemies under his banner, and I can only hope that you recognize the same. As soon as your captive dies, Avalon will be at your gates with cannons ready. Between you and them could stand a league of independent states, eternally grateful for your aid, or the colonized property of Avalon, a staging ground for the war against you. We seek your help, yes, but this is also a priceless opportunity for you. I urge you to fairly consider it.¡±

    Annette shot Camille a look, but waited until the Magister had left to say, ¡°I think he¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Lucien¡¯s face twisted. ¡°They¡¯re Avalon¡¯s hatchet men, not friends in need.¡±

    ¡°So was Simon Perimont, and now he¡¯s part of our council. Camille, remember when you took this city back for us? The whole bloody battle, where you slaughtered every last game piece of the Avaline Territorial apparatus?¡±

    ¡°You know that¡¯s not what happened.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. You advised the bloody Prince of Darkness in this very room, and now he¡¯s fled and we rule. If we can grab Lyrion the same way, without any need for fighting, why shouldn¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Avalon, for one thing,¡± Lucien said grimly. ¡°Having their king captive grants us leverage, but even that would not be enough to stop reprisals if we took the field against them directly.¡±

    ¡°What reprisals?¡± Annette wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead. ¡°Think about this logistically: Avalon¡¯s depending on these colonies for food to feed their homeland. They just mounted a massive, overextending war with the Arboreum. According to our man Jethro, they won¡¯t stop there. We can¡¯t just hole up and hope for the best. It would all come crashing down when Magnifico dies. What then? We could be surrounded on all sides. Camille, I¡¯m really surprised you¡¯re not on my side, here.¡±

    Put that way, I suppose I¡¯m surprised as well. ¡°I just don¡¯t want us to lose what we have. To overcommit, as it appears Avalon is doing now.¡± I need to leave behind something good, something that works. ¡°And this Ticent is about as trustworthy as the snake on my lapel. Framing the debate this way depends on what he¡¯s saying being true, and I¡¯m doubtful that it is.¡±

    ¡°True enough,¡± Annette conceded, unless she was saying that Ticent¡¯s words had to be close enough to reality. It was difficult to tell. ¡°We should verify with Jethro, and Clocha?ne as well. She¡¯s the only one who¡¯s actually lived under the occupation; she¡¯ll know whether such actions in Lyrion ring true.¡±

    ¡°That sounds like an excellent idea.¡± Camille paused. ¡°I admit, I¡¯m a bit surprised to hear you propose it, after the way the last meeting went.¡±

    ¡°Perimont impressed me with his plan when we met to hammer out the details, and a surprisingly astute assessment of the resources at our disposal. He¡¯s not entirely the fop I first took him for, which shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise given you recruited him, Camille.¡± Annette smiled, though something about it looked a slight bit forced. ¡°Jethro¡¯s aptitude and loyalty were already known to me, but in such company, I¡¯m sure that Eloise must have much to offer as well, even if I¡¯m yet to see it.¡±

    Are they finally getting along? She hadn¡¯t been able to attend their follow-up logistics meeting due to a fight that had erupted between an old Guardian and one of Mesnil¡¯s men, handily ruining the day with extensive public addresses, amends made, and punishments levied.

    Camille had her plans to help mend the rift in Malin, but hearing that Annette and Simon had managed to get through a meeting without her and come out on the other side better for it would be difficult to believe.

    Lucien blinked, clearly even more shocked at the turn than Camille. ¡°Very well, have a runner fetch them. We¡¯ll reconvene in an hour.¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Any objections if I bring my stagiaire? She can attend to our cups.¡±

    Annette and Lucien shook their heads, so Camille added Margot to the list for the runner to fetch.

    As Eloise had relented, the stage had finally begun in earnest, and it was truly nice to have a little helper running around. Margot still had enthusiasm for so much of the tedious duties of rulership, and it comforted Camille to pass some lessons on before she was no longer around to do it.

    Margot had already proven her worth, too, suggesting a voyage of visions to the playwright they¡¯d been speaking to, in an effort to demonstrate the harmless benefits of marigold wine. That particular gap was far from the top priority to bridge, but it hadn¡¯t even occurred to Camille that they could catch two fish with one net, and the playwright had seemed quite enthusiastic about it, too.

    That was all a matter for later, though. Jethro for whatever reason hadn¡¯t made it, but they had waited long enough. Now, as Lucien noted when he called the meeting to order, they needed to commit to a broader strategy with Avalon, and determine what to do about the Lyrion issue.

    ¡°We should assume that they plan to invade as soon as our hostage dies, as a matter of caution,¡± Lucien began. ¡°I mean to make our Empire a peer in might by the time that happens, or close enough to credibly claim it. My first thought was defense, in rebuilding our walls and our fleet, but with their cannons alone we could double their number and still lose naval battles, and our palisades might not last an hour. If they invade, and we reinforce our lands and stand our ground, we¡¯ll die, just as our parents did.¡±

    It was sobering, to hear it put like that, all the more so when Camille would not be there for any of this. Capturing Magnifico seemed like a victory, but victory grants peace, and this is naught but an armistice, no different from the seventeen years we¡¯ve had since the Foxtrap. If Magnifico died young, it might not even last as long as that.

    Simon, apparently having learned a bit of tact since last time, agreed with Lucien. ¡°There is no level of mobilization and prosperity that will let us compete if the structure is left where it was. We need our own cannons, our own ironclads.¡±

    Camille frowned, matching the expression of most of the room. ¡°And our own factories, to produce them? Competing with Avalon there seems even more hopeless.¡±

    Pouring wine for Eloise, Margot nudged her sister.

    ¡°There¡¯s hope,¡± Eloise said, roused to action. ¡°That trouble with defense goes both ways. I would know. If you strike hard, and first, you can get away with a lot, even with smaller numbers. If you can plant someone ahead of time, even better. They¡¯re worth a hundred people fighting directly. It just takes one to jam up the right pipe to set the whole ship to explode.¡±

    ¡°Saboteurs and infiltrators¡­¡± Camille stroked her chin, admittedly somewhat shocked at Eloise¡¯s contribution after her miserable display at the last meeting. ¡°I had looked into it before, but a lack of plausible candidates was the principal issue. Now we have a large population of native speakers of Avaline, who have familiarity with the culture¡­¡±

    ¡°But would they be willing to turn on their homeland?¡± Lucien asked. ¡°Would you want to employ such traitors for this vital task?¡±

    ¡°They will,¡± Camille assured him. ¡°Malin is their home, not the distant shores of their parents, and I mean to make that clear in all manner of commissioned works, in addition to the narrative of the Quotidien. Even before that, I suspect there were enough opportunists for that sort of thing, and on the time scale we¡¯re discussing, I have no doubt there will be many more by the time Magnifico expires.¡± But I won¡¯t be around to train them, then¡­ ¡°Annette, would you like to work with me on this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to.¡± Annette smiled, though it faded quickly.

    Lucien¡¯s face looked downcast as well. ¡°Spies alone won¡¯t be enough, even if we can get them placed where we want them. Distasteful as such mechanisms might be, Simon has the right of it. We need our own cannons, and what they represent. Our own pistols, our own ironclads. With the power of the spirits, we need not match their number in kind, nor their industry. We only need to prove that we can strike at their shores and destroy what they hold dear. For there to be peace, we need war to be too grim an alternative for them to consider it.¡±

    Simon, alone in the room, looked almost giddy to see that his points had sunk in. ¡°The first step is knowledge. No one in this room has the scientific expertise to even begin to work on this, nor do we have the texts and documentation needed to smoothly copy other designs.¡±

    ¡°Yup, totally without them. Florette didn¡¯t steal tons of books and train engine designs from the railyard before Lady Leclaire even got here.¡± Eloise leaned back in her chair. ¡°Jacques¡¯ people looked it over, and with a bit of expertise, we could build our own trains.¡±

    ¡°Florette?¡± Lucien tilted his head. ¡°The girl who slew the sun?¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Camille answered Lucien, not wanting to get sidetracked. ¡°Annette, did you bring any of the bureau¡¯s mechanists with you?¡±

    ¡°Most of them, just left a couple for F¨¦lix.¡± She turned to Eloise. ¡°If we lend you three mechanists and rent you the old rail yard, can you build more of those trains and give us the plans to study?¡±

    ¡°Should be fine.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Simon clapped his hands. ¡°Then the next issue is our factories. We need a suitable site, close to the water for cooling and power, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t we already have one of those? That train yard?¡±

    ¡°Yes, one, designed for one specific function. Eloise can get started building engines there, but if we want a fleet that can threaten Cambria, we¡¯ll need more. Orders of magnitude more. I want to start with five or six, and ramp up to ten by the end of next year.¡±

    ¡°Ten? Don¡¯t be absurd.¡±

    ¡°Cambria has half again that many alone in its production district, with another dozen scattered throughout the city. None of that is used for building ships; there¡¯s a specialized facility on Crescent Isle. And then there¡¯s another city¡¯s worth in Oxton, Barrowton, some in Fortescue¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, I get your point.¡± Camille bit her lip. ¡°If we¡¯re truly to build on this scale, then all of these projects must be placed far from the domain of any spirits we could call friends. I¡¯ve seen what poison those contraptions spew out. If we fill Fenouille¡¯s home with it, we¡¯ll starve the next time we need his help.¡±

    Simon frowned, wrinkling his brow.

    ¡°Is there a spirit of the bay?¡± Margot asked, after enough silence that she apparently felt comfortable ignoring her instructions not to speak. ¡°Fenouille is the Sartaire, but what about past the mouth of it? Would he care?¡±

    ¡°Levian holds sway there,¡± Camille answered, feeling that same pit form in her stomach. ¡°He has proven himself an enemy already. Why should we bow to his whims?¡±

    Lucien¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Camille, are you sure? The White Night was a terrible thing, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Trust me.¡± I¡¯ll be dead before it matters. ¡°We could build across the river, far enough away from Fenouille¡¯s domain.¡±

    ¡°I was just thinking the same thing!¡± Simon exclaimed, pointing towards a map he¡¯d brought with him. ¡°Look at this village here, Monne Flankwin.¡±

    ¡°Monflanquin,¡± Camille corrected, stifling a laugh.

    ¡°Yes, that one. It used to be separated by a border, the Empire on one side and Avalon¡¯s occupation on the other. Now there¡¯s no reason to separate. If we built a bridge across, we wouldn¡¯t even need to depend on ferries. Honestly, it seems like such an obvious thing, I¡¯m surprised no one did it before the Foxtrap.¡±

    ¡°Some tried even before the Fox-Queen,¡± Camille said. ¡°They blocked Fenouille¡¯s course, so he tore them apart stone by stone. You can still find what¡¯s left of them on the seafloor sometimes. We won¡¯t be bridging the Sartaire.¡±

    ¡°Well, can we negotiate? In Avalon we have bridges kept high above the water, to allow our ships to pass beneath. One in Oxton even folds up to allow a fully clear passage through.¡±

    ¡°Folds¡­ like paper? A bridge?¡±

    Simon held his hands flat, longest fingertips just touching, then flipped them up. ¡°Splits in half.¡±

    Did you find a sense of humor, Simon, making up something this fantastical?

    ¡°Regardless, we can find a site. Even without a bridge, we can ferry what¡¯s needed to Malin¡¯s core, and localize production to that district to avoid any issue of poisons or other¡­ issues, with such machines.¡± Annette looked at Simon, seemingly offering to collaborate once more. ¡°Will fuel be an issue? I remember F¨¦lix telling me that was the big problem with the airships.¡±

    ¡°Normally, but you¡¯ve been blessed with rich veins of ore in the mountains to the west. Ships can transport it from Guerron to Monflanquin easily enough, I¡¯d imagine.¡±

    ¡°Really? I looked over the accounts Annette gave me, and the mines in my land haven¡¯t had any revenues in months,¡± Eloise said, shooting Camille a glare. ¡°Almost as if they weren¡¯t worth anything, yet were given out as a reward.¡±

    Fantastic¡­ ¡°It¡¯s just a staffing issue. Fernan took most of the miners with him to Guerron, I think to have a powerbase behind him before confronting Lumi¨¦re in the trial, and then when darkness fell, they stayed. It¡¯s just a matter of getting them back to work.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Eloise blinked. ¡°Ok¡­¡± Either she didn¡¯t believe Camille, or had some other hesitation.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a booby prize, Eloise. You¡¯re a shrewd merchant, and exactly the woman we trusted to get things running again. And when you do, you¡¯ll profit the most from it.¡±

    ¡°Though the Crown will benefit just as much,¡± Annette added.

    ¡°You did valuable work getting Malin into the right hands. We wanted to give you something valuable in return.¡±

    Lucien nodded. ¡°It¡¯s so valuable, in fact, that we should consider the danger of banditry, or privateers answering to Avalon. Even if they don¡¯t invade directly, they could sabotage us just as easily as we might them. Even more so, with their greater resources.¡± He turned to Eloise. ¡°I¡¯ll order Guy Valvert to lend you fifty swords, for the protection of your lands. In time, I¡¯ll augment that with some of my own.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to send your own soldiers to occupy my land that you just gave me?¡± Eloise shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re dead on that there¡¯s money in this, and pirates will come knocking as soon as I get things running again. But I know the business, and I have my own ways to protect it. I don¡¯t need your people looking over my shoulder.¡±

    And you started so promising today, Eloise¡­ ¡°Are you going to send your little tunnel gremlins? I know you¡¯re too paranoid to spare your best, like Ysengrin.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll send every last one of them, then hang out in the square waiting to get shot again.¡± She shook her head. ¡°The Chalice Mercenaries just finished their last contract, and I¡¯ve worked with them before. And against them. Mirielle Delune knows how to protect shit from pirates. Though I probably will send Ysengrin to supervise.¡±

    ¡°Protecting private property with private soldiers,¡± Simon said. ¡°That does seem fitting.¡±

    ¡°And it would put them on our payroll, indirectly, better ties.¡± Annette said. ¡°That might make it easier to call on them if we need more direct help in a fight.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± said Lucien. ¡°Though I¡¯m still writing to Guy.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Mercenaries fought for the highest bidder, putting them in charge of defense against theft seemed like the most absurd notion imaginable. Having loyal soldiers around would help to keep them from trying anything. ¡°Then we¡¯re in agreement?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Annette said. ¡°We need to scale up if we want to survive.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simon. ¡°Nothing¡¯s stopping us from surpassing Avalon in any area, given enough time.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Eloise. ¡°Got to hand it to you, Leclaire, it took a while, but you finally paid me right.¡±

    ¡°Then let this new era begin.¡± Lucien dipped his head. ¡°As for Lyrion, I think it best we wait for an occasion where Jethro can contribute. Ticent can wait a few days for our answer.¡±

    ¡°I agree. I want to know how feasible this build up is before we make a decision.¡± Annette looked at Simon as she said it.

    ¡°Then, for the moment, we¡¯re adjourned.¡±

    Eloise lingered after the meeting, until it was just Margot and the two of them. ¡°Can you help me? I¡¯m not really sure how this works. Never had land before, or people living on it. Do I write them a letter? Issue a decree? Or just send a note with the mercenaries? Will they even want to go back? What if I need to find a whole new crew of miners?¡±

    Strange to see her like this. It hadn¡¯t been the intent of it, but perhaps Camille sharing her mortal secret had eased some of the tension between them. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Most lords keep someone like you around to do the actual work anyway. You¡¯ll be fine.¡± She put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll reach out to Fernan about the miners for you, Eloise. Better the news comes from him than from mercenaries.¡± We¡¯re due for another conversation soon anyway. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it will be a problem.¡±

 Laura III: The Will of the Wisp

    Laura III: The Will of the Wisp

    Laura felt the energy of her sword course through her arm, empowered by Volobrin¡¯s sage in some manner she hadn¡¯t had the chance to test.

    And it doesn¡¯t look like I¡¯ll get a chance before I need to use it.

    Tauroneo¡¯s earthen grip was fast approaching, a ripple through the floor of the cave that looked more like water than stone. Already, much of the ground had collapsed into a sinking vortex of mud and dust, Laura kept aloft only by the flame beneath her feet, draining her life every second.

    She barely had the chance to keep herself in the air before a falling stalactite missed impaling her by a matter of inches, the near-miss more of a coincidence than the result of any concerted evasion.

    I should have known better. I¡¯m fighting a spirit, not another sage.

    Sages were limited in their power, often so heavily that they couldn¡¯t even practice properly for fear of wasting it. And when a real duel did erupt, the magic was a foreign thing, a willful energy to be claimed and mastered, then directed against the enemy.

    Though I suppose I¡¯m not really a sage either, not anymore.

    Before she could pull back, jaws of earth erupted from the wall behind Laura, teeth closing around her and blocking what remained of the light from the cavern.

    Crumbling dust filled her lungs, causing her to cough, and she blinked rapidly in a futile attempt to peer through the darkness.

    Congratulations, Laura, you made it half a minute fighting a spirit. More than most could boast, to be honest, though few were crazy enough to try.

    Fernan¡¯s friend had done it though, against Glaciel. A young upstart spirit, granted, and she¡¯d done it with the help of countless others, each wielding Avaline weapons¡­ But she¡¯d done it, without even magic to call upon.

    The whole point of this was to find an honorable death, a warrior¡¯s end¡­ She¡¯d achieved that now, hadn''t she? Still, the thought of accepting this grated¡­ A sorry showing, and one frankly beneath her.

    Aurelian had crossed the very sun in the sky, and succeeded. He¡¯d achieved his aims before his death. Accomplished something.

    Laura coughed flame, setting sparks of dust alight in front of her face.

    The jaws were closing tighter by the moment,, but they had been so large that Laura still had room to move around. And the teeth looked thin. Perhaps even thin enough to breach.

    She blasted herself forwards, flame at her feet, then spun at the last second to swing her sword towards the mouth, quickly pulling her into Terramonde¡¯s embrace. As the metal impacted stone, Laura channeled magic through the strike of her sword, watching it catch fire and bounce off the stone.

    Not enough.

    But the teeth were thin enough that another blast of blue flame sent cracks through the rock. I can loosen them. They continued to close in, but now Laura had the room to really swing, and it only took three more strikes to clear a spot to rocket herself out.

    Laura emerged to a dark cavern, the other spirits having retreated to the entrance tunnel. She couldn¡¯t catch so much as a glimpse of Tauroneo, but clearly he could see her just fine, since a massive pillar of earth stomped down from the ceiling above, nearly flattening her.

    In the air, she had more maneuverability, but that flame drew on Flammare¡¯s waning power, her own life, and even after everything, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to waste it any longer. Not in a fight like this.

    Aurelian and Camille Leclaire had both taken the distant approach in their duel, probably the single fight between sages with the highest stakes that Laura had witnessed. Before long, their swords had been discarded, each duelist pulling back. Aurelian¡¯s light had nearly burned the platform down, blasted from afar, while Leclaire¡¯s water had been called up from the sea below, directed the same way she ordered her servants. Even the victory had followed that philosophy, wielding Avalon¡¯s weapon.

    Tauroneo is not a mere sage of the earth; the rock of this cave is not his to command, but a part of him.

    No matter her mastery, her training, Laura would never be able to claim the same about her flames, let alone the power of Volobrin flowing through her sabre.

    It¡¯s an asymmetric fight. That doesn¡¯t make it forfeit, it just means I have to leverage the differences. Lucien Renart had managed the same in his own duels, to extraordinary effect. Even sages feared to tangle with him.

    Why shouldn¡¯t a spirit fear me, the oath-breaking sun-slayer? Feeling the dirt on her lips, Laura couldn¡¯t help but laugh, her body shaking as gusts of flame flew from her mouth.

    Why should I lay down and die when I can do some real damage?

    Channeling power once more through Aurelian¡¯s sword, empowered by Volobrin of Sunder¨¦, Laura threw out an experimental crescent of fire towards the back wall of the cavern, casting a wispy green light across its path.

    Perfect.

    Tauroneo was surely unharmed by it; he doubtless hadn¡¯t even needed to dodge, but that wasn¡¯t what mattered.

    Laura threw out a flurry of slashes, each sending another slice of fire through the cavern, as she kept her eyes focused on the path around it. These, at least, drew on the power infused into the sword rather than her life, though the supply of it was no less limited. And most of the flaming trails didn¡¯t even reach the far wall before dissipating, let alone disrupt Tauroneo¡¯s control of the surrounding earth. That didn¡¯t matter.

    And there it is! A reflection from Tauroneo¡¯s horn gave away his position, a glint of green gone as soon as it appeared. He wasn¡¯t far from where he¡¯d begun the fight, only sticking out of a wall perpendicular to the floor instead of the ground.

    As she brushed dirt from her eyes, Laura briefly wondered if he even had any legs, or a lower half at all. Perhaps his nature was simply a torso sitting atop the stone.

    Hard to see how that would help me, though, even if it¡¯s true. She had to focus on things that would make a difference.

    Testing his reaction, Laura directed her fire towards him, but he simply receded into the earth.

    Withdrawing didn¡¯t even stop his assault. Stone missiles continued to rain down from the ceiling, intense enough that Laura could barely keep ahead of it with her flight, as the ground continued to swirl fast enough that she surely couldn¡¯t land.

    That was demoralizing, but much worse was the reflected light from the swings of her sword, getting slightly closer each time. It took Laura a little while to see it; at first it seemed like they were just dissipating sooner, perhaps already running out of power, but even that would have been better than the reality.

    The walls were closing in. The entire cavern was shrinking, collapsing under Tauroneo¡¯s assault.

    There would be no loosening the earth to escape this one. The Grottes de la Merle de Gaume, the caves at the seat of the power of the hearth, sat beneath hundreds of feet of stone. Now that the other spirits were gone, there wasn¡¯t even any reason to assume the earth spirit would leave the tunnel out accessible. Indeed, collapsing it had likely been his first move.

    Leaving me in a shrinking chamber of air, slowly compressed from all sides.

    As if that wasn¡¯t bad enough, the ceiling was only crumbling faster, raining down stone so fast that Laura had to resort to knocking them aside with her sword as she moved, setting it alight each time to grant the swing more power.

    Which might not actually make a difference, but I¡¯m in no hurry to risk it. Things were bleak enough as it was.

    ¡°Looks like Valentine won¡¯t be getting this sword.¡± Laura laughed as she looked down at her blade. For all its recent magical empowerment, the sword¡¯s flame didn¡¯t look like it could accomplish anything here. Her own fire was keeping her aloft, above a certain suffocation, but each instant of it was draining her life, and beyond that, it didn¡¯t seem like she could do much to escape.

    She¡¯d be lucky if her body was discovered in a thousand years.

    Doing the obvious wouldn¡¯t be enough, here, just like it hadn¡¯t been enough for Aurelian to beat Leclaire.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Volobrin is the spirit of Sunder¨¦, always with one foot in his domain. The seat of that was Mt. Glastaigne, if she recalled correctly, a dormant volcano buried under snow all year long. Glaciel had split from him to join the Fox Queen, and taken over most of the south in her name. As the Empire had fragmented, she¡¯d consolidated control around Hiverre and left Volobrin to take it back, leaving his old dominion forever split. The Winter War had only made that worse.

    The Winter War! The High Kingdom¡¯s soldiers were hopelessly outmatched in the snow, while Sunder¨¦¡¯s sages matched Glaciel¡¯s ice mastery in kind.

    Laura pulsed power into her sword, consciously trying to twist away from the same impulse the flames at her feet were using.

    I don¡¯t know if this will even work, but it¡¯s not like I have anything left to lose.

    As if in direct response, the fire at her feet sputtered out, her concentration lost, and Laura fell towards the churning sinkhole below. The green tint in her sword had shifted to a light blue, still glowing with flaming light.

    Swinging it down over her head, Laura stabbed her sword of ice into the earth, pulsing magic through it with as much force as she could muster.

    The impact knocked the sword out of her hands and sent a jolt of pain through her shoulder. For a moment, Laura was so disoriented she couldn¡¯t even tell what had happened. As she stood, she saw shimmering crystals beneath her feet, spread in a circle centered around her still-glowing sword, embedded into frozen rock.

    ¡°Haha! Yes!¡± Laura couldn¡¯t help but cry as she stood, narrowly avoiding a spike of stone from above. She lunged towards the sword and ripped it from the stone, slashing fire towards the edge of the cavern to get a sense of how much space was left.

    I can¡¯t believe that worked. Fire and ice indeed, and the latter would be far more useful against a spirit of earth.

    Better still, even as the ground shifted and churned, the iced-over earth stayed frozen in place.

    A laugh filled Laura¡¯s lips as she began running, slashing her sword outward to cover the path ahead of her. Each strike sent forth a blue crescent that froze the ground on impact, creating her path moments before her feet touched it.

    She reached the far wall, still closing in towards her, and jumped, sliding her sword of ice up through the rock and freezing a column that stopped moving even as the rest of the chamber continued past it.

    Got you. She blasted fire from her feet and continued upwards, trying to balance the mentality between ice and fire, in the spirit of Volobrin. After one failed sputter, she managed to split the difference, and carried herself all the way up to the crumbling ceiling, a hint of a smile on the corner of her face.

    This kind of versatility was what made Avalon¡¯s binders so formidable, and now Laura could harness it herself. All I had to give up for it was my life.

    She crossed back and forth, shoring up the ceiling and reducing Tauroneo¡¯s influence across the cavern. He¡¯d helped by making it smaller, since she had less ground to cover, and he seemed to realize that himself, belatedly, since the walls of the cavern seemed to stop closing in.

    WIth so much glowing crystalline earth, it was easier to see than ever, so there was no need to repeat the crescent flare trick to see Tauroneo re-emerge, splitting apart the unfrozen earth from an ever-widening patch on the ground, more of the walls cracking into shape behind him.

    Now he¡¯s shown himself, we can have a real duel.

    If Laura had hoped that would make things easier, she¡¯d been sorely mistaken.

    The Bull of the West charged through the frozen crystal floor, splitting it apart and sending shimmering shrapnel through the air in his wake. When Laura blasted herself above him, he lifted himself upwards on a massive earthen plateau emerging from the ground, still keeping everything below his waist immersed within it.

    With a decisive motion, he grabbed Laura¡¯s ankle and threw her to the ground, sending another shower of crystal fragments skyward as she landed with a painful thud.

    No time to wallow. Have to keep moving. If he could repeat that trick, there was nowhere to run. Even if she could evade him a little while, it was only a matter of time in such an enclosed space. Instead of jumping back, Laura flew towards him, striking his podium with the magical ice from her sword.

    And Tauroneo remained atop it, staring her down.

    Perhaps she¡¯d frozen him in place, as she¡¯d hoped to do. Perhaps he was simply considering his next move.

    Either way, I can¡¯t give him the chance. Laura leapt once again, bringing her sword down over her head and feeling it impact the earth spirit with a metallic clang.

    She landed on a patch of crystal and looked back up at spirit of earth, still stuck in place, a shimmering blue crack tracing its way through his left horn.

    This time he was ready for her, and blocked her follow-up with a wall of stone that nearly drove her down to the ground again. He then withdrew the wall, without pressing an attack of his own.

    Laura landed on the patch of crystal closest to the bull and held her sword out, inviting him to make the next move, but he remained still.

    ¡°Stop,¡± he said, the first words he¡¯d spoken since the fight had begun.

    ¡°Are you forfeiting?¡± Laura asked, not entirely sure how sincere she was being.

    ¡°I mislike the sense of this. Too many venerable spirits have perished through their hubris, disregarding humans used as weapons for spirits to turn against each other. I have no desire to be the newest victim.¡± He smashed his fist down against the crystals keeping him in place, sending cracks rippling through the surface, then struck again, and again, until they were naught but shimmering powder.

    Laura left him to do it, though she wasn¡¯t entirely sure why. I came here to fight and die, not to win. If I keep going, that goal still isn¡¯t out of reach. Nonetheless, she held back. Perhaps it was just the exhilaration of the battle.

    Perhaps some part of her wanted to live after all.

    ¡°I cede the fight, Laura Bougitte, warrior of fire and ice, and withdraw my name from consideration. If Volobrin wishes to kill me, he shall have to declare his intentions himself. I will not walk blindly into the same trap that killed Soleil and Flammare.¡±

    At the sound of his name, the spirit of Sunder¨¦ slithered back through the air, passing directly through the rock of the cave wall as if it weren¡¯t even there. ¡°I did not grant this human any power, Tauroneo, though it is telling that my domains surpassed your own. And you failed to kill a mere human, withdrawing in such disgrace. It is well that you shall not be the next hearth, for you seem truly unworthy of this seat¡­¡±

    Volobrin continued on as the other spirits trickled back into the cavern, all watching him stake his claim on the hearth in opposition to Fala.

    Lamante seemed to regard him most intensely, unblinking insectoid eyes staring straight through the spectral green apparition.

    They were staring so intently, so enraptured by Volobrin¡¯s speech, and the decision laid before them, that no one seemed to care any longer about Laura, nor did anyone stop her slowly shuffling towards the exit.

    So Laura left, not bothering to find out what would become of the Hearth. What did it matter? She¡¯d courted death and failed. She¡¯d joined an impossible fight and survived.

    The scarlet light of dawn was faint on the horizon, yet still strong enough to nearly blind after so long in the dark. Her sword arm was cramping so badly she had to bend it behind her head to ease the pain, and that did nothing for her other shoulder, still smarting from her fall onto it.

    Scattered burns traced their way across her ankle, where Tauroneo¡¯s grip had blocked the propulsion of her flames, and the entire leg that had been grabbed was painful to walk on, though it wasn¡¯t as if flying would be any better for her health.

    Absolutely everything was caked in dirt and dust, no doubt making Laura look like a vengeful apparition, and her hands were too dirty to wipe her eyes without making the problem worse.

    If my family ever hears about me dueling their new patron, a marriage with Guy Valvert will look tame next to what they¡¯ll have in mind for me.

    No, Torpierre was a bridge burned, even if Valentine might still be sympathetic to her plight. Guerron was no better, home of Fernan and Valvert and all who¡¯d been glad to see her leave in the first place. There, nothing had changed.

    Though if my luck continues, perhaps I can somehow survive going to war against them. Perhaps she could even win. Laura knew she was a match for any of Guy¡¯s swords, and that was before this gift from Volobrin. Was it so hard to imagine she could beat all of them, and Fernan, and all his villager friends who¡¯d had the courage to face down Glaciel? Not to mention Mara and those ferocious geckos.

    No, that course was doomed, and she wouldn¡¯t even accomplish anything in the attempt. What did it matter if she killed Fernan? Revenge would mean little to a corpse.

    Setting her sights on Camille Leclaire would be much the same, a passionate spark of rage drowned in its own futility. Perhaps she could kill the bitch, but it would set Lucien and the entire rest of the Empire against her.

    Shit, given how I did back in there, I might have a decent shot against G¨¦zarde. The new sun was a mountain hermit of little renown, who thus far had always sent his sages and spirit-touched out to fight his battles rather than stir himself. It could well be that he was less capable than Tauroneo, though his allies would support him for certain if she returned to the cavern to fight.

    And then what? she asked herself, as if the answer to that wasn¡¯t ostensibly the entire point.

    Then I¡¯ll be dead. Incinerated by Fala, crushed by Tauroneo, shot by Fernan, drowned by Leclaire, impaled on Lucien¡¯s blade¡­

    If a good death was still all that Laura sought, there were many options ¡ª none ideal, but present ¡ª and in their own way even somewhat tempting. She¡¯d burned four entire years of her life fighting Tauroneo, she could feel that much. Despite everything, her flame still burned within her for as long as she remained alive, with many a deserving target to feel its burn.

    But those aren¡¯t the enemy that matters. They still value our way of life, however cavalier they might be with the lives of others.

    Those were fights where Laura could go to die, not having made much difference; at most, she could deal out a bit of pain to people sorely deserving of it, but nothing more.

    But there was another war, another fight where the force she could bring to bear could be useful, perhaps even decisive. A fight against an enemy that had yet to suffer a true defeat, who would roll across the entire continent if left unchecked.

    It was even a way to honor Aurelian, who¡¯d killed fourteen soldiers in the Foxtrap. To turn his blade against the greater enemy once more, using the power of the spirits against those who¡¯d seek to annihilate them all¡­

    Avalon has no idea what they¡¯re in for, Laura thought, a bright smile tracing its way across her face.

 Luce III: The Auditor

    Luce III: The Auditor

    It was eerie how empty the vineyard was. Autumn winds whipped across the verdant hillsides, and despite everything, the harvest seemed to have proceeded smoothly, the vines vibrant yet free of grapes. But so too were the grounds bare, not a single worker to be found.

    Lyrion was better known for its peat-bogs, the source of their famed single malt, though what people saw in that liquid ashtray, Luce couldn¡¯t say. Horace Williams, Governor-General of Avalon¡¯s continental Territories, had elected to bring a taste of home with him instead of following the local culture, which meant that, when he welcomed Luce onto his patio, the glasses on the table were filled with a delightful red, rather than Lyrion¡¯s famed single malt poison.

    ¡°I must confess to surprise at seeing you here, Prince Luce. After everything you¡¯ve been through in Malin, none would doubt the need for rest.¡± He bore the trademark freckles of the Williams family, and carried much of the same physical presence as his older brother Beckett, the Baron, though the latter always looked dangerous in a way that Horace William¡¯s doughy face couldn¡¯t match.

    ¡°I had plenty,¡± Luce answered, taking another sip of the wine. ¡°It was nice to see my family in Fortescue again, but I was needed elsewhere.¡±

    Williams snorted. ¡°That¡¯s an interesting way to put it. Your solutions to Carringdon¡¯s ills were unorthodox, to say the least, and I very much doubt that Miss Delbrook appreciated your help.¡±

    Me too. That had been a harrowing thing, seeing her body swing lifeless from the gallows, the air filled with raucous applause. She¡¯d had a trial, as was her right, but the verdict had practically been decided before the proceedings even began, and Delbrook had simply sat quietly in her seat through the entire thing.

    Luce had felt so very righteous, handing down the sentence, and those cheers had tickled the same part of his brain, but it was hard to stack them up against the sight of a woman he¡¯d condemned to death, her blue face glaring accusingly at him through the fog.

    It was the right thing to do. I have to remember that.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Eddie,¡± Luce said, changing the subject. Governor Williams¡¯ son had been a few years younger, a student at the Cambrian College, but he hadn¡¯t returned for classes this fall. Robin Verrou had seen to that.

    ¡°Thank you¡­ I thought he was safe, back at home¡­ Now that the crisis is over, I expect our pirate catchers will be able to get their operation back into gear. Verrou will answer for his crimes in time, of that I have no doubt, your kidnapping among them. I still marvel that you managed to escape. Most would simply pay the ransom.¡±

    If only. ¡°I did what I had to do, nothing more.¡±

    ¡°Well said.¡± Williams raised his glass, so Luce followed, clinking his own against it. ¡°To Eddie, who never had the chance.¡±

    ¡°To Eddie,¡± Luce echoed. This is a new low for Verrou, and I can¡¯t even imagine what he got out of it. No riches stolen, no true blow dealt against Avalon itself. Naught but spite and cruelty, going after students barely older than children. Though it shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise, after Cassia.

    ¡°Well, Luce,¡± Williams said after another few glasses spent catching up, ¡°as much as I enjoy a social visit, I imagine you have another purpose in coming here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Luce paused, choosing his words carefully.

    Carringdon had, in many ways, been easy. His swords had outnumbered Delbrook¡¯s, his authority had far outstripped her own, and even if things had gone truly poorly, Fortescue and family had just been a short boat ride away.

    Not so in Lyrion, where Horace Williams could, if need be, call upon entire armies of Territorial Guardians. Uncle Miles couldn¡¯t help him here, nor Mother, nor Father, if indeed he would even want to.

    But this isn¡¯t Malin. I¡¯m not alone anymore. Charlotte was standing just inside the doorway, five of his new guards right alongside her. Someone he could actually trust, but still a pale fraction of the might that the Governor-General could call to bear.

    Still, Luce had to choose his words carefully. After his show of force in Carringdon, Horace Williams might do more than pack him onto a boat if things went sour. It wouldn¡¯t do to be too accusatory.

    ¡°There has been some concern,¡± Luce began, laundering his complaints through use of the passive voice, ¡°about the exports of grain. The darkness was a great blow to Avalon, and we must ensure that all of our people are fed.¡±

    ¡°Thus the war,¡± Williams said amicably, as if Luce couldn¡¯t possibly object to tyrannical conquest. ¡°We¡¯ve been doing our part, I assure you, and once the spoils start rolling in, I can¡¯t imagine it would even be an issue. Even if the Arboreum¡¯s bounty proves insufficient, our generals are already pursuing the next target.¡±

    What? Luce did his best not to look surprised, though it wasn¡¯t easy. Lorraine hasn¡¯t even fallen, the occupation has scarcely begun, and if anything happens to Father, war with the Fox will break out in an instant.

    And they were already moving on to the next war? Even Avalon didn¡¯t have unlimited resources, unlimited manpower. And after the darkness, we¡¯re far shorter on both than we once were. This idiotic bloodlust would have to stop, even if it meant venturing into the panther¡¯s den himself.

    Williams either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t care enough to note that he was delivering new information, instead continuing on. ¡°So whatever concerns may have arisen, I can¡¯t imagine that they¡¯d warrant a personal visit.¡±

    Stay out of it, in other words. ¡°Delbrook wanted me to divert Cambria-bound shipments towards the western isles.¡±

    ¡°Of course she did. So derelict in her duties, and so foolish in her efforts to fulfill them. I sympathize with her labor issues though. We faced similar problems here.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Given the fate of Miss Delbrook, I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re not here to make that request of me.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Luce assured him. ¡°My mother might hail from the west, but Cambria alone has more people than all the western isles combined. So long as our grain supply remains limited, the shipments must continue there as before. That won¡¯t be an issue, will it?¡±

    Williams laughed. ¡°Of course not.¡±

    ¡°Despite your labor issues?¡±

    ¡°I said we faced similar problems here, past tense. Fortunately, things have a way of working themselves out.¡± And his fields are empty¡­ There¡¯s something he¡¯s not telling me. ¡°Shall I open another bottle?¡± Williams continued. ¡°It looks as if we¡¯ve killed this one.¡±

    Luce ignored the question, sitting forward in his seat. ¡°How did things work themselves out, exactly? What was your solution?¡± A sinking feeling was starting to pull him down, one he was reasonably sure had nothing to do with the wine. ¡°Perhaps I can help others to emulate it,¡± he tacked on, trying to frame the question more positively.

    What did you do?

    ¡°Well, we had a troublesome population, and a shortage of food, even before taxation entered into the equation. We could never have kept everyone fed here through the darkness, let alone Avalon.¡± He snapped his fingers, signaling for another bottle. ¡°Some of the peasants got it into their heads that their landlords shouldn¡¯t be fulfilling their duties, and should steal from the crown instead. They even called on the Great Council to ban exports.¡± He laughed. ¡°Believe it or not, my brother had half a mind to grant the request. But your aunt shut the whole thing down before it even made it that far.¡±

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Scant wonder why Baron Beckett Williams would want Avalon more desperate, tilting more towards future wars of conquest rather than remaining content with their existing possessions. No doubt the other Harpies had backed him in that, and Aunt Elizabeth had seen through the whole ruse and shut it down.

    With the notable downside that the peasants here would have continued to see their hard won food snatched from their fingers¡­ A grim calculation for the greater good, Luce had no doubt his aunt would call it. She was a pragmatist above all else, and the Owls in the Great Council followed her in lock-step.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    But she doesn¡¯t know that there¡¯s another way. Luce clutched the Gloves of Teruvo in his pocket, an artifact from a spirit Uncle Miles had slain around the time of the Foxtrap. Now, it was his. To the right spirit, for the right bargain, it could mean recreating the success in Malin, imbuing the land with spiritual power to massively increase crop production.

    A way to feed everyone without taking another inch of land.

    ¡°Some of the peasants tried to steal from their landlords when word traveled back, caching their food away from our inspectors or simply taking it and running. Some even fell back on their horrific traditions and made pacts with the spirits, or so their rumors would have you believe.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Easy enough to deal with, and appropriate discipline helped stop others from following in their misguided footsteps.¡±

    ¡°How easy?¡± Please don¡¯t say what I think you¡¯re about to say.

    ¡°As I said, things have a way of working themselves out. We had a hostile population, and lacked the resources to feed them in any case. It was as simple as letting them starve.¡±

    Bastard. Apparently the vineyards were a high enough priority to direct the laborers towards, while feeding the masses was not. ¡°The agitators?¡±

    ¡°At first, but ultimately it was simpler to paint with a broad brush.¡± He swept his hands across the empty fields. ¡°Our children will thank us for it, clearing out so much of the rot polluting this land. Now the majority in Lyrion are of good Avaline stock, and the few natives who remain better know their place.¡±

    Luce breathed slowly, fingers clenching and unclenching around the gloves. Whitbey killed one child, but you¡¯ve killed thousands, Williams, and you don¡¯t even seem troubled by it. Any hopes of working with him to increase production were instantly dashed, but it wasn¡¯t as simple as taking over and ending the slaughter.

    Luce had thirty-two swords, plus Charlotte, who counted for at least ten on her own. Most were from his uncle, who had his own public regrets about the state of Avaline occupation in the Territories, and had been instructed to report to him. The Carringdon guards were less certain, but outnumbered by the more loyal members, and vetted by Charlotte to ensure that there would be no surprises. Any who¡¯d failed had joined Captain Bainbridge on the front lines, or else stayed in Carringdon to serve under Uncle Miles¡¯ replacement steward.

    If he told them to move, they would, but to what end? They couldn¡¯t hope to stand up to the Governor-General and half a continent¡¯s worth of Guardians. Even if they acted preemptively, even if Luce did it right here and now, as he so wanted to, that would be a final break with Avalon, and they would quickly be overwhelmed.

    The aegis of royal authority only went so far, especially after Luce¡¯s failures in Malin. Charlotte had even heard some of the Carringdon guards call him the Prince of Darkness, apparently a moniker that had followed him across the water. Delbrook was one thing; the first thing most lords would have said when they heard the news was ¡°Who¡¯s Agnes Delbrook?¡±

    Move against Horace Williams, though, and all of Avalon sits up. The Harpies would move to attaint Luce immediately, and even Harold would struggle to hold them back. And that¡¯s if he¡¯d even want to¡­ For all I know, something like that is exactly what he¡¯s waiting for to finally get rid of me. Luce dearly hoped not, hoped that Jethro had acted on his own, but it was impossible not to be suspicious. Father was no different, perhaps even worse.

    No, I can¡¯t simply storm the building again. I¡¯d be dead before the year is out, unless I fancy a hurried retreat into exile.

    ¡°Are you alright, Your Highness? Would you like some bread to dilute the wine?¡±

    Luce shook his head, standing up. ¡°I think I had better retire. We can continue at another time.¡± He barely waited for the Governor¡¯s response, pushing his way back into the inside of the mansion and signaling Charlotte to follow. The original plan had been to spend the night here, but Luce knew he couldn¡¯t stomach it anymore, and he didn¡¯t much want to spend more time surrounded by Williams¡¯ guards either.

    He didn¡¯t explain until he was dead certain they were out of earshot of the building, even keeping Charlotte waiting another tense few minutes as they marched down the hill. Not something he enjoyed doing, but she seemed to understand without any need for questions.

    Better still, she had ideas of her own on what to do next.

    ?

    ¡°Are you sure? No one seems like they¡¯re being all that secretive.¡± Luce looked down at the journal in front of him, its front page article detailing the war effort in the Arboreum. Apparently Camille was having people call her ¡°The Maiden of Dawn¡± now too, which was just so self-aggrandizingly arrogant that it made him mad all over again.

    Ousting me when the sun returned was her plan from the start, to help win people over. It was infuriating, but there were more important things to worry about right now.

    ¡°They¡¯re not, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not happening. They don¡¯t fear the Guardians, for one reason or another.¡± Charlotte sat across the table, warily eyeing every patron that entered the cafe. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that Avalon guarantees a right to speech? They might think that protects them.¡±

    ¡°Not in the Territories. I¡¯m sure you saw that for yourself with Perimont.¡±

    Charlotte shook her head. ¡°Do you see any Lyrionaise in here? These people were born in Avalon, or their parents or grandparents were. They take it as a given.¡±

    ¡°But they must know about the laws against territorial sedition. If they heard about Perimont¡ª¡±

    ¡°Those laws are for other people, to their mind. Depending on how Williams responds, they might even be right.¡±

    Luce frowned, unsatisfied with the answer. ¡°Or he¡¯s in on it. He was acting strange when I visited him. I took that to stem from the loss of his son, but¡­¡±

    He looked down at the journal again, then flipped to the engraving that had tipped Charlotte off in the first place. A stylized diagram of a panther, similar to the way lions looked on heraldry, but cut into pieces. The head was marked with an L, the tail a D, with two front paws labeled as C and O.

    Beneath the drawing was a single caption: Join or Die.

    Charlotte had found the artist, a Territorial official named Wentworth Harring, and a few days of tracking him had led them to this gathering in an inconspicuous cafe. ¡°Once again, I advise against you being here for this. It¡¯s an unnecessary risk.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s security through obscurity. No one but Williams and his household staff have any reason to know Prince Luce is even in Lyrion,¡± he said with a whisper. Granted, last time, with the ship, it didn¡¯t work at all. But that was because of a defector, and only he and Charlotte knew they were doing this. His other guards had remained behind on the ship. ¡°And I have to see this for myself.¡±

    ¡°You can trust me to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know I can, Charlotte, that¡¯s not the point.¡± I spent all my time in Malin holed up in my workshop as Camille tore the walls down to bury me. ¡°My father always says that sometimes there¡¯s nothing for it but to do it yourself.¡± He was full of aphorisms like that, though in his case it hadn¡¯t exactly led him anywhere good in Guerron. ¡°Guy Incognito can learn a lot more about what¡¯s really going on here than the Prince of Darkness can. I¡¯m not just going to take their word for it again.¡±

    ¡°If you actually use that name, I¡¯m walking out the door and leaving you to die here.¡±

    Despite himself, Luce smiled. She¡¯s finally feeling comfortable enough around me not to walk on eggshells. ¡°What about you?¡±

    She blinked. ¡°No one knows me anyway. And Charlotte¡¯s an Avaline name too, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Less common, but¡­¡± Luce rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fine. Though you¡¯re missing out.¡±

    Charlotte opened her mouth to reply, but before she could respond, an elderly man clinked a fork against an empty glass, calling the meeting officially to order.

    ¡°Welcome, all friends of liberty. To all returning faces, I extend once again a hearty greeting. And to those of us who are attending for their first time, I would like to extend a special greeting. Your bravery does not go unnoticed.¡±  His eyes settled on Luce and Charlotte, already drawing more attention towards them than they¡¯d intended. ¡°It¡¯s customary to give your name and the reason you¡¯re here.¡±

    Damn it. ¡°Guy,¡± Luce said. ¡°I¡¯m here because Avalon¡¯s tyrannical grip is a fundamentally unjust endeavor. I can¡¯t abide by it any longer. And Charlotte¡­¡±

    Despite his fumbling, Charlotte picked up the baton without missing a beat. ¡°I¡¯m here to support my husband, and because of my own convictions. Lyrion cannot remain subordinate to overlords abroad, not without the representation we¡¯re due.¡±

    ¡°Well said,¡± the speaker responded, filling Luce with an enormous sense of relief. ¡°Taxation without representation is naught but tyranny. If the Great Council continues to refuse our request for representatives, they limit our options. Already, the lord¡¯s portion of our grain is bound for faraway shores! Already, the sweat of our labor is being forcibly taken by a government that has no accountability to us!¡±

    A wave of chatter swept across the room, murmurs of agreement, which Luce and Charlotte both refrained from joining in.

    Luce could hear no Imperial, saw nothing identifying anyone present as Lyrionaise. If the uprising that Williams¡¯ cruelty seemed like it must inevitably engender ¡ª the same biting back that Malin had experienced ¡ª was happening anywhere, it wasn¡¯t here.

    Instead, from the sound of it, only reinforced with every scrap of chatter Luce could catch, Avaline colonists were contemplating Territorial independence.

    ¡°Hear hear!¡± the speaker chanted, perhaps the same man Charlotte had tailed to find the meeting. ¡°I know many of us continue to think of ourselves as Avaline. Certainly, we carry forth the spirit of civilization that our forefathers brought with them from Avalon. But that does not mean we must content ourselves as unrepresented vassals.¡± He smiled. ¡°To that end, we have sent a representative to secure vital assistance. Backing, should the conflict with our homeland come to blows, though I dearly hope that it does not. But, if the Great Council does not heed our demands, aid from abroad might yet persuade them. We are more powerful than Elizabeth Grimoire is wont to give us credit for.¡±

    Aid from abroad¡­ Luce¡¯s eyes locked with Charlotte¡¯s, and he saw the same realization creep across her face. It could only really mean one thing.

    It¡¯s fucking Leclaire again.

 Florette VI: The Researcher

    Florette VI: The Researcher

    ¡°I come as an emissary of my ancestor, Queen Glaciel, here to repay you in her name for all that you have done.¡± The boy¡¯s voice was deep, with none of the ethereal lightness that filled the words of so many of Glaciel¡¯s children, nor did it really match his lithe appearance.

    ¡°If you want a fight¡­¡± Florette tapped the ring on her finger ¡ª not actually the Ring of Glaciel, but hopefully evocative enough to serve as an implicit threat. ¡°Remember that I bested your ancestor and Flammare both. I dispatched Valoises and Capets and scions of every ancient family Glaciel gave rise to. Perhaps you think yourself better than¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not looking for a fight,¡± the boy said, his tone clearly confused. ¡°I just told you. I¡¯m here to repay you on Glaciel¡¯s behalf for all that you¡¯ve done for her. If you hadn¡¯t killed Flammare, we¡¯d be fighting a losing war right now, on the brink of annihilation. The First Consort saw a vision of you here in Cambria, and so he wanted to send you some help.¡±

    Florette relaxed her stance somewhat, still eyeing the boy suspiciously. ¡°The first consort?¡±

    ¡°The most prized and honored of Queen Glaciel¡¯s lovers. A most coveted position, held by a scarce few across the centuries, each the founder of a mighty dynasty. The current holder of the position earned her respect when he bested her in combat, a near-peerless feat. You did as well, Florette of Enquin, then earned it anew one thousandfold when you killed the very sun to help protect us.¡±

    Ok, but¡ª¡°Why would one of Glaciel¡¯s consorts care about me? Do they know me somehow?¡±

    ¡°His name is Corro of the Wastes,¡± the boy replied, as if what he was saying made any sense. ¡°He fought on your side in the White Night, then he honored his pact with Queen Glaciel and followed her to Hiverre. Did you not know this already? I thought¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, I knew that. But¡­¡± Consort? With her? Nothing about this made any sense at all. ¡°Wow,¡± Florette sighed, pressing her hands against her face. ¡°Sorry for the misunderstanding. I¡¯ve met quite a few of your kin, and they introduced themselves in a pretty similar way, right before trying to kill me.¡±

    ¡°I understand, you and my family didn¡¯t get off on the best foot. It¡¯s still an honor to be able to meet you.¡± He held out a thin golden bracelet, a circular bead in the center with an abstract illustration of an L shape, with regular tick marks around the side. ¡°The First Consort bid me give this gift to you, an Avaline accessory of great value.¡±

    ¡°Huh, tell him I said thank you,¡± Florette said as she latched the bracelet around her right wrist, something looking strangely familiar about it.

    ¡°He hoped it would help you better avoid suspicion. What exactly is it that you¡¯re doing here?¡±

    Florette glanced around the empty street, savoring the feeling of relief. ¡°Follow me. I¡¯d rather explain it somewhere private.¡± She let her voice fall to a whisper. ¡°From now on, call me Sabine. And don¡¯t let on that I¡¯m not from Avalon. I¡¯m infiltrating their most secure facilities.¡±

    ¡°Oh, brilliant!¡± The boy¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Corro suspected as much, that¡¯s why Queen Glaciel chose me. I¡¯m here to offer support on their behalf with whatever your mission might be.¡± He tapped his face. ¡°She blessed me with this amazing looking mask from Lamante, which is why I get to look this great. And I already speak Avaline, which I learned from Queen Glaciel, so you don¡¯t have to worry about me on that score either. I blend in perfectly. Just listen!¡± He held his arm up to his chest, proudly strutting forward. ¡°How weel I spak Avaline, ful faire and fetisly, after the scole of Queen Glaciel, whoso kan tech lik noon oother. Though late dide I y-come, I am able for to helpen as ye desire. Ye may clepe me Christophe of Hiverre, of the Thirteenth Ring.¡±

    Florette buried her head in her hands. She probably learned it six hundred years ago and never bothered to give it a second look. ¡°Let¡¯s just talk in private, Christophe. I¡¯ll explain everything.¡±

    ?

    The statue in front of the Tancredi Museum bore a bizarre likeness, for all the detail in its features. It looked like a man in his twenties, wearing small circlets of metal over his eyes, not dissimilar to the twin crescents that had perched atop the spirit Lunette¡¯s face. The coiffure, too, was strange, with the sides shaved and a flat platform of hair smoothed backwards on top. At least, that was the way it looked. Maybe the sculptor had just been stylizing it, the way heraldry flattened the features of animals to better express the symbol.

    The words engraved beneath the figure offered little in the way of clarification. This Museum is dedicated to Edward Tancredi, who blazed a trail so bright through this new frontier that he burned out long before his time. Gone but not forgotten. He learned more in three months than most of us can in a lifetime.

    Florette felt like her last three months had been similar, though hopefully they wouldn¡¯t end with the same grisly death the plaque implied. Most recently, that meant spending two hundred fifty mandala on a week¡¯s room and board at a worn-out inn in Westfall to give Christophe somewhere to stay that wouldn¡¯t ask too many questions.

    He was here to help, and it was touching that Corro was still looking out for her even from the other side of the world, but it was hard enough to convincingly pass as Avaline on her own, and a spirit-touched kid with an Avaline vocabulary half a millennium out of date wasn¡¯t helping.

    She¡¯d have to figure it later, though, because right now she had a research paper to write. She¡¯d bought herself some time to look at the problem without too much risk.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re actually here on time,¡± Rebecca greeted Florette, emerging from the museum¡¯s front door into the busy plaza beyond. She had her hair up again, earrings shaped like honeybees dangling from her ears. In lieu of the red sweater was a burgundy jacket that fit her form far more closely. ¡°Already doing better than anyone from my last four group projects.¡±

    Hopefully not in a suspicious way. It fit Srin Sabine¡¯s cover to be studious, though, and since Florette needed to succeed regardless, there wasn¡¯t much benefit to pretending to be less invested than she was.¡°High praise.¡± Florette nodded to her, then looked back at the statue. ¡°Know what the deal with this guy is?¡±

    Rebecca shrugged. ¡°Fashions of the time, I guess? This museum¡¯s a century old, and the guy it¡¯s named after is probably even older. People used to have weird taste, unlike you apparently. Look at that watch!¡±

    ¡°Oh this?¡± Florette traced her fingers around the bracelet. ¡°Just a gift from a friend.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s some friend. I think there¡¯s less than fifty of those in the world. I¡¯ve only seen them before on royalty.¡±

    Florette smiled, remembering everything Corro had done to help her. ¡°He is.¡± Even if he¡¯s doing something unspeakably wrong right now in Hiverre. As for the ¡®watch¡¯, if it were that rare, it¡¯d probably be best to minimize how often she wore it, lest she be asked for a more detailed explanation of how she got it. Nothing that makes me stand out.

    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s get inside. I want to get this done.¡± She held out her hand, and without thinking much about it, Florette grabbed it and followed her inside.

    The entrance hall was crowded with families and children, small paper bills littering the ground.

    A quick look at it showed a price of twenty-eight mandala to enter, seemingly for a single person. Florette genuinely was curious to come here, even beyond the help it would provide her in class, since a look at the history and technology Avalon wanted to brag about could help her choose what to prioritize, and filter out what was already common knowledge.

    Even then, the way she was stretching her budget, it would mean skipping her next few lunches, which wasn¡¯t a particularly inviting prospect.

    I really need to find a source of money here, or I''m not going to make it much longer. Malin had used mandala too, mostly, and from experience there, Florette had expected what she had to last her a good few months. But everything here cost twice as much as a starting point, including, apparently, entering a room. Christophe¡¯s inn stay alone had cost her almost a third of what she¡¯d brought, and if she couldn¡¯t figure out somewhere else to put him by the end of the week, she¡¯d need to pay it again.

    This is ridiculous. I¡¯ve organized robberies for goods worth hundreds of thousands, and somehow a single ticket is a struggle.

    ¡°You alright?¡± Rebecca tapped her on the shoulder. ¡°The main exhibition area is this way.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t I need to buy my way in?¡±

    ¡°Already bought yours,¡± Rebecca said with a smile. ¡°My idea, seemed fair. And I was here early anyway.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Florette blinked. ¡°Wait, you expected me to be late, and you came early?¡±

    Mouth open, Rebecca flipped her hands up, seemingly at a loss. ¡°Have to be prepared. And honestly, even after the way you showed off in class, I expected to have to do all the work. That¡¯s usually the way it goes. Nothing personal.¡±

    Florette didn¡¯t respond, taking in the high-ceilinged chamber they were entering, lighting low enough to make everything mounted to the wall look like it was popping out. They were moving through too fast to get much detail from the placards, but the objects themselves were interesting in their own right.

    At the back of the room in a small case was what looked like a white brick, cracks running across its face, with a circle inset into the bottom and a square towards the top, where the cracks were most severe. Another case, larger, had some kind of loom apparatus that was moving even within the barrier. Past that was an enormous metal drum with bits of brass tubing poking out, apparently somehow related to brandy, unless she was reading the inscription wrong. Inset in the wall near the front of the room was a large brass lever that looked like it was related to their trains in some fashion, though Florette didn¡¯t get the chance to see how before they were already in the next room.

    ¡°Any ideas on our topic?¡± Rebecca asked as they entered, the emptier space more conducive to conversation than the buzzing exhibitions in earlier rooms. ¡°You seemed to know your stuff, so you¡¯re welcome to take the lead if you want.¡±

    In here, the main attraction was an apparently still functional printing press, one of the earliest models, a massive dull grey contraption with a typeface larger than any book Florette had ever seen. Various early books were set atop podiums encased in glass, turned to pages midway through with impressive monochrome illustrations, some of the first of their kind. The largest had pages nearly two feet wide, showing a heraldic panther, claws outstretched. Pantera the Undying, though it seems strange they still call her that given her current condition.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Nothing in particular.¡± Don¡¯t want to pick something strange or questionable, or accidentally contradict any of the lies your people might hold sacred. Knowing Imperial history had impressed Professor Alcock, but knowing too much, and too little of Avalon¡¯s, would not be a good look. ¡°What are you interested in? Sounded like we could basically pick anything we want.¡±

    ¡°You really want to know?¡± Rebecca exhaled through her nose. ¡°Well, I¡¯m more of an engineer than a scientist, philosophically. That feeling of slotting everything just so into place, making something so much more than the sum of its parts, the rush of wind when it goes off, leaving this earth for oblivion¡­¡±

    Rush of wind, leaving this earth¡­ ¡°Did you work on those airships?¡± If so, maybe I can get something useful to pass on, maybe even learn where they¡¯re going. Too much to hope for, probably, but it would be nice to learn something useful for her mission beyond the abstraction of succeeding in class.

    ¡°Airships? No, my specialty is more on combustion and explosives. Packing the largest impact into the smallest payload, new techniques, that sort of thing. I was supposed to be working for the Tower already, was promised by Prince Harold himself, but now I have to finish this last round of classes.¡± She shook her head with a look of disgust on her face, and Florette felt the urge to do the same, though certainly not for the same reason. ¡°Still, I love the work. It¡¯s such a pure expression of science.¡±

    The carnage from the harbor bombing in Malin had still been visible even months later: smashed piers, endless flotsam, blood in the sand. Children had died, according to that investigator, Charlotte, and several bodies had never even been identified, left buried nameless on a slab in Fuite Gardens, unacknowledged and unmourned.

    ¡°Pure? What about when it ends up on the front lines?¡± Florette strove to keep the judgment out of her tone, to avoid drawing suspicion. It would have been better not to say anything at all, but she couldn¡¯t help it. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m even disappointed.

    ¡°That¡¯s not going to be my department, really. The Great Council decides what to do with the weapons the Tower develops, people like my father, or the king.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re alright with that?¡±

    Rebecca shrugged again, though the carefree attitude was far less cute this time. ¡°I don¡¯t love it, but I¡¯m not really all that political. This is just a way to get ahead. Five years at the Tower and you can work anywhere, they¡¯ll be begging you for it. Even if I have any moral objections, it¡¯s a way to secure my future.¡±

    ¡°And right now?

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like anything I build right now is going towards the war effort. Just projects for school¡­¡± She winked. ¡°Well, and maybe a few for parties. If you get the mixture right, you can send colored lights streaking through the sky, it¡¯s amazing.¡± She paused, tapping her chin with her finger. ¡°You know, my friend Toby¡¯s having a little get-together next week; I was planning to bring a few party tricks out. You should come, if you want to see it.¡±

    This is what I signed up for, going into the panther¡¯s den. I have to remember that. Rebecca could be nice, but that didn¡¯t make her good. It didn¡¯t even make her any less than reprehensible, for the wanton destruction and pain she was so eager to contribute to. Worse, the ringing was coming back, a high pitched painful tone in the background of everything else. ¡°I¡¯ll have to think about it,¡± Florette said diplomatically, trying not to crawl out of her skin as they walked into the final room, the largest of all of them, containing a truly stupendous variety of weapons.

    And Rebecca seemed just fascinated by these engines of war.

    ¡°Did you hear about the harbor bombing in Malin?¡± Florette asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible through the ringing in her ears. This is just referencing an event, nothing suspicious. Even Perimont was open about how destructive it was. ¡°The bodycount was in the dozens, including children.¡±

    ¡°Of course, that was front page news for weeks.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t see a connection between what you¡¯re doing and¡ª¡± Just shut up, Florette. No good could come of this.

    ¡°Of course I do, and I resent the implication that I¡¯m some witless fool who couldn¡¯t. But that bomb was stolen from us, used against us. The ship that carried it came from Guerron. Probably Robin Verrou, if I had to guess. You¡¯re not responsible for what someone does with something they stole from you, and it could happen to anyone. I mean, even Toby, he said he found a picture of his pulsebox in a journal from Malin of all places. When they captured the king, they seized his stuff and handed it to some singer to replicate. Suddenly his patents are worthless because unofficial reproductions are all over the Erstwhile Empire. I mean, who would even steal something like that? A box that makes cool futuristic music? It¡¯s so petty.¡±

    Florette clenched her fists, trying not to claw at her ears. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter. We need a topic, and I don¡¯t think bombs are historical enough for Professor Alcock. Let¡¯s just look around and see if anything jumps out at us.¡± She barely finished getting the words out before the painful ringing erupted, even louder, and Florette was forced to smash her hands futilely against her ears.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Rebecca asked.

    ¡°Not really,¡± Florette answered, trying to think of a convincing lie through the pain. I can¡¯t say that Whitbey shot my ear and ripped a piece out, which has to be connected to all of this. Florette pulled her hands away and saw Rebecca¡¯s eyes widen at the sight of the triangular divot in the top of her ear. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯ll pass, I think. It has before. Though I wouldn¡¯t have thought a gash like that would conjure phantom sounds like an icicle through my skull, so who knows?¡±

    Rebecca¡¯s hand went to her chin, considering the problem. ¡°Is this phantom sound a high-pitched tone that you can¡¯t block out?¡±

    What? How did you know? ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that has anything to do with the gash, Sabine. It just sounds like a case of the bells.¡±

    ¡°The bells?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Rebecca nodded. ¡°I get it too, sometimes. If you expose yourself to loud noises too often, or just too loud, you get that recurring ringing. I couldn¡¯t tell you why, but I can say I wish I¡¯d started using earplugs sooner on the testing range.¡±

    ¡°Loud noises? Really?¡± After everything I¡¯ve been through, that¡¯s what does the lasting damage? It made sense though, thinking back to all the pistols she¡¯d been close to when they fired, especially when fighting Glaciel. Collapsing the tunnel in the train job hadn¡¯t exactly been quiet, either.

    ¡°No guarantees, but I¡¯ve got a trick that works for me. Put the palms of your hands against your ears then tap the back of your head with your fingers.¡± She demonstrated, looking halfway between a scared child and an idle beachgoer, but Florette copied the gesture.

    Moments after tapping her head, the ringing was gone. ¡°Shit, you¡¯re magical,¡± Florette told Rebecca, reveling in the newfound quiet of the museum chamber. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure. Wish someone had told me sooner.¡± She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of yellow pillows about the size of a finger digit, which flexed when she squeezed them. ¡°Here, for next time. They can plug your ears and muffle what you hear. You don¡¯t want it getting worse. Some people hear it all the time.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Florette repeated, pocketing the ear plugs.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. Feeling alright now?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Good! We should probably figure out our topic, then.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Florette agreed, looking around the room with fresh eyes.

    In the largest case was an enormous metal cylinder whose plaque labeled it as ¡°the first cannon¡±, the thunderous weapon that had shattered the Empire and torn through the walls of Malin in the Foxtrap. What killed my parents, probably, though no one ever bothered to note how they died. ¡°What about that? Ties into your explosives thing, still a project about history, and we can get a bunch of information here.¡±

    Rebecca¡¯s freckled face lit up. ¡°Are you sure? This is more my thing than yours, and I know you seemed more into that Erstwhile Imperial history stuff.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Florette answered. I just have to do this paper, then the next one, and the next one after that. I need to learn everything I can, hold my tongue, and pay off everything Captain Verrou put into this.

    Then I¡¯ll be able to strike a stronger blow than anything I could manage from without.

    They spent a few more hours in the museum, taking down information on the cannon construction process, though much of it was censored or obscured. Sensible enough for a public display like this, but it still gave Florette plenty to work with, both for the paper and as a starting point for intelligence to send south.

    And I didn¡¯t even have to poke my head up to do it, she thought as she waved goodbye to Rebecca, matching her smile strictly to better conform to her role.

    She even felt confident enough to walk back to Mourningside, rather than take the train again, cutting a path through the older neighborhoods before passing by the Production District, where even on a rare beautiful day like today, thousands of people were hard at work building the engines of Avalon¡¯s wars of conquest.

    Home was near as Florette rounded Peige Boulevard and entered Mourningside proper, but her path was blocked by a muscular man in a deep blue tunic, a whip coiled in one hand with a pistol clutched in the other.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Florette said, trying to slide past him as she did what must be several dozen times a day in this immensely crowded city.

    But the man turned to follow her, snapping his whip menacingly in her direction.

    I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re here to thank me, too.

    He pointed back towards the street and began walking in that direction, the threat implicit if Florette didn¡¯t follow.

    And I really don¡¯t want to. It doesn¡¯t seem like anything good could come of this. But neither could anything good come from fighting him in the street. Even if she won, it would be such a public spectacle that she¡¯d never escape scrutiny again. At least if he were leading her into a trap, he wouldn¡¯t be able to hide it on a public street like this.

    And despite what he surely thought, Florette wasn¡¯t alone.

    She caught Christophe¡¯s eye from down the street when she emerged, rubbing her temple to signal potential trouble. He¡¯d been so excited to learn it, even though half the reason was so she could be sure he kept a safe distance when following her, and the other half was so he didn¡¯t have to speak. Never thought it¡¯d be this useful, let alone this soon.

    The menacing figure led her to a blue carriage stopped at the side of the street, in plain view of everyone walking by. He pointed again, obviously instructing her to get in, but following someone through a busy street was very different from entering a coach that could go anywhere, and Florette couldn¡¯t even be sure she¡¯d be able to bail out safely, especially with the heavy volume of horses on Peige.

    ¡°I assure you, Miss Sabine, waiting will not make this encounter easier,¡± a reedy voice erupted from within the coach. Sabine, that¡¯s good. At least I haven¡¯t been found out. ¡°A few minutes of your time is all I ask, for the moment.¡±

    Sure, that¡¯s why you sent this golem to crack his whip in my face. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    A laugh escaped the carriage. ¡°Your father never told you about me? Lord Ernest Monfroy?¡±

    Florette remained silent, trying to place the name.

    ¡°I¡¯m distraught. And here I thought we were friends. He certainly said as much, the many times he came to me for money.¡±

    Florette tried not to breathe too hard a sigh of relief. It¡¯s just one of Srin Savian¡¯s creditors. His debts were well known; that had been what gave Captain Verrou the leverage to get his help in the first place.

    ¡°Do join me for a moment, please, then I would be happy to drop you off wherever you place.¡±

    Still¡­ She eyed the man with the whip.

    ¡°Richard,¡± Monfroy began, following a faint sigh. ¡°Would you take a walk? It seems you¡¯re making my guest uncomfortable.¡± He poked his head out of the carriage, revealing sunken cheeks and hollow yellow eyes, though he didn¡¯t look older than thirty. ¡°Do join me, Miss Sabine. I would like to extend my preemptive condolences for your father, whom I¡¯ve been told will not see the year 119. However, as his scion and heir, you shall inherit from him certain obligations. Obligations I would like you to be well-informed of in advance of his death.¡± Despite the carriage curtain no longer muffling it, something about his voice felt like it was missing something, almost the opposite of the way magic slightly altered Glaciel¡¯s children¡¯s words.

    Even if he doesn¡¯t want to kill me, it looks like my job here is about to get a lot harder. Florette signaled to Christophe, then entered the carriage.

 Fernan V: The Disregarded

    Fernan V: The Disregarded

    ¡°My first lesson, Fernan, is to look for the little things. You need to take in every detail. Most of them won¡¯t be important, but a few of them will, and you¡¯ll never find them if you aren¡¯t looking everywhere.¡± Jerome held up his hands over eyes, exaggeratedly looking down the mountain path. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    Fernan squinted, trying to give every errant thing the attention his alderman was asking for, from the overcast grey sky above to the rocky dirt below. The yellowing green of the shrubs by the road, the hardy trees jutting out nearly sideways from the mountainside.

    ¡°Cracked earth?¡± Geckos got most of the attention, but according to Jerome, collapsing ground was even more dangerous, since it could close off the path entirely and leave the village trapped.

    Jerome didn¡¯t shake his head or say a word, but Fernan could feel his disappointment in the guess.

    What else was there?

    He tried going even smaller, spending minutes just on bugs, looking from insect to insect, following the path they traced over the dirt as it disappeared down the hillside.

    Then he found it. A predator. ¡°Geckos! The little ones have a nest in the hillside.¡±

    Jerome smiled warmly, patting Fernan¡¯s hair. ¡°Very good! And why do we worry about the little ones?¡±

    ¡°Because they can become big ones,¡± Fernan answered.

    Jerome nodded. ¡°That hardly took you any time at all.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Chanteclair took twenty minutes to find it when I took him out here. Either his eyesight is going, or his discipline.¡±

    ¡°Both,¡± Fernan muttered, sharing a smile with Jerome. ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m a better scout than our scout?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, but you could get there. Next month you turn fifteen. Your mother made me promise not to offer this until your anniversary, but I just had to show you this. I had to show you how good at this you are.¡±

    ¡°You really think so?¡±

    ¡°I know so. If you want it, the job is yours. Chanteclair can go with you the first few times, or I will, while you get a hang of it. And if you don¡¯t take it seriously, I reserve the right to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Fernan practically shouted as he pulled Jerome into a hug. ¡°Thank you, thank you, thank you!¡±

    Jerome chuckled, stroking the back of his head. ¡°You earned it yourself. Now stand back.¡±

    Fernan backed away from him a bit, watching him raise his arm towards the nest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Jerome said as green flames blasted out from his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll still handle this part.¡±

    ?

    ¡°It appears that our lady of Bougitte is bringing a rather extreme number of guards with her for a bride-to-be marrying a close ally,¡± Maxime noted, looking down at the massive assortment of warriors gathered in the pass below.

    ¡°Well, can you blame her?¡± Fernan had told him the basics of the story, obviously leaving out his own involvement, but even under that version of events, Laura being wary was more than warranted. Instead of getting into all of that, though, he added, ¡°She already knows Guy Valvert. If it were me stuck marrying him, I¡¯d bring twice as many.¡± Honestly, he gave it better than even odds that her plan was to slit his throat in his sleep on the wedding night, probably shortly before going after Fernan himself.

    ¡°Well, perhaps it is not yet too late. Valvert would have to listen to you then. Could it be that we have found the solution to our innumerable woes?¡±

    ¡°Our woes? Does that mean you¡¯ve decided to stay?¡± The way Florette had made it sound, Maxime would have left on the same boat that had taken her. But, weeks later, here he still was. The harbor was abuzz again, so free of ice and obstruction that you¡¯d never know Glaciel had been there. The roads were clear, the flooding subsided¡­ If Maxime wanted to leave, he had plenty of options.

    Fernan cracked a smile. ¡°Alas, I don¡¯t think I could afford a retinue like that. Look how shiny they are.¡±

    The Bougitte guards shimmered even at this distance, but the wealth on display was even more obvious on closer look. Fernan only saw the heat from the sun reflect off them, different in hue from the warmth on their bodies, but Maxime was happy to explain the details:

    Jewels of green, red, and blue were set into their armor, embedded into golden earrings set into most of their ears, and pressed into the golden armbands that the guards wore  four or five to an arm, so many that it was a wonder how they even moved. Many had similar bands around their legs, colorful patterned trousers kept short above the knee to make more space for their riches.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s how they¡¯re carrying the wedding gifts?¡± Camille had mentioned once that Torpierre was a wealthy holding, the gate between Paix Lake, Condillac, and the Coul¨¦e Bleue waters. But even so¡­ ¡°I¡¯ve seen my share of guards in Guerron, and none of them ever dressed like that, nor do I imagine they were paid nearly enough to even try.¡±

    ¡°Exactly¡­¡± Maxime pushed his head forward slightly, leaning towards the spectacle. ¡°As usual, you are quite correct, Fernan. Those aren¡¯t guards; they¡¯re mercenaries.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t simply that they possess such riches. A particular household favorite might be rewarded in such a fashion and keep their spoils in their home, be it lands they were awarded or the keep they serve. Mercenaries are always on the move, always ready to change sides the moment the appropriate money changes hands. Individuals might desert their company, or flee a losing battle. So they generally keep their wealth in a form easy to keep on one¡¯s person. Sensible, in a profession such as theirs, but it certainly does lend their appearance a motley quality.¡±

    ¡°Good eyes, Maxime.¡± And thank you for explaining what they looked like without me having to ask. ¡°Where¡¯d you learn to see a mercenary on sight?¡±

    His aura warmed, head tilted back in satisfaction. ¡°The High King offered a reward for the heads of any Exiles delivered to him before they rotted. Most of the local residents gave up trying a long time ago, but there will always be new faces drifting in on the wind, believing they can succeed where others have failed.¡±

    And they haven¡¯t yet, despite half a century passing between the Winter War and now.

    ¡°The true question,¡± Maxime continued, ¡°is what, precisely, they are doing here. Glaciel is long fled, Lumi¨¨re dead and Leclaire gone, even the troubles between the temples of flame and light are abated.¡±

    ¡°Well, they see money in it somehow. Would mercenaries get anything out of attending a wedding?¡±

    ¡°Nothing overly substantial¡­¡± Maxime rubbed his chin again. ¡°But then, if a large company of armed and dangerous men and women arrived at a celebration and asked for a share of food and wine, most would be inclined to take their request seriously. It could simply be that they want for warm beds and full stomachs.¡±

    ¡°They are still people, I guess. Little comforts like that are always nice. But they wouldn¡¯t come here from afar just for that. And I can¡¯t imagine what else they¡¯d be around here for. All the fighting is on the other side of the continent.¡± But if anything happens to Magnifico, Guerron will be the first place to go up in flames. ¡°Camille Leclaire said never to trust a mercenary; they have no allegiances but to their own wallet, and those fortunes can change for a penny.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, Camille Leclaire is a boundless font of wisdom on the subject of loyalty. For that matter, I seem to recall her treating you as a hired hand in the runup to her fateful duel. Or was it another blue-haired aristocrat that threw coins at your face?¡±

    ¡°They were in a purse,¡± Fernan clarified ambivalently. ¡°It¡¯s not like I was pelted with metal. It doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s wrong, either. Magnifico is the only thing keeping us safe, right now. It would take a lot less than a band of mercenaries to risk messing with that.¡±

    ¡°Are we indeed safe right now? Tyranny is static, but it remains a bloody thing. We must always take care not to mistake what is common for what is right.¡±

    This again. ¡°You sound like Courbet.¡±

    ¡°Well, she is not wrong about that. What she fails to grasp is that turning to violence to remediate oppression simply recreates the problem with different actors in different roles. Condorcet has executed far more people than Plagette ever took from us, for all that the Thirteen reflect the will of the people. The Montaignards would do well to remember that, come what may.¡±

    ¡°We will,¡± Fernan assured him. I¡¯ll make sure of it. It was only getting harder, though. The month he¡¯d been granted was close to running out, and in that time tensions had only risen. Support for fighters and families of the White Night remained denied to them, though Fernan had roused the Montaignards to take some of the sting out of it by organizing a common fund from member donations. Michel and Mom had done the real work there though, making sure that people actually contributed. And it was still nothing compared to what most people really needed.

    And that wasn¡¯t even the worst of it.

    Two weeks ago, a merchant named Phillipe Montrouge had been jailed without warning, snatched right off the street by Bureau guards. Allegedly, he¡¯d been arrested for conspiring with Avalon to free the king, but Michel had spoken with the man, many of his friends knew him, and they all vouched for his integrity. Fernan was inclined to believe them, though not quite certain enough to permanently burn his ties to the Duchy leadership by defending him in his trial unless there were no other options. Michel was pushing to remove the sage requirement to represent an accused in trial, which seemed like such an obvious thing to fix, and one Guy had personally seen the wrong end of, but that didn¡¯t seem to be getting anywhere either.

    The real reason for Montrouge¡¯s abduction, the Montaignards whispered, seemed to be the three hundred thousand florins he¡¯d lent to Mar¨¦chal Augustin Valvert, held in abeyance pending his trial. Quietly, all the Montaignards had enacted a policy not to lend to aristocrats, which was only sensible for their own protection, but word was starting to get around and it risked escalating things even worse.

    Nor was there even a celebration to take peoples¡¯ minds off things. The wedding had been delayed, probably because of Laura getting entirely warranted second thoughts, but it meant that the massive festivities that could have built goodwill had been pushed back as well.

    ¡°Have you spoken with Leclaire yet? About Valvert?¡±

    Fernan sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t just talk to her whenever I want. There¡¯s a schedule, we have to coordinate beforehand. And of course she reduced it to once a month right before I really needed to talk to her. Just hold on a few more days.¡±

    Maxime nodded slightly, still staring down at the pass, his mind clearly elsewhere. ¡°You would do well to speak to them now,¡± he murmured after a moment¡¯s contemplation.

    ¡°What? You mean the mercenaries? I¡¯m sure they have a meeting scheduled with Guy or something.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°And yet, there they remain, waiting outside the gate, just like Florette when the two of us first met. Surely, in a planned encounter, they would have been let inside faster, wouldn¡¯t you agree? And a mercenary¡¯s loyalties are never fixed in place.¡±

    ¡°So what? That doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s a good idea to get in the middle of all of it. Let¡¯s just head back home and figure out what happened tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Fernan, whoever they are, I don¡¯t doubt that they¡¯ve treated with lords before, though perhaps none so elevated as Valvert of Dorseille. Wealthy commoners with a grudge to settle, perhaps. But the Montaignards? Imagine what¡ª¡±

    ¡°You want us to hire mercenaries?¡± Fernan couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just finish talking about the problems with using violence to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I just want you to talk to them. Introduce yourself, and the broader concept of the Montaignard coalition. It may well be that they have never seen its like before. Make them aware that there are other players in Guerron than merely Guy Valvert. It could save us in a crucial moment by opening up an opportunity to negotiate.¡±

    I suppose it wouldn¡¯t hurt to make a good first impression if they are let inside for the wedding. At this point, though, even that seemed uncertain.

    ¡°I suggest that you make a suitably impressive entrance,¡± Maxime added, clearly reading the acquiescence on Fernan¡¯s face. ¡°If you are not pleased by what they have to say, simply disappear in a puff of flame, and we can discuss our options.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± Fernan said, eyeing the distance down to the floor of the pass. ¡°Thanks, Maxime.¡±

    In response, Maxime swept his arm down in an overly-elaborate bow. ¡°The pleasure was all mine. I¡¯d accompany you, but I think carrying a passenger would rather reduce the dignity of your appearance. May fortune follow you down.¡±

    Fernan tensed, ready to jump, then dove from the cliff face.

    These days, with G¨¦zarde¡¯s new role, power was plentiful, and Fernan wasn¡¯t wasting anything by putting on a bit of a show, so he filled the air with fire, slicing out green crescents as he spun into a more stable position. Choosing his spot carefully, he landed in a massive circle of fire, erupting upwards the moment his feet touched the ground.

    Casually, knowing he had nothing to fear from his own flames, he stepped through the circle of fire towards the gathered mercenaries, all of whom were focusing on him with auras of red alarm. I could have just said no. Maxime was offering a suggestion, but¡­

    Fernan stifled a sigh. I¡¯m here now, might as well make the most of it.

    ¡°You must be Fernan!¡± a broad-shouldered man called out, standing slightly apart from the other mercenaries. ¡°Nice to finally put a face to the name. Cool eyes, too.¡±

    Fernan tried not to look too bewildered as the man walked up. ¡°Name¡¯s Ysengrin. I did a bit of work with Florette back in Malin. And I helped out Camille Leclaire and Eloise with those Avaline rat-fuckers trying to take over the city. So I guess we¡¯re friends of friends three different ways, even if we¡¯ve never met.¡±

    ¡°Two ways,¡± Fernan muttered, thinking specifically about Eloise. ¡°Maybe just one.¡± He brushed off some of the dust from his landing and took Ysengrin¡¯s offered hand to shake. ¡°Nice to meet you, too. Care to introduce me to your friends?¡±

    ¡°No problem! First up, this is Cawdor Delune.¡± Ysengrin pointed out a boy who looked maybe fifteen or sixteen from his stature, his aura muted. ¡°Boss¡¯s son, so feel free to give him shit. He¡¯s earned it. Next is Rosen, can¡¯t do magic like that, but he¡¯s got some, which is more than most can say.¡± He began leading Fernan around, pointing out more and more of the mercenaries as they went. ¡°Buffles, Guillaume, Shorty, Boyd, Mule, Whiskers, Sonia, Oberon¡­¡± Fernan liked to think he was pretty decent at remembering peoples¡¯ names, but this was just too much, all the more so without being able to put a face to any of them. It certainly wasn¡¯t an imposing impression to leave.

    ¡°Finally, the boss herself, Mirielle Delune. Worked with her a few times back in Malin when Jacques hired her, and apparently Eloise even fought her once when she was with Verrou. Haven¡¯t seen her in action myself, but you don¡¯t found a company that lasts fifteen years if you¡¯re bad in a fight.¡±

    ¡°Company?¡± Fernan asked, though thanks to Maxime he already expected to know the answer.

    ¡°Oh, right. These are Chalice Mercenaries. Eloise hired them to protect her investments out here, to make sure Avalon doesn¡¯t try anything.¡± He leaned back over his shoulder towards them. ¡°Easiest fucking work in their lives! She¡¯s paying fighting wages for guard duty.¡±

    Eloise¡­ Florette hadn¡¯t said too much, clearly smarting, and Fernan had tried to be sensitive. He hadn¡¯t even said ¡°I told you so¡± once, which considering the caliber of the pirate¡¯s character, he considered a minor miracle.

    But he knew she¡¯d broken Florette''s heart, and that was enough. In a way, it was probably good for her that she¡¯d already left before getting swept up in all of this.

    ¡°So¡­ Eloise has ¡®investments¡¯ in Guerron?¡±

    ¡°Technically just outside of it. There¡¯s a few mines that have been dormant in the darkness and it¡¯s time to get them running again.¡±

    Stealing from geckos again. ¡°Which mines?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I have the names of the towns written down somewhere, but I think it was pretty much all of the ones around here. Enquin, Villechart, Calignac, Berg¨¨re, um¡ªWait, not Villechart actually, that was the only one crossed out. The Duchess gave the lands to someone else before she could trade the rest to Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, me. Villechart is where I was born. Enquin is where Florette grew up.¡±

    ¡°Really? Huh, she never talked about it.¡±

    No surprise there. ¡°She might have mentioned The First Post? That¡¯ll be what greets you at the pass before you have to go up.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s here? Cool. I¡¯ll have to buy you an ale when we head over. But we need to talk to the Count first to get things squared away, otherwise it¡¯ll look like we¡¯re taking over. Planning to meet today and head out tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°To mine?¡±

    ¡°To assess. The miners will do the mining.¡±

    No, they most certainly will not. ¡°Ysengrin, you seem nice. I¡¯m glad Florette had a friend in Malin.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad she came. She¡¯s a brave one.¡±

    ¡°She is.¡±

    ¡°But that land is sacred to the geckos. Coal is their food, and we spent decades stealing it out of their mouths before finally settling up. No one¡¯s going to be doing any mining.¡±

    ¡°Geckos?¡± Ysengrin peered closer. ¡°The spirit-touched? I think Florette mentioned them once or twice.¡±

    ¡°They are allies, friends. We, all of us who lived there and mined and benefitted from their suffering, we did them an egregious wrong. The only way to rectify it is to leave those hills around.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Eloise didn¡¯t mention anything about that. Isn¡¯t there something else you could offer them.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Or her. I don¡¯t know. Need to figure this out.¡±

    ¡°Are you in charge here?¡±

    ¡°Mirielle commands the mercenaries. Eloise is the client. I¡¯m her representative. As long as they¡¯re willing to honor the contract, I am.¡± He opened his hands. ¡°But¡­ you know mercenaries. And they smell the money in this whole thing.¡± And they¡¯re about to meet with Guy, who could probably outbid Eloise and send them off to force the issue.

    Fernan couldn¡¯t tell whether he was furious or just desperately worried. Guerron was already so tense, and now this?

    ¡°Whoa, you alright?¡± Ysengrin asked, looking at the smoke trailing up from Fernan¡¯s blazing eyes.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­ Ysengrin, I know we just met, but can you do me a huge favor?¡± Need to think about this carefully¡­ ¡°Have Mirielle take everyone for the assessment right now, instead of meeting with Guy. I¡¯ll explain the situation to him.¡±

    ¡°I mean¡­ I guess I could. I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s getting dark. We¡¯re at the gates of a city. It¡¯d be nice to sleep on a bed again.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s a favor I¡¯m asking. I just need a few days to sort this out. Once I talk to Camille¡­¡± Fuck I hope it works. But that was for later. One problem at a time. ¡°Can you do it?¡±

    Looking skeptical, Ysengrin shrugged, then whistled. ¡°Alright, small fries!¡± he shouted. ¡°We¡¯re going to be spending another night under the stars. Get your shit packed and maybe we can make it to this tavern Fernan recommended in time to sleep there.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± asked, if Fernan recalled correctly, Rosen. ¡°Is the Count scandalized by a few soldiers of fortune entering his precious city?¡± Others followed him with similar questions, though much ruder in vernacular.

    ¡°It¡¯s just timing,¡± Fernan said, hatching an idea. ¡°I grew up in these mines. The longer Autumn winds on, the more likely you get snow. Unless you want to dig your boss¡¯s investments out from a ten foot pile of it, I¡¯d get there as soon as you can. The last thing you want is for it all to be snowed under for the whole winter.¡± Of course, the snow didn¡¯t usually start falling in earnest before the eleventh or twelfth month, and with the doors barred, the equipment inside the mines wasn¡¯t at too much risk either.

    But they didn¡¯t know that.

    Ysengrin¡¯s aura flashed, either impressed at the lie or bewildered Fernan hadn¡¯t mentioned that when he¡¯d asked. ¡°You heard him! All hands on deck!¡±

    The lie seemed to mollify them a bit, probably because no one wanted to have to wade through the snow to do their job, but no one moved until the leader exited her tent and gave one silent nod.

    They were all gone before nightfall. Fernan knew because he stayed to watch the back of every last one of them. If a single mercenary entered the city, if they talked to Guy, the whole thing could blow up.

    Right now, he had a bit of time, but not much, and far too much to do.

    He quietly told his mother and Michel, who were spending so much time together that it felt silly to leave him out. Maxime too, since he¡¯d been right there. F¨¦lix had come for two more Montaignard gatherings, but he still technically worked for Guy, and this wasn¡¯t an area where they could afford to take risks.

    They¡¯d walked through every possibility, looked at the problem from every angle, but they couldn¡¯t do anything overt until they were sure it was the only option.

    There was still a peaceful way out of this.

    Camille Leclaire had her flaws, but she was a dutiful sage and respected the spirits. Once she knew everything that was going on, she would stop it. She had to. Even if Lucien and the rest didn¡¯t care, she would cut through and get what she wanted just like she always did. They could work together.

    Otherwise¡­

    Fernan barely slept the next few days, despite the warmth of Mara curled up beside him. Every time he felt like he could catch his breath, the reality of several dozen armed mercenaries preparing to war with the geckos returned to him.

    Mara had been the first he told, after Maxime anyway, and the hardest person to break the news to. And yet she¡¯d had the mildest reaction.

    ¡°Fernan, Father is the sun now! No offense, but we were beating you before, and now we have all this power and you¡¯ll back us up! They can try, but they¡¯ll be a warm puddle before they take a single bite of coal from us.¡±

    And she wasn¡¯t wrong, exactly. For this, G¨¦zarde might very well intervene himself. Certainly, ousting any new miners would be a foregone conclusion. But a few miners and even the mercenaries weren¡¯t the problem, just representatives of it.

    But you had to look at the little things to take in the full picture.

    Ysengrin had mentioned the Duchess as the original owner the land, which hinted that she¡¯d be involved. Guy had delusions of building his own airship and known fuel problems on the topic. Lucien saw himself as the hero, and he could be one, sometimes, but if he thought the source of fuel for his army was in jeopardy?

    The nobles had doubled down at every opportunity so far. Who was to say they would ever stop? If the geckos took a stand here, over this, the aristocrats would bring every bit of force they had to bear against them.

    And Fernan would back them up, no matter the cost.

    But that cost¡­ It would mean making himself an enemy of the Empire. The Montaignards too, if they stood by him, tarred by association. Even if they didn¡¯t, Guy would be unlikely to see the distinction.

    And they¡¯ll come after us. It didn¡¯t matter if they won that first battle, because it would mean committing to a war they could never win. All the hard work mending bridges between geckos and humans, lost. And G¨¦zarde was formidable, but he couldn¡¯t really win, either, unless he wanted to push out from his seat to fight. After what had happened to the last three suns, he might even die for it. And I owe so much to Mara, but I won¡¯t commit myself to an eternal war for her.

    How many people would die?

    It was a good thing he could trust Mara to wait, trust her to listen, to understand what they¡¯d be risking, what they¡¯d be giving up. She would wait, just like the Montaignards, and caution G¨¦zarde to do the same. He would listen to her, Fernan hoped. It certainly had a better chance of working than trying to talk to G¨¦zarde himself.

    Now I just have to hope Camille and Lucien can do the same.

    His hands were shaking as he tipped back the flask of marigold wine, trying to keep his focus straight.

    Reach out to Camille. I want to see Camille Leclaire, right now¡­

    He had more trouble finding her, probably because of his taxed focus, sliding across visions of glass towers and underwater panthers, flying creatures mounted by white-clad soldiers with bows, and blood on the sand.

    When he finally found her, he saw her with Lucien, shouting. He reached out to her, as he had so many times before, but got nothing back. No signal, no connection, no recognition.

    She hadn¡¯t even bothered. Hadn¡¯t even cared enough to talk to him once a month.

    I wanted so badly to find another way. I did everything I could.

    Fernan felt tears in his eyes as he leaned back against the glass roof of the temple, looking up at the cold dark sky.

 Camille VI: The Vieillarde

    Camille VI: The Vieillarde

    Twenty-five.

    Camille stared at the date at the top of the journal with a sense of mute resignation.

    Her anniversary had arrived, a celebration of the time passed since her birth. Twenty-five years, and her life would end.

    Mother was thirty-four when she died, and that still seemed so very young. If anything remained of her, deep in the grip of the sea¡¯s cold embrace, she would weep at the thought that her precious daughter would die even younger.

    Last year, Lucien had thrown a massive celebration, with bards crying her name from the rooftops in a song he¡¯d commissioned in her honor. Banners of blue had hung from every crenelation of the castle walls, and for a moment, it had felt like the family Leclaire lived once more, rather than being reduced to one exiled scion.

    And now the dynasty Leclaire dies forever, along with me. It might have several times earlier this past year, risks taken without the same thought given to what would happen if success eluded her: the duel with Lumi¨¦re, scheming under Perimont¡¯s nose, swearing oaths to the Prince of Darkness, rallying the Acolytes against Whitbey and his thugs¡­

    It wouldn¡¯t have taken much. Her unconscious magic failing, that detective discovering her early, Florette getting caught for doing something reckless, failing to honor the letter of her oaths and finding Luce in a vengeful mood for it¡­ Even at the end, if Jethro hadn¡¯t called a halt to the fighting at the moment he did, Anya Stewart would have ended her.

    Camille had walked into each of those situations with clear eyes, aware of what she was risking, and she would do it again if she had to, knowing it would take her here: a free Malin, an Empire ascendant, Annette and Lucien safe and secure.

    But that didn¡¯t mean it had felt real. Facing death had been a calculated risk, nothing more, allotted no more thought than it strictly deserved.

    It wasn¡¯t like Camille to dwell on this, to sulk when there was work to be done.

    And so little time left to do it.

    Something about the anniversary made it real, perhaps. Her last.

    Camille Th¨¦r¨¨se Leclaire, 93-118 AG. Twenty-five years on this earth, with so many of them squandered. Seven as a useless child, another sixteen as a petty exile. Those sixteen in service to a monster, gleefully slaughtering criminals to fuel his power and my own. Only in the last few months had she finally done something worth being remembered for, and now her life was set to end.

    I¡¯m an old woman at twenty-five, staring down a death far surer than that of even the oldest vieillard.

    And she couldn¡¯t even stop to think about it, because there wasn¡¯t enough time left to waste on sulking, to give this existential crisis the consideration it deserved.

    Camille threw the journal aside and stopped biting her lip. ¡°Send in the first one, please, Margot.¡±

    The day''s first appointment included one Eloise Clocha?ne. Scant surprise Margot put her on top of the queue. More intriguingly, Eloise was bringing someone else to the meeting: one Cynette Fields, the solicitor that had first freed Camille, back in those distant summer days.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you properly,¡± Fields said, overly stiff, then extended her hand. With all the Avaline influence in Malin, the gesture was so common that Camille had largely gotten used to it, so she took Fields¡¯ hand and shook it with minimal hesitation. ¡°The Maiden of Dawn¡¯s reputation precedes you.¡±

    ¡°As does yours,¡± Camille said politely. ¡°Chief council for Clocha?ne Candles is no small role, nor an easy occupation, especially with all of the other organizations under the larger umbrella.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lady Leclaire. If we may¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Eloise shook her head in disbelief. ¡°You two already met when she got you and Claude out of jail. He told me the whole thing. It¡¯s just us in here. Who are you trying to fool?¡±

    Claude, Camille thought with a pang. The first to die in Perimont¡¯s coup, but far from the last.

    ¡°It¡¯s considered polite not to mention such things,¡± Camille said with a glare towards Eloise. ¡°Ms. Fields obviously knew better than to dredge such matters up, lest it appear she was trying to leverage her knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Fields, clearly just as unamused.

    ¡°But since the matter has been brought up anyway, I don¡¯t believe I ever formally thanked you. I wouldn¡¯t be here right now if it weren¡¯t for your aid at that crucial moment.¡±

    ¡°Simply doing my job,¡± Fields demurred, something sounding false about it. She¡¯s trying to ingratiate herself¡­ She wants something from me. ¡°If we may turn to the principal subject of this meeting¡­ I want to make it clear that I applaud the work you¡¯ve done, and I know that integrating the factions of Malin is no small task.¡±

    Yes, she definitely wants something. ¡°But?¡±

    ¡°I cannot help but lament the antiquated legal system of the Empire, though I hope I do not offend you in saying so.¡±

    ¡°The Fox-Queen¡¯s Code Renart laid the bedrock for centuries of law and order. There¡¯s good reason that nearly all of the Imperial splinter groups maintained it even after their secessions. Even Micheltaigne, who never claimed to be an heir to the Empire.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± Fields said, somewhat surprisingly. ¡°The Code Renart was fair for its day. Codifying all of the disparate continental laws into one place alone was a monumental feat, and one that subsequent kingdoms have been wise to emulate and iterate upon. But the world knows better now. This very city knows better.¡±

    ¡°Because of Avalon?¡± Camille narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what their rule of law looks like.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ve seen what yours looks like,¡± the solicitor said bluntly. ¡°Your own friend Annette was nearly denied crucial representation. She had to send her cousin scurrying to find the first sage he could from some backwater mining town. Montaigne comported himself ably enough, but the facts were also on his side, and the judge was about as far from impartial as it¡¯s possible to be. Had things gone even slightly differently, the Duchess would be condemned for parricide, your fianc¨¦ still in chains.¡±

    She has a point¡­ Fernan had even worked for Lumi¨¦re as part of the ruse. If he¡¯d simply been won over by whatever offers the sun sage had sent his way, rather than holding steadfast¡­

    ¡°Surely you can see that this needs to change. No trial should run like that, and the more that do, the further distanced from justice your code points you.¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± Camille said, after a moment. We don¡¯t even have enough sages in Malin to properly enforce the Code Renart if we wanted to. ¡°Eloise, you¡¯re asking for this as well?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t care about being involved when the laws change. Why would that matter to me? It¡¯s completely trivial to stay on the correct side of it with everything I do.¡±

    Right. Camille turned to Cynette. ¡°Reform is needed. Are you the woman to make it happen?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Fields left it at that.

    ¡°A Code Leclaire, something the Empire can be proud to live by, synthesizing the best of modernity and tradition while exposing Avalon¡¯s barbarity for what it is, doing away with their veneer of civilization¡­¡± Really, I should have thought of this much sooner. It was exactly the type of legacy she wanted to leave behind. ¡°I¡¯ll have Margot set a meeting for a month from now. Get me a comprehensive accounting of Avalon¡¯s ordinances and separate out any you¡¯d sooner do without. I can¡¯t expect you to do the same with Imperial law, but I can provide you with most of what we should need there.¡±

    ¡°It would be my greatest pleasure, Lady Leclaire. You¡¯ve chosen wisely today.¡±

    Next was Scott, so Camille retrieved the vexingly dated journal from its heap on the floor and folded it properly before calling for Margot to invite him in.

    ¡°My stagiaire will be observing,¡± she informed Scott. Criminal solicitors were one thing, complicated further by Eloise, but there was no reason Margot couldn¡¯t get a bit of education here, and Scott had no reason to object. ¡°I see you¡¯ve kept up your good work, left to your own devices. I trust that has no reason to change.¡±

    Camille was walking a delicate line in Malin, trying to unify former collaborators and even Avalon-born denizens under Lucien¡¯s banner, and by extension, the journal had to tread just as lightly.

    So far, Scott had managed ably enough, even iterating on Mary¡¯s fashion column with the addition of recipe pages drawing on both Imperial and Avaline traditions, including a thorough set of cassoulet instructions well-suited to the autumn and food precarity both in one issue, then a delightful potato pastry from Nymphell in the next.

    More substantively, Lucien¡¯s return had been treated with all of the adulation it was due, while all who¡¯d turned their cloaks back towards the light had been treated as delicately as was warranted, pardoned in sum without any sympathy for disloyalty.

    Even the scuffle between Mesnil¡¯s man and the guardian had been buried under a torrent of reconciliation without any special prompting, the front page of the journal showing a massive engraving of the two shaking hands in solidarity.

    It wasn¡¯t even fabricated, given Camille had actually forced them to do it under quiet threat of exile, and combined with a suitable address to the public, it seemed that the wounds were beginning to heal.

    Beginning, and that¡¯s the most I¡¯ll ever get to see. And that¡¯s if I¡¯m successful.

    ¡°None, my lady.¡± Scott smiled, as was his wont, in a manner that made the formal address sound seem faintly facetious. ¡°All continues to go well. Sales have only continued to increase through these interesting times, and with the recent purchase of Eserly¡¯s Avaline Citizen journal, Malin is officially free of any seditious competitors. Once the hippodrome reopens, we¡¯ll be testing a section covering the races to increase our readership, and I feel very confident in its success. People used to love the races. Finally, some youths covered the old guardian headquarters in paint, and our editorial has yet to decide on the tone of the coverage.¡±

    ¡°The hippodrome is reopening?¡± Margot cut in. ¡°I thought Avalon tore out every last brick.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s more of a replacement than a reopening, but I thought it best to connect it to the lineage of the best of the Empire¡¯s past. Something uncontroversial.¡± Camille turned back to Scott. ¡°What kind of paint?¡±

    ¡°Different colors, splotched into different shapes. If they¡¯re words, it¡¯s impossible to tell. Nothing overtly provocative, aside from the disruption of putting it there in the first place. Still, former guardians fear that it¡¯s only the beginning.¡±

    Which it might be, if they¡¯re bold enough. And if they reacted, that too would invite a response. It was all too easy to imagine petty vandals sparking a larger conflict that Malin could ill afford.

    ¡°If it¡¯s not a threat to us directly, it¡¯s not sedition, it¡¯s art,¡± Camille decided after a moment. ¡°Get one of your reporters to track down the vandals and get an interview, positively-framed, talk about how it¡¯s letting out these restless youthful energies without hurting anyone, how the children come from both Malin and Avalon.¡±

    ¡°Do they?¡± Scott asked.

    ¡°You only need to find one of each before you can say it¡¯s a mix. Then get a quote from one of Mesnil¡¯s people about the importance of keeping order. Leave them as restless scamps that aren¡¯t truly disrupting anything, and it will help make it so, and hopefully quiet some of the louder guardian voices.¡±

    ¡°A statement from Mesnil is easy enough, but the vandals themselves¡­¡± Scott shook his head. ¡°Criminal youths aren¡¯t usually inclined to talk to reporters.¡±

    ¡°I can set it up,¡± Margot offered. ¡°I think I know the people you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    Camille laughed. Of course you do. ¡°Anything else, Scott? I don¡¯t have a lot of time today.¡±

    ¡°One more, if you¡¯ll forgive me. Your public appearances have caused a bit of confusion, given the lack of the Maiden of Dawn¡¯s trademark blue hair. I don¡¯t mean to overstep, but have you considered redying it?¡±

    ¡°Right¡­¡± Camille blinked, sitting back in her chair. First, she¡¯d needed to blend in, and every inch that her roots crawled across her head made that easier. Then, she¡¯d wanted to wait for victory, a true reaffirmation of herself at the moment of triumph. But that had made more sense to save for Lucien¡­

    And now, is there any point when I¡¯ll be dead in a few months?

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it now?¡± Margot asked. ¡°You still get the blue around the sides, there¡¯s just more different colors.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not really about that,¡± Scott answered, vaguely.

    ¡°It¡¯s a symbol of legitimacy.¡± Her mother had said as much, so long ago that Camille could scarcely remember it. ¡°It lets the people know I am who I say I am, that I will protect them with the fervor and grace that only a legitimate Empress can. It says that I am still a sage, with all of the power and wisdom that entails.¡± Even if I despise the spirit I serve, and plan to die before he can take his due. ¡°Symbols have value. People look to them. Like the Fox-Queen¡¯s crown in the War of the Three Cubs. The fact that Colin Renart wore it showed the world that he was her chosen successor, the rightful Fox-King, unlike his traitor siblings. Or Micheltaigne¡¯s sword, Nuage Sombre. His ancestors fended off the Rhanoir with a rain of arrows that blackened the sky, and High Queen Ar¨¨se led a charge down the mountain with that sword aloft to finish them off. Every time the High King brandishes it, he shows his people that he will protect them just the same.¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Not just here,¡± Scott added. ¡°The eternal flame burning in Forta represents a similar promise, or the unadorned metal of Avalon¡¯s crown.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s why Claude and the Acolytes dyed that streak of their hair? To show they¡¯re connected to the Leclaires?¡± As little as possible, while plundering from the Temple¡¯s supplies¡­ But it was a connection to the old, and it had surely helped Camille win them over at the moment it had mattered most.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Camille simply said, then dismissed Scott Temple.

    It was dark by the time she returned home. Keeping busy had succeeded at making the day go by faster, at least.

    Lucien wasn¡¯t in their bedroom, but Aude had given the nod that everything was clear when Camille entered, so he was probably back at the sorely-in-need-of-renaming Governor¡¯s Mansion, or out drilling the soldiers with Mesnil.

    Perhaps that¡¯s for the better. I¡¯m not really in the mood.

    Camille swept the blankets out of the way and collapsed onto the bed, trying to get a few minutes of rest before her meeting with Fernan.

    I wasn¡¯t thinking, scheduling it for today. That had been a poor choice, but it wasn¡¯t as if there was anything to be done about it now.

    After five minutes or five hundred, Camille rose from the bed, grabbing her flask of marigold wine on the way out, leaving her coat behind. An autumn night might not normally be ideal for sitting out on the beach as the waves crashed around her, but heating herself with the water¡¯s motion had been so successful in the darkness that there seemed to be no reason not to do it now.

    Thank you for the tip, Luce, she thought, with no small amount of chagrin. It was necessary, but that doesn¡¯t mean it can¡¯t also be distasteful.

    Since it took about an hour to properly set in, Camille downed the wine before she¡¯d even left the house, sending a chill through her body.

    This far south, the coast more truly represented the Sartaire than the Lyrion sea, but that wouldn¡¯t be an issue. Fenouille was even friendlier these days, if anything, swollen with power from the tribute directed his way.

    Levian might have earned the same, had he been on the right side of the White Night, or even just sat it out. Instead he almost killed my Lucien, trying to plunge the world into eternal darkness for a scrap more of power for himself.

    It was good to remember why Camille wouldn¡¯t see a twenty-sixth anniversary. Not comforting, but valuable. Important.

    The path down to the water had been freshly swept, the stones taking on a faintly blue cast in the moonlight. Soon, that blue was flecked with red, petals of wildflowers scattered across the stones, growing more dense the further Camille walked.

    Lucien had done the same thing for her on her sixteenth anniversary, even though they¡¯d had one of their more intense fights ever mere days before.

    He didn¡¯t do this though, Camille thought, gaping at the site on the water.

    Fire licked the sky, sitting atop the Sartaire in burning little fishing boats, anchored in place to keep their position. He didn¡¯t¡­

    The perspective was just right as she took her first step into the sand, the flames on the water spelling out a simple yet powerful message: I LOVE YOU CAMILLE.

    Lucien was kneeling on the beach, his sword sunk into the sand in front of him.

    Camille didn¡¯t want to ruin whatever he had planned, but she couldn¡¯t help but run up and sweep him into her arms, nearly tackling him into the sand in the process. ¡°I love you too, Lucien. This is incredible.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you like it,¡± he said, flashing that wry smile of his. ¡°Happy anniversary.¡±

    They lay together on the beach for a while, taking in the stars above, faint echoes of the power of distant sun spirits, only small shards of which ever reached Terramonde.

    ¡°Camille, I know we¡¯ve both been so busy lately, there hasn¡¯t really been time to talk about it¡­ But I want to ask you properly, as something between us instead of our parents, as a celebration of everything you¡¯ve worked so hard to accomplish¡­ Will you marry me this spring?¡±

    Camille stiffened, her eyes reaching for an answer from the dark sky that she knew it wouldn¡¯t give her.

    Lucien didn¡¯t seem to notice, continuing. ¡°We can celebrate in place of the Festival of the Sun, with the whole city basking in your glory. I know you always wanted to do it on the beach, but I was thinking we might try the cliffs above, where the castle used to sit. I think our parents would have liked that. But only if that¡¯s what you want.¡±

    I want all of it, Lucien. I want to grow old with you, to raise our children together, to leave our family and Empire strong for generations to come. I want to be there.

    But I can¡¯t.

    ¡°Camille? Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she answered, a touch too curtly. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    Lucien didn¡¯t let go of Camille, but she could feel him tense up.

    ¡°Lucien, there¡¯s something I have to tell you.¡±

    Camille couldn¡¯t even really hear the words as they were coming out of her mouth. All her attention was on Lucien¡¯s face, watching his face twist in horror.

    ¡°You¡¯re dying?¡± His words were barely more than a whisper.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been on borrowed time ever since the duel. I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Lucien. I never wanted to leave you behind.¡±

    Lucien pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. This is about you¡­¡± He took a shuddered breath. ¡°You just found out? What happened?¡±

    ¡°A part of me always knew, I suppose. But it didn¡¯t sink in until I heard about Levian and the White Night.¡±

    Eyebrows slanting, Lucien pulled his head back. ¡°You knew before I even got here and you didn¡¯t tell me? I understand not passing it through Fernan, it¡¯s an important secret, but¡­ Why did you wait so long to tell me?¡±

    Because I didn¡¯t want to see you like this. And I didn¡¯t want this to be how you remember me. ¡°Saying it out loud makes it real¡­ I don¡¯t know. I wanted to give you a bit of happiness first, maybe.¡±

    ¡°Like a lame horse, before you put it down.¡±

    ¡°Like someone I care about who I didn¡¯t want to have to go through this.¡±

    Lucien sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just wish I¡¯d known. We could have gone away together, to that isle in the center of Paix Lake we went to celebrate our majority, or¡­¡± That had been a special trip, in more ways than one. The thought of going back there one last time, of seizing a moment just about them, it was intoxicating. ¡°Why have we been spending all this time working?¡±

    But there isn¡¯t time. ¡°Because we¡¯re needed. You know that. I can¡¯t leave you an Empire in flames.¡±

    ¡°I know. But you know I know that, right? You don¡¯t have to hide things from me to get me to do my duty.¡±

    Don¡¯t I? You just said you¡¯d have us run and hide, away from all our responsibilities. ¡°Of course I do, Lucien. But I couldn¡¯t take the chance until things were more settled here. I wouldn¡¯t even have told you at all, but for all of this¡­¡± She gestured towards her name in lights, still mostly legible as the boats slowly came apart in the water.

    ¡°You never would have told me. Really?¡± Lucien grit his teeth. ¡°Now why is that? Were you afraid I¡¯d do something stupid? Ruin your carefully laid plans?¡±

    Damn it, not this again. ¡°You do have a habit of it, Lucien. I admit that I lost that duel, and it set us back, but you were the one who went on a bloody rampage seconds later and practically burned the beach down.¡±

    ¡°I was defending your honor!¡±

    ¡°Florette told me the whole thing. You attacked the sun sages unprovoked, and that¡¯s how you ended up captured, that¡¯s how Lumi¨¨re ended up in charge of Guerron. That¡¯s on you. So no, I didn¡¯t want that to happen again. I wanted everything to be lined up just right, for you, because I want the best for everyone. I¡¯m spending my last days on this earth making your life easier, so if I were you I¡¯d do less complaining.¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course. Because you never complain.¡±

    Camille felt her teeth digging into her lip, a slow-burning pain that was hard to notice until it came all at once. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about this. I was hoping I¡¯d have your support for the time I have left. Don¡¯t do anything rash. Promise me.¡±

    ¡°If you promise to stop treating me like a child.¡±

    ¡°If you promise to stop acting like one!¡± Camille pulled herself free of his grip, straightening her dress as she stood. ¡°Honestly Lucien, it¡¯s been one blunder after another. You used to value what I have to say, but lately everything¡¯s been a negotiation.¡±

    ¡°Blunder¡ª¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°I saved Guerron from the Queen of Winter when she wanted the city destroyed and the world plunged into darkness. Not alone, of course, but I led the defense and made the final decisions. I mobilized almost everything I had to come rescue you here when you got yourself stuck trying to hold a hostile city with a couple dozen soldiers and a song. Do you know how hard it was to get two thousand people across the Sartaire as the snow was melting?¡±

    ¡°And Annette handled that, not you.¡± Camille clicked her tongue. ¡°It¡¯s not my job to make you feel smart, Lucien. This is about more than your ego.¡±

    ¡°My ego? This coming from Camille Leclaire¡­¡± He pressed his hands to his face, sighed, and dropped them down, revealing the tears in his eyes. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want to do this. I forgive you. It¡¯s fine. We shouldn¡¯t spend this time fighting.¡±

    You forgive me? Camille bit back her retort, trying to take his words in the spirit in which they were intended. ¡°I agree. And in the spirit of telling you everything, you should know that my death will incense Levian when it occurs. He¡¯ll feel robbed, and he might come after you for it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be on my guard. We fended him off before, in far more adverse conditions than defending our own cities. Still, better seawalls wouldn¡¯t be inappropriate for Malin, along with better perches to mount our defenses¡­¡± He trailed off, mind still clearly focused on the tactics of it, before coming to a belated realization. ¡°You made a bargain with him, didn¡¯t you? Borrowed time back amongst the living, in exchange for¡­ What did he want in return?¡±

    ¡°One thousand souls,¡± Camille answered, since there seemed to be little point in keeping anything back. ¡°And Malin in our hands. I succeeded at the one, and refuse to provide the other.¡±

    ¡°Refuse¡ª Camille, a thousand souls is nothing in a war. All we need to do is declare our kills for Levian, and you could be saved in a battle or two. I can¡¯t believe¡ª And you think I¡¯m the dumb one. I¡¯m telling Mesnil, we march for Lorraine tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Camille tried to keep her voice cold, but she could hear it crack. ¡°This is exactly what I was talking about. You¡¯d plunge us into a war right now, when we¡¯re devastated from the White Night and barely holding on to what we have?¡±

    Lucien didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I¡¯d slaughter a thousand souls myself with my own two hands if it meant keeping you safe, and then a thousand more just to be sure. I know you¡¯ve had to go it alone for a long time, but I¡¯m here now.¡±

    The image of Lucien the Conqueror standing triumphant on a bloody field rose to mind, impossible to banish. Hearing that, Camille wanted very badly to leap into his arms.

    But one of us has to be smart. This is about more than me. ¡°You¡¯d be endangering every single one of your subjects. Magnifico as our captive is powerful leverage, but if we join a war against Avalon, they¡¯ll have no compunction about burning Guerron to the ground. Malin as well, and Dorseille, and everything we¡¯ve managed to build.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll try. We fended off the Queen of Winter, we can¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, we can¡¯t, Lucien. That¡¯s what our parents tried, and they failed. In time, with proper build-up, we can make ourselves enough of a threat that Avalon would hesitate to attack us. Eventually. But not in three months. It¡¯s just a fantasy, better left in our heads.¡±

    Lucien knew she was right, Camille could see it, but it didn¡¯t seem to comfort him. ¡°You¡¯d have me watch you die, knowing I could have stopped it? How could you ask that of me?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t tell you. All that¡¯s left now is the legacy I leave behind. That¡¯s why I don''t think we should marry. I wouldn¡¯t want to leave you as a widower.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Breathing heavily, Lucien turned his head towards the sky. ¡°Of course you¡¯d want that to die too.¡± Squaring his jaw, he faced Camille directly. ¡°Well, if that¡¯s really how you feel Camille, we¡¯ll do what you want. You always know what¡¯s best, after all. Like when you pushed Jean Bourbeau off a boat for calling me a beggar king. I had to spend six months wining and dining his father to stop him from defecting to Condillac.¡±

    ¡°I was fourteen! And I was just trying to look out for you.¡±

    ¡°Like with Laura?¡± He stared through her with penetrating green eyes. ¡°Was that about ¡®protecting¡¯ me?¡±

    Camille bit her lip, turning away. ¡°It¡¯s poor form to hold grudges like that. We¡¯re meant to be partners.¡±

    ¡°Are we? Because it sounds like you don¡¯t want to get married. You certainly don¡¯t think I have anything valuable to say. No, you¡¯d rather enshrine your own legend as the perfect Maiden of Dawn, forever young, forever beautiful, and leave the rest of us behind to deal with reality.¡±

    Camille would be lying if she said the thought hadn¡¯t crossed her mind, more as an attempt to salvage whatever she could than anything else. It was still hurtful to accuse her of it. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for the people. The same ones you¡¯d see bombarded into dust so you can fight a war for me.¡±

    Lucien didn¡¯t respond, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon. ¡°Well, I¡¯m the Fox-King. At the end of the day¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. We¡¯ve always been in this together, since we were seven years old. Don¡¯t make it about rank and title now, or you¡¯ll never be able to put it away. I¡¯ll never be able to look at you the same way again.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Lucien stared at her quietly with his piercing eyes, the fire on the river dancing behind him. For a moment, Camille was worried he would go through with it anyway, but he seemed to finally come to his senses, head snapping forward. ¡°Well then, I won¡¯t. The peace will last as you wish, my lady. But I can¡¯t be around you right now.¡±

    I wish I could blame you for that, but¡­ ¡°Maybe it¡¯s best if we spend a bit of time apart. I¡¯m sure Annette will let me stay with her for tonight, and after¡ª¡±

    ¡°What kind of cad do you take me for? I¡¯ll stay with Miro.¡± He wiped his eyes, marshaling a determined expression. ¡°Good¡ªGoodbye, Camille.¡±

    ¡°Goodnight, Lucien.¡±

    Camille barely slept that night, the weight of Lucien and her death and the Empire and the thousands dying in the Arboreum all pressing down upon her. What little she managed was tarred by nightmares like a mountaintop crumbling into dust, and a man stabbing himself in the face with a dark knife. Later, once she realized she¡¯d missed her meeting with Fernan, she saw Guerron from high above, a simmering flame that threatened to engulf the entire city, but there was nothing she could do.

    She was four hours late for her meetings the next day. Margot, mercifully, had handled all of it, even preemptively moving the afternoon¡¯s calendar as well out of caution, though Camille could have done without the latter. A distraction would have been useful right now.

    Her day clear, Camille collapsed into her chair, nearly slamming her face down on the desk in front of her before she saw the note placed there.

    From Lucien.

    I need more time. I trust you to run things here while I¡¯m gone. I love you.

    He was gone, and no one knew where. Mesnil and a dozen knights had followed him, but hadn¡¯t left any record of their destination either. That hurt more than the departure, that he wouldn¡¯t even tell her where he¡¯d gone.

    Even if it¡¯s only fair play.

    But Camille had expected Lucien to trust her. Now all that was left was to hope that he would come back in time for her to see him ever again.

    To trust him in return.

 Florette VII: The Debtor

    Florette VII: The Debtor

    With the curtains drawn, Lord Monfroy¡¯s carriage enveloped Florette in shadow. From the darkness, two yellow eyes peered out of the gloom, sitting atop sunken cheeks just barely visible.

    ¡°Are you familiar with the concept of collateral, Miss Sabine?¡± Despite his calm tone, Monfroy¡¯s words echoed through the cab.

    ¡°Like collateral damage?¡± Unfortunately, I¡¯m far too familiar with it.

    Monfroy laughed. ¡°For you, in this instance, perhaps. But I¡¯m referring to a principle of lending, not to be confused with the principal of a loan. The borrower puts forward an asset to minimize the lender¡¯s risk. In the event that they are¡­ unable to pay their due, the collateral possession is seized by the lender. Srin offered his home, Mahabali Hall, a hallowed manse with a rich history, that has nonetheless fallen into a state of disrepair. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s fallen underwater.¡±

    ¡°It flooded?¡± Wouldn¡¯t I have heard about that? Captain Verrou was just there.

    ¡°An expression, Miss Sabine. The value of Mahabali Hall is no longer sufficient to cover what your father has borrowed against it.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Do you understand what that means, Sabine? No dying man should be forced from his home, especially not a friend, but when Terramonde comes for his soul, I shall have no choice but to repossess it. Right as you lose your father, so too will you lose your ancestral home. If you have any personal effects of sentimental value, I recommend that you secure them while you still can.¡±

    He¡¯s¡­ inviting me to clean it out of everything valuable before he takes over? ¡°That¡¯s¡­ very generous of you, Lord Monfroy.¡±

    A chuckle emanated from the darkness. ¡°I¡¯m pleased that you think so. It would have been more generous to allow you to stay, but I¡¯m afraid your presence would be incompatible with my intentions for the property.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure there isn¡¯t any way?¡± Florette asked, purely to appear more interested in the house she¡¯d never once visited that belonged to a man that wasn¡¯t her father. If Monfroy felt like he was depriving her of something especially important, he might be more forgiving with any of the remaining debt. ¡°What are you going to use it for, anyway?¡±

    ¡°As it happens, I¡¯ve been in the market for a residence on the Isle of Shadows for some time. There are fewer eyes, that far from Cambria, which allows me to better pursue my livelihood. And my hobbies, for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Which are?¡±

    His face split with a yellow-toothed smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find out eventually. Especially if you tarry too long repaying what¡¯s owed. But, in truth, I can do that anywhere, so long as I¡¯m careful. Mahabali Hall, however, is the singularly most suitable location for networking events in a¡­ professional organization which I run. It¡¯s adjacent to both the Fornila Forest and the coast, near enough to Chaya to easily resupply, and free from any of these garish modern building trends that you simply can¡¯t escape in new construction. There¡¯s a haunting beauty to those woods, bathed in moonlit serenity, so dense that many who stumbled in have never found their way out.¡±

    Well, that¡¯s about the most suspicious possible way to describe whatever you¡¯re planning there. Something about the way he was using the word ¡®networking¡¯ sounded familiar, pulling on some buried memory from Malin, but Florette couldn¡¯t place it, and it seemed that the conversation was coming to its end. Better to just get out and focus on the rest later.

    ¡°You will, of course, be invited in your father¡¯s place once I deem you ready, provided you are not unable to enter your ancestral home in foreign hands on account of¡­ sentimentality. But these events are the place to make contacts that can serve you for the rest of your life, or, for example, find an influential Lord willing to lend you eight-hundred thousand mandala.¡±

    Khali¡¯s curse, Savian borrowed that much? Captain Verrou had said that he was living large, far beyond what his incomes sustainably allowed for, but that level of debt was close to unfathomable.

    And Monfroy didn¡¯t seem all that concerned about losing so much money, as if it wasn¡¯t even that much to him, which was worrying in its own way.

    ¡°At the current appraisal, the cession of Mahabali Hall will cover approximately six hundred of that eight, leaving two hundred thousand mandala on your shoulders, Sabine. I am aware that you are only just beginning your studies, so I have every intention of granting you opportunities to discharge that debt through favors to me, both in your next four years of schooling and over the course of the rest of your life. If you object to that, bring me the money I¡¯m owed. Otherwise, you will hear from me, and my associate outside.¡±

    Florette gulped, trying to look as much like a fearful ingenue as she could. It was a staggering amount of debt to start a life with, but Srin Sabine wasn¡¯t a life meant to last, and careful navigation could leave Monfroy and any other creditors holding the bag without too much issue. Hopefully.

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°Ensure that you do. It may feel harsh, but your father gave you his name, whose value cannot be measured in silver. It is only fair that you inherit the rest of his legacy as well. I¡¯m being exceedingly generous to you, Sabine, far more than your other creditors will be, because I believe in making connections, and maintaining them through generations. Versham only sees what¡¯s right in front of her eyes, and her timeframe will be stricter. Even so, if you use that as an excuse for dereliction towards me, I will not be nearly so kind about it.¡±

    Versham¡­ Versham¡­ That name was in the Great Binder¡¯s book, someone she¡¯d consulted about her vision.

    ¡°I see you recognize that name, so perhaps your father didn¡¯t entirely omit the details of his debt, though why he would focus on that magpie rather than myself¡­ I cannot help but be somewhat offended.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, he didn¡¯t mention her either,¡± Florette was quick to say. ¡°I just recognized the name from a book I read, that¡¯s all.¡±

    Monfroy¡¯s amber eyes lit up, his smile peeking out once more. ¡°It seems Count Savian had a better sense of priorities than I previously thought, with regard to your education. If you¡¯ve already read The End of Time, then there is no reason to wait. You shall receive an invitation to the inaugural event, once the operation is up and running. But you will likely hear from me sooner with an opportunity. See that you do not pass it up, or there will be consequences.¡±

    He opened the door of the carriage, flooding the inside with Cambria¡¯s dismal grey light. ¡°Until next time, Miss Sabine.¡±

    ?

    On one hand, Florette really needed to work on her part of this history project, and prepare for the first exam in her physics class, both of which were rapidly approaching. On the other, she¡¯d already been ambushed in an alleyway and threatened by one creditor, and it was the one whose name wasn¡¯t mentioned in a stolen book written by the Great Binder whose very existence seemed to be something of a secret.

    Although Monfroy recognized it¡­ Florette had asked around several times in Malin, and no one there had been able to place the title, nor did any of them believe that the Great Binder had ever written a book. Even with the useful tips inside for binding, Florette had still half believed that it was a fake in some manner or another. But Monfroy, at least, doesn¡¯t seem to think so. That was interesting, and worth looking into, but there were other, higher priorities for the moment.

    If ¡®she¡¯ owed this Versham a similarly massive amount of money, it would be better to approach first, rather than wait for an unpleasant surprise, especially if Monfroy had been honest about her temperament.

    Christophe had only been too eager to help with finding her, so Florette had first spent several hours trying to bring his Avaline up to the level of intelligible to a modern speaker. The College had a massive library where Florette tended to spend most of her time, poring through countless books for both useful intelligence and novel recreation. She knew that people mostly read and worked in silence, so after a quick primer, it felt like a relatively small risk to take Christophe there to look into Versham. Especially since Florette would be right there, writing out her half of the cannon paper. It didn¡¯t even matter that Christophe wasn¡¯t a student, since he was accompanying one.

    It was such a small risk, and it let her draw on someone who really wanted to help in a moment where she really needed all the time she could get. It would be fine¡­ It has to be.

    After about half an hour, Florette had only written a few hundred words out of the roughly three thousand she¡¯d need for her half of the paper. Sitting still to put the work in was hard when the connection to her goals was so abstract, and it didn¡¯t help that writing in Avaline was about a hundred times as hard.

    So when Christophe tapped his nose, signaling that they should talk outside in Imperial, Florette felt more relief than anything, a good excuse to stop working for a while.

    ¡°I found Versham!¡± he cried out, the moment they were far enough not to be heard.

    ¡°So fast, too,¡± Florette noted. ¡°Did you find The End of Time anywhere in the library?¡±

    ¡°Nowhere. But since you mentioned the Great Binder¡¯s time, I started with histories of that era, and he popped up right away.¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°He?¡± Monfroy had implied it was a woman.

    ¡°Versham Arun. He was a nightshade merchant who ended up traveling with the first King Harold, before he was a king. That led me to a book about brandy distilling, he was all over that, and it mentioned the name of his business, Versham-Martin, which was listed in a business directory as having a Cambria office in the Bayview district, near the park on Drambol street.¡±

    Florette slowly closed her gaping mouth. ¡°Damn, Christophe! I should have you doing my classwork.¡± She turned her eyes towards the massive clock tower facing out from the College. 2:30, plenty of time. ¡°Mind being my backup from afar again? I think it¡¯ll look better if I go in alone.¡±

    ¡°Whatever you need. I¡¯m here to help you.¡± He paused, scratching his chin. ¡°Do you want me to do your schoolwork for you? I got excellent marks in penmanship at the Fourth Consort¡¯s School. That¡¯s a big part of why the Queen selected me to come. Plus, the research is actually pretty fun, and I know you have other stuff you need to do too.¡±

    Tempting, but I think the professors would look askance if my papers were written in a six-hundred-year-old dialect of Avaline. Not to mention that she¡¯d need to actually know the material well enough to pass the examinations at the end. ¡°For now, just focus on learning the language. As it is now, I mean.¡± That earned Florette a glare for implying anything was wrong with Glaciel¡¯s speech, but she continued anyway. ¡°Listen to how people talk, read what you can from the books, and keep an eye out. If you see a window explode or something, I¡¯m probably in a bind I could use your help with.¡±

    Christophe nodded. ¡°Are you planning to explode a window? I heard what ruin those ordinances wrought on Chateau Cuirass¨¦, even before the decay of it fueled Corro.¡±

    And after all that, Glaciel still sent you to help me¡­ ¡°Not if I can help it.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Would you care for some tea? Coffee? Miss Versham has an opening for you in about fifteen minutes, but there¡¯s a pressing matter she has to attend to first. My apologies for the delay.¡±

    You¡¯ve been saying the same thing for over an hour, if the tolling bells are anything to go by. ¡°Coffee,¡± Florette said tersely, deciding she might as well make the most of it. Hopefully Chirstophe was having a better time reading outside.

    Coffee was a sort of tisane made from cherry pits, which the Avaline for some reason decided to treat as a totally separate thing from regular tea. The nice thing about it was that it was much stronger. Mind altering substances were severely restricted in Avalon, but apparently liquid pixie powder didn¡¯t count, for which Florette was most grateful.

    ¡°How do you take it?¡±

    Florette frowned. ¡°Drinking from the side of the cup usually seems to do the trick.¡±

    Versham¡¯s assistant laughed, flashing the same fake smile she¡¯d shown half a hundred times in the last hour as she walked off.

    It gave Florette a chance to look down at the book she¡¯d brought, not realizing how useful it¡¯d be to have something to read. She¡¯d wrapped The End of Time in burlap to disguise the cover, not that it was a very identifiable one anyway. She¡¯d already read through the whole thing once under the darkness, since there was only so much drilling and scheming you could do in a given twelve-hour period of eternal night, but that had mostly been with an eye towards binding technique.

    Later, she wanted to read through the whole thing again, but right now, she was sitting in a Versham¡¯s office, even if it wasn¡¯t the same one, and that meant finding the places the name was mentioned to see if it could give her anything useful.

    Unfortunately, Florette couldn¡¯t find much, at least not when flipping through. Versham¡¯s main role seemed to be playing naysayer against the prospect of predicting the future, authoritatively speaking of spiritual visions. Which implied that he was a sage or a binder of some kind, but even that wasn¡¯t certain, and didn¡¯t really give Florette anything she could use right now. It was just a crumb for something later, maybe, like Monfroy¡¯s allusions or the book itself. Too many pieces were missing to put what was there together.

    ¡°Srin Sabine? Miss Versham will see you now.¡±

    Florette had seen extravagant offices before, after a fashion, like Director Thorley¡¯s veritable house he had all to himself at the railyard, or Lord Perimont¡¯s chairless monument to cruelty, but they were hovels compared to this.

    Glass stretched from floor to ceiling; beyond it, the entire city stretched up to the horizon into the fog. The furniture was minimal, but futuristic, never using wood where metal and glass would do. And there was no end of color, from the bright red chairs to the orange carpet that cultivated warmth despite the wispy exterior seen through the windows.

    And if the office was a work of art, Versham Paruna was a masterpiece. Her pale green eyes and immaculately coiffed dark hair, with a single glistening earring dangling beneath. Her collar was a vivid red, stretching high up her neck, with a darker grey shawl covering her shoulders and a knee-length skirt in the same color to match. ¡°Well, Srin Sabine,¡± she began once they¡¯d both taken a seat. ¡°Welcome to Versham-Martin. What brings you here today?¡±

    I just want to make sure there aren¡¯t any more surprises. ¡°My father had a business arrangement with you, but he never told me the details. And with his health being what it is, I feel it would be unwise to bring it up. He should use his time as best as he can, without having to worry about things like this.¡±

    ¡°Honorable and wise, are you? I understand completely.¡±

    ¡°I know he borrowed money from you, along with Lord Monfroy.¡± And who-knows-how-many others¡­ ¡°I¡¯d like to know how much I¡¯ll owe, and what my father put up as collateral.¡± Which is totally a term I know all and not something I heard for the first time today.

    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t tell you that off the top of my head, but I¡¯d be happy to have Agatha look into it for you and send over any pertinent documents. Where are you staying right now?¡±

    ¡°Mourningside. I¡¯m attending the College.¡±

    ¡°A scientist, are you? Well, I suppose we need someone in the brain trust so the mark of humanity on the world can grow, erecting impossible monuments all across the face of it.¡± The way she said that¡­ Paruna wrinkled her nose. ¡°But student housing? If you want to live in a rat trap, there¡¯s far less expensive accommodations. My friend Wesley is a landlord for a few properties in the city, let me give you his address.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Florette said, as if there were any chance she could afford any of it. No harm in humoring someone you owed a lot of money too, though. ¡°Do you live here? I love the way it looks.¡±

    ¡°In my office? No, I have a building in Sunset Heights and a family apartment here in Bayview.¡± A building? ¡°That¡¯s just in Cambria, of course, but I won¡¯t bore you with an inventory.¡± She reached under her desk and pulled out a bottle. ¡°How old are you, Sabine? 22?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Florette had decided that Sabine would be slightly older, though there was no reason not to keep the same anniversary date, since no one aside from Fernan and a few other villagers had ever known Florette¡¯s. And in a few weeks when I turn 20, it won¡¯t seem like much of a stretch. Eloise had always said she had the air of someone older anyway, probably because of how mature she was.

    ¡°That¡¯s fine then,¡± Paruna said, pulling out two glasses and setting them on the desk. In the base of each was a sphere of amber, with a spider preserved inside. ¡°Would you care for a drink? You look a bit stressed, honey.¡± She wiggled the bottle. ¡°This is perfect if you have any aches or pains.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Florette said, further examining the glasses. ¡°Is that brandy? I know Versham-Martin has a history with that. Or essence of nightshade?¡±

    ¡°Laudanum,¡± she said as she poured. ¡°With the overzealous regulations against mind-altering substances from our incessantly nannying Great Council in their listless mediocrity, we had to transition VM away from nightshade, and the brandy is more of a boutique item than a primary revenue stream.¡± She clinked her glass against Florette¡¯s, then drank. ¡°Thankfully, there¡¯s plenty of money in pain management, and Plagette provides their poppies for practically pennies.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where I know this from,¡± Florette said, frowning as she recognized the taste. ¡°This is opium wine. They give it to the people they sacrifice in Guerron before burning them alive, because it¡¯s ¡®more humane¡¯, apparently.¡± Thankfully, Fernan had put a stop to all of that, at least from the Temple of the Sun.

    ¡°Really?¡± Paruna scratched her chin. ¡°Very interesting. You wouldn¡¯t expect such care paired with such savagery¡­ And indeed, they put Avalon to shame in that one regard. The prisoners we execute must be fully of sound mind, with nothing to dull the pain. Now that you¡¯re calling attention to it, I see that it¡¯s downright uncivilized.¡± She nodded once, then set her glass down on the desk. ¡°I¡¯ll give you four thousand mandala if you walk out of the room and this becomes my idea.¡±

    ¡°The¡­? You¡¯ll¡­?¡± How can someone miss the point so badly?

    ¡°Now that Dad¡¯s gone, I need to convince everyone here that I can do it. This will make such a strong impression. And you¡¯ll benefit too!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll pay me just for that idea?¡± The one people back home have been doing for almost a thousand years? Why would she want to trade something real for a few words, anyway? Buying an idea was as absurd as buying a song, or a play, and yet Paruna seemed excited to do it. Not to mention the fact that nothing was stopping Paruna from just doing it anyway and giving Florette nothing. Unless those empty words about needing to prove herself were speaking to the actual motive, and she was willing to pay to avoid the risk of Florette calling her out in public or something. But that didn¡¯t feel right. Something strange was afoot, here.

    ¡°I can take it out of your debt, of course, but if you¡¯re full of ideas like that, I can tell that you¡¯re going places. You could walk out with a purse full of coins. A chest, really, at that scale, but you get my point, do you not?¡±

    Avalon probably would sooner stuff their prisoners full of opium than stop executing them. Perhaps in greater numbers, given the ¡®improved¡¯ humanity of it. ¡°The idea is worth more than that,¡± Florette said, having no real idea whether that was true, but hoping to walk out without jeopardizing anything.

    ¡°To me? Certainly. But you have no capital to start with, no trade agreements in place, no connections in the Great Council. I¡¯m assuming all of the risk, while you¡¯re trading an idea you could never monetize on your own for the coffers to make your next idea reality.¡± She flicked her nail against her empty glass, letting out a ringing sound for a few moments before she stopped it by grabbing the lip. ¡°Agatha, please see these washed and returned to their position. And see Miss Sabine out. She¡¯s not ready to do business yet.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± A plan was forming.

    I could play them against each other. If Monfroy asked for one of his ominous favors, Florette could flip the four thousand his way to buy more time on the rest.

    And really, what was she giving up to do it? ¡°Ten thousand, final offer.¡± That would be enough to actually make a dent in the debt to Monfroy.

    Paruna smiled, her whole face lighting up. ¡°You have yourself a deal.¡±

    Florette felt pretty good walking out of there with her wheeled chest of mandala coins, even if the fact that Paruna had agreed immediately meant that Florette probably could have gotten a lot more. No point in getting greedy. She just needed enough to last as long as Sabine did.

    If this worked, it was a way to fend off one problem using another. And if Monfroy doesn¡¯t come calling before my time is up¡­

    There was a lot of good that could be done in the heart of Avalon with ten thousand mandala, provided Florette was smart about it. Far more than just studying for four years.

    Which reminds me, I really need to study for that exam. And I promised Rebecca I¡¯d get her my half of the paper before that party she invited me to. And I still need to find a better place for Christophe to stay long-term. And¡ª

    And the time would come for all of that, but this wasn¡¯t the moment to dwell. For the moment, things were actually going decently.

    It was, though, impossible to ignore those crumbs of suspicion about the Great Binder and Khali, and whatever was going on with Lord Monfroy. All the more so after another few hours reading The End of Time, and realizing Paruna had quoted from it.

 Laura IV: The Missile

    Laura IV: The Missile

    Laura took a ship out of Gaume, Condillac¡¯s capital across the strait. Torpierre had ample facilities, but the longer she lingered, the higher the risk of her parents discovering what she¡¯d done.

    Laura had had half a mind to lift a heavy purse from some forgotten corner of the Stone Tower, unlikely to be missed, but that would have meant risking someone seeing her and telling her parents.

    Even though they were who they were, that wasn¡¯t a fight she wanted. Valentine deserved better for one thing, and it wasn¡¯t worth the time, for another.

    Far better to simply never see them again.

    Valentine had decided the issue for her, though, waiting on the path with a bag of florins and a face of stone. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re alive,¡± she¡¯d said, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

    Laura had told her about the fight, since she didn¡¯t want to leave her sister blind, and had even gotten a smile when she¡¯d mentioned telling Tauroneo what a dullard their brother was. Not that it was likely to change anything, but it was nice to leave on something resembling a positive interaction with family. Soleil knows there¡¯s been few enough of those over the years.

    Passage aboard the Valient Heart had cost over three hundred florins, which was probably more than a pirate would have charged for the privilege, but at least the accommodations were comfortable. Laura had a chamber to herself with a decent view of the water, and supped with the captain for her meals. She even had a decent selection of wine to pair with it.

    Considering the fact that bulkhead passage would have still been eighty-five, Laura considered it money well spent. Especially since she was healing so cleanly from the Tauroneo fight. She¡¯d been a bit worried about her leg healing out of place, but staying off it, as painful as that was, meant that within a few days, she was walking without a limp. After a few days of fresh air, her lungs even breathed smoothly enough for her to feel comfortable rolling her papers again.

    Aside from diverting around an Autumn storm, which had added an extra few days to the journey, passage to Dorseille was largely uneventful. The real issue was once Laura got there.

    ¡°What do you mean you won¡¯t go past Lyrion? It¡¯s such a basic trip. Even if your ship is terrible, you can just hug the coast. I¡¯m willing to pay.¡±

    The Dorseille dockyard was abuzz with activity, making up for time lost in darkness. But all the ships departing seemed to be headed south, which didn¡¯t bode well.

    The captain wrinkled his nose at the insult. ¡°The waters are not the issue, fool. Don¡¯t you know there¡¯s a war going on? Avalon¡¯s got more ships in the Lyrion sea than it has fishes, and they don¡¯t look too kindly on any of us they come across. My mate just got here from Villeneuve, said they were stopping every ship they could see, confiscating all the cargo and tossing off anyone who objected too strongly. They say near Refuge the water is black with the soot of their fire magic. My cousin does a loop down to Serpichon every year, supposed to be back weeks ago, and I still haven¡¯t heard anything.¡±

    ¡°Well, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°The answer is no, girl. No sense in risking that when there¡¯s plenty of money to be made on this  coast. Always liked the west side better anyway.¡± The captain waved his hand to shoo her away.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Scowling, Laura turned from him and left. That had been the sixth one she¡¯d spoken with, and all of them had said some variation of the same thing, and refused any amount of florins she could offer. Nor had brandishing Aurelian¡¯s sword yet been sufficient to assure any of them that she could keep the crew safe. Even the ones that had believed her hadn¡¯t wanted to antagonize Avalon if they could avoid it, feckless money grubbers that they were.

    Eventually, she settled for the ferry to ?le Dimanche, just across the Coul¨¦e Bleue. Formally, it remained a sovereign city-state, but what Avalon asked for, it got. If King Harold asked its Countess to jump into the sea, her only question would be which waters to drown herself in.

    But in this case, being under Avalon¡¯s thumb was an asset to Laura, since it meant a higher chance they¡¯d have a ship with the credentials to bypass the Avaline navy¡¯s ¡®inspections¡¯. There was no chance that Avalon was confiscating supplies from its own merchant vessels, and it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine one of them stopping further east on their way back to their grim motherland.

    The streets in Dimanche were eerily quiet, even granting that it was raining. Laura wanted to leave the docks before securing the next leg of the trip, but the contrast with Dorseille was stark. The harbor was full, to be sure, but the returning ferry was the only thing not moored in place.

    A quick consultation with some of the captains explained the issue: the Countess Dimanche had issued an order that no ship was to leave the harbor until further notice, earning the ire of Avaline merchants and honest ones alike. Goods were already starting to spoil in the holds, and half the people Laura talked too seemed ready to call the Countess¡¯s bluff and leave anyway, betting that they could evade any pursuit.

    This time, showing off her sword was enough to convince a captain to book her passage, provided she was willing to use it if anyone came after them.

    Which I¡¯d only relish anyway. The Countess Dimanche hadn¡¯t herself surrendered to Avalon, but her father had, clinging to whatever hollow fa?ade of power he could, and his heir had apparently seen little reason to buck the trend. She¡¯d continued sending ships to Avalon on their way with nary an objection, even though they were practically stealing everything loaded into them.

    Whatever she was playing at now, with this interdiction, it wouldn¡¯t exactly be a tragedy if a few of her goons gave Laura an excuse to get better acquainted with her new sword.

    It needs a name, she realized, gazing into the wispy green flame emanating from it. All the best swords did, from Micheltaigne¡¯s Nuage Sombre to the Arboreum¡¯s Perce-les-cieux to the Fox Queen¡¯s own blade, Amiti¨¦. That one had been lost during the War of Three Cubs though, in the Third Battle of Malin.

    Unless Camille got her talons on it. It had fallen into the bay, allegedly, and it would be like them to hoard it. Maybe Camille¡¯d fall onto it by accident at some point, that was a nice thought.

    The other feckless collaborator of the Foxtrap was Magister Jules Ticent of Charenton, so it was fitting that Laura was headed there next. That had been the furthest east she could get with any kind of alacrity, and it hadn¡¯t felt worth it to book an inn for two weeks to wait for the ship headed to Porte Lumi¨¨re.

    Charenton would be fine. All she needed at that point was a boat headed down the Rhan, and she¡¯d reach the fighting in no time.

    Finding one, however, made the cowardice of Dorseille¡¯s captains seem courageous by comparison. In Charenton, Avalon¡¯s troops were camped right in the harbor, bundled aboard a glistening iron ship, and the Magister had been called to Cambria. ¡®To his probable death,¡¯ everyone who mentioned it had implied.  Whatever obeisance they¡¯d demanded from him in the darkness, apparently Ticent hadn¡¯t delivered on it to their satisfaction.

    That¡¯s what you get for thinking you were too special for them to turn on you eventually, just the same as they have with everyone else. For all that Ticent was reputed to be smart, getting into bed with the panther was his original act of stupidity, so it was fitting that it¡¯d be undoing him now.

    In retrospect, I wonder if Dimanche was in a similar position. It would explain the strange embargo at the harbor, at least. But she won¡¯t last forever. The White Otter had delivered Laura to Charenton, but it had also carried its crew. If Dimanche didn¡¯t want word getting back to Avalon about her malfeasance, she was apparently too late.

    And I helped make it happen, Laura thought with a smile. A part of her, briefly, considered simply staying in occupied territory and making a ruckus from within. The various governors certainly seemed in a precarious enough position that it would only take a good poke to send it all crashing down.

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    But revenge was beneath her, or she¡¯d be going after Fernan. Pointless. Futile. And Ticent¡¯s crimes were abstract ones, rather than anything that had ever affected Laura personally.

    Better to go to the battlefield, where she could actually make a difference. My place is there.

    Unfortunately, despite being only one final step away, actually getting to that place seemed nearly impossible, unless she planned on building a boat herself. These merchant ninnies were the worst yet, totally unwilling to go an inch down the Rhan. There were ferries over the river for the loggers, chopping down whatever remained of Cya¡¯s forest, but Refuge and its environs were isolated, and the wasteland made even proceeding on foot impossible via that route.

    It¡¯s so stupid. Here she was, basically in Avalon¡¯s pied-¨¤-terre in the Empire, trying to get passage on a ship headed to a country they were actively at war with. The only boats Avalon would be sending to the Arboreum were the ones full of soldiers going there to burn it down.

    Actually, that¡¯s an idea¡­

    Laura turned towards the metal ship, trying to move towards it inconspicuously, looking like she was on her way to something else.

    Unfortunately, a pair was standing guard at the top of the gangplank, thwarting the easiest way to sneak on board. If she were a scoundrel like Leclaire, perhaps she¡¯d march up to them with a mouth full of lies, but there was a more straightforward way to get on board a ship.

    Moments later, a stack of crates was on fire, prompting hurried cries from the surrounding stevedores.

    Come on¡­ Laura started whistling, trying to act nonchalant, then stopped, because that wasn¡¯t something people did when there was a fire. Instead, she just kept walking, slowly enough not to let the Avaline ship out of her sight.

    People were running to put it out, trying to douse the crates, so Laura helped dissuade them with another fire on the docks themselves, more energy intensive for all their dampness, but the pitch helped keep it going once she made a bit of headway, and before long the flames were sustaining themselves.

    With the sword, it didn¡¯t even cost her much life.

    It wasn¡¯t long before her target poked his head up, a swooping figure in purple and black, a sour frown on his imperious face. As evil as Avalon was, it was still somewhat shocking to see this commander dressed up like the cackling sorcerer that dies at the end of the play. At his side was a sandy-haired lieutenant dressed all in black, her arms thick enough to be slightly jealous about.

    Smiling, Laura ducked down, remaining out of sight as she listened in.

    ¡°This is a message,¡± the commander said grimly. ¡°It¡¯s no accident that it would happen now. It seems I¡¯m not welcome here.¡±

    ¡°Then why set the fire so far down the dock?¡± the lieutenant asked. ¡°We can be out on the water long before we¡¯re in any danger.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so sure that¡¯s not just incompetence. It could be that that¡¯s as close as they dared to get, or they got the ship wrong.¡± Hah! You wish!

    ¡°They got the ship wrong,¡± the lieutenant repeated flatly. ¡°Despite it being clad in iron.¡± Her words hung in the air for a moment, before the commander spoke once more.

    ¡°Fair enough. If they saw the guards, keeping a bit of distance makes sense. Especially if Ticent is backing the insurgents. Set a few fires, deny everything, and if that¡¯s not enough to get me to leave, turn up the pressure.¡±

    ¡°Ticent isn¡¯t even here.¡±

    ¡°And you don¡¯t think that¡¯s more suspicious?¡±

    ¡°No, I agree. But if their leader is away, would they be bold enough to set a prince¡¯s ship on fire without him?¡±

    A prince¡­ Interesting. It didn¡¯t need to change the plan, though. As long as it spooked them enough to set sail, Laura could fly aboard as they sailed away and stow away without too much trouble. Maybe even kill a few guards, if the opportunity presented itself to do it cleanly.

    ¡°It could be the reason for keeping their distance. Provoking without any risk of harm.¡±

    The lieutenant seemed to agree. ¡°The Lyrion rebels were dead certain that Charenton was on their side. That means Ticent. As I see it, this half measure is only further evidence.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯re agreed?¡±

    ¡°Yes. They want you to leave, but they¡¯re not willing to force the issue. And Ticent is gone, either to Avalon to meet his fate, or, more likely, running to Leclaire. We won¡¯t have a better opportunity.¡±

    ¡°Get twenty guards to disembark. We¡¯re not going anywhere.¡±

    Damn it! Why did they have to jump at shadows instead of making the obvious move? But if a closer inferno was they needed to push them over the edge, that could be arranged.

    Laura slashed at the crates blocking her line of sight, creating a flaming X that quickly engulfed more of the wood. Shockingly quickly, really, but the strangely pleasant smell suggested containers of tallow inside, which would explain it.

    ¡°Get back belowdecks!¡± the lieutenant shouted.

    Enough of her cover was on fire that Laura felt it better to leave, so she stood up and started walking briskly, hoping to escape notice.

    Apparently she failed, because a booming sound split the air, louder than a thunderclap. Laura risked a look back and saw the lieutenant pointing a metal tube towards her. ¡°Don¡¯t move.¡±

    A pistol, like Aurelian used. It has to be. It looked different from his, but the handle and barrel looked similar enough that it was impossible to imagine it was anything else. This weapon had single handedly won him a fight that he¡¯d otherwise lost. It tore a hole in Leclaire in an instant, dropping her into a pool of her own blood.

    A laugh escaped her mouth as Laura turned around, leveling her sword towards the lieutenant. ¡°Nice pistol. I used to have a friend who had one.¡±

    ¡°Drop your sword,¡± she ordered.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to hear what happened to him? It¡¯s really interesting.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± the prince asked.

    ¡°Luce, don¡¯t. Come on.¡±

    ¡°He became the sun and exploded. He died realizing his ambitions, but couldn¡¯t last a moment beyond them.¡± Laura smiled at, apparently, Prince Luce, trying to unnerve him. And there wasn¡¯t anything funny about it. ¡°Way I hear it, your daddy was right there. He¡¯s the one that plunged the world into darkness, and he murdered Duke Fouchand. And Aurelian Lumi¨¨re, even though he¡¯d done nothing but help him. It¡¯s disgusting.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s Imperial,¡± the prince muttered. ¡°Leclaire¡¯s already sent them help.¡±

    What the fuck did you just say? That insult demands blood.

    ¡°Drop the sword,¡±  the lieutenant ordered again, ignoring her prince¡¯s words.

    ¡°Make me,¡± Laura said, walking closer. At this point, her original plan wouldn¡¯t exactly work, so she was just kind of improvising. It would probably be fine. ¡°You look strong enough to put up a good fight. Draw yours.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to. Do you know what this is?¡± The lieutenant pointed to her pistol with her opposite hand. ¡°I can kill you from here just by squeezing my finger.¡± She had the pistol aimed right at Laura, banking on her ignorance.

    But Aurelian showed me plenty. Those pistols could only fire once before needing another arrow put in their quiver, and the lieutenant had already used hers, with no signs that she¡¯d touched it since.

    Laura swung her sword above her head, growing the flame emanating out from it until the blade was twice as long, or at least its flames. Do you even know who you¡¯re dealing with? I made an earth spirit surrender in a fight in a cave. She spun her sword, stoking the flames further, conjuring a multicolored mirage of red and green and blue, then swished it downwards, angling a crescent of flame towards¡ª

    Crack. The air split anew, and Laura realized her mistake, feeling her shoulder erupt with pain. She heard her sword clatter to the ground without consciously dropping it, slumping to her knees. Bastard had a second pistol¡­

    Laura felt the darkness creep in around the sides of her eyes as she watched the prince and the lieutenant approach her.

    ¡°Find the best doctor in the city. We don¡¯t want her dead before we can find out what she knows. If Camille sent other agents, we¡¯re better off knowing about them. We need some idea of how deep this goes before I know the best way to respond.¡±

    ¡°At once. I¡¯ll have your guard secure Charenton. With Ticent gone, they¡¯ll have to obey. Defying us means open rebellion without him there to direct them, and with meager cause at that.¡±

    ¡°Good. Leave Sidney and the crew with seven guards aboard the ship, and have the rest assemble at the¡­¡± His words drifted away, somehow more distant even as he crept closer.

    ¡°Fuck¡­¡± Laura grunted, or tried to, as she felt herself slip away. ¡°Fuck Leclaire¡­¡± I¡¯m not here to do her dirty work, you pistol-wielding pricks. And if she woke up, she wasn¡¯t going to tell them a damned thing. Let them draw their own conclusions and keep jumping at shadows.

    As long as I wake up¡­

    The last thing she saw was the lieutenant bending down, brandishing her smoking pistol.

 Fernan VI: The Disfavored

    Fernan VI: The Disfavored

    Guy¡¯s wedding put even the Festival of the Sun to shame. Lit braziers lined the streets through the entire Spirit Quartier, illuminating what Maxime assured were bright banners in the paired colors of Valvert and Bougitte, symbolizing the union between Dorseille and Torpierre.

    Massive tables stretched across the streets, filled to the point of buckling with platters of food, free for all. Fernan could see six whole pigs spread across various tables, still warm from the spit, surrounded by piles of buttery carrots and leeks. Nor were staples neglected, with enough bread and cheese to feed the city for a month.

    Some of the wealthier Montaignards had purchased once-vacant houses in the quartier, and were contributing to the festivities with food and music of their own. ¨¦tienne Morrel, a shipping magnate who¡¯d partnered with Mom on the ice trade projects, had massive crates filled with ice in front of his house, storing tubs of glace, a sort of sweet frozen butter that tasted absolutely exquisite, though with cow¡¯s milk instead of goat it lacked some of the tartness Fernan preferred.

    Philippe Montrouge, the merchant currently imprisoned for allegedly attempting to free Magnifico, was another such owner, though of course he wasn¡¯t able to attend. Michel and Mom, with permission, had opened it up in his place, decorating the front garden with Abel¡¯s best glass statues, abstract shapes that defied any specific form, though Fernan noticed a resemblance to the pulsating walls of G¨¦zarde¡¯s lair in several of them. Especially when Abel let out a light burst of flame so that the glass could catch the light, flickering and dancing within and without.

    Mara was with them, showing off some upside-down sparks of her own under the porch overhang to a group of cheering children. Fernan felt a pang, thinking of Aubaine, trapped away in the castle without the freedom to roam he so desired. It had been one thing when Lucien Renart was in command of the city. Free to come and go as he liked, Fernan hadn¡¯t had much trouble fitting in visits with him, but now, with Guy¡­

    And it was slated to get worse. Soon Aubaine would be sent to foster in Torpierre with the new Lady of Dorseille¡¯s parents, no doubt to learn their craft. The new environs would hopefully offer the poor kid some of what he¡¯d been missing locked up in the castle, but it would make it even harder to visit him, already a delicate matter given the dark looks Fernan got every time he set foot in the castle.

    But Fernan would figure it out. He owed the boy that, and more. There was little doubt that Guy¡¯s new family members intended to train him as a sage in their mold, and that much, Fernan could not abide. Lord Lumi¨¨re did so much wrong, but he freed Aubaine from the grip of Soleil. That much would stand, no matter the cost.

    Fernan waved to Mara, then walked past the house to the next in the line, the old Doumagnot Delune where he¡¯d once met to report his information to Camille Leclaire. Wait¡­ Hadn¡¯t one of the Chalice Mercenaries been named Delune? Fernan hadn¡¯t thought of it at the time, but perhaps it was a distant relative. Or perhaps an assumed name, which Maxime assured him that mercenaries were no strangers to. Fernan tried not to think of them too often, the avalanche perched at the top of the hill and poised to strike at any moment.

    As soon as they returned, there would have to be a reckoning, but the better the Montaignards could position themselves first, the better the hope that it could be resolved peacefully. We only have to stall until I can talk to Camille again. Only a couple weeks to go, now, though they were sure to be precarious ones.

    Now the former Delune residence was owned by Laurence S¨¦zanne, the doctor who never spared an opportunity to dish out compliments with the back of his hand. When Edith Costeau had been invited to sing at the ceremony inside the castle, S¨¦zanne had filled the void of music with a reproduction pulsebox and a bard of his own, though given that the screeching compositions seemed identical to the ones Magnifico had used in the Singer¡¯s Lounge, this bard apparently wasn¡¯t yet adept at working the device.

    Much as Fernan disliked that infernal collection of noises masquerading as music, the pulsebox had drawn quite a crowd, and the bard clearly knew it, strutting in front of the pulsebox and beginning a song.

    ¡°Now is the time to remember the fall of the foolhardy sage of Flammare.¡± He must have managed at least one original track, or perhaps taken the sheet from Costeau, since the pulsebox music had changed to something Magnifico had never played. ¡°She coveted all that her master deplored and held treachery fast to her heart.¡±

    Oh no.

    ¡°So she turned on Flammare, led him straight to his death, at the hands of Florette, bandit queen of the we-e-est!

    In the dark, of the night

    They conspired, in their plot

    And perhaps there was more

    But disclose, I shall not.

    And Flammare breathed his last!

    Severed link to the past!

    And the bandit did flee.

    From the sage, filled with glee-ee-ee!¡±

    ¡°Is he talking about our Florette?¡± Maxime asked, coming up from behind out of nowhere. ¡°I¡¯d heard about her role in the death of Flammare, but I wasn¡¯t aware that she¡¯d¡ª¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t.¡± Fernan wrinkled his nose. ¡°Laura had nothing to do with it. At all. You tell that to anyone stupid enough to listen to this song.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± Maxime nodded. ¡°You would know.¡±

    Damn it. ¡°She told me afterwards,¡± Fernan lied. If he could trust anyone with the truth that didn¡¯t already know, perhaps it was Maxime, but a public event like this wasn¡¯t the time.

    ¡°And after the death, of the heart of the hearth, in the glow of her vile perfidy,

    The treacherous, erstwhile sage of Flammare, would have done better simply to flee,

    But she wasn¡¯t content

    with the one victory.

    Her bloodlust was unbound,

    Detached from decency-y-y!¡±

    ¡°Hey, idiot,¡± Fernan hissed to the bard, jets of green flame slipping past his teeth. ¡°Don¡¯t you know who Count Guy Valvert just married? What do you think is going to happen when she hears that song? She¡¯ll invite you inside to play at the wedding?¡±

    ¡°Sire Montaigne? I¡ª¡± The bard glanced down at the pulsebox, still chirping the accompaniment. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t play it inside, of course, but out here, I thought that¡ª Monsieur S¨¦zanne was delighted when I first played it to him. The Foolhardy Sage of Flammare, I mean. You can ask him.¡±

    ¡°His opinion is not what matters here.¡±

    ¡°Well, Sire, he¡¯s the one paying me, so¡­¡±

    Fernan closed his fist, then opened it again. ¡°They just arrested a merchant because the Mar¨¦chal owed him money.¡± Probably, anyway. ¡°Do you think S¨¦zanne is going to save you if the Countess Valvert wants to throw you in chains? Or if Guy thinks it would impress his new wife? Things are tense enough around here as it is.¡±

    ¡°Sire, I understand your concerns, but Monsieur specifically requested it. He¡¯s liable to dock my pay if I don¡¯t deliver what I promised.¡± He waved his head towards the restless crowd. ¡°If I may¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re singing lies! You can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Would sixty florins cover any dissatisfaction from your patron? I¡¯d like to put in a request.¡± Maxime cut in, thankfully. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it would be anything less than enchanting to hear The High King¡¯s Fall accompanied by the bitter tones of this Avaline marvel.¡±

    The bard¡¯s mouth twisted back and forth for a moment. ¡°Eighty.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    ¡°Deal.¡± Maxime dug for another twenty florins and dropped them in the bard¡¯s instrument case, sitting open on the ground. ¡°I bid you well in your performance.¡±

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    He shouldn¡¯t have needed a bribe to stop slandering someone who did nothing wrong.

    Maxime must have noticed the glower on Fernan¡¯s face as they walked away, since he pulled Fernan towards Morrel and handed him a tin of glace. ¡°Eat, I bid you, lest it melt into cream.¡±

    Fernan closed frowning lips around a spoonful, feeling the sweetness fill his mouth. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°It seemed rather the thing to do, in my estimation. You would do well to remember that not everyone knows as much as you do, and they are each liable to act accordingly.¡±

    But whose fault is that? ¡°I did something bad, Maxime. I thought it was what I had to do, maybe it was, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Later,¡± Maxime interrupted, holding a finger to Fernan¡¯s lips. ¡°When fewer ears are about.¡±

    ¡°Careful where you put that.¡± Fernan pushed Maxime¡¯s hand away with his own. ¡°You don¡¯t want to get burned.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m no stranger to the sensation, I¡¯m afraid. But my experiences have rather inured me to the risk. Fear not, I shall exercise all caution due.¡±

    What is that supposed to mean?

    Fernan was spared the need to find a response by the arrival of F¨¦lix, calling his name from the mouth of the chateau path.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Fernan ducked away, walking through the crowds toward F¨¦lix, who apparently had been invited to the ceremony inside.

    ¡°Fernan! There you are! The Countess is looking for you. She bids you enter and pay your respects.¡±

    So she wants to kill me after all. Fantastic. ¡°Thanks for the message, F¨¦lix. I¡¯ll head up now.¡± Fernan patted him on the back as he passed by, realizing that the functionary didn¡¯t seem to be headed back towards the castle. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll let you back inside too.¡±

    F¨¦lix chuckled nervously. ¡°If it¡¯s all the same to you, I¡¯d rather not spend another hour listening to the Mar¨¦chal¡¯s Winter War stories. Guy bid me to entertain him, but now that I have an excuse to be elsewhere¡­¡±

    ¡°Say no more.¡± Though it means I¡¯ll be going in alone. ¡°Make sure to grab a glace from Morrel¡¯s. Not something you can usually get at this elevation, let alone during autumn.¡±

    The path to the castle was narrow, lined with two troughs of fire on either side all the way up to the gates, winding up the mountain back and forth. The guards were only blocking entry at the doors, so no shortage of people had drifted up towards the courtyard, perhaps trying to catch a few notes of Edith Costeau¡¯s performance.

    Fernan hadn¡¯t been in the great hall of Chateau d¡¯Oran much, since there hadn¡¯t really been any events to attend, but the chamber had been so transformed that it was impossible to miss, bedecked with massive hanging banners and so many lamps that it felt warm even with the wind whipping in from the balcony. A massive fire was roaring in the hearth, throwing shadows past the dais in front of it, where Count Guy Valvert was dining with his new wife.

    Guy didn¡¯t notice him come in, but the new Lady Valvert certainly did, staring at Fernan with such hatred in her aura that he could almost feel the ground quake underneath him. She curled one finger towards herself, beckoning him closer, so Fernan walked up cautiously to meet her, squeezing past a servant carrying a platter of swordfish and lemon. Xandre, if he remembered correctly, though it was hard to be sure.

    ¡°C-Congratulations, Lady Bougitte. Lady Valvert, I mean. I¡¯ve been greatly enjoying the celebration outside, and it''s an honor that you invited me in.¡±

    Lady Valentine Valvert had a sturdy aura, almost blending into the floor with the trail of her dress, no doubt of the finest quality, though Fernan couldn¡¯t exactly verify that himself. Maybe I should have brought Maxime for descriptions, he has such a way with words. But that would mean dragging him further into all of this, which wouldn¡¯t be right.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± she practically hissed. ¡°No apology for what you did to my sister? For killing her familiar and slandering her into exile? I see that Laura had you pegged perfectly, a backstabbing scoundrel of a High Priest, with no shame at all for what you did.¡±

    Fernan kept his face neutral, trying not to let any of his guilt show. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that she feels that way. As I told Laura, I had no involvement in Flammare¡¯s death. I wasn¡¯t even at the Convocation, I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just had your bandit queen friend do your dirty work while you reaped all the rewards without lifting a finger of your own.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Disgusting.¡±

    She must have heard the song. ¡°If there¡¯s anything I can do for you or Laura, please don¡¯t hesitate to let me know.¡±

    Lady Valentine laughed, a harsh, cruel sound. ¡°Truly, you lack all shame and decency. Did you truly think I¡¯d believe your lies over the words of my own sister?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to believe anything, but I¡¯m telling you¡ª¡±

    ¡°More lies. Listen here, ¡®Sire¡¯ Montaigne. Laura did all she could for me and my family, and because of you, she can never return. We¡¯re lucky she¡¯s even alive, after what she¡¯s been through in the Grottes de Merle de Gaume.¡±

    The caves where they had the convocation to replace Flammare? Laura was there? Why hadn¡¯t G¨¦zarde mentioned it? All he¡¯d said was that Fala hadn¡¯t succeeded in his bid, but that Taureneo hadn¡¯t won either.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure it was quite a tribulation.¡±

    ¡°Heh.¡± She shook her head in disbelief. ¡°Your gall is truly without peer, but it will not save you.¡±

    ¡°From what, exactly?¡± Are you going to attack me now, at your own wedding?

    ¡°That arrogance again. I¡¯m not unaware of the favors you¡¯ve done for the Fox-King, and my new cousin by law. Nor your exalted position for the new Sun, illegitimately as it was gained. You might have a chance in a trial, perhaps, and escape all justice for what you¡¯ve done. My lord husband has told me plenty of your manipulations at the last one, which might just as easily be turned to evil as to good. So I¡¯m offering you one chance. Leave Guerron now, and never return. Go back to your pissant village, or follow your outlaw friend, or die in the Arboreum war. I care not. But you are not welcome here.¡±

    Fernan gulped. ¡°Has Lord Valvert heard¡ª¡±

    ¡°My husband will not save you, you louche little churl. He¡¯s grown quite tired of you already, and agrees that preserving your lands and titles is gratitude enough for your actions at the trial. Stay, and those will be forfeit, along with your life.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have me killed?¡± For what amounts to a suspicion? It¡¯s correct, but¡­ So many more lives would have been lost if I hadn¡¯t. And Laura is still alive, she¡¯s still free. It¡¯s not fair what we did to her, but¡­ Have I truly earned death for it?

    Lady Valentine let out another laugh. ¡°Of course not. That wouldn¡¯t be fair to Laura, nor what she would want.¡±

    ¡°Oh. So¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d kill you myself, and bury what¡¯s left of you so deep in the earth that your little friends could never find it. I won¡¯t give you the same three days to run that your friend was so generously granted. If I see you again, the earth will swallow you whole before you have the chance to regret it. If any of my guards find you, they¡¯ll bring you to me. My husband¡¯s swords have been given the same instructions. So I suggest that you be on your way.¡±

    Fernan didn¡¯t need to hear it again. Exercising the better part of valor, he marched out of the banquet so fast he was practically flying. Once he passed the threshold of the courtyard, ¡®practically¡¯ became ¡®actually¡¯, quick enough to land in front of Maxime and Michel within moments.

    He caught a few phrases of conversation about the jailed Philippe Montrouge before they noticed his arrival, and he took the opportunity in the pause to fill them in on Valentine Valvert¡¯s ultimatum.

    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m thinking I should do it. If I leave, that can spare everyone else the disfavor.¡± The isolation would be grueling, to be sure. Nearly all of the remaining villagers had filtered out of the mountainside during the times of darkness, and those who¡¯d managed to stay and survive were not likely to be the social type. Mom had her business with the ice trade, just starting to gear back up after such a prolonged halt, and Michel would doubtless stay with her. His ties to Guerron were deep in their own right, too. Mara and her siblings were thriving so much here that Fernan couldn¡¯t ask them to give it up to go home. Maxime was only here as long as the Condorcet representatives wanted to stay, and they seemed to only be sticking around to support the Montaignards.

    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Michel said, cutting through Fernan¡¯s dark fantasies. ¡°Without you, M. Montrouge has no sage to stand for him in his trial. They¡¯ll execute him. And then, once they¡¯ve seen how to steal from us without consequence, more of us will be next.¡±

    Maxime nodded. ¡°And you would do well to consider the Chalice Mercenaries. The moment they return, the matter of the geckos¡¯ coal must be resolved, one way or another. Without you, it will be all the more difficult to find a peaceful solution.¡±

    ¡°If one is even possible,¡± Michel added. ¡°Fernan, don¡¯t you see it? They started with Philippe, now they¡¯re exiling you¡­ Where does it end? Montaignards have to look out for each other. Not to mention the fact that your mother would kill me if I let you slink away alone.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure Montrouge is innocent?¡± Fernan asked, torn in a thousand different directions. ¡°I know how it looks, but if I¡¯m really doing this¡­¡±

    ¡°From what I know of Philippe, he wouldn¡¯t conspire with Avalon. He lacks the boldness, for one thing. But that isn¡¯t even the point.¡± Michel stepped forward, placing a hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Fernan, you weren¡¯t trained as a solicitor, so I don¡¯t blame you for thinking that way, but even the guilty need fair representation. Limited as its scope might be, that¡¯s the core of the Code Renart. But without a sage to stand for the accused, someone who can be trusted to act in their interest, they¡¯re condemned without even seeing a trial. Even if that happens to a guilty man, it¡¯s an injustice.¡±

    ¡°But this isn¡¯t just about one injustice. If I stay here, if I show up to the trial¡­ At best, Lady Valvert will try to have me killed. And unless you all want to just let that happen, she and Guy will come after you, too. It could mean violence.¡±

    ¡°We shall hope it does not,¡± Michel said softly. ¡°But if I must choose between standing with you and passively allowing Valvert to trample all over the people of Guerron, my mind is more than made up.¡±

    That¡¯s easy for you to say, but we¡¯d be dragging so many more people into this than just us. ¡°Maxime?¡±

    The Condorcet guard sighed. ¡°You know how I abhor violence, Fernan. But injustice is little better, and we may be past the point where conflict can be averted at all.¡±

    ¡°Well past it,¡± Michel added. ¡°We have offered every opportunity for our demands to be met without violence, and in return they imprison and exile us for daring to speak out. With or without you, Fernan, we intend to stand with Montrouge, and Valvert will respond how we all expect him to.¡±

    ¡°Do not forget that the moment the Chalice Mercenaries return, it could mean open war between them and the geckos without you there to mediate. If you must flee for your own well-being, I cannot condemn you for it, but if you truly seek my thoughts, then you must stay. Even if any meager chance of peace yet remains, it surely requires your presence. No one else has both the favor of the Fox-King and the trust of the Montaignards, the gratitude of the Duchess and the patronage of the Sun. Fernan, you are needed here.¡±

    Damn it, I know they¡¯re right, but¡­

    This was a decision that couldn¡¯t be walked back. Lady Valvert had made herself extremely clear, and left precious little in the way of options. She hates me for good reason, but this is bigger than just me¡­ I can¡¯t leave the Montaignards behind.

    Fernan took a deep breath, feeling the flame in his chest swell and recede. ¡°Then we¡¯d best start preparing for the trial.¡±

 Florette VIII: The Called-Upon

    Florette VIII: The Called-Upon

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about the mess.¡± Florette gestured to the piles of books and papers scattered around her side of the room, cut off sharply at the dividing line where her space ended and Opal¡¯s began. ¡°Trying my best not to fail my thermodynamics examination tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Thermo?¡± Rebecca wrinkled her brow. ¡°That¡¯s not really the kind of class you need to study for. Thorburton only tests on the bare minimum; the heart of your mark comes from project work.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t,¡± Florette said, examining her guest.

    Rebecca shrugged with a tilt of her head, jostling her dangling earrings. They were shaped like some kind of bird or bat, wings extended so wide that the body was almost nothing by comparison; probably some creature native to Avalon. More interesting was the muted orange vest, accented by a red jacket with a tall collar.

    ¡°Like it?¡± She smiled. ¡°Might not feel like it after the dark winter we just escaped from, but it is autumn. Want me to wait outside while you get ready?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? You said to meet at a quarter past six so we could pick up a gift on the way. Isn¡¯t it time to go?¡±

    ¡°Well, that was what I had in mind.¡± She bit her lip in a terribly familiar way, making Florette briefly wonder what she was even doing here. ¡°Just wasn¡¯t sure if you needed a bit more time. Toby¡¯s not one to stand on ceremony, so we can certainly spare it. But if you¡¯re ready, yeah, let¡¯s go!¡± She threw the door open dramatically, causing it to slam against the wall and bounce back into a closed position. ¡°Crap, sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Florette opened the door again, leading the way out. Maybe I will be underdressed, but it¡¯s not like I have anything all that suitable anyway.

    Regardless, Rebecca was right about the season. Spending all her time inside working in the library, Florette had scarcely noticed the red leaves on all the trees until now. Strange, to see so many of them like that, rather than a scattered few, near to the ground, fighting their losing battle against the seasons before surrendering to winter.

    ¡°Everything look good with the essay?¡±

    ¡°Definitely. I just finished getting it all stitched together, editing the style to match a bit more. You¡¯ve got a really florid style, I was kinda surprised.¡±

    What the fuck is that supposed to mean? ¡°Surprised?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, in a good way. I mean you¡¯re so practical, you know? To the point. And then you managed to make a bureaucratic program for scientific development sound like a tragically doomed battle for Avalon¡¯s soul. I wouldn¡¯t have thought you had such a way with words. Do you write? Outside of schoolwork, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Nope. I read a lot, but that was probably the first time I¡¯d picked up a pen in months.¡± Florette wrinkled her eyebrows. ¡°Can I see the changes you made? I don¡¯t want all my future work to use the wrong style.¡±

    ¡°Of course, but I don¡¯t want you to worry.¡± Rebecca grabbed Florette¡¯s arm, a smile across her face. ¡°It was great, really. I¡¯m so used to churning out whatever uninspired dreck will get me the highest mark, I almost forget that trying to write something good was an actual option.¡± She stopped, turning off from the street. ¡°Here¡¯s the shop. I wasn¡¯t really sure which direction to go, so I figured it¡¯d be best to try a place with a bit of everything.¡±

    Shop? This is a palace. Dozens of people were streaming in and out the doors, a massive row better befitting an opera house, and the interior did little to dispel the comparison, with four stories of balconies looking out over a massive open great hall. Florette thought she saw models posing atop square white platforms, but closer inspection revealed them to be mannequins, wearing a colorful menagerie for admiring onlookers.

    ¡°Even blue?¡± Florette muttered, running her fingers across a woolen scarf hanging from a mannequin¡¯s head. ¡°Do you know how expensive that dye is?¡± She glanced down at a paper tag affixed to it, showing what was presumably the price: eight hundred mandala. ¡°Oh, nevermind.¡±

    ¡°If you want to stop by the clothing section, we have time. I¡¯m thinking maybe wine for Toby, no one ever turns that down.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Let¡¯s head there first.¡±

    That meant descending a massive staircase towards the cellars, with aisles upon aisles of racks, each boasting dozens of bottles. Most of the space was devoted to beer and spirits, the former encased in glass bottles small enough to fit in one hand, though there were barrels present as well.

    ¡°They make wine in Bellowton?¡± Florette asked, examining a bottle.

    ¡°Technically,¡± Rebecca scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s fine enough if you just want something cheap and don¡¯t mind a bomb of fruit going off in your mouth, but even for the price, you¡¯re better off with brandy. This is a gift, so we¡¯re aiming a little higher. Something imported, Rhanoir maybe.¡± She picked up a bottle of Mernuit from the ?le de Lunette, eyeing the hundred-thirty mandala price.

    ¡°That¡¯s a six-florin wine.¡± Florette gently grabbed the bottle and put it back, feeling her fingers glance against Rebecca¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m sure it costs to import it, but I¡¯m going to go ahead and guess that they¡¯re gouging people who don¡¯t know any better.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, I didn''t even think to ask Miss Malin here. Of course you¡¯d be an expert.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that, but I¡¯m happy to help.¡± Camille would keel over if she heard you call me one, Florette thought with a smile. ¡°There, that one. La Jaubertie. It¡¯s excellent, not too fruity, reasonably well-regarded, and they haven¡¯t marked it up too much either.¡±

    ¡°Perfect, thank you!¡±

    ¡°Should I bring a gift too?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never even met him.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Besides, this one¡¯s basically from both of us, thanks to your expertise.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t bring enough to pay for half, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Thanks to your expertise. Don¡¯t worry about that.¡± Rebecca grabbed the bottle and began walking to the sales counter. ¡°Wait, you don¡¯t have even thirty mandala with you? What if you need fare for a carriage in an emergency?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never even been in a carriage.¡± Unless that wagon counts, from when I was robbing the railyard. Florette figured that it didn¡¯t. ¡°Dealt with plenty of emergencies when they come calling, and I¡¯ve managed so far.¡±

    ¡°Plenty? Like what?¡± Raising her eyebrows, Rebecca smiled at Florette. ¡°Obviously the darkness is one, but¡­¡±

    Oh, you know, robbed a train, assassinated one of your governors, dueled the Queen of Winter, slew the very sun in the sky before his reign of tyranny could begin. Standard stuff, really. Florette pressed her lips back, trying to look off into the distance. ¡°It¡¯s personal, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°No, of course. Stupid of me to ask. Sorry.¡± Rebecca turned her head away, muttering a nearly inaudible ¡°fuck¡±, then apologized again.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, really. I¡¯d rather we just stop talking about it.¡± Florette frowned. Should I even be going to this? A party meant drinking, or standing out by not drinking, neither of which was super conducive to smoothly maintaining her cover. It wasn¡¯t like it was strictly necessary, or even directly beneficial to the mission.

    Not directly.

    Fortunately, the party venue, a hotel known as The Lumper, was in the same neighborhood as the shop, Seaworn, which The End of Time had obliquely alluded to as the dingiest, poorest district within Cambria¡¯s walls. Of course, that was over a hundred years ago, and more than half the city was outside of those walls now.

    Certainly, that old description didn¡¯t seem accurate any more, if the multi-story shops and scenic overlooks of the Lyrion sea were anything to go by. Though the steep slopes did make traversal slightly less smooth, which was more of a problem for Rebecca than anything, given she was winded by the time they made it to the club.

    Florette couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the mild misfortune, though she tried to hide it.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Rebecca panted, though Florette hadn¡¯t said anything. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault you¡¯re apparently half mountain-goat.¡±

    ¡°True enough. But didn¡¯t you say the party¡¯s on the sixth floor? You¡¯ve got a lot of stairs ahead of you. I don¡¯t mind waiting if you want to catch your breath.¡±

    Rebecca grinned, letting out a slight laugh. ¡°Prepare to be amazed.¡± She led the way inside, walking straight past the staircase towards what looked like a massive birdcage, large enough to fit five people, hanging from thick cables stretching towards the ceiling above. Inside was a neatly dressed man in a grey hat and jacket, who opened the door for them as they approached.

    ¡°Is this safe?¡± Florette muttered, divining its purpose from context.

    ¡°Tower-approved. Not a single failure since they were put in,¡± the operator answered, holding the doors open. ¡°But if you¡¯re worried, you¡¯re welcome to take the stairs. Just back that way.¡±

    Imagine Robin Verrou finding out I kept my cover perfectly, only to fall to my death from a mechanical failure, Florette thought as she nervously followed Rebecca inside. Though if something really goes wrong, I suppose I do have Glaciel¡¯s ring on me. It might be possible to stick to the sides, though it would mean trying to freeze the entire cage in place as it was plummeting down, which wasn¡¯t a particularly enticing possibility.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright to be scared.¡± Rebecca grabbed Florette¡¯s hand and squeezed. ¡°I was too, the first few times.¡±

    The operator fiddled with the dials in front of him, and the winches began to turn, slowly pulling the cage upwards, creaking ominously every step of the way.

    Florette¡¯s knuckles were white by the time they reached the top, and she practically flew out of the doors the moment they opened. ¡°Has anyone ever told you that you¡¯re reckless?¡±

    ¡°Never. I tend to play it safe.¡± Rebecca shrugged. ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Florette burst into laughter, feeling her body shake. Once she¡¯d composed herself, she said, perfectly straight-faced, ¡°Me neither.¡±

    ¡°Well, if that isn¡¯t a relief. Come on, it¡¯s this way.¡±

    The moment Rebecca opened the door, music flooded Florette¡¯s ears, infused with the same otherworldly quality as Magnifico¡¯s pulsebox. Although this was richer somehow, more complete, like someone had tried to split the difference between the impossible chirping of the pulsebox with the sound of actual instruments. There was a recognizable bass sound, and even twangy approximations of flutes and brass. Honestly, after a moment to adjust, it wasn¡¯t bad. Just strange, weirdly more so than the pulsebox for trying to bridge the gap.

    ¡°They¡¯re over there.¡± Rebecca pointed towards a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Lyrion sea, the height of the building allowing a view over the walls. As they walked up, Florette could even see an island to the far left, surrounded by iron ships glinting in the sunset, a squat grey building sitting atop it.

    She began to hear bits of conversation as they approached the guest of honor, sitting next to another boy on a sofa.

    ¡°...Honestly, I¡¯d rather they enjoy it. The technology is just a vehicle for the music, and now thousands of people across the world will hear it who never would have otherwise.¡± Tobias Folsom¡¯s hair was unkempt, light brown, his stature short.

    ¡°But it was stolen from you. You¡¯re saying everything should be free just because some pirate said so?¡± The boy he was talking to looked faintly familiar, though Florette couldn¡¯t entirely place it.

    ¡°Well, sure, I probably deserve a cut that I¡¯m never going to get. But it¡¯s not like I need the money. And it means that any music I make has potential to go international. Shit, I can even sell the sheets to people with pirate-copied machines if turning a profit is so important. I think grousing about it is missing the potential here. In fact¡ª¡± Folsom turned to face them as they approached. ¡°Rebecca! Glad you make it.¡± He snickered, seemingly at some inside joke, then turned to Florette. ¡°And who might you be?¡±

    ¡°Srin Sabine, from Malin, by way of Chaya.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s with me,¡± Rebecca said, thrusting the wine bottle towards him. ¡°This is from both of us. Congratulations, Toby!¡±

    ¡°Ooh, imported. Thank you.¡± He set the wine down on the table. ¡°Sabine, this is Kelsey Thorley. It might be hard to see him behind his titanic obsession with trains.¡±

    ¡°Thorley, huh?¡± No wonder he looks familiar.

    ¡°Yeah, I was going to ask, since you¡¯re from Malin. My dad did some work over there, setting up the railroad. Celice Thorley. Did you know him?¡±

    ¡°By reputation. I didn¡¯t have the pleasure of meeting him in person.¡±

    Thorley snorted. ¡°Some reputation. His security was lax enough to let a pirate make off with priceless engine specifications and irreplaceable books, and then Prince Luce sacked him for it.¡± He let out a short laugh. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m hardly doing any better. Luce tapped me to replace my father, I was all set to go, and then the sun winked out like a day-old candle.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t let him get started,¡± Folsom insisted. ¡°He¡¯s psychologically incapable of seeing the bright side.¡±

    Psychologically? What does that even mean?

    ¡°Well, Toby, when you get offered the job of a lifetime, and then the world nearly ends, and when the fog clears, you find out your employer was usurped by an evil sorceress and you have to repeat your last term at school, then you¡¯re welcome to complain about me complaining. Obviously, Khali hates me.¡±

    Rebecca jumped onto the sofa across from them, pulling Florette down next to her. ¡°Just because you have a good reason this time, Kelsey, it doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re not all sick of hearing you whine.¡±

    ¡°Oh, the betrayal!¡± Kelsey pounded his fist against his heart, making a pained expression. ¡°Rebecca, you of all people should be with me on this. You¡¯re in the same boat.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not exactly the same.¡± She frowned, eyes darting between Florette and Kelsey.

    ¡°What happened? Other than the school thing, that much I¡¯m pretty familiar with by now.¡± Florette tried to gauge Rebecca¡¯s expression, downcast but earnest. ¡°Unless you don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not really much to say. I did a big favor for Prince Harold, and he said he¡¯d talk to his brother to get me a Tower job straight out of school. But shit happened, Prince Luce is gone, and I¡¯m guessing our bonny prince forgot all about it by now. I¡¯ll be on my own once I graduate.¡± She held up her hands, feigning indifference. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±

    Obviously not, but I¡¯ll leave that be. No point in prodding at an open wound.

    ¡°He was never going to give you that job anyway,¡± a high voice said, coming up from behind them with a stumbling gait. ¡°All he wanted were gardeners and typists. It¡¯s a wonder he didn¡¯t run the Tower entirely into the ground before he was sacked.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of bitterness,¡± Rebecca mumbled. ¡°Sabine, this is Olivia Esterton.¡±

    ¡°Charmed,¡± Florette lied, reaching out to shake her hand.

    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± she slurred. ¡°You¡¯re that know-it-all from Alcock¡¯s class. Hate to say it, but memorizing his books won¡¯t make him notice you, not the way you want.¡± She snorted. ¡°You sure can pick ¡®em, Rebecca. Is it a problem when she calls out Alcock¡¯s name in bed?¡±

    ¡°Olivia!¡± Toby practically shouted. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°You know she¡¯s from the western isles, right? What would your father think?¡±

    Rebecca stood up, planting herself right in Olivia¡¯s face. ¡°My father¡¯s opinion on my life is irrelevant. As is yours. I understand that you¡¯re feeling ill tonight, so I¡¯m going to be generous and forget about this. Go home and rest.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not¡ª¡± Her face scanned the disapproval from Toby and even Kelsey, then curled into a pout. ¡°Fine! Nobody can handle a joke anymore, damn.¡± Nostrils flared, she spun around and marched towards the exit.

    No one released the breath they were holding until the door had closed behind her.

    ¡°I am so sorry about her. Her father works for mine, so we have to include her, but¡­¡± Rebecca shook her head. ¡°I hope it didn¡¯t ruin the night for you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, really. She didn¡¯t even try to kill me.¡±

    Kelsey let out a chuckle. ¡°Well, if you see her with a metal glove, crackling with energy, be on your guard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be careful.¡±

    And careful she was. Florette sipped slowly from her glass, taking care not to drink too much, and as the party wore on, she found that she didn¡¯t even need to pretend.

    Rebecca, it seemed, did not share the same inhibitions, and it was scarcely an hour before she passed out on the sofa.

    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine,¡± Kelsey assured. ¡°This happens all the time. I¡¯ll call a carriage to get her home.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I was worried I¡¯d have to carry her.¡±

    ¡°Ha! I bet she¡¯d love that.¡±

    ¡°Kel, don¡¯t.¡± Toby smacked him lightly on the arm. ¡°We should probably be going as well. It was a pleasure meeting you, and thanks to you both for the wine.¡±

    ¡°Hope you enjoy it.¡±

    Florette waited until she could see Rebecca¡¯s carriage speeding away, her friends keeping an eye on her within it, then began the long walk back. At least it was downhill this time. And Cambria did a remarkable job with its lamps, with at least one on every block, most of them still lit even this deep into the night.

    In fact, they seemed to be getting even more frequent as she went, since the street was only getting brighter.

    Warmer too.

    Florette picked up her pace, walking faster, then running towards the orange glow in the distance. The closer she got, the more onlookers she had to slip by, the more obvious it was that something was seriously wrong.

    Finally, passing through the gates to the production district, she laid eyes on the fire. An entire building was lit up like a candle, burning bright, with smoke trailing up from the top. Worse, the fire had already spread to the two factories next to it, and didn¡¯t look like it was slowing down at all.

    ¡°Miss, back up. You have to stay on the other side of the gate. It¡¯s not safe here.¡± A man in a pointy hat and what looked like a slightly modified Guardian uniform started waving his hands back towards the gate. ¡°Now!¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, hustling back towards the crowd. She heard a crash as she crossed the threshold, and looked back just in time to see a jet of flame escape from one of the windows, shattering glass as it went.

    Their factories are burning¡­ Florette hid her smile, obviously, but either Avalon had made a horrific mistake, or she wasn¡¯t the only one in Cambria working against the regime. I hope it wasn¡¯t Christophe, though. She¡¯d been very clear with him not to do anything like this, and arson didn¡¯t exactly fit his aesthetic either, but he had been a bit overeager sometimes¡­

    ¡°What happened?¡± Florette asked no one in particular, quickly hearing her question buried in a sea of hushed conversations.

    ¡°It¡¯s war, plain and simple. That sorceress sent her pet flame warlock to kill us all.¡±

    ¡°Starting in the production district? It¡¯s sabotage. One of those whiny do-no-work anarchists thought they could get out of it with a bit of arson. You know how troublesome they¡¯ve been lately.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t they wait until the shift was over then? There¡¯s got to be a hundred people trapped inside there.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Florette was louder this time, eyes flicking from the crowd to the fire, her glee abruptly vanishing. ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the night. Hasn¡¯t everyone gone home?¡± If I¡¯d done this, I would have made absolutely sure. Triple-checked every last corner.

    This time, she did get a response, from a man in a round hat with a large mustache, the same one who¡¯d been complaining about the ¡®whiny anarchists¡¯. ¡°They go home when the work is done. Otherwise it¡¯d be bedlam. If you¡¯re up early, sometimes you see them wandering home, making bawdy jokes and drinking. If it¡¯s not sabotage, I¡¯d wager one of them passed out at their post and started the fire. Or maybe one of those stupid kids. I swear, they start working any younger and the foremen will need bassinets.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ trapped? Like from collapsing rubble?¡±

    The ¡®gentleman¡¯ shook his head. ¡°If it¡¯s anything like my brother¡¯s factory, they keep the doors locked to stop any unauthorized shiftlessness and theft. I swear, these lazy bastards will steal anything that isn¡¯t nailed down if given the chance.¡±

    Without really thinking about it, Florette started moving back towards the gate, only to be blocked by more uniforms with pointy hats, and a barricade they¡¯d since erected. ¡°What¡¯d I say, girl? Get back! Nothing you can do.¡±

    That¡¯s not true at all. She had the Cloak of Nocturne; she had the Ring of Glaciel; she had experience on a battlefield with infernos worse than this.

    People were burning alive right now and they expected her to do nothing. Captain Verrou would want her to do nothing. Stepping in would only risk her cover. Holding back was the smart thing, the lesser evil for the greater good. It wasn¡¯t a risk worth taking. Florette knew it, she knew what she was supposed to do here, what Srin Sabine would do here, it was so obvious.

    But she couldn¡¯t.

    That¡¯s not who I am.

 Luce IV: The Authority

    Luce IV: The Authority

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Charlotte looked expectantly into Luce¡¯s eyes, her expression softer than he was used to. ¡°The Charentine already aren¡¯t exactly your biggest supporters. The docks fire may have fizzled out, but it would only take another spark to light an inferno.¡±

    Luce tore his gaze away, forcing himself to consider the question seriously before giving the final order.

    Across the Sartaire, the dead forest was abuzz with activity, stripped bare for half a mile from the coast while woodcutters continued to press the frontier. Luce had been here only months ago, emerging bedraggled and exhausted from the wasteland to the joyous sight of civilization at last, but the logging operation he¡¯d glimpsed then had changed massively in the time since, in degree if not in kind.

    The sawmill on the Charenton side of the river was thrice the size it had been, expanded with thick stone walls and hastily assembled roofs of thatch. The inundations of unseasonable spring had finally, mostly, subsided, leaving the water wheel operating at close to peak efficiency, the sputtering howl of saws droning on in the distance.

    An impressive operation, if it weren¡¯t for the fact that now we¡¯re robbing the corpse of a forest we murdered.

    Nor was the empty city of Refuge spared, Cya¡¯s revenants pushed aside to extract every last object of value that yet remained. Sir Alcock¡¯s work, apparently, to supply the Tancredi¡¯s new exhibit, though the professor had already delivered the spoils to Cambria and moved on to his next excavation site.

    ¡°Cya is the only reason I¡¯m not rotting in Leclaire¡¯s dungeon right now. I made a promise to protect her forest, and I intend to keep it, come what may.¡± It was the right thing to do, for all that Cya seemed not to understand why drugging someone against their will was wrong.

    ¡°In Malin, you were reactionary.¡± Despite your good advice. Luce nodded, letting her continue. ¡°It left you in a position where you had to scramble to protect your own person, to give up the city to Leclaire. Here, Ticent is gone. Your guard is in command of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°For now.¡± Luce sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not forgetting that I failed horribly there, but this is exactly why I tried to use a light touch in Malin. Bringing Charenton under royal authority is an overreach, for all that Ticent spent decades doing whatever we told him to. No one tried to set my ship on fire then.¡±

    ¡°And you lost control of everything.¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± Luce nodded, coming to a decision. ¡°On its own, shutting all this down will destroy many livelihoods. Even with the sun returned, the corpses of Cya¡¯s children have been fueling the city for months. And it won¡¯t be long before winter arrives. I can¡¯t take over Charenton only to kill it. The Lyrion League would be in open rebellion before the fortnight was out.¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyes widened, softening her stern expression. ¡°I agree. But your deal with Cya¡­¡±

    ¡°It stands.¡±

    ¡°I know you wish to be a man of your word, Prince Luce. Especially after those you trusted failed to do it. It¡¯s one of the things I like most about you. But do not let your honor be the enemy of what must be done.¡±

    Wise counsel, from the most trusted of sources. It was good to see that her reticence to challenge him was gone entirely. Luce liked her much better as a peer than a follower. ¡°I won¡¯t. We¡¯ll just have to find some other way to take the sting out of it, and I think I might have an idea.¡±

    ¡°Should I shut it down, then?¡± Charlotte asked softly, the question hanging on her lips. ¡°Because I fear that the moment I do, your challengers will only grow bolder.¡±

    We should do it now. Every second that this stands is a dagger in the eye of the spirit who saved me from Leclaire and Jethro, a betrayal of my promise, of the hope that Avalon can ever do better.

    But Charlotte was right. As usual. ¡°Not yet. I can¡¯t break out the whip if I don¡¯t even have a cube of sugar in the other hand.¡± Luce pressed his hands together, considering his next move. ¡°Is the assassin awake yet? Will she live?¡±

    Charlotte blinked, bewildered at the change in subject. ¡°She¡¯ll live. Apparently Ticent¡¯s personal physician is good for more than keeping that old bastard alive. She even spoke to me when I stopped in this morning.¡±

    ¡°Really? Did she give anything away?¡±

    Charlotte shook her head. ¡°Not much. I made it about five minutes before she told me to fuck off. Her arm was in a sling, but she was up and walking. The wound missed her lung by less than an inch, or she¡¯d surely be dead.¡±

    ¡°Lucky us.¡±

    ¡°We are lucky. You can¡¯t question a corpse.¡±

    Luce inclined his head, conceding the point. Even if the assassin herself is secondary, it¡¯s worth figuring out how Leclaire got a binder on her side. Two, if Jethro was more than an ally of convenience to oust me. It was looking more and more like Avalon¡¯s defectors were becoming a significant political force in their own right, bolstered by the secret meetings of the Lyrion League.

    Exactly the base of people who ought to be supporting Luce¡¯s reforms, if only they could be convinced it was possible.

    ¡°I want to visit her now. Do you have time to accompany me?¡±

    ¡°Always.¡± Charlotte held her fingers to her mouth and let out a sharp whistle, waving her hands to signal to the guards down the hill. Not yet.

    I¡¯m sorry Cya, but shutting this down will do nothing if I¡¯m driven out on a rail moments later. They¡¯ll just put everything back the way it was.

    They just had to move quickly. There was still a way out of this.

    Now that she was able to move around, the assassin had been moved from the physician¡¯s office to one of the cells under the Magister¡¯s palace, a square building on the water, with a single tower erupting from the top where Luce had positioned his office for his time here.

    Luce could hear the waves of the Lyrion sea splash against the stone as he descended, Charlotte at his side, reminding him of the challenge before him. Perhaps Pantera the Undying would have been better suited, but now the spirit of these waters is Levian, Leclaire¡¯s patron, and no friend to humanity besides. Even Camille would have been cross hearing about the White Night, Luce had no doubt, unless she was even more callous with her allies than he¡¯d thought.

    The sword the assassin bore was far more likely to yield a solution than the obstinate prisoner herself, but it wasn¡¯t going anywhere, unlike the girl here who could still very well die. If that gave Luce an excuse to put off the sort of research that reminded him so heavily of his experiments with Camille, that wasn¡¯t exactly an issue either. All in good time.

    The prisoner was younger than Luce had expected when he¡¯d first glimpsed her, around his own age, with light brown hair just shorter than shoulder length, and eyes full of fury. Her shoulder was heavily bandaged, arm hanging limp in its sling, and the extravagant red tunic and pants she¡¯d worn at the dock swapped out for dull brown prisoner¡¯s garb.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back.¡± She gave a mocking smile, speaking unaccented Imperial. ¡°Welcome to my office. What can I do for you?¡±

    Better than ¡®fuck off¡¯, I guess. ¡°As a starting point, I¡¯d like to know your name.¡±

    ¡°Laura,¡± she answered easily, so easily that it was likely she was lying. But it would do for the moment. ¡°And you¡¯re Prince Luce.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Luce hesitated a moment, then extended his hand, to Charlotte¡¯s visible consternation. ¡°Luce Grimoire, Prince of Crescents. I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard about me, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough. You¡¯re the Prince of Darkness. I guess that explains your get-up.¡± Laura started laughing. ¡°Man, it¡¯s a good thing I didn¡¯t kill you, you¡¯re doing way more damage to Avalon than I ever could.¡±

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°You say that like you had any choice in the matter.¡± Charlotte drew a pistol and aimed it at her. ¡°I assure you, if you don¡¯t give us what we want, I¡¯ll finish the job. Without your weapon, you¡¯re nothing.¡±

    Laura shrugged. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m nothing anyway. Maybe it makes no difference.¡±

    ¡°Where did you get the sword?¡± Charlotte asked, taking a step closer.

    ¡°Hmm, let me think¡­ Oh, I know! I pulled it out of your ass. If you want another one, just check there.¡± Laura turned to look directly at Luce. ¡°Call off your dog, please? It¡¯s hard to have a conversation with her nipping at my heels.¡±

    ¡°No. Answer her question.¡±

    ¡°Well, dog, I¡¯ll tell you what I said this morning. I don¡¯t deal with lackeys. Fuck off.¡±

    Luce sighed, putting his hand to his forehead. It¡¯s like she doesn¡¯t even care. ¡°That¡¯s a binder¡¯s artifact, imbued with power taken from the spirits. And yet you used it to try to kill me.¡±

    ¡°More than half right, but unlike some people, I remember my vows. And I wasn¡¯t trying to kill you, just to fight your dog there.¡±

    ¡°Stop.¡± Luce stepped right in front of her face, staring her down. ¡°Call her that one more time and I¡¯ll chain you under the docks. Now, I¡¯ll ask again, where did you get the sword? Did you bind it yourself?¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse!¡± Laura rolled her eyes dramatically, stepping away with a twirl of her good arm. ¡°It was a gift from a sage, empowered by Volobrin directly. No binding involved.¡±

    If she¡¯s telling the truth¡­ If it¡¯s possible to do that¡­ And it made sense. If Fenouille could empower the riverbanks to be more fertile by a thousandfold in the middle of an artificial winter, why couldn¡¯t a volcano spirit create a flaming sword? Why could any spirit help solve the hunger crisis gripping Avalon, and ease the tensions with the Territories?

    I could cut out sages entirely, deal directly with the spirits. No need for a Camille to twist the plan against me when I¡¯m not looking. There was hope, after all.

    ¡°Is Volobrin close? What is she the spirit of?¡±

    ¡°He lives under Mt. Glastaigne, on the other side of the continent. Unless he took Flammare¡¯s old spot, but it sounded like his plan was to move it. Not really my concern, either way.¡± She leaned back against the wall. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for a closer spirit, Levian represents the Lyrion Sea. And I¡¯d love to see you two meet. I could make the introductions if you like.¡±

    Sounds like a great way to lose my soul, and you just gave away that there¡¯s no need for it. ¡°What about the Rhan? The river must have a spirit, just like Fenouille for the Sartaire.¡±

    ¡°You know about Fenouille?¡± Laura snorted. ¡°Camille must have some strange pillow talk.¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± Charlotte grunted, shoving Laura against the wall. ¡°I noticed how heated you got whenever Leclaire¡¯s name came up. I assure you, we¡¯re no more friends of hers than you are. Prince Luce is trying to save everyone, with the power to let you go free. Be smart.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ No.¡± Laura turned back to Luce, glint in her eye. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re trying this again after how badly you failed in Malin. Seriously, what are you thinking? Are you stupid?¡±

    Maybe. But I tried doing nothing, and it was worse. ¡°Laura, I don¡¯t expect you to understand what it is to be betrayed, to be slandered and painted as a monster to serve someone else¡¯s narrative, but all I¡¯m trying to do here is help. If I can make a deal with the spirits for one last harvest before the onset of winter, I can feed my people and the people here. I can stop the encroachments on Cya¡¯s domain and help her rebuild it. Please, I just need a little bit of information.¡±

    ¡°And then you¡¯ll give me my sword back and let me go?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± he said, at the same time as Charlotte said, ¡°No.¡±

    Laura¡¯s mouth twisted, unimpressed. ¡°You want me to turn my back on my people to help you feed your own, giving important information about the spirits, all in exchange for¡­ nothing? Is that really the deal you¡¯re offering?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to let you go. If you¡¯re telling the truth, you have nothing to do with Camille or the Lyrion League. But even then¡­¡± Luce shook his head. ¡°You did attack us.¡±

    ¡°And set the docks on fire.¡±

    ¡°And insulted Charlotte repeatedly right to her face.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d prefer I do it behind her back? Fine, send her out of the room.¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± This is getting nowhere, and I¡¯ve already got most of what I needed. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Charlotte.¡±

    ¡°Good luck on your delusional quest!¡± she called out to their backs as they left. ¡±Good luck talking to Rhan when you don¡¯t even know about their two forks, or that you need a partner to call them forth. You don¡¯t even know they want to reshape the continent! You¡¯re hopeless.¡±

    She stopped shouting once they were out of sight, almost a shame given all of the useful information she was giving them.

    ¡°Careful taking that at face value,¡± Charlotte said once they were alone. ¡°She might be a bit dim, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s an idiot. She wanted you to know that.¡±

    ¡°I know. And maybe it¡¯s just another layer to a trap, making it more believable than straight-out telling me. Maybe. That¡¯s what Camille would do.¡± Luce gave it another moment of thought, poring over his memories of Laura¡¯s words. ¡°But I think she wanted deniability for herself. Helping Avalon is something any Imperial would be reluctant to do. You know that better than anyone.¡±

    ¡°I know better than anyone that in a desperate spot, you have to do whatever it takes to survive. Looking out for the entire world is something you can only do once you¡¯ve got solid ground under your feet. In Malin, for as long as I can remember, Avalon¡¯s rule was just the way things were. Even when Whitbey killed the Blue Bandit and Lord Arion resigned, nothing really changed. You just have to do what you can with the position you¡¯re in.¡±

    But what does that have to do with what Laura said? Luce kept the thought silent, since it wasn¡¯t often that Charlotte opened up.

    ¡°Anyway, with Laura, now that I have a name, I have a few places in mind to drop it and see what I find. Even if it¡¯s a fake, that might tell us something. There aren¡¯t many people with access to spiritual artifacts, and even fewer that aren¡¯t Avaline binders. And if she really is named Laura, we could hope to get some real leverage on her, and force her to negotiate.¡±

    ¡°But every day that we wait is another betrayal of Cya. And if she was telling the truth, we could reach the Rhan spirit right now.¡±

    ¡°Or lose our souls to her lies. It¡¯s not worth the risk.¡±

    Luce frowned, trying to imagine the consequences of failure. With Camille to provide the introductions, Fenouille had been nothing but friendly, but Corro had been downright disdainful, and Pauvre had needed extra incentives from Camille. It had been precarious, and spirits had ample good reason to hate a prince of Avalon even without factoring in their biases and blindspots.

    What if the Rhan spirit had to be addressed alone, and all the talk of forks and partners was just a way to get them angrier? What would happen to Cya¡¯s forest if Luce was killed by the Rhan? To Avalon? To the world?

    It¡¯s not a risk I can take. Not until I know more. ¡°You¡¯re right. Again. We need more information, assurances, maybe even a vow before the spirits. Camille found a way around it, but she was bound by it, and with better assurances, we could maybe get some security on her promises. Then we contact the spirit of the Rhan, and try to make a deal.¡±

    ¡°Ticent¡¯s palace has a library from before Avalon even existed. Better information on the Rhan spirit might be there, or at least a way to cross-check this Laura¡¯s claims.¡±

    ¡°Then I know how I¡¯m spending my next few days.¡± Luce nodded to himself, trying to plan a course through these treacherous waters. ¡°Can you look into Laura, and continue to keep an eye out for any rebels?¡±

    ¡°At once. But the forest?¡±

    Luce smiled at his own idea, always a good sign. ¡°I¡¯m declaring a holiday. All the millers and woodsmen are to rest for the next week, in celebration of the sun¡¯s return. So it shall be every year from now on.¡±

    ¡°And in the meantime, we can shore up our understanding of the facts.¡± Charlotte smiled. ¡°The mill owner¡¯s not going to like you reaching down over his head to give his workers time off.¡±

    ¡°Too bad for him, there¡¯s nothing he can do about it. If he tries to make them work anyway, throw him in a cell to cool off.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir!¡± The warmth on her face was visible, hints of red in the autumn air, almost enough for Luce to forget that she could probably snap him in half if she cared to.

    ¡°And no ¡®sir¡¯, please. I thought we talked about this.¡±

    ¡°You said no to ¡®Sire¡¯ and ¡®Your Highness¡¯. Not sir.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m saying no to everything but ¡®Luce¡¯. Just with you. I don¡¯t want us¡­ I¡¯d be dead if it weren¡¯t for you, at Jethro¡¯s hand of Camille¡¯s. If I¡¯d listened to you more, sooner, we wouldn¡¯t be dealing with any of these problems. That¡¯s all my fault.¡±

    ¡°Luce¡­¡± She reached out a hand towards his face, then stopped herself, letting it drop to her side. ¡°I¡¯ll look into Laura for you. Two days should be enough, I hope.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll finish my research by then. Laura called the spirit Rhan, not just the river, and the paired forks thing is significant, whether it¡¯s the truth or the opposite. I¡¯ve got a good place to start.¡± Despite having a firm plan, Luce felt strangely disappointed, but this wasn¡¯t the time for wallowing.

    ¡°So do I. She said she was a friend of Aurelian Lumi¨¨re. With her artifact, I¡¯d expect her to be a binder that went with your father, but she didn¡¯t speak highly of him either. So the first step is figuring out what happened in Guerron.¡±

    Guerron. That place had started all of this mess in the first place, the pretext that Father had used to draw Luce to Malin. Where he was imprisoned now. And if Luce¡¯s theory was true, which the timely return of the sun certainly seemed to imply, then Camille had her fingers in it.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± he said, reluctant to say anything more when it could jeopardize the tasks before them. ¡°Guerron¡¯s been a royal mess all year. Khali only knows what¡¯s going on there.¡±

 Fernan VII: The Seditious

    Fernan VII: The Seditious

    ¡°Are you sure you want to go in?¡± Maxime kept his voice soft. ¡°We don¡¯t need you inside, necessarily. If I¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Fernan said in a voice that was not his own. At least this time the basic form of the body was close enough not to feel so deeply wrong as the Laura lookalike, and all it had cost to borrow it for a few hours was introducing Lamante to the Condorcet representatives. What she wanted with them, Fernan hadn¡¯t the slightest idea, but there was no way he was getting inside with his own face, so this was how it had to be.

    Really, it was lucky he¡¯d even been able to find her. If she hadn¡¯t come back from Gaume with G¨¦zarde, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to set the meeting up. As it was, G¨¦zarde had arranged it shockingly quickly, though he¡¯d refrained from committing any of his own help, or that of his children.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡± Maxime peered over the crowd assembled outside the castle gates, filling the courtyard so thoroughly that it spilled down the path, the people furthest back only barely within earshot of Michel¡¯s speech.

    Fernan grabbed Maxime¡¯s hand and led him through the fray, the dust clouds apparently thick enough that he had a real advantage in charting a path.

    Michel was standing on a small stage, barely more than the planks that comprised it, projecting his voice out as far as it could reach. ¡°...we cannot understate the importance of love. Count Valvert doesn¡¯t even understand the concept. Is it not the duty of a leader to provide for his people? We who have bled for the empire are left to fend for themselves. In the wake of the greatest catastrophe the world has seen in a hundred years, the Count wants merely to return to business as usual. The Fox-King was willing to distribute solar energy to grow our crops, but now that aid is at an end. All who have lost family in the White Night are without any pension to provide for them, starving children are to be left out in the cold as winter sets in. Our brothers and sisters who have suffered for years or decades under Avalon¡¯s wrath came to us for help, eager to work and rebuild alongside us, and Valvert turned them away.¡±

    Skirting around the side, Fernan crept closer to the castle gates, lined with guards from wall to wall.

    ¡°Were it indifference alone, we might survive, but Valvert is not content to deny us succor, he must also violate our most basic of liberties. Phillippe Montrouge was accosted and jailed without justification, and now, at the moment of his trial, his representation is being denied. Fernan Montaigne was to stand as a sage in his defense, but Valvert personally threatened to kill him if he appeared today. A hero of the White Night, protector of the innocent, savior of Valvert¡¯s own cousin, condemned to death with no justification at all.¡± Michel raised his voice further for the last sentence, shouting over the roar of the crowd, which had only picked up when Fernan¡¯s name was given.

    Which really isn¡¯t great. This shouldn¡¯t be about me. It wasn¡¯t about Montrouge either, really, or any one person. That was the oath the Montaignards had each taken at dawn, the scarlet dawn light streaming in through the windows of the Sun Temple.

    ¡°Doing no wrong is no longer enough to avoid the executioner¡¯s pyre. Now we must bow to the whims of Valvert¡¯s every evil councilor, gifting upon them the fruit of our labors for nothing, lest we be jailed and killed.¡± Michel paused, letting the roaring outrage build. ¡°Each and every one of us have been taught that this tyranny is our natural state, as inevitable as the sun¡¯s turn. I tell you, it is not! Every one of us has seen that with our own two eyes. There is another way! Wipe clear from your mind the acquiescence and apathy! Break free from the shackles within, and together we can destroy the shackles without!¡±

    The crowd roared in support, though the individual words were impossible to make out. Michel and Mom had done their jobs well, it seemed, gathering sympathetic onlookers to remind the aristocrats that Montrouge was not alone, that all of them stood together. Fernan hadn¡¯t been involved in that, since he wasn¡¯t supposed to be in Guerron at all.

    ¡°We should break this up before it gets out of hand,¡± one of the guards muttered, glancing back inside. Fernan didn¡¯t recognize him, which meant he¡¯d probably come with Lady Valentine.

    ¡°On what grounds?¡± asked another guard, a girl whose aura Fernan had occasionally seen in and around the castle. One of Guy¡¯s. ¡°They¡¯re peacefully assembling outside the castle, complaining about unjust arrests. What do you think happens if we charge in there and threaten them?¡±

    ¡°Then they listen to reason, or they don¡¯t. Either way, we win.¡± The first guard scoffed quietly to himself. ¡°¡®On what grounds¡¯, she says, as if Count Valvert would care in the slightest. Worst case, someone¡¯ll have to clean up the agitator blood from the courtyard.¡±

    It had best not come to that.

    Fernan approached the second one, Maxime in hand, and presented himself before her. ¡°We¡¯re here for the trial. Could you let us in, please?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you see the closed gate? What do you think?¡± The Bougitte guard dipped his spear, blocking the path even more explicitly. ¡°As if anyone would be dumb enough to invite this rabble into their house.¡±

    ¡°But the trials always have a gallery.¡± Duchess Annette¡¯s had been filled with the well-to-do more than anyone else, which was doubtless part of why Guy¡¯s words had been at all effective with them, but peerage still wasn¡¯t a requirement. ¡°You can¡¯t just keep everyone out. Then the whole thing¡¯s being done in secret. It defeats the purpose of a trial.¡±

    ¡°Does it stop criminals from getting what¡¯s coming? No? Then clearly it isn¡¯t a problem.¡±

    Fernan inhaled sharply, weighing his options. He turned back to the more familiar guard, directing his next question her way. ¡°We¡¯re needed inside. You can see we¡¯re not with them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°Orders are orders. It¡¯s not safe to let anyone inside.¡±

    Maxime bristled at that. ¡°What sort of farcical mockery of justice is this? No sages allowed for the defense, no arguments given to allege Montrouge¡¯s guilt, no witnesses allowed? You¡¯ve failed to even present a pretense of justice, and furthermore¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± Fernan held up an assuaging hand, then backed away from the gates.

    ¡°Why did you interrupt my tirade?¡± Maxime hissed, once they were out of the guards¡¯ earshot. ¡°I was creating a distraction for you that you might better gain entry to the trial. Now I fear we¡¯ll have to start over.¡±

    ¡°Michel is distraction aplenty, and there¡¯s another way in for us to take. We knew something like this might happen.¡± Though I really hoped it wouldn¡¯t. Duchess Annette¡¯s trial had been enough of a farce, with biased judges and forged evidence, that Fernan truly hadn¡¯t expected Valvert to sink even lower. Why keep everyone out if you had any intention at all of conducting a fair trial?

    Maxime¡¯s face curled into a frown. ¡°Most likely, your disguise will be forfeit if you take that route, and you¡¯ll be alone in there besides. It would be better to find another way.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t I know it,¡± Fernan sighed, reaching for his mask. He turned to face the steep mountain incline ringing the courtyard, pulling it free and feeling his eyes spark to life in the crisp autumn air. ¡°Give this back to your new pal Lamante, then lead the others down the back way.¡±

    ¡°The thief of faces is hardly a friend. She was more interested in Darce and Courbet anyway¡± Maxime¡¯s aura darkened, but he acquiesced, grabbing the macabre face from Fernan¡¯s hands and tucking it away beneath his cloak.

    Fernan took the opportunity to erupt with a corona of green light, thrusting himself into the air the moment he was sure Maxime was clear of the blast area.

    So much for entering unobtrusively. At least using the mask hadn¡¯t cost much, likely because Lamante supported what they were doing here. Fernan being denied entry was a solvable problem. Everyone else being locked outside was a possibility they¡¯d planned for, but it still had the potential to make things more difficult.

    And it means I need to pull my weight even more at the trial. Everyone else would be busy elsewhere.

    Fernan knew exactly where to go. F¨¦lix had assured him that the chamber was the same one from Annette¡¯s trial, with the same glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling. They were reflecting enough sunlight back that it was easy to spot even from the air.

    A single blast of fire shattered the glass into thousands of pieces, melting into each other on the floor where the heat lingered. Fernan dove through the new hole, landing in the trial chamber with a loud thud.

    Now I have to move very quickly.

    True to the promises of the guards, the gallery was deserted, leaving only the defendant, Montrouge, and Guy Valvert¡¯s coterie, including Sire Louise de Montflanquin, who had her sword pointed at Montrouge¡¯s neck before Fernan could even place her.

    She wasn¡¯t the only one bearing steel, either, with both Guy and Mar¨¦chal Augustin drawing their own blades and waving them towards Fernan.

    Lady Valvert was in attendance as well, though she made no move to draw a weapon. ¡°You were warned, Fernan Montaigne. You will not get a second reprieve.¡±

    Even from up here, with the window open, Fernan could hear the people chanting after Michel in the courtyard below.

    ¡°Philippe Montrouge is on trial, and I wish to stand as the sage in his defense. He has a right to that, does he not?¡±

    ¡°To representation, but not yours.¡± Guy gestured to a guard at his side, who stood up, pointing a crossbow directly at Fernan. ¡°In recognition of what you did for my cousin when no one else would, I¡¯m giving you the chance to fly away right now and never come back. I¡¯d prefer not to have you killed.¡±

    ¡°Have my trial right after his. Throw me on the pyre if I¡¯m found guilty. But he¡¯s owed a defense, and I¡¯m here to grant it.¡±

    Guy shrugged, leaning back in his seat. ¡°Well, we all saw you break the window, and I¡¯m not particularly convinced by your rationale, but I¡¯ll defer to my lady wife. Valentine?¡±

    Lady Valvert¡¯s aura hardened into a red-brown as she stood herself, looking out the broken window to the courtyard below. ¡°We¡¯ll give him all the justice he¡¯s entitled to. And if there¡¯s anything left of him, he¡¯s welcome to stand beside the traitor as his guilt is ruled on.¡±

    Are they actually acquiescing?

    ¡°Very well then.¡± Guy sat back down in his chair, waving the bowmen to lower their crossbows. ¡°As Count of Dorseille and Lord Caretaker of Guerron, I do open this forum to the grievances of my denizens. Who shall issue the challenge?¡±

    ¡°The Empire is the aggrieved party, my lord. And so the counsel for the Empire shall issue the challenge.¡± Valentine¡¯s face pulled back in a smile. ¡°Yves, I will be overseeing this myself. Please wait in the gallery.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Yves de Lougratte, sage of Phoenicia, vacated the solicitor¡¯s podium and retreated to the audience, staring at Fernan as he went. It shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise; he¡¯d been on Lumi¨¨re¡¯s side for an even more blatantly unjust imprisonment, and the unity of the White Night was no more. Still, a disappointment.

    And, now, my problem to solve.

    ¡°Justice!¡± Fernan could hear from the courtyard, one word spoken in hundreds of voices. He couldn¡¯t have been the only one to hear it, either.

    ¡°One moment, Yves. Could you pass my orders down to the guards at the gate? I¡¯d like them to break up this rabble. We¡¯re conducting a legal proceeding, not hosting a tournament m¨ºl¨¦e, and it ought to sound like it, too.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡ª¡± Fernan called out uselessly as Yves ducked out of the room.

    Armed guards ¡®breaking up¡¯ a peaceful demonstration? Even in the best case, it would mean everyone being driven back down the mountain. Fernan would have to deal with all of this alone.

    And in the worst case¡­ If the crowd was riled up enough, rightfully indignant enough at the blatant injustice on display¡­ It could mean bloodshed.

    I could leave now, to try to stop it. But that would leave Montrouge in the lurch, and if he jetted off after the entrance he¡¯d just made, it would surely only harden Valvert¡¯s resolve.

    I have to trust Michel, and do my best up here. Fernan clenched the edges of the podium, feeling the flame in his eyes burn bright.

    Lady Valentine took up Yves¡¯ old position, staring down Fernan from across the trial chamber as he moved to the empty podium next to Montrouge, on the opposite side.

    ¡°What is your grievance, my scrumptious lady Valvert?¡± Somehow, an even more biased judge than last time.

    It wouldn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°On the fourteenth day of the seventh month, Sire Fernan Montaigne conspired to slaughter the great spirit Flammare and frame my sister, Lady Laura Bougitte, for the crime. As a representative for the Empire, I demand redress for his crime.¡±

    ¡°Then issue your challenge.¡±

    Lady Valentine nodded, barely moving. ¡°For your crimes against Laura Bougitte, I challenge you to a duel for justice, with Count Guy Valvert to bear witness.¡±

    Remember that there was no other way. You tried so hard to find one¡­ ¡°I accept your challenge, Lady Valvert.¡±

    ¡°As the challenged party, you may name the terms of the duel,¡± Guy recited from his throne.

    ¡°Then I name the truth as my weapon, the law as my battlefield.¡± Fernan didn¡¯t have a collection of evidence, unlike last time. Given the way the trial was being run, he didn¡¯t think much of his chances even disregarding the fact that he was entirely guilty of exactly what Lady Valvert was accusing him of.

    It wouldn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°Will you stand and fight?¡± Valentine asked, still reciting the standard language.

    ¡°I shall.¡± Fernan didn¡¯t know the official response, since last time he¡¯d been acting on Duchess Annette¡¯s behalf, but given Guy¡¯s lack of reaction, that seemed to be good enough.

    ¡°I do not accept your terms, Sire Montaigne.¡± Valvert pounded her fist against the podium. ¡°We have seen you manipulate the course of these trials to your own ends countless times. You cannot be trusted to abide by the rules.¡±

    ¡°So¡­?¡±

    ¡°A contest of truths and statues has no place here. I called for a duel, and I intend to see one through.¡±

    ¡°Sounds fair to me,¡± Guy said through a yawn. ¡°Who¡¯s to say you wouldn¡¯t forge evidence or lie in your testimony? You wouldn¡¯t shut up about it last time, even as you were trying to sabotage your own victory. The power of the spirits will decide your fate.¡±

    Ah, so she¡¯s planning on killing me before I even get the chance to defend Montrouge. Not exactly a surprise, but it clarified things. Even the limited excuse for justice that Duchess Annette had gotten was woefully out of reach for the merchant.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to fight.¡±

    ¡°But you just said that you¡¯d stand and fight. You used the words ¡®I shall¡¯.¡± Guy chuckled, leaning back on his throne. ¡°I offered to let you run, and you refused.¡±

    ¡°Because this man will die if no one stands up to defend him!¡± Fernan waved indignantly at Philippe Montrouge, who looked like he was trying to disappear into the wall. ¡°The whole duel framing is just an ancient formality. You told me that yourself! You can¡¯t really expect to get a fair outcome just because two people fight over it.¡±

    ¡°Not always,¡± Lady Valvert said, steel in her voice. ¡°But today, my cause is just and my strength is greater. Justice will be done.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let the battle begin!¡±

    Fernan barely heard the words come out before he felt something clench around his leg. Looking down, he saw arms of stone erupting from the floor, curled tightly around his foot. The moment he looked, it squeezed tighter. How did she do that? Her family served Flammare, a spirit of flame, not earth. Earth spirits didn¡¯t even have sages, according to Camille. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do this.¡±

    ¡°But I do.¡± Valentine approached, gliding across the stone floor. ¡°Flammare is no more. You and your bandit friend saw to that. Now Volobrin embodies the hearth from his seat in Mt. Glastaigne, and Tauroneo claims the Merle de Gaume caves, with me as his High Priestess.¡± She laughed, pulling further arms of stone to bind Fernan in place. ¡°Do you know why? Because even after everything you did to her, Laura was looking out for me. Once you¡¯re dead and the taint to her reputation is cleared, she can finally come home.¡±

    Well, at least I¡¯m holding their attention. With everything stacked against him, Fernan hadn¡¯t expected to win the trial, or even to delay its outcome too excessively, but losing in the first second had the potential to be a huge problem. Not in the least because Valentine might just kill him immediately.

    She waved down a spike of stone from the ceiling, dangling precariously above Fernan¡¯s head.

    I should have brought a pistol. With such a limited amount, and no training, Fernan had decided it¡¯d be better off with another Montaignard¡­ And I saw what it did to Leclaire. That wasn¡¯t something done lightly, though that was true for everything going on today. Better to keep it to fire, which he could be sure to control, that was the thought.

    But Valentine wasn¡¯t the only one with new power. Now that G¨¦zarde had ascended, Mara had discovered an entirely new possibility for stronger fire magic.

    Fernan pushed heat up to his skin wherever the stone touched it, willing it into the rock directly. With the power of the sun, the heat was stronger than anything he¡¯d done before, taking every ounce of his will to keep directed out instead of burning his skin.

    Valentine seemed to notice the melting stone, whether by color or sense of the material, and immediately dropped the stalactite she¡¯d created with a crash of her hand.

    WIthout any time to think, Fernan blasted fire from his mouth, thrusting himself up and back as he pulled free of the molten stone. He smacked against the back wall of the chamber, sending a lance of pain through his back, then slumped to the floor.

    ¡°Valentine, my dear¡­¡± Fernan could hear Guy coughing as he spoke. ¡°Could you clear the dust, please?¡±

    With a nod, she waved her hand down, and Fernan could feel the air become easier to breathe. It also, presumably, let her see exactly where he¡¯d landed. But this time he¡¯d anticipated it, pushing off the wall as it tried to wrap around him and blasting fire from his feet to fly across the room.

    With the air clear, Fernan could hear piercing screams every few seconds from down below, one part of many in the courtyard cacophony. Guy¡¯s orders weren¡¯t being followed without contest, clearly.

    I have to end this fast before anyone else gets hurt. But beating Valentine at all seemed impossible, let alone quickly enough to be decisive and end the fighting outside. She was too clever, too strong, with magic he¡¯d never fought before.

    Lady Valvert braced herself, pulling a wall of stone from the ground, but Fernan ignored her, darting directly towards Guy Valvert.

    Before he even had the chance to cry out, Fernan had grabbed him, redirecting the flames at his feet to fly out the window with the Count of Dorseille in tow, fighting his grip every second.

    ¡°Crossbows!¡± Lady Valvert called out, springing off the floor as it popped up beneath her feet, propelling her across the room in a single jump.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Fernan called out, trying to appear more confident than he felt. ¡°If I see one arrow fly, Count Valvert will fall. Even if your marksmen are skilled enough to hit only me, it¡¯s a long way down.¡± Not long enough to kill anyone, hopefully. But judging by the continued cries from below, it wouldn¡¯t even be a safe place to be set down gently.

    Guy pounded his fist ineffectually against Fernan, squirming in his grip. ¡°Stop it this instant! I command you!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who¡¯ll want to stop, unless you want me to drop you.¡± Fernan sincerely hoped his bluff wouldn¡¯t be called, since he had little interest in sending someone so helpless on a fall to his death, even one as thoughtless and entitled as Guy Valvert. If it came to that, he could dip down and try to leave him with Michel, but that was hardly a sure thing.

    Especially if I¡¯m shot right out of the sky before I get the chance.

    ¡°Fire,¡± Valentine ordered, unmoved by her husband¡¯s plight. An instant later, the first few crossbow bolts flew towards Fernan. Only hearing the order had given him enough time to anticipate it, cutting off the fire beneath him to plunge downward, then catching himself and Guy at the last moment.

    Apparently that was close enough to the ground, though, since Lady Valvert already had an L-shaped protrusion emerging from the dirt, swinging with enough power to knock Fernan down and Guy out of his hands.

    Wary of being trapped again, Fernan flipped over and rocketed towards Guy, but Michel had beaten him to it, holding the barrel of a pistol to Valvert¡¯s temple. ¡°How did it go?¡±

    ¡°Turns out she¡¯s a sage of the earth, which I didn¡¯t even know was possible. But I¡¯m alive and I got him. Hopefully Montrouge is safe too. He wasn¡¯t harmed in the duel, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Details later.¡± He thrust the gibbering Count to Maxime, pulling his pistol free just as Lady Valvert landed in the courtyard on a descending platform of stone, crushing the people beneath her into the dirt.

    ¡°No, damn it!¡± No one was supposed to get hurt. Wildly optimistic, maybe, but it wasn¡¯t like it had been impossible. And now one spiteful sister had ruined that, rightfully angry over something horrible Fernan had done when he¡¯d felt like he had no other choice.

    Just like today, he thought with a frown. Fernan sprang towards the earth sage, but she leaned back and away at just the right angle to dodge him, kicking up her feet to send the disc of stone hurtling towards Fernan.

    How did she get so good at this so quickly? There weren¡¯t even other earth sages to learn from.

    Breathing heavily, Fernan jumped into the air anew to avoid being snared.

    It wasn¡¯t enough.

    The castle walls closed around him like a book, crushing against him.

    Lady Valvert was smirking as she closed them tighter.

    Fernan could see jets of flame in green and yellow erupting in the sky above, either his eyes playing tricks or a battle between Mara and one of the other sages. He could see through the dust just fine, but he could feel it in every breath he took, causing him to choke.

    Mixed with the dust, warm blood coated the courtyard, with at least ten bodies that Fernan could count buried under Valvert¡¯s rubble. The guards of the gate were dead too, bleeding out from pistol wounds from the ambush.

    The edges of his vision were dimming, each breath harder than the last, and there was far too much stone here to melt an escape, especially now that Valvert knew the trick. Still, he tried, since there was nothing else to do, pushing heat from every inch of his skin while his feet blasted solar flares into the stone. With his concentration, he could feel himself get burned at the ankle and wrist, then his thigh, as the heat splashed back.

    But it wouldn¡¯t be enough.

    Valentine Valvert was high atop a pillar of stone, staring down at Fernan with undisguised satisfaction as she squeezed the life out of him.

    I¡¯m sorry, Fernan thought, a moment before he heard a crack of thunder.

    A pistol.

    They made it.

    The plan had been for Maxime and Mom to lead the dozen or so Montaignards that were trained with pistols through Florette¡¯s tunnel, being ready on hand in case the trial didn¡¯t go well. Which they seemed so dead certain about, it¡¯s annoying that this proved them right.

    Valvert fell, the pillar retreating into the earth as her body slumped down. Fernan felt the pressure ease around him, and mustered the last of his strength to fire himself free of the stone¡¯s embrace. Alive or dead, she was out of this fight.

    As am I¡­

    Fernan tried to pull himself to his feet, failed, and slumped into the dirt.

 Florette IX: The Fire Fighter

    Florette IX: The Fire Fighter

    Unless Florette wanted to be hauled off to Cambria¡¯s dungeons, forcing her way past the guards at the gate wouldn¡¯t work, as far as solutions went. With Glaciel¡¯s ring, she could probably skate past before they caught her, but Srin Sabine¡¯s identity would struggle to last the night.

    Yet another reason to just go back to the dormitories, as if she were looking for one, but it was a feather weighed against hundreds of people trapped in a burning building by their blatantly evil Avaline bosses.

    With no time to lose, Florette doubled back, running away from the crowded gates until the guards thinned out a bit. Gawking spectators were still present enough that one might see her scale the wall if they turned around, but there wasn¡¯t time to get completely out of sight. She¡¯d just have to bet that the flaming factory would hold their attention, which seemed like a risk worth taking.

    Now the wall¡­

    Florette fished out Glaciel¡¯s ring and slipped it onto her right hand, watching her fingers curl into icy claws. Not for the first time, she wished she had another one to complete the set and make all of this cleaner, but at that point, she might as well have wished that Fernan was here to fly her over the wall and quiet the flames.

    Instead, she grew a sharp hook shape from the palm of her hand and swung it towards the intersection of the stones in the wall. When it held her weight, she jammed the fingers of her left hand into a different gap, trying to find whatever purchase she could. With daylight to examine it and hours to plot a route, she might have been able to climb up without the ring, but there was no time to waste.

    ¡°Hey!¡± one of the onlookers hissed from beneath her, but Florette didn¡¯t stop. All she could do was hope that the darkness cloaked her enough to occlude any detail and keep going.

    ¡°Sabine!¡± the same voice hissed, causing Florette¡¯s left hand to slip off the stone it¡¯d been trying to grab, leaving her dangling by the hook. Her ears were starting to ring again, but there was nothing to be done about it.

    At least they didn¡¯t say ¡®Florette¡¯, though this isn¡¯t much better. By this point, she was definitely far enough up that a fall would seriously hurt, so making a run for it wasn¡¯t much of an option.

    Trying to ignore the voice calling to her from below, Florette swung herself up, her hand finding purchase on the rock, and resumed her climb.

    Her right hand was doing most of the lifting and it was starting to wear, even with the ring¡¯s power behind it. Her shoulders burned, sweat was drifting into her eyes, and it looked like there was still a quarter of the wall left, but Florette pressed on. It was so close, she knew she could make it.

    Though how much I¡¯ll be able to help once I do is an open question.

    If its performance during the Battle of White Night was any indication, the ice magic from the ring wouldn¡¯t be nearly enough to put out the fire on its own, or even make an appreciable dent. A few handfuls of ice wouldn¡¯t count for much with the whole building on fire.

    That meant evacuation had to be the priority, which meant breaching whatever measures were keeping people trapped within. Plus the fire, of course.

    The roughest beginnings of a plan were forming by the time Florette reached the top of the wall, summoning all her strength to swing her leg over the metal spikes at the top of the wall successfully, though they did graze her ankle.

    ¡°Florette!¡±

    Her heart dropped into her stomach.

    ¡°I know you said not to ever call you that, but you weren¡¯t listening, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡±

    Christophe had copied her, hands and feet spiked with ice as he climbed up the wall, only a few steps below her now.

    Breathing heavily, Florette hoisted him up after her, then started descending the other side of the wall. ¡°Why are you here?¡± I was very explicit that he should minimize even leaving his room. The wrong word of his baroque dialect of Avaline could get him taken away. The Territorial Guardians had done worse for less.

    ¡°Everyone on the block was heading this way, and you said to blend in with them, so I figured it was better to follow them.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Florette asked tersely, though she didn¡¯t really have any high ground here. Neither of us should be doing this, but here we are.

    ¡°Mostly it was family that was late coming back from work. The neighbors started to talk, and realized that no one who worked at the Princess Lizzie¡¯s plant had come home yet. Shifts are always 10 hours flat, apparently, and they were due back hours ago.¡±

    Florette frowned, descending another step. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of detail you have there.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, if it were just Danny¡¯s girls, they¡¯d probably be out at the pub, but Gerry would never miss seeing his new baby, and Smittie promised to make his wife an anniversary dinner. Something was obviously up.¡±

    ¡°Something like you completely ignoring my instructions to keep to yourself and not risk talking to people?¡± Florette dropped down the last few feet, feeling her leg lance with pain up from the cut in her ankle. ¡°Damn it!¡± she hissed.

    Christophe dropped down beside her, sending icy cracks through the cobbles as he landed gracefully. ¡°I came here to help! Not sit inside that dreary apartment all day waiting for you to remember I exist. And now I find you¡¯re pulling big moves like this without me! What am I supposed to think?¡±

    Florette glanced towards the burning factory, then back to Christophe, catching her breath as she tried to ignore the high-pitched whining in her ears. When did I become the cautious naysayer anyway? ¡°You know what? I¡¯m not your mother. Obviously you did it well enough to get away with it, so I¡¯ll leave it there for now. We can figure out what to do with you next when there¡¯s not a building on fire.¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± Christophe said with no trace of irony in his voice. ¡°So why are we going back inside? Did you miss a spot the first time you were in there? Or just to spread it further?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t set the fires, Christophe. There are people trapped in there, and the Cambrian guards aren¡¯t lifting a finger to help.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°And if you have a problem with saving them, I¡¯m not interested in hearing it.¡±

    ¡°No, of course I don¡¯t want them to die. I didn¡¯t realize anyone was still inside. But aren¡¯t you supposed to just be a boring student? What if someone recognizes you?¡±

    I¡¯ll deal with that then. Still, in the interest of making that less likely, Florette threw the hood of her Cloak of Nocturne over her head, trying to shroud her face in darkness. ¡°You should probably take your mask off too. That way no one from tonight will recognize you tomorrow when you put it back on.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Christophe said immediately. ¡°A visible Hiverrien would raise too many questions. We don¡¯t want the people inside killing me for sorcery.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you, like, thirteen generations removed from Glaciel? I can¡¯t imagine you look so spirit-touched that a quick glance in the dark is going to be an issue. And no one¡¯s seen you without it, so there¡¯s nothing to match.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not taking it off!¡± he snapped. ¡°Trust me, I don¡¯t look right without it. I¡¯ll take my chances.¡±

    ¡°Now you care about being cautious?¡± We don¡¯t have time to debate this. ¡°Fine. Try to make any ice magic you do look like it¡¯s coming from me, if you can.¡±

    Christophe, thankfully, nodded in acceptance and followed her towards the building, gliding smoothly across the stone path.

    Avaline guardians were clustered around the front, spraying water through narrow floppy pipes attached to their wagons, probably some kind of binder artifact. All their water was focused on the tattered patches of fire on the adjacent buildings, though, with Princess Lizzie¡¯s apparently already a lost cause. Sounds about right for them.

    Florette approached the rear of the building and reached for a door handle, recoiling at the hot metal¡¯s touch before she got burned. Why couldn¡¯t it be easy? She encased her hand in ice, consciously lowering its temperature as low as she could, then pulled on the handle again, managing to give it a good few tugs before her insulation melted away.

    But the door stayed closed. Locked. Of course.

    ¡°Where are the fucking windows?¡± None on the ground floor, certainly. But one had shattered earlier¡­ Florette jumped back a few paces, tilting her head towards the upper floors, which seemed to be the only ones that warranted the luxury. No windows for the first three levels, and only slits on four and five. After that it would be too high for anyone to survive a fall down, let alone something she could expect to scale the same way she had the wall. Any hooks would be melted before she could even make it halfway up.

    An idea jumped to mind, using a rapidly expanding pillar of ice to launch her into the air towards the upper levels, something at a scale Christophe might actually be able to pull off.

    In theory, but it¡¯s not like he¡¯s practiced aiming it. Most likely I¡¯d just be flinging myself to my death, or splatting against the side of the building.

    The whining in her ears was getting louder, but punctuated by a loud pop not unlike the crackling of wood in a fire. Even though the building¡¯s made of stone¡­ Wood inside? Joints and fixtures? Support beams?

    Her question was answered with a shower of blood as a body hit the ground right in front of her.

    Florette lept back with a yelp just in time to see the next woman jump from the top floor. ¡°Khali¡¯s curse.¡± Stop wasting time thinking and do something. You used to be good at that. ¡°Christophe, can you make a ramp up there? Do you have enough¡­ Magic? Material? I¡¯m not really sure how your technique works.¡± It wasn¡¯t as simple as Camille¡¯s obviously, since he hadn¡¯t brought any ice with him, so maybe he could conjure enough from thin air?

    ¡°Not without a lot of water. There isn¡¯t much in this air.¡±

    ¡°Is there usually? I guess it does feel wet when it¡¯s foggy.¡± Florette shook her head. ¡°Nevermind. Do what you can to make a safe landing. I¡¯m going inside.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll worry about that. You try to get the water you need without getting seen. I recommend springing a leak in one of those wagons somehow¡­ A spike up from the ground, maybe. Hard to notice, and you can freeze it into a little viaduct to bring what you need over here. If you get spotted, yell for me.¡±

    ¡°For Sabine? Or Florette?¡±

    Neither would be safe. ¡°For¡­ The Blue Bandit. See you on the other side.¡±

    Christophe furrowed his brow in concentration as Florette willed herself to slip into Nocturne. That wasn¡¯t the hard part, really. The Cloak felt like it wanted to go there. But she had to hold onto reality, or she could slip away forever.

    But if it can detach me enough to survive Glaciel¡¯s fortress crumbling into rubble after the explosion went off, it should damn well get me through a two-inch thick door.

    And it did, though not as easily as Florette would have expected. The closer she got to the heat, the more the Cloak resisted her, her body casting shadows in the flickering light as though it was still fully present. It hurt too, though that was less of an issue, and neither stopped her from eventually pushing through.

    Immediately, the smoke was so thick it was hard to even see, harder still not to choke on it. This was worse than what the flame sages had pulled after Camille¡¯s duel with Lumi¨¨re, and Florette had only gotten out of that because she had a friend who could see the fire and crowds through the smoke and fly, both of which would have been really convenient to have right now.

    Instead, you''re all stuck with me. She pulled up her shirt over her nose, which helped the tiniest bit with the smoke and more importantly hid her features, then ran a melting icy hand over it to cool down the air passing through it, though it had the unfortunate effect of getting it wet as well.

    A look back at the door showed that it didn¡¯t have a visible locking mechanism to undo on the inside either, though the handle was connected to a clock set into the wall, itself already on fire. Prodding it didn¡¯t accomplish anything, and smashing it did nothing for the door either, so Florette cut her losses and started looking for people.

    ¡°Does anyone need help?¡± Florette called as loud as she could? ¡°Trapped?¡±

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    She heard nothing, even straining to hear it underneath the drone in her ears, but her eyes managed to glimpse a body on the ground through the smoke.

    Florette flipped it over, revealing a woman in her forties, still unresponsive. But still breathing, barely. She lifted the woman up with both hands and started shuffling as fast as she could back towards the door. At the last second, she phased into Nocturne and tore her way through, earning a few more burns for her trouble, and set the woman down a little ways from the building.

    ¡°Ready, Christophe? I could use a way up to the roof. Easier to go down than up.¡±

    Christophe sputtered inarticulately, gesturing to the modest pool of ice beneath him, slowly being swelled as a tiny half-pipe carried water from the wagon, as yet unnoticed.

    ¡°I think you need to pick up the pace a bit,¡± Florette said, trying to find another way up the building. But actually, if I¡¯m starting at the top, I don¡¯t need to go up that building. There were two other factories next to it, the ones that the guards were working so diligently to protect, and the one on the left had a higher roof than the burning one. Perfect.

    Florette dashed into Nocturne through the door without even making sure it was locked first, since it definitely was, then sprinted towards the stairs, only to meet another locked door before she could reach them. That was nothing another trip to Nocturne couldn¡¯t solve, though it left her feeling lightheaded on the other side, and the hurried sprint up fifteen flights of stairs didn¡¯t exactly help either.

    By the time she reached the roof, she could see dozens of people clustered on the adjacent one, some trying their luck jumping to the other building. It was hard to tell, but it looked like two people were kissing each other. By the time Florette was close enough to see it better, they had both jumped.

    And failed to reach it.

    No time to waste, she leapt to the other roof, cushioning her fall with darkness, and ran towards the gap, where most of the rooftop refugees were clustered.

    They just needed a way across.

    The Ring of Glaciel could only do so much, but all she needed to turn jumping the gap from a fruitless last chance to decent odds was a few extra feet.

    She leaned over the side of the roof and conjured ice to her hand, spreading it in an arch for support and then closing the triangle, making it as thick as she could. The fire wasn¡¯t too bad at this corner, and the ice seemed to be holding for now, but who knew how long that would last.

    ¡°You!¡± She grabbed scrawny-looky boy and pointed him towards the ramp. ¡°Take off your jacket and lay it down. I don¡¯t want people slipping on the ice.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck? Are you crazy?¡± Despite his words, he threw his jacket over the ice, and Florette ran up it, feeling it hold her weight before she leapt the last few feet to the other building. And now that she was on the safe side, she could repeat the bridge process even more sturdily, until the gap was closed.

    She quickly ran across it then back to test the weight, then directed three more people to throw down their jackets for traction.

    ¡°Come across!¡± she yelled. ¡°One at a time!¡±

    With a pulse of power to reinforce it each time, the bridge held long enough to get everyone over, though one man nearly slipped and fell before the woman behind him caught him and led him the rest of the way across.

    ¡°Is that everyone?¡±

    ¡°Everyone on the roof, but the elevator snapped before the last trip. There¡¯s still people on the eighth floor.¡±

    ¡°Got it, thanks,¡± she said, running back across as the ice collapsed beneath her feet, then letting herself slip through the roof to the floor below, which hopefully no one saw.

    She didn¡¯t see anyone on the top floor, so she ran towards the doors at the corner, hopefully the staircase.

    It wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she muttered, staring down the vertical shaft. The massive winches at the bottom suggested that this was another birdcage lift like the one in the hotel, though the cage itself was nowhere to be found.

    Florette doubled back towards the door next to the shaft, surely the one with the staircase behind it, but it was locked firmly in place, which meant dragging herself through Nocturne again, leaving her panting and coughing on the other side as she tried to catch her breath.

    Need to move faster. I¡¯m no good to anyone if I pass out and die in here. Why the fuck were all of these doors locked?

    Worse, she had found the staircase, but it was covered with oily rags, already ablaze. If a couple hot doors had been that much trouble, Florette didn¡¯t even want to think how hard it would be to sprint down and then back up ten floors of stairs with every third step blanketed in fire.

    ¡°Hello?¡± She yelled down the center of the stairwell, trying to see where the people were clustered. ¡°Is anyone down there?¡±

    ¡°Thank the Binder! They¡¯re here!¡± At first, Florette could barely hear the voice echoing down the stairwell from what sounded like the eight or ninth floor. ¡°They didn¡¯t send the elevator back down once they reached the roof. We¡¯re stuck here!¡±

    Explaining the choice to jump rather than burn.

    ¡°Please!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming!¡± she yelled, trying to think of how the fuck to get them out safely. Was a sprint up the stairs worth a try, now that she knew for a fact that people were counting on her? She could make it down by slipping through more floors, though every contact with Nocturne carried further risk than the last. ¡°Does the fire thin out as you get lower?¡± If they were in the stairwell, maybe it did.

    ¡°Can¡¯t see up there too well, but it looks about the same!¡± The same voice called up. ¡°There¡¯s fourteen of us here, but eight have already passed out, and the rest aren¡¯t strong enough to carry them all.¡±

    Ok, so I definitely need to get up there myself, even if Christophe can come through. Great.

    ¡°Hold on! I¡¯m finding a way down.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just spray the stairs?¡±

    If only. ¡°Don¡¯t have the water. Cambria¡¯s finest are using it all to protect the other factories. They already gave up on you. I¡¯m going to try the elevator. What floor are you on?¡± I might not have a way back up the shaft, but at least it¡¯s not actively on fire, which is more than I can say for the stairs.

    ¡°We¡¯re on eight!¡±

    Alright, I can manage that. She pushed through the locked stairwell door and back out to the floor, head swimming as she returned to the smoke, then ducked into the elevator shaft, staring down it to carefully count exactly eight floors up from the first one on the ground. Once she was sure she had it, she jumped, slowing her fall each level with a quickly-shattering hook of ice.

    She landed on the eighth floor with a roll, then readjusted her hood and mask to try to improve her breathing.

    ¡°Did you see that?¡±

    ¡°She just jumped right down!¡±

    Florette hopped up, scanning the floor for the trapped workers, but it looked empty, with nothing moving save a lone sputtering loom. Where the fuck are they?

    ¡°Are you coming up?¡± A voice called down. ¡°You were really close, almost made it.¡±

    ¡°I did make it! This is the eighth floor, I¡¯m positive! I counted from the bottom.¡±

    ¡°Did you start from the first floor, or the ground floor?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the same thing?!¡± she yelled incredulously, feeling smoke encroach into her throat. I guess not.

    There wasn¡¯t a response for a moment, but ultimately the details didn¡¯t matter.

    ¡°We¡¯re one level up,¡± they said, apparently done mocking her mistake. Whatever. That was so far from what was important here it wasn¡¯t worth sparing another thought.

    The important thing was getting up to where they actually were.

    Florette rounded the corner into the shaft and jumped, trying to hook onto the rim of the first floor above her with another hook of ice to extend her range, but it shattered the moment it touched it and sent her falling back down, barely landing back on the edge of the shaft. A dip into Nocturne sheltered Florette from the worst of the fall, but the smoke was getting to be so thick that she wasn¡¯t sure how much more of this she could handle. That didn¡¯t bode well for trying the jump raw, either, since her hand probably wouldn¡¯t fare much better.

    Which leaves trying the pillar trick. Inside the burning building, with way less magic at my disposal. Experimentally, Florette pushed ice from her hands as she pushed off the wall, seeing what kind of energy it could add to the motion, but it was sputtering water the moment laid her hands on the wall, and it didn¡¯t do much for her momentum. So that idea was out, unless she could get Christophe in here to try it.

    Fuck!

    Florette was running out of time. The people up there were running out of air. Out of hope, if the jumpers were any indication. But I can¡¯t. There¡¯s no one else to help them.

    She tried the ice hook again, seeing if sliding into Nocturne could lower her weight enough for the hook to support it, and managed to pull herself up a whole six inches before it broke again, impotent water raining down on her head as she fell.

    It¡¯s like what Magnifico said about approaching spirits with tools suited to deal with their nature. I¡¯m fighting a fire with ice and shadow, and they just aren¡¯t up to the task.

    But she had what she had, and whining about the misfortune of it wouldn¡¯t do anything for those people trapped up there.

    Still, it did raise the question of what would work best here. Fernan¡¯s mastery of fire was an obvious choice, letting him calm the flames and fly straight up, but Florette didn¡¯t have any way to copy that with the tools she had, so she kept thinking.

    Something to raise the stone beneath her, or carve a path for her to climb? An earth spirit could do that, but there weren¡¯t exactly any on hand, save the slumbering Terramonde beneath the floor.

    Fourteen helpless people were depending on her, at the very least, and¡ª

    Helpless¡­ I¡¯ve been thinking about this like I¡¯m all on my own, but I¡¯m not.

    Florette ran back to the stairwell and cupped her hands around her mouth, blinking burning tears from her stinging eyes. ¡°I¡¯m only one floor below you! Can someone stick out their hand and pull me up?¡±

    It only took a moment to get her response, a young bearded man poking his top half out the edge of the shaft from a floor above. ¡°Jack¡¯s holding my feet. Ready when you are.¡±

    Thank fuck. Florette jumped, reaching for the hand above her and trusting it to hold her above an eight-story hole. Her fingers were sweaty and weak, and she could feel the same from the man above, but he grabbed on with his other hand and began to pull despite it.

    By the time she made it up, he had rolled over onto his back, coughing heavily.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Florette turned to see who was left, and it looked like only two more were still conscious. Time to move.

    She ran towards the window and called a ball of ice to her hand, throwing it out before it melted in a signal to Christophe.

    She could see him down there, so very far below, in an expanding circle of ice connected by a thin thread to the water wagon around the front. By the angered looks of the guards searching under the carriage, she wasn¡¯t the only one that could see it.

    But we¡¯re moving now regardless.

    Following her signal, Christophe started to condense the disc of ice beneath his feet, pushing himself up towards her as it narrowed into a thinner and thinner pole. By the time he reached the ninth-level-that-they-called-the-eight-level, it was barely any wider than his waist, obviously inadequate to safely lower fourteen people.

    ¡°Make it a slide!¡± she called out to him, making a curve motion with her hands to underline the point.

    Christophe, thankfully, picked up on her idea, widening the base into a somewhat gradual curve as the pillar hollowed out beneath his feet. As he converted it, he leaned closer and closer to the window, until the icy slide was nearly touching it.

    Its walls were already starting to sweat, melting in the ambient heat, and Chrisophe could only make them so thick, so Florette wasted no time lowering the first unconscious body down into it, the man who¡¯d helped pull her up.

    He went skidding across iced-over stone at the bottom, sliding nearly forty feet back. Not the safest descent ever, but certainly safer than being in a burning building.

    Christophe was somehow keeping his footing on the narrow, melting pipe, dancing around the top as he tried to keep shoring it up.

    A thickly-built woman was already ready with the next unconscious body, handing it Florette fast enough that she barely even had to move. When she was done with that one, a black-haired boy had the next person ready.

    Florette wasted no time, dropping the next bodies as soon as they touched her hands, hoping that they were still capable of recovering. One, two, three, four, five¡­ Each descent weakened the slide a little more, but Christophe made sure it held. Khali only knew what the guards were even doing, but they were a problem for later.

    Eleven, twelve, thirteen¡­ Florette waved down the conscious man and woman, the final rescuers, and drank in lungfuls of air as she reached the window for the final time.

    ¡°Wait.¡± The woman stopped at the threshold. ¡°We never thanked you. Not often you see a binder step up like that. Who are you, anyway?¡±

    ¡°The Blue Bandit,¡± she said, in case anyone had heard Christophe call her that. Best to keep things simple. ¡°No more time for questions. You have to go.¡± She waved the woman onto the slide, waited until she saw her skid across the bottom, then directed the boy to jump.

    As he hit the slide, the top of it finally shattered, sending Christophe flying.

    He managed to grab onto the back of the slide lower down and use it to slow his descent, but it was quickly collapsing behind him, so Florette wasted no time jumping down after him, using the Ring of Glaciel to emulate his technique.

    She was breathing heavily by the time she landed, water gushing around her feet. Christophe managed to spin a bit of it around himself to land fluidly next to her, swearing loudly when he saw the circle of spears surrounding them.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move! If you set down your weapons and come quietly, you will be treated fairly by the crown.¡±

    ¡°Weapons?¡± Christophe hissed confusedly.

    ¡°They must think we¡¯re binders,¡± she whispered back. ¡°Listen, I want you to push a pillar of ice up beneath our feet, as fast as you can. I think we can launch ourselves up.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡±

    ¡°Towards the ocean. You can pull up a strip to land on, and I¡¯ll be fine with my Cloak. Trust me.¡±

    Christophe laughed, sending a wave of fear through the surrounding guards, but they didn¡¯t have long to react to that before Florette found herself sailing through the air, hurtling past other factories as they got smaller and smaller beneath her, black waters rapidly approaching.

    She saw Christophe pull a spike of brown ice towards himself up from the waves, catching himself close enough to the apex of the jump that he managed to land safely, sliding down towards the dark waters.

    Florette had a less pleasant way down, marshaling her will to slip one final time into darkness¡¯ embrace as her feet hit the water. It smelled putrid, and she could feel it clinging to her hair, but she wasn¡¯t hurt, which counted for a lot.

    By the time she reached the shore, her shoulders were burning and her lungs were ash, but she made it. And despite how disgusting everything else was in the frigid night air, the Cloak of Nocturne remained completely pristine.

    She lay on the rocks for as long as she dared, slowly recovering enough of her strength to walk back home, then slinked through the shadows of the street until she¡¯d returned to Mourningside. After a moment¡¯s hesitation on account of the cold, she dove into the water once more, here actually clean enough to get rid of the worst of the filth, though she¡¯d probably have to bathe thrice with lye to get rid of it completely.

    Opal was asleep when she returned to the room, so Florette kept her footsteps mouse-quiet as she undressed and dried herself off as best as she could, then flopped down in bed.

    When she woke, the sun was high in the sky, her body so exhausted she could barely move. The cut in her ankle was stinging and aching at the same time, but she could still move it, and it wasn¡¯t too swollen, so she could probably get away with ducking the doctor until it healed up a bit.

    Eventually, she felt alert enough to grab the book at her bedside and open it to where she¡¯d left off. Introductory Physics. And then she remembered.

    She¡¯d missed her exam, in one of the most important classes for learning Avaline science. All that studying for nothing, and she¡¯d have to work twice as hard to even have a chance of passing the class at all.

    Fuck!

    Florette tossed the book aside, pulling the covers over her head, and went back to sleep.

 Laura V: The Prisoner

    Laura V: The Prisoner

    Once the Magister¡¯s physician gave her leave to enter the general population of Charenton¡¯s jail, Laura made it about thirty minutes before she was bouncing off the walls. Her leg still felt a bit stiff from Tauroneo, and now her left arm was stuck in a sling, and she could barely so much as pace before stumbling into the walls of the tiny, crowded cell.

    Practicing her boxing form, the usual way to kill a bit of time, wasn¡¯t very effective with just the one hand free, and earned her no end of strange looks, so Laura settled on plotting her escape. But even that was somehow interminably dull!

    These idiots thought she was a binder, so as soon as they¡¯d collected her yet-to-be-named magical sword, they¡¯d made the grievous mistake of thinking her helpless.

    Making them pay for that was an enticing thought, but even wiping out a prince and his retinue wouldn¡¯t really accomplish much in the larger war effort. Certainly not this prince anyway. And as much as Laura desperately craved a rematch with his lieutenant, sure to be a fight for the ages, she had to admit that doing it with this collection of wounds wasn¡¯t exactly a great idea. Goading her into it in the prison had failed, anyway.

    Maybe the Prince of Darkness would even manage to commune with Rhan successfully and make whatever deal he was angling for. Stranger things had happened, and Laura wasn¡¯t too interested in interrupting him before she could find out.

    No, as soon as Laura got her sword back, she had an appointment with her destiny to head out east, stopping Avalon in the field and dealing a blow that would actually reverberate through history. A good death, that was all that was left.

    Which left her with the same problems she¡¯d had when arriving in Charenton, give or take being imprisoned and her sword stolen. She needed a way down the Rhan, deep into the lands of the Rhanoir, then passage north to the Arboreum in the throes of war.

    And since Prince Grimoire was so kind as to throw me into a networking opportunity¡­ ¡°Hey, any of you got a boat?¡±

    One skinny boy raised his hand, his wide smile missing a tooth. ¡°Damn right I do. Keep it moored up at the wharf of my castle, right next to the statue I¡¯m planning to build for you.¡±

    ¡°Anyone serious?¡± Laura asked, ignoring the boy. ¡°I can make it worth your while.¡±

    A loud sigh erupted from a sharp-featured woman sitting cross-legged on the top of a bunk. ¡°The Prince of Darkness must be getting desperate if this is the best his spies can muster.¡± She spoke in Imperial, but accented, which probably made her one of the Avaline transplants. ¡°I¡¯ll save you some time here. All my little boys and girls know better than to talk to you, and no one else knows anything. You can tell your employer to let you out now.¡±

    Well that¡¯s a strange assumption to make. ¡°You do realize I¡¯m in here for attacking him, right? I was the one who set the docks on fire.¡±

    ¡°What an excellent way to secure passage on a boat. Truly, your genius knows no bounds.¡±

    ¡°It made sense at the time!¡± Laura growled. ¡°And that¡¯s not even the point. I can get you out of here. Anyone who helps me.¡± She blinked. ¡°What would the Prince want you anyway? All he cares about is bargaining with the spirits.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Then the rumors are true¡­ Consorting with spirits, handing cities over to his favorite sorceress, seizing power over independent Charenton¡­¡± A smile stretched across her face. ¡°If that doesn¡¯t push the loyalists over the edge, nothing will.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re one of those rebels. Prince¡¯s lieutenant was desperate to get me to spill about them. Honestly, I don¡¯t get it. You¡¯re Avaline, aren¡¯t you? Why break with the conquering suzerain that¡¯s been serving you so well?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s it matter to you if we give Avalon a black eye, Imperial?¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t, really. But considering you¡¯re all a bunch of invaders, I can at least respect the loyal ones more than the traitors.¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯re a fool.¡± She spat from the top of the bed, forcing a girl sitting below to duck out of the way. ¡°Avalon is happy enough to collect our taxes, but we¡¯re just as subordinate as the Territories. Magister Ticent had to hand them the keys to the kingdom, and with nothing to show for it. Their Great Council snubs us; their Governors disdain anyone born on the wrong side of the Lyrion sea; and worst of all, they¡¯re bleeding us dry so Cambrian factory owners and Fortan Lords can grow fat off the fruits of our labor. We¡¯re being treated like Imperials rather than Avaline citizens, and the Great Council couldn¡¯t care less!¡±

    Not really changing my assessment. ¡°My heart goes out to you. In the meantime, since neither of us is exactly cozy with the Avaline crown, maybe we can make a deal? I¡¯ll break you out if you can help get me down the Rhan. Even as far as Flueville is fine.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± she scoffed. ¡°Do you have a death wish, girl? Even if I thought you could get us out of here, a warzone would be my last choice of destination. I¡¯m certainly not going to lend a hand to an Imperial criminal to get there.¡± She waved her hand dismissively. ¡°Move along.¡±

    Damn it! What was wrong with this woman? Laura frowned and turned away from her, trying to identify anyone promising in the cell, but most of the other prisoners had either gone back to ignoring her or were giving looks worse than nothing, probably at the rebel lady¡¯s direction.

    An old man sitting in the corner met her gaze without looking away, so she walked towards him and pointed her finger directly at his chest. ¡°Hey, grandp¨¨re, you look like you might know people. Any associates who can sail a river boat?¡±

    ¡°Boat won¡¯t do you much good in here, nor will the skills to pilot it,¡± he grumbled, narrowing his eyes at her finger. ¡°And you¡¯d do well to take a bit more care in how you act. You¡¯re not in boarding school anymore, and not everyone¡¯s as good-natured as I am.¡±

    Anyone starts shit and I can burn this whole place down with them inside. The real issue was getting her sword back and securing a way out. Personal safety was not even on the list of issues to deal with, let alone at the top.

    ¡°Thanks, old man. I¡¯ll take it under advisement.¡±

    ¡°Duchesne.¡± He rubbed the chin of his white beard, kept trimmed surprisingly short for a prisoner.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking the wrong question, anyway.¡± Duchesne folded his arms, leaning back on his stool. ¡°If you¡¯re already planning to break out of prison, stealing a boat is nothing. What you want is a smuggler, someone who doesn''t just have the skills to pilot the boat, but escape the harbor sentires and avoid any patrols down the river.¡±

    Ears perking up, Laura turned back towards him. ¡°And you know such a smuggler?¡±

    ¡°Mmm,¡± Duchesne grunted. ¡°For the right price. I didn¡¯t get this far doing things for free.¡±

    ¡°Inside a jail cell?¡±

    Wisps of a smile traced across his face. ¡°This just happened because I was doing a friend a favor. He thought he¡¯d repay it by tipping off the magisterial guard about the three-hundred pounds of dried naca I was set to take down the Rhan, so I took the better part of valor.¡±

    ¡°But what was the favor?¡±

    ¡°Private.¡± Duchesne put his hands behind his head, leaning against the wall. ¡°Just like the reasons for your confidence in here, and your ability to get out there. It¡¯s not my business, sage, nor are my affairs yours.¡± He whispered the word, quiet enough that none were likely to hear him. ¡°If you can get us out of here, I¡¯ll take you where you need to go. You have my word.¡±

    For what little that¡¯s worth. But it was better than wasting half the life she had left flying down before she could even see a battlefield. To think I¡¯d have had the power of the sun if things had gone just a little bit differently. But that was done. No point in dwelling on what could have been.

    ¡°Then it looks like we have a deal, Duchesne.¡±

    From there, it was as easy as thrusting her fist through the bars of the cell towards the nearest guard and blasting a few hours worth of fire directly towards him. No one even seemed to notice until the guard started screaming, flailing and patting at his flaming coat as Laura flashed a smile at him.

    ¡°Sorceress!¡± he cried upon seeing her take credit. ¡°Come help!¡±

    ¡°I can see that we both prefer the quiet approach,¡± Duchesne muttered, rising from his stool. ¡°What exactly does this accomplish?¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The guard had stopped screaming, but the way he was rolling on the ground clearly showed that he was alive.

    ¡°Needed a commotion. I¡¯ve got a sword I need to get back before we leave, and the more guards are here instead of there, the better.¡±

    ¡°And yet here we remain, trapped behind a metal gate. Is your flame magic enough to get us out, the way you implied it was?¡±

    Well, if that damn guard had fallen close enough to grab his keys, it would be. Without that, she could probably heat the bars enough to weaken, at the cost of spending an unacceptable amount of her life.

    Maybe she could just scare him into it? ¡°Hey, guard, unless you want to go up in flames again, unlock the door.¡±

    The guard rose to his feet, staring back with such fury that he looked like he wanted to immolate her back.

    Such a baby. All I did was singe your coat.

    He ran away up the hall and out of sight, presumably grabbing more guards to back him up.

    ¡°Alright¡­ Admittedly, I could have planned this a bit better.¡±

    Duchesne raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯ll be inscribed on your grave. In the meantime, if I may?¡± He pulled out two short lengths of wire, bent and twisted into an L shape, and what looked something like a hair pin.

    ¡°What were you waiting for?¡± Laura asked as she watched him fiddle with the lock. ¡°You didn¡¯t need me to do that.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have done me much good with the guard watching me do it. Though I do wish we could have discussed this first¡­ There.¡± The lock clicked, and Duchense pushed the door open.

    ¡°Whoo!¡± shouted the rebel woman. ¡°Freedom! Nicely done, fellows.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, thanks for nothing.¡± Laura was the first out, leading Duchesne towards the courtyard she remembered passing on the way to the interrogation room, though the other prisoners seemed to be headed straight for the exit.

    Just as well. They¡¯d only get in the way.

    Fortunately the old man moved fast enough, and didn¡¯t balk at any of the guards Laura blasted on the way, though it was only a couple. The rest were probably handling the other prisoners.

    They emerged into a muddy field, rain pounding down over their heads. What must have been over thirty guards were all clustered around the walls, spears pointed in towards the rest of the prison.

    ¡°Climb on my back.¡± Laura crouched down, eyes scanning the slowly approaching guards.

    ¡°Of course¡­¡±

    Laura could feel his hands grab her shoulders, causing her left arm to flash with pain, but this was good enough to start. He¡¯d figure it out soon enough.

    She pushed off the muddy ground as best she could, blasting fire from her feet as hours drained away, straining to keep her balance with one arm tucked away and a hundred pounds of old man clinging awkwardly to her back.

    They made it over the wall and into greater Charenton just as the alarm began to blare, a piercing mechanical chirp not unlike the sounds from Magnifico¡¯s pulsebox.

    ¡°Put me down!¡± Laura could hear the old man yell from above her, though most of it was snatched away by the wind and rain. They were clear of the jail, so she obliged him, dropping towards the cobblestones as quickly as she could safely descend.

    ¡°We had a deal,¡± she reminded him, helping him to his feet. ¡°And I just held up my end. You better not be trying to squirm out of it.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it. Like you said, we had a deal.¡± Duchesne curled his lip. ¡°But getting back my Piqure de Moustique calls for a subtler approach. Meet me at the harbor in an hour and look for the small green boat with me standing on top of it.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t customs seize it though? I¡¯d think you¡¯d want more firepower.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold up my end. Don¡¯t you worry about it.¡± Duchesne flipped his hood over his head, instantly blending into the grey city streets, and began walking off without another word.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Laura muttered to herself. Gives me time to get my sword back, anyway. She¡¯d bet anything that the Prince was keeping it on his personal ship, and sneaking on board hadn¡¯t exactly worked brilliantly last time, but Laura wasn¡¯t leaving here without it, so there was nothing for it but to make another attempt.

    At least the rain helped. By the time she reached the harbor, most of the customs agents were bundled up inside, the various ship mates back onboard in their cabins.

    Of course, the Prince¡¯s ironclad had to be an exception. How could it be any other way? And Laura didn¡¯t exactly like the prospect of landing on the deck and running inside, hoping she could find what she needed, then getting out. The odds were even lower than last time, given they¡¯d be more likely to be on guard.

    A subtler approach, then. I could try that.

    She pulled wet hair back out of her eyes and hid her sling under her coat, then marched up towards the gangplank, looking directly at the guard at the top of it like she had nothing to hide. With all the wind and rain, they probably wouldn¡¯t recognize her¡­ Probably.

    ¡°Hey, the Prince needs that flaming sword for his experiments. I¡¯m supposed to bring it to the Magister¡¯s manse at once.¡± And since the Prince wouldn¡¯t have blabbed about to just anyone, hopefully my knowing what to ask for is sign enough that I¡¯m telling the truth?

    The guard exhaled in sympathy. ¡°Shit job in this weather, but I guess we all work for someone. I¡¯ll have someone bring it up.¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± I can¡¯t believe that worked.

    ¡°First though, what¡¯s today¡¯s password?¡±

    Fuck.

    Laura stared at him for a moment, weighing her options, then jumped forward, punching the guard in the throat and knocking him to the ground before he could respond. So much for subtlety.

    She ran over his prone body into the ship, trying to think like a Prince of Darkness¡­ It would probably be at the bottom, wouldn¡¯t it? That would be the most inconvenient place possible, which made it almost certain given the way things were going today.

    Laura went straight for the stairwell and jumped down the stairs five at a time, hearing the sound her landing ring out across the metal with every step.

    He¡¯s a tinkerer, as I recall. All those experiments with the spirits¡­

    Finally at the bottom, Laura began throwing open every door she could, closing it rapidly again if she saw someone inside. By the fifth door, she realized that this wasn¡¯t a great strategy, so she doubled back towards the last room she¡¯d seen someone inside and threw the door open once more.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the sword?¡± Laura demanded, brandishing fire at her fingertips in an obvious threat. ¡°Tell me and you get to live.¡±

    ¡°What sword?¡± the room¡¯s sole occupant asked with a tremor in his voice.

    ¡°The magical flaming sword that the Prince stole from me! Don¡¯t play stupid.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who set the docks on fire¡­ I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Tell me!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s probably in his workshop! Three floors up, third door from the stairwell.¡± He held up his hands in a terrified surrender, making Laura feel slightly bad about doing things this way.

    But he¡¯d be fine. It was only a threat, and he¡¯d given her what she needed.

    Laura left him there, running back for the stairs and clearing out a couple guards clustered around the mouth of the stairwell with a blast of flame.

    Fighting Avaline guards is so easy, it¡¯s like they¡¯ve never even seen this before. They lunged out of the way with reckless abandon, absolutely terrified at the thought of getting burned. Of course, it didn¡¯t take long after that for them to get their composure back, if the growing trail of pursuers following Laura was any indication.

    She jumped out on the third floor and threw open the third door, revealing a massive room that must have taken up half the entire floor. Four large tables filled most of the spaces, covered in twists of wire and tanks of water and metal gears and all manner of inscrutable mechanical creations.

    More importantly, glowing with warmth that Laura could sense from all the way across the room, was Volobrin¡¯s sword. Her sword.

    Even better, this room had a window in it, so it was as simple as smashing it open with the butt of her sword and jumping out, moment ahead of the guards.

    None were brave enough to follow her into the freezing windswept water, which was just as well, since she caught herself in the air with a downward slash of flame, finally drawing on something other than her own life to fuel her magic.

    As the flames hit the water, Laura was blasted upwards, taking the opportunity of her vantage point to look for Duchesne¡¯s little green boat. Probably should have found it before I started this, really. Today was full of moments like that.

    Oh well.

    A half-minute in the air was enough to spot it; a hooded man that was probably Duchesne was in the middle of tightening ropes on the deck. Perfect.

    A crack of thunder split the air, which wasn¡¯t too much of a surprise given the weather, but Laura had no intention of being a conduit for lightning, so she dove towards Duchesne¡¯s boat, hearing another thunderbolt suspiciously quickly after the first.

    The next two made it clear that Prince Luce¡¯s guards had finally spotted her. Since Laura had no intention of getting shot again, she rolled as she landed on the deck, yelling to Duchesne that it was time to go.

    Casting off didn¡¯t happen as fast as she¡¯d have liked, but a few strategic walls of ice obscured the sightlines enough for the smuggler to do his business, and Laura jumped above to distract a few times for good measure, too.

    Once they were finally moving, she channeled as much energy as she could through the sword, reaching for ice cold power and blasting into the water, freezing just enough to block off the mouth of the Rhan behind them. Maybe that metal ship could follow, but it didn¡¯t, and none of the others tried their luck either.

    Laura didn¡¯t allow herself to breathe until Charenton had disappeared behind them on the horizon, finally stepping inside the small cabin of Piqure de Moustique and drying herself off with some strategic warming from her sword.

    Her shoulder was covered in blood where the stitches had torn, either from lifting Duchesne out or the maneuvering afterwards, but considering she¡¯d got her sword back without getting shot, Laura still considered it a victory.

    And it¡¯s about time. After such a prolonged detour, she was finally heading where she needed to go, the battlefield where she could make the greatest difference, and find an honorable death.

    What else was left?

 Fernan VIII: The Revolutionary

    Fernan VIII: The Revolutionary

    Right now, the greatest luxury of all would be a moment to breathe.

    Fernan hunched himself back against the wall slightly, trying in vain to give himself a bit of space in the crowded room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and smoke, and warm enough to blur everyone¡¯s outlines, which only made recognizing people in the sea of new faces harder. The crowd filled the Lord¡¯s council chamber to bursting, with about a third clustered out on the balcony in the autumn chill, and a stream out the door to the much larger group gathered outside.

    Mom was keeping them occupied, thankfully, relating what had happened and what was to come, keeping their spirits high in the wake of such unexpected success, while inside, Michel had her proxy.

    With so many people streaming in and out, kicking up clouds of brown and red dust, it was hard to be sure exactly how many had been lost, friend or foe, but more than a dozen bodies were already stacked up outside, and the pile was only growing as they combed through the castle.

    Fernan hadn¡¯t lost anyone he knew, which a guilty part of him felt grateful for, but it had been a near thing. Yves was only barely clinging to life, stable enough to rest in bed, according to doctor S¨¦zanne, but with the hole in his chest, he could die at any moment. Maxime hadn¡¯t escaped unscathed either, with a nasty gash across his hands and two missing fingers from the slash of a guard¡¯s blade.

    At least he¡¯s alive. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if something had happened to him. And Michel and Mom, miraculously, were a few scrapes and bruises away from being completely unscathed.

    They¡¯d moved out all of the chairs from the council chamber to try to make room, and some of the exhausted and lightly wounded were convalescing atop them out in the hall with Michel. Really, they should have done this in a larger room, like the great hall where the wedding had been held, or the justice chamber where the trials had been held.

    But the latter was in ruins from the fight with Valentine Valvert, and the former still had aristocrats inside, in the process of negotiating their surrender as pistol-wielding Montaignards guarded the door. Mar¨¦chal Augustin, the courtier that had arguably started all of this mess, seemed to be their de-facto leader as one of the only sages left on their side, and he seemed to be in no hurry to stand down.

    And with all the food they have in there left over from the feast, why wouldn¡¯t he stall? From his perspective, there was no downside to hunkering down and hoping all of this was stamped out, and the other nobles with him seemed to be united in that. Augustin had yet to reveal exactly who else was in there with him, and it was impossible to get a decent headcount without knowing which wedding guests had already departed before all of this had started.

    Guy Valvert had commanded his guard to stand down, at least, which at least made it safe to move about the castle, and the agitators from outside had wasted no time in moving in, disorganized as the whole thing ended up.

    Florette had started the Montaignards training with pistols and whatever other tidbits she¡¯d gleaned from the Fox-King or Leclaire to help keep things running smoothly, but they were outnumbered more than ten-to-one by the crowd of sympathetic citizens Michel had been addressing outside, many of whom didn¡¯t even have weapons.

    For the most part, that was a good thing. Violence was the exact opposite of what they were trying to do here, and the less they drew on it, the better. Feeling a little safer wasn¡¯t worth what the alternative would cost.

    But between the loyalist Imperial guards, all of the nobles in the great hall and the Valverts and Magnifico in the tower cells, things are looking awfully precarious. That was even before thinking about the Chalice Mercenaries, who were surely already on their way back from the futile dragon hunt Fernan had sent them on, and might well be ready to force the miners back to work at sword point.

    That made resolving their decisions here and now all the more important, but the nobles weren¡¯t the only ones who seemed to be in no particular hurry, given that three hours of argument had already passed in the council chamber without any success at resolving their next course of action.

    This was supposed to have been settled before they made any active moves, but Phillipe Montrouge¡¯s trial and Fernan¡¯s would-be exile had forced things to a head before all of the debate could be resolved, which left them stuck in this fetid room yelling at each other instead of actually making the changes needed to help people.

    ¡°You are arguing that rule by the people is too impractical to implement. I am informing you that elevating any one, any dozen, to stand above the people is no democracy at all.¡± Maxime pounded his bandaged fist against the table without thinking, then winced. ¡°I saw it happen with the Thirteen, trying to outdo each other in their brutality against criminals while their corruption skated by without a second look. We cannot have a true city government with a lord ruling over us, even if we¡¯re the ones who choose.¡±

    ¡°Citoyen Aloutte¡¯s conduct was unbecoming of the Thirteen, and she will doubtless be removed by the people in her next election, but that does not make the institution illegitimate!¡± Citoyen Darce¡¯s face was glowing red, the heat clearly proving a bit much for him. ¡°Nevertheless, Maxime is right about the folly of this proposal. The Thirteen are chosen promptly, democratically, and continuously. No matter how egalitarian the fashion by which your new lord is chosen, the moment they ascend to power, they would be just as unchecked in their will as Valvert. Not a single rational mind would dispute that fact.¡±

    Evidently, Maxime¡¯s position was not unopposed. Yvain Delion, one of the newer Montaignards that Michel had brought into the fold, had made a fortune selling insurance for merchant vessels, and had provided almost ten thousand florins for the cause. ¡°We¡¯re talking about Fernan Montaigne! If ever there was a man less incorruptible, I¡¯ve yet to meet him. He has the peerage for Leclaire to respect his rule, and the kindness to ensure that Valvert¡¯s folly would never be seen again.¡± Flattering words from a man I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve said two words to. More concerning was the wave of approving nods Fernan saw rippling through the room.

    ¡°We hold King Harold captive!¡± This time, Maxime was aware enough to avoid jarring his injured hand. ¡°His royal personage is the ultimate bargaining chip. Leclaire will have to do whatever we say if she wishes to keep Avalon sufficiently deterred from sailing their ironclads into Renart Bay and returning Malin to their ever-growing list of conquered cities.¡± Maxime shot Fernan a sympathetic look. ¡°Aside from which, Fernan had expressed precisely zero interest in assuming such a role. Nothing about that has changed, unless I¡¯m mistaken¡­?¡±

    Maxime let the half-question linger as Fernan tried to consider his response. An elected lordship carried obvious benefits, preserving the will of the people in Guerron while actually carrying a chance of remaining uncontested by the Empire, if they negotiated things right. And as much as Maxime hates the idea, he still left the door open for me to push for it if it¡¯s what I want.

    Is it?

    The obvious answer was no, but Fernan knew where he stood with Camille and Lucien, and he could hardly deny that, out of anyone in this room, he stood the best chance of resolving the rest of things peacefully. And it would put a stop to this infighting, if nothing else. We could finally start moving forward instead of squabbling amongst ourselves. If it was something Fernan had to do, briefly, before stepping aside like the petit Nicolas Condorcet, would that really be so bad?

    But whom would I be stepping aside for? It would maintain the precedent of a lord¡¯s dominion over Guerron, and it would only take one successor deciding he had no interest in elections to return things more or less to how they¡¯d been before. The Empire would hardly stand in their way if they did.

    It doesn¡¯t matter if Valvert is gone if someone just as bad gets just as much power once the dust settles. Even the potential for it was unacceptable.

    ¡°No man shall rule Guerron alone,¡± Fernan answered, after keeping the room in suspense longer than he¡¯d intended. ¡°What good is removing Valvert if we simply replace him with one of our own?¡±

    ¡°Sire Fernan, you are hardly¡ª¡±

    ¡°Moreover, it doesn¡¯t change what needs to happen next. However Guerron is organized, we need to send terms to Malin immediately if we want any hope of surviving their reprisal. We can hold elections soon for a city council in the vein of the Thirteen, or a larger assembly, or vote directly on our policies. No matter which way we go, we need to survive long enough to get there.¡±

    Delion¡¯s aura went yellow, but he didn¡¯t contest the point.

    ¡°Then we¡¯re resolved,¡± said the rude doctor, Georges S¨¦zanne. ¡°The captives will remain in our custody while we issue demands to Malin: recognition of our chartered rule of Guerron while continuing to pay homage to the Empire in name, though no longer in taxes or spiritual aid. At last we¡¯ll be able to remove ourselves from these costly spiritual conflicts that do not concern us at all. If Soleil¡¯s seat had not been in Guerron, Glaciel would never have attacked us.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind officially disbanding the Temple of the Sun,¡± Fernan began¡­¡°But I¡¯m not sure how G¨¦zarde would feel about it. And I definitely don¡¯t think it needs to be part of the ransom negotiations. It¡¯d be making things more contentious than they need to be. Not to mention the fact that Glaciel still would have attacked the sun¡¯s seat, wherever it would have been, and that might have meant that defending it would have failed. The whole world might have been lost, but instead, we were able to stand together and drive her back. With spirits and their children beside us.¡±

    ¡°The contentiousness of the demand is exactly why we must include it.¡± Michel spoke softly, but the room fell silent to accommodate him. ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll have an easier time coming to an agreement once we¡¯ve sent Valvert back and lost some of our leverage? Our most contentious demands have to be negotiated now, while Malin has no choice but respect them. Freedom from the tyrannical whims of spirits must be on that list, or we¡¯ll only see another White Night. Another Aurelian Lumi¨¨re plunging the world into darkness for his own ambitions.¡± He paused, carefully choosing his words. ¡°And I believe it must include independence as well. Homage to Malin could see all of our gains reversed in time.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d still be cutting them off from our taxes. It¡¯s just a nominal concession to try to keep them from sending soldiers after us. And to show that we¡¯re in it together against Avalon.¡± Because if anything happens to Magnifico, we¡¯re all just as fucked.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°Then concede later, in exchange for concessions of theirs. Don¡¯t negotiate yourself down to a lower starting point before your opponent has even heard what you want.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Fernan said, eager to end this discussion. I¡¯ve seen this before, in Villechart, the anger and hate, even though we were the one who¡¯d wronged the geckos. As callous and immoral as most spirits might be, that wasn¡¯t all of them, and it especially didn¡¯t account for their children caught in the crossfire.

    That had been the entire reason to depose Flammare, sparing thousands of innocent Hiverriens from his war of total annihilation. It put a pit in Fernan¡¯s stomach to see allies here embracing the same kind of beliefs, even if he understood the sentiment after the carnage of the White Night.

    ¡°Nor should we limit ourselves needlessly,¡± added Phillipe Montrouge, the trader whose arrest had started this whole mess. ¡°Even if Guerron lacks the strength to stand alone, the Empire is not our only option.¡±

    The Condorcet representatives nodded fiercely at that, though they were delusional if they thought that their collective and Guerron had a hope of resisting half the continent together.

    Charles des Agnettes, the sage of Fala whom Fernan had fought beside in the Battle of White Night, had largely refrained from speaking, but his aura had been steadily darkening ever since the topic of the spirits had arisen. ¡°Lumi¨¨re acted on his own, a rogue and a traitor to his spirit. We had to endure the darkness because he didn¡¯t respect the dominion of his patron spirit, not because he did. Have you forgotten how crucial spirits were to our victory in the White Night? The image of Corro of the Wastes dueling Queen Glaciel, both of them large as a building, would seem to be rather memorable, no? Or G¨¦zarde¡¯s gecko children, the first to feel winter¡¯s bite, blasting the Hiverriens back across the ice so that we could progress? Just because Guy Valvert leapt to excess doesn¡¯t mean we need to tear down society. I for one think that an elected lord is an excellent compromise.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be cloistered in the great hall with the other aristos?¡± spat Citoyen Courbet. ¡°Soleil was a tyrant and a fiend. Whatever Lumi¨¨re¡¯s motives, his actions were noble and necessary. Renouncing the false saviors is only reasonable, and the true goddess Khali will welcome all new acolytes with open arms.¡±

    ¡°From her Nocturne prison?¡± Maxime wrinkled his nose, apparently not bothering to maintain his ruse as loyal Condorcet bodyguard anymore. ¡°Khali didn¡¯t seem to notice the hundreds of people sacrificed in her name every year. I hardly think she¡¯ll help us out now.¡±

    ¡°What on earth is a goddess, anyway?¡± asked S¨¦zanne.

    ¡°A spirit just and true, awash in a sea of false idols and charlatans.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s just a Great Spirit that you happen to like?¡±

    ¡°My judgment is immaterial. What matters is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is keeping Guerron¡¯s people safe and prosperous,¡± Fernan interrupted. Enough is enough. ¡°That¡¯s why we did all of this in the first place. Spiritual matters can wait. I¡¯ll take Mara up to see G¨¦zarde today, and we can resume the conversation at a later time. In two days I¡¯ll have another chance to try talking to Camille Leclaire.¡± If she doesn¡¯t snub me again. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t send our messenger any later than that.¡±

    ¡°But taking care to avoid saying the wrong thing is just as important, in its own way,¡± Michel said, which wasn¡¯t terribly helpful.

    ¡°Which is why we need to drill down to very specific, earthly demands.¡±

    Michel nodded. ¡°What we want in an ideal world, and perhaps even more than that. We¡¯ll be lucky if Malin is willing to grant a fraction of what we ask for. They know we can only kill Magnifico once, and doing so would doom the entire continent to Avalon¡¯s conquest.¡±

    ¡°Then, I say again, we must consider alternatives to the Fox-King¡¯s regime.¡± Montrouge laced his fingers together, waiting until he had the room¡¯s full attention. ¡°A Guerron free from the tyranny of spirits and sages cannot and will not be acknowledged in Malin. Even deposing Valvert is likely enough to poison our relations there forevermore. They¡¯ll wish to retaliate, and we need to give them good cause to reconsider.¡±

    Darce nodded. ¡°If you commit to renouncing the false hierarchies and evil patrons of the past, the Condorcet Collective is prepared to offer our firm and steadfast support, both financially and in strength of arms.¡±

    ¡°Khali will enrich your mind and strengthen your arm, as she has done for us, allowing survival even when the entire continent is set against you,¡± Courbet added.

    ¡°Great.¡± Maxime rolled his head back. ¡°We¡¯ll have a few more florins in our pocket and a few hundred more swords at our side when the Fox-King leads an army through the pass to kill us all.¡±

    I thought we agreed to move past this for now. ¡°Regardless, spiritual matters will have to wait until¡ª¡±

    ¡°International alliances are an earthly concern, a vital one to our very survival,¡± Montrouge interrupted. ¡°And Avalon is prepared to offer us everything we want, so long as we return her king. Harold Grimoire promised as much himself.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Fernan blurted out. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be suggesting we align ourselves with Avalon.¡±

    ¡°It bears consideration,¡± Montrouge insisted. ¡°As things stand now, we¡¯re no friends of the Fox-King. And King Harold promised¡ª¡±

    ¡°He promised Aurelian Lumi¨¨re the position of the sun. He promised Duke Fouchand the respect and sanctity of a guest. He promised me his help in finding the Duke¡¯s true killer, and used it to hide the evidence of his own misdeeds.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. His promises are worth less than the contents of his privy,¡± said Charles. ¡°A lot of good people would still be alive if he hadn¡¯t wormed his way in here. Even more, when you consider his responsibility for plunging the world into darkness.¡±

    ¡°He left Charenton alone. And Dimanche. They¡¯re aligned with Avalon, but they still have their independence. Can you imagine a city government, equal to all, but backed by the power of the world¡¯s greatest military? The Fox-King would faint on the spot.¡±

    Courbet flashed a giddy orange at the prospect, though still darkened in color. ¡°The Collective would be more than amenable to such a choice. Even after all this time, some of us still have friends in Cambria. Assurances could be secured, if need be. It would be just as much in their interest as ours.¡±

    ¡°Friends in Avalon?¡± Fernan couldn¡¯t help but ask. ¡°You serve Khali, and their nation was built on sealing her away. Not to mention being on the other side of the world.¡±

    ¡°The bloodline Grimoire only became royalty because of their allegiance to Khali. They abandoned her in the Age of Gleaming, and much of Cambria with them, but Khali still has loyal servants in high places, and with them, friends of Condorcet.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d go that far,¡± Darce hedged. ¡°But they do send us aid covertly, more likely because they know we put it to use against their enemies like Micheltaigne and Plagette than out of any loyalty to Khali. I¡¯m sure that the Thirteen would support this course.¡±

    ¡°Splendid!¡± Montrouge nodded enthusiastically. ¡°I urge you all to consider the benefits. King Harold was happy to offer an Avaline protectorate over Guerron to Lumi¨¨re, and but for his treachery and ambition, he could have had it. Fernan could now, or a duly elected council to represent us all. Or think of Charenton! Magister Ticent just had to hand over a baby, and they let him rule Charenton unmolested for decades. And Harold Grimoire is far more valuable than Robin Verrou ever was.¡±

    ¡°Or Dimanche,¡± Maxime countered. ¡°The Countess danced to Avalon¡¯s tune for nearly as long, and yet a boat of starving refugees still turned up on our shores. How well do you think Avalon is serving them, at the moment? Why should we expect any better?¡±

    Thank you, Maxime. ¡°Not to mention G¨¦zarde and the geckos. Whether or not Avalon secretly likes Khali, they¡¯re not going to want the sun and his children to have a place in any kind of arrangement we might make.¡±

    ¡°King Harold is an even greater opponent to liberty than Valvert. Granting him any kind of dominion over Guerron would be a step back, not forward. I am intimately familiar with the perils of finding a solution worse than the initial problem. Learn from Condorcet¡¯s example, rather than following it to the same bloody ends.¡±

    ¡°Why would you slander your homeland like this?¡± Courbet called out. ¡°Had you been raised anywhere else, you¡¯d simply be another follower, your mind constrained and limited by artificial, unjust hierarchies of magic and nobility. Instead, you got to live in the freest nation on Terramonde.¡±

    ¡°Until the moment I was arrested without cause,¡± Maxime fired back, but his voice was already beginning to be drowned out by larger arguments about looking to Cambria versus Malin, independence versus protectorate, lordship versus democracy, and even within the latter, republicanism versus direct rule by all of the people.

    Fernan could barely hear himself think, let alone cogently respond to any of it. For some reason I believed that without all of the arrogant, ignorant aristocrats, things would be easier. What was I thinking?

    Mere hours ago, they¡¯d all been united for the people of Guerron, against Valvert and his callous indifference, his councilors¡¯ malicious corruption. How had that unity shattered so quickly?

    If we can¡¯t come to an agreement, Avalon or the Empire will have no trouble cleaving through our divided ranks and seizing whatever remains. This fractiousness had to end, but Fernan didn¡¯t see a path to do it.

    Judging by their respective shouting and moody silence, Michel and Maxime didn¡¯t seem to have any great ideas either.

    Fernan was just about ready to walk out the door and get some, maybe talk to Mara and G¨¦zarde before coming back, when it swung open right into his face.

    His mom was on the other side, a concerned purple tint to her aura.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Fernan asked, fearing he knew the answer.

    ¡°The mercenaries were spotted on the horizon. They¡¯re going to want to talk to Valvert or force us back into the mines, neither of which we can give them.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said mutely, cold dread filling his heart as he looked back at the contentious arguments filling the room.

    ¡°I think you should treat with them again,¡± she said softly, barely audible above the din. ¡°There might be an arrangement we can come to. If nothing else, you can buy us time to prepare a defense.¡±

    ¡°No, of course. Right.¡± Fernan blinked rapidly, trying to get his thoughts in order. ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Just fly away if anything goes wrong. The most important thing is keeping yourself safe.¡±

    It¡¯s not, and we both know it. But the sentiment was nice, and it finally spurred Fernan to action.

    ¡°Everyone quiet!¡± He turned and shouted, instantly driving the arguments from the room. ¡°As of now, all previous matters of discussion are on hold while we prepare defenses for Guerron. The Chalice Mercenaries have returned, and we need to be able to greet them on equal footing. While I¡¯m out meeting with them, I want you all to listen to Mom and Michel and start fortifying the city.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s Eleanor Montaigne, to be clear,¡± Michel smoothly jumped in, sliding towards the exit to meet up with them. ¡°Everyone, follow me outside. We¡¯re going to sort ourselves into three groups. If you can fight with a sword, join Charles in the courtyard as he goes over tactics and battle maneuvers. We don¡¯t have a lot of time, but any training is massively better than nothing. If you¡¯re good with a bow or a pistol, follow Eleanor to the ramparts. We need to slow them down as much as possible before they even reach the gates. Anyone else who can help, go with Maxime. You¡¯ll be preparing supplies, oil, taking stock of our munitions, and warning the rest of the city. Take care not to panic. Our cause is just, and we have already triumphed against great odds to stand here today¡­¡±

    He continued on, leading the throngs of people back towards the castle¡¯s courtyard, still awash with dust and blood, but Fernan didn¡¯t stay to listen. Steeling himself for his task, he took flight with a burst of flame. His task was too important to tarry with.

    Because if I can¡¯t talk them around again, today¡¯s fighting will look like nothing by comparison¡­

 Laura VI: The Pilot

    Laura VI: The Pilot

    ¡°So what¡¯s your surname?¡± Laura whispered, peering between tall rushes at the smoking ship slowly chugging its way past.

    ¡°Duchesne,¡± the smuggler answered, not looking up from the horizon ahead. Not something I¡¯d expect from a smuggler, but apparently peasant surnames are more common in Avalon, so maybe that carried over to their Territories somewhat? That, or Duchesne was a nobleman pulling a Robin Verrou, which seemed vanishingly unlikely.

    ¡°Then what¡¯s your pre-name?¡±

    ¡°Private,¡± he grunted, his usual answer for even the most benign of questions.

    ¡°Fine, I guess I¡¯ll just call you that then, Private!¡±

    ¡°Do what you want.¡±

    Their progress had been slow these last three days sailing down the Sartaire, going to ground on the banks at even the hint of an Avaline patrol and waiting for it to pass. Laura didn¡¯t exactly love sitting on the boat and waiting for it to go either, but at least she knew they were making progress. Cowering in the reeds for hours was torture by comparison.

    Laura had generously offered, more than once, to sink the patrol boats herself to clear the way so that they could make better time, but Duchesne had been very clear that he¡¯d leave her to swim down the Rhan if she did. My mistake, asking. Should have just done it without talking to him, and then he could hardly have complained.

    ¡°Well, how did you get this boat back from customs, then? You said you wanted a subtle approach.¡± Admittedly, not where my strengths seem to lie. Though it wasn¡¯t her fault that the Prince of Darkness was paranoid enough to give all of his underlings daily passwords. The blunt approach had worked just as well anyway, give or take some torn stitches on her shoulder.

    Laura hadn¡¯t the slightest idea where the sling the Magister¡¯s doctor had given her had ended up, but Duchesne had been kind enough to lend her a blanket from his hold to fashion one, all the kinder for the fact that it was now stained with blood.

    ¡°I told the customs agent that the charges had been dropped, and the Piqure de Moustique was to be returned to me. My presence outside of the jail was enough to convince him, along with a signed memorandum from the Magister¡¯s office.¡±

    ¡°Damn it, that¡¯s basically what I tried!¡± Laura fumed. ¡°I could have totally pulled it off too, if it weren¡¯t for those damned passwords.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Duchesne replied, as if it were a matter of fact.

    I was almost there even without it. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were a forger too.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    I guess that wasn¡¯t technically a question. Getting Duchesne to open up a bit wouldn¡¯t be so important, except there was nothing else to do at all. And as long as they had to keep diving into the bushes ahead of Avalon¡¯s gaze, it was going to be a long trip. ¡°Why is your boat named after a mosquito bite, anyway? They¡¯re annoying, but it¡¯s not exactly fearsome.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± he said, the faintest traces of a smile visible on his lips for a brief moment.

    Who wants to be the blood-sucking insect? It¡¯s absurd. Was that just how criminals thought? It would certainly match everything Laura¡¯s parents had said about them before sacrificing them to Flammare, but that alone was a strong reason to question it. More likely it was about not taking on more than he could handle, sucking a bit of blood at a time without provoking anyone too badly.

    Though, if so, he hadn¡¯t really succeeded. You didn¡¯t end up turned in by a friend unless you¡¯d severely provoked someone. But, of course, when Laura had asked about that, Duchesne had only said, ¡°Private.¡±

    ¡°So you don¡¯t like talking about yourself. That¡¯s fine. There¡¯s other topics. Is this your first time going down the Rhan?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t been before. I know we¡¯re supposed to be somewhere near where Colin Renart crossed the Rhan to encircle his brother, right? Battle of Tresim¨¨ne?¡±

    ¡°His sister. Empress Hermeline.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± According to Laura¡¯s old history lessons, the War of Three Cubs had had so many battles with once-in-a-generation casualties that the whole continent ought to be extinct, so it wasn¡¯t easy to keep them all straight. ¡°A history buff, I take it?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly. Everyone born within a hundred miles of the Rhan knows that name.¡± Implying you¡¯re from around here? ¡°I¡¯m surprised they never talked about it in boarding school. Maybe they did, and you just weren¡¯t a good student.¡±

    ¡°Ok, look, I knew her name. Alright? She was one of the Three Cubs. There¡¯s only three of them, it¡¯s not that hard to keep straight. I just got the battles mixed up.¡± Laura paused, watching the Avaline patrol boat circle back on itself, catching the river¡¯s current as it turned around. ¡°And I never went to any boarding school. I don¡¯t know why you keep saying that.¡± Definitely a point against him pulling a Robin Verrou, though. Anyone raised a noble would know that boarding schools of that sort were a sign that you couldn¡¯t afford the appropriate staff at home, relegated to the wealthy professionals and third-rate aristocrats whose finances were declining.

    At least, that¡¯s the reason Mother gave me when I tried to get out of there. That effort had failed, but apprenticeship with the Temple of the Sun had eventually succeeded, at least for a time. When it had failed, it had failed spectacularly.

    But no matter how far I¡¯ve fallen, I¡¯m never going back.

    ¡°It turned around again. Why isn¡¯t it moving on? We¡¯ve never had to wait this long before.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a holding pattern. Lets it stay mobile without moving too far away. Those steamships can do it better than most, since going up river¡¯s so easy.¡±

    ¡°Do you think they found us? But then why wait around?¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t, so they haven¡¯t. A little mosquito bite isn¡¯t worth waiting around for backup, even in wartime.¡±

    ¡°Unless they already know I¡¯m on board.¡± It wasn¡¯t much of a boast, really. After getting shot by the Prince of Darkness¡¯s lieutenant, Laura knew better than to completely discount an Avaline patrol boat in a fight, at least if any of its officers had pistols, but she liked her chances enough to doubt that the captain would want to engage her alone. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, I should go after them now, while they¡¯re still alone. You can wait here, treat the burning wreckage as a signal to get ready to go.¡±

    ¡°No. I was clear about this.¡±

    ¡°That was before they found us!¡±

    ¡°They haven¡¯t. Look.¡± He pointed upriver, where a second and third patrol boat were arriving to join their circling fellow, a massive steam ship behind them. Between the four of them, even the mighty Rhan was completely blockaded. ¡°If they know it¡¯s us, they know we¡¯re coming from Charenton. And if they got this close, they wouldn¡¯t mess that up.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s to¡­ stop someone else from going upriver?¡± Laura tilted her head, trying to consider the new angle on the information.

    Are they worried about an attack from the Empire? Prince Lucifer had been worried about the rebels seeking help from Leclaire, so perhaps his fears weren¡¯t unfounded. Propping up odious Avaline traitors to benefit herself certainly fit Leclaire¡¯s playbook, and Lucien would go to war if she bade him¡­

    But the geography doesn¡¯t work. Any ships from Malin would be coming from the other direction, after working their way all around the Lyrion Peninsula. If Lucien were leading forces by land, this river blockade would be nothing but an amusing folly for them to laugh at as they marched by.

    As dumb as the Avaline could be, they weren¡¯t dumb enough to get that wrong.

    But what else could it be? The Rhan Empress seemed even more terrified of Avalon than her own shadow, publicly and repeatedly denying aid to the besieged Arboreum and withdrawing all presence on the upper Rhan, basically ceding Avalon control. Even they thought they¡¯d be doomed fighting Avalon on the water, and the blockaders had little reason to fear them.

    Which left what? Micheltaigne? The High Kingdom was famed for its defensive mountainside fortifications and pegasus knights. Cramming their forces onto a boat and ramming their way upriver would be stupid enough to make their Winter War offensive seem like a genius tactical move by comparison.

    Was there a more general reason they¡¯d benefit from locking down the Rhan, the same way they were boarding merchant ships in the Lyrion Sea? Nothing that their periodic patrol boats couldn¡¯t already accomplish more cheaply, though.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°So they¡¯re not trying to stop a naval offensive¡­ They could probably handle something big, but that doesn¡¯t mean that has to be what it¡¯s for¡­ Maybe it¡¯s an ambush.¡±

    ¡°Not for us.¡±

    ¡°No. Like you said, why set it up behind us?¡±

    Duchesne nodded slowly, muttering something inaudible, turned to face Laura directly. ¡°Right. Take the covering down and help me get the boat. The sooner we leave, the better.¡±

    ¡°Well, wait. Avalon thinks that ambush is worth blocking off the entire river and committing four ships.¡±

    ¡°Five,¡¯ Duchesne corrected, looking at the latest to arrive.

    ¡°Right, so if we can intercept whoever they¡¯re looking for, warn them, we can ruin whatever they¡¯re planning here. Fuck up their day.¡±

    Duchesne frowned. ¡°I agreed to take you as far as Villeneuve, in exchange for your help. Not to play messenger.¡± He grabbed the rope connecting them to a deep stake embedded in the riverbank, using it to pull himself onto the ground, then squatted down and pulled the stake free of the earth. He¡¯d jumped back onto the boat before it had even begun to move.

    ¡°Villeneuve is secondary. It¡¯s just my best bet for passage to Lorraine. The real goal is fucking them up. Actually making a difference¡­¡± Making a difference when I die in battle. It probably wasn¡¯t possible to fix her legacy, but at least she could go out in the right way.

    ¡°Do what you want. But I¡¯m going.¡± He grabbed a hefty pole from the deck and used it to push off from the bank.

    Laura considered hopping off for a moment, taking the chance that whatever this was would matter more than the distant battlefield, but ultimately she stayed. Fighting the blockade for no particular reason didn¡¯t exactly carry the promise of a worthy death, and if it was an ambush for someone traveling upriver, their paths were sure to cross at some point.

    ¡°You made the right call,¡± Duchesne said once they were out on the water again, possibly the first time he¡¯d initiated conversation on his own. ¡°No sense rushing off to your death.¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± He was sort of right, even he was wrong in the broader sense, so Laura let it pass with a nod.

    Apparently it wasn¡¯t convincing enough though, because Duchesne sighed. ¡°Every young person thinks they¡¯ll live forever. Believe it too long or too much, and you¡¯ll be young forever instead.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Laura insisted. This isn¡¯t what I wanted to talk about.

    ¡°Do you? Because I met you in a jail cell with a gunshot wound from trying to set a prince¡¯s ship on fire. You¡¯re good, good enough to fend off a small army when we were escaping Charenton.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Not sure where you¡¯re going with this.

    ¡°Being good isn¡¯t good enough. I¡¯m good, and I still ended up right there with you when someone I thought was a friend ratted me out. Whatever you think you¡¯re going to accomplish out here, it¡¯s not worth it. I¡¯m sure if you swallow your pride, you can go home.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong about that, not that I would anyway. This place is more welcoming than home would be at the moment.¡± Even Valentine was gone from Torpierre now, set to wed Valvert in Laura¡¯s place. Their parents must have really wanted that alliance, because knowing Valentine, her price for it would not have been small.

    ¡°What happened to you?¡±

    ¡°Private,¡± Laura said, enjoying the chance to deny him an answer with his own words. ¡°How far are we, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Look right,¡± he said, not turning his head at all. ¡°When the Monts de Michel are a quarter-turn on the horizon, that means the Forche is a couple hours away. If you¡¯re tired of taking shifts sleeping, we could stop in Fleuville for a warm meal and a bed before we set out tomorrow.¡±

    Laura shook her head. ¡°Waste of time.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your hurry?¡±

    ¡°Private.¡± The sooner you drop me off, the sooner I¡¯m free to go where I please. She didn¡¯t begrudge him his caution, especially since he was so much more vulnerable, but that was exactly the reason it¡¯d be easier. A night to stop and ruminate, to hear the latest news of Valentine¡¯s plight and find out if that horrible song had spread this far... Better to keep all of that away. Learning more about things she could do nothing to fix would only make things worse.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m going to stop in Fleuville. I know a trader who¡¯ll let us moor a night for free, and I¡¯m sick of fish.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the deal!¡±

    ¡°The deal is to get you to Villeneuve. And I will. And this will hardly even delay us. You have to be sick of this boat with just me for company by now.¡±

    The thought of a proper meal and a real bed was enticing, admittedly. And spending one night would still waste less time than waiting out the patrol boats.

    ¡°Fine. One night.¡±

    ?

    Fleuville proved more hospitable than Laura had expected, especially considering the nearly deserted Rhan surrounding it. But even if the town was on edge, last night, they¡¯d had something to celebrate.

    ¡°Astounding!¡± Laura had heard, along with ¡°stupendous!¡± and ¡°incredible!¡±, but the one she thought fit the best was ¡°unbelievable.¡±

    Because the story was hard to believe.

    Avalon had been besieging Lorraine for over a month, kept at bay only because the city¡¯s green walls had proved a match for the cannons and Her Verdance had proved strong enough of will to hold the city together in defiance even as the Arboreum fell, tree by tree.

    Now, if this story was to be believed, the besiegers had been scattered for hours by a surprise attack from behind, soon joined by a sortie from Lorraine. By the time Avalon had been able to get its forces together and reestablish control of the surroundings, Her Verdance had escaped, along with most of the Arboreum¡¯s leadership.

    Lorraine fell in the aftermath, but that had already been an inevitability to anyone paying attention. Even Laura hadn¡¯t seriously thought that she could stop that on her own.

    But the details felt wrong. Apparently a knight clad from head to toe in red armor had led the attack, then slipped away into the night before Avalon¡¯s forces could catch them. Her Verdance had apparently also slipped away, melting into forgotten corners of the forest where Avalon could never hope to find her.

    It was¡­ too cute. A story of defiance to take some sting out of the fall of Lorraine. Wishful thinking.

    Not that I can blame them for wishing. With the Arboreum fallen, Avalon will probably try to expand south to the Rhan. Maybe further. Whatever force or values had held them back for the past seventeen years didn¡¯t seem to be a factor anymore. And without them, it had taken them barely two months to conquer an eight-hundred year nation.

    And that was just the most believable parts. Spirits had been high at the inn, each storyteller adding yet wilder and bawdier exaggerations, culminating in a nearly unrecognizable song about the red knight fighting with the strength of ten men, wiping out the besiegers by himself and then leaping onto an airship to cut it down with a single stroke of his sword, only to refuse Her Verdance¡¯s hand in marriage because he was sworn to a greater cause. By tomorrow, they¡¯d probably be talking about him merging with the Rhan spirit to wipe out the entire invading force.

    But Fleuville rumors weren¡¯t Laura¡¯s problem anymore. The sun had risen late through a surprisingly thick fog, but at last, she and Duchesne had set out along the north fork of the Rhan, the last leg of their journey together.

    ¡°Now that we¡¯re on the Norforche, the mountains shift behind us as we go. Once they¡¯re about three-quarters back from the front of the ship, we¡¯ll be halfway to Villeneuve.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± He¡¯d doubtless only told her to spare himself future pestering about how much time remained, but there¡¯d be no need for it now that Laura could track progress herself.

    She looked up and right from the river, trying to compare the position of the mountains to Duchesne¡¯s rough guide, but it was difficult to be sure with the way their position seemed to flicker and change. Defensive magic, maybe? This would be the time to deploy it, if so. Everyone was on the defensive here, even if Avalon hadn¡¯t officially declared war on anyone but the Arboreum yet.

    Except¡­

    Laura frowned at the dark grey clouds clustered above them, smoothly blending with the lighter overcast skies. But between the dark brown rock of the Monts de Michel and the somber skies above them, impossible to miss now that she was looking carefully, was a thin line of orange, a flickering echo of the mountain beneath.

    ¡°Duchesne, look.¡± Laura walked to the edge of the boat as the smuggler pulled a spyglass from his pocket and turned it towards the mountain.

    As stoically as he liked to present himself, he couldn¡¯t quite conceal the sag in his shoulders as he witnessed it.

    Then I was right. It is a fire.

    Wordlessly, Duchesne passed Laura the scope, so she turned it towards the same spot.

    The entire mountain wore a coat of flame, endless smoke billowing up from it. It wasn¡¯t just the northernmost, either. As the Rhan curved south, their view only improved, showing a trail of burning mountains stretching as far as the eye could see. Perhaps even as far as Salhaute.

    ¡°This is wrong,¡± Laura realized. ¡°We didn¡¯t have a real summer, all the dead vegetation would be soaked through from the snow. You definitely wouldn¡¯t see something like this.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is burning. What do you make of that, wildfire expert?¡±

    I¡¯m not really, it was just a small part of my duties to Flammare. Clearing out the brush in a controlled fashion made for a festive yearly ceremony and good preventative practice both, though now that Flammare was dead, it seemed doubtful that the Bougitte family would continue it.

    ¡°Like you¡¯d put it past Avalon to do something like this.¡±

    ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t. But how? I¡¯ve heard plenty of Avaline soldier bluster in my day, and if one of them got their hands on a weapon that could set entire mountain ranges on fire, there¡¯d be three of them bragging about it by the end of the day.¡±

    Laura grabbed the spyglass and focused it above the mountains again, looking for gaps in the smoke. The air was so thick with ash it was hard to see much, but with a twist of the lens, she could make out some of the trees cracking and burning, the underbrush a sea of flame beneath them.

    She hoped it was just a wildfire. They weren¡¯t rare this time of year, though it had been anything but a normal year. But at this scale? The thought that anyone would do this willingly, intentionally, was almost too cruel to contemplate.

    Those hopes were dashed within moments as she saw an airship emerge from the smoky sky. However they¡¯d done it, the High Kingdom was burning at Avalon¡¯s hands. It was followed by another two in formation behind it, and then another three behind them. Then four.

    I didn¡¯t even know they had that many.

    The airships circled around and plunged back into the fog, their sinister purpose apparently yet unfinished.

    Well, looks like I don¡¯t need to go all the way to Lorraine to make a difference. Destroying the machines that had wrought all of that, that was a death to be proud of. Maybe even one Laura could be remembered for, if the lies hadn¡¯t set too deep. ¡°You can let me off here.¡±

 Florette X: The Blue Bandit

    Florette X: The Blue Bandit

    ¡°I know that I said we¡¯d be going over states of matter this week by looking at fluid dynamics, but given recent news in the war abroad, I thought it best to delve into its applications regarding densities, and how hydrogen gas keeps our dirigibles aloft in practice. If there¡¯s time, I may even be able to talk about the promising new advances in mining that could make use of the inert, two-proton Helium as an alternative source of lift. Don¡¯t worry, your assigned reading will apply to the lesson, so feel free to take out your books if you need the refresher.¡± The physics professor turned his back to the students, picking up a white stick of calcite and lifting it towards the green slate used for writing during lectures, inevitably in unreadably dense handwriting, stretched awkwardly by the need to write on a vertical surface.

    Florette slumped down over her book, already open to the assigned chapters that she hadn¡¯t had the time to read last night. The idea had been to do it in class¡ªshe was a pretty fast reader, even in Avaline these days¡ªbut the equations three paragraphs in had already stumped her, leaving the rest of it unintelligible.

    As much of a strain as it was to stay awake, Florette needed these lectures, needed not only to pass but to thrive in this discipline, or all the work Captain Verrou had put into preparing her identity would be for nothing.

    Her head started to nod forward, but Florette forced her eyes to stay open, squinting at the tiny numbers scrawled across the slate.

    I should have stayed in last night. Should have been studying. Meeting with Christophe and his neighbors had seemed important at the time, but for all the passion and anger, they¡¯d managed to talk for hours without actually resolving anything. Bouncing rapidly between delusional optimism and passive hopelessness was a great recipe to talk about the problem without making any real moves to address it. Moving forward, it would probably be better to leave the workers to Christophe and work the problem on her own, at least before things came to head.

    At least Glaciel¡¯s ring had helped heal some of their burns over time. Christophe was better at that sort of thing, but something about Glaciel¡¯s essence specifically seemed to preserve the skin despite the minimal power, and Christophe refused to touch the severed appendage of his sacred ancestor and Queen. Aside from the ring¡¯s reserves of power and the exhaustion from overusing it, it had cost Florette nothing to help.

    If only the money were the same. She¡¯d given five thousand mandala of Versham Paruna¡¯s ten to Lord Monfroy to pay down a sliver of her debt and delay doing him the favor he wanted, but between Christophe¡¯s room, food, and the families¡­ she was already down to three thousand, with no prospects to improve it.

    Part of what that meeting had been about, in a way, though it didn¡¯t look like any solution was forthcoming. Close to a waste of time, and certainly not a valuable use of Florette¡¯s, but it was hard to begrudge the workers their anxieties.

    I still could have studied after that, though. I got so little sleep anyway, losing more couldn¡¯t have made much difference. The idea had been that proper sleep¡ª¡¯proper¡¯ here meaning around three hours¡ªwould serve her better than bleary-eyed studies she was liable to forget when the morning came anyway. Maybe that was even true, but it wasn¡¯t doing Florette much good now.

    ¡°...thus, an inert gas nonetheless lighter than air can provide lift with minimal risk of a combustion reaction. He promises to provide a safer, more reliable dirigible fluid, so long as sufficient quantity can be obtained.¡±

    Shit. Please don¡¯t tell me I just slept through the whole lecture.

    ¡°Thank you, that¡¯s all. For next week, read Kessler chapters eight and nine, and I recommend doing the even practice problems from 12 to 48. Until then.¡± Professor Landry dipped his head slightly as the class began to stream out the doors, most having already risen from their seats.

    Shit, Florette thought once more, since the sentiment bore repeating.

    ¡°Professor Landy? Do you have a second?¡± Florette asked. ¡°I wanted to talk about the exam I missed.¡± One of two across her different classes, thanks to all of them being scheduled during the same week, a startling act of cruelty. Professor Thorburton had let her make up for the exam she¡¯d missed with a project assignment, which Rebecca had offered to help with. A lot of work, but recoverable. Hopefully Professor Landry would do the same.

    ¡°Do you? Why ever might that be?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping I could take a make-up exam, or do some other assignment for you. Is there any¡ª?¡±

    ¡°For you?¡± he interrupted before she could even finish the request. ¡°I want all of my students to succeed. Such is the mandate of an educator. But the fact is that not all of them will, least of all the truants who can¡¯t even be bothered to show up for my examinations.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been to every lecture since!¡± Florette was well aware that most students didn¡¯t, especially in this class, whose lectures tended to prove redundant next to the textbook they¡¯d paid so much for. ¡°I¡¯m really trying, Professor Landry, and I¡¯m sorry I missed it. I told you, I knew people in the fire, and spent all night¡­ It won¡¯t happen again, I promise.¡±

    Landry smiled, an encouragingly sympathetic look crossing his eyes. ¡°No. Take the zero and apply yourself.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Listen, girl. I don¡¯t care how big a fish your daddy was in whatever cultish swamp you call home. You¡¯re at the center of the world now, and whatever paltry dala he could cobble together means nothing here. He can¡¯t buy your way out of your problems anymore. He couldn¡¯t even manage it with the pirate sitting in the middle of his keep. If you can¡¯t hack it here, you¡¯d best just scamper back to your little den, because, I assure you, you have things easy enough under me.¡±

    Florette felt her fist curl with rage, trying to gird her reaction to something appropriate for Srin Sabine¡­ someone who believed her father was dying, and had just been insulted right in front of her. If anything, she ought to be more furious than Florette.

    She stared down the professor, growling as she raised her fist.

    ¡°Oh, do try it. Please. You¡¯re not smart enough to take a hint, so I¡¯d much rather have an expulsion resolve the matter permanently.¡±

    Not turning around, Florette started walking back towards the door, not breaking the eyeline with Professor Landry until the hallway curved out of sight.

    ¡°Agh!¡± She slammed her fist against the wall, trying to regain her composure.

    Why did everything have to fall apart so quickly? That damned fire had ruined everything, not in the least because whoever had started it had gotten away with it entirely. No, instead, the Blue Bandit had taken the blame, some masked ruffian working in concert with the dreaded Queen of Winter.

    Florette still had the Cambrian article from the day after the fire, and every day for the week that had followed. Things had started more honest, with the more neutral 118 Men and Girls Die in Garment Factory Fire; Street Strewn with Bodies. Three days later, the death toll had risen to 151, and the locked doors and oil-soaked rags littering the building had vanished from the conversation in favor of that vile foreigner arsonist, the Blue Bandit. Worse, the investigators believed ¡®she¡¯ had help from inside, a saboteur worker serving as an excuse to suspend pay and thoroughly investigate each and every one. It was only a matter of time before the arrests began.

    By now, the actualities had long slipped from the front page of any journal, but they were still milking fear of the Blue Bandit in the back pages. How did she enter our country? Why is our security so lax in war time? Could the Blue Bandit be linked to the sorceress, Camille Leclaire? How to keep your family safe from bandits. The Malin journals had hardly been any better, but somehow Florette had expected better in the capital, especially when it had been Avaline citizens that died.

    It couldn¡¯t be fear to criticize their own, since the same edition had included a cartoon depicting the Prince of Darkness as a whiny child in a restaurant, a dish labeled ¡°Malin¡± upside-down on the floor while Charenton was speared on his fork as he greedily demanded more. Although, the art style of the cartoons had changed dramatically after that, implying that the artist had been replaced, so perhaps it hadn¡¯t been too accepted after all.

    And every hour with the solicitor costs me another two hundred mandala. As much as a hired hand would be better suited to defending everyone now, Florette had to use him incredibly sparingly lest she sink even deeper into debt.

    At least no one had seen her face. Even at the meetings, Florette had been careful to wear a hood and kerchief, just in case someone thought they¡¯d be better off selling her out. Too late to do that with Christophe, but he knew them all better, and so far it seemed to be alright. Everyone in the building had lied to the investigators about Christophe¡¯s very existence, helping to conceal him from their search. It could have been worse.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    That didn¡¯t mean things were great.

    ¡°You alright?¡± Rebecca asked, startling Florette even though she ought to have expected her. They usually walked to Professor Alcock¡¯s class together.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Florette smoothed her face, forcing a smile. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    ¡°After you.¡± Rebecca waited for Florette to start moving, then fell into step beside her. ¡°So, I know this is kinda last minute, but is there any chance you don¡¯t have plans yet for Sauin?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Sauin! You know, the¡ªOh, I guess you wouldn¡¯t know. Sorry. It¡¯s just a holiday to celebrate on the last day of the tenth month, like a last hurrah before the harvest season winds down. You dress up in a costume like a spirit or a wraith or something and pass around sweets and drinks. You¡¯ll love it!¡±

    I don¡¯t know Rebecca, that sounds a lot like what I¡¯m doing now, and it¡¯s not exactly amazing. ¡°It¡¯s the thirty-first of the tenth?¡± Florette snorted. ¡°That¡¯s my anniversary.¡±

    Rebecca stopped, a hollow look spreading across her face. ¡°Anniversary with who?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ the earth? I guess? I¡¯ll be twenty-three.¡± Well, Sabine will. I¡¯ll be 20.

    ¡°Oh, your birthday!¡± Immediately, her face lit up, and she began walking again. ¡°I wish you¡¯d told me sooner! Now we have to celebrate.¡± She let out a quick laugh. ¡°Born on Sauin, huh? How spooky. Should I be worried?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just another day, not unlike any other.¡±

    ¡°Except better. Not that today looks hard to beat. What happened in physics?¡±

    ¡°Like I said, nothing.¡±

    ¡°What was the lecture about?¡±

    Since when did this become an interrogation? ¡°How to lift dirigibles. You create a combustion reaction with the gas inside it.¡± Or something.

    ¡°Unless flinging the ship up into the air in a million tiny pieces counts as ¡®lift¡¯, I¡¯m going to guess there¡¯s a misunderstanding there. You know I¡¯d be happy to tutor you.¡± She smiled, warm enough to melt stone. ¡°In fact I¡¯m free tonight. My roommate¡¯s visiting her parents, so I¡¯ve even got the whole apartment to myself.¡±

    ¡°Damn it! That sounds great, but I already have plans.¡± And I already got one extension from Lord Monfroy. I doubt I can show up tonight asking for another. ¡°Another time? I really appreciate the help.¡±

    ¡°Of course! It¡¯s my pleasure.¡± As they reached their usual seats, Rebecca set her bag down and pulled out Florette¡¯s chair. ¡°They do give gifts on birthdays where you¡¯re from, right?¡±

    Sometimes. Not as often for the annoying orphan. ¡°Sure,¡± Florette said as she sat down.

    Fortunately, before Rebecca could ask another question, the professor arrived.

    Surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t Professor Sohn, who¡¯d been filling in for the past few weeks, but Professor Alcock himself. ¡°I guess his latest pilfering expedition ended,¡± Florette muttered. ¡°Now we get to hear how he saved the world by doing it.¡±

    ¡°You may recall my mentioning a new Tancredi exhibit featuring ancient Imperial weaponry some weeks ago. I¡¯m pleased to inform you that the marquee item has just been set into place today. Before we begin with the lesson, I¡¯d be happy to address any questions you might have about my expedition.¡±

    And if it¡¯s anything like last time, he¡¯ll spend half the class time talking about himself.

    ¡°What¡¯s the item?¡± one student asked when called on.

    ¡°It¡¯s called Nuage Sombre in the native tongue, which translates roughly to ¡®dark cloud¡¯.¡± Wait, I know that name¡­ And if Avalon had gotten its hands on the sword of the High Kings of Micheltaigne, practically their ancestral crown¡­

    Suddenly it did not seem like such a mystery where the airships had been flying to.

    Jauntily, Alcock continued to explain. ¡°A venerable and ancient sword, infused with the power of the wind. It¡¯s said that its strength can pierce through a blackened sky, and inspire hope in any subjects who see it wielded by their High King. I believe, as do most scholars, though there remains some dissension, that it gained its name after the Siege of Salhaute, during a war with the Rhanoir in the days before the Empire, roughly¡­ year seven-hundred, age of darkness. According to Micheltaigne legends, High Queen Ar¨¨se directed her archers to blot out the sky with arrows and led a charge down the mountain to drive the weakened Rhanoir off. Of course, the pegasus has been an important symbol of royalty in Micheltaigne for as long as it¡¯s been domesticated, and the High Queen would hardly have been without one, even if her first mount had perished earlier in the battle.¡±

    ¡°My mom said that all of Micheltaigne was burned to ash,¡± said an annoying boy named Prescott.  As I feared. Prescott¡¯s mother was a general, which explained him knowing sooner than the journals did, but that was about the worst of all possible options. ¡°Was the sword damaged?¡±

    ¡°My expertise was called on in advance to ensure that culturally significant artifacts were not unduly harmed in the attack, and I¡¯m pleased to say that all of my protection measures were successful. Once the Salhaute ruins were secured, I was able to retrieve Nuage Sombre with nary a scratch on it. Now we can be sure that it remains safe and accessible long into the future.¡±

    ¡°But you weren¡¯t actually part of the fighting, right? Even though you¡¯re a knight?¡± Olivia Esterton, thankfully, tended to sit far away, but she was loud enough that it made little difference. ¡°You just swoop in afterwards to claim some share of the credit even though the real victory goes to the warriors who crushed the High Kingdom into submission. In a few months, they conquered two nations for Avalon while you combed through the aftermath. We¡¯ll conquer the world and you¡¯ll still be sniffing at the dirt.¡±

    Wow, I did not expect her to stand up to him like that. For entirely the wrong reasons, maybe, but it wasn¡¯t as if Thomas Alcock didn¡¯t deserve to be deflated a bit.

    ¡°Cease your vain megalomania, Miss Esterton. I always welcome a spirited debate with my students, but as you¡¯re questioning the very value of my profession, the entire discipline of archaeology, I will also remind you that the exit is just to your left, should you feel that your time is not spent here valuably.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s different for me. I¡¯m not a knight in wartime, called upon to serve at our moment of achievement.¡±

    ¡°My work is about so much more than conquest, Miss Esterton. I¡¯m rescuing and safeguarding our history. Do you know where the best preserved Imperial ruins lie? Not in Malin, the Fox-Queen¡¯s crowning jewel, for all of it was dismantled stone by stone as her children bashed it back and forth between each other. They tore down their history for the convenience of the present, and now when one wishes to study their civilization, we must visit the far reaches of Hiverre and Sunder¨¦, paying no thought to Malin. In ten thousand years people will only know of this war¡¯s existence because it provides a story for the artifact they¡¯re looking at, preserved and maintained that we might make history of our present, and preserve for future generations the most valuable thing of all: knowledge.¡±

    And apparently it doesn¡¯t count as preservation in the hands of the rightful owners, just yours.

    Olivia didn¡¯t have a rebuttal, remaining fuming in her seat.

    ¡°What are you planning next?¡± Prescott asked hesitantly, trying to get things back on track.

    ¡°Well, some time teaching you and consulting for the exhibit, of course. But when I depart, it shall be for that most precious treasure of all.¡± He smiled, somehow managing to look half-charming despite everything about who he was. ¡°I¡¯m getting married.¡±

    Immediately, Florette heard a baffling chorus of gasps. These people are way too invested in the life of one thief. One girl even cried out ¡°No!¡± just loud enough to hear.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve found love at last, with a devastatingly intelligent merchant¡¯s daughter with a voice from the heavens. Now that my work in Micheltaigne is done, I¡¯ll be traveling to Guerron to meet her family and wed.¡±

    Guerron? That has to be a story. Maybe there was a way to get a letter to Fernan to warn him, though Florette wasn¡¯t sure of what, exactly.

    ¡°Right, I think that¡¯s enough of that for now. Glenn, if you would, please pass out the graded assignments. I¡¯d like to single out the work of Miss Srin Sabine and her partner, Miss Rebecca Williams for insightful analysis, phrased artfully. I must confess that the historical social impact of weaponry is a personal interest of mine, but even putting that aside, your paper on the parallel development of cannonry with the unification and expansion of the Avaline nation state was absolutely top mark.¡±

    Rebecca accepted the praise stoically, so Florette did her best to do the same. It wasn¡¯t as if Alcock¡¯s opinion mattered that much, anyway, but it was nice to have something go right for once. Shame it isn¡¯t the one that matters, though.

    Once class ended, Florette crossed over to the Bayview station and took the train towards the Redding District, a neighborhood full of dull red brick towers and strangely empty streets. A quick walk up the hill led her to Sunset Heights, where she¡¯d gone to the museum with Rebecca.

    Monfroy¡¯s carriage was parked in front of the entrance, as he¡¯d said it would be.

    Florette flexed her fingers, readying herself to use Glaciel¡¯s ring if it came to that, and knocked on the carriage door. A moment later, it opened, and she stepped inside.

    ¡°I appreciate your punctuality, Miss Sabine. So many with your youth are so¡­ flighty. It makes it difficult to cultivate useful associates. I can hope that you¡¯ll continue to prove¡­ exemplary.¡±

    Ugh¡­ There was something wrong with this man, and ever since Jerome, Florette knew to trust her instincts. ¡°You¡¯re calling another favor, right? What can I do for you?¡± Hopefully nothing that takes too long. Last time had just meant grabbing a folder from under some floorboards in a rotting Bayview cottage and delivering it to an office in the marina, which had only taken a few hours and removed hundreds from her debt.

    ¡°I am indeed, Miss Sabine, and I¡¯m prepared to reduce your debt by eighty thousand, nearly half of what you¡¯ll owe once I take possession of Mahabali Hall. But I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s a time-sensitive matter, and sure to be a demanding task. Nonetheless, I would not ask if I didn¡¯t think you could serve my purpose in attempting it.¡±

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    Monfroy smiled, waving his arm out towards the wall of the carriage and the museum beyond. ¡°I¡¯d like you to steal a sword for me.¡±

 Luce V: The Spirit-Charmer

    Luce V: The Spirit-Charmer

    ¡°Today¡¯s password is ¡®Horseshoe¡¯,¡± Graves reported. One of Uncle Miles¡¯s men for fifteen years, he was among the more reliable of Luce¡¯s new guard, and best positioned to give reports in Charlotte¡¯s absence. ¡°Where would you like to start?¡±

    With Charlotte, to be honest. But she was looking into something more important, and Graves was genuinely better suited for some tasks. ¡°Any more illegal attempts to restart the forest harvesting?¡±

    Graves gave a crisp nod, lips curled inward. ¡°One Mister Moncrieff arrived at the mill with two personal guards and around a dozen laborers, insisting on his personal property rights. Fortunately, we were able to dissuade him from doing anything rash.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± said Luce, though the fact that it had been needed at all was alarming enough. At first, people had seemed happy when Luce extended the work stoppage after the end of the impromptu holiday, since he¡¯d forced the owners to guarantee half-rate standby wages to the workers until he could figure something else out.

    But now Sauin had passed and the original weeklong holiday that Luce had hastily dubbed the Autumn Spring continued to drag on. Laborers were struggling under half-wages and the mill owners and forestry rights holders were on the verge of burning Luce alive for forcing a guarantee of even that much. The worst part was that they weren¡¯t even wrong, not entirely. Luce was infringing on guaranteed property rights, and he was depriving hundreds of laborers of desperately needed wages in the wake of a global catastrophe. That was before even getting into seizing power over the nominally sovereign Charenton. He just didn¡¯t have any better alternative right now. Not unless he were willing to countenance the incursion, plunder, and further destruction of Cya¡¯s forest, which he¡¯d promised to protect.

    ¡°Keep an eye on him, but from a distance. I¡¯ll bet you anything that he goes running to the rebels the moment he thinks he isn¡¯t being watched.¡± Hopefully, after today, we can put the issue behind us. ¡°What news from the war?¡±

    ¡°The High Kingdom of Micheltaigne has surrendered unconditionally. High King Rennet is confirmed dead in the bombing, as are his sister and son. Queen Consort Serein commanded all remaining combatants to lay down their arms and is currently in transport to Cambria. Princess Mars remains missing, presumed dead in the attack.¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse.¡± Just like that, an ancient people forced into submission beneath our bombardment. Humanity had mastered flight, harnessing forces of the earth and marshaling them towards the sky, and that crowning achievement was being used for this monstrosity. ¡°They¡¯ll go after the Rhan lands next, I¡¯d guess. Dangerous to leave hostile territory in between your conquests. If we¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll at least wait until Lorraine submits.¡±

    But I haven¡¯t exactly been lucky so far. It was a keen reminder that for every day Luce spent here, Avalon¡¯s military was continuing their march of war. Solving the food supply issues was more important, more urgent, but at this rate, by the time Luce was done here, there might not be a continent left to save. I need to wrap this up, fast.

    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Graves agreed. ¡°Especially after the siege¡¯s latest setback.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what happened in Lorraine?¡±

    ¡°Her Verdance escaped after Captain Richter¡¯s soldiers were ambushed from behind. According to a few of the troops, they were led by a knight clad head-to-toe in red armor, leading a force of less than one hundred. The angle and surprise were sufficient to disrupt the perimeter, allowing the escape, but the attackers were swiftly driven off. Captain Richter offered her resignation to General Echols, but was refused.¡±

    I suppose that¡¯s somewhat encouraging, in its own way. If Echols was shortsighted and petty enough to discard his subordinates for impossible-to-anticipate failures, I¡¯d have even less hope of getting him to stand down while I work things out with Harold. A low bar to clear, perhaps, but Luce had no doubt at all that the likes of Perimont and Stewart would fail that same test.

    Still, it came with its own issues, perhaps more significant than the benefits. ¡°Without Her Verdance, I¡¯m even less confident in Lorraine¡¯s ability to hold out.¡± And the moment it falls, half an army gets freed up to move on to the next target. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of detail. How did you find this out, again?¡±

    Graves chuckled, a deep rumbling that was gone almost as soon as it began. ¡°Captain Richter and I served together in the Foxtrap. All I had to do was write a letter asking.¡±

    And if things had gone slightly differently, you¡¯d be happily fighting beside her now, no matter how unjust the cause¡­ Important to remember, when Charlotte was the only one whose morals Luce could absolutely count on. Still, Graves¡¯ loyalty wasn¡¯t in question.

    ¡°Good work,¡± Luce said, since it was true. ¡°The rebels?¡±

    ¡°We caught a few of the kids playing dice by the harbor and got them to talk. Now we know why Simone Leigh and her cronies haven¡¯t been making any trouble since the prison break. They fled to Malin days ago, probably at Magister Ticent¡¯s invitation. They¡¯re also openly accusing you of consorting with spirits, saying you tried to press-gang the flaming rogue and the rest to feed the hunger of the Rhan. Nothing anyone with an ounce of sense would ever believe. We also caught a few of the slower escapees and a group massed with pikes outside the armory, but otherwise nothing.¡±

    And so Leclaire gets more soldiers for her army, ready to lead them back over the border the second she¡¯s confident she can survive the counterattack. The hypocrisy of condemning Luce for consorting with spirits while running into the skirts of Leclaire of all people was absolutely galling, but there was nothing to be done about it now, short of invading Malin and condemning Father to certain death, so Luce cleared the thought from his mind.

    ¡°The Countess Dimanche finally sent our envoy back, but with a list of demands a mile deep, most egregious among them being a formally recognized independence. She refused absolutely to recognize Avaline authority, and signed the letter ¡°Countess Ir¨¨ne Dimanche, of the United Lyrion League.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s annoying.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s outrageous!¡± Graves countered. ¡°She¡¯s in violation of her agreement, backing rebels against the Crown.¡±

    ¡°Which is irritating, but not a priority. Lyrion and the other mainland Territories were devastated, and if we can¡¯t get them productive again, thousands more will starve. She¡¯s betting that the military is otherwise occupied right now, which it is, but that won¡¯t be true for long if I have anything to say about it. Dimanche can keep playing her games until the music stops. That¡¯ll be all for now.¡±

    Graves dipped his head as Luce walked past, making sure to look each of his guards in the eye as he passed them in the corridors of his ship.

    Which still needs a new name. Ferrous Ram tells you everything about Anya Stewart¡¯s mission and nothing about mine. But that was so far down on the priorities list that even telling someone else to do it went somewhere just before ¡®create an experimental regimen to improve sleep efficiency¡¯ and just after ¡®source matching uniforms so my forces present as a single cohesive force¡¯. Luce might be able to get to the bottom of that list in a matter of months if nothing new came up, but there was about as much chance of that as Terramonde awakening and swallowing him whole.

    At least the drills that Charlotte was running with the guards seemed to be proceeding well.

    After the flame-wreathed rogue had single-handedly broken in and stolen back a precious spiritual artifact merely by moving fast and blasting fire, it had become abundantly clear that preparations for fighting magical foes were thoroughly lacking. Thanks to the Gloves of Teruvo, Charlotte had staged more than eight mock break-ins from different angles, one time even climbing up the side of the ship from the water below, and each one had been successfully repelled despite her skill wielding the magical artifacts.

    And Laura is no Charlotte. Ultimately, it was better to find out the problem now, losing a boon of unknown utility that had fallen into his lap, than later with something more serious. Now, if something like this happened again, they¡¯d be ready.

    Charlotte was there to greet him at the docks as Luce descended from the ship, her face lighting up the moment she recognized him. Unless that¡¯s just wishful thinking. ¡°Luce!¡±

    ¡°Welcome back,¡± he greeted. ¡°Any luck?¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Better than we could have hoped for. Turns out we¡¯re dealing with the foolhardy sage of Flammare.¡±

    ¡°Like the song?¡± Does that mean that that pirate Florette became a bandit queen too?

    ¡°Written about her, it turns out, though not any more accurately than any other song. Turns out she was telling the truth about her name. Laura Bougitte, second daughter of Count C¨¦dric Bougitte, of Torpierre. Sage of Flammare for eight years, then¡­ Well, obviously she¡¯s not his sage anymore. She was spotted at the Convocation of the Hearth down in Gaume, then disappeared. Countess Hermine put out a three hundred florin bounty for her delivery alive, but no luck as yet.¡±

    ¡°A bounty for her own daughter?¡± Luce blinked, thinking through the problem. It could mean that she was guilty of betraying Flammare¡ªher parents obviously wouldn¡¯t appreciate that¡ªbut it could also be as simple as wanting their child back, especially if they thought she¡¯d been captured.

    Which I guess she was, for a little while.

    Three hundred florins was pitiful, though. Perhaps the Bougitte family had fallen on hard times?

    ¡°Maybe the sword was left over? Something she prepared in advance to keep her power after Flammare died?¡±

    ¡°With her life to draw on instead when we took it from her,¡± Charlotte agreed. ¡°Yes, that was my thinking.¡±

    ¡°Well, the Empire can write all the cutting songs about her that they want, but I¡¯m not going to judge someone for getting rid of a spiritual tyrant. If she did, that explains why she helped us, too.¡± And it means she was probably telling the truth about her sword¡­ A spirit empowered it without any sages or binders involved.

    But Charlotte didn¡¯t seem wholly convinced. ¡°Her origins leave ample motivation for her to sabotage us as well. Why else tell Simone Leigh and the prisoners what we¡¯d been asking about?¡±

    Good point. ¡°We don¡¯t know that she did. There were rumors just like that in Malin; Leigh and company would hardly have needed to be very creative to start repeating them here with a new spirit in the role.¡±

    ¡°True, but the possibility remains.¡±

    ¡°It does.¡± But if we really don¡¯t have a way to reach Rhan, how many more people will die? ¡°But what she said lined up with my research. And I¡¯m positive that she couldn¡¯t plant half a hundred books in the Magister¡¯s library just to fool me.¡±

    ¡°She certainly seemed to lack the temperament for it,¡± Charlotte conceded. ¡°And given the date of the Convocation, she wouldn¡¯t have had enough time either. But where does that leave us?¡±

    It still leaves us with a massive risk, to be honest. And both of us will suffer the consequences if I¡¯m wrong. ¡°Do you trust me, Charlotte?¡±

    ¡°With my life.¡±

    Luce smiled. ¡°I feel the same way. There¡¯s no one I¡¯d rather stand beside, facing an ancient spirit. There¡¯s no one else who¡¯d¡­ who I can trust to make the right decision. I believe it¡¯s a risk worth taking, for all the good it could do, but I want you to decide.¡±

    ¡°Luce, it¡¯s not my place.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s your life too. And you¡¯re much better at protecting us than I ever will be. What do you want to do?¡±

    Charlotte frowned, peering out over the Rhan, though what she was thinking, Luce couldn¡¯t know. ¡°You really think we should do this?¡±

    ¡°I really do.¡±

    She swore quietly, then turned back to meet his eyes. ¡°Then let¡¯s meet the Rhan.¡±

    ?

    Luce shivered as he felt the frigid water lap against bare flesh. Whatever traces of summer remained in the air of this autumn spring, it felt as if winter had already reached the Rhan. A small fraction of his anxiety faded away once the water reached his chest, only to be replaced by greater and weightier concerns.

    And the sensation of freezing to death. It had been warmer a few weeks ago. They might have tried this then, at the cost of abandoning all sensible caution and very possibly ending up eternally bound to the spirit¡¯s will. No, waiting until they had enough information to be confident was the right call, especially since it wasn''t just Luce¡¯s own life he was risking.

    It just felt, in this particular moment, as if it might not have been.

    Charlotte, by contrast, seemed largely unperturbed. Though she had let out a shiver at the first moment of entry, it had immediately given way to the same stone-faced determination her expression usually bore, made only slightly amusing by the juxtaposition with her wading exposed through a frigid river.

    Certainly better than I¡¯m holding up, anyway. At least he was beginning to go a bit numb. That helped, though not enough to make this anything but thoroughly unpleasant. And I haven¡¯t even started the dangerous part.

    ¡°Noble Spirit Rhan, Guardians of the Waters, Severer of the Earth, I call you forth to hear my words.¡± Despite everything, Luce managed to keep his voice level and confident, making sure not to offend Rhan with some unintentional slight before their dealings even began.

    ¡°Noble Spirit Rhan,¡± Charlotte followed, projecting her voice out across the waters. ¡°Cradle of Life, Thief of Stars, I call you forth to hear my words.¡± Everything had to be doubled with the Rhan. Two forks of the river, two supplicants to earn even a moment of their attention, two spirits as one.

    One did not simply call for one of the spirits, or their plea would go unanswered, at best. The books had been somewhat oblique about it, but Laura¡¯s more recent bits of advice fit the sentiment perfectly, the two sources helping to validate each other.

    Not to guarantee anything, though. Even if Rhan showed up, there was no reason to be sure they¡¯d want to negotiate at all.

    Damn it, Harold¡¯s the binder, not me. Just like he¡¯s the politician. Why did it keep coming to this? Luce could only hope that this assumption of the role went better than his efforts in Malin. At least the spirits there hadn¡¯t killed him; that was something. Cya had even saved his life, in a sense. But Camille Leclaire had known them and their ways, trained since birth to twist their ends to serve her own.

    This was different.

    The water swelled, a slender turquoise fish coalescing as the ripples grew higher, of the water and yet more than it. By the color, this would be the Norforche. Where the Rhan split at Fleuville, one fork led straight east while the other plunged south towards the High Kingdom, each represented by one part of the spirit Rhan, or one of the spirits Rhan. It was hard to be sure exactly how it worked when most of the books Luce had found were fundamentally incurious about the mechanics of it. All that seemed to matter was the narrative: the spirit who¡¯d defied Terramonde to cleave out the river from the stone, and been forever fractured as punishment.

    And who¡¯s not above taking out their anger on hapless guests in their river.

    Norforche was gone almost as fast as it appeared, though the ripples continued out from the spot where they¡¯d surfaced. Luce almost worried that he¡¯d done something wrong before he heard a splash behind him, jarring him like an explosion. Luce spun around just in time to catch a glimpse of the turquoise spirit disappearing back under the water.

    Always in motion¡­ He recalled that from one of the books, though it had seemed decidedly more metaphorical at the time. Hopefully that meant they were alright, though the absence of Sufforche was not at all a good sign.

    ¡°You called us forth, humans,¡± the ripples seemed to say, water splashing just so as the spirit jumped and submerged again. ¡°Say your piece.¡±

    ¡°Noble spirit,¡± Luce began, though he was far from sure that the descriptor applied. ¡°I am Lucifer Grimoire, son of Harold Grimoire, Prince of Crescents. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°A contradiction on two legs, it seems. Harold Grimoire slew the Prince of Crescents.¡±

    Uh¡­ That must have been about Luce¡¯s ancestor or something, but either way it wasn¡¯t relevant.

    ¡°There is no contradiction, noble spirit.¡± Seeing Luce¡¯s confusion, Charlotte jumped in. ¡°Luce is but the latest of the Grimoire line, his title freely granted, rather than seized. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Always ¡®I¡¯, as if Terramonde itself is yours to take on alone. Humans are much alike in that regard.¡±

    Luce swallowed, feeling currents of water rush past him. ¡°We are here to bargain, noble spirit, and right the wrongs of my forefathers.¡±

    ¡°We present you the Gloves of Teruvo,¡± Charlotte continued, holding up the artifacts. ¡°Though he was slain, this piece of him remains.¡±

    ¡°And with it, his kindness? His generosity? Or merely power, for which we do not want?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all that¡¯s left,¡± Luce said, since what could he say but the truth? ¡°As a Prince of Avalon, I wish to formally apologize on behalf of my nation for the wrongs done to you and your fellow spirits. We are here to try to rectify them.¡± More the wrongs we did to the people than to you, frankly, but this deal should benefit you just as much. ¡°Cya called me the white sheep of a black flock, and perhaps it¡¯s true. It took me too long to understand what she meant.¡±

    The water stilled at the mention of Cya.

    ¡°We are fully committed to preserving and restoring her domain,¡± Charlotte said, getting away from Luce¡¯s personal description. Good. ¡°And yours, should you choose to accept our bargain.¡±

    ¡°I know this ¡®Avalon¡¯, invaders from across the sea, murderers and arsonists, disrupters of the natural world. Even now, my other half must swell her banks to quell the flames your people have wrought. The East Wind is a friend, and we have not heard from her since your assault.¡±

    Luce met Charlotte¡¯s eyes nervously, looking for some kind of reassurance, but for once, she looked just as scared. I asked too much. This isn¡¯t the job she signed up for, and now this spirit is going to kill us both.

    ¡°But Cya, too, was a friend. If you seek to replenish her withered lands, I shall listen to what you have to say. Do not tarry, for we are needed in the South.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Luce and Charlotte said, synchronized. He could see the smile on her face before he felt it on his own. We actually have a chance here, without any scheming sages to get in the way. We could really do this. ¡°This is what we have in mind¡­¡±

 Camille VII: The One to Stay

    Camille VII: The One to Stay

    Dearest Camille,

    I hope this letter finds you well. I meant what I said when last we spoke, but it¡¯s not how I would have wanted to leave things between us. I¡¯m sure you feel the same way. I expect and hope we can work things out once I return and enjoy our lives together.

    In the meantime, the waters of Paix Lake are beautiful this time of year. Every time I take the boat out, I think of you. And the dappled shade of the trees is without peer in the sunset light, save the rings of blue in your eyes.

    I wish you were here with me, or that I were there with you, but the time is not yet right. Miro did find an artist in town who demonstrated a stirring mastery of depicting the human form. Enclosed you will also find the results, which I hope can stand in for my presence in some small way.

    Please do not come down to find me. I¡¯ll return to you when I¡¯m ready.

    With bottomless love,

    -Lucien

    Camille frowned, setting the letter down on her desk. ¡®Please do not come down to find me?¡¯ As if I¡¯d just abandon all my responsibilities to run off with you? Bad enough that the Fox-King himself was apparently relaxing on the ?le d¡¯Artre and enjoying his boat trips while his empire was slowly being rebuilt into a robust, modern form, strong enough to defy Avalon even without a hostage. Entirely without him, just like when Camille had liberated Malin.

    Bad enough, for that matter, that he knows I¡¯ll die in less than two months and he won¡¯t even be with me. The very suggestion was insulting.

    The sketch that had come with the letter, admittedly, was a masterful depiction of a most elegant human form, and Camille couldn¡¯t help but smile as she slipped it into her bottom drawer and locked it, but it did little to make up for the rest of it. But for the fact that it confirmed Lucien was alive and safe, she might almost have preferred receiving nothing at all. It would have been less insulting, at the very least.

    ¡°If you have anything to send to him, I¡¯ll relay it back,¡± Miro Mesnil had offered when he presented the letter, but Camille hadn¡¯t the slightest idea what to say that Lucien didn¡¯t already know. If he was determined to be a shiftless lackwit, Camille had better things to do than futilely try to stop him.

    If he was determined not to see her again, not to be with her before she died¡­

    How did it come to this, Lucien? It was always you and me against the world. Now we¡¯ve won our first great victory¡ªmy last¡ªand you can¡¯t bear to be with me, even with so little time left.

    She settled on a briefer note than was her usual fashion.

    Lucien,

    You¡¯re acting like a fool.

    Stop.

    Love,

    Camille

    If he had a problem with that, he was welcome to come tell her about it.

    Camille gave the note to Sire Miro in a padded blue envelope and sent him from the city as fast as she could.

    Miro Mesnil had submitted when sufficiently pressured, but after that scuffle with a guardian that had nearly reignited the Foxtrap, it seemed safer to keep him out of Malin. He was a swift sword for Lucien to have at his side if he got any stupid ideas, at the very least, though not bold enough to challenge them.

    Not much comfort, but there wasn¡¯t much of that to be had in these final days.

    At least the Code Leclaire was proceeding apace. The specific legal language wouldn¡¯t be ready for ratification in Camille¡¯s lifetime, especially if Lucien refused to stir himself to come govern, but she trusted Annette to see it through.

    It would bear her name, and bring the continent into the modern world without forgetting what made the Empire great, a perfect synthesis of old and new. Cynette Fields had been surprisingly accommodating of that desire for an Avalon-trained solicitor, but no doubt years of saving men and women from Perimont¡¯s noose had tempered her loyalty to their strictures.

    And once it was put to law, quotidien sacrifices would become a thing of the past with a single stroke of Lucien¡¯s pen. Gone were trials-by-sage, gone were lengthy imprisonments pending trial, gone was the very possibility of standing before judgment without a solicitor on your side. Even if it meant the Crown finding one for the accused.

    For now, the magistrates arbitrating the trials would have to remain the same¡ªCamille couldn¡¯t afford to incense every lord from the smallest knight to the mightiest Duchess while the Empire was in such a state of transition¡ªbut as they died, their successors would be appointed directly by the Crown, rather than guaranteed the hereditary right, though the heirs would maintain their lands and titles.

    Perhaps they¡¯d even retain their position, if they were truly learned and impartial enough to be suited for the role, but never again would the likes of Aurelian Lumi¨¨re wield that authority as an instrument of political power.

    Nor, come to think of it, could someone like me swipe a condemned man like Jean of the harbor and sacrifice him to further her own ends. That had been what truly made things with Lumi¨¨re irreconcilable, pushing the flaming boulder from the cliff before it smashed through Guerron, causing devastation still not fully healed. That, too, was for the better.

    It wasn¡¯t a provision that Camille added lightly. A similar abolishment of the Lord¡¯s Justice had cost Hermeline Renart almost half her support, and forever ended her dreams of ruling a united Empire from her riverine throne. Even rumors of its inclusion in the law code had required Camille to spend many of her few remaining evenings wining and dining lords and ladies and reassuring them of their continued value and rights, and she hadn¡¯t been able to win everyone over.

    But they had all seen what had happened to Annette. Like it or not, change was needed if the Empire was ever to survive, let alone thrive. Mary had been invaluable as well, though her charm was a peculiar one, better able to connect with the objectors on common ground before pivoting to show why the proposed changes wouldn¡¯t truly hurt them. She had a deft way of making all of their issues with it sound trivial without being insulting in the slightest. Camille had to admit that she¡¯d underestimated her, fooled by a superficial impression.

    The sacrifices were a similar story, now reserved for only the gravest of crimes¡ªmurder, violation, treason¡ªand only after many chances to appeal the sentence. Moreover, any condemned who insisted upon it could withhold themselves from the practice, though their family would mourn the loss of compensation in exchange, and it would do nothing to save their life.

    The objectors there had been faster to submit, being mostly sages and acolytes who already took their cues from Camille. Joseph Maurras, one of Uncle Emile¡¯s acolytes from Guerron and another exile from Malin, had loudly cried out against denying Levian the blood that the Great Spirit demanded, but Aude had thankfully resolved it before Camille even needed to say a word, declaring that Malin had seen more than enough blood. L¨¦on Orle, another exile acolyte, had joined in, saying that the White Night proved that Levian would only use his power against them in any case, and that Camille was his High Priestess to do as she will.

    It never would have been possible without Pierre Cadoudal transforming the Malin acolytes into a voice of compassion and reform, a counter to every traditionalist argument against reform, and Camille had to thank him for that, even if his wholehearted capitulation still grated.

    There had been some back and forth about who, precisely, would administer what few sacrifices would continue, since the representative for the Empire would no longer necessarily be a sage. That, too, could be solved with royal appointment, but Camille took care not to adorn the office with any particular longevity or accolades. The sage of the moment would be called upon and then set aside, ineligible to administer the ceremony again for a period of five years.

    Perimont¡¯s methods had done little right, but the more Camille looked at it, his use of unrenowned commoners as executioners had merits over glorifying them with power and prestige. No doubt in his case that had been to distance himself from his own butchery, keeping his hands clean and drawing ire to his disposable pawns instead of himself, but it also meant that he never had to deal with the likes of Aurelian Lumi¨¨re growing their power to rival him off the broken necks he left in his wake.

    This wouldn¡¯t be quite so extreme, but it was a step towards justice, and far better than Malin had seen under Perimont or Fox-Kings past.

    A fair compromise, a just one, which preserved tradition without injustice and showed Avalon for the butchers they were, to be enacted with sufficient consensus and backing to ensure its use long into the future. The fact that it reinforced royal power over the aristocracy was but another benefit, easier to enforce after the twin tragedies of the White Night and Perimont¡¯s Coup weakened their position. Sentiment was behind Camille, and that made every negotiation easier.

    A new wind was blowing. By the time King Harold expired in his cell, Avalon would find their foe a peer in matters of law. A superior, even, in vital ways.

    If only matters of industry seemed nearly as promising.

    Under darkness, every tree that could possibly be spared and a great many that couldn¡¯t had been burned to keep warm, leaving little in the way of fuel for even prototype designs, and the Guerron-shaped hole in Malin¡¯s usual logistical apparatus was doing little to help. Eloise¡¯s mercenaries couldn¡¯t get those miners back to work soon enough.

    Personnel was an issue, too. Annette¡¯s coterie of bureaucrats included few people with the knowledge and interest to make a serious attempt at duplicating Avaline technology, and, so far, none of the remaining transplants in the city seemed to possess it either. Or if they did, they weren¡¯t willing to share. A few half-assembled trains and a set of books from the railyard counted for a lot, but so far, not enough, especially without the fuel to spare testing things properly.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Clearly, relying solely on Imperial scholars to unravel advanced foreign machinery in as little time as possible wasn¡¯t going to work, and waiting for a defector to volunteer didn¡¯t seem promising either.

    ¡°Margot? Could you come in here?¡± Camille called out, then waited for her stagiaire to enter the office, pen and pad in hand.  ¡°Make a note for me, please. I need to figure out how to extend an offer to any would-be Avaline defectors. Scientists, or at least people with significant training. I don¡¯t think florins alone would do it, not in any quantity we could afford to pay. Your sister might have some useful insights, mercenary as she is.¡±

    ¡°Um, I will, Camille. But¡ªLord Perimont just called an emergency council meeting. News that must be delivered in person, of grave import. He and Eloise are already at the H?tel de Ville.¡± Not a terribly inspired name, but infinitely better than still calling it the Governor¡¯s Mansion, especially when the Governors in question were the Butcher Arion, Gordon Perimont, and the Prince of Darkness.

    ¡°Of course he did.¡± Camille could barely summon the will to be upset. Terramonde has a cruel sense of timing, but I already knew that by now. ¡°Gather my things and ready my carriage. You¡¯ll be accompanying me.¡±

    Margot nodded, then walked further into the room and began packing.

    The rains were heavy as they departed, a chorus of muffled droplets sounding through the carriage roof the entire way. Already, puddles pooled amidst the cobblestones, large enough to mirror the darkening clouds above.

    Perhaps because of the rains, Camille was the last to arrive, though Annette wasn¡¯t far ahead of her. Before they reached the informal council chamber, Camille grabbed Annette¡¯s arm, greeted her warmly, then asked in a low voice, ¡°Did you look into that thing for me?¡±

    Annette¡¯s face slumped, and Camille could tell that the news wasn¡¯t good. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It looks like the frost wiped out everything. I had someone discreetly check the Sartaire banks in case any was protected by Fenouille¡¯s essence, but no luck so far. We might need to source it from further afield.¡±

    Where it might not even show up here until I¡¯m dead anyway. Camille couldn¡¯t help but frown, a foul mood beginning to take her, but she had a meeting right now, so she tried to push those thoughts aside. With her impending death, it might not make much difference anyway, aside from greater comfort in these final weeks.

    The chair at the head of the table had been left empty for Camille, fittingly, so she took her seat as Annette did the same, sitting at her right with Mordred Boothe already slouching in the spot to Camille¡¯s left. Simon and Eloise were further down the table¡ªtheir own choice, evidently, since they¡¯d been the first to arrive.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Camille began, with no small amount of dread. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Probably better for you to hear it as I did,¡± Simon answered cryptically, then snapped his fingers. A moment later, a shabby-looking boy of perhaps fifteen years of age stepped trepidatiously into the room, clutching his hands together in front of his stomach. ¡°Tell them what you told me,¡± he requested

    The boy swallowed, eyes darting nervously around the room. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m Lem, my lords. And ladies. Um¡­ I¡¯m in service to Sire Raoul, ever since the White Night. Since my dad couldn¡¯t¡­ He¡¯s locked up, my lords and ladies.¡±

    ¡°Your father?¡± No doubt there was some way to help, but it hardly seemed worthy of an emergency meeting unless there was more going on. Perhaps Queen Glaciel had taken captives.

    ¡°Sire Raoul, along with Lady Lazare and the Mar¨¦chal. More. They¡¯re all barricaded in the feast hall to wait out the rebels. Montaigne¡¯s lot.¡±

    ¡°I beg your pardon? Fernan Montaigne imprisoned aristocrats in the feast hall?¡± Camille turned incredulously to Annette, who¡ªif anything¡ªlooked more bewildered at the idea. ¡°Rebels?¡±

    ¡°Montaignards, they call themselves, after Sire Fernan. Stormed the castle and took it over, killing most of Count Valvert¡¯s guards and leaving his wife on death¡¯s door. I only got out because no one knew me as anything, when the Sire asked it. Sent me out just before the hall was blocked in, he did. So, um, here I am.¡±

    ¡°Is this some kind of joke?¡± Camille turned from the terrified boy to Simon. ¡°Does this sort of thing pass for amusing back in Avalon?¡±

    Simon wasn¡¯t laughing, though. ¡°Is there a hole in his story? A contradiction? You¡¯re far more familiar with Guerron than I am. If there is, I shall take it as a relief.¡±

    Annette sighed. ¡°Madeleine Lazare and Sire Raoul de Montgallet are in Guerron, so far as I know, though the Mar¨¦chal could mean anyone with the rank, and Guy Valvert is most assuredly not married. Some poor girl will have to shoulder that colossal burden eventually, but the longer Guy waits, the more time she can have with some measure of happiness.¡±

    ¡°Mar¨¦chal Augustin,¡± the boy said. ¡°He followed the Count from Dorseille.¡±

    ¡°Well, that does make sense,¡± Camille admitted. ¡°But the wife?¡±

    ¡°Valentine Bougitte. They just had the wedding before everything went wrong.¡±

    Bougitte¡­ Camille had only met Valentine in passing once or twice, but she was sister to Laura Bougitte, and that meant¡­ What? Could she have concocted this story for my benefit? Some kind of petty revenge on behalf of her sister? It sounded absurd.

    Annette broke the silence. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that Fernan would do this. He¡¯s been loyal, steadfast, undoubtedly one of the good ones. I might be dead right now if Guy hadn¡¯t fetched him from his village. And you¡¯re saying that he, what, led an insurrection for no reason at all? He just up and lost his mind one day?¡±

    The boy shrunk down further into himself. ¡°I don¡¯t know what Montaigne was thinking, my lady. His people were mad about some trial, and then Lady Valentine said he had to leave or be arrested. Gave him three days, more than fair to make his arrangements. But¡­¡±

    That was a reason, at least, a way that it could make some kind of twisted sense, even if accepting it meant throwing out everything Camille had thought she¡¯d known about Fernan Montaigne.

    I missed what should have been our last conversation. Who knows what he might have said. ¡°Thank you, boy. Please close the door and wait outside the room. We may have more questions for you later, but first we need to discuss this privately amongst ourselves.¡±

    The boy obliged, and Camille waited another moment before opening the deliberations proper. ¡°If this is a lie, it¡¯s not one that can hold for long. Eloise, the moment this meeting is over, I want a small, fast ship and a gifted horse rider to approach Guerron from the coast and the pass. People who know how to be discreet. Don¡¯t tell them the boy¡¯s account, but let them observe on their own. They¡¯ll each take an Acolyte with them. When they return, we¡¯ll have another two sources, and more trustworthy ones at that, to compare against the boy and each other.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡±  Eloise said, trying to look unconcerned and mostly succeeding, but the slight dip in her eyebrows conveyed concern, probably for Ysengrin, who could be caught up in the middle of all of it. ¡°And I suppose we¡¯ll sit on our hands waiting for them, hoping it¡¯s just a false alarm.¡±

    ¡°No. If it¡¯s a hoax, that¡¯s its own problem, but a minor one. We won¡¯t know more until we know more, but acting fast could be necessary.¡± I don¡¯t want to believe it, but¡­ ¡°As of now, for the purposes of this conversation, let¡¯s assume the boy¡¯s word is true. Fernan turned traitor and usurped Valvert¡­ Khali¡¯s curse, did he hit his head in the White Night? Lucien would know.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound as if he had much choice,¡± Boothe said. ¡°If the new Countess wanted him gone¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then he should have left!¡± Annette scoffed. ¡°He should have come here and we could have resolved the matter. Instead he¡¯s forever tainted himself with the blood of my idiot cousin, and, apparently, the poor sap who married him. In what world is insurrection a reasonable response to exile, even an unjust one? And, if he¡¯s capable of this, who¡¯s to say it wasn¡¯t just?¡±

    Why would Valentine want Fernan gone? Was it some kind of roundabout way to attack me, depriving me of the vital line of communication that had been key to liberating Malin? It was hard to imagine that Valentine had somehow figured out enough of their secret communications to identify Fernan as a weak point, though. They didn¡¯t have any kind of public association at all, and even back in Guerron, he¡¯d pretended to be Lumi¨¨re¡¯s man. Unless Valentine were the greatest spymaster in existence, it couldn¡¯t be about Camille.

    But then what? ¡°He wasn¡¯t alone, they said. A whole group behind him. Could he have been pressured into it? Made to answer for something they did?¡± Even then, he¡¯d probably rather leave than slaughter his way to power.

    ¡°How could he have found so many fools to follow him?¡± Simon asked, piling on further. ¡°These Montaignards¡­ they must know that this won¡¯t end well. I¡¯d wager Montaigne does too. And yet they seized an entire city out from under us.¡±

    ¡°My city,¡± Annette growled. ¡°Camille, this is unconscionable. Lucien or no Lucien, we need to march an army back across the river. I¡¯ll lead it myself if I must. If this whole thing is a fabrication, we can leave behind a detachment to ensure something like this never does occur. If not, we take back what was stolen.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Simon added. ¡°And this Montaigne must be sharply questioned, to ensure that none of his agents have infiltrated elsewhere. We would do well to remove him from his followers, perhaps a tower room in Malin.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, brilliant idea.¡± Eloise looked genuinely angry at them, which was a strange sight to see. ¡°Start a civil war on our doorstep, right next to the lands whose coal we need.¡±

    ¡°There won¡¯t be a war, Eloise. A scuffle at most. If these rebels have any sense, an admittedly unlikely prospect, they¡¯ll surrender without bloodshed. Either way, it won¡¯t last long.¡±

    ¡°All this over Guy Valvert? I¡¯ve heard the way you and Camille talk about him. I only met Fernan the once, but Florette said the lizard man was like a brother to her. If the two of them were quarreling, who¡¯s more likely to be the problem?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Camille said, speaking for the first time not to back up her best friend who¡¯d been grievously wronged but the avaricious pirate criticizing her response to it. Who am I anymore? But it was true. Just because Guy had done one good thing in defying Lumi¨¨re to grab Fernan didn¡¯t mean he was any less of a lout. He¡¯d been rewarded for it with stewardship of Guerron, because loyalty had to be rewarded, especially among family, but that wasn¡¯t the same thing as him learning, let alone earning enough benefit of the doubt for his side to be taken against the gentle peasant boy who¡¯d been absolutely vital to liberating Malin.

    Simon looked weary already, and this had barely started. ¡°Whoever started the problem, the fact that his solution was slaughtering his way into control of the city speaks for itself.¡±

    ¡°Agreed. Guy could have slaughtered his entire family and it still wouldn¡¯t justify this. I don¡¯t care what his motives were, Camille. He has to go.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the only way to be sure,¡± Simon added. ¡°I¡¯m aware that Montaigne did favors for both of you, but I must ask you to imagine that it was anyone else. Would you hesitate even a moment before sending troops to restore order?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Camille admitted. She wouldn¡¯t have even bothered with the scouts. ¡°But Fernan isn¡¯t anyone else, as Annette herself can attest. We wouldn¡¯t be sitting in this room right now if he hadn¡¯t fed me crucial information about the Convocation of the Spirits.¡± Well, Simon and I still would at Luce¡¯s side, but no need to complicate the statement. ¡°I have¡­ a standing appointment with him, a monthly discussion, due for its next installment in a matter of days. And Fernan is an absolutely abysmal liar. I¡¯ll have the truth of it from his mouth, one way or another.¡± And then, before long, I¡¯m to die, alone without my Lucien, a failure who lasted just long enough to see my few truly just accomplishments washed away.

    Because whoever controlled Guerron controlled the captive King Harold. If it had really been swiped out from under them by a hostile force, nothing would remain to stop another Avaline invasion.

    ¡°That¡¯s not good enough! How would you even do that?¡±

    ¡°Magic!¡± Camille waved her hand in frustration. ¡°Annette, Fernan has only ever served you well. Isn¡¯t that service worth a few days¡¯ benefit of the doubt? If this story is true, if he did betray us and seize Guerron¡­ I¡¯ll stop at nothing to make him pay. You have my word on that.¡±

    One last miserable duty before I¡¯m swallowed by the sea.

 Fernan IX: The Cooler Head

    Fernan IX: The Cooler Head

    Fernan wasn¡¯t shot out of the sky as he flew towards the mercenaries, which seemed like a good sign at least. It was impossible to know what they¡¯d heard, but if he had the chance to explain things first, there might actually be a way out of this.

    He descended slowly, a fair distance away from their camp, then walked the rest of the way. Best to avoid even the possibility of provoking them. He¡¯d left Mara behind for the same reason, though she¡¯d practically begged to come. If anyone had the right to confront the private army trying to restart the theft and exploitation of her homeland, it was her, but the risk of a confrontation was too high.

    I must walk the knife¡¯s edge, warding them off without making them feel threatened¡­ Otherwise it could mean open war with Malin. If the orders Guy had given F¨¦lix were indicative of any kind of larger Imperial agenda, and every council meeting and consultation with F¨¦lix himself seemed to indicate that, then these coal deposits would be vital to the Fox-King¡¯s initiative to match Avalon in mechanical might.

    The mercenaries had been dispatched to restart the mining, to ensure no disruptions. King Lucien considered it important enough to hire out a private army, even as Avalon burned the Arboreum mile by mile, creeping ever closer to Malin. Discouraging them would not be easy, and if Fernan had any hope of managing it at all, he needed to use a light touch.

    Meanwhile, Michel and Mom are preparing for my failure, fortifying Guerron against a full scale assault. Fernan couldn¡¯t even say that they were wrong to do it, much as it pained him.

    ¡°Fernan Montaigne,¡± Ysengrin greeted coldly at the camp¡¯s entrance. ¡°Returned to laugh at us, have you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean,¡± Fernan said, though he suspected that he did.

    ¡°No? Lying about snowfall closing in the mines slipped your mind? I had to explain to a few dozen hardened mercenaries why they wouldn¡¯t be feasting and f¨ºting at the Count¡¯s wedding, as a favor to you, and it was all to send me on some doomed dragon hunt.¡±

    Fernan winced, his mouth already moving to apologize before he shut it. I¡¯m sorry, but if Guy Valvert had received an entire mercenary company right before the Montrouge trial, I doubt we¡¯d have been able to stop it. Saying that wouldn¡¯t do any good though, so after a moment, Fernan responded with a lie that wasn¡¯t technically a lie.

    ¡°The weather has been shifting strangely ever since the sun was restored, especially with G¨¦zarde trying to keep the autumn going long enough to squeeze out another harvest. Inconveniencing you was never my aim.¡± Even if it was a necessary part of achieving our goals. ¡°There¡¯s no cause to be angry, Ysengrin.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± He scoffed. ¡°The mountains were cleaned out completely. A few frozen bodies in some of the houses, old enough to have seen the last darkness, but not a single living soul. No supplies, either, stores and crates and wagons were all conspicuously gone. Even most of the mining tools.¡±

    Well, we weren¡¯t just going to leave our only possessions behind. ¡°I led my people into Guerron before the fall of darkness. Most of the other miners followed. Duchess Annette granted us space in the city to settle. None of that should be a surprise to you.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you send me off?¡± Ysengrin let out a wolf¡¯s growl. ¡°You had all the miners and equipment in Guerron already, you knew our job to get things running again, and still you sent me on a dragon hunt into the mountains. Why?¡±

    Because I didn¡¯t want you reinforcing Valvert as he trampled over Guerron. Because your job is to restart the thievery from the geckos that was so painful to stop. Apparently, that wasn¡¯t as important as getting Valvert more fuel for his fanciful airship, or Leclaire more grist to build her war machine.

    ¡°Damn it, Montaigne! What is your game here?¡±

    ¡°A dragon hunt is for something that doesn¡¯t exist, but the mines were there, right? It¡¯s not playing a game¡ª¡±

    ¡°At least respect me enough not to lie to my face. You wanted to get rid of us for a while, and you¡¯re refusing to say why. Tell me, or I¡¯ll have the answer from the Count of Dorseille.¡±

    Well, that would be just about the worst possible way to deliver the information. If Fernan were a better liar, maybe he could have sold Ysengrin on the unpredictable weather and his good intentions, but it seemed it was too late for that now. ¡°I already told you. That coal belongs to someone else, not you or me or Leclaire or Eloise. I was just buying enough time to get word back and work things out.¡±

    ¡°Buying time? Like we couldn¡¯t have waited in Guerron for you to send your messages? You wanted us out in the cold.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°And I¡¯m not convinced those geckos are the full story either. Florette mentioned them, vicious little blighters, but nothing a good set of guards couldn¡¯t hold off. Your pissant mining towns still managed it; I¡¯ve no doubt the Chalice Mercenaries could.¡±

    The heated words were beginning to draw mercenaries out of their tent, each of them slowly massing behind Ysengrin, hands ready to draw their weapons.

    Why can¡¯t you understand? ¡°They¡¯re not enemies anymore. This needs to be negotiated, not contested with force. I¡¯m sure your employer would agree.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. Perhaps not. I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t be happy with you pulling any of this.¡± Ysengrin glanced back at the mercenaries assembled behind him, then nodded to himself. ¡°I see your bad faith, Fernan Montaigne, but I¡¯m still willing to give you a way out. Open the gates to Guerron and let us inside. We¡¯ll explain your conundrum to Count Valvert and wait for word from Malin before rounding up the workers. Satisfied?¡±

    Maybe something like that could work, if Valvert were still in charge. Though if he were, he¡¯d probably tell them not to bother waiting. As a prisoner, he wouldn¡¯t be likely to put on any kind of ruse on the Montaignard behalf either.

    The way out was closing, if it hadn¡¯t sealed shut already.

    ¡°Guy Valvert is no longer in charge of Guerron. But if you¡¯re willing to wait until¡ª¡±

    ¡°Who is, then? His wife?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s¡­¡± What do I even say? ¡°I can have the gates opened, if that¡¯s the course we decide.¡±

    A flash of confusion lit up Ysengin¡¯s aura, but he stood firm. ¡°I¡¯ve seen thieves at the noose less evasive than you. If you won¡¯t tell us, we¡¯ll have to find out for ourselves. Mirielle! I want everyone ready to march before sunset. We¡¯ll be returning Guerron to its rightful authorities and shoring up their command until further orders arrive from Malin.¡± He gave Fernan a burning, one-eyed stare. ¡°With or without your cooperation. So I suggest that you fly off and get those gates open, or you¡¯ll have to explain to whoever is in charge why a party under royal authority was denied access to do its duty.¡±

    ¡°Wait, please, you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop begging and get out of this camp before I have you removed.¡±

    Despite himself, Fernan felt his eyes glowing brighter, burning hot enough that Ysengrin stepped back slightly.

    ¡°Careful, Montaigne. Fucking with a royal party is one thing, but if you lay a hand on us while we¡¯re on the Fox-King¡¯s business, Leclaire will probably feed you to Levian herself.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake.¡± Fernan suppressed a snarl. ¡°G¨¦zarde is the sun, and he won¡¯t take kindly to this.¡±

    ¡°Mining his lands? Maybe. That¡¯s for Lady Leclaire to decide. Setting foot in Guerron though? I doubt it. You certainly won¡¯t like the result, but spirits are beyond such petty human affairs. Now begone!¡±

    Fernan turned his back on the mercenaries and blasted off the ground before they could have a chance to force the issue, wishing desperately that he could have convinced them better. This was growing into such a mess it was hard to see any way out.

    What if we do let them in? Fernan considered it seriously, since it would mean averting a battle, but the fact was, as soon as they saw Valvert imprisoned and the Montaignards in command, they¡¯d contest it then and there. And we would have invited them past our defenses to do it.

    It was so unreasonable! All they had to do was camp in the pass long enough to work things out with Camille, who for all her faults would surely understand the need to respect the spiritual claims, and avoid incensing the sun¡­

    Yeah, just like she did when Lord Lumi¨¨re opposed her. Soleil¡¯s claims had been a brutal dominion over deaths, not enriching food stolen by a lying charlatan, but would Camille Leclaire see the difference?

    Fernan had to get back to the city, had to warn Mom and Michel that he¡¯d failed, but he found himself flying the wrong way, towards the familiar crater where Lumi¨¨re had grasped too far and lost everything. They¡¯re expecting a fight anyway. I won¡¯t be telling them anything they don¡¯t already know.

    Even months out, the scars of the fighting remained. Peaks and plateaus at odd angles littered the mountaintops, marred and carved apart by the power of the sun, thick dust still clouding the air whenever the wind picked up.

    He found Mara exhaling thin lines of fire through her nostrils, writing her name on the ground.

    ¡°Looks good,¡± Fernan said, suddenly aware of how strange it was to be able to glean the meaning from text again. No one would ever write a book that way, but it was something, and it gave Mara a way to learn the letters at all.

    She didn¡¯t look up, continuing to spell out letters next to her name, not leaving enough space to make it immediately clear that they were different words. But after a few moments, the message became clear.

    Mara will fuck you up.

    Reuniting her with Florette had clearly been a terrible idea. ¡°Impressive,¡± Fernan nonetheless said, since it was true and Mara deserved the praise. ¡°You¡¯re picking this up really fast.¡±

    ¡°I have to! Eleanor and Michel are working out all these contracts and terms and I need to understand it! We¡¯ve been tricked before; it can¡¯t happen again.¡±

    It can¡¯t happen again. She wasn¡¯t wrong about that, yet it looked like several dozen armed mercenaries were about to try. ¡°Mara, I couldn¡¯t get them to back off. I think I only made it worse, if anything. It could mean a fight.¡± It could mean killing human beings because I didn¡¯t leave when I was asked.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Fernan tore himself away from the thought, since it wasn¡¯t productive. There had been more at play, anyway, unless he¡¯d been willing to let Montrouge die for Valvert¡¯s whim.

    ¡°Good! We can make them pay for even trying.¡±

    ¡°Mara, this isn¡¯t like the White Night. They don¡¯t even care about the coal itself, it¡¯s just a mission for them. If Malin ordered it, they¡¯d stand down and forget your coal even existed.¡±

    ¡°If Lucien ordered it, they¡¯d kill every last one of us.¡±

    Also true. But he wouldn¡¯t.

    Right?

    ¡°Does the fact that they would follow orders they haven¡¯t been given mean that they deserve to die? Do you think Florette and I would have been above that, even a year ago?¡±

    ¡°You weren¡¯t a threat a year ago. And Father wasn¡¯t the sun! He could wipe them all out before we even made it to their camp.¡±

    And if that isn¡¯t a terrifying thought¡­ Fernan was not going to be the one to encourage G¨¦zarde to go back to killing humans, even if he could understand why Mara didn¡¯t have the same aversion to the idea. ¡°He doesn¡¯t like to get involved, Mara. If it really must come to that, I¡¯m sure we can handle it without him.¡±

    ¡°I bet! We¡¯ll burn them to ash!¡± Her point was accented with a puff of green fire from her mouth, strong enough to hold together until it slammed against the crater¡¯s edge.

    ¡°Do not be so eager to slay with your own person, child of G¨¦zarde. You may yet regret the blood that ends up spattering your mouth.¡±

    Fernan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, flipping around to see Lamante¡¯s sharp spirit body gazing down at him.

    Is she really the one on my side in this?

    ¡°You can¡¯t un-kill someone,¡± Fernan agreed cautiously. ¡°Anything else can be taken back.¡± All the more so when you steal the face from the victim. If she hadn¡¯t presented the lookalike face to them, Laura¡¯s reputation would never have suffered. She wouldn¡¯t have burned up her life and fled to ignoble exile.

    And that face had a life once too. How would the girl whose form I took feel about her face being twisted into a weapon? Every mask on Lamante¡¯s pack had some story, a human being who¡¯d wanted to live and couldn¡¯t even be granted respect in death. It was unnatural, preserving parts of a corpse instead of giving it to the fire, and disrespectful.

    ¡°It better serves our interests not to provoke open war with Levian¡¯s girl across the river at this time. The conditions are far from ideal.¡± She lifted a mask from her pack, a brown-haired child barely older than Aubaine, and put it to her face. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed by reliable parties that you¡¯ve been having some trouble, so drawn to conflict as humans are, and wished to stop G¨¦zarde from sending his children into the fray. It would be wasteful and unnecessary.¡±

    ¡°Fighting usually is,¡± Fernan agreed. ¡°I appreciate you giving that message to G¨¦zarde.¡± If that¡¯s actually what you¡¯re here to do. I have my doubts.

    ¡°Fortunately, I¡¯ve already dispatched a solution.¡±

    ¡°Really.¡± Fernan asked incredulously, his tone flat. What could you possibly have done to solve this, face-stealer? It was strange that she even wanted to, given who she was.

    Smoke curled up from Mara¡¯s nose. ¡°You sent a message?¡±

    ¡°In a manner of speaking, though those of us bound to truth must take care how far we stretch our meaning. Better to say that one Citoyen Courbet is currently stealing into the mercenary camp to bring me Mirielle Delune¡¯s head. I expect I¡¯ll be joining her shortly, in an appropriately unassuming guise. Once Delune¡¯s words are ours to command, the group can be ordered back with minimal issue, and no further spilling of blood.¡± She, with the little girl¡¯s soft face, gave a dissonant, wicked grin. ¡°So you see, child of G¨¦zarde, there exist more elegant ways to solve problems. Indirect actions are often stronger than stepping in. If you wish to get ahead in this world of spirits and humans, you would do well to remember that.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Fernan said incredulously, hearing the pitch of his voice spike. ¡°That¡¯s cold-blooded murder of people basically on our side. They haven¡¯t actually done anything. You can¡¯t do that!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s dangerous to lie in front of a spirit, sage of G¨¦zarde. You would do well not to make a habit of it. I can, and barring unforeseen complications, I will. It certainly wouldn¡¯t hurt to have a band of killers at hand when needed, and it accomplishes your goals of a near-bloodless victory.¡±

    ¡°Nothing about my goal has the word ¡®near¡¯ in it. Order Courbet back!¡±

    Lamante pushed out her lips into a child¡¯s pout, shrugging her shoulders. Her expression shifted to a grin that lingered on the mask as she removed it, setting it back in place on her pack. ¡°I will be going now. I hope that you heed my words, child of G¨¦zarde.¡±

    ¡°Wait, damn it!¡± Fernan jumped into the air and blasted himself past Lamante¡¯s path, landing in front of her, but she continued walking right past him as if he wasn¡¯t even there.

    ¡°This is our fight, Fernan.¡± Mara quickly skittered towards him, closing the gap that had opened between them. ¡°If anyone else tries to steal what¡¯s ours, they need to know they¡¯re dealing with us. Not the face-stealer.¡±

    ¡°I told them, Mara.¡± It clearly didn¡¯t sink in, at all, but they do know who they¡¯re dealing with. ¡°Please don¡¯t start anything. There¡¯s got to be another way out of this. And tell G¨¦zarde?¡±

    Lamante had been right to pass the message along, at least. The last thing this sizzling fire needed was a douse of oil on top.

    ¡°Fine. But if they come after our coal¡­¡±

    ¡°I know you¡¯ll do what you have to do.¡±  I just don¡¯t want it to come to that.

    Mara began calling down her father as Fernan made his way back, nearly too heavy to fly under the weight of his dread and regret.

    There was more he could have done to try to stop the face-stealer, but he hadn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t know what to do, but picking a fight with Lamante now wasn¡¯t it. As long as he found another solution before anything happened to Delune, it wouldn¡¯t matter that she¡¯d tried it.

    Yet another shifting hourglass of destruction, time limited enough that Fernan knew he should be acting now, if only he knew the right thing to do.

    G¨¦zarde was still high in the sky when Fernan returned to Guerron, the midday sun illuminating throngs of Montaignards manning the city walls, some of them aiming pistols down at the pass below. Several large cauldrons were bubbling with sizzling oil atop their cookfires, ready to be poured onto any unsuspecting trespassers.

    Fernan could see Michel helping to lift sacks of what looked like straw onto the battlements, probably for the decoy dummies they¡¯d discussed making to thin out any arrows from below. Mom was talking to Charles about something too muffled to hear, and Fernan didn¡¯t care to impose himself on them.

    He found Maxime standing alone in the ruins of the court chamber, where Valentine Valvert had almost killed him less than a week ago, though it felt like far longer.

    ¡°Hard at work?¡± Fernan asked, trying to keep his tone light.

    ¡°I completed my objective: warning the people of Guerron of the impending assault and advising them to cloister indoors until the conflict is resolved. And¡ª¡± He stopped speaking, turning his head to look out the shattered window, feeling the autumn winds whipping in from outside. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure I could conscience another task, when all that remains are preparing munitions, or drilling soldiers, or boiling oil¡­ Helping people secure themselves was easy enough, but I find it difficult¡­ I¡­ Well, I can understand the need to fortify, but such tasks are not the sort that I¡¯d hoped to find myself doing, even after the tunnel assault on Valvert¡¯s guards.¡±

    ¡°I understand completely.¡± Sometimes it feels like you¡¯re the only other person who does. ¡°I wish I had better news for you, but the mercenaries were completely obstinate. They want bodies in the mines or an aristocrat to tell them why they should stop, and we can¡¯t give them either. And now Lamante is sending assassins after the mercenary leader so she can steal her face and call them off, and I couldn¡¯t even articulate why she¡¯s wrong to do it. I should have tried harder to stop her.¡±

    ¡°Citoyen Courbet?¡± Maxime shook his head knowingly. ¡°I expect that all she asked in return were a few stories about Khali. Drawing blood for its own sake is more than enough in Condorcet, to my deep dissatisfaction.¡±

    ¡°I just feel like there has to be another way. If this breaks out into a fight, we could risk alienating Malin forever, drawing ourselves into a war we couldn¡¯t hope to win, dividing ourselves when we need to be at our strongest to resist Avalon¡­ If things go badly enough, Magnifico could escape, or die, and there¡¯d be nothing stopping Avalon from invading tomorrow. They certainly haven¡¯t had any inhibitions on that front for the other nations.¡±

    Hands behind his back, Maxime spun around to face Fernan, aura burning a warm yellow. ¡°Fernan, our positions are not dissimilar, but you must critically examine our situation, free of delusions. We stormed the palace and imprisoned the Lord of Guerron and his coterie. Lady Valvert is on the verge of death. We slew their guards.¡±

    ¡°I know¡­ We have to find a better way.¡±

    ¡°You have to stop trying to solve yesterday¡¯s problems, Fernan. You want peace, but what does that peace look like? Bowing before Leclaire and begging forgiveness? Hoping you can replace Valvert as a kinder soul?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not what I want, but if it means avoiding a war with Malin¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that you can do better, Fernan, but will your children? Your children¡¯s children? In one hundred years, will the people of Guerron even be able to tell that once there was a revolution in their name?¡±

    Fernan felt his eyes dim, struck by Maxime¡¯s words. ¡°This was never about throwing nobles in jail. We¡¯re doing this to protect people. Isn¡¯t an imperfect compromise better than bloodshed?¡±

    ¡°Fernan, you¡¯re a Montaignard, and a kind soul, but sometimes it feels as if you¡¯re a leaf in the wind. I hope you do not take offense when I say that you would do well to read more, by which I mean consume more books. I would be happy to read aloud to you, if time permits.¡±

    ¡°Um, thank you, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kings convince us that their mandate is magical, blessed by forces far greater than humanity, but you¡¯ve seen with your own eyes how little spirits actually care about our affairs. They claim that the hierarchy of our society is the natural and inevitable order, worth fighting to preserve, but the very fact that they must turn to violence to enforce it is proof of its fragility. Exalted leaders always employ such means if they feel that they must, and any challenge to their power demands it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that means we have to fight them.¡±

    Maxime nodded. ¡°With swords? No. But their words must be matched in kind, their grip broken. If you actually care about the people of this city, you¡¯ll fight to build them a city free from callous misrule, to defend them from those who would exploit them, to ensure that the society we build does not decay and lapse into the perditious pits of immorality whose depths my homeland has plumbed so deeply.¡±

    ¡°I will. You know that.¡±

    ¡°I do now.¡± Maxime warmed, taking one step closer. ¡°Blood has been spilled and enmity earned. We cannot pour out a tankard and then put the beer back inside. It falls to us to chart the best course available now, averting as much harm as we can. Letting our distaste stand in the way is only selfish, and I never took you for that.¡±

    Could I bear to let Montaignards die because I wasn¡¯t comfortable with Lamante¡¯s plan to kill one mercenary, hostile to our interests? All they needed was for them to leave. Whatever it took to make that happen without bloodshed was surely worth it.

    ¡°I definitely try.¡± Fernan approached Maxime, feeling the wind bite into his bare arms. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯ve been keeping my head in the clouds as if this were a simple misunderstanding to be cleared up and resolved, but it¡¯s not. We¡¯ve already done the unthinkable, as far as they¡¯re concerned.¡± He took a deep breath, resolving himself to his decision. ¡°But Lamante¡¯s plan won¡¯t keep the harm to a minimum. It means killing someone, outside the battlefield no less, and weaponizing their form against them.¡±

    Like we did with Laura.

    ¡°It does,¡± Maxime agreed. ¡°An improvement over a siege of Guerron, but so very far from the ideals we strive for. But is there any alternative?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Fernan nodded, mostly to himself. ¡°I know a better way.¡± It¡¯ll even give Mara what she wants. Like Maxime said, distasteful, but that feeling had to be set aside for the greater cause, and ensuring it lived up to its ideals.

    But that was Fernan¡¯s burden to bear, the only option left he could conscience.

 Florette XI: The Birthday Girl

    Florette XI: The Birthday Girl

    The Tancredi museum had been entirely redecorated for Sauin, with scattered orange gourds to celebrate the harvest season and what Florette hoped and assumed were fake giant spiders clinging to the walls and ceilings.

    This, from the people who mercilessly cut down Teruvo of the Woods. They even had thin lattices of twine hung up all over the place, providing a fairly convincing facsimile of spider webs. Hard to be sure whether they missed the irony, or simply didn¡¯t care. Given the celebrations over plucking Nuage Sombre from its rightful owners just so it could sit in this very museum, perhaps the appropriation of imagery was even a bonus.

    On closer inspection, there were faces and figures carved into the gourds, features flickering ominously in the dim light ¡ª a black cat, a twisted snake, a sharp-featured man in the likeness of Prince Luce. And, of course, there was no shortage of spiders.

    Nor was the museum the only one dressed outside its usual attire. Kelsey Thorley and Toby Folsom, Rebecca¡¯s friends from the party, each had a half-mask perched on their face, obscuring enough of their features that Florette didn¡¯t recognize them until they waved at her, a third mask clutched in Toby¡¯s hand.

    ¡°Happy Birthday, Sabine.¡± Toby¡¯s mask was white, matching the color of pants and jacket, and a limp black cravat was tied around his neck. He handed her the extra mask, navy blue with fake cat ears on top, then put his arm around Thorley.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Florette had been slightly worried, seeing all of the other gala guests wearing these masks without one of her own, but now she could blend in even better than she¡¯d previously hoped. ¡°I don¡¯t usually get a lot of gifts.¡±

    ¡°Tough luck, having a birthday on Sauin, having to compete for celebration space.¡± Thorley pulled out a book from his pocket, a paperback with its edges visibly worn down. ¡°The mask isn¡¯t your gift though, that¡¯s just for the gala, since Rebecca said you didn¡¯t have your own. This is from me. Happy Birthday!¡±

    Florette took the book from his hands, examining the cover, an image of a girl with colorful butterfly wings spread out behind her back, outlined in fire, with wisps of smoke drifting up into a starry night sky. ¡°The Mists of Lethe, an Arcadia Luna Mystery. Hmm.¡± She flipped open the cover, skipping past acknowledgements and forwards to dive into the meat of the story, before realizing that she was at a party and unfortunately couldn¡¯t just hole up in the corner reading.

    ¡°Rebecca told me you¡¯re a big reader, but I bet you haven¡¯t seen anything like this in Malin or Chaya. It¡¯s called science-fiction, speculating about what the future might hold. They have boats that can travel between stars, colonies on faraway planets, and real-time communication across miles of distance.¡±

    ¡°That is different from anything I¡¯ve ever read.¡± Florette nodded slowly, gaining a new anticipation for tearing through it in a single sitting. Her usual more historical fare was rather thin on the ground in Cambria, at least if she wanted anything that wasn¡¯t cheering for Avaline imperialism. Based on the thickness, even written in Avaline, she guessed that this one would take her no more than a few hours. If things went well tonight, perhaps she could spend a morning poring through it at that caf¨¦ in Mourningside.

    Though she¡¯d probably have to spend that time studying. Florette tried not to let the thought poison her response. ¡°Thank you!¡±

    ¡°This is technically the second book in the series, but the first one isn¡¯t really reflective of what¡¯s to come. There¡¯s no Elpis, you don¡¯t even see Pheme, and Grimsley gets a good enough introduction in the third book that you don¡¯t really miss much without seeing him in the Intrepid Traveler. Plus Cadie is pretty unbearable at the start. Don¡¯t worry, she gets better.¡±

    I have no idea what any of those words are, but thanks? I guess? Hopefully the book itself was less impenetrable.

    ¡°Be sure to let me know what you think. I don¡¯t have anyone to talk to about it. Toby thinks it¡¯s pulpy trash.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s printed on pulp! What do you want me to say?¡± Toby shook his head, though the corners of his mouth were curled into a hint of a smile. ¡°I hope you enjoy it more than I did, Sabine. And, either way, I got you something too. Check the bookmark.¡±

    Florette flipped to about halfway through the book, where a slip of paper was inserted between the pages. This voucher guarantees 1 (one) Pulsebox Pro Model 119 and installation, to be redeemed at any point in the future -Tobias Folsom. The signature was penned in script, but the other words had the mechanical cleanness of newsprint, as if he¡¯d run the words through a press.

    ¡°I know you¡¯re in student housing this year, but as soon as you move somewhere a bit more permanent, I¡¯ll come by to supervise the installation and make sure the acoustics are right.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Toby.¡± Florette tried to frame her grimace as a smile, feeling a strange sense of guilt.

    It was Magnifico you stole it from, not him. And it doesn¡¯t seem to have set him back much. Really, considering the plan tonight, stale pulsebox heists that Florette had, truthfully, only been rather marginally involved in ought to be the least of her concerns.

    Next to Cassia Arion, it¡¯s hardly even worth mentioning.

    But it was alright to feel guilty too, whatever Eloise might think. Feelings wouldn¡¯t make a real difference either way, so there was no point in shunting them off and pretending they didn¡¯t exist.

    And hopefully I can handle this better than that amateur stuff from this Spring. After stealing advanced weapons from under Perimont¡¯s nose and leaving him dead in the process, lifting a sword from a museum ought to be pretty easy by comparison.

    Still, Florette wasn¡¯t taking any chances. She¡¯d told Monfroy as much, when he¡¯d asked her to run in and snatch it then and there.

    My heist, my plan, or you can get someone else to do it. She wasn¡¯t going to risk her identity so recklessly, not before accomplishing anything she¡¯d come to Cambria to do, not after all the blood Captain Verrou had spilled to get her here.

    Including Rebecca¡¯s cousin. Edward Williams had died to put her here, sliced apart by Captain Verrou¡¯s blade.

    Florette had her mask up just in time to see Rebecca arrive, taking a half-step back in amazement at the floor-length red dress she was wearing, accented with a matching mask over the top half of her face, with red feathers fluffing out behind her ears and ruby earrings in the shape of a bat dangling down beneath them. ¡°Sabine! Happy birthday!¡±

    ¡°Thank you!¡± Florette leaned forward towards her, not exactly sure how to greet her. ¡°You look great.¡±

    Rebecca solved the problem for her, pulling Florette into a tight embrace, warm and comforting despite the limits that had to be drawn.

    This was no different from the detective back in Malin. Boundaries. Impropriety was bad for the ruse and it wasn¡¯t fair to the girl either, not when they¡¯d be pursuing a phantom identity that didn¡¯t really exist.

    Not to mention how angry she¡¯d be if she knew who I really was.

    In Malin there had been Eloise to consider, misguided as it was, but here and now¡­ It was still the smart thing, the right thing.

    ¡°You too,¡± she said, even though Florette only had a poorly-fitting green dress borrowed from one of Christophe¡¯s neighbors. She¡¯d had to pad out the chest and belly just to avoid looking like a child in her mother¡¯s gown, and the bottom still ended well above her knees.

    Considering that the alternative would have been spending money that could go to solicitors or debts, it had been the prudent choice, but it definitely made Florette feel out of place.

    Traveling a half-step behind Rebecca was a bulky man that could only be her father, Baron Beckett Williams. He wore an Avaline officer¡¯s uniform, complete with a Cloak of Nocturne, with a red sash draped across his chest. Before placing a red mask over his own face, Florette caught a glimpse of a freckled face not unlike Rebecca¡¯s own, cleanly shaved and hardened with age in a way that looked far more menacing than the massive sword sheathed at his side.

    ¡°Good Sauin to you,¡± he said disinterestedly to the group. ¡°And I suppose it¡¯s your birthday as well, westerner?¡±

    ¡°Father! Her name is Sabine!¡±

    ¡°It is, my lord Baron.¡± Just ask your questions and go away. I have too much to do tonight.

    ¡°And how old are you, Sabine?¡± He didn¡¯t make eye contact as he asked the question, his head turned towards the cloth-covered display at the back of the room. ¡°Not another older girl I¡¯d hope, Rebecca?¡±

    ¡°Twenty-three,¡± Florette answered, supplying the lie she¡¯d tied to Srin Sabine.

    ¡°Twenty-three,¡± he repeated, finally deigning to look at her with narrowed eyes. ¡°A contemporary. You don¡¯t look a day over nineteen.¡±

    I¡¯m exactly a day over nineteen, as it happens. ¡°You¡¯re kind to say so. I just have one of those faces.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The Baron didn¡¯t seem convinced, but he didn¡¯t call Florette out any further. That much was good, though how a man in his fifties could tell the difference between twenty and twenty-three, Florette hadn¡¯t the slightest idea. ¡°Enjoy the gala. Rebecca, if you¡¯ll excuse me¡ª¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°There you are, Beckett! I was beginning to wonder if you¡¯d ever show up.¡± The Baron was interrupted by a familiar figure swooping into the conversation, sending a terrified shiver down Florette¡¯s spine.

    How are you here? You¡¯re supposed to be locked in a cell in Guerron. I saw you there myself!

    Magnifico¡¯s gaze drifted off Florette without a second glance, settling on Rebecca. ¡°And this must be your daughter.¡±

    ¡°Rebecca,¡± she clarified. ¡°We¡¯ve met, actually. I made you that fire bomb for the stroke of midnight at your new year¡¯s party.¡±

    He stared at her for a moment, blinked, then snapped his finger. ¡°Rebecca Williams, of course! My apologies. My brother was working out the terms of your employment before his unfortunate waylay. I¡¯m sure once you graduate, we can work something out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to hear it, Prince Harold.¡±

    Prince Harold! It¡¯s the son! On closer look, he lacked the slight signs of age gracing Magnifico¡¯s temples, the hints of grey in his black hair, but the resemblance was still remarkable. Luce looked like Magnifico¡¯s son; Harold, apparently, looked like his twin.

    Florette lifted her mask to wipe sweat from her brow, trying to control her breathing. If Magnifico, King Harold of Avalon, had actually managed to escape to Cambria, he could dispense with ¡®Srin Sabine¡¯ in a second, and very likely throw Florette in the dungeon as well.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t met any of you three, I hope?¡± He directed the question towards Toby, Kelsey, and Florette. ¡°Friends from the College?¡±

    ¡°Oh, pardon me, Your Grace. This is Kelsey Thorley, whose father was in service in Malin, and Tobias Folsom, whose pulsebox work I imagine you¡¯ll recognize.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that was you? Fine work indeed.¡±

    ¡°Though the wrong sort of people seem to have gotten rather attached to it,¡± Baron Williams added. ¡°In the Erstwhile Empire, they¡¯ve been illegally reproducing the boxes based on the one your father brought. Stolen by pirates, I heard.¡±

    Prince Harold shrugged. ¡°Perhaps, but that¡¯s no reason to criticize the creator. Once you make something, it belongs to the world more than it does you.¡± He smiled at Florette in a manner she found rather too familiar. ¡°And who might you be?¡±

    ¡°Srin Sabine,¡± she answered cautiously.

    ¡°Charmed.¡± He smiled, taking her hand and lightly kissing it. ¡°From your accent, I¡¯d guess you¡¯re from the Erstwhile Empire?¡±

    More than you could possibly imagine. ¡°My mother raised me in Malin before her passing, Your Grace. Since then, I¡¯ve lived with my father in Chaya.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that Srin. I¡¯m terribly sorry about the pirate attack. Please tell your father I wish him a swift and painless recovery.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± Though he¡¯ll be ¡®dead¡¯ before I ever get the chance. ¡°It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°You say that as if you¡¯re going somewhere. The party¡¯s only just begun!¡± He smiled, pointing back towards the covered case. ¡°Sir Thomas hasn¡¯t even made his speech yet.¡±

    ¡°Umm¡­¡± If I can¡¯t slip away soon, it¡¯s going to be awfully hard to steal this sword.

    ¡°She¡¯s not leaving the gala, Harold. She¡¯s expecting to be free of your company,¡± Baron Williams said dryly. ¡°Seeing as we have important matters to discuss, I think it best if we withdraw until Sir Thomas¡¯s speech.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°There must be a hundred girls here who¡¯d be delighted to go home on your arm. This one does not. Shall we go?¡±

    Prince Harold frowned at the chastisement, eyes darting to Florette then back to Williams. ¡°Hold on a moment, Beckett. Work can wait. This is a holiday, after all.¡±

    No, he was pretty much correct. Not in the least because hanging around the Prince Regent had to be just about the riskiest thing Florette could possibly do even without considering the fact that she was here to steal a priceless artifact.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t even had a chance to ask her about the Blue Bandit,¡± Harold continued. ¡°After all, you¡¯d know more about her than anyone here.¡±

    Florette¡¯s blood went cold, eyes widening behind the mask. What does he know?

    ¡°I only visited Malin briefly, before my father¡¯s ill-fated voyage to Guerron, but Governor Perimont told me the broad strokes of the story: a rebel teenager, an outlaw living off the land and kindness of sympathizers, caught and executed by Joseph Whitbey. I rather think that was the last straw for my Uncle Miles, given his resignation so shortly thereafter. You grew up in Malin; I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard the story, right?¡±

    Florette let out a nervous laugh. ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°So, in your better-informed opinion, why might our local arsonist adopt the moniker of a long-dead fourteen-year-old? The name was certainly ill-advised, if she truly were an agent of Camille Leclaire. Misdirection?¡±

    If I say no, are you going to go to war with the Empire? ¡°I doubt she put that much thought into it. Most criminals are stupid, and learning magic wouldn¡¯t do anything to change that. Probably just wasn¡¯t creative enough to think of their own name. Besides, didn¡¯t the journal say she was Hiverrien, what with the ice magic?¡±

    The prince shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t know that for certain. And Glaciel isn¡¯t the only spirit with some command of ice. Volobrin of Sunder¨¦, for example, wields it in concert with his fire magic. I¡¯ve even heard that the East Wind of Micheltaigne can chill her wind to mimic it. She would certainly want revenge after the bombing of Salhaute.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed at your knowledge of the spirits. I was raised in the Empire and I¡¯m not nearly so informed. Could you tell me more?¡± And move the subject on from my crimes, please?

    ¡°Any good binder knows his enemy, as Beckett here can attest. Not only is their power the threat you face, but in success it becomes your own once you claim it. Knowledge alone can be the difference between a lifelong boon and undying curse.¡±

    ¡°Or a swift, ignoble death,¡± Williams added. ¡°And His Grace took to the task with gusto, I¡¯m given to understand. Even your bookish brother didn¡¯t spend half so much time in the Grimoire Archives.¡±

    The prince frowned, nodding slowly. ¡°I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t speak of such things tonight. My brother is¡­ If half of what I hear is true, then when he was rescued from those pirates, he never fully returned. He¡¯ll come home when he¡¯s ready, and I¡¯ll be ready in turn to greet him. But until then¡­¡±

    ¡°You need say no more, Your Grace. I, too, have a wayward brother abroad, grieving a personal tragedy in a less than exemplary fashion.¡± He gestured to the far wall of the room, where another section of the museum was gated off with a red velvet rope. ¡°Now, if we may be going¡­¡±

    ¡°Beckett, it¡¯s a gala! I already told you: I¡¯m not working tonight. Neither should you. Spend some quality time with your daughter, and we can talk about whatever it is you want to mention tomorrow.¡± He paused. ¡°Afternoon, at the earliest.¡±

    The Baron ground his teeth, seemingly weighing the choice to keep silent or speak further, then spoke. ¡°Your Grace, the red knight struck again. He melded his forces with Cya¡¯s revenants and seized control over the mills and logging camps on the east side of the Rhan, across from Charenton. We must discuss our response immediately, Sauin or no Sauin.¡±

    A look of horror jumped across the prince¡¯s face. ¡°It must have been a slaughter.¡±

    ¡°Actually, according to my reports, well¡­ It¡¯s best if we speak in private.¡± The Baron placed his hand on Rebecca¡¯s shoulder, bending his head down slightly to better meet her eyes. ¡°Have fun tonight, dear. Be strong. Be brave. Be smart.¡± He gave a curt nod to the other students, then led the prince away.

    ¡°That was strange,¡± Rebecca said at last, after a long stretch of silence. ¡°Even once I reminded him, he acted like he¡¯d never seen me before.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the Crown Prince.¡± Thorley rolled his eyes. ¡°He sees hundreds of people a day. Hundreds of girls he probably has a lot more reason to remember.¡±

    ¡°But he remembered the deal! One unforgettable explosive party trick in exchange for a job at the Tower.¡±

    ¡°Then he remembered meeting you.¡± Thorley scoffed. ¡°Sabine, do you really think the Blue Bandit is a criminal?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Florette answered automatically, trying to keep her cover as aggressively as possible given the threats it was enduring tonight.

    ¡°Really?¡± Toby wrinkled his nose. ¡°She was saving people. They all said it themselves. The whole mad arsonist thing is just a way for Versham-Martin to cover its ass for locking hundreds of people in a flammable death trap.¡±

    Florette blinked, momentarily speechless.

    They actually believe the truth? I didn¡¯t even try to spread the word.

    ¡°I thought it was a Princess Lizzie¡¯s factory.¡± Rebecca frowned.

    ¡°Yeah, but guess who the Lizzie is? Elizabeth Grimoire. Harold III and Versham-Martin went in together on the venture around forty years ago and named it after Avalon¡¯s most adorable princess. The crown¡¯s got a stake in the profits, so they don¡¯t want it getting out that VM¡¯s negligence got a hundred and fifty-one people killed.¡±

    Kelsey nodded. ¡°The Blue Bandit is just a sacrificial lamb to draw the ire away from where it belongs. And draw attention away from this awful war. Which¡ªby the way¡ªsounds like it isn¡¯t going so well.¡±

    ¡°But if that¡¯s true¡ª¡± Rebecca blinked. ¡°I¡ªI need to do more research on this.¡±

    Me too. Florette had thought of villainizing her for saving people as just Avalon-being-Avalon. But if it were deliberate, in pursuit of greed¡­ Versham-Martin was the same company that had locked their doors to keep the workers trapped. That left rags soaked in oil scattered all throughout their factory. That peddled opium to the masses, taking inspiration from the Empire¡¯s sacrifices. They were business partners with the royal family.

    And, of course, I owe their president an enormous amount of money.

    Toby elbowed Kelsey, jerking his head in the direction of the bar. ¡°Excuse us for a minute. We¡¯re going to go grab drinks.¡± The two of them slipped away, leaving only Florette and Rebecca.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help. With research, I mean,¡± Florette offered, seeing no harm in looking into things together. Rebecca¡¯s insights would probably be valuable too, looking at things from a different point of view, with different expertise. Christophe had certainly been a boon in that regard.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Rebecca smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about my father. He¡ªWell, I¡¯m not going to make excuses. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Florette tried to match her expression. ¡°Listen, I need to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait, I never gave you your present!¡± Rebecca reached down into her pocket and pulled out the blue silk scarf from the department store. ¡°Happy birthday!

    Wasn¡¯t this eight-hundred mandala? And she remembered me grabbing it?

    ¡°I saw you were looking at it, and I remembered that in Malin blue is a really important color symbolically, and you¡¯re so¡­ so I thought¡ª¡±

    Florette silenced her with a kiss, then immediately pulled her head back with regret.

    Rebecca¡¯s cheeks were red, eyes wide. ¡°Umm¡­¡±

    ¡°I have to go.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The¡ªTo the facilities. Excuse me.¡± Florette drummed her hands against her leg. ¡°I really like it. Thank you. Bye!¡±

    Shit!

    Florette tried not to think about it too hard as she tensely walked away. All you had to do was nothing! You murdered this poor girl¡¯s friend! And now¡­ ugh, things were going to be so complicated.

    Florette shuffled slowly around the edges of the gala crowd, choosing her moment carefully to avoid anyone glancing at her, then stepped over the velvet rope and around the corner, entering the restricted section of the museum.

    And don¡¯t forget, you¡¯ve got a sword to steal.

 Fernan X: The Montaignard

    Fernan X: The Montaignard

    The sweltering air filled the antechamber, packed so tightly that Fernan could only see wavy outlines of the people in the room: Mom, gently fanning herself with a sheet of paper; Lord Guy Valvert, arms folded, disdain visibly radiating up from his warm body; and Duchess Annette Debray, the innocent life whom Fernan was to save.

    ¡°Kneel,¡± Lord Valvert practically ordered, sticking out his foot and then wiggling it as if crushing a bug.

    I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re acting like I should already know that.

    ¡°It¡¯s the custom,¡± the Duchess explained gently, shooting Valvert a chilly glare. ¡°Though in truth, I should be using the ceremonial sword as well. I suppose I¡¯ll have to make due with my arm, though it¡¯s less than a savior deserves.¡±

    ¡°My lady.¡± Mom drew her knife from her belt and handed it to the Duchess, its blade twice as long as the one Fernan and the other villagers kept on them. Dad had insisted it was a better deal when he bought it, a lower price per pound of steel, but Mom had laughed him out of the room. ¡®More than we¡¯d ever need, at a higher price than we¡¯d pay for what we do¡¯, she¡¯d said.

    He¡¯d started getting sick a few days later.

    The Duchess nodded in thanks, accepting the blade and holding it at her side. ¡°Fernan, if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course!¡± He bent down, feeling the slightly cooler air nearer to the floor, the tile a strange mix of comfortably cool and uncomfortably textured, biting into his knee.

    ¡°Good.¡± Duchess Annette nodded, whispering something to herself as if rehearsing what she was about to say. ¡°Fernan of Villechart, Alderman of the Mountains, you answered the call when no other sage would. You stood for my innocence, for the truth, when every other sage was cowed or convinced by Lumi¨¨re¡¯s lies. In a scant few hours, my trial shall begin, and you will stand against the full might of the Empire, twisted to corrupt purpose. The odds of success are low, and even in victory, you will make a lifelong enemy of the most powerful man in the city. You know all of this, yet here you stand.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the right thing to do,¡± Fernan said, filling the silence after her pause.

    Her aura brightened, waving up and down in the heat. ¡°Do you vow to honor your liege, to speak always in good faith, and provide leal service for as long as you shall live?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Fernan stopped, but Valvert¡¯s hiss implied that he was missing something.

    ¡°You have to swear by something for it to count,¡± the Duchess whispered, unmoving.

    ¡°I swear by the Flame Under the Mountain, G¨¦zarde.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± She nodded, then continued with the ceremony. ¡°Then I vow to cherish your service, to demand only what you can bear, and return, always, your good faith with my own.¡±

    Oh, she makes vows too? For whatever reason, Lord Valvert hadn¡¯t mentioned that when explaining the need for this.

    Actually, with a bit more thought, maybe that wasn¡¯t a surprise.

    ¡°Do you swear to give mercy to those who ask it? To never seek a fight over a wrongful quarrel? To help those in need and battle, always, with honor and humanity?¡±

    ¡°By my father¡¯s soul, I swear.¡±

    The Duchess¡¯s head jerked back slightly, surprised, though she continued smoothly nonetheless. ¡°Then I vow to honor your mercy, and to never turn your efforts towards ignoble ends.¡± Her aura wavered as she lifted the blade aloft. ¡°Do you vow to protect the innocent? To fight against injustice? To stand against the evils of this world, so long as you shall live?¡±

    Fernan felt his eyes swell, drawing in heat from the surrounding air. ¡°By the fire inside me, I swear.¡±

    Duchess Annette tapped the blade lightly against each of his shoulders. ¡°Then rise, Sire Fernan Montaigne, Knight of Guerron. Rise, and fight for justice.¡±

    ?

    Fernan entered the camp from the front, flying over the edge of the mercenaries¡¯ newly-erected wooden barricade, landing in a circle of fire forming under his feet. For good measure, he threw a small blast towards the fortifications, catching them alight.

    All we need is for them to leave. Whatever it takes to make that happen without bloodshed is worth the cost.

    The smell of smoke filled the air as the fire traced its way around the barricade, hurried along with some extra help wherever Fernan saw it flagging.

    It wasn¡¯t long before the shouting started. ¡°Fire!¡± was the most common, but as more of the mercenaries began to stir, Fernan also heard some cry that they were under attack.

    Good. As wrong as it felt to wield fear as a weapon, it would leave more people alive than using a sword in its place. Frighten them off, and there would be no need to kill anyone.

    But these were hardened mercenaries, already preparing to besiege a city. Frightening them would take some doing.

    ?

    Green flames danced at Fernan¡¯s fingertips, painting the dark canvas of the sky with the image of a rushing river cleaved in twain, swelling beyond its banks to swallow a raging inferno. His hands moved smoothly despite the marigold wine, or perhaps because of it, drawing the scene in more and more detail, in more and more colors, until he could picture it better than his scout¡¯s eyes ever could have glimpsed.

    Flat stones covered the ground in a square terrace, swallowed back by the earth with dirt and greenery. At the center sat a stone table, crack through the center, with vines crawling up towards the sunlight through it.

    At first, Fernan thought the tree next to the table was part of the same overgrowth, but half of it was bleached and dead, and it moved too quickly to truly be a plant. The more detail he added, the clearer he could see the figure: a woman¡¯s form split right down the middle, half lush with the red and orange leaves of autumn, half barren and white, unmoving. ¡°Sit down¡±, the rustling leaves seemed to say as the wind swept by.

    A man approached the table, shrouded in darkness, and took his seat. A muscular figure stood behind him, constantly flicking her eyes in different directions. ¡°I wish you¡¯d talked to me first, Cya.¡±

    ¡°I am talking to you now, Spirit-Charmer. I make no apologies for protecting my domain.¡±

    ¡°I was protecting your domain, just like I promised. Just like I know I owe you, after everything Avalon¡¯s done. But you aren¡¯t making it easy! Do you know how hard it was to keep the mill owners from sending everyone back to work? They have guards too, and¡ªcollectively¡ªmore than I do. My authority can only¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Authority, are you? Then your domain is yours to maintain, not mine.¡± A white husk of a tree approached the table, standing behind the half-dead spirit in much the same manner as the muscular human guard. ¡°I advise that you take care with your words. The people at this table are not the only ones listening.¡±

    Fernan jumped back, the flames momentarily dissipating before he recomposed the image. How does she know?

    The shrouded man nodded, pulling a lantern from his bag and setting it in the center. ¡°Darkness leaves traces, but the light blots out all else.¡± Jethro¡¯s words, though I have no idea where he would have heard them. His guard leaned in, striking flint and tinder together, and setting the lantern alight. ¡°If you¡¯re listening, Leclaire, you should know that I remain a man of word. Unlike some people. That will follow me through all hardship, just as your treachery will forever cling to you.¡±

    Leclaire? Fernan supposed she could be doing the same thing, but he couldn¡¯t see any particular reason for it. She¡¯d already had ample chance to vet the man¡¯s character in person. Leclaire would have no use for the reassurance Fernan was seeking.

    ¡°That was not my meaning, Prince of Darkness, though it comforts me to see you dispel some of the darkness clouding your eyes. Tend to your own affairs, including the terms of our bargain, and I will tend to mine.¡±

    ¡°This will be your problem if they string me up and march across the river to take back the mill. Your people are nothing but grist to my countrymen, despite my best efforts to sway them to the contrary.¡±

    ¡°Then you ought to be grateful,¡± another voice announced, booming out of a darkened red helmet. The figure was clad from head to toe in shining red armor, walking with slow purpose as if they¡¯d been born in the suit. ¡°Your countrymen are less likely to try anything stupid with the east bank under our protection.¡±

    Fernan strained his eyes to get a better look under the knight¡¯s helm, but the flame from the lantern swelled enough to obscure it, then the rest of the table, until the inferno was all that remained in sight.

    ?

    The first to attack him was Rosen, one of the few mercenary names Fernan had managed to hold on to. Ysengrin had pointed him out as a sage, which had made a slightly more memorable impression.

    The blast of wind hit Fernan right in the gut, pushing him into the air, but all it took was a few small jets of fire to arrest his movement and fly back towards the ground.

    He landed just in time to see another mercenary wind up his arm to throw an axe at his head. It traveled rapidly through the air, but compared to the rain of javelins that Glaciel had assaulted the city with, dodging out of its way was trivial.

    At the edge of his vision, Fernan glimpsed the aura of a woman on a horse charging towards him, heavily armored with a lance in her hand. He felt the wind of her passing beneath his feet as he jumped, but a miss was a miss.

    Fernan kept himself in the air, surveying the mercenaries as they regrouped and formed up around the leader¡¯s son, the scrawny swordsman that Ysengrin had called Cawdor. In the gloom, Fernan knew that only the flickering green in his eyes illuminated him, but he could see them all clearly, including the leader still in her tent, and the dark figure standing over her with a knife to her throat.

    Ysengrin, apparently, had decided that staying inside his own tent was a wiser course than joining the fight, a choice for which Fernan blamed him not in the slightest. If anything, it ought to make things easier.

    ¡°S-stand down!¡± Cawdor called out hesitantly. ¡°We¡¯re here on the Fox-King¡¯s business. If you attack us¡ª¡±

    ¡°Too late for that, Cawdor.¡± One of the mercenaries, unarmored, placed his hand firmly on the boy¡¯s shoulder and pushed him back. His hair was red with the same aura as Lucien Renart¡¯s, his voice stern and steady.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t harmed a hair on your heads,¡± Fernan responded, keeping his voice as measured as he could manage. ¡°Yet.¡±

    ¡°Where is my mother?¡± Cawdor stepped forward. ¡°Why are you doing this? I thought you and the client were friends. What¡ª¡±

    ¡°Skip past the talking, whelp.¡± Before Fernan could react, the flame haired man raised his bow and loosed an arrow, which buried itself in Fernan¡¯s thigh despite his efforts to twist out of the way.

    Still, Fernan managed to keep aloft, but the second arrow hit him in the shoulder, perilously close to his neck, bowling him over and flinging him towards the ground. By the time he could raise his head up, spitting dirt from his teeth, the mercenaries had surrounded him.

    ¡°T-tie him up,¡± Cawdor ordered, hand shaking as he gestured with his sword.

    ¡°You think that¡¯ll hold him?¡± the flame-haired man scoffed, lifting his bow. ¡°Only one way to put a sage like that out of commission.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Rosen added. ¡°The kindest thing to do is make it painless. One clean stroke with your sword, then we¡¯ll find the Commander and begin the assault on Guerron.¡± The sage bent down, meeting Fernan¡¯s blazing eyes. ¡°Any last words, Montaigne?¡±

    ?

    ¡°Fernan!¡± The Maiden of Dawn coalesced from the flames, green hue shifting to hotter burning blue. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you kept to the appointment. I was worried, after last time. Sorry I missed it, but I had a personal crisis to deal with. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad too, though you shouldn¡¯t thank me yet.¡±

    Even wreathed in flames, it wasn¡¯t hard to see Camille Leclaire¡¯s face fall upon hearing that. ¡°The things I¡¯ve heard, Fernan. Tell me it isn¡¯t true.¡±

    You¡¯ve heard, and you aren¡¯t trying to tear my head off already? ¡°Count Valvert is hale and healthy, as are the Mar¨¦chal, Louise de Montflanquin, Raoul de Montgallet, and Lady Lazarre. Your uncle left the city long before things boiled over, and though I couldn¡¯t say where he departed to, I assume he remains in good health. Lady Valvert may yet recover, though I can make no assurances. As you well know, bullet wounds are quite severe.¡±

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°But.¡± The flames of her eyes grew hotter, closer to white than blue.

    ¡°But, in order to protect the citizens of Guerron from his cruel and unjust rule, Lord Valvert has been removed from power and confined to his chambers, with every amenity he¡¯s accustomed to. His retinue have been extended the same courtesy, and we are more than open to negotiating their release.¡±

    ¡°Negotiating,¡± she spat. ¡°A robber holding a knife to my throat offers my life for my money, and I¡¯m to consider it a bargain? What happened? Things were fine when Lucien left.¡±

    Fernan considered telling a more flattering tale than the truth, but at this point he was committed. ¡°No, they weren¡¯t. The people had no say in their rule, no rights to their own liberty, not even the barest pretense of equality. People can forget that when they have bread and warmth, or never learn it at all, but the injustice was there even before Guy¡¯s cruelty shattered the facade.¡±

    ¡°So now you¡¯re a radical? Really, Fernan? Aurelian Lumi¨¨re was a cruel tyrant, but somehow you peasants never found fit to rise up against him.¡± The flaming apparition bit her lip, snarling with rage. ¡°You should have come to me! Annette felt like she owed her cousin a favor, but the moment he screwed it up, we¡¯d have packed him right back to Dorseille, along with his Bougitte wife if need be.¡±

    ¡°I tried. You didn¡¯t answer. Lady Valvert forced the issue.¡±

    ¡°Did she?¡± Camille asked through grit teeth. ¡°Because exile isn¡¯t a death sentence, Fernan. All you had to do was ride out to Malin, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°And leave an innocent man to die.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Philippe Montrouge. Augustin Valvert owed him money, and he thought it¡¯d be easier to point his nephew¡¯s swords at the problem than pay up. They threw him in prison on trumped-up charges and rushed him to his demise. Valvert refused to let me represent him at the trial, what with my oh-so-trivial exile. We had to step in.¡±

    ¡°Mont¡ªthe merchant? All this is over some¡ª¡± She snarled with rage, smoke streaming out of the specter¡¯s nostrils. ¡°Fernan, those trials will be a thing of the past. I¡¯ve worked it all out. A Code Leclaire, where no man must face trial without a solicitor at his side, where no sages can use it as an instrument of political power. In the world I¡¯m building, Guy would never be able to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you trying to convince me? Because it¡¯s done.¡± The words came haltingly. Fernan really hadn¡¯t thought she¡¯d be anything but furious, on the verge of sending Renart¡¯s army to Guerron. This¡­ Obviously she was mad, but not in the way he¡¯d expected. ¡°The glass lies shattered on the floor; we can¡¯t pour the wine back in. Even if you feel differently, I¡¯ve no doubt your betrothed and the Duchess want nothing more than my head on a pike, along with every Montaignard who helped me.¡±

    She had nothing but silence to say to that, so Fernan forced himself to continue, keeping Michel¡¯s words on bargaining at the top of his mind. ¡°Since you¡¯re apparently open to talking, these are our terms. Guerron is recognized as an independent nation, free from the Empire¡¯s grip. We shall conduct our affairs and govern ourselves as one people, every one of us an equal. G¨¦zarde¡¯s coal will remain precisely where it is, under the control of him and his children, as it was before we encroached on their home and stole it from them. You won¡¯t send the army; you won¡¯t try to press any noble claims; and you¡¯ll officially cede the Guerron Duchy to its people.¡±

    Her phantom face took on a hint of¡­ was that amusement? ¡°You said everything but ¡®or else¡¯.¡±

    Here we go. ¡°Or else.¡±

    Camille laughed, shaking her head in amusement. ¡°Here¡¯s my counteroffer: Apologize immediately and present yourself in Malin to face justice. I will speak on your behalf, explaining that you were only enforcing the soon-to-be-enacted tenets of the Code Leclaire, and will apply the appropriate pressure on the relevant magistrate to ensure that you go free, legally, to return the great favor you did me on the eve of Malin¡¯s liberation. Guerron will return to Annette, and your ¡®Montaignards¡¯ will disband, providing us with any weapons used. Guy will be shuffled off somewhere he can¡¯t do any more damage, and you can go to anyone that would still have you after hearing of your treachery.¡±

    If it were just me, if I actually believed that Guerron would be in good hands, if I could trust her¡­ The whole offer was shocking, but it fell far short of what was needed, even if it could be trusted.

    ¡°As for the coal, we need it. There¡¯s no two ways about it. Avalon will invade us the moment we lack leverage over them, if we¡¯re not a peer in industry by the time it occurs. Guerron too, in case you think you¡¯re somehow exempt from the way politics work. But G¨¦zarde, of course, will be suitably compensated for the loss of spiritual energy. I¡¯m not in the business of depriving great spirits of their due. In fact, I am willing to commit, personally, swearing before him, to incite my people to provide him offerings matching its value, imbuing him with the same power that consuming the coal would have granted him.¡±

    ¡°You make one speech and that compensates them for the theft of their food?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m prepared to work for the rest of my life to ensure that G¨¦zarde gets an equivalent value or better, Fernan. This is more important than your treason in Guerron, and the terms of the deal need only be between G¨¦zarde and myself.¡±

    And then the geckos are just as subordinate to G¨¦zarde as we were to Guy. More, considering they need it to live. G¨¦zarde already didn¡¯t want for power, but with an arrangement like that, independence for any gecko would be functionally impossible. And it didn¡¯t sound like Camille would be giving them much of a choice about it, either. And all of that assumed that she could even be trusted.

    If they refused, she¡¯d already gone to war against the sun once. And Soleil and his High Priest were both dead, while she yet lived, no doubt swollen with power from the lives Levian had taken in the White Night.

    ¡°Not good enough.¡± No point in fighting yesterday¡¯s war, or conceding before negotiations have even begun. Neither Michel nor Maxime was here, but Fernan knew better than to discard their advice and bury his head in the sand. He couldn¡¯t open negotiations with concessions and compromises, and there was no going back. Come what may, he was a Montaignard. ¡°You haven¡¯t considered our leverage.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Any last words, Montaigne?¡±

    Pushing confidence he didn¡¯t feel, Fernan forced a smile. ¡°Mara.¡±

    ¡°Mara?¡± The sage stood, brow wrinkled. ¡°Does anyone know what he¡¯s¡ª¡±

    His words were interrupted by a blazing torrent of fire passing inches above their heads. Mara let loose another blast into the thick of the mercenaries, who fortunately were alert enough to mostly dodge out of the way. The one who¡¯d thrown the axe had his shirt catch fire, but he dropped to the ground and rolled in the dirt until the flame was extinguished, seemingly no worse for the wear.

    Fernan felt immensely relieved, but he knew better than to let it show. Hands around the arrows embedded in him, he squeezed and burned them to ash, then sealed the wounds in the same fashion.

    He stood next to Mara, circling his arms to draw forth a circle of flame around the still-recovering mercenaries, slowly drawing the top closed until they were trapped inside. Just like Jerome, he thought, faltering slightly. But no one would die today, and that was enough to shore up his resolve.

    ¡°Earlier today, I gave your client some free advice. He should have taken it.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t,¡± Cawdor said. ¡°But we¡¯re just doing our jobs.¡±

    ¡°So am I.¡± Fernan waited for a moment as Mara let out a threatening hiss. ¡°Now I¡¯m not talking to him. I¡¯m talking to you.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re under contract!¡± Cawdor insisted.

    ¡°You¡¯re mercenaries. Forever for sale to the highest bidder.¡±

    ¡°Our word is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Also for sale.¡± And I¡¯m counting on it. ¡°You should hold off any further attacks. My associate has a knife to your mother¡¯s throat.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± His aura dimmed with fear. ¡°How¡ª? When¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Where and why,¡± Fernan offered. ¡°You left a couple out. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m happy to clear things up.¡± He tightened the circle of his movements, shrinking the fiery dome surrounding the mercenaries and forcing them to coalesce tighter. ¡°Courbet, get out here!¡±

    Inside the mercenary leader¡¯s tent, the shadowy figure hesitated, still holding her knife to Delune¡¯s throat.

    I won¡¯t say it twice. Fernan exhaled a burst of steam from his nose in the direction of the tent, cloaking it in heat that was uncomfortable without being dangerous. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I talked to the face stealer.¡± I didn¡¯t tell her about this plan, and she probably won¡¯t be happy when she hears about it, but I did talk to her.

    He sent more steam their way, raising the temperature, and that finally seemed to be enough to get Courbet to leave the tent, Mirielle Delune held close with Courbet¡¯s blade nestled under her chin.

    ¡°Mom!¡± Cawdor cried out, his voice warped as it passed through the whirling inferno.

    ¡°Be smart, boy,¡± Delune grunted, causing Courbet to adjust her grip.

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t the plan, Montaigne,¡± Courbet hissed through grit teeth.

    ¡°Plans change.¡± Fernan leveled his eyes at Delune. ¡°Now all you can do is hope that they don¡¯t change any further.¡±

    The mercenary commander¡¯s only response was to spit on the ground in front of him. Fine. Can¡¯t say I blame you.

    ¡°Throw down your weapons,¡± Fernan ordered the mercenaries, stepping towards Courbet while Mara circled around her. ¡°Especially you, archer.¡±

    ¡°Oberon,¡± he supplied, placing his bow gently on the ground. ¡°Good enough for you, whelp?¡±

    Fernan nodded, prompting the others trapped in the fire to lay down their own arms. Once he could see that none of them were holding their weapons, he dismissed the flames. ¡°Keep a close eye on the wind sage, Mara. If he moves, kill him.¡±

    Mara had already been instructed to do no such thing, but the request was part of the performance, and it had to be a convincing one if this was going to work. She skittered through the still-dissappating flames and closed her mouth around Rosen¡¯s arm, the threat so obvious that no further words were required.

    ¡°Good,¡± said Fernan, though this felt anything but. ¡°Now we can talk.¡±

    ?

    ¡°You haven¡¯t considered our leverage.¡±

    Camille shook her head. ¡°Kill Guy if you want. The bastard¡¯s been asking for a knife in the back ever since he started dancing to Lumi¨¨re¡¯s tune. If anything, he deserves it now more than ever. It won¡¯t change anything.¡±

    Fernan forced a laugh, false enough that he worried Camille could tell. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about Guy and you know it. Magnifico is in our custody. King Harold is in our possession, to do with as we like. Avalon could invade Malin tomorrow and it would be our choice whether to do anything about it.¡±

    The image hardened, flames tinting a paler blue. ¡°You can only kill him once, and then you¡¯re just as fucked as we are. Your leverage is worthless if your opponent knows you can¡¯t use it.¡±

    ¡°But I¡¯m not talking about killing him, Lady Leclaire. I¡¯m no killer.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± She scoffed. ¡°What happened to the mercenaries Eloise sent? We haven¡¯t heard a word from them since they departed. And now I hear you have a problem with us mining coal. Am I to suppose that¡¯s a coincidence?¡±

    It was low, and it was brutal, but all of them lived. That was what mattered, right? ¡°They were convinced to sever their contract and depart for greener pastures. A chest of Guy¡¯s riches served as the carrot, and, as for the whip¡­¡±

    ¡°Convinced,¡± she repeated incredulously.

    ¡°All of them yet live.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care! The lives of some two-bit swords for hire are not the concern here. Whatever ridiculous ideas seem to have taken root in your head, make sure you drive this in too: we¡¯re in it together against Avalon. If you screw things up with Magnifico, you¡¯ll be condemning the entire Empire to be ground under the heel of their boot.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying, Camille. We have leverage.¡± Fernan let the statement hang in the crisp autumn air, Camille¡¯s image flickering in the wind. ¡°I hear they call you the Maiden of Dawn now. It¡¯s an inspiring title, a lot to live up to.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed, the blue hue of her flames softening slightly to a teal green.

    ¡°It makes it obvious just how crucial my help was, giving the information you needed to precisely time Prince Lucifer¡¯s ouster to coincide with the sun¡¯s return. I didn¡¯t just exchange information to do you a favor, I¡¯m complicit in your takeover of Malin.¡±

    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a bad thing. I already told you I owe you a boon, and I¡¯m willing to do my level best to leave you alive and free, even after everything you¡¯ve done.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean. You set up Prince Lucifer, betrayed him, with my help. And it wasn¡¯t because of his character. Unlike Valvert or Perimont, he wasn¡¯t some remarkable tyrant. He was just standing in your way.¡±

    Camille just kept staring, not denying his words. Which is useful, too. The vision was evidence, but not a certainty.

    ¡°You know him better than I do. What do you think would happen if I offered to give him his father back, in exchange for Avalon¡¯s recognition and backing of a free and independent Guerron? No doubt he¡¯d agree, but afterwards, would he be true to his word?¡±

    From what I can tell, he would. If Camille believes the same, then we really can dictate the terms.

    ¡°He¡¯s not the king. Not even the regent. If Magnifico slipped free, he¡¯d be the one choosing how to deal with you. Do you trust him?¡±

    Not for a second. ¡°He could be made to swear before the spirits, to hold him to his word. In one sense, that¡¯s more trustworthy than the prince¡¯s character.¡± In another sense, he¡¯s an expert at wording things to slip free of the consequences, as Lumi¨¨re learned so harshly. Fernan would never bet the fate of Guerron¡¯s people on Magnifico, not when it meant trusting his words and not his acumen, when experience showed it only wise to do the opposite.

    But as long as Camille believed he¡¯d do it, it didn¡¯t matter. Her flames condensed to a white point of rage, barely resembling her face anymore. ¡°You would sell all of us out to that warmongering tyrant, just to settle your petty grudges? And here I thought I¡¯d seen the lowest depths of your treason.¡±

    ¡°Treason? I thought I was just enforcing the Code Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°Not if I have anything to say about it,¡± she snarled. ¡°If you put yourself at Avalon¡¯s mercy, you¡¯re not just a traitor, but a fool. Their territories are fleeing in droves, desperate to eke out independence rather than continue submission to their rule. The Magister of Charenton is sitting in my foyer right now, his rightful domain seized by your beloved Prince of Darkness. The Countess Dimanche is with him, and the Governor-General of Lyrion.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to offer Guerron a better deal.¡± Fernan hoped that was a plausible bluff. Everyone was depending on him for it. ¡°You said it was the two of us against Avalon, Malin and Guerron with Magnifico as our leverage. That can be true. I¡¯ve told you what it will take.¡± He paused, trying to let the threat land with the weight it deserved. ¡°If you aren¡¯t willing to make it happen, the Grimoires will, and what happens to you and the city you worked so hard to take over is none of my concern.¡±

    Fernan bit back his guilt, letting his eyes burn higher and brighter to augment his point.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t I?¡± This wasn¡¯t any different from the show of force in the mercenary camp. All Fernan had to do was sell the lie, sacrifice his own reputation for the sake of everyone else. He¡¯d thought it would be easy, stooping to Camille¡¯s obviously low impression of his character, but somehow it was taking far more convincing than he¡¯d thought. ¡°Oh, one more thing? Keep your fucking mercenaries away from our villages. That coal belongs to the geckos, and if you come after it again, we¡¯ll burn them to ash.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll talk next month, if you can be bothered to show up.¡± Fernan pulled his hands apart to dismiss the flaming specter, Camille¡¯s furious expression dissipating into the wind.

    He felt himself breathing heavily, finally free from the need to perform, but his hands kept moving against his will, conjuring forth not the High Priestess of Levian, but something else, so portentous that the image forced itself into place even now that he was ready to be done. And¡ª

    Fernan felt his heart stop at the sight of it, a shiver running down his spine.

 Luce VI: The Linchpin

    Luce VI: The Linchpin

    For once, everything was going to plan.

    Evacuating the mills and forester camps was the sort of thing that could only last so long before one of the owners tried their luck to remedy the hole in their pockets, drawing on a desperate labor force in an even more urgent situation. Already, Luce¡¯s guards had needed to beat back three separate attempts to cross the river, one of them explicitly backed by the Lyrion League¡ªor so admitted the culprits in Charlotte¡¯s interrogation.

    If the rumors Charlotte was hearing about Simone Leigh picking up volunteers from remaining Avaline colonists in Malin were any indication, it wouldn¡¯t be long before the incursions were backed with rebel soldiers, rather than industrial guards unlikely to want to die over it. And from there, only a matter of time before full scale fighting broke out on the banks of the Rhan.

    The forest needed to be protected, and Luce¡¯s guards had trouble enough enforcing order in Charenton proper, outnumbered and of dubious legitimacy as they were. They didn¡¯t have nearly the numbers for an adequate perimeter of the Rhan, even if they abandoned all other duties, and while his aegis of royal authority had been sufficient for the three-man patrol to send the previous incursions home, it wouldn¡¯t stand up to Leigh¡¯s band of rebels in the event of a fight.

    Luce had needed more bodies, more soldiers willing to defend the forest from incursion, and he needed a way to put them there without being seen to betray Avalon¡¯s interests or Charenton¡¯s. After Malin, he knew better than to try to wait the problem out, but a show of force had its limitations too. It wasn¡¯t like Perimont¡¯s gratuitous executions had done anything to quell the flames of discontent, after all; it had only made things worse even from the most strictly pragmatic reading of events, let alone the massive human cost it had incurred.

    Inviting Cya to occupy the mills had been the perfect solution, ensuring adequate protection from a source that wouldn¡¯t endanger his authority by doing it. Luce had even managed to pass the word on through Rhan, ensuring no risk of being spotted communicating with ¡®the enemy¡¯, all the more valuable after news arrived of the massacre back east.

    The fall of Lorraine had done little to secure the Arboreum¡¯s capitulation, and the puppet noblewoman that General Echols had installed to usurp Her Verdance hadn¡¯t even managed to have her tenure last into winter before washing up on the shore, filled with over a hundred stab wounds. According to Graves¡¯ intelligence, Echols and the occupation forces were still finding bodies washing up on shore, picked off one by one whenever they ventured outside the safety of Lorraine¡¯s walls.

    The Red Knight had no small part in that, Luce was sure. He¡¯d been the one to rescue Her Verdance from the siege of Lorraine, the one to burn eight of Echols¡¯ ships in Lorraine¡¯s harbor, condemning over a hundred people to a gruesome watery grave a stone¡¯s throw from the shore. They¡¯d even barred the doors leading belowdecks, ensuring that no one within could escape death. A part of Luce still wondered briefly if Laura Bougitte had been the one behind that, given her prior attempt on his own ship, but it didn¡¯t feel right. Destroying the ships was an act of war, one of many, and not unwarranted given the provocation, but locking the doors was sadistic, done only with the goal of killing as many people as possible. That didn¡¯t fit the girl ineptly spoiling for a duel, who¡¯d helped depose the tyrant Flammare and provided genuinely invaluable information about Rhan.

    Though perhaps I just want to believe it. If she was behind it, my failing to keep her captive is directly responsible for all those deaths. No good would come of blinded eyes to the truth, but there was no way to know for now, and even Charlotte had agreed that it didn¡¯t seem to fit Bougitte¡¯s style.

    Regardless of who¡¯d perpetrated the massacre, the Red Knight was certainly the one who¡¯d linked up with Cya and shored up her defenses of the Rhan border, and the one sitting at this table now, negotiating. That much had been a surprise, especially when he¡¯d last been spotted far to the east, and he carried with him the threat of similar murders here as he¡¯d pulled in Lorraine, but so far he¡¯d done nothing more than help Cya defend her lands, which was vastly preferable to him stabbing more people.

    Cya was accompanied by an arboreal revenant looming behind her, bleached stark white like her dead side, a sharp contrast to her red and orange leaves on the other. Luce had Charlotte doing much the same. She wore the Gloves of Teruvo she¡¯d spent so much time practicing with, still on loan as the deal with Rhan proceeded in order to ensure that Luce had the firepower to enforce his end of it. For once, the long lives of spirits was an advantage, as swearing to return them after a few years instead of right away had been a nearly trivial concession, especially once the river spirit had heard what Luce intended with Cya.

    Luce felt a faint touch of water hit his face, a mild drizzle in the cold autumn air, but neither Cya nor the Red Knight saw fit to remark on it, so he refrained as well. Dark grey drops began to dot the cracked table they were sitting at, temporarily staining the stone. But the lantern remained burning, protected by its roof, which was good. Having to conduct an actual negotiation and a false performance for Camille Leclaire at the same time would probably be beyond him, and it seemed that nothing but light could fully occlude the conversation from unwanted listeners.

    ¡°You ought to be grateful,¡± the Red Knight announced, his voice booming out of his surprisingly-well-polished helmet as he took his seat. ¡°Your countrymen are less likely to try anything stupid with the east bank under our protection.¡±

    True enough, but there¡¯s a good chance your reputation makes you more trouble than you¡¯re worth. ¡°As I was telling Cya, things are delicate enough in Charenton as it is. The mill owners and their employees are just one part of it, and they need discouragement, not a massacre. If James Moncrieff washes up on shore with fifty stab wounds, it¡¯s only going to make things worse.¡±

    ¡°For you,¡± the Red Knight said dismissively, the companion behind him shrugging a moment later.

    ¡°At first. But if I¡¯m unseated here, it doesn¡¯t mean anything good for you. Whoever seizes power in the aftermath, the first thing they¡¯ll do is lead a band across the Rhan to retake Cya¡¯s lands. That¡¯s not a fight you want.¡±

    The Red Knight laughed. ¡°A chance to dye the Rhan red with Avaline blood? You have no idea what I want, Prince of Darkness.¡±

    Well, that¡¯s about the worst possible thing you could have said to that. ¡°Were you behind the night of burning ships, out in Lorraine?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. You would do well to remember that, when considering what threats to levy at us.¡±

    Behind him, Luce could hear Charlotte pull back her cloak to reveal the pistol at her belt. Without turning around, he gave the slightest shake of his head. Not what we¡¯re here for. ¡°Was Laura Bougitte involved?¡± Do I bear some responsibility?

    ¡°Laura?¡± Momentarily, the Red Knight was taken aback. ¡°No. That was all my handiwork, and the proud men serving under me in the noble fight against Avalon. As was the liberation of Her Verdance, and the just execution of the traitor who thought to usurp her in Avalon¡¯s name. If you think the threat of battle will stay my hand, Prince of Darkness, you are sorely mistaken.¡±

    Damn it. Cya alone was practically an ally at this point, whatever appearances Luce needed to keep up, but this knight¡­

    ¡°Fortunately, the decision is not yours to make, Knight of Dawn. The forests of Refuge belong to me and my children for as long as we stand, and the Prince of Darkness recognizes that better than most humans, including yourself.¡± The wind whistled through Cya¡¯s red leaves, blowing back the rain into the Red Knight¡¯s helmet as she spoke. ¡°If you truly believe that the White Sheep¡¯s death would mean anything good for Refuge or for us, then you are exactly the thoughtless fool that so many believe you to be.¡±

    Luce couldn¡¯t help but smile at the sight of the knight¡¯s visible indignation, though it probably wasn¡¯t helping when it came to averting a battle here. ¡°I¡¯m pleased to hear you say that, Cya. It¡¯s my hope that you won¡¯t have to defend your side of the Rhan for overly long. As long as the millers and foresters can be put to work in another role, they¡¯ll want for any reason to intrude on your domain. Farming can hopefully account for most of it once they get themselves up to speed on the procedures, and as soon as I secure funding and engineers from Cambria, a new slate of public works projects should keep the rest busy long enough to reorient Charenton¡¯s industries and personnel.¡±

    Some would likely end up staffing the new research facility Luce was having designed by Cambrian Design, the firm responsible for that new hotel in Seaworn, along with more than half of his other projects. They¡¯d be setting up an office in Charenton in short order, closer to the ground, for much the same benefits as Luce expected to reap in doing the same.

    ¡°And the owners? Such as the esteemed Monsieur Moncrieff?¡±

    He heard about that? ¡°They¡¯ll be compensated for their property,¡± Luce answered, as if it were nearly that simple. ¡°If they prove truly obstinate, they¡¯ll turn to the rebels, and a simple arrest will sweep them off the board. One of Charlotte¡¯s is already posing as a rebel, embedded with Moncrieff and several of his hangers on, ready to pounce the moment he lets any disloyalty slip.¡± Charlotte had gotten the idea, apparently, back in Malin, a way to keep tabs on Leclaire¡¯s Acolytes of Levian, which certainly would have been useful if she¡¯d had the resources to do it then. Hopefully this would forestall any similar moves against them.

    The Red Knight let out a small laugh, almost inaudible beneath the patter of the rain on his helmet. ¡°If ever you require a more permanent answer, I do hope you¡¯ll think of me. I wouldn¡¯t require any payments or concession for the privilege.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Luce, careful not to give away that he had no intention to even consider it. It¡¯s bad enough what people say about me now, if I hand prisoners over to the Red Knight, no one would ever trust me again.

    They spent another half hour or so working out the details, but Cya¡¯s chastisement seemed to have curbed the Red Knight¡¯s worst impulses, and he was amenable enough to the bounds of the secret peace they established. Cya, insightful and informed as she was, seemed to have no trouble trusting Luce¡¯s good intentions, which was a remarkably refreshing change of pace. He didn¡¯t blame Rhan for being suspicious, especially given what had just happened in Micheltaigne, but that negotiation had taken hours, shivering in the frigid water as its spirit circled menacingly.

    Then they parted ways, grabbing the lantern without extinguishing it, and leaving Cya and the Red Knight to their defense. Luce felt Charlotte fall into step beside him, huddling close in the rain, neither of them saying a word until they were absolutely certain to be free of prying ears.

    When Charlotte did speak, she said something surprising. ¡°He¡¯s not from the Arboreum.¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°The Red Knight?¡± He¡¯s only been active in the forests in and around it, including now. A native defender made the most sense, and had been what they¡¯d both suspected most before now. ¡°What makes you so sure?¡±

    ¡°His sabre. The Arboreum abhors any weapons with a sharp edge, an affront to the life such things are wielded to cut through. The Red Knight¡¯s sword was slightly curved, and the guard matched the other sabres I¡¯ve seen perfectly. It¡¯s designed to be wielded from horseback, swung to slice through the battle with the edge of the blade. But he wasn¡¯t ahorse, nor was his companion.¡±

    ¡°Interesting¡­ They had to travel through the wasteland; that could have been enough to kill their animals, or perhaps they weren¡¯t suited to the sort of ambush fighting and sabotage they got up to in Lorraine¡­¡±

    ¡°Or the Red Knight¡¯s band is hiding cavalry in the forest, ready to sweep in the moment we think we have them pinned.¡± Charlotte looked back over her shoulder into the lifeless husks of the forest. ¡°We should have a sweep conducted to be sure either way, but I doubt anyone could survey the area without drawing Cya¡¯s notice.¡±

    I could ask her, but I don¡¯t know if she¡¯d tell us, and either way it could tip the Red Knight off. Better to keep things discreet. ¡°If they have horses, they¡¯ll be feeding them somehow, and I doubt they¡¯re getting much grain from the dead forest or a baggage train from Lorraine.¡±

    ¡°Good thinking. I¡¯ll post guards incognito at the silos. If they try to skim anything, it could double as a way to learn more about the Red Knight¡¯s band.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Luce pulled her closer, trying to shield her from as much of the rain blowing towards them as he could while they approached the gates back into the city.

    Colored half in orange and half in black, the city gates no longer bore the insignia of the Verrou family, and Ticent hadn¡¯t deemed fit to replace it with anything, so the center had an awkward blank circle of orange bronze where the design had used to be. Two of Luce¡¯s guards saluted him as he and Charlotte approached, opening the gates so smoothly that they didn¡¯t even need to slow down.

    Inside, the aftermath of Sauin was still inescapable, rotting pumpkins littering the street where families had discarded them in the wake of the holiday. Several of the floats from the parade hadn¡¯t been cleared either, wood dyed black in the increasingly-heavy rain.

    Some of the crumbling figures, like the melting paper Pantera or the twin forms of the Rhan, Luce could recognize even in their dilapidated state, but most of others must have been local spirits he hadn¡¯t learned of, or perhaps other dead ones.

    Somewhat poor taste, considering how many people are dead because of the Undying, but I¡¯m unpopular enough here without imposing rules about how they celebrate their holidays. Charenton had been independent until quite recently, only in Avalon¡¯s sphere of influence for decades; it was entirely expected that their traditions would differ somewhat.

    The rain was only picking up further, but now at least there were buildings whose shadow they could skirt, heading north from the gates towards the Magister¡¯s palace where Luce had set up shop. The streets were eerily empty, most likely because of the climate, yet Luce could hear distant chanting, growing less faint the closer they got.

    Charlotte picked up the words before Luce could, mouthing them with a worried expression on her face. ¡°Death to tyrants. Death to Avalon. Death to the Prince of Darkness¡­¡±

    Luce felt himself stop moving, eyes widening as the rain splattered his face.

    ¡°We¡¯re getting you to safety now.¡± Charlotte grabbed his hand and pulled him aside, ducking into an alley to the right. Taking me to the ship. Luce could feel the warmth at the contact, not unwelcome in the cold, but he couldn¡¯t just run again.

    ¡°You just want to ignore it? We have to do something or we¡¯ll lose Charenton. Everything we¡¯re building, the agreements we just established¡ª¡±

    ¡°Will mean nothing if you die. Do you remember what happened last time you got too close to a rebel crowd?¡±

    I was lucky the mob didn¡¯t kill me, then I was captured by Anya Stewart. If not for her son¡¯s flash of decency, Luce might still be imprisoned aboard her ship.

    But either way, Malin was lost.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t have you to keep me safe.¡± Luce turned aside, not letting go of her hand, and began his march toward the sounds of commotion. I can¡¯t solve the problem without knowing what¡¯s going on, can¡¯t just give up without a fight. Not again.

    For a moment, he felt Charlotte pull against him, unmoving, strong enough to stop Luce dead in his tracks. Then she relented, falling into step beside him once more. ¡°As soon as they¡¯re in sight, we stop going towards them and start circling the perimeter. If Graves has half a brain, he¡¯ll have guards gathered here already that we can rendezvous with.¡±

    As the chanting grew louder, Luce began to hear what he thought were scattered cries in Imperial, though beneath the rain and the much stronger Avaline shouting, it was impossible to be sure. Native Charentine, perhaps. There were more of them left than in Lyrion, thanks to Ticent¡¯s halfhearted efforts to resist his orders, and they¡¯d been no happier with Luce¡¯s takeover than the Avaline.

    Simone Leigh and what had to be over a hundred rebels ready for a fight, with hundreds more Charentine civilians, were gathered outside the Magister¡¯s palace, filling the square in front of it and spilling down the path down to the harbor. In the distance, it looked like several rebels were gathered in front of Luce¡¯s ship, staring down four of his guards from the dock.

    Graves had about ten guards with him on the palace steps, drawn into an uneasy half circle as the rain and invective blasted them in the face.

    ¡°We need to help them,¡± Luce told Charlotte, seeing her brow wrinkle at the thought of getting closer to the rebel leader.

    ¡°No safe way to do it. We should relieve the ship crew first.¡±

    And let the palace get overrun? Luce shook his head, pointing. ¡°That alley will take us around to the back of the palace. If we can climb up to the roof, there¡¯s a door leading inside that you could force open.¡±

    ¡°Climb up the wall? Surely you can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± And don¡¯t call me Shirley, Luce thought fleetingly, remembering one of Father¡¯s old jokes with a pang. ¡°You¡¯ve been practicing with the Gloves of Teruvo, I know you¡¯re strong enough to lift me. Do you not think you can do it?¡±

    ¡°No, of course I could, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Great, then there¡¯s no time to lose!¡± Luce began running through the alley, trusting Charlotte to follow. When they reached the back of the palace, Luce was panting, but Charlotte kept the same measured step. She pulled out the Gloves and put them on, experimentally testing their grip against the wet stone wall.

    It held.

    ¡°Can you hold your own weight? This will probably be easiest if you can cling onto my shoulders.¡±

    ¡®Easy¡¯ was the last thought on Luce¡¯s mind as he hung on for dear life, blasted by more and more of the wind and rain as they ascended. By the time he reached the roof, already covered in ankle-deep puddles, it was almost blinding.

    Charlotte bashed the door in with her shoulder, sending it sliding down the stairs. The two of them followed it down as fast as they dared on the slick steps, Luce feeling his chest burn with the exertion, but spared the briefest of moments to compose himself before stepping outside.

    ¡°You will disband immediately, or face the wrath of¡ª¡± Graves interrupted himself as Luce approached, greeting him with a crisp salute. ¡°Today¡¯s password is Symbiosis, Your Highness. I apologize, I was not aware that you were inside. I¡¯m sure Charlotte can help evacuate you while we deal with this issue.¡±

    She¡¯d love to try. ¡°What issue is that, precisely?¡± Luce projected his voice out as far as he could, trying to cut through the patter of the rain.

    ¡°These vagabonds¡ª¡±

    ¡°Freedom fighters.¡± Simone Leigh stepped three paces in front of her rebel lines, seemingly unbothered by the rain. ¡°We require entrance to the armory in the name of securing Charenton¡¯s defense. And we¡¯ll have it, whatever your thirty guards have to say about it.¡± She turned back towards her followers, flicking her head to signal them. Immediately, the front ten lifted their coats to show the pistols on their belts. ¡°You¡¯re outgunned here, Grimoire.¡±

    ¡°Leclaire armed you?¡± That went a great deal beyond the implied peace while Father remained captive, like she was daring him to mount a stronger response.

    ¡°Leclaire had nothing to do with it. Told us to fuck off almost as soon as we made it to the city. But that was enough. Plenty of brave men and women there who remembered your tyrannical rule and were happy to volunteer their help. And as for the pistols, nothing but the free market.¡± Leigh smiled, barely visible behind the torrential rain. ¡°Since you did me the favor of staying my execution long enough for me to escape, I¡¯ll offer you this one courtesy: Stand down, relinquish Charenton, get on your ship and scurry back to your brother.¡±

    Return to Avalon a failure once again, breaking my agreements with Rhan and Cya. ¡°Or what?¡±

    Leigh let out an incredulous chuckle. ¡°Or you get a ball of lead through your heart, and one for your lieutenant too. Last chance, Prince of Darkness.¡± She flicked her head again, and the rebels put their hands on their pistols. Behind them, others were drawing their swords. One of them even unfurled a flag, four stripes in the colors of Dimanche, Ombresse, Lyrion, and Charenton.

    Charlotte signaled Luce¡¯s guards to ready their own weapons, a larger quantity of pistols than Leigh boasted, though they were definitely outnumbered. Luce couldn¡¯t articulate a reason to rescind the order, though there had to be some other way around this.

    In the distance, he could see the water swelling, a wave crashing over a wooden bridge near the water and dashing it to splinters. The ruined bridge was swept seaward as the sky darkened, the green banks of the Rhan blackening under dark skies.

    Luce didn¡¯t see who fired the first shot. He only heard it, followed by an explosive patter of more as his own guards fired into the crowd. Before he could fully react, he felt Charlotte pull him out of the way, crouching down behind Graves as she fired her pistol over his head.

    ¡°Get back inside!¡± he yelled. The palace would be more defensible, and now that he knew the rebels wanted the arms inside, they could deny them what they wanted so long as they held it.

    It all made a twisted kind of sense, starting here. Luce was one of the only Territorial administrators without ties to the Lyrion League, one of the least popular Avaline figures this side of the Lyrion sea, and he¡¯d helped make their grievances about Avalon about himself instead. By the time Avalon could send a response, the rebels would have already seized massive amounts of armaments and fortified the coast.

    Unless they were defeated here and now.

    ¡°Bar the doors,¡± Charlotte ordered, already leading Luce upstairs. ¡°Graves, I want constant fire until the way is blocked. Suppress any of their attacks. Once the building is secured, we can¡ª¡±

    Her words were interrupted with a rush of water, a thunderous wave crashing straight through the front of the palace, as high as Luce¡¯s waist. The doors splintered under the assault, leaving a clear view of Leigh¡¯s rebels desperately trying to recover outside, dull black blood dispersing through the water as it receded.

    Luce could already see the next wave swelling behind it, a dark shape riding atop it. Scaled, serpentine, it moved up and down the wave faster than Luce¡¯s eye could follow, slitted blue eyes coming into focus as it got closer.

    A spirit. Could the Red Knight have rallied one to ¡®help¡¯? Something like this would certainly fit his style. If so, Luce had to dismantle this bloody scheme immediately.

    ¡°It¡¯s Levian¡­¡± Charlotte breathed, slow to compose herself.

    Levian, then. Leclaire¡¯s spirit. That could complicate things. Had she sent him after the rebels, either to aid or hinder them? Would she subject Charenton to this just to further her machinations?

    Does it even matter, when I¡¯m the only one who even has a chance at stopping it?

    Luce stepped out into the square, waving his arms at the Torrent of the Deep. ¡°Stop! This is not the way to do it! I have agreements worked out! You need to stand down, Great Spirit. In the name of Cya, of Rhan, of¡ª¡±

    He felt a searing pain in his eye as the spirit swiped a narrow blade of water towards him, feeling his sight slip away under the blood and rain. Luce collapsed into Charlotte¡¯s arms as she dragged him away, the sounds of gunfire drowned by the storm.

 Florette XII: The Thief

    Florette XII: The Thief

    For all the terrified condemnations that the Avaline elite had issued about that devastatingly devious dastard, the Blue Bandit, and her wicked ice magics, they really hadn¡¯t done much to secure their property against it.

    Christophe had used the same icicle climbing spike trick to scale the wall of the Tancredi Museum that he¡¯d used in the fire, hidden in the shadow of the anemic moonlight from even a careful examination, and precious few were giving the outer walls even a cursory one.

    Getting him inside without making a sound hadn¡¯t been quite so trivial, but the difference was pretty minimal. Most of the museum was closed off with velvet rope, penning the Sauin gala-goers into the designated areas with almost no effort spared for enforcement. All Florette had to do was open the window and watch him climb in, his cool blue crystalline hands softening as the magic faded.

    Florette was irritated to see that he was dressed better than her, with a shockingly unsullied white jacket after the climb up and a pale blue bowtie that brought out the color in his eyes. If his neighbors could lend him that, why was I stuck with the plump short girl¡¯s dress?

    Maybe something to mention to Rebecca, if Florette ever got invited to one of these things after tonight. After what¡¯s already happened tonight, even. The smart thing to do would be letting the friendship wither, withdrawing from the risk of drawing the attention of Baron Williams and his apparently close compatriot, the fucking Crown Prince of Avalon.

    Florette liked to think she¡¯d gotten better about doing the smart thing, of late, but returning to that isolation for years on end was a far-from-enticing prospect, and frankly she needed the help when it came to a lot of her classwork. Passing Thermodynamics alone without her help seemed basically impossible, and without that, there went any chance of mastering Avalon¡¯s technology enough to steal the most useful stuff, let alone achieving a position of influence to sabotage them from within.

    When you think about it, staying close to her is really the pragmatic choice. She¡¯d have to study long and hard with her, paying close attention to everything her eyes could take in, but was achievable. If I can learn Avaline in less than a year, I can pull this off too.

    I just need a way to do that doesn¡¯t involve kissing the girl whose friend I ran through with a sword. That much, Florette thought with no small amount of regret, would definitely be taking it too far.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Christophe tapped his fingers together, letting out a quiet chime. ¡°Come on.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Florette nodded, pulling herself to the task at hand, far more pleasant than any feelings of guilt could ever possibly aspire to be. ¡°You remember the plan?¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Christophe scoffed in indignation. ¡°You only made me run it through about ten thousand times.¡±

    Because you¡¯re the one at the most risk here. Florette was an invited guest; even if she were caught right here and now, it¡¯d be trivial to spin a tale about getting lost looking for the appropriate facilities. Christophe, by contrast, was an uninvited guest with no official existence in Cambria, without any powers at his disposal that wouldn¡¯t immediately reveal his status as a descendant of Glaciel.

    Reason enough to take extra care, but his inexperience provided far more. Even counting the fire as his first job, this would only be the second. And Florette well remembered her second job, stealing Celice Thorley¡¯s books and schematics from right under his nose and nearly getting away clean.

    But Claude didn¡¯t make it out, and eventually they killed him for it. Reading his name in a journal about Leclaire¡¯s Blue Revolution in Malin, overthrowing Prince Luce, had been shock enough, but seeing the callous way the journal had errantly mentioned his death in a footnote about Perimont¡¯s wife staging an execution had been like a knife to the heart.

    Florette had no doubt at all that, had he made it away from the railyard heist, he wouldn¡¯t have been in Perimont¡¯s way, and he¡¯d probably still be alive.

    Christophe had better means of defending himself, but he was by no means infallible, and this was a high-stakes time to test him, right in the center of enemy territory. If it came down to force, they¡¯d have already lost, and while Christophe had amply proven his abilities fighting the fire, he¡¯d yet to demonstrate much mastery of subtlety.

    Florette had made it clear in no uncertain terms that, if things went wrong, he was to run, across water if necessary, until he reached shores free of Avalon¡¯s influence, but she suspected that it would take more than the first sign of trouble to truly move him to it.

    Hopefully her precautions would be enough. Far from Lord Monfroy¡¯s initial proposal of a brutish smash-and-grab, tonight would be tightly planned to minimize risk.

    ¡°Count to one hundred, then start,¡± Florette said as she slipped away, headed back towards the permitted areas.

    She found Professor Alcock entertaining a half circle of perhaps a dozen of Cambria¡¯s well-to-do near the curtained display case for the sword, enrapturing them with a tale of braving the dead woods of Refuge to rescue its most precious lost artifacts. Florette tried to pay close attention, in case any of them had living owners who might want them back, but everything he mentioned was the rightful property of the long-annihilated, unable to make any kind of claim of their own.

    Probably for the best. After tonight, security¡¯s bound to be tighter, and making any alterations to tonight¡¯s plan would be incredibly ill-advised.

    Though it wasn¡¯t as if Nuage Sombre belonged to Monfroy any more than it did to Alcock or this museum. And unlike Cya¡¯s domain, it might still have a living rightful owner. A chance of one, at least, since the Avaline soldiers still hadn¡¯t managed to find Princess Mars of Micheltaigne.

    Though, like as not, she died in the firebombing anyway. It certainly wasn¡¯t hard to believe after seeing sketches of the devastation in The Cambrian, especially since whatever they published was surely more sanitized than the reality. Even then, the scorched mountainous wasteland looked so thoroughly scoured it was hard to believe they¡¯d managed to print it. Maybe all their talk about freedom of words is actually backed up by something, at least in the capital.

    More likely, Avalon just thought it useful to strike fear into hearts with the implicit threats those images posed, and Avaline readers seeing depictions of the aftermath was simply a consequence of the larger strategy.

    Either way, it was time to move.

    ¡°Professor Alcock?¡± Florette glided through the onlookers without missing a step, drawing Alcock¡¯s attention back away from the cloth-covered display case. ¡°I¡¯m sure this isn¡¯t the best time, but I was wondering if I could have a word in private?¡±

    Alcock smiled wide, holding up his glass of fizzing wine with evident cheer. ¡°The entire purpose of this exhibit is preservation and education, and I always make time for the latter. Especially with one of my best students.¡± He looked over her head towards his listeners. ¡°If you¡¯d all excuse us, I¡¯ll be making my speech once Sabine and I are finished, so it¡¯s best I continue the story afterwards. Feel free to come remind me.¡±

    Finally, the work I put into a subject I¡¯m actually good at is paying off. ¡°Thank you, Professor.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble.¡± He waved his head back towards the display case, positioned behind him and out of his sight. ¡°What do you think? I noticed you didn¡¯t say anything about it in class.¡±

    ¡°Of the sword? There¡¯s nothing to see yet; the display case is still covered up.¡± Don¡¯t turn around to check. ¡°I¡¯m pleased it wasn¡¯t destroyed in the assault, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±

    ¡°I should hope so.¡± Alcock frowned. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say? It¡¯s over eight-hundred years old, of massive cultural importance to the Micheltine, and I managed to rescue it from an inferno the size of the sun.¡±

    And I managed to kill the sun, but I know better than to brag about it. Still, Florette considered a more honest response. Kelsey Thorley and Toby Folsom had surprised her, a reminder that even in the heart of Avalon, thinking was not monolithic. Professor Alcock clearly cherished the artifacts he took, perhaps he might surprise her too? ¡°It¡¯s all of those things and more, but it wasn¡¯t ours to take.¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡± Surprisingly, his frown disappeared. ¡°Nor was Salhaute, but Avalon took that from Micheltaigne too. Perhaps the moral course would have been to step back, rather than serve my knightly duties as an advisor. It would have done nothing for the Micheltine, but Nuage Sombre and every other precious relic we rescued would have been dashed to pieces. Would that have been any better?¡±

    Those weren¡¯t your only two options. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what is it you wanted to ask me about?¡±

    Behind him, Florette saw the curtain ruffle as Christophe breached the display, careful not to make a sound.

    ¡°Actually, I wanted to tell you that I¡¯m going to need to miss the next few classes. My father¡¯s time is near, and I wish to see him one last time before it¡¯s too late.¡± Though, of course, I¡¯ll be tragically too late to see him again. Someone on Robin¡¯s crew would ensure that a body was buried on a slab in his place, following the Avaline custom, closing the book on the story of the debt-ridden Srin Savian. ¡°If you¡¯re willing to give me the assignments for the next couple weeks early, I can work on them while I¡¯m gone, but even¡ª¡±

    ¡°No need.¡± Alcock waved his hand dismissively. ¡°I¡¯ll be gone for the wedding around the same time, and those humdrum student assignments are a waste of your talents anyhow. If you feel so moved, look into the history of your homeland. I understand it¡¯s new to you, but the western isles have a rich tradition that is far too often left out of any analysis of Avaline culture. The Isle of Shadows, especially, contains multitudes that Cambrian history instruction has been woefully inadequate at including. But, if you cannot find the time, do not worry either. I¡¯m sorry to hear about your father.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Almost nice enough to make me forget how you ¡®find¡¯ your relics.

    Alcock put a hand on her shoulder, no doubt intended to be comforting. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have to give my speech now, but please come find me afterwards if you¡¯d like to talk more. Best of luck with your trip.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Florette lingered a moment longer, making sure that Christophe had time to slip away, then headed back towards the entrance to put some distance between herself and the exhibit. Once she was sure she was clear, she ducked out into the roped-off hallway where Christophe was waiting.

    Monfroy¡¯s initial ¡®just run in and grab it¡¯ proposal might even have worked, if at an unacceptable cost.

    ¡°Success?¡±

    Christophe grinned from ear to ear, his face mask stretched just enough to look slightly unnatural, which was still a good deal less unnatural than Lamante¡¯s gift actually was. ¡°The back panel had hinges mounted to it to open it up, so our initial plan to replace the glass there with a panel of ice wouldn¡¯t have worked.¡± He pulled the sword from behind his back, wrapped in the Cloak of Nocturne that Florette had provided him for the occasion. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t even locked.¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Alcock¡¯s speech,¡± Florette realized. ¡°They didn¡¯t want him fumbling with a key when he shows it off. Tonight was definitely the right time to do this, everything¡¯s all done up for the gala.¡± Guards were crawling over every inch of the exterior, protecting the notable Cambrian figures within, but such security was apparently deemed sufficient. To protect their persons, it probably was, but not their stolen property, not even the most valuable addition to the museum.

    Honestly, it¡¯s like they were asking me to rob them.

    Florette heard a faint whistle of wind as she unwrapped the sword, feeling a jolt of energy as she gripped its handle. The blade¡¯s color had faded, unpolished but not rusted, extending longer than most swords Florette had seen, but it felt easy to lift as a pen, and far smoother to move. But we didn¡¯t take this so I could swing it around.

    She slipped it into the leather scabbard she¡¯d had wrapped around her belly under the dress, which now probably looked even more unflattering, then attached the sword to her belt, just another Avaline noble wearing a ceremonial piece. Five or six inches of the blade stuck out of the top, so Florette pulled the hem of her dress over the whole thing to hide it. Just have to step carefully to avoid cutting myself on an eight-hundred year old sword. That would probably be bad.

    For now, that would be enough. She needed to give Christophe time to get far away from the building before anyone noticed anything amiss. ¡°Give me two minutes to get back to my group, then climb back down the way you came. Go straight to your building and don¡¯t say a word to anyone.¡±

    Florette waited just long enough to see him nod, then slipped back into the room just as the lights were beginning to dim for Alcock¡¯s speech, no doubt running some poor lamplighters ragged draining the oil.

    ¡°And just where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± Baron Williams¡¯ towering figure blocked her way back in, glaring down at her across the velvet rope. ¡°Surely even in the western isles they understand the concept of ¡®off-limits¡¯. There¡¯s nothing to see anyway.¡±

    ¡°I needed to be alone for a bit, then I got lost on the way back.¡± Florette subtly tried to angle herself away to hide the sword at her hip and the incriminating bulge it formed under her clothes, let alone the tip hanging down below. ¡°I hope I didn¡¯t miss the speech.¡±

    The Baron¡¯s eyes narrowed, his hand drifting closer to the handle of his own sword. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t do anything you¡¯ll regret, for your own sake.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Please don¡¯t notice it.

    ¡°I know my daughter, Miss Sabine, and when the two of you sneak off alone somewhere and she comes back alone, tight-lipped and wide-eyed, it¡¯s not hard for me to draw conclusions.¡± He drew his blade an inch, glinting in the lamplight. ¡°When I say ¡®something you¡¯ll regret,¡¯ I mean that I¡¯ll make you regret it, if there¡¯s cause. Are we clear?¡±

    Florette gulped, trying to hide her relief by conjuring up the nervousness she¡¯d just been actually feeling. ¡°Y-yes, my lord Baron.¡± Just an innocent schoolgirl, life filled with naught but quotidien affairs and romantic misadventures. ¡°You have no cause to worry.¡±

    His gaze shifted down, lingering on her legs for an extremely inappropriate amount of time.

    ¡°Well, I should be getting back to¡ª¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the rush? If you want to hear the speech, this is the best place to do it. Strange acoustics, but you can hear perfectly over there.¡± He jerked his head back towards the display, where Florette had been talking to Alcock minutes earlier. Hopefully early enough that Williams hadn¡¯t been standing here. ¡°Stay.¡±

    Well, at least it¡¯ll be easier to act nervous now. Florette grit her teeth, ears starting to ring, as she looked past the baron to Sir Thomas Alcock, Professor and Plunderer. ¡°Esteemed Ladies and Gentlemen of the Tancredi Board, friends and family, and honored guests, it is my pleasure and privilege to reveal the newest feature of the Ancient Weaponry exhibit, a piece whose collection I oversaw personally.¡±

    ¡°Picked it off the ground after soldiers did all the work,¡± Williams muttered, standing at an angle so Alcock and Florette were both in sight.

    ¡°Tonight we celebrate Sauin, a night of tears and contrasts, where dark forces are said to be at their strongest. The earliest records we have of the tradition go back deep into the Age of Darkness, before Cambria¡¯s founding. In Oxton and Vellum, based on the historical record, we can see¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are you actually enjoying his blathering?¡± Williams asked quietly, drawing Florette¡¯s attention away from the speech. ¡°Pageantry like this is poison, sweet and enticing, but it will get you killed all the same.¡± He pulled out his sword all the way, drawing glares from the few people not closely watching Alcock. ¡°Pendragon here is older than the Micheltine showpiece he¡¯s so puffed up about, and more powerful too. Nuage Sombre is a symbol, but Pendragon is a weapon. My forefathers forgot that, to their great shame, but I have not. Neither should you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Florette squeaked.

    ¡°If you¡¯re going to carry a sword, carry a sword. Don¡¯t hide it under your dress like some seamstress¡¯s knife. As things stand now, when the time comes to draw it, you won¡¯t be fast enough.¡± He swung his sword towards her, stopping just short of your neck. ¡°Real threats will not be so sporting as to wait.¡±

    Is this still about Rebecca, or did he figure it out? ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±

    ¡°You should. And see that you learn how to use that thing if you¡¯re going to carry it. I won¡¯t have you swinging it around in my daughter¡¯s presence like some witless amateur.¡± He pushed the sword closer, to the point that Florette could feel the steel against her neck. ¡°Do not think yourself too skilled or too important to be brought low. Toy with Rebecca, and that blade of yours will be naught but a stick against my wrath, and your precious professor can make an exhibition of your bones. Do I make myself clear?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes sir, my lord Baron.¡±

    He snorted, shaking his head as Alcock continued his speech.

    ¡°...And so, at last, it is my pleasure to present Nuage Sombre, the royal sword of the High Kingdom of Micheltaigne, treasured symbol for generations of High Kings and Queens.¡± Alcock pulled the cloth back with a flourish, revealing the glass display case beneath it.

    It was hard to tell from across the room, but he looked slightly taken aback.

    Williams seemed to notice too, his eyes narrowing. ¡°It¡¯s too thin,¡± he muttered.

    ¡°How could you possibly tell?¡± Christophe had been looking directly at the original when he made his ice replica; he couldn¡¯t have possibly failed to duplicate it so spectacularly that it was visible all the way back here.

    Unless it melts, Florette realized with a start. I should have had him make a bigger one, and moved sooner. No doubt Alcock was able to tell the difference too, especially feeling the ice in his hand, but for a moment he didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°The blade doesn¡¯t look sharp either¡­ It seems the vaunted professor was taken in by a fake.¡± Williams smiled. ¡°That¡¯s what happens when you send an academic to do a binder¡¯s job. The power of the spirits is a prize to be earned, each artifact a mark of surviving against the most dangerous of opponents and binding their power to your cause.¡± His eyes narrowed as he looked at Florette again, eyes drawn once again to the sword-shaped lump in her dress. ¡°It seems Alcock wasn¡¯t the only one. Whoever sold you that ought to have told you it¡¯s too big for you, even tall as you are. The balance will be all wrong if you try to use it.¡±

    ¡°My father got it for me,¡± Florette said, thinking fast. ¡°He¡¯s not much of a swordsman either, but after Robin Verrou¡¯s attack, he wanted me to be safe.¡±

    ¡°Then why weren¡¯t you wearing that when you first walked in here? Did you stash it here to pick up later? Or¡­?¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Did you swipe it from one of the exhibits? Is that why you were in the restricted area?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Florette said, perhaps a touch too fast, but she was out of plausible alternatives. ¡°All that talk of the Blue Bandit, I just didn¡¯t feel safe. I know it¡¯s stupid, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°Rebecca has a habit of picking up stupid girls. She¡¯s smart enough that her lessers blend together, even if there is ample room for discernment. It¡¯s caused her and myself no end of grief. It could cause you the same, if I thought fit to speak of this.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t. I¡¯ll put it right back.¡±

    Williams pulled back his sword, apparently willing to strike her in front of all these people, but the blow never came. He sheathed the blade and jerked his head back across the velvet rope. ¡°Well? Get to it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, my lord.¡± Florette walked as fast as she dared into the gloom of the empty museum, looking back over her shoulder every few seconds to be sure she wasn¡¯t being followed.

    Should have just sent the damned thing with Christophe. He could have probably managed the climb even while holding it, but Florette hadn¡¯t wanted to risk him being spotted with it. Alone, he could run or talk his way out, but with the blade, the guards wouldn¡¯t stop following him until they recovered it.

    Whereas I have a Cloak of Nocturne and I know how to use it. Florette slipped into Nocturne, watching the world dim as she and her stolen artifact faded from view.

    She returned to a room in pandemonium, Alcock brandishing what looked like half of Christophe¡¯s replica, the top broken or melted off. The guards from outside were pouring in, demanding every guest stay inside, but the other guests hadn¡¯t slipped beyond the veil into a realm of darkness, so they couldn¡¯t walk right past them out the door as Florette could.

    Others were outside, closely watching the street, but Monfroy¡¯s carriage was still parked there, so Florette simply slipped inside, phasing through the door, and removed the cloak while sitting inside, crossing the final path of danger totally unseen. She pulled the sword from its case and laid the flat of it on her lap.

    ¡°Ah, Miss Sabine.¡± Lord Monfroy laced his fingers together, not looking the least bit surprised to see Florette pop into existence right in front of him. ¡°I see that you too have felt the touch of Khali¡¯s realm. No doubt that accounts for your success tonight, beyond my wildest expectations.¡± He tapped the roof. ¡°Richard! It¡¯s time to depart.¡±

    The carriage began to move as Monfroy took the sword from her. ¡°For all his faults, it seems Srin Savian was not as derelict in your education as I once feared. You¡¯re read The End of Time, felt the call of darkness in your soul, and can even wield spiritual power more adeptly than I¡¯d expect from anyone so young. Before we proceed, I would like to¡­ congratulate you on tonight¡¯s rousing success. I take it you weren¡¯t seen?¡±

    I¡¯ll need to explain how I left, but I can figure something out. Rebecca and Alcock will both probably back me up as long as I don¡¯t trigger their suspicions. ¡°Not by a soul.¡±

    ¡°Excellent!¡± He pulled his hands apart, reaching for the sword. ¡°This will make an excellent decoration for my new abode.¡±

    ¡°Decoration? You had me do all of that just for¡ª¡±

    ¡°I was not finished.¡± Monfroy¡¯s voice was cold. ¡°Your father is dead. I¡¯m traveling tomorrow to settle things at Mahabali Hall and ready it for the next convocation of the Twilight Society, the professional organization through which I met your father. You are, as I promised earlier, invited. You¡¯ll accompany me on my ship.¡±

    Wow, no thanks. ¡°I¡¯ll make my own arrangements.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Monfroy said softly. ¡°You¡¯ll do as I say, from now until the end of your pitiful life. I own you.¡±

    ¡°You said this would pay off eighty thousand mandala of my debt!¡±

    He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°It could pay off all of it. That¡¯s no longer of any concern.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I just witnessed you steal a priceless artifact from right under the Prince Regent¡¯s nose. I¡¯d thought to throw you at their security, see what protections you triggered when inevitably you were caught, but instead you¡¯ve proven yourself an invaluable asset, and one that I intend to make rigorous use of.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the deal.¡± Florette reached for the handle of the sword, but Monfroy snatched it away with shocking speed.

    ¡°The deal stands, and your debt is that much lesser for it. Now we¡¯re establishing a new deal, where I kindly refrain from informing my good friends in the Great Council about your flagrant and heinous thievery, the indisputable evidence for which I hold in my very hands.¡± He let out another laugh. ¡°This was never about money, child. I¡¯m a collector of people, and you¡¯ve just proven yourself a worthy addition.¡±

    ¡°You fucker!¡± Florette snarled, lunging for the sword, but she had to pull back at the sound of a whip cracking, striking back into the cabin from the front.

    ¡°Get some rest. We¡¯ll be leaving bright and early tomorrow. And do try to be less dour about this. It is your life now, after all. No use crying about it.¡± Monfroy leaned over and opened the door, waving her out. ¡°Goodnight, Miss Sabine.¡±

    Florette felt her fists burning red with rage, unable to think of a single reason not to retrieve her florete and run the double-dealing bastard through before he had a chance to say anything.

    I should have just said no, asked another favor, found another way to get the money¡­ She had no way to find him except on his ship in the morning, surrounded by trusted guards and miles of open water. Even if she could pull it off alive, her cover would be just as ruined as if he informed on her for the theft.

    I put in all this work to blend in, even helping people, to get away clean, to hold it together to complete the mission, and it was all for nothing. All that self control gone to waste.

    Florette still felt that fire in her as she approached the doorway of the apartment. You do everything right, help get the reckless Hiverrien under control, spend hours a day poring over their textbooks and assignments, living a lie for every second of my existence, all for nothing.

    The door opened, Rebecca¡¯s surprised face lurking behind it. ¡°Sabine? We were looking for you at the museum. The Blue Bandit struck again, but it doesn¡¯t seem like anyone was hurt, so¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m done dancing around. No point in it anyway.¡± Everything¡¯s coming apart anyway. Why hold back?

    ¡°Oh! Ok. Well¡ª¡±

    Florette kissed her, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

 Luce VII: Half in Shadow

    Luce VII: Half in Shadow

    Luce¡¯s face was on fire. Pulsing out of his left eye was a searing pain, every drop of the deluge hitting his face only making it worse. Instinctively, he covered it with his hand, but that only made him wince harder, and when he pulled it away, the hand was slick and red.

    Charlotte was trying to lead him away, probably, but her words were drowned out by the wind, snatching them from her mouth and instead delivering the screams of Leigh¡¯s rebels as Levian cut through them with another blade of water.

    His serpentine form never stayed put long enough to get a good glimpse of, especially given that Luce wasn¡¯t doing so great at glimpsing things in general right now, but every few seconds, his work made itself manifest: a crack through the air as another wave of water crashed over the stone, the burbling cry of a rebel struggling not to drown, the growing intensity of the rain, falling so thick in the air that moving through it felt like wading through a river.

    ¡°Luce, we need to go!¡± Charlotte wrapped her arm around him, tugging him back. ¡°It¡¯s not safe.¡±

    No shit, I just lost an eye. ¡°It¡¯s not safe for anyone.¡± Luce blinked rapidly, trying to clear what was left of his vision. ¡°And this is my fault.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± She yelled to be heard over the wind.

    ¡°I took over Charenton!¡± Luce yelled. ¡°I made my deals with Levian¡¯s ilk. Me. Do you believe for a second that this would be happening if I¡¯d stayed in Fortescue?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if she could even hear all of it, but the pained look on her face told him that she¡¯d gotten the gist.

    The earth shook, a distant building collapsing into a cloud of dust ahead of the next wave.

    After Malin, I was a laughingstock. After today, I¡¯ll always be seen as a monster. The Prince of Darkness, a fitting title for the son of a king who slew the sun.

    ¡°We have to stop him.¡± Luce grabbed Charlotte¡¯s hand and began walking back towards the Magister¡¯s palace, his socks squelching in his boots. As he glanced back at her worried face, he saw her mouthing one word, drowned beneath the rain: How?

    Good question. Luce¡¯s teeth ground together. His hands clenched tight to try to push through the pain.

    Simone Leigh and maybe forty of her rebels were clustered together in something still resembling a formation, drawn back into a tight half circle against the palace walls. The elevated landing above the front steps gave them all some protection against the recurring waves, but if Levian decided to collapse this building too, that would be scant comfort.

    ¡°Leigh!¡± he yelled, his guards falling into step behind him. ¡°I¡¯m calling a truce!¡± He made a T shape with his hands, trying to make the message clear, since he didn¡¯t exactly have the appropriate flags for parley on hand.

    She raised her gun towards him, prompting Charlotte to jump forward, but she stopped when Luce held up a hand.

    One of Leigh¡¯s rebels pulled on her arm, saying something Luce had no hope of hearing. Whatever it was, Leigh lowered the gun, then waved them closer. ¡°Make it quick,¡± she spat out once they were close enough to actually communicate.

    ¡°Truce?¡± Luce tried to keep it succinct; Levian¡¯s threat lurked ever-present under the beating rain. ¡°You have pistols and numbers, we have more powerful weapons and training. None of us want this attack to continue a moment longer than it has to.¡±

    Leigh¡¯s face curled in on itself with disgust. ¡°But only one of us ordered it.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously think¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the Prince of Darkness! Heavy-handed tyrant, consorter with sorcerers and spirits, the very embodiment of Avalon¡¯s oppression!¡± She let out a dismissive ¡°Pah! Don¡¯t act like it¡¯s beneath you to arrange this to consolidate your grip.¡±

    ¡°With myself and my guards still in the city? With me losing my fucking eye?¡± Luce gripped Charlotte¡¯s hand tighter, feeling his face snarl. ¡°We could get on a ship right now and leave you to your fate. I¡¯m instead proposing, generously, that we stay and work together for something we both want. Unless you¡¯re happy with Levian tearing into your people and the Charentine like a Sauin feast?¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s right!¡± Leigh let out a chuckle, then turned around to face her rebels. ¡°Listen up! There¡¯s only one ship durable enough to get us out of here, and the Prince of Darkness has it parked in the harbor. We¡¯re going to take it and leave. Shoot anyone who tries to stop you.¡± She signaled her hand down, walking down the steps in the direction of the harbor before Luce could even slightly contest it.

    ¡°Un-fucking believable.¡± Between the wind and rain, he was sure no one could hear him. ¡°Charlotte¡ª¡±

    ¡°On it,¡± she said softly, already closing one eye to aim her gun. It couldn¡¯t be an easy shot, with all the rebels behind her, and Charlotte was clearly giving her task the care it was due.

    And then what? It wasn¡¯t like any of the other rebels would entertain a truce after Luce gunned down their leader. It wasn¡¯t like his thirty guards had any hope of facing Levian alone. I¡¯m not sure three-thousand could. It was looking more and more impressive that Lucien Renart had even managed to survive the White Night, let alone triumph.

    But Levian wasn¡¯t beaten there. He just left on his own, his work done.

    Descended from a powerful line of binders stretching back to The Great Binder herself, Luce was letting every last one of them down with how totally at a loss he was for how to deal with this. He¡¯d felt unsuited to politics, but Levian had really managed to put into perspective that they were comparatively a pretty good fit. Pretty much anything was, next to this.

    He had nothing close to the Great Binder¡¯s raw power, sufficient to beat Khali into submission and force her through the portal to Nocturne.

    Charlotte hadn¡¯t fired. In fact, she was lowering her gun. Luce saw the reason why a moment later.

    Closer to the shore, the rebels were wading through hip-deep water, holding their guns above their heads in the hopes of keeping the gunpowder dry. In a flash, the waves swelled above their heads, then receded, running red with blood.

    Simone Leigh had been cut in half at the waist, her hand squeezing the cobblestones as the life drained from her. Most of her followers were scattered, running screaming in different directions if they weren¡¯t bleeding out on the cobblestones themselves. And they think I ordered this.

    Father would know what to do. He¡¯d slain more powerful spirits than this, with far more raw power than he could ever hope to match¡ªeven the very sun in the sky. He made the cold calculation to plunge the world into darkness to remove the most tyrannical spirit, no matter the cost. Nearly a quarter of Avalon was dead at his hand, the people he¡¯d sworn to protect, the nation he regularly declared that he ¡°was¡± more times than Luce could count. And that was with time to plan, local allies, and the element of surprise.

    If he were here, it was very likely that his plan to deal with Levian wouldn¡¯t leave a single Charentine alive. Perhaps nothing west of the Rhan. Perhaps not even me.

    Do not trust Magnifico, the visions had said, he tried to kill his son. Darkness leaves traces but the light blots out all else, it had finished, using a phrase Luce had only ever heard from that treacherous imposter, Jethro. Who seems to be a binder himself, if his mastery of the Gauntlet of Eulus is anything to go by.

    One of the rebels was trying to lead the survivors back towards the palace, her tied up hair glistening black in the rain. The same one that seemed to convince Leigh to parley, Luce noted, not missing how the rebels looking to her instead might change things.

    ¡°We have to go!¡± Charlotte yelled, pulling him down the steps by the hand. In the square, a tower of blood squirted into the air, its source quickly covered by another wave. ¡°While he¡¯s distracted. Especially if you¡¯re right about him being here because of you.¡±

    And if he sees us, he¡¯ll sink my ship. If he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯ll continue to devastate Charenton.

    ¡°Every story I¡¯ve heard from my father, every text I pored through in the Grimoire Archives, even the most ancient binders from the mists of folklore, the key is always finding the right trick. They were clever enough to make the right plan, powerful enough to execute it at the right time. Strike when their guard is down, trap them in an unfavorable deal, mislead them with technically true words¡­¡±

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°There¡¯s no doing that here.¡± She squeezed his hand. ¡°Remember that advice your uncle gave? No use imagining how things might have gone differently; now you have to deal with the situation now as best you can. Get out alive.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what he said.¡± Though maybe I messed up the phrasing when I told you about it. ¡°I made a mistake, and I can¡¯t give up on fixing it. Cutting and running will get us no further than Leigh.¡±

    ¡°Us¡­¡± Charlotte nodded slowly, tucking her pistol under her armpit as she slipped on the Gloves of Teruvo. ¡°You¡¯re right, Luce. Nothing for it but to fight him head on for as long as I can. Long enough for you to sail away with the others.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± He wrenched his hand away, feeling it splash in the rapidly swelling water at knee-level. His face was throbbing, blood dripping from his empty eye down his chin.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry, I can manage it. Have you ever known me to fail?¡±

    Luce grit his teeth and wiped away his bloody tears. ¡°No.¡±

    What remained of Leigh¡¯s forces were nearly back to the palace steps, backing steadily away from the worst of the slaughter as they futilely tried to fire their waterlogged pistols at any errant glimpse of Levian. Three in four didn¡¯t fire at all, only letting out a slowly-dispersing black smoke. And the remaining might as well have malfunctioned, for all the chance they had at hitting Levian as he rapidly lunged through the water.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯ve reconsidered,¡± Luce said as the rebels finally reached the steps, not wanting to waste time. ¡°If so, lead us to your powder stores right away.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± the black-haired woman shouted, not making it clear if she hadn¡¯t heard him or just hadn¡¯t understood.

    ¡°You want to stop the rampaging spirit? Work with me. If you bought those guns in Malin, I¡¯m sure you have reserves of powder and ammunition somewhere too. I need to know where.¡±

    ¡°You talked about a truce. Stealing our supplies is not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do you want to get cut in half too?¡± Charlotte asked. ¡°No one¡¯s stealing anything. Prince Luce simply knows how to use it better than you do. He has a plan.¡± As if to punctuate her comment, another wave broke on the steps beneath them, spraying red-tinted water into the air.

    Of course you¡¯d pick up on what I¡¯m thinking without missing a step, Luce thought with a smile. ¡°Did you stash it in the city?¡±

    The black-haired woman paused, weighing her options. ¡°A shed, south of the Malin-facing gate. There¡¯s a good chance it¡¯ll still be dry.¡±

    From a fleeting glimpse of Levian, another sharp blade of water slashed towards them, cleaving through one of Luce¡¯s men and two of the rebels. It also cut into several of the columns at the front of the palace, causing the roof to slide forward at an angle.

    ¡°We need to go now.¡± Luce spent a second surveying the flooded streets, trying to pick out the safest path south, but even the less flooded areas could still become waterlogged in an instant if Levian gave them more personal attention. And once he was among them, it would all be over.

    ¡°But how are we ever going to make it there alive?¡±

    Charlotte aimed her pistol carefully, tracing every glimpse of Levian beneath the waves until the shot was just right, then fired. Her pistol let out a tiny puff of smoke, quickly dispersed in the rain. ¡°Give me one of yours¡ªNo, three of them. Ones you know still work.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t stop him! You saw us try¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not for that. I can lead him away.¡± As Luce opened his mouth to object, Charlotte silenced him by pressing her finger against it. ¡°Then, once you¡¯re set up, I¡¯ll lead him right into your trap. And we¡¯ll both walk away.¡± She didn¡¯t wait for him to grant permission, securing the offered pistols beneath her coat and breaking into a run.

    The new rebel leader gestured to her remaining forces, having them fall into a loose formation around the two of them. ¡°Does she really think she¡¯s going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Charlotte lept from the landing, grabbing onto another building around the edge of the square with her gloves. Fingertips stuck to the wall, she broke into a kind of vertical four-legged run, scrabbling surprisingly fast up the building¡¯s surface. Once atop it, she aimed her first pistol deliberately, waiting for just the right moment before firing, an earsplitting crack ringing out across the square.

    Levian¡¯s next wave was directed straight at the building she was standing on, though it wasn¡¯t high enough to reach the roof, and the foundation held. For now.

    As much as Luce wanted to see Charlotte navigate her impossible task, to make sure she wasn¡¯t harmed doing the most dangerous thing he¡¯d seen anyone attempt, he had to trust her to her task and do his own.

    Moving briskly, he led his remaining guards after the rebel, trying to avoid any deep puddles that would overly slow their progress. Graves walked at Luce¡¯s side, opposite where Charlotte would normally stand.

    Luce heard the second shot ring through the air just as they arrived at the shed, distant enough from the city center and the coast that the water hadn¡¯t pooled more than a few inches, ruining the crates on the bottom of the stack but leaving the rest intact.

    The rebel, whose name turned out to be Madeline, followed Luce into the shed, which was small enough that none of her retinue would have fit with them. ¡°What are you planning here? Ten thousand guns won¡¯t help if we can¡¯t pin him in place. Even then it might not be enough.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not using this to shoot him,¡± Luce said, pulling a fuse from the innermost pocket of his coat. Much as he loathed the Tower culture¡¯s reverence for explosives, Luce simply couldn¡¯t ignore their utility after they¡¯d helped him escape on Eloise¡¯s ship. With the Red Knight afoot, especially.

    The rebel¡¯s eyes widened as Luce began fashioning a detonator from the contents of his pockets. Once the mechanism was ready, he clustered the crates of gunpowder tightly together, then made sure to shelter the entire length of the fuse from any dripping leaks in the shed roof. He had just finished securing things in place when he heard the crack of Charlotte¡¯s final gunshot, a merciful assurance that she¡¯d at least made it this far. Thirty seconds to light the fuse, so Charlotte can time it just right.

    Though now she¡¯s defenseless, and even in success, will be leading Levian right this way.

    ¡°Time to go.¡± Luce threw open the door of the shed, waved Madeline out, then lit the fuse with his tinderbox. Closing the door behind him, he emerged into the maelstrom, water already up past his shoes and only growing more intense.

    A massive wave was swelling beyond the wall, barely a few feet behind the rapidly-approaching Charlotte as she dashed and jumped across the rooftops.

    Luce and the combined group of guards and rebels that had made it this far were rapidly running from the city towards the woods beyond, but if that wave didn¡¯t break soon, it still might crush them all.

    Charlotte lept for the shed, jostling the metal roof when she landed on it, but the structure held. And, more importantly, it didn¡¯t blow up yet. The wave followed her beyond the city wall, thinning out as it crested the structure before falling all at once on the shed with a massive crash, a single pair of malicious blue eyes visible for only a moment before it all came apart.

    Luce barely had the time to duck behind a tree before he felt the shockwave blow through the trees, a massive geyser of water shooting into the air in all directions, entwined with dust and fire that thinned in the air as it descended back towards the earth.

    Even in the rain, patches of the earth burned, the sod blasted from what was now naught but a crater. No traces of the shed remained, but Levian¡­

    The fire was clinging to his serpentine form too, a red streak speeding by as he followed the shallow remainder of his wave back out to sea. Even with all of that force going off directly in his face, he still survived.

    Luce felt his heart drop at the futility of it all, then felt it shatter as he failed to find any trace of Charlotte.

    She was so close to the shed when it went off. She had to be, to properly lure Levian. And I just let her¡­

    ¡°What now?¡±  Madeline asked, earning a frown from Graves.

    ¡°Now we wait a little longer, and hope that hurt him enough to get him to back off.¡± If it didn¡¯t, then there is truly no saving Charenton, and that was all for nothing. Not following his own advice, Luce cautiously ventured out from the woods towards his newly-created crater, giving the patches of fire a wide berth.

    That must be the powder that was waterlogged, meaning it didn¡¯t go off all at once like the dry stuff. Then the real explosion had propelled it far away, leaving these burning scars on the ground. As an accidental byproduct of imperfect materials, its impact seemed minimal, but it suddenly seemed possible for a tailored mixture and configuration to produce this slow-burning fire on command. Best extinguish it quickly, lest anyone in Avalon take it as inspiration. Micheltaigne had been bad enough with more conventional ordinances.

    Lucretia Marbury would jump at the chance to craft such a mixture in a Tower lab, Luce knew, and no doubt a hundred lesser scientists besides. Even under the sustained assault of the rain, a few patches were still ablaze, though the torrent had started to die down.

    For all that he was still alive, for all that it had cost, it seemed at least that Levian had departed. Never to return, we can only hope. If it weren¡¯t too late already.

    Luce wandered in a daze towards the wall, feeling the blood stream down his face, the diminishing rain doing little for the pain. It kept him sharp, for all that he wanted only to feel numb.

    I can¡¯t... can¡¯t think about what could have been. Have to keep moving forward. Have to¡ª

    Luce collapsed at the foot of the wall, feeling warm tears mingle with the blood. There¡¯s so much I should have said, so much I should have done. It wasn¡¯t worth it. I thought¡ª

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s ok. It¡¯s over now.¡± Sniffling, Luce looked up towards the source of the sound. ¡°Would have been nice to kill the bastard, but I think it hurt him badly enough that he won¡¯t be coming back any time soon. We can only hope.¡±

    Absolutely drenched from head to toe, hair plastered totally flat against her head, Charlotte clung to the wall with the gloves, slowly descending towards Luce.

    The moment she landed, Luce hugged her close without the barest hesitation. ¡°You scared me.¡±

    Charlotte smiled, exhaling through her nose. ¡°You scared me. I didn¡¯t see you clear of the blast radius until the smoke cleared. And your eye! If that physician made it out alive, we need him to look at it immediately.¡±

    ¡°Good idea.¡± The absolute last thing Luce needed right now was an infection in such close proximity to his brain. ¡°But first, we need to plan our next move.¡±

    I need to make sure something like this can never happen again, without falling prey to my country¡¯s sickness. An idea began to take hold, almost absurd in its simplicity, yet something Luce felt confident that none of his countrymen would even consider.

    And it might even work.

 Laura VII: The Tempest

    Laura VII: The Tempest

    The Rhan was swelling again, even though the fire Rhan had worked so hard to quench had finally abated. Laura had almost ventured into the water to question why, but she had nothing to offer Rhan and no partner to initiate contact with, unless Duchesne was significantly more altruistic than everything about his words and actions had implied. Even then, he wasn¡¯t exactly someone she could trust, and probably halfway to Villenueve by now.

    Stranger still, the Rhan had waves rippling down from the west towards Charenton. Accompanying the swells were relentless rains, crucial to finally quelling the fire, but not altogether pleasant. The sky was still thick with smoke from the fires, painting the sky with a sunset orange that never abated in the sun. The frigid patches of rain took on the color as it fell, as if it were fire raining down on their heads.

    Duchesne had recommended a tavern called Shiru when they parted ways for its beverages and clientele both, so Laura had elected to wait out the rain with a drink in one hand and a hand-roll in the other. Duchesne knew the owner, who¡¯d helped him hide beneath the floorboards once when the Empress¡¯s customs officers had broken down the door, which made it unlikely anyone would bother Laura here. If she found any criminals or dissidents up for joining her on her suicide mission, that would be a bonus too. For the moment, the mead here was selling point enough. Imported from the Arboreum, apparently, in one large shipment of many as people fled Avalon¡¯s occupation in droves.

    Irritatingly, the streets were flooded enough that a thin layer of water puddled around the door to the tavern, flickering a yellow reflection of the lamp above it. Worse, Avalon¡¯s airborne armada was a lot less likely to fly through a storm like this. Laura had counted on them passing over Fleuville on their way back to Avalon, at least close enough to see and follow, but they¡¯d be completely insane to fly through skies like these.

    I suppose I could try flying down towards Micheltaigne. Better chance I¡¯d get a glimpse of them, at least, and that¡¯s all it would take. The mountains had taken on a wasteland quality with all of their vegetation burned, their soil blackened with soot, but that unfortunate fact would have the benefit of keeping the sightlines clearer. It would be hard for them to hide, even if they¡¯d moored them on the ground.

    Yes, Laura decided as she signaled the tavernkeep to close out her tab, that sounds like the plan. She felt her posture straighten as she came to the resolution, the end of her turmoil finally in sight.

    It was time to be getting out of here anyway. The atmosphere was beginning to sink beneath even its unimpressive starting point, with hushed murmurs fearing the Rhanoir Empress¡¯s imminent capitulation. She¡¯d already pulled back all of her forces north and south of the Rhan, cowering in the most easily defensible triangle of land between the two forks and the sea that had saved the Rhanoir Renarts from the brink in the War of the Three Cubs. Too, if rumors were anything to go by, she¡¯d turned away the Red Knight of Lorraine at the border and cast off any chance of his aid, just to avoid provoking Avalon.

    When it came to rumors and the Red Knight, there was absolutely no reason to think there was even the barest kernel of truth, but that didn¡¯t stop all these annoying taverngoers from mumbling anxiously about it.

    Worse, right next to Laura at the bar, a woman in some absurd feathered costume was bothering a hooded dark-haired girl too loudly to ignore. ¡°It¡¯s nothing salacious, just an appropriate appreciation of an admirable androgyne anatomy.¡±

    ¡°Androgyne? Is that supposed to sell me on it? I was raised better than to consider such things.¡± The dark-haired girl scoffed, drawing Laura¡¯s attention enough to see that, beneath her headband, it looked more dark blue than black. One of Leclaire¡¯s maybe, though it was hard to imagine why she¡¯d be so far from home, and the color wasn¡¯t quite right either.

    ¡°Modeling is an art like any other, only disrespected by those with fear and shame for their own forms.¡± Behind her back were small, clear wings tinted purple like a dragonfly¡¯s, with what looked like motley peacock feathers hanging off her arm and dress. The colors matched the wreath of flowers on her head, but she looked more like a player in The Queen of the Pixies than an actual person. ¡°And there¡¯s nothing base about it. I¡¯ve drawn aristocrats aplenty, from Lord Vincenne to the Red Knight to the Fox-King of Malin. You would merely be joining an exalted company of the courageous and capable.¡±

    Lord Vincenne was Her Verdance¡¯s Prime Minister, if Laura recalled correctly, and hadn¡¯t survived the fall of Lorraine. Easy enough to claim credit with a dead man, and appending narratives onto the Red Knight was practically free. Lucien, on the other hand¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m not an aristocrat!¡± she snarled. ¡°And that¡¯s not the issue anyway. No disrespect to your craft, but I need to keep a low profile right now.¡±

    ¡°On the run? In danger?¡± The annoying player slid closer to the other girl. ¡°If death is impending, is it not all the more important to leave mementos to follow your life? None will forget what you looked like, not even the slightest detail. Your friends can better treasure the time you had, sure to always remember your face.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t sound like you were just asking to draw my face.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to follow whatever boundaries you would set, of course! A portrait would be sufficient, and once I had the sketch and the palette you wouldn¡¯t even need to hold your position that carefully. A few hours, at most.¡±

    ¡°She said no,¡± a hooded man growled, walking up to the bar. Hair red flecked with white, he towered over the annoying pixie woman.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Nerio, she¡¯s got a point. Everyone thinks I¡¯m dead already, so if we can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lower your voice.¡± Nerio¡¯s words were whispered, technically, but loud enough that he only called more attention towards the bar. ¡°We need to go, right this instant. The swelling of the Rhan must have disrupted the blockade they set against us, but it won¡¯t be long before they get it set up again. Where¡¯s Gautier?¡±

    The girl held up her hands. ¡°Gone. He said he was going to find you, since we weren''t having any luck with the people we talked to. Left hours ago.¡±

    ¡°That treacherous swine. Can¡¯t you see he won¡¯t be coming back?¡± Nerio sighed. ¡°When all¡¯s said and done, I¡¯ve no doubt he¡¯ll be strung up for his desertion, but in the meantime we have to leave. Right now, my¡ª¡± He bit his lip. ¡°This instant.¡±

    ¡°Good riddance, honestly. He did nothing but complain.¡± The girl shrugged. ¡°How do you plan to leave, anyway? We still haven¡¯t found a boat, unless you had better luck at the harbor. And I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want us to try fl¡ª¡±

    ¡°Quiet! Don¡¯t mention anything that could identify you. Discretion is paramount for your safety.¡± Nerio covered his face with his hand. ¡°I¡¯m afraid the Empress closed the harbor down. No one was willing to take us, with or without the discretion we require. You really couldn¡¯t find a single captain here after three hours? This place is a smuggler¡¯s den, a wretched backwater of vice and criminality.¡±

    That earned him a glare from the bartender, and probably spit in the next thing he ordered, but the hulking man continued undeterred. ¡°My sources were quite certain it would be the best location to find someone who wouldn¡¯t ask any questions. How many people did you and Gautier talk to?¡±

    The girl opened her mouth, sputtering. ¡°Uh, a few. A bunch, I mean! Like this pixie woman! Turns out she¡¯s not a captain, unfortunately. More of an artist.¡±

    The pixie nodded, inserting herself between the strangers who sure seemed to be an aristocrat and her retainer. ¡°I¡¯d never even been on a boat before taking the ferry across the Norforche, though my home is right on the water. I tried to draw it, but landscapes were never my specialty.¡±

    Nerio glowered. ¡°Would you excuse us, please?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine. Say whatever you¡¯d like. I¡¯m great at keeping secrets! I¡¯m holding onto a couple now that you wouldn¡¯t believe, really juicy stuff. And I didn¡¯t tell you, so you can be sure I won¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± the girl requested. ¡°We really need to talk in private.¡±

    Not doing a great job of that, so far. From the sounds of it, they were here for more or less the same reasons Laura was, seeking louche figures on the wrong side of the law for a delicate task. And whoever they were, staying clear of the Rhan Empress was almost certainly the correct call, given the way she was rolling over for Avalon.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    It¡¯s despicable, that weakness. The Arboreum had lost, but they¡¯d gone out fighting. Her Verdance hadn¡¯t escaped until it was truly the last option, and the people there were still spilling Avaline blood from the shadows.

    Micheltaigne was little better, though they¡¯d been reduced to such oblivion that the capitulation was more understandable, if nonetheless the wrong choice. The royal family had been essentially wiped out in a single day, leaving only one missing princess who was probably dead and a distant relation left to bow to Avalon in chains. There was no honor in such a surrender, and all it accomplished was sparing Avaline soldiers, keeping them fresh for future wars of conquest.

    In the far corner, a familiar, infuriating tune was beginning.

    ¡°Would you mind excusing us as well, mademoiselle?¡± the girl asked, and it was a moment before Laura realized she was talking to her.

    ¡°You¡¯re excused.¡± Laura sipped her drink, turning her head away to pretend she hadn¡¯t been eavesdropping.

    ¡°No, I mean, could you please leave us for a minute while we talk?¡±

    You must be joking. ¡°Get the fuck out of here! I was here first. You want to talk privately, talk privately somewhere else. You don¡¯t just get to claim the bar.¡± Laura scoffed. ¡°And if you want a captain that can be trusted, see if you can find an old man named Duchesne at the harbor. There¡¯s a chance he hasn¡¯t left yet. Very expensive, but worth the price if you need discretion.¡±

    There, do the old man a favor and get these entitled fucks out of my bar. Always nice to squeeze in one more good deed before it was too late.

    The girl¡¯s mouth hung open. ¡°You heard that?¡±

    ¡°You aren¡¯t very subtle. Now I guess it¡¯s my turn to say, ¡®Leave¡¯.¡±

    The girl and the knight exchanged a look, eyebrows raised.

    ¡°Though I don¡¯t see what your rush is. The Rhan¡¯s about as choppy now as it¡¯s ever been, flooding the banks too. The only thing more dangerous than sailing in this weather is flying in it.¡± Like I¡¯m about to do, as soon as I finish this drink.

    After all the work it had taken to get here, the obstacles and mishaps and close calls just to make it to the battlefield that mattered the most, Laura felt a strange lightness of being, almost impossible to bear. This is my destiny, the last great thing I can do. There shouldn¡¯t have been any more to it than that, and perhaps there wasn¡¯t. Perhaps¡­

    The bards in the corner were still going, dressed in a similar motley to the artist from the bar. One of them played a flute, another some kind of bulbous Avaline lute, and the final one was singing those fucking words.

    ¡°And after the death, of the heart of the hearth, in the glow of her vile perfidy,

    The treacherous, erstwhile sage of Flammare, would have done better simply to flee,

    But she wasn¡¯t content

    with the one victory.

    Her bloodlust was unbound,

    Detached from decency-y-y!

    The days were like the nigh-igh-ghts

    Bereft of warmth from Soleil

    Flammare brought back the ligh-igh-ight

    But to Laura Bougitte, he stood in the way!

    So she turned on Flammare, led him straight to his death, at the hands of Florette, bandit queen of the we-e-est!¡±

    Laura got up from her seat and walked over to the singer, warm from the fire inside her. ¡°Alright bard, let¡¯s make a deal.¡± She pulled out her sword, glowing with faint green fire. ¡°You stop playing that song, and I let you keep all your limbs. Seems fair, right?¡±

    The bard shrank back, the song mercifully interrupted. ¡°We-we¡¯ll play anything you want. We love to take requests. Um¡­ Maybe The Fox Cubs? Dance in the Skies? Or, if you¡¯re willing to go further afield, I just heard this Avaline song called Millenium Geste. Tragic, haunting, but beautiful all the same.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Laura slashed her sword down in front of them, sending sparks into the air. ¡°What matters is that you don¡¯t play that song now and you won¡¯t play it ever. It¡¯s nothing but a bunch of lies.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­¡± The bard had backed all the way into the corner, and seemed scared to realize he had no further left to retreat. ¡°Wait, are you¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Laura hissed, deciding it was time to go. Keeping quiet didn¡¯t matter anymore, so she raised her voice. ¡°My name is Laura Eug¨¨nie Bougitte, last sage of Flammare, and I am fed up with your slander! Flammare was tricked by Montaigne and that Florette girl, stabbed in the back so that they could put up their mountain hermit as the sun. This, after I convinced Flammare to help them in the White Night. You want to sing, sing about that.¡±

    Laura returned her sword to her belt, standing taller as she turned towards the door. ¡°Better yet, sing about how I took down Avalon¡¯s armada single handedly. I¡¯ll try to give you a good view.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going after them alone?¡± the girl with dark blue hair asked incredulously. ¡°They just defeated the High King and his entire army; they reduced the peerlessly beautiful Monts de Michel to a wasteland; they ripped Nuage Sombre right out of the High King¡¯s dead hand. Elite Pegasus Knights were cut down by surprise before they could even get their mounts saddled. What few remained couldn¡¯t take down more than four of their ships before they were shot out of the sky with those tiny cannons they¡¯re using now. If you go after them alone, you¡¯ll die.¡±

    Nerio put a hand on her shoulder, glowering disapprovingly.

    ¡°So what? If I die, it will be a good death, perhaps even enough to clean some of the mud from my name. If not, I¡¯ll keep trying until I find a better one. I¡¯m not just going to capitulate, to run and hide like Her Verdance or the Rhan Empress. I was raised to be strong, to fight for what¡¯s right and defend my honor. Well, it might be too late for that, but it¡¯s not too late to die with honor.¡±

    Laura slashed her sword twice, cutting an X shape into the door before kicking it open and walking out. She flew into the red sky without another word, feeling the rain flatten against her face the faster she rose.

    Telling the truth felt good, finally finished with the need to hide anything. If things went well, maybe she¡¯d even be remembered for half of who she was, rather than Fernan¡¯s lies.

    Wanting to conserve what remained of her life for the fight proper, Laura switched to her sword once she was high enough off the ground, gripping it firmly as she blasted fire downwards, ascending higher and higher through the thundering clouds and choking smoke, higher and higher and higher until¡ª

    Laura punched through the final cloud, greeted by the eerie calm of blue skies and sunlight. She hovered there a moment, taking in the beauty of it one last time with a mix of anticipation and resignation.

    A smile split her face when she saw that Avalon had thought of the same idea.

    Floating above the clouds were, by Laura¡¯s count, thirty-one airships heading north from Micheltaigne. Headed right to me.

    This is it.

    Laura cut the fire from her sword, immediately plunging back into the clouds and out of their sight.

    Instantly, the road of thunder returned, the red haze and dark clouds working in tandem to pelt Laura¡¯s face with scarlet rains. She felt the wind try to blast her off course, but nothing could deflect her from her mission now. It was, in more ways than one, the ultimate fight Laura would ever join, the culmination of all her training as a warrior.

    The return on all the instruction I got along the way. From Valentine, from Aurelian, from Flammare¡­

    From Lucien, however briefly. Laura couldn¡¯t help but wonder what he would think when he heard the news. Or what he thinks right now. He had a good head on his shoulders, but would he see through the lies with Leclaire pouring poison in his ear? If past experience was anything to go by, it wasn¡¯t promising.

    It didn¡¯t matter. This would redeem everything, a new Laura Bougitte cleansed at the dawn of this new age, forever marked by her actions, even if she wouldn¡¯t live to see its culmination.

    Laura stopped blasting herself forward for an instant, redirecting her sword to fling herself above the clouds just an instant before a crack of thunder filled the air.

    In a way, it¡¯s sad. It would have been nice to see how people reacted, but it would forever be impossible to observe how people reacted to your own death. Unless you¡¯re the sort of lying snake to fake it for political ends, anyway. How Lucien could still accept her after that¡­

    Laura gripped her sword tighter, slicing it backwards to blast herself up the last stretch towards one of the airships towards the rear of the formation. No one had spotted her yet, it seemed.

    Perfect.

    Abandoning any semblance of restraint, she continued upward, dragging her flaming sword along the edge of the balloon as she cut through its skin. The vessel exploded the moment she reached the top, flinging Laura far above the armada and instantly alerting the other ships to the threat.

    Laura somersaulted forward, tucking her arms into a dive as she descended towards the next ship, already hearing the roar of gunfire in the air.

    You have no idea what you¡¯re up against, Avalon. I have nothing to lose.

 Fernan XI: The Defender of Democracy

    Fernan XI: The Defender of Democracy

    Somehow, despite his better judgment, Fernan had hoped that carrying the Montaignard decision-making out of the stuffy council chamber might have made things easier. An end to passionate arguments from ostensible allies stuck together if they wanted their voices heard, to well-intentioned Montaignards trying to force Fernan into a position he didn¡¯t want, to further agitating of the divisions that it was plain to see were already forming.

    If Maxime¡¯s most optimistic aspirations came true, it would mean spreading things out, giving everyone free license to present their ideas to the people and try to convince them to elect a representative of those ideas instead of forcing direct confrontations, ensuring that the decision-makers truly had Guerron¡¯s mandate when they convened as elected representatives ¡ª all of that was supposed to mean things would be better.

    In theory.

    With Condorcet as the only real precedent for democracy on this scale, Fernan couldn¡¯t help but be wary. Maxime¡¯s people didn¡¯t want for passion, or even resolve against tyranny of a sort, but it didn¡¯t stop them from executing their people en masse in the futile hope of enforcing order and growing Khali¡¯s power. After the devastation wrought by the White Night, it wasn¡¯t hard to see how a similar hatred could grip the very people the Montaignards were turning the city over to.

    But the thought of the merchants who¡¯d glommed onto the movement making decisions for the entire city wasn¡¯t any better, nor was assuming undeserved power that Fernan was woefully unequipped to wield. The Dukes of Guerron had executed people too, after all, as had Guy and Camille and even Annette, whether by their own hand or their order. And Avalon managed to outdo all of them, even without any spiritual benefit from the loss of life.

    Kings and Lords have never been swayed from such violence, probably because they¡¯ve never had to endure it being wielded against them. Turning power over to the people affected by it was the only chance to make sure it was used compassionately, however chaotic it made things now.

    And if I had to set the table on fire to make some people realize that instead of trying to hand over Guerron to Avalon or seizing its wealth for themselves, so be it. Turning the mercenaries away had bought Fernan considerable goodwill from everyone smart enough to realize how bad an idea a fight with them would have been, but unfortunately that didn¡¯t account for everyone, Citoyen Courbet perhaps chief among them.

    I knew she was brutal, but killing on Lamante¡¯s orders is a new low. She¡¯d stalked off into the night the moment the mercenaries left, only to return to Guerron at dawn without another word about it.

    ¡°No good ever came from hesitation,¡± she¡¯d said upon her return, then walked inside as if nothing had happened.

    At least Courbet was straightforward about what she wanted, though. Yvain Delion had nearly thrown a fit when he¡¯d heard about Fernan seizing Guy¡¯s riches to pay off the mercenaries, and doctor S¨¦zanne had been right alongside him, along with a few of Michel¡¯s solicitor friends. Even Mom had looked a little annoyed, though she hadn¡¯t made any direct criticisms.

    Their arguments had hinged on the importance of economic independence, maintaining Guerron¡¯s trade agreements and expanding further with independence. Make Guerron¡¯s exports essential to both Avalon and the Empire, the thinking went, and neither could interfere without drawing the ire of the other, even without the captive Magnifico as a consideration. And every scrap of wealth that could be seized or salvaged would be vital to growing such trade networks.

    And for glass bottles and blocks of ice, fine. I know we¡¯ll need all the money we can get to keep everyone fed. I know the chest of riches I gave away could have made a difference with that.

    But¡­ all this talk of trade and economics, property rights¡­ it seemed like several of them cared more about profiting from Guerron than protecting its people. S¨¦zanne had even brought up coal by name before Mara had rightfully roasted him for the presumption. Not enough to hurt him any, of course, but it had finally put that part of the discussion to bed.

    For all the good it did.

    Fernan feared he¡¯d made enemies in saving the city the way he had, even beyond the animosity from Malin that was, at this point, unavoidable. No one died; it was still the right thing to do. It just meant more work had to be done now.

    Fernan landed next to Maxime, who¡¯d volunteered not to run for anything to remain unbiased as the organizer of the Centreville polling location, a massive operation with boxes upon boxes of ballots printed onto as many sheets of paper as Guerron¡¯s few, stolen printing presses could manage before breaking down under the load. Most of the better smiths had followed the army to Malin, and expertise with these advanced machines was thin on the ground to begin with, so when they broke down, it generally meant they were out of the picture as far as this election was concerned. By the end, they¡¯d been printing over old magazine pages and bath tissue, but the risk of running out had been very real.

    Maxime, wisely, had started with the more presentable ballots, arranging the other poll volunteers in a half circle of tables facing out to the lines of voters, each completed with a curtain for privacy and a ready receptacle for the completed ballot.

    ¡°Any problems?¡± Fernan asked, prompting Maxime to step back from his table with a startled swing of his head.

    ¡°At least in Centreville, nothing occurred which proved unduly troublesome, nor beyond our capability to handle. What about the others?¡±

    The entire city had been divided into nine districts, each roughly corresponding to an existing quartier. F¨¦lix had pored over the Bureau of Land¡¯s census figures to try to draw the lines as equitably as possible in terms of population, granting additional representatives for denser neighborhoods like the Centreville, where most of the city¡¯s workers called home, and the harborside Villemalin where Fernan had led so many of the mountain villagers after his agreement with G¨¦zarde.

    The geckos, of course, had a representative of their own to ensure that their voice wasn¡¯t left out. On a population basis, it was impossible to justify, but leaving them out of Guerron¡¯s new government would be unconscionable. Charles des Agnettes of all people had helped Fernan sell the decision to the other Montaignards on pragmatic grounds, extolling the benefits of keeping the sun and his children invested in their success and granting them avenues to express their concerns before they escalated. Mara, of course, was a shoe-in for the position, and her siblings had selected her unanimously before the sun had even passed above the mountains.

    Mom, running for representative of Villemalin, seemed to be doing nearly as well, drawing on the vast numbers of mining village transplants and the Montaigne name to glide to victory, though unlike Mara it was not a unanimous thing. Before the miners had arrived, before the fires, the harbor neighborhood had been home to the Fox-King¡¯s retainers and servants ¡ª everyone who had fled from Malin during the Foxtrap. Most had accompanied Renart back to Malin in the wake of Camille¡¯s Blue Restoration, but those who remained were none too inclined to support mining peasants or Montaignes.

    If Emile Leclaire had still been here, if they¡¯d all rallied behind him as he could have surely prompted them to do, that easy victory could have instead been a hard-fought campaign, but fortunately he¡¯d vanished before the revolution, and between a lack of leadership for the Malinoises and coordinated abstentions across their ranks in protest of the election itself, Mother¡¯s victory seemed nearly certain.

    Though that doesn¡¯t mean they won¡¯t be a problem in the future. If they changed their mind about sitting out the process, the bloc could be a substantial force in the district politics, perhaps even winning a seat of their own; if they continued to withdraw, they would have no investment in the new government, and little compunction about opposing it in its entirety. As bad as the former might be, the latter could be worse, if they set their mind to subverting the Assembly or aiding Leclaire.

    Courbet, unsurprisingly, had advocated summarily arresting and disenfranchising all of them, and a distressing number of Montaignards had stood behind her, from both the professional and peasant sides of the table, but fortunately the values of equality had held a majority in the room. Fernan hadn¡¯t even needed to set any fires to underline his point.

    The days were shortening in the final month of the year, cold winds blowing that no one was ready for after the darkened summer, and it was plain to see the dampening effect it was having on the election. For all the effort Michel had put into getting the word out, explaining the benefits of this new independent government and the power that each person in Guerron now held, it was hard not to look at the modestly sized crowds in the streets and think that many people had simply stayed home. Maybe even most people.

    From the skies, the empty streets mere blocks away from the district polling centers further reinforced how low the participation was.

    Fernan was more mobile than most, able to move between the polling centers and ensure that everything was being run the way the Montaignards had agreed to. He couldn¡¯t deny the power and influence he held anymore. Maxime had told him that refraining from using it was a choice of its own, not neutrality, and after dealing with Camille and the merchant Montaignards, it would only be hypocrisy to stay home himself.

    He¡¯d already surveyed the elections in Villemalin and the Spirit Quartier, where Charles seemed poised to win the election with perhaps the lowest turnout of all. That neighborhood had no small amount of protest abstentions either, especially after Augustin Valvert had somehow smuggled out a denouncement from his de-facto prison in the feasting hall.

    ¡°The turnout is just as depressing, but otherwise things are running smoothly enough,¡± Fernan answered. ¡°What exactly did you ¡®handle¡¯ though?¡±

    Centreville, the densest area of Guerron, was electing no less than 3 representatives to ensure that their population was fairly represented, but the large field also meant that the race wasn¡¯t very closely contested. Michel was running for one spot, the singer Edith Costeau for another, and the third seemed poised to go to some unknown solicitor named Gilbert Barnave, whom Michel said he knew in passing and guessed fell into the ¡°elected Lord of Guerron¡± camp in terms of politics, though he hadn¡¯t been in the room when the Montaignards had most fiercely debated it.

    Costeau was the real surprise, especially since she was apparently supposed to be getting married soon, though her celebrity as a singer doubtless gave her more than sufficient notability to carry her to victory. And thanks to her production of knock-off copies of the pulsebox Florette had stolen, she had a vested interest in opposing the sort of reconciliation with Avalon that Phillippe Montrouge had proposed.

    Fernan had talked with her briefly when all of the candidates had registered, and her commitment to freely spreading the technology and allowing people to innovate their music with it seemed to be sincere, for all that the music itself was an earsplitting catastrophe, and she definitely didn¡¯t seem to be the sort to call for blood. ¡°I just want to keep things sensible, my dear,¡± she¡¯d said just after playing a spirited melody on her harp, ¡°and I¡¯m better positioned than most to keep an eye on things.¡± Always good to have more level-headed people in the Assembly.

    Maxime¡¯s aura darkened as he answered the question. ¡°I caught one of our volunteers, a Bernard de Marigny, falsely describing the choices laid out before an illiterate member of the electorate who courageously stepped forward to do her civic duty anyway, and banished him from the premises. That malfeasance was over an hour ago, and aside from depressing turnout and frighteningly long lines, we haven¡¯t had any significant issues in the time since.¡±

    Fernan frowned. This is exactly the kind of thing I need to be here to prevent. ¡°Well, good. I wish you¡¯d signaled me like we talked about, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I maintain my position that holding simultaneous elections across every district on the same day is folly. We could barely scrape together enough Montaignards for even a modest presence across the city, forcing the use of volunteers of dubious ability and loyalty. Even your ability to survey across the whole of Guerron has its limits, and the first ever election for the city is not the time to be experimenting with an operation at this scale. If we¡¯d simply held district level elections sequentially, perhaps a week apart, we¡ª¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Maxime, I know! You think I wasn¡¯t there when we were negotiating this? S¨¦zanne was worried about people moving between districts and voting multiple times, and even Michel agreed it was a significant risk. This way everyone votes once, today, with no confusion as to which place they ought to do it.¡± At the cost of pushing us to the breaking point. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I had to pick my battles, and removing the property ownership requirement was¡ª¡±

    ¡°I understand, Fernan. I¡¯m simply complaining to you, to whom I can vent such frustrations without fearing it would negatively impact the morale of the other poll workers.¡± He glanced back at his empty table, an old woman at the head of a long line impatiently tapping her finger against it as she waited. ¡°Will you be staying out here for a little while, or moving on? If there¡¯s anything I can do to help¡­¡±

    ¡°There is. I¡¯ll try to make it quick.¡± Fernan pulled the envelope from his breast pocket and held it out to Maxime. ¡°Would you help me fill this out?

    ¡°It would be an honor.¡± Maxime pulled the ballot free and unfurled it, running his finger slowly over the paper as Fernan watched the movement from behind it. ¡°For the role of District Representative, there are six candidates for two positions. Please select the two people you desire to represent you in the Guerron Assembly.¡±

    Pretty much what we¡¯d talked about, then. It was good to hear that things hadn¡¯t deviated from the larger intent they¡¯d established at the meeting.

    ¡°Eleanor Montaigne.¡± Maxime moved his finger down one line, then read the next name. ¡°Ren¨¦e Bordeaux. Anthiese de Charette. ¨¦tienne Lantier. Voici Rognons. l''¨ºtre Supr¨ºme. When you¡¯re ready, I can indicate the two that you want.¡± He moved his finger back to the first entry for Mom, anticipating the obvious.

    ¡°Obviously Eleanor Montaigne.¡± Fernan nodded. ¡°As for the other, put Lantier.¡± Charette and Bordeaux were the aristocrats that the Malinoises had put forward, those few who¡¯d been willing to participate in the process at all, and the final two candidates were obvious jokes, for all that they¡¯d gone through the proper registration process. As much as Mom was practically guaranteed a seat, it was important to make sure that none of those four would get one alongside her.

    As Fernan watched Maxime scrawl his choices into the paper with deliberate movements in recognition of the significance of what he¡¯d been trusted with, Fernan was struck with the urge to hunt down Bernard de Marigny and suitably punish him for abusing that trust, even though he knew Maxime had been right to stop at removing him from his post.

    People are worried enough about this whole voting thing as it is; the last thing we need is a poll worker getting publicly arrested on election day. Even if they really deserve it.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Fernan said as Maxime passed the ballot back, warm where he¡¯d touched it. ¡°I¡¯d stay longer, but¡­¡±

    ¡°No, we both need to get back to work. I expect we¡¯ll sit down for a lengthier discussion once the votes have been counted. There are sensitive matters I hope I can broach with you, at a more opportune time than the present.¡± Maxime flashed orange as he looked back at the ever-growing line. ¡°I suppose my duty is calling out to me.¡±

    As is mine, even if I can¡¯t see it from here.

    Fernan said his goodbyes and blasted into the air, drawing on the power of the sun to propel himself north through the air. He continued South on his tour of the quartiers, stopping in at the Bureau of the Sea, the same plaster building pressed against the seawall where he¡¯d met with the Duchess and the Fox-King on the eve of the White Night, and warned the pollsters as quietly as he could to watch out for any malfeasance.

    After a few hours circulating and checking in, all that was left were the farthest flung polling locations, set up outside the city gates where Guerron met the Gold Road to represent the people of the hinterlands, who were mostly farmers. With the smallest populations of any districts, they were voting on only one representative, and the poll workers were fewest in number too.

    When Fernan arrived at the southern gate, he was surprised to see two Montaignards with their hands above their heads, cowering behind four armored knights on horseback as they addressed a shockingly large crowd for the area.

    Maybe with only one representative, the election is more competitive? Perhaps they¡¯d simply been drawn to the commotion in greater numbers than the election alone could draw. Either way, something was clearly wrong here, so Fernan landed without a moment¡¯s hesitation, keeping far enough away to hear a bit of what the knights were saying before they could spot him.

    ¡°...We¡¯re simply entreating you to use your newfound power responsibly. If you make the wrong choice, someone could get hurt. Wouldn¡¯t that be a shame?¡± The knight brandished his sword, angling it until it caught the dying sunset light just right. ¡°S¨¦verin Marceau is a treacherous transplant, infiltrating your peaceful environs with his big city radicalism and dangerous ideas. Vote for the right man, the esteemed Jean Lemoine, or I assure you, you will regret it.¡±

    Alright, that¡¯s enough of that. Fernan took a flying leap, landing right in front of the knights in a circle of fire. ¡°Who are you and what do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±

    The front knight kept his visor down. ¡°It might be that my name is Jean Bourbeau, of the ancient line. But then, it might not. You don¡¯t have any real way of knowing.¡± His tone was smug, as if he didn¡¯t even slightly fear being roasted in his armor. Which he has no reason to, but he shouldn¡¯t know that.

    ¡°Intimidation is strictly prohibited,¡± Fernan said calmly, trying to project an assurance that all of this was simply part of the process, rather than elections themselves being a dangerous, chaotic nightmare. ¡°Disperse immediately.¡±

    ¡°Intimidation?¡± Bourbeau shook his head, helmet glinting in the scarlet light. ¡°We¡¯re simply keeping the proceedings safe, just like you.¡±

    ¡°In armor? Ahorse?¡±

    ¡°For safety. In case things get rowdy.¡± Bourbeau laughed. ¡°Now then, I¡¯m sure there are other matters demanding your attention, Sire Montaigne. These trifles are beneath you. If you¡ª¡±

    His words were interrupted by the panicked neigh of his horse, rearing up as its tail was singed with fire. Sorry, horse. As Bourbeau struggled to get his mount under control, the other knights took the opportunity to gallop away, their identities still unknown.

    Which means they¡¯ll be back once they think they can get away with it. Frowning, Fernan jumped into the air and hovered next to the thrashing horse, picking his moment carefully, then wrapped his fingers around Bourbeau¡¯s helmet and pulled it free of his head.

    The face was faintly familiar, probably from the White Night, but Fernan had never spoken with him directly, let alone for long enough to make a memorable impression.

    ¡°Jean Bourbeau, your intimidation will not be tolerated. Surrender your arms and armor now and come with me peacefully.¡± Fernan snapped, leaving a lingering flame burning from his upright thumb like a candle. ¡°If you refuse, I assure you, you will regret it.¡±

    So much for not making a scene, Fernan thought as he led the bewildered knight away, not entirely sure what to do with him beyond getting him away from the situation. I¡¯m honestly surprised more people didn¡¯t try something like this, now that I think about it. Perhaps the mass abstentions had sent the message just as well, though even now that Fernan had removed the direct threat, fear still might impact peoples¡¯ decisions, which could do far more damage.

    Fernan deposited Bourbeau in a cell at the Chateau, relieving him of his sword and armor depositing them with the other combat supplies.

    ¡°This is an outrage, I¡¯ll have you know! I¡¯ve committed no crime.¡±

    Fernan sighed. ¡°I understand why you don¡¯t respect this process, but that doesn¡¯t give you license to bully your way through it, or to threaten force to twist things back to the way you want.¡± He paused, examining the fuming knight. ¡°You should consider how this benefits you, too. You didn¡¯t have any say in where you were sent in the White Night either, no formal rights in the decision-making process. Dom Mesnil lost his foot, and that could just as easily have been you, hung out to dry just the same.¡±

    ¡°His failures are not my problem.¡± Bourbeau grunted angrily and folded his arms, utterly unrepentant.

    It seems like removing him from the polling site isn¡¯t enough. Certainly, he hadn¡¯t learned his lesson. Perhaps the solution was confiscating some of his wealth, fuel for the burgeoning trade network the professional Montaignards were so determined to build. Not enough to make up for Guy¡¯s chest, but something. Once the votes were finished being counted, perhaps they could let him go, but the seizure would at least mean he didn¡¯t get out of it unscathed.

    In the meantime, Fernan felt it more important than ever to continue his visits, never more than half an hour away from visiting each district to help protect the polling station. He continued after polls closed as they tallied the votes, long into the night, until finally the representatives could be announced officially.

    The count wasn¡¯t finished until late the even the next day, the bleary-eyed workers finally collapsing after checking and double-checking the count, all under Fernan¡¯s vigilant protection. Then the new representatives had to be notified, gathered together, the assembly chamber repaired to the extent it could be in the time they had¡­ Every step of the way, Fernan was there to keep guard, reassuring anyone who would listen that everything was still in good order, that he was overseeing the process.

    Oversimplifying, to be sure, but people always seemed so happy to see him, so much more confident in what they were building once they realized how heavily Fernan was involved. It was strange to be looked at that way, almost disturbing, but Fernan shouldered the burden to help keep spirits high.

    As expected, Michel and Mom had won their respective elections handily. Easy victories for the people Fernan liked and trusted simplified things, and in principle it seemed like it could only be a good thing, but the drawback¡ªaccording to Maxime, whom Fernan trusted on this sort of thing¡ªwas that it came at the cost of their mandate.

    As crowded as the Centreville square had been with people choosing their leaders for the time ever, Michel guessed that almost three-quarters of Guerron¡¯s people had failed to participate, whether in protest or out of ignorance or simply because they didn¡¯t feel like bothering. And for every single non-voter, the new Assembly would be just as unaccountable and disconnected as Valvert had ever been. If Lucien Renart returned and commanded ¡®his subjects¡¯ to rise up against the Assembly, how many of them would answer the call?

    Hopefully the precedent of peaceful elections and successful governing would set the stage for better turnout next time around when they went through all of this again in three years. Representing a quarter of the city¡¯s direct and stated wishes was still a lot better than before, where only one man¡¯s desires mattered, especially given the man in question.

    Finally, after three days, the first official Assembly meeting began, several dozen representatives crowding into the gallery area of the still-damaged trial chamber, an enormous crack from the fight with Valentine splitting the seating area roughly down the middle.

    To the right, most of the professionals were clustered together: S¨¦zanne, Montrouge, Delion, Barnave, and Costeau stood out, and most of the others seemed to be more or less aligned with their point of view, though what few aristocrats had managed to win their elections were there too, notably including Jean Lemoine, now Representative for the Southern Hills district.

    On the left side sat Lantier and several of the more fervent Montaignards Fernan recalled from the meetings, with Mom and Michel as close to the center as they could sit with the crack dividing the room. Mara, of course, wasn¡¯t sitting down, instead standing to the left of the gallery seats, small trails of smoke curling up from her nostrils as she breathed.

    Technically, Fernan didn¡¯t need to be here. He hadn¡¯t run in any of the districts, very deliberately, and so he was not a member of the Assembly, for all that he remained a Montaignard.

    But after everything people tried to pull on election day, I¡¯m not just going to sit outside and wait, wondering. This was the only way to be sure everyone would be safe.

    ¡°Good, everyone¡¯s here,¡± Fernan said, standing in front of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s old magistrate chair. ¡°I now call to order the first meeting of the Guerron Assembly. Every one of you stands here chosen by the people to speak with their voice, to ensure that their concerns are heeded, their needs attended to, all in service of freedom, equality, and prosperity.¡± Michel had helped with the speech, though he¡¯d insisted that Fernan should deliver it himself. ¡°In many ways, this is an experiment, and every one of us will have to learn as we proceed, to iterate on this first Assembly and all its first decisions, refining and improving until we can finally reach the ideal that all of us strive for, a free and independent Guerron.¡±

    One by one, each representative came forward to swear their allegiance to Guerron¡¯s people, modified from the knight¡¯s oath Fernan himself had taken so many months ago. A lifetime, after everything that¡¯s happened. There was a slight moment of tension when Lemoine hesitated over the words, but the tension deflated when he said the words to swear the oath, a slightly amused tone to his voice. Several auras intensified when Mara made the same oath, though she didn¡¯t do anything usual in the process.

    Hopefully not a problem, though at this point I¡¯d do better to prepare in case it is. Not a problem for right this second though. ¡°And so the Assembly is assembled, a unified, representative government for Guerron and all who live here. All of you are making history here today. The Guerron Duchy is no more. From this day forward, the Guerron Commune shall reign.¡±

    For as long as we can keep it from coming apart.

 Laura VIII: The Rain of Fire

    Laura VIII: The Rain of Fire

    One down, thirty to go.

    From the way the last airship exploded, finding a way to finish the job and cement her legacy seemed like it wouldn¡¯t be too difficult either.

    Then there would be nothing for Laura to worry about anymore.

    This high in the air, the wind stole most of what she could hear, but the thunderous cracks of Avalon¡¯s pistols were unmistakable, especially as they zoomed closer and closer to Laura¡¯s descending body.

    Until she pierced the clouds again, the roar of gunfire replaced by the roar of thunder.

    The rain sizzled against her sword as she swung it diagonally downwards, stalling her downward momentum and blasting in the direction of the next airship, at least as best as she could recall.

    Into and out of cover, never staying vulnerable an instant longer than you have to. Aurelian had taught her that the very first time they¡¯d sparred with magic, effortlessly deflecting her blasts of flame with his own golden light, then hitting her straight out of the arena with a concussive blast of his own.

    No matter how much you desire the fight, you must approach it cleverly, or you won¡¯t even get the chance.

    Lucien had said something similar. The fox was a predator, but a small one, vulnerable. He had to approach from an unexpected angle, leveraging surprise and speed to avoid the attacks of more powerful opponents. Considering his lack of magic, that was almost everyone, yet he¡¯d still managed to win every fight Laura had seen him in.

    Even me, though I came close.

    Laura emerged from the clouds under the next airship, higher in the air than she¡¯d left it, and barely managed to poke her head up before the serene air above the clouds was pierced with gunfire. Far away, at first, but the sounds got louder as the shots got closer.

    How have they spotted me already?

    Laura flung a crescent of fire towards the nearest airship, blasting herself back downwards in the same motion.

    Even beneath the thunder, rain, and wind, she was sure she would have heard the explosion, but it didn¡¯t sound.

    So their balloons are armored enough to stop my fire¡­ Surprising, given how easily she¡¯d cut into the skin of the first one. Maybe the fire was dissipating too fast in the air.

    Laura took a worried moment to rethink her approach, hesitating as the rain beat down on her face, before she saw the airship descend beneath the clouds, a fire burning at the top of its balloon.

    Laura¡¯s face split with an enormous grin, drops of water spattering against her teeth as she redirected herself upwards and let loose four more crescents of fire aimed as precisely as she could manage.

    No explosion, but if I can down them, that¡¯s good enough.

    Minutes later, two more ships were burning, which was perfectly fine. Good aim, even, considering the inclement conditions and the short amount of time to aim.

    Twenty-eight left, assuming the burning ones are down and out.

    The only problem was that the gunners¡¯ aim seemed to be getting better every time, as if someone was directing the gunners towards where she¡¯d pop out of the clouds.

    A bolt of lightning crashed down a scant few dozen feet away from Laura¡¯s face. Close enough it was a shock it hadn¡¯t hit her. The startling moment was enough to jar her arm as she flinched, sending a lance of pain through her shoulder where the bullet had passed through so recently.

    Well, maybe not the only problem. Misdirection was only getting her so far, and every second down here risked a comically ignoble death, with most of the fleet left unharmed.

    Laura tried cutting through the clouds with fire, aiming at her best guess of where the airships were, but unless they¡¯d figured out a way to stay aloft while on fire, it didn¡¯t seem like any of them were hitting.

    And I don¡¯t want to get shot the second my head pokes out. Drawing on her own fire was another option, but Laura didn¡¯t want to waste her life away by missing potshots; that would be even stupider.

    That was why she preferred fighting spirit-touched. A hostile animal, magical or not, could be worn down with repeated applications of the same strategy, so long as it was a good one. You could test your strength the same way over and over, a proper show of force with little need for tactics or strategy. People, unfortunately, would adapt.

    Laura would simply have to do the same, just like Lucien.

    Cloaked in the haze of smoke and rain, Laura propelled herself laterally, staying under the cover of the clouds for as long as she dared as she put as much distance as possible between herself in the fleet.

    The air is thin up here, she realized as she surfaced, thankfully far enough that the airships were a mere speck on the horizon. The serenity of that thin air remained as she continued higher, feeling the wind blast water from her soaked clothes and hair.

    It only became harder to breathe the higher Laura ascended, her head feeling light enough to float away from her body. The vast blue expanse around her began to darken as her vision narrowed, though whether it was the sky or her eyes, she couldn¡¯t be sure.

    It didn¡¯t change anything, either way.

    If throwing fire at them from range wouldn¡¯t work anymore, she¡¯d simply get close again. That had worked fine the first time. And to get close, she¡¯d approach from a direction that the ever-superior Avaline airships would never expect.

    Laura tucked her head down as her sword blasted her forward, feeling the pull of the wind against her squinting eyes. The absolute last thing I need right now is a speck of dirt blinding me because an unlucky gust whipped it towards my eye. All the more so traveling this distance.

    The sustained flame from her sword made Laura briefly wonder if Volobrin¡¯s power would run out from the expenditure, leaving her to plummet helplessly to her death. But there was no way to know how much power was left, so it wasn¡¯t worth worrying about. The remaining flames of Flammare might be able to save her, maybe, but spending that much life to arrest her fall might easily lead to the same ending. Better to focus on the problem she could solve.

    High above the armada, Laura thrust herself downwards, then began raining fire down over their heads. Each of the ships had a gunner mounted on top the balloon, already taking aim as she fell, but the unexpected angle and rapid descent meant that all of the shots.

    Unexpectedly prepared, even having someone up on top. Probably to deal with pegasus knights, and apparently it had been enough to stop them.

    One explosion sounded as Laura fell, probably the product of a particularly direct hit on the seams of the balloon. It took a lot less than that to do significant damage, though. By the time Laura arrested her fall and alighted on the top of a remaining airship, another three were listing, blanketed in fire.

    Twenty-three left, by my count. Almost halfway done.

    Considering how badly Laura¡¯s shoulder was burning right now, making such good time was definitely for the best. Though I doubt I¡¯ll be able to pull off a single master stroke like that again. Every ship was harder than the last, a delicate balancing act between getting close and staying far enough away to avoid another gunshot through her chest.

    And at the rate I¡¯m going¡­ Well, this had never been a mission she¡¯d expected to walk away from.

    Already, the guns were firing at her again, though most of the shots went high above her head. Probably trying not to hit their own ships. That kind of restraint was honestly surprising for the likes of Avalon, but Laura had no doubt they¡¯d abandon it as things got more desperate for them.

    Provided I can make things more desperate for them, anyway.

    Taking advantage of her cover, Laura slid down the side of the balloon, throwing fire down to arrest her fall and direct herself onto one of the narrow strips of metal hanging under the ship. In contrast to the lone gunners mounted on top, each of the ships had a large cabin hanging from the bottom, with paths hanging further down below those, enclosed with railings, spanning the length of the airship.

    The gunners each had a circular platform to themselves, surrounded by crates of presumably ammunition and weapons up against thick railings, though each of them only seemed to have a single pistol in their hands, the metal tube far longer than any of the weapons Laura had seen with the Prince of Darkness.

    It only took her a moment to understand why as they realized she¡¯d joined them at their post.

    Instead of discarding their weapons for a fresh one, already loaded and ready to fire, as the Prince¡¯s soldiers had done, the gunners slid a compartment forward and inserted ammunition directly into the same gun, so fast that Laura could scarcely believe it.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Wasn¡¯t it supposed to require a packet of gunpowder stuffed down the barrel with a brush, the same as their cannons? How could they do it so quickly?

    There wasn¡¯t really time to think of the answer, since they were already aiming at her, holding their elongated pistols with two hands, one eye closed. So Laura switched to ice, slicing a circle around herself that radiated outwards, knocking most of the gunners over their respective railings with a blow to the head before they had a chance to fire.

    Laura readied herself to dive beneath the clouds again while she thought of her next move, but the gunfire never came. Either the other ships hadn¡¯t seen what she¡¯d done, or they were still reluctant to fire at their own vessel. Perhaps they realized, correctly, that downing their own airship wouldn¡¯t hinder Laura in any significant way.

    But leaving me alone is the far greater mistake. It was so nice to be underestimated again, especially after already destroying eight airships.

    Well, if they didn¡¯t want to go after their own, that offered a far greater opportunity than a mere moment to breathe. Laura peeked out as far as she could from under the balloon, trying to get an angle on as many of the other ships as possible and only coming up with two, rapidly rising out of view.

    I guess they thought of that. Blasting out twenty-three crescents of fire to down the remaining fleet had probably been two much to hope for, but it didn¡¯t look like she¡¯d even be able to manage one. A stalemate, until Laura exposed herself in another suicidal headlong charge. In the spirit of the mission, maybe, but she had no intention of getting shot again. Not before taking out the rest.

    The metal hatch above the ladder was flapping in the wind, a clanging sound that made it hard to think, but Laura persevered.

    Think back to Lucien¡¯s predator approach, from an unexpected angle. If Aurelian were here, he¡¯d probably conjure a brilliant corona of light to wipe out the entire fleet, or reveal some hidden weapon that he¡¯d kept out of sight the entire time, until the moment was just right. Not really an option, here.

    Lucien, though¡­ Ignoring how he¡¯d make it up here at all, if he¡¯d found himself stranded on this sinking ship, no doubt carrying him down into an Avaline army, how would he get out of it?

    The hatch slammed again as the airship picked up speed, bumping against the ladder beneath it.

    Of course.

    Laura willed more power into her sword and swung it downwards once again, cutting through the catwalk and ensuring that no future gunners could take up residence there at the same time as she propelled herself towards the hatch. It was the work of a moment to enter the airship interior, flying up the tube until she was face to face with three shocked crewmates.

    One of them swung his wrench to attack her, but Laura cut him in half with a sword before he could manage to do anything, then sliced through the one next to him for good measure too.

    She could smell the sizzling flesh mix with the odor of blood in the air, that scent of battle that firing at airships from far away hadn¡¯t conjured. It made all of this more real, filling her with greater resolve.

    The third crewmate ran, his footsteps echoing through the ship¡¯s bowels as the metal clanged beneath his feet. That was fine. He didn¡¯t matter.

    Still, Laura followed the sound. She needed to find the helm or the tiller to steer this thing, and there was a decent chance that the fleeing boy was headed that way. The hallway ended in another ladder up, which Laura again flew up rather than make herself a slow-moving target for anyone waiting to greet her, but this time the next level was empty.

    She made it up another two levels when a blaring alarm sounded, some kind of earsplitting horn accompanied by a more conventional bell ringing, though it did nothing to deter Laura¡¯s progress. Honestly, if they had that, you¡¯d think they¡¯d sound it earlier.

    At last, she sliced through the final thick metal door in her path and brandished her sword at the cowering crew within. No more than five of them, strangely.

    ¡°Take us up,¡± Laura ordered, noticing the same boy from below near the helm. ¡°That is, unless you want to become a speck of dust in the air when I blow this thing up.¡±

    The crew looked at each other hesitantly, then to the boy, who looked even more nervous than they did. ¡°Th-The controls are locked, Ma¡¯am. The captain wedged the helm before he left.¡±

    ¡°Left?¡± Laura spat incredulously. ¡°We¡¯re in the sky! It¡¯s not like there¡¯s a lifeboat.¡±

    ¡°P-parachutes,¡± he sputtered. The word was unfamiliar, but the roots were clearly Imperial: protection from a fall. Just my luck that they managed some kind of protective bubble to shield them from impact. It meant they could vacate the ships with their lives, so long as they aborted in time.

    ¡°Why are you still here then?¡± Laura walked up to the helm, trying to give the jammed wheel a closer inspection.

    ¡°They took em all. Not enough left for all the enlisted, and it was first-on, last-off. Unless you volunteered,¡± the boy added, drawing a look of pity from his remaining crewmates.

    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s weird. I killed a bunch of you and there still wasn¡¯t enough?¡± Laura scoffed as she bent down, feeling the fused metal keeping the helm fixed in place. ¡°I suppose these parachutes are expensive? Made from rare materials?¡± No one answered her, so she continued musing as she pulled out her sword. ¡°Still, it must smart to know your lives are worth so little. I bet you were expecting a hero¡¯s welcome back in Avalon after the way you bombarded Micheltaigne.¡± She melted the iron with her sword, watching it pool across the floor, then jostled the helm until it shook free. ¡°Instead you¡¯re tasting the tip of your own dagger.¡±

    ¡°I mean, what pointless death. Just, considering what you¡¯re responsible for in Micheltaigne, but hardly heroic, or even worthy of any real notoriety.¡± As the wheel spun, the ship groaned and turned from its course, though where it was headed now, Laura hadn¡¯t the faintest idea.

    The crew looked absolutely terrified, alternating their panicked gaze between the out-of-control helm and Laura¡¯s glowing sword. Funny, when they already thought they were going to die. My fucking with them shouldn¡¯t make any difference.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve had my fun.¡± Laura dusted her hands off and stood, catching the helm and holding it in place. ¡°Anyone feel like living? Bring us up towards the other ships. You lot aren¡¯t a threat to me anymore, so I¡¯ll leave you be if I can get close enough to board the others without getting shot.¡± Feeling more like piracy than warfare, but I suppose the sky is a new domain for either. A suitable legend, however things might be destined to end.

    ¡°We¡¯re not helping you!¡± the boy insisted, cutting off another crewmate that had opened her mouth to speak. ¡°You murdered our comrades by the dozen, and now you want to bring down the whole fleet! We are proud soldiers of Avalon, and we¡¯ll gladly give our lives to stop you!¡± His voice cracked at the word ¡®gladly¡¯, making Laura realize just how young he was.

    But Fernan was young too; that didn¡¯t stop him from throwing me to the lions. Forever tarred as the Foolhardy Sage of Flammare, a traitor to humans and spirits alike, a grasping, idiotic opportunist, a violent brute. Laura held her sword up, brandishing it above the boy. ¡°If you really feel that way, jump overboard right now. The way you say it, it shouldn¡¯t make any difference.¡±

    ¡°If you want me dead, you¡¯re going to have to kill me yourself,¡± he spat.

    Where is this confidence coming from? The second you saw me, you ran. ¡°Fine then, a duel. Anyone have a sword for this kid?¡±

    The crewmate whom he¡¯d cut off pulled out a short blade from her jacket, more of a dirk than a sword, not that it was likely to make much difference for this poor, doomed boy.

    ¡°Good.¡± Laura nodded. ¡°Now¡ª¡±

    Instead of handing him the dirk, the woman held it to his throat. ¡°Janice, grab the helm and take us up. We don¡¯t want any trouble.¡±

    One of the other huddled crewmates, one who¡¯d been utterly silent up until now, perked up her head. ¡°But¡­ Katie, this is a¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it!¡± Katie insisted through grit teeth. ¡°I am not going to die today.¡±

    Funny to think that the ships I exploded were full of people just like this. Not automaton soldiers of one mind, flawless instruments of Avaline cruelty, but people in all their myriad complexities. That¡¯s war, I suppose. Laura had no doubt that the countless Micheltaigne knights and Arboreum warriors had been denied the same consideration.

    Janice took the helm and began to adjust the course, tinkering with several levers that Laura wouldn¡¯t have even thought to check, then pulled on a handle above. Out the window, the clouds began to grow farther beneath them, which was a good sign that they weren¡¯t trying anything stupid. How refreshing.

    The higher they got, though, the more concerned Laura grew. The other ships had circled around each other in two concentric rings, covering all angles of approach and each other, in case she cared to try boarding again. Worse, the ship she was on was clearly already considered a lost cause, so if they saw it approaching, they weren¡¯t likely to have any compunction about shooting it out of the sky. Or me, if I try flying up alone.

    ¡°Stop,¡± Laura ordered. ¡°Don¡¯t get any closer. Just keep going up.¡± The guns hadn¡¯t started firing yet, so they were apparently still out of range. That might not be true for long.

    ¡°There¡¯s an absolute altitude limit of ten thousand feet,¡± Katie said with some alarm. ¡°We were pushing it already to stay above the storm.¡±

    Laura nodded appreciatively. ¡°So you¡¯re saying they won¡¯t follow us above that. Helmswoman, take us to fifteen thousand feet!¡±

    ¡°Janice, don¡¯t!¡± Katie spun around and pointed an indignant finger at Laura. ¡°Do you have a death wish?¡±

    Laura laughed. ¡°I thought that was obvious. Now keep climbing.¡±

    The ships started to rattle as they climbed, and the ascent seemed to slow even without any direct involvement from the helm, but eventually Laura could see the other Avaline ships beneath them, still circling warily.

    ¡°Right, you¡¯re free to do as you please,¡± Laura said as she turned towards the faceless mass of ships, already walking towards the door out of the bridge. ¡°But I suggest you find a quiet field to land in and get your story straight on why you aren¡¯t deserters. Kid, you¡¯d do well to remember that you can¡¯t fight shit if you¡¯re hung for mutiny. Ta-ta!¡±

    She slashed a circle into the floor of the hallway, falling down to the next level below, then repeated the gesture until she was on the bottommost level, staring at the sky swirling beneath her..

    Now how to avoid getting shot out of the sky¡­

    Ice wasn¡¯t a perfect shield against gunshots. Defending Duchesne¡¯s boat in the Charenton harbor had made that much abundantly clear. It had also made clear, though, that obstructing sightlines alone could make a massive difference.

    Laura twirled her sword, creating a roughly Laura-sized crescent of ice, then let it drop through the hole in the floor. A moment later, the sound of gunfire filled the air. It was hard to tell it, but it looked like the icy construct had been blasted entirely apart.

    Glad that¡¯s not me then. Laura followed her decoy with another, then another two more for good measure. She created eight other crescents on the hallway, then cut holes out from under them in sequence as fast as she could, filling the sky with targets.

    Then, finally, she slashed a hollow column of ice around herself and dropped through.

    Falling like this was trusting her fate to luck, but at least she¡¯d bettered the odds. And if she made it down, Avalon had done her the favor of clustering themselves close together into an easy target.

    Laura looked at them carefully, taking a final account of the twenty-three airships that were left.

    Only there were twenty-four there, an ominous black ship in the center rising up towards her. One more than before.

    They got reinforcements headed straight to me, and I have no idea what they¡¯re capable of.

 Camille VIII: The Sacrifice

    Camille VIII: The Sacrifice

    Distant tendrils of sunlight shone through the ocean¡¯s depths, casting over the Leclaire library a dappled, ever-shifting mixture of light and shadow.

    It wasn¡¯t so secret, not anymore. Camille had led the Acolytes and civilians holed up in the temple through the tunnel to protect them from the worst of the fighting, and couldn¡¯t help but notice several valuable ancient tomes missing when she¡¯d returned to assess the damage. Everything remaining had needed to be moved to lesser caches under the sea, distributed amongst the ones that hadn¡¯t collapsed in the absence of seventeen years of maintenance.

    Striding beneath the water had been trivial in a logistical sense. Levian¡¯s power flowed through her more smoothly than Camille could ever remember, even compared to the morning after sacrifices she¡¯d personally administered, let alone the paucity she¡¯d had to make do with after burning so much power and life just to stay alive.

    Almost as if he doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m actively and consciously failing him, scheming to deny him his due in the name of all the people who¡¯d have to die if I didn¡¯t.

    If it weren¡¯t for the very real risk of important spiritual texts falling into the wrong hands, Camille might still not have done it yet. It wasn¡¯t as if she lacked a full slate of tasks, ever-expanding faster than she could complete them in the rush to leave a functional state behind when she died.

    Using Levian¡¯s power made her sick, knowing where it came from. It did so in an unfortunately literal way, after hearing what had happened in Charenton. It was harder to remain settled in general these days, in no small part due to the impending doom hanging above her head.

    This is the spirit I swore a life of service to. Perhaps it¡¯s all for the best.

    But every swish of water made it harder to forget that.

    The scale of the devastation was still hard to grapple with, as was the apparent lack of motivation. It was hardly unusual for a spirit to be swollen with power after a major battle, especially a slaughter such as that, but spirits had to be given souls; if they could simply take them from humans they slaughtered, sages would have nothing to offer them. If Camille¡¯s share of his power was so much stronger now, that implied that Levian had another human ally.

    Yet every major sage of Levian was accounted for in Malin, whether they¡¯d endured the occupation or returned from exile or perished in the meantime.

    Every sage save Uncle Emile, whose departure from Guerron in advance of the rebellion could only be so comforting when he still hadn¡¯t arrived anywhere. Camille was absolutely certain that he had no hand in the Charenton massacre, almost certainly no awareness of it either. Emile could be pragmatic on occasion, but he was ever driven by his heart, not any lust for power. He¡¯d always been the voice of caution with Camille¡¯s schemes, urging restraint.

    Almost as if he knew where the end of that path lay. Perhaps he did, in a sense. He¡¯d seen what happened to Mother too, consumed beneath the waves to secure their escape. She¡¯d been everything a Leclaire ought aspire to: a powerful sage, an influential politician, a master of her domain.

    And she died young too, with half her Acolytes cursing her name for abandoning them, the other barely mentioning her sacrifice. Levian, Camille was certain, had already forgotten her name, if indeed he had ever learned it. What was Sarille Leclaire to him but the latest vessel of many, a means to deliver him souls and little else. What was Camille?

    The last time she¡¯d quaffed some marigold wine to begin visions, right before that disastrous conversation with Fernan, Camille had seen a chorus of her ancestors, stretching back into the distant mists across the sea, silently evaluating their scion as they examined the permanent end of everything they¡¯d spent centuries building.

    As Camille peered through the glass, her thoughts turned to Mathille Leclaire, who¡¯d created this hidden chamber on the floor of the sea, burning most of her life and falling afoul of a deal with Levian for the sake of securing her family a permanent base in Malin, outside the reach of any Fox-King.

    And Levian had casually referred to it as an ¡®impetuous encroachment¡¯, a stain on the seafloor to be ¡®cleansed¡¯ given the slightest reason.

    Now just a room full of empty bookshelves, known to nearly a hundred random laborers and peasants throughout the city along with everyone they might have seen fit to mention the chamber to. Would she despise me, the Last Leclaire, or see the necessity in what I did?

    Would Murielle Leclaire, High Priestess when Levian had ascended to Pantera¡¯s seat as Torrent of the Deep? She¡¯d had little to do with the ascension herself, yet her rewards had been significant, crucial to the family¡¯s ascent. Camille had no less of an opportunity, and instead she was diminishing them into near-extinction.

    Going back further, how might Tiamille Leclaire, the feared general of the Fox-Queen, look at her failure of a scion? Betrothed to the Fox-King and poised to build a dynasty that could reunite the continent, instead Camille had carelessly rushed to her defeat, and the end of any hope of that dynasty too.

    The sickness and exhaustion she¡¯d been enduring for the past few weeks was only salt in the wound, a mocking reminder of what might have been if she¡¯d made the right decisions from the beginning.

    My father didn¡¯t want me to make my pact; he thought it too dangerous, and he was right.

    Ybille Leclaire had built the shore temple, the first to formalize the succession of High Priestesses and officially declare herself Sage of Levian. Formal strictures and dynastic strength were her legacy, and Camille had no doubt at all that she would look upon all of this with naught but cold judgment and shame.

    She had been the first sage in name, but not the first to enter into a compact with Levian. Had Castille of On¨¨s realized where all of this would lead, when first she¡¯d approached the sea spirit? Why had she needed that power so badly, and what had she done with it? Peering through the haze of time, little was left save her name.

    In so many ways, it would have been easier to honor the deal, to dedicate what remained of the year to the extermination of Levian¡¯s thousand souls, no matter the cost. Likely to fail, too, with failure rendering all of that slaughter for nothing. With the support Lucien had pledged, perhaps Camille could even have succeeded, though unworthy to rule the world they¡¯d leave behind in doing it.

    I could have lived, only then I couldn¡¯t have lived with myself. Small comfort, when the world was falling into shambles that Camille had little hope of fixing in the time remaining to her. Rebellions, famine, industrialization, war, Lucien¡­

    In that moment, even knowing where it had led her, Camille wished she could borrow back some of her youthful confidence, the utter assurance that everything would end up right back where it needed to be. She¡¯d survived certain death and liberated her homeland, and yet she felt less certain than ever.

    I could just step out of the dome and drown, and spare myself another moment of indecision. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn¡¯t really make much difference whether Camille died now or in a few weeks. She certainly wouldn¡¯t know the difference.

    But Lucien would, and Annette and Mary and Margot and Aude and everyone else left behind in a world of turmoil and ruin. Camille owed them better, along with everyone else in the world. Nobility obliged her, just as it called upon her to sacrifice her own well-being to serve the common good.

    She¡¯d thought Lucien had understood that, even better than she ever had. He was always the one inviting people up to his table, feasting and f¨ºting alongside them, living in a tent in Villemalin rather than take his rightful place in the castle. But now he¡¯d abandoned them all for a childish tantrum.

    He abandoned me, because he couldn¡¯t trust me. Because I lied to him.

    And now I¡¯ll never see him again.

    Camille ejected her sickness into the deep blue abyss of Levian¡¯s domain, then left the Leclaire enclave behind, feeling the silent judgment of her ancestors peering through her soul. None burned more painfully than her mother¡¯s, pity and grief and disappointment all bundled together into a greater package of regret.

    She was five minutes late to the council meeting, a personal embarrassment that fortunately none of the other members saw fit to comment on. Nor had they started without her, which was only sensible. Camille had been the one sitting in Lucien¡¯s chair since his departure, trying to set everything into place for the Code Leclaire and the Empire in the time that remained.

    Annette sat at the opposite end of the table, a dour expression wrapped across her face. Simon, just to her left, did not seem to be in much better spirits, even though he had no direct ties to the mess in Guerron. Perhaps it was on Annette¡¯s behalf, though Camille doubted their conciliation had stretched quite that far. Working together on their governmental duties seemed to be the limit of it, though considering the acrimony of that first council meeting together, it was more than she could possibly have hoped for.

    Eloise and Mordred Boothe sat to Camille¡¯s right and left, seemingly not in much better spirits, though the reasoning was likely different. Camille knew better than to imagine either of them were too distressed at her impending death, for all they knew about it, so it likely had more to do with Guerron and the inevitable response it demanded.

    Just about the last way I want to spend my final days. Valvert had better not live through this after a failure of this magnitude, or I¡¯ll ensure he faces a fate far worse.

    Camille began with the customary greetings, calling the meeting to order, then invited in Eloise¡¯s first item of the day: Ysengrin, returned from the failed expedition to Guerron. He began recounting his tale, answering several pointed questions from Annette in the process, then finished with a despondent incline of his head.

    ¡°...If that¡¯s what you heard, my lady, I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s all true. Fernan greeted me with a smile, never letting on about the dagger behind his back. I barely escaped his assault with my life, as did the Chalice Mercenaries.¡±

    ¡°Who bravely turned and fled, it would seem.¡± Annette snorted dismissively. ¡°Mme. Cl?chaine, Camille and I made no secret of our distrust for mercenaries, but you insisted they protect our assets instead of loyal soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Loyal to you. Those are my lands, unless you¡¯re pulling the rug again.¡± Eloise sank into her chair, head angled towards the ceiling. ¡°But yes, it¡¯s completely my fault that Fernan Montaigne turned traitor, obviously. You all anticipated this, but I didn¡¯t listen.¡± She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like imbeciles, then folded her arms.

    ¡°The Chalice Mercenaries have never been known to break a contract like this,¡± Ysengrin loyally added in her defense. ¡°Jacques used them for years without any trouble. I doubt soldiers would have fared any better against Fernan¡¯s brutality; he stormed the camp with his flaming gecko and damn-near burned the place to the ground. He had a confederate infiltrate ahead of him and hold a knife to the commander¡¯s throat, then cruelly extorted her son until they left.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Khali¡¯s curse. Fernan had shown unexpected steel when they¡¯d talked, but stooping to that level? It seemed so uncharacteristic that Camille knew something else had to be going on, like as not influence from malign actors in his illegal Montaignard group. But even then, this is more of a reversal than anyone could have anticipated.

    ¡°They were hired to babysit a few coal mines, not storm a fortified city against multiple sages,¡± Eloise added.

    ¡°We need an army that can, immediately,¡± Simon said. ¡°We can¡¯t even begin generating steam power without that first shipment of coal, let alone properly open our manufacturing plants. Half of our public works projects are dead in the water!¡±

    And the longer it goes on, the less we can bring to bear against Avalon. Even our hostage is in the rebels¡¯ hands.

    Margot slipped in quietly, passing Camille an envelope sealed with black wax and the image of a crescent moon.

    ¡°Do you need an army, or a saboteur?¡± Boothe slouched in his seat, twirling the tip of his finger around a glass of Rhanoir Red, likely Jaubertie, judging by the shade. ¡°Harold Grimoire managed to turn Ombresse against its Duke in an entirely bloodless coup, and temporarily conquered Guerron in a similar way.¡±

    ¡°Bloodless? He threw my grandfather off his balcony!¡± Annette shook her head. ¡°No. No infiltrators or saboteurs, satisfying as it might be to see these rebels fall apart on their own. It leaves too much to chance. And Jethro, I mean no offense, but you have yet to prove the level of trustworthiness required for a task such as this.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t afford a slow play, either,¡± Simon added. ¡°As things stand now, even if the rebels dip their banners the moment our forces arrive, we¡¯ll be weeks behind schedule. Months, in the event of a siege.¡±

    ¡°Not to mention our credibility,¡± Annette added. ¡°Camile, you know this. The longer these rebels are allowed to stand, the more our credibility is undermined. This division makes us ripe for foreign conquest and exploitation, especially since the Prince of Darkness seems to be on an acquisitions spree after Charenton, and has a personal grudge against you. All the more so after Levian¡¯s attack, I don¡¯t doubt.¡±

    ¡°Let me deal with Luce,¡± Boothe insisted, though by his face he seemed strangely unsure about the prospect. ¡°If need be, that is.¡±

    ¡°Once again you ask for trust we cannot in good conscience grant you. You¡¯re a defector from Avalon, the least safe prospect for handling the Prince.¡±

    ¡°So is Lord Perimont!¡±

    ¡°Simon has earned¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop,¡± Camille said gently, and the entire table fell silent. She lifted the letter to the light, beckoning the council to examine it. Simone recognized the seal immediately, for it had been pressed into red wax for countless edicts from the Governor of Malin they¡¯d both worked for, Prince Lucifer Grimoire. ¡°It seems we have new information to discuss.¡±

    Annette grit her teeth, but didn¡¯t contest the point.

    If Fernan really did offer him Magnifico, we might already be doomed.

    Camille sliced the letter open with her nail, then pulled out a rather sorry water-stained letter and began to read aloud.

    ¡°To Lady Camille Leclaire of On¨¨s, High Priestess of Levian and Maiden of Dawn,¡±

    Camille frowned at the formal address, either out of character in its obsequiousness or mocking beyond any aptitude Luce had ever demonstrated.

    ¡°Despite your patron spirit¡¯s attack, Charenton stands strong. Levian was deterred, but not before Simone Leigh and a large share of her rebels, armed with stolen Avaline weaponry they sourced in Malin, were cruelly slain. More concerning, hundreds of Charentine lost their lives, and that number is only expected to grow.

    ¡°I cannot know how you feel about this, but for all your treachery, I never thought you so cruel as to take pleasure in such wanton slaughter. But then, were I capable of reading you correctly, I would still be in Malin. It is impossible not to consider the obvious conclusion when Levian attacks his High Priestess¡¯s enemies.¡±

    Camille¡¯s hand shook slightly at the obvious implication, refutable by no one but herself. The other councilors held their breath, awaiting her reaction, so Camille simply continued reading.

    ¡°Still, I cannot help but hope to prevail on your humanity. I believe an attack like this can never be allowed to happen again, and perhaps I am a fool, but I truly believe that you would feel the same.¡± Camille bit her lip, trying to discern his true intentions. ¡°You represent the Fox-King¡¯s government in Malin, and the spirit Levian. I have control of Charenton, and can speak for Avalon. We have much to offer Malin, from assurances to technology to resources, and a vested interest in preventing future slaughter. I am ready to discuss terms if you are.

    ¡°Join me in Charenton before year¡¯s end and we can work out the details. I guarantee you safe passage and conduct in and out of the city, though I must warn that the accommodations may not be up to your usual standards. I¡¯m afraid our premiere hotel was reduced to rubble in the attack.

    ¡°Sincerely,

    Lucifer Grimoire, Prince of Darkness¡±

    Camille let the paper flutter down to the table, dropping her hand to her side. ¡°It¡¯s unbelievable, the faith he claims to have in my good intentions.¡± Heartwarming, if only for an instant. ¡°And I mean that literally. I do not believe him.¡±

    ¡°Nor I,¡± Mordred agreed. ¡°We stabbed him in the back, and now he¡¯s setting himself up to do the same to us. Thanks to you and Scott, his word and reputation is already worthless. What more would it add to blow us to dust the moment we arrive? It would solve his rebel problem and make up for his failure in Malin.¡±

    ¡°You really think Luce would do that?¡± Simon raised an eyebrow. ¡°We¡¯ve seen what he does with power, and it mostly amounts to sitting in his workshop with the door locked. He¡¯s hardly a schemer.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s surprised me before,¡± Boothe said.

    Camille nodded. ¡°That was then, this is now. The Luce I know would have gone home to sulk and barricaded himself in his workshop. Instead, he seized power in Charenton and set himself to crushing the Lyrion League. If he¡¯s made it this far, he must be colder, more pragmatic, hardened against the risk of any future betrayal.¡± I want to believe it so badly, but this is the last person in the world who would ever trust my good intentions. ¡°Mordred, in our honorable society, we hold safe passage and guest protections sacrosanct; else no diplomacy could ever occur. Does Avalon hold the same values?¡±

    ¡°It did.¡± Mordred shook his head slowly. ¡°But Harold Grimoire was a hard man for hard times, and he took advantage of those norms on countless occasions. You saw it yourself in Guerron, where he was a guest of the Duke and didn¡¯t hesitate to exploit that, even stooping to murder. With such a monster at the head of the serpent, his beloved father, no less, I can¡¯t say that such values would hold Luce back.¡±

    ¡°Not a bad trap,¡± Eloise said. ¡°Invite your enemies in to blow themselves up, and hope they¡¯re stupid enough to accept. Maybe he hasn¡¯t changed that much.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what the carrot is for, to dazzle us into missing the whip behind his back.¡± Simon sighed. ¡°But if there¡¯s even a grain of truth to what he¡¯s offering¡­ Even two or three scientists lent to our efforts could massively speed up production; a few of the right schematics, a loan, perhaps even coal? Avalon is engaged in a two-front war right now; might they not finally be taking the sensible approach and shoring up peace with us?¡±

    ¡°Avalon might,¡± Camille agreed. ¡°But Luce has no interest in their other fronts, and protecting the Avaline war effort isn¡¯t his aim. He wants the threat of Levian gone. The threat of me, eliminated. That¡¯s true even if he¡¯s telling the truth, let alone in the more likely event that this is a trap.¡±

    Boothe nodded. ¡°Despite Eloise¡¯s protestations to the contrary, this is a surprisingly brilliant gambit. Certainly, nothing his countrymen would ever consider. Beckett Williams would be leading an army south, while King Harold would probably already be slipping into Malin to assassinate you. No one else would have the credibility to even attempt such a ruse of diplomacy, either. He¡¯s trading on his unique advantages.¡±

    Annette snorted dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s hardly all that brilliant when we can defeat it by simply refusing him. So long as no one is sent into his trap, all it amounts to is a letter worth less than the soggy paper it¡¯s written on.¡±

    ¡°Can we afford to overlook the possibilities?¡± Simon asked. ¡°I hardly want to put anyone at risk, but what he¡¯s offering could make all the difference in the world. Shouldn¡¯t we at least send someone to treat with him?¡±

    ¡°You volunteering, slick?¡± Eloise laughed. ¡°I bet he¡¯d love to see you again after you sided with Camille here.¡±

    Simon coughed, awkwardly looking away without outright refusing.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought. Fact is, he¡¯s got a grudge against everyone sitting at this table, other than the Duchess. None of us are likely to survive the trip.¡±

    ¡°Then couldn¡¯t we send someone expendable?¡± Simon asked hesitantly. ¡°Then we¡¯d be the ones who come out fine either way.¡±

    Camille buried her face in her hands. ¡°Do you know anyone you¡¯d trust to negotiate international diplomacy who wouldn¡¯t be missed if Luce detonated a bomb under their seat? Because I don¡¯t. Not to mention the insult of sending an underling getting things off on the wrong foot from the start. We¡¯d have about as little to gain as if we sent no one at all.¡±

    ¡°Then send no one!¡± Annette shook her head, clicking her tongue. ¡°You knew the man, so perhaps you cannot see it, but this is nothing more than a distraction! We have urgent business to resolve in Guerron, and can¡¯t afford to endanger diplomats with this lunacy. The Prince of Darkness¡¯s word is dirt, and trusting it would be the height of foolishness.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll have a surprise in store. I have no doubt about that.¡± Boothe wavered, melancholy writ plain on his face. ¡°He was always the king¡¯s favorite, always the recipient of his love and wisdom. He¡¯s not a cruel man, but if he thought it were for the greater good? For a better world?¡± He nodded slowly, seemingly more to himself than the other councilors. ¡°After what we did, knowing who we are, he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to kill us all, if he thought it was the right thing to do.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re right.¡± Camille sighed. For all that he lost the city, he was still canny enough to secure his escape with a lie: ¡°Be right back.¡± And now he thinks I ordered a massacre of his city, and knows how precarious a position the Empire is in, the power and influence Avalon can wield against us. ¡°We should assume anyone sent to Charenton will not return.¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± Annette sat back in her chair. ¡°Then if we can return to the topic at hand¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll leave tomorrow,¡± Camille interrupted. ¡°Annette, write to Lucien on the ?le d¡¯Artres and inform him that I¡¯ve left and he may return. Until he does, you and Simon are in charge.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she sputtered. ¡°Camille, you can¡¯t. We all just agreed it¡¯s a trap! You could die.¡±

    Mordred and Eloise exchanged a knowing look.

    ¡°This is my decision, and it¡¯s final. When I return, if there¡¯s still work to be done against the Guerron rebels, I¡¯ll keep my promise to you.¡± Though I¡¯ll never get the chance. This is a better way to spend my final days, negotiating for Malin¡¯s future instead of tearing our Empire apart from within, setting a betrayal to rights one way or another instead of terrorizing a city I called home for seventeen years.

    And if Luce blows my head off the moment I arrive, that would be no less than I deserve.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming too,¡± Boothe announced, prompting bewildered looks from the entire table. ¡°I¡¯m the most familiar with explosives, and I have the greatest chance at spotting the trap in time to disarm or avoid it.¡±

    Eloise let out an aborted laugh. ¡°After which he¡¯ll point thirty guns at you and fire them until you¡¯re nothing but sweetbreads on the ground.¡± She turned her head away, contemplating her words, then faced Mordred. ¡°If you get the chance? Tell him I¡¯m s¡ª¡± Her thin lips curled inward. ¡°I¡¯m glad he survived the coup.¡±

    ¡°You have my word,¡± Boothe swore.

    ¡°This is folly,¡± Annette warned. ¡°And folly at a time Malin can ill afford to lose you. What about the Code Leclaire?¡±

    ¡°Cynette Fields has all of the language ready, and I¡¯ve reviewed it to my satisfaction. As soon as Lucien returns, he can sign it without any need for me.¡± Perhaps I might even live to see it, though it¡¯s far from likely.

    ¡°Your bravery is without peer, Lady Leclaire, as is your commitment to your peoples¡¯ future,¡± Simon said, a look of awe lighting up his face. ¡°I hope dearly for your safe return.¡±

    ¡°So do I,¡± Camille assured him, knowing it to be a lie.

 Florette XIII: The Impressed

    Florette XIII: The Impressed

    I shouldn¡¯t have done that, Florette thought, not quite managing to muster the regret she knew she ought to have. All this time lying and hiding had an excitement to it, especially once the Blue Bandit had entered the scene, but it was impossible to escape the isolation in it. Only Chistophe even knew her real name, and he still didn¡¯t really know her; he just admired what she¡¯d done to Glaciel¡¯s greatest foe and was willing to help in return.

    Playing the role of Srin Sabine was about to get a lot more stressful, if Lord Monfroy¡¯s boasts about ¡°owning¡± her were anything more than empty words. The struggling Mamela student was now under the thumb of some aristocratic creep.

    But is that really much different from before? As the cold light of day shone through the apartment window, illuminating a crisp windy street in the waning days of the year, Florette felt a quiet calm. The Autumn Spring, such as it had been, would soon give way to another winter when the world had scarcely just recovered from the last.

    But this time, the sun will still shine during the day. Compared to half a year ago, it would even be mild by comparison. Life would go on, including hers. No problem was unsolvable, and it was impossible to be sure how bad Monfroy¡¯s ominous impressment would even prove to be.

    Srin Sabine¡¯s predicament was similar. At the end of the day, she wasn¡¯t Florette, just a tool for Florette to use against Avalon. Monfroy had already had enormous leverage over the false identity as the holder of massive loans, now he just also had the threat of an arrest over head. Either way, refusing his requests would have probably been an unacceptable risk; either way, he could make her life extremely difficult if he cared to.

    But not mine. Stealing swords was one thing, but if Monfroy really pushed his luck, asked her to go too far in service of his ends, to commit some wrong greater than the good she could accomplish embedded in Avalon¡­ Well, Florette had ways to handle the problem, one way or another. Fleeing, if all else failed.

    Though she was hardly eager to consider that as a solution. Too many people had died to get her here.

    ¡°You seem pensive,¡± Rebecca noted as she buttoned the front of her shirt. ¡°Anything to worry about?¡±

    Florette shrugged, not bothering to hide her stare. ¡°Just a problem to deal with. Nothing I can¡¯t handle.¡± She smiled. ¡°This helped, more than you could possibly know.¡±

    Though Rebecca¡¯s back was turned, just enough of her face was visible that Florette could see her eyes scrunch up in a frown. ¡°I¡¯m glad I could be your glass of laudanum. And if it¡¯s what you need, I¡¯m happy to just¡­ let this be what it was. But if not, it¡¯d be nice to know what¡¯s going on with you.¡±

    Well, as far as you know, my father¡¯s dying, so surely that explains most of it? Drawing on that lie here felt grimy, though, so instead Florette simply asked, ¡°What do you mean?¡± genuinely not knowing the answer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ You were acting really strange at the gala, sending me mixed messages, and then you kinda disappeared. I¡¯m not saying I necessarily believe him, but my dad said he caught you stealing a sword from one of the closed off exhibits because you were too paranoid to trust the guards. I mean, I guess you were right since the Bandit attacked, but the whole thing is still bizarre.¡±

    ¡°What are you insinuating?¡± How does it look to you?

    ¡°Nothing.¡± Rebecca grabbed her hand. ¡°I just want to know what¡¯s going on so I can help, if I can. At least talk through the problem. People always say I¡¯m good with advice.¡±

    As smart as Rebecca was, Florette could believe it. And she¡¯d already crossed one line she¡¯d promised herself she wouldn¡¯t. Still, telling the truth here had too high a chance of ensuring that all those people had died for nothing.

    As much as it would have been nice to be able to speak honestly for once.

    ¡°My father¡¯s dead,¡± Florette said after a moment¡¯s consideration. Give her as much as I can, at least. That was only fair. ¡°Lord Monfroy told me last night.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± Florette nodded to herself, realizing how to frame this as honestly as she could afford to. ¡°I didn¡¯t really know him, to be honest. Ever since I got here, everyone¡¯s been telling me ¡®Sorry about your father¡¯ but I only realized he existed recently. It felt like they were talking about someone else¡¯s father more than mine.¡±

    Rebecca¡¯s lips curled inward as she considered her next words. ¡°I felt the same way about my cousin, Eddie. He grew up across the sea with my uncle, so I¡¯d only met him a few times before Robin Verrou killed him. Even when he got to the College, we never really talked. I wish we had, but he wasn¡¯t much more than a stranger, and I can¡¯t ever tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°Like you¡¯re only an imposter.¡±

    Rebecca let out a small chuckle, gone almost as soon as it began. ¡°Do you know why I¡¯m here, Sabine? I convinced my dad that the tools of our enemies couldn¡¯t be left on the table, that we need to take advantage of every resource we could.¡±

    ¡°Enemies?¡± The Empire?

    ¡°Scientists. A hundred years ago, the Williams¡¯ were kings, now we¡¯re the lowest rung of nobility above mere knights. Cambria swallowed Oxton whole and called it Avalon. They pushed the binders to the side just as the spirits they drew their power from fighting were fading away. Father¡¯s hardly the only one still bitter about it. And without the King here to mediate between them and the scientists, this war is the only thing keeping everyone pointed in the same direction.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re here?¡± So you¡¯re stealing secrets to use against them too? Propping up traditionalist binders like Baron Williams might manage to be an even worse cause than the scientists headed straight to the Tower.

    ¡°It¡¯s why my father thinks I¡¯m here, how I convinced him to send me. I came to the College because I wanted to learn.¡± She flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the night sky were unfolding before her. ¡°We¡¯re deciphering the fundamental forces of the universe, taking the world apart and learning to turn it to our ends.¡±

    ¡°I love seeing you so passionate about this,¡± Florette said, examining her slightly reddening face. Even if that exact ambition means the wrongs your country¡¯s science can enact far outweigh a few evil binders. ¡°Getting a bit ahead of yourself with ¡®we¡¯ though, aren¡¯t you? We¡¯re still in school.¡±

    ¡°Bah!¡± Rebecca waved her hand dismissively. ¡°Already, I can mix a few compounds together and harness the energy within to tear a ship apart from the inside, to create an explosion visible from miles away. The Crown Prince himself tapped me for the pyrotechnics for his New Year¡¯s party, but it¡¯s capable of so much more than that. We can shape the very earth spirit to our liking, limited only by time and imagination.¡±

    Tear apart a ship, huh? Florette was somewhat skeptical that the prince had only wanted that for a show at his party, though he had the whole of Avalon to draw on if he¡¯d simply wanted a bomb for his war. Either way, poking at it isn¡¯t likely to go well. Something to look into at another time.

    ¡°Father believes in strength and tradition, but that time has passed. You don¡¯t have to look any further than the Murder Twins.¡±

    ¡°The¡­ murder twins?¡± Is Avalon even trying to avoid sounding as evil as possible? ¡°I take it they¡¯re not known for their poetry?¡±

    Rebecca laughed. ¡°Right, probably sounds strange if you aren¡¯t familiar. They¡¯re just two of my father¡¯s apprentices: Klein and Clarine Rivough, masters of the sacred twin artifacts. Some notoriety from a few years ago when they slaughtered every last pirate on a ship trying to board a merchant vessel in the Bay of Vellum, but you weren¡¯t here yet. When my brother inherits Oxton, they¡¯re sworn to serve at his side. In the meantime, my father sent them south to babysit the air fleet and hopefully pick up the family gauntlet we lent to the king.

    ¡°Even that doesn¡¯t have unlimited power though. After a century, they might very well be going after scraps. And their specialty in sealing magic is the kind of thing that has them make themselves more obsolete the more successful they are. Avalon is already basically empty of spirits, or they wouldn¡¯t be flying to the other side of the world to try to look useful.¡± Rebecca rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s such a waste, putting all that time and effort into training and equipping a couple people that a bomb could snuff out in a second. Everyone¡¯s talking about the airships burning Micheltaigne to the ground, but no journal has even mentioned that two of my father¡¯s apprentices were on the ships taking part in the fight. No matter how well trained, no matter what magic they stole from spirit corpses, their impact is fundamentally limited. Their outlook, even moreso.¡±

    ¡°Whereas Avaline scientists are clear-eyed and humble?¡±

    Rebecca frowned. ¡°You¡¯re training to be one too, you know. This isn¡¯t just a way to get a job, it¡¯s a place where you can actually learn how to think, to solve the most complex problems, to really understand the underlying forces of the universe. Binders think they can stand alone against the world¡ªthat¡¯s how the king ended up kidnapped in Guerron¡ªbut scientists collaborate and document. We don¡¯t just win the fight; we can change the world.¡±

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Probably not a good time to mention that I¡¯m technically a binder. Florette still had the Ring of Glaciel on her, in fact, though she wasn¡¯t wearing it in an effort to avoid turning her feet into impossible-to-explain talons of ice.

    ¡°Sorry, we were talking about you, not me.¡± Rebecca sat up, looking Florette dead in the eyes. ¡°Even meeting him so recently, it can¡¯t be easy to lose your father.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, but it¡¯s not that. Count Savian was deep in debt to Monfroy, among others, and now that¡¯s my burden to bear. Monfroy said he owns me now, and I have to watch him gather his Twilight Society in Mahabali Hall. He wouldn¡¯t even let me take a different boat.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible!¡± Her eyes bent with compassion, and perhaps a smack of confusion. ¡°I had no idea Savian¡¯s finances were so bad. It¡¯s obvious you grew up poor; I¡¯ve seen how you are around money, like you don¡¯t really understand it, but I thought the Count¡­ I don¡¯t know much about the western isles, but the Srin family is an ancient and distinguished line.¡±

    ¡°Old money so old there isn¡¯t any left,¡± Florette explained, employing words that Savian himself had bitterly used to explain his situation on the boat ride over. ¡°That¡¯s not really the problem. I just have to be careful about Monfroy. He¡¯s having me do jobs for him to pay it off, but so far it hasn¡¯t been anything I couldn¡¯t handle.¡± She paused, weighing her next words. ¡°If that changes, I might need to find a way out. Now you¡¯ll know why.¡±

    There. About as straightforward as I can be, under the circumstances. ¡°This helped,¡± she added, honestly. ¡°Sorry if I¡¯ve been weird.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯d love to help, if there¡¯s anything I can do.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t think there is, anyway. Nothing for it but meeting Monfroy at the harbor and seeing what he wants.¡± And if I don¡¯t like the sound of it, doing something about it. ¡°I think it should be pretty easy for a little while, at least. He mostly wanted Count Savian¡¯s house for his club meeting, and it seems like all I have to do is show up.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s that simple, but you won¡¯t know until you go.¡± Rebecca leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you get back.¡±

    Assuming I do. ¡°Definitely.¡±

    ?

    The boat ride had been fairly short, at least, and Monfroy hadn¡¯t tried to talk to her during the trip. With the deluge flooding the decks every waking moment, Florette had mostly just stayed locked in her cabin reading Kelsey¡¯s book, The Mists of Lethe.

    It wasn¡¯t a favorite, exactly. Having the main character be so unlikeable made it a bit hard to get through, even if the shiftiness of the world around her did some work to obscure it sometimes. The setting, Pheme, was a bit like Cambria, wealth and power hiding rot and evil, but more glamorous and less destructive to the larger world, not that that was much comfort to the children swallowed inside it. It was still a nice gesture from Kelsey, sharing an obviously used copy he¡¯d probably read through a hundred times himself.

    Port Chaya, on the other hand, was much more impressive. A massive bridge stretched over the gate to the harbor, three steeply slanted pyramids stretching up above the stone. Florette heard some of the sailors complaining about the old bridge, not designed to let modern ships pass comfortably underneath it, but their cautious speed allowed her a good look at the intricate decorations carved into every inch of the towers. The paint was heavily faded, but the echoes of bright colors were still there if you looked carefully, paled reds and oranges that lit up the dreary harbor.

    Each tower had three figures sitting cross-legged on an ornate throne, inset several feet into the tower, looking down at the crowded mass of ships pulling into the city they guarded. Some were holding scepters or staves, some had hats twice as tall as their heads, and several didn¡¯t have heads at all.

    The figures were impressive in their own right, but the entire tower was carved into the shape of people and figures, each scaled and proportioned realistically, supporting each other in a massive human tower to the grey skies above. Looking closer, Florette could even see some that had the heads of a bird or a striped cat or multiple faces looking different ways from the same head.

    Mahabali Hall was far enough away that Monfroy had to supervise a lengthy unloading process for all his various furniture and art at the docks, especially with the steep hill stretching up from the coast that it would need to be hauled up. Fortunately, that meant that Florette was left to her own devices until they settled in for dinner at sunset.

    Monfroy probably knew she had nowhere to run on this island, unless she felt like stealing a ship.

    Which wouldn¡¯t be beyond my skillset, I don¡¯t think, but I wouldn¡¯t be able to navigate to any islands farther than the horizon, let alone back across the Lyrion Sea. It wouldn¡¯t be productive either. For now all she had to do was pay attention and wait, which ought to be easy.

    Accordingly, Florette tried to keep an ear out after she disembarked, remembering Alcock¡¯s assignment to better learn about ¡®her¡¯ ancestral homeland, and most people seemed happy to oblige her. Certainly, they were more friendly than Cambrians, at least.

    The path up was a long one, considering that the Hall was supposed to be above the city, so Florette took her time, grabbing a sea green bandana to tie up her hair, which had been whipping into her face all day. Why not spend the money, when Monfroy was going to keep her under his thumb no matter how much debt she paid down?

    Her next stop was a bakery just above the harbor, selling some kind of spicy stuffed pastry she could carry with her as she trekked up. She asked the boy behind the counter about the headless statues, struggling to hide her accent, and was pleased to see him respond. ¡°Yeah, they used to be spirits. Khali, Master of Darkness, Pantera the Undying, Eulus the Stormbringer. There¡¯s more, but I don¡¯t know the names.¡± Probably the storekeeper¡¯s son, he looked maybe 15 or 16, alternating between animated excitement and suspicious looks out the window. ¡°The Inferno Arion had them bashed off when he raided Chaya. He assaulted our shores for three days, but each evening we beat them back, until their soggy ships limped back to Cambria.¡±

    Presumably, the statues left intact had been too high up for the Inferno to reach in time, which Florette and the whole city could be grateful for. An Arion was the first governor of Malin too, the Butcher of the Foxtrap. He¡¯d been the one Captain Whitbey reported to when he killed the original Blue Bandit, so apparently being evil to the core ran in the family.

    According to a headless statue of the Inferno himself a little deeper into the city, they¡¯d actually limped back to Fortescue rather than Cambria, but that didn¡¯t make much difference now. Thanks to an insufferably pretentious book from the library called The Precipitous Rise of United Avalon, used for the drudge work Professor Alcock had excused her from, Florette knew that the Isle of Shadows had officially joined with Avalon in Year 50, Age of Gleaming, but it wasn¡¯t hard to see the bad blood between east and west stretching back to long before that.

    Especially now that Cambria took the lord¡¯s portion of their colonial wealth and used it to weather the Darkness while leaving the western isles out in the cold. Even this many months into the sun¡¯s return, the streets had an eerie emptiness to them, ominousness only magnified by the distant plume of smoke drifting into the sky from up the hill. No one answered directly when Florette asked about it, but it wasn¡¯t hard to guess.

    Still, the city lived, and every old man reading a journal in a caf¨¦ or group of children bouncing a ball off the wall was proof of that. Small alleyways with long staircases crossed up and down the hillside, suddenly giving way to magnificent seaside views without any warning. Every inch was built out with a house or a shop or a tiny park, a lopsided fountain dribbling down one side. Florette knew there was supposed to be a forest up on the ridge, but she couldn¡¯t even see it from down here, let alone Srin Savian¡¯s Hall.

    Really, it didn¡¯t resemble Enquin at all, but the sheer verticality was something Florette hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d missed. It wasn¡¯t often she thought about Enquin at all. They¡¯re even trying to resist withering away and dying too. Hopefully they have better luck. Considering how much she was panting even at the halfway point, apparently her body had fallen out of practice climbing too.

    The higher she ascended, the more the shops gave way to houses¡ªsmall cottages of a similar size, at first, but larger and larger the further she went up the hill. The narrow passages and stairways gave way to wider paths, exposed to the air, with a precarious drop looming beneath them. Higher into the hills, a metal railing started guarding the edge, clearly a later addition for the scared well-to-do, but Florette had to concede that for a carriage in the rain, staying clear of the edge wouldn¡¯t be quite so trivial as it was for her.

    Fortunately, the rain had let up in the morning, so Monfroy¡¯s carriages only had to contend with the existing slick ground as they trotted by. One of the drivers offered Florette a ride, but she was happy to be on her own for a bit, happy to feel the soothing pain in her legs as she took in the new city. A few minutes in, the sun even poked its head out, warming up the windy cliffs and drying off any lingering dampness from the morning.

    Mahabali Hall was, if anything, even cooler than the city beneath it. The grounds were massive, stretching from the cliffs back to the edge of the forest behind them, and seemed to be reclaiming the land from the buildings erected atop it. Several were clearly abandoned, with vines and verdure entwined with the stone, and one tower even had an entire roof collapsed in on itself. On closer inspection, a family of birds had made their home there, despite the dark patrolling cats that seemed to be everywhere.

    One of the outbuildings had that same abandoned look, yet had a carriage parked outside it anyway, which merited a closer look.

    Florette poked her head in and was shocked to find Cordelia, Robin Verrou¡¯s shipmaster, dressed in the garb of a doctor. ¡°Oh, good, I heard you¡¯d be coming. Here, make yourself useful, would you?¡± She held out a basket to Florette, its contents jingling with the motion.

    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Hesitantly, Florette took the basket, glancing down inside it to find a collection of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, along with other jewelry. ¡°What are we doing, exactly? I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d still be here.¡±

    ¡°Swapping the accessories out.¡± Cordelia pointed a finger towards a person-shaped box up on the table. ¡°I found someone in town that sells fakes, and it¡¯s not like the real ones are going to do him any good.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Of course they¡¯d need a body for the departure rites; I didn¡¯t think about that. Considering how unhesitant Verrou had been to kill students to free up a slot, Florette didn¡¯t want to think too hard about who¡¯d be Savian¡¯s replacement in the ground. ¡°That will convince them? It looks believable?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s absolutely nothing to worry about.¡± Cordelia nodded sagely. ¡°At a later time, I expect a full debrief of your progress, and any valuables or schematics you¡¯ve obtained so far. I know it can¡¯t be easy to keep things safe in your position.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Not that I really have much of anything, yet. But I¡¯ll figure it out. ¡°Why are you still here, though? I thought the plan was just to keep up appearances until Savian ¡®died¡¯, then get back to the Seaward Folly. There¡¯s not really anything left for you to do here.¡± Stealing from the dead aside, I mean.

    ¡°This is a delicate operation, and I needed to see it through. Once Savian¡¯s in the ground, I¡¯ll take my leave, rest assured. I doubt Monfroy would take me on as his doctor, and remaining embedded with whatever steward he leaves in this place would be a waste of my valuable time. Here, grab his anklet.¡±

    Cautiously, Florette approached the table, girding herself to look at the latest victim of her infiltration scheme.

    The Srin Savian lying dead in the box was utterly indistinguishable from the man Florette had met, body adorned with a mix of real and fake jewelry. ¡°How did you get a fake that looks this good?¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Cordelia laughed. ¡°That¡¯s him in there. No point in keeping him around as a risk, and we got to make it convincing, right?¡±

 Laura IX: In Free Fall

    Laura IX: In Free Fall

    Laura stared down at the ominous black ship rising up to meet her, reinforcements for the armada she¡¯d just about decimated. Actually, that¡¯s only a tenth, and I got more like a fifth. A little better, at least, though it wasn¡¯t exactly worth dying for.

    Surrounded by ice, it was hard to see too much below, but Laura tried to aim directly for the top of the mysterious black airship, hoping to find a seam to split with a well timed slice of fire. Her icy decoys fell beside her, shattering one by one as Avaline pistols blasted them apart. Three, then two, then one.

    A streak of silver cut across the sky, rising from the top of the ship. The trail lingered briefly in the air before fading away, rising above the last decoy as it crumbled away, shattered by whatever attack had left the trail.

    A new pistol? Perhaps the reinforcements had brought something better suited to picking her out of the sky. Though the streak of light was definitely strange. If so, though, it was strange that the thundering fire of the other guns stopped just after. Before, they¡¯d only done that when Laura had maneuvered them to endanger their own fleet if they did, and even then, not once her commandeered ship was considered lost.

    But if the silver streak came from the black ship, the reinforcements, and the rest don¡¯t want to risk shooting it¡­

    The moment she realized, Laura melted through her icy cover with a hot swing of her sword, intercepting the thrust of a silver sword just in time to stop it from gutting her. Behind the weapon was a slender woman with short blonde hair contained in a gold headband, dark circles under her eyes, a white and gold cape flapping in the wind behind her. And if it¡¯s her attacking on the downward stroke, she was one slashing upwards as well.

    As for the eyes, perhaps it was a consequence of the magic, draining her energy? Maybe she just didn¡¯t sleep very well? Laura was just starting to compare her to a racoon when the girl pulled her sword back, diving down beneath Laura then swinging it back upwards for another thrust.

    Perhaps I¡¯ll get a real fight after all, Laura thought as she blasted herself up and away from the tip of the sword. It was time to slow down anyway, unless she wanted to be scraped off the black ship when it landed. Laura swung down again, trying to level off enough for a safe landing, but something knocked her off course at angle as another silver streak filled the air. And the weight was wrong.

    She looked down to see the racoon girl¡¯s hand gripped tightly around Laura¡¯s ankle, her left already readying the sword.

    Laura matched the swing with her own, firing out a burst of flame just in time to land safely-ish atop of the black ship, the impact finally enough to knock the racoon girl free.

    ¡°I like your sword,¡± Laura tried, pulling herself up and holding out her own. ¡°Even if mine¡¯s better. It was a gift from the new Hearth Spirit, infused with his magic, so I can hardly blame you that¡ª¡±

    Another silver streak curved up as the girl traveled upwards hundreds of feet in an instant, cleaving the airship above them in half. Another streak curved downwards, stopping just short of the black ship as the racoon girl landed facing Laura, wearing the same dead-eyed expression she¡¯d used in the air.

    ¡°Siglinde, the sacred twin of light,¡± Laura heard from behind her, whipping around to see a short-haired blonde man, shockingly similar to the racoon girl in his angular features yet lacking her characteristic sunken eyes. ¡°It¡¯s said it can rend apart the very heavens.¡± He threw his cape back, letting its black and blue catch the wind. ¡°It¡¯s a privilege that you Imperial scum can even witness it, an honor to watch your legs twist in the wind as your upper half grasps futilely for life!¡±

    Laura laughed, igniting her sword. ¡°A cleaver of the skies, and they sent you to babysit a few balloons? I¡¯m quaking in my boots.¡± Still, she surveyed the binder cautiously, trying to assess his capabilities. ¡°You certainly took your time showing up. I¡¯ve already decimated your precious fleet twice over, and now you¡¯ve given me a shiny black pearl as the crown jewel of the set.¡±

    The man smiled, a dark spear coalescing in hands from the shadows. ¡°The King¡¯s floating masterpiece, the Aerial Armada. But it pales in comparison to the power of binding!¡± He threw the spear towards Laura, slow enough for her to swipe it aside with her sword, but the flames dimmed where the darkness touched it. ¡°You cultists are tyrants and fools, but still you give the might of the spirits¡¯ magic the respect it deserves. Our duel shall be one for the ages, the legendary clash between the Moonstrike and a wicked pirate of the skies!¡±

    I never fancied myself a pirate, but I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re more concerned with stealing ships and cargo than sinking the entire fleet. ¡°Then prepare yourself, for you face the last sage of Flammare!¡± She could have given her full introduction; a proper duel would make for a better death, in theory, but Laura found that she didn¡¯t want to give this guy the satisfaction.

    She threw flame in his direction, more to test his response than out of any expectation it would make a difference, but rather than reveal his capabilities, he merely rolled aside, letting it singe the edge of his cape.

    Maybe he doesn¡¯t have a good answer to it?

    Laura took that as cue, throwing crescent after crescent with her sword, advancing on the Avaline binder with every slash, waiting for a display of magic or perhaps a pained cry, but neither came.

    When the flames cleared her sightline, Laura saw that the man had remained in place, holding what looked like a bottle of perfume in one hand and his nearly-unused dark lance in the other. A dark cloud hung in the air around him, seemingly protecting him from the fire.

    But my flames are a pure expression of magic, not a simple object. Laura leapt towards him once more, this time drawing on the sword for ice to knock him clear of the ship.

    Sure enough, the cloud didn¡¯t stop it, though the binder still managed to jump over the projectile.

    That¡¯s fine. Now I know how to get you.

    Laura continued towards him with slash after slash, forcing him back further and further towards the sloping edges of the airship, some kind of fall increasingly inevitable as he ran out of stable ground.

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, it¡¯s nice to have a real duel again. I¡¯ve been stuck picking off foot soldiers and equipment for far too long. It¡¯s nice to stretch my legs again. If you¡ª¡±

    Laura roared with pain as another silver flash streaked across her vision, a bloody gash opening over her ribcage.

    ¡°Klein, we talked about this,¡± the racoon girl uttered in a low voice, stepping closer to Laura as the other binder pulled back from the edge. ¡°You have to stop wasting time with theatrics. We find what she knows about the Gauntlet, and then we kill her.¡±

    ¡°Well¡ª¡± Laura winced, trying to ignore her wound. ¡°That doesn¡¯t exactly make me want to talk.¡± Stepping carefully, Laura walked backwards, trying to move out from the middle of the two of them without slipping down the balloon. ¡°What Gauntlet, anyway?¡±

    Laura felt her back writhe with pain as the scars from fighting Tauroneo reopened with a silver flash, fighting to stay upright. The stitches in her shoulder ripped open in the same instant, the fire twisting its way up her arm; weeks of injuries were back in full force, trying to pull Laura back into the abyss.

    ¡°Clarine! We didn¡¯t even ask her yet!¡± Klein swept his arm dramatically, pulling out the same bottle from his belt. He unscrewed the lid as his sister pulled a white paper fan inscribed with crescent patterns from her own.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know anything. No reason to keep her alive.¡± She waved the fan above the bottle, and Laura tried her best to ready herself for some kind of wind attack through the pain, but it never came. Instead, a whirling sphere of air surrounded the black ship, instantly killing the roar of the wind and dimming the sun. It lingered even after the racoon girl put the fan back and reached for her sword.

    ¡°Agh.¡± Laura bent over, her back on fire. She felt her nails digging into her fist, fighting to keep her hand from going numb, fighting to deny them the satisfaction of crying out in pain. ¡°I know! I totally know!¡± What was that artifact that Fernan said the bard fought Aurelian with, again? ¡°The Gauntlet of Euler. Magnifico had it!¡±

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Eulus,¡± Klein corrected. ¡°But you¡¯ve obviously heard of it.¡±

    Clarine¡¯s face curled into a frown. ¡°Wonderful. Now we have to interrogate you.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been graced with an invaluable opportunity, dear sister, a trail to our master¡¯s birthright delivered right to our door!¡± His fist closed, the dark lance dispersing back into the shadows. ¡°Girl, allow us to introduce ourselves! Pupils of the Binder Dominant, loyal knights of Oxton, and masters of the sacred twins! You dirty pirates ought to cower before us and beg for mercy and trust in the honor of Rivough.¡± He fell silent for a moment, then directed a glare at his sister.

    ¡°I refuse to lower myself to this pageantry.¡±

    Laura grasped her sword with white knuckles as she gauged the distance, anticipating only one shot.

    Klein frowned. ¡°So spoke Lady Clarine Sophara Rivough, the Sunflash, master of the sacred twin of light!¡±

    Pushing through the pain, Laura leveled her sword at the Avaline twins, winding back for a rod of ice that would knock them clean off the ship. ¡°And I am Laura Eug¨¨nie Bougitte, pupil of the very sun in the sky!¡± She slashed her sword, conjuring forth a line of ice that¡ª

    Didn¡¯t come out.

    Klein smiled. ¡°They told us about your little tricks. Fire and ice, opposed domains joined in one. Fitting, for the traitor cultist of a fire monster, but you will find that your fell sorceries have no power here. Harvested from the great Lepus himself, Leputian Cordial blots out all magic it touches, and thanks to the Crescent Fan, even the rushing wind as we soar through the skies wasn¡¯t enough to save you from inhaling it.¡±

    Bullshit. Laura reversed swing, slashing back with fire hot enough to¡ª

    Sputter in the air for but an instant before being snuffed out.

    But I bet they don¡¯t about a sage¡¯s last resort. Inhaling deep, Laura let the air fill her lungs, then spat an inferno of life-fueled flame independent of the sword, a ball of fire hot enough to melt the flesh from¡­

    Nothing.

    Laura stared in horror at the pathetic puff that barely made it clear of her mouth. Spirits of Darkness could do things like this, she knew, blotting out magic with their domain just as Khali had the sun. But all of them had been exiled with her, their sages all banished or killed off over a hundred years ago. There¡¯d never been reason to think she¡¯d have to fight one, and no one to practice against even if she could.

    Of course, it shouldn¡¯t be a surprise that some Avaline fucks managed to steal the power from one as they herded the rest out the door. Somehow, Laura hadn¡¯t thought of it, and now it was costing her dearly. If I¡¯d known from the start, I could have closed the distance, used my strength against them with the blade¡¯s edge, magic or no¡­ But I might as well wish for Aurelian to come incinerate them for all the good that thinking will do.

    ¡°This is taking too long.¡± Clarine flashed to silver again, slowing to a stop in front of her, and Laura saw streaks of red lace across her fingers, Volobrin¡¯s sword falling to the ground in front of her. ¡°Talk, or die.¡±

    ¡°F-fuugghh,¡± Laura tried, failing to fully get out the ¡®fuck you¡¯, she¡¯d been going for.

    ¡°Fear not, degenerate. I, Klein Isaac Rivough, wielder of Sigmund, the sacred twin of darkness, vow that if you tell us all you know of the Gauntlet of Eulus, I shall make your death swift and painless! Far better than a vile cultist such as you deserves!¡±

    Funny, when I flew up here, that¡¯s more or less what I was hoping for. ¡°I¡ª¡± Laura sucked in air through her teeth, licking her lips to distract from the wounds of her flesh. ¡°I know your king brought it with him on his false mission of diplomacy to assassinate Duke Fouchand, and he lost it when we beat him and threw him in jail!¡± She spat. ¡°The two of you are destined for the same. That¡¯s all you¡¯re getting out of me!¡±

    ¡°A pity,¡± Clarine said, stabbing her twice through the chest. She lifted Laura over the edge of the ship with one hand as she wheezed for air. ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Laura replied by spitting blood in her face.

    Clarine shrugged, letting go. Laura just barely managed to see her wiping away the blood as she tumbled towards oblivion.

    Her entire body pulsated with furious fire, tearing her apart from within and without. The moment Laura felt her body pass the darkened threshold of the Crescent Fan¡¯s whirling bubble, she drew on her life once more, trying to roar enough fire to reverse her descent.

    But, of course, the same limp sputterings were all that came out, snatched by the rushing air before Laura could even regret her predicament. However long that dark cordial lasted, it was probably long enough to see her splat against the ground. The sword might have worked again outside the bubble, but it was lost, no use to her now.

    The binders above certainly believed so, or their soldiers would still be trying to shoot her out of the sky. Laura had never been less relieved not to be shot at.

    And why do I care? This is what I wanted, right? She might have hoped to destroy more of the ships, but sending so many of them crashing to the ground in flames was still a worthy accomplishment, a death to two unfamiliar binders nothing to be shamed by.

    In every way Laura could imagine, this is what she¡¯d been seeking ever since leaving Torpierre, the only way left to die with honor after failing everyone.

    Flammare, Valentine, Aurelian... It was easier to blame Fernan for everything, but it had been Laura who let them all down, choosing a shameful exile over a futile attempt to make things right. And now...

    As much as her life had been ruined, as bad as all her problems were, none of them seemed quite so bad as the fact that now she was plummeting to her death without the slightest hope of recovery.

    One final regret before the end. I could have done more. I should have. I chased a worthy death, but not a worthy life... Ever since Aurelian died, or maybe even before that. Meeting Lucien and Leclaire, perhaps. That horrific episode seemed as fitting an inflection point as any.

    Laura felt her face smack into the wet stormclouds, the air filled anew with the rolling rumbles of thunder as lightning split the air. If she was unlucky, a bolt would get her before she even reached the ground.

    Not that it would make a difference either way.

    Laura tried fire, again and again, willing more and more power from herself, until the blast would have killed her anyway had she succeeded, but all of it amounted to nothing, smothered in darkness.

    I¡¯m sorry, Aurelian, Valentine. Flammare... Perhaps not. She¡¯d tried to sway him countless times from the course that had provoked his death, all to no avail. The Hearth Spirit had been committed to his violent clash, heedless of the danger he was putting himself in. So perhaps it¡¯s fitting I was his sage. Soon enough, both of them would be naught but a memory.

    The rain stung as it impacted Laura¡¯s wounds, filling her face and eyes with water.

    But I want to keep going, damn it! What did it matter that soon her pain would be over, when everything else would be ending as well?

    A darkened shape lunged out of the sky, slowly catching up to her. Probably one of the binders coming to finish me off, though I¡¯m not sure why they¡¯d bother. The closer it got, the better it matched her speed, until they were falling together, the ground growing ever closer with every second.

    A flash of lightning briefly illuminated her pursuer, a hooded figure atop some kind of winged, white-feathered sloth, its limbs tucked in close to its belly. Laura scrambled for options, trying to prepare herself for at least one final spiteful attack, but the hooded figure¡¯s assault never came.

    The mount flew closer, snatching Laura in its claws before she could think of a way to fight back, then pulled out of the dive, veering up so sharply that Laura felt her blood flung free from her body through her many wounds.

    Whatever you want with me, you¡¯ll have to be quick. She didn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t fight back as the creature leveled off, swinging around for a course towards the Rhan. The riverbanks were flooded from the storm, one massive ship dashed to pieces floating with the currents, rising and falling with the water that carried them.

    But one ship was still afloat, a tiny thing headed east. Laura let out a weak laugh, feeling blood gurgle in her throat. The Piq?re de Moustique. Duchesne¡¯s ship.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t let you get my revenge for me,¡± the hooded figure said as her creature alighted on the ship. ¡°Nerio, help me carry her!¡±

    Nerio and Duchesne rushed to the deck of the ship, immediately soaked with rain, and together grabbed a limp Laura from the creature¡¯s claws.

    ¡°The soldiers in Fleuville will have seen that,¡± Duchesne complained in a low voice. ¡°My rates just doubled. I warned you not to go.¡±

    ¡°And I expressly forbid it!¡± Nerio added. ¡°Endangering yourself in that storm for some foolhardy sage is unbefitting of a princess! You have all of Micheltaigne to think of.¡±

    Duchesne¡¯s eyes lit up at the information. ¡°Tripled.¡±

    Nerio swore, shifting his grip on Laura, but his relief at his ward¡¯s return was clearly enough to offset his irritation.

    ¡°Princess...?¡± Laura croaked weakly as they set her down on a bed inside the cabin.

    Her rescuer lifted her hood, revealing the blue haired girl from the tavern, not exactly a surprise after seeing her knight here too. ¡°Princess Mars Ar¨¨se de Salhaute, last heir to the High King of Micheltaigne.¡± She bent down over the bed, grasping Laura¡¯s hand. ¡°You shamed me for fleeing, then took off into the storm. Mere minutes later, their wicked machines came crashing down in a rain of fire. I wasn¡¯t going to let you take them all on by yourself.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Laura rasped, feeling her consciousness slip away. ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡±

    Maybe I can thank you properly, if I ever wake up.

 Camille IX: The Wicked Sorceress

    Camille IX: The Wicked Sorceress

    In mere hours, Levian had rendered Charenton a ruin.

    Even on the outskirts, the stone walls had visible gouges, cracked and crumbled along with the gatehouse. Beyond the walls, a massive pit had formed, already more than half full of muddy water. And within the city¡¯s limits, it only got worse.

    The streets were still flooded to waist height in some places, their drainage system not built to account for a torrent like this. Simply making it to the central square took upwards of three hours of crossing back and forth through the southern region of the city, skirting around the new lake forming outside the city walls. For once, the encroaching Winter was a boon, since otherwise the air would no doubt be thick with mosquitos.

    A bad enough flood could do much of this to a city, though Charenton had never faced one nearly this severe, but it wouldn¡¯t have sliced through the foundation of the H?tel de Ville and sent its upper half crashing into the square, nor collapsed the opera house in on itself, recognizable in its rubble only because of a few less-shattered marble columns poking out of the debris.

    The harbor had practically disintegrated, docks reduced to driftwood scattered throughout the city. Occasionally some of the wood was even scorched, which Camille had no idea how to explain. It certainly couldn¡¯t have been Levian¡¯s direct work.

    Most of the flimsier houses weren¡¯t in any better condition. Sturdy stone monuments that hadn¡¯t caught Levian¡¯s personal attention could weather the flood, but shacks of thatch and wood didn¡¯t stand a chance. More than half of the buildings they passed looked irreparably damaged, and it only intensified the further in they went. As did the smell.

    Twice, to her great embarrassment, Camille had to call a halt and sneak off to relieve herself of stomach sickness, a problem with an easy solution that the frost had snatched from her fingers, as if only to make her final days more cruel.

    Levian did this using power my family gave him. Power I gave him.

    It was sunset by the time they reached their accommodations, quarters set aside on Anya Stewart¡¯s old ship that Luce had confiscated. With the docks reduced to flotsam, it had skirted around to the northern edge of the city and dropped its anchor as close to shore as the water¡¯s depth allowed, everyone remaining ferried to and fro with rowboats far too few in number for the volume of cargo piled on the beach, probably all that had survived Levian¡¯s assault.

    Past the cargo were rows upon rows of tents, starting white in color for several rows before turning motley greys and browns, the tents themselves half the size of their white counterparts. No doubt the constant back and forth from the ship involved supplying them, unless the flow of goods was going the other way.

    From the looks of the ridge over the beach, the entire city had sunk by several feet relative to the surrounding countryside, a fact Camille had confirmed when they ascended a shoddy wooden staircase up to exit Charenton¡¯s confines. From there it was a short boat ride to the newly renamed Progress, letters emblazoned on the side beneath the initials A.R.S.

    Keeping them out in the water would make it extremely easy to kill them, separated out from the rest of the city where an explosion couldn¡¯t do anymore damage, but if that was to be her fate, so be it. It would barely make any difference anyway.

    Camille unpacked her meager belongings from her valise, arranging a Leclaire Blue dress next to a sea green on the bed without being able to decide. The negotiations wouldn¡¯t begin until the next day, so she spent most of the next few hours reviewing the value charts Simon had made for her to assess exactly how much any potential technological or economic offers were worth while Mordred poked around the ship looking for traps.

    When he returned to her quarters, it was only to say that he hadn¡¯t found anything yet. However, he fully admitted that Luce was more than his match in this area, and could well have disguised a bomb amidst the heavily-modified workings of the ship¡¯s engines. Scant comfort, but that seemed to be the way of things these days.

    Whether it was a trap, Camille fully believed that these were the nicest accommodations left available for guests. Several floors were still closed off for cleaning or repairs¡ªor converted into makeshift dry storage¡ª, but the fact that it was intact at all was a remarkable testament to the threat posed by Avalon¡¯s technology. Seventeen years ago, their ironclad ships had crumpled and sunk when Levian¡¯s High Priest turned the water against them; now, apparently, they could even survive being in the vicinity of the spirit himself.

    Ill portent for the future, that they¡¯ve come so far in the time we spent desperately trying to get back to where we started. Camille could only hope that her reforms made a difference once she was gone, the push for new technologies getting the Empire onto a somewhat even footing before Magnifico died.

    Otherwise they¡¯d be crushed.

    They¡¯d arrived a day earlier than expected, largely because Camille and Jethro had ridden north on their own rather than bring a large procession into this panther¡¯s den from which there was very likely no escape, which meant that they had a day to kill in Charenton before the official negotiations began.

    Unaccustomed to this sort of aimless wandering¡ªto having free time in general after the last several months¡ªCamille rotely followed Mordred from the shore into the city, having to hold her nose the moment they left the beach.

    ¡°It¡¯s Leclaire!¡± she heard someone yell, pointing at her with rage in his face. ¡°Levian¡¯s sorceress!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the Witch of Dawn!¡±

    ¡°She did this!¡±

    Camille froze as they edged closer, staring at the advancing malcontents with a mix of guilt and resignation. I might as well have. One of them got close enough to spit on her, but he jumped back when Mordred stepped in front of her. He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it over the blue in her hair, trying to pull her out of the sight.

    Every person they passed had a dirty look for her, either withdrawing to avoid getting close or approaching to spit at her feet and condemn her, but despite their obvious hostility, none of them attacked her.

    Apparently they feared the Prince of Darkness more than they hated her, though it seemed to be a near thing.

    Eventually, they made it far enough that Camille wasn¡¯t recognized, and the sodden survivors stopped directing their complaints directly at her, but they hardly slowed.

    ¡°I saw the whole thing, I did,¡± said a woman helping clear debris from the town square, still flooded to ankle height even now. ¡°Charenton was finally ready to throw off Avalon¡¯s tyranny, so the Prince of Darkness sicced his mistress¡¯ beast on us all. Leclaire loosed the arrow, but Grimoire gave the order.¡±

    ¡°What makes you so sure?¡± Mordred asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. Or perhaps he simply didn¡¯t feel strongly about it naturally, though given his strange shifts in mood whenever Luce came up, Camille didn¡¯t think it likely.

    ¡°The mad scientist got everything he wanted! Simone Leigh was carved in half, her freedom fighters devastated enough that they could barely fend off the monster. Madeline Nella had to turn over all their weapons to avoid being fed to the beast! My cousin heard the Tyrant of Charenton was on his way back from a conspiracy meeting with the Red Knight and Pantera the Undying when Levian struck, plotting his punishment on all of us for rejecting his takeover.¡±

    I speak for Avalon, Camille remembered him saying in his letter, but apparently he didn¡¯t speak for Charenton, for all that his forces ruled it. Knowing Luce, even a Luce hardened by betrayal enough to lure diplomats into an explosive trap, none of that was true, but it was hard not to take some small amount of pleasure in hearing that someone else was in the same boat as her when it came to Charentine opinions.

    ¡°Pantera¡¯s been dead for a hundred years,¡± Camille corrected, not entirely sure why she was bothering. ¡°Slain by Harold Grimoire.¡± Though knowing Levian, I can¡¯t help but wonder if he was involved in clearing the way for his own ascension to Torrent of the Deep.

    ¡°Are you daft, girl? It¡¯s right in the name: Undying.¡± The woman scoffed, then turned back to her work.

    ¡°Try not to mind her,¡± said a sandy-haired man studying the clearing efforts without appearing to be directly involved. ¡°Her brother served with Leigh and didn¡¯t make it out of the flood. The Prince¡¯s Lieutenant led the beast straight to him.¡± He sighed. ¡°To think we fled Malin to get away from this. Just our luck.¡±

    ¡°Fled Malin?¡± Camille bit back her surprise as best she could. ¡°What¡¯s to flee? I hear it¡¯s doing better than ever now that the Prince of Darkness is gone.¡±

    The man shrugged. ¡°Could be, never had to deal with him there. When we left, it was Perimont. Hangings every day in the name of security, and he couldn¡¯t even keep the harbor safe.¡± Camille couldn¡¯t help but be relieved, even though in practice it made no difference. ¡°I saw him out there with my own two eyes, laughing with his son and the prince¡ªthe heir, not Darkness¡ªlike a hundred people hadn¡¯t just been immolated right under their noses.¡±

    ¡°No one could have predicted that,¡± Mordred said, taking a half step back. ¡°It wasn¡¯t really a hundred people, was it?¡±

    ¡°Hundred eighteen. At least, before they stopped counting officially. Thirteen were just schoolkids, not even sixteen years old, grabbing a pastry from The Dockside Bakery. Four died right away along with the baker, but her husband and rest clung to life for days, writhing in agony as their skin tried and failed to knit itself together.¡±

    Camille felt herself grow sick, holding up a finger to excuse herself.

    ¡°Sorry, this isn¡¯t a fitting discussion to have in front of a lady. Point is, Prince Harold was there. He saw it all, saw how Perimont reacted, and he trotted back home without a second thought, leaving Perimont to his bloody business. Everyone says that Prince Lucifer is so much worse, a dark-hearted tyrant, but if you ask me the other prince isn¡¯t any better, nor the king. Avalon¡¯s rotten all the way down, chasing power no matter the cost.¡±

    Camille nodded gratefully, peeling away to deal with her problem near the shore. Things were disgusting enough in town as it was, and she was a guest here, however much they might despise her.

    ¡°Just like Leclaire.¡±

    She frowned, but didn¡¯t argue the point.

    Mordred accompanied her out, not following so much as setting the pace; he seemed even more eager to flee the malcontents than she was. As she turned to face him, more than anything, he looked... guilty.

    What are you up to, ¡®Jethro¡¯? What are you doing? ¡°I know why I feel sick,¡± Camille said, trying to read his face for any more clues. ¡°What do you have to worry about?¡± Because someone arranged that bombing, and stirring up conflict while Magnifico was in Guerron is certainly one way to try to get him out of the way.

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Mordred hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m worried about the negotiations tomorrow. We might both be doomed by fate, but I¡¯d rather accomplish something than die in agony knowing I¡¯d failed, and it¡¯s a real possibility. Not something I¡¯d really thought about until now.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re scared?¡± Camille shook her head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t believe it¡¯s that. You might not be lying, but you¡¯re trying to lead me from the truth. Tell me what¡¯s really going on.¡±

    He exhaled, sinking to his knees as they looked out over the raging waters. ¡°We all have our secrets.¡±

    ¡°They serve no one when carried to the final departure.¡±

    Mordred¡¯s head dipped, his face twisting.

    ¡°I ask not to judge. I¡¯m guilty of my own share of death, perhaps even greater than yours. But if I¡¯m to trust you for what¡¯s to come, I need to know the truth, not a convenient evasion. Did you arrange the Malin harbor bombing?¡±

    The wind whistled as Mordred considered the question, then stared back up at her with watery eyes. ¡°It was only supposed to blow up Magnifico¡¯s ship. Avalon had to think they were under attack from Guerron to reignite the war.¡±

    And there it is. ¡°And you stole my earrings to plant them on the ship to frame me for it so I¡¯d look responsible.¡±

    He laughed bitterly, burying his head in his knees. ¡°And it didn¡¯t end up mattering! Such a clever plot to frame you and Lumi¨¨re¡ªhence the sundials, though he actually was involved¡ªand it never quite came together. Even steering around that Stewart kid with my letters! I¡ªI didn¡¯t know you then, Camille. I didn¡¯t think¡ªI¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Well, that doesn¡¯t count for much. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. In a week I¡¯ll be dead.¡±

    ¡°Oh, right.¡± Mordred stood, pulling out a plant of heart-shaped leaves from his jacket, rumpled and dried, but preserved freshly enough that it still ought to serve its purpose. ¡°This is for you.¡±

    ¡°Silphium.¡± Camille reached for it, then hesitated. ¡°Annette scoured the countryside. I thought the frost wiped all of it out.¡± She¡¯d had to look with the utmost discretion, but Camille had no doubt that she¡¯d exhausted every available resource.

    ¡°I never go without it. You can¡¯t be too careful.¡±

    Camille let out an incredulous fragment of a laugh, snatching the leaves from his hand. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong about that.¡±

    ¡°Well, I hope it helps. If I were going to die in a week, I wouldn¡¯t want to be pregnant either. Though maybe it¡¯s already too late, if it¡¯ll leave you infirm for the negotiations.¡±

    ¡°Much healthier than I am right now.¡± Camille let her immense relief show, trying to momentarily look past the fact that he¡¯d tried to frame her for mass murder. The fact that he¡¯d failed was scant comfort, but the commiseration and service he¡¯d offered since... Granting her this reprieve when it mattered most...

    Was there any point in holding a grudge when she¡¯d be dead in a week anyway?

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Immeasurably.¡± Camille patted him on the shoulder, not sure if she should really be soothing him. ¡°Silphium is infused with the magic of Erones, spirit of bonds. He created it so that love could be easy, uncomplicated. But it¡¯s still fragile, in the frost as in life. I¡¯ll be better again by tomorrow. More than better, given how the last few weeks have gone.¡± She frowned. ¡°If you always keep it on you, I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t know that.¡±

    ¡°Well¡ª¡± Mordred blushed. ¡°I just made sure they got it. There wasn¡¯t usually much talking afterwards.¡±

    Camille raised an eyebrow. ¡°¡®They¡¯, is it? Well, I wouldn¡¯t know about that. And I¡¯m not ungrateful, not at all, but our earlier topic of conversation was, I¡¯m afraid, not yet finished.¡±

    ¡°...Oh.¡±

    Despite herself, Camille reached out and embraced him, then pulled back. ¡°I have a plan in mind for once these negotiations are worked out¡ªprovided Luce¡¯s surprise doesn¡¯t kill us, anyway. But I need to know I can trust you. As nice as this is, it doesn¡¯t change what you did.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°Or what I did.¡± Camille sighed. Nothing ever will. ¡°Why are you really doing this? Tell me now or slink off to whatever doomed fate awaits you. But I have to know if we¡¯re going to do this together.¡±

    Mordred reached towards her, then stopped himself. ¡°I suppose it is time I told you the truth. Not that I¡¯ve ever knowingly lied to you, but...¡± He sighed, then reached for his face. ¡°I did bargain with the face stealer in Guerron, and what she gave me was crucial to deceiving Luce, but...¡± He pulled the skin from his chin, ripping off his own face with a gruesome tearing sound, until the blonde Jethro visage was simply a mask in his hand.

    Beneath it was the guise he¡¯d used when impersonating Prince Harold, apparently his real face.

    ¡°Magnifico¡ªHarold Grimoire¡ªreally is my father. I was never lying to Luce about that. I didn¡¯t realize what a monster he was until a few years ago, but he never really cared about me.¡±

    ¡°A third son of the king.¡± Camille nodded as everything clicked into place. ¡°That¡¯s why Luce saw a Harold in Cambria when you were still in Malin.¡± They must be twins, but then why wouldn¡¯t Mordred have been raised a prince? Perhaps it was related to his curse¡ªtwins were often a sign of magical portent, for good and for ill in equal and opposite measure, the two spirits pulled to their extremes to avoid resembling each other. Of course, actually acting on that was barbaric and outdated, not to mention enormously hypocritical given how Magnifico approached spirits and magic. From what I recall, his appearance is exactly the same too, plus twenty years of aging. ¡°So this is all just about family resentment? Luce and Harold got the royal treatment while the bastard was left out in the cold?¡±

    Mordred¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°He wants me dead, Camille, just like Soleil and the Duke, like Lumi¨¨re. It¡¯s useful to him, and that¡¯s all he cares about: power, no matter the cost. I only picked ¡®Boothe¡¯ because Mordred Boothe is an anagram of ¡®Doomed Brother¡¯.¡±

    Doomed by fate, he said once. Whatever Magnifico had planned for him, Mordred apparently didn¡¯t think he could escape it forever. Camille wasn¡¯t sure how to unpack that, though, so she simply asked, ¡°Anagrams? Isn¡¯t that a bit childish?¡±

    ¡°Being overly concerned about the appearance of being childish is a bit childish.¡± Mordred shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s something of a family tradition. The first Harold Grimoire did the same thing when he infiltrated Micheltaigne as ¡®Laird Heirgroom¡¯. My father is lazier about it now, though, given he just took the name of a street in Cambria for his alias. It wasn¡¯t my first choice anyway¡ªthat was ¡®Jethro¡¯, of course.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a bad name,¡± Camille¡ªwho had taken a similarly lazy approach as Carrine Bourbeau¡ªoffered sincerely. ¡°Better than Grimoire, that¡¯s for certain.¡±

    ¡°Maybe...¡± He pressed his hand to his face. ¡°Luce was always his favorite, got all the lessons and attention, and it seemed like they were so in sync. I thought I had to get him out of the way just as much as Father, but... When I met him again in Malin, he¡¯d changed so much, expanded his perspective¡ªor maybe there was always more to it than I¡¯d realized, eyes clouded by jealousy and resentment.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s made all of us do things we regret.¡± Laura Bougitte, for example. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to do but be better going forward. I have to believe that.¡±

    ¡°I almost got him killed, Camille! Twice! When I tipped off those pirates, I knew it was a possibility and I didn¡¯t even care! And then once I spoke with him, I realized that he might have even been willing to help with my plan... It¡¯s...¡± He trailed off, uncertain and despondent. You also helped depose him from Malin, even after that fateful meeting apparently changed your opinion.

    Perhaps he was still hiding something, but after the magnitude of what he¡¯d confessed to, it was just as easy to believe that he¡¯d been stuck in his old thinking long enough to see it through, even when circumstances had changed. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to know. But you didn¡¯t get him killed. He¡¯s alive, here in this city.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, probably readying a trap to kill us.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but he could have done it the moment we got on that ship. From the sounds of things, it would have helped his image in Charenton too.¡± Though if he¡¯s not trying to kill us, I have no idea what his game is, and I may yet fail to survive it. ¡°You said he might have helped with your plan... You framed Guerron for the harbor bombing; that was supposed to start a war while Magnifico was in Guerron... getting him captured, just like he is now. So it worked, despite not going as intended?¡±

    ¡°Better than I could have hoped for.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°Whatever else I¡¯ve done, I stopped him from ruling Avalon. That¡¯s worth something. I made my mark on the world. I have to believe it was worth it. We stopped him, Fernan and I, and now he can¡¯t do any more damage until he dies.¡±

    ¡°So long as he isn¡¯t freed.¡± Your friend Fernan turned that into a clear and present danger, when previously the possibility was remote.

    ¡°So long as he isn¡¯t freed...¡± Mordred nodded. ¡°Part of why I respect you is that I know you feel the same way as I do about that. You¡¯ll do whatever it takes, no matter the cost. I saw that as you maneuvered around Luce, but it¡¯s been a hundred times stronger since then. You spent the final months of your life dragging this continent kicking and screaming into the second century. You aren¡¯t beholden to traditions. You aren¡¯t afraid.¡±

    I¡¯m terrified. I have to die and I¡¯m not ready. ¡°There wouldn¡¯t be any point. We have work to do.¡±

    ?

    The next morning, Camille felt as if she''d been given a new life¡ªif perhaps a brief one.

    ¡°I extended safe conduct to the delegates from Malin for negotiation of terms, and I intend to honor my word. If any one of you attempts to break my vow, by any means, there will be consequences.¡± Prince Lucifer Grimoire was dressed nearly all in black as he addressed the discontented crowd; from his boots to the collar of his cape, only a few red crescent designs on his shirt cut through the darkness at all. One eye was covered by a black patch, gauze padding held beneath it, while the other held no warmth. From the looks of the large vertical scar from his cheek to his forehead, Levian had taken a personal interest.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to find out what they are,¡± Charlotte insisted, gesturing towards the massive new lake just beyond the walls with one hand while her other grasped the pistol at her belt. Of course she¡¯d be here too. Standing close at Luce¡¯s side with both a sword and gun on her belt, she looked ready to tear through the crowd herself. It galled, seeing a native Malinoise abandoning her people for Avalon, but that was so far from important that Camille didn¡¯t spare it another thought. There had been traitors before and there would be traitors again, from now until the end of time. Camille supposed she was serving someone loyally, for all that it was bafflingly misdirected.

    Luce¡¯s guards parted around Camille and Mordred as they approached. She could see him mutter something to Charlotte upon the sight of Mordred appearing with his true face, but from their perspective it would certainly seem like an unnecessary insult.

    ¡°Luce,¡± Camille said as they approached. ¡°Thank you for writing to me. I¡¯m glad we could sit down and talk about this without further bloodshed.¡±

    ¡°Lady Leclaire,¡± Luce responded coldly. ¡°And Mordred Boothe. What an unexpected surprise! I expected a diplomat¡¯s retinue, of course, but I should have known better than to hope you¡¯d avoid an opportunity to rub my nose in what you did to me.¡±

    ¡°Luce¡ª¡± Mordred couldn¡¯t get more than a word out before Charlotte interrupted him.

    ¡°You will address him as ¡®Prince Lucifer¡¯, traitor. ¡®Your Highness¡¯ would also suffice.¡±

    Luce looked at her and shook his head. ¡°This isn¡¯t why we¡¯re here. Let¡¯s just go inside and get this over with.¡±

    Camille and Mordred followed them into the bottom floor of the old Magister¡¯s Palace, its front windows missing, though the glass had been cleared away. Set above the rest of the square, the higher elevation had already protected it better than most; the second floor looked almost normal, though the furniture was more utilitarian than the architecture would have normally warranted.

    One of Luce¡¯s guards opened a door and ushered them to their seats around a massive conference table. Luce took a seat at the head, window at his back, while Charlotte remained standing just behind him. In front of him was a bronze plaque with carefully carved text spelling out Avalon.

    A similar label was propped up in front of Camille¡¯s seat reading Empire of the Fox in script neat enough to be worthy of the words. Mordred sat down beside her in an unlabeled seat, accounting for about half the table. But to Camille¡¯s surprise, a dark haired woman she didn¡¯t recognize was already sitting at the other end of the table behind a placard that read United Lyrion League.

    That alone was curious, but the writing over the seat next to her was utterly bewildering.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get started then,¡± said Luce as the final diplomat stepped through the door: a bearded figure with fire spewing from his eyes. Fernan Montaigne took his seat quietly, adjusting the placard in front of him that read Guerron Commune.

 Fernan XII: The Ambassador

    Fernan XII: The Ambassador

    ¡°So you¡¯ve finally come to see me again.¡±  Magnifico¡ªKing Harold IV of Avalon, in truth, though Fernan found it hard to think of him that way¡ªapparently looked more disheveled and ratty than Maxime had ever seen him before. His hair looked gray and greasy, spilling unkempt down his back out of the metal crown, joined by a patchy unshaven face that Maxime couldn¡¯t in good conscience describe as anything close to bearded. With the heightened danger of his escape, blades were no longer allowed in his cell, and the luxuries that Valvert had been so eager to extend to a prisoner of such high birth had been significantly reduced.

    Fernan trusted the assessment, especially given how emaciated the bard appeared, but his dark aura looked just as menacing as ever. ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone. Ever.¡±

    A smile split Magnifico¡¯s face as he began cracking up. ¡°That¡¯s smart. Own it.¡± He let out another laugh. ¡°Allow me to rephrase my language to something more politically correct then: it¡¯s good to see you finally realize what a resource you have at your disposal.¡±

    ¡°That was never a mystery. Having you here is the only reason Avalon isn¡¯t invading.¡± Or Camille and Lucien, for that matter, but the less you know about that, the better. ¡°I¡¯m just making sure our leverage is secure.¡±

    ¡°You are, are you? And you had to pay me a personal visit for that when your loquacious boyfriend has already been so thorough?¡± He laughed again, though it sounded slightly more forced. ¡°No, I think you¡¯ve finally realized what Florette did months ago: I¡¯m an invaluable mentor, and I want to help you.¡±

    Florette?

    Magnifico shifted his head to the side. ¡°She never told you, did she? Hah! But you must have wondered how a green rookie learned enough binding in scant weeks to capture a sliver of Glaciel¡¯s essence, or slay the sun and replace him with one more to her liking.¡± He scoffed. ¡°Honestly, Fernan, she copied my playbook almost exactly, right down to enlisting Flammare¡¯s sage and then hanging her out to dry.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡± Honestly, it¡¯s kind of comforting to see you get something wrong, even if it¡¯s perpetuating that horrible lie about Laura. For all his power and reputation, Magnifico had his limits. It was important not to forget that. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything.¡±

    ¡°But I do!¡± His cheeks widened in an impression of a smile as he lifted a plate of food, then tossed it aside. ¡°I would think we were good enough friends that you¡¯d know better than to think me a fool, Fernan. It¡¯s insulting, really. Valvert¡¯s guard came cheap, as far as buying information went, and I¡¯m sorry to be the one to tell you that your zealous little communist drones proved no less corruptible.¡±

    ¡°Communard,¡± Fernan corrected, trying to assess exactly how much he¡¯d figured out. ¡°If you were really so well-informed, really on our side, you¡¯d get that right.¡±

    ¡°Your side, Fernan, ¡®tu¡¯ rather than ¡®vous¡¯. This whole revolution business... Well, it¡¯s awfully convenient for me, and I¡¯m happy to help you see it through to its end, but on a personal level, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m too impressed. When I heard gunshots echo off the castle stones, I expected more. But what you¡¯re doing here doesn¡¯t work, Fernan. I¡¯ve seen that enough times to be reasonably sure. Just look at the Plagette Republic, a corrupt oligarchy wearing the clothes of a representative government. Or, for that matter, think about your Condorcet partners: a pariah state of brutality and oppression that would fold up like a tent the moment Avaline money stopped flowing there.¡±

    ¡°Then stop sending them money.¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will.¡± Magnifico shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re friendly to Avalon¡¯s interests, influence in the region for pennies on the dollar. Certainly a far more prudent investment than this moronic war business that Beckett lost his mind over.¡±

    Baron Beckett Williams, Fernan remembered, was the leader of a faction in Avalon¡¯s government called the Harpies. Michel had been filling him in where he could, to make sure Fernan knew what he was talking about when it came to foreign policy in his new role, but it was a surprise to see it be useful so soon.

    ¡°Your little Guerron republic can serve as a similar counterpoint, I¡¯m sure, which is one reason that I¡¯m happy to help you here, but under your leadership it could have been so much more.¡±

    ¡°That would be tyranny.¡±

    Magnifico tilted his head back, letting out an exaggerated sigh. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve gotten to know the representatives pretty well in the time since your coup. Do you think they care the way you do? Do you think they¡¯ll protect your people the way you could?¡±

    Fernan couldn¡¯t help but think of Lemoine, the knight who¡¯d won his south district election despite the arrest of the people intimidating on his behalf, who seemed constantly amused by the mere prospect of participating in the government he¡¯d sworn an oath to faithfully serve. Arrogant professionals like doctor S¨¦zanne believed in the process, but their priorities seemed to be tilted more towards lining their own pockets. Edith Costeau, similarly, had spent the better part of an hour arguing about patent enforcement, as if the Guerron Commune wasn¡¯t under existential threat from all sides. And worse, now that her fiance had arrived for the wedding, she¡¯d started taking him to the salons, where he¡¯d proved to be such an ignorant idiot that it was almost unfathomable how Avalon even functioned with educators like that.

    Even on the left side of the Assembly, ¨¦tienne Lantier spent more time criticizing Mom and the other representatives for their perceived moral failures than proposing anything substantive, worse about stoking the flames of infighting than the people Fernan disagreed with. And Mara, though Fernan hardly blamed her, seemed to think that burning their problems to ash was a far more effective solution than it would really be. Michel didn¡¯t have those problems, nor did Mom, but they spent so much time playing peacemaker to the different factions that sometimes it seemed like they lost sight of the larger issues.

    ¡°Sometimes there¡¯s nothing for it but to do it yourself,¡± Magnifico continued. ¡°And if you¡¯re worried about succession planning, there¡¯s a solution for that as well. Just don¡¯t die. You and Florette have already killed one sun, and I¡¯m sure you can trust her to bind the energy into you more than you can trust me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill G¨¦zarde! We¡¯ve done enough damage to him and his children.¡±

    ¡°Of course, I haven¡¯t seen Florette in a while,¡± he continued as if Fernan hadn¡¯t said anything. ¡°Perhaps she¡¯s unavailable. If so, I¡¯m more than happy to perform the binding and swear whatever you¡¯d require to feel comfortable about it. Or I could teach you to do it yourself; sages are already adept at wielding spiritual energy, and your vision was touched before you breathed your first flame. Plus, you¡¯d be learning from a master. I expect you¡¯d take to it even faster than Florette.¡±

    ¡°Are you even listening?¡±

    ¡°To your pathetic protestations? I can¡¯t say such performative platitudes play much of a role in my process, no. The fact is, sooner or later, they¡¯ll all let you down, just like the Fox-King already has. G¨¦zarde, the Montagnards, even Guerron¡¯s people¡ªthey don¡¯t always know what¡¯s best, and when you try to tell them, they won¡¯t always listen.

    ¡°Someone very dear to me once told me that I am Avalon. At the time, I didn¡¯t give it the proper consideration it was due, but as the years went on, she¡¯s only been proven more and more right. Avalon would be nothing without me, just as this Guerron Commune would be nothing without you, Fernan. The people might realize that now, fresh off your victory, but as the decades stretch on, they¡¯ll forget. Being a popular national hero isn¡¯t enough, not always. There will come a time when you simply have to handle things yourself.¡±

    If I had any doubt about turning down that Chief General appointment before, it¡¯s gone now. Diplomacy seemed like a much better fit, for all that it required extensive teaching in geopolitics.

    ¡°You know what, Magnifico? You¡¯re right. Putting on a costume to throw old men off their balconies is the natural endpoint of statecraft.¡± I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m even here. Maybe this was a mistake. ¡°Hopefully someday I too can end up moldering in a cell while the world passes me by.¡±

    The bard shrugged it off, apparently unbothered. ¡°My plan still worked. They always do. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, listening to my advice. You know I¡¯m a master of politics, unmatched in binding acumen, with a vested interest in your success. I¡¯m only in here because an ungrateful little wretch caught me off guard. I seem to have a weakness for that, but ¡®Jethro¡¯ won¡¯t be an issue for long. And in a few years, your pitiful hospitality will be but a distant memory right alongside him.¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Fernan couldn¡¯t help but let out a scoff. ¡°Magnifico, you¡¯re going to die in here. No one wants to let you go, not for all the florins in the world. Even if Leclaire has her way, you¡¯re still too valuable as a threat to ever trade away.¡±

    ¡°My son will secure my release in due time, I have no doubt. He too needed to learn the lessons I¡¯ve been trying to impart on you, Fernan, but from what I hear, he¡¯s taken to politics marvelously. Even younger than I was when I took my first city.¡±

    ¡°You think Prince Harold will save you just because he conquered Lorraine? He¡¯s the one leading this war you apparently think is ¡®idiocy¡¯. According to Jethro, he cares enough to keep you alive, but he¡¯s happier having you out of the way in a cell than back ruling Avalon.¡±

    ¡°No, Luce.¡± His tone implied that even considering the alternative was baffling. ¡°And if I¡¯m to die, he and Lizzie will ensure that Avalon is in good hands. Hands that would, at once, be free to act in whatever manner they deemed appropriate when it came to Guerron and the Erstwhile Empire. I know you think me a villain, Fernan, but my death would only mean sorrow and tragedy for everything you hold dear. I think you know that, or you¡¯d have killed me by now.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong again. I¡¯ve never killed anyone.¡± Fernan turned his back on the king, opening the chamber door. ¡°And I¡¯m not going to pollute my soul for you.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Welcome to Charenton,¡± Magnifico¡¯s favorite son announced in a voice firm enough to make it feel true, even though the endless stares at Fernan¡¯s eyes had made him feel anything but from the moment of arrival. He spoke Imperial with remarkable acuity, though not without a certain stilted, mannerly quality unlikely to be found in a native speaker. ¡°I¡¯ve had rooms prepared for you and your retinue in the Magister¡¯s palace. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s a bit cold and damp, for obvious reasons, but I¡¯m hoping that the magic at your disposal will help to soften the blow there. Please let one of my shadows know if you need anything.¡±

    From his gesture, it seemed like those ¡®shadows¡¯ were his guards, silently standing in formation behind him, facing out at everyone in the flooded square. None stood out more than the lieutenant at his side, aura burning strong and golden, almost an echo of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s, though without the same magical boldness a sage possessed.

    ¡°Sire Montaigne,¡± the Prince began quietly once Fernan was close enough. ¡°Could I have a word in private?¡±

    But the negotiations don¡¯t begin until tomorrow. If he was trying to win Fernan to his side on some issue beforehand, this would be a perfect opportunity to feel out his position on Guerron independence. Fernan had fairly high hopes considering he¡¯d extended an invitation at all, a recognition of a sort for a state that in many ways could be considered illegitimate, but considering what he¡¯d seen in the vision, what Camille had pretty much confirmed about his character, perhaps it shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise.

    Maxime patted Fernan on the shoulder. ¡°Perhaps it is best if I go ahead to ensure the suitability of our accommodations. My pleasure meeting you, Prince of Crescents.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯d be happy to,¡± Fernan said, handing his bag to one of the prince¡¯s shadows. Can¡¯t imagine I¡¯ll need his descriptive skills for a simple conversation, and I can always fill him in later. ¡°But please just call me Fernan. I renounced my knighthood, out of respect to my oath.¡± Duchess Annette deserved at least that small measure of respect, considering that Fernan had pledged to serve her. It didn¡¯t hurt that it made him equal to the other citizens again either.

    ¡°You¡¯d be wise not to dismiss the trappings of power, however frivolous they might seem. I tried that in Malin, and it didn¡¯t end well.¡± His aura briefly darkened, growing more purple, then returned to its starting red. ¡°Charlotte, could you show Guerron¡¯s retinue to their rooms, please?¡±

    Prince Lucifer ushered Fernan into a small study, walls lined with half-empty bookshelves. ¡°Please forgive the state of my library. I¡¯ve got another few dozen books drying on the roof, and the rest were unfortunately a lost cause.¡±

    Fernan shrugged, pointing at his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a reader these days.¡±

    ¡°Oh really? Fascinating.¡± He pulled two glasses and a bottle from his desk. ¡°Brandy alright? My uncle has a distillery in Fortescue.¡± When Fernan waved him on, he poured a modest amount into each of their glasses. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t find it rude of me to ask, but...¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Though I can¡¯t see what relevance it has. Fernan took a long sip of his brandy, feeling the flame swell in his chest. ¡°My eyes are like those of G¨¦zarde¡¯s children; I see hot and cold, from the warmth of a human heart to the endless void of the night. Books might as well be empty for me.¡±

    ¡°You should try tactile type. You can read with your fingers once you learn the alphabet. I think I might have a couple of prototype books on the Progress somewhere, though they might be back in my office at the Tower.¡±

    Tactile type. ¡°Like the words scratched in beeswax on Jethro¡¯s note?¡±

    The prince¡¯s mouth opened briefly, a half step ahead of the words that followed. ¡°That was our initial design, yes. Harold wanted to impress a blind girl and I wanted to invent something to help people. Of course, Cindy was the one who actually turned it into a workable idea with the modified typefaces... I¡¯m surprised Harold shared that memory with a cur like Jethro.¡± Aura darkening, the prince poured more heavily into their glasses than the first time. ¡°So your sight was fully given over to your aspect, leaving none of what was there before... Was this before or after you made your sage compact? Or at the same time? Do you think the process could be repeated with a willing participant?¡±

    ¡°Uh, good luck finding someone willing to get their eyes burned out.¡± Feeling his face wrinkle, Fernan finished his brandy. ¡°Could you please get to your point?¡±

    ¡°Of course. My apologies.¡± He paused, adjusting his collar. ¡°My father... He... Is it true that he plunged the world into darkness?¡±

    And apparently, never told you to expect it. ¡°I saw the end of it myself. I swear on my soul. Then, when we spoke afterwards, he bragged about it. Called it inevitable, one small step of a larger extermination of spirits. He said it was better done now, when the population is smaller.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horrible! What¡ª¡± Prince Lucifer seemed to realize he¡¯d lost his composure, then finished his glass of brandy. ¡°He¡¯s smarter than that. He knows our technology is only improving, that in a century we could weather the darkness far more safely. He knows there¡¯s no justification for doing what he did when he did.¡± He let out a long exhalation. ¡°Do not trust Magnifico. Fah!¡±

    ¡°He tried to kill his son,¡± Fernan continued, more surprised than he should have been to hear the prince repeated Jethro¡¯s warning. Of course they¡¯d have exchanged information, especially something so directly pertinent.

    ¡°Darkness leaves traces but the light blots all else,¡± they both finished, exchanging puzzled looks.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not defending him,¡± Fernan said to break the silence. ¡°Didn¡¯t you call this meeting to negotiate his release?¡±

    ¡°Nothing nearly so simple. Peace seldom is.¡± He pulled out the brandy again, then seemed to think better of it, and returned it under his desk. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to believe me¡ªno one ever does¡ªbut I¡¯m trying to do things better than my father, better than every Grimoire that ever wore a crown. I wish I could believe that all the stories about him were just Leclaire¡¯s propaganda. Throwing that poor old man off his balcony certainly sounds that sinister, and I¡¯ve heard how much she¡¯s willing to make up about me... But I know my father too well. He wants a united world, free of spirits. No matter the cost.¡± He sank bitterly into his seat. ¡°Apparently enough to send pirates to kill me.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Camille would have told him to lie, to turn the son against the father, but Fernan wasn¡¯t going to lie about this. ¡°Every time I see him, he asks about you. When you were first kidnapped, he was devastated. He hadn¡¯t even been revealed as your father yet! There was absolutely no benefit to pretending, every reason to keep his thoughts to himself. I¡¯d sooner believe he¡¯s a spirit in disguise than that he¡¯d ever set you up like that.¡±

    The prince nodded, clearly processing the information; but whatever conclusion he was drawing, whether he accepted Fernan¡¯s word or not, he left no indication. ¡°Have you ever heard of a king¡¯s ransom? It¡¯s large enough to be a figure of speech. Not something I¡¯m much inclined to part with, especially to get a man like my father back running Avalon again after what he¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Fernan agreed, a second before realizing his mistake. Idiot. I¡¯m here to negotiate and I just talked him into valuing our prisoner less. Hopefully assuring him about Magnifico¡¯s innocence in the attempt on his life at least helped resolve him against letting his father die. Hopefully.

    ¡°M. Fernan Montaigne, I only know you by reputation, but it speaks highly to your ability. And your compassion. Standing for the rights of the downtrodden, refusing to continue your temple¡¯s sacrifices even once your patron spirit became the sun, standing in defiance against Camille Leclaire... I¡¯m hoping to build something here, and however things go tomorrow, I¡¯m hoping you can help me with it.¡±

    Now why does that sound ominous, coming from you? The Grimoires, father and son, seemed to have that much in common. ¡°Build what, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Would you be willing to take a walk across the river with me? There¡¯s someone I¡¯d like to introduce to you, as important a stakeholder as anyone who¡¯ll be sitting at that table tomorrow.¡±

    Given what I saw in that vision... ¡°Cya, or the Red Knight?¡±

    ¡°Cya.¡± Prince Lucifer set his brandy down just a hair too suddenly. ¡°The Red Knight is a butcher whose presence I tolerated for the purpose of peaceful negotiation, nothing more. He¡¯s like Leclaire in that regard, the red to her blue.¡± His aura faded to a deep purple. ¡°How did you know? Most sages don¡¯t even know she¡¯s alive.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen her already.¡± Fernan shrugged. ¡°I saw your whole meeting with Cya and the Red Knight, actually, including Cya warning you about unwanted eyes on it. It wasn¡¯t Camille watching, but me.¡±

    ¡°What? You? Why?¡±

    Fernan smiled. ¡°I wanted to know how much I could trust you. And I got my answer.¡±

    The prince¡¯s aura brightened to a lively red. ¡°I think I got my answer too.¡±

 Luce VIII: The Mastermind

    Luce VIII: The Mastermind

    The strange part wasn¡¯t that everything had seemed to come together just as planned. At this point, that was coming to be expected. The strange part was, at least so far, it hadn¡¯t erupted into chaotic violence at the exact moment everything seemed to be going fine.

    Time enough left for that though. If it came to that, Luce could still come out ahead in the blink of an eye¡ªliterally, given the code he¡¯d taught Charlotte to watch his face for, a successor to the old semaphore flags. Usually it was used for transmitting information across the telegraph towers dotted all over Avalon, covering and revealing a beacon at each step in the chain to carry news far faster than a horse could hope to bring it, or even a ship.

    Luce had mostly used it for fun and games, talking about Harold with Cassia right in front of his face, or transcribing the latest messages arriving in Cambria to know things hours before the journals printed them. This summit in Charenton would be anything but, and it required a deft and careful hand. Thus, the code.

    And the carefully shaped explosive charges under each of the delegates¡¯ seats.

    Luce hoped dearly that he would have no cause to use them¡ªin all but the worst possible outcomes, he seriously doubted there would be any need to trigger the charges under Madeline Nella or Fernan Montaigne¡ªbut it seemed foolish not to plan for the worst after the year he¡¯d had. If Camille had been behind Levian¡¯s attack, it would at least put a stop to her trying anything similar again.

    And I¡¯ll be tarred as a treacherous monster again, breaking the hallowed laws of diplomacy and hospitality for my own callous gain, murdering guests under my roof invited under a banner of peace. But Luce was already the Prince of Darkness, the twisted tyrant of Charenton. Killing Camille here wouldn¡¯t set him back any more than all her lies about him already had.

    But it wouldn¡¯t build a lasting peace either. Just the opposite. Hence, a last resort, merely a measure of control in case events conspired once more to thwart his aims.

    Even if Camille seemed determined to tempt him. ¡°I have no idea why Levian attacked,¡± she insisted beyond all plausibility, her voice dripping with smug glee. ¡°It¡¯s a terrible shame that it happened, a dark stain on all of us who have ever called ourselves his Acolytes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s horrible,¡± Fernan Montaigne added somewhat perfunctorily, a strangely mundane statement to emerge from a man with green fire burning out of his face where his eyes should have been. He had a pin on his lapel with an emblem of the same green fire, apparently worn by all his Montaignard followers, but on the man himself, it served more as a silent statement of confidence. ¡°A tragedy.¡±

    ¡°No, Fernan, a tragedy would mean that a flawed hero invited it upon themselves¡ªand by extension, Charenton¡ªas a direct result of their pride, or perhaps another inherent flaw that they were destined never to overcome. The word descends from ancient Giton dramas, and flattening it to an expression of misfortune serves no one but fools.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Jethro asked her, probably some game they¡¯d planned in advance.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Luce hissed, eying their seats. ¡°But his words were meant kindly, and discussing it any further would be a waste of all of our time. I would have thought such criticism would be an unwise use of your own, Lady Leclaire, but apparently you have more time to spare than the rest of us. Nonetheless, I request that you remain on topic.¡±

    Camille Leclaire bit her lip, eyes barely holding back a flood of rage, but she didn¡¯t press the point any further. In the space of a moment, she smoothed out every sign of irritation. It was so strange seeing her here like this, wearing the same blue dress and confident smile she¡¯d sported in Malin, as if the daggers and arrows of the world¡¯s misfortune had no effect on her at all.

    She wasn¡¯t any different under the cover of darkness, but I thought I could use her safely towards our common ends. Perhaps Luce might have managed it, if he¡¯d kept a closer eye on her affairs, if he¡¯d taken any steps to securing his own power outside the systems she and Perimont had turned towards their own ends. But then, perhaps not.

    This was Camille Leclaire, after all. ¡°I believe the topic at hand was our current venue.¡±

    ¡°Charenton,¡± agreed Madeline Nella, more reasonable by far than the bisected Simone Leigh, but still committed enough to opposing Avalon that she¡¯d joined the rebels of the Lyrion League, and¡ªuntil recently¡ªloaded up with enough gunpowder to blast Levian away. ¡°The people demand home rule. Charenton has been independent for half a century under its Magister, whom you drove into exile when you seized power. We were never one of your Territories.¡±

    Ticent was such a puppet ruler that you practically were, Luce couldn¡¯t help but think. What else would you call handing over Charenton¡¯s rightful heir and then following the Crown¡¯s policy directives faithfully for fifty years? Luce could see that Leclaire was thinking it too, though she was smart enough not to voice it aloud. She¡¯d definitely steered the conversation this way to try to play Madeline against him, but if Luce had been afraid of that, he wouldn¡¯t have invited her.

    The rebels had escaped from prison, fled after Ticent to Malin, then returned as heavily armed as the Avaline Army, with state-of-the-art weapons. The initially-obvious suspect was Leclaire, covertly aiding an enemy of Avalon without showing her hand enough to risk an invasion¡ªnot dissimilar to what Luce gained by reaching out to Fernan Montaigne. But Luce knew exactly how many guns had been stolen from Gordon Perimont¡¯s train, knew through Fernan that half of them were in the hands of the Guerron Commune, and knew Camille Leclaire was the last person who would sell scarce power for mere money. There was not a chance that she¡¯d have given them all those pistols and powder at any price¡ªnor did the rebels seem equipped to pay a high one to begin with.

    Which left the question of whom, exactly, the Lyrion League could call upon to aid them, and how best those allies might be appropriately bribed or defanged or crushed, depending on the respective demands of the problem they posed. If Nella could be placated here today, the rebellion could be stopped before it had the chance to properly start. If not, the more information he could obtain about their assets, the better.

    ¡°You basically were before,¡± Jethro said casually, ruining the entire facade in a single careless comment. ¡°I don¡¯t see why you expect stirring shit up to win you anything better. Should have played it smarter; I might have helped out. Honestly, Horace Williams went about this about as stupidly as I¡¯ve ever seen anyone try, and it¡¯s only because my brother is such a gentle spirit that you aren¡¯t hanging on the beach right this second.¡±

    For a moment, everyone went silent.

    ¡°Mr. Boothe, you are not a delegate at this event.¡± Charlotte told him coldly. ¡°Your input is not required.¡±

    Jethro turned to Camille for defending, but after popping the bubble of her own strategy, she didn¡¯t have much more to offer him than a shrug. ¡°If my delegation is to be pared down, it¡¯s only fair for everyone else to do the same. Charlotte, and Fernan¡¯s companion should be made to leave as well.¡±

    ¡°Your guest¡¯s foul conduct is no excuse for¡ª¡±

    ¡°Charlotte, it¡¯s fine,¡± Luce cut in, blinking another message to her using their code. ¡°Take the others outside.¡± And see what you can learn. Jethro alone seemed to be an uninhibited fountain at the moment, for whatever reason, and Luce felt reasonably sure he could call her back if things escalated.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Jethro said, raising his hands above his head as he rose from his seat. Within a moment, only Luce, Leclaire, Fernan, and Madeline were left in the room.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t a Territory now either,¡± Luce said, getting back on topic. If you want to play around with technicalities, you¡¯ve sorely misjudged where my expertise lies. ¡°As Charenton¡¯s Magister has fled for parts unknown, I¡¯ve simply extended the city and its environs my protection as a private citizen.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a prince, second in line to the throne of Avalon,¡± Madeline said incredulously. ¡°You were formally the Territorial Governor of Malin not even a year ago.¡±

    ¡°And now I¡¯m serving as Lord Protector of Charenton, in much the same way as Thierry Verrou before Jules Ticent stabbed him in the back and abducted his infant son. Lucifer Charles Grimoire, the private citizen, not the Prince of Crescents.¡±

    ¡°A distinction of massive significance, no doubt.¡± Camille leaned back in her chair. ¡°I suppose if Robin Verrou returned to claim his birthright, then, you would gladly step aside for the rightful heir?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Luce lied. Robin Verrou had been a staunch opponent of Avalon for almost two decades without making any kind of claim on Charenton, and according to Father had never wanted to rule it even before turning his coat. Verrou was about as likely to contest Charenton as he was to give a guest lecture at the Cambrian College. ¡°But in the meantime, there is demonstrably no greater threat to Charenton than the spirit Levian.¡± And¡ªperhaps¡ªhis High Priestess. ¡°The Lyrion League and I have banded together before to fend off his attacks, and I¡¯ve assured Madeline that I¡¯m willing to do it again, and again, for as long as this city is imperiled by such cruel assaults.¡±

    Madeline nodded in fierce agreement. ¡°Freedom is not possible without survival. It was only through the combination of our resources that Levian was fended off at all.¡±

    How do you like that, Camille?

    ¡°Trading freedom for security is a sure path to losing both,¡± Camille countered, obviously lying through her teeth. Still, she gave Luce an impressed look when she finished, as if to recognize the difference between the inept scholar who¡¯d fled Malin and the prince sitting at this table. ¡°I¡¯m prepared to vow here and now to do everything in my power to stop another attack from Levian against any city. I¡¯ll dedicate the rest of my life to it, if needed. But Levian is but one spirit, occupying a seat that Avalon so bloodily rendered vacant not even a century ago. Bowing before your oppressor for protection against a spirit they would oppose in any case is wildly shortsighted.¡±

    Does she really believe we can defeat Levian on our own, or is it just posturing?

    ¡°We¡¯re not conceding our liberty.¡± Madeline nodded in apparent agreement. ¡°Sharing resources against a common foe is one thing, but if you¡¯re asking us to accept your rule¡ªof Charenton, of Dimanche, even Lyrion¡ªI¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not a condition the League can abide by.¡±

    ¡°Fortunately, I¡¯m not asking you to.¡± Luce clasped his hands together, feeling the faintest smile cross his lips as everything fell perfectly into place. He waved his hand, and Graves brought in several sets of documents, enough for everyone at the table to read them. ¡°As you can see, I¡¯m ready to grant you your freedom, the same offer I once gave to Leclaire before she tried to have me killed.¡±

    ¡°I never¡ª¡± Camille¡¯s nostrils flared as she cut herself off, apparently realizing how pointless that point was to argue. And even if not, keeping me in a cage in Malin wouldn¡¯t have been much better. She glanced down at the documents, then frowned. ¡°A ¡®Special Administrative Zone¡¯? Really?¡±

    ¡°Self-government, just as you asked for.¡± Luce tried to smile at Madeline, though he wasn¡¯t sure it looked as sincere as he hoped. ¡°I¡¯m willing to grant it, provided certain terms are met: the Lyrion League of states remains formally under the protectorate of Avalon; its member states are forbidden from arming themselves or forming any kind of state militias; and the League¡¯s territory ends at the Rhan.¡±

    The Condorcet man called Maximilien was whispering the contents into Fernan¡¯s ear to verify that no changes had been made, but Fernan was already privy to the gist of it. After meeting with Rhan and Cya, even bringing down the sun himself to speak, they¡¯d practically done all of the negotiations already... But Camille Leclaire could throw a wrench in things, if she reacted wrong. ¡°Did I hear that right?¡± Fernan muttered quietly to his interpreter. ¡°You¡¯re stating that Avalon¡¯s law enforcement can swoop in and take people off the street and haul them back to Avaline prison?¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound much like self-rule. You¡¯re just extending your tendrils over the rest of Lyrion to try to control us. Like Charenton wasn¡¯t enough for you.¡±

    Luce pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to craft and enforce your own law, appoint or elect or convene your own rule. Avaline agents will be permitted to apprehend and extradite violators of these terms, not general Avaline law. Fernan, you should know that the primary purpose of that is to avoid League woodsmen from disrupting Cya¡¯s domain and then fleeing back across the Rhan. To keep Refuge safe, there has to be accountability for violators, but we¡¯re not interested in holding Lyrion to Avalon¡¯s every stature, and the terms reflect that.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Hmm...¡± Madeline scratched her chin. ¡°So if we started importing substances classified in Avalon as contraband...¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be criminal unless you tried to export them to the Avalon homeland.¡± Luce pointed to the terms of the paper. ¡°The specific offenses are listed, but almost anything done within your own borders is up to you to legislate. Since you turned down my offer of Great Council representatives, this seemed the best remaining solution.¡±

    And¡ªnot that Luce was particularly concerned with what they would think beyond a desire to pick his battles wisely¡ªthe Owls in the Great Council could be assuaged as long as they could hold onto their investments in the Territories, assured that Avalon¡¯s economic standing wouldn¡¯t be disrupted. It wasn¡¯t much different from what Simon Perimont had been pushing before, back when he¡¯d answered to Luce: leveraging Avalon¡¯s position for mutual benefit, rather than tyranny. The Harpies would balk, but they were slated for absolute destruction when the Great Council next convened, given their failure of a war and the end of the circumstances they¡¯d used to justify it in the first place.

    Aunt Lizzie could pull it off. Her hold was only so tight, but framed this way, Luce believed they could win a majority over. The public would be another story, but that was tomorrow¡¯s problem.

    ¡°I would need to take this to the Governors of the League,¡± Madeline said softly as she paged through the document. ¡°But I think I can get them to sign on. This is most of what we asked for, without needing a bloody war to secure it.¡±

    Especially now that you¡¯re so much worse equipped to fight that war.

    ¡°Good.¡± Luce smiled and turned back to Leclaire. ¡°Now that you¡¯ve seen how that works, is there anything you¡¯d like to say to Fernan?¡±

    She considered it thoughtfully, then said, ¡°I¡¯m afraid the Empire of the Fox is not as weak-willed as this Prince of Avalon, nor is the might of our army being frittered away on an unjust war. You betrayed my best friend, Fernan, whom you swore on your soul to serve. Am I supposed to just give her city away to you with some legal fiction about special districts?¡±

    Fernan shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do anything except leave us be. If Levian hadn¡¯t withdrawn from Guerron, the White Night would have made this attack on Charenton look like a minor scuffle. Avalon has already agreed to respect the sovereignty of the Guerron Commune.¡±

    ¡°Have you?¡± Leclaire hissed at Luce. ¡°Because last I checked, this rebellious commune is holding your king and father hostage. That¡¯s quite a thing to ignore, but given what I just witnessed, perhaps I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.¡± Are you trying to say I was weak for ceding those rights to Lyrion? How is that going to do anything to get Madeline on your side? ¡°Guerron is sovereign territory of the Empire of the Fox, ruled by the rightful scion of the family Debray, as it has been for centuries, since the city¡¯s very inception. Duke Fouchand took us in when we had nowhere else to turn, and you¡¯d have me spit on his grave by selling off his granddaughter¡¯s birthright.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes blazed brighter and bolder out from his face, startling Madeline¡ªand, honestly, Luce, though he tried to keep his reaction muted. ¡°The well-being of the people is more important than someone¡¯s birthright.¡±

    ¡°Hear hear!¡± Madeline agreed, which Luce found slightly strange. Most of the Lyrion League traced their ancestry to Avaline nobility, if admittedly on the lower and pettier end. Famine had wiped out most native Lyrionaise, and the commoners and gentry didn¡¯t seem to be well-represented in the League¡¯s leadership, even if they made up most of the rebel soldiers. Nella itself was an ancient family from the Vellum region, though never a particularly significant one, and Madeline herself was something like thirty-seventh in line to inherit anything of note. Still, she had her peerage, and that wasn¡¯t something lightly discarded.

    ¡°So you¡¯re just going to let him keep your father, Luce? That¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve formally requested that King Harold IV Grimoire be released from the Commune¡¯s custody so that he may return home.¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyebrows dipped into a triangle. ¡°The way you said it before, it sounded like you wanted to keep him in prison in Avalon.¡±

    ¡°I never said that.¡±

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter!¡± Camille waved her arms dramatically. ¡°Even if Luce, in the depths of his soul, desires that Magnifico remain captive, he¡¯ll be freed the moment he sets foot in Avalon, and saunter his way back onto the throne. That¡¯s inevitable. There¡¯s no freeing him without also returning him to power.¡±

    Probably correct, honestly. That was part of why Luce felt so ambivalent about it, but it strengthened his negotiating position to pretend otherwise. That would make any concessions later seem more hard-won. Worked with Lyrion, at least.

    Seeing Fernan¡¯s deepening frown, Camille pounced. ¡°That should concern you too, Luce. Magnifico tried to kill you, his own son. Eloise told me how conflicted you were about it, but surely you see that he can¡¯t be allowed to go free.¡± What side are you even trying to argue, here? Was she just undermining Luce at every turn, even if it meant speaking out of both sides of her mouth?

    Luce shook his head. ¡°You haven¡¯t so much as glimpsed him since the spring, while Fernan assures me that his concern has only ever been for my own well-being. I won¡¯t deny his crimes, but he has no more interest in continuing this war than I do. My brother is only acting with such a free hand because my father isn¡¯t there to tell him otherwise, most egregiously in the case of his eastern conquests.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d trust the word of a traitor like him? He swore to serve the Duchess of Guerron, then deposed her from her own city! He betrayed his own village, then Lumi¨¨re, then us. Why do you expect that you¡¯re any different?¡±

    Luce couldn¡¯t help but let out an incredulous laugh. ¡°This, coming from you? There are back-alley cutthroats whose word I¡¯d be sooner inclined to take than yours.¡± Though if experience has proven anything, it¡¯s that no one is ever above suspicion, save for Charlotte and myself. ¡°However, I remain open to negotiation, else I never would have convened this summit at all. My father cannot remain a hostage for vague threats of violence¡ªon either side. If Avalon is to recognize the validity of his imprisonment in Guerron, it will be through a formal agreement, with terms far beyond a simple ransom.¡±

    ¡°Such as?¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes died down slightly, though not enough to fool Luce into believing the issue was resolved.

    ¡°Guarantee of his life, for one thing. Reasonable care and comfort for his accommodations. Details released about every aspect of his alleged crimes.¡±

    ¡°Alleged?¡± Camille laughed. ¡°Do you really not see what he¡¯s doing, Fernan?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see anything,¡± he answered. ¡°But I can¡¯t see any reason to object to those terms. So long as the Guerron Commune¡¯s sovereignty is acknowledged and protected, King Harold¡¯s life has no reason to be threatened. Luce already promised to send scientists to Guerron to help us get back on our feet after the White Night and Guy Valvert.¡±

    Camille¡¯s indignation at comparing the two was plain on her face, but instead of objecting, she took a deep breath, then asked Luce. ¡°And us? You mentioned the same thing in your letter.¡±

    ¡°If you agree to our terms, certainly. I have a few machine schematics on my ship that you could walk out of here with today, and promising young minds from the Tower eager to face new challenges abroad.¡± Though if you¡¯re actually entertaining this, I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re coming off so hostile. It was strange seeing her like this at all, really, so stark a contrast to the cool manipulator who¡¯d ably served then deftly betrayed him in Malin. Something was off about her, despite her great victory, and the Guerron revolution didn¡¯t seem sufficient to explain it.

    ¡°Be specific,¡± Leclaire said. ¡°What exactly are you offering us?¡±

    Luce responded with the list he¡¯d prepared, staff and schematics to help the Empire grow into a modern state, with weaponry notably absent from the list, along with anything Luce considered too great a risk of being applicable to making it.

    That seemed to open the floodgates, because instead of further debating the larger issues of diplomacy, Leclaire immediately took the opportunity to haggle over minutiae like frequency and quantity of spiritual offerings, and Fernan countered back with diplomatic recognition, and it wasn¡¯t long before Madeline¡ªsomehow¡ªthought she needed to weigh in as well.

    As it turned out, finding peace through diplomacy was utterly exhausting, more maddening than wandering the wastes half-starved. Luce allowed himself to focus on the negotiations, trusting Charlotte to consider the military implications of anything the other delegates revealed and analyze it later.

    Until, at last, hours later, a final Treaty of Charenton sat on the table, written with Luce¡¯s elegant penmanship. Maximilien of Condorcet, Jethro, and Charlotte were invited back in¡ªprimarily to keep things even once Fernan needed the finalized treaty read to him, but they all kept silent aside from Maximilien¡¯s whispered reading aloud to Fernan.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy to sell Lyrion home-rule or my father¡¯s captivity back home,¡± Luce said. ¡°But for what we¡¯re getting in return¡ªpeace, above all¡ªI believe I can do it. I¡¯m ready to sign.¡±

    Everyone would walk away dissatisfied with the compromise, if they would walk away at all. But it was the most Luce could justify agreeing to, the furthest he could stretch his principles in the name of peace. Not to mention his borrowed authority¡ªAunt Lizzie was on board with the broad strokes, and she held massive sway over the Great Council, but not unlimited power. This was the best it was realistically going to get. With a flourish of his pen, Luce added his name to the bottom of the treaty¡ªLucifer Charles Grimoire, Prince of Darkness.

    ¡°I appreciate that you extended the invitation at all,¡± said Madeline, pulling out her pen. ¡°This isn¡¯t what we wanted, but it¡¯s a good start, given in good faith. On behalf of the Lyrion League, I¡¯ll sign it.¡± She added her name in a compressed script below Luce¡¯s, revealing that her middle name was Eileen.

    Fernan¡¯s eyes had dimmed over the hours, his energy clearly sapped in more ways than one, but they roused to life anew as he took his opportunity to speak. ¡°I¡¯m happy that you proved to be so open-minded, Prince Luce. Regarding Cya and G¨¦zarde alike. If only your father felt the same way, maybe we wouldn¡¯t need to be doing any of this.¡± He didn¡¯t pick up the pen, instead singing a fair approximation of his name into the paper with his finger. Unsurprisingly, he left out his ¡®Sire¡¯ title.

    Leaving only Camille Leclaire. Debating the points of the treaty had been akin to pulling fingernails the entire time, and despite enough agreement from the other three parties regarding at least the basics, she¡¯d been obstinate enough about Guerron to throw the whole thing into question.

    And right now, she wasn¡¯t talking, wasn¡¯t signing, just tapping her fingers on the table as she considered the proposal. ¡°You¡¯re offering a lot, Luce. I won¡¯t deny that. But all the scientists and schematics in the world won¡¯t do us any good without coal.¡± Camille glared at Fernan. ¡°At the moment, rebels are occupying the Empire¡¯s premi¨¨re mines. Are you prepared to offer us that as well, Luce?¡±

    I doubt we could spare it even if we wanted to. A century of industrialization had left Avalon stripped of much of its natural resources, not that Luce would ever be eager to admit it. Hence the attempt to pivot¡ªwith the power of wind and water, sun and nocturne, there would be no need to play politics with Guerron to keep the engines running. ¡°Cruel of you to leave your most important demand for last. You¡¯re trying to pressure me to agree now so we can finish this. But it¡¯s not so simple. Avalon has its limits, despite the face we¡¯ve presented to the world. You can¡¯t expect me to get the Great Council to agree to supply your potential war machine.¡±

    ¡°We can,¡± said Fernan, his eyes condensed into fire so bright it was nearly white. ¡°You told me, before, that you were willing to promote offerings to G¨¦zarde in exchange for some of his children¡¯s food, ensuring that all geckos had the energy needed to survive.¡±

    ¡°And you rebuffed me,¡± said Leclaire. ¡°It wasn¡¯t radical enough for you to have a great spirit to provide for his children; no, they had to take everything on their own.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that like it isn¡¯t sound philosophy,¡± said Madeline, but the conversation continued past her remark without acknowledging it.

    ¡°Well, I still told G¨¦zarde about it, and he agreed.¡± Fernan seemed even more reluctant about that deal today than he had across the river with the spirits, but fortunately the prospect of peace on the continent had been enough to persuade him then, and it seemed to be carrying him through now. ¡°We can go over the specifics, but if you¡¯re prepared to swear on your soul to promote offerings to him with your full effort and devotion...¡± He sighed. ¡°I think we can work it out.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have me devote my peoples¡¯ resources to that mountain hermit? My family has served Levian for untold centuries, since before the Empire was even a dream in the Fox Queen¡¯s mind.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t say you had to stop supporting Levian,¡± Luce added, trying to pacify her and prevent this agreement from falling apart right at the finish line.

    ¡°But I¡¯m saying it now,¡± Fernan said, immediately ruining the gesture. ¡°We can¡¯t trust that you¡¯ll give G¨¦zarde enough support to keep the geckos healthy if your devotion is divided. Considering everything you¡¯ll get in return, this shouldn¡¯t be a difficult decision.¡±

    Camille seemed to disagree, biting her lip with rage. ¡°Your arrogance has grown immeasurably since last we met, Fernan. You¡¯d have me forsake¡ª¡±

    ¡°A monster,¡± Madeline interrupted. ¡°He¡¯s responsible for untold death and destruction in Charenton. The fact that this is even a decision for you is absurd! Are you truly the scheming sorceress the journals make you out to be, committed to evil for its own sake? Anything less, and supporting Levian is incomprehensible.¡±

    ¡°He fought your own fianc¨¦ in the White Night,¡± Fernan added. ¡°And unless you leave Levian behind, there¡¯s no way to be sure you¡¯re fully supporting G¨¦zarde, which means that the geckos¡¯ very existence is uncertain. No, for this to work, you must sever all ties with Levian and devote your resources fully to G¨¦zarde.¡±

    ¡°You realize he¡¯ll kill me for that, right?¡± Camille bit her lip, narrowed eyes scanning across the room.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I could get G¨¦zarde to grant you his protection,¡± Fernan said, though Camille didn¡¯t appear to be convinced.

    Luce held himself back from blinking as he gauged Leclaire¡¯s response, waiting for her reply. If they were truly at an impasse, he had another way to ensure that Levian¡¯s High Priestess would never trouble anyone again.

    ¡°This is a travesty,¡± she said at last. ¡°An unjust assault on natural rights and hallowed claims alike. Truly a proposal worthy of the Prince of Darkness, especially now that you seem to have so eagerly embraced your reputation.¡±

    Luce blinked four times in a pattern: long then short, then again. C for Camille, when I should have made it L for Leclaire... L for Levian... If Luce had called out for breaking their deal, back in Malin, things never would have gotten to this point. Even after everything, I suppose I have trouble recognizing her for what she is. At least this was cleaner, more humane than an eternity of suffering. Luce knew Charlotte had seen the signal when she started backing away from the table, heading for the detonator in the other room.

    ¡°But,¡± Leclaire continued, causing Charlotte to pause in her step. ¡°It¡¯s one that I can live with. Peace never comes without a cost, after all. I¡¯ll sign your accursed treaty.¡±

 Florette XIV: The Twilight Initiate

    Florette XIV: The Twilight Initiate

    ¡°It just doesn¡¯t seem like it was necessary.¡± Florette kept her eyes alert, scanning the overgrown courtyard for any inconvenient onlookers. ¡°Savian was cooperating, right? He did everything we asked him to do.¡±

    Cordelia, shipmaster of the Seaward Folly, ignored the question, pulling off a glossy black ring with a line of green cutting across it. She frowned, scoffed, then slipped it back onto his finger, leaving slight smudges on the surface from her fingers. ¡°Cheap aristo was using fakes already.¡±

    ¡°He was really deep in debt. I don¡¯t think Captain Verrou even realized quite how much.¡± Even if he thought the Monfroy stuff was worth the risk, he would have warned about it beforehand. ¡°That¡¯s why you picked him in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Poor from keeping up appearances.¡± The shipmaster rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. ¡°The silks, the jewels and gems, the weekly foxhunt, the tab a league long in half the taverns in Chaya... He really had it rough.¡± She pulled the bowl Florette was holding closer, exchanging a gold bracelet for a slightly paler fake. ¡°Are you just going to stand there?¡±

    ¡°I... I don¡¯t really feel comfortable with this.¡± It felt strange, voicing it aloud instead of projecting confidence and comfort, but¡ªfor once¡ªthere wasn¡¯t a pirate on the crew that Florette felt any need to impress. ¡°How would you like it if someone hired you for a job and then killed you instead of paying you?¡±

    Cordelia shrugged, dropping a ring into the bucket. ¡°A penny saved is a penny earned. And we all got to earn.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to go inside.¡±  And count the minutes before I can go back to Cambria. Strange to think of it as any kind of home, but Florette had already spent longer there than anywhere else in her life, nulle village of Enquin aside. Having a certain freckled scientist waiting for her didn¡¯t hurt.

    Just try to ignore the part where I ran her best friend through with a sword because I had no idea what I was doing. ¡°See you at the event, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Fine, suit yourself. You can do some poking around in the closed-off areas they¡¯re prepping for Monfroy¡¯s big event. Oh¡ªbut grab that helmet and clipboard. You stick out too much on your own.¡±

    Florette looked at the table Cordelia had gestured towards, where a stiff wooden board with a metal bracket at the top sat next to a hard-shelled hat in bright yellow¡ªsomething Florette imagined a mad seamstress might invent while trying to create armor from bumblebees. ¡°That¡¯s supposed to make me stick out less?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s what some laborers and inspectors wear, to keep their head from cracking like an egg if something falls on it. Monfroy and his guests have never and will never learn their names and faces. Shit, most of the time you can take those into any building and you¡¯ll be invisible. Bosses assume their grunts are getting some maintenance done and grunts assume their bosses called you in.¡±

    Good to know, I guess. It might even let her into the Undying Room, a sealed chamber which Monfroy insisted that no one enter on pain of death, assuming Cordelia wasn¡¯t setting her up for failure.  In theory, they were working towards the same ends... That was the plan and the agreement. But Srin Savian had made plans and agreements too, and Cordelia had found it more convenient not to honor them.

    Florette put the hat on anyway. Since she actually had been invited here, it was a relatively low-stakes way to test it. And when four men and women in the same hats walked past the doorway towards the castle, it seemed a particularly safe bet.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you learn that? Probably not at sea.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Seaworn. Back in the day, my cousin used to wear a customs inspector¡¯s uniform to sneak onto the ships. The clothes were different, though. Big poofy red hats, because serving Avalon means humiliating yourself.¡±

    ¡°He got you into this business?¡±

    Cordelia let out a dry laugh. ¡°He got pinched before he turned sixteen. The putz never even stole anything, he just wanted to look around. Can you imagine?¡± She snorted, then took a breath. ¡°Didn¡¯t stop them from shipping him to Plantage though. I had my own problems, about as far from ¡®in the business¡¯ as it gets.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that must have been so hard for you,¡±  Florette couldn¡¯t help but say, thinking of the sparkling, glamorous neighborhood where Toby Folsom¡¯s party had been held, complete with its terrifying bird cage elevator. ¡°Got bored of the easy life in Seaworn?¡±

    ¡°Ugh, children think they know everything,¡± the shipmaster muttered. ¡°Seaworn was a total shithole until they built that fucking waterfront. Glitzy kids from Sunset Heights would piss themselves even setting foot in it. Harbor was too shallow for the big new steamships, so all the best stuff went up to the mechanized docks at the marina and we got stuck with the scraps. In 68, they laid off three stevedores in five, and by 83 it would have been too expensive for them to live there even with jobs.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Sheepishly, Florette rubbed the back of her neck. ¡°My village wasn¡¯t too different. I get why you had to go with Captain Verrou.¡± If not why you had to kill Savian.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t meet Robin for years after that. I left when the rent on our house doubled and we had to move so far into the sticks that you¡¯d barely even call it Walston. Actually managed to make Seaworn look good by comparison. And I was too much of a sucker then to get into anything dirty, especially after Archie got nicked. Which left the navy.¡±

    ¡°You joined Avalon¡¯s¡ª¡± Florette tried to stop herself, allowing that she might be missing information again. ¡°Did they conscript back then? I thought it had always been voluntary, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°You thought right. What else was I going to do? No job, no prospects, had family to worry about... And it was miserable, if that helps your infantile need for moral purity. Ended up making ass pay, doing an ass job, serving an ass. One time he made me scrub the deck naked. And the humiliation was nothing next to the blisters and splinters.¡±

    It does maybe help a bit? If Florette were honest with herself, she had to recognize that she could easily have ended up doing the same thing with the Imperial army if things had gone differently in Guerron, though Lucien Renart was certainly a lesser evil to serve than Magnifico.

    ¡°Then Robin Verrou shows, and I finally get to see the fear in his eyes. Robin gives the captain a trial all properlike, hanging on our every word, and then off the side the captain goes, thrashing and cursing as he watches us sail away. And my family gets by way better than they ever did when I was in the navy, grand-nieces and grand-nephews like you wouldn¡¯t believe.

    ¡°So no, Florette, I don¡¯t particularly care that some Count bit it. I mean, honestly, what did he expect? We¡¯re pirates. If he was dumb enough to get in bed with us, that¡¯s on him.¡±

    Then what does that say about me? ¡°You sound like Eloise.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like a compliment.¡± Cordelia¡¯s lips tightened. ¡°Eloise had her moments. Good quartermaster. But I wasn¡¯t surprised when I heard about the mutiny. She wasn¡¯t that different from my old captain in the end¡ªdidn¡¯t realize that eventually, in this business or any other, it just comes down to ¡®I don¡¯t like you¡¯.¡±

    ¡°People tend to forget that,¡± Florette agreed through grit teeth, looking at the cooperative Count on a slab in front of them. ¡°I¡¯m going.¡±

    ¡°Go.¡± Cordelia seemed to realize something, holding up a finger. ¡°Wait, I won¡¯t be at Monfroy¡¯s event, so I might not see you again here.¡±

    That¡¯s great! ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°The doctor that failed to save her patient doesn¡¯t exactly make for an honored guest. So when you get back to Cambria, go to Gaylor¡¯s Caf¨¦ and ask for a cricket coffee. I¡¯ll have a few jobs ready for you by then. Then in six months or so, I¡¯ll rotate out and leave you with a handler more suited to a delicate flower like yourself.¡±

    I do not need to be ¡®handled¡¯. ¡°More jobs, really? Shall I just squeeze it in between studying Avalon¡¯s secrets and maintaining my cover doing other illicit jobs for Monfroy?¡±

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve got it figured out. Bye!¡±

    Scowling, Florette grabbed the clipboard and stormed out of the building and into the courtyard, nearly tripping over a thorny tuft of purple flowers in the process.

    Hard to tell whether that¡¯s a real problem brewing or just her getting on my nerves... But if it did come to it, Florette wasn¡¯t some overeager amateur anymore, wasn¡¯t beholden to the path the pirates put in front of her. And doing Cordelia¡¯s bidding wasn¡¯t essential to her cover in the same way that this Monfroy business was, either. Easy enough to set it aside if need be.

    ¡°What are you doing out here?¡± Florette spun her head to see a dark-haired boy frowning beneath one of those yellow helmets. A small silver stud was set into his nose, as Florette had seen some other Cambrians sport. ¡°They said they want everyone in the Hall of Light and Shadow for an orientation.¡± He swore quietly to himself. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯ll be late, at least.¡±

    ¡°I got lost,¡± Florette lied in a sheepish tone, trying to sound similarly embarrassed. ¡°This castle¡¯s way too big. Do you know the way?¡±

    The boy nodded, then began walking briskly, leading Florette towards the nearest entrance to the main castle building. Quickly, they were ascending a circular stone staircase, cramped enough that Florette had to duck to avoid hitting her head against the stairs above her, then through an ornately decorated hallway, narrow vertical windows peering down over the sunlit Chaya below.

    ¡°Just past here, I think,¡± the boy said as he opened a door to a massive room, twisted into blocky spirals of glass and mirrors, light shining through the ceiling at odd angles before ending in the shirts and vests of about a dozen workers, each wearing the same hat.

    ¡°...I don¡¯t care what Harold Grimoire thinks he knows about construction, this is an historic building that needs restoration, not modernization. If you¡¯re refusing to do the job I hired you for, then this conversation is over.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that, Lord Monfroy. It¡¯s just that it¡¯s against the building code. Government¡¯ll come after you if they find out about it. Come after us too, for doing the work.¡±

    ¡°So this is a... shakedown, is it?¡± Monfroy hissed. ¡°Very well. If this is truly an additional hazard to you, additional hazard pay may be... warranted. An increase of twelve percent should be sufficient, provided you¡¯re also willing to dig a passage for me.¡±

    ¡°Twelve percent is very generous, Lord Monfroy, sir. We¡¯ll take a vote, but I¡¯m sure¡ªWhy are you just getting here now? I¡¯m docking your pay for the hour, both of you.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± the worker next to her said.

    ¡°It¡¯s my fault,¡± Florette offered in a particularly high pitch to disguise her voice, suppressing a wince when Monfroy still glanced their way. ¡°Got lost. He was just showing me the way.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± The foreman shrugged. ¡°Just you then. Get with the others.¡±

    Florette hurried into place as fast as she could manage casually, waiting for a word from Monfroy that never came. As the Lord turned back from a reflective wall towards the gathering, Monfroy¡¯s eyes glanced off her with no recognition, no different from Camille forgetting her face in front of Clocha?ne Candles.

    I guess Cordelia was right.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Good, we can finally begin,¡± Monfroy announced, his voice stronger and louder than Florette had ever heard it. ¡°You¡¯re here because I expect excellent work, done quickly, and I¡¯m prepared to pay what it takes. You¡¯re here to touch the face of history and ensure its preservation for centuries to come. The Hall of Light and Shadow must be ready by year¡¯s end. The real year¡¯s end, mind you. Sauine, not the final day of this 12-month year ridiculousness. The twenty-ninth day of the thirteenth month, of the nineteen-hundred and eighty-third year. That means you only have a few weeks to restore the Hall and rehabilitate Mahabali Hall. If you find that you are falling short, inform me, and I will supplement your labor, provided I observe the labor shortage you report. I expect this to be done in impeccable fashion, on time, no matter the cost. Do not disappoint me. Dismissed.¡±

    ?

    Florette tugged at the edge of her cloak into place, trying to hide as much as she could of the tears from Glaciel¡¯s spear. Or were they burns from Flammare? Or the factory fire? I¡¯m lucky this cloak isn¡¯t in ruins after everything I¡¯ve put it through.

    It sat more comfortably on her shoulders after realizing that. Every scar and blemish was a record of what Florette had accomplished, assurance that she would get through this and come out on the other side a legend.

    So what if the pirates were proving to be more Eloise Clocha?ne and less Robin Verrou? The Fox-King and his knights had been worse, and they¡¯d still been able to work together against Glaciel. So what if Monfroy was forcing her to do dirty jobs for his creepy cult? As soon as the need for Srin Sabine passed, so too would go any need to listen to Monfroy.

    Or even keep him alive, for that matter.

    Florette had spent the last few weeks gathering information, making the most of being forced to stay here, all the more effective once Cordelia sailed off into the night. Monfroy didn¡¯t seem to care too much about what she did until they got back to Cambria¡ªonly encouraging her to study The End of Time and better familiarize herself with the Twilight Society before the New Year celebration¡ªso it was easy enough to stay unsuspicious by taking a walk into town or posting up with a book somewhere to do reconnaissance.

    Chaya was plenty interesting on its own, and going into town had the benefit of letting Florette let her guard down a bit, as long as none of Monfroy¡¯s people were around. Around two weeks in, there¡¯d even been another few sunny days in a row, making things warmer than a day in the twelfth month had any right to be.

    But the more important work was at Mahabali Hall, and Florette had no intention of slacking on that¡ªno matter how annoying Cordelia had been about it. She hadn¡¯t managed to get into the Undying Room¡ªMonfroy always had someone watching it, and no disguise was suitable to enter, since no one was allowed¡ªbut she¡¯d still managed to piece together a fair bit about the Twilight Society just from the New Year¡¯s event Monfroy was throwing for them.

    Once the guests had begun to arrive, there was even more to learn.

    From a man named Ernest Porterfield, Florette heard how the old calendar worked¡ªthirteen months with twenty-eight days each, and one Day of Void considered to be between the years. Counting from the creation of the spirit Lunette, union of Khali and Soleil, the year was apparently 1983. But the whole reason they¡¯d started the new calendar was because no one knew exactly how many days had passed under Khali¡¯s darkness, and the Twilight Society¡¯s insistence that they knew what no one else did seemed to be backed up by nothing more than guesswork. Even more ridiculous, at the time they¡¯d used 26-hour days so they could have two sets of thirteen, though fortunately no one bothered with that anymore, even the most ardent traditionalists.

    A woman named Lucretia Marbury added that, as prescribed by the Great Binder¡¯s End of Time, that meant they were only seventeen years away from Khali¡¯s return, rather than Florette¡¯s initial assumption of two-thousand¡ªassuming you believed that sort of thing, anyway. ¡®Crete¡¯ Marbury preferred to stick to what evidence could support, which was how Florette came to learn that she was already employed on Ortus Tower¡¯s twelfth floor, with access to all but the most closely-guarded of its secrets. Definitely someone it could be useful to know in the future.

    And from Kelsey Thorley, she learned that his father Celice was a decades-long member of the Twilight Society, here to initiate his son into the group and seek a way back up Avalon¡¯s ladder, especially after a certain cunning bandit had made a fool of him in Malin.

    Definitely explains why he had the book Monfroy insisted was so important. Probably the unassuming cover as well¡ªmost members didn¡¯t seem particularly eager to make the depths of their affiliation known. Understandable enough, when Khali¡¯s rampage was just barely beyond living memory, and they were siding with the spirit who¡¯d condemned hundreds of thousands of people to death.

    ¡°I really didn¡¯t expect to see you here, Sabine. Didn¡¯t you only meet your father a couple years ago? My condolences, by the way.¡± He blinked. ¡°Wait, isn¡¯t this his castle? The Srins of Mahabali Hall?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But I¡¯m here for the party, too. Monfroy insisted.¡±

    ¡°Who? Uh¡ªWhatever. Look, you have nothing to worry about. Mostly, it¡¯s a bunch of old people drinking, smoking, and playing cards. Sometimes they talk about their grandchildren.¡±

    ¡°And Khali, I¡¯d assume. Have you heard their take on the Age of Darkness?¡± Florette had largely pieced it together once the Hall of Light and Shadow was finished, and the small allusions she¡¯d dropped in conversation with certain party guests seemed to confirm it.

    ¡°I think they¡¯re right about that part, but it¡¯s not like Khali did nothing wrong. And I¡¯ll jump off the Agada ridge if she returns from Nocturne in seventeen years. The Great Binder didn¡¯t even say it¡¯d be the year 2000, she just said two thousand years from ¡®now¡¯. And it¡¯s barely been a hundred.¡± Kelsey shrugged. ¡°Khali couldn¡¯t even win then; in two-thousand years¡¯ time, I doubt she¡¯ll make it five minutes against us.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± Florette remembered the passage pretty well after her efforts to learn the book, and the Great Binder¡¯s ¡®one-thousand years from now and then one thousand more¡¯, couldn¡¯t exactly be called efficiently worded, but it wasn¡¯t particularly ambiguous either. The only thing unclear about it was where she got that number from, considering she¡¯d apparently been viewing an abstract spirit vision at the time. If she¡¯d picked two-thousand years because she¡¯d seen a giant glowing sign reading ¡°Year 2000¡±, she¡¯d presumably have mentioned it.

    ¡°Did I just hear you say ¡®Khali did nothing wrong¡¯, Kelsey?¡± Grey hair slicked back with some kind of expensive Avaline oil Florette had seen at the alchemists, Celice Thorley seemed less impressive up close. Maybe that was because he wasn¡¯t the head of the snake anymore, where he¡¯d ruled the railyard in Malin. Or perhaps I did this to him.

    ¡°Uh, no.¡± Kelsey waved his hands apart. ¡°That was¡ª¡±

    ¡°You have to stop trying so hard. They have to like you, not think you¡¯re a zealot. Your professional development is on the line here.¡± Thorley the elder grabbed Kelsey, then turned to Florette. ¡°Have we met before, miss?¡±

    Not up-close, but I¡¯ve definitely seen you around the railyard. ¡°I don¡¯t believe so, Mr. Thorley. Welcome to Mahabali Hall.¡±

    ¡°What are you welcoming me for? This is Monfroy¡¯s estate.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡ª¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. We have to be going.¡±

    Kelsey gave Florette an apologetic shrug as his father dragged him into a conversation with a wrinkled couple and their thirty-five-year-old-looking daughter.

    For her part, Florette headed towards the Hall of Light and Shadow, finally refurbished to Lord Monfroy¡¯s exacting standards.

    Intricate panes of glass and mirrors spiralled inward from the walls, reflecting light and colors into thirteen projections all around the walls. As the sun touched the horizon and the daylight burned orange, each image settled into place.

    The story of the Age of Darkness, and the truth about 118 years ago, according to the Twilight Society. Florette started with the first image, though she had in the past tried viewing it backwards to see if it illuminated anything new.

    Bathed in the orange sunset light, the first one showed a scorpion-clawed, batlike spirit embedded in the earth¡ªTerramonde, presumably¡ªwith verdant lands of hills and grass over his back. The World of Crepuscule, its inscription read.

    The next three were portraits of Soleil, Khali, and Lunette¡ªthe last representing the union between them, the agreement to rule over the land on Terramonde¡¯s back together, each with half the day to themselves. That made sense, as far as setting the stage of the narrative, but the next one¡ªnumber five of thirteen, yet the last of the images to be completed due to having thrice the mirrors and reflections as the rest combined¡ªhad shocked Florette to see.

    Miroirter, the enormous shimmering rabbit who¡¯d voted for Lunette at the Convocation of the Spirits. Florette had needed to go all the way to Monfroy himself to get the answer to that one, which fortunately he seemed happy to provide: Miroirter, spirit of reflection, could bridge worlds that reflected each other.

    Leading to the sixth picture: The World of Diurne. Celestial clouds were bathed in the sunset light, filled with tiny dots representing people and larger, swirling vortices of wings and discolored darkness that no one had been able to elaborate on. The Miroirter portrait was apparently supposed to represent Soleil and Miroirter working together to reach Diurne, though a simple portrait hardly confirmed that interpretation.

    The next one was more obvious, an intricately crafted scene of light and shadow, with Soleil¡¯s imposing image hovering menacingly at the edge of the frame: The War Between the Worlds. The one after, Soleil¡¯s Capture, seemed to indicate how well that war had gone for him. The official position of the Twilight Society was that this¡ªnot any action from Khali¡ªhad been the reason for the darkness. But the Great Binder¡¯s book that they held in such high esteem disagreed¡ªit mentioned ¡®Khali¡¯s darkness¡¯ about six times per chapter¡ªso Florette saw no reason to humor that part.

    The next was a circle tinted to the blue of the sky, with mottled patches of green and brown scattered across it. Shadows, tendrils, stretched across its surface. The World of Nocturne. It had been Khali¡¯s source of power even before she¡¯d been banished to it, tapped for its energy to fuel a rescue of Soleil. Then The Rescue of Soleil, as Khali¡¯s newfound power led her to triumph against Diurne and unchain Soleil.

    The eleventh image was split again, showing the conflict between Khali and Soleil. According to the Twilight Society, Soleil had demanded dominion over Diurne and all the other worlds they were set to conquer together, while Khali refused. The End of Time didn¡¯t have much to say about her motives, so Florette supposed it was possible¡ªthat certainly sounded like Soleil¡ªbut it seemed awfully convenient to say that Khali wasn¡¯t at fault at all.

    The last two made for an interesting contrast: Khali¡¯s Victory, the twelfth image triumphantly said beneath an image of the world bathed in shadows. Then, thirteenth, Khali¡¯s Defeat, showing the Great Binder seal her inside Nocturne. After that, the idea was that you looped back to the start, the world, where Khali would one day return from her exile.

    Honestly, Cretty was right about how disconnected it all was from reality. All the more so knowing the prophesied return seemed to mostly be based on a shoddy misremembering of the words the Great Binder wrote. Even setting that aside, the whole thing was overwrought apologism for a demonstrably malicious spirit, interpreted as favorably as possible even beyond the initial slant of the light images themselves. But it did look absolutely breathtaking.

    When the orange light began to fade to purple, Florette returned to the main hall. In the surprise of a lifetime, it turned out that Twilight was a pretty important time for the Twilight Society, and that meant Florette had to get back for her¡ªand, apparently, Kelsey¡¯s¡ªofficial initiation into it.

    Florette¡¯s Cloak of Nocturne began blowing across her shoulders, though there was hardly any wind in the air, and the thought occurred to her that now¡ªwith everyone gathered in the Great Hall¡ªwas the perfect time to see if she could get into the Undying Room. Aside from the construction workers, all of Monfroy¡¯s people seemed to be Society members, which did speak to its networking potential if nothing else. That meant there was at least a chance he¡¯d let them attend the celebration with everyone else. Worth a look, at least.

    The massive blue stone slab in front of the door had it closed up tightly, but¡ªsure enough¡ªno one was guarding it.

    It could be a trap, trying to assess the loyalty of her and his guests. Perhaps the penalty of death was just a result of whatever was in there¡ªa bed of spikes, a fiery trap, a spirit-touched beast that could swallow you whole...

    But I¡¯m here to learn, and I can¡¯t walk by this without at least taking a look. Holding her cloak tight, Florette descended deep into Nocturne, until the pull of the world behind her was weak enough that she could walk through the stone, gasping for air as she recomposed herself on the other side.

    Nothing exploded or killed her, which was a good start, and no one was there, which was another good turn. But, lying on the ground...

    Florette jumped straight back into Nocturne, practically flying through the stone and back out into the hallway. She descended the stairs so fast she could barely remember doing it moments later, slipping into the ceremony next to Kelsey as he whispered, ¡°Where were you?¡±

    ¡°Lost...¡± Florette said hollowly, her eyes still wide from what she¡¯d seen.

    ¡°Well, get ready, they¡¯re calling you up soon.¡±

    Florette nodded mutely, her eyes still stuck in that room, frozen looking at the skeletal figures she¡¯d seen discarded on the ground, all lined up in a row. The skin on their faces was stretched so thin so you could see the shape of their skull through it, a fountain of white hair growing from the back of their heads. Their backs were shrunken and twisted, toes and fingers crumbling into dust.

    It had taken a moment to realize who they were, to recognize the stud in the nose of what looked like the corpse of a hundred-year-old man. Somehow they¡¯d all been... Whatever had happened to them seemed horrifying, even worse the sight of them all lined up withered and dead, set in a row like it was all some kind of game.

    Monfroy had told them to build a passageway for him. And now no one but him would know of it.

    A ¡®Collector of people¡¯, he said. Now Florette knew exactly what he meant.

 Camille X: The Terminus

    Camille X: The Terminus

    This was the end.

    The last scion of Leclaire, the last sage of Levian, Camille Leclaire¡¯s final act of any significance would be the signing of a humiliating treaty to keep the peace, such as it was. Though more likely than not it¡¯s a twenty-year respite at best. Once Magnifico died¡ªwhatever Luce¡¯s intentions¡ªall bets were off.

    As a political operator, it would be Camille¡¯s most unpopular action by far, a definitive way to sully her legacy as Maiden of Dawn and Liberator of Malin, but if anyone in the Imperial government had to be tarred with that brush, better it be the one with a lifespan measured in hours.

    Considering how close things had come, again and again, to the brink of a war they were sure to lose, the Empire could endure the disgrace of Guerron for a time. Thanks to the carefully worded commitment to honor G¨¦zarde ¡°for the rest of her life¡±, they¡¯d keep receiving coal for essentially no political cost, and a moderate price in florins at that. Simon could build his damned machines and the Empire of the Fox could modernize without a combative Avalon retaliating.

    In theory, anyway.

    When Camille actually considered the next twenty years, her imminent death stripping all illusions from her eyes, it was difficult to be optimistic. Lucien was absent, gallivanting around the continent despite knowing Camille would only be able to run his empire for him until the end of the year. Even if her death finally got him to return to his duties, he would be a mess for months, with no one to steer the Empire in his time of grief.

    Annette was a capable administrator, but not someone with an abundance of vision, or much inclined to reach for novel opportunities. Being so thoroughly outmaneuvered by Lumi¨¨re that Fernan and Mordred had needed to rig a trial to save her was ample evidence of that, for all that Camille had failed against the same opponent. And now that Malin had pledged itself against military action to quell the rebellion in Guerron, she would be livid that Camille had sold out her birthright, probably cursing her name for years beyond Camille¡¯s death.

    And who else was there? Simon and Eloise, staunch votaries of selfishness and commerce? Mordred Boothe, the smooth operator of espionage so ungifted at politics that he couldn¡¯t make it through his own brother¡¯s peace summit without getting thrown out of the room? The fabulist, Scott Temple, who changed masters as often as coats and would no-doubt return to Avalon¡¯s fold without missing a step? Laughable, all of them.

    Camille would leave behind a sundered Empire, bereft of leadership at a time when it needed it most. Perhaps it could survive as long as Magnifico did, provided Guerron continued to honor the agreement¡ªif Lucien could come to his senses, he and Annette together could make for passable rulers¡ªbut as soon as the king died, nothing was stopping Avalon from taking back what they¡¯d lost. Every year until then would simply be borrowed time, no different from what Camille had bargained with Levian to get, this past year.

    And it¡¯s too late for anything else. My fate is written. A dead martyr, no different from her mother. And no less likely to be judged and cursed after my death, any gratitude buried under the weight of hard decisions and mistakes.

    The end of a proud line of sages who¡¯d spent centuries fueling the power of a vicious monster, the woman who¡¯d liberated Malin but lost Guerron. Lost everything.

    The only choice left I have is how I die. Not much, in the end, but Camille intended to make it count¡ªfor her own legacy, if nothing else. When tutors in one hundred years spoke of the Maiden of Dawn, be it as a savior or monster, there would at least be one point over which no doubt remained: the ties between Leclaire and Levian had been irreparably severed.

    Camille finished The Last Will and Testament of Lady Camille Th¨¦r¨¨se Leclaire with a flourish of her pen, a more passionate signature than its like on the Treaty of Charenton, then folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope, sealed with blue wax bearing her snake insignia. Everything she could leave behind¡ªapologies and gratitude for Annette, validation for Lucien instead of the recriminations his actions warranted, instructions for Margot to ensure her continued professional success... All together, it stuffed the envelope thickly enough that Camille nearly had to divide it in two.

    It wouldn¡¯t be enough. Even if Mordred survived today and devoted himself to realizing her will¡ªboth prospects individually were vanishingly unlikely¡ªit wasn¡¯t likely to amount to much more than words on a page.

    ¡°You¡¯re ready?¡± Mordred asked, seeing her seal the envelope.

    ¡°As much as anyone can be. I don¡¯t really have a choice.¡± Camille set the envelope down on her desk, then picked it up again. ¡°But you do. If you want to help, I could very much use someone I trust to get this back to Malin. I know Luce is honorable, but sending it on without reading it is still a risk he might not take.¡±

    ¡°And leave you to face your demise alone? Who do you take me for?¡± Mordred smiled. ¡°I¡¯m no less doomed than you are, and this is the worthiest of deaths. Who knows? We might even make it through.¡±

    You might. I won¡¯t get the chance.

    ¡°Come on, we don¡¯t want to lose our daylight.¡± He held out his hand, ready to lead the way, and Camille took it.

    It was raining when they reached the deck of the ship, errant drops of water glimmering in the scarlet light. Camille savored the sight, the last sunset she would ever see, then descended towards the rowboat tied below.

    In the distance, she could see lights above the Rhan, lanterns to celebrate the new year in the most intact remaining part of Charenton. Good, they could use a cause for celebration. And it would mean that people were clustered away from the beach, away from any danger.

    Still, Camille directed the boat far to the west of any houses or tents, finding a rocky spot on the beach to dismount the boat and bid the oarsman return to the A.R.S Progress. She almost asked Mordred to go with him, but he¡¯d made his choice. No further reason to push him away.

    And, selfishly, Camille was glad she wouldn¡¯t be dying alone.

    Feeling the raindrops stain her face, Camille gave Mordred one last look. He nodded in agreement, content to join her in her doom. Very well.

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian, Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.¡± Even after so many months, the words danced easily across her tongue, almost automatic.

    Rather than venturing into the water, Camille kept her feet on the relatively solid ground of the beach, waiting for Levian to approach from beneath the surging waves.

    The angular shape of Levian¡¯s head emerged slowly from the water, untouched by the rain. Slitted blue eyes glared ominously into Camille, ignoring Mordred as if he weren¡¯t even there. ¡°Leclaire, my loyal servant. You chose a potent sacrifice to fulfill our pact.¡±

    What? I¡¯m hundreds of sacrifices short. Not that acting surprised was likely to help here. ¡°I always give back what I owe.¡±

    Mordred gave her an unmistakeable ¡°what the fuck¡± look that Camille tried hard not to return in kind, for all that she was feeling the same bafflement.

    ¡°Call it as you will, human. But I granted you back your life so that you might realize my will in the world of humans, and you succeeded. My temple and control in Malin is restored, untold offerings returned to what they were before your predecessor allowed its fall. Not only are Soleil¡¯s followers defeated, but the Sun himself is no more, replaced by a pliable hermit. You have done well, human.¡±

    Camille had thought she¡¯d prepared herself for anything. Death, for certain, or even eternal bondage, if things went wrong. But success? ¡°I also promised you one thousand sacrifices, delivered by the end of the year. Here I am at the end, and...¡±

    ¡°And less than a score remains. Nine-hundred and eighty-four humans dead in your name, sacrificed to me by you and your loyal followers. Kill the last, and the service you promised in exchange for your life will have been provided.¡±

    Someone was making sacrifices in my name this whole time? Camille felt her stomach drop, remembering the devastation in Charenton that apparently had been fueled in her name. If not worse... If the Charentine had been promised to Levian, the entire attack might have been for Camille¡¯s benefit.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°My followers slew just shy of a thousand people for you in my name...¡± Barely, Camille managed to keep her tone from rising at the end as a question would. Not Aude and the Acolytes... Most of the ones from Malin barely countenance sacrifices at all, and the ones from Guerron don¡¯t know my predicament. Even if they¡¯d somehow found out, it was hard to imagine any of them going to such lengths behind her back.

    ¡°Well, I can¡¯t say this is what I expected.¡± Mordred gave an incredulous look towards Levian, then back to Camille. ¡°You might have asked me, Camille. My death serves a greater end, as yours would. I might even have agreed. It¡¯s not so different from what I did agree to, after all.¡±

    ¡°I would never ask you to die for me like that.¡± If I¡¯d known about this, though... Sourcing sixteen people worthy of death in Charenton would hardly be outside the realm of possibility. Mordred had even done it for her before, killing several of the more problematic Guardians back in Malin to avoid friction as power changed hands. Even now, they could almost certainly run back on shore and pick off enough people to meet Levian¡¯s deadline. In the chaos of the new year¡¯s festival, they might even manage it without being noticed.

    Leaving the other nine-hundred unexplained. Back in Malin, Mordred had dedicated his kills to Levian in Camille¡¯s name, contributing slightly towards Levian¡¯s target. Had he somehow secretly been killing hundreds of people to add to that number the whole time? Then acted incredibly convincingly as if he had no idea what Levian was talking about? It didn¡¯t seem likely.

    ¡°Do not mar your victory by wasting my time any further. Kill him.¡± Levian poked his head slightly further out of the water, the final fading light of the year reflecting in sharp blue eyes.

    ¡°And then?¡± You used this power I didn¡¯t know I¡¯d given you to destroy a city, to slaughter its people like animals for¡ªas far as I can tell¡ªno reason at all.

    ¡°Peace between the spirits was Soleil¡¯s doing, and now he is just as dead as Pantera. The time of his weakness is over. This very night, another Arbiter shall fall, and soon, all but Terramonde shall reflect our new strength.¡± His tail darted out of the water, the tip stopping just short of Camille¡¯s neck. ¡°Continue to serve me well, and you shall continue to benefit. Or fail, and deliver your soul to me as soon as the day is done. Either is a victory.¡±

    Is it? Because without followers, all that power you¡¯re so proud of will wither away. It was hard to really believe he valued ¡®her¡¯ help while declaring it so easily replaceable with the fleeting bits of energy her soul could provide him.

    It didn¡¯t matter anyway. Camille had made her choice. The cycle of greed and oppression that her family had perpetuated with Levian for centuries ended here and now, one way or another. Repaying the Leclaires¡¯ debt to the world, no matter the cost.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will.¡± Camille ducked down as the tail slashed above her, so rapid it meant Levian hadn¡¯t even slightly hesitated. It smacked down into the beach, sending a plume of wet sand flying into the air.

    The sky split with a crack as Mordred thrust his arm forwards, lightning blasting from his gauntlet. A pale imitation of Eulus¡¯s power, and unjustly stolen, but impressive in its own right. Camille had only seen it once before, during the coup against Luce, which had largely been a performance.

    In a real fight, its drawbacks were quickly becoming clear. Levian had already darted back into the water, impossible to make out beneath the darkening surface of the sea he ruled. And without a clear target, Mordred was just blasting lightning aimlessly into the water, about as likely to be hitting Levian as he was his father back in Cambria.

    Mordred stumbled as a wave crashed his ankles, nearly falling face-first into the water and his certain death, and only managed to stay upright with a gust of wind from the gauntlet.

    Camille acted fast, pulling a wave closer to him and hardening its top to ice just in time to knock him back towards dry land. A moment later, Levian shattered her construct, sending sharp slivers hurtling towards them.

    She tried to create a wall of ice to block it, but the closest water wasn¡¯t close enough, and if Mordred hadn¡¯t managed to swat most of them aside with a burst of wind, they would have left her with wounds far worse than a puncture in her thigh.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised he retreated. He¡¯s supposed to be one of the most arrogant ones, and we¡¯re just lowly humans, right?¡±

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t expecting Eulus¡¯s power to be used against him.¡± Camille bit her lip hard, pulling the shard of ice free from her leg with a grunt of pain. ¡°But now he knows how to avoid it, especially your weakened version.¡±

    As if to prove how little use it was, Mordred fired off another aimless burst of lightning into the rapidly-swelling wave forming out at sea, already tall enough to crash down over their heads.

    Camille grabbed Mordred¡¯s ungauntleted hand. ¡°Take us up.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll unbalance me if you¡¯re holding on like¡ª¡± He stopped as Camille stepped right next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. ¡°Ok, that¡¯s better.¡±

    She held on tightly as Mordred let loose a massive vortex of wind, cutting ribbons into the beach where it flung sand as the wave started to break. Camille felt her boots soak with water as they barely skimmed the top of the wave, then watched it crash impotently against the blasted sands of the empty beach.

    ¡°I can¡¯t attack while I''m using the wind to keep us up here. Can your magic¡ª¡±

    ¡°Only what Levian doesn¡¯t contest. It¡¯s his power over his domain, so if I try anything big like tearing down the wave, he¡¯ll notice and shut me down.¡± Camille could have explained that beforehand, she supposed, but all she needed to do was die, not win. She could hardly blame Mordred for trying, though, especially once the waves started to settle again.

    ¡°Is he retreating?¡±

    ¡°No. Just repositioning...¡± Though even that isn¡¯t like him. Why not crush them right away? He was surely capable of it. Even at the start, he could have slashed his tail just a bit faster and Camille would be dead.

    Oh.

    He still wanted her soul. Waiting them out would give it to him, which put the impetus on them to find him before the day expired.

    ¡°Dip me down. I can find him.¡±

    ¡°Camille, he¡¯ll just grab you. I can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it!¡±

    Jethro angled the wind, building up more horizontal speed as they started to fall. Camille eyed their trajectory and started to pull water up to meet her, forming a dip that let her see down further below. She caught the barest glimpse of dark scales before her control was wrenched away, the water splashing back down despite her pull.

    ¡°Lower,¡± Camille ordered, eyes already looking ahead to the new intersection point. She shimmied down Mordred¡¯s body, holding onto his waist, then legs, until eventually her hands were around his ankles as she hung below him, face just outside the roar of the wind the gauntlet was throwing behind them.

    Have to catch him by surprise if I don¡¯t want to be disrupted again. Camille swung her legs forward, then used the momentum from the swing to fling herself back, letting go of Mordred just in time to catch the wind he was throwing and fly even further in the other direction.

    She spun her hands in a circle as she parted the water once more, this time keeping control long enough to land on a newly-cleared seafloor, wincing as rocks sliced into her hands and knees. Taking a quick breath, she pushed the gap back in a straight line towards the sea, fueling the magic with both Levian¡¯s potent power and her own life.

    Why not, at this point?

    As soon as Levian started to collapse the new tunnel, Camille repeated the gesture, diving into the new clearing beneath the water just in time to avoid the one collapsing over her head. After a few seconds running down her corridor, she abruptly dived left and cleared another path, this time managing to get a good look at Levian¡¯s head as it poked out of the curtain of water.

    Perfect.

    Camille couldn¡¯t do anything to him herself, her power but a shadow of his own, but that didn¡¯t mean she didn¡¯t get anything out of exposing him. Throwing her hands up, she yanked the water above Levian up into the air, signaling Mordred his location.

    They hadn¡¯t talked about this, but hopefully he was smart enough to¡ª

    Camille shook as lightning once again filled the sky, rippling through the water as it hit Levian dead-on. Not a killing blow, to be sure, but¡ª

    In the moment of distraction, Camille¡¯s entire corridor of air collapsed, the walls of water smacking into her hard enough to hurt, followed shortly by the strain to hold her breath as the currents threw her back and forth.

    A swirling spear of air from above tried to reach her, but Levian closed the gap almost immediately, leaving Camille straining to breathe as she caught his dark shape approaching in a serpentine pattern, slipping out of sight and then back into view as he held her in place underwater.

    Once he reached her, it was even worse. Camille could feel something sharp dig into her shoulder, giving it a wound to mirror the bullet¡¯s scar on the other. His tail curled around her neck as she strained for air, hands flailing useless as her every attempt at magic was immediately reversed.

    At least he¡¯s decided to kill me now. The record would show that Camille Leclaire had died fighting against her evil patron, at least trying to right some small share of the wrongs her family had committed in his name. The wrongs I benefited from, lives fuel for my power just as much as his.

    Crackles of lightning hit the water, only to stop short of Levian¡¯s vicinity, dissipating in the water. Camille tried to disrupt him, but her limp gestures were barely enough to make the water tremble as she poured all her effort into breathing.

    They began to slow down, hopefully due to Mordred deciding to save himself, though there was a good chance that Levian had simply carried them far enough away that his scattershot aiming was getting close enough to even see less and less often. Eventually, so far as Camille could tell, it stopped entirely.

    Camille felt her eyes bulging, her lungs straining as Levian¡¯s grip only tightened, his tail constricting around her neck. For a moment, she thought she could see the Leclaires¡¯ tunnel in Malin, the same tube where she¡¯d risked drowning on the day of a massive battle just to make her pact before she lost the chance.

    But the image faded quickly, replaced by the twilight gloom of turbulent waters.

    This is the best death someone like me could hope for. I did what I could. Camille¡¯s mouth opened, straining for air that would never come, and she slipped away.

 Fernan XIII: Down in the Muck

    Fernan XIII: Down in the Muck

    Fernan woke in the late afternoon, feeling better rested than he had since the last night he¡¯d spent in Villechart. As usual these days, there was no need to wipe the sleep from his eyes, so he simply got up right away and changed his clothes, pawing his beard into something presumably presentable¡ªit wasn¡¯t as if he could use a mirror to check.

    ¡°Good morning, Maxime!¡± Fernan held the door frame as he swung into his companion¡¯s room, his step light. ¡°Luce invited us to stay for the New Year¡¯s festival rather than let it go by as we travel, so I thought it might be fun to go into town and see if there¡¯s anything we can do to help.¡±

    Maxime was sitting on his bed, an unknown book in his hands. ¡°You¡¯re more than welcome to go, if you¡¯d like. For my part, I intend to stay in our quarters for the duration. As it happens, I¡¯m quite engrossed with my current reading material.¡±

    Well something¡¯s obviously wrong, then. ¡°That negotiation book by Marcel Aureaux you were reading on the ship? He sounded so stuffy and arrogant. Plus, the negotiations are over, now.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, that was quite some time ago, so in the duration since then, my reading acuity proved sufficient to complete it yesterday.¡± Maxime had been acting a bit like this ever since the summit, but at the time, Fernan had just put it down to exhaustion. They¡¯d been cooped up in that room for so long¡ªor out in the hall, in Maxime¡¯s case¡ªarguing over increasingly minute details just to hammer out an accord that no one else seemed particularly satisfied with.

    At least we pretty much got everything we could possibly have hoped for. Having Luce¡¯s backing had really been invaluable there, especially with the precedent he¡¯d been willing to set with his own dissaffected territories.

    ¡°Well, what are you reading now, then?¡±

    ¡°A People¡¯s History of the Plagette Republic. Fascinating to see how their Senate, while always exclusionary and aristocratic, devolved from a genuine problem-solving forum representing myriad elite perspectives into functional cults of personality around the Merlans and Aureaux, polarized factions who could only communicate what remained of their principles through overwhelming defeat of their respective opponents. It turns out that H¨¦lise Merlan was the first person to speak when the Senate first convened, and that set a precedent that her word was more valuable. Avalon does the same thing with their Great Council¡¯s ¡®First Speaker¡¯, as it happens. Perhaps the populace presumes the prime palaver preeminent for posterity, primarily, or perhaps people¡¯s predilection for pursuing power provides the provocation.¡± His tone was cordial, but lacking in warmth.

    And now Fernan knew why, though it seemed like a minor thing to fixate on. ¡°Michel asked me to give the first address! I¡¯m not even a representative of the Assembly! It was just... like if Edith Costeau had played a song on her harp before we started. Ceremonial! It¡¯s hardly a cult of personality. And if you didn¡¯t want me to do it, you should have asked me.¡±

    ¡°Ah, alas, why didn¡¯t I think of that? No doubt you would have listened thoughtfully to my every word, patted me on the back, then ignored the substance of my critique. Just the same as when I advised you to run to represent the Spirit Quartier, instead of allowing Lumi¨¦re¡¯s acolyte to assume the mantle.¡±

    ¡°I told you I don¡¯t want that kind of power! How many times¡ªUgh look, I¡¯m sorry if I made it feel like I don¡¯t listen to you. I really do value your insights, Maxime!¡±

    ¡°I believe you think you do. You try, but... The fact of the matter, Fernan, is that you do have that kind of power through your influence, and worse, you¡¯ve drawn it to yourself outside the strictures the Montaignards are building in Guerron, delegitimizing their every word in the process.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m stepping back! My role in the Commune was in securing its existence. Now¡ª¡±

    ¡°Now you need to stop deluding yourself!¡± Maxime slammed his book shut, then seemed to grimace at how extreme the gesture was. ¡°Look, you told me you wanted to step back, take a lighter role in things, ensure that the Commune stood on its own instead of on your back. That¡¯s a fine choice¡ªan admirable one, as a matter of fact. Little Nicolas would be proud.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡± Fernan asked hesitantly, bracing himself for the cutting but accurate criticism that Maxime seemed to specialize in.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t actually done it. Not in the slightest! When you chased away those mercenaries, you didn¡¯t mention your plan to anyone. No discussion, no consultation, no consensus.¡±

    Alright, you¡¯ve got a point, but it¡¯s not like there was time for that. ¡°I had to act fast. They were closing in on the city, and Courbet was already sneaking into their camp to put a knife to Delune¡¯s throat. Waiting would have been worse. Plus, the government was still provisional back then.¡±

    ¡°So you just got to decide on your own? Like when you declared that Jean Lemoine would get to keep his seat, even though you personally caught Bourbeau intimidating the electorate into selecting him?¡±

    Not an easy decision, but picking apart the legitimacy of our own elections risked destabilizing the entire coalition. The Southern Hills had chosen him, too, with hours of voting to change their minds after Jean Bourbeau¡¯s arrest. ¡°I took care of Bourbeau, and Lemoine is a pariah in the Assembly. No one takes him seriously.¡±

    ¡°The hundreds of people who voted for him do, as do the hundreds more who were afraid to vote against him. And I¡¯d caution you not to act as if Bourbeau¡¯s treatment is a point in your favor. He¡¯s still being held without formal charges, let alone a trial. Is he to die in prison while you try to think of something to charge him with?¡±

    ¡°Of course not! But that¡¯s not my role.¡± It didn¡¯t help that Lemoine and a few of the Assembly members thought Bourbeau hadn¡¯t done anything wrong, simply expressing himself, while others like Lantier wanted him executed for intimidating the electorate. ¡°I¡¯m just an ambassador, formally appointed to represent the Commune on this negotiation, and maybe called upon to do something similar if another situation like this came up.¡±

    ¡°Just an ambassador? You sat in a room with a Prince and an Empress and decided the fate of hundreds of thousands of people. And you blithely signed a deal that lets Avaline soldiers kidnap Lyrion Leaguers in the streets and haul them back to Avalon, and apparently didn¡¯t even notice!¡±

    ¡°Madeline Nella agreed! I wasn¡¯t going to be the one to keep harping on it once she and Luce settled it. Besides, it¡¯s just to keep Cya¡¯s forest safe, not... whatever you¡¯re implying.¡± And it was hard to doubt the necessity of enforcement, when already several factory owners had crossed the Rhan to start tearing Cya¡¯s forest down¡ªbrazen attempts right under Luce¡¯s nose¡ªand hadn¡¯t even been deterred when their colleagues were pushed back.

    ¡°For now. But it¡¯s in the terms of the Treaty of Charenton, and Prince Lucifer won¡¯t be the only one deciding when and how to use it. He¡¯s not the saint you make him out to be, either. Were you aware that he¡¯s held court with the Red Knight of Lorraine? That man brutally butchered hundreds of people, and ¡®Luce¡¯ allowed him to occupy the eastern bank of the Rhan simply because it made things easier for him. He threw dissidents in prison because they opposed Avalon¡¯s occupation.¡±

    ¡°Simone Leigh¡¯s people? They were caught plotting to kidnap him, and then when they escaped, they burned half the harbor down.¡±

    ¡°According to the prince?¡±

    ¡°Well... Yes, but I have no reason to doubt it. I¡¯ve gotten the measure of him. He¡¯s trustworthy, nothing like Magnifico.¡±

    Maxime set his book aside, sitting up with a grave look on his face. ¡°You told me that you used to trust Magnifico too, until this Jethro fellow told you not to, presumably while employing his absolutely dreadful impression of a Condorcet affect. Honestly, listening to his malformed, blatantly appropriated patterns of elocution would guide a neutral observer to tar the whole of our polity as naught more than sesquipedalian imbeciles.¡± Maxime muttered the last part, then seemed to realize he was getting off-topic. ¡°Perhaps Prince Lucifer is different, as you believe. It isn¡¯t strictly impossible. But the point I am trying to make is that, by your own declaration of intent, this isn¡¯t your decision to make.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°You cannot expect to have things both ways. If you truly want to step back and relinquish power, then I commend you. But if you were ever truly attempting to do it, you have failed. Politics is often a dirty business, and I sympathize with your desire to remain above the salacious fray, but you are not. And yet you keep saying that you are, acting as if you are.¡±

    I guess I kind of let things get away from me. Too much thinking like Florette. Hearing all of it at once like that... Individually it was easy to justify every decision. Even taken together, Fernan wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d really done anything wrong.

    But Maxime wasn¡¯t wrong either. I could have started a war with Malin going after those mercenaries, or talking the way I did to Camille, and I did that all on my own. And Bourbeau needed a trial, immediately. Keeping him in penitentiary purgatory was in direct contradiction to the Commune¡¯s values. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I really was trying, I just... I step back, and then there¡¯s a crisis, and people need me, and I feel like I don¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    Maxime rose from the bed, aura softening to warm orange. ¡°I understand, Fernan. I bear no anger against you, to be clear. But, in comparing your words and your actions... It¡¯s difficult to fully ignore my own disappointment, either. Perhaps that¡¯s why it took me so long to communicate my... critiques.¡± He placed his hand on Fernan¡¯s shoulder, letting it linger. ¡°You do have a choice. Your propensity for taking the time to thoughtfully consider what would do the most good, what would do the least harm, that is what earned you my respect in the first place. And you haven¡¯t lost it. But I fear where this path will take you.¡±

    ¡°I do too. I thought I got past the contradiction when I scared off the mercenaries but... Maybe that was just more of the same¡ªor how I acted afterwards was. I don¡¯t know.¡± Fernan felt his eyes dim, Maxime¡¯s aura billowing a dark blue. ¡°When we get home, I¡¯m making changes. Bourbeau, Lemoine, even the Mar¨¦chal¡¯s people. We need to be definitive, and we¡ªthe two of us¡ªneed to set the precedent that violence isn¡¯t acceptable.¡±

    That finally got a smile out of him, which warmed Fernan to see. ¡°Excellent. And... I do apologize for holding my tongue for so long, then ejaculating all of this criticism while you were celebrating the very real achievement of peace on the continent and recognition of the Commune¡¯s statehood by none other than our would-be suzerain. Such behavior ill becomes a relationship such as ours. I¡¯ll endeavor to be more frank, earlier, and assume your charitable intent.¡±

    Sorta thought you did already, until just now, but I guess maybe that was the problem. ¡°Then you¡¯ll join me in town for the festival?¡± Fernan held out his hand in offering, implicitly accepting the apology.

    ¡°I would be delighted to.¡± Maxime took his hand and followed Fernan out, noticing Fernan¡¯s hesitation but remaining silent as they passed Luce¡¯s office. There are things I ought to clear up with him before we leave Charenton, but that can wait.

    It was raining when they left the Magister¡¯s palace, so Fernan created a sizzling disc of fire above their heads to fizzle it out while they were exposed, drawing stares from the townsfolk clearing out debris and preparing the festivities.

    ¡°Wow!¡± cried out a little girl running up to examine it. ¡°If you light a lantern, does that burn green too?¡±

    ¡°Jeanne, get back here! It¡¯s not safe,¡± called a burly member of a work crew, obviously a parent.

    Because fire is dangerous? Or did Avalon¡¯s influence turn them against sages? Considering what Luce had said about respecting Camille¡¯s guest-right, it could have been fear of him too, Fernan supposed. They didn¡¯t know, necessarily, that Luce was hardly the type to punish a child for curiosity.

    The girl looked torn, clutching onto her lantern as her head wheeled between Fernan and her father.

    ¡°Could I see that for a moment?¡± Maxime bent down and held out his hands. ¡°I¡¯d like to find out as well.¡± He took the offered lantern and passed it to Fernan, who set it alight with a flick of his finger.

    The girl darted forward and grabbed it out of his hands, running back towards her father, but Fernan could still see the flame burn green long after his influence ceased.

    ¡°We should see if anyone else wants one,¡± Fernan said as they continued walking. ¡°These people could definitely use a good distraction now. Or maybe there¡¯s better ways to help.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Maxime held out one arm to stop Fernan, pointing towards a muffled figure with the other. ¡°That¡¯s Courbet.¡±

    ¡°What? What is she doing here?¡± For obvious reasons, the overzealous Condorcet Khali follower had been kept as far from the diplomatic party as possible. If Fernan hadn¡¯t been able to stop her from killing the mercenary leader, she might have been kicked out of the Commune entirely. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Her aura wasn¡¯t particularly distinct, especially at this distance, but Maxime had traveled with her long before reaching Guerron.

    ¡°I¡¯d know her face anywhere.¡± Maxime paused, watching her scurry away with an undefined warm object in her hands. ¡°And apparently so does Lamante.¡±

    Oh... ¡°Scavenging faces from Levian¡¯s victims? This is a new low. We¡¯re following her to Lamante. Quietly.¡±

    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Maxime uttered in a hushed tone, falling a half step behind Fernan as they ducked into a soggy alley. ¡°Though our lack of authority or leverage over the face stealer could prove problematic should this erupt into a confrontation.¡±

    ¡°Let me worry about that,¡± Fernan reassured him, frowning. Why would they need to come here at all? It was grim even to acknowledge it, but after weeks upon weeks of darkness, bodies were hardly in short supply. For a random face, Courbet could have crept into any deserted farm house in Lyrion, not that that would be any better, morally. But it would be easier, which makes this all the more bizarre.

    The sun was just beginning to set as Courbet reached her destination, a still-shattered portion of the Charenton docks, not yet one of the areas Luce was even attempting to repair. She handed Lamante¡ªpresumably, though the aura looked perfectly unremarkable¡ªthe face and bowed her head.

    ¡°Who knew they were working that closely together anyway?¡± Fernan whispered. ¡°I thought Courbet was all about Khali.¡±

    ¡°Khali is absent, and Lamante is not. Though even the likes of Courbet would surely need more reason than merely that.¡± Maxime jumped back as soon as he was finished speaking, pointing open-mouthed at the intensifying sun growing on the horizon.

    ¡°Why are you still waiting there?¡± Probably-Lamante called out, hands cupped around her mouth. ¡°We have important matters to discuss, Fernan Montaigne.¡±

    ¡°Well I suppose that¡¯s our cover blown, if e¡¯er indeed it existed.¡± Maxime sighed. ¡°We may as well see what she wants.¡±

    Lamante reached for her face, momentarily assuming her full-sized mantis form, then replaced it with another mask from her pack, shrinking to a smaller, denser aura than the form she¡¯d called out to them with. ¡°As we speak, your patron spirit is helping to rectify a grave injustice.¡±

    That explains the sun approaching then, I guess. ¡°A grave injustice like carving the faces off of the victims of Levian¡¯s attack?¡±

    ¡°My mistress of faces refers rather to the attack itself,¡± Courbet cut in, her shadow casting longer and longer as the setting scarlet sun approached. ¡°I¡¯m aware of your absurd weakness on the topic of doing what must be done, but surely even you can see that Levian must die.¡±

    Now? Today? It wasn¡¯t like the sea spirit hadn¡¯t done horrible things, but they¡¯d just hammered out a peace with Camille. In time, without offerings, he would wither into irrelevance without any need for an attack.

    ¡°This is the moment,¡± Lamante added. ¡°For all the tyranny of arbiters past, they fiercely kept the peace between spirits lesser than themselves. Soleil and Khali would never have allowed Corro and Glaciel to fight, or Levian and Flammare. But that time is over, and Levian¡¯s usefulness is at an end. He won¡¯t listen to me anymore, and his actions have largely been counterproductive, leaving me little to work with. Aside from which, if we waited any longer, I¡¯d no longer be able to grant Leclaire¡¯s wish.¡±

    If you think Camille Leclaire wishes for Levian¡¯s demise, you¡¯re more delusional than Courbet.

    ¡°Fernan has no intention of squirming around in the muck doing your dirty work,¡± Maxime insisted. ¡°Since apparently you had no intention of including him in the first place, I think it highly likely that you already knew that.¡±

    Lamante shrugged. ¡°Perhaps. But, as you are already here, you can do what G¨¦zarde and myself cannot.¡± From behind her back¡ªpossibly her pack, hidden in this masked form?¡ªshe pulled out two swords, handing one to Courbet and holding out the other in Fernan¡¯s direction. A void of light in blade form, Fernan recognized it well. ¡°This sword has ended the lives of more spirits of greater power than perhaps any other, carving a pattern into its blade. Pelleas Grimoire, Harold Grimoire... Florette... You would merely be the latest wielder.¡±

    I already tussled with Levian, and I would have died without Florette rescuing me. He¡¯d come far too close as it was. Moreover, if they were going after Levian, his High Priestess was sure to be there defending him, whatever platitudes she¡¯d given at the peace summit. ¡°I¡¯m not interested.¡±

    ¡°Is it not suitable? You already have flame and light to draw upon; the Blade of Khali would better compliment your abilities. Unless you¡¯d rather I provide it to Courbet along with Volobrin¡¯s sword?¡±

    ¡°No. Fine.¡± Fernan shook his head, grabbing the dark blade. Even if all I do is hold on to it, that¡¯s better than leaving it with Courbet. Florette had used this to kill Flammare¡ªand in so doing, ruined Laura¡¯s life, though Fernan of course held the ultimate responsibility for that. Even holding the ominous void of light in his hands, feather-light yet imbued with no end of gravity, it felt like it was leeching the light out of him, threatening corruption of his soul. ¡°Volobrin is the new Hearth spirit, right? I remember he beat out Fala despite G¨¦zarde¡¯s endorsement. Why do you have his sword?¡±

    Lamante¡¯s face brightened cheerily. ¡°All it cost were a few words in the right ears. They wanted information I could provide on an artifact worth more to them, but less to me. The fire and ice of Volobrin are better suited to the task at hand for young Courbet here, just as the Blade of Khali is a better fit for yours.¡±

    Is she going to slice off faces with the sword? The thought of that was horrifying enough, but considering what else Lamante might have planned for it was even worse.

    Suddenly, a scorching heat cut through the rain, sizzling it into vapor within a column of yellow-green light. The heat intensified over the water, boiling the ocean faster than water could pour into the gap. It only grew stronger the closer G¨¦zarde got, until the seafloor was exposed beneath his glowing green form in the distance.

    ¡°I believe that¡¯s our cue, Courbet.¡± Lamante dipped her head in a bow that somehow managed to come across as sarcastic, then turned away from the water.

    ¡°Until next time, Montaigne. Hopefully you can overcome your willful hesitancy at last.¡± Courbet followed her from the ruined harbor, headed for parts unknown. The two of them disappeared into the city just as a massive wave rose up towards G¨¦zarde in the distance, overwhelming his light as it pushed him beneath the water.

    ¡°We have to help G¨¦zarde,¡± Fernan decided at the same instant Maxime said, ¡°We must stop Lamante.¡±

    Fuck, that¡¯s important too. No doubt she was counting on all of this to do her evil business unimpeded, though Fernan hadn¡¯t the slightest idea what it might be. ¡°We have to split up. You should take this sword.¡±

    Maxime nodded, then jerked his head back at the sight of G¨¦zarde tearing free from the ocean in a brilliant corona of light, the scorching sun momentarily overcoming the torrential rain. ¡°I think you had better keep it. Lamante wasn¡¯t wrong, and she was in such a hurry to be rid of us that I think a witness alone may well disrupt her schemes.¡±

    ¡°That just means she¡¯ll have Courbet kill you.¡±

    Maxime shrugged, then took off running after the face stealer and her underling.

    Damn it. Fernan could fly after him, but there wasn¡¯t any time to waste. If Maxime thought he could handle the risk, he¡¯d have to trust him.

    Instead, Fernan took off to the west, away from Charenton and the harbor, towards the battle of titans taking place just off the coast. Bolts of lightning flew down from the sky past him, though whether they were merely a result of the storm or a weapon of Levian, he couldn¡¯t say.

    A wave nearly brought Fernan down, dissipated at the last second by a scalding ray of light that left Fernan¡¯s beard smoking until he quelled it. Thanks, G¨¦zarde. After the second explosion of light and fire knocked Fernan down into the water, he wasn¡¯t feeling quite as grateful.

    Luckily, Levian was distracted by a much stronger opponent, since he didn¡¯t make moves to drag Fernan under again, so after a bit of haphazard blasting, Fernan managed to get himself into the air again, the Blade of Khali still fastened tightly to his belt.

    More than anything, he wished Mara were with him right now, for all that he wouldn¡¯t want her part of this danger. They¡¯d worked together perfectly in the White Night, and her father didn¡¯t seem to have that same coordination. They couldn¡¯t even communicate, apparently, if Fernan¡¯s several shouts going unanswered was anything to go by. Either G¨¦zarde couldn¡¯t hear him, or didn¡¯t care to listen.

    ¡°Fernan!¡± a faint voice called out from the beach... Was that Jethro?

    Fernan flew his way, alighting down on sand that had been tossed and torn up worse than Glaciel¡¯s castle.

    Jethro aimed carefully out at the water, then blasted a bolt of lightning from the gauntlet on his hand, the same that Magnifico had used to fight Lumi¨¨re. ¡°Sorry we didn¡¯t get to catch up properly, before. I suppose this isn¡¯t really the time either.¡±

    ¡°Is Camille here?¡± Because if not, she¡¯s probably waiting to make her move¡ªand most likely it¡¯d be against us.

    ¡°Levian dragged her under the water. I don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s still alive. But your sun spirit showed up at just the right time. Levian doesn¡¯t have her now, so she might still be alive.¡±

    Despite everything, Fernan felt relieved to hear that. ¡°She¡¯s fighting her own patron spirit?¡±

    ¡°I think you might have underestimated her, Fernan.¡±

    Levian¡¯s tail thrashed, sending a vertical slice of water towards them on the beach. Jethro pushed himself out of the way with a gust of wind from his gauntlet, while Fernan flung his hand up to block it with a wall of fire to boil it away.

    ¡°Maybe I did.¡± I was overestimating my own moral character, why not misjudge someone else too? Florette¡¯s accusations of being judgemental came roaring back in Fernan¡¯s ears as he gazed into the dark abyss of the ocean, looking for any signs of life.

    ¡°There! She¡¯s on the seafloor, probably in a bubble of air.¡± At least, that made the most sense, considering she wasn¡¯t moving with tides as the poor fish were. Though given her position, she could have also been a corpse wedged in the rocks.

    The sky danced between desolate drought and torrential downpour, the fighting spirits rising up above the water as they clashed only to come crashing back down to the sea. Even if she had energy to spare, Camille couldn¡¯t last down there for long.

    ¡°Hold this,¡± Fernan said, handing Jethro the Blade of Khali.

    ¡°How did you get my father¡¯s sword?¡± he asked incredulously, gingerly grasping its handle.

    Fernan¡¯s eyes flared with curiosity, so much to unpack from the implications of that statement, but there wasn¡¯t time to be inquisitive. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I don¡¯t want it getting lost at sea.¡± And I trust you more than Courbet, if nothing else. Though now more than ever, Fernan wished Maxime had just taken the damned thing.

    Following G¨¦zarde¡¯s example, Fernan blasted a pillar of flames through the water towards Camille, boiling the water into clouds of steam wherever it touched. Though it¡¯s not like she¡¯ll be any safer if it reaches her... A signal, at least?

    A signal to do what, though? What could it possibly accomplish? No, Fernan needed another strategy.

    ¡°Nevermind.¡± Fernan grabbed the sword back from Jethro before he had a chance to contest it, then took to the skies again.

    ¡°Get him on land!¡± Jethro called out, accenting his words with a stream of lightning flying past Fernan with a crack.

    Makes sense. If Levian and G¨¦zarde were this evenly matched over Levian¡¯s domain, removing him from it might just be enough.

    Instead of flying into the heart of the weather war, Fernan circled around, leaving himself vulnerable this far out to sea, if Levian cared to do anything about it. But G¨¦zarde was more than keeping him occupied, even in the moments where the Torrent of Deep had the upper hand. The two spirits plunged beneath the waves once more, though the skies continued to clash between rain and sun.

    Fernan waited carefully, hovering over the raging sea as he carefully chose his moment. Maxime was right. I¡¯m about as ¡®in the fray¡¯ as it¡¯s possible to be without dying, and I would never have just sat it out... Another lesson learned, another responsibility to take on.

    G¨¦zarde¡¯s wings unfurled as he crashed up out of the water, Levian following directly after him on a spiral of water propelling him up. Just as he was about to reach G¨¦zarde, Fernan blasted fire at him with everything he had, catching Levian in the expanding vortex of fire as it carried the spirit towards the beach.

    In doing it, Fernan blasted himself back so far that he could barely see what was going on, barely had the energy left to fly back to the beach, but from the looks of the clearing skies above, G¨¦zarde hadn¡¯t missed the opportunity. Before Levian could thrash free of Fernan¡¯s weaker blast, G¨¦zarde joined Fernan with power a thousand times stronger, blasting Levian through the air towards land.

    Bright sun was shining down on the beach as Fernan returned, a tinge of green shading the pillar light. The beach had been absolutely torn apart, massive waterlogged gouges crisscrossing the sand, so much of which had been flung into the air that Fernan could still feel it pelting him as he approached, though fortunately there was no need to shield his eyes.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Fernan heard, startling him. Camille was leaning on Jethro, her shoulder bleeding heavily, hair sodden and disheveled. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d want to help me, after...¡±

    I wish you hadn¡¯t been right about that. Fernan pulled the blade of Khali from his belt, weighing what to do next.

    ¡°May I?¡± Camille reached out, and Fernan let her take it. He¡¯d done his part.

    And hanging back, not striking the final blow, it doesn¡¯t make me any less responsible.

    On a distant hill overlooking the beach, he saw a ghostly apparition of Alderman Jerome hiking across it. As soon as Fernan got a good look, he caught fire, metal wings spreading out in the likeness of Flammare.

    No more hiding from my responsibility. They¡¯re dead because of me just the same as if I¡¯d killed them myself.

    His hands now free, Jethro jumped at the opportunity, blasting a continuous stream of lightning at Levian¡¯s limp form on the beach, his endless serpentine coils just out of reach of the water.

    Camille limped grimly towards Levian, still stunned and twitching under the continuous barrage of lightning. ¡°Great Spirit Levian, Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, receive my offering, repayment of the centuries of debt my family owes to humanity.¡± She raised the dark blade above Levian¡¯s piercing blue eyes, then swung it downward, separating the serpent¡¯s head from his writhing body. At last, the end of the raging waves.

    Out on the hill, Flammare¡¯s metal wings twisted into Levian¡¯s slippery coils, another fallen corpse for the pile Fernan had built.

 Camille XI: Ascendant

    Camille XI: Ascendant

    What now?

    Camille gripped the dark blade loosely in her hand, the wet fabric of her dress clinging to her back. With the blood gushing out of her shoulder where Levian had pierced it, she couldn¡¯t help but remember his own words from the last time they¡¯d spoken: Blood and flesh are mere extensions of my domain, filled with as much water as the world itself.

    Before Luce¡¯s arrival in Malin, she hadn¡¯t had any energy to spare experimenting, and afterwards so much time had passed that it had barely occurred to her. Probably for the better, or Luce would have ended up with more information about my abilities than even me.

    But now...

    Levian¡¯s corpse lay before her, blue blood so dark it was almost black spilling out onto the sand.

    The sword was heavy in her hand, so Camille set it down softly on the ground, then pressed her finger to her wound, trying to recall the sensation that passed through her when Levian had mended the wound from Lumi¨¨re¡¯s pistol. I don¡¯t need anything profound, just a stop to the bleeding. Finesse could¡ªwould¡ªcome later, after further practice.

    I have time now. And a world¡¯s worth of problems to spend it on.

    As she felt her fingers harden the blood around her wound, the logistics of it felt more than a bit ridiculous, drawing on her own life to preserve her life, but a day at the end was more than worth stopping herself from bleeding out on the sand alongside her erstwhile patron.

    Camille breathed deep of the salty air as she took in the new sensation, careful not to let the smile show on her face. There¡¯s still too much I don¡¯t know, too much uncertainty to come. Arrogance in the face of that could be fatal. That lesson she¡¯d learned late, but perhaps just in time. Acting as if she were above making mistakes had brought her perilously close to death or worse over and over again, and Camille had no intention of squandering the opportunity she¡¯d been given.

    Dueling Lumi¨¨re, Camille had only planned for success. She¡¯d had to spend the entire year making up for that one mistake¡ªand the dark bargain she¡¯d had no choice but to make to survive it. This time, she had only defined success as keeping her soul out of Levian¡¯s clutches.

    But this...

    ¡°Why did G¨¦zarde come to my aid?¡± she breathlessly asked Fernan, for once unable to maintain a knowledgeable fa?ade.

    ¡°Levian¡¯s time had come,¡± he answered, frowning at the serpent¡¯s corpse. ¡°I doubt it hurt that you promised to serve G¨¦zarde for the rest of your life, either. Especially since that promise isn¡¯t worth much if your life is measured in hours.¡±

    That¡¯s the only reason I made it. But unless she wanted to try getting lucky killing two spirits for two tonight, Camille had no choice but to honor it. No doubt the first unintended consequence of many when it came to this triumph, but it was hard to let it dampen her mood.

    I sought a defiant last stand, a refutation of my complicity in evil, and it rewarded me beyond my wildest hopes. Another lesson there, perhaps, though not one Camille intended to take too closely to heart until she better understood what had happened.

    Fernan was leaving something out, that much was plain. G¨¦zarde had a reason to want Camille alive more than dead, perhaps, but not a strong enough reason alone to join a battle against a warrior spirit. From what Camille knew of the new sun, the last time spirits had fought each other like this, before the peace enforced by Soleil and Khali, the fighting had driven him underground to sulk for millenia. And now he¡¯s getting his own hands dirty? The Flame Under the Mountain would need a much better reason than saving Camille for that.

    And Fernan either didn¡¯t know or wouldn¡¯t say what it was. But he¡¯s here too, which suggests that it¡¯s the latter. If so, the boy had come a long way from the honorbound na?f whose help she¡¯d enlisted back in Guerron. Although I suppose his radical antics should have been clue enough of that.

    Still, he and his patron had saved her life. Honoring their deal was the very least that gratitude demanded, and practical besides. As of tonight, Camille had her long-term reputation to consider.

    ¡°Thank you. Both of you.¡± Camille retrieved the sword, blade still slick with Levian¡¯s blood, and handed it handle-first back to Fernan. G¨¦zarde was already departing, flying out across the horizon as nightfall signaled the end of his dominion until he rose the next morning. Chatting with me isn¡¯t priority enough to keep himself manifested in person, apparently. On its face, that seemed sensible enough, but this spirit had just gone far out of his way to save her¡ªunless that had truly been incidental next to killing Levian. The nature of his departure certainly seemed to suggest that.

    The waves were still with the Arbiter of their domain dead, pulled back unnaturally far from the shore. The longer Levian¡¯s seat was vacant, the more the tides would stagnate and recede, just as they had after Pantera¡¯s death one hundred years ago. Back then, Levian had hurriedly assumed her duties¡ªsuspiciously quickly, according to Fenouille, though Camille had dismissed that tidbit at the time. But a disaster on the scale of this year¡¯s weeks of darkness had been avoided in the process.

    ¡°Nice to see you again by the way, Fernan. We really didn¡¯t get a chance to talk properly at the summit.¡± Mordred swept his sleeve back over his gauntlet, approaching Levian¡¯s body. ¡°How have you been?¡±

    ¡°Pretty good, actually. Although¡ª¡±

    ¡°If I may,¡± Camille interrupted. ¡°Levian¡¯s power is still bound within his body. Until a new spirit takes his place, that¡¯s all that remains of the Lord of the Lyrion sea. We can¡¯t just walk away like nothing happened.¡±

    ¡°No, of course. That¡¯s why I¡¯m still here.¡± Fernan turned back towards the water, eyes condensing down to smaller flaming points. ¡°Where will the spirits convene?¡±

    ¡°At the seat of his power,¡± Camille answered, remembering what her mother had told her about Pantera¡¯s demise. ¡°Deep beneath the waves, where the bottom of the sea meets the earth spirit. If we want to attend, every second we spend there will mean expending my power¡ªand as of now, there¡¯s a hard limit on how much I can ever use.¡± And a practical limit of much life I¡¯d ever dispense again, even for the best of reasons.

    That amount wasn¡¯t nothing¡ªelse Camille would no longer be a sage at all, merely a mundane remnant with memories of grandeur, like Laura Bougitte. That fate would be better than death, but robbed her of crucial options in navigating the Empire¡¯s precarious position, now reduced to a capital and Dorseille, just as it had been before liberating Malin.

    ¡°Unless we use Levian,¡± Mordred said. ¡°Bind his power to our aims. I think I can do it¡ªchannel his power into my boots to walk safely beneath the sea, perhaps. And beyond the convocation, they¡¯d let their wearer stride across the water as well.¡±

    ¡°It might even be simpler than that,¡± Fernan said hesitantly, his face curled in disgust. ¡°Magnifico said I could probably bind energy too, and I don¡¯t have any reason to think he was lying about that much. He helped Florette learn it, and his enmity with the spirits is greater than with us.¡±

    Is that so? Hmm... ¡°How does that relate? You binding him versus Mordred binding him doesn''t make any difference to the end result.¡±

    ¡°I think I could do it here, bestowing his power on whoever the successor is without making a grisly trophy, the same as what happened with Flammare. I bet you could too¡ªyou¡¯re already experienced wielding his power, although you haven¡¯t been spirit-touched the way I have, which apparently helps.¡±

    Unless Levian mending my flesh qualifies, and I have a feeling it just might...

    ¡°What a waste!¡± Mordred shook his head. ¡°It¡¯ll be days before the other spirits arrive, and I doubt we¡¯ll make any difference in their convocation anyway. Not to mention that all that power would be worthless if we just hand it over to the next spirit who asks us nicely.¡±

    And sealing him into a pair of boots isn¡¯t a waste, Mordred? ¡°He¡¯s right, Fernan. Talking to G¨¦zarde and pushing for speed would be much more effective. He listens to you, and as the sun he has influence now. Have him back Fenouille, early and decisively, and the Lord of the Sea will restore the tides before sailors can even miss them.¡±

    ¡°Good... point... G¨¦zarde definitely listens to me...¡± Fernan nodded slowly, an anxious expression creeping across his face. ¡°But why Fenouille? Also, who¡¯s Fenouille?¡±

    ¡°The spirit of the Sartaire, of course.¡± Camille frowned. You¡¯re the High Priest of the Sun and you still don¡¯t know that? ¡°He earned it, and we can trust him. Talk to him yourself if you need to, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be disappointed.¡± If my pride as a Leclaire hadn¡¯t smothered the very idea in the crib, I might have been a sage for him instead of Levian. Perhaps that path was still open now. If he took Levian¡¯s seat, Camille wouldn¡¯t even lose any power doing it.

    ¡°And he¡¯d want to take the job?¡±

    Camille bit her lip, suppressing a frown. I have no idea. Fenouille had never grasped for power, never demanded much from his sages. And Levian¡¯s seat would not be easy to claim, not with every ocean and river spirit from Serpichon to Forta swimming their way up for the convocation. ¡°He¡¯ll do what needs doing,¡± she answered, hoping it was true.

    ¡°Rhan would be an acceptable backup,¡± Mordred added, apparently ignorant of the twin vices and virtues that Rhan¡¯s duality enabled. Or perhaps he didn¡¯t care. Thinking ahead didn¡¯t seem to be his specialty, for all his skill and loyalty.

    Though to be fair, I wasn¡¯t exactly doing much of that myself until a few minutes ago.

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s good enough for me then.¡± Fernan gave them both a swift nod, then took to the air. ¡°I have to go.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡± Mordred asked with narrowed eyes.

    ¡°What could possibly be more important than this?¡±

    ¡°Lam¡ªI don¡¯t know. Hopefully nothing, but Maxime might be in danger. He said he¡¯d just hang back and watch, but I don¡¯t know for sure until I find him. If he¡¯s safe, I¡¯ll come right back. But it seems like the immediate crisis has passed, so I¡¯m going to go.¡±

    It¡¯s not often that I¡¯m not at the top of someone else¡¯s to do list. But then, this is already quite a strange day. ¡°Very well. But we need to sort this out. Please return with all due haste.¡±

    The moon loomed large on the horizon as Fernan left, looking almost pink despite sunset being long over. A full moon at the end of the year is supposed to be an omen, Camille remembered, good fortune in the year to come. Come what may, it would definitely be better than she¡¯d expected yesterday.

    But Lunette was weak and withered, if reports of the Convocation were anything to go by, emaciated after her offerings had dried up, few daring to provide for her after the fall of Ombresse. Whatever influence on the year the moon spirit might have had once, Camille would have to make her own luck tonight. Of that much, she was certain.

    ¡°Shall I proceed with the binding, then?¡± Mordred asked, gesturing towards his hideously faded leather boots, intermittently discolored where the water had touched them.

    ¡°Those hardly seem like a fitting vessel for the Torrent of the Deep,¡± Camille noted. ¡°Deserved indignity for Levian, perhaps, but the tool would be ours to use forever after, and I¡¯m unconvinced that a moche pair of boots that don¡¯t fit on my feet are the best choice.¡± Reducing his great power to merely traversal hardly seemed better, but presumably it was the best Mordred could do.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°You don¡¯t like them? Why didn¡¯t you say anything when I was packing in Malin?¡± He frowned, looking down at his feet. ¡°Well, what would you prefer? Those blue earrings of yours are more thematically fitting, I suppose, though I have no idea where they ended up.¡±

    Not your best idea, bringing that up again. ¡°You mean after you stole them from me so you could frame me for an act of mass murder?¡± What had seemed so easy to move past with days to live felt less so now that decades of life stretched before her.

    Mordred grimaced. ¡°Uh, yes, that¡¯s the pair I was talking about. But there are surely better options! I could try a glove to match Eulus... or... Oh! Are you wearing any rings?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Camille lied, not entirely sure why.

    I need to think about what¡¯s best for the future, not just this present moment. For the Empire and its people, and what will serve them after I¡¯m gone. For Lucien, who¡¯ll outlive me.

    Because even though Camille wouldn¡¯t die tonight, her life had still been cut short.  Thinking back to those dreadful days after the duel had reminded her of something the last few months had let her forget: burning life with reckless abandon to keep herself alive beneath the waves had shortened her lifespan by decades before Levian¡¯s deadline had ever been given. Those twenty years she¡¯d dispensed in her wounded stupor were still gone, her fate still to wither away before her time, aging faster and faster until her premature end. Her great-grandmother, living a far less dangerous life, had made it to seventy. Subtract twenty, that meant another twenty-five years for Camille, her life half over already. Better than dying today, but...

    At best, she would perish alongside Magnifico, right at the moment the Empire needed her most, which was still better than predeceasing him and leaving him free to direct Avalon personally from his cell while Lucien flailed without her. The most she could hope for was a burial alongside a gauche pair of boots that had once been the Torrent of the Deep.

    Unacceptable.

    ¡°Bind the power into me.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Mordred blinked, lips parted. ¡°No, of course not. Don¡¯t you know what happened to Lumi¨¨re? You just got your life back.¡±

    ¡°It needn¡¯t kill me. I heard your father say it himself in a vision¡ªhe had every ability to bind a fraction of Soleil¡¯s power into Lumi¨¨re and leave him alive as a spirit of lesser power than Soleil. But he preferred him dead. We don¡¯t have that problem, Mordred.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think so?¡± Eyebrows slanted down, he started walking closer to Levian¡¯s body.

    Camille moved to the side, making sure she was standing between Mordred and the corpse. ¡°Is it beyond your capabilities? I was given to understand that you¡¯re among the best binders in the world. You¡¯ve certainly demonstrated your finesse and acumen wielding the Gauntlet of Eulus, though I¡¯m sure it¡¯s an adjacent but distinct skillset.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the issue! You¡¯d be abandoning your humanity, withdrawing from all you¡¯ve known to embrace the world of the spirits.¡± Abandoning you, Mordred? Is that what you¡¯re worried about?

    ¡°Glaciel holds human court, takes human lovers, she was even content to serve the Fox-Queen, just as I would be to rule beside Lucien. You needn¡¯t worry, Mordred.¡±

    ¡°I ¡®needn¡¯t¡¯? Don¡¯t be absurd. This could kill you, or sever your ties to all you hold dear.¡±

    Camille shook her head, growing more certain about her decision. ¡°Leaving this power on the table could kill the Empire; weakness could devastate the lives of those I hold dear.¡± It¡¯s a way to live a natural life, when none other remains. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, there¡¯s nothing to worry about. You¡¯ll always have a place at my side.¡± A generous offer, considering what you tried to implicate me in.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need it.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± To live. ¡°You saw how they pushed us around without it. I had to sit at a table and watch as they cut the Empire in half again. Another twenty years of this, and we¡¯ll be down to a single quartier. This is the only way to protect my people.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not your people; they¡¯re just people! And ruling over them as an immortal tyrant isn¡¯t going to do a thing to help them.¡±

    ¡°Who said anything about tyranny?¡± Perhaps I shouldn¡¯t have mentioned Glaciel. ¡°I thought you knew me better than that. My Lucien will return and rule at my side until the day he dies, and then our children after him. Just as we¡¯d planned before.¡± But now neither would be bereft of my guidance¡ªor spiritual power.

    Mordred scoffed. ¡°Lucien who? The one vacationing on Isle d¡¯Artre because you hurt his feelings? Writing you letters about how he¡¯s totally not whoring his way across Paix Lake? Real strong leadership there.¡±

    Too far, Mordred. ¡°We don¡¯t lie to each other,¡± Camille insisted, more for the sake of the argument than because it was precisely true. The spirit of it was, regardless of the details. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡±

    ¡°I know exactly what I¡¯m talking about! You don¡¯t. You haven¡¯t thought this through. What happens when the other spirits come calling to fill Levian¡¯s seat? What happens when Avalon¡ªthe Avalon you just sacrificed so much to ensure peace with¡ªnames you an abomination?¡± He folded his arms. ¡°I refuse to do this for you.¡±

    Oh I see, it¡¯s fine when I¡¯m doomed by fate just like you, but when I see a way out, you refuse to let your miserable company part with you. ¡°Very well, I can¡¯t force you.¡± Camille bent down next to Levian, reaching her hand out towards his severed head. ¡°You may leave.¡±

    ¡°Camille, what are you¡ªNo!¡±

    ¡°Fernan said it himself¡ªI¡¯ve already directed this power thousands of times, already felt my flesh being gripped by its frigid touch. Your father is a better binder than you are, and he thought Fernan could manage the binding on his own.¡± Experimentally, she grasped the head with one hand and the neck with the other, feeling the thrum of spiritual energy wash over her hands. ¡°I can do this without you.¡±

    ¡°Or you¡¯ll fuck it up and kill yourself!¡±

    ¡°Then I suppose you¡¯ll have to watch that happen. Or help me, and do it yourself.¡± Camille forced a shrug, though the suggestion did offend her slightly. It¡¯s the same magic I¡¯ve been using since I was seven, and my vision of Lumi¨¨re practically gave me a booklet of instructions. ¡°I, Camille Th¨¦r¨¨se Leclaire, do hereby claim the power of the raging waves. Let their energy join me, that I might succeed Levian as Torrent of the Deep.¡±

    Mordred¡¯s mouth dropped open. ¡°You saw Lumi¨¨re... Camille, you can¡¯t!¡±

    I can and I will. Why can¡¯t you understand why this is the best decision? ¡°I vow that the truth will bind me in all things, at all times. I vow that the surge of the tides shall always sweep across the shores, and retreat to their proper place in turn.¡± The more she spoke, the stronger the feeling in her arms grew, power flowing between Levian¡¯s pieces through her heart, growing colder the more it swelled. ¡°I vow to do better than he who came before me, to act as a bridge between the world of humanity and the affairs of the spirits, and defend my people from grave threats magical and mundane.¡±

    Inhaling quickly, Mordred flipped his sleeve back, pointing the Gauntlet of Eulus towards her. ¡°Camille, maybe you don¡¯t need me, but I can stop you. Don¡¯t make me.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t make you do anything, Mordred.¡± The power was beginning to surge into her faster, despite Camille putting less and less effort into channeling it, so she relaxed her pull, trying to limit the flow enough that her body could stand it. Lumi¨¨re hadn¡¯t been spirit touched, which no doubt had made his body more vulnerable, but Camille had no intention of killing herself here as he had then. Ethereal visions were beginning to dance across the edge of her view, more than the Fallen alone could account for.

    ¡°Everyone said I should stay away.¡± Short haired, young, it was hard to tell if the speaker was a man or woman.

    ¡°But you are not afraid, are you, human-spawn?¡± Levian slithered slightly out of the water, his shadow darkening the beach.

    ¡°I thought you were better than this. Better than my father. What was I thinking? I teased Luce for falling for your tricks, and then I did the exact same thing...¡± His off-hand curled into a fist, the gauntlet still pointed right at her. ¡°Last chance, Camille. I won¡¯t let you follow in his footsteps.¡±

    If I truly followed in Lumi¨¨re¡¯s footsteps, I¡¯d be minutes away from an ignoble, tragic end. In a way, Mordred¡¯s confidence that she could pull it off was comforting, frustrating as it was that he couldn¡¯t understand. ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±

    The stream of power had become a flood, to the point that all of Camille¡¯s focus now was just on holding it back, slowing the chill spreading across her body as her hands began to shimmer and warp, slightly transparent.

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian, you traveled the world with my grandmother. She sought you out, and you helped each other. I¡¯d like to do the same.¡±

    Levian¡¯s form twisted menacingly. ¡°Castille proved she was worthy of my companionship, while you have nothing to offer.¡±

    ¡°But I do, Great Spirit. I know what you crave, and I mean to give it to you.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t trust you not to.¡± Mordred twisted his hand, firing a burst of lightning, a clang ringing out across the beach.

    ¡°Great Spirit Levian, this is my daughter. When I pass, she¡¯ll succeed me and serve you.¡±

    ¡°So you presume. Impudent as always, Leclaire. If you truly meant to fulfill our pact, you¡¯d offer me the girl¡¯s soul... so tender and innocent, I can almost taste it.¡±

    ¡°And then where would you be? You¡¯ve benefited from our arrangement, just as I have. And I mean to keep it going for a long, long time.¡±

    Camille blinked, her eyelids partially transparent, and renewed her efforts to halt the spiritual tide crashing against her from both sides. She pulled her head up from the ground, trying to get a better look at what had happened. Did he miss? From this close, it didn¡¯t seem likely. A final warning? But then why¡ª

    Mordred was sprawled on the ground, a new dent between the fingers of his gauntlet. Sitting tall above him on a black horse was a man covered fully in red armor, his sabre extended towards the fallen binder. ¡°Do not fear, Maiden of Dawn. I shall not let him harm you.¡±

    Marshaling her strength, Camille pushed back harder against Levian¡¯s power, worried about how much more of this her body could take. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    ¡°The butcher of Lorraine,¡± Mordred spat, scrambling to his feet. ¡°Why would you interfere?¡±

    In one smooth motion, the knight descended from his horse, positioning himself in front of Camille. ¡°I serve every corner of the Fox-Queen¡¯s domain, from the frigid depths of Hiverre to the wastes of Refuge. If you know the name of the Red Knight, you know the lengths I¡¯ll go to protect it. Withdraw at once, and I shall allow you to live.¡±

    That armor... Haven¡¯t I seen it before? On a tapestry of the Fox-Queen¡¯s conquests, perhaps? Or in a book about the War of Three Cubs? Something about it seemed strangely familiar.

    With a twist of his cloak, Mordred fired another burst of lightning towards them, but the Red Knight deflected it, lunging forward to sweep the gauntlet aside with his sword. ¡°Get out of the way,¡± Mordred demanded. ¡°This doesn¡¯t concern you.¡±

    ¡°She is the Empire¡¯s future, Jethro, while you are nothing but a twisted little interloper. Have at me, and learn the depths of your folly.¡± Shockingly quickly under all that armor, the Red Knight charged towards Mordred, blocking another burst of lightning with his sword.

    At least one person agrees with why I¡¯m doing this. Here and now, his opinion was the one that mattered the most. A tether to her humanity she could cling to even as the surging waves of power threatened to overwhelm her.

    Camille reached deep within herself, staring through her savior¡¯s red helmet at the man beneath it, and forcefully ripped her hands free, finally severing herself from Levian¡¯s decaying corpse. As soon as the connection broke, the body began to dissolve into dark water, flowing back out to the sea past the dueling warriors. But even with the connection broken, the visions continued as her new power streamed past her eyes.

    ¡°Pantera is no longer a concern, Leclaire. Now do your duty as my leal servant, and follow me across the water. My triumph awaits.¡±

    Her sight cleared just in time to see Mordred blast himself into the air with wind, flying past the Red Knight and landing right in front of her. Camille barely managed to react in time, bowling him over with an icy wave that crashed harmlessly over her. She could feel the edges of her skin rippling where they touched the water, as if there was no clean line where she ended and the waves began.

    ¡°Unhh,¡± Mordred groaned as the Red Knight reached him, holding his sword down at his neck. ¡°Do it. This was inevitable one way or another, and it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t deserve it. But this day will come for you too, both of you. Don¡¯t forget it.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± said the Red Knight, raising his sword above Mordred¡¯s head.

    ¡°No!¡± Camille called out. ¡°Let him go. He doesn¡¯t need to die today.¡± Doesn¡¯t deserve to, at least not any more than I do.

    The Red Knight lowered his sword. ¡°As you wish, my lady.¡±

    Frowning, Mordred brought himself to his feet. He looked torn, on the verge of resuming the fight even if he couldn¡¯t win. ¡°I pity you, Red Knight, brutal servant of so false a cause. Even you, Camille, in all your deluded arrogance. But most of all, I pity your children, puppets dancing to your immortal strings. If we meet again, one of us will die. I promise you that.¡±

    ¡°Then we had best not meet again,¡± Camille said, freezing her wavy edges into a clean, hardened shape.

    ¡°Don¡¯t count on it.¡± Mordred blasted himself into the sky with a plume of wind, scattering sand through the air. After a moment, he was gone, leaving the beach empty save the nascent spirit and her scarlet protector.

    An echo of his image persisted, greeting Levian and Leclaire as they emerged from the water into view. Sharp featured, with long, dark hair, he looked more haggard than triumphant. But that made no matter to Levian. ¡°Let us begin, Harold Grimoire.¡±

    ¡°Maiden? How do you wish to proceed?¡± The Red Knight sheathed his sword, but left his helmet in place, closed.

    Camille¡¯s skin had started to dissolve to water again during the vision, so once again she held it in place with ice, trying to put as much of herself as possible above the new energy absorbed from Levian.

    Mordred warned me I¡¯d be forsaking my humanity. It¡¯s up to me to prove him wrong. Strained and exhausted, she lay down on the sand, barely managing to answer the knight before the final vision took her. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

 Florette XV: The Seeker of Secrets

    Florette XV: The Seeker of Secrets

    ¡°When I first met Srin Savian, he was nothing but a boy.¡± Lord Monfroy, sickeningly, looked radiant. Somehow his skin was brighter, clearer, all traces of grey in his hair convincingly dyed away. Even his movements were sharper, faster, as if speaking to the entire society was filling him with life. Smug with satisfaction over the construction workers he murdered by whatever gruesome means he could turn to. ¡°He was a bit arrogant, but somewhat charming about it. Like a pyrefly floating in the corner of your vision, you know it would have to stop blinking before too long. Like many of you, I came to dearly miss his lavish New Year¡¯s parties, but you may not know that I had a minor part in them myself: Savian actually turned to me for advice on keeping the decorations historically accurate to the traditional Mamela celebration, me being something of a scholar of ancient times. I¡¯m proud to keep his memory alive with this gathering tonight, and by introducing his capable daughter Sabine, raised abroad but now come home.¡±

    Florette held back seething rage as she walked towards the murderous lord, adjusting the Nocturne cloak on her shoulders in a gesture that spoke for itself.

    ¡°Her accomplishments for her age are peerless, almost suspiciously so.¡± He laughed, eyes locked directly on Florette. ¡°Sir Thomas Alcock is planning to offer a summer position as his research assistant, I hear. To think, only twenty years old and already making new discoveries in the Giton desert! There can be no doubt that Sabine is a keen student of history, a deft hand at discovery, a seeker of secrets, who will be a tremendous asset to our order¡¯s stores of knowledge.¡±

    ¡°Twenty-three,¡± Florette corrected, having heard none of this. Rebecca¡¯s dad pegged me right from the start too. Was there some magical way of knowing someone¡¯s age? Somehow used by both the head binder and a follower of Khali?

    Or maybe I look twenty because I am twenty, and lying about my age was never worth bothering with at all.

    And all that stuff about Alcock? He¡¯d told Monfroy before asking her himself? Baffling, unless it¡¯s a lie. But if not... Honestly, in a lot of ways, it was an appealing offer, doing some actual adventuring without compromising her disguise. Exploring the Giton Desert promised to keep her far away from any ¡°archaeology¡± as morally dubious as Alcock¡¯s theft of Nuage Sombre from Micheltaigne, and staying out of Cambria would reduce the need to talk to Monfroy and Cordelia both, which could only be a good thing. It wasn¡¯t as if she had anything else planned for the summer anyway.

    The only big downside was having to spend all that time with Professor Alcock, but a stuffy accessory to imperialism seemed downright tame next to the extortionary Lord who was happy to condemn those he ¡°collected¡± to withering away in an instant¡ªor however he¡¯d really killed them.  Well, that and being away from Rebecca, but that could be considered an upside too, in a way. Not really sure which.

    For his part, Monfroy ignored the correction, placing his hands on Florette¡¯s shoulders and lightly rubbing the fabric of her tattered Cloak of Nocturne. ¡°In the place of our dear, departed Count Srin Savian, I am proud to welcome her into the Twilight Society!¡±

    Florette resisted glaring at him, taking in the cheers and applause with a rigid grin forced to her face. ¡°What an honor,¡± she supplied to Kelsey as she moved back down into the crowd, even managing to sound halfway sincere.

    ¡°Monfroy¡¯s a pill, but don¡¯t let that stop you from taking advantage when you need to. My father¡¯s lands were losing income every year, leveraged beyond what they were worth, and the Society got him a Director job in Malin and covered my tuition at the College.¡± Kelsey let out a slight laugh. ¡°They¡¯re going to love hearing that he already blew it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not his fault, though,¡± Florette said. ¡°He got outsmarted by a pirate crew; that¡¯s an act of fate.¡± Even if the slapdash way he ran the railyard was a big part of why we could pull it off. ¡°And that was right before darkness fell¡ªthat disrupted everyone.¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡± Kelsey shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll see, anyway. He¡¯ll definitely be pumping them for everything he can while we do our little wander through the woods.¡±

    ¡°Our what?¡± Why didn¡¯t any of the Society members I asked about this tell me? Probably at Monfroy¡¯s order. That fucker delighted in being pointlessly elusive.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s part of the initiation. You drink a carafe of nightshade and journey through the forest to Khali¡¯s Great Temple to see your truth or whatever. Personally, every time I¡¯ve tried it it¡¯s just about managed to make my vision wobbly and the sky prettier, but it didn¡¯t exactly turn my head upside-down.¡±

    ¡°Same for me, pretty much.¡± Psyben root had been banned back in Malin, which made it inherently interesting on some level, but unlike the banned Naca extract absolutely making the Wood Nymph an exquisite drink, Florette didn¡¯t think psyben tea was worth the hassle of getting it. She¡¯d mostly just wandered around the beach humming a couple of her favorite songs and amusing Ysengrin, hardly the sorts of the life-changing visions of truth that seemed to come so naturally to Fernan.

    Of course, I wasn¡¯t a binder then. If there really was magic involved¡ªand the way Fernan had conjured that flaming image of Camille Leclaire certainly seemed to suggest it¡ªmaybe Florette could find a way to get more out of it now than she could have then. Ice tableaux with the Ring of Glaciel, perhaps. Though she¡¯d have to be subtle about it. ¡°We¡¯re just supposed to wander high through the dark forest by ourselves?¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not dangerous or anything. The wylls died out decades ago, and no one ever got hurt doing it even back when they were around. Apparently they respected the journey you were on.¡± Kelsey shrugged. ¡°The temple¡¯s up on the ridge, so as long as you can find the moon, you can¡¯t really get lost. I wouldn¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t worried, I just wanted to make sure I could take advantage without risking any eyes on me. ¡°That¡¯s reassuring, thanks.¡±

    ¡°We just need to get through it. Plenty of holiday vacation left to bounce back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d hope you get more out of it than that,¡± Monfroy said, sweeping ominously into view, a woman following behind him. ¡°Visions are a message from the heart of the world, expressing profound truth untainted by avarice and desire. And this is a two-hundred-year-old Samsar nightshade I¡¯m providing for the purpose, clean and potent. Sabine, especially, as a seeker of knowledge, you would be a fool if you failed to take advantage of this opportunity.¡±

    ¡°Let them make their own decisions, Ernest. They aren¡¯t mere initiates anymore.¡± Stepping into the light, the woman was stunning, glossy black hair styled up and around her head while split to touch her shoulders. Several inches shorter than Florette, her deep purple dress perfectly captured the majesty of twilight and her own form both, either a lofty standard to reach for. Stone grey eyes loomed large across her face, open and inviting despite the fact that they didn¡¯t seem to move. ¡°Seeing into the heart of truth is not without its own dangers, should you stumble across something damaging enough.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± Florette couldn¡¯t help but blurt out, though Monfroy¡¯s nose wrinkled when she spoke. And who are you?

    ¡°If you have not already heard, I won¡¯t endanger your eyes by planting the idea in your head. After, perhaps, though I would not recommend delving into your visions again if you cannot dismiss it from your mind.¡±

    ¡°Doubt it makes any difference, when the closest I¡¯ll get to a magical vision is traces of light staying in the air longer than they¡¯re supposed to.¡± Kelsey dipped his head, clearly angling to leave. ¡°Lady Sara, Lord Monfroy. Sabine, I¡¯ll see you up at the temple. And don¡¯t let them scare you. It¡¯s fine, really. Nothing you haven¡¯t done before.¡±

    If I want to waste top-shelf psychedelics giggling my way through the forest, maybe. But Fernan had never mentioned any danger to his person, nor his vision, and if he¡¯d managed to figure it out while burning in agony as a captive in G¨¦zarde¡¯s lair, Florette didn¡¯t see the point in worrying about a little jaunt through the forest.

    Though granted, Fernan did lose his normal sight at the exact same time. She was pretty sure that had more to do with Mara damn-near burning his face off than the visions that followed, though. And Camille did the same thing all the time, apparently also without any fear of losing her sight.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Florette looked back at Lady Sara¡¯s radiant face and unmoving stone eyes and resolved that it was worth the risk. She was here to learn, after all, and this opened up a new angle that she¡¯d probably never be able to use without it. It¡¯s the smart decision here. Even if it meant denying her curiosity about Sara¡¯s dangerous visions a little longer.

    ¡°Here you are.¡± Monfroy handed her a small carafe made out of a glossy seashell, thin enough to be partially clear, with a nocturne-dark liquid swirling slowly inside. ¡°Savor every drop. This is from the same batch King Pelleas the Second was so fond of, despite Cambria seeing the Mamela as their sworn enemies. Fortunately, his loyal servant, Lord Monfroy, was able to trade on his behalf as a covert mediator, and everyone got what they wanted.¡± He smiled, looking all the more strange and hollow for how uncharacteristic it seemed.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Florette, letting Glaciel¡¯s ring turn her hand to ice within her pocket as she tipped the shell back, feeling the cold liquid pour down her throat. The texture wasn¡¯t exactly pleasant, just a bit thicker than it seemed like it should be, but the taste was surprisingly sweet. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine G¨¦rard from Le Viaduc in Malin mixing up an outstanding drink from it, though in its raw form, it wasn¡¯t quite there.

    Still, much better than I expected. Just like with the psyben root, nothing happened right away. It would hit properly once Florette started walking the forest, she imagined.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to do great,¡± Lady Sara said in a tone of voice that managed to sound encouraging instead of condescending, placing her hand on Florette¡¯s arm. ¡°Just think about what you want, and let it take you there.¡±

    ¡°I second Lady Sara¡¯s estimation of your progress, Sabine, but your own skill does not fully obviate all need for caution. A few words can change everything, when spoken in the right ears. Harold Grimoire and his descendants both have proved the truth of that many times over.¡± Monfroy¡¯s face darkened as he mentioned Avalon¡¯s royalty, his disdain so clear that Perimont probably would have taken it as evidence enough to hang him.

    And I can¡¯t say I disagree with you there, Monfroy. Magnifico had helped teach her binding out of mutual opposition to Glaciel and the spirits, but that didn¡¯t change what he¡¯d done or who he was.

    ¡°How so?¡± Florette asked, though she knew better than to expect a straight answer.

    ¡°If you care to know, you¡¯ve been given the means to find out for yourself. Good-seeing to you.¡± Monfroy didn¡¯t bother inclining his head, striking off towards the other end of the room in a strangely smooth motion without another word.

    ¡°It was nice to meet you, Srin Sabine. If you¡¯re ever in Nymphell, I do hope you¡¯ll find me.¡±

    ¡°Same to you, Lady Sara. Uh, but not in Nymphell, obviously, because that¡¯s where you¡ªI mean in Cambria. If you¡¯re in Cambria, I¡¯d love to see you again. That¡¯s¡ªYeah.¡± Fuck! What was that? Florette bit the inside of her cheek, trying to avoid meeting Sara¡¯s clouded eyes.

    ¡°Until then,¡± Sara said gracefully, then followed Monfroy.

    Kelsey, by the looks of things, had already headed outside, so Florette crept out into the courtyard, falling the trail of footsteps into what Cordelia had insisted was called the Forest of Darkness, though everyone here seemed to call it Irul Katu.

    The deeper Florette wandered into the forest, the quieter the sounds of the party grew, until only the rustling leaves could be heard, great gusts of wind roaring louder and louder as they bent the trees beneath the moonlight.

    Her footsteps felt harder and harder, the thunderous vibrations rippling up through her leg in ways that felt uncannily similar to the sensation of channeling Glaciel¡¯s power down through her feet.

    Hesitantly, Florette pulled out her hand, curled into a talon of ice that glimmered in the moonlight, and gave it an experimental wave. As Kelsey had said, the light stayed in the air longer than it should have¡ªor perhaps Florette was just slower to process it, but either way, the effect was a trail of blue and white lingering in the sky long after Florette¡¯s hand had returned to her side.

    And with the rustling leaves behind it, it looked¡ªfor only an instant¡ªlike a woman crossing swords with a skeleton, and a familiar one, at that. Let me try that again. This time, Florette matched the wave of her hand with actual ice, watching it twist more thoroughly into the shape of two dueling figures dancing and swaying above a roaring waterfall.

    Florette smiled. Keep up the good work, Captain Verrou. Maybe there was something to this after all, even for the likes of her.

    But if so, this is probably the least important thing I could be looking at. What was it that the scheming bastard had said? A few words can change everything, when spoken in the right ears. And apparently the royal family had everything to do with that.

    So if I really can gaze into the truth of the past... Florette waved hand anew, scratching an icy scar into the trunk of the nearest tree, reflecting moonlight back into her face. And within it...

    A purple cloak sat in an open plain, casting a long shadow in dawn¡¯s scarlet light. Rapidly, the plain was flattened, then trimmed, then paved over, buildings springing up around the cloak and shadow that left them untouched, until Florette could recognize that it was sitting on the streets of Mourningside, in the shadow of the Tower.

    But no one¡¯s saying anything. And he said it was about the royals. Something about how fucking evil they are, probably. The wind picked up, sharpening to a crisp whistle as Florette walked onward, the vacant howling of the dead echoing after her.

    The ice bent and twisted into the shape of a serpent, exactly like the one Camille had worn on her lapel. But it was following another shape, accepting the invitation of an empty suit of red armor. The old ways died with Soleil, the wind seemed to whisper. What¡¯s to stop you?

    None of this is helpful or interesting; it¡¯s hardly seeing the profound truths at the heart of the world.

    Or maybe it was, somehow, and Florette was either too inexperienced or too impaired to get anything useful out of it. Somehow, even with magic finesse, this was still amounting to little more than an amusement.

    The forest was already beginning to thin as Florette climbed, her spiritual journey tonight apparently coming to an end. It seemed too soon, like her mind had skipped over parts of the trail through the forest, but the Agada Ridge was unmistakable, as was the darkened temple sitting above it.

    Twisted murderer that Monfroy was, his grandiose speech had still conditioned her to expect a little more from this. Something interesting, but lost to history, worthy of the high-quality nightshade that had been so delightfully, illegally provided.

    The moon shone bright enough that Florette could see her own shadow stretch out over the ridge. And¡ªwith another wave of her hand¡ªshe could see a dark purple dagger plunged into the ground right at the shadow¡¯s head, pulsing as total darkness leaked from its wound in the earth.

    Her shadow began to distort, swirling around the dagger like a leaf circling the drain.

    Florette kept moving forward, certain that this was just another part of the vision, even as she stopped casting a shadow on the ridge. When she looked back, she saw a dark apparition standing where the dagger had struck, a lithe figure with long dark hair and a menacing smile, brandishing a bloody sword that was all too familiar.

    She wasn¡¯t sure exactly when she¡¯d entered the temple, or who it was that led her through it. She wasn¡¯t even sure if she could find her way out of the darkened stone labyrinth on her own, but right now her role was to go deeper, descending further and further down the tiny staircase, straining not to bump her head. She looked back once and saw the same shadow doppelganger lurking menacingly at the top of the stairs, aiming a pistol directly at her.

    From then on, Florette kept her eyes looking forward.

    And then, on the bottom, there was only darkness, the floor a uniform void as empty as Nocturne, pristine as the sky above. Florette followed her instructions, whose source she couldn¡¯t recall, and plunged her head down through the floor, gazing with eyes wide open into the world beyond the veil.

    On the other side were massive towers of glass, piercing the sky with condensed lights flashing all up and down them, colored beams criss-crossing the sky in artful patterns. There were people everywhere, drinking and murmuring and staring up at the splendor. Some of them were wearing strange paper glasses on their face, oversized and lensless, with extra symbols hanging off either side that didn¡¯t seem to mean anything on their own.

    At least, not until Florette realized that the eyeholes were part of the message as well, all of it together forming a 2000 sign right on their face. As if to emphasize the revelation, the lights above condensed as well, further explosive luminations filling the air, reflected in the light of the glass towers.

    Until a dark figure appeared through a hole in the sky, and the lights began winking out one by one.

    For all their mistakes about the old calendar, these Khali people were right. It¡¯s just like the Great Binder said. The truth at the heart of the world.

    The descendants of humanity today will build out this dense, spectacular society, only for all of it to be smashed apart by a spirit they¡¯ll probably have long forgotten. The world, plunged back into darkness with no spirits strong enough left to contest her. This summer would look like nothing next to that, even the last Age of Darkness. Humanity itself might not make it through.

    And if I¡¯m seeing this, then there¡¯s nothing anyone can do about it.

 Luce IX: The Imposing

    Luce IX: The Imposing

    Despite how close the peace summit had come to explosive failure, Luce had actually done it. It felt hard to believe even now¡ªnot only that he¡¯d managed a political feat worthy of Father and the Grimoire line, but that his plans hadn¡¯t been catastrophically diverted by whatever primordial force of the universe seemed to delight in his failure.

    He was even letting himself celebrate the new year with the other Charentine, sitting under a hanging lattice of lanterns, their flames somehow burning the same green color as Fernan¡¯s eyes. After three glasses of Lyrion single malt¡ªsupplies purchased freely from the now-quelled Horace Williams thanks to the Charenton Accords¡ªLuce felt more at ease than he ever had since leaving Cambria, even the usually-stifling night air of this northern edge of the continent providing a comfortable warmth where this time of year they¡¯d be shivering at home.

    Having Charlotte here didn¡¯t hurt either, regaling him with what she¡¯d learned from her exile out in the hallway. He¡¯d squeezed in next to her on their ramshackle bench to better examine her notes¡ªwritten in code, of course.

    ¡°Maxime¡¯s Condorcet isn¡¯t the one I was led to believe. Though for all that, it isn¡¯t much better.¡± Leaders spurring their citizens towards senseless violence was hardly anything new, nor was it unique to Condorcet¡¯s strange system of government, but it was in a way disheartening to learn how little Khali really had to do with any of it. ¡°Anything else catch your ear?¡±

    Charlotte nodded, flipping the page with a smile. ¡°Jethro claimed he successfully plundered the Grimoire Archives, but refused to elaborate on the boast. I¡¯m hoping you know what that means?¡±

    ¡°I do...¡± Though it¡¯s not something I¡¯d risk anyone overhearing. Luce switched to Avaline, trusting Charlotte¡¯s impressive grasp of the language. ¡°My family have always been exemplary binders, and they¡¯ve defeated plenty of others to claim their artifacts as spoils. But not all of them are as benign as the Gloves of Teruvo, or the Gauntlet of Eulus. The most dangerous must be safeguarded, some scant few used only in the times of severest desperation, and the rest, not even then.¡± Father had promised to show him the contents one day, though once his date of majority had come and gone, Luce had begun to assume it was an empty promise. ¡°He couldn¡¯t have cleaned it out, or he¡¯d have more at his disposal. He stole his most destructive item, the Gauntlet, from my father, but the Archives store far more dangerous artifacts than that. And someone would have noticed by now if he¡¯d broken in.¡±

    ¡°If only your father is allowed inside, wouldn¡¯t it take a long time to discover?¡± She frowned. ¡°We should assume he¡¯s keeping the worst of your family¡¯s spoils ready for the right moment, more powerful than we thought.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a question of power, necessarily. More of the unique effects that¡ª¡± Luce cut himself off as he heard an indistinct sound he was pretty sure was his name.

    His full name.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. I said it! I¡¯m not afraid of you, Prince of Darkness.¡± Almost seven feet tall, the complainant must have downed an entire barrel to get that drunk. ¡°Damn year¡¯s already over, but is your ¡®Autumn Spring¡¯?¡± His lips jutted out for the last two words, a mockingly high-pitched voice.

    Charlotte had already leapt to her feet, but Luce held out his hand to keep her back. For now. ¡°The Autumn Spring is over. It was the week after Sauine, and it¡¯ll be the week after the next one, too.¡±

    ¡°That right? Then why the fuck did I only get half-wages for a month? Why the fuck did I get fired tonight? Huh, Lucifer?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough, worm.¡± Charlotte drew her sword in one hand, the other hovering near her pistol. ¡°Time to go.¡±

    I guess now that the diplomats are leaving, the menace of my threat isn¡¯t keeping them quelled. ¡°But let me answer his question first, Charlotte. Free speech is a cornerstone of Avaline civilization, even for the least worthy of it.¡± Luce stood, craning his head to meet the drunkard¡¯s eyes. ¡°You got fired tonight because the mill closed down, because its owner fled back to Avalon a failure rather than try to make something of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°Because you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because I stopped the lumber cutters from venturing into the forests of Refuge. Because Refuge was never Avalon¡¯s to begin with, and sending you in there risked your lives against Cya¡¯s revenants every second you spent on that side of the Rhan. I held you back right before the Red Knight arrived, intent on slaying as many as he could get his hands on, another risk that the owner was happy to ignore. But as long as I remain the protector of Charenton, I¡¯m not going to gamble with your lives as they did. I¡¯m not willing to pay the bloody price they were.¡±

    Not that it was primarily for your sake, but it feels good to throw it in your face. Still, Luce had justified his takeover of Charenton in the peace talks with a legal fiction about protecting this city and its people. After driving Levian off and bringing his High Priestess into agreement, I suppose it¡¯s even true. There was something to be said for maintaining a presence here, even after they rebuilt from the worst of Levian¡¯s attack, investing more of his resources to turn it into a proper modern city.

    And if Guerron and Malin are going to benefit from Avaline science thanks to the treaty, surely the personal domains of a scientist prince ought to as well. It might even be a good way to ease people into things, on both sides of the Lyrion sea. After decades of Avaline influence, Charenton was culturally far less of a jump than Guerron, let alone Malin.

    Watching four of his shadow guards manage to wrestle the belligerent away under Charlotte¡¯s steely glare, Luce felt that for once he was properly planning for the future, rather than scrambling to deal with the latest crisis.

    As he strolled out into the bright moonlight, Luce overheard a parent telling his daughter about the full moon, good tidings to bring into a new year. He followed the father¡¯s pointed finger up towards the sky just in time to see a jagged crack appear in the moon¡¯s white surface, bleeding pink as the circle began to blacken, only the corona letting off the slightest bit of light.

    ?

    ¡°Has she ever gotten the face of a spirit before?¡± Luce felt his teeth clench tightly, trying to assess how bad this really was.

    Fernan scratched his beard, frowning. ¡°Camille would know, but she wasn¡¯t there when I got back to the beach. I think she must have already left.¡±

    ¡°Then what happened to the tides and sea? They look normal from here, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°They are,¡± Fernan interrupted. ¡°I think someone else is filling the role. She talked about getting Fenouille to claim it at the convocation, so she might have found a way to summon him? Or settled for Rhan in the interest of avoiding disasters?¡±

    ¡°Or claimed his power for herself. No wonder she was so willing to oppose her patron.¡± Luce scoffed. ¡°One backstab after another. Betrayal seems to be a chronic condition for her mind.¡±

    ¡°She was fighting him before G¨¦zarde ever got involved, and she and Jethro never would have beaten Levian on their own. I don¡¯t think it went the way you¡¯re saying.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know her like I do.¡± Luce sighed, staring up at the darkened moon. ¡°Was anyone but the moon spirit killed?¡±

    ¡°Maxime barely got away before Courbet spotted him, but he¡¯s okay. As far as I know, no one else was caught up in her scheme. But Lamante... She went too far this time. Lunette didn¡¯t do anything to her. She just wanted her power and role! Maxime didn¡¯t even see how Courbet killed her, so we have no idea what else she¡¯s capable of. And I doubt being in league with the new Arbiter of Darkness will slow her down any.¡±

    ¡°Lamante took over Lunette¡¯s seat right away?¡± Luce perked up at the news, not having known that was possible.

    ¡°She¡¯s only holding it until the real convocation, but seizing Lunette¡¯s power lets her take on the role until then. Not the role of the moon though, apparently.¡± The faint corona of the blackened moon still ominously looked down over the halting New Year¡¯s celebration from the dark sky, neither replenishing nor fading away. ¡°Thinking about it, I bet that¡¯s what Fenouille is doing with the sea, too. They were supposed to wait, but... Well, I guess I didn¡¯t misjudge Camille that much, even if she did surprise me.¡±

    ¡°Already the High Priestess of the Sea once more, and now for a spirit that owes his position to her.¡± Luce shook his head, though it could have been worse. Fenouille was probably the best they could expect to fill the role, evenhanded and willing to negotiate with a prince of the hated Avalon, but Camille could likely put an end to much of that with her words, if she saw fit to. She remained far more dangerous than Levian ever had been. ¡°Apparently peace wasn¡¯t enough of a victory for her.¡±

    ¡°Her loss,¡± Fernan said, which was so perfect that Luce felt compelled to toast him for it.

    ¡°We still came out ahead tonight. Levian was a thousand times more dangerous than Lamante, and she¡¯s still bound by her word to never kill. Cut her off from this Courbet, and she won¡¯t be able to pull something like this again.¡±

    ¡°I hope so...¡±

    Me too, Fernan. But either way, that¡¯s tomorrow¡¯s problem. ¡°I¡¯ll put out an announcement so that people know there¡¯s no reason to fear. At least, not for now. Do you think you could help me reassure them?¡± With his reptilian-looking face and flaming eyes, Fernan cut an imposing figure, but the menacing image was barely even skin deep, and his warmth could go a long way to easing fears.

    ¡°I would, but Cya asked me to meet her in Refuge on the morning of the new year, something about learning the truth at the heart of the world. I know it sounds hard to believe, but those visions have real significance to them. They actually connect to important things in the past and present, and they don¡¯t lie to you, even if you feel misled.¡±

    Well, that¡¯s an efficient way to cut through all of my half-formed excuses about the family history I saw in my own visions from Cya. ¡°Oh, I know. Not something I ever want to experience again, but I understand its potency.¡± Camille herself had probably used it against him, timing her coup perfectly with the return of the¡ª ¡°Wait, were you the one feeding her information about the sun¡¯s return? Did you use the spirit visions to do it?¡±

    The flames in his eyes flickered, followed by a momentary pause. ¡°I should be going. If I don¡¯t encounter you again before we go, I just want to say I¡¯m glad I met you. I don¡¯t think peace would have been possible with anyone else sitting behind that ¡®Avalon¡¯ placard.¡±

    ¡°Likewise,¡± said Luce, meaning it, but already trying to unravel the consequences of this discovery. Before it had just been a suspicion, enough of a theory to realize he¡¯d already been outmaneuvered either way. But now...

    Semaphore telegraph towers will look like a messenger on a horse next to this if I can make it work without sages. Even before then, all it took was two sages willing to spend an inordinate amount of time hallucinating to communicate anywhere in the world... Camille had even mentioned having conversations!

    He waited only until the instant Fernan left before calling Charlotte in to tell her about it.

    ?

    By the time they departed for Cambria, Luce¡¯s shadow guards had swelled to two hundred from the Charentine, though he had no doubt that most of it was driven more from pragmatism than any great loyalty to him. That would be forged and tested in the time to come. In the meantime, under Charlotte¡¯s vigilant eye, they were still a boon to him in Cambria¡ªwhere they were unlikely to find allies besides him in any case.

    That was one reason to justify taking Charlotte with him even when he really ought to have left someone he could trust to run things in Charenton. His own protection supplied another. But still, the pragmatic choice would be to leave her.

    Pragmatic, but not... not acceptable.

    With the Red Knight still prowling around¡ªso far as anyone knew, at least¡ªit was unlikely the Charentine would test Cya by trespassing in the near term, even if they found other ways to buck Luce¡¯s authority. Graves would have his hands full with a mere eighty shadow guards, but he only had to hold out until Luce could return to relieve him.

    As nice as it was to be back home, Luce couldn¡¯t afford to stay long.

    His ship, the newly renamed Progress, was docked on Crescent Isle with orders to be ready to depart at an hour¡¯s notice. Leaving it there gave the crew time for the proper renaming ceremony they were so insistent on too, a superstitious waste of time that Luce was only too happy not to be present for. The marina would have been even closer to his business, but it was hard to trust that he wouldn¡¯t be obstructed from returning to it with royal customs officers crawling over every inch of the place. It would hardly be the first time Avalon¡¯s forces had been turned against him.

    Crescent Isle, by contrast, was the traditional domain of the younger Grimoire royals, Luce¡¯s own ever since Aunt Lizzie had willingly given up her title as Princess of Crescents. If that nominal claim weren¡¯t enough, Luce had actually toured the shipbuilding facility there quite recently and made more resources available to the officials there in the wake of Robin Verrou¡¯s assault on the island. If that weren¡¯t enough, twenty shadow guards were more than enough to keep the island under control until he returned.

    The other hundred followed him into Cambria, marching around and behind him as he walked south through the streets he hadn¡¯t quite realized how much he¡¯d missed.

    ¡°Hail Lucifer, of the line Grimoire! Hail the Prince of Darkness!¡± one of his shadows cried, though Luce really wished he wouldn¡¯t. ¡°The blood of the Great Binder flows through his veins! Hail the Prince of Crescents, the Lord Protector of Charenton! The Scientist, the Peacemaker, the son of the king!¡± Looking closer, the crier was Preston, who¡¯d often done the same for his uncle when they visited Fortescue. It definitely earned Luce some bowed heads as he walked by, which his many strolls through Cambria in the past seldom had, though that was mostly because Luce hadn¡¯t made any effort to make himself known. In fact, he¡¯d deliberately aimed for the opposite. But it was different now. Perhaps this wasn¡¯t the worst thing in the world when Luce was so unsure of exactly what would be greeting him at the palace.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Jethro had set him up to die¡ªconfessed to it, even¡ªand Harold had always claimed he could be trusted. That Jethro was his loyal agent. Someone had given him the path of Luce¡¯s ship to give to those pirates, and it couldn¡¯t be Father, for all that he¡¯d apparently ¡°tried to kill his son¡±.

    And if that¡¯s not bad enough, Harold¡¯s still waging war in the Arboreum and Micheltaigne, sending his own people to die for nothing. Perhaps there was more to it. Luce desperately hoped so, but until he knew for sure, he¡¯d be keeping his guards close.

    Charlotte walked beside him, wearing one of Luce¡¯s purple scarves to identify herself to the more distant guards following her. The moment their procession reached Alora Park, she raised her hand to point the path through the trees, and as one they filed down the largest of the trails, many hikers politely stepping back to get out of their way.

    When they reached Peige Boulevard, Luce had a choice to make: turn left, and head for the Palace and the Great Council Chambers where he would need to see Avalon ratify the Treaty of Charenton, or go right for Ortus Tower, Luce¡¯s first true seat of power, where the most significant scientific discoveries in the world happened, and where despite his efforts the weapons of the future were still being developed.

    Put like that, it was hardly even a choice.

    ?

    And definitely the right one. With the Tower secured, Luce could walk into the palace far more comfortably.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, I¡¯m the Overseer! The Prince Regent appointed me himself when Arion got sick. Whatever you black clad ruffians think you¡¯re doing here, Baron Williams will hear about it! Why, after the treatment you¡¯ve¡ªYour Highness, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t realize you¡¯d returned.¡±

    Luce¡¯s shadows dropped a sniveling Ronald Esterton in front of his feet as he poured himself a glass of brandy from the bottle he¡¯d hidden in his office for just an occasion like this¡ªwell, maybe not just like this. After a moment of reflection, he retrieved a second glass and filled it, handing it to the erstwhile Overseer. ¡°Sir Julius was overseeing things temporarily, in my stead. I don¡¯t doubt that my brother turned to you when he fell ill.¡± Unfortunately, it tracks all too well with his extremely questionable decision making of late. ¡°However, now that I¡¯ve returned, your assistance is no longer required.¡±

    ¡°But, Your Highness, I must insist, I was granted this duty to uphold. By all means, assume your position as Overseer once more, but I would serve you better by staying. The war effort will suffer without me remaining to serve you, to maintain continuity.¡±

    Luce shrugged. ¡°I think we¡¯ll muddle through.¡±

    Esterton glared, and Luce realized he might try something on his way out. In a place like this, that could be catastrophic. ¡°Carthy, Reginald, please see that Lord Esterton reaches the exit safely. In these troubled times, you never know what might happen.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need an escort!¡± He wrenched his arm free of their grasp, then started gathering his possessions from Luce¡¯s office. ¡°It¡¯s just taking the elevator down my own damned tower. Nothing¡¯s going to happen!¡±

    ¡°You never know, Ronnie. It¡¯s a long fall if you slip, and accidents happen. Safer if you¡¯re escorted.¡± Luce took a long sip of brandy as the former-acting-Overseer was carried out, looking with satisfaction at the rain splattering against his window.

    With a toady of Williams¡¯ in charge, doubtless countless errors would need to be rectified within the Tower¡¯s walls, but for the moment, Luce could take satisfaction that it was his once more. Mistaken changes in personnel could be remedied, starting with the blatantly nepotistic hire of Olivia Esterton that he¡¯d spotted working on level five. Her, I might fire personally.

    With the Winter Term over at the Cambrian College, and the corresponding graduation of every good student whose progress the darkness had arrested, there would be no shortage of new talent to choose from. Albert Ingles for one, with his revolutionary work on the desk-sized printing press. Kelsey Thorley for another, the train undergrounding expert Thorburton had mentioned. Luce had tried to invite him to take his father¡¯s place at the Malin railyard, but the darkness and Camille had put an end to that. Now he could finally put those plans into action here, and better yet, in Charenton.

    Perhaps even Rebecca Williams, if doing Harold and the Baron the favor would be enough to lock in support for the Treaty. Recent events had definitely proven the value of explosives, and the fact that they could be turned towards positive ends. Luce would just have to be careful about what technologies reached the broader Avaline military, especially if they were still determined to wage this pointless war.

    Safer to keep them in the hands of the Tower, under the control of people who understood the significance of their destructive power.

    Though the Tower itself needs to be cleaned out before I can truly begin with that. Olivia Esterton was hardly the only new face that didn¡¯t belong there, and several old ones were conspicuously absent. Even Lucretria Marbury was gone, ostensibly still out west for some New Year¡¯s party even weeks into the new year, but more than likely reaching out to her network for another job. Luce would have to head that off when she got back¡ªfor all her philosophical limitations, she was too good a scientist to let loose, especially if she fell into private consulting for the military, which seemed the most likely avenue for her to take.

    Ideally, Luce would be able to find a pair of sages willing to experiment with hallucinogens and remote communication too, or at least willing to model the interaction for other scientists to copy, but finding any willing to help would probably only come after months or years of deepened ties with the continent. A shame, too. Sages are my only good source of information on the spirits now that I¡¯m not with Cya. The tides were still turning as they ever had, so someone was filling Levian¡¯s seat, but the next convocation could come without any warning and ruin it and Luce would have no way of predicting it in advance.

    Perhaps Fernan could be persuaded to visit... Not until things were stable here though.

    Luce heard Charlotte¡¯s distinctive knock on his door and returned to his seat, gesturing towards the guest seating in front of his desk as she ushered everyone else she¡¯d been instructed to gather into his office.

    Aunt Lizzie was the first to take a seat, noticeably flinching when she saw Luce¡¯s missing eye. She was wearing the new fashion too, a carefully tailored pants and jacket in matching dark purple, with a narrow black cravat hanging down from her neck, grey hair pinned tightly up against her head as ever, not the slightest thread out of place.

    The other Owls seemed to take their cues from her, dressed more or less the same though without the same attention to detail, sitting only when she did, and likewise trying to hide their shocked reactions to the sight of Luce¡¯s face but not doing it quite as well...

    It would have to do.

    ¡°Welcome to Ortus Tower,¡± Luce said, leaning over his desk to stare down the party leadership. ¡°Aunt Lizzie, it¡¯s wonderful to see you again. Thank you for gathering your colleagues.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure,¡± she said without a hint of a smile. ¡°They¡¯ve been briefed on the terms of your treaty, but there were just a few outstanding questions to settle before we vote. Terence?¡±

    An elderly man tugged his collar, his face looking like halfway melted wax. ¡°Well, Your Highness, I just don¡¯t see the benefit. I know the Territories were getting rowdy, but that just means they need new leadership. Sack Horace Williams and the rest like you did with Ticent and there¡¯s no need to concede anything.¡±

    Here it is. The Harpies, without a doubt, would say the same thing far less politely. They, perhaps, were beyond winning over, but the Owls were prime allies in this, so long as Luce approached them the right way. Aunt Lizzie had already done most of the groundwork, but apparently there was still more convincing needed.

    ¡°Concede?¡± Luce scoffed. ¡°The Treaty of Charenton isn¡¯t a concession, it¡¯s an opportunity. Think of your business partners, the joint stock companies where you and your friends have ownership stakes... The Territories were a crown possession; their wealth flowed to Avalon the nation. But a free Lyrion League? It¡¯s a golden opportunity for the private individual.¡±

    ¡°So were the Territories, before your brother starved them half to death,¡± a middle aged woman muttered in the back.

    ¡°I can¡¯t speak to my brother, but that¡¯s exactly the sort of thing that a free Lyrion League avoids. Better still, they¡¯re exempt from most Avaline regulations with their Special Administrative Zone status. Think about how much profit Versham-Martin made from nightshade before it was banned. Naca extract, tobacco, every substance controlled by the crown within Avalon¡¯s borders¡ªIn Lyrion, it will be legal for you to sell as you see fit. Tributary taxes will still be exacted from the League government, but with targeted exemptions for those courageous pioneers helping to ensure a free Lyrion... And their Avaline partners.¡±

    The overall flow of wealth to Avalon would certainly slow, but it would hardly stop, and investing the powerful and wealthy in Lyrion¡¯s independence was the only realistic way to ensure the treaty¡¯s passage. Aunt Lizzie had made that much abundantly clear, and Madeline Nella had wholeheartedly agreed.

    He was planning to talk to Vas Sara to get the Jays on-side too, but that would require a different message, better tailored to a mostly-Mamela audience. Considering he¡¯d misremembered her name as Cindy before requesting the audience, it would doubtless take more research to properly craft the proposal too.

    Luce could see the change in the Owls¡¯ faces, lit up with the possibilities before them. None of what he¡¯d said was new to them¡ªmore than half was taken directly from what Aunt Lizzie had already told them, but it must have been different hearing it directly from the treaty¡¯s architect, the peacemaker prince who¡¯d personally dealt with the Lyrion rebels.

    ¡°Any other questions?¡±

    ?

    ¡°Why would he do this? He¡¯s the Prince Regent¡ªhe¡¯s not supposed to refuse to sign legislation.¡± Luce tried to contain his rage, knowing that the entire Great Council could see him right now. ¡°We have the votes, royal support! Sure it took the Jays to get the numbers to outvote the Harpies, but that¡¯s still a majority! It¡¯s the smart thing to do, and what Father would want, and he just¡ª¡± Luce clenched his fists, biting back a louder complaint. ¡°I¡¯m going to go talk to him privately.¡±

    Aunt Lizzie nodded dispassionately. ¡°If that conversation proves frustrating, come see me afterwards. It might be time to fully inform you about your father¡¯s will.¡±

    Fitting timing, I suppose, since every second since getting back to Avalon has been all about imposing my own. But such was the price of peace. ¡°See you then,¡± he said, not bothering to hide his low expectations.

    Harold was slouching into Father¡¯s throne when Luce came upon him, a glass of red wine in his hand. The portrait above it had been removed, replaced by a painting of a purple ocean, four long-haired men¡¯s faces in a white cloud on the bottom, though Luce had no idea who they were.

    ¡°Brother! It¡¯s been too long.¡± Harold grinned smugly, then took a sip of his wine. ¡°I see that those pirates couldn¡¯t get you down.¡±

    He didn¡¯t even flinch at my eye... Somehow that was worse than all the people who did. ¡°They did, for a while, but I bounced back.¡±

    ¡°I like the eyepatch, by the way. It makes you look very dark and mysterious.¡± He smiled, swirling his wine without a care in the world. ¡°Inspired by the pirates?¡±

    ¡°More by Levian slicing out my eye when he attacked Charenton, really.¡± Luce walked up towards the throne, spotting Harold¡¯s half-empty bottle of Jaubertie and pouring himself a glass. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s dead now.¡±

    Harold raised his glass. ¡°To the Grimoires, bane of spirits everywhere!¡±

    Luce reluctantly raised his glass, trying to gauge his brother¡¯s temperament. Though it¡¯s not like I¡¯ll be able to read from his face whether he sent pirates to kill me. ¡°I saw Jethro, in Malin.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, my loyal spy. It seems that even his aid wasn¡¯t enough for you to keep the city.¡±

    Not helping your case, Harold. ¡°He was key to it falling. Now he¡¯s fallen in with Camille Leclaire, nothing but her lapdog.¡± Where before, perhaps, he was nothing but yours.

    Harold shrugged. ¡°Well, then he¡¯s a dirty traitor I guess. We¡¯ll get his face up on a wanted poster for you, Luce, make sure he can¡¯t set foot in Avalon again.¡±

    Theoretically the right answer, but given too quickly, and without any apparent surprise. ¡°He tipped off the pirates, Harold. They knew my heading and how to intercept it.¡±

    Harold nodded, feigning contemplation. ¡°I¡¯ll triple the bounty from my own funds, then. It was a miracle you survived that at all.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a miracle any of us survived the darkness.¡± But honestly, investigating my own assassination attempt is of secondary concern right now.  ¡°Is that why you went to war?¡±

    ¡°We needed more. The Territories weren¡¯t cutting it, let alone Avalon itself. Our brilliant father built a house of cards, dependent on trade and tribute to keep the engine running. When the ice and darkness cut everyone off, well...¡± Harold leaned back on his throne. ¡°It may surprise you, Luce, given how long I¡¯ve disdained the royal office, but the responsibility does change you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m well aware.¡± Not always for the better. ¡°Maybe I can understand why you invaded the Arboreum, an unfortunate necessity, you might say. Not something I¡¯d agree with, but I understand it. Micheltaigne is hard to justify, but perhaps things got away from you, or the commanders took initiative without your leave.¡±

    Harold remained silent, waiting for Luce to continue with an eyebrow raised.

    ¡°But killing this peace treaty accomplishes nothing! Even the Great Council agreed to it. Why can¡¯t you?¡± That was the measured line of inquiry, the best way to test his brother. What followed was not. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡±

    ¡°Not all that much, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing that wouldn¡¯t be wrong with you, if you¡¯d been born in my place. But enough.¡± Harold smiled. ¡°With Father imprisoned, I could rule for decades as his regent, expanding our kingdom far beyond what he or any of our ancestors ever could. It¡¯s a chance to truly make my mark on the world, myself, and under my own name.¡±

    Luce clenched his fist, feeling his teeth grind as he stared down his egotistical brother. You never cared about that before, and you actually listened to what I had to say then too. What had happened to him?

    ¡°Harold the Undying, they¡¯ll call me, my legend living on long after I¡¯m gone. Peace would stand in the way of that, Luce. Worse, it could see Father released.¡±

    Your words, or Williams¡¯? At this point, did it even matter? ¡°I¡¯m realizing now that you were never particularly invested in politics, not the substance. You¡¯re good at winning people over, but apparently the ends weren¡¯t that important to you.¡±

    ¡°They are now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s worse! Father went too far in Guerron, but even he would never conscience this unjust invasion, let alone spearhead it for nothing more than his own ego!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong about that Luce, and so much more besides. I¡¯d have hoped that after everything you¡¯ve been through, your childish idolization of our monstrous father would have eroded even slightly. Apparently, I overestimated you.¡±

    Luce grasped his wine glass tightly, staring Harold¡¯s two eyes down with his one. ¡°The Treaty of Charenton will go through. Peace will be enshrined with the Empire of the Fox and the Lyrion League. Even Guerron.¡±

    ¡°Not if I have anything to¡ª¡±

    ¡°But,¡± Luce coldly interrupted. ¡°The terms cede Father to them legally, as their prisoner. He¡¯s guaranteed fair treatment and comfort, but never freedom. He¡¯ll be more securely locked away under the treaty than he ever was in this silent game of threats and brinkmanship. Now sign it.¡±

    Harold¡¯s eyebrows perked up, his face lighting up. ¡°He¡¯ll be their prisoner for life? And it doesn¡¯t say anything about the Rhan lands or Micheltaigne? Nothing about Paix Lake or Hiverre?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡± Not that I wouldn¡¯t want to negotiate a peace down there as well, but I have to take things one step at a time.

    Harold laughed. ¡°Then perhaps we can both get what we want. You make your peace with the northern Territories, and I make my mark upon the world and cement my legend forever.¡± He held out his hand for Luce to shake, implicitly demanding he accept all-out war with the rest of the continent in exchange for upholding his peace.

    But not explicitly, not codified into law the way the Treaty would be once he signed it. There would be other ways for Luce to work against his brother¡¯s wars, no matter what they agreed on here today.

    What happened to you, Harold? Luce felt the darkness burning inside him, overwhelming his despair over what had become of his brother. He shook the outstretched hand, his eye glaring at Harold¡¯s smug grin. Peace, no matter the cost.

 Epilogue: The Fated Heir

    Epilogue: The Fated Heir

    ¡°A purple panther, devouring its young.¡± Harold stared into the mosaic images filling the air, his hand guiding the Scythe of Crescents to cast its razor-sharp projectiles into the shape that called to him, the nightshade taking care of the rest.

    ¡°Excellent, Your Highness. You are proving most... adept at uncovering the truth.¡± Lord Monfroy was beside and apart from the visions, a peripheral guide through the distant past and present. So far, he¡¯d proven true to his promises, but Harold knew better than to take him fully at his word. Even if there wasn¡¯t a price to pay, the western lord was getting something out of this.

    If he¡¯s a fool, he¡¯ll try to blackmail me over it. If so, Father would nail his head to the wall. More likely, this guidance was just a chance to butter the crown prince up for some favor or another.

    ¡°You promised clarity, scenes like I was standing right there. These metaphors could be anything, random movements from a drug-addled brain.¡± Luce had even mentioned some idiot Imperial king who¡¯d been wholly undone by misinterpreting them. From the War of the Five Cubs, maybe? It didn¡¯t really matter. The history was one thing, but the science was another¡ªat least, that was what Luce said, and considering how damned smart he was, Harold felt inclined to take him at his word.

    ¡°For the uninitiated, perhaps, though only the most truly... mundane. Already, your aptitude for binding should prove... sufficient.¡±

    I guess it¡¯s finally proving sufficient somewhere. Harold had spent years training under Baron Beckett, honing his mastery of magic both within artifacts and without. He¡¯d even managed to find a wyll left roaming the Forest of Darkness and slay it with his own two hands, binding its power himself and making a gift of it to Father. He¡¯d skipped most of his classes at the College, practiced channeling energy until his hands were raw, dueled and sparred until he could surpass the Murder Twins as the Baron¡¯s star pupil.

    Father still didn¡¯t care. Perhaps he never would.

    ¡°He was a natural,¡± Luce had offered in sympathy. ¡°Maybe he doesn¡¯t understand how hard most people have to work to get that good.¡± He took to science with uncanny speed too, but that didn¡¯t stop him from cheering like a goat when they unveiled your stupid windmills.

    It wasn¡¯t even just about accomplishments, really. When Harold had broken his leg climbing the old city walls, Father had locked him away deep in the castle to recuperate, visiting not even once, not even bothering to say hello once Harold was walking again.

    Meanwhile, when Luce had strained his wrist writing his thesis, King Harold the Great had left a conference in Forta three days early to make sure he was alright. And yet Luce still couldn¡¯t seem to get it. He called himself a scientist, yet he ignored the evidence right in front of him. That, or¡ªworse¡ªhe knew he was the favorite, and didn¡¯t want to do anything to change it.

    ¡°Your obsession with the literal is a... limitation. The best seers know to take in emotion, rather than strictly words, to better... understand the greater truth. But the visions are a tool that you command. If you want scenes instead of merely truths, reach out to find them,¡± Monfroy said softly. ¡°Try again.¡±

    Next time I¡¯ll try buying my nightshade from someone who doesn¡¯t pretend to teach me a lesson before I can use it. Still, he was already here. No reason not to put in the effort. Sparring with the Baron had instilled enough humility for that, at least.

    Feeling his hand move into place, Harold conjured the mosaic once more, crescent shapes slotting together as their color shifted, forming a verdant green forest immediately recognizable as the royal hunting grounds.

    Two figures were riding through it, an older man on an ostentatious black stallion and a younger atop a pale mare following a short distance behind them. Finally, clarity. Assuming the visuals were accurate, these were his ancestors: Harold the First and Harold the Second, probably not too long before the ascension of the latter, given the former¡¯s withered look.

    The younger Harold raised his bow, aiming it directly at his father, then drew an arrow back.

    Or right at the exact moment of ascension, as the case may be. Harold the First, famously, had perished in a hunting accident. After all his great accomplishments, some stupid twist of fate had snuffed him out without dignity or ceremony. Harold knew that because everyone knew that, and seeing a fancy mosaic of it while tripping on nightshade didn¡¯t really mean anything.

    Cracking the slightest smile, the mosaic prince let the arrow fly, watching as it landed in his father¡¯s back. A moment later, a rolling fog of darkness emerged from the woods, thickening until it blotted out every crescent shard, clouding out any hint of a vision.

    Harold slashed the Scythe downward in frustration, the hovering arrangement of crescent lights falling apart. ¡°You promised me that this would uncover deep secrets. My father¡¯s secrets. Not common knowledge. You¡¯re wasting my time.¡±

    ¡°I promised that this nightshade was... capable of it. And that I would... assist you, in uncovering what you have every right to know.¡± Monfroy didn¡¯t look particularly put off by the accusation. ¡°But to properly... guide you through our nation¡¯s storied past, I need to know what you saw.¡±

    ¡°The royal hunting accident,¡± Harold answered. ¡°And I couldn¡¯t even see much of that! A dark fog started rolling in the second the old king died.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Monfroy said inexplicably, clasping his hands together in the corner of Harold¡¯s vision. ¡°Darkness is potent, but its usage leaves traces, always. Khali was sealed away into Nocturne, yet scraps of her skin still remain, and maintain the power they draw from her. Try looking for your father directly, instead of merely into the past.¡±

    Like I wasn¡¯t trying that before. Still, Harold began gesturing again, feeling some recessed part of his mind guide his hand into position. This time, he focused on the details of his father that stood out from the other Grimoires: his relationship with Aunt Lizzie, his betrayal by Robin Verrou, the unexpected ascension after the Foxtrap¡ªanything that had a better chance of shedding light on what Harold was not supposed to know.

    ¡°Our father is dead,¡± the crescent shards chimed, though Monfroy didn¡¯t react to the sound. They were beginning to take the shape of an immaculate looking woman in a crisp navy officer¡¯s uniform, black hair pinned up without a single stray strand despite the hat in her hand. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that bother you, Harry?¡±

    Oh, that¡¯s Aunt Lizzie. Quickly reorienting his mind, Harold focused on the conversation, continuing to arrange the crescent shards into the pattern of the scene¡ªset in the royal apartments of the palace, by the look of it.

    ¡°There¡¯s something important I need to tell you, Lizzie. It¡¯s not an easy thing to hear.¡± Father looked the same as ever, done up in his usual purple cloak, though his hair was shorter than Harold had seen him keep it in almost twenty years. ¡°You distinguished yourself at command, and you¡¯ve proven your loyalty a hundred times over. Not just to Avalon, but to the Crown.¡±

    ¡°That hasn¡¯t changed,¡± she assured him as a dark fog began to roll into the room, out of place with the finery and unremarked upon by the royal siblings. ¡°I know you can¡¯t fill Father¡¯s shoes. I don¡¯t expect you to. You¡¯re still the King of Avalon. I¡¯ll protect you and your sons with my life.¡± And what a great job you did. I think I saw you maybe once a month for my whole life.

    ¡°It warms my heart to hear that. But it¡¯s interesting to hear you say it.¡± Father began pacing the room, turning his back towards his sister. ¡°Because...¡± He opened his mouth, but the fog had already risen high enough to drown out his words. Moments later, it had completely consumed the mosaic once more.

    ¡°Did you see the... improvements you sought?¡± Monfroy¡¯s raspy voice jolted Harold out of the dark vision, prompting him to stop uselessly conjuring darkened shards.

    ¡°It was promising, until the fog came back.¡± Harold paused, feeling clarity slowly seep back in as the heightened reality of the past faded away. ¡°Is there a way to clear it? Or see past it?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps...¡± Monfroy let out the slightest chuckle, high enough pitched to be totally at odds with everything else he¡¯d said. ¡°It seems your father has things in his past that he¡¯d sooner keep hidden. But whatever darkness he employed to... conjure his smokescreen, it is a magic like any other. If King Harold¡¯s magic were to be disrupted...¡±

    With Leputian Cordial, perhaps? Harold smiled as he figured out Monfroy¡¯s ploy¡ªgoad the prince into weakening the king, in whatever form that took. If Harold were fool enough to fully trust him as an ally, he¡¯d explain his plan, tell or hint at the moment Father would be incapacitated magically. And allow Monfroy to make whatever move he had planned.

    Easy enough to disrupt, so long as I¡¯m sufficiently unpredictable. It was only a question of timing.

    He bid Lord Monfroy farewell, already calling on his servants to bring Klein to see him as soon as they returned to the palace. All it would take was a few drops in Father¡¯s tea to knock out whatever dark magic was blocking the visions for a few hours and leave him none the wiser.

    A breach of trust, perhaps, but Father had little for Harold anyway, and blotting out his own past was hardly engendering any more. If he had nothing to hide, it wouldn¡¯t matter anyway.

    ?

    And what a secret he was hiding. No greater monster existed in all the world, enabled by the entire apparatus of the Avaline state and his loyal family.

    Klein¡¯s Leputian concoction had cut through the darkness alright, and Harold the Wise seemed none the wiser that his deepest secrets had been breached with a few drops of cordial in his tea, probably because Harold had given it to Luce to serve to him.

    Just as well. Aunt Lizzie went along with his every word when she heard the truth, and I can¡¯t imagine Luce would be any different. The infuriating thing was that he was still so fucking guileless, actually believing Father¡¯s lies about a better world, wiling his hours away at the Tower pretending that he could just tinker his way into victory.

    And the worst part is, he might be partially right. At least Luce was doing something, showered with resources and praise from the King and all his loyalists. However boring it sounded when Luce tried to go into detail, his thesis on energy from Nocturne was apparently groundbreaking enough that it alone would put him in the history books. He¡¯d at least be remembered by other bookish nerds after he was gone, if nothing else.

    Harold took a breath, staring down the heavy metal doors to the Grimoire Archives, nestled deep in the back of a seaside cave down the cliff from the palace. While he¡¯d still had Klein¡¯s cordial on loan, he¡¯d knocked out what he could of Father¡¯s magical defenses, but the doors had remained shut, with no quiet way in.

    Fortunately, breaking in was easy for the heir to the archives. That was probably why Father had never told him where it was, and forbidden him from ever going near it. That arrogant bastard probably thought that was enough.

    But he doesn¡¯t know me. I am not going to die without accomplishments to my name.

    Pulling out his knife, Harold pierced the tip of his thumb and pressed it against the door, spilling Grimoire royal blood to prove his right to enter.

    The sound of waves crashing on the royal beach was soon joined by the creaking of massive metal doors sliding open, followed immediately by a whistled shriek as an arrow flew directly towards Harold¡¯s head, curving down to follow him as he ducked.

    Not yet, he thought, deflecting it with a rain of crescent shards from his Scythe, reflecting the orange dawn light deeper into the cave.

    Harold was doomed, but before he went out, he¡¯d make his mark on the world, no matter the cost.

    There were other traps, each more comically villainous than the last, from the floor dropping out over a massive spiked pit to a rain of fire falling from the ceiling, but the most difficult obstacle was nothing more than a wall of stone and metal, over ten feet thick. Father got through with a Cloak of Nocturne, Harold was reasonably sure, slipping out this reality just enough that the solid rock couldn¡¯t stop him, for long enough that few to none would be capable of replicating the feat.

    Harold wasn¡¯t, at least. He¡¯d ¡®borrowed¡¯ a Cloak from the palace long enough to test his limits, and the call of the void had proven too strong to resist for as long as it would take to make it inside. How Father could resist Nocturne¡¯s lure was its own question, but not a particularly important one when there was another solution, albeit a borrowed one.

    I¡¯m lucky to have friends like Klein and Clarine. Without the former, Harold never would have learned the truth. Without the latter...

    One swing of Sieglinde carved a slice a foot deep into the rock, the blade remaining untarnished. It was fabled to be capable of rending apart the very heavens themselves; a bit of stone was no match for the sacred twin sword of light, wielded by a man with boundless patience and nothing to lose.

    It took almost an hour, more because he wanted to be sure the tunnel wouldn¡¯t collapse on him than because Sieglinde had any great difficulty with the task, but Harold made it inside.

    And the Grimoire Archives were everything he could have hoped for. So many hostile sages and¡ªespecially¡ªbinders had been defeated over the past century, and whenever their artifacts were too dangerous to be kept or given as gifts to loyal followers, they¡¯d end up here.

    Everything Father himself thinks is dangerous to him, right at my fingertips. Harold recognized many of them from the old stories, though the unknown artifacts far exceeded those in number, and were far riskier in their unpredictability.

    Whenever Father next returned here, the break-in would be impossible to conceal, so Harold wasted no effort trying to leave things undisturbed, and freely filled his bag with anything that seemed like it might be useful.

    As he made his way towards the back, he slid a cursed portrait of Alice Grimoire, first queen of a united Avalon¡ªhis great-great-grandmother¡ªinto his sack, pulled out a container of Berserk Powder from a chest, and freely grabbed a dark dagger from the wall. None of them were the reason he¡¯d come here, but all of them might help in a pinch, if needed.

    There was also a massive amount of completely useless stuff that Harold largely walked right on by, like the pocketwatch that would freeze you in time until Terramonde awoke, or the quill whose drawings could come to life, always murderously hostile to their creator. One shelf even had a black sack with its mouth stitched closed, a tag tied around it reading ¡°Do not open unless you want to end the world,¡± recognizably written in Father¡¯s handwriting. The sack was mostly opaque, but Harold could see the hint of a round ball flashing in different colors within it, apparently enough to doom Terramonde.

    That sort of thing was what these Archives were for, more or less, so even if they weren¡¯t useful, they weren¡¯t unexpected either. Much stranger was the thin rectangular white and grey brick roughly the size of his hand, a cracked pane of glass on the top and a heavily dirtied circle embossed on the bottom, as if it was a target of some kind. A torn tangle of white and silver string was balled up next to it.

    Perhaps a lesser-known spirit of Masonry, whose power is too dangerous because of... the risk of houses falling down? Harold shook his head, moving on. Not every mystery was meant to be solved.

    Past the strange brick was a mangled pile of burned papers and what looked like melted black wax. Most of them were half an inch thick and square, a bit larger than a dinner plate, with the black material fused into the thin envelope where it was burned. Some had writing on them, though it was mostly illegible beneath the scorch marks. They¡¯d clearly been stacked neatly in a tower and then allowed to fall over without any further clean up.

    It wasn¡¯t what he was here for, but Harold took a moment to rifle through, trying to see if any of the remaining readable text had any insights. A few of them had art that looked somewhat eye-catching, like the bottom half of a stained glass window, a heraldic king facing upside-down to the right, with similarly inverted Ks and diamonds in the window next to his head. More than two-thirds of the paper was burned though, so it was hard to get more out of it than that, unless the ¡°LAN P¡± still barely readable at the top carried some significance.

    More intact was a different paper with a purple ocean, reflecting dawn light, with four long-haired men¡¯s heads hovering at the bottom in a white cloud. On top was an ¡°F¡±, just under it in smaller print something that looked like it said ¡°Making Waves¡±, though the letters between the ¡®M¡¯ and ¡®i¡¯ were pretty thoroughly burned out.

    Harold slipped them both into his bag, since he had the space to spare, along with a third one that looked more like a red tapestry with gold lettering, only the top left corner unburned. The word ¡®LIVING¡¯ had caught his eye, though what the ¡®JETHRO¡¯ lettering above it meant, Harold hadn¡¯t the slightest idea.

    There was another one that was almost entirely unburned, illustrating a peeling wall with a painting hanging on it, a hunched over man with a bundle of sticks on his back in the frame, but he left that one on the floor. Whatever burden the painted man was carrying, Harold wanted no part of it.

    Especially since all of these could be cursed too. If they¡¯re in here at all, it¡¯s more likely than not.

    In any case, the real prize was on the very back wall, hanging unostentatiously on a nail: the Crown of Cold Steel. Twisted metal thorns wrapped around in a wreath, creating an elegant crown not too different in style from those worn by the ancient Kings of Cambria, at least if the portraits in the palace were any indication. There were other artifacts in here that were more potent, more dangerous, but none that would be nearly as useful.

    Used right, it would be absolutely ruinous to Father and everything he¡¯d ever tried to build.

    And I already have the perfect plan.

    With his newly-won artifacts in hand, Harold carefully made his way back to the palace, taking care to seal the door to the Archives behind him, leaving it looking undisturbed from the outside. All it took from there was a surreptitious climb up the cliffs, avoiding the sightlines of the path down to the beach, then slipping inside the palace from a lesser used side door. Harold already had a hiding spot picked out¡ªan empty barrel way at the back of the cellars, unlikely to be tapped in the next century and certainly not in the next few months¡ªso it wasn¡¯t even four hours from leaving the Archives before he was slouched over in the Royal Dining Hall, enjoying an extremely well-earned glass of Chateau de la Jaubertie, the Year 81 vintage.

    All it would take was a spark. Father was already set to leave, visiting his Territories as King Harold and then slipping away to infiltrate Guerron as Magnifico. If war broke out while he was stuck behind enemy lines, he¡¯d suddenly find himself a captive too valuable to set free and too unimportant to execute...

    Harold grinned, imagining his success, but there was still so much more work to be done. The Imperials didn¡¯t have the slightest chance of holding Father on their own, which meant that a more personal touch was needed. The Crown of Cold Steel would do far more than a few drops of Cordial, and Father would have no way to remove it once placed on his head.

    I just need to get the timing right. And to set off that spark.

    ¡°Oh, Harold! I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d run into you here. How are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Never been better,¡± he answered, and it wasn¡¯t even a lie. ¡°Say, you were always talking about that spirit history stuff, you might know. How effective is Berserk Powder, really? Because it seems like it doesn¡¯t last long enough to meaningfully sow discord.¡±

    Luce bristled. ¡°I was a kid! I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re even asking me; I can barely remember. And those old theories were beyond poorly researched.¡±

    No need to be embarrassed, Luce. Though Harold suspected he was cringing more at the breathless coffeeshop theorizing he¡¯d spent so much of his time on than the history itself. ¡°So you don¡¯t know? What about the Dagger of Gemel? Do the doppelgangers always go murderously crazy?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I don¡¯t know, I just...¡± Luce sighed. ¡°The thing with Berserk Powder is that even a few minutes is enough to totally disrupt enemy formations if you can hit an officer with it. It¡¯s for winning battles, not palace intrigue. And if you don¡¯t have a good delivery method like the Crescent Fan, it¡¯s nothing more than a risk to yourself.¡±

    Not as useful as I¡¯d hoped, then, but I could borrow the Fan from Clarine, and a few minutes for the right Great Councilors still might be enough to disrupt what I need to in a pinch. ¡°And the Dagger?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s actually some debate about that, but when I look at the evidence, I think the answer is completely clear.¡± Luce perked up at the chance to dive into academic minutiae. ¡°The best two examples we have are Mordred Jibades and the Serene Sisters. I know Ophelia the Dreaded is the one in all the plays, but we¡¯re pretty sure she never really existed.¡±

    That¡¯s a shame... Last year¡¯s performance of The High Queen and the Low had been that rare combination of moving and entertaining, for all of Luce¡¯s inane grumbles about the historical inaccuracies. He was probably right about this too, since it meant sucking all the fun out of things, a Luce Grimoire specialty. ¡°Who made her up?¡±

    ¡°Someone close to the Shining Prince, we think, trying to make a propagandistic point about Oxton¡¯s purported claim to Cambria. There was a Cambrian Queen by that name during the Landfall period, but she was six years old, a puppet for her regency council who was dead before her thirteenth birthday. It¡¯s a fabrication that outlived its original context and purpose, rattling around in the public consciousness without end.¡±

    ¡°Until superior scholars such as yourself slay those vile lies.¡± Harold scoffed, then took a sip of his wine. ¡°So, what about... who was it again? Mordred and his sisters?¡±

    Luce sighed, taking Harold¡¯s offer of a matching glass without a smile. ¡°Lady Serena Colburn inherited the Dagger of Gemel from her family, who¡¯d first bound the spirit. She sliced herself with it, cleaving her shadow from herself and granting it its own form in her image. The shadow had all her thoughts, her experiences, emotions, memories... and ambitions. Once her shadow was replenished, Serena split herself again, then again, until she had eight shadows, each claiming to be a new Colburn sibling. They wormed their way into marriages and wardships and apprenticeships with all of Forta¡¯s prominent families, then coordinated with each other to play the houses against each other, propping each other up from afar. Until one day, the alliance collapsed, and with it, Forta fell into a series of civil wars that lasted two decades. They all turned on each other, and on Lady Serena most of all.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I think I did hear something about this! They tied her to the Fortan Flame and burned her alive, right?¡± Doesn¡¯t exactly paint the picture of a useful score. ¡°I suppose it was just a matter of time before the shadows snapped.¡±

    ¡°Or human nature,¡± Luce countered. ¡°These shadows each lived with these families for years, growing closer to their members, invested in their success. And more distant from each other, and the schemer that had created them to do her bidding. There¡¯s no evidence that the change in paradigm stemmed from any inherent properties of Gemel.¡±

    ¡°Not in that example, but what about the other guy?¡± Although all I asked for was an answer about whether the doppelgangers go murderously crazy or not. But expecting a succinct answer from Luce was like expecting love from Father, and it wasn¡¯t like Harold needed to be anywhere urgently.

    ¡°Mordred Jibades. Even older, back during the Grimoire settlements in Giton, Jibades was the Grimoire¡¯s appointed General, charged with the city¡¯s defense in times when Khali¡¯s power was unsuitable. He entered into a compact with Gemel, and used the spirit¡¯s power to divide and multiply on his loyal shadowcat¡ªbasically the continental version of a wyll. Eventually his army grew large enough to conquer distant lands in the Grimoire¡¯s name, even reaching as far south as Pointe Gaspard. Then, when the Grimoire felt threatened by Jibades¡¯ power and ordered him to return home, the General marched on Giton and ousted him, becoming the new Grimoire himself.¡±

    ¡°Wait, like he married into the family? Is he one of our ancestors?¡±

    ¡°No, Grimoire was just a title until Pelleas the Founder made it his surname and chose his own daughter as successor. We¡¯re not related to Jibades either, or at least no more than anyone else with ancestors in Giton.¡± Luce paused, probably considering the genealogy far more closely than he needed to. ¡°Anyway, the point is that once Jibades was being squeezed between Plagette, Serpichon, and the High Kingdom, he sliced more shadowcats than he could direct alone, so he made a terrible mistake and used Gemel¡¯s power on himself. Purportedly, it was only two years before the two Grimoires were going to war against each other. They both ended up mauled by each other¡¯s beasts, if I¡¯m not mistaken.¡±

    Ok, so another stunning failure for the Dagger of Gemel. Harold was feeling pretty lucky he¡¯d known to grab the Crown, or the entire expedition might have been a waste. ¡°The shadow couldn¡¯t even make it two years before turning on its master, wow.¡±

    ¡°Or the ¡®master¡¯ couldn¡¯t even make it two years before he felt so threatened by his shadow that he made the same mistake as the Grimoire before him. Admittedly, with that one, the evidence is more scarce. As far as we know, they really did just snap and turn on each other. But that doesn¡¯t say anything about a shadow¡¯s nature, nor is there any evidence that Gemel¡¯s power is inherently corrosive to the minds it touches. Given what we know, I feel comfortable assuming that Jibades just wasn¡¯t willing to share with himself.¡±

    So maybe if I use this, I won¡¯t end up inside a shadowcat¡¯s stomach, but the scholars aren¡¯t really sure. Brilliant. Thank you, Luce. ¡°Thank you, Luce,¡± Harold managed to say with sincerity, since it was still better to know how useless it was before he tried to use it, even if the news itself wasn¡¯t great.

    Honestly, if I can cut Father with it, he¡¯s definitely the type to turn on himself. But the flipside of that was two versions of Father running around, when one was already far more than belonged in the world.

    ¡°My pleasure! It¡¯s nice to see you taking an interest in history, for once. If you¡¯d like, I can lend some good books on the subject for your trip to the Territories.¡±

    ¡°My what?¡±

    Luce¡¯s face fell. ¡°You... didn¡¯t know? Father just told me that I¡¯ll be left in charge until midsummer once you leave. I assumed he¡¯d told you first.¡±

    Father wants me with him? ¡°Impossible.¡±

    ¡°Maybe he wants to make sure there¡¯s royalty for the guards to protect once ¡®Magnifico¡¯ gets involved?¡±

    Then he¡¯d just find some other seat-filler like he always does. Honestly, with how much time he spent away, it was a wonder how the people of Avalon felt they had any king at all. He was strong, clever, respected, and imposing, but cruel and ruthless beyond all reckoning.

    And I¡¯m the only one who knows it, the only one with a chance to stop him, and tear apart his plans at the seams. Harold was already forming a plan, acquiring the resources and crafting a false identity of his own to ensure that Magnifico would never leave Guerron.

    But if he drags me down south, I won¡¯t be able to set any of my plans into motion. And delaying the trip wouldn¡¯t help either, since Harold needed to be in Guerron when the spark went off, ready to ensure that the king was trapped. He¡¯d planned to fake a yachting expedition with a crew loyal enough to say he was there the whole time, and was already vetting the staff for the job.

    This could spoil everything. Was that why Father was doing it, or did ruining Harold¡¯s life just come naturally to him without even a thought? Does he know, somehow? Alerted when the Archives were breached? But then why tell Luce instead of apprehending Harold right away?

    There was only one way to know, odious as it was.

    Harold pushed open the doors to the throne room, barging in without announcement on Father slouched on the throne, perfectly matching the pose of the portrait above him. Aunt Lizzie of all people was standing next to him, though they cut their conversation short before Harold could hear any details.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Father barked, Lizzie matching his judgemental stare. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to waste on more of your shenanigans.¡±

    Say my name, Father. Or are you too afraid to? Too guilty?

    Probably not. King Harold was shameless, Magnifico even more so.

    ¡°Luce just told me you want to take me to the Territories with you.¡± Play the fop, don¡¯t let him catch on. The role was a difficult one, now, but crucial to surviving any interaction with Father. ¡°I have appointments in Cambria I must keep to, so respectfully, I¡¯m afraid I must stay.¡±

    ¡°Appointments?¡± Father laughed. ¡°You?¡±

    Harold bristled, unable to entirely tame his reaction. ¡°Yes! There¡¯s the Birth of Spring, Lord Monfroy¡¯s party, my¡ª¡±

    ¡°That withered old vampire only throws parties to suck the joy out of everyone that goes. And there¡¯ll be another Spring this year anyway¡ªnext year, I mean.¡± Father scoffed softly, seemingly at his own error, but almost certainly just some inside joke with himself. ¡°I need you with me.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Why?¡± It couldn¡¯t be because you expect me to do anything useful for you.

    ¡°Lizzie, would you mind giving us the room?¡± Father asked his accomplice, who departed without another word. And good riddance. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re smart enough to see that I have no use for you there, but since you made it there on your own, I suppose I can take you the rest of the way.¡±

    ¡°To Malin?¡±

    ¡°No, rhetorically.¡± Father rolled his eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t have you hanging around here as a challenge to Luce¡¯s authority. He needs to learn to rule in his own right for a while, to be prepared for any moments when the king is unable to.¡±

    ¡°When the king is pretending to be a bard in order to ram a city into submission, for example?¡±

    Father frowned. ¡°I¡¯m the best there is. Delegation would risk botching the task. And Guerron needs to come to heel¡ªtheir Duke plays the compliant old man, but he¡¯s been making alliances down south, preparing to lead his wards to war for Malin. I¡¯m simply heading off the problem beforehand, avoiding a war in five years by cutting the enemy down to size now.¡± He looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Why am I even explaining this to you? Just get your things packed. We¡¯ll leave in three days.¡±

    Three days? Not nearly enough time to get things in place without arousing suspicion. Not even close.

    Especially if Luce is your chosen agent, just like Lizzie was.

    ¡°Why are you still here? Go!¡± Father waved him off, then called for Lizzie to return, so Harold stormed out, already trying to think of a way out of it.

    Pretend to be sick? Father would take him anyway, he wanted him under his thumb and out of Luce¡¯s way; Harold¡¯s own well-being wasn¡¯t important. Escape once we¡¯ve left? Except that Father would notice, probably put his guards on him in Malin to ensure he couldn¡¯t do anything. He¡¯d never cared that much before, but this entire trip was upending that status quo.

    All so fucking Luce could get his sea legs as a ruler, grooming the younger brother instead of the fucking heir.

    ¡°Oh, Harold.¡± Luce only narrowly avoided bumping into him in the hallway, clearly surprised to see him here. ¡°Were you seeing Father?¡±

    ¡°I just wanted to confirm,¡± Harold answered. Confirm the extent to which he fucked up my plans. ¡°It seems he wants you to be running things here in our absence. My even being here could get in the way of that.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Luce flatly denied. ¡°Father¡¯s not like that. I¡¯m sure he just wants you to see the Territories. Maybe he¡¯ll have you tag along for Magnifico¡¯s expedition too, since he apparently thinks it¡¯s the duty of a king. I¡¯m just the only one left behind, and I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be leaning heavily on Aunt Lizzie.¡±

    Did Father tell him? Aunt Lizzie had been invited into rulership in much the same way, and that invitation had been paired with revelation. Looking at things now, it was blindingly obvious that Father had the same arrangement in mind for Luce that he had with her.

    But not if I stop it.

    If he could find some way to return early from Malin and keep his plans for Father on track, he¡¯d be the Crown Prince of Avalon, with the king absent. Luce would have to do whatever he said. And if I fake a letter from Father, I can probably get him pushed out of the way with a smile on his face.

    And with that, Father¡¯s precious prince wouldn¡¯t be an issue anymore.

    ¡°You said the Dagger of Gemel is safe, right?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Luce blinked, bewildered by the sudden change of topic. ¡°I said there¡¯s no evidence the shadows are magically induced to be hostile. That doesn¡¯t make it safe; it¡¯s locked up in the Archives for good reason.¡±

    No it¡¯s not. Harold couldn¡¯t help but smile. And it¡¯s not so useless after all. ¡°But its users only turned on each other because of their nature. They both wanted the same things, and only one of them could have them.¡± And I have no desire to play my part in Father¡¯s schemes. Neither me nor the double will want the throne.

    ¡°I suppose...¡± Luce looked towards the throne room, then back to Harold. ¡°You have nothing to worry about with Father, or with me. We¡¯re family, Harold, and we¡¯re on your side. Don¡¯t do anything rash. I¡¯ll see you when you get back.¡±

    Well, if that doesn¡¯t just cement that they¡¯re all part of the same plot, cheerfully awaiting my doom. Not that any of them expected him to know... That knowledge was the only thing letting him plan for the future, a split in the road between the path to victory and the path towards his fated doom.

    ¡°You will,¡± Harold assured Luce, barely restraining the pain and rage from his voice.

    Resolved, Harold returned to his cache and retrieved the Dagger of Gemel, a glistening black blade slightly longer than his hand that absolutely refused to catch the light, even once Harold took it out into the sun.

    By the time he found a secluded spot on the beach, Harold had to wipe his eyes, mourning the brother he thought he¡¯d known. He took a deep breath, then slashed at his own face, carving away his own shadow as blood and darkness began to drip from his face down into the sand. Harold saw his shadow stretch and bend, swirling in a vortex around the spot where his blood dripped onto the beach, but collapsed head-first into the sand before he could properly see what happened.

    When his eyes opened, a perfect mirror of himself was sitting against the cliffs, looking puzzled at the Harold lying on the sand. It was eerie, seeing his own features outside of a reflection, especially since his clothes had also been perfectly replicated. Apparently Gemel cared more about decency than Harold would have thought, or perhaps just the ones who¡¯d bound him.

    Either way, Harold felt drained, like the life had been sucked out of him. Even pulling himself to a sitting position was a challenge, his breaths shallow. Which I guess explains why Serena Colburn stopped at eight. Presumably, hopefully, his energy would replenish over time so long as Harold left it there, but the uncertainty bothered him.

    Worse, looking at himself from this angle, without the obfuscation of a mirror, it was impossible to deny how closely his appearance resembled Father¡¯s.

    ¡°Are you the shadow?¡± the other Harold asked.

    ¡°Are you?¡± Harold narrowed his eyes, attempting to spot any kind of telling difference, but none showed itself.

    They stared at each other for a moment, trying to decide how to handle this problem. Either he¡¯s a particularly clever shadow, or it worked exactly as Luce said... And now we don¡¯t even know who the original is.

    Perhaps only one of them was doomed, but Harold felt certain that Father¡¯s curse would come for them both in one way or another. Without any way to tell who the original was, it didn¡¯t even really matter.

    ¡°We¡¯re both Harold,¡± Harold assured his counterpart. ¡°We both want the same thing, right?¡±

    ¡°Father captured,¡± the other Harold agreed, hands grabbing the rocks behind him. ¡°All his plans in ruins.¡±

    Harold smiled. ¡°Then it doesn¡¯t matter. One of us will play the prince, the other the saboteur. Once Father¡¯s captured, we¡¯ll reunite.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll be prince?¡± the other Harold asked, hopeful.

    ¡°Or you,¡± Harold tried to deflect. This could turn into the opposite version of Jibades¡¯ problem if we let it go on too long, though. Then he had an idea. ¡°You¡¯re standing closer to the palace, while I¡¯m closer to the sea. So you should be Prince Harold, and I¡¯ll be¡ª¡±

    ¡°The spy.¡± The other Harold sighed, clearly disappointed. But after a moment, he nodded his head in acceptance. ¡°So if I¡¯m Harold, who does that make you?¡±

    ¡°Exactly what you¡¯d think,¡± Jethro answered. Finally, a chance at really living.

    ?

    The plan was still the plan, now there were just twice as many hands to prepare it with. After spending so much time on it, Harold¡ªor Jethro now, in the company of himself¡ªfelt increasingly sure that using the Dagger would have been a good idea even without Father¡¯s impositions. He would have struggled mightily to keep up appearances with his training and appointments while also creeping into Mourningside in a hooded cloak to commission a bomb.

    ¡°I want something showy, a fire you could see from Pantera Isle. But it needs to be potent too! If it can¡¯t sink a royal-class ship on its own, it won¡¯t be enough for what I have planned.¡± Harold leaned comfortably against the wall, flashing Rebecca his warmest smile. ¡°If you want, I can be sure to tell everyone that you built it.¡±

    She frowned, her eyebrows looking exactly the same as when the Baron did it. ¡°I don¡¯t think building petty distractions for a prince¡¯s party is really going to improve my career prospects, thanks. I need something concrete.¡±

    ¡°Money¡¯s no issue, of course. And I could invite you to the party?¡± Though I¡¯ll need to have you build two if we do it that way. Still, that ought to have been enough. Most girls would jump at the chance to accompany him to an event like that.

    ¡°No need. I already have plans.¡±

    Damn it, why aren¡¯t you responding to this? According to the Baron and a few discreet people at the College, Rebecca was the best there was when it came to students making bombs, and anyone higher placed risked having the awareness to notice what their work would be used for, and potentially social capital to do something about that knowledge. The youngest Williams was right in the sweet spot of ability and ignorance. So Harold didn¡¯t let his frustration show, keeping his smile bright. ¡°Name your price.¡±

    ¡°I want a job in the Tower when I graduate.¡±

    What? ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd. I couldn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your brother is the Overseer. Just put in a word with him. Make it clear that you owe me.¡±

    Tricking Luce into hiring the bombmaker who¡¯s going to bring down his precious Father? Well, that certainly had an appeal to it, didn¡¯t it? And the other Harold could easily make Luce do it when next he saw him. ¡°Deal. Bring it to my ship when it¡¯s ready and I¡¯ll make sure Luce knows what to do.¡±

    Huh, I made it through that whole conversation without technically telling a lie. Perhaps the spirits don¡¯t have it so bad after all. Harold had tried speaking only truth for a few weeks back when he¡¯d first begun learning binding¡ªan exercise from the Baron to better understand spiritual power¡ªand then again when he¡¯d seen the truth at the heart of the world. The latter attempt had stemmed from delusion, the hope to escape his fate by becoming a spirit, and practicing their rules accordingly. In any case, both had ended in failure, and there was no reason to expect this particular streak to be any different.

    My entire existence is a lie, anyway.

    Preparations for the ¡®spark¡¯ of his plan secure, Harold walked brightly towards the next component, conveniently in the same neighborhood as the College.

    This early in the day, Lunacy was pretty quiet, a far cry from the rowdy hoards of College students that kept it humming from dusk to dawn, but it was still open, and Roselyn was working, which was all Harold needed.

    ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t the Prince of Pantera, darkening my doorstep again.¡± Dressed head to toe in black, Roselyn had been an amusing diversion a few years past, now a window into a far more important opportunity. ¡°Finally got tired of lazing around the palace watching your dad sell the world out to the Harpies?¡±

    Exhausting as ever, I see. ¡°I was hoping I could get your help with something. An introduction.¡±

    She raised an eyebrow, leaning over the bar. ¡°When they said that royals always have connections, I don¡¯t think this is what they meant.¡±

    They have connections, but not to the kind of people I need for this. ¡°Just give this note to your new girlfriend, please? I have information she¡¯ll want to buy. And don¡¯t put my name to it. Say it¡¯s from a spy called Jethro.¡±

    Narrowing her eyes skeptically, Roselyn stared Harold down, daring him to explain.

    Fine. ¡°I know what she does for a living and I don¡¯t care. That¡¯s why I¡¯m coming to you with all the cloak and dagger. There¡¯s money in it for her too.¡±

    ¡°How did you even hear about that?¡± Roselyn scoffed in disbelief, then grabbed the note from his hands. ¡°Whatever. This better not be an investigation, or I¡¯ll bury you under the palace myself. I actually like this girl.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this is strictly for our mutual benefit,¡± Harold assured her. The only one who loses is Luce.

    ?

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this is strictly for our mutual benefit,¡± the other Harold tried to assure him, his voice an eerie echo of his own. Or is mine merely an echo of his? One of them was a shadow doppelganger, perhaps destined for their heart to twist towards cruel hostility to the original Harold. Even if Luce¡¯s assurances were correct, there was still the risk of being driven apart by human nature alone.

    Especially now that Father was trapped, the Crown of Cold Steel irrevocably placed on his head. We got what we wanted. Everything went even better than we could have planned. But where does that leave us now? The days of writing letters to Gary and sneaking around Guerron were behind him, whatever came next.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how invading the Arboreum benefits anyone but the Harpies plundering the new Territory.¡± Harold paced the deck of the ship¡ªan icebreaker rather than the royal-class yacht he was more familiar with, but that made sense with the waters so choked with ice. Fortunately, the Gauntlet of Eulus had no such limitations, and Harold had been able to fly up to meet his counterpart with little issue, even under dark skies.

    ¡°Everyone benefits from the plunder, Jethro.¡± Other-Harold gestured towards the darkened sky. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t noticed, this year¡¯s crops aren¡¯t doing so great. But the Imperials made deals with spirits to weather the damage, and once we prevail, we can claim their harvest for our own.¡±

    ¡°Steal it, you mean.¡± Since when do you even care? The other Harold¡¯s role in the plan was largely limited to diverting suspicion by going about his business, then making sure things went smoothly once Father and Luce were out of the way. That was part of what made Jethro¡¯s job so much better, getting to handle things personally, to slip the crown on Father himself and see the rage and shock wipe the smug smile off his face.

    But ruling was never something I wanted, and it¡¯s baffling to see you reach for it. Being King was one thing¡ªthe power, the admiration, the respect... But actually sitting down at a table and administrating was a different thing altogether. Before he¡¯d learned the truth, Harold had expected to let Luce and Aunt Lizzie handle most of the day-to-day duties in the hopes that his life didn¡¯t become a total bore the moment he was king. Afterwards, cold rage directed all of his ambitions.

    ¡°What more can I do? The existing Territories are already stretched to their absolute limit, there¡¯s famine in the western isles, and our influence in Dimanche and Charenton has been stretched to its limits. The Countess Dimanche isn¡¯t even responding to my letters anymore.¡±

    ¡°Which one was Dimanche again? The Duchy?¡±

    The other Harold shook his head ruefully, exhaling with the same beleaguered judgment that Luce was so fond of, and for no less than the same kind of mistake. ¡°It¡¯s an island to the west of Dorseille, ruled by a lineage sympathetic to Avalon¡¯s interests. Until recently, anyway. You should go there next and convince her to change her mind, or else ensure that Dimanche¡¯s ruler will cooperate, whomever they might be.¡±

    ¡°Like Father,¡± Jethro spat. ¡°He was doing exactly that kind of meddling in Guerron, and it¡¯s exactly that arrogance that allowed us to stop him.¡±

    ¡°This is completely different!¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    Harold¡¯s nostrils flared. ¡°Because this is me. Us. We¡¯ve won! Don¡¯t you see that? I could rule Avalon for decades before my fate comes due. What better tool to leave my mark on the world before I¡¯m gone?¡±

    ¡°Growing fat sitting on a throne, I never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡± Jethro shook his head ruefully, making his judgment clear. ¡°You of all people know how important it is to handle things personally.¡±

    ¡°Now who sounds like Father?¡±

    Jethro shook his head. ¡°This is completely different! He personally handled things in an evil way to cement his power. I¡ªWe¡ªare taking care of things personally to destroy that hold. Father¡¯s out of the way now, but that¡¯s just the first step. We can tear down his whole putrid project, unravel Avalon at the seams while he¡¯s forced to watch!¡±

    ¡°That would be a disaster! Avalon is not Father, and it doesn¡¯t deserve to suffer for his misdeeds. The first Harold Grimoire to bear the name had a dream, Jethro, a united world, free from the tyranny of the spirits. Then his son put an arrow in his back, and we¡¯re still dealing with it today. How much would it fuck with Father to see us do it without him? Our names would be in the history books forever, for our deeds, undying.¡±

    ¡°Your name. It¡¯s not mine anymore.¡±

    Harold threw up his hands, bewildered. ¡°The thought of snatching Father¡¯s victory out from under him really doesn¡¯t appeal to you? Surpassing him in every way as he withers into irrelevance?¡±

    It appeals on a base level, but that¡¯s not enough reason to completely turn our plan on its head. ¡°We finally have a chance to put things to rights. We were going to tear down his works, not build on them.¡±

    ¡°A childish overreaction! This is a chance to take a step back and really think without Father¡¯s sword hanging over our heads. To grow up, now that we have the chance. I mean honestly, ¡®Jethro¡¯? A name we don¡¯t understand picked off of a burned envelope of melted wax?¡±

    ¡°We understand enough,¡± Jethro corrected, feeling strangely defensive about his name. ¡°It means living. For ourselves, instead of Father¡¯s agenda. Being his perfect prince is playing right into his schemes. You¡¯re just in Luce¡¯s role instead of your own.¡±

    ¡°And whose role are you playing, Jethro? Robin Verrou?¡± Harold scoffed. ¡°Grow up. A ruler has responsibilities, but with them comes the opportunity to carve your names into the pages of history. All you¡¯re proposing is a tantrum.¡±

    ¡°All you¡¯re proposing is treading water, continuing with what was instead of what is.¡±

    Harold blinked. ¡°Are you serious? ¡®What is¡¯ is a country on the brink of starvation, surrounded by cultists grown fat off the people they sacrifice.¡±

    That doesn¡¯t make invading them a good idea. ¡°So it¡¯s ¡®for a better world¡¯? You should know better than to believe that drivel. And what about Luce? He survived and took command of Malin, since that¡¯s where your lies told him to go. And apparently he has Levian¡¯s sorceress working for him too.¡± An interesting person to meet, perhaps, if she really did survive her own death.

    ¡°For now, I¡¯ll leave him to play Governor. By the time he gets back to Cambria, I¡¯ll have my grip solidified enough as Prince Regent that he won¡¯t be able to raise a fuss. Father¡¯s favoritism doesn¡¯t count for much when he¡¯s in a cell.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Jethro scoffed. ¡°You want him to join you, don¡¯t you? Now that you¡¯re all about the ¡®good of Avalon¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it.¡± Harold shrugged. ¡°It couldn¡¯t hurt to have him behind us, could it? He¡¯s smart enough to come up with good solutions, and he ignores the big picture enough that we¡¯d barely even have to lie to him. Even if Father told him the truth, he doesn¡¯t know that we know, and either way there¡¯s nothing he can do about it.¡±

    Will he really trust us after the trip we sent him on got him kidnapped by pirates? It seemed optimistic, though perhaps Father¡¯s capture had prevented Luce from realizing he¡¯d never formally been called to Malin at all.

    ¡°Now, if you¡¯d take these notes on Dimanche and Charenton, I can start briefing you on your next mission.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Whether Luce was right about shadow doppelgangers or not, it¡¯s embarrassing to split apart in a shorter timeframe than even Jibades did. Though not as embarrassing as still trying to follow Father¡¯s example even after knowing what he was.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking someone needs to check on Luce, just to make sure he doesn¡¯t cause any trouble.¡± Because if the rumors I¡¯m hearing are even half true, he¡¯s already turned most of the city against him.

    ¡°No,¡± Harold said, incredulous. ¡°That is exactly the opposite of what I¡¯m ordering.¡±

    Jethro shrugged. ¡°I never really thought of this as a ¡®give me orders¡¯ kind of situation. We had our plan, together, and executed it together. A plan which, by the way, I had to do so much more to make happen than you could even dream of, certainly more taxing than sitting around the palace listening to the Baron¡¯s lectures.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if you did listen, you¡¯d understand that you can¡¯t just lash out like a child forever.¡± Harold pointed towards the edge of the deck. ¡°You wanted to be the saboteur, and leave me to play the prince. You won, Jethro. That¡¯s all there is to say.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it is.¡± You wanted it too, Harold. And I don¡¯t understand what¡¯s changed. The name was cursed, the identity more of a fabrication than Jethro¡¯s was. Why would he regress like this? How could he possibly expect me to follow him in doing it? ¡°Farewell, Prince Harold.¡± And goodbye forever to the man I was.

    ?

    Jethro¡ªno point in trying to blur the line between him and the other doomed prince anymore¡ªtrudged slowly up the riverbanks.

    How could I have been so wrong? He¡¯d seen himself in Camille¡ªand how could he not? She¡¯d been cursed, doomed by fate, and broken out of the narrow confines of nobility to make her mark on the world in the time she had left. Not to mention that Malin¡¯s every success is a counterweight to Avalon¡¯s, a thorn in Father¡¯s plans.

    Only Camille wasn¡¯t like him. She was just a continental Father with a prettier face, ready to follow in his footsteps as an enduring tyrant. Somehow that was a worse disappointment than his own shadow¡¯s turn.

    And that red knight came out of nowhere. How was he skilled enough to fight a binder like me, and why was he so committed to helping Camille? Jethro was sure he could have beaten him had it been one-on-one, but Camille intervention had screwed that up too.

    Everything got screwed up. The Red Knight hadn¡¯t even been decent enough to kill him, and spare him the fate that awaited.

    His purpose had been trapping Father, and then helping Camille rise to smash through everything he¡¯d built. The first was done, the second an explosive failure perhaps even greater than the other Harold¡¯s idiotic war. What was left?

    Jethro crested the riverbanks and began walking through the still forest, eerie white trees watching his every move. It seems fitting to wander the wastes, devoid of purpose. He¡¯d tried so hard to live, and now there didn¡¯t even seem to be any point.

    ¡°...truth at the heart of the world? And why couldn¡¯t Maxime come?¡±

    ¡°While it is not beyond my power, I do not expect that I will be the one showing it to you, Ambassador. Who better to explain the truth than he who was most affected by it?¡± The wind was whistling through the stripped, dead trees, somehow forming words with those hollow whistles alone.

    ¡°Is it the Red Knight? I know he was working with you.¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes were blazing less brightly than usual, their fierce green color looking faded enough in the dawn light to be almost blue.

    ¡°I think it might be me,¡± Jethro said, laughing, as he entered the clearing where Fernan and Cya were talking. ¡°Though why I¡¯d pour out my deepest secrets to you, I haven¡¯t the slightest idea.¡±

    ¡°And so the Fated Heir arrives. Welcome.¡±

    That¡¯s the nicest way anyone¡¯s ever greeted me. ¡°My pleasure, spirit of the woods. But if you gave a reason, I didn¡¯t hear it.¡±

    ¡°The truth is out there, Saboteur. The Bard¡¯s workings cannot block it anymore. As we speak, the Terminus of the line Leclaire is witnessing it, as is the Seeker of Secrets. And soon the Mastermind of your family will hear it as well, by more mundane means.¡±

    ¡°Wait, ¡®soon¡¯? You mean Luce doesn¡¯t already know?¡±

    Fernan shrank back, the ¡®what is happening¡¯ expression remarkably plain on his face considering how different his eyes were.

    ¡°But he will,¡± Jethro realized. ¡°Aunt Lizzie¡¯s going to tell him, to set him against the Prince...¡± Would he listen to her, as Lizzie had listened to the king? It was impossible to be sure, but having seen Luce in these past few days¡ªhardened by failure, his resolve stronger than it ever had been...

    Luce always was Father¡¯s favorite... Why wouldn¡¯t the precious prince pick up Father¡¯s plans where he left off, supporting him from afar? Then again, Luce had surprised Jethro again and again, ever since he¡¯d escaped those pirates. Perhaps it was time to stop underestimating the Prince of Darkness.

    Then he realized what Cya had said first. ¡°And Camille¡¯s going to find out? Fuck! It¡¯s not like she hasn¡¯t won enough today.¡± Her and the ¡®Seeker of Secrets¡¯, whoever that¡¯s meant to be. ¡°It¡¯s not going to be a secret much longer then, I guess.¡±

    ¡°That depends on their reactions. Each has a vested interest in maintaining it, but not forever. Including the Mountain.¡±

    Jethro followed the wind of her words as it blew past Fernan, causing his eyes to flicker. I can see why she¡¯d want him to know, since he¡¯s the one closest to Father, in the most immediate danger if he escapes.

    And why not, if even tyrants like Leclaire are peeling back the truth? It wasn¡¯t like Jethro had any obligation to keep his father¡¯s secrets, even when they were also his own.

    ¡°I guess you read me right, Cya.¡± Jethro pulled back his sleeve to expose his master¡¯s Gauntlet of Eulus, retrieved from the aftermath of Father¡¯s capture. In his other hand, he pulled out the Scythe of Crescents that had already once revealed the truth.

    Jethro hadn¡¯t partaken of nightshade, and it didn¡¯t look like Fernan had either, but that didn¡¯t matter too much when he already knew. This, he could do from memory, for the scene was forever etched into his mind.

    ?

    ¡°He¡¯s infuriating!¡± Luce complained, earning a sympathetic nod from his aunt. ¡°It¡¯s all about his ego, making ¡®his¡¯ mark on the world in the time he has left. What a fucking joke.¡±

    Charlotte squeezed his hand. ¡°There are ways to ensure he¡¯s not in power, Luce. You could stop the war yourself. If you were the only the son of the king left¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Luce pulled his hand free. I know you¡¯re just worried about me, but that is not an option. ¡°He¡¯s still my brother. We¡¯re not even discussing that.¡±

    Aunt Lizzie nodded, fortunately on his side in this. ¡°It would be a poor choice for another reason as well, though I wouldn¡¯t expect either of you to know that. Charlotte, if you wouldn¡¯t mind giving my nephew and me the room, it¡¯s time he learned the truth.¡±

    Luce shook his head. ¡°She stays. I trust her.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps this was a mistake.¡± Lizzie frowned. ¡°But with the king captured, our options are limited. You must both swear not to tell a soul. And do not do anything rash. This is a situation where waiting is only to our advantage.¡±

    ?

    Florette pulled her head from the dark pool and its portents of Nocturnal doom, expecting the Temple to clarify, her visions over.

    No such luck, apparently. The shadow Florette was still lurking menacingly, gesturing back up the stairs with the tip of her sword. Florette followed her up, warily eying her shadow doppelganger, hopefully nothing more than a quirk of the visions.

    When she reached the Agada Ridge and looked out over the island, a fierce battle was raging below, the land stretching far beyond the Isle of Shadows¡¯ shores.

    The Foxtrap, Florette realized, glimpsing a muscular red-haired man in a golden crown draw his sword and spur his horse into a charge. The old Fox-King, Romain Renart. He wouldn¡¯t survive this battle, nor would Florette¡¯s parents.

    But it¡¯s not conjured from my own ice... Neither was the shadow Florette, come to think of it... Did it have something to do with the dark pool deep in the heart of the Temple? Or was it something about Monfroy¡¯s special vintage of nightshade?

    It doesn¡¯t really matter. Florette reached out for her parents, trying to find wherever they were on the battlefield, but the visions refused. After a halting moment, she sank to her knees, realizing that she couldn¡¯t even remember their faces.

    All because the prick in red needed bodies to throw in the pyre of his own failure. They¡¯d died for nothing, the war lost.

    Instead, the battlefield grew closer and clearer around an armored man striding up to the Fox-King, the sounds of battle roaring into Florette¡¯s ears. ¡°You¡¯re bulkier than I expected, Fox-King. Wasn¡¯t Renart¡¯s whole thing being clever and evasive?¡±

    ¡°There are many paths to victory, Harold Grimoire. Right now, you¡¯re crying out for a sword in your gut. It doesn¡¯t have to be any more complicated than that.¡± The Fox-King looked back at his motley assembly, Imperial knights and sages next to barely-trained peasants, all of them together barely matching Avalon in numbers. ¡°We settle this like men. You and me, right now.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a fun idea!¡± The King of Avalon turned back to his knights. ¡°Leave us! Keep our arena clear.¡±

    ¡°Sire, you mustn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°When the Fox-King dies, their cause is lost, the battle over. This is only sensible.¡± The king grinned, drawing a familiar shadowed sword from its dark scabbard. ¡°And I could use a good fight. I think Fox-boy here might actually be enough of a challenge to be interesting.¡±

    ?

    Mordred warned me I¡¯d be forsaking my humanity. It¡¯s up to me to prove him wrong. Strained and exhausted, Camille lay down on the sand, barely managing to answer the knight before the final vision took her. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

    She didn¡¯t hear his answer, the sounds of battle filling her ears once more.

    The Foxtrap, she realized, witnessing the battle north of the city that she¡¯d only heard in the distance on that fateful day. The cannons thundered against the walls, ships bombarding the coast as Avaline machines tore through the Fox-King¡¯s army like a quill through paper.

    The duel of kings wasn¡¯t going any better, with Lucien¡¯s father already bleeding heavily from his helmet. He stumbled, and the King of Avalon wasted no opportunity jamming his sword through the joints of his armor, driving deep into his body where his legs met. ¡°That should do it then,¡± the king panted, his voice the same as Jethro¡¯s. ¡°Take his sword and crown for the Archives, and¡ªFuck!¡±

    Mustering what must have been the last of his strength, Lucien¡¯s father had grabbed the other king¡¯s arm and rammed his sword up his armpit, piercing the joint in his armor.

    Camille knew what would happen next. Neither would survive, but the day would belong to Avalon, their king replaced as soon as the infected wound ended this one. And the succession had barely slowed them down at all.

    ?

    Fernan gazed at Jethro as he swung his scythe, though it didn¡¯t seem to have any effect until he shot lightning from his other hand, arcing between something in the air in lines upon lines, the lattice eventually forming the image of Magnifico, slouched on a throne with a woman standing in front of him.

    ¡°There¡¯s something important I need to tell you, Lizzie,¡± something seemed to chime from Jethro¡¯s construction. ¡°It¡¯s not an easy thing to hear. You distinguished yourself at command, and you¡¯ve proven your loyalty a hundred times over. Not just to Avalon, but to the Crown.¡±

    ¡°That hasn¡¯t changed,¡± the woman assured him, her words relayed through sounds of lightning and glass. ¡°I know you can¡¯t fill Father¡¯s shoes. I don¡¯t expect you to. You¡¯re still the King of Avalon. I¡¯ll protect you and your sons with my life.¡±

    ¡°It warms my heart to hear that. But it¡¯s interesting to hear you say it.¡± Magnifico began pacing the room, turning his back towards his sister. ¡°Because his shoes are my shoes, his feet my feet. Avalon¡¯s march won¡¯t miss a beat from my ascension, because it¡¯s still being led by me.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes widened, her composure lost. ¡°F-father?¡±

    ?

    ¡°It¡¯s Pantera¡¯s curse, forever undying. My mind will pass down the line for as long as it continues to exist, and I don¡¯t have any control over it,¡± Jethro made the Father simulacrum say, faithfully repeating Father¡¯s words for all that he was sure they were lies. Why keep having sons, then? Why recruit your younger children to your lies and monstrosity as you plot to kill your eldest, overwriting everything that they are with your own foul self? Self-serving lies were nothing new to Father, and playing a sweeter song for Lizzie fit right in with that.

    Fernan looked suitably shocked and horrified, which was good. It meant he had a soul.

    Unlike Aunt Lizzie. In Jethro¡¯s mirage, just as she had in his own visions, she embraced the king with a hug. ¡°You¡¯re alive! I can¡¯t believe it.¡±

    ¡°Though not without a cost.¡± Father, faking emotions to better manipulate his daughter, held her closer. ¡°Poor Harry is gone now, not a trace of him left. And we can¡¯t tell anyone.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll grieve for him together,¡± Lizzie said, sickeningly. ¡°But what about young Harold?¡±

    What indeed, you loathsome snake?

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do, save give him the best life we can in the time he has. Pantera¡¯s curse is just as undying as she was, inescapable. I tried to break it, but¡ª¡±

    Jethro dissolved the image, not wanting to parrot any more of Father¡¯s self-gratifying deception. His empty justifications were beside the point.

    ¡°So, that was Magnifico? And so was the king on the battlefield? And...¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes flared brighter as he began to comprehend the scope of the problem. ¡°How old is he?¡±

    ¡°At least a century,¡± Jethro answered, conjuring the crescent shards for one final image. ¡°Harold the Second killed his father in a hunting ¡®accident¡¯, which sounds too much like the man I know for me to ignore it, and it tracks with the rough time of Pantera¡¯s death, so I¡¯d guess that the chain started there. But there¡¯s no way to be sure.¡±

    ¡°But then, as soon as Magnifico dies...¡±

    ¡°He wins,¡± Jethro answered, arcing lightning to show the king in his cell, crowned in cold steel, and cackling mad with smug triumph.

 Prologue: The Soldier

    Prologue: The Soldier

    ¡°Welcome home, Jare!¡± Linda wrapped her arms around him, the warmth in the gesture hitting him all at once¡ªa shock, for all that he could have expected it. ¡°We really missed you here. Especially after the fire.¡±

    ¡°I missed you too.¡± Jareth had to marshal every drop of his strength to stop himself from crying, pulling his arms away before any weakness could take hold of him. You heard me say I was never coming back, but you were always too nice to bring something like that up. It was just as well¡ªJareth¡¯s resolve had only lasted until his first battle, in truth, though he¡¯d have denied it at the time.

    ¡°Dad¡¯s at the neighborhood meeting right now, but he¡¯ll come over for dinner when he gets back,¡± Linda told Jareth gently, startling him from his memories. ¡°Helen¡¯s with him.¡±

    ¡°But she won¡¯t be joining us,¡± Jareth guessed. Things were bad enough when I left. And now... Everything had fallen apart, and it didn¡¯t seem possible to put it back together.

    All Jareth had was his life, a meager thing after the bruising it had taken. But not in jeopardy anymore. He couldn¡¯t forget that.

    ¡°So..¡± Linda awkwardly moved past confirming that their sister wouldn¡¯t visit. ¡°Now that you¡¯re back, what do you think you¡¯ll do?¡±

    His tour was over now, and with it, any part he might play in the Micheltaigne War. Whatever it had taken to get back, he¡¯d done it, no matter the cost. He wouldn¡¯t die on some desolate mountain from the Blinking Death or an insurgent¡¯s poisoned arrow. Or our own binders¡¯ blades.

    ¡°I have no idea.¡±¡¯

    ?

    Is this how it ends? The sky was filled with fire, wispy green waves flying through the air at every odd angle, tearing through the armada as Jareth watched helplessly.

    ¡°We weren¡¯t meant to fly. This is why. Weren¡¯t meant to do it. None of us.¡± Kenny kept rambling repetitively, accent getting heavier with every incantation. His hands were gripping his safety straps so tightly that they¡¯d taken on a different color, trembling at every slight shake or bump. It wasn¡¯t all that different from their first takeoff, when he¡¯d been plastered in terror against the wall during the entire ascent. But in training he¡¯d been a joke, the Fortan yokel who should have known better.

    Right now, his words were harder to dismiss.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± barked Desher, swiping her hand down so close to Kenny¡¯s face that it was surprising not to hear the sound of a blow. ¡°Can¡¯t fucking think over the sound of your mouth flapping.¡±

    ¡°Like it matters what you think,¡± Katie scoffed, swaying slightly in her straps. ¡°I¡¯m sure the whole of Avalon is depending on your keen strategic mind.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a better idea? Because I wouldn¡¯t mind a bit of quiet.¡± Janice sighed, leaning forward enough that Jareth could feel her breath as she quietly asked, ¡°Did Douglas tell you anything before he left?¡±

    ¡°Sir Douglas,¡± Jareth corrected, though their commanding officer was not there to hear it. Raising his voice so the others could hear him, he said, ¡°Our commander told me that we were doing Avalon proud, and that he had faith that we¡¯d prevail.¡±

    If only. To Jareth, he¡¯d managed ¡®That¡¯s a good lad. Chin up¡¯ before jumping from the ship, probably because Jareth had volunteered to stay behind and leave a parachute for his commander. No one else¡¯s sacrifice merited even a mention, apparently.

    But telling them that would only be demoralizing. They still had a chance to bring the ship safely to ground. And it wouldn¡¯t help anyone if someone got the idea to do something cowardly. With the enemy who¡¯d just boarded their ship, that was a very real risk.

    The Foolhardy Sage of Flammare. A practitioner of human sacrifice so treacherous that even the other cultists disdained her, a vicious warrior with no regard for human life.

    And more powerful than all of the crew put together.

    She was the reason they were fighting this war, distilled into a single evil woman. ¡°Barricade the door,¡± Jareth barked, trying to keep his voice steady as he gave the order. ¡°Every second we hold her back is another chance for our comrades to escape. If we can hurt her badly enough, we win the battle in one fell swoop.¡±

    For a moment, Jareth almost managed to believe his own words, a sense of hope cautiously creeping up from within.

    Then an ethereal green flame sliced through three inches of metal door, newly cleaved edges glowing as the pieces clattered to the ground.

    ?

    ¡°Helen...¡± Jareth¡¯s mouth dropped as his sister crossed through the doorway.

    ¡°Hey, Jare.¡± Her voice had the rasp of a woman thrice her age, dappled burn scars cutting across the top and left of her face. Her hair was cut short, not growing at all in a large stripe of scar tissue above her temple. ¡°You look like shit.¡±

    Jareth could help but let out a laugh, pulling her into a hug before she could object. ¡°Linda said you weren¡¯t coming. Bad blood from when I left.¡±

    ¡®Are you fucking stupid?¡¯ had been Helen¡¯s exact words, followed quickly by ¡°You¡¯re going to die out there. And for nothing!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to serve,¡± Jareth had replied. ¡°Not just my country, but the innocent Imperials suffering under cruel and vicious cultists. I¡¯m even serving ingrates like you.¡± He¡¯d been trying to convince himself as much as her, but saying it had helped solidify his resolve. Even after everything he¡¯d been through out there, Jareth still understood his own decision. He¡¯d needed to get out of here, to escape the hopeless grind of factory work until death.

    He¡¯d just chosen the worst possible way to do it.

    ¡°A friend told me that I wasn¡¯t doing myself any good holding onto grudges. And he said you¡¯d need a lot of support right now.¡±

    ¡°Sounds... sounds like a sentimental friend.¡± Jareth tried to keep his voice clear, his posture straight. ¡°But I¡¯m glad you came.¡±

    ?

    ¡°...Your mission is to apprehend an Arboreum noblewoman they call ¡®Her Verdance¡¯. If you heard anything about the siege of Lorraine up north, this is the same one that escaped a few months back. Intelligence got a tip that she¡¯s being sheltered in Fleuville¡ªprobably one of Hermeline¡¯s, now that she¡¯s cooperating¡ªwhich means that today we will right that wrong and apprehend our enemy.¡±

    Isn¡¯t that the same woman that the Red Knight killed hundreds outside Lorraine in order to free? Was there any reason to believe he wasn¡¯t still protecting her, ready to cut through all of them without blinking, as he¡¯d done with the soldiers besieging Lorraine?

    Jareth had heard the whispers from up north, the brutality of seven hundred people trapped inside their ships as they slowly burned. As horrific as it had been to plummet helpless towards the Rhan, at least he¡¯d been able to breathe clean air despite the flames engulfing the ship, to see the sky instead of dying in darkness.

    The Red Knight was the second-to-last person Jareth ever wanted to face, not the first only thanks to the personal impact the Foolhardy Sage of Flammare had made. And the Arboreum is already ours. Lorraine surrendered once their leader was gone¡ªwhy are we going looking for trouble now?

    Jareth was the last to outlive the A.R.S. Crete, the veteran of the Battle Above the Rhan who¡¯d come closest to death in the entire battle, and one of the three people ¡°lucky¡± enough to survive seeing the Foolhardy Sage close up.

    If you can even call the Murder Twins people... As fearsome as the Sage had been, she hadn¡¯t been the one to cut the Crete in half, sending it hurtling to earth in flaming ruins for no other reason than avoiding any surprises. Lady Clarine had mentioned it herself offhandedly when she¡¯d debriefed him, then lost interest the moment it was clear that the sage had told him nothing about some gauntlet they were looking for.

    The both of them had left that day, leaving Jareth to pick up the pieces.

    To dig for hours under the ashen rain. To bury Katie, Janice, Desher, and Kenny. To lie to his entire regiment about what brave, defiant heroes they¡¯d been. Over and over, the cultist¡¯s words had echoed in Jareth¡¯s mind. ¡°What pointless death. Just, considering what you¡¯re responsible for in Micheltaigne, but hardly heroic, or even worthy of any real notoriety.¡± She¡¯d said it with such little investment or emotion that it was hard to write it all off as enmity, whatever her crimes.

    Jareth hadn¡¯t dropped any bombs on Micheltaigne, only helped repair the ship, but he¡¯d still been there, still helped ensure it could happen. That had been his orders, an action against an enemy who sacrificed children to vicious monsters, who hoarded wealth and food as Avalon starved. Did that make it just for him to die in a burning wreck as it tumbled from the sky?

    And if it does, why am I still alive?

    ¡°Question, sir?¡±

    Sir Douglas Astor paused in his briefing, disdain plain on his face. ¡°You are here to follow orders, soldier, not ask questions.¡±

    ¡°But the Red Knight¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is a fable! Superstition!¡± Sir Douglas scoffed in Jareth¡¯s face, making him flinch. ¡°One man in red armor cannot and did not stand up the might of an entire Avaline regiment. General Echols¡¯ investigation concluded that a force of six hundred cavalry conducted a sneak attack on the besiegers of Lorraine, not some mythical warrior.¡±

    ¡°Foxes,¡± Emmett supplied, earning a smile from their commander. He¡¯d been on the crew of a different airship, the A.R.S. Dalton, whose balloon had been punctured badly enough to fall to the ground, but slowly enough that all but two crewmen had survived. All of the ¡°grounded¡± soldiers left without an airship to crew had been consolidated to Sir Douglas¡¯ command for infantry operations until such time as new vessels were in need of them, taking advantage of their position behind enemy lines.

    The intact ships, meanwhile, had already returned home to help keep Cambria safe. If the Foolhardy Sage had chosen slightly differently, Jareth would already be home right now.

    ¡°Officially, we¡¯re at peace with Malin now,¡± Sir Douglas corrected Emmett, though it was clear from his voice that he agreed with him. ¡°In any case, whether or not one of these scoundrels painted his armor red makes no matter to us. Their mission was to abduct Her Verdance from Avaline custody, and after today, they will know that they failed.¡±

    I should have just joined the fucking navy. The airships paid better, and let their crew witness the marvel of flight, but it didn¡¯t seem so marvelous anymore. Too, Jareth had grown increasingly sure the better pay was to compensate for how dangerous the zeppelins were. A boat would never explode into a cloud of flame, raining scarlet shrapnel down into the river.

    Besides, without a ship to crew, he¡¯d been reduced to infantry, the one role Jareth had been smart enough to avoid. Though not for long, apparently. All while the kids who¡¯d picked a little different at the recruitment office sipped wine on the decks of ships patrolling the Lyrion Sea.

    ¡°Sir¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough out of you, soldier. The Red Knight is a fanciful story, but only cowards jump at shadows.¡± Sir Douglas scratched his chin, taking a moment to think. ¡°In fact, all of you can thank his cute story for tomorrow¡¯s drills. In this terrain, we must be masters of amphibious combat, so I think a swim in the Rhan would do you all a world of good.¡±

    A few groans were audible, quickly silenced under the commander¡¯s stare. The Rhan was still running grey and black with ash, foul-smelling even at a distance. Swimming in it was sure to be miserable.

    And now they all blame me. Courtney, from Oxton, looked particularly perturbed, giving Jareth uninterrupted glares for the entire rest of the briefing.

    Sir Douglas continued, pointing his sword towards Emmett. ¡°You¡¯ll lead eight soldiers of his choice in the raid at 03:00 this morning. And take ¡®cute story¡¯ along so he can see there¡¯s nothing to be afraid of.¡±

    Jareth kept silent from then on, listening to Sir Douglas brief them on the back-alley pirates den where Her Verdance had been sheltering with growing horror at the menagerie of cut-throats and criminals they¡¯d have to break through to get to her.

    This wasn¡¯t a job for a group of soldiers this few in number, but Sir Douglas¡¯ confidence couldn¡¯t be broken, and Jareth had no choice but to comply. As he was so often reminded, he was being paid to fight, not think.

    Though if anyone asked me, I might mention that we started this war to liberate desperately needed supplies from vicious human-sacrificing cultists, not to bomb Micheltaigne into oblivion or force the Rhanoir to heel. Nor was it all that important to recover some wealthy Baron¡¯s property, despite what the Murder Twins would have you believe.

    The moon hung dark in the sky, a glint of pink around the edge the only hint that it remained at all. It had been like that since the new year, with no signs of returning to normal. Compared to the sun going out thanks to that cultist, Loomyair, things could have been a lot worse, but still. About as poor an omen as you could hope for.

    ¡°Move in,¡± Sir Douglas commanded, signaling Emmett to lead the charge through the door.

    Jareth followed closely after him, holding his rifle at the ready¡ªone ¡®upside¡¯ of the Battle Above the Rhan, as Sir Douglas had put it, was the comparative abundance of equipment for the remaining soldiers, it being more likely to survive the fall than the crew.

    There were gamblers and brigands aplenty here, immediately jumping to their feet and reaching for their weapons, but no one who matched the description of the Arboreum aristocrat. A group of players were also caught up in the raid, cowering against the bar in their silly costumes as the other patrons ran for the exits.

    ¡°Surrender Her Verdance,¡± Emmett growled, waving his gun across the room. ¡°Comply immediately and no one will be hurt.¡±

    ¡°I think not,¡± boomed the voice of a man in red armor, sabre already wet with blood. How did he appear so fast? Where did he come from?

    Already inside, he must have been hiding here already, luring them into an ambush. Was the aristocrat even here, or was the whole thing a setup from the start?

    ¡°Die, cultist!¡± Emmett shouted, firing his rifle directly at the Red Knight¡¯s armor. When the smoke cleared, the metal was barely dented, its red color untarnished.

    ¡°Uninspired,¡± the Red Knight boomed, charging forward and slicing a massive gash in Courtney¡¯s stomach, causing him to collapse forward onto the floor. He hardly stopped for an instant before his sword cleaved through another soldier, then a third.

    ¡°Fall back!¡± Emmett yelled, an instant before the Red Knight¡¯s sword pierced his throat.

    Jareth wasted no time obeying, following the player in a fairy costume out a door near the bar as the sounds of slaughter filled the air. He felt his breathing, heavy, blood pounding in his temples that didn¡¯t recede once he reached Sir Douglas Astor.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°The raid was a failure,¡± Jareth reported through grit teeth after the survivors had regrouped, only four of them aside from Jareth and Sir Douglas. ¡°Thanks to the Red Knight from my ¡®cute¡¯ story.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t have any attitude from the likes of you. Your failures are not my own.¡± Sir Douglas sneered, a medal on his chest glinting in the light. ¡°Dismissed.¡±

    ?

    Jareth felt impossibly out of place at the neighborhood meeting, the very community he¡¯d been so desperate to escape when he enlisted. All for nothing. There was some comfort in seeing old faces like Smittie and Sharoll, or Max, but the absences were noticeable. Gerry of Gerry-and-Max, for one, and even thinking about Lizzie Two-step trapped in that burning factory sent Jareth back to the wreckage of the crashed Crete, desperately trying to escape.

    A miracle of fate. What else could you call surviving something like that? And everything that had followed?

    Just, perhaps, as the Sage said. But then why had Jareth lived where so many had died? He wondered if any of the Princess Lizzie¡¯s survivors felt the same way, whether they¡¯d survived unscathed or burned and battered.

    Did Helen?

    ¡°It¡¯s ok,¡± she said, squeezing Jareth¡¯s hand. ¡°We¡¯re safe here.¡±

    We¡¯re not safe anywhere. No one could survive in Micheltaigne for long without knowing that. Even after a week back home, Jareth knew better than to let his guard down. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Hiding in caves, we think.¡± Sir Douglas rapped his hand against the map behind him, drawing attention to the stretch of mountains to the south of occupied Salhaute.

    Oh, do you? Jareth had brought up that possibility months ago, after that infernal white pegasus had appeared out of nowhere and set fire to most of their supplies with flaming arrows, along with several of the soldiers guarding them. It had disappeared behind a mountain almost as fast as it had come, then eluded weeks of aerial reconnaissance.

    After that, they¡¯d had to seize supplies from the locals of Salhaute, already none too inclined to view the Avaline army kindly, amassing crates full of spat-on food, watered-down wine, and¡ªin the most egregious case¡ªhundreds of pyreflies.

    Their glow had been stable, uninfected by the Blinking Death, but the warning was impossible to ignore: We can get to you.

    Sir Douglas had made an example out of that household, hanging husband and wife from the jagged, bombed-out edge of the stone pier where the Micheltine flew in and out of Salhaute. The children, he¡¯d spared, leaving them without parents or providers, then seized the remainder of their food anyway.

    Jareth felt their seething contempt with every step he took through the city, every corner risking an ambush like the one that had gotten Dimna, stabbed so many times in the chest that they couldn¡¯t even lift him off the ground in one piece. That incident, Sir Douglas had been content to sweep under the rug, since gambling was strictly forbidden for all on-duty soldiers, but when the same thing had happened to Radney, another round of hangings had followed.

    Micheltaigne¡¯s Queen Consort, Serein, had surrendered officially, which was supposed to mean an end to any resistance. Sir Douglas had even trotted her out to the ruined remains of the square to call for an end to the violence, but the insurgents didn¡¯t seem to pay her any heed.

    It wasn¡¯t every day¡ªsometimes weeks would pass between attacks, occasionally¡ªbut just when Jareth would begin to feel like he could catch his breath, there would be a rain of arrows from the sky, or an explosion under a bridge, or a comrade found dead in his bed when morning came.

    In some ways, it was worse than the Foolhardy Sage or the Red Knight¡ªthey¡¯d kill you, but they didn¡¯t leave you constantly on edge, living in fear of an attack at any moment.

    And that was before the Blinking Death had begun to spread. Bombing the mountains had left fires burning for weeks, enough flames to put the pyreflies into a breeding frenzy, and infection seemed to do nothing to slow their reproduction.

    You learned to keep your eyes down, walking through the mountain paths, lest an errant glance at their rapid multi-color flashing leave you bedridden for weeks, if it didn¡¯t leave you blind or dead. Infected pyreflies were dangerous enough, but any human who glimpsed them would show signs within a few days, their eyes flashing a hundred colors in a second, witnessing unseen horrors as the sickness ravaged their body.

    And while their eyes were flashing, it wasn¡¯t safe to look at them either, unless you wished to share in their fate.

    Jareth would be lying if he said he hadn¡¯t considered it. The blinded ones got to go home.

    But the dead didn¡¯t.

    ¡°We¡¯ll descend the Coul¨¦e Pierre until we reach this path.¡± Sir Douglas tapped on a goat-trail not even marked on the map before the stroke of his own pen. ¡°That¡¯ll take us straight to their rat-hole. Capture the Princess if you can, but don¡¯t worry too hard about it. The rest, we¡¯ll burn.¡±

    Because of course they¡¯ll just let us walk right up to their hideaway without a fight. ¡°Sir, if I may, that path will have us walking single-file into the enemy¡¯s high ground. They won¡¯t even need a pegasus to turn us into pincushions.¡±

    Sir Douglas smiled, as if he¡¯d heard the punchline to a private joke. ¡°They¡¯ll try. That¡¯s what I¡¯m counting on.¡±

    That¡¯s what I was afraid of. Sir Douglas with a ¡®clever¡¯ plan was¡ªif anything¡ªeven more dangerous than when he took the most brutal, obvious measure possible. Even if they didn¡¯t have to slowly waddle up the mountain, eyes low enough to avoid the pyreflies, even if they weren¡¯t presenting their enemy with the best possible avenue to win despite inferior numbers, even if their commander could have been trusted to react cleverly in the field...

    This is a terrible idea. Just about the worst thing Jareth had heard in months, and there was stiff competition.

    ¡°And in recognition of your valuable contributions, Jareth, you¡¯ll be leading the assault.¡±

    No, wait, it¡¯s that.

    ?

    ¡°This is my brother, Jareth,¡± Helen rasped, introducing a tall, lanky kid who looked maybe nineteen or twenty. ¡°He just got back from Micheltaigne.¡±

    Jareth braced himself for the pity, the horror imagining what he¡¯d seen out there, but it never came. The boy simply smiled, shaking Jareth¡¯s hand without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°It¡¯s great to finally meet you, Jareth! I¡¯m glad you were able to come.¡±

    ¡°Likewise,¡± Jareth said automatically, realizing a second later that his response didn¡¯t really make sense. ¡°Although I¡¯m not exactly sure what this is...¡±

    ¡°I told you, it¡¯s a neighborhood meeting,¡± Helen said, exasperated. ¡°Everyone in Princess Lizzie¡¯s housing. Were you even listening? We have to stand together. That means you too, now that you¡¯re back.¡±

    Another fight? Jareth wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about that. He¡¯d felt so uncomfortable since getting back, at once restless and exhausted, totally at loose ends. One night in three, he dreamed of the crashing Crete and awoke hours before he was supposed to. Even on the nights he slept through, pyreflies still danced at the edge of his vision.

    ¡°It¡¯s a way to make sure we¡¯re all on the same page,¡± the boy added, jarring Jareth from his thoughts. ¡°We keep up with what¡¯s going on, help people who need the help, make sure that everyone¡¯s in agreement if we need to make demands of VM or give direction to our solicitor, and...¡± He turned his head towards Helen, waiting for her response before continuing.

    And she looked visibly unsure, hesitating as she looked back and forth between him and Jareth.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me,¡± Jareth said, feeling some satisfaction as he saw Helen¡¯s discomfort dissipate. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not anything I need to know.¡±

    ¡°No, you should.¡± Helen shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s fine. You can tell him.¡±

    The boy nodded, his smile returning so smoothly it was hard to be sure it had ever left. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just get started? It¡¯s sure to come up in the meeting.¡± He stepped back towards the center of the room, the disorganized mob of neighbors falling into a loose circle around him. ¡°Welcome everyone! Let¡¯s begin!¡±

    ?

    ¡°Let¡¯s review,¡± Sir Douglas said, whiskers slightly singed by the explosion he¡¯d only narrowly avoided, one final trap to spite them as they entered the cave. ¡°We want to make sure our report is in tip-top shape before returning to Salhaute.¡±

    You want to make sure we cover your ass after a catastrophic failure anyone could have seen coming, you mean.

    ¡°Let¡¯s start with what went wrong,¡± Jareth said, not quite managing to keep all the venom from his voice. ¡°With all of us bunched up on that path, we were stuck once they dumped that burning oil down the mountain.¡± He tried to adjust his posture, jarring the broken arrow shaft still sticking out of his chest, then winced with pain.

    ¡°Good start,¡± Sir Douglas said, either not noticing or willfully ignoring the obvious unspoken accusation. ¡°No accounting for them hauling cauldrons of oil all the way up to that cave just to get us. Impossible to predict.¡±

    Not unless you assumed the townsfolk were helping supply them, which anyone could.

    Courtney had been the first to see it, and even managed to jump out of the way as he shouted his warning, but it hadn¡¯t saved him from an insurgent¡¯s arrow right in the neck. Jareth hadn¡¯t ever much cared for him, but he still felt hollow after losing the comrade he¡¯d served with the longest. Another one of the elite few to see the Red Knight and live, though he no longer held the latter accolade.

    Four years on, it¡¯s just me left.

    Tristan, whose arms were still raw from the burns he¡¯d taken on pulling Jareth out of the way, allowed his face to twist with rage, though he still had the restraint to keep his mouth shut.

    Restraint even I¡¯m beginning to lack. He¡¯d told Sir Douglas half a hundred times. Warned him. And where had it gotten them?

    ¡°There were more of them than you briefed us on,¡± Asaello added, blood dripping down his face where the gust of wind had slammed him into the walls of the cave. ¡°They even had a wind cultist.¡±

    ¡°Mercenaries, I¡¯d expect,¡± Sir Douglas provided, scratching his chin. ¡°If the Princess had the funds to hire them, that suggests that Micheltaigne hid more of its treasures than we¡¯d thought. Very good to include in the report¡ªespecially if it gets Sir Thomas Alcock to take an interest. I hear he might be visiting soon.¡±

    There was a time when Jareth would have been delighted to meet the celebrated archaeologist, all the more so to actually get caught up in one of his adventures. A time that feels so very long ago, for all that I¡¯ve only been out here four years.

    ¡°The whole operation was a failure,¡± Jareth summarized, stepping close enough to Sir Douglas that the commander looked visibly uncomfortable. ¡°An extremely predictable failure.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree, but in the report, I think it¡¯s best we call it a ¡®qualified success¡¯.¡± He took a single large step back, trying to put a bit of distance between them. ¡°Otherwise we¡¯re liable to be stuck on sentry duty in Salhaute for the next few months.¡±

    You say that like it¡¯s worse than your combat missions. ¡°We were unprepared, disadvantaged, lost half our number before we even reached the cave, and found nothing more than beds and soup inside, the insurgents long-gone.¡±

    ¡°But not before we learned invaluable information about their strategies and movements!¡± Sir Douglas swept his finger up, visibly sweating under Jareth¡¯s glare. ¡°Let¡¯s not be too hasty to judge.¡±

    ¡°But I haven¡¯t even mentioned the worst part yet,¡± Jareth said, feeling tension leave his shoulders as the decision settled in him. I¡¯ve been fighting to stay alive for four years now. Only twenty-eight days before I go home.

    This isn¡¯t any different. ¡°Our commanding officer didn¡¯t make it out of the fight,¡± Jareth said, resolved.

    ¡°What on earth are you talking about? I¡¯m sitting right in front of you!¡±

    Asaello glanced at Tristan, then nodded. ¡°Tragic, really.¡±

    ¡°How did he go, Jareth?¡± Tristan smacked his fist against the palm of his hand. ¡°Might be they tied him up and let him burn.¡±

    ¡°Or maybe filled his guts with so many arrows they could use him as a quiver,¡± Asaello supplied, eying a bow on the floor of the cave.

    ¡°No,¡± said Jareth.

    Instantly, the nervousness on Sir Douglas¡¯ face vanished. ¡°I¡¯ll have no more jokes about that, or you¡¯ll be scrubbing the floors until your fingers are blue. Discipline is vital, or we¡¯ll have anarchy!¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± Jareth told him, feeling no satisfaction from it. Then he turned back to the other two soldiers.

    ¡°We don¡¯t want any suspicion, nothing that could point back to us,¡± Jareth continued as Sir Douglas began backing away. ¡°Best to keep it simple. This isn¡¯t about revenge, but survival. Grab him.¡±

    ¡°This is insubordination! This is mutiny! I¡¯ll have you all hanged for this!¡±

    The three of them cornered the knight at the end of the cave, Tristan and Asaello grabbing hold of his arms.

    ¡°No, no, no! Please! I¡¯ll do whatever you want! Field promotions all-around! B-better pay! I could send you home! The medic listens to me, we could say you went blind from the Blinking Death! Please!¡±

    ¡°Hold his head against the ground,¡± Jareth said, picking up a large rock from the floor of the cave. There¡¯s only one way out, and it¡¯s not one that you could ever hope to promise.

    ?

    The neighbors had grown ever-more restless as the night wore on, sharing grievance after grievance. After the fire, Princess Lizzie¡¯s had laid off a quarter of the surviving workforce, apparently still too large in number to work the remaining machines, then insisted that the building was safe to return to despite its visible strain to remain upright after so many of its supports had burned out.

    Pay had been flat for four years, opportunities negligible, and Bonnie and Temet had even been arrested for allegedly causing the fire, completely absurd to anyone who¡¯d known them for even five minutes. They¡¯d been sentenced to labor in the Territories until they worked off the damage they¡¯d supposedly caused, which at the rate they were getting paid, would be decades after their death.

    Apparently, without a solicitor funded by some unseen benefactor, they¡¯d have sentenced Helen and Linda too, and fifty more workers besides. And they wouldn¡¯t have stopped at the Territories, either.

    Though I doubt it¡¯s much comfort to Temet and Bonnie.

    Two more fires had broken out in the time since, though they¡¯d been extinguished quickly enough that no one was hurt¡ªnot that that stopped VM from docking the day¡¯s pay for lost productivity.

    The latest offense seemed smaller by comparison, laying off Tommy Whiteside six months before he was due to retire, just because his hand had been mangled by the loom. But Jareth knew all too well how things could build up slowly over time, each offense not so very much worse than the last, until you were charging uphill into a river of burning oil as arrows blotted out the sky.

    ¡°Enough is enough!¡± Helen shouted, visibly pained to raise her voice. ¡°We can¡¯t live like this.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t let them push us around!¡± added Max.

    ¡°Fuck no!¡± Sharroll raised her first to the air. ¡°I¡¯m not working another day until they give us what we need.¡±

    ¡°None of us should,¡± said Smittie, tugging on his collar. ¡°But do you remember what happened last time? VM security broke the strike. Jenny got clubbed so hard she still can¡¯t speak right.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re just going to let them push you around?¡± Sharroll asked, a chorus of ¡®no¡¯ echoing after her from the other workers. ¡°Say it can¡¯t be done so we shouldn¡¯t even try?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just trying to be realistic! The moment we make any headway, the guards will sweep in and they won¡¯t stop until we¡¯re back to work or dead. You were there after the fire; I know you remember.¡±

    ¡°Things are different now,¡± said Helen, her voice finding surer footing. ¡°We have Christophe to help defend us. And he¡¯s not the only one...¡±

    Christophe? What possible difference could one person make? And who else is she talking about?

    Me?

    ¡°Christophe can¡¯t fight in public without risking his whole life here. If he gets caught, they¡¯ll kill him. Or worse.¡±

    Alright, you have my curiosity.

    ¡°That¡¯s a risk for me to take, if I want to. And I do.¡± The lanky boy Jareth had met earlier patted a reassuring hand on Smittie¡¯s back, as if to say there were no hard feelings about the disagreement. ¡°And as for my friend, she¡¯s due to return in two weeks. If you can wait until then to start the strike, we¡¯ll both be there to defend you, come what may.¡±

    ¡°Your friend?¡± Jareth found himself asking, not entirely sure why. Does he really expect her to turn the tide against an army of guards from Versham-Martin?

    ¡°The Blue Bandit,¡± Helen whispered, trying not to strain her voice any further.

    ¡°The Blue Bandit¡¯s not real,¡± Jareth said instinctively, repeating words he¡¯d thought a hundred times in Salhaute. But was I wrong to? No one out there is really running into burning buildings to save people, or sabotaging the factories polluting the sea, let alone leaving the owner dangling out the window by his ankle. Nor was there any chance that the Bandit had really stopped a guardian from shooting someone by twisting their pistol into a pretzel, or stolen ninety thousand mandala from Lord Esterton¡¯s vault. Even if the neighbors knew someone who called themself ¡®The Blue Bandit¡¯, it was a fantasy, the sort of thing people clung to to get through the day.

    Plus, if she were real, we¡¯d have been trying to find and kill her, like the Red Knight. That, more than anything, disproved all the rumors and whispers.

    ¡°She saved me from the fire, Jare. And I saw her again outside Jeremy¡¯s, delivering a sack of books. Or ask Max¡ªhe told Christophe about Laurie¡¯s arrest, and the next day the whole prison was empty. A binder, on our side!¡± She coughed, the emphasis at the end clearly paining her. ¡°Christophe has magic too; he built a way out for everyone trapped on the eighth floor.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Jareth examined Christophe in light of this new information, trying to see how this lanky boy could possibly be fearsome enough to stand against all the swords that money could buy, or brave a flaming building...

    It¡¯s not the strangest thing ever. That wind sage the Princess hired was even scrawnier, and it didn¡¯t stop him from blowing Sharlow off the side of the mountain. Even thinking about it filled his ears with Sharlow¡¯s futile screams, growing fainter by the second as he slipped from view.

    ¡°Really,¡± Christophe answered, apparently totally unperturbed by the question.

    And if he¡¯s the real thing...

    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to fight, Jare.¡± Helen grabbed Jareth¡¯s hand and squeezed it. ¡°You just got home. That¡¯s enough.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± Jareth pulled his pistol from his belt, laying it down in front of his feet, then knelt. ¡°We have to make a stand. I¡¯m with you.¡±

    At last, a battle worth fighting.

 Camille I: The Empress

    Camille I: The Empress

    ¡°All rise for Empress Camille Th¨¦r¨¨se Leclaire!¡± the announcer cried, his voice echoing around the carefully designed contours of the hippodrome. ¡°Queen-Consort to the Fox King! Spirit of Dawn! Liberator of Malin!¡±

    Camille spent a moment savoring the raucous applause as she stepped out onto the balcony of her box, feeling the spring breeze ripple through her hair. An ever-flowing cascade of water in the colors of the sea, it no longer took well to dyes, nor reflected the golden color she¡¯d been born with, but she¡¯d kept it blue since she was seven, so the adjustment was minor.

    The scales that had begun to grow on her wrists where she¡¯d channeled Levian¡¯s power, less so, but even then careful application of makeup and bracelets were sufficient to conceal any inhuman features for public appearances¡ªand Lucien had insisted half a hundred times that it made no matter to him when they were alone.

    The scar on her shoulder, a jagged hole torn by Lumi¨¨re¡¯s bullet then mended with Levian¡¯s touch, Camille displayed openly, a defiant statement that¡ªno matter how many times she was pushed to the brink of death¡ªshe would survive. All the more important to remember now, when eternity stretched into the distance, her power preserving her for millennia to come. Though it would be a mistake to consider myself immortal¡ªspirits have proven to be quite the opposite, of late. And if anyone had the power and artifacts to kill her, it was Avaline binders and other spirits, neither of whom were particularly kindly inclined to the Empress of Dawn.

    But they are, Camille thought as she looked out at her people, still shouting and clapping in raucous adoration. They understand what I did for them, if not what it cost.

    ¡°Welcome all!¡± she shouted, hearing the crowd fall silent as her words rippled out. It was the first chariot race of the season, the third since the Restoration, and for just a moment, Camille could pretend that all was well. ¡°Let the contestants present their teams,¡± she continued, stepping in for the hippodrome announcer now lest she feel obliged to craft a bespoke speech later.

    The first driver spurred his horses forward, four creatures in the prime of their life, bred across the river to be the best in their field. Each wore a blue mask, keeping their eyes forward, and matching the base color of the coat of arms inlaid onto the chariot itself.

    ¡°Your Grace.¡± The driver bowed his head as his horses settled to a stop below her box. ¡°I am Sire Charles de Monflanquin, Captain of the Equipe Bleue. I would be honored if the Spirit of Dawn would bless the team that bears her colors.¡± His chariot bore the Monflanquin coat of arms, the same one found on the shield of Lucien¡¯s Master of Arms, Christine: a silhouetted hill in gold poked up from the bottom, representing the one the town was built on, the ¡®mon¡¯ in ¡®Monflanquin¡¯, with a golden Sartaire flowing above it. Two stars were placed between them to represent the two cities on either side of the river.

    ¡°May the tides of change guide you, Sire Charles.¡± Camille had to be careful not to be seen taking a side, even though the Blue Team was obviously the one she hoped would prevail¡ªwith their choice of color and distinguished background, how could she not? ¡°And your opponent?¡±

    ¡°Fernanne de Calignac, Your Grace. It is my privilege to captain the Equipe Verte.¡± Her head dipped, though not nearly as far as Sire Charles¡¯ bow. Her horses were noticeably leaner, a motley assemblage of browns and greys in color, especially compared to the consistent white horses of the blue team. And as for the insignia on her chariot, it was even more basic than the already simplified banner of Calignac¡ªa small village to the south whose largest claim to fame was its proximity to the forest where Teruvo had made his seat, irrelevant after Avalon¡¯s binders had hunted him down. While the village, as far as Camille recalled, had five towers on a green field surrounding a single spider, Fernanne¡¯s chariot showed the same green field, but Teruvo and the towers were replaced with three wavy lines set atop one another, giving the barest symbolic suggestion of flowing water.

    ¡°May the tides of change guide you,¡± Camille said, even though the green team hadn¡¯t asked for any blessing. Better to seem impartial. That so many at court were openly wearing the colors of their favored team was more reason to stand strong on that front, rather than less.

    Though I must question what politics has come to when cheering at a chariot race means taking a political stance. The product of four years of peace, Camille supposed.

    ¡°Let the contestants take their marks!¡± the announcer cried once the pageantry was finished, taking back over for Camille as she took her seat, far enough back from the edge to observe the race without needing to endure too much scrutiny from the crowds. Those that were close to the box had their sightline blocked by its edge, while the far side of the hippodrome was distant enough that Camille could only make out a viridian haze, the blues and greens that each team¡¯s fanatics sported blending together in her eyes.

    To her right was an empty chair, an ornate throne of red and gold reserved for the Fox-King, while Camille¡¯s own was a hard seat of blue marble salvaged from the old castle¡¯s ruins. And behind her, the endless throngs of courtiers: Lord Simon Perimont and Duchess Annette, both dressed in blue, Sires Miro Mesnil and Christine de Monflanquin matching beside them. The green supporters were also clustered together, from Eloise and Margot Clocha?ne and Laura Sunderland to the unlikely Mary Perimont, with half a dozen more lesser knights and merchant families surrounding them. Camille had insisted that Aude, now Commander of the Acolytes, remain in neutral colors for this season, but last year she¡¯d numbered among the green supporters as well.

    Perhaps the least surprising Green was Her Verdance, exiled sovereign of the Arboreum whom the Red Knight had rescued twice over, first from Lorraine and second from her would-be hideout in Fleuville. Though she¡¯d made a terrible first impression arriving in that ridiculous pixie costume, she¡¯d proven to possess a better sense of fashion than her disguise would have suggested. Today, she was sporting a fairly modest green dress with floral patterning around the neck and chest. In her lap was a sketchbook, flipped open to a half-finished horse on one page and an intricately detailed portrait of Mary on the other.

    All had to be balanced, managed carefully with the appropriate words and deeds, but none were as important right now as Lucretia Marbury, the visiting scientist from Charenton reputed to be the most talented and intelligent of all the Prince of Darkness¡¯ underlings. And chafing under his moral imperatives, if the reports I¡¯m receiving have any validity at all. She was standing awkwardly to the side, not talking to anyone until Camille turned and met her eyes.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like they have a seat for me,¡± she said quietly, a trace of resentment in her tone as she disregarded the Fox-King¡¯s for obvious reasons.

    ¡°Take mine,¡± Camille offered, standing up and moving over to Lucien¡¯s chair. And why not? If anyone has the right to sit in it, it¡¯s me. Who could dispute the Empress? The Spirit of Dawn? Certainly not these hangers-on. Actual decisions were made behind the closed doors to her private council, but favor had to be doled out properly to the rest at court, lest resentment breed, and an invitation to the Emperor¡¯s box was a relatively trivial gift to grant that carried significant symbolic importance.

    And, of course, it¡¯s an opportunity to flatter a guest where a normal seating arrangement would have gotten me nothing. Flattery would be important, but insufficient on its own. Marbury was ruthless and capable, and knew her own value. Winning her over would take careful work, all the more difficult when bound to truth, but Camille had overcome worse.

    ¡°How do you find the Hippodrome, Lady Marbury? Or might I call you Lucretia?¡±

    ¡°Crete,¡± she said as she sat down, offering her nickname. Dark hair tied back, with brown boot-cut trousers and a long-sleeved unpatterned black shirt, Crete looked more ready to show up for a day¡¯s work in the permit office than a major public event.  ¡°It¡¯s impressive you rebuilt it so quickly, but sporting such as this never much held my interest.¡±

    ¡°Nor mine,¡± Camille admitted, the truth thankfully helping to build solidarity, though the fierce rivalry between the teams had managed to intrigue her in a way the races alone never had. ¡°But these events were without peer before the Foxtrap, stretching all the way back to the first Fox-Queen. The occupation took it from us, and it¡¯s important to show the world that we¡¯ve built it back up.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡±

    Crete looked bored by the historical reflection, so Camille changed her approach. ¡°Of course, it was no easy feat of engineering. We had to be faithful to the original design while ensuring its robustness met our modern standards, the archways as stable as any in the Empire¡¯s history.¡±

    At that, Crete perked up slightly, though not enough for Camille to think it wise to keep dwelling on it. Where best to take the conversation next? ¡°I¡¯m sure your work has its own such challenges, the balancing of competing directives...¡±

    She was interrupted by the appearance of Simon to her right, Ysengrin hanging back behind him in a green vest, thankfully having finally taken Camille¡¯s advice to leave behind that ridiculous, unnecessary eyepatch. Though, seeing him without it, I kind of miss it. That wasn¡¯t of any particular importance, though, especially with Crete sitting right there. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°With apologies, Your Grace, but our train had to be taken in for repairs, so we¡¯ll have to leave by ship today to make our appointments in Lyrion.¡±

    Again? Camille held back a seething sigh. Those damned contraptions spend as much time being tinkered with at the yard as they do riding the rails. Back when they¡¯d first consolidated control when Lucien had arrived, Annette¡¯s functionaries had pored over the railyard only to find an unpleasant surprise: someone, most likely one of the fleeing Guardians expelled after the sun¡¯s return, had ripped components of the engines on their way out. Even with the plans Florette had stolen, Malin¡¯s recreations never quite seemed to work as consistently, and they still took five times as long to build.

    As Camille prepared her response, she was jarred out of her thoughts by the crash of a large cymbal hanging in the center of the racetrack, signaling the start of the race. They¡¯d tried using a pistol for the first few matches, and the noise it made certainly traveled farther and more clearly, but every time it sounded, it conjured horrific memories for Camille, and she was far from the only one.

    ¡°You mentioned a briefing before we left?¡± Simon continued, his eyes following Charles de Monflanquin as he cracked his whip and his horses took off. Fernanne de Calignac was slower to start, her horses failing to reach top speed before de Monflanquin was already halfway down the track.

    ¡°Right.¡± Camille glanced back at Crete Marbury, staring bored as the chariot racers rounded the bend. ¡°I¡¯m sure you understand the diplomatic stakes of these negotiations, but I also want the benefit of your eye. How fares the Lyrion League, beyond the front they put up for visiting diplomats? What¡¯s become of Charenton under the Prince of Darkness¡¯ rule?¡±

    ¡°And him?¡± Simon pointed back at the former pirate standing in his shadow.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind Ysengrin, unless you find yourself in imminent danger. His task is unrelated to yours.¡± More specifically, he¡¯d be making contact with the sparse network of spies that Camille had planted across the league, trying to glean any information or technologies that they or Avalon had elected not to share with Malin. ¡°Mend your bridges with Luce, if you can. If he can sit down at a table with me, I¡¯m sure he can find it in his heart to forgive you.¡± And it¡¯s not like there¡¯s anyone else in Avalon¡¯s power structure we can hope to cooperate with.

    ¡°I very much hope so.¡± Simon bowed, understanding that he was dismissed. ¡°Your Grace.¡±

    The blue fans cheered as Monflanquin put more distance between himself and the green captain, halfway to lapping her, while an undercurrent of jeering and booing erupted from the greens. The ones in the Emperor¡¯s box, thankfully, were sensible enough to keep quiet, though their disappointment was also plain to see.

    Camille waited an instant, watching Simon turn around, then decided to add one more order. ¡°Oh, and one other thing: I want you to research and document the Lyrion Famine on your visit. At this moment, relations with Avalon and the League are calm enough that it would be all too easy to sweep the whole thing all under the rug.¡± But we won¡¯t be on good terms forever. ¡°We can¡¯t allow the world to forget that a once-thriving nation was broken and starved until few but the colonists remained.¡± And that most of the people left in power are the ones that carried it out. Even if they weren¡¯t happy following those orders, even if they rebelled right afterwards, they still perpetrated an atrocity.

    Simon¡¯s back-of-envelope math had estimated that over a quarter of the Lyrionaise had died from starvation, disease, or exposure, with twice as many fleeing Lyrion. Given the total dearth of Lyrionaise in the League¡¯s government, business, and technology sectors, it was entirely possible that the impact of the famine Avalon had imposed on them was even worse.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    No small amount of fleeing Lyrionaise had settled in Malin, helping populate the northern end of the city, where ruins of the Foxtrap had still lingered even eighteen years on from the tragedy. Avalon had stolen most of their wealth, all the more so for those who had fled, but that made them more pliable workers than both the Malinoises accustomed to Avaline rule and the Foxtrap evacuees with all of the entitlement they¡¯d carried back with them from Guerron. Hundreds of them were here at the hippodrome today, overwhelmingly backing green rather than blue.

    Perhaps most usefully, in their desperation, they¡¯d been easy recruits for Camille¡¯s Acolytes, filling out the lower ranks of the peacekeeping forces that only four years ago had been meager and struggling¡ªa haphazard mix of Cadoudal¡¯s Acolytes and Guardian converts, questionable in both loyalty and aptitude. Today, every cutpurse and bandit feared the wrath of the Acolytes, lest they end up apprehended and prosecuted under the full authority of the Code Leclaire.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to do that in front of me,¡± Crete observed once Simon and Ysengrin had departed. ¡°Now I know what you¡¯re looking for.¡±

    Camille let out a laugh. ¡°I invited the Tower¡¯s top scientist to give a guest lecture at the Debray Institute, paid your way here, and provided you with comforts and amenities fit for a queen. Only a fool would fail to notice what I¡¯m trying to build, and I respect your intellect too much to act as if you hadn¡¯t already figured it out.¡±

    Crete cracked a smile at that. ¡°I doubt it even takes that much evidence to figure it out. You exhausted what Luce¡¯s treaty made us share, and now you want more. No particular intellect necessary. And it¡¯s more than a bit desperate.¡±

    Camille shrugged, ceding the point. ¡°We don¡¯t have the resources Avalon does, no. That doesn¡¯t mean that you won¡¯t be provided with more comfort and respect here than you ever would there. If anything, it means we¡¯d value your contributions all the more.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± she scoffed. ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±

    And here¡¯s where I have to hope my information on you was correct. ¡°Luce is a pacifist. I suspect, as I¡¯m sure you do, that he¡¯s only keeping you in your position because he¡¯s too afraid of the great things you¡¯re capable of once you¡¯re out from under his thumb¡ªotherwise you¡¯d have been tossed aside along with the Estertons.¡±

    ¡°But I wasn¡¯t,¡± Crete countered. ¡°Whatever his reasons, he does respect my work. Just last month, he rolled out mortars with my new project loaded in them all around Charenton¡¯s walls. If he fears what I¡¯m capable of, that only strengthens his need to keep me content.¡±

    ¡°And that project is¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Confidential,¡± Crete said, a frustrating non-answer that left the horrors of her new ordnance fully to the imagination. And considering she reportedly got her start modifying the blight of Refuge into something more inexpensive and compact without losing any of its impact, I can hardly stand to imagine it. The projects she wasn¡¯t even willing to allude to, no doubt, were even worse.

    And yet she was still in Luce¡¯s employ, and that gave Camille an opening¡ªotherwise, she probably wouldn¡¯t have come to Malin at all. ¡°Why move you to Charenton, then? Isn¡¯t Avalon¡¯s best work still being done in Ortus Tower, in Cambria?¡±

    ¡°He needed someone he could trust in the new facility. The Memorial Tower didn¡¯t even exist four years ago; Charenton itself was a wreck. And he had to split his time there with Cambria, unless he wanted to let his brother run Avalon into the ground.¡± Interesting that she¡¯d be so open about that. ¡°Especially since spiritual research is still banned in Avalon¡ªsetting up facilities in Charenton was the only way around that restriction, and it¡¯s an exciting new frontier to be part of.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well that certainly wouldn¡¯t be a problem here,¡± Camille assured her.

    The picture was becoming clear, Marbury¡¯s loyalty to Luce affirmed in opposition to the enemy of greater scope, allowing her to ignore any disrespect that the Prince of Darkness did visit onto her. That also explained why she hadn¡¯t left his team for more favorable waters¡ªany competitors with enough prestige and funding to catch her eye were under Prince Harold¡¯s thumb.

    ¡°So you run the Charenton Tower, then? You built it?¡± It¡¯s not a lie if it¡¯s a question, even if I know that the answer is ¡®no¡¯. With Camille¡¯s words as limited as they were, that had become one of the best tools available to steer discussions the way she wanted them to go.

    Crete shrugged. ¡°Formally, he¡¯s the Overseer of that one too. I¡¯m sure you knew that. But he relies on me.¡±

    ¡°And he trusts your judgment? Funds the projects you want to fund?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡±

    ¡°Because I heard that you had a grand vision for enhancing soldiers, crafting your own spirit-touched without relying on the whims of the spirits themselves. And right when you were beginning human trials, the esteemed Prince of Darkness scuttled the whole endeavor over ¡®ethical concerns¡¯ about human experimentation.¡±

    Glowering, Crete remained silent.

    ¡°I¡¯m not a scientist, Crete. I hold no pretensions that I know any better than you do. So when you want to work on something, however you might want to work on it, I¡¯ll take your word that it¡¯s the correct course. None of the Institute¡¯s scientists have half your talent or ingenuity, but they¡¯re a humble group, ready to stay in line and learn from the best. They didn¡¯t study in Cambria or Bellowton, so they know that there is always more for them to learn. They¡¯ll listen, as I will, because we understand that progress is not for royalty to define, but the people whose work actually makes it possible. You know that I speak true on that score, as I must on all others.¡±

    Marbury opened her mouth briefly, then thought better of it.

    ¡°Think it over. We¡¯ll arrange another guest lecture, perhaps, so you have all the excuse you need to stay a little longer, and consider my offer to work somewhere you¡¯re valued instead of tolerated.  Luce never has to know.¡±

    Lips curling inward, Crete considered for a moment, then slowly nodded. ¡°I did get a great question about exponential propagation after the last one, and I didn¡¯t have nearly the time needed to give it a proper response.¡±

    ¡°The Institute will hang on your every word,¡± Camille assured her. ¡°If the match is boring you, you¡¯re welcome to start preparing now.¡±

    ¡°Oh, really? From what I heard about you, I thought you were all about standing on ceremony. I can just go?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Camille assured her. ¡°Next time, I¡¯ll invite you to something better suited to your interests. The opera, perhaps?¡± At the sign of Crete¡¯s slight hesitation, lips pursed on the edge of a refusal, Camille cut in. ¡°Or whatever you¡¯d prefer. I want your every need and desire seen to during your stay here.¡±

    And with any luck, we¡¯ll be able to poach you to run the Institute. Most of its ranks now were made up of the most flexibly-minded of Annette¡¯s bureaucrats and disgraced washouts from Avalon, though two scientists from Lyrion had accepted the move in exchange for better pay. None who¡¯d come per the terms of the Treaty of Charenton had even considered staying, in one case even laughing in her face at the prospect of it, asking what she could possibly offer that the most advanced country in the world could not.

    It was irritating, being so obviously behind, but that irritation was one Camille had been forced to endure for twenty-two years, and she knew well how to manage it.

    Camille stayed in Lucien¡¯s chair even after Crete left, turning her attention back to the race. The blue captain was on verge of lapping the green, his chariot half a horse behind her, when Fernnane swerved, her chariot crashing into the foremost of Charles¡¯ horses and sending his entire chariot careening off the track.

    ¡°Fie!¡± Annette stood up and yelled, the blues in the box joining the ones in the stands in their enraged jeering. ¡°Honorless scourge!¡±

    Camille remained in her seat, watching carefully as de Monflanquin cut his injured horse loose, untangled his other reins, then flipped his chariot back into position. He was a lap behind de Calignac by the time he made it back into the track, looking more determined than ever. He¡¯ll make it up, Camille assured herself, then gestured to Aude to come fill the vacated Empress¡¯s chair. ¡°What have you heard?¡± she asked the commander of her Acolytes, keeping her voice soft enough not to be heard by the others in the box.

    Now High Priestess of Fenouille, Aude looked uncomfortable sitting on the cold stone, though perhaps her expression was more a reflection of the news she needed to give. ¡°Fenouille cannot delay any longer¡ªRhan¡¯s people cry out for their aid, and they seek the power of the Deep to repel the invaders.¡±

    Oh, so now they care about resolving the Convocation quickly. It would have been nice if they¡¯d carried any of that urgency back when the Sun had been dead, the world pushed to the brink of frozen starvation. For that matter, it¡¯d have been nice if spirits had been willing to step in to defend their peoples fifty years ago, when all this madness began. If Marais had fought the Avaline to defend Lyrion back when they¡¯d first invaded, they might both still be thriving.

    But it was what it was. Four years would have to be enough.

    ¡°It¡¯s impressive we made it this long,¡± Camille conceded. Her assumption of Levian¡¯s duties had always been on an interim basis, and she¡¯d been careful not to make waves with her nominal powers. Still, the delay in holding a proper Convocation had only been possible even for four years¡ªan instant, for the spirits¡ªbecause of the deadlocked division of support between Rhan, favorite of Tauroneo and the traditionalists, and Glaciel, the favored candidate of the Arbiter of Darkness and her faction. Lamante¡¯s brazen murder of Lunette had been more than enough for the traditionalists to dig in their heels and ignore any tentative moves towards reform that they might have entertained before. ¡°Both of the strongest candidates have reason to despise me, but their outlooks differ greatly. There¡¯s opportunity there, provided I can approach them in the right way.¡±

    Aude¡¯s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. ¡°Your Grace, As the Commander of your Acolytes, I must counsel you not to attend it, lest they kill you then and there. Even a traitor is more easily ignored when you do not tweak their nose, reminding them of your crimes.¡±

    Good to see you¡¯re doing your job, then. ¡°Your counsel is noted and appreciated, but I will attend, and I will prevail. I have a plan.¡±

    ¡°Your Grace...¡± Aude glanced to the side, then leaned in closer to Camille, speaking softly. ¡°I know you always find victory in unexpected places, but you¡¯ll never hold Levian¡¯s seat. You¡¯re the usurper, the ultimate traitor. Even Fenouille will not support you there, nor heed your counsel on who else he should cast his vote for.¡±

    A strange thing, to be held in contempt by the spirits just the same as Laura Bougitte. It had even affected earthly politics, with Condillac and Plagette terrified to treat with her, lest they too be branded as enemies by the most powerful beings alive. It wasn¡¯t a tenable position, and it had to be resolved¡ªeven if breaking the stasis of the last four years carried profound risk.

    ¡°Focus on Malin, for now,¡± Camille ordered, trying to calm her down. ¡°If the time comes when I truly see no path to victory, I will withdraw.¡± I¡¯m confident, not foolish. ¡°And... when you talk to Fenouille, please tell him I¡¯m sorry again. I didn¡¯t think I had a choice.¡±

    Even though I did. I first chose death, then jumped at the opportunity for more power. Jethro¡¯s rebuke still stung her from time to time, a warning and a condemnation both.

    You¡¯d be abandoning your humanity, withdrawing from all you¡¯ve known to embrace the world of the spirits.

    Would he still have said that, if he¡¯d realized how much of a pariah she¡¯d become? Perhaps not, but that was never his greatest objection.

    They¡¯re not your people; they¡¯re just people! And ruling over them as an immortal tyrant isn¡¯t going to do a thing to help them.

    Camille had to keep herself centered, had to find the balance between victory and tyranny, to protect her subjects and allow them to flourish.

    You haven¡¯t thought this through.

    He hadn¡¯t been wrong. Every challenge in front of her was solvable¡ªif Camille hadn¡¯t believed that, she¡¯d be dead thrice over¡ªbut that didn¡¯t change the fact that she¡¯d been backed into a corner, the Empire of the Fox further shrunken and declining.

    Even down one horse, Charles the blue still had the faster team, and he managed to close the distance to Fernanne the green in the final lap of the race, though his horses were visibly straining under the higher weight than they¡¯d trained for. The win was his, but as if to gild a wildflower, he swung his whip towards his competitor, striking her in the face and forcing her chariot to swing wildly off-course.

    Fernnane couldn¡¯t even right herself long enough to complete the race, nor could Camille hear what the announcer was saying with so much shouting echoing off the walls. Noble courtiers were right alongside unwashed immigrants as they hurled invective at the contestants, and¡ªquickly¡ªat each other.

    All it took was one green-clad woman leaping over the banister and onto the track for the dam to burst, and soon the riotous fanatics were fighting openly in the middle of the field, rushing towards the fallen Fernanne and the victorious Charles both.

    I¡¯m lucky that Crete already left, though it¡¯ll be bad enough when she hears about this. Hardly a sterling impression to leave.

    Without even needing to be asked, Aude dispatched an Acolyte to open the valves, letting water pour onto the field from every side of the hippodrome. Camille waited until it pooled two inches off the ground, then leapt down from her box, dissolving to water as she landed before reforming herself in hardened ice.

    ¡°Cease with this madness immediately, in the name of your Empress,¡± she commanded, filling her voice with the power of the spirits as she froze over the arena, trapping or tripping all of the brawlers. ¡°The match is finished. You are all to return to your homes forthwith, or face my justice.¡±

    Camille unfroze the water, curling it around herself to propel her into the air, then landed with a splash back in the Emperor¡¯s box. Once she recomposed her form, the sodden, dejected rioters were already plodding out of the arched exits, the crisis seemingly averted.

    Scott Temple would massage the message appropriately without even needing to be asked, thankfully, so whatever Crete read in tomorrow¡¯s journal would be less of a catastrophe than the actual event¡ªprobably something about their passionate appreciation for sportsmanship, or the like.

    Neither competitor had been harmed by the fanatics, though Fernnane had a swollen eye where the whip had hit her, and both agreed to let the matter lie, under penalty of the Empress¡¯s personal attention.

    Drained and exhausted, Camille still made sure to visit the royal nursery before resting, dismissing the governess long enough to peek in on the sleeping prince in his bed, and the princess in her crib.

    ¡°Sleep well, Fouchand,¡± Camille whispered, careful not to wake her son up, then leaned over the crib. ¡°Rest easy, Sarille.¡± In time, your challenges will be ever greater than mine. But I will ensure that you¡¯re ready. ¡°I promise.¡±

 Florette I: The Research Assistant

    Florette I: The Research Assistant

    All that power, just to end up buried under the sands. Florette brushed more dust from the statue, peering at its inscription. By the looks of it, the dialect was the same old Avaline that Christophe had trotted out when they¡¯d first met, dating it roughly some six hundred years to the past.

    Here rests Pelleas the Founder

    Grimoire of Grimoires

    Vessel of Khali

    Beloved Father

    ¡°Impressive work, Sabine!¡± the Professor said encouragingly. ¡°I never could have found the Founder¡¯s tomb without your help.¡±

    ¡°Is it really, though? The inscription says he ¡®rests¡¯ here, but the Fox-Queen¡¯s memoirs are pretty clear that Anquille Leclaire held down King Pelleas during his execution, then tossed his body into the sea in offering to Levian.¡±

    ¡°His head, perhaps? The sands may have preserved it beneath its slab, if indeed it lies here.¡± Alcock shrugged. ¡°Much more digging remains to be done, I have no doubt. But we¡¯ve confirmed the site beyond the shadow of a doubt, and I trust my team to see the dig through for the next few months.¡±

    That¡¯s a surprise. The Professor could scarcely make it a day without jumping in to correct some minor error in translation, or complain about the excavation strategy, or any of half a hundred other trivial corrections imposed, Florette suspected, mostly to reassure himself that he was still the primary archaeologist here. Scant wonder he tended to go it alone until he needed a larger team for a dig.

    Ticent the Sable-Eye, the dig site¡¯s official second, had told Florette once that it was a great honor that Sir Alcock had asked her to accompany him into the sands.

    And perhaps he meant it as one, but it meant that I took all the brunt of his nitpicking. His criticisms were never wrong though, at least not with his research assistant, and by Florette¡¯s second summer spent in the role, the Professor¡¯s critiques had significantly reduced in quantity. And, much as it galled her to admit it, hearing such unqualified praise at their moment of triumph did go a long way to justify all the time and effort she¡¯d put into this.

    And the work is more than enough to cover the rest. How many people could say they¡¯d been the first through the door to the lost tomb of Pelleas the Founder? Even fewer than can say they bested Glaciel in combat, or slew the sun, Florette figured, strange as it was that the latter figure was higher than zero, let alone one.

    And the artifacts they¡¯d uncovered... The old pistol alone cracked historical understanding about ancient Giton warfare wide open, in addition to exposing just how bereft of originality Magnifico¡¯s Avalon ultimately was. What exactly it meant wasn¡¯t entirely clear yet, but Srin Sabine would be able to complete her capstone project writing on it before the world was even yet aware of its existence.

    The inscription on its handle was difficult to parse, to be sure, flowing and looping as if drawn by the finest fountain pen, yet etched into the metal with a sturdiness that had kept it visible despite centuries buried under the Giton sands. The two full words, d¡¯Armes and ¨¦tienne, were easy enough to understand, even if it was baffling that they were written in Imperial, but the abbreviations before them were maddening. Respectively, an M and S were set before each word, with a couple smaller letters each whose flowering script made them all but impossible to identify. M. for Mister or Monsieur? Mlle for Millenium, or one thousand? The S was even more confounding, looking closest to an ¡®St.¡¯ but the second letter could plausibly be a lower case L or an I, or even an Middle Avaline glyph that had yet to be deciphered.

    The ancient Grimoires had been wont to encode their letters, usually using simple substitution ciphers that amounted to an alternative alphabet. Considering how thoroughly the Fox-Queen had defeated them, in large part by predicting the Grimoire host¡¯s movements with uncanny accuracy, Florette doubted that it had posed a significant obstacle in its day. But in the present, it meant that every fourth discovery had to be analyzed for letter probability¡ªin Middle Avaline, no less¡ªand, if sufficiently brief, might deter proper decryption entirely. Multiple fragments were short enough that two entirely separate meanings ¡°worked¡± with different letters substituted, and no clear winner in the contest.

    None yet that they¡¯d found had written mostly in the normal alphabet with one exception, but the ancient pistol was strange enough in general that the possibility had to be considered.

    The M 1892 engraved on the barrel, clear and legible as it remained, was if anything more maddening than the words, making the pistol just under a hundred years old by the old calendar ¡ª if it was a date of manufacture. Simultaneously far too young to rest in this sealed tomb and far too old to post-date the pistol¡¯s very existence.

    If indeed it was a pistol. The design¡ªsave for the six-chambered cylinder in between the handle and the barrel and the broken ring at the base¡ªlooked remarkably similar to the small arms Avalon sent with its soldiers off to war, but not so identical that it defied all other explanations.

    For one thing, there was no way to be sure it even functioned, nor that it ever had. ¡°It might easily have been decorative, or ritualistic,¡± Florette remarked. ¡°Ancient Giton society has no shortage of functionless objects, at least so far as our knowledge goes¡ªthe Grimoire¡¯s regalia, the leaky wineskin, the blunted spear... If they copied the form of a pistol without knowing how to make it work, it might look just like this. Perhaps their Grimoire saw modern pistols in a vision of the future, or¡ª¡±

    ¡°Cease your squalid speculations, Sabine,¡± the Professor rebuked, interrupting an admittedly rambling string of thoughts. ¡°Scholars modern and ancient alike firmly agree that visions beyond the present day are not possible, as you yourself have remarked. I would think your time with Lord Monfroy and his ¡®professional organization¡¯ would have elucidated that, if poring over the writings of dozens of ancient sages weren¡¯t sufficient on its own.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the conventional wisdom,¡± Florette conceded. But I know what I saw on the Isle of Shadows. That gleaming city could only have been the future, and the Great Binder herself could find no other explanation.

    ¡°It¡¯s true that we should not accept the conventional wisdom where reality contradicts it, but baseless speculation brings us no closer to the truth. This question is not beyond resolution, even if the answer lies beyond the bounds of our respective expertise. Nothing good will come of hardening our mind towards expectations of a certain result.¡± He nodded to himself, then smiled. ¡°All we need is a quick stop in Charenton on our way back. The Prince of Darkness is well familiar with the intricacies of black powder, and more than capable of dismantling and reassembling the artifact without damage, perhaps even of restoration. Then we can be sure of its function, be it for warfare or ritual.¡±

    ¡°Is that wise?¡± Florette asked. Don¡¯t take me wrong, the idea sounds great, except for the part where Luce recognizes me and has me hanged. Even four years on, it was hard to imagine Prince Luce forgetting the pirate that had murdered his cousin and imprisoned him on his ship. ¡°He¡¯s more a politician than a scientist, these days, and no historian beyond an amateur interest.¡±

    ¡°You know the Prince?¡± Alcock asked, surprised at the detailed description.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t had the pleasure,¡± Florette lied. ¡°But we¡¯ve seen ¡®scientists¡¯ break our finds before, through carelessness or malice. And this is one-of-a-kind. Disassembling it could cause irreversible damage.¡± Florette had worn this cloak too long to panic, let alone to let it show, but the prospect of exposing herself to the Lord Protector of Charenton carried far too much risk for next to no gain¡ªnot for nothing had Florette found ways to duck out of six separate dinner invitations, eventually sending Rebecca alone. Please abandon this idea, Professor.

    ¡°Hmm... Perhaps you¡¯re right. But I¡¯ve been too long away from my loving wife, and I promised her I would return once we found the lost tomb. You¡¯ll have to bring it to Charenton yourself¡ªI¡¯ll write you a letter bearing my seal, and the Prince will not ignore it, especially once he realizes the magnitude of our discovery. He¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t know what he¡¯ll do,¡± Florette interrupted, even knowing that the Professor despised it. ¡°Nor that he¡¯ll let us have it back. Let me take it to Rebecca, and she can examine it in the Cambrian Tower. After hours. No one need to know until we¡¯re ready to make the announcement.¡±

    ¡°Hmm...¡± the Professor hesitated, running his fingers through a neatly trimmed beard.

    ¡°Surely you wouldn¡¯t want word to break out in the middle of your sorely-needed reconciliation with Lady Alcock? You¡¯d be hounded by every fanatic and journalist from Forta to Serpichon.¡± It brought to mind something Camille Leclaire had said back in Malin, in the midst of their thankfully-brief partnership: ¡°Lying really isn¡¯t all that difficult; you just have to live in the reality you¡¯ve constructed for yourself. The hard part comes when you must turn those lies towards productive ends. To get what you want, everyone should walk away satisfied, appetites sated by your deceit.¡±

    At least, that was the spirit of it. Florette hadn¡¯t thought to write it down until almost a year later, after she¡¯d almost cracked in front of Rebecca. Not an admirable figure by any means, Camille was admittedly a master of lies, and it would be a fool to discard her advice in the midst of such a prolonged, crucial deception.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Perhaps it is best to keep it quiet,¡± Alcock admitted, to Florette¡¯s hidden elation.

    Before the Autumn Spring, she¡¯d probably have let it show, perhaps even visibly sighing of relief. But Srin Sabine was a well-worn face in Florette¡¯s collection, her quirks and contours effortless to remain immersed in.

    ¡°Rebecca¡¯s a good lass, and at this point you could supervise her in your sleep. In fact, I daresay you do so regularly.¡± He chuckled at his own terrible joke, and somehow Florette found herself doing the same.

    I¡¯ve been away too long. Though it wasn¡¯t without some apprehension that she¡¯d be going back¡ªserving at Sir Thomas Alcock¡¯s pleasure was no easy task, but it paled in comparison to her writ in Cambria.

    Between the College, Monfroy, and Blaise, I¡¯ll scarcely have a moment to breathe. The pirate carpenter was understanding enough, a welcome replacement for the perpetually-irritable shipmaster, Cordelia, but he was keenly aware that Florette¡¯s time with easy access to the College was running out, and his research requests were only growing in anticipation of her graduation.

    Monfroy¡¯s demands were less consistent, the Lord of Louche often waiting months before contacting her, but the missions were never easy, and seldom quick to resolve. Much of the fallow period had to be spent catching up on everything else, and what little remained was spent on more pleasurable things, like plotting his downfall.

    Or coming home to Rebecca.

    Or being the Blue Bandit. Despite the danger it posed, that role was the one that most threatened to consume all else, for that was when Florette felt most like herself. If not for Christophe, there to hold down the fort while Florette kept up appearances in other arenas, Srin Sabine would have collapsed long before Florette had better learned to tighten the mask.

    As it was, she was merely constantly busy, ever pulled in opposite directions.

    ¡°Alright, Sabine, I think we¡¯ve done enough to call the day here. I¡¯ll spend tomorrow and the lendemain briefing the Sable-Eye on the specifics of this dig, then we¡¯ll depart.¡± He waved the torch he was holding, bouncing the shadows all around the recently-unsealed tomb. ¡°Take the figurines with you, would you? Climbing in and out of this place is an epic poem, and I¡¯d sooner avoid a second trip.¡±

    ¡°With pleasure,¡± Florette answered, concealing her surprise. The Professor I know would have us clambering up and down until midnight, taking only one heavily-padded artifact at a time. He must really want to go home.

    Florette felt much the same, in truth. Though only at the tipping point between Winter and Spring, the desert was already becoming inhospitable, the endless search for history sunken beneath the sands wearing on her more with every day. For the Professor, surely, it was all the worse, since Florette, at least, returned to the College every year for classes.

    Between his research and his wife, Sir Thomas Alcock had barely returned to Cambria for more than perfunctory visits. Though perhaps his marriage to a ¡®blackhearted foreigner¡¯ has something to do with that too. Florette had heard that particular appellation from Professor Landry, but he was far from the only academic at the Cambrian College to share the sentiment. Regardless, the inhospitable isolation was clearly beginning to wear on even the night-indefatigable Thomas Alcock.

    Not that I¡¯d mind getting a good night¡¯s sleep for once. Florette picked up the padded basket of figurines they¡¯d found buried with a painted wooden board, the one helpfully labeled ¡°The Chaos Angel¡± in Imperial on the underside of its base just barely visible, poking out of the cloth wrap. A swirling tangle of wings arrayed around a barely-visible core, its form was an uncanny match for the light-and-shadow depiction of Diurne in Mahabali Hall. Alcock hadn¡¯t drawn the connection though, and¡ªas tempted as Florette was to air out this minor truth for better historical understanding¡ªshe wasn¡¯t entirely sure it would be wise. Easy enough to ¡°remember¡± the resemblance later, if she changed her mind.

    ¡°Stand still,¡± Alcock said, as if Florette didn¡¯t know the procedure by heart at this point. ¡°I¡¯m passing up my torch.¡± The smoke risked pooling in the room otherwise, dusting artifacts with unwanted soot and burning up their air before they were quite finished breathing.

    And so the room went dark, the air filled with the sounds of Alcock scrabbling up through the breach they¡¯d made in the door. Dark, that is, save for the glowing green wing of the figurine. Unwrapping the cloth a bit more showed that the entire statuette was glowing the same color, though none of the other pieces were.

    Alright, I think that¡¯s reason enough to use whatever info we¡¯ve got to figure out what the fuck this thing is. It¡¯d probably be worth showing it to Crete too, once she got back from her travels.

    ¡°Have you ever heard the legend about Diurne and Nocturne?¡± Florette asked the Professor once they emerged from the tomb into glistening sands and twilight skies, more stars visible over Giton than a Cambrian could count in a week.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say that I have, I¡¯m afraid.¡± The Professor dusted off his gloves, then peeled them off.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a surprise. Not exactly the kind of thing in Avaline history books, and its veracity is pretty questionable. But the Chaos Angel looks exactly like soldiers of Diurne, at least according to a depiction from an ancient Mamela artifact I saw.¡± Monfroy¡¯s refurbished light-and-shadow display in Mahabali Hall was far from ancient, of course; even prior to its restoration, its life was measured in centuries, rather than millenia. But it had been adapted from a series of carvings, stored high enough up in Chaya to escape the Inferno Aerion¡¯s wrath. Florette had gone to see them on her second visit to the Isle, then been shocked to see how faithfully the Mahabali Hall display had reproduced them.

    ¡°Then it¡¯s worth following-up on,¡± the Professor agreed. ¡°Far more so than your Walston Market idea, at any rate.¡±

    ¡°That was a joke,¡± Florette clarified. ¡°All I meant was that the board and pieces looked a lot like a boardgame Kelsey bought there. I don¡¯t seriously think it¡¯s worth finding the vendor.¡±

    ¡°Ah, my apologies. The resemblance to a boardgame is rather uncanny, I must concede.¡± Say what you will about him¡ªand I have, repeatedly¡ªhe¡¯s not too proud to admit when he¡¯s wrong. ¡°Perhaps King Pelleas fancied play so much it was buried alongside him? We¡¯ve found stranger.¡±

    ¡°Though glowing is a level beyond.¡± Florette carefully lifted the Chaos Angel, rotating it in the air until she could see through to the dark core. ¡°Then again, the Grimoire was the High Priest of Khali and the King. If anyone had the power to craft a spiritual working into a figurine just to play a game, it would be him. The Founder lacking a reputation for such whimsey hardly disproves the possibility.¡±

    ¡°Certainly. His chroniclers would have every motive to depict him flatteringly.¡± Alcock took the statuette from her hands and held it up closely to his eye. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it sort of remind you of those new glowing watches? The color¡¯s the same, at least.¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen one,¡± Florette said, to keep it simple. Christophe¡¯s neighbor, Helen, had asked if the Blue Bandit could look into the facility where they made them after some of the workers had started getting sick, but it hadn¡¯t really gone anywhere beyond the usual¡ªpoor ventilation, cramped quarters, long hours, capricious terms of employment... She¡¯d offered to sabotage, but Helen¡¯s sister had warned her off from doing anything yet, so the matter was momentarily shelved.

    The walk to their camp passed through the ruins of old Giton, at this point mostly just low stone walls and sand, darkened by the dust of long-crumbled mud bricks. They¡¯d swept enough of the sand aside to get a good idea of the layout, but properly parsing out the nature of the ancient settlement would take decades of work, if not centuries.

    ¡°Chin up,¡± the Professor had said in a brief moment of frustration from Florette over the scant hope of ever gleaning the truth in her lifetime. ¡°We are ever the bridge between past and present. The future is no different, and they will thank us for this discovery even as they curse us for our limited understanding.¡±

    That had been easy enough to accept, considering that Florette had already written her deeds into the history books before turning twenty, and was sure she¡¯d do it again a hundred times before she died. Historians of the future could figure the rest out.

    Back then, the Professor had been animated, their search so close to its conclusion. Tonight, he looked exhausted as he dismissed her for the night. ¡°Not a word to anyone but the Sable-Eye, and only when you¡¯re sure no one¡¯s listening. Breaking this news in the wrong way, before we fully understand its implications, would be a mistake.¡± Not in the least because it would interrupt your vacation with your wife, I don¡¯t doubt.

    But that suited Florette fine. Things were complicated enough already. ¡°So I shouldn¡¯t show our findings to the Prince of Darkness, then?¡±

    ¡°Please, cease your perfidious performance as a wise ass when I know you to be capable of so much more.¡± The Professor let out a faint scoff. ¡°But you do have the right of it¡ªroyalty needs the most carefully tailored message, rather than the least refined.¡±

    Definitely suits my needs. ¡°Why royalty in particular, though?¡±

    ¡°The Grimoires tend to minimize their desert origins as much as they can get away with¡ªthat¡¯s why they weren¡¯t an option for funding this expedition, unlike the others. The emphasis on their legitimacy travels through the line of Alice Grimoire and the Great Binder, from Harold the First moreso than any before him. Directly continuing a line of Khali devotees, practitioners of human sacrifice, is the sort of truth better swept under the rug, to their mind.¡± A flash of anger crossed his face. ¡°As if they don¡¯t have the power to confront the truth rather than run from it; as if the entire Giton civilization is without value because their practices differed from our own. It¡¯s shameful.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± A useful excuse to keep Prince Luce out of things on an ongoing basis, then. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure was mine. You know how fond I am of musing aloud.¡± The Professor nodded to himself, then began walking quickly back to camp. He clearly wasn¡¯t in the mood for pontificating any further at the moment, whatever his predilections. He pulled ahead of Florette, practically racing to reach his tent by nightfall, and left her alone in the ruins.

    She lingered in front of a large stone in what they were pretty sure had been gardens, a memorial whose inscription had endured the ravages of time. Remember Martine, it said. Beware the face-stealer.

    Words well worth considering, Florette estimated, for all that Lamante had been nothing but helpful to her so far. Word of her callous murder of Lunette had spread far and wide, even to Cambria, albeit distorted by the Avaline hatred of all things spiritual. One particularly amusing account had insisted that the face-stealer had fired a cannon at the moon to break it in half, slaying the spirit by attacking the base of her power.

    Florette had no doubt the true explanation was far more mundane. Lunette had long been weakened for want of followers, losing her sages to Avalon and Corro to Glaciel after the White Night. She¡¯d probably been lured into an ambush and slain by a binder, just like the last several spirits to die.

    I suppose binders haven¡¯t been terribly original in their schemes, myself included. But then, if it works, why should we be? Until spirits adapted to the new threats they faced, the tactic would continue to be effective.

    But there¡¯s at least one spirit who won¡¯t go down that easily: The Maiden of Dawn. After her ascension, Leclaire had quickly begun insisting that she be referred to as ¡®The Spirit of Dawn¡¯, the ¡®maiden¡¯ retired, so Florette delighted in calling her that at the slightest opportunity. But annoying Leclaire alone would be far from enough, if the time came when she needed to be stopped.

    That was a problem for the future though, and Florette had no shortage of others competing for her attention in the present.

    I just have to get through a few days at Lady Alcock¡¯s, then it¡¯s back to Cambria. Hopefully, things had calmed down there in her absence.

 Fernan I: The First Speaker

    Fernan I: The First Speaker

    ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me, Sire Montaigne, if I find it difficult to take you at your word. Your city¡¯s previous representative proved most unwilling to honor his contracts with our noble republic.¡± Bernard Aureaux, foreign minister for the Plagetine Senate, flickered in the flames.

    Fernan straightened, his simulacrum of lakeshore sand doing the same miles to the south. ¡°And who was this previous representative?¡± Because I have a feeling I know where you¡¯re going with this.

    ¡°None other than the Count of Dorseille, Lord of Guerron in the Duchess¡¯ stead and cousin to the Debray herself, the very man still rotting in your dungeons: Count Guy Valvert.¡±

    Of course. Even after four years locked away in his chambers, Guy Valvert was still finding new ways to cause them problems. ¡°Well, it shouldn¡¯t be a mystery why he wasn¡¯t able to honor the deal, then.¡±

    The flames rippled as Aureaux raised an eyebrow. ¡°The deal was with the City of Guerron. If the City of Guerron will not honor it, then surely it will understand how that calls its faithfulness into question.¡±

    ¡°We have a new government now! We¡¯re not beholden to Valvert¡¯s feckless decisions. You were once First Speaker yourself, Monsieur, and then the Senate voted in Marguerite Merlan. Surely, she did not honor your every commitment and policy, else why would she have replaced you at all?¡±

    ¡°The proper address is ¡®my lord¡¯, Sire Montaigne.¡± Aureaux ground his teeth, sparks flying from the simulacrum¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°And, be that as it may, the agreements of Plagette stand. The Republic honors its commitments. Reputation is everything, Sire Montaigne, and not only for earthly contracts. If our patron spirits sense even the slightest inkling of connection to the betrayer¡ª¡±

    ¡°Camille Lecaire has no involvement with the Guerron Commune,¡± Fernan insisted, tired of having to make this argument over and over again. ¡°She and I signed the treaty of Charenton, and that was that.¡± Aside from working together to slay Levian, but connecting myself to her ¡®treachery¡¯ there would only hurt me in this negotiation. She, Maxime, and Jethro were the only humans aware of Fernan¡¯s involvement in Levian¡¯s death, and none of them had yet seen fit to reveal that fact, nor had the spirits, but Fernan knew better than to think it would stay concealed forever.

    Aureaux, however, seemed skeptical. ¡°And yet you ousted her most notable opponent in Duke Fouchand¡¯s council, a staunch ally of her sworn enemy, Lord Lumi¨¨re. You¡¯re still imprisoning him, and his wife, and his sworn protector.¡±

    Is ¡®sworn protector¡¯ what you call a mistress down in Plagette? ¡°We offered to release Louise de Monflanquin, provided she swore never to take up arms against the Commune. She spat in our faces and declared that she¡¯d never debase herself before a coal miner¡¯s son.¡±

    ¡°Well, you can hardly blame her.¡± Aureaux blinked, as if realizing for the first time. ¡°Was that truly your father¡¯s profession? How is it that a peasant such as you entered the confidences of Leclaire at all?¡±

    A comedy of errors, really. But above all, you can thank Florette. ¡°Because I was and remain a sage of light, Monsieur le Ministre.¡± No self-respecting First Speaker of the Guerron Commune will ever address a mere man as ¡®my lord¡¯.  ¡°Then, I represented the Flame Under the Mountain. Today, it is the people of Guerron.¡±

    ¡°And tomorrow, perhaps, the face-stealer? You¡¯re hardly the picture of a High Priest. By all accounts, the traitor of dawn was ready to lead a host against your little upstart of a city, until you converged with the Prince of Darkness, another ally of hers, and the next morning the Torrent of the Deep was dead. How am I meant to take that? What am I to make of a dog that¡¯s bitten every master it ever served?¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes flared, spraying sand into Aureaux¡¯s eyes. ¡°The only master I serve is the will of the people. Only their enemies shall feel my bite.¡± He let the unspoken threat linger for an instant as Aureaux composed himself, then used the pause to strike a more conciliatory tone.

    ¡°I assure you, I have no love for Leclaire.¡± Even though the choice that all your contempt stems from, stopping Levian, was the best thing she ever did, and she couldn¡¯t have done it without me. ¡°Your spirits may rest easy knowing that you treat with the High Priest of the Sun. ¡± As nominal as that title might be in practice.

    ¡°After the mysterious death of the last.¡± Aureaux clicked his tongue. ¡°Aurelian Lumi¨¨re was an excellent customer, Sire Montaigne, and a stalwart ally to Plagette. Ever since you took over his temple, demand for our opium wine has fallen as if a star from the very sky.¡±

    ¡°Because we stopped burning people alive!¡± Fernan spat fire as he spoke the words. ¡°Lumi¨¨re bought opium wine by the wagon because he sacrificed people as easily as breathing. You are welcome to mourn your friend and business partner, but I¡¯ll not stand here and listen to you valorize the man over his worst deeds.¡±

    ¡°No, of course,¡± Aureaux said, surprisingly backing off. Why concede the point? It¡¯s not like Plagette ended the practice of sacrifice. Say what you will about Camille Leclaire¡ªand Fernan had, on uncountable occasions¡ªher Code Leclaire had at least managed that.

    ¡°Aurelian was a man of many flaws, to be sure,¡± Aureaux continued. ¡°The only thing separating him from Leclaire is that he failed where she succeeded.¡± Not sure I agree with you on that one, but at least you¡¯re not dwelling on it anymore. ¡°But with his passing, we lost the Temple as a customer. With Valvert¡¯s imprisonment, we lost his contract for more than eight hundred thousand florins worth of arms.¡± Khali¡¯s curse, Valvert would have had to tax the city into the dust to pay for that. ¡°When the Senate heard that Fernan Montaigne wished to negotiate, laughter filled the chamber for minutes on end. Commerce is the lifeblood of the Republic, and your usurpation was like unto a landslide above the road.¡±

    And, of course, somehow it¡¯s still all about your own enrichment. Fernan knew better than to be surprised anymore, but he wasn¡¯t yet so hardened that he couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit disappointed. ¡°The fact remains that I have never broken faith with G¨¦zarde as Leclaire did with Levian. We have a city full of people eager to purchase your country¡¯s wares, and with no shortage of goods of our own to trade.¡±

    ¡°The gecko glass?¡± Aureaux scoffed. ¡°A few expensive sculptures are hardly sufficient recompense, no matter the renown for their craftsmanship. Your ice, while similarly nice to have, is wildly insufficient to offset what we lost.¡±

    Bluster all you want, but it took months to set this meeting up. The fact that your Senate bothered at all means that you aren¡¯t as disinterested as you¡¯re making yourself out to be. Or, at the very least, the Senate as a whole was not. Aureaux himself was either sincere or extremely adept at playing the role.

    But either way, the Foreign Minister had an incentive to see this deal through. ¡°Will you honor Valvert¡¯s contract?¡±

    And bankrupt the Commune just to fill it with weapons? ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid¡ª¡±

    ¡°But I will live up to my predecessor, at least in the one respect you seem to care so much about. The Temple¡¯s stores of opium wine are deep, but they are not infinite.¡±

    Aureaux scratched his chin, flames of his hand flickering through the impression of a beard. ¡°You perform no sacrifices, and yet you deplete your sacrament fast enough to come begging us for more. Curious...¡±

    I might not like it, but as long as Lyrion keeps throwing mandala at us for every bottle they get their hands on, I can¡¯t put my distaste over the good of the Commune. Mentioning that, however, would be ill-advised. As soon as Plagette realized Guerron¡¯s role as a middle-man between the spiritual nations of the continent and the Special Administrative Zone of Lyrion, they¡¯d take any steps necessary to cut them out and profit from the difference.

    Instead, Fernan played into his prejudices, affecting a tone of voice laden with shame. ¡°With no nobility in our government, it wasn¡¯t long before many of our people turned to it for comfort. I can assure you that our Assembly members are well-supplied for personal use, but many of the commoners are running out. A shortage would be survivable, but bothersome, and we¡¯d sooner avoid it.¡±

    Aureaux nodded ruefully, clearly satisfied at being ¡®correct¡¯. ¡°There are some in the Senate who were flattered to see a great city of the Fox Empire flock to our republican values, while others feared the chaos of your... disruption. First Speaker Merlan will be pleased to hear that her hopes were not wholly in vain, though it seems that my predictions as to your moral decay proved more accurate still. I caution your mignon little polity to watch itself carefully. We¡¯ll start small with one shipment, to ensure that you can be trusted. Send me twenty-thousand now, and another twenty upon delivery. If all goes smoothly, then we can discuss further shipments.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Fernan agreed, though the price was steeper than he¡¯d been expecting. Still less than half of what Lyrion will pay, though. ¡°I¡¯ll dispatch Citoyen Mesnil to see that it arrives safely. It was a pleasure speaking with you,¡± he lied.

    ¡°Mesnil... With the wooden leg?¡± Aureaux¡¯s nose wrinkled.

    ¡°He was nobly born, knighted by the Fox-King himself. Your Senate will find no escort more trustworthy.¡± And when the Battle of White Night lost him his leg, he poured his entire life into helping the city¡¯s wounded, from medicine to accommodations to social remedies, so I know I can trust him too. There were others in the Commune who¡¯d been born aristocrats, some among them that Fernan would consider friends, like Charles des Agnettes, but their devotion to the Commune was hardly beyond question, at times smacking of insincere opportunism. Send the wrong person, and there was no guarantee that they wouldn¡¯t return as a spy on Plagette¡¯s payroll, or not at all.

    Dom will welcome an excuse to travel, in any case. The younger Mesnil brother hadn¡¯t even left the city since the White Night, and Fernan had caught him throwing a letter from his brother into the fire on four separate occasions, the latter of which was mere days ago. A bit of time away would help to clear his head, Fernan hoped.

    ¡°Then I shall await his arrival,¡± Aureaux closed, inclining his head slightly then abruptly stopping, as if suddenly realizing that Fernan wasn¡¯t worthy of it. An instant later, the flickering flames dissipated, leaving Fernan alone in the glass Communication Chamber. In warmer months, he still preferred to do this outside¡ªthere was a lovely courtyard reserved for the purpose, away from any prying ears¡ªbut spring was coming slowly this year. There was a very real fear that frigid rain might splatter down over the Festival of the Sun, and they didn¡¯t have nearly the supply of tents needed to compensate.

    But that¡¯s the least of our problems. Fernan checked his wristwatch¡ªa remarkable gift from Luce to celebrate the anniversary of the Treaty of Charenton, its face glowing with a constant warmth that allowed him to read the time from it despite the limitations of his vision¡ªand noted that he still had half an hour before the Assembly convened. Cut it closer than I¡¯d like, but I should still be fine. If the First Speaker of all people were late, it would send entirely the wrong message, even though he had no doubt that they would wait for him. And it¡¯d be amusing if I weren¡¯t the one to speak first.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    All the Assemblymembers were waiting for him, standing when he entered the chamber. As soon as he took his position in front of the Magistrate¡¯s chair¡ªkept ceremonially empty to be as unambiguous as possible that no man ruled Guerron alone¡ªthe Assembly sat back down, ready for Fernan to start.

    ¡°I, Citoyen Fernan Montaigne, First Speaker of the Guerron Commune, now call to order the one-hundred and eighteenth meeting of the Guerron Assembly. Every one of us stands here, chosen by the people, with the solemn responsibility to speak with their voice, to ensure that their concerns are heeded, and their needs attended to, all in service of freedom, equality, and prosperity.¡±

    Ceremonial language concluded, Fernan moved on to the first item on the meeting¡¯s agenda. ¡°I just concluded a very successful negotiation with the Foreign Minister of Plagette, Bernard Aureaux.¡± All the more successful considering what a massive prick he was. Alas, mentioning that part for the official transcript would be ill-advised. ¡°He has agreed to our proposal, conditional on a trial shipment provided for twenty-thousand florins. I move that Citoyen Dominic Mesnil oversee the transfer of funds and accompany this shipment home.¡±

    ¡°I second the motion,¡± said Citoyen Eleanor Montaigne, an influential figure in the center of the Commune¡¯s Assembly who also happened to be Fernan¡¯s mother. Outside this room, the importance of those two things is reversed, but with the Assembly in session, her first duty is to her constituents, as it should be.

    When Fernan called a provisional roll, Edith Costeau, Gilbert Barnave, Gabriel de Gaume, and most of the right enthusiastically affirmed the decision, along with the other members at the center of the chamber¡ªalbeit less exuberantly.

    With only a few exceptions, the ¡®no¡¯ votes all came from the left, with S¨¦verin Marceau, ¨¦tienne Lantier, and Paul Armand in particular practically spitting the word out in disgust.

    Fantastic... Bracing himself for severe unpleasantness, Fernan opened the topic up for discussion.

    ¡°Mesnil was knighted by Citoyen Renart himself!¡± Marceau cried. ¡°His brother captains his guard! How are we to trust such a man with a mission of such great importance?¡±

    ¡°Importance?¡± Lantier spat back. ¡°This Assembly has just voted to grease the streets with the blood of every Lyrion addict suckling at opium¡¯s teat. I for one find it galling that our First Speaker is willing to enrich himself by peddling a substance that destroys lives and tears families apart.¡±

    ¡°Lyrionaise families,¡± countered Barnave. ¡°And only those who willfully choose to plunge themselves into depravity. If anything, this strengthens our position relative to the League¡ªwhy should we concern ourselves with the free decisions of a free people? Was that not the principle upon which our Commune was founded? If we don¡¯t facilitate, another will simply take our place.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we need sully our own hands.¡± Those words, along with the sole ¡®no¡¯ vote from the right, came from Philippe Montrouge, the merchant whose unjust imprisonment had been the catalyst for the entire rebellion. ¡°Our friends in Avalon have banned the substance for the dangers it poses, and for good reason: it rots the mind. We ought to ban its sale and transport entirely, along with pixie powder and marigold wine, rather than condemn ourselves to degeneracy.¡±

    Fernan let them speak, barking back and forth long enough to wear themselves out, then took a roll call for the binding vote. After such a long discussion, exchanging so many arguments both silly and sound, the final vote tally was identical to the provisional vote from the beginning.

    Fernan, as was his custom where his vote was not needed to decide the matter, abstained. Though I can¡¯t help but wonder if Montrouge has a point. Banning marigold wine and naca extract, as the merchant had so frequently advocated, would be obvious folly; prohibiting pixie powder would probably cause the Commune to collapse within a week. But the long term effects of opium wine were poorly understood, since its use at the temple had largely been reserved for those imminently being burned alive. In such a position, any dulling of the pain had been considered a worthwhile trade, but the insatiable demand from Lyrion implied a rather different relationship with the substance.

    ¡°I move that a committee be formed to research opium wine and better understand its impacts, that we might make a more informed decision once Plagette is ready to increase their volume of trade,¡± Fernan offered, trying to reconcile the Assembly. In this, at least, all but a few of the crustiest on the right of the chamber agreed.

    Appointments to said committee were the prerogative of the First Speaker, one of the few formal powers entrusted to the office, and Fernan wasted no time in appointing Montrouge and Lantier to leadership roles, but threw in Barnave and Costeau as counterpoints, lest the prohibitionists run away with the narrative unchallenged.

    ¡°Moving on to the next item, Citoyen Armand would like to address the Assembly.¡± Fernan waved him towards the podium, stepping back towards the Magister¡¯s seat without sitting in it. ¡°Your two minutes begin now.¡±

    For the first few weeks, there hadn¡¯t been a time limit, with the result that meetings had dragged on for hours upon hours. Once the rules about public comments had been ironed out, it had only been a small leap in logic to extend the limitations to the Assemblymembers as well, which had been greatly welcomed.

    Armand was welcome to exercise his right to free speech on his own time, at a venue of his choosing, for however long he desired, to whomever cared to listen. Today, thankfully, two minutes was all that needed to be endured.

    ¡°Many of you know that I once served under Citoyen Debray in the Harbor Guard, an instrument of justice and injustice both, as so many of us who once served in the false Duchy government must grapple with.¡± According to Armand, he¡¯d even been one of the guards that had dragged Fernan in front of Camille Leclaire back when he¡¯d first entered Guerron. He trotted the anecdote out whenever it suited his argument, but as Fernan didn¡¯t remember him, it was pretty much impossible to verify either way. ¡°But, however unjust its ends, our utility to the Bureau of the Sea could not be denied.

    ¡°In the last month alone, we¡¯ve had three break-ins in the Merchant Quartier, two City guards caught slipping luxuries to Citoyen Valvert in exchange for coin, and four engineers on the airship project signing confessions to taking bribes from Avalon!¡±

    Fernan held his tongue, following the procedure, but he badly wanted to correct the record right away. The engineers had been playing dice with some of the visiting Avaline scientists, and they¡¯d had a good night. That had only turned into ¡®confessed bribery¡¯ after Armand had gotten wind of the coin changing hands and decided to make a mountain out of it.

    ¡°It is long past the time that the Commune secures its defense by whatever means necessary. Our city is in chaos, and the enemies of the revolution thrive! Citoyen Montaigne, our respected First Speaker, I have come to you many times with my concerns, and at every turn you have delayed and prevaricated. The people can wait no longer! I call upon you now to form a special police force to take firm, decisive action against counterrevolutionary activity in all its forms. Thank you.¡±

    Sickeningly, his speech received no small amount of applause.

    With no small amount of dread, Fernan followed procedure and opened the matter for discussion.

    ¡°It seems sensible enough to me,¡± Barnave began, getting things off to a terrible start. Of all the things to unite the likes of him and Armand, it¡¯s this? ¡°The city guard was formed in the earliest days of our Commune, their regulations so slapdash that few of us feel safe without our own coterie of personal guards. Not to mention that their restrictions render them ill-suited for rooting out our enemies. This way, the city guard would be freed to focus on crimes better suited to its writ, grand theft chief amongst them. Would we not all feel safer, knowing that our Commune is protected from enemies within and without?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Costeau countered, thankfully. ¡°Imagine if Paul Armand were put in charge of this police force, Gilbert, as he so clearly is angling to do. Would you feel safer then?¡±

    ¡°Well, we needn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°No you would not,¡± she interrupted. ¡°Because your head would no longer rest atop your neck. We¡¯ve all heard his calls for executions; are we to expect that this proposal is any different?¡±

    ¡°We could compromise,¡± Lantier offered, despite the numerous occasions that he¡¯d treated the very concept as a crime against the Commune. ¡°This special force needn¡¯t be imbued with the power of life and death. They could apprehend counterrevolutionaries, empowered to act decisively against enemies of the Commune, with trials in the Assembly to assess their guilt. Only after a majority vote might such an enemy be condemned to death.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Gabriel de Gaume wheezed, visibly straining to speak. ¡°I don¡¯t know... What...? Who...?¡± He collapsed into a fit of coughing before he could get to his point. It was disappointing, after his strong showing in the early years of the Commune. When calls had been loudest to execute Valvert, de Gaume had been a strong voice of restraint, a sensible leader that many on the right of the chamber looked to for guidance.

    And now his health is so poor that he can¡¯t even get a sentence out. In truth, he¡¯d already begun to show signs before the last round of elections, but the people of the Northern Hills district had chosen him anyway, and so they were stuck with a representative barely able to raise his hand to vote in a roll call, let alone fiercely advocate for their interests.

    ¡°A most equitable proposition,¡± Armand agreed, ignoring de Gaume¡¯s unmade point and earning a mix of smiles and reluctant nods from around the Assembly for doing it.

    I have to do something fast. This was what Fernan saved his influence for, the most pivotal moments when more subtler means were either unavailable or insufficient. ¡°I disagree.¡±

    The room fell silent at his words, immediately clearing the way for him to continue speaking uninterrupted.

    ¡°The power of life and death belongs to Terramonde alone. Armand himself concedes that his harbor guards erred, and yet he thinks that a just cause alone will be sufficient to ensure that no one is ever executed unjustly. Such a thing is patently impossible, and allowing the risk would be a monstrous affront to the will of the people.¡± Nevermind that the loudest of those people are right there alongside Armand. ¡°I would vote against any such proposal, with prejudice. All who believe in justice would do the same.¡±

    That second sentence was obviously a lie, more blatant than most, but it served to hem their position in, forced to either publicly defy Fernan Montaigne¡¯s wisdom or stand for injustice. Fernan didn¡¯t like relying on his personal cachet, but it was all the stronger for his restraint.

    Still, that alone would only serve to delay the issue until the next theft or bribery was discovered, upon which Armand or one of his ilk would raise the point again. And, then, Fernan¡¯s word alone might not be enough to stop it.

    ¡°However,¡± Fernan continued, ¡°it is clear that safety and security are of notable concern to the people and their representatives, and it would be unwise to ignore that. To that end, I move for the creation of a new committee whose sole focus is ensuring public safety.¡± That should quiet them down for a bit, and Armand can squawk as much as like without any power to hurt anyone.

    ¡°I second the motion,¡± Edith Costeau agreed immediately, and before long it was passed unanimously. That much was encouraging, even if they¡¯d been only moments away from disaster.

    Armand put himself forward to chair the committee, obviously, but Fernan didn¡¯t much like the idea of validating him in that respect, so he left the leadership to Michel, with Mom and de Gaume to help balance out Lantier and Armand. The solicitor-turned-Assemblymember was away on a diplomatic mission in Lyrion at the moment, so the committee wouldn¡¯t even be able to convene until he returned.

    That should serve for now, but I fear it won¡¯t be sufficient long-term.

    ¡°A moment of your time, my dear?¡± Edith Costeau approached him as soon as the meeting was concluded. ¡°I was hoping we could discuss this patent law that Philippe is trying to push through. I¡¯m given to understand that you don¡¯t have any strong opinions one way or the other, and I believe that simple discussion of the facts will help to change your mind.¡±

    Well, let¡¯s see, on the one hand we have improved ties with Charenton and Avalon both, protecting the inventors of crucial technologies from being ripped off by thieves and scoundrels, and on the other hand we have the pulsebox magnate Edith Costeau, whose design was stolen from no less than the King of Avalon.

    Still, she¡¯d proven more than sensible today, and Fernan could afford to hear her out. ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±

    ¡°You and Maxime should come over for dinner. I have a Rhanoir red too good not to share with a friend, and my husband¡¯s been dying to meet you.¡± Oh, so that¡¯s how you¡¯re playing it? Harmless enough, Fernan supposed, even if he had no real desire to meet M. Costeau. ¡°Tomorrow night?¡±

    ¡°Sure, that works.¡± I¡¯ll have to make sure Mara can watch Aubaine, but that¡¯s not usually a problem.

    ¡°Oh, one small detail, my dear, and I do hope you won¡¯t take issue¡ªmy husband¡¯s research assistant is staying with us for a few days, and it would be untoward to exclude a guest from our table.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine, it¡¯s just dinner.¡± Honestly, you must not know me at all if you think I¡¯d care. ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡±

    ¡°Countess Srin Sabine, of Mahabali Hall. Thomas took her under his wing at the College, and I¡¯m given to understand that she¡¯s proven invaluable to his research in the Giton Desert.¡±

    Ugh, great, another aristocratic twit.

 Luce I: The Lord Protector

    Luce I: The Lord Protector

    Luce invited Levian. The words were still faintly visible, scrawled across the stone despite a scourging blast of fire from Charles.

    It¡¯s fine, Luce tried to assure himself. Public Works will clean it up by whatever means necessary, even if they have to tear out the very stones from the wall. The sentiment behind them, unfortunately, had proven far more difficult to eradicate.

    I won so many over when the Torrent of the Deep perished so soon after attacking my city, but it only hardened the folly of my most stalwart opposition. It wasn¡¯t even the least plausible thing they said about him¡ªfor all that Luce would never dream of doing it, for all that Levian himself had taken his eye and nearly taken the most important person in the world too, Luce had consorted secretly with spirits and arranged deals that he¡¯d prefer his people remained unaware of. Considering what a boon Levian¡¯s attack and subsequent death had been to Luce¡¯s popularity here, it made a twisted kind of sense to imagine that he¡¯d orchestrated it. Especially after the rebel Simone Leigh, infuriatingly still well-beloved by many in the Lyrion League, had accused Luce of doing it with her dying breath.

    Far less plausible but unfortunately no less prevalent were the other slanders he¡¯d been tarred with: ¡®Luce is a cultist of Khali, following in his father¡¯s footsteps to return the world to darkness¡¯; ¡®Luce is Camille Leclaire¡¯s lovestruck puppet, dancing and swaying at her command¡¯; or ¡®Luce is a shadow doppelganger of his brother, a controlled opposition against the Crown¡¯s excesses to ensure that none can truly defy it¡¯. It was always ¡®Luce¡¯, presumably because they thought the informality of it offended him, but that mistake suited him just fine. Less so with the rumors themselves, none of the prior even approaching the sheer ridiculousness of the most absurd one: ¡®Luce is an invader from Nocturne, an immortal spirit who had once followed Khali but escaped from exile to punish the world that banished him¡¯.

    Troubling thoughts related to Father aside, it was almost flattering, imagining that Luce was a nigh-omnipotent spirit rather than a single man with no shortage of limitations and failures sewn into his cloak. The conspiratorial insults brought to mind the worst of them, his tenure in Malin, and the ¡®Prince of Darkness¡¯ epithet that the journals and Camille had tried to tar him with before he¡¯d claimed it for his own.

    But Charenton still stood, looking to Luce as its Lord Protector. A testament to Charlotte, more than anything. The best way to work around those limitations was to depend on competent people you could trust, and none in the world fit that description better than his Lieutenant.

    In four years, she¡¯d forged a peerlessly disciplined force of Shadows, trained to wield state-of-the-art technology, from a ragged assortment of Fortescue knights who only followed Luce because of his uncle, Charentine volunteers caught up in the swell of promise and opportunity in the wake of Levian¡¯s death, and even a smattering of the bolder refugees who¡¯d chosen Charenton to flee to rather than Gaume or Malin.

    More of them arrived every day, by train or ship or wagon, to the point they¡¯d needed to set up two buildings to house them all while the shadows vetted the safety of allowing them within. Luce abhorred the necessity of that process at all¡ªcountless paid hours of his shadows¡¯ time spent babysitting clerks and poring over documents, all over the tiny fraction of a chance that one of them could pose a true danger to him or to Charenton¡ªbut after the rebellion from the Lyrion League, that wasn¡¯t a chance they could afford to take.

    Not that I need to get too closely involved in it. Espionage and security were matters he was only too happy to leave to Charlotte, whom he could trust to do it well and do it right.

    If anyone tried a more direct assault, key advances in research had ensured that the city¡¯s other defenses were far more effective. The cannons lining the walls were the obvious threat to deter anyone who might otherwise think Charenton defenseless, but far worse surprises awaited for any who thought to try ousting Luce once more from the city he ruled.

    Anyone with hostile intent who even approached the walls would find themself buried as the earth collapsed beneath their feet, rent asunder by Rebecca¡¯s specialty explosives planted underground. Others were loaded in the cannons lining the walls, specialized artillery that¡ªjudging by Levian¡¯s response to the explosion at the Sauin Massacre¡ªwas powerful enough to send an Arbiter Spirit into flight.

    Rebecca had even found a way to reliably detonate explosives underwater, allowing massively more efficient canal dredging and coastal excavation and ensuring that the sort of desperate scramble needed to deter Levian during the Massacre would never be necessary again.

    That one had yet to be deployed, however, since the technology lent itself too easily to the sorts of hidden charges that could sit for months beneath the water, exploding upon any impact of sufficient force. All well and good as another deterrent against hostile ships, but finding a fast way to remove them safely remained elusive. Luce didn¡¯t want to risk Harold getting wind of it for his fool¡¯s war until he could be sure that wouldn¡¯t mean leagues of ocean being permanently converted into explosive deathtraps.

    Recently, such efforts had been supplemented by Lucretia Marbury¡¯s new project, building on ideas about spiritual energy and life which apparently originated from Rebecca¡¯s girlfriend of all people. All the more surprising when Williams was unspiritual enough to paint Luce a sage by comparison.

    Unfortunately the effects of that project would be monstrous, if it were ever deployed, and there were far better uses for the money the Memorial Tower had spent developing it, with far more unambiguously positive results for the world. But Luce¡¯s promises that he valued Marbury would have rung quite hollow if he¡¯d condemned her latest project to rust on the Tower¡¯s penultimate floor. And if she felt particularly undervalued, then Luce would have to deal with her defecting to Harold, or worse, Leclaire.

    Luce estimated a 35% chance or greater that allowing such a thing would lead to an extinction event of a scale not seen since the Age of Darkness. And yet she¡¯s never been disloyal. Luce had kept them in mind when he¡¯d turned down Charlotte¡¯s offer to have her dealt with in a more direct fashion, along with the potential that such brilliance had for the world if directed towards the proper ends.

    That wasn¡¯t an entirely hopeless endeavor, even though it was a difficult one. Grumble or not, Marbury had accepted Luce¡¯s reasoning when he shut down her earlier project, concerned less by the possibility that she¡¯d fail than that she might succeed. Luce still shuddered to imagine hundreds of unblinking soldiers modeled after Cya¡¯s husks, no longer truly alive yet deprived of the release of death, strengthened by spiritual power and unflinchingly obedient.

    Better to keep her focused on armaments, which can be reserved for traps and deterrents. The DV bombs loaded in cannons around the city walls might be grisly in their effect, but Luce could hardly call them any less humane than any other bomb when the result was the same. Marbury¡¯s aborted project aside, dead was dead.

    And it wasn¡¯t as if she¡¯d be untouchable in Cambria or Charenton either, if it truly came to that, though it would make things harder.

    More pleasant to consider were the real advances that four years of progress had wrought, the obstructive tree branch of ignorance and denial of spiritual energy that had long been lodged in the Tower¡¯s mechanisms at least removed.

    ¡°With me,¡± Luce commanded his ten guards as he tore his gaze at last from the accusation, though they knew to follow him in any case. Aboard the Progress or within Memorial Tower, Luce could be confident in his security without such a large retinue, but in the streets of Charenton, he couldn¡¯t afford to take any chances. Ortus Tower was probably secure enough too, but Cambria was not his city the way Charenton was, even allowing for the dissenters.

    The Memorial Tower was a peerless achievement, a striking and imposing design of modern glass and concrete not wholly unlike the glass towers Luce had once witnessed in the visions from Cya, tinted with reds instead of blues. But rather than a sheer vertical ascent, far beyond the capabilities of current architecture to build to that height, the Memorial instead varied in size after the twelfth level, the thirteenth being largest, buttressed by massive diagonal concrete struts connecting it back to the tower. Each of the five levels above were alike in its rigid right angles and rectangular shapes, but smaller than the last, creating a step pyramid of glass and concrete without any peer in the world.

    The ground below had also been developed, mainly to ensure that smaller-scale testing could be safely administered on solid ground without having to run to the bombing range for every last experiment. The concrete corridors and tunnels were far less visually stimulating than the tower above, and the assignments down there were accordingly less generous, but most of Luce¡¯s scientists agreed that the accommodations there were still superior to the older construction at Ortus Tower.

    It should have taken decades to build, but funding the best and fastest construction had fortunately been one area where Luce hadn¡¯t had to fight his brother. He¡¯d always known that Harold had studied binding under Rebecca¡¯s father, but had not until then realized what kind of appreciation it had given the Prince Regent of the sheer power and potential of magic.

    Spiritual research remained illegal within Avalon, of course, and Luce had barely even considered putting up a fight to change it. Why bother, with the Memorial Tower just a ship ride away from Cambria? Ortus Tower still attracted the best talent, with easier access to myriad resources, but Memorial Tower was an institute of research and technology not merely commanded by Luce, but built by his hand, crafted perfectly for its purpose.

    And where it was impossible to keep things truly separate, as with the Nocturne Gate at the top of Ortus Tower, the Memorial¡¯s mere existence provided a cover for any resulting discoveries. It wasn¡¯t as if Harold¡¯s lunkheads were ever going to break into Ortus to audit it. Nor would they understand anything if they did.

    A mechanical chirp sounded as Luce, similar to the sounds from the older pulsebox models. Ever since the Tower had been built, every trip to his office on the thirteenth floor had meant an unceasing wave of researchers and scientists trying to grab his attention on the way up.

    Rather than fight the inevitable, Luce had formalized the process with the audible announcement, prompting any who wished to speak to him to ready themselves as he passed their floor.

    It also means I can¡¯t take the elevator that took so much time to design. But that was a small complaint next to the risk of being uninformed, cloistering himself in his workshop again. Accordingly to Charlotte, he needed the exercise anyway.

    Today, the first of them was Kelsey Thorley, son of the disgraced railyard director from Malin, who¡¯d fortunately chosen a more enlightened path than his father. The smell of Naca clung to him as he approached, causing Luce to wrinkle his nose, but he wasn¡¯t one to stand in the way of productivity tools, even the ones still banned in Avalon.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Kelsey began. ¡°The Charenton Circulatory System is on-pace for the Year 125 rollout, and our connections to Lyrion have been improved as much as they can on our end.¡± Luce didn¡¯t have to guess what he was leaving unsaid¡ªLyrion delighted in the supposed virtues of private commerce, which in practice seemed to mean that every infrastructure job they contracted was done as cheaply as possible.

    ¡°Perhaps if we added the Transportation Division as a corporation to their registry, we could take on their bids ourselves and spare our travelers their shoddy workmanship.¡±

    Kelsey laughed, though Luce hadn¡¯t really been joking. ¡°If you want that done before the Circ launches, you¡¯ll have to hire twice the engineers and four times the laborers. And they¡¯d still keep sending their awful trains down at just the right intervals to break down and block the tracks.¡±

    Probably true, but there are other benefits to taking on a greater role in Lyrion development. ¡°Try to look into what it would take, if you can spare the staff. We¡¯ll want to hit the ground running once the Circ is up and running.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡± Kelsey was trying to work on something similar in Cambria too, an underground network of smaller railways intended purely for passengers, but the dense and aged configuration of the city meant that digging the tunnels alone would probably take the rest of the decade. And in Cambria, the Prince Regent¡¯s capriciousness had to be worked around. ¡°Otherwise, the regional network is the best it¡¯s ever been... I know this is a delicate subject, but our division is still getting the same requests. The people of Charenton really seem to want better transport to Malin. I talked to Rebecca, and she thinks she can clear out the tunnel that collapsed on Perimont without endangering the other line. One break-down wouldn¡¯t have to shut off the whole connection with a second path, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Do it,¡± Luce said. I can¡¯t let my feelings about Camille deprive my city of what it needs. ¡°Try to get Rebecca out there before the Birth of Spring. She¡¯s already requested a week¡¯s leave in Cambria.¡±

    Kelsey nodded, ducking his head and falling out of step as Luce continued upwards, a new report from each division head on each floor.

    The most exciting of them was from Wallace Wellesley, who¡¯d been working with Charles des Agnettes on a device to replicate some of the function derived from the magical communication that was only becoming more prevalent between sages. While it was far from the best medium of communication on its own, his lethiograph device allowed a skilled operator to pick up information from the location it was calibrated to, even as far away as Cambria, provided it was fueled with the appropriate energy.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The only problem was that it could only pick up the vaguest of impressions, nearly useless for any kind of coherent communication, especially by anyone not trained in its intricacies. Charles, experienced sage of the spirit Fala, had offered a solution in the form of arch symbols affixed to the lethiograph¡¯s dials, moving into place when fueled and directed to. It might not yet be possible to have a conversation, or even write a letter, but when the dial shifted to the tides symbol, for example, three wavy lines set atop one another, you could be sure of water, blue, adaptability, resurrection, or change.

    ¡°The kind of direct earthly scrying you¡¯re talking about is generally seen as missing the point. The magic fights you every step of the way, and it hides from you the greater truths of the past and present unless you already have a personal connection.¡± Charles¡¯ input had prompted them to step back from the literal letter designs that had proven so fruitless and employ a more abstract approach, which seemed to be working well enough that they could roll them out in the two Towers for further trials.

    Kelsey¡¯s husband Toby, unfortunately, was still pouring all of his time into the frivolous phonojector device, a monstrously complicated appendage to the pulsebox instrument whose magical fog could allow a skilled player to conjure images as well as sound. The idea had enormous potential for imagery and optics, but Toby insisted on crafting a consumer model before delving into any of that. At least he was well on his way to being done.

    I said I wanted civilian projects; I can¡¯t complain when that¡¯s what I get. Still, it seemed unfortunate that Luce had apparently managed to hire the one engineer in the world who cared more about the arts than his own work. None of the other scientists at either tower shared that particular defect, even Kelsey.

    Though it wasn¡¯t without some level of exhaustion after climbing thirteen floors and hearing thirteen reports, Luce felt satisfied as he slumped down in his overstuffed chair. He poured himself a glass of brandy and looked out his window over the Lyrion Sea, the faintest shadows on the horizon either fog or Avalon. Knowing Cambria, both.

    Really, aside from the increasingly vivid hallucinations and pain from his left eye socket, the last four years had only seen things get better, in stark contrast to Luce¡¯s record prior to the Treaty of Charenton. That particular feat of diplomacy was perhaps his greatest achievement yet, the stone foundation upon which Memorial Tower and a revitalized Charenton had been built.

    And if that peace were to be disrupted by means outside Luce¡¯s control, regrettable though it would be? Charenton would be ready, prepared to end the fighting before it began and ensure a more lasting peace. If the Treaty held, so much the better. Otherwise, the city walls were lined with hundreds of reasons not to break it.

    Though all that would be nothing without men and women I could trust to wield them. As much as Luce¡¯s natural inclination was to praise the technology over the human vessels for its implementation, Charlotte was the only reason he could spend time managing the Towers and playing politics without having to lie awake at night watching his own back.

    She¡¯d thwarted no less than six rebel plots, from bombings to assassinations to full-blown militia attacks, conspiracies of Lyrion Leaguers or Condillac infiltrators or, as was most often the case, home-grown Charentine. There had also been that rather embarrassing incident where Sir Gerald Stewart had entered Charenton on Harold¡¯s behalf to spy, only to be immediately discovered when the letters in his valise were spotted, but given his rapid confession and general acuity, it was hard to justify lumping that in with the actual security threats Charlotte had thwarted.

    She¡¯d even managed to apprehend Robin Verrou¡¯s shipmaster, a woman whose only known name was Cordelia. The pirate had been trying to infiltrate Memorial Tower in the guise of a building inspector, but failed to provide the necessary password and documentation. If she¡¯d run then, she might have escaped, but she¡¯d continued trying to bluff her way out, right up to the moment the cell door slammed shut.

    Thanks to Charlotte, there was order. Security. Progress.

    But even she can¡¯t do everything, as good as she is at making it look like she can. Exterminating those ridiculous rumors, for example, seemed to be just as impossible for her as it was for Luce. The conspiracy theories swirled around the Prince of Darkness so constantly that he¡¯d nearly given up on contesting them. Somehow, it never seemed to matter that so many of them contradicted each other, nor that they tended to also contradict basic logic and rationality.

    Charlotte had mentioned once in a private moment that these people were beyond help, lost in their hate and anger. But ceding control of the narrative had lost him Malin, and he had no intention of letting it tear down everything he¡¯d built in Charenton. Not without a fight.

    As hardened as so many were against him, Luce¡¯s efforts had borne fruit. Every Charentine recruit to the Shadow Guard was evidence enough of that, as were the needlessly extravagant Sauin celebrations of the last few years, each more spirited than the last in defiance of Levian¡¯s attack after that sacred day.

    Even if the Massacre wasn¡¯t really that close to Sauin. Luce had been there, as had most of Charenton, and they all surely knew that more than a week had passed in between the holiday and the Massacre that bore its name. Perhaps it was more evocative to frame it that way, as if Levian had descended directly upon feasting and merriment rather than the first shots of a rebellion that only his arrival had thwarted.

    Luce could understand that, and in truth the revised emphasis that came with the mistake was to his benefit, even if the inaccuracy grated. The expenditures were far worse, swelling each year as the festivities had to outdo the last, but every happy Charentine celebrating in the streets under Luce¡¯s rule was one less inclined to oppose him. The return on that investment was of unquestionable utility, a lesson from Camille Leclaire that Luce had learned too late in Malin.

    Say what you would of Camille¡ªas Luce found himself doing on more occasions than he felt comfortable admitting¡ªbut her Code Leclaire had managed to end the longstanding tradition of spiritual sacrifice through reform, rather than the imposition of an invading force. She¡¯d done what Uncle Miles and the Perimonts had failed for seventeen years to do, and she hadn¡¯t been too proud to sign the Treaty.

    That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to let her poach Marbury, though. This ¡®guest lecture¡¯ she¡¯d been invited to Malin for was as transparent a ploy as they came, little different from her prolonged holiday on the Isle of Shadows back when Esterton and his parade of imbeciles had been doing their level best to discard all talent at Ortus with a destructive mix of spite and incompetence. Marbury knew that alternate offers only gave her more leverage, and Luce fully expected to have to make concessions of some kind when she returned.

    But trying to stand in the way of the trip would have only set her further at a distance. Better to allow her to see the ramshackle, knock-off research taking place there, easily a decade behind what Luce oversaw, and the regressive accommodations she¡¯d be subjected to if she defected.

    The last report was on Luce¡¯s own project, written in his own neat but less-than-elegant hand. Darkness left traces, after all, and where did it concentrate in greater quantity than in Nocturne? Even a century out from the sealing of the gates, Khali¡¯s power persisted across Terramonde through the many gates and artifacts scattered across it, potent and comparatively plentiful.

    According to Harold, few spirits but Khali had the power to bind one artifact on the level of the Cloak of Nocturne, let alone twoscore and a host of others.

    If Luce could open those gates just a crack, the world might find the power to leap forward centuries, on the back of technology the likes of which could scarcely be imagined.

    Would that that were the only reason for the project.

    In either case, the readings were clear. The right application of light, at the right frequency, could resonate with Khali¡¯s dark magic. If they could calibrate the right pulse, that resonance could cascade out through the material and sustain itself. Small-scale tests on pieces cut from a Cloak of Nocturne had proven very promising. The last experiment, judging by the reading, had more than delivered the result they hoped for. From an empty void of fabric to a mirror sheen.

    Applied to bits of the cloak, it was a parlor trick, showing you your dark reflection in the cloth. Applied to a Nocturne Gate, with sufficient care and caution? Unlimited power, without endangering Khali¡¯s seal.

    Which meant that his time in Charenton, for the moment, was done. Luce wasted no time in returning to his ship, taking the elevator to the ground and then assembling his guards for the short, wind-powered trolley ride to his private cove at the north of the city. Intended to ease transportation costs for construction materials, the low weight capacity meant that it mostly served to marvel new graduates arriving in Charenton for the first time, but it also helped to get to and from the Memorial in a hurry.

    ¡°The password is eigenvector, Your Highness,¡± Graves greeted him as he approached the entryway, Shadows spreading out to cover any approach. ¡°Sir Sidney has assured me that the Progress is fully repaired and ready to travel.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± I never thought I¡¯d see pirates with cannons, nor that they¡¯d be bold enough to attack us directly. With any luck, their burial slab on the ocean floor would serve to deter any others from trying the same. ¡°Unexpected development from Memorial. I¡¯ll be returning to Cambria immediately. I¡¯ll need you to supervise while I¡¯m gone.¡±

    ¡°At once, Your Highness.¡± Graves dipped his head as he departed, climbing onto the trolley back.

    From there, descending the Progress was the work of a few moments. On his ship, it was known that Luce was not to be disturbed outside of emergencies, and no research took place outside Luce¡¯s own workshop.

    About a quarter of Luce¡¯s quarters aboard the Progress were devoted to a different sort of equipment than either Tower ¡ª various sizes of weights and rods. There was even one machine that used pulleys to lift the weights from odd angles, apparently essential to efficient training of certain muscle groups. His head swam just trying to understand it, but Charlotte deserved nothing less than the best. He¡¯d spent many a morning in bed with his notebook, distracted from his work as he watched her train.

    ¡°Tilland,¡± Luce addressed the guard at his door. ¡°The Lieutenant and I will be deliberating on strategy in my chambers tonight. We are not to be disturbed.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡± He dipped his head with barely a second thought, aware that similar excuses were employed almost nightly. Charlotte¡¯s own chambers aboard the Progress were little more than a perfunctory formality, though they¡¯d been outfitted with every furnishing and amenity that a Prince¡¯s Lieutenant deserved. Mostly, they served as storage for some of the larger, louder exercise equipment.

    But tonight, first, there was actual strategy to discuss.

    ¡°Another message from the Prince Regent,¡± Charlotte began glumly, holding the letter up in front of her as if her gaze could set it afire.

    Luce took it from her hand and began to read, grimacing. ¡°He commands that the Avalon Navy be allowed a recruiter¡¯s booth at the upcoming Charenton Exhibition, and that I make a full presentation of my latest findings to the Great Council to receive their oversight and critique.¡± Each syllable was more sharply enunciated than the last, his frustration only growing. ¡°The Navy already offers the best engineer salaries in Avalon, and now he wants to dangle them right in front of my people to peel them away.¡±

    ¡°The war¡¯s at a stalemate. He can¡¯t move on Hiverre until he pacifies Micheltaigne, and he can¡¯t do that without a breakthrough,¡± Charlotte offered, strangely understanding of his motives. ¡°But that¡¯s been true for some time. This latest affront is personal. He must have seen you at the theater with Princess Elizabeth.¡±

    Of course. ¡°I wanted to meet somewhere more private, but she hadn¡¯t seen Black Moon, Green Sun and insisted.¡± As if seeing her wasn¡¯t already enough of a trial. How could he meet her eyes without seeing the woman that had acquiesced to her brother¡¯s death? Who was prepared to sit and wait for Father to meet his end so that he could usurp Harold¡¯s body from him?

    ¡°Why does my family have to be such a mess? If ever Father knew restraint, many lifetimes of invincibility have torn it from him, leaving an egotistical murderer. Aunt Lizzie enabled him at every step of the way, even knowing what he was, along with countless Grimoires before her.¡± Along with me, if Father had his way. It wasn¡¯t hard to see, in retrospect, the path in life that King Harold had been grooming his younger son for. Especially with Luce¡¯s predecessor staring right at him. ¡°Whatever his other follies, I can¡¯t blame Harold for his anger at that.¡±

    ¡°None of them are worthy of your consideration,¡± Charlotte told him bluntly. ¡°At their best, they can hold themselves back from evil in the name of pragmatism, and usually not without having to be convinced first. At their worst, the world is plunged into darkness. You¡¯re building the future, Luce. You actually believe in something.¡± She traced her fingers up his arm. ¡°Get whatever you can from them, and don¡¯t fret over what happens to them along the way. King Harold might find another life after his death, but he won¡¯t be greeted by the same Avalon he expects, nor the same compliance your aunt showed him. Princess Elizabeth still thinks you an ally, and she¡¯ll keep the Owls behind you as long as she goes on believing that. The Prince Regent¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is my brother.¡± Luce wrapped his fingers around her hand, lingering as he removed it from his face. ¡°He doesn¡¯t deserve to have his life taken from him before his time by Pantera¡¯s curse. Father has stolen enough lives from his children.¡±

    ¡°If only we were all granted the fate we deserve,¡± Charlotte said somberly, perhaps thinking back to the blatant injustice that had seen her ejected from the Guardians in Malin. ¡°But your first duty is to yourself, then to the world. You have no obligation to save those people from each other.¡±

    As if obligation is the only reason I would do this. ¡°I know you understand the implications of what I told you. The Nocturne project is ready, a chance to save Harold from the fate that awaits him.¡±

    ¡°So that he might continue his wise and prosperous rule?¡± she asked, an eyebrow raised. ¡°Your plan requires having your father on hand as it is. If both of them were in our custody, then we could simply¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± How many times must I forbid this plan of yours before you understand? Charlotte flinched, her expression cracking in a manner it rarely did. Luce wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he lowered his voice. ¡°I apologize, my lady. That was unseemly.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m no lady. You know that.¡±

    ¡°Is that right? Hmm...¡± Luce grinned. ¡°We¡¯ll have to do something about that.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not... I didn¡¯t mean...¡± she stammered with a reddening face. What a sight, Lieutenant Charlotte anything less than completely composed and self-assured. Luce wasn¡¯t sure anyone else had seen it, at least not in years. After a moment, it was gone. Back to the business at hand. ¡°I¡¯ll have the helmsman set a course for Cambria at once. If Ortus sent you this news, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be expecting you.¡±

    Luce shook his head, pulling her towards the bed. ¡°I¡¯ll speak with the helmsman tomorrow. I¡¯m afraid I have rather pressing business tonight.¡±

    ¡°What else is there to¡ªOh!¡±

    Luce tried to put family far from his mind for the rest of the night, sparing only one more fleeting thought. I couldn¡¯t live with myself if I didn¡¯t try.

 Fernan II: The Guest

    Fernan II: The Guest

    The Spirit Quartier was abuzz that night, the streets flooded with visitors and vendors, and a small crowd gathered around Ahava as she blasted intricate patterns of green fire into the sky. She was Mara¡¯s youngest sister to have moved into the city, and her Imperial was still fairly rough, but the dancing figures of flame communicated far better than words could in any case.

    The most fearsome of them was a towering human figure, crown blazing atop his head. He ripped the heart of fire from the image opposite him, a great winged lizard who recoiled, blasting flame as he fled. Not a pleasant story, but she¡¯s absolutely right that it needs to be told.

    Fernan couldn¡¯t help but cringe when he saw his own likeness though, especially since his panicked scrabble to stop Jerome was here rendered as a dramatic duel of wills, with whooshing blasts of fire colliding in the air as the two sages lept and dodged each other¡¯s strikes. The Jerome figure, when backed into a corner against the mountain, even conjured lightning, skillfully rendered using a zig-zagging arc of blue fire that crackled across the air.

    She must be mixing it up with Magnifico¡¯s duel with Lumi¨¨re, after their collaboration to kill Soleil had ended. It did make for a better spectacle, Fernan supposed, even if it had little basis in truth.

    One of the children watching followed a spark as if flew over Fernan¡¯s head, pointing as she yelled at her friends to look at him. More soon followed, then began to chant his name, though Ahava thankfully pulled their attention back when the image of Fernan administered the final blow, roasting the Jerome image with a deluge of green fire from his mouth, melting the yellow crown on his head.

    I have ten separate fingers, and I don¡¯t think I could ever be that precise with my fire. The artistry was breathtaking, even if the subject matter was deeply uncomfortable. When Ahava continued on to G¨¦zarde¡¯s ascension, though, showing a caricatured Laura leading Flammare into the trap, Fernan couldn¡¯t stand to look at it anymore.

    ¡°Found it!¡± Maxime called out once Fernan was in earshot of the shop. ¡°I cannot help but find it absolutely bewildering that spirits of elderflower are so inexplicably scarce in this, our vaunted bastion of cosmopolitan modernity. And yon shopkeep claims that mine was the only bottle he was capable of selling all month!¡±

    ¡°Almost as if you¡¯re the only one who likes it, so no one else bothers to import it.¡± Fernan didn¡¯t bother asking him to read the label, since Maxime¡¯s repeated insistence on arriving with the proper gift had practically recited the very dirt the flowers had to use for optimal growth. He¡¯d heard it all already.

    ¡°I¡¯ve yet to find environs unsuitable to elderflower cultivation; tis indeed a hardy shrub. Guerron is simply in need of an introduction.¡±

    ¡°Then even your lone shopkeep will stop importing it.¡± Fernan put ¡®elderberry bush¡¯ on his mental list of future gifts for Maxime, then began walking down the street towards the Merchant Quartier. The difference was subtler now, with the vacant old mansions divided into apartments and storefronts to ensure that enough housing remained for everyone in the city.

    That was getting harder every day, with so many still pouring in from Micheltaigne and Lyrion, and the paltry housing stock left empty from the Fox-King¡¯s army vacating the city long gone. But considering that Avalon¡¯s Prince Regent had imposed famines and warfare that amounted to an order of extermination against their people, the only moral course was allowing them to stay. I still remember Guy Valvert ordering that first boat from Lyrion to turn around. What fate awaited them then? Fernan certainly felt conflicted enough about his own role in legitimizing the colonists¡¯ league that had carried out those orders, his signature on the Treaty of Charenton right alongside President Nella¡¯s.

    But it was better than going to war. Every beating heart arriving from Micheltaigne was proof enough of that.

    Despite the changes in the Spirit Quartier, the change was still noticeable as they made their way deeper into town, with narrower streets and taller buildings, including the seven-story limestone apartment building that had apparently been Guy Valvert¡¯s single greatest accomplishment from his time in the ancien Bureau of Land. His primary purpose for constructing it, according to F¨¦lix, was to secure the luxurious penthouse atop it for himself, a suitable apartment for the nights he wished to stay in the city rather than return to the castle. In any case, he¡¯d never once used it before Annette Debray had called him back to the castle to take her place as the ruler of Guerron, and Edith Costeau had won the auction for the penthouse, providing the Commune with a sorely-need infusion of funds. The rest of the residents had been chosen by lottery, at Fernan¡¯s insistence.

    Fernan knocked on the massive wooden doors when they arrived, waiting in the building¡¯s shadow for a response.

    ¡°Quite a humble civil servant,¡± Maxime noted wryly, looking up at the towering building. ¡°Back in Condorcet, Citoyen Aloutte¡¯s corruption was so profound that she was voted out of the Thirteen at the end of her first term, and her accommodations were a hovel next to this. Were I to guess, Mme. Costeau has¡ª¡±

    He cut himself off as Costeau¡¯s butler swung open the doors and ushered them inside. Reginald ¡°Reggie¡± Jevons made no attempt to conceal his Avaline origins, revealing that he had been in service to M. Costeau for seven years before traveling to Guerron to serve his wife. ¡°Meaning no offense, Messire, but the ¡®liberated¡¯ peoples here see service as a toil, a simple exchange of money for labor, rather than an honorable pursuit in its own right. Lady Alcock deserved better, and Sir spends little enough time in Cambria these days that it was only natural I be chosen for the task.¡±

    ¡°Your Imperial is impeccable,¡± Maxime noted, following him up the stairs. ¡°I¡¯d guess you learned it long before Mme Costeau¡¯s marriage.¡±

    ¡°You guess correctly, messire. Sir often has business on the continent, including some of the thornier territorial entry rights, such that I would be remiss in my duties were I unable to conduct the appropriate arrangements in the native tongue.¡± Scant wonder Edith doesn¡¯t talk about her husband much¡ªhe¡¯s not merely some well-to-do Avaline professor, but a bona fide aristocrat. Remaining ¡®Edith Costeau¡¯ in lieu of ¡®Lady Alcock¡¯ also made sense in that light, though Fernan had always assumed it was primarily in the interest of maintaining continuity in her identity as an artist.

    ¡°How have you found Guerron, M. Jevons?¡± Fernan felt a fatigue in his legs as they crested the fifth floor, so he tried to moderate his pace enough to avoid showing up out-of-breath. ¡°It must be quite a contrast after Cambria.¡±

    Jevons let out a short laugh, gone as soon as it began, then answered more diplomatically. ¡°There¡¯s a wildness to your Commune that¡¯s impossible to miss, the untamed defiance of a people who value freedom above honor. It¡¯s not hard to see how Sir, scholar and adventurer that he is, could find the love of his life here.¡±

    Nor is it hard to see why a wealthy merchant¡¯s daughter with enough resentment over her lack of peerage to join the Montaignards would want to marry a famous Avaline knight. Perhaps Fernan was being unfair, but he¡¯d seen enough of that resentment¡ªespecially on the right side of the Assembly¡ªto know better than to dismiss the idea out of hand. Even now, many of them seemed to think the primary issues with the Duchy had been that they were denied the privileges and cachet of nobility, rather than the crushing inequalities and human suffering.

    But would we have been able to overcome the Valverts without them on our side? Impossible to say for sure, but the victory had been narrow enough that it seemed foolish to thumb his nose at allies. That piece of common sense still seemed to elude Lantier and the left of the Assembly, who didn¡¯t even hold back from sharply criticizing each other, let alone other Assembleymembers with more profound political disagreements.

    To say nothing of what Paul Armand would drag us into if he got his way. The new Committee of Public Safety had forestalled that threat, but if it proved ineffective at addressing his concerns, he¡¯d be right back to ranting at the podium before the month was out.

    ¡°A delicate balance to maintain, to be sure, but you¡¯ve handled worse,¡± Maxime had told him after reviewing the transcripts. ¡°And it seems indubitable that Guy Valvert would be the first to the noose, should the Assembly descend to such barbaric lethality. So long as he remains locked away, unable to provoke them further, justification for more expansive policing ought continue to elude them.¡±

    It would have almost been easier if they had negotiated his release, as they had with several other aristocrats in the early days of the Treaty of Charenton. Camille hadn¡¯t even bothered offering a pittance for Valvert, though, and Fernan could hardly blame her for that, even if it made his life more difficult.

    Edith Costeau cut through his thoughts as the door to her penthouse opened, wavy orange lines emanating from the kitchen. ¡°Ah, excellent to see that you made it, my dear. And Maxime! A pleasure as always. How long has it been?¡±

    Maxime narrowed his eyes. ¡°I believe we encountered each other less than a fortnight ago when I visited Fernan at the h?tel de ville. You said ¡®Maxime, my dear! A pleasure as always. How long has it been?¡¯ I¡¯m delighted to see that it was as memorable an occasion for you as it was for me.¡±

    ¡°Stress has a way of making us forgetful,¡± Fernan said, jabbing Maxime with his elbow. ¡°Thank you for inviting us.¡± He grabbed the elderflower liqueur from Maxime¡¯s hands and passed it to Costeau, who immediately handed it off to her butler.

    ¡°You¡¯re too kind, Fernan. Perhaps we¡¯ll find suitable occasion to sample it tonight, after dinner.¡± Her voice was enthusiastic, but her unchanging aura suggested that it was more of a front than anything¡ªhardly surprising, when the purpose of this dinner was to convince Fernan to kill the copy protection law soon to pass in the Assembly.

    Another aura entered the foyer, tall, with crisply defined edges. Costeau pulled him close, then waved her hand between him and Fernan. ¡°Dear, this is Fernan Montaigne and his companion, Maximilian de Condorcet. Fernan, Maxime, I present you my dear husband, Sir Thomas Alcock, freshly returned from his expedition in the Giton Desert.¡±

    ¡°Enchant¨¦,¡± he said, offering his hand. ¡°My lady has been insistent for quite some time that we ought to meet, and I¡¯m pleased to grant her wish at last.¡±

    Hardly seems like he was ¡®dying to meet me¡¯, then, but I suppose it cost her nothing to say it.

    ¡°Likewise,¡± Fernan answered. ¡°I heard your research assistant is here as well?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. Jevons, if you would fetch Sabine?¡±

    Kinda strange she didn¡¯t come to greet us with you. Perhaps she had even more aristocratic arrogance than Sir Thomas, and didn¡¯t want to sully herself eating dinner with a coal-miner¡¯s son. ¡°I heard she¡¯s a countess in Avalon.¡±

    Sir Thomas shrugged. ¡°She inherited her father¡¯s title when he passed, but Mahabali Hall was repossessed by the late Srin Savian¡¯s creditors, and is now home to Lord Ernest Monfroy. Nor do I find that she has much the bearing of a peer, for all her excellent work. Still, a title is a title, I suppose.¡±

    I heard stuff like that more times than I could count as ¡®Sire¡¯ Fernan Montaigne, so in a way that might be an encouraging sign. Although¡ª

    ¡°What¡ªHow?¡± Fernan couldn¡¯t help but yelp when he saw Florette walk casually into the foyer.

    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Maxime asked, clearly not recognizing her. I suppose they only knew each other a couple days, and perhaps she¡¯s wearing disguises my vision can¡¯t see. ¡°You look as if you¡¯ve seen an apparition.¡±

    ¡°I hope I haven¡¯t offended you, sir,¡± Florette said, dipping her head in a slight bow. ¡°I offered to find other dinner arrangements in town, but the Professor insisted. My name is Srin Sabine.¡±

    No it isn¡¯t. ¡°Fernan Montaigne,¡± he offered, trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice. I thought you might have died¡ªyou never wrote, never returned, never so much as hinted at the mission Robin Verrou was sending you on. ¡°And this is Maxime.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure,¡± she said, her tone breezy enough that you¡¯d never know she was lying. ¡°Shall we retire to the drawing room? I¡¯ve been helping Lady Alcock with a new song, but we¡¯ve never performed it for an audience.¡±

    ¡°A splendid idea,¡± Alcock said, oblivious to the reunion. ¡°It goes without saying that my wife is the superior talent, but I¡¯m not without appreciation for the musical arts myself. Sabine here helped with the lyrics, inspired by her time at the Cambrian College.¡±

    Ah, now it all makes sense. She¡¯d mentioned how frustrating it was to pore over her stolen books back in Malin, not understanding enough of the science to tell what was valuable and what wasn¡¯t. Maintaining cover was probably the reason she hadn¡¯t kept in touch, either. And sauntering back in like nothing had changed certainly fit the Florette he remembered.

    As soon as they entered the drawing room, Edith slid behind the piano and flipped a booklet into place with a ruffle of the paper, playing a bouncy tune wholly unlike her harp¡¯s usual elegant melodies, with even less resemblance to the otherworldly tones of her pulsebox compositions.

    ¡°This here¡¯s a tale about Barry the Bother

    Son of an upper crust hotty-totter¡±

    She stopped playing for a moment, face scrunching up. ¡°I thought we settled on ¡®born in a limestone manse with views of the water¡¯, did we not, Sabine?¡± She turned to Fernan and Maxime. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, even I had to be educated on the meaning of hotty-totter. It¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°An esoteric bit of vernacular from the youth culture in Cambria, denoting a wealthy upbringing without explicit aristocracy,¡± Maxime cut-in, somehow already versed in Cambrian slang. Probably picked it up from one of Luce¡¯s people in Charenton. Most of them were hired directly out of the College, which according to Luce helped mitigate the calcification of methods and values that could come with age, in addition to falling behind on the latest scientific developments.

    Fernan suspected it had more to do with Luce wanting to be taken seriously, hiring mostly scientists younger than he was who¡¯d be less likely to question his direction. Considering what direction that was, especially compared to what the rest of Avalon was doing, Fernan supposed that was sensible enough, though he was even younger than Luce and still managed fine with an Assembly whose average member was at least double his age.

    Edith frowned at Maxime¡¯s interruption, then continued with the song.

    ¡°His daddy sent him off, said ¡®Barry you must!¡¯

    ¡®If you wanna taste the good life it¡¯s the College or bust.¡¯

    So he lived his little life!

    Yes he lived his little life.

    Standing ever in the way,

    Always, always in the way.

    From dawn to dusk a bother,

    Then from dusk to dawn a bother.

    For Barry had a hankering that none could deny.¡±

    She continued playing the melody on a loop, but switched back to her normal speaking voice. ¡°In a live setting, that would be a call-and-response chorus, hence the repetitive phrasing. It makes it easier to repeat.¡±

    ¡°But Barry weren¡¯t no student, thought reading was a bother.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    He passed the entrance test with help from his father.

    He tried to focus, study up on the lies,

    But Barry had a hankering that none could deny.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you work at the college, Mr. Alcock?¡± Fernan couldn¡¯t help but ask, interrupting the song while Edith continued playing the melody on the piano. Is your wife really calling it a nepotistic distributor of lies right to your face? In song form, no less?

    Alcock didn¡¯t seem bothered, though. ¡°Indeed I do, making me all the more aware of its limitations as an institution. The number of students I¡¯ve seen with woefully narrow worldviews, too stubborn to broaden their horizons... And a distressing number of professors share their shortcomings. It¡¯s shameful, really, and it¡¯s only getting worse. Everyone¡¯s chasing a career instead of learning, vying for spots at this or that tower while proclaiming history to be a useless waste of time.¡± He tsked several times, then Edith returned to the song.

    ¡°He messed around with a gal named Anna

    She knew her way around a good banana

    She took him round down Lyrion way,

    Taught him how to take his wine under sunshine¡¯s ray.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit ribald, don¡¯t you think?¡± Alcock muttered. ¡°And the meter is formless, almost improvisational.¡±

    ¡°As is the fashion with the young folks, dear. Sabine assures me that this wouldn¡¯t sound out-of-place in any trendy Mourningside establishment. If I can embrace the technology of the young and the foreign, why not their music too?¡± That felt like it was for Fernan¡¯s benefit, somehow, but he wasn¡¯t exactly sure what else it meant.

    Alcock¡¯s face wrinkled, but after a moment he reluctantly nodded. ¡°I suppose this is only an early draft, and I didn¡¯t mean to interrupt.¡±

    ¡°What does it mean to take your wine ¡®under sunshine¡¯s ray¡¯?¡± Fernan asked, since the interruption had been rather thorough anyway.

    He was hoping Florette would answer, some way to hint to him what she was really doing here, but instead it was Maxime. ¡°It¡¯s euphemistic in nature, meant to allow discussion of the unsavory contraband produced from the poppies in somewhat more polite company than might otherwise be permissible.¡±

    ¡°Opium wine,¡± Florette further clarified. ¡°It¡¯s banned in Avalon unless a doctor gives it to you. But not in Lyrion. No idea where they get it without poppy fields of their own, though¡ªPlagette would never sell to the likes of them.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s to say?¡± Fernan hurriedly answered. ¡°Why don¡¯t you finish the song, Edith?¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡±

    ¡°He needed money or the sun would stop shining,

    And Anna¡¯d left him when he wouldn¡¯t stop whining.

    He took a boat across the Lyrion Sea

    Where he asked the peddlers ¡®have you got a job for me?¡¯

    So he lived his little life!

    Yes he lived his little life.

    Standing ever in the way,

    Always, always in the way.

    From dawn to dusk a bother,

    Then from dusk to dawn a bother.

    For Barry had a hankering that none could deny.¡±

    He rose up fast, till he was merchant of merchants,

    Still running sunshine in hopes that perchance,

    He¡¯d find redemption in his dear Anna¡¯s eyes,

    For Barry had a hankering that none could deny!¡±

    She continued for another few minutes, leading up to Barry¡¯s ignoble end slowly enough that the song felt a bit overlong, but apparently such poor pacing was a common pitfall for creative works in early stages of the editing process, and there was still some appeal in peeking behind the curtain at the latest from Edith Costeau, as yet unheard by the general public.

    Especially when Florette of all fucking people apparently helped her write it. Somehow that felt stranger than the fact that she¡¯d slain the sun with the King of Avalon¡¯s sword, or posed as an Avaline Countess for the past four years just to attend their school.

    ¡°Quite a departure from your usual style,¡± Fernan noted once the applause died down. ¡°I think it might be greater than when you started using the pulsebox.¡± It certainly sounded much better, considering it lacked the unbearably high-pitched chirps whose headache-inducing melodies held no appeal beyond the novelty of their existence.

    ¡°I enjoyed it as well,¡± Maxime praised. ¡°Though I do wonder how your existing fanatics will take it.¡±

    Edith waved her hand dismissively. ¡°My older work will always be there for them. But someone told me once that I would die playing the same songs to the same withering fans, trapped in amber in the year 118 when my popularity was at its height. I confess, the thought scared me, for all that the woman who voiced it could best be described as unbearable. We all get older, but it¡¯s incumbent upon us to change with the times, lest they leave us behind.¡±

    ¡°Well, unless you¡¯re immortal,¡± Florette said, immediately calling to mind Magnifico. King Harold the Fourth... And Third, and Second... Jethro had said it was possible, if unlikely, that the curse stretched all the way back to the ancient Grimoires of Giton.

    There had to be more that they could do besides trapping him in a padded cell and hoping he lived a long life, but if such a better course of action existed, they had yet to find it. And Jethro hadn¡¯t expressed much hope.

    Fernan had invited Jethro back to Guerron with them, but he¡¯d declined, joking that he¡¯d rather just drink himself to death after his every hope and purpose had crumbled to dust. Though if I had to guess what he¡¯s really been up to, those stories about the Blue Bandit in Avalon definitely have his signature on them.

    Edith, for obvious reasons, thought instead of a different example. ¡°You mean like Camille Leclaire? That¡¯s hardly an alternative.¡±

    ¡°Because you aren¡¯t a sage?¡± Fernan asked, while at the same time Florette amusingly asked ¡°Because she¡¯s so awful?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Edith shook her head. ¡°I pity the poor girl. Spirits are born to immortality, their proches and kin expected to live eternally alongside them. Leclaire was not, and I can¡¯t help but think she¡¯ll regret her decision as the years wear on, the world changing around her faster and faster as the Maiden of Dawn becomes a relic of a bygone era. Her husband will perish, then her children, then everyone to ever draw a breath in the century since after her birth. She may yet die, for spirits have proven rather mortal of late, but not in the culmination of a full life; rather, she¡¯ll fall to violent betrayal, perhaps bound into a weapon of her enemies.¡±

    ¡°The pages of history are a better sort of immortality,¡± her husband agreed, leaning in for a kiss. ¡°And your art has inscribed you into them already, let alone the great works surely in your future.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure,¡± Fernan said. Say what you would of Camille Leclaire¡ªas Fernan seldom hesitated to do¡ªshe had certainly made her mark on the world. ¡°Queen Glaciel seemed pretty happy with her arrangement, and her children live much longer lives too.¡±

    ¡°Glaciel is the prime example in favor, my dear. Her power and insulation have rendered her hostile and delusional, unless you mean to tell me that her attack on Guerron was the product of astute geopolitical observation. And her flagrant self-indulgence cultivated a culture where reverence for her bloodline glorified nothing less than incest!¡±

    ¡°I could see Leclaire getting there,¡± Florette said, nodding reluctantly.

    ¡°Aristocrats already tend towards inbreeding as it is,¡± Maxime added, provoking a frown from Thomas Alcock, but unsurprisingly not ¡®Countess Sabine¡¯. ¡°If you content yourself only to swim in that small, small pool of peers, what else ought one expect but repetitious liaisons, layering themselves upon each other like the folds of a Porte Lumi¨¨re sword?¡±

    Fernan couldn¡¯t help but chuckle, especially once Alcock began reciting his entire family history by way of his rebuttal.

    ¡°I meant no offense, monsieur,¡± Maxime said, cutting off a diatribe about Lord Simon Alcock and his triumphant invasion of Naudion. ¡°But, having never met Camille Leclaire, it does seem as if the line between her and the Queen of Winter is narrower than she might find it flattering to hear.¡±

    Edith nodded. ¡°I met her once or twice when I performed for the late Duke, but she was only sixteen or so, and I wouldn¡¯t want to judge too harshly. I suppose it¡¯s not inevitable, if the girl can learn sufficient humility. Fernan, I think you¡¯ve seen the most of her. Do you think she¡¯s capable of that?¡±

    I still remember her throwing that purse of money at my face. She¡¯d signed the treaty, and slain her patron spirit, so she was more adaptable than he¡¯d given her credit for, and perhaps even more moral. But humble? ¡°She won¡¯t realize what she¡¯s given up until it¡¯s far too late.¡±

    And if Magnifico is anything to go by, she might never realize.

    ¡°Well put,¡± Edith agreed, her aura brightening slightly in anticipation of her next words. ¡°The Commune would fall prey to the same shortsightedness, should we pass the draconic copy protection law Montrouge wishes to.¡±

    ¡°I knew this moment would come.¡± Fernan accepted a drink from Jevons and took a sip, iced gin with lemon and elderflower, to take a guess from the taste.

    ¡°Ugh politics. But I suppose that duty calls upon us all,¡± Alcock said wearily. ¡°Maxime, Edith said you were from Condorcet. I just returned from an ancient settlement not far north of Pointe Gasparde. What say you I walk you through some of my more interesting findings and leave the politicians to their politics? Based on the legend of Petit Nicolas, I think there¡¯s a good chance the Collective¡¯s history is wrapped up in Giton just as much as Avalon¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°The spiritual aspect never interested me the most, but I suppose the folly of the modern Thirteen played no small part in that. A historical perspective should prove less aggravating.¡± Maxime shrugged, then followed Alcock out of the room.

    Fernan leaned back in his chair once they were gone, addressing Edith¡¯s proposal. ¡°You¡¯re an artist, aren¡¯t you? Why leave the barn door open for anyone to profit from imitating you?¡±

    ¡°As you so correctly point out, we live without it now and the sky has not fallen onto our heads. Great works continue to be written, and I¡¯m still able to profit from my music.¡±

    ¡°And your pulseboxes,¡± Fernan countered. ¡°Just because you managed to grab Magnifico¡¯s when he was captured. Or bought it from someone who did. You didn¡¯t invent it. How would you feel if someone did the same with one of your songs?¡±

    Edith laughed. ¡°No one would care. I¡¯m Edith Costeau, my dear. None of my imitators could ever escape my shadow. Any great artist can achieve the same.¡± She shook her head ruefully. ¡°Moreover, how do you expect to enforce it? You just made a stirring speech against policing treason, but plan to have us monitor taverns to ensure that no one sings a song they enjoyed? Reading every book to ensure it isn¡¯t similar enough to the last? All an unenforceable law like that would do is chill the ambitions of any artist inspired by the work of another, a category which, incidentally, includes every single artist in the world since the beginning of time.¡±

    ¡°But not every artist in the world is Edith Costeau. No one might care if someone copies you, but what if you stole the work of someone too unknown to put up a fight? What if one of our scientists claimed an invention as their own and left the true innovator to die penniless?¡±

    Florette snorted. ¡°If copy protection laws are the only thing stopping your best and brightest from dying in the street, that¡¯s quite an indictment of your Commune.¡±

    ¡°This doesn¡¯t concern you, Sabine,¡± Fernan hissed. ¡°At least, not unless you¡¯re a creator or a pirate who steals from those who do.¡± That shut her up, though it came off harsher than Fernan had intended. He was reasonably sure that Florette¡¯s days of thoughtless grift and petty theft were probably behind her, even if what had followed was no less dangerous.

    ¡°But she has a point,¡± Edith said. ¡°Art, innovation, knowledge... it belongs to everyone, not merely its creator. It yearns to be seen and heard, rather than trapped in a vault until its owner finds it profitable to release to the masses.¡±

    Hard to imagine that coming out anyone else on the right of the chamber. ¡°I think I heard something similar from an old friend of mine. She ran off to join Robin Verrou and become a pirate.¡±

    ¡°What an idiot.¡± Florette flashed a knowing grin. ¡°But pirates are merely providing a service that people want to pay for. Avalon hoarded its knowledge for a century, and it left the rest of us to pick through the scraps. My friend Toby invented the pulsebox, as it happens, and I know for a fact that he¡¯s just glad people are enjoying it over here, not clawing at every stray penny he might have earned through an official distribution.¡±

    ¡°And how much money do Toby¡¯s parents send him every month to fund this enlightened, magnanimous stance?¡± Fernan asked, having met Tobias Folsom in Charenton. A nice enough fellow, he still fit better into the Edith Costeau mold of someone prominent and wealthy enough to be largely unharmed by any forgery.

    ¡°Well... He¡¯s supported himself since graduating,¡± Florette limply tried to counter. ¡°The point is, you can¡¯t have a level playing field unless people are allowed to look at what¡¯s out there and build on it without fearing some bureaucrat throwing them in a cell for it.¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s going to be jailed over this,¡± Fernan responded indignantly. ¡°Fines, at most.¡±

    ¡°And who can best weather those fines?¡±

    Fernan snorted flames from his nose, letting his annoyance show. ¡°We could levy them based on the offender¡¯s income, not as a flat fee. Use that to fund the bureau focused on it, so they¡¯re incentivized to go after the most profitable offenders. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°And given time, no one will want to create, for fear of that bureau¡¯s reach. Do we not serve the people? Should the sum of human knowledge not be accessible and usable to those same people? The work of the public left in the domain of the public?¡±

    Fernan couldn¡¯t help but let out a scoff. ¡°Why do you even sit on the right of the Assembly if you think like that?¡±

    Edith shrugged. ¡°I confess, I was nervous on the day of the first meeting, so I sat next to the faces I recognized. But there is a reason I haven¡¯t moved: I don¡¯t wish to toss the wheat out along with the chaff, my dear. The ancien arrangement had its issues, to be sure, but listening to Lantier and his ilk would have you believe we were all enslaved by the aristocracy, lives naught but suffering at every waking moment. There was a lot done right before the revolution, and we sprint away from it towards the unknown at our own peril.¡±

    I¡¯m sure it¡¯s easy to appreciate the Duchy when you¡¯re famed singer Edith Costeau. Still, it helped piece her motives together, conjuring a better portrait of how best to work with and around her in the Assembly. And her argument had some merit, even unintentionally undercut by Florette.

    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it,¡± Fernan finally conceded. ¡°If we held the vote this minute, I might even abstain. But I can¡¯t just take your word for it. Find more small-time artists, writers, scientists, really make the case that this is serving creators as a whole instead of only the wealthiest few. And be prepared to compromise with enforcement of foreign copy rights, else we risk losing the scientific expertise Avalon¡¯s granting us through the Treaty of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Edith dipped her head. ¡°Jevons, is our dinner ready?¡±

    ¡°Five minutes, my lady.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Perhaps another song? I¡¯ll fetch my pulsebox.¡± Anything but that, please.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I show you the balcony, Fernan?¡± Florette asked, obviously angling to get him somewhere more private. ¡°We¡¯ll come right back for dinner.¡±

    ¡°Good idea,¡± Fernan said, then followed her out.

    A chill wind blew across the ¡®balcony¡¯, in truth a patio taking up nearly half the building¡¯s footprint, complete with an outdoor bathhouse and a line of lemon trees.

    ¡°Hi,¡± Florette said as soon as they were surely out of earshot. ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t write. When you¡¯re undercover, it¡¯s¡ª¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    Silence lingered in the air for a moment, less tense than simply strained. Not a conversation I was expecting to have tonight, that¡¯s for sure. ¡°Welcome back?¡± Fernan tried, unsure what exactly to say.

    ¡°It¡¯s great to see you again! I can¡¯t lie, I¡¯m a little jealous that you led a revolution without me. But I¡¯m really proud of you, Fernan.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, honestly unsure how much hearing that meant to him. Florette had a habit of telling him to make his own decisions, but only so long as they happened to be exactly the decisions she would make. ¡°It was pretty bold of you to come back here undercover when so many of the Montaignards know your face and are allies to Avalon .¡±

    ¡°Trust me, this was the safer option. The Professor wanted to send me to Charenton to meet the Prince of Darkness.¡±

    ¡°Really, even you? Luce is a fine ruler with a reputation wildly out of proportion to his actions. I¡¯d like it if he pushed to implement more democratic reforms in Avalon, or at least in Charenton where he doesn¡¯t have to contend with his brother, but he¡¯s hardly the cackling villain that Camille¡¯s journals make him out to be. Certainly less of a risk than showing your face in these environs.¡±

    She answered with a non-sequitur. ¡°You sure talk a lot fancier these days. Picked up some words from Maxime?¡± Florette¡¯s aura dimmed as she sucked in air through her teeth. Now that Fernan looked at it more carefully, it was darker in general, as if it had been half dragged into the shadows, not unlike the look of Magnifico¡¯s or Jethro¡¯s. Something about Avalon, perhaps? Except Luce lacked it, as did most everyone else from there he¡¯d met. Very strange.

    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about the prince¡¯s character, it¡¯s just... He¡¯s seen my face. I kinda... sorta... kidnapped him, a while ago. Remember when his ship got captured by pirates?¡± She let out a guilty chuckle. ¡°Maybe he wouldn¡¯t recognize me after all this time, but it¡¯d be an insane risk to take when he¡¯d hang me the second I was identified.¡±

    ¡°Since when are you cowed by insane risks?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Florette exhaled through her nose, shrugging. ¡°I¡¯m not me right now, am I? And I¡¯ve taken bigger risks, the past four years, but always for a greater purpose. Saving lives, helping people, holding the powerful accountable. Not just dropping an artifact off at the lab.¡±

    Saving lives, helping people, holding the powerful accountable... ¡°You¡¯re the Blue Bandit, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Her aura brightened, for an instant the same as it ever had been, but she didn¡¯t confirm it with words. ¡°I¡¯m Srin Sabine, for the moment. And in a few months, I¡¯ll be a graduate of the College too, a full researcher in my own right, with less supervision and more time for... extracurriculars.¡±

    ¡°Well, Sabine, how do you plan to spend your first visit in Guerron?¡±

    She brightened again, face stretched in what was certainly a smile. ¡°Now that I¡¯ve met the First Speaker of the Commune? It would be a waste not to do something big.¡±

    Fernan felt himself smiling at Florette, not changed a bit by four years undercover, even as a pit of dread amassed in his stomach at exactly what she had in mind.

 Guy I: The Blameless Victim

    Guy I: The Blameless Victim

    ¡°Imagine, me, imprisoned by mountainfolk!¡± The very notion was appalling, the concept alarming, and the reality more dreadful yet. I was the one who warned Annette of the treachery endemic to the lesser peoples, she the one who gambled our House¡¯s future on a man she¡¯d hardly met.

    And yet it wasn¡¯t Annette who¡¯d spent four years chained in this cell, suffering the torment and cruelty of captivity¡ªwell, metaphorically chained; for all that he was free to move about his quarters, they would be small for a guest of only middling importance, let alone the rightful Lord of Guerron.

    They¡¯d even built that damned gecko statue right in the courtyard of the Chateau that L¨¦once Debray had built up from nothing, as if to taunt Guy specifically. He¡¯d even seen children laughing and snickering as they pointed up at his chambers, reading aloud the epigraph.

    No man shall rule Guerron alone ¡ªFernan Montaigne.

    Guy had no doubt at all that Montaigne had been the bronze rider briefly erected atop the gecko before its removal that very night, his vainglorious treachery immortalized for all to see.

    Perhaps someone stole it. That¡¯s a nice thought.

    ¡°How could it possibly have come to this?¡± Guy demanded, pacing the length of his chambers for perhaps the thousandth such time in what felt like as many years.

    ¡°It likely had something to do with antagonizing the entire city whilst losing control over large swathes of your cousin¡¯s government,¡± answered Valentine, his beloved wife, who¡¯d seen him dangling helplessly in Montaigne¡¯s clutches and ordered her crossbows fired on them both. ¡°If I¡¯d been made aware of the precarity of the position you¡¯d placed us in, I would have handled Montaigne entirely differently.¡±

    It was good that she was still alive, but it also felt appropriate that she¡¯d been shot.

    ¡°I never had any problems with him until you tried to tar him as the source of all those troubles with your sister. The poor boy didn¡¯t have a treacherous bone in his body! You turned my compliant servant into my greatest enemy, and for what? Laura? The dead don¡¯t care about the injuries you inflict on the living in their name.¡±

    Valentine tensed, pulling her hand towards the injury that had taken her so long to recover from. Curse those treacherous peasant healers. She¡¯d have been up and about years ago if the rebel doctors had actually wanted her to recover. Guy¡¯s first instinct would be to assume incompetence, but Doctor S¨¦zanne had on occasion attended on those in the castle, and thus his aptitude was surely sufficient if he actually desired success.

    Instead he¡¯s still bitter about me pulling his invitation to the masquerade ball so we could fit Sire Raoul. The low-born swine should have been honored to even be invited conditionally!

    Valentine looked angry too. ¡°Montaigne made my sister out to be a treacherous wretch like Leclaire, all so his pathetic hermit of a spirit could steal Soleil¡¯s seat. Was I supposed to let him get away with it? If you hadn¡¯t allowed your thrice-damned uncle to make a mockery of the Lord¡¯s justice to relieve his gambling debts, Montaigne would be exiled or dead, and out of our hair.¡±

    ¡°I had no idea!¡± Guy insisted, implicitly conceding the point. If I¡¯d known that someone of the blood Valvert could be such a selfish, useless oaf, I¡¯d never have invited him with me from Dorseille. But then, despite their differences, Annette had respected family and loyalty enough to appoint him in her stead¡ªfailing to honor his own family would be spiting the very grace that had been shown to him.

    ¡°If true, that¡¯s quite a stellar display of leadership on your part.¡± Valentine sighed. Guy hadn¡¯t been waiting with particularly bated breath as she recovered, for it seemed only fitting to give her life the same consideration she¡¯d given his. But now that she was well enough that the peasants were letting him visit her, he¡¯d be a fool to look past the opportunity to wield their combined abilities and resources against the problem plaguing them both. Valentine seemed to realize it too. ¡°But assigning blame will get us nowhere. Call it a confluence of bad decisions, each alone insufficient, but all of them taken together...¡±

    ¡°I suppose I can accept that,¡± Guy agreed, since the choices made by those around him¡ªUncle Augustin, Valentine, Montaigne, and all the rest¡ªhad certainly ruined everything. And I was the one who brought them all together. No sensible choice but to blame himself for that much, however innocent he might be of stoking the chaos that followed.

    Uncle Fouchand ended up with the same problem, drawing in the treacherous like Leclaire, the shortsighted like my cousin, and the simpleminded like the Fox-King. Even Aurelian had been overambitious, for all that his words and deeds had remained loyal and capable. And as foolish as it was, Fouchand had always favored the children, and what Aurelian had done had spat upon that legacy.

    Guy, of course, had labored tirelessly for the Duke and without complaint, but he doubted he¡¯d have ever been included in the council if not for his mother, and the guilt Fouchand felt over her death. He knew how to honor his family, even if his granddaughter doesn¡¯t. ¡°The question, then, is how to set things right.¡±

    Valentine raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is that not obvious? As soon as I recover my strength, I¡¯ll bring the wrath of Tauroneo down upon their heads. We obliterate all opposition, thoroughly enough that no one for a thousand years will think to repeat the insult.¡± She¡¯d never looked more beautiful than that moment, even lying sickly in her bed. Her blue eyes radiated the intent of vengeance, auburn hair radiating out onto the pillow like a crown of fire.

    And yet...

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s wise.¡±

    In the gambler¡¯s dens, they called it ¡®toppling¡¯, letting the anger over one loss goad you into misplaying the next hand. From there, another loss, and further recklessness to try to win everything back. One bad decision after another, compounding failure and frustration upon each other until the night left you destitute. And so a mighty tower is toppled by the removal of a single brick.

    ¡°Not that I¡¯m much of a gambler,¡± Guy insisted, reading the disbelief in his wife¡¯s face after he explained the term. But I tell it true¡ªUncle Augustin was the one who told me that. Gambling was amusing enough, an excuse to drink and game with friends and strangers, but the involvement of money had a way of turning those friends into adversaries or sycophants, piercing the veil of that grey area betwixt them where all the best relationships lied.

    Little point remained in dwelling on it, though. ¡°The fact remains that your deftest techniques, supplemented with the arms of my most loyal guards at the height of their numbers, lost you the day. Now you are wounded, my forces turned traitor or fled, and the dirty churls outside our windows curse our names, lost in their hopeless delusions. What, exactly, do you think will win you this battle, when you so decisively lost the last?¡±

    Valentine¡¯s eyes darkened, rage in her face, but instead of answering the unanswerable she simply changed the subject, attempting to elide her loss of the argument with a bit of rhetorical sleight-of-hand. ¡°I¡¯m confident that I can surpass your contributions on that day. If I can manage to avoid being taken as a hostage and then cowering under a table the moment I¡¯m freed, I¡¯ll still come out ahead.¡±

    Not my proudest moment, perhaps, but I feel rather vindicated in my decision by the fact that you were shot with a pistol and I was not. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be fighting me, sweet wife, but the Mountain and his skulking thugs, kitted out with the very pistols that felled you last time, and Leclaire before you.¡±

    ¡°The tower of our strength may be shorter, but it has not fallen. And I¡¯ve built a floor above it that¡¯s invisible to all.¡± Valentine smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve concealed my strength, exaggerated my injuries. They think me out of the fight, and won¡¯t be expecting any retaliation. Even now, I could bring this castle crumbling to the ground.¡±

    ¡°This castle that we¡¯re standing in, my dear?¡± Guy shook his head, rolling a florin between his fingers. ¡°This is a situation that calls for a subtler approach. The right florins in the right pockets have ensured that the Viscount of Miroirdeau is my creature, my voice in the rebel¡¯s pathetic councils. His passionate calls for temperance have already spared our lives and secured us chambers better suited to our station.¡± At least, compared to the dungeons they¡¯d proposed before. ¡°The right order at the right time will ensure our freedom, with no need to rely on your proven record of combat success.¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Hopefully soon. The money¡¯s running out. It didn¡¯t help that the accommodations were so dismal¡ªthere would have been more florins left for intrigue had so many not needed to be spent on news, food, wine, and silence from the guards. A two-hour visit with Louise alone had cost Guy five hundred florins it had pained him to spend bribing the guard, though the necessity of such a visit after so cruel and prolonged a time of captivity could hardly be denied by any reasonable person, even Valentine.

    Not that Guy intended to ponder that particular quandary of ethics with her any time soon. For all that they¡¯d made the appropriate mutual arrangements in private before the wedding, it was generally agreed to be poor form to pay five hundred florins to visit your sworn protector while your wife was on the verge of death.

    The less Guy provoked the High Priestess of Tauroneo, the better their chances at quashing this uprising together before moving on with their lives. He had to believe it was possible to set things right, even after Lucien had abandoned them. I gave that boy his first taste of single malt and showed him places in Guerron he¡¯d never have found without me, and this is how I¡¯m repaid? Leclaire¡¯s poison in his ears, Guy had no doubt, but a king¡¯s duty was to lead, not follow. Lucien loved his wife sincerely¡ªthat much was plain to see. But there was love and then there was committing yourself to the folly of standing by your wife as she drove your forefathers¡¯ empire into the ground.

    Annette was easier to understand¡ªthey¡¯d always hated each other. He¡¯d done her a good turn in finding the mountain boy and puppetting him through the trial to victory, but she¡¯d probably seen the favor as returned when she¡¯d left him in charge of Guerron. A Guerron that she had left on a shambolic foundation so that I would be stuck holding the bag.

    It was all so unfair, the trials that Guy had to endure, but he shouldered that burden with dignity and poise as befit his noble birth. If some people couldn¡¯t honor the demands of their station with so basic an act as protecting their family rather than leaving them to rot, Guy still would not allow their failure to force him down to their level.

    It was incumbent upon him to be better, to set the sort of example that Fouchand would have been proud of, and free the city he¡¯d called home from Fernan Montaigne¡¯s cruel grip.

    ¡°There are three principal obstacles to our setting things to right. Any plan of ours must resolve them all, lest we end up right back here, or worse.¡± It was no secret that many of the Bougitte soldiers that had accompanied Valentine for the wedding were still in the rebels¡¯ dungeons, condemned to the dank and dismal existence of a petty prisoner. If the Mountain¡¯s lot rebuked their counteroffensive, it wasn¡¯t hard to imagine them consigning Guy and Valentine to the same, their noble birth be damned.

    ¡°I imagine our captivity is the first?¡± Valentine asked, actually listening intently for once. ¡°My strength is limited, but I¡¯m sure that I can punch through the walls and find myself a passage out. Perhaps a way into that underground tunnel they used to infiltrate the castle.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Seeing her still so afflicted by her wounds after four years, Guy had feared her magical contributions would be much more limited. ¡°But getting you¡ªus¡ªout of here isn¡¯t the trickiest part. We¡¯ll need allies, greater in power and number than those who failed us four years ago. Otherwise we¡¯ll be nothing more than a creature at court, kept around as a cautionary tale and mocked to our faces.¡± Such failure was not an option, even if it would be better than remaining a prisoner.

    ¡°We have House Bougitte. My parents might be cretins, but I¡¯m High Priestess of Tauroneo and Lady of Guerron, whilst my brother Andr¨¦a is a blustering fool. They understand that I¡¯m their future, and they¡¯ll fight to defend that once they hear that I¡¯ve recovered enough to take on that mantle.¡±

    ¡°All the more so after Laura¡¯s unfortunate end, I don¡¯t doubt.¡± Guy nodded, noticing Valentine wince at the name. ¡°If I recall correctly, your family could marshal three hundred soldiers at its peak, less the eighty still in the rebels¡¯ dungeons and another third to fully garrison the Stone Tower.¡±

    ¡°My father can still wield the power of Flammare¡¯s flames at the cost of his life, we should not forget, though I cannot know if our plight would move him to use it, no matter the opportunity it presents to the family.¡±

    ¡°We can hope, at least.¡± Guy turns his thoughts to other potential allies. ¡°Louise will fight in our name, and she has other friends in Monflanquin. Sire Raoul de Montgallet and Madeleine Lazare were freed, but they understand our plight better than anyone else could. And there are others who might be sympathetic. Leclaire has so callously disregarded the rights and liberties of all noble peers in her rush to consolidate power that other lords and knights might flock to us once they see that we have a real chance at success. Miro Mesnil, perhaps, for all that he keeps close company with the Fox-King.¡±

    ¡°Do we? Have a real chance of success, I mean. Friends are one thing, but they haven¡¯t helped us so far. There¡¯s a question of reliability. What of your forces?¡±

    Unfortunately diminished. ¡°I cannot know how many in Dorseille will still heed the command of their rightful liege after Leclaire¡¯s had four years to get her hooks into them, but at best I might be able to call another four hundred to arms. Is that sufficient to retake the city, when the rebels have hundreds upon hundreds of peasants to throw into the meat grinder without the slightest care for their lives? Sages, new and traitors both, who wield the power of flame that helped win us the White Night? Not to mention those geckos.¡±

    Valentine shook her head, finally seeming to realize the weight of the odds stacked against them. ¡°It¡¯s not enough. Even if I could fight at full strength, the Mountain put up a surprisingly good showing. With Charles des Agnettes aiding him with Fala¡¯s power and the geckos calling on yet more fire, I don¡¯t know that I could prevail as the only sage. If the rebels hadn¡¯t killed Yves, maybe, but you¡¯re right that it¡¯s important to know your limits. All the more so in your case really, since you, of course, have nothing to offer in a battle.¡±

    ¡°My presence will inspire the troops!¡± Guy rebutted, a touch indignant. ¡°But I¡¯m not so arrogant as to think my skill as a warrior is any better than average. My talents lie elsewhere.¡± Whatever his faults, Uncle Fouchand had always been understanding about that, even back when Guy had been his squire.

    ¡°Oh, you have talents?¡± Valentine chuckled cruelly. ¡°Across the water from Torpierre lies Gaume, capital of the Condillac Duchy. Right now it¡¯s governed by a council of regents, all of whom refused to aid Duke Fouchand against the Avaline menace, and are unlikely to be any bolder in the name of our claim. But the little duke is soon to come into his majority, and an individual could prove much more pliable than a group.¡±

    ¡°Devious,¡± Guy praised, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. ¡°He¡¯ll be eager to prove himself, and how better than by showing up the Fox-King by liberating the city where he was raised? Miroirdeau can dispatch a letter to him through the appropriate venues, inviting him to marshall his forces against the Guerron rebels in exchange for choice lands from the Guerron duchy and obeissance from its rightful Duke.¡±

    Valentine hesitated a moment. ¡°You¡¯d break with the Empire?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not an action I take lightly, but Lucien and Leclaire left us to rot, and my cousin right alongside them. What right have they to rule Fouchand¡¯s domains? By allowing this injustice to continue, I figure, my cousin has well abdicated her rights, leaving me the rightful heir to my uncle¡¯s domains. And with his pick of the best of them, little ¨¦tienne Cl¨¦ment is likely to agree.¡± Guy felt a smile begin to overtake his face. ¡°Even the veterans of the White Night among the rebels cannot hope to stop the full might of Condillac.¡±

    His wife nodded slowly, coming around to his position. ¡°With luck, Tauraneo can keep Corva in line as well, and ensure that her High Priest has the appropriate spiritual incentives in addition to the earthly ones. Fala may prove troublesome in that regard,¡± she admitted. ¡°It would be better if we had the Gauntlet of Eulus to trade, offering Corva a memento of her erstwhile partner and reminding her of the injury Avalon did to them both.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico may know where it ended up,¡± Guy realized. ¡°He used it to fight Aurelian at the moment of his ascension.¡± And didn¡¯t even lose, remarkably. The King of Avalon could be a valuable resource if used appropriately, but it would be foolish to forget that he was dangerous in his own right. ¡°Which brings us to our third problem¡ªthe Treaty of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    Ah right, she¡¯s been abed in and out of consciousness, and without my paid informants. It would be absurd to expect her to be up-to-date on all the actualities of the past four years. ¡°The rebels made common cause with the Prince of Darkness. The blackheart was so thirsty for power and vengeful against Leclaire that he sanctioned his father¡¯s captivity in exchange for formalizing the rebels¡¯ claim of Guerron and depriving the Empire of the city.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s diabolical. Even my parents wouldn¡¯t¡ªWait.¡± Valentine frowned. ¡°So we have to convince the Duke of Condillac not merely to roll over a band of rebels, but to declare against an ally of Avalon? Do you not realize how much weaker that makes our position?¡±

    ¡°I was the one who just told you about it, dear. I assure you, I¡¯m quite aware. You¡¯ll note that I identified it as one of our three most difficult obstacles to overcome.¡± Guy plastered on a saccharine smile. ¡°I know it can be hard to understand these complicated plots. You¡¯re a warrior, it¡¯s understandable that this is all a bit beyond you.¡±

    ¡°Whereas you¡¯re the deft planner, amassing the right decisions and allies to lead us right here into this cell.¡± Valentine glowered. ¡°The problem isn¡¯t this treaty and it isn¡¯t their alliance. It¡¯s not even Avalon; it¡¯s convincing the Duke. If Avalon hears of Guerron¡¯s liberation as a fait accompli, Magnifico in our custody, I find it doubtful they¡¯ll raise a fuss. Lucifer Grimoire can still take satisfaction from the sundering of the Empire and the political irrelevance of his father, which it sounds like were his primary motivations.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Guy realized, the insults he¡¯d been readying forgotten. ¡°Which means that we need to be able to assure them Avalon won¡¯t stand for the rebels, despite the Treaty. And I think I know just how to do it.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    Guy pulled out a pen and paper, writing his orders down for the Viscount of Miroirdeau, including the message for the young Duke ¨¦tienne. Afterwards, he added another order, the key to ensuring this plan¡¯s success.

    ¡°How?¡± Valentine asked, irritated that he hadn¡¯t responded.

    ¡°We¡¯ll tear this whole rotten usurpation down from the inside.¡± Guy chuckled, at last feeling the optimism and joy he¡¯d been so accustomed to before this calamity had struck. ¡°And they¡¯ll never suspect a thing until it¡¯s too late.¡±

 Charlotte I: The Shadow

    Charlotte I: The Shadow

    ¡°It¡¯s simple, Luce. I win.¡± Prince Harold Grimoire, Regent of Avalon and Prince of Pantera, lounged in his throne as if he hadn¡¯t a care in the world. ¡°As fun as it was to see you debase yourself clinging to our aunt and her cronies, the Owls have officially lost their majority in the Great Council.¡±

    Charlotte clung to the ceiling with the Gloves of Teruvo, listening closely. Rhan had made a gift of them to her for the remainder of her lifetime after her role in Levian¡¯s death, which seemed strange given that Luce had done all the initial work, then Leclaire had finished the job with another of her signature betrayals. Charlotte couldn¡¯t help but question it, though she¡¯d known better than to express anything aloud aside from gratitude. Likely, the dual spirit had been so confident they could ascend to Levian¡¯s seat that the Gloves¡¯ power was wholly trivial to them, but that alone wasn¡¯t reason enough to make a gift of them.

    Far from the most urgent consideration, though. Her position would be difficult to explain if anyone spotted her, but after the attack on their ship, she had no intention of letting Luce walk in here alone. The Prince Regent had already sent pirates after him once, after all. A fact Luce seems all too willing to look past for the sake of his brother.

    ¡°It¡¯s one seat,¡± Luce countered. ¡°As soon as they fill it again¡ª¡±

    ¡°Our majority will increase that much more.¡± The Prince Regent laughed. ¡°Do you know why Ostian Astor¡¯s seat is vacant? He resigned his post to take up arms against Micheltaigne, mad in his grief over his brother.¡±

    Then I pity the Micheltine. Surely this one soldier will finally win the war for you where wave after wave have failed. Still, Charlotte listened closely. Luce was better at navigating these kinds of politics, but that didn¡¯t mean he was infallible. Everyone benefited from a second set of ears in conversations like these, all the more so when family was involved. For Luce especially, his desire to see the good in people had a way of clouding his eyeline to the obvious conclusions.

    ¡°So it¡¯ll pass to his daughter?¡± Luce realized something, then cocked his head to the side. ¡°Maddy Astor¡¯s Owl to the bone.¡± Indeed, Lady Madison had spent the summer working for Princess Elizabeth¡¯s office, almost certainly a prelude to her own entry into politics proper. ¡°That¡¯s not going to help you.¡±

    ¡°The seat will pass to his chosen successor. I¡¯ve arranged for him to pick someone more appropriate by the name of Sir Stuart Delbrook, another notable scion of the west. His mother was an Astor, and his family has a long history in Carringdon.¡±

    Oh no. Charlotte tightened her grip, feeling the gloves bond further with the stone. I might need to pay a visit to Carringdon to head this off.

    ¡°Why does that name sound familiar?¡± Luce asked, not yet recalling.

    The Prince Regent laughed. ¡°More precisely, you¡¯ll recall his father¡¯s sister, the Lady Agnes Delbrook, whose stewardship of Carringdon ended when you wrapped a rope around her neck.¡± After she starved thousands over contracts signed under duress, then had the gall to ask for Luce¡¯s help defending herself. ¡°But who¡¯s to say? Perhaps Sir Stuart will be receptive to your political proposals.¡± A wide smile stretched across his face. ¡°I know if someone hanged my aunt, I¡¯d give them whatever they wanted.¡±

    And it would be hard to blame you for it. Charlotte wasn¡¯t much enamored with Luce¡¯s brother¡¯s stewardship, but his enmity with the elder Harold Grimoire and his loyal sister/daughter was hardly something to begrudge. If he hadn¡¯t committed himself to the most foolish, destructive course at every possible turn, if he¡¯d merely listened to the brother who by his own admission was smarter and more compassionate, perhaps there would be no need to humor Princess Elizabeth at all.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± Luce said, surprising Charlotte. ¡°I have to use the allies I have, even if it¡¯s distasteful. In an ideal world, I¡¯d be working with my brother, but instead he tried to have me murdered by pirates. Then, when I didn¡¯t have the courtesy to die, he decided to oppose my every effort out of some kind of misguided spite.¡±

    It¡¯s not spite, Luce. It''s jealousy. Charlotte had done her research, probing not only Luce about his own childhood memories but also others from the era like Luce¡¯s mother, Queen Mila, and his uncle, Lord Miles. She¡¯d even pulled secondhand reports from people like Rebecca Williams, a school friend to Cassia Arion, who¡¯d once been the brothers¡¯ close companion. All of it pointed the same way¡ªPrince Harold had been deemed disfavored, useless to the king and lacking in practical peacetime skills. Learning the truth had only exacerbated it.

    ¡°Simple pragmatism. You¡¯d have us run out of Micheltaigne with our tail between our legs. Avalon has never lost a war, and I¡¯m hardly going to be the first king to do it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to tell that to all the Micheltine peasants our soldiers are assaulting and mutilating; I don¡¯t doubt that they¡¯ll be comforted to know this is all about maintaining a streak.¡± Luce scoffed. ¡°Father¡¯s streak, no less! Why do you even care?¡±

    ¡°Mutilating? That soldier with the ear necklace was court-martialed. An individual issue, not systemic. If the damned press hadn¡¯t gotten their hands on it before we could deal with it...¡± Prince Harold leaned back in his chair, sighing. ¡°Do you want all of our soldiers to have died for nothing?¡±

    They already have; all you¡¯re doing is sending more of them to their fate to try to cover up your mistake.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Luce said, instead of attacking his brother¡¯s deeply flawed premise. ¡°But the ones still alive can go home. You¡¯re the only one standing in the way of that.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s simply wrong. I have the majority of the Great Council behind me now, and the public besides. They¡¯ve never lost a war either, and have no interest in Micheltaigne becoming the first. We¡¯ve already extracted ancient treasures beyond compare, cemented our influence in the region, and protected Avalon¡¯s interests abroad. Even the Micheltine have been liberated from their cultist oppressors.¡±

    Luce groaned. ¡°You can say whatever you want to the masses, but you know I know better than to fall for it. The Micheltine are still supplying Queen Mars, still fighting and hiding and blowing up your bridges. I heard they built a shrine to Laura Bougitte, who struck the first blow against us. You should know better. Do better.¡±

    As imperatives go, honestly, that was pretty weak, Luce. Still, it was nice to see him stand up for himself a bit. Luce could be so uncertain sometimes, even though he was one of the smartest people alive and just about the only royal of any nation to be driven by compassion instead of ego. With a dorky smile that¡¯s positively infectious, too. If only he had occasion to show it more often.

    ¡°Princess Mars, Luce, assuming she isn¡¯t a pretender fabricated wholecloth. The succession of the High Throne is determined by the bequeathment of the royal sword, Nuage Sombre. Without it, she can never be High Queen. I think they fought a civil war over it. Shouldn¡¯t you know your history better?¡± He said it smugly, as if splitting hairs over the rightful Micheltine succession didn¡¯t run entirely contrary to his earlier point about ¡®liberating¡¯ Micheltaigne from its royal family.

    ¡°That is not the point,¡± Luce growled.

    ¡°No, of course not. You don¡¯t really seem to have one, anymore.¡± Prince Harold stood from his chair, walking down the steps towards his brother. ¡°All of Father¡¯s grand plans for you won¡¯t amount to anything. You¡¯ve lost, again. And I didn¡¯t even need to use a pretty sorceress to trick you.¡±

    His petty envy would almost be sad, if he weren¡¯t the one in charge. Lady Lillian Perimont had been somewhat similar, determined to investigate the truth of her husband¡¯s death after, as Luce had later admitted in private, he¡¯d played a crucial role in covering the whole thing up.

    Not that I¡¯m blameless there either. It still rankled, thinking of the bandit queen of the west flirting and cajoling all night right under Charlotte¡¯s nose, only to assassinate the governor and rob his train soon after. If I¡¯d been more vigilant, Lillian Perimont would never have been a problem, and Luce might still have control of Malin.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about Father¡¯s plans!¡± Luce insisted, eyeing his brother as he approached. ¡°I¡¯m the one trying to fix the very things he broke, turn Avalon into the great nation of the future it can be instead of the hollow empire it is. The one who just made a massive breakthrough in saving you from Pantera¡¯s curse. Me. You¡¯re the one clinging to Father¡¯s goals, trying to steal his legacy instead of renouncing it.¡±

    ¡°Legacy? Avalon is his legacy, and it¡¯s mine. Not Lizzie¡¯s and not yours, not even his anymore, no thanks to you.¡± Prince Harold loomed menacingly over his brother, standing a touch too close. ¡°He tried to have his son killed. What kind of monster is even capable of such a thing?¡±

    Stand strong, Luce. Don¡¯t let him push you around. Charlotte couldn¡¯t signal him, but somehow Luce seemed to pick up on the message anyway. ¡°The same kind of person who tries to have his brother killed?¡±

    The Prince Regent flinched, stepping back a half step. ¡°That was all Jethro. And the point was to keep you out of the way, not dead. Which, I should note, is exactly what happened.¡± Barely even a denial. If a Malin peasant hinted at something so grievous like that, it¡¯d be more than enough for the Guardians to take them in and, before long, execute them. But, as always, the ruler got special privileges.

    ¡°Even now you won¡¯t admit to it. You¡¯re right! I¡¯m still here, and you¡¯re still my brother. If I got an apology from you, I¡¯d accept it.¡± Even though it would be a horrible mistake to do it. ¡°Four years ago, I told you I was willing to put it behind us if you admitted to it. You put all the blame on Jethro, a spy who in your own words had your ¡®complete confidence¡¯. I¡¯m renewing my offer. Take some responsibility for your actions.¡± Charlotte wanted to believe Luce was manipulating Harold, trying to lure him into exposing himself, but he was almost certainly being sincere.

    Prince Harold hesitated, then sighed. ¡°Jethro worked out the details himself. I didn¡¯t even find out until he put that forged letter from Father in my hands and explained the plan.¡±

    ¡°Which you then carried out to the letter.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Prince Harold hissed. ¡°I thought you already knew, that you were already plotting with Father against me. I was wrong. And, for what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m glad you made it out.¡±

    ¡°Cassia didn¡¯t,¡± Luce said coldly.

    Flinching, the Prince Regent took another step back. ¡°I regret that. I told her not to go. I told you to tell her not to go. No one listened to me.¡±

    ¡°Right, it was all my fault.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I regret it horribly.¡± Liar. If you actually felt that way, you¡¯d have come forward years ago. ¡°I¡¯ve cut all ties with Jethro, and I expect that the only reason your bull of a mistress hasn¡¯t found him is because he drank himself to death on some Lyrion beach, his only purpose fulfilled.¡±

    Hardly the most creative insult a Cambrian has tarred me with, but it¡¯s concerning that our secret is apparently open enough to have even reached him. Luce wouldn¡¯t like it, but the right call was to put more distance between them for a while. His reputation was rocky enough without a foreign peasant for a companion. Hopefully he would listen this time, even though that hadn¡¯t stopped him before.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°How dare you talk about Charlotte that way! She¡¯s my Lieutenant, absolutely vital to my operations here and in Charenton, a consummate professional who¡¯s proven her worth a hundred times over.¡± Even though Luce knew Charlotte was listening, she couldn¡¯t help but smile at his words. Though as far as keeping our cover, it¡¯s not exactly helping.

    It was strange to be living such a classic fantasy, plucked from obscurity and swept off her feet by a gallant prince. Charlotte had never yearned for that, let alone believed it might happen to her. More practical to do what you could for yourself, doing as much good as you could manage along the way.

    Nor was reality in every way a reflection of that cliched desire, with an awkward scientist instead of a charismatic warrior, thin and pale instead of sunned and strong. Charlotte had never thought of him that way at first, especially after he¡¯d been so dismissive about her very real concerns over Leclaire. Time had vindicated her in that, but it had also allowed his deeds to win her over.

    Sometimes it was intimidating, even. Luce was a better person than Charlotte was, and not by a small amount. He wanted to help people, to change the world, and it seemed like he always had, all the more remarkable given his family. Even his indulgences for them, wholly unearned on their end, reflected his kind and forgiving nature.

    Charlotte liked the idea of doing good, and now she had a real chance to do it, but looking after herself had always been her first priority. After Luce¡¯s well-being, it probably still was. Not an outlook to be proud of, or something she felt comfortable discussing with Luce, but she couldn¡¯t help but notice what her first instinct was whenever priorities diverged.

    No, instead of dreaming of the gallant prince, Charlotte¡¯s ambitions had been more modest. Practical. If she¡¯d gotten her way, she¡¯d simply have continued rising through the ranks of the Guardians, sweeping their flaws under the rug to get ahead, perhaps even replacing Captain Whitbey, in position and brutality both.

    Reality was so much superior to that, she could hardly even describe it. She had direction, righteous leadership that was actually making a difference. She had moral certainty behind her actions. And love, though it still felt strange to think of it that way. I¡¯m not a mistress, Your Highness, but one piece in the glorious machine your brother built. From Charlotte, Luce got whatever he needed, whether he could articulate it or not. After they¡¯d almost lost each other in Levian¡¯s assault on Charenton, those duties had simply... expanded to other areas.

    Luce seemed to realize how visibly defensive he was being, and changed the subject. ¡°Jethro survived his duel with the Red Knight, Fernan assured me he saw him himself afterwards. He¡¯s not dead.¡±

    Prince Harold shrugged. ¡°He wasn¡¯t four years ago, but that¡¯s a long time. Without me or Camille Leclaire to serve, with Father trapped, what¡¯s left for him? He made himself redundant. And after his tantrum with Leclaire, I think even he realized it. It¡¯s what I would do.¡±

    ¡°What you would do? It¡¯s like you¡¯re not even trying to hide it.¡± Luce strode up the stairs, staring his brother down. ¡°Before you left on your trip with Father, you asked me about the Dagger of Gemel, if it was dangerous to use it. I told you it was, but all you seemed to take away was that the shadows weren¡¯t magically compelled towards insanity or hostility.¡± He never told me about that.

    ¡°What of it? I ask you about all sorts of things all the time.¡±

    ¡°He impersonated you perfectly, not just in appearance but in demeanor, attitude, words. I caught him because he didn¡¯t know something that you would, but that wouldn¡¯t matter to a shadow doppelganger, would it?¡±

    That kind of shadow? Like Ophelia the Dreaded? Immediately, Charlotte tried to reorient her understanding of Jethro from the lens of espionage to that of magic. It explained his familiarity with Luce, and his hostility, the way he¡¯d managed to fool him so thoroughly, even throwing in with Leclaire out of the same misguided spite. All of his actions ostensibly on Prince Harold¡¯s behalf, like helping Fernan Montaigne at the Debray trial or helping to trap King Harold, made if anything more sense once you granted him the same motivation, instead of him merely obeying orders from the Prince.

    And it makes Prince Harold¡¯s half-hearted deflections of responsibility all the weaker, when the man he claims did the most damage is a literal doppelganger of himself.

    It also made Jethro far more dangerous. Charlotte didn¡¯t believe for a second that he was dead, and Prince Harold¡¯s wishful insistence to the contrary only aroused further suspicion.

    ¡°Only now,¡± Luce continued, ¡°I think I might have been wrong. If you thought it was safe because of what I said, and then Jethro did turn on us? Some kind of magical degradation or corruption?¡± Then it still wouldn¡¯t exonerate your brother. He made the decision. He gave the order. He¡¯s trying to dodge responsibility now. Even Prince Harold knew it was a poor excuse, or he would have come forward with it himself. And as for Luce¡¯s wishful thinking about magical corruption? It didn¡¯t matter. Either way, the man was a danger to him. The only question was exactly how much of his malice was reflected in the original Prince.

    Prince Harold frowned, his secret discovered. Instead of confirming or protesting, he simply moved past it. ¡°It¡¯s not unlikely. I thought the Blue Bandit might have been him, for a while, but Olivia Esterton caught a glimpse when her father¡¯s vault was robbed, and seemed sure it was a woman.¡± Is that right? Interesting. ¡°Hopefully we¡¯ve seen the last of him. But if he shows his head, don¡¯t hesitate to come to me. I have just as much interest in stopping him as you do.¡±

    You¡¯re the absolute last person to tell, when we still need to verify your story. And guard against your treachery, whether in one body or two.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know,¡± Luce said, hopefully lying. ¡°Now that I know the truth, I see no more reason for us to be opposed. If you renounce the Harpies, I¡¯ll sever all ties with our aunt. We can rule Avalon together.¡±

    ¡°Just like Father wanted?¡± Prince Harold scoffed. ¡°I was never part of that picture.¡±

    ¡°Forget what Father did or didn¡¯t want. He doesn¡¯t matter anymore. I want to put this conflict behind us. Don¡¯t you?¡±

    Prince Harold paused, then shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re doing great work at the Towers. But you¡¯re blind to the politics, just as you always were. Plotting with Aunt Lizzie and pretending that you¡¯re directing her instead of the other way around doesn¡¯t change that. And hoarding your discoveries out of spite for me is just petty. Think of what Avalon could do with them! If half of what I hear of Crete Marbury¡¯s project is true, we could win the war tomorrow with it.¡±

    ¡°Thinking about what you would do with them is exactly why I don¡¯t share it all. Leclaire¡¯s a close second. Once you put information out there, there¡¯s no real way to get rid of it again. Like trying to put wine back in a bottle after it spilled on the floor. Whether it¡¯s pirates or spies or princes. Anyone can use it. It belongs to everyone... Hmm...¡± Luce stroked his chin, clearly coming to a realization.

    ¡°If you really want to work together, help me win this war. And the next one, and the next one after that, until the world is united and free from the tyranny of the spirits.¡±

    ¡°United under our tyranny instead.¡± Luce shook his head. ¡°Spirits don¡¯t deserve extermination, and the world doesn¡¯t deserve the kind of ¡®unity¡¯ you and Father want for it either. What you¡¯re doing is wrong, done for the wrong reasons, and you have to stop.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you feel that way, Luce, but the world is moving on.¡± He flopped down onto his throne, kicking his feet up over the armrest. ¡°This very day, my new majority will be passing a decree empowering the Crown to secure the defenses of our borders, at home and in Territories abroad, to combat the scourge of banditry and resistance from within and without. You have a place by my side, if you¡¯ll join me there. Otherwise, truth or not, nothing¡¯s changed.¡±

    He¡¯s telling the truth about that much, at least. Stringing Luce along with insincere overtures of friendship aside, the Prince Regent was still an enemy to everything Luce was trying to build. If he weren¡¯t his own brother, Charlotte was sure Luce would realize that without hesitation. As it was, he might take some convincing.

    ¡°Your power might not be what you believe it to be,¡± Luce said, not looking as incensed as Charlotte might have hoped. ¡°The rules of the Great Council state that each borough chooses its own representative, generally the noble heir to whomever last held the seat. But there¡¯s nothing dictating that it need be so. Already, some elect their Councilor from among the Peers, or notables of the area. Fernan¡¯s been talking my ear off about democratic reforms, and I think Carringdon would be an excellent test bed for a more universally available election.¡±

    ¡°Fernan? That tinpot peasant? He¡¯s the magister of a woefully corrupt city, nothing more. I can understand your motives in creating that Treaty, but it¡¯s baffling that you bothered keeping company with him afterwards.¡± Honestly, I¡¯m not sure I understood it all too well myself. The Guerron Commune was hardly popular in Avalon, and every time Luce was spotted in public with its ruler, keeping his image clean became that much harder.

    Then again, if Luce weren¡¯t willing to ignore the strictures of whom he ¡®should¡¯ associate with, Charlotte wouldn¡¯t be here at all. ¡°He¡¯s a good man, and our partnership has been a productive one. We¡¯ve received invaluable spiritual insights for our research, sometimes directly from the source, sages willing to experiment with us, even findings drawn from his own spirit-touched vision.¡±

    ¡°Fine, I suppose that explains it.¡± The Prince Regent rolled his eyes. ¡°It says nothing for his chosen system of governance.¡±

    ¡°I disagree. Why shouldn¡¯t democracy be something useful to pick up from him as well? Especially if it spares the Great Council a Harpy majority.¡±

    Prince Harold let out a laugh. ¡°Really? You¡¯re just trying to weasel out of your loss, pretending to give a fuck about the people think.¡±

    ¡°Well, I do.¡±

    ¡°Do you? You rule Charenton as an autocrat even less checked in power than I am as king. Would the people of Charenton choose you if you held one of Montaigne¡¯s vaunted elections? Would you ever risk finding out the answer?¡±

    Years ago, before Leclaire, he might have. But he¡¯s nowhere near that naive anymore.

    Luce seemed to struggle constructing an answer, though, sputtering the first half of several sentences without mustering a proper rebuttal. Eventually, he seemed to give up. ¡°When did you get so cynical, Harold?¡±

    ¡°Oh, probably somewhere around the time I found out that my very existence is only an incidental artifact of a monstrous scheme to further Father¡¯s ego. Or maybe it was once I started having to rule the nation he built, devastated by the blackout he caused without care for the consequences. Fucking useless Jethro couldn¡¯t catch him before that, and the whole world paid the price.¡±

    ¡°So let¡¯s build a better one now!¡± Luce insisted futilely, appealing to exactly the wrong side of his brother¡¯s nature.

    ¡°I am.¡± He flashed a smile. ¡°Anyway, if you¡¯re looking for my endorsement for this absurd election scheme, you do not have it. I loathe hypocrisy. That is all.¡±

    Charlotte met up with Luce outside, quietly climbing out after watching him skulk out of the throne room in impotent anger. ¡°Your election scheme is a good idea, though it might have been better not to mention it to your brother. Now he knows to expect it.¡±

    Luce frowned, a small crease already forming around his lips. ¡°I wish you could have come in with me¡ªproperly, I mean. I¡¯m glad you were there to hear it, at least. How do you think he got Astor on his side?¡±

    ¡°Hard to say,¡± Charlotte admitted. ¡°That story about him seeking revenge in Micheltaigne had a grain of truth to it, but it strikes me as suspicious. Prince Harold must be offering Lord Astor something important if he¡¯s choosing a nephew over his daughter, and it can¡¯t be as simple as an office or money. Otherwise Astor would simply turn his coat and remain in the Council as your brother¡¯s creature.¡± Charlotte paused, feeling woefully out of her depth. ¡°I¡¯ll look into it, starting with this deceased brother. Whatever the truth, Prince Harold mentioning him as part of the reason implies he¡¯s related somehow.¡±

    Or I¡¯m turning a political problem into a criminal investigation because I want this to be a problem I can solve for you. Charlotte didn¡¯t voice her fear, since some basic diligence was still a good idea here, but she held onto it closely. One look at Anya Stewart was more than enough to show the dangers of obsession warping your perception.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Luce nodded, relieved that Charlotte was on the case. ¡°He mentioned securing Avalon¡¯s borders. Do you know what he was talking about?¡±

    Not to a satisfactory extent, since I only had time for the barest due diligence after our arrival here. ¡°It¡¯s a new decree the Harpies are circulating around their offices. Despite what your brother said, most of them seemed to be more concerned about the interdiction of ¡®treasonous¡¯ speech than stopping banditry or defending the new Territories.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not good, but considering we don¡¯t have time to stop it, he could have pushed something a lot worse.¡± Luce looked directly at her, showing her his own exhausted eyes, dark brown surrounded by a ring of green. ¡°I think I can make some headway with the Jays; they¡¯re popular enough in their home regions that they¡¯ll actually win elections. And with the precedent in the west, Carringdon should be an easier sell.¡±

    ¡°Someone still has to go there and make sure everything goes smoothly,¡± Charlotte said. ¡°That¡¯s one advantage we¡¯re sure to have over your brother.¡±

    ¡°Someone? We¡¯ll go together.¡± Luce swore quietly under his breath. ¡°Even though I really should stay in Cambria long enough to get the Nocturne Gate project into its next phase. I know you keep telling me to delegate more, but this project is secretive enough that there isn¡¯t really anyone else qualified.¡±

    ¡°No, there isn¡¯t. That¡¯s why I should go to Carringdon, and you should stay here.¡±

    ¡°What? No. I need you by my side. I want¡ª¡± He held up his hand to his face, regretting the slip.

    ¡°You know this is the right thing to do. The smart thing.¡± Else you¡¯ll only be undermining your own position even more. ¡°Send me to Carringdon. Give the order.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ªIf you think you should go, you should. I trust you.¡± He leaned in and kissed her quickly, not bothering to see if anyone was looking. ¡°Once we have the Great Council again, there¡¯s no reason we¡¯ll need to be apart.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be quick and thorough,¡± Charlotte assured him. ¡°I understand how vital this task is, and I won¡¯t fail you.¡± And when it¡¯s done, I¡¯ll find Jethro in whatever hole he crawled into, and make sure he never causes you any problems again.

 Florette II: The Inspiration

    Florette II: The Inspiration

    Dinner was exquisite, all the more so after weeks of nothing but dried-out desert rations. The main plate was a variant of pat¨¦ en cro?te: a flaky golden crust surrounding a tender filet mignon, with a layer of creamy foie gras between the two of them. Served alongside it was a flavorful mix of sweet onions that had been simmering all day, guanciale, and peppers, with a mushroom sauce plentiful enough to soak into the pastry, a hint of lemon to cut through the richness. A hybrid of Avaline and Imperial cuisine, the meal was still so decadent that Florette could barely get through half of what she¡¯d put on her plate, even after a long day of travel absent any other food.

    ¡°My compliments to the chef de cuisine,¡± Florette offered, cutting off one final sliver. ¡°Hobbes has truly outdone himself tonight.¡±

    Across the table, Fernan raised an eyebrow, but didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°Most heartily, I concur,¡± the Professor offered, raising his glass of wine. ¡°As is this red an exquisite pairing. Well-chosen, my lovely Edith!¡±

    ¡°You were the one to procure it, my dear.¡± Edith turned to address Fernan directly, perhaps mistaking his anxious boredom for curiosity. ¡°Ever since Hermeline¡¯s capitulation, Avalon¡¯s swept up all of the best Rhanoir wines and left none for the rest of us. This is probably the only bottle of Mondrillaud west of the Sartaire.¡±

    The Professor shot Florette a grateful look, since she¡¯d helped him choose what to purchase on their way back. Hardly an expert on food or wine, the few months spent listening to Camille Leclaire and her snobbish complaining still apparently made Florette more qualified than most of eastern Avalon, who seemed to think that boiled beans and sausage were the height of cuisine, the occasional breaded filet or potato hash aside. In Cambria, she¡¯d mostly found herself getting food and spices from the Mamela markets, chillies and cumin and sumac at a price so shockingly low it was baffling that more Cambrians didn¡¯t take advantage. The western isles actually seemed to understand the value of flavor, and it made for better versions of ¡®the classics¡¯ too.

    Not that she had much time to cook in Cambria. Breathing room was hard to come by, and the crunch to finish all her coursework comprehensively enough to graduate on time was only making it worse. And as soon as I step off that boat, it¡¯ll all begin again.

    ¡°What do you make of Empress Hermeline¡¯s submission, Sabine?¡± Maxime asked. ¡°I¡¯m curious to hear the Avaline perspective.¡±

    Did Fernan tell him? There wouldn¡¯t have been much time, but a quick whisper would have been enough for the gist. ¡°I understand why she did it. Micheltaigne was firebombed into ruin, and the sack of Lorraine sent another brutal message about resistance. At least she stayed with her people to try to soften the blow, rather than fleeing like Her Verdance. But if you ask me, she should have fought.¡±

    ¡°Give it time,¡± Fernan muttered, frowning at Florette¡¯s reading of the situation. ¡°There¡¯s a good chance she¡¯s stalling until the moment Rhan is confirmed as Levian¡¯s successor, waiting until Rhanoir sages have enough power to resist. The war would spread north.¡±

    Florette shrugged. ¡°Princess Mars isn¡¯t a sage, let alone of a Great Spirit, and she¡¯s fighting back just fine. Plus, there¡¯s a good chance that Camille Leclaire manages to cling on to power. She¡¯s tricky like that.¡±

    ¡°Sabine grew up in Malin,¡± the Professor supplied, answering Maxime¡¯s question. ¡°She only came to Avalon about five years ago to reunite with her father and attend the College.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Maxime¡¯s eyes moved between Florette and Fernan, finally realizing. ¡°Well, that is certainly quite a unique perspective with which to approach such geopolitics. Though I cannot imagine it is easy to be against the war in a nation that still believes it¡¯s fighting for its very survival.¡±

    ¡°Avalon protects free speech,¡± the Professor rebutted. ¡°Edith and I are also against the war, as is anyone with a modicum of sense. Unfortunately, that quality is in short enough supply that many others back the Prince Regent, but I would prevail upon you not to tar all of Avalon with the warmonger¡¯s brush.¡±

    ¡°Were you not there yourself in occupied Salhaute, Professor Alcock? I seem to recall reading about you sifting through the rubble for the royal treasures, including the sword Nuage Sombre. A direct collaboration between your department and the Avaline Army, was it not?¡± Maxime leaned back in his chair, smiling at the shit he was about to stir up.

    You picked a good one, Fernan. If, indeed, that was the nature of their relationship. It was hard to tell, exactly, and there hadn¡¯t been a good moment to ask. None of my business anyway, really. She certainly didn¡¯t want to answer any prying questions about Rebecca, especially under Fernan¡¯s judgmental stare.

    ¡°I had no power to stop the war, or save the civilians in Salhaute. It was a grueling fight to get General Echols to listen to me about Micheltaigne¡¯s cultural heritage at all! I did what I could, ensuring that Nuage Sombre and countless other relics of Micheltine history were preserved. I¡¯ve no regrets.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s not enough to convince,¡± Florette said, not quite directly criticizing or agreeing with him. ¡°To do the right thing, you might need to step in yourself. What if you¡¯d warned Salhaute to evacuate?¡±

    ¡°As if they¡¯d listen to him.¡± Edith Costeau waved her hand dismissively. ¡°He did everything he could.¡±

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t Echols have firebombed an unpopulated area, to prove he was capable of it without taking any lives?¡± The fire in Fernan¡¯s eyes sparked. ¡°Did you try to convince them of that?¡±

    Surprising to hear Fernan advocating even that much. But then, he¡¯d led a revolution and singlehandedly frightened off a troupe of mercenaries in the time since Florette had last seen him, so he¡¯d clearly done a bit of growing up.

    The Professor laughed. ¡°As a scholar and adventurer, my insights are sometimes respected, though I often have to fight to be taken seriously. As a military strategist? They¡¯d laugh me out of the room, knight or not. Nor did I have the time to sneak ahead of the assault on Salhaute, nested so high in the mountains you practically need to fly to get there.¡± He turned towards Florette, staring her down with unexpected intensity. ¡°I suppose I could have gone rogue entirely, sabotaging the war effort directly like the Blue Bandit.¡±

    Does he know? Florette gripped her fork tightly, trying to maintain her composure. ¡°You¡¯re thinking of the Red Knight. The Bandit¡¯s never been seen outside of Cambria. Nothing to do with the war.¡±

    ¡°Do try telling that to Mr. Eserly after the Bandit brought his munitions factory to a screeching halt. The way I hear it, she delayed an entire offensive for months, without needing to take a step outside of Cambria.¡± He kept his eyes focused on her, his expression difficult to read. Judgemental? Proud? Ambivalent? It was possible that he didn¡¯t know, and this wasn¡¯t meant to be about Florette, even if that seemed stranger at this point than the idea that he did. ¡°I imagine it seemed like a low-risk way to do the right thing. No one was hurt, and hundreds, perhaps thousands, were spared a gruesome fate.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed,¡± said Maxime, who obviously had enough context to figure it out himself by this point.

    ¡°But they¡¯ll catch her eventually, if she keeps this up. Her life would be over. Impressive or not, this bandit could better effect change through politics or activism, without leading her own life towards disaster.¡± Finally, Florette understood the sentiment hidden in his inscrutable stare: concern.

    Alright, he definitely knows. Florette still took care not to react¡ªno reason to eliminate all plausible deniability¡ªbut she wasn¡¯t sure what to say beyond that.

    ¡°She must believe that the risk to herself is worth the good she does for everyone else,¡± Fernan said after a moment of silence. ¡°That kind of selfless heroism is admirable. It doesn¡¯t come easily to most people.¡±

    ¡°In its own way,¡± the Professor granted. ¡°But I think a lifetime of good done out in the open can outweigh a brief slew of criminal sabotage, no matter how selflessly done. If I¡¯d turned my cloak before the Salhaute assault, for example, I doubt I could have stopped it, and centuries of history would surely have been obliterated, along with my own standing and anything I might have accomplished after. The Founder¡¯s Tomb, for example, might still be buried beneath the sands.¡±

    ¡°Almost certainly,¡± Florette agreed, finally finding the right tone to address him with. ¡°I¡¯d like to think I made a big difference there, but we could never have done it without you. You needn¡¯t follow the Bandit¡¯s lead yourself.¡±

    ¡°I doubt the Micheltine would see it that way. There is always more we could have done,¡± the Professor allowed. ¡°In any case, soon the world will understand Pelleas Grimoire as they never have before, and the entire Giton society along with him. We¡¯ll be studying these findings for decades.¡±

    ¡°Pelleas Grimoire?¡± Fernan, surprisingly, perked up at the name. ¡°He wielded the Blade of Khali, didn¡¯t he?¡±

    Where on earth did you get that idea? Florette had heard that the sword she¡¯d slain Flammare with had ended up with Leclaire, used to kill Levian, but considering all the ridiculous things she¡¯d heard about Camille¡¯s duel in the months and years after the fact, Florette was inclined to question that fact.

    ¡°Ah, very close! I¡¯ve seen lettered men make far worse mistakes. But there was no Blade of Khali in the time of Pelleas, as Khali herself remained the Arbiter of Darkness. The Blade was crafted with power cleaved away from her as she was sealed, similar to the Cloaks of Nocturne, so Pelleas could never have wielded it. Instead, he drew on Khali¡¯s power as her sage, High Priest as all Giton kings and queens were.¡±

    Fernan probably hadn¡¯t been doing it intentionally, but getting the Professor talking about history was the absolute best way to avoid dwelling on all the Blue Bandit discussion, and Florette was extremely grateful to him for doing it.

    ¡°But he definitely... I mean, I was told...¡± Fernan tilted his head, momentarily resembling Mara. After a moment, he dropped the subject. ¡°I suppose I misremembered.¡±

    They spent the rest of the night continuing on in that vein, discussing the dig and the history of it all, fortunately not returning to the topic of Florette¡¯s extracurricular activities. After Fernan and Maxime left, Florette waited a few minutes, then pretended to go to bed.

    Glaciel¡¯s ring made climbing out her window the work of minutes, and it didn¡¯t take much longer to catch up with Fernan. Maxime went ahead to put Aubaine to bed and give them some privacy, which was courteous but unnecessary.

    ¡°What was all that about Pelleas Grimoire?¡± Florette asked as they walked back to the Spirit Quartier. ¡°I could tell there was more you didn¡¯t want to say.¡±

    ¡°I heard it from Lamante, and she can¡¯t lie,¡± Fernan answered. ¡°She gave the sword to me to fight Levian with, and told me that the last ones to wield it were Pelleas Grimoire, Harold Grimoire, and you. I guess she¡¯ll have to add Camille now too.¡±

    ¡°So you were involved with that! I knew it. Well done, Fernan!¡± Levian was one spirit that the world was indisputably better off without, even if his death had given Camille Leclaire cause to be even more insufferable. ¡°Probably just some other Pelleas, then, unless the Founder somehow outlived his head being cut off by six centuries.¡± Which, given Magnifico seems to have done more or less that very thing, is worth considering, I suppose.

    ¡°Lamante listed them separately, so it¡¯s not one unbroken chain like Harold Grimoire.¡± Fernan shrugged. ¡°Either way, Pelleas Grimoire is definitely gone now, so I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter much.¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± she agreed. ¡°Anyway, I figured this was a good time to talk about what I have planned for before I leave.¡±

    Fernan visibly winced, his dread plain on his face. ¡°Right, that.¡±

    Florette laughed. ¡°I said it would be something big, and I meant it, but I think you¡¯ll like this one. It¡¯s important-big, not flashy-big.¡±

    ¡°Florette, is that you?¡±

    ¡°Hey, you haven¡¯t seen me since I was like 19. Everyone¡¯s stupid then.¡± Though most people don¡¯t get anyone killed. ¡°Anyway, I was thinking we should work more closely together, now that there¡¯s cover for it. In Cambria I started working with this neighborhood organization of workers crushed under Avalon¡¯s boot, filling me in on opportunities to rectify injustices and such, but it¡¯s a small, local thing. With more literature, funding¡ªmaybe even people, if they want to come help¡ªit could make a real difference. I was hoping I could take some books back with me this time and then set up a good system to move things back and forth without scrutiny.¡±

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Fernan¡¯s relief was audible, amusing in how dramatic it was. ¡°That¡¯s a great idea! I¡¯d love to help. Maxime¡¯s been writing exactly the kind of essays I think you¡¯re looking for, and he¡¯s already started translating them into Avaline.¡± Knowing his Avaline, I should make sure to grab copies of the original too.

    ¡°Could also make some extra silver for both of us cutting Lyrion out of your little drug-running operation. The most lucrative stuff always ends up in Avalon anyway.¡± The idea had occurred to her over dinner, and considering the Commune¡¯s existing operations, it seemed like an obvious approach. ¡°Want to make sure our transportation is rock solid first, of course, but I¡¯m sure Captain Verrou has people he knows in the shipping industry.¡± Eloise Clocha?ne would probably know people even better suited to this, given the divergence in their professions, but that would mean dealing with her again. Cleaner to find another solution.

    Fernan didn¡¯t seem pleased, though. ¡°That would mean violating Avaline law. We¡¯d be breaking the Treaty of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°Breaking the law? Oh no, perish the thought! I could never.¡± Florette let out a quick laugh. ¡°Neither could you, obviously. The Montaignard Revolution was more of a sternly-worded letter thing, right? Nothing illegal there.¡±

    ¡°That was for something important, not just money.¡± Fernan shook his head. ¡°No, the Commune¡¯s ties to Avalon are too important to jeopardize for that. The Treaty of Charenton isn¡¯t some aristocratic decree to be skirted around or defied; it¡¯s maintaining the peace. It¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°To you, maybe. I doubt Leclaire feels the same way about it, or President Nella. Even Prince Luce, I bet.¡±

    ¡°He risked his life and reputation to make it happen at all! It¡¯s even more important to him than to me.¡±

    ¡°Fine, he values it. But does Avalon? This is about more than your personal friendship. Sure, the Owls upheld the treaty because it let them profit more directly off Lyrion suffering, and the Jays agreed to the funding the Luce shoveled their way in exchange for support. But the Harpies? They¡¯d roll up on Guerron with an army to take back their king the moment they got the chance, and they¡¯re only one seat away from a majority.¡±

    Fernan looked slightly surprised that Florette was so informed on Avalon politics.

    All that research I did for Monfroy is coming in useful, I suppose. Florette wasn¡¯t sure why he¡¯d wanted reports from her on the Great Council of all things, especially since he definitely knew Councilors himself that could give a far better picture of what took place there behind closed doors, but it had been an easier assignment than most, so Florette hadn¡¯t been inclined to question it.

    ¡°The Harpies might want their king back enough to break the Treaty, but Prince Harold would never. He¡¯s the one who most wants Magnifico trapped in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he must know about Pantera¡¯s curse then.¡±

    ¡°You know about Pantera¡¯s curse?¡±

    Florette nodded. ¡°Spirit visions¡ªI had, um, quite an interesting experience meeting up with some of Khali¡¯s followers in Avalon. I assume it was similar for you?¡±

    ¡°Not really. Jethro just told me, the morning after Levian died.¡±

    ¡°Why would he know?¡± Florette wrinkled her eyebrows, trying to think back to her few brief encounters with him. ¡°Was Prince Harold actually stupid enough to tell his infiltrator every last detail about why he wanted Magnifico captured?¡±

    ¡°Not that, but Jethro knows everything. I don¡¯t think he¡¯d want me to tell you why, if you don¡¯t mind me leaving it there.¡±

    ¡°If you insist,¡± Florette acquiesced, already planning out how to figure it out on her own. ¡°Do you know what happened to him after that? I sort of wondered if he was tied up in any of that Red Knight stuff.¡±

    ¡°Not really. That was the last time I saw him.¡± Fernan shrugged. ¡°He mentioned drinking himself to death on a beach somewhere, but I think that was a joke.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t some truth to it, though.¡± Something to keep in mind. ¡°Anyway, Prince Harold would never jeopardize Magnifico¡¯s captivity. And the Harpies wouldn¡¯t breathe save by his leave. If Luce is your buddy too, that¡¯s even less reason to worry. Why not make some money?¡±

    ¡°I said no!¡± Fernan¡¯s eyes flared, the outburst out of proportion to the request. ¡°We don¡¯t even really know that opium is safe. Some of the reports I¡¯ve heard coming in from Lyrion... It was hard enough to get the Assembly behind what we have now, and it¡¯s not worth jeopardizing our relationship to Avalon to greedily reach for more.¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡± Florette held up her hands. ¡°I think you¡¯re giving Avalon far more respect than it deserves, but it¡¯s your call. We can still do a lot with the rest.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve done bad things, but Magnifico is locked up now. Luce is pushing them to be better, and Prince Harold... Well, I can understand why he¡¯s making the mistakes he is, even if that doesn¡¯t justify them.¡±

    ¡°See, that¡¯s exactly my point. Prince Harold isn¡¯t some misunderstood little bean, he¡¯s a fucking warmongering tyrant, and his father being even worse does nothing to excuse that. I wouldn¡¯t be so naive about Luce either. Elizabeth Grimoire was in his position and chose to be complicit in her brother¡¯s death, along with 118 deaths in the factory fire that they¡¯re still blaming on the workers. They¡¯re two sides of one coin, and we¡¯d be better off if they all hanged.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know him at all! All you did was capture him and kill his cousin!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying¡ª¡±

    ¡°She had a name, you know: Cassia. She was a lot like you, the way Luce tells it. Selfless, adventurous, not great at thinking ahead. And you ran her through with your sword because she was defending herself.¡±

    Why did you have to bring that up? ¡°My mistakes don¡¯t mean that trusting him is a good idea. He¡¯s a prince, and he took over Charenton with almost no justification.¡±

    ¡°It was the only way to keep Cya¡¯s forest safe. They were going to raze the whole thing if someone didn¡¯t step in.¡±

    Luce Grimoire defending a spirit¡¯s domain? There has to be more to that. ¡°My point is that he¡¯s an avatar of the state, of injustice itself. His personal character is pretty much irrelevant. Being a nice tyrant doesn¡¯t change what you¡¯re doing, nor does being friends with you.¡±

    ¡°An avatar of the state? I¡¯m First Speaker of the Commune. It¡¯d be pretty hypocritical to see that as a problem. It¡¯s not like that means injustice, not inherently. You sound like an anarchist.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, why might it sound like that?¡±

    Fernan groaned. ¡°To think I¡¯d thought you¡¯d grown up. You haven¡¯t changed a bit. Why would you look at the problems of monarchy and conclude that the solution is total mad chaos instead of building a society where everyone is equal, firmly enforced?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about chaos; it¡¯s about helping each other on a scale that¡¯s comprehensible instead of building new edifices of power that are inherently rife for abuse. There will never be a law so just that breaking it isn¡¯t sometimes the right thing to do. Eliminating the coercion that comes from owners forcing you to work to live, just as much as the kings that would send you to war by force of law. ¡±

    ¡°You''re comparing working to conscription? You sound ridiculous.¡±

    ¡°You led a fucking violent uprising against the aristocracy and you¡¯re still hand-wringing about this? I thought you¡¯d changed, but I guess I was wrong too.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t meant to be violent,¡± Fernan said, his tone subdued.

    ¡°Of course. Those pistols you brought must have been decorative.¡± Florette turned to face him, looking into the flickering green fire of his eyes. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s fair that Edith Costeau lives in a place like that, a ruler of Guerron, while for every one like her thousands are being ground up to support it, not seeing any benefit from their own labor?¡±

    ¡°No, but I live in the real world where finding compromise to make real changes is better than dreaming about an idyllic world free of troubles. We¡¯d never have dislodged Valvert without the merchants in the Montaignards, and the ones in the Assembly were in turn chosen by the people to represent their interests. There¡¯s no coercion involved. Not everyone lives equal lives, but everyone has the opportunity... legally, at least, and that¡¯s a lot more than we could say before.¡± He sighed. ¡°And your twit professor was right¡ªthis Blue Bandit stuff is just going to get you caught.¡±

    ¡°Well, sometimes the risk is worth taking. Right, revolutionary? I suppose it would have been a bit much to expect we¡¯d draw the line in the same place.¡± Florette rested a hand on his shoulder, trying not to let the argument spiral out again. ¡°I¡¯ve got some good books on this stuff; you should at least hear it out.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯d love to read them, but I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t.¡±

    Of course. It was embarrassing not to have thought of that. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can get them printed in tactile type.¡± Sara isn¡¯t exactly the type to appreciate their content, but I bet I could borrow her press as long as I¡¯m vague enough about what I¡¯m using it for. ¡°Let me know if there¡¯s anything else you¡¯d like to read, too. I have a feeling it¡¯ll be easier to get it printed there than it would be here.¡±

    ¡°Maxime has a list somewhere,¡± Fernan muttered, his eyes calming in their intensity. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m glad you want to build up more ties between what you¡¯re doing over there and the Commune. Even if it doesn¡¯t meet your standards, I¡¯d hoped our success could be an inspiration across the world. Avalon probably needs it most out of anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Definitely. I¡¯ll write you¡ªas Sabine, to be safe, but you¡¯ll know the truth. We can say we became friends tonight. I don¡¯t want to fall out of touch for another four years.¡± Though I hope we can make it at least that long before retreading this same argument we always have.

    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Fernan agreed. ¡°Stronger ties benefit everyone. I¡¯m glad I got to see you.¡±

    Maxime was standing in front of the door to their apartment, a message in his hands. ¡°Gabriel Rochaort died a few hours ago. His heart failed.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Fernan¡¯s voice was surprisingly somber. Turning to Florette, he explained, ¡°He was born an aristocrat, the Viscount de Miroirdeau, and raised in Gaume before accompanying the Duke of Condillac to Guerron for the tournament, where he stayed even after the Duke left. His support helped us pacify a lot of our opposition, especially out in the country.¡±

    ¡°And in turn his oratory prowess helped to stave off any attempts to institute capital punishment against the Commune¡¯s foes,¡± Maxime added. ¡°As sad as this news may be, I think his decline may have been worse. Why he was elected again... Well, now we can all remember him as he was, instead of what time made of him.¡±

    ¡°I hope so. He deserves that much and more.¡± Fernan scratched his beard, thinking. ¡°His daughter lives down in the Hills, right? I should tell her in person. I should¡ªI¡¯m sorry, Florette, we¡¯ll have to continue our conversation another time.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯m here a few more days, we can figure it out.¡± Most of the setup could probably be done with Fernan personally, too, though Florette would have to be careful about who she showed her face to. The original Montaignards had fought Glaciel with her, trained with the pistols she¡¯d stolen. They would not be likely to forget her face, though hopefully that same experience would lessen the risk that they¡¯d jeopardize her secret. Still, something she¡¯d need to approach carefully.

    ¡°Paul Armand wants to search his apartment,¡± Maxime said as Florette started to walk away. ¡°Ostensibly to ensure that no foul play was involved in his death.¡±

    ¡°Ostensibly,¡± Fernan scoffed. ¡°He wants to find dice or drugs or some other means to admonish his character postmortem. It¡¯s petty, but we may as well eliminate all doubt. He won¡¯t find the kind of vices he¡¯s looking for.¡±

    ¡°I quite agree. As to M¨¦lisse Rochaort, I can make the trip myself. You should check in on Aubaine...¡±

    Florette didn¡¯t linger to listen further, instead noting some homes she remembered and planning out her itinerary for the next day, starting with Eleanor Montaigne, who could certainly be trusted.

    And then, before long, back to Cambria. Back to College and Rebecca and Banditry and whatever Lord Louche wants now.

    Not to mention turning a pile of notes on the Founder¡¯s tomb into a proper thesis project. It would be something of a disaster not to graduate from the College that was the entire reason she¡¯d been sent over there in the first place.

    A job people died just to make possible.

    ?

    It took her four days, in the end. And there would certainly need to be another trip made after graduation, but that was easy enough to excuse with the Professor planning to stay with his wife for the duration.

    Hidden in her valise, along with a second and third one she¡¯d claimed to purchase to transport a day¡¯s worth of shopping, Florette had funds, books, and weapons. Just in case. With any luck, they wouldn¡¯t be necessary, but the same had been true for the pistols that had played so pivotal a role in the Montaignard Revolution¡¯s success.

    The waters were calm and the ship fast, leaving Florette free to relax a bit with the latest book Kelsey had recommended to her, Le Voleur, about a child touched by a batlike spirit who¡¯d followed Khali, imbued with dark wings, and cast out of his village. An outlaw, he was forced to make his way in the world as a thief, struggling to survive. It wasn¡¯t bad, but the protagonist was the sort of dull hero who was perpetually less interesting than literally everyone else around him, seldom taking any kind of initiative and instead just reacting to whatever was thrown at him, or doing whatever another character told him to with minimal reflection. After such a promising start with his exile, that was proving to be a bit of a disappointment.

    Still, it passed the time, and before long her ship was pulling into the Cambria Marina. Rebecca was waiting on the docks, holding up a Congratulations Sabine banner decorated with countless little illustrations of ancient Giton, which just about melted Florette¡¯s heart.

    She felt a smile creep across her face, wider and wider until that good feeling abruptly died at the sight of Lord Monfroy¡¯s carriage, parked on the street just above the docks.

    It looks like he¡¯s got another job for me. That was poor timing, to say the least.

    But maybe that¡¯s the push I need to finally make my move. It would depend on what he had to say. Another easy job like the Council dossiers would mean it was worth taking more time to prepare, even if Florette didn¡¯t have much to spare to begin with.

    If he wanted something Florette couldn¡¯t live with? Then it was time to stop him from doing any more damage.

 Camille II: The Deftly Dishonorable

    Camille II: The Deftly Dishonorable

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Crete Marbury hardly blinked at the offer in front of her, despite a salary fit for a Emperor and autonomy to match, despite the manse on the waterfront and invitation to remake the Debray institute in her image.

    ¡°Will you? Or will you show this to Luce to get more scraps out of him than you could have without it?¡± Camille flicked her fingers towards the paper, soaking it with water. ¡°This offer expires the moment you leave Malin. I need a decision today, Crete.¡±

    Marbury looked down at the sodden offer, already illegible, then glanced back at Camille. ¡°Then my answer is no. It¡¯s not worth giving up on all of Avalon¡¯s resources and two towers¡¯ worth of highly educated underlings for a few extra mandala and a better title.¡±

    ¡°This would jump you, instantly, from one of Luce¡¯s many minions to one of the leading minds in the world, uninhibited by his limitations. I am bound to speak the truth. You¡¯d be a queen among scientists. Exalted leader of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Of a backwater, a washed-up city state with delusions of grandeur. Sorry.¡± Marbrury shrugged, obviously not sorry. ¡°Print me up another one of those I can show to Luce, and maybe I can come back in a few months to give another lecture. Your scientists could certainly use it.¡±

    You could use a lecture yourself, Crete: The Dangers of Overplaying Your Position. ¡°No need. If you want more from the Prince of Darkness, you¡¯ll have to ask him yourself.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Marbury held out her hand. ¡°Thank you for the invitation, and the offer. No hard feelings?¡±

    No need. Camille shook her hand. ¡°When you realize how much you regret saying no, you¡¯ll still have a place here. Feel free to reach out any time.¡±

    Marbury raised her eyebrows, obviously unconvinced, then stood. ¡°You should know, desperation isn¡¯t a flattering look. If Malin were half what you claim it to be, I¡¯d have taken the offer much more seriously.¡±

    You should know better than to prod at me like this, but you¡¯ll learn. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right about that. Farewell, Crete.¡±

    Camille waited until she was gone to pick up the soggy mass of paper and throw it to the floor. She barely even got the satisfaction of seeing it come apart before a server from the restaurant scurried out to clean it up, even having the good grace to ask if Camille wanted anything once he was done.

    ¡°Cognac, please. And send in my next appointment.¡±

    In the interests of taking one last crack at Marbury honestly, she¡¯d taken over the upper floor of Caf¨¦ Oliverai, the rare sort of restaurant that had carried on through the Foxtrap, the Occupation, and even the Summer of Darkness without any lapse in quality. A fire had shut it down for a year, but donations from Camille¡¯s personal funds had ensured that they could reopen. Now that eating wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, she found it all the more important that every bite she tasted was one worth savoring. The establishment, in turn, had only been too happy to oblige their Empress.

    Annette arrived in a crisp white dress, taking off her blue jacket and laying on the back of what had been Marbury¡¯s seat before Camille even beckoned her to sit. ¡°This was a good idea; I¡¯ve been meaning to try this place again now that they¡¯re open.¡±

    ¡°Mmm.¡± Camille hesitated a moment, then told her, ¡°You know, you should be careful about wearing white. In Avalon, it¡¯s the color of mourning, and people are likely to think¡ª¡±

    ¡°That we¡¯re in Avalon? As unworthy as the masses might be of such faith in them, I¡¯m fairly sure they can understand the city they live in.¡± Well, off to an excellent start, then. ¡°You missed the race. The Green Team won.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that explains your coat.¡± Camille signaled the server to inform Annette of the menu. ¡°The pageantry lost some of its luster after the incident last time. Another flare up like that and I might just cancel the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°Great idea, get an even bigger riot to deal with, anger both sides.¡±

    My ancestors would have sent them walking on the seafloor into Levian¡¯s embrace for the offense. For a long time, I would have done the same. Doing the right thing, Camille had found since crashing bedraggled on the shores of Malin, had a way of making things more difficult. It was important to remember that the most powerful tool at her disposal had never been Levian¡¯s power, but her finesse in using it. Inheriting some of his magic directly didn¡¯t change that.

    ¡°Shame about the race, though. I¡¯m surprised to hear that Blue lost.¡±

    Annette grunted in disappointment. ¡°Clocha?ne and some of the other merchants sponsored them, brand new horses carted in from the eastern plains, bearing their merchant insignias like some twisted mockery of heraldry.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Blue will win the championship; that¡¯s what matters.¡±

    ¡°Though some might say that the governance of our nation matters even more.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sorry.¡± Annette smiled, holding out a stack of papers. ¡°With Simon away, we need your signature on the new taxation measure.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Camille rolled her eyes, then inscribed her elegant signature onto the first paper. ¡°How terribly convenient that this was ready just in time for him not to be here for it.¡±

    ¡°You could still go another way. The Peers won¡¯t like the way you¡¯re cutting through their exemptions. It¡¯s a bad look, like the Greens wrote this themselves.¡±

    ¡°The racing team?¡± Camille asked, rhetorically, even though it was obvious Annette was referring to their backers. I tried to be a conciliator, but this division has grown too strong to contest, and I have to pick the side that actually helps the Empire. ¡°Those who hold offices in the Imperial administration or the military already draw a salary that more than offsets any disruption.¡±

    ¡°And those who don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Are not contributing,¡± Camille completed for her. ¡°Now we can rectify that error. There¡¯s no need to worry.¡± I have a plan.

    Annette opened her mouth, then decided not to press the issue. ¡°Yes, Your Grace.¡± She sat silent another minute, clearly trying to choose her words carefully.

    ¡°Crete Marbury refused my offer. For the time being, she won¡¯t be working at the Debray Institute.¡± That should bring you some comfort, Annette. I know how it grated at you for me to offer it to another. ¡°Once you have a chance to confer with the scientists, I¡¯d like a debriefing on any progress made as a result of her visit. If they were doing their jobs, they paid enough attention to glean something useful.¡±

    Annette barely tried to hide her pleasure at the news, scant surprise after the indignation she¡¯d shown when Camille had broached the subject in the first place.

    I can¡¯t even blame her. When I signed that Treaty, I traded away her birthright, and her role in the Imperial government was all that remained. And a key part of that, one area where she was absolutely irreplaceable at the moment, was the Institute that bore her name. But for all her competence at administration and management, she doesn¡¯t know the science. We¡¯ve been trying to catch up to Avalon instead of charting our own course; we¡¯ll need boldness if we¡¯re ever to surpass them.

    ¡°There¡¯s something I wanted to ask you. I want to be clear that I¡¯m not trying to make you feel guilty.¡± Off to a great start, aren¡¯t we? ¡°But the fact of the matter is that I¡¯m a Duchess in name only, and the reason for that is the Empire¡¯s inaction in the face of Fernan Montaigne¡¯s revolt. And by the Empire, we both know who I really mean. Lucien would have loved nothing more than to blood his new army against a soft target, but you talked him out of it, said we needed to ensure that Malin was secure in this perilous time. You signed away my birthright with the Treaty of Charenton, legalizing the cession.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a decision I expected to have to live with. ¡°And?¡±

    Grimacing, Annette continued. ¡°The Duke of Condillac is visiting Malin for the Championship Race in a few weeks. With his ships, we could swarm Guerron, overwhelm them before they can even realize it. Harold Grimoire would stay in his cell, and we¡¯d not only get back territory so humiliatingly lost, but also ensure that we hold the ultimate bargaining position with Avalon by securing custody of her king. Malin would remain safe, well-guarded. You wouldn¡¯t need to go.¡±

    ¡°You want me to break the Treaty of Charenton.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question.

    ¡°Only for a sure thing. I know I can¡¯t convince you we should do it on our own, even with the power of the raging waves on your side. But with Condillac? By the time Avalon even found out what happened, King Harold would be ours and the fight would be over. They¡¯re already throwing good armies after bad in Micheltaigne. They can¡¯t afford to pick a fight with us over an internal dispute.¡±

    She has a point. Today, Camille was bound to her word, Spirit of Dawn, Inheritor of the Deep, and, for the moment, Lady of the Lyrion Sea. But it had been the human Camille Th¨¦r¨¨se Leclaire who¡¯d signed the Treaty of Charenton, and she was no more bound to the truth than a cloud was to the earth. In theory, at least. It would be safer not to have to test that line of logic, given what doom misjudgement could spell.

    But the rewards for doing it might be worth the risk. It would go some way towards making amends with Annette, bring desperately needed coal resources under the Crown¡¯s direct control, and help immensely with all manner of other plots as well.

    Nor would the change in leadership need to be overly disruptive. Per the terms of their deal, sworn before him and thus lacking the same potential as the Treaty, G¨¦zarde was already receiving more offerings at Camille¡¯s direction, in Camille¡¯s name, than he had ever earned in his own right. If Fernan Montaigne had possessed half the ambition one might expect from a man who¡¯d pulled off a coup against the woman who¡¯d elevated him from a no-name, Camille¡¯s position with G¨¦zarde would have been a danger he couldn¡¯t ignore. Fortunately, after four years of dealing with them, Camille was confident that the relationship between G¨¦zarde and his high priest would not pose an issue, provided she went about things the right way.

    So long as power continued flowing to him, the Sun would remain unchallenged; even the profitable gecko glass trade could perhaps continue. The nobles that Montaigne¡¯s group had taken particular issue with could be shuffled aside to minimize resentment, and Guy Valvert would be¡ª

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°You hatched this plot with your cousin, didn¡¯t you?¡± Camille realized. ¡°He¡¯s not smart enough to come up with it himself, but you¡¯re not usually one to pay attention to such attention to interpersonal politics.¡±

    ¡°What of it?¡± Annette said with a shrug. ¡°His guards deliver my letters. Guerron¡¯s become so corrupt under Montaigne, it¡¯s laughable. We¡¯ll have our work cut out, cleaning it up.¡±

    I suppose it is fairly amusing that two of their councilors are on the Empire¡¯s payroll. Surprisingly inexpensive too¡ªsuch a bribe would have been laughed out of the Plagetine Senate, but the Guerron ¡®Assemblymembers¡¯ hadn¡¯t even tried to negotiate.

    Just as well, when spycraft is so expensive. Closing out that section of the budget would be only another reason to retake Guerron. ¡°If we did this, you would be the Lady of Guerron. Guy could consider himself lucky to be allowed a house in the country where he can slouch his way into an irrelevant death. We¡¯re clear on that?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡±

    Then I can¡¯t dismiss it out of hand. ¡°We¡¯d need Condillac on board before we can even consider this. Should I seat you next to him?¡±

    ¡°Good idea. Between the two of us, I¡¯m definitely the crafty social manipulator.¡± Annette smiled. ¡°I was actually hoping you could work your magic on him.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Camille said, bound to honesty. ¡°His regency council named me too treacherous for diplomacy. We only got him for the Championship because he¡¯s a fanatic, and because Lucien invited him personally. His council didn¡¯t want to blow up their influence with him just before he came of age over something so trivial, but they¡¯d stand their ground over war in Guerron. And what do they get out of it? Not shares of your lands, surely?¡±

    ¡°Scientific secrets. They weren¡¯t signatory to the treaty; they¡¯re stuck on the outside looking in. This is their chance to rectify that, and to test their warriors in a low-stakes contest.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯d see just how badly Lucien¡¯s professional army outshines them. That would make them reconsider the wisdom of ignoring us,¡± Camille noted, the idea sounding more and more appealing. ¡°They¡¯d agree to that trade if they were smart. It¡¯s wildly in their favor. But the Duke¡¯s council haven¡¯t seen the value in those secrets so far, and they¡¯ll be Cl¨¦ment''s advisors even when he comes into his majority. Not to mention their refusal to treat with us at all. Don¡¯t you think it likely that he¡¯s already been poisoned against me? The way he fled Guerron after I lost that duel, it wouldn¡¯t take much.¡±

    ¡°All I ask is that you try to convince him. Please.¡±

    I¡¯m sure I can find some way to do it. ¡°I will try,¡± Camille promised, binding herself to the attempt.

    I just need to think of the right way to approach him for it. Going directly was unlikely to work; the fact that his regents were allowing him to come at all was a strong sign that he¡¯d been primed not to listen to her directly. Lucien could be a useful bridge, as he had been with the invitation, but he couldn¡¯t be counted on to return in time, which meant that it wasn¡¯t reliable as a plan.

    ¡°What about Lucien?¡± Annette asked, her mind obviously tilting the same way. ¡°Do you know when he¡¯ll be back?¡±

    ¡°Rarely, and today is no exception.¡±

    Frowning, Annette gave her order to the server, grilled octopus and lemon, then spoke to Camille in a low voice. ¡°Do you even know what he¡¯s doing?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s acting in his Empire¡¯s best interests,¡± Camille answered, slightly annoyed at the question. ¡°It¡¯s no more complicated than that.¡±

    ¡°But, specifically?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± No way remained to evade answering with careful phrasing. Considering my limitations in the realm of dishonesty, it¡¯s important that I don¡¯t know the specifics. ¡°He''ll come back when he¡¯s done, just like he always does.¡±

    ¡°But is that because he¡¯s finished, or...?¡± Annette trailed off, Camille unsure exactly where her sentence had been going. ¡°Look, I remember your 25th anniversary. You told him you wouldn¡¯t see the new year, and he ran away because he couldn¡¯t deal with it.¡±

    ¡°Because I lied to him, Annette.¡±

    ¡°Well, sure, but... He abdicated all of his responsibilities. I know you didn¡¯t see a future with him then, or you wouldn¡¯t have asked me to find silphium for you. Obviously, you changed your mind, but... You don¡¯t have to tell me, but you were always happy to talk about your relationship with me before you married. I just want to know what happened.¡±

    Well, it¡¯s a shame that it¡¯s none of your business then, Annette. ¡°He was trying to save me. And in the end, he did. Simple as that. I asked you for silphium because I didn¡¯t see any future for myself, because I thought I was going to be dead.¡± Camille paused, trying to make sure she could address all of Annette¡¯s points. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t and isn¡¯t an abdication. Lucien knows that the best thing for the realm is leaving the most capable ruler in charge.¡±

    Annette snorted. ¡°Convenient, that it just so happens to be you.¡±

    Good, laugh all you want, and don¡¯t ask me again. ¡°We¡¯re all fortunate in that.¡± Camille would have to talk to Lucien about this when he returned and make sure he let nothing slip in front of Annette. If word got out, consequences could be catastrophic.

    ¡°I¡¯m just worried about you.¡± Annette pulled a packet of pixie powder from her jacket, expensive enough she had to keep it on her person, now that Plagette refused to trade with them directly. ¡°I know the Spirit Convocation is coming up now. It¡¯s about as good a reason as it gets to be a bit distracted, apprehensive, but we need¡ª¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯m distracted?¡± When I was human, I could have flatly denied it, but now I¡¯m stuck with questions. ¡°I¡¯m the Spirit of Dawn, the raging waves. I can¡¯t neglect my domain any more than I can neglect Lucien¡¯s.¡±

    Annette didn¡¯t dispute that, but it was easy to see what she was thinking: doing both, even for you, might be too much.

    Thankfully, Annette didn¡¯t bring Lucien up again for the rest of their lunch, and it passed more pleasantly than most had in the last four years. Perhaps at last some of the resentment would fade, now that there was a real chance to help her instead of leaving Guerron twisting in the wind over politics. At the cost of another betrayal, when I¡¯ve already built my reputation on treachery...

    Camille seriously considered the matter as she made her way towards a boarded-off well not far from Oliverai, her usual entrance down into the tunnels, no longer meaningfully a secret but still so expansive and labyrinthine that paths could be drawn through them that would avoid any riff-raff.

    For her next meeting, it was somewhat important not to be spotted.

    Ysengrin, after all, was still officially supposed to be in Charenton with Simon.

    Camille met him on an isolated patch of the beach, pleased to see him greet her with a roguish smile on his face. ¡°Success?¡± she asked, watching him climb out of his skiff.

    ¡°We arrived just before the Prince of Darkness left for Cambria. It was perfect timing, really, although Simon was sorry to miss him. But with the Prince¡¯s Lieutenant gone, everyone left let their guard down a lot. Much easier to chat during work hours, laxer security... The network¡¯s in place, and it¡¯s already yielding results.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Camille nodded, relieved that something was going right for once. ¡°Give me names.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? You said it was better not to hear some things, so that you could¡ª¡±

    ¡°Tell me.¡± The time might come when I need to contact them without going through you. ¡°Everything you can.¡±

    ¡°Ok,¡± Yse shrugged, then pulled out a sheaf of papers written in code. ¡°The leader of the operation is Russel Perl¡ªhe managed to get a job at the Cambrian Tower studying energy storage. They¡¯re trying to hold spiritual power in these giant glass tanks. Apparently they already figured out how to do it with wind and water mills too, but the potency isn¡¯t there for what they¡¯re looking for.¡±

    Oh good, technology whose function I can replicate better on my own. ¡°His girlfriend is helping him too, though she doesn¡¯t know it. Dead drops, deliveries, that sort of thing. Less suspicious. Her name¡¯s Verona Greenglass. Her brother Paul recruited them both at my suggestion¡ªhe¡¯s the one in Charenton.¡± Yse beamed, rightfully proud of what he¡¯d accomplished. ¡°It helps that the people awarded these plum jobs are such an interconnected circle. They all went to the same schools, their parents knew each other, and most end up marrying each other too. They trust each other.¡±

    For now. Given what they were doing, that was liable to change. ¡°Any useful information? Dare I even ask if you figured out what the DV bomb is?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the D and the V stand for¡ªit¡¯s blacked out in all the documents I got¡ªbut Paul got tapped to help sort some data from the tests.¡± Yse flipped to another paper, this one mostly consisting of a messily sketched list of numbers. ¡°If I decode these coordinates right, we can visit one and see exactly what it does. But I¡¯m not there yet¡ªeverything I¡¯ve tried has just been empty spots in the middle of the ocean. I can¡¯t tell for sure if I¡¯m decoding wrong or it just doesn¡¯t leave any traces.¡±

    ¡°Neither prospect is comforting. We need more information. Hmm...¡± Camille looked out at the water, considering the best approach. ¡°Crete Marbury left this morning. The trains were actually working for once, so she¡¯ll be in Charenton tonight. You¡¯ll find her there, and strike up a conversation. Charm her.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Why not? You¡¯re handsome, you know what information you need. You collected the dossier on her in the first place, so it shouldn¡¯t be hard to feign common interests. She¡¯s not interested in women, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡±

    ¡°What, because she didn¡¯t go after you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s usually a reliable metric.¡± Camille shrugged. ¡°As long as you¡¯re careful, there¡¯s no downside to trying. Whatever helps verify the test data. If she mentions doing experiments on the open ocean, that points to you decoding correctly. Maybe you can even get a quadrant. But don¡¯t come on too strong, just a little bit to check your work against.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, Your Grace.¡± Yse did not look particularly comfortable with the task, but Camille was confident he would rise to the occasion.

    ¡°Do you have the dossier on her memorized?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll review it on the train up. By the time I arrive, I should be fine.¡± Yse hesitated, then tucked the papers back into place. ¡°This isn¡¯t part of my job, and it¡¯s not really my place to ask, but... the things I hear about Marbury, the things we dug up on her¡ªthe artificial spirit-touched slaves, the medical experiments, the Khali cult, whatever this DV bomb truly is... Is this really who you want running the Debray Institute?¡±

    Camille chuckled. ¡°That isn¡¯t part of your job, and there¡¯s no need for you to know.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Grace.¡±

    Hearing that, she felt comfortable telling him. ¡°Marbury won¡¯t be running anything. For one thing, she refused my offer. For another, the leadership of the Institute is promised to the woman it¡¯s named for.¡±

    ¡°So there¡¯s no chance she¡¯ll defect?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡± What did you call Malin again, Crete? A washed-up backwater? ¡°Luce might not care that she¡¯s an amoral Khali cultist, or that she tried to turn living people into husks just to find a better soldier. By himself, I doubt his brother would either. But once the public knows? She won¡¯t be able to get a job selling journals. She¡¯ll be toxic over there, begging to defect. And she¡¯ll be grateful for the opportunity to serve at Annette¡¯s pleasure.¡±

    ¡°Ahhh...¡± Yse smiled, realizing the plan.

    ¡°When you¡¯ve memorized the dossier, give it to a woman named Marie Laure, she¡¯s a friend of Scott Temple. She¡¯ll publish all of it without it pointing back to us. If she doesn¡¯t bite, try other cities, but Charenton¡¯s ideal since Luce doesn¡¯t censor, and he¡¯s unlikely to retaliate when it¡¯s printed. If she¡¯s known Scott for any length of time, Laure will want to follow up. Make sure the evidence is still there for her to find. Then return once you have the coordinates for these DV bomb test sites. I want to see it with my own eyes.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, Your Grace.¡±

    ¡°I believe you¡¯ll rise to the occasion, Ysengrin.¡± Though we may find that seduction is beyond your skill set. It was still a worthy effort, considering how little ground Camille had made on her own. Marbury had her guard up against her, but the right intermediary had a good chance of slipping past her defenses. In fact¡ª

    ¡°Get Margot in my office,¡± Camille ordered the moment she returned to the Administration Building. I think I know exactly how to handle the Duke of Condillac.

 Fernan III: The Elegiac

    Fernan III: The Elegiac

    Though the lavish celebrations of the Commune often struck Fernan as a foolish expenditure¡ª the same sort of unwise revelry that Guy Valvert had rubbed in the faces of regular people to accentuate just how much better aristocrats had it¡ªGabriel Rochaort de Gaume, erstwhile Viscount of Miroirdeau, was certainly deserving of the honor if anyone was.

    Beneath the snow-capped mountains piercing the grey sky above, so far as Fernan had been told, a massive pyre had been constructed in the castle courtyard. The funerary edifice was a more extravagant duplication of the mountain tradition, since Rochaort¡¯s last testament had requested such a ritual instead of the more customary departure for a peer of the Empire, one final demonstration of his commitment to the Commune.

    Rochaort hadn¡¯t been in the room with the Montaignards, before the Revolution. He hadn¡¯t had any real grievances against Valvert¡¯s regime, nor had he anything to gain by upturning the status quo. Yet still, Gabriel had stood up for what was right. He¡¯d supported the Commune in innumerable ways both material and social, not least among them as a voice for moderation when it came to the Valverts¡¯ punishment, persuasive enough that even Paul Armand had backed away from any direct calls for their execution.

    Now that he¡¯s dead, unfortunately, it may only be a matter of time before that topic is reopened. Armand and his cronies had already begun to circle around the Assembly like a vulture around its prey once Rochaort¡¯s health had begun to decline, and the Committee of Public Safety was an impotent compromise, lacking in any real authority, which was unlikely to hold them at bay for long.

    Hopefully killing that copy protection law shored up support with Costeau and the others, at least, even if I¡¯m sure to get an earful from Luce about it. Nominally, the Commune still recognized the validity of foreign copy restriction rights, including Avaline technologies, but with no enforcement mechanism, duplication of anything and everything was still permitted for all practical purposes, as was profiting from it.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, M¨¦lisse,¡± Fernan told Rochaort¡¯s daughter, roughly double his own age. ¡°If there¡¯s anything I can do for you, please don¡¯t hesitate to ask.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± she said flatly, eyes facing elsewhere as if she hadn¡¯t really been listening. Not that Fernan blamed her for that¡ªthere was no wrong way to grieve, nor one way people could be expected to do it. Especially after their relationship had grown so strained, if what Fernan had heard was any indication. He¡¯d been a hundred times worse after losing his own father, rude and petulant beyond all measure, even to Mom. For all that people had understood the reason for it, fully mending those bridges had taken years of work.

    Fernan nodded to her, then moved away, allowing Doctor S¨¦zanne to step forward and offer his own rote condolences. Soon enough, it would be time to speak for the dead, celebrating Gabriel¡¯s great achievements and moral character, but before Fernan could get very far practicing his speech, quietly muttering far away from the gathering in the hopes that no one would disturb him, he felt a tug on his coat.

    Behind him was Aubaine Lumi¨¨re, the twelve-year-old¡¯s aura already nearly as bright and golden as his father¡¯s had been, despite not being a sage himself. Fernan couldn¡¯t really see it, but Maxime had dressed Aubaine for the occasion, going so far as to borrow Edith¡¯s tailor to ensure he looked just right. ¡°Fernan? Can I show you something?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Most likely, it was a stick he¡¯d found on the ground, or a mountain toad, or some other artifact of nature whose discovery would have surely sullied the boy¡¯s new waistcoat. Fernan knew this routine, and it still managed to be cute every time, all the more so at a time like this, when levity was in such short supply.

    Instead, to his surprise, Fernan saw Aubaine hand him a letter coated in wax, sculpted into the same ridges and grooves as  Avalon¡¯s tactile type, though clearly carved by hand. ¡°Who sent you a letter like this?¡± he asked as he flipped it open, starting to read.

    ¡°It was a normal letter. I copied it myself so you could read it!¡±

    Fernan¡¯s heart just about melted to hear that, so he pulled Aubaine in for a hug with one arm as he held the letter in the other, rubbing his thumb over the surface to ascertain what it said.

    Quickly, his smile faded.

    To Aubaine Aurelianis Apollinaire Lumi¨¨re,

    Lord of the Skies and Inheritor of the Sun,

    Though we have not had the pleasure of meeting since you were merely a babe in arms, surely beyond the bounds of a child¡¯s fickle memories, I had the pleasure to know your father well, and even to call him a friend. Ignoble as his end may have been, he served his patron spirit and his liege with dignity and grace for decades beforehand, leal service that ought not go forgotten, even allowing for his betrayal at the late hour of his life.

    With the death of Gabriel Roachaort de Gaume, I fear for your safety more than ever. Even the noblest of peers, even those who forsook their liege and collaborated with the rebels, are not guaranteed safety in the wretched regime squatting atop the once-great city of Guerron. The revolting peasants who hold you captive rail against the wise guidance of the spirits, dear departed Soleil most of all, and cannot be trusted to keep safe the son of the man who was the sun¡¯s High Priest.

    It has become clear that you must be rescued from the false knight, Fernan Montaigne, and protected from any attempt at retaliation from his rowdy band. If you have any fond memories of your father, you would do well to heed my words. You shall always have a place with us, Aubaine, just as my beloved daughter had a place with your father.

    My son Edouard is of age with you, sure to be an excellent companion. The two of you would be as brothers, your father¡¯s legacy bestowed upon you as is your right as his son and heir. We would bestow upon you your birthright, and protect it as we would our own.

    All you need do is present yourself on the Gold Road to the south of Guerron on the day before the Vernal Equinox, while the rebels are distracted with the Festival of the Sun. We shall take care of the rest.

    Yours Faithfully,

    Count C¨¦dric Bougitte de Torpierre, Lord of the Stone Tower

    ¡°Aubaine, did you show this to anyone else?¡± Fernan asked quietly, his mind reeling.

    Aubaine shook his head, aura dimming as he picked up on Fernan¡¯s distress. ¡°I don¡¯t have to go, do I?¡±

    If Armand and his goons get ahold of this, they¡¯ll be clamoring to go to war against Torpierre. And when you don¡¯t show up at the anointed hour, the Bougittes just might try to force the issue themselves. This had to be handled very delicately if there was to be any chance for peace.

    ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be fine.¡± Fernan rustled Aubaine¡¯s hair, reassuring him the same way he had when the boy had first asked about the fate of his father. ¡°They tried to take you away before the Revolution, but we put a stop to that. No one¡¯s going to take you away.¡± The problem is the damage they can do just by trying.

    ¡°But what do they mean, my birthright? Did Father want to give me something? A present?¡±

    I suppose you¡¯re old enough for the truth, rather than the artful evasion I gave you when Aurelian first died. Though I¡¯d rather Bougitte hadn¡¯t forced the issue. ¡°Your father was the High Priest of the previous sun spirit, Soleil. Soleil was a bully and a tyrant, who forced your father to do all sorts of things he didn¡¯t want to, but the man who wrote this letter didn¡¯t see it that way, because he didn¡¯t really know your father well at all.¡± Considering how seldom and reluctantly Laura ever mentioned her home life, I¡¯d guess Count C¨¦dric didn¡¯t know her all that well either, ¡®beloved daughter¡¯ or not. ¡°Aurelian didn¡¯t want to put you in that position; he wanted to save you from that ¡®birthright¡¯. It¡¯s the reason he schemed against Soleil at all, even though he benefited greatly from the Sun¡¯s success. The man who wrote this letter doesn¡¯t just want to snatch you from us, but also to force you into the role your father died to save you from.¡±

    It doesn¡¯t make up for everything else he did, all the sacrifices and injustice, downright tyranny in Guerron at the end of his life, but he did want what was best for you, Aubaine.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Do you have the original letter?¡± Fernan asked after a moment of quiet contemplation, folding the tactile translation into his pocket.

    Aubaine handed over another letter, unreadable to Fernan, his hand trembling.

    Fernan forced a smile. ¡°Everything¡¯s going to be alright, Aubaine. I won¡¯t let them take you. Why don¡¯t you go find Maxime?¡±

    After a reluctant nod, Aubaine ran off, aura gradually returning to its usual intensity the further away he went. Fernan waited until he was fully out of sight before burning the original letter to ashes, watching the flickering sparks scatter into the wind. It took him another moment to compose himself before he was ready to return to the departure celebration, another still before he mustered the will to stand before the pyre and begin his eulogy of Gabriel Rochaort.

    ¡°We gather today to mourn not only a peerless statesman, but also a friend,¡± Fernan began, then launched into a thorough accounting of the erstwhile Viscount¡¯s warmth and geniality, his stern and incorruptible moral character, and his measured wisdom in the face of rowdy thoughtlessness, finishing with the unveiling of a statue of his likeness, the cleanly polished bronze at the base reflecting his figure just as his old domain reflected the world above it, a mirror of water referred to often enough that it became the name of the place, shortened and crunched together over the centuries.

    And to his relief, everyone erupted into applause, even M¨¦lisse, who¡¯d coldly refused the honor of speaking for her father herself, claiming the wound within her was too raw to tear open. Whatever the truth, Fernan seemed to have done his job, which meant that he could turn his attention to quietly addressing the threat posed by C¨¦dric Bougitte.

    Maxime could be trusted, as could Mom, but beyond that, no one could know how close they¡¯d come to disaster. If Aubaine¡¯s childish carelessness had been complemented with even a bit of teenage rebellion, Bougitte might have snatched him right out from under them and sparked a war. As it was, things still needed to be handled delicately.

    Fernan set the pyre alight with a long exhalation, green fire spreading across until the tendrils of flame stretched into the sky, carefully cached plants and perfumes within the wood covering up any scent of burning flesh.

    ¡°Well spoken,¡± Paul Armand told Fernan as he came upon him, perhaps mollified at last after his futile search of Gabriel¡¯s belongings, which had surely turned up nothing. ¡°It¡¯s a shame it was all lies.¡±

    What now? Fernan started to respond, but Armand was already crying out to everyone there, disrespectful and dangerous in equal measure.

    ¡°Citoyen Gabriel de Gaume was no communard, but a traitor most foul, corrupt to the core.¡± Armand withdrew from his coat a piece of paper and a purse of florins, jangling loudly enough to be heard over the crackle of the burning wood. ¡°I lay the evidence before your eyes, a conspiracy to free Citoyen Guy Valvert and stoke the flames of war with foreign tyrants. Rochaort was paid to run messages to the Duke of Condillac, promising that Guerron¡¯s gates would be open, its government unawares as the Condillac fleet descended upon our shores.¡±

    He must have planted it, was Fernan¡¯s first thought, followed closely by the horror of what it would mean. Armand couldn¡¯t contest Gabriel in life, so he¡¯s trying to sully his ideals in death. This was a new low, and Fernan had no intention of allowing it to continue, much as he might not want it to be true.

    Luce had told him all about the fall of Malin to Camille Leclaire, how he¡¯d buried his head in his books and ignored the problems in front of him until the city was lost.

    ¡°He was not the only one,¡± Armand continued, even as Fernan walked right up to him with burning fury in his eyes. ¡°The corrupt are everywhere among us, and they must be rooted out for the safety and security of the Commune. I call upon all you now to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough!¡± Fernan shouted, thankfully shutting him up. ¡°Even if what you¡¯re saying is true, this is neither the time nor the place. And I find it highly suspect.¡± Fernan turned to address the rest of the guests. ¡°Rest assured that this matter will be investigated thoroughly, and given all due consideration. Until then, in the absence of any other evidence, I bid you all continue to enjoy the ceremony of departure, and celebrate the life of Citoyen Gabriel Rochaort.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to let him get away with it?¡± Armand shouted, stupefied. ¡°To send him off with the honors of an office he abused and disdained? You put me in charge of the Committee of Public Safety, and yet when I protect the safety of the public, uncovering this vile misdeed, you silence me? I¡¯m beginning to wonder if you¡ª¡±

    ¡°With me, now.¡± Fernan commanded, determined not to let this escalate out of control. He brusquely pulled Armand aside and began marching into the castle.¡°I put Michel in charge of the CSP, not you. I granted you leave to search Gabriel¡¯s chambers, not insult the man at his own departure.¡±

    ¡°But Michel isn¡¯t here right now! There was only me. I acted to protect the Commune!¡± Indignant as Armand was, at least he was following Fernan instead of grandstanding further. Small mercies. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡±

    ¡°To see Valvert. You are to remain silent while I question him. I¡¯ll have the truth of this, one way or another, and we¡¯ll put the matter to bed. Am I understood?¡±

    ¡°But the First Speaker doesn¡¯t have any duties on the CSP. Is it not my job to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Fernan told him bluntly, hating the feeling of throwing his weight around like this. ¡°Now follow me, silently, and we¡¯ll discuss this further when I¡¯m done with Valvert.¡±

    Stripped of the crowds he was so adept at riling up, Armand was chastened enough to listen. ¡°Yes, First Speaker.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Perhaps there was hope yet, if Armand wasn¡¯t simply biding his time to manufacture more ¡®proof¡¯ of malfeasance to prop up his own power.

    Only time, and a conversation with Guy Valvert, would tell.

    ¡°What did the letter you ¡®found¡¯ say, exactly?¡± Fernan asked him, regretting that he hadn¡¯t taken Maxime with him to verify it from a more trusted source.

    Paul Armand seemed surprised that Fernan was actually asking about it, and pulled it forth from his pocket to read the exact words aloud. According to Armand¡¯s dubious ¡®evidence¡¯, Guy Valvert had offered Rochaort a thousand florins for sending a message to Condillac and returning his response. That message itself offered the Duke Guerron in exchange for his help retaking it from us. Apparently Valvert meant to be his puppet and spite his cousin and Camille both, revenge for the treaty of Charenton; a distressingly plausible course for him to take, given what Fernan knew of his character.

    Fernan watched Armand¡¯s aura closely and noticed no signs of nervousness or passion, nor was there even a hint of hesitation in his speech as he read aloud. If he were lying, he was doing it adeptly enough that Fernan saw no signs. And why bother, when the evidence itself was either genuine or forged to read exactly what he wanted it to?

    As they approached Valvert¡¯s tower cell, far more decadent than he deserved per their terms with Camille, Fernan tapped one of the door guards on the shoulder and quietly asked to borrow his helmet. With the visor closed, his eyes were hidden enough that Fernan could blend in perfectly, unassuming and anonymous. He directed Armand to do the same with the other guard¡¯s helm, then opened the door.

    ¡°Count Valvert,¡± Fernan whispered, trusting that the prisoner wouldn¡¯t remember his voice and using the same aristocratic titles that a bribed guard might. ¡°Message for you from the Viscount of Miroirdeau. He didn¡¯t want it written down, so he told me to tell you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, finally!¡± Valvert cried out, his aura brightening passionately. ¡°It took him long enough. I was half worried that he¡¯d keel over before he could do his job. So what did the little duke have to say? Will he help us?¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Fernan sighed quietly. So much for this scheme being faked for a political agenda. That made things significantly more difficult. Even beneath his helm, Armand¡¯s smug satisfaction was obvious.

    ¡°He¡¯s open to negotiation, but he wants more for his trouble,¡± Fernan said, louder. ¡°I¡¯ll let you think it over and come back for your response.¡±

    ¡°Very good,¡± Guy nodded. ¡°The usual price?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fernan hissed, feeling his blood begin to boil as Guy slipped him fifty florins. Where is he getting all this money? We seized all his riches, yet he offered Gabriel a thousand!

    That betrayal was galling in its own right, the grief of his loss compounded by the realization that every argument he¡¯d made against capital punishment had surely been bought and paid for by Valvert.

    Fernan mustered the composure to withdraw, Armand following silently after him, then gave the guards back their helmets.

    Armand wasn¡¯t a forger, like Jethro, but a zealot. More virtuous of character, perhaps, but no less dangerous. Just because he¡¯d told the truth didn¡¯t mean leaving him in charge of this was a good idea. As soon as they were out of earshot, Fernan turned to the beaming Armand and issued his command.

    ¡°Effective immediately, I¡¯m appointing myself interim chair of the Committee of Public Safety until Michel¡¯s return. You have proven incapable of demonstrating the care and caution the position demands.¡± But if I cast you out entirely, it will look like I was involved in this plot. ¡°You have, however, proven adept at uncovering evidence of treason. For the moment, all of Valvert¡¯s guards need to be replaced with fresh faces, closely vetted. As for the old set, you¡¯ll interrogate them and tell me what you find. Document every interview extensively. If even one innocent is caught up in your investigation, I do not care how many guilty ones you find. Am I clear?¡±

    ¡°Yes, First Speaker.¡± Armand nodded crisply, his aura a sharp yellow that radiated sincerity. ¡°I can¡¯t blame you for your doubt; I know you and Gabriel were close. But I¡¯m pleased to see you taking this threat so seriously now.¡± Giving him recognition and purpose seemed to genuinely be pacifying his threat, at least for now, mollifying him far better than the empty CSP appointment had.

    But I still missed all the signs about Gabriel¡¯s betrayal. Even when Armand put the evidence right in front of my face, I didn¡¯t believe him until Valvert exterminated all doubt. Was it because I didn¡¯t want to realize? Am I making Luce¡¯s mistakes after all, despite my best efforts?

    And what does that mean for the people of Guerron?

 Luce II: The Master of the Tower

    Luce II: The Master of the Tower

    It always felt strange returning to Ortus Tower these days. Decades in the making, the Tower had been the symbol of the future for Luce¡¯s entire life, the literal pillar supporting the metaphorical modern society that gave Avalon its strength, for good and ill.

    Until Luce had constructed the Memorial in Charenton, it had been the tallest structure built by human hands at thirteen floors, though the Empire of the Fox had always claimed that their palace in Malin won the contest by virtue of the hill it sat atop, as if distance from sea level were the true architectural marvel.

    Did that play a role in Father¡¯s decision to tear it apart stone by stone? Did I inherit the same spiteful impulse when I insisted that the Memorial surpass Ortus? It was impossible to say for sure.

    Regardless, the power of the old world was waning. Ortus Tower had survived fierce opposition in its day: attacks from traditionalist Cambrian nobles, the Shining Prince¡¯s followers, and even Pantera the Undying herself. But could it survive irrelevance?

    The glossy black stone and rigid cylindrical design that had once screamed modern felt more dated than ever, an artifact of the abortive Cambrian Revival movement in architecture that boasted few exemplary buildings outside Ortus and a few outbuildings at the College.

    Far older buildings like the Royal Palace where the Grimoires had first landed in Avalon had a weight of history behind them, as if they had fully completed the transition into artifacts. As it stood today, Ortus Tower was caught in an awkward middle ground, a sop to the scientist who preferred to stay close to home rather than build the future in Charenton, unconstrained by the antiquated Avaline interdict against spiritual research.

    But is that the inevitable flow of time, or the master of both Towers playing favorites with the one he built? Would it even matter? The fact was, new graduates of singular talent and vision preferred Charenton, while the mediocre seeking nothing more than a comfortable life of reasonable prestige stayed close to home. More than half of the scientists in Ortus predated Luce¡¯s tenure as Overseer by years or decades, slowly collecting mothballs as their research crawled forward.

    The elevator was still a rickety birdcage hastily incorporated into the design after the initial phase of construction, as was the ugly dock retrofitted to allow airship moorage. The staircase up the floors was narrow enough that a persistent legend had spread among the scientists that people had been physically smaller at the time of its construction. The cramped offices surrounding each lab, the dearth of windows, all spoke to a building that felt every second as old as its hundred years.

    Yet on the roof lay the Nocturne gate, the key to the future. And the only chance I have to save my brothers. As long as the process worked safely, without any wider danger to the world, success could solve the most important issue facing Luce in a matter of months.

    Would success pull the gravity of the future back towards Cambria? Would the Memorial Tower one day be a mere artifact in its own right, a remnant of the fanciful ambitions of the despised Prince of Darkness? Not if Luce had any say in the matter. He was still the Overseer of Ortus, still the Prince of Crescents. And no matter how much he protested to Charlotte, he knew that Father would rather he be the one ruling Avalon in his name than Harold, and that he¡¯d do a far better job.

    Perhaps once I save Harold¡¯s life, he¡¯ll abdicate out of gratitude. Harold had done stranger things, like slice his own body with a dangerous artifact to create a shadow of himself, then try futilely to deflect his guilt about it onto the mechanics of magic. It was comforting to imagine that as the reason Jethro had opposed him, no longer truly Luce¡¯s brother but an amalgam of Harold, darkness and insanity. Given the conflicting reports about the power of Gemel, it was hardly inconceivable. But even in that most generous interpretation to Harold, he¡¯d still listened to Jethro, still lied to Luce¡¯s face and willingly sent pirates to capture him or worse.

    And I¡¯m not fully convinced. Jethro hadn¡¯t done anything in Malin that a spiteful Harold wouldn¡¯t have done himself with proper motivation; four years of sparring with the Prince Regent had made his methods abundantly clear. He¡¯d been apologetic in Charenton, less spiteful even than the original, despite supposedly being Luce¡¯s enemy in a way Harold was not.

    And even if he was corrupted by darkness, he¡¯s more a victim than anything. Neither deserved death, let alone the horrifying fate that awaited one or both of them if Father predeceased them.

    Failure was not an option.

    It was hard to give the department directors the attention they deserved as Luce made his rounds, mind preoccupied with the implacable problem before him. He struggled to focus on even monumental developments, like Wallace Wellesley demonstrating successful communication via the lethiograph all the way to Charenton, Charles des Agnettes conveying the broadest ideas of communication instantly from miles away.

    This time, Wellesley received the symbol for fire, the simplified insignia modeled off the Montaignard pin for simplicity and clarity. That meant consumption, danger, spread, but also warmth, passion, drive, and the future. What did it mean that Charles had conveyed that message here? Wellesley wasn¡¯t entirely sure, and neither was Luce.

    With refinement, it could render the semaphore telegraph towers scattered across Avalon wholly obsolete. Without it, the lethiograph was as obtuse as the spiritual visions it was derived from, improved only because it was theoretically accessible to anyone. But in such a state, it was likely to remain a specialized curio, suitable only for the rare instances when it was worth giving up clarity for speed, and had access to one of the rare individuals who could reasonably parse the symbology for even a vague sense of meaning.

    Crete was still absent, waylaid in Charenton by what she claimed was a spark of inspiration, so Rebecca filled in to give her report, a routine accounting of modest developments in the DV bomb, largely in concentrating the radius for a more powerful, geographically constrained result. Useful, especially in limiting the damage should it ever need to be used, but iterative, far from the sort of inspiration that would normally prompt Crete to duck Luce¡¯s summons to Cambria.

    ¡°Well, if you ask me, I think it¡¯s just a cover. Kelsey told me she met someone down there. Isn¡¯t that an interesting thought?¡±

    Interesting and bizarre. The Marbury family name was allure enough on its own for most suitors, and Lucretia¡¯s brilliance more than enough to single her out from among them. Her greatest flaw, a lack of morality, was if anything only a benefit to most of the notable families of Avalon. She had no lack of options, nor had she ever expressed any particular interest in dalliances with commoners, married rather to her work.

    Unless this is just another ploy, angling for more power or influence with me. Even then, it ought not to matter too much, since she was already on the ship heading back. Obviously the temptation, be it from Camille or the mystery man, hadn¡¯t been sufficient to draw her in.

    ¡°I heard from Sabine too¡ªher boat¡¯s arriving tomorrow morning. Apparently she met your friend Fernan in Guerron and they hit it off, too.¡±

    ¡°Maybe that¡¯ll finally be enough common ground to get her to accept my invitation to dinner.¡± Learning from Camille, Luce had made the painful effort to keep his most valuable assets close personally, rather than merely professionally, but Srin Sabine had proven an obstacle to properly cultivating Rebecca, and her apparent dislike was getting more and more difficult to understand. And if she was constantly pouring poison in Rebecca¡¯s ear, it would be difficult to ensure her loyalty.

    It was far from a major problem, barely even a minor one, really, but it was perplexing enough to be intriguing. Perhaps a word with Fernan would be enough to finally bring her in. Worth a try, at least.

    Luce skipped past his office once he finished his rounds, heading instead up to the roof where the massive dark disc of the Nocturne Gate hung in the sky. With all of the instruments and framing surrounding it, it looked like it was resting normally on the roof, but the reality was that it remained fixed in place, the Tower built up to reach the gate in the sky rather than the inverse.

    The radius was wider than the Tower¡¯s itself, the gate visible even from the ground provided one got enough distance, and if the results from the Cloaks of Nocturne held, it could be the key to salvation not only for Harold, but the world. And if we get something wrong, it could usher in an endless Age of Darkness anew. Luce knew the risks, and he had no intention of being reckless.

    Today was just a proof of concept. He set up the flashing lights to the same frequency that had worked with the Cloaks, only set up for two seconds of exposure. It had taken minutes for any kind of visible results before, the time for the effect growing the larger the cloth sample, so the massive gate to Nocturne would likely need hours or days for the vibration to take effect. Two seconds might not even be enough to move the needle measuring resonance, but it was also surely too short to avoid any kind of cascade that risked opening the gate.

    Also readied was the counter-frequency, proven to immediately dampen the effect and return the artifacts of Nocturne to normal, and nearly certain to do the same with the gate. Everything was set to go, but Luce still hesitated. If I¡¯m wrong, this could rend apart the Tower, with Cambria not far behind. Worse, if Khali still lingered in Nocturne, plotting to return to her home, she might leap at the slightest opportunity.

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The trick was to open the gate a crack, just enough to siphon power from the dark world on the other side and remedy Pantera¡¯s curse without risking anything unwanted coming back through.

    After a moment of thought, Luce shortened the timer to one second, then flashed the light at the Gate.

    And nothing visible happened.

    Good. Dooming the world would have been pretty bad. His fear had been that the increased proximity to Nocturne would reverse the effect, with the gate reacting faster and more violently to the stimulus, but the clear result was that it scaled just as expected. That made things so much easier.

    Even though now I need to find a way to project enough power at the right frequency to overpower the inertia of this massive gate. Nothing at their disposal would be sufficient, Luce realized with a back of hand calculation, which meant exploring novel options.

    He rushed back to his office to begin working on the problem, but was surprised to find a black-haired girl with stone grey eyes waiting patiently across from his desk.

    ¡°Lady Vas Sarah, thank you for accepting my invitation!¡± Though I wished you¡¯d made it while Charlotte was still here. Something about the Jay politician¡¯s bearing put Luce ill at ease. She was beautiful, to be sure, and he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with her inability to make eye contact, since he got on fine with Fernan.

    And getting this right was crucial, unless Luce wanted to cede control of the Great Council to Harold and his Harpies.

    ¡°My pleasure, Your Highness.¡± Sarah didn¡¯t turn around to face him, instead staring forward across the Overseer¡¯s desk until Luce took his seat behind it. ¡°I¡¯m pleased you remembered my name.¡±

    ¡°Uhhh... of course.¡± Thank you for bringing that up again, as if it wasn¡¯t embarrassing enough the first time. When Luce first had approached the Jays about the Treaty of Charenton, he¡¯d called her Cindy, and Sarah seemed ill-inclined to ever let him forget it. Off to a great start.

    In an effort to reset things, Luce poured her a glass of brandy and set it loudly on the desk to draw her attention to it, then poured a glass for himself. ¡°You¡¯ve read my proposal?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s certainly an interesting idea.¡± She smiled, looking more devious than elated. ¡°I speak for the Jays when I say that we¡¯re all confident in our constituencies. Your proposal won¡¯t unseat any of us, while it should gut the power of those Harpy pillocks who never lifted a finger for the peasants of their respective boroughs.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re amenable?¡±

    ¡°Provided all goes well in Carringdon?¡± Her unseeing eyes stared straight through Luce. ¡°We¡¯ll consider it. But we have serious concerns. For one thing, you¡¯ve yet to give us much upside.¡±

    Oh, fantastic. ¡°Breaking the Harpies isn¡¯t enough?¡±

    ¡°If it were a sure thing? Perhaps. But you¡¯re asking us to cede power, nominally at any rate, in order to prop up your Aunt. I just don¡¯t see the benefit as outweighing the cost.¡± Sarah leaned back in her chair, her voice going sickly sweet. ¡°There¡¯s more we¡¯d want from you, to make this an equitable proposition.¡±

    She reminds me of Camille, Luce finally realized, instantly placing his unease. Which really isn¡¯t fair¡ªthere are plenty of pretty noblewomen who aren¡¯t plotting to steal a city from me, I¡¯m sure. Still, it made Charlotte¡¯s absence feel all the more acute. Malin had been Luce¡¯s greatest failure, and the single largest reason had been a failure to listen to his Lieutenant.

    And I have good reason to be wary of making commitments that she hasn¡¯t vetted. But could he afford to wait, with Carringdon tipping the balance of power until the situation was resolved? Not likely.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Luce asked frankly, not bothering to maintain the polite tempo¡ªcutting through the facade straight to the heart of an issue had always been the most effective way to deal with Camille, and likely the only reason he¡¯d been able to press her to sign the Treaty of Charenton at all.

    ¡°Oh, nothing much.¡± Sarah chuckled, sending a shard of dread straight into Luce¡¯s spine. ¡°The first thing is something you¡¯d want anyway, I¡¯m sure. One of your journals in Charenton is sniffing after the Twilight Society, with an eye towards Crete Marbury in particular. So far it goes no further than a woman named Marie Laure, but this could spread if left alone. You need to kill it.¡±

    ¡°Did you mistake me for Lord Monfroy? I¡¯m not going to kill a journalist for you.¡± Even Camille had found a way to deal with the journal problem better than that, though it served her more than me by orders of magnitude.

    ¡°Kill the story, Luce. Come now, I wouldn¡¯t want you to do anything immoral. It¡¯s your city, and there¡¯s none of the Avaline speech protections to contend with.¡± She placed her hand on the table, almost an invitation. ¡°Crete works for you. Do you think you would come out smelling of marigolds if a journal in your city tore her apart for unethical research done on your watch? It¡¯s as I said, mutually beneficial. Really, you should be thanking me for making you aware of it in the first place.¡±

    Thinking about Crete, the DV bomb might be one answer to the power problem with the Nocturne Gate. In its current state, it wouldn¡¯t even be possible to test compatibility without wiping Cambria off the map, but if Luce recalled correctly, there were a few Nocturne gates far from any civilization, out at sea or high in the sky or in the windswept Fortan Highlands... This could work. But not if the Great Council was falling apart behind him. After Malin, Luce would never again abdicate his political duties to focus on the scientific problem before him.

    So Luce grit his teeth, then hissed out a reluctant, ¡°Thank you.¡± That didn¡¯t mean ceding all negotiating power, however. ¡°But the Twilight Society has nothing to do with me, and it¡¯s not as if it covers all of the Jays either. Why should I step in to protect Monfroy and his little club?¡±

    ¡°Because I asked you nicely.¡± She smiled again, removing her hand from the table. ¡°And because your little election scheme is dead in the water without willing Councilors using it for their seats. Burn Monfroy if it has to be someone, but it¡¯s important to keep the damage contained. You wouldn¡¯t want to lose Crete, or Rebecca¡¯s Sabine for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Sabine¡¯s in the Twilight Society?¡± Does that explain her dislike for me, sight unseen, or only make it more confusing? Hard to be sure when it was far from the most important thing to consider at the moment, so Luce stuck the thought on the shelf for later. ¡°Nevermind. My real question is why you want to keep it. You have advanced warning¡ªit should be easy to distance yourself and any other Jays before any news breaks out, let Monfroy hang with the society while you come out clean.¡±

    Sarah sighed, maintaining her unblinking stare. ¡°We¡¯re the last people left who care about the truth when it comes to Nocturne. Considering the gate right above our heads that you¡¯ve been so insistent on tinkering with, I¡¯d think you of all people would understand the value of that. Do you want to go after the power of Khali¡¯s domain with only binders and scientists who know nothing about it, raised by decades of propaganda?¡±

    ¡°Avalon¡¯s blindspots don¡¯t mean that you¡¯re right just because you believe something different,¡± Luce said, and meant it, but he couldn¡¯t help but grant to himself that she had a point. There was obviously more to Nocturne than the official accounts said¡ªLuce knew that personally, after his experiments.

    That didn¡¯t say much in favor of the Twilight Society though. He¡¯d seen his ancestors make sacrifices to Khali in this very city, when it had been nothing but a few grounded ships on a beach. They were a continuation of that ideology, the old Cambria and the old Grimoires, when Luce was trying to do something new.

    ¡°Your brother doesn¡¯t seem to have the same compunctions. He removed several artifacts from your family archives and donated them to the Tancredi museum, including the white IXI brick and its tentacled tendrils.¡±

    What? Luce almost spat out his brandy with bewilderment. ¡°IXI?¡±

    ¡°Text printed on the white brick. You should go see it for yourself. The point is that he seems more invested in the truth of history than you are, and his harpies might similarly be better partners in the advancement of the truth.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s obviously not true.¡± The northern heartlands where they drew most of their support had fought or feuded with the Mamela since long before the Grimoires had ever made it to Avalon. They certainly would want nothing to do with a coalition of Jays and the western isles. ¡°Harold¡¯s just doing it as a ¡®fuck you¡¯ to our father, just like most of what he does these days. He¡¯s a child throwing a tantrum. What I¡¯m proposing is a real partnership.¡±

    ¡°Then invite us in, Luce. We all stand to benefit.¡± She clinked her glass of brandy against his, then took her first sip. ¡°It¡¯s time the western isles had a College of their own, don¡¯t you think? We were hit harder by the summer of darkness than anyone else in Avalon, thanks to the vaunted decisions of the royal family. Wouldn¡¯t it be nice to pay that back? An endowment from the Prince of Crescents, focused not only on your scientific achievements but literature and history, the real history... That would go a long way towards setting things right, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    It sounds like you want to craft a propaganda mill and you want me to pay for it. Whatever was true about their beliefs and whatever was false, taking that approach was antithetical to science. But what was the alternative? Refusal would kill any partnership with Sarah, and with it, the rest of the Jays. Luce could push back on smaller points in the educational content, ensure that history wasn¡¯t swept aside where inconvenient to her aims, maybe. It was worth a try, surely? To make sure the rest didn¡¯t fall apart?

    Charlotte wouldn¡¯t want him to flinch at doing what was necessary. Already, she was in Carringdon, ensuring that they had any chance of success at all. What would she say, if Luce told her that he¡¯d blown up the whole thing over something as small as this? It¡¯s just a starting point. I¡¯ll still have leverage.

    ¡°The truth is as it is, whatever we think about it. I¡¯d be happy to support an institution in the western isles providing that education to anyone who wants it. Including literature and history,¡± Luce finished with a trace of disgust on his tongue. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to this journalist and make sure there¡¯s no blowback that we don¡¯t want. And I¡¯ll ensure that the Jays are key partners in any coalition that forms once the Harpies fall. Satisfied?¡±

    ¡°Eminently.¡± Sarah raised her glass. ¡°To the truth!¡±

    ¡°To the truth,¡± Luce echoed less enthusiastically, hoping dearly that he hadn¡¯t made a horrible mistake.

 Florette III: The Two-Faced

    Florette III: The Two-Faced

    The Birth of Spring was shrouded with fog, thick enough that Florette could barely make out the opposite side of Peige Boulevard as the sun rose. The vernal holiday was meant to embody life, growth, and warmth, but in Cambria it only meant the start of summer haze. According to Rebecca, it had something to do with a difference in temperature and vapor from the sea, but honestly Florette had barely understood it, and time had only muddied the explanation further in her memory.

    Ill-fitting as it was for its ostensible purpose, Florette still found the Birth of Spring superior to the Guerrine tradition, the Festival of the Sun. That event had once represented the tyrant Soleil and only properly shifted in meaning after the spirit¡¯s death, in addition to the cataclysmic disruption in Guerron after the duel between Camille and Lord Lumi¨¨re¡¯s duel hadn¡¯t helped. It wasn¡¯t as if it made much difference though, just an equinox by whatever name you gave it.

    Christophe didn¡¯t have the whole neighborhood association with him¡ªmost of them were down in the production district, making one last attempt to resolve negotiations without starting a strike. Florette didn¡¯t have much hope for that, nor did most of the neighbors, but not trying was the sort of thing they¡¯d be liable to regret. Exhaust every avenue, and all.

    Florette recognized Helen standing to Christophe¡¯s left, here instead of at the factory after being sacked for her inability to work¡ªinability caused by their damned fire, not that they cared at all. The other boy was a stranger, though, and Christophe himself had taken her a second to recognize after his massive growth spurt.

    It¡¯s interesting that Lamante¡¯s mask is even capable of growing and changing with him. For whatever reason, Christophe saw this form as his own more than whatever he¡¯d looked like before, to the point that Florette had never once seen him without it, even during the sorts of covert missions where a different appearance would have been extremely useful. There was a chance that was related. But considering this was a dead face, potentially centuries old, Florette couldn¡¯t help but wonder how its original owner would feel about its evolution. Whoever they¡¯d been, they¡¯d died young, their face carved off by a spirit whose morality was well south of neutral, then bestowed on a passionate Hiverrien with a warm heart. Hopefully they¡¯d appreciate that.

    ¡°I recognize Helen,¡± Florette said, the woman¡¯s burns reminding her of that first horrifying moment she¡¯d seen Fernan after his escape from G¨¦zarde¡¯s lair. The more time passed, the stranger it seemed that Fernan¡¯s creepy alderman had been capable of healing the wounds at all¡ªno other flame sages seemed capable of it, nor indeed any sages Florette knew of at all. Had that invaluable ability died with him? ¡°But I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met before,¡± she told the other boy.

    ¡°Jareth,¡± he muttered gruffly. ¡°I¡¯m her brother.¡±

    ¡°He just got back from Micheltaigne,¡± Christophe added. ¡°An experienced soldier.¡±

    Experienced fighting for the wrong side, Florette couldn¡¯t help but think, though the fact that he was here right now counted for a lot.

    ¡°You¡¯re the Blue Bandit?¡± Jareth asked skeptically. ¡°For a mythical terror, you don¡¯t look like much.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be very good if I did.¡± And I don¡¯t have the time or the interest in convincing you. Instead Florette addressed Christophe, asking, ¡°Is there any way to delay the strike? String along negotiations for another few weeks? That bastard Monfroy just gave me another job, and it¡¯s time-sensitive.¡±

    ¡°What do you care what some high lord thinks? Wouldn¡¯t the Blue Bandit throw him out a window for even asking?¡± Jareth folded his arms, a weariness creeping across his face. ¡°She¡¯s not the real thing, is she?¡±

    ¡°Jare! Stop!¡± Helen looked horrified, but Florette wasn¡¯t particularly offended.

    If anything, she couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the absurdity of the accusation. ¡°If I want to stay in this country, people have to go on believing I¡¯m no one important. Monfroy has some leverage, but it¡¯s nothing I don¡¯t intend to deal with.¡± Imminently, as a matter of fact. ¡°I have to ask, Jareth, is your problem with me, or the fact that we¡¯re going against the nation you bled for?¡±

    ¡°Avalon?¡± Jareth spit onto the ground, expression twisted into a sneer. ¡°My concern is playing things smart. I don¡¯t want my sister getting caught in some half-baked scheme and paying the price.¡±

    ¡°I can take care of myself, Jare. Been doing it the whole time you were gone.¡± Helen stepped in between them, staring her brother down. ¡°I¡¯d be dead if it weren¡¯t for her, along with half our friends. She evacuated the roof of Princess Lizzie¡¯s on her own, then climbed down into a burning building to save the rest of us. So if you¡¯re going to be snitty, maybe you should go keep an eye on the negotiation and leave the adults to talk.¡±

    Jareth flinched, then took a step back. ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± He stared Florette down, emptiness in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough about you that if even half of it¡¯s true, I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be a big help. You probably have been already. That doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s a good idea to rely on you, especially if you say you can¡¯t help us because you¡¯re busy doing Lord Monfroy¡¯s bidding.¡±

    I suppose that¡¯s fair, considering you don¡¯t have the context, but that doesn¡¯t mean I need to justify myself to you. ¡°I¡¯ll do everything to help as soon as I get back, but I¡¯m no good to anyone if Monfroy makes me a fugitive, least of all your cause. Trust me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I can¡¯t.¡± Jareth exchanged a look with his sister, then Christophe. ¡°But we¡¯ll take any help we can get.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re extremely grateful,¡± Helen rasped, elbowing her way in front of her brother. ¡°But we can¡¯t wait for you. The contracts expire today; we have to take what they¡¯re offering or make a stand, and we have no intention of rolling over.¡±

    Fuck you, Monfroy. The one part of her life where Florette could be herself, be heroic without deceit or compromise, and that asshole aristocrat was tearing her away from it. But blowing off his request would be worse, for her and the workers both. Instead, she turned to Christophe. ¡°Can you keep them safe until I get back?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said confidently, Jareth surprisingly saying the same thing as if she¡¯d been asking him.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave it in your hands.¡± But not without helping out a bit before I go. Florette already had something perfect in mind to leverage her talents against the VM owners, and it wouldn¡¯t even shake her cover. Rather than mention it, she held her tongue, since mentioning it to the suspicious soldier was a needless risk. What Florette had in mind would be more effective if it didn''t make it into the journals. ¡°Starting tomorrow.¡±

    ?

    ¡°Here, you look like you¡¯re nodding off.¡± Rebecca passed over the hand-roll without partaking of it herself, which was nothing unusual. Whoever had passed it to her probably didn¡¯t know her all that well. ¡°Someone told me it¡¯s laced with pixie powder.¡±

    ¡°Seriously? Damn it.¡± Kelsey scowled, then took a long swig of his drink. ¡°I have to be on the first ship out tomorrow if I want to make Toby¡¯s unveiling. I can¡¯t be up all night.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just stay in Charenton, Kelsey?¡± Albert laughed, then took a hit of the hand-roll. Florette didn¡¯t know him well, but Albert Ingles had graduated from the College in the same year as Rebecca, focused mainly around his compacted printing press project. Sara had introduced him to the Twilight Society with much fanfare at the last New Year¡¯s party, talking about how he was going to incorporate tactile type into his machine, but he hadn¡¯t shown up at any of the events since, so perhaps that collaboration wasn¡¯t going well. ¡°You were here for what, like, two days?¡±

    ¡°I had to meet another Cambrian bureaucrat to move the undergrounding project along. Letters haven¡¯t been very convincing.¡± Kelsey¡¯s frown relaxed slightly. ¡°Plus I didn¡¯t want to miss this party! I haven¡¯t seen most of you in months. For all I knew, Sabine got buried out in the desert.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in the same boat.¡± Florette pressed the hand-roll to her lips and inhaled, feeling her body perk up with energy almost immediately. ¡°Metaphorically,¡± she clarified, realizing how her statement could be misinterpreted. ¡°I¡¯m headed west instead of south, but I¡¯ll be there at the marina with you.¡±

    ¡°You what? You just got back.¡± Rebecca looked like she wanted to say considerably more than that, but the public setting seemed, fortunately, to be holding her back.

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Sorry, I was going to tell you. It¡¯s another special assignment.¡± That was the go-to phrasing for a Monfroy errand in polite company, since Rebecca more or less understood the situation there. Florette would be lying if she said she¡¯d never used it for other extracurriculars, though, including today¡¯s more secretive Blue Bandit excursion.

    It feels awful having to lie, but I don¡¯t really have any alternative. There was a good chance Rebecca would accept it¡ªshe seemed sympathetic enough to the Blue Bandit on the occasions where it had come up, in no small part thanks to Kelsey and Toby consistently advocating for the truth, but that didn¡¯t mean telling her was without risk. It was dangerous enough already with her working for Prince Luce in the Towers, and the more she knew, the greater the risk. Asking her to lie about the Blue Bandit every day at work wouldn¡¯t be fair to her, and the honesty wouldn¡¯t count for much anyway next to the more significant lies that would remain either way.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t let him push you around,¡± Rebecca said, frowning. ¡°It won¡¯t be long before your finals, and there¡¯s a real chance you won¡¯t graduate if he keeps sending you every which way. Can¡¯t it wait?¡±

    Florette shook her head, feeling guilty even though that part wasn¡¯t a lie. ¡°He wanted me to leave today, but I insisted on account of the Birth of Spring. I had to see you first.¡± Not to mention helping Christophe and the neighbors, for all that her efforts there felt inadequate. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about something else, please.¡±

    Rebecca¡¯s eyebrows slanted down, though she didn¡¯t contest the point. Probably going to let me have it once we get home, but at least she¡¯s letting it lie for now at the party.

    ¡°How¡¯s your work going, Rebecca?¡± Hopefully talking about your passions will help perk your mood up a bit. ¡°Did Crete finish that DV project I helped inspire?¡± Florette asked the question casually, though the timeline would be important considering that it was her most powerful weapon against Monfroy. The whole idea had been to find a counter against whatever he used to drain the life from his victims, leaving them as withered husks aged by decades in the minutes before their death. That was why it was called DV in the first place, Dessication of Vitality, though Florette still found it much clunkier than her initial suggestion of Wither. Crete had probably just wanted to make sure the name had her mark on it too¡ªshe had exactly that kind of ego, though Rebecca said she was still very professional and talented to work with despite it.

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t talk about that, Sabine,¡± Rebecca hissed through grit teeth, nostrils flared. ¡°State secret.¡±

    ¡°Of course...¡± Florette shrank down into her seat, desperately hoping someone else would save her from this conversation.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you sprung for the pixie powder, Ernie. It¡¯s so expensive up here.¡±

    ¡°Not if you buy it from the right person.¡± Albert shrugged. ¡°Ernie Porterfield has a sister with a company in Lyrion where it¡¯s dirt cheap. It¡¯s stupidly easy to grab there, and no one at customs ever checks his luggage.¡±

    ¡°Convenient,¡± Kelsey said, a hint of envy audible in his tone. ¡°I lost my valise to them about a month ago when they found my naca¡ªI had to pretend it wasn¡¯t mine and drop Luce¡¯s name so they¡¯d leave me alone. Not my proudest moment.¡±

    ¡°You were lucky it didn¡¯t happen a couple weeks later. My father had the Murder Twins searching the ships after a tip-off about the Gauntlet of Eulus.¡± Rebecca smiled at Kelsey, slowly pulling her hand away from Florette. ¡°I doubt Luce¡¯s name would have gotten you anywhere with them.¡±

    Kelsey grimaced, pulling back in seat without responding.

    At the mention of the Murder Twins, Albert perked up. ¡°They¡¯re an impressive team, aren¡¯t they? Probably the second and third best binders in the world, right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I¡¯d go that far,¡± said Florette, trying to correct that ridiculous assertion without drawing on any knowledge that Sabine wasn¡¯t supposed to have. ¡°There¡¯s King Harold, his son, and Rebecca¡¯s dad at the top before you even get to the other families. The Sigmund lance is maybe enough to put Klein the Moonstrike in the conversation for fourth, maybe, but the Sunflash is nothing special.¡± Next to some of the opponents Florette had already overcome, really, neither of them seemed all that impressive, but that wasn¡¯t reason to let her guard down if they were roaming around Cambria.

    ¡°Excuse me? Clarine Rivough is far and away the better warrior!¡± Albert insisted, surprisingly invested in the distinction. ¡°She beat the Foolhardy Sage of Flammare in a scrap and the Prince Regent in a spar, and I heard her Siglinde sword was strong enough to open the Grimoire Archives for him. Bougitte beat an earth spirit single-handed, if you believe the Cambrian, which means Clarine could do the same. No way she¡¯d lose to her brother¡ªon the power scale, she¡¯d even beat the Blue Bandit.¡±

    ¡°Well, wait, that¡¯s not how that works at all.¡± Rebecca took a long sip of her drink, then started tearing into Albert¡¯s argument. ¡°This all depends on the context. Who¡¯s better rested, where is the fight taking place, who knows what about what their opponent can do? It¡¯s not like there¡¯s a linear power scale where you can say X would beat Y because they beat Z.¡±

    ¡°Well if Y beat Z, then wouldn¡¯t it tell you¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Rebecca rolled her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s like saying my incendiary bombs are stronger than the concussive ones just because they¡¯d set them off. This is just like when you said the Blue Bandit could travel to other planets.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m sure she can! It¡¯s all based on established feats!¡±

    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Does he somehow know something about me that I don¡¯t? More likely it was just him being mistaken, but either way the answer would be interesting.

    Albert nodded sagely. ¡°Remember the Esterton Vault robbery? Olivia Esterton used her mechanical replica of the Eulus Gauntlet to shoot lightning at her, and she dodged it. If she can move faster than light and use the same intangibility that Cloak of Nocturne gives her, nothing would stop her from traveling the cosmos. Maybe she already is!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever heard. She obviously read Olivia¡¯s body and guessed when she¡¯d attack, then preemptively dodged.¡± Correct. ¡°Using that to assume she can travel faster than light is absolutely, aggressively, idiotic. If you pulled your head back before I slapped you, would that mean you can travel the stars?¡±

    ¡°If you slapped me with lightning, yeah. Obviously I can¡¯t, but the Blue Bandit could.¡±

    ¡°Established feats,¡± Florette cheekily echoed. ¡°I could see it.¡±

    ¡°Not you too!¡± Rebecca cried with a playful mockery of anguish. ¡°Kelsey, back me up here, please. Their logic is as weak as a sickly kitten.¡±

    Kelsey scoffed. ¡°Yeah, I lay train tracks around cities. I¡¯m not really up on all that spiritual shit. Jumping into space sounds about as possible as phasing through walls and fighting off Olivia, so what do I know?¡±

    ¡°Well there you have it.¡± Albert grinned. ¡°Two to one, with one abstention.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d be outnumbered if my girlfriend weren¡¯t a traitor.¡± Rebecca groaned, flopping back defeated, but at least she didn¡¯t seem mad about Monfroy¡¯s assignment anymore. ¡°How do you live with yourself, Sabine?¡±

    I try not to think about it too much, and when that fails, I remember that what I¡¯m doing is necessary to fight tyranny and help people. It wasn¡¯t always easy though, especially around Rebecca. Every time Cassia Arion came up was like a knife through the heart, and Florette couldn¡¯t even let herself react strongly enough to be suspicious while the guilt crept down her spine. ¡°What can I say? Albert convinced me.¡±

    ?

    ¡°I think I left something on the ship,¡± Florette lied, forcing herself to pull away from Rebecca¡¯s embrace. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh... alright.¡± Rebecca bit her lip in a strangely familiar way, for reasons Florette couldn¡¯t put her finger on, then turned away. ¡°I¡¯ll wait in the carriage.¡±

    ¡°Perfect.¡± Florette feinted back up the gangway until Rebecca was out of sight, then doubled back towards Monfroy¡¯s carriage. She felt a shiver when she opened the door as the wind began to pick up. The Birth of Spring¡¯s tomorrow and Cambria still thinks it¡¯s winter. Compared to Enquin this time of year, this was swimming weather, but Florette had regrettably acclimated enough to the Cambrian climate that it still felt cold out.

    Then again, perhaps it had more to do with the man she was meeting. ¡°Ambushing me at the dock, Lord Monfroy? Was that really necessary?¡±

    ¡°Time is of the essence here, Sabine.¡± All trace of the withered hesitation was long gone from his voice, eerily clear and strong. ¡°I have an assignment for you.¡±

    ¡°I assumed. Can¡¯t it wait? I just got back, and¡ª¡±

    ¡°No. You¡¯ll get back on a boat to Carringdon tomorrow to be in position before the end of the week.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Florette left out the ¡®you predatory prick¡¯, but it remained in her tone of voice.

    ¡°Ostian Astor vacated his Great Council seat on account of his late brother Douglas, mad with grief or something of the sort.¡± Monfroy sounded as if the very word was foreign to his tongue. ¡°Your paramour''s patron, the Prince of Darkness, is scheming to outmaneuver his brother in choosing Astor¡¯s replacement with some bizarre continental ¡®election¡¯ process replacing the traditional selection.¡±

    ¡°And you want me to stop it,¡± Florette sighed. It couldn¡¯t be something defensible either, could it? Considering how things had turned out in Guerron, the aristocrat would probably just be replaced by a wealthy merchant or a puppet swaying to the will of one, but it would still be some measure of improvement considering the state of Avalon¡¯s government. Not to mention that Fernan would never let her hear the end of it if he found out.

    ¡°On the contrary, by all means, let it proceed. You should be familiar with the Great Council dynamics after the dossiers I had you prepare. Collect similar information on the candidates in Carringdon and ensure that you have leverage over the winner, whomever they might be. Create the compromising circumstances for the right material on your own, if necessary, but it¡¯s vital that I own them as I do you.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± And once you do, you¡¯ll control the deciding vote between the feuding princes. You could get whatever you wanted out of the Great Council without even setting foot inside it. Without anyone even knowing you¡¯re involved.

    Unless I kill you first.

 Camille III: Two Steps Ahead

    Camille III: Two Steps Ahead

    ¡°We have to do something¡ªthey¡¯re going to kill him.¡± Annette buzzed around Camille¡¯s ear like an irritating pyrefly, acting as if Guy Valvert hadn¡¯t wholly brought this on himself.

    ¡°Not now,¡± Camille hissed, keeping her face turned towards the field.

    ¨¦tienne Cl¨¦ment, Duke of Condillac, turned his head briefly at the commotion, close enough in his place of honor to have heard some of it and likely guessed the rest. Before he could chime in, though, Margot poked him on the nose, turning his attention back her way.

    ¡°We have to move now, Camille. They found some letters with Rochaort, but that doesn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°Drop it,¡± Camille insisted.

    Seeing her oldest friend shrink back, Camille relented enough to elaborate. ¡°It was a good enough plan to consider when we had surprise on our side. Now it¡¯s dead, with Guy not far behind. You need to accept that.¡± I suppose it¡¯s fitting, in a way. Guy had never given his cousin the slightest consideration until Lumi¨¦re had locked her up, and now his own captivity was provoking the same response from Annette, this time largely undeserved.

    Camille understood her guilt¡ªit had been Annette who gave him Montaigne¡¯s name and pleaded for him to bring the village sage into Guerron¡ªbut Guy Valvert had made a hundred mistakes that had sealed his fate in between then and now, latest but not least of which was trying to cut the Empire out of the Guerron Duchy so he could continue to run it as a vassal to Condillac.

    As soon as word had broken out of the Miroirdeau Affair, as the journals were calling it, Camille had appeased the aristocrats in her court with a firm statement of denial, elegantly massaged with Scott¡¯s careful words then signed with Camille¡¯s own name, though she hadn¡¯t been the one to do it. Nothing stopped a spirit from letting other people lie, then lie again to say that their words were Camille¡¯s. But she knew Guy too well to believe for a moment that the letter hadn¡¯t been his, even if Annette hadn¡¯t already let her in the plot. The bastard had tried to steal Guerron right out from under his saviors!

    He deserved whatever was coming to him. Why Annette can¡¯t see that... I suppose guilt can outweigh sense.

    ¡°Have you heard about this Paul Armand that Montaigne took on as his pet? They¡¯re calling him the Spirit of Death. He¡¯s already locked up half the prison guards, three of the knights your precious treaty freed, and even one of their own false city councilors. They¡¯re going to hold a sham trial for treason, Camille, and there¡¯s only ever one punishment for that. No one with a higher pedigree than the pig farmers is safe there¡ªunless we act now.¡±

    If Fernan really brought on someone that zealous, there¡¯s a real risk to the Assembly members on my payroll. Camille had her doubts, though. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this later, alright? I promise.¡±

    Annette didn¡¯t look terribly convinced, but the surety of a spirit¡¯s promise mollified her enough to get her to return to her seat, thankfully. If Guy Valvert had simply possessed the good grace to trip and fall off his balcony four years ago, none of this would have been a problem. Instead, the Empire was constantly on the razor¡¯s edge of annihilation, projecting strength they lacked and leaning on the fragile diplomatic ties of a treaty wildly in their enemies¡¯ favor.

    It wasn¡¯t a sustainable position. Allies would be a necessity in the months to come. Condillac was one part of that, asinine Guerron invasion plan or no, and by the looks of it, Camille was about to get a report on another opportunity.

    ¡°I have news for you, if I may, Your Grace.¡± Sire Miro Mesnil bowed before her, taking the seat to Camille¡¯s right once she gave him the nod. He sported a fresh wound across his nose, likely to scar him forever, but his lean muscles and determined visage made it clear he was already raring for the next fight. ¡°I take it discussion of the new taxes didn¡¯t go well?¡±

    What? Camille took a moment to reorient herself in the conversation. ¡°Annette is simply concerned over the fate of her moronic cousin now that he¡¯s put himself in the rebels¡¯ sights.¡±

    ¡°She must not have gotten the chance to bring it up. It¡¯s your right as Empress, of course, but alienating the peers who rallied behind you when you took Malin may prove unwise, Your Grace. Even I¡¯m not exactly delighted to come home and find your bureaucrats stealing what I rightfully inherited,¡± Miro muttered. ¡°But if it¡¯s Montaigne that concerns you, I could be convinced to write to my brother. He has Montaigne¡¯s trust, and his ear. The mutual sympathy of cripples, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Dominique Mesnil?¡± Camille scoffed, waving her hand so dismissively that Miro immediately dropped the topic. Whatever the knight¡¯s protestations, it was blindingly obvious that his brother was a rebel in truth, instead of the double agent Miro still insisted on professing him to be. Twice he¡¯d refused Camille¡¯s money, and even thrown out Ysengrin after she¡¯d tried a more indirect approach. Losing his leg in the White Night had clearly been a point of no return, and even his stalwart brother could surely see it. Even if he refused to admit it.

    Miro wanted to keep entertaining the fiction that he wasn¡¯t kin to a traitor, which Camille could humor considering his contributions to Lucien¡¯s efforts, but that didn¡¯t mean she had any intention of sitting there and listening to it.

    ¡°You said you had news. Since you sought me out here, I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s not too sensitive to discuss.¡± Despite her words, she kept her voice quiet, inviting Miro to do the same. ¡°How go Lucien¡¯s diplomacy efforts?¡± Hopefully well, considering it meant him missing the championship he personally invited Condillac to. Luckily Margot seemed to be keeping him entertained, as instructed, but it was still the sort of snub better avoided, especially considering the hostility of the Regency Council.

    ¡°Promising,¡± Miro answered, though his face didn¡¯t much reflect the good news. ¡°After Micheltaigne and the Arboreum, the whole continent recognizes the threat Avalon poses.¡± It would have been nice if they¡¯d realized that twenty years ago, but I¡¯ll take what I can get. ¡°The Spirit of the Hearth knows he¡¯s first on the list after Micheltaigne is pacified, and his invasion of Hiverre has stalled enough for him to turn his attention elsewhere, provided Glaciel is willing to let the present borders stand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not all that promising. Glaciel was willing to blot out the sun to get what she wanted before. I doubt she¡¯ll let Volobrin keep an inch of those worthless ice flats.¡± When the invasion had first begun, Camille had feared the Winter War come again, but in practice Glaciel¡¯s armies had largely glared at Volobrin¡¯s from their trenches, occasionally pushing them far enough back for the Queen of Winter to move her drinks cabinet a foot closer to Serpichon.

    For his part, Volobrin had started strong but quickly faltered once the mire of Corro¡¯s wastes had bogged down his forces in hostile terrain. It didn¡¯t help that someone had sold Avaline weapons to Hiverre, including the new rotating guns. It was a testament to his power that he¡¯d even made it this far.

    Scant surprise that the Hearth Spirit was looking for an exit strategy, and pushing back an Avaline invasion was a good enough cause that none could contest his reasoning. And so the domain remains sundered, the reconquest failed. Still, after four years of war with Hiverre, Serpichon boasted veteran soldiers experienced fighting against Avaline guns. Invaluable allies, if they could be courted appropriately.

    ¡°What about the Rhan lands? They¡¯ve been letting Avalon run roughshod through them to fight their war in Micheltaigne, but that doesn¡¯t make them allies.¡± Fouchand had understood the importance of sitting back and choosing the right moment to strike back, and it seemed that Lucien¡¯s distant cousin felt the same way.

    ¡°Empress Hermeline won¡¯t move until Rhan ascends Levian¡¯s seat, but once she¡¯s assured of her patron¡¯s power, it¡¯s obvious her capitulation to Avalon will end. As soon as you step aside¡ª¡±

    ¡°You presume too much.¡± Getting into my plans for that Convocation with you here and now would be folly. And partnering with a Rhan Empire whose patron was Lord of the Lyrion Sea was a sure way to find the Fox Empire at the junior end of the coalition. Not acceptable.

    ¡°But, Your Grace¡ª¡±

    ¡°What of Micheltaigne?¡± Camille interrupted. What of my Red Knight?

    ¡°Princess Mars ambushed an Avaline supply convoy from the rear, just south of Fleuville as they crossed the river. The Red Knight met them on the opposite bank, and the Rhan ran red. Thousands of crates of supplies were swept out to sea, months worth of food amassed from their territories to feed thousands of soldiers. Apparently General Echols is furious with Hermeline for allowing it to happen on Rhanoir soil.¡±

    Excellent. Camille could say nothing aloud, could allow no risk that the Empire be tied to the noble resistance in Micheltaigne lest their violation of the Treaty of Charenton come to light. Nonetheless, she offered her personal felicitations to the Red Knight, her noble savior. There¡¯s nothing quite like a deniable asset with unmatched aptitude for war. The whole idea was so brilliant that Camille wished she¡¯d come up with it herself, though she¡¯d figured out how best to turn the Red Knight towards more productive ends after her ascendance in Charenton. Miro himself toed a delicate line, forgoing his personal coat of arms in battle and ensuring that nothing linked the Mesnil name to the Red Knight, but the surest security was that he simply wasn¡¯t that valuable to her. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have any personal knowledge of such events, would you?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, Your Grace,¡± Miro lied, not quite hiding his smile. ¡°Word of the battle had reached every tavern in Fleuville by the time I left the Empress¡¯ palace. They¡¯re calling it the Rhan¡¯s Banquet, though most of the supplies were swept out to the Coull¨¦e Verte. Some even suspect that Mars will use the victory to stage an assault on Salhaute. With Avalon cut off, there¡¯s never been a better time than now.¡±

    And to whom will the young princess extend her thanks, once secure in her throne? Nothing less than her savior, of course. ¡°Excellent work, Miro. Feel free to stay in town until the championship is done, though I¡¯ll expect you to return to Lucien¡¯s side as soon as it''s over. Check back with me for messages and orders when the time comes.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Yes, Your Grace.¡± Miro dipped his head, then stood, taking her dismissal for what it was.

    Without any prompting, Eloise Clocha?ne plopped herself down in Sire Mesnil¡¯s place of honor not a moment after he was gone. Camille contemplated mentioning the impertinence, but people anything other than obsequious these days were thin enough on the ground that she let the offense slide. Lucien was the only true exception, but she saw so little of him these days...

    Even old friends like Annette couldn¡¯t be counted on to speak plainly, now that there was something she wanted from her Empress, let alone the third tier courtiers like Raoul de Montgallet or Madeleine Lazare. Neither had made it onto the invitations list for the Emperor¡¯s box today, but they¡¯d graciously thanked Camille for the consideration anyway, and were now stewing furiously in the stands in their blue apparel. Contrast lent a certain charm to Clocha?ne¡¯s bluntness. She smiled cheekily without a word, then started applauding as the Green Team¡¯s racer rounded the finish line.

    The Green Team took the first race overwhelmingly. Though the thoroughbred plains horses donated by their merchant backers were bedecked with gaudy insignias that made them look like a farcical cross between a journal advertisement and a jester, they had what was needed to win; this time, they didn¡¯t even need to play dirty. Green racer Claire de Calignac had already dismounted by the time her Blue opponent, Alvis de Sableton, crossed the threshold.

    There was a brief moment of shouting after someone threw a rock at the winner from the stands, but a guard was fortunately close enough to apprehend them before it could flare up into anything serious. Per the terms of the Code Leclaire, he¡¯d receive a trial, but it was hard to imagine any magister humoring the possibility of his innocence when his crime had been witnessed by thousands of people.

    Gracious in defeat, Sableton pulled Calignac out of the way and cursed at the assailant, earning a riotous rush of applause from the green half of the audience that only increased in volume once the offender was hauled away.

    ¡°What do you think of him?¡± Camille asked Eloise casually. ¡°Alvis de Sableton. They say he hid out with the Blue Bandit in the days of the occupation, fighting the good fight against Butcher Arion and his Guardians.¡±

    Eloise let out a short, undignified laugh. ¡°Yeah, how do you think Whitbey found them? Obviously there¡¯s nothing suspicious about the fact that he was the only one of them to live.¡±

    ¡°Do you really believe that?¡± Camille asked, genuinely curious. ¡°You were here then, while I was not, but his claim that he was already hiding out in Sableton seems plausible enough to me. Is there any proof?¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s some aristocrat fucker for one, little rich boy helping out the rebels to feel important but running when it gets too tough.¡± Eloise shrugged. ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t know. But he... I met him once. My... my mom invited him over for dinner. As soon as Argent Alvis down there left, she told me I¡¯d never see him again, that he was too dishonest for the cause.¡±

    Worth taking seriously, Camille decided. Eloise¡¯s mother had died for Malin, rising up against Avaline oppression after the Blue Bandit¡¯s death, but she¡¯d been caught too, in the end. Perhaps the blue racer was a part of the reason why.

    Or, perhaps, he was simply a gallant young man from a good family who was skilled enough to clinch out a close win in the next race, clawing the Blue Team back to a draw. As he crossed the finish, the wind blew back his hair, more of an auburn than Lucien¡¯s red, but close enough to make Camille feel a pang as she considered her husband, far away and deeply embedded in danger.

    He¡¯s doing his part, as I¡¯m doing mine. All of it was essential if they were to triumph.

    ¡°It was rather gauche of him to claim the Blue Bandit¡¯s postmortem endorsement for his team,¡± Camille said, not making it clear one way or the other if she believed Eloise about Sableton¡¯s treachery.  ¡°But if I¡¯m not mistaken, he apologized for that.¡±

    ¡°Oh, well if he apologized...¡± Eloise rolled her eyes as the workers below began preparing the field for the third race. ¡°Hey, I wanted to run something by you: Versham Paruna from Versham-Martin sent over an offer to buy Clocha?ne Candles for two hundred million mandala.¡±

    Camille bolted to face her, suddenly irritated at the casual tone. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously considering that, are you?¡± All the wealth and power of Clocha?ne¡¯s business empire were not, under any circumstances, assets that could be allowed to pass to Avalon. These days, the candle business was a sideshow to the larger financing operation, which meant that Eloise had her talons in practically every fifth business in Malin.

    ¡°Yeah, I love giving up power for more money I don¡¯t need. That and giving some entitled Avalon fuck exactly what they want.¡± Eloise kicked up her legs against the bannister of the balcony, leaning back in her chair. ¡°My plan was to drive up the price as high as it would go, then tell her to fuck off. But I thought I¡¯d run it by you first in case you¡¯ve got any scheme ideas. Sort of your thing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Camille allowed herself a smile, filing the information away for later use. Between returning the coal revenues through the Treaty of Charenton and ensuring a stake in the new scientific facilities, Eloise¡¯s loyalty seemed better secured than ever, which was baffling on its face to contemplate considering the woman involved. ¡°I¡¯m pleased you came to me.¡±

    ¡°Not the first girl to tell me that, though most don¡¯t phrase it that way.¡± Eloise smiled, then lowered her voice. ¡°And don¡¯t think I missed what you¡¯re doing, seating my sister next to Duke Whinypants over there.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to apologize for introducing my stagi¨¨re to a handsome young Duke? It¡¯s time she was rewarded for her hard work.¡± In addition to the fact that she¡¯s simply manipulating him into my camp. I seriously doubt it will end in nuptials. Camille had every intention of finding Margot a good match should she desire it, but Camille¡¯s apprentice had shown far more interest in an Imperial government position, though she was also considering a job at the journal. Any door would be open to her, of course, but it wouldn¡¯t be long before she¡¯d outgrown the role of stagi¨¨re.

    ¡°Camille offers someone a role in her scheme as a reward¡ªWhy am I not surprised?¡± Eloise leaned further back, then jolted forward when Ysengrin jumped into view. ¡°Yse?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Camille asked, immediately concerned considering Yse¡¯s mission. ¡°Did you find Marbury?¡±

    Ysengrin nodded. ¡°We parted ways recently. She had to go back to Avalon, and I wanted to test the coordinates once I figured out the system they were using.¡± His smile widened wolfishly as he pulled a notebook from his pocket. ¡°I told her I was planning a trip for us, and got enough sample coordinates to see how they were encoding them. Now I¡¯m certain I have the right site.¡±

    ¡°Aw, you still remember my decryption lessons?¡± Eloise¡¯s tone was saccharine enough that Camille usually associated it with her sarcasm, but here it seemed to be sincere. ¡°Also, I guess, congratulations finding an employer more evil than me. What does she have you doing out there anyway, seducing scientists?¡±

    ¡°Nothing I could tell you about.¡± His smile widened.

    ¡°Have you been out there yet?¡± Camille asked, deflating a bit of his smug pride when he was forced to shake his head. ¡°Then how are you so sure?¡±

    ¡°Well, once she marked the ship route I saw that she used a rare geodesy system, probably Mamela since I¡¯ve never seen anything else like it from Avalon, which meant that I could brute force two or three of the coordinate sets to extract potential sites, then narrow the possibilities using¡ª¡±

    ¡°Give me that.¡± Camille snatched the notebook out of his hand, scanning the newly clarified coordinates for a position of no importance, deep out in the Lyrion Sea which still, for the moment, counted as Camille¡¯s spiritual domain. Quickly, Camille descended from the Emperor¡¯s box and made her way out to the sea, trivial with the underground aqueducts flowing through the old tunnels.

    As soon as she touched the sea, she felt herself gliding across the water, more liquid than solid, moving faster and faster as she encroached deeper into Levian¡¯s old domain. She stopped as the test site neared, a tiny island barely worthy of the label.

    More of a rock, really, Camille observed as she approached it. The island was totally stripped bare, lacking any signs of life. Only once she reached the shore did she see the withered remnants of a sickly tree, so desiccated it looked as if it¡¯d been cooked in an oven, or left to dry under a scorching sun for a thousand years.

    The remnants were everywhere once she began to look, from tall grass as stiff as wheat to the crumbling, semi-skeletal remains of a baby seal.

    Past the shore, for leagues out across the water, no signs of life remained, only the same shocking remnants of a once-vibrant stretch of sea, no less dead for the fact that they were under water. She surveyed it for some time, truly processing the untold damage that had been inflicted on the sea, but eventually she had to tear herself away, unsure how long she¡¯d truly spent there. Once Camille began moving back, the contrast between the immediate area around the test site and the abundance of life beyond it was so profound, she was ashamed she hadn¡¯t noticed it on the way in.

    This is my domain, and I¡¯ve let this become of it. There remained no room to doubt that the DV bomb was everything Camille had feared and more.

    D.V. Bomb.

    Desiccation... Vitality... In Avaline, it seemed to fit, though there remained other possibilities.

    And as shameful as what had befallen the sea was, the barren island was even more horrifying to contemplate.

    Luce has a stock of these he can set off anywhere he can get them, any time he wants. If he had made the mistake of trusting his brother, the whole of Avalon had them at their disposal.

    The power of it was devastating, the ultimate weapon of war. What else could one call the power to wipe out a city¡¯s population while leaving it clean and intact for the occupying army? Total extermination, with no damage to the assets around it.

    There was no world in which the Empire of the Fox became a threat to Avalon if it had these things at their disposal, no army nor weapon that could deter an invasion the instant Magnifico¡¯s body died, if he felt so inclined.

    Yse was waiting for her on the shores of Malin, a panicked look in his eye.

    ¡°Yse, I want you to reach out to Perle. To Greenglass, to¡ªMarbury, if you think you can pull it off. I need absolutely everything you can get on the DV bombs.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he asked, looking slightly dazed. ¡°I...¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an existential threat unless we can match them in kind. We need our own DV bombs to credibly threaten Avalon. I want your plants to smuggle the information out so we can start creating them. It¡¯s the only way to thwart Avaline hegemony.¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Yse blinked, shaking his head clear. ¡°Yes, Your Grace. But¡ªLook!¡±

    Camille followed his pointed finger towards the horizon, seeing a trail of smoke rise above the hippodrome. ¡°What happened?¡± How long was I really gone?

    ¡°The crowd, they¡ªI¡¯ve never seen anything like it. As soon as Green won, it was a brawl. One of them hit my...¡± He rubbed his face, seeming to lose track of what he was saying. ¡°Your guards tried to push back, but they spilled out onto the streets. They¡¯re smashing windows and lampposts, burning and looting, fighting with Greens...¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s just the Blues breaking the peace?¡± Camille asked, disappointed despite herself.

    ¡°Not just, but mostly¡ªthey¡¯re the ones who lost. Some of the Greens are fighting them, but most listened eventually when your guards led them away.¡± Yse nodded as he confirmed Camille¡¯s suspicion. ¡°Everyone in the box made it out alright. Eloise tried to organize your guards, but Duchess Debray took command of them and led them out after the rioters.¡±

    Brilliant, I left at exactly the wrong time. If Camille had simply been there, this could have been contained, as it had before. None of it was supposed to happen like this.

    But that didn¡¯t mean this was over.

    Camille bit her lip, pushing past Ysengin and striding towards the burning hippodrome. ¡°I will handle this.¡±

 Charlotte II: The Fixer

    Charlotte II: The Fixer

    The Progress was stopped in the Carringdon harbor for a customs inspection, which was a blatant overreach for a domestic voyage even before considering that it belonged to the Prince of Crescents. The motivation became immediately clear when the thickly built harbormaster arrived to chastise them for failing to provide advanced notice and she learnt his name: Laurence Delbrook.

    Once Charlotte made it into the city proper, her first stop was the city hall, where important governmental records would be accessible to better inform her investigation and approach. Behind the counter was an eighteen or nineteen year old girl who introduced herself as Georgia Delbrook, her eyebrows visibly curling into a frown the moment she heard Charlotte¡¯s accent.

    Ten years learning Avaline in school, three more using it for all official Guardian business, another four serving Luce, and I still can¡¯t escape that look. In Malin, at least, it had been expected, but the Avaline were so insulated from their conquered territories in the homeland that it seemed to set them off far more often. It was disheartening, but Charlotte¡¯s reputation was of no particular concern here¡ªwhat mattered most was getting the job done promptly and without room for error.

    The results were illuminating¡ªnot least because Charlotte met another three Delbrooks still embedded into the lower rungs of the city¡¯s government before the day was even done. Ever since she and Luce had dealt with Perimont¡¯s trusted steward, the late Agnes Delbrook, nominal control of the city had passed to Sir Gerald Astor, father of the deceased Douglas Astor and the vacated Ostian Astor.

    In practice, Butcher Arion¡ªLord Miles Arion, I must remember; this is Luce¡¯s uncle, who granted us refuge after the fall of Malin¡ªhad Carringdon in his pocket. With longtime rivals, the Perimonts, cleared from the board due to their follies in Malin, and their chosen stewards dealt with rather decisively by Luce, none could rule in Carringdon without the erstwhile Governor¡¯s leave.

    Looking at the employment records, no less than thirty Delbrooks and Perimont cousins had been cleared from the upper levels of government, Directors and Officers and two-thirds of a department called ¡®Economic Enrichment¡¯ which seemed to be rather more focused on the enrichment of the families that dominated it and their entrepreneurial partners than in the welfare of Carringdon. After Arion¡¯s reforms, the remaining staff appeared to spend most of their time arranging contracts with prominent Fortescue businesses.

    Nothing new, really¡ªArion and Perimont had both done the same during their tenure in Malin, as had Magister Ticent in Charenton¡ªbut Carringdon was particularly blatant about it, perhaps because the Perimonts¡¯ focus had been aimed so squarely at Malin for so long, allowing the foxes to help themselves to Carringdon¡¯s pheasants with reckless abandon.

    Lord Arion had done what he could from afar, as did his Astor representative, but there were limits to the extent they could purge when so much had been covertly captured. And limits to what they¡¯d even want to change. For all that he¡¯d done for Luce, for all that his soldiers had been the seed from which the Shadow Guard had first sprouted at all, Lord Arion was not his nephew. No one could grow up in Malin under his governorship and earnestly believe in his good intentions.

    The lesser Delbrooks and Perimonts still embedded in the government weren¡¯t the primary concern, though. Sir Stuart Delbrook no longer held any formal position after Astor had expelled him from the position in the Exchequer¡¯s Office his aunt had generously bestowed upon him during her abortive tenure as the ruler of Carringdon.

    ¡°The selection process was unbiased, I assure you. Auntie Agnes wouldn¡¯t have abided by any nepotism.¡± Stuart Delbrook had made Charlotte wait two hours before finally inviting her inside, pouring himself a glass of single malt without even pulling out a second glass. Charlotte would have refused anyway, but she¡¯d seen Luce carry out enough meetings to understand the gesture for the insult that it was. ¡°You do remember her, don¡¯t you? Your patron prince arrived at our gates under the guise of assisting her, then strung her up by her neck so he could hand the city to his uncle.¡±

    ¡°There was a trial,¡± Charlotte reminded him. ¡°His Highness insisted on it.¡± Though it wasn¡¯t his first thought¡ªhe told me ¡®hang her¡¯, and only insisted on the trial once he saw us haul her off and balked at the picture it painted. After that, he¡¯d always been sure to include the appropriate trials and evidence into his plan from the start, rather than as an afterthought. Still, who could truly blame him for that first impulse when Agnes Delbrook was such a callous tyrant?

    ¡°Did he? Well, that¡¯s reassuring, then. As long as she was hanged by the book.¡±  Delbrook sneered, then took a sip of his drink. ¡°If you only came here to defend the indefensible treachery of the Prince of Darkness, then this meeting is over. I¡¯m beginning to question why I even allowed you up here.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s something important to discuss regarding Ostian Astor¡¯s seat in the Great Council. I understand¡ª¡±

    Charlotte stopped as Delbrook broke out into a loud, obnoxious laugh. ¡°Ah, there it is. It¡¯s never enough, is it? You¡¯d think a favored prince would learn to be satisfied, but I suppose there¡¯s always more power to seize from the deserving.¡± He scoffed, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m afraid the Prince of Darkness is out of luck if he wants me to step aside. Especially when his messenger is an insult in and of herself.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°When I heard that he shared his bed with a Malinese commoner, handpicked by the snake Leclaire to worm her way into his confidences, I expected someone a bit more comely. Though you still wouldn¡¯t have had any luck sweet-talking me.¡±

    ¡°Lies,¡± Charlotte lied, since she¡¯d been exceedingly careful to leave no proof. Right now, this was simply another rumor, salacious enough to be both interesting and believable for the hated Prince of Darkness. The fact that it was true was irrelevant¡ªshe wasn¡¯t going to be the one to confirm anything. ¡°Prince Lucifer sends his regrets that he was not able to see you personally, but I assure you, he meant no insult. I am the commander of his forces, founder of the Shadow Guard, and Commander in Charenton.¡±

    Delbrook laughed, more quickly than the last time. ¡°Just because he gave you titles, that doesn¡¯t make you anyone important. I admit that I was curious, Charlotte of Malin, but you haven¡¯t disappointed me. To think that his tastes are so vulgar... Well, I suppose it¡¯s fitting. Are we done, then?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Charlotte insisted through grit teeth. ¡°His Highness has a modest proposal for Astor¡¯s seat, considering the unusual nature of the succession.¡±

    ¡°Maddy Astor went crying to him? Boo hoo.¡± Delbrook finished his drink, then poured himself another. ¡°Ostian chose me. It¡¯s as simple as that.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡± Charlotte stepped closer to him, footfalls heavy enough to echo across the floor. ¡°Ostian Astor isn¡¯t here, while a royal representative is. And Madison Astor is quite close with Princess Elizabeth. Do you think the First Speaker will look kindly upon your usurpation? I can assure you that the Prince of Darkness will not. If he¡¯s as villainous as you say, imagine him as your enemy, the full might of Charenton and Fortescue set against you.¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯s as righteous as you say, it seems curious that he¡¯s made so many enemies. And Elizabeth Grimoire won¡¯t be the First Speaker for long, considering that I¡¯ll tip the majority over to the Harpies. Touching as your concern for me is, I¡¯m afraid it won¡¯t amount to anything. I¡¯m not giving up the seat no matter how you threaten me.¡±

    Charlotte stepped closer still, staring right into his still-unbothered face with stern determination in her eyes. ¡°You won¡¯t have to. The Crown has decided that the Carringdon seat will be decided by election, along with the rest of the western isles.¡±

    ¡°Election? Lord Ostian already elected to choose me as his successor. The peers will fall right in line behind him, and the landed gentry in their wake, should you presume to open the rolls beyond convention. It¡¯s done.¡±

    Charlotte shook her head. ¡°An election by the people. The whole of Carringdon shall decide who represents them in the Great Council, each citizen casting a vote to choose their representative.Vas Sarah and the other Jays have already agreed, as has the Prince Regent. I¡¯m not asking you, but informing you.¡±

    ¡°What¡ª¡± Delbrook stepped back, brow furrowed. ¡°But the Jays already support the Owls against us. Jeopardizing their own seats just to¡ªYou do realize that I¡¯m guaranteed to win this election, do you not? The whole of Carringdon remembers the Prince¡¯s overreach and Arion¡¯s misrule, and Astor stands as a symbol of every indignity visited upon us. You could hold this ¡®election¡¯ right now and fair Maddy wouldn¡¯t receive a quarter of the votes.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Then you should have no issues campaigning before the citizens. The election will be held a week before the seat turns over, so be sure that you¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°I suppose...¡± Delbrook scoffed with disbelief, all traces of anger fully replaced by bafflement. ¡°Is your prince a total fool? How hopelessly naive must he be to believe this can benefit him in any way? If the Jays even lose a single seat, any hope of carrying the Assembly will be totally lost to him.¡±

    He¡¯s no fool; he simply trusts me to get the job done. Based on the current climate of the city, unfortunately, Delbrook was surely correct about his chances. But the election wouldn¡¯t be held today¡ªthere was still time to arrange for the correct result, and Charlotte knew exactly where to start.

    But first, she needed to coordinate with Delbrook¡¯s opponent, Lady Madison Astor.

    ¡°Are you utterly daft? I¡¯d be lucky to get a quarter of the vote. My own father disinherited me from the seat as part of some dirty deal with Stewart and the Prince Regent.¡± Astor had offered Charlotte a glass of wine when she¡¯d poured her own, but hadn¡¯t concealed her judgmental reaction to Charlotte¡¯s accent any better than Delbrook had.

    ¡°An outrage that Prince Lucifer hopes to help you correct,¡± Charlotte attempted, though Astor didn¡¯t look particularly encouraged. But it¡¯s interesting to hear that Lord Stewart was part of this deal¡ªthat bears closer examination. After Luce and his brother¡ªJethro, as it turned out¡ªhad banished Anya Stewart for her treasons in Malin, that family was surely another that he could count amongst his enemies. ¡°The election is a chance for you to win the seat back, no matter Lord Ostian¡¯s wishes.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just kill Delbrook? If it¡¯s good enough for his aunt, I don¡¯t see why it wouldn¡¯t work here.¡±

    Trust me, I already considered that. ¡°The Prince Regent made his deal with your father to get another Harpy in the council. Absent this Delbrook, he¡¯d simply choose another, or some other reliable Harpy. I assure you, there are far too many of them about to kill them all.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you even here? Ugh.¡± Astor took a large gulp of her wine, enough to drain it, then set the glass down on the table with an audible thud. ¡°This whole thing is just so unfair. It was my turn, damn it! All those years running errands for the First Speaker, all that time plying my father... I wouldn¡¯t expect a commoner like you to understand, royal mistress or not, but I have a lot to lose and nothing to gain by making the attempt, whether or not the selection is performed by this quaint foreign custom.¡±

    ¡°If you win, you¡¯d be the decisive seat in the Great Council. Both Princes would be desperate to curry favor with you.¡±

    ¡°But only one of them would have earned my gratitude for helping me out here? That¡¯s the idea?¡± Astor shook her head. ¡°If I back this election scheme, I¡¯m essentially sure to lose. To the Mamela, I¡¯m another eastern Owl, while the majority are angry enough at Prince Lucifer to toss out anyone they believe he¡¯s backing. The desperate masses are wholly incapable of understanding the basics of good governance, and as soon as they repudiate it, my own career will be far more damaged by the loss than it ever would be if I step aside. Unfortunate though it is, it¡¯s just a setback. Princess Elizabeth knows I¡¯m a steadfast Owl; she¡¯ll help me find a borough to move to with an aging Councilor and exert the appropriate pressure.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you rather have it right now?¡± Charlotte asked, drawing on her experience with Gary Stewart to talk down to her like a child. Honestly, Luce might be the only aristocrat I¡¯ve ever met who wasn¡¯t irreparably damaged by that upbringing. As frustrating as it was to deal with for Charlotte, this sort of lazy entitlement didn¡¯t seem to be particularly enriching to their lives either.

    ¡°If there was the slightest chance I¡¯d win? Certainly. As things stand now, it would be folly. Please give your patron my apologies, but my career has been damaged enough of late, and it wouldn¡¯t do to jeopardize it further.¡±

    ¡°Under the current conditions. If there¡¯s a path to victory, you¡¯ll enter the race?¡±

    Astor let out a short laugh. ¡°I suppose, but there isn¡¯t one. The Great Binder herself could rise from the dead to grant me her endorsement and I¡¯d still lose to that upjumped clown.¡±

    ¡°Let me worry about that,¡± Charlotte assured her, seeing no further point in continuing the conversation.

    Now that the irritating meetings were done, it was time to get the actual investigative work done.

    Brief as his time had been in the office, Stuart Delbrook had still left plentiful records as Carringdon Exchequer, many of them signed personally. Charlotte wasn¡¯t an accountant who could pore over all of it and get a satisfying answer in a matter of hours, but it certainly looked as if he¡¯d diverted millions of mandala earmarked for royal taxations towards his own family¡¯s ventures.

    It wasn¡¯t even particularly well hidden, likely because he hadn¡¯t expected any consequences to befall him for it. And thus far, he¡¯s been correct. During the Dark Famines, the Great Council had primarily been concerned about receiving crop tribute from the western isles, even to the exclusion of direct monetary taxation. In the years after, they hadn¡¯t been particularly inclined to investigate the matter too thoroughly¡ªand why would they, when it only made their callousness clear, and trade with the Lyrion League more than exceeded any shortfall?

    Any and all of those factors might blunt its impact if I revealed it now, though. With a vested interest in sweeping the whole affair under the rug, the Great Council could not be counted on to hold Delbrook to account.

    A few of the documents made reference to an off-site storage facility, though they failed to indicate its location. But that didn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t be found¡ªlooking through a number of the vendor records, several made reference to office supply deliveries and cleaning services to places not officially mentioned in their own right. Those addresses had been scrubbed too, but Charlotte suspected that at least one of the vendors would still have their own records of the services rendered, and had likely been far less diligent about erasing it.

    Two of them had already ceased operations, purchased by a joint-stock company called Venture, about a third of which was owned by the Cambrian company Versham-Martin. Even if they had kept the records, that meant a trip back to Cambria at a time that Charlotte could ill afford it, so she had no real choice but to continue down the list.

    All told, it took another three days to find a former cleaner irate enough to speak with her, though Charlotte could likely have managed it in one had she hidden her connection to the Prince of Darkness from the start, rather than realizing only belatedly that what should have been a mark of official authority was only a hindrance here. Stuart Delbrook¡¯s failure to pay in full was Charlotte¡¯s gain, else the cleaner might never have opened up.

    It took another week to find something worthwhile, holed up in her room squinting over papers by candlelight like Luce in his workshop, but the time spent more than paid off when Charlotte found the Bill of Sale, signed by Stuart Delbrook¡¯s own hand.

    Only then did she meet with Madison Astor again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what I¡¯m looking at here.¡± Astor gestured to the incriminating document dismissively. ¡°Would you care to explain?¡±

    Charlotte lifted the paper and began reading the relevant sections aloud.

    ¡°Bill of Sale, Witness and Signed in the Year 118... Know all men and women by these presents that I, Stuart R. Delbrook, Royal Exchequer for the City of Carringdon, have on this day, for and in consideration of nine hundred mandala, to me in hand paid by Albert Dewing and John Smallberries, Trustees for Lord Ernest Monfroy, now recorded in the office of the Carringdon city court, Sylvan Province, bargained and sold unto said Trustees, a certain specimen aged about seventeen years; which I warrant to be sound and healthy; and I also will warrant the right and title of said specimen unto said Trustees, their heirs, executors, &c, &c and that said specimen is a utility for life.

    Witness my hand and seal, this sixth day of the eleventh month, Year 118, Age of Gleaming.

    Stuart Delbrook, Royal Exchequer of Carringdon.¡±

    Charlotte kept her voice steady as she read, difficult as it was to fully remove emotions from consideration, but Astor seemed to have no issue with any of it.

    ¡°That¡¯s it? He sold some exotic pet to Monfroy? Why should anyone care about that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a pet!¡± I didn¡¯t want to believe it at first either, but this goes past willful ignorance. ¡°Do you know of many animals that live to seventeen years? That sell for nine hundred mandala? For that matter, any animals that Delbrook would have any business possessing, let alone trading?¡± Charlotte shook her head, pulling out the accompanying document that fully damned him, a missing persons report dated three days before the bill of sale. ¡°George, aged seventeen, was arrested for pickpocketing and released pending trial. Only his family said they never found him, and he¡®d vanished from the jail without a trace.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying...¡± Astor¡¯s face briefly twisted with horror, but only for a moment. She couldn¡¯t stop the hint of a smile curling around her lips at the thought she might actually get what she wanted now.

    Keeping her tone professional, Charlotte drove the conclusion home. ¡°He sold a person, Lady Madison, and barely even covered it up.¡± She doesn¡¯t deserve this any more than Delbrook does, but getting her in place is the job, and I can¡¯t fail. ¡°If that isn¡¯t enough to turn Carringdon against him, nothing is.¡±

 Florette IV: The Disruptor

    Florette IV: The Disruptor

    This city is everything that¡¯s wrong with Avalon. That became clear almost immediately at the shore when Florette was taken aside for additional questioning, forced to bluff her way through an explanation for what she was doing there without letting on the slightest distress.

    The Twilight Society had been invaluable to getting through it, which was more support than Monfroy had ever given her before. Without Florette even having to ask, Vas Sarah had passed on a letter requesting to scout out the Carringdon election for the possibility of a Jay candidacy, either a favor to Monfroy or a genuine instruction. Perhaps both. On paper, Srin Sabine was now an official employee of the Jay Party apparatus, though Florette had been cautioned against trying to approach any of the other Jays without talking to Sarah first.

    Not that Monfroy cared, though. All he wanted was a winner in his pocket. If anything, he¡¯d probably prefer someone without any visible connection to him to a known Jay.

    There wasn¡¯t much chance of the Jays having any success, anyway. Every single Jay seat was drawn from the western isles, and every representative numbered among the Mamela. There wasn¡¯t the slightest chance of the party shaking that association, which just about killed any prospects here.

    Carringdon had been the tip of Avalon¡¯s spear of imperialism before Avalon had even existed, a Mamela city named Balachand brutally conquered by Inferno Arion. In time, Carringdon had been wrested from his grip by Walsden Perimont, ¡®The Relentless¡¯, an extension of a family rivalry that saw them both racing to take as much land in the west as they possibly could, but it had done little to improve the plight of the people who lived there.

    Most books at the Cambrian College still called that time ¡®the Settlement,¡¯ though the very oldest still used ¡®the Liberation Wars¡¯ after Arion¡¯s pronouncement on his day of victory in the city that would, from then on, only be known as Fortescue. He¡¯d personally executed eleven sages of the moon with a single swing of his axe, then proclaimed that Fortescue would forever be free from the tyranny of the spirits. Today, Fortescue¡¯s Mamela made up less than a third of its population, and Carringdon had even less. The conquerors had been thorough.

    According to the Professor, and confirmed by Sarah, most of the western isles called the whole period ¡®The Narakam¡¯, or ¡®the Inferno¡¯ in Avaline, after Arion¡¯s sobriquet. Srin Savian had called them ¡®the beginning of the end¡¯ for the independence of the Mamela principalities, and for his family¡¯s fortune in particular. While only the easternmost island entirely fell, no one escaped devastation, and their failed attempts to retake it in the time that followed only furthered their decline.

    By the time of the final union with Avalon in Year 50, most of the educated Mamela saw it as tragic but inevitable¡ªat least, that was what people like Srin and Sarah said now, with over seventy years of hindsight. The reality on the ground had likely been far more sudden, though Florette had no real way of knowing for sure with literacy at the time so low. The only people writing accounts were the ones with enough education and status to see that they could cling on to much of their privilege in a united Avalon, though few of them truly believed that Harold Grimoire would honor his promises forever. The famines in the Summer of Darkness and the months that followed, unfortunately but unsurprisingly, had proved their skepticism correct.

    Florette had figured she would start at the library, in case there was anything local to Carringdon that would better inform her about the correct approach to take here, but after being held for questioning for the better part of the day, it was already closed.

    No matter. Crawling the taverns to talk to people directly was always a useful way to get the sort of information that wasn¡¯t written down, and might provide a bit of relief on this nightmare of a trip. Florette guided herself using the ancestral Perimont castle, Woodfell, lit up on the hill as a landmark to navigate by even as darkness fell.

    The first place she¡¯d tried, Jonny¡¯s, was packed to bursting with burly workers from the foundry, clearly surprised and suspicious to see a girl like Florette even setting foot inside, but most of them were drunk enough not to care too much once she started chatting.

    The discussions were illuminating, if somewhat depressing. Aside from closing down Jonny¡¯s every pay day, there wasn¡¯t any kind of organization, nothing even close to the neighborhood meetings of the garment workers in Cambria. Most of them weren¡¯t even aware that they had any choice in their Great Council seat this time, and didn¡¯t seem much interested in voting once Florette did mention it.

    Not that I can really blame them for that. Astor or Delbrook, it¡¯s some aristocratic fucker traveling to Cambria to wine and dine with other Councilors while they talk about how best to wring every scrap of wealth from people like us. Worse, unless Florette failed, they¡¯d be in Monfroy¡¯s pocket, forever weighing the risks of rebuking him, terrified of being exposed as they counted the days until he died and their secrets were safe.

    Of course, unlike me, they won¡¯t know that he¡¯ll never die on his own. Florette wasn¡¯t sure exactly how often he needed to drain the life from people to maintain his youth and vigor, but unless the day came when lords were held accountable for murdering ¡®unimportant¡¯ people like the construction workers, he¡¯d always have enough to keep himself going.

    It wasn¡¯t as easy as stabbing him, either, not that that approach didn¡¯t come with its own risks regardless. Monfroy had made that clear himself two years ago, as if daring Florette to try it, making a big show of cutting a deep gash into his finger with the royal sword of Micheltaigne as he lifted it by the blade from his mantle. Before a minute had passed, the wounds were already healed, hopes of a simple solution gone.

    The Blade of Khali would probably work, but Florette didn¡¯t have it anymore, per her deal with King Magnifico, and now that it was locked up in Camille Leclaire¡¯s clutches, acquiring it would be a massive, time-consuming challenge of its own. She¡¯d looked into another blade called the Spark Sword, which had apparently been involved in the killing of the Moon Spirit, but nothing had substantiated its existence beyond rumors.

    The next two taverns were a pretty similar story to Jonny¡¯s, though Florette did find a few committed Astor voters, grateful for her family¡¯s role in the ouster of the hated Agnes Delbrook. Back when Prince Luce was still new to the family business, Delbrook had invited him into the city with a plea for help with the famines. When he¡¯d discovered the depths of her mismanagement, he¡¯d had her executed instead and turned control of the city over to his uncle.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong about that, mate,¡± a middle-aged man cut in from down the bar. ¡°Prince Luce showed up with an army of his shadow people, tainted by his sorcery, and threatened to burn the whole city to the ground if order could not prevail. Agnes Delbrook pleaded with him to spare the city, to take her life instead, and the Prince of Darkness obliged. She was a shit steward of Carringdon, aye, but when the time came, she did what was right.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, where¡¯d you hear that?¡± the Astor voter barked indignantly. Around thirty-five, she¡¯d told Florette that she was an engineer at an office in the center of town, mainly involved in the machinery for ammunition factories, since that was where the money was. ¡°Out of her nephew¡¯s mouth?¡±

    ¡°So what? He¡¯d know, wouldn¡¯t he? Anyone wants to put on a banquet where the whole city¡¯s invited, they earn the benefit of the doubt.¡±

    ¡°But Agnes Delbrook¡ª¡±

    ¡°She ain''t the one running, is she? Prince of Darkness saw to that. You know the only reason these elections are happening is because he wants absolute power? Couldn¡¯t abide by the seat going to a Harpy loyal to Prince Harold, so he stuck his fingers in it. This is our chance to show that manipulative, elitist fuck what happens when you mess with Carringdon!¡±

    Florette jumped back in her seat slightly, then offered to rejoin to a table with the engineer.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve got to get home. I¡¯ve got a two year old and a husband that acts like one. But it was nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Not a very promising picture, though. ¡°Is there anything to what that guy was saying, though? Anything dirty about Madison Astor?¡±

    The engineer shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d prefer a sack of potatoes in the Great Council over a Delbrook, but Astor seems fine enough herself. She¡¯s the natural choice, right?¡±

    You might think so, but I need to know who will win. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    She hit another three taverns before heading back to the inn, meeting a few more supporters but mostly people who couldn¡¯t spare a thought to any of it, dissatisfied and skeptical that either representative would do anything meaningful to improve Carringdon or truly fight for its people in the Great Council.

    Florette woke up close to noon the next day, dragging herself out of bed with a groan so she could get back out there and work on this problem. Another night picking peoples¡¯ minds would be time well spent, but considering the hour, it wasn¡¯t much of an option at the moment. Instead, she went with her first plan, walking up the gentle slope from the harbor towards the modest brick library building near the center of town.

    A single guard was standing in front with his arms crossed, eyes visibly narrowing with disgust as Florette approached, but he didn¡¯t stop her from going in.

    I suppose they weren¡¯t wrong that I can pass for Mamela. Without that, Florette wouldn¡¯t even be here, and the Blue Bandit wouldn¡¯t even exist. It was important to remember that. She had to remember who she was, lest the mask overtake her. Instead it would be Maxime, or whomever else the Queen of the Exiles saw fit to send.

    And I would be...

    What, exactly?

    It was hard to imagine staying in Guerron for four years¡ªeven on assignment in Cambria, Florette had managed to see more of the world than that. Returning to base piracy lacked a certain appeal after everything with Eloise and that girl, Cassia, but what else was there?

    Rebecca wouldn¡¯t be in her life, for certain. No love, no lies, no guilt. But what would it actually look like?

    I definitely wouldn¡¯t be posted up in the Carringdon library, that¡¯s for sure.

    Starting with the local maps, it looked like there were four villages about a day¡¯s walk from the edge of the city, which boasted little save farmers. If any of them had made it out of the Summer of Darkness intact, they were sure to be as opposed to Delbrook as anyone here was likely to get.

    The journals from that era had obviously been heavily censored, Avalon¡¯s ostensible speech protections be damned, but there was still enough there to pick through to get a better picture of Carringdon¡¯s deterioration up to the point of Delbrook¡¯s execution. Afterwards, once the Astors had been installed, things cleared up significantly. The system of rents was still more or less intact, though, which could be a promising wedge to drive in if the farmers needed any further convincing.

    All debt from the hated tenancy contracts had been forgiven, an obvious choice considering the total inability to pay the necessary rent when crops didn¡¯t grow which had somehow eluded Agnes Delbrook. Cruelty had inevitably exceeded pragmatism, as was always a risk for despots. The only surprise was that Prince Luce had been the one to take her out. Looking through these journal articles, Florette had expected her to have been torn apart like Captain Whitbey.

    The real issue was finding compromising material, ideally on both candidates. Delbrook would be easier to start with considering he¡¯d actually held an office in Carringdon before. According to a large list of names squeezed into the corner of a journal from just before the Summer of Darkness, he¡¯d been the Royal Exchequer, whatever that was.

    After consulting a few more articles and the Grand Avaline Dictionary, a new book inventorying the entire language that Florette would sorely have appreciated when she was first learning Avaline four years ago, it seemed like he¡¯d been basically in charge of taxes. With any luck, he¡¯d been corrupt enough about it to be scared about some dirt getting out.

    Florette figured she¡¯d skim through the next couple weeks of journals and then poke around the government office for the city, maybe try to charm whoever was stuck working behind the counter. She was just reaching for the next one when a woman walked through the door that locked Florette rigid with apprehension.

    Charlotte of Malin, Prince Luce¡¯s Lieutenant. That alone was reason enough to avoid her, but they¡¯d actually met once, back in Malin. Back when I drew a firmer ethical line about mixing romance with deception. It had only been the one party, but if Charlotte recognized her...

    Surreptitiously, Florette began to pack the notes she¡¯d taken and stack the old journals to return them to the archives. Trying to keep her face turned away, she slipped past the Lieutenant in the frightfully narrow hallway¡ª

    Only to find herself fallen on the ground, the borrowed journals scattered haphazardly around her.

    Charlotte bent down and lifted Florette to her feet, a gesture that couldn¡¯t really be refused in an unsuspicious way. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to bump into you.¡±

    Did she fucking do that on purpose?

    ¡°Here let me,¡± Charlotte said, bending down to help pick up the scattered journals while Florette stared with mute horror. All I had to do was walk down a hallway! How could I slay a sun and still fail at that?

    As Charlotte passed back the last paper, her eyes narrowed with terrifying recognition. ¡°Countess Sabine, is that you? It¡¯s nice to finally put a face to the name.¡± As Florette stared in mute horror, she continued. ¡°I¡¯m Charlotte. I work with Rebecca.¡±

    So much for avoiding a conversation. Thankfully, she didn¡¯t seem to recognize her, but talking longer would only be tempting fate. ¡°I was just on my way out,¡±  Florette answered. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a minute? Luce has been trying to get you and Rebecca over for dinner for the better part of a year¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t let me hear the end of it if I didn¡¯t at least try now. I mean, isn¡¯t it strange that both of us are in Carringdon right now?¡±

    Alright, a hasty exit is out. Nothing for it but to bluff. ¡°Not that strange, I don¡¯t think. You¡¯re here for the election too, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Charlotte blinked. ¡°Perhaps. I don¡¯t see why that would have anything to do with you, though.¡±

    Florette forced a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s what I said! Carringdon will elect Camille Leclaire before they ever let a Jay represent them in the Great Council. I doubt our candidate gets even five percent of the vote. But Sarah insisted that we contest every election for at least a chance at a clean sweep, and I drew the short straw to make it happen.¡±

    Charlotte frowned, but Florette made sure not to react. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that the Jays would be mounting a challenge. Whatever meager votes you do get are sure to be pulled straight from Astor¡¯s pocket, and then we all lose when the Harpies take the Council. Is there any chance I can persuade you to reconsider?¡±

    Ok, just more election stuff. Florette was pretty sure that Sarah understood how hopeless a real Jay challenge here would be, so abandoning the pretense wouldn¡¯t be likely to upset her. Monfroy, certainly, didn¡¯t care at all as long as he got another addition to his collection that could be leveraged when he needed them. Aside from losing her cover for being in Carringdon, there wouldn¡¯t be any real downside to dropping the pretense.

    But giving in quickly would be more suspicious. ¡°Hey, I know how futile it is, but I can¡¯t exactly head back and tell Sarah I just gave up without even trying. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure Astor has it in the bag anyway.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Charlotte¡¯s composure momentarily broke. ¡°Everyone I¡¯ve talked to is dead-set against her. And my prince, to be entirely honest. Barring some dramatic news dropping at just the right time, Lady Astor seems all but certain to lose. What makes you so optimistic about her chances?¡±

    ¡°Well, I mean, it¡¯s only been four years since Agnes Delbrook tried to starve everyone to death. No one¡¯s memory is that short, even if your patron Prince isn¡¯t particularly popular either. Stuart Delbrook¡¯s putting out all the stops, though, I¡¯ll give you that. He¡¯s already got some made up story about his aunt heroically sacrificing herself for the good of the city. Were you here when Prince Lucifer was? I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s total shit, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Charlotte frowned with consternation. ¡°Thank you. I need to deal with this.¡± She pulled a card from her pocket and scratched an address onto it. ¡°If you change your mind, this is where I¡¯m staying. Feel free to think about what Luce can offer you, and remember that a Harpy Council is bad for both of us.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Florette hesitantly grabbed the card and put it away, not glancing at the address. ¡°It was nice to meet you,¡± she lied, then walked away.

    As horrifyingly close as that had been, Florette apparently still couldn¡¯t shake the Prince¡¯s Lieutenant.

    ¡°Oh yeah, lot of people asking about that.¡± Georgia Delbrook, the girl behind the counter at the government office, looked incredibly bored, no life in her eyes. ¡°Gotta warn you, we don¡¯t have enough copies for you to take one home.¡±

    ¡°I can look through here, if it makes things easier.¡±  Florette paused, then decided to ask. ¡°When you say ¡®a lot of people¡¯, would that include a stern, sandy-haired woman with visible muscles?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you know her?¡± Georgia let out a puff of air. ¡°Figures.¡±

    Even the documents weren¡¯t free of her trace, filled with black bars that she¡¯d clearly added in order to cover her tracks. Everything useful was redacted in some way, but Florette still managed to find some useful scraps.

    Particularly, the fact that Charlotte had returned the copies she¡¯d borrowed. Obviously, she¡¯d gotten what she wanted on Delbrook.

    Which meant there was something there; Florette just had to find it.

    Should be easy¡ªjust a little break-in to Delbrook¡¯s house. Next to the Malin Railyard or the Tancredi Museum, it was nothing, especially with a Cloak of Nocturne in hand.

    The real problem was Charlotte. She was here to ensure that Astor won, and that gave Florette nothing to work with. Madison Astor was a career toady for Princess Elizabeth and the Owls, but that wasn¡¯t the sort of fact that people feared exposure of. She¡¯d never done anything, which made it difficult to imagine there was anything serious to dig up.

    Still, now Florette had a plan: get evidence of whatever dirty deeds Stuart Astor had committed, then make sure he won.

    Without arousing any suspicion from the detective working directly in opposition to her.

 Camille IV: The Storm

    Camille IV: The Storm

    Currents of cold rage flowed through Camille as she moved, freezing the ends of her eyelashes.

    Half the city was on fire, and the worst of it was far enough inland that it was doubtful a simple wave could quell it. The ones who¡¯d started the fires, though, were somewhat easier to deal with. Several had required a reminder of their duties to their Empress or the promise of a pardon if they returned to their homes without further disruption, and one had even needed a smack on the head with a whip of water for the message to sink in. But every other rioter she encountered directly fled when they saw the furious look in her eye, suitably chastened. If only scattered posses of drunken urbanites were the real threat.

    Why did it have to be the Blues? But for that, everything might have gone perfectly. If Camille had only been there...

    The deep divides at court were obvious even before they¡¯d chosen their teams and colors: Malin and Guerron; Occupied and Exiles; Merchant and Aristocrat; the King¡¯s Lot and the Queen¡¯s Lot. Camille had bridged the gap as well as anyone possibly could have, a conciliator without peer beset by a challenge without equal.

    But every time a courtier felt the slightest discontentment, they ran crying to their allies. They¡¯d decry the incompetent councilors at the palace, brutish peasants or haughty nobles as the case may be, and plot to raise their influence at the cost of their foes¡¯. Chariot races and tax law reforms were only the latest grievances, so petty it was hard to believe they had been the thing to set them off.

    Of course Camille had considered that it might come to violence. To do otherwise would have been the height of na?vet¨¦. She¡¯d been carefully shaping the dynamics of her courtiers to ensure a loyal core that could be turned against the first to break the peace, maintained a neutral stance to ensure that such nonsense was not encouraged, and run her bureaucrats through as much of an asset seizure procedure as she could let on without raising suspicion.

    Considering the behavior of the chariot fanatics in the past, a cumbersome eruption like this was, while far from ideal, not wholly outside of the worst-case parameters she¡¯d planned for. Done right, it was an opportunity to consolidate power and purge Malin of disloyalists while benefiting from their wealth.

    But why did it have to be the Blues?

    When Camille was nine and her old clothes from Malin had finally become too small to fit, Madeleine Lazarre had taken her to the dressmaker in town and helped her recover from another layer of familiarity and comfort, another link to Mother, being wrested away by the relentless march of time. She¡¯d told Camille stories of the old days before everything had gone wrong. Now she was with the rioters, teetering on the edge of abject treason over a few snubs and a tax law.

    Most of the rebel knights had a similar story: Raoul de Montgallet had kept his wits during the fall of Guerron and dispatched that boy to warn them early to prepare a response. After the Treaty of Charenton had released him from the rebel dungeons, the wizened Winter War veteran had bent down in front of her and kissed the hem of her dress, more profuse in his thanks for freeing him than Camille had ever seen a man be. Alvis de Sableton, suspicions of treachery under the occupation aside, was popular for good reason, strong and courageous, embodying everything that nobility stood for.

    Not to mention the legitimacy they could call upon from foreign allies. Plagette and Condillac had no reason to care about Malinois merchants biting at the Fox-King, but there was a real risk that they might arm these rebels if they saw any opportunity for themselves in doing it. Whether they personally cared or not, few sages in the South were willing to support Camille openly after her usurpation of Levian¡¯s domain lest they endanger their relationships with their patrons. Doubtless, whether as an excuse or a genuine belief, many of the rebels felt the same way.

    They were organized and trained at arms, for another thing. The knights were small in number, the levies they could once call upon to bolster their forces largely a thing of the past, but they¡¯d been trained at arms since they were children. Their social power rested on martial ability. Soldier-for-soldier, they could stand with the best of Lucien¡¯s professional army, few of whom had ever seen battle.

    And far too many of whom are away right now, escorting the Red Knight and Princess Mars under false flags. He kept a tight, disciplined, and discreet force out there, and Malin remained well-defended, but every soldier counted at the margins now, and the latest detachment sent to bolster Mars as she marched on Salhaute could not have been more poorly timed if someone had planned it.

    Which is worth examining, if and when things settle down. I¡¯m not the only skilled schemer on the continent, and there are many who would see the Empire further sundered. Any such investigations would have to wait, however.

    ¡°They¡¯re gathering up on Old Castle Hill, calling on all leal subjects of the Fox-King to rally to their side.¡± Ysengrin was breathless in his third report of the evening, eyepatch askew as he emerged from the tunnels. He still looked slightly dazed from the blow to his head, but at least his words had begun to find surer footing. Now of all times, Camille couldn¡¯t afford to rely on an incapacitated agent.

    ¡°How many of them made it up there?¡± Camille took the opportunity of the open tunnel entrance to pull a stream of water forth and splash it against the burning corner of a nearby rooftop. ¡°The hooligans can be arrested and dispersed¡ªthey don¡¯t have the discipline or the morale to keep this up for long¡ªbut the knights pose a serious problem.¡±

    Ysengrin swallowed. ¡°I¡¯d guess maybe a thousand total, with a few hundred knights. Every third one had a sword and armor, half of them a horse, but the rest didn¡¯t look any different from the thoughtless rioters still roaming the streets. Aside from the fact that they¡¯re backing the Blues, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Camille surprised herself by saying it aloud. This is dire.

    On a fortified hill which had housed the Fox-Queen¡¯s fortress, nigh-impregnable for six centuries, there was a very real chance they could repel Camille¡¯s attack with enough luck. More likely, defeating them would still cost her decades of spiritual power and hundreds of Imperial forces, all of which were needed to protect the Empire from its enemies abroad.

    Without other spirits and sages willing to deal with her, spiritual energy had to be conserved carefully. All the more so when her deal with G¨¦zarde required her to promote offerings to the sun above all, leaving a more limited slate for herself. If I burn it all on killing my own people, where does that leave me? How can I possibly recover from the Empire tearing itself apart from within? I¡¯ve already lost Guerron. What kind of laughingstock of an Empress will I be if half of Malin rises up against me, too?

    If she¡¯d returned even a few hours earlier, it might have been possible to crush them into submission before they had a chance to organize like this. Perhaps even minutes would have made a difference, but it was too late to dwell on it now.

    Camille¡¯s eyes got stuck on a middle-aged woman weeping at the sight of the caf¨¦ burning in front of her, to children huddled close under her arms. Redirecting her water allowed her to quiet the fire, but the blackened remnants of the woman¡¯s shop did nothing to arrest her despair. My people are suffering. They need me, and I¡¯m distracted by these loathsome rioters. Order meant more than the spears that kept the peace, after all.

    Camille spent another few minutes quelling fires and intimidating rioters into returning home, but this sort of piecemeal treatment wasn¡¯t going to get them anywhere. The fires were only continuing to spread, the Blue rebels only growing further entrenched in their position. And every second before order returns will cost me. The people looked to their Empress for leadership, for prosperity, but above all, for safety. Subverting those key pillars of support had enabled Camille to take Malin from Luce in the first place. If they were to fall now...

    ¡°Camille!¡± Margot ran out from an alley, hair and face covered in a grey sheen of soot. ¡°Duchess Annette gathered up the first legion around the Old Castle Hill and is preparing them to attack. My sister lent some regulars to the city police to help them bust heads elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°We say ¡®restoring order¡¯ in public, Margot, but very well done.¡± Camille wrapped an arm around her stagi¨¨re, relieved to see she¡¯d made it out safely. ¡°I¡¯m surprised your sister let you run the message to us alone. You didn¡¯t run into any trouble on the way?¡±

    Margot laughed, holding out a folded-up journal. ¡°She didn¡¯t let me do shit¡ªthey were arguing about who should go when I ducked out. I did see this though. Strange, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Camille looked at the journal, printed with the usual Quotidien title and date but no other text. Instead, the articles had been replaced with an engraving, shaded artfully enough to suggest a fading light behind it. ¡°The swan... Scott had them print this when Lillian Perimont tried to take over instead of letting Eserly print her libel.¡±

    ¡°So why print it now? Especially in a late edition. Lillian Perimont is dead, isn¡¯t she?¡±

    ¡°Short of the Face-Stealer resurrecting her visage, yes. This isn¡¯t about Perimont or the Guardians, it¡¯s about Malin. They don¡¯t know who¡¯s going to be in charge in the morning, so they¡¯re refusing to print anything that might be seen as taking a side.¡± Neutrality has a treachery in its own way, Scott Temple, but I always knew you were a feckless little worm. It was understandable enough as a self-preservation measure, but it didn¡¯t bode well that anyone thought the rioters stood such a chance.

    A crack sounded across the stones as a flaming wooden beam tumbled from the overhang of a nearby shop, startling Camille out of her thoughts. Instead of dousing it, she turned to Margot. ¡°Where are Annette and the others? This spot-by-spot treatment isn¡¯t getting us anywhere. We need to make one decisive move now and wrap this all up.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°They¡¯re gathered at the railyard at the foot of the hill. I¡¯ll grab ¨¦tienne and we can¡ª¡±

    ¡°You brought the Duke of Condillac with you?¡± If anything happens to him, it could mean war with the Duchy. As if this situation weren¡¯t unravelling enough.

    ¡°Yeah, relax. He was feeling stifled waiting around an empty train station, so I asked if he wanted to get into some trouble. I figured¡ª¡±

    ¡°Where is he now?¡± Camille interrupted, trying not to sound too judgemental of her stagi¨¦re lest she create a rift between them.

    Margot pointed around the corner in the direction she¡¯d come from, prompting Camille to rush into the alley just in time to see a massive drunken man loomed menacingly over the Condillac lord with his red, spitting face and puffed-out chest. ¡°Y¡¯alright? Fuckin¡¯ weakling Queen-loving cunt? The fuck you think you¡¯re doing?

    ¡°I¡¯ve no q-quarrel with you, good sir. I¡¯m sure we can come to an arrangement.¡± While he¡¯d worn all black when visiting Guerron, the Duke had added small purple accents to break up the monochrome monotony, likely at the request of his tailor, which greatly improved his look. He¡¯d also grown a foot, his features stretched and gaunt, with long brown hair tumbling down his shoulders. Above his shoulder, the raven familiar Tiecelin was flapping and squawking furiously, blowing gusts of wind back in the aggressor¡¯s face.

    But the hooligan didn¡¯t back down, instead raising his fist with one hand and firmly gripping the Duke¡¯s shirt with the other.

    Camille flicked out a razor-sharp whip of water from her finger, slicing the assailant¡¯s throat before he had a chance to follow up. ¡°I¡¯m pleased to see that you¡¯re safe, Duke ¨¦tienne. My sincerest apologies for this commotion.¡±

    The Duke¡¯s eyes went wide as the man toppled to the ground in front of him, his posture shrinking back even further. ¡°I seem to come across this sort of thing every time I chance to visit your fair city, Empress Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°But you make it out safely every time!¡± Margot punched him on the shoulder before Camille could get a word in. ¡°Didn¡¯t you tell me that conflict is a chance to prove your mettle? Granting the release of death to the unworthy? What¡¯s a big strong sage of Corva got to worry about?¡± Margot whispered a hurried offering over the man as he bled out on the cobblestones, and Camille felt the power flow into her.

    ¡°Yes... Well... You see, my experience with death is of a more philosophical nature, r-reflecting the poetry of life...¡± He frowned, realizing he¡¯d been bested. ¡°This seems poor hospitality no matter how you look at it, and it isn¡¯t even the first time!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m inclined to agree, but I can assure you this will be the last time.¡± Camille grit her teeth. Getting him on our side is going to be so much harder now. ¡°If it wouldn¡¯t trouble you to join us, we need to get moving.¡±

    They made quick time, wind and water extinguishing any fires that blocked their way. But despite their efforts clearing a path, the fires had spread across half the city by the time they reached the foot of the hill.

    Camille had spent most of that time planning, irritatedly trying to maintain her focus on the plot through every interruption: smothering fires, commanding her subjects, and directing Margot, Yse, and ¨¦tienne through the burning city.

    She came upon Alvis de Sableton before Annette, a plain brown cloth waving from his hand to signal parley. Somehow, despite the riots and the fires, his blue racing uniform, modified from the traditional officer¡¯s garb, still looked crisp and pristine.

    ¡°Empress.¡± He dipped his head in a bow, his tone as respectful as any courtier. ¡°I regret that such destruction has come to pass. The peers have selected me as their representative to discuss our terms. I hope that we can end this unpleasantness quickly.

    This better be good. The very concept of a parley seemed absurd amidst the backdrop of a flaming city and riotous imbeciles determined to make it so. What could there possibly be to say? ¡°Very well. But first, Margot, allow me to examine your notepad.¡±

    Camille removed the pen from its spine and flipped it open, refreshing herself on the details of the fighting in Margot¡¯s own words, then scribbled down a set of instructions, her penmanship just a hair less immaculate than usual. ¡°See that Annette and your friend the Duke read this,¡± she said, then followed the Blue representative to a table he¡¯d pointed out by the side of a currently-abandoned caf¨¦ about halfway up the hill, just high enough to have a view of the sea.

    ¡°Before you begin, allow me to offer you a deal more generous than any rebel deserves.¡± Camille narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge the racer¡¯s inscrutable expression as she marshalled her concentration for the task before her. ¡°I have offered pardons to rioters who returned to their homes when bid, or assisted in combating the fires. So far, these have been simple farmers, urbanites, people of the land and the sea. Noblesse obliges the likes of us to do better, Alvis de Sableton. The drunken hooligan has not sworn a personal oath of fealty to my husband for all that he owes it to him, but you and yours have. You understand the importance of a knight¡¯s honor, making it all the more despicable that you would break it.

    ¡°Nonetheless, I shall extend to you the same courtesy I granted all my people on this sorrowful day. You, Lazarre, and Montgallet will make personal apologies to me and to my husband, accompanied by reaffirmations of your fealty. The rest of your rowdy band shall disperse immediately to receive their pardons. Per the terms of the Code Leclaire, the three of you will be granted a trial. Should you cooperate now, I will personally appear to speak to the honor you showed on this day. Refuse, and you will be destroyed.¡±

    Alvis nodded slowly, taking in the offer without any clear objections on his face, but when he spoke, it wasn¡¯t acquiescence. ¡°A generous offer for a traitor, Your Grace, but you wound me with such an accusation. We Blue knights are loyal to the Empire and the Fox-King; we simply object to the egregious disloyalty from councilors close to him.¡±

    ¡°To me?¡± Camille laughed. ¡°Lucien is my husband. There¡¯s no one in the world more loyal to him. That is precisely why he appointed me to rule in his stead while he continues his royal progress.¡±

    ¡°Royal progress? Does that not mean the King being seen before the people, making every corner of his domain familiar with him? No one has seen him for months. There are those who whisper that he¡¯s dead.¡±

    If things get badly enough out of hand in Salhaute, it¡¯s not impossible that something could happen to him... But Camille couldn¡¯t bear to think of that. Lucien would never appreciate being coddled, nor a moment¡¯s hesitation in her confidence in him. Camille would be just as offended if he ever underestimated her in the same way.

    ¡°There are those who whisper treason, and those who shout it. Both are well-represented on Old Castle Hill. The fact of the matter is that my Lucien has never been healthier, so far as I know. He¡¯s conducting diplomacy at a very high level, beyond your qualifications or comprehension. If you have issues with the way I¡¯ve ruled in his name, you may address them to me. Respectfully. If you throw the tantrum of a traitor, I have no choice but to treat you as one.¡±

    Alvis followed her words, but his eyes began to wander, as if already disbelieving her so deeply that it wasn¡¯t worth his time to listen carefully. ¡°Each and every one of us will swear their loyalty to you¡ªin public, if necessary¡ªprovided our demands are met.¡±

    ¡°Demands?¡± Camille laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll be lucky to get a last request.¡±

    ¡°Nonetheless, I promised that I would present them to you if you allowed me leave to do so. May I?¡± Alvis watched Camille scoff, then waved him on half-heartedly to continue. ¡°Excellent. I believe you¡¯ll find them reasonable enough for us to end this brutishness here and now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be the judge of that.¡±

    Alvis frowned, then continued. ¡°First, your taxation decree must be repealed. The value and honor of your noble vassals shall not be impugned any further. The inheritance and property taxes previously imposed on Peers of the Realm shall likewise be abolished. None who possess a noble title shall be forced to provide tribute by such alien, ¡®modernized¡¯ means, but instead shall continue to send His Grace the taxes owed in the manner we have for the last six centuries.

    ¡°Second, the Empire shall permit us to create and operate a series of private military schools for young knights, that they might be educated in the traditional roles and responsibilities of knighthood, an elite and irreplaceable order of warriors guarding the masses and keeping them safe. The land stretching from Calignac to Sableton should suffice for housing and funding these schools, though once their success is proven, the Fox-King may wish to extend it.

    ¡°Third, any royal proclamations encouraging that offerings be made to the Sun Spirit, G¨¦zarde, shall end. As a gesture of goodwill to the spirits, Empress Camille will step back back from governance and Levian shall be honored as behooves a peerless spirit such as he, including a statue of his likeness in the square and a formal declaration of apology for any wrongs humanity has wrought upon the spirits.

    ¡°Finally, the rules of the chariot races must be reformed to preclude the sort of wanton merchant influence that has corrupted this fine sport, including but not limited to purchase of horses and equipment, inclusion of mercantile insignias on horse apparel, and a detachment of knights present at every race to safeguard the process.¡±

    Camille couldn¡¯t help but roll her eyes at the demands, erupting into a full blown laugh when she heard the final one. ¡°First of all, after the mess today, I doubt anyone will be racing chariots in Malin for a hundred years. We certainly won¡¯t be coronating your team as a reward for this unacceptable behavior. The taxes are to be paid by every loyal citizen of the Empire, their contribution to our national prosperity. My family honored Levian for over six hundred years and it did nothing to stop him from attacking my Lucien and all of humanity in the White Night, nor did it prevent him from massacring Charenton. Allowing cretins like you to toast to his good name is already more than enough. And as for your private schools, you¡¯re asking for leave to train an entirely separate army loyal to your knights instead of the Fox-King.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Alvis shook his head. ¡°We want to ensure that our class is educated and endowed with loyalty to the Fox-King instead of his bride.¡±

    Bride? I¡¯m the only reason you and all the other aristocrats that spent the occupation in hiding could crawl out of your hole and come back to Malin. Everything you have, you owe to me. I liberated the heart of the Empire and spent the last four years spurring it towards being a global power again, even an equal to Avalon. What back-alley imbroglio were you raised in to believe for even a moment that this flagrant disrespect would ever be tolerated?

    But, with some effort, Camille kept her thoughts to herself. They wouldn¡¯t lead anywhere productive. Instead, she made another offer. ¡°None of us want Malin to burn. While your demands are absurd and unacceptable, I¡¯m willing to grant you a day¡¯s reprieve in order that we might all fight the fires together and avoid any further distraction in this crucial time before resuming negotiations.¡±

    ¡°Respectfully, Your Grace, we must establish now that our¡ªWhat is that?¡± He pointed skyward at the gathering clouds, so dark they were nearly black.

    Concentrating grew easier without the need to mask her hand in it, drawing on the majority of her remaining power to swell the sea and bring the rain. ¨¦tienne had done his part, fortunately, which bode well for future collaborations. The clouds were blown rapidly across the sky over the city as the first raindrops began to fall. Down at the coast, the sea was rapidly rising, further aided by the rain.

    Alvis flinched under the assault, raindrops so thick in the air that he was soaked in a matter of seconds. And one by one, all across the city the Fox-Queen had built and entrusted to her descendants to protect, the fires began to wink out. A spiritual maelstrom to shield the people, rather than wreak vengeance upon them, no matter how much these Blues might deserve it. ¡°My offer expires the moment you find dry shelter, Alvis de Sableton. Think carefully.¡±

 Guy II: The Hanged Man

    Guy II: The Hanged Man

    It¡¯s a cruel thing to see the sky on a night like tonight.

    The stars were clear to see, each a tiny echo of a mighty sun spirit for a faraway world, orders of magnitude beyond the veil of human comprehension.

    Guy had never much been one for reading the skies, but in four years he¡¯d exhausted his library thrice over, and nothing but the window ever changed. Of course, there¡¯d been the occasional bribe to procure more entertainment, but such acquisitions had become prohibitively costly, while the stars remained free. That thrice-damned Montaigne ruined any chance to keep myself sane in this ghastly prison.

    Ever since the Miroirdeau Affair, Guy¡¯s guards had been replaced to the man, their schedules changed rapidly enough that it was nigh-impossible to build rapport. He¡¯d been denied ink and paper, denied visitation to his wife, denied even the dignity of proper sleep. The clanging opening of the door that had once been a daily check had been made hourly, even in the inhumane hours of the wee morning. The better part of Guy¡¯s furniture had been seized, his bed tossed apart by meaty peasant hands on a daily basis. Even the rugs had been pulled, exposing cold stone to Guy¡¯s newly bare feet. The slightest protest was met with threats to throw him in Fouchand''s dungeons, the slightest sudden movement interpreted as a threat and met with a tackle to the floor.

    Nor was there any hope of aid from across the Sartaire. Leclaire had officially denounced Guy¡¯s actions as a violation of the Treaty of Charenton and a naked usurpation attempt of the Guerron Duchy, seemingly ignoring that Fernan Montaigne had done the same and her signature had made it official. None of Annette¡¯s letters reached him anymore, if indeed she was still sending them at all, and any hope of alliance with Condillac seemed thoroughly dead and burned.

    Like I¡¯m to be, erelong. The perfect plan had turned to ash, and the increased scrutiny made replacing it practically impossible. If Guy ever dared to chance another bribe, it would not be for a mere coq au vin or novel, let alone the trivialities of a literary magazine.

    But Pleateia¡¯s Guide to the Southern Sky had already been in his possession, an old gift from Aurelian that had been near the bottom of Guy¡¯s reading backlog. In truth, he probably never would have read it had everything not gone wrong. But, seeing as it had, it was fortunate to possess it, especially considering the fact that the rebels had seized the greater part of his library, allowing him to keep only a single curated bookshelf. Guy hadn¡¯t intended to include it, preferring more lighthearted fare in these dark times, but he¡¯d still found it one morning wedged into the shelf, apparently hidden in plain sight the whole time¡ªthat, or one of the rebels had returned it to his bookcase as some kind of jape.

    With the equinox marked by the Festival of the Sun two weeks in the past, the entire mythic cycle of origin was visible, but for the obstructions to Guy¡¯s sightline. Out the western-facing window, the first constellation Guy had learned loomed over the water, five stars clumped in a loose grouping that the book claimed was a circle, the hole in the earth spirit from which the first spirits had once emerged, long before humanity had touched the face of Terramonde.

    In a straight line across the sky were Dum and Wyll, ostensibly resembling the crystalline cat and caliginous hound that had first sprung forth from Soleil and Khali, opposite but ultimately compatible life for Terramonde that would forever live in the shadow of their patron spirits. In Guy¡¯s opinion, the two of them together halfway resembled Magnifico¡¯s pulsebox, but that was about the closest they came to actually representing anything.

    The penultimate of the cycle was called The Exile, at least in the west, representing the entrance of humanity to Terramonde¡¯s surface, cast out of either the bowels of Terramonde or the sky above, depending on the story. It was nine stars in mostly vertical lines, supposedly showing six different people, but in practice it was only really intelligible through context and memorization. The Fox-Queen¡¯s conquest had standardized the scholarship, but apparently, east of Paix Lake, some isolated mountainfolk still clung to an antiquated belief that humans descended directly from the spirits themselves.

    The Hanged Man still loomed beneath the horizon, kept just out of view by an insipid patch of flowers clinging to the wall, glistening provocatively in the moonlight. I¡¯m fated to expire before you¡¯ll even begin to wilt. What a sorry achievement, a great Lord of the realm whose tenure compares unfavorably to a transient plant.

    Guy couldn¡¯t even take solace in the Hanged Man¡¯s thuddingly obvious parallel to his own situation with it out of sight, nor appreciate seemingly the one constellation in the book that actually resembled the figure it represented, thirteen stars perfectly depicting both the man and the noose.

    What does any of it matter, really? It¡¯s nothing but a gaggle of squabbling academics arguing with each other via the slowest medium possible. By the time one published a stirring rebuttal that truly advanced anyone¡¯s understanding of anything, the original author was probably already dead.

    But it beats reading Accursed Queen for the five hundredth time. And even that was still better than contemplating how dire his situation was.

    With the power she was concealing, Valentine had the means to escape, but that did nothing for Guy unless she stopped to retrieve him on the way, a vanishingly unlikely prospect. Not only was her lack of fondness for him matched only by his own feelings towards her, any pragmatic gain from involving him died along with Guy¡¯s access to his wealth and connections.

    Honestly, he was surprised she hadn¡¯t broken through the wall and run towards Torpierre already, but that was probably only because she was waiting to see how his trial turned out. Considering that she would be able to follow the story just as well from afar once free, Guy could only conclude that she wanted to be sure she could see his execution with her own eyes. As if she hadn¡¯t planned to benefit from the scheme just as much as I had. Guy ought to have had her sign the letter alongside him; then he¡¯d have an actual chance at escape.

    Before dawn broke, Guy was pulled from his bed and made to dress for his trial, a farce conjured up by Montaigne and his up-jumped mountainfolk to conjure a veil of legitimacy for their actions, as if imprisoning and murdering their liege lord could somehow be considered excusable by merely following a procedure.

    Guards he¡¯d never met before tightly bound Guy¡¯s arms behind his back and marched him through the castle, the magnificent Chateau d¡¯Oran that Guy¡¯s ancestors had erected against the desolate mountainside to defend the Empire from its enemies across the water. Now it was sullied, merely a larger prison whose stain could only be removed through the restoration of justice.

    The bindings were only removed once Guy was in the center of the chamber, surrounded by rebels and merchants and peasants united only by their misdirected hate towards him. Four years ago, Guy had stood on this very spot next to Fernan Montaigne, leading him to victory against that murderous curr, Magnifico, and saving his ungrateful cousin from a tragic and unjust death.

    Now it was Guy burdened with innocence at this mockery of a trial, while Montaigne sat in Aurelian¡¯s seat, the very spot where a flawed but fundamentally good man had seen the weight of the evidence before him and turned on Uncle Fouchand¡¯s killer, despite the damage it had done to his grip on power. Would Fernan Montaigne be so selflessly circumspect? Considering his conniving deceptions and base conduct at that very trial, it seemed unlikely.

    At Guy¡¯s side was the solicitor he¡¯d been allowed, a rebel who¡¯d volunteered to lead his defense despite his opposition to the legitimate government. Guy might have chosen another, but Michel Montaigne had been remarkably convincing in his sincere intentions to represent him fairly when none else would, and none remained in the city of certain loyalty anyway.

    ¡°No person ought want for council in a just society, Citoyen Valvert,¡± he¡¯d said, coming in of his own accord after weeks of futile pleas to old duchy solicitors had come and gone without response, Guy¡¯s letters no doubt intercepted before they could reach them. ¡°There are defenses to the charges laid against you, and I mean to argue them as effusively as a solicitor ever has.¡±

    ¡°Montaigne wants a fa?ade of legitimacy before he hurls me from the mountaintops, nothing more.¡±

    ¡°He is one of the few people left protesting that very thought, Valvert. Fernan believes that the Commune ought to take no lives, no matter the crime. He even talked the CSP down from death for the guards you corrupted, sentencing them rather to seizure of their unjustly acquired wealth and service to the Commune.¡±

    ¡°The boy¡¯s a fool,¡± Guy had told him upon hearing the news. There¡¯s no use in injuring your enemies enough to anger them without removing them as a threat. Aurelian made the same mistake with Leclaire, though he died before that had time to give him any grief. Coin didn¡¯t buy loyalty, but shared indignity could easily bind people under a common cause. Before, they¡¯d simply taken his money, but now they had reason to rally to his side should he escape.

    ¡°Perhaps. He knows the worst of what you¡¯ve done and still he wants to spare you.¡± Michel pushed his spectacles up, face curling into a frown.  ¡°And he begged me not to represent you. I had to resign my position on the CSP to do it. For all that he hopes you live, he still hoped I would step aside rather than grant you the legal protection the Commune owes every citizen when no one else would provide it.¡±

    Michel had walked him through a stirring defense, consulting Guy all the while to verify details as he increasingly opened up, culminating in a closing argument that almost had Guy believe he could win over the rebel tribunal. Almost. Considering how dismal his prospects were today, it was still worth the gamble.

    Opposite him was the man they called the Spirit of Death, the architect of all the misery and destruction that had dogged Guy since his letters to Condillac, Paul Armand. Seeing him for the first time, Guy was shocked by how young he looked, practically of age with Montaigne himself. This is the man who rooted out three dozen loyalists from a couple letters and a bag of florins? This child?

    ¡°Paul the Wall! Paul the Wall! Paul the Wall!¡± The chanting from the gallery grew louder as Armand emerged from behind the podium, only to be rapidly silenced upon Fernan Montaigne¡¯s quiet request. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Montaigne had only grown more wild with time, hair shaggy and beard untrimmed, as if the prospect of a mirror was foreign to him. Layered atop facial features that ranged from plain to reptilian and burning green flames where his eyes were supposed to be, even the robes of a magister did little to elevate his presentation. Yet still the peasants looked upon him with awe, hanging on his every word.

    ¡°As First Speaker of the Guerron Commune, before the Guerron Assembly and the people gathered here today, I now call to order the trial of Citoyen Guy Auguste Valvert.¡± Montaigne paused, the fire in his eyes shrinking down as he feigned remorse. ¡°Citoyen Armand, as the champion of the people, please present your opening argument.¡±

    ¡°With pleasure, First Speaker.¡± Armand curled his arm into a bow, the hint of a smile on his face. ¡°In a world of unjust men, enemies of the people who truly merit death, Citoyen Guy Valvert stands above all the rest. As far back as his tenure at the Bureau of Land under the false duchy government, Citoyen Valvert neglected his responsibilities, filled offices via nepotism rather than merit, and enriched himself off the backs of the people. When he was given Guerron¡ªgiven, as if Guerron and all its people were mere property of the Duchy to be traded between cousins¡ª¡±

    Armand paused as the crowd erupted with jeers, continuing on for nearly a minute before Montaigne silenced them again. ¡°Citoyen Valvert¡¯s first official act was to deny all treatment and pensions for the people who¡¯d surrendered their health or their lives to defend us all from Glaciel...¡±

    That¡¯s hardly fair¡ªthe first thing I signed was some irrigation agreement to deal with summer snowmelt. Guy remembered primarily because, with an unusual level of care, he¡¯d actually read it, hoping to start his tenure as Lord of Guerron with a wiser ethos. And look where it got me. For all that Armand¡¯s accusations about the time before the revolt were lengthy, the section of his argument regarding the Miroirdeau Affair was nearly as large as the rest combined.

    ¡°And once the people rose up against the injustice of Citoyen Valvert, leaving him with his life and lavish accommodations, paid for by the generosity of the people, he committed his final treason. Without the barest glimmer of excuse¡ªno title, no position under any law new or old, having sworn an oath to the people that he would lay down his arms against them and surrender to our custody¡ªCitoyen Valvert plotted an invasion. He conspired with foreign powers to invite an army onto our shores, to slaughter our citizens and steal our land, to force us once more under the oppressive boot of the aristocracy. The only just punishment for these actions is death.¡± Montaine was faster to silence the cheers to that, at least.

    Michel¡¯s speech was milder by comparison, focusing mainly on the exaggerated nature of several of the smaller charges, then making a greater point about the nature of injustice. ¡°Citoyen Valvert was no worse than any Lord before him, no more or less unjust. But they reigned over us through fear, while Valvert relinquished power. He kept to his captivity and obeyed the Commune¡¯s laws for four years without the slightest complaint from his jailors. Only once these letters and gold appeared was he targeted by Citoyen Armand, dubious discoveries with no certain ties to Citoyen Valvert. Armand is well known for his overzealousness, and never seems to find any trouble locating exactly the evidence he needs at the right time. What assured the rest of the Assembly of their authenticity was a private conversation between Valvert, Armand, and Citoyen Fernan Montaigne. This conversation was witnessed by no one else, and Citoyen Montaigne could not remember the exact words that convinced him. The only source of the transcript is Paul Armand himself.¡±

    Most of the rest was similar quibbles, casting doubt over different sources and pieces of evidence without making any kind of case for Guy¡¯s obvious moral legitimacy in ruling the Duchy¡¯s subjects. It rankles to leave my greatest point unsaid.

    The witnesses for the prosecution came and went, some more convincing than others. Michel¡¯s questioning served to make several look extremely unreliable, but almost all of them spoke in lockstep with Armand to throw the tar of guilt against the rightful Lord of Guerron. And as damaging as Armand¡¯s witnesses were, Guy¡¯s own slate was sorry enough that it almost looked worse.

    Michel had asked if his wife could be persuaded to speak for his character, if nothing else, but even that she would not do. Several others, aides and functionaries from the bureaus, agreed only in exchange for payment, which Michel flatly refused to facilitate. The most he could muster were a few old drinking buddies and a friend of Michel¡¯s named Maxime, who testified only to the damage and corruption that would result from execution as a punishment. He seemed correct enough about Condorcet, and at least had the self awareness to recognize the similarities in his own despotic council, but he made no mention of Guy whatsoever; hardly a stirring defense.

    All that remained were his direct responses to the charges laid against him.

    ¡°Citoyen Valvert, how do you answer the charge of graft?¡±

    ¡°I committed none.¡± Guy strained to keep his tone polite, his words inoffensive to the rebel regime. ¡°My role prior to the establishment of the Commune does not qualify as a legitimate office. I served honorably in my role as Lord of Guerron without using any powers of the office to illegitimately enrich myself.¡± Primarily because it was wholly legitimate before you lot came in and declared it otherwise.

    ¡°How do you answer the charge of perversion of justice in the unjust persecution of Phillipe Montrouge?¡±

    Guy bit his tongue, remembering the words Michel had given him. ¡°The charges against Phillippe Montrouge were a tragedy, thankfully reversed when the people stormed the castle on the day of his trial. In my position, I could not scrutinize every last case that my ministers conducted. This is their fault.¡±

    ¡°How do you answer the charge of bribery and subversion of eight prison guards, two journalists, and the disgraced Assembly member Gabriel Rochaort?¡±

    That if the bloody Viscount could have managed another week before blustering himself to death, I¡¯d be the one executing you, you vile little worm. ¡°My wealth was indeed depleted by these corrupt individuals, only because they thought to steal it from me while I was helpless. I never had the chance to influence them by it.¡±

    Armand hardly missed a beat, moving on to the next charge, then the next, each harsher than the last, until the full details of the Miroirdeau Affair were dredged up for all to hear. Guy answered with the same lie he¡¯d told Michel. ¡°I have no knowledge of these letters, but disavowed them as soon as I learned of their existence.¡±

    On and on it continued in that vein until at last Montaigne called an end to it, putting Guy¡¯s fate up to a vote of the rebel councils, as if he were a rowdy member of their social club they were debating whether or not to expel. Except, of course, these are peasants. What would be a more suitable metaphor? It was as if they were standing in the barn of their hovel, trading rationales for feeding him to the pigs.

    ¡°Citoyen Paul Armand,¡± Montaigne began, running his fingers across the top of his desk as he read the rolls.

    ¡°Abstain, by way of recusal.,¡± Armand said, giving up his vote in order to prosecute this outrageous violation of justice against his own Lord.

    ¡°Citoyenne Liline Avieront.¡±

    ¡°Culpable,¡± answered a surprisingly fetching young woman with tangled red hair. I¡¯m to be killed by children who can¡¯t groom themselves¡ªeven Aurelian had a more dignified end.

    ¡°Citoyen Gilbert Barnave.¡±

    ¡°Abstain,¡± voted a grey haired man, granting Guy his first ray of hope. As far as Michel had explained the rebels¡¯ ridiculous, illegitimate system, they could only rule on his guilt with a majority of votes in favor. While abstentions were not the same as voting him innocent, they still posed an obstacle to their goals of killing him. Perhaps the last one left before my fate is sealed.

    Maintaining a pristine appearance was essential¡ªGuy needed every advantage he could get, no matter how trivial¡ªbut he still felt sweat drip down his nose as he stirred anxiously in his seat.

    ¡°Citoyenne Edith Costeau.¡±

    ¡°Culpable,¡± the singer answered, apparently forgetting the thousands of florins Guy and his peers had thrown her way across the years, the opportunities she¡¯d been given to attend their parties and play for the Fox-King himself. And why should she, when Fernan Montaigne killed the very concept of gratitude stone dead?

    ¡°Citoyenne C¨¦line Duchamps.¡±

    ¡°Abstain.¡±

    After several more rebels made their declarations, the abstentions numbered almost half the votes. Almost, but not enough. Still, there was still a way to win, an ever-narrowing road to victory that remained within sight.

    ¡°Citoyen ¨¦tienne Lantier.¡±

    ¡°Culpable.¡±

    ¡°Citoyen S¨¦verin Marceau.¡±

    ¡°Culpable.¡±

    ¡°Citoyen Dominic Mesnil¡ªAbsent. Citoyenne Eleanor Montaigne.¡±

    Oh I heard about this one. The boy¡¯s mother had followed him into the rebel councils, failing not only her liege lord but also her own son, allowing this madness to continue instead of teaching him respect. ¡°Culpable.¡±

    Fernan Montaigne looked surprised by that, as though he hadn¡¯t thought to discuss this with his own mother before the trial itself. His voice shook as he read the next name. ¡°Citoyen Fernan Montaigne.¡± He swallowed. ¡°Abstain.¡±

    The moment he voiced his vote, Guy¡¯s heart sank. He wouldn¡¯t bother with that bit of theater if he didn¡¯t know he already had the votes. All that remained was to watch helplessly as the boy¡¯s plot played out its final sequence.

    ¡°Citoyen Michel Montaigne.¡±

    ¡°Abstain, by way of recusal.¡±

    Fernan Montaigne frowned more convincingly than he could usually manage despite the fact that none of this could possibly be a surprise. ¡°So recused. Citoyen Laurence Od¨¨le.¡±

    ¡°Culpable.¡±

    Montaigne went through several more ¡®culpable¡¯ votes with nary an abstention among them until he reached a name Guy was surprised to hear. ¡°Citoyen Gabriel Rochaort... Absent. Citoyen Ga?l R¨¦gl¨¤ce.¡±

    ¡°Culpable.¡±

    By the time they reached ¡®Citoyenne Zhiri¡¯, less than a third of the rebels had abstained on Guy¡¯s behalf, including the recusals, and none had voted in his favor. Having suddenly found a talent for acting, Fernan Montaigne looked almost as ill as Guy felt.

    ¡°The Assembly declares Citoyen Valvert... Culpable on the charges of treason, graft, perversion of justice, assault against fellow citizens, inciting corruption, conspiracy to commit treason, and... counter-revolutionary activities. Pursuant to Citoyen Armand¡¯s prosecution, the sentence is death.¡± Montaigne turned away from the table, his eyes as dim as the last centimeter of a candle. After a deep breath, he rotated back around. ¡°The people have spoken. Twelve hours hence, before the people of Guerron, Citoyen Valvert will suffer the consequences for his crimes.¡±

    Why? Why must it come to this? Fighting back tears, Guy tried to keep his head high as they marched him out, the penultimate time any of these people would ever see him. The peasants can die puffed up and whimpering, but Count Valvert shall face his end with dignity. It was all he had left.

    He felt too dead already, not even reacting when he realized they were taking him down into the dungeons.

    Guy slept not one minute of the night, staring no longer at the sky but only the cold, dark stones of his windowless cell, every second feeling both a thousand years long and woefully too short. At times he could hardly breathe beneath the crushing weight of his impending death, mortal tendrils wrapped tightly around his neck.

    After minutes or hours, he felt a low rumble as the stones opened beneath him, dropping him down into the dark abyss.

 Fernan V: The Ratcatcher

    Fernan V: The Ratcatcher

    ¡°This isn¡¯t the end,¡± Fernan insisted, in all honesty trying to convince himself as much as his councilors. ¡°The powers of the First Spear don¡¯t specifically delineate it, but a pardon is well within the normal duties of a head of state. There¡¯s ample precedent to draw on. If I step in to block the ruling¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then you¡¯ll kill your political credibility for a generation,¡± Michel interrupted, looking pained to do so. ¡°Fernan, this is your decision, but if you obstruct the peoples¡¯ justice against Valvert, they¡¯ll hate you for it. You might lose your seat; it¡¯s hard to imagine you staying First Speaker, at minimum.¡±

    ¡°Do it if you feel you must, but don¡¯t be blind to what you¡¯d be giving up,¡± his mom added, squeezing Michel¡¯s hand. ¡°Guy Valvert is guilty, even if you believe that no crime warrants death. A pardon implies innocence¡ªfor you, it implies complicity. It looks bad enough that you were singing Gabriel¡¯s praises so loudly before his treachery came to light.¡±

    ¡°Who cares what it implies? I¡¯m not going to stand by while we kill a man! The Duchy, the Empire, they all purport themselves to be the arbiter of life and death, but the Commune is supposed to be better than that. A just government, of and for all the people of Guerron. This isn¡¯t something we can come back from.¡± Fernan took a deep breath, facing the advisors he¡¯d gathered with a stone face. ¡°If my own reputation is what it takes to stop the Commune from embarking on a path from which it can never return, so be it. Michel, look for any case law to help justify the pardon privilege, Imperial or Avaline. Mom, I think it¡¯s probably best if you condemn the decision¡ªprovided that¡¯s how you really feel. No use in both of us falling for the likes of Guy Valvert. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°Monsieur First Speaker,¡± a messenger named C¨¦line interrupted. One of many workers incorporated into Paul Armand¡¯s anti-corruption arm of the CSP, she charged into the room without bothering to wait for an invitation. ¡°I apologize for the interruption, but I bring you urgent news.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Fernan asked, no longer worried about his prior chain of thoughts. ¡°A message from Paul?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s more serious, M. First Speaker. It¡¯s the prisoners, Guy and Valentine Valvert.¡±

    What now? Did Guy make a deal with Magnifico to blot out the sun, or send a letter to Glaciel inviting her to freeze over Guerron? For a man so selfishly devoted to his own well-being above all else, Guy Valvert seemed positively determined to get himself killed.

    ¡°They¡¯re missing,¡± C¨¦line finished, prompting an eruption of shock from around the room. ¡°The stone in both their cells was disturbed, seemingly shaped and pushed aside to tunnel them out. Citoyen Armand suspects that Valentine Valvert concealed her strength, then broke into Guy¡¯s cell to retrieve him before they both escaped.¡±

    Somehow, even worse than I feared. As much as Fernan never wished to discount the possibility of success, that single act made it nearly impossible to imagine an outcome where Valvert lived, even if he could be retrieved. And if he makes his escape successfully, nothing is stopping him from leading an assault on the Commune.

    It couldn¡¯t be allowed to happen.

    Fernan barely spared a word as he exited the room, flying immediately to the tower where Valentine Valvert was held, still ostensibly recovering from her injuries.

    But the chamber was empty, just as C¨¦line had said. The stone was cracked, dust still hanging in the air, leaving no ambiguity as to how Valentine had escaped. All that remained was a single fleur de lune, the same moon flowers that grew in such large numbers around the outside of the stone. A taunting message too, as if this wasn¡¯t bad enough. The slightest glint of moonlight highlighted it in Fernan¡¯s eyes, the same sort of subtle distinction he¡¯d worked so hard to be able to notice.

    It would have been bad enough to lose Valentine alone, but she¡¯d stopped to rescue her husband, despite the appearance of no love lost between them. She appeared weak and frail too, drained of all spiritual power. And all of us fell for the ruse. Even Paul hadn¡¯t caught on, though his attention had been pulled to weeding out corrupt guards and investigating the Miroirdeau Affair.

    They could have gone anywhere, tunneling miles underground until Guerron was but a distant memory. All of that took energy, and Valentine had a limited supply, but apparently it was far less limited than they¡¯d planned for.

    And if they reach a sympathetic ally, all of the Commune will pay the price. Condillac was a likely destination given Guy¡¯s prior overtures, and Dorseille had once been Guy¡¯s seat of power, but considering the defiant letter C¨¦dric Bougitte had sent to Aubaine, the smarter assumption was that they¡¯d make for Torpierre.

    ¡°No one can know of this,¡± Fernan insisted as soon as he returned, closing the door behind him. ¡°It¡¯s not too late to catch up with them and return them to our custody.¡±

    ¡°Where you¡¯ll pardon them?¡± Michel asked hesitantly. ¡°This will only make it look worse.¡±

    I can¡¯t even make that decision until we get them back. There¡¯s time yet to choose. ¡°It¡¯s only natural to want to escape confinement, guilty or innocent. Unless they committed any extra crimes while escaping, I don¡¯t see any reason to pile on to their charges. Michel, if you¡ª¡±

    Fernan cut himself as he saw the door open again, F¨¦lix poking his head inside hesitantly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disturb you at this hour, Fernan, but...¡± He swallowed, keeping himself halfway out the door. ¡°Do you remember the airship project from the Duchy government? It was all for Valvert¡¯s vanity, using the plans Fouchand Debray bought from Robin Verrou.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± I remember Guy browbeating you in front of everyone because the resources simply weren¡¯t available to make it practical. If not for that, you might not have joined the Montaignards in time for the revolution. ¡°You had a prototype working but with no practical source of fuel to make it actually useful...¡± Fernan trailed off, dread building as he realized where this was going. ¡°And the Valverts stole it to make their escape.¡±

    ¡°The Valverts escaped?¡± F¨¦lix shrank back even further, eyes widening. ¡°Then it must have been them, though I have no idea how they got it running. It¡¯s been sitting in a hanger for the better part of four years. I only found out it was gone because Antoine noticed it while burning the midnight oil.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll be halfway to Dorseille by now,¡± Mom said glumly. ¡°Or Condillac, or Torpierre. And we don¡¯t have anything that could catch them before it¡¯s too late, even if we did know which direction they¡¯re headed in.¡±

    ¡°Aside from me.¡± Fernan stepped forward, beckoning F¨¦lix into the room so he could close the door once more. ¡°This may actually be good news. If they needed to steal an airship, Valentine Valvert couldn¡¯t have too much magic remaining. After scraping and concealing it from us for years, recovering from her injuries, breaking out of their cells might have cost her everything she had.¡±

    ¡°Good news, if we can find them.¡± Michel didn¡¯t look terribly optimistic. ¡°Does this ship leave any kind of trail, F¨¦lix?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a dirigeable filled with dephlogisticated air, rather than heated. Wind handles most of the propulsion, with just a small motor and rudders. Fernan, I don¡¯t know exactly how your vision works, but there won¡¯t be a trail of warm air lingering in the air for hours. Minutes at most, maybe.¡±

    ¡°So I have to decide now: North or South. Choose wrong, and they¡¯ll get away.¡± And I¡¯ll forever be the First Speaker that let it happen. Intentional or unintentional, it was a terrible look, only exacerbating the hole he¡¯d dug for himself with Gabriel. But they would live. The Commune¡¯s hands would remain unbloodied.

    For about twenty minutes. Fernan had no illusions that the Assembly¡¯s attitude towards capital punishment would improve as a result of the escape. Armand would almost certainly push for it on all of the guards that hadn¡¯t been tried yet, and perhaps the remaining aristocrats.

    That may come to pass even if I can find them, but it¡¯s my only chance to keep some influence in the process. If any way remained at all to save the Commune from falling prey to the fate of Condorcet, it would require recapturing the Valverts before anyone else found out.

    ¡°F¨¦lix, you said Antoine told you about the missing airship. Does anyone else know?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. He came straight to me, and it¡¯s the middle of the night. I doubt he stopped to tell anyone else.¡±

    ¡°Summon him and find out for sure. Michel, make sure all the guards who discovered them missing stay here too. No one leaves this room until they¡¯re retrieved.¡±

    Mom frowned. ¡°Fernan, you just can¡¯t go out there by yourself. If Valentine Valvert had enough power to escape, she probably has enough to put you in serious danger, let alone the possibility that they have allies to shelter with. You can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I have to.¡± There¡¯s no one else. ¡°I¡¯m going North. Guy¡¯s vain enough to think Dorseille will rise for him, and he might even be right. It¡¯s more defensible, and doesn¡¯t depend on any foreign collaborators. He¡¯ll know a spot there to hide out, at the very minimum. I want all you weighing options for once they¡¯re returned. We¡¯ll need to hit the ground running.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Mom opened her mouth as if to start speaking, then closed it without a word.

    ¡°Of course,¡± said Michel. ¡°Good hunting.¡±

    ¡°Stay safe,¡± Mom added.

    Fernan flew out the window without sparing another moment, flying low enough to reduce any risk of someone spotting him.

    G¨¦zarde¡¯s power had only continued to swell with the offerings Camille had committed to from Malin, so Fernan had no issues drawing on enough power to fly as far as Dorseille.

    Or Torpierre, Fernan thought as he turned south. Apologies for the misdirection, but anything to reduce the chance of accurate information leaking out is worth doing.

    Fernan had seen the airship on its test flight, a brief circle around the city that alone had exhausted about a third of Guerron¡¯s fuel, and there weren¡¯t many gaps in the mountains low enough for it to fly through at its usual height. They might not have bothered. If Guy¡¯s flying it himself, he certainly doesn¡¯t have the expertise to navigate by the stars. That would mean following the Gold Road down the coast, a different enough direction from flying directly that Fernan couldn¡¯t cover both routes at once.

    Another guess, but I¡¯m out of time for anything else. Fernan soared over the mountains, trying to think like an airship pilot desperately trying to find Torpierre, and continued blindly for an agonizing stretch that felt like hours. If he didn¡¯t have any luck, he had every intention of following the Gold Road back, and even continuing north to Dorseille if necessary, but every hour that passed only decreased the chance that the Valverts could be recovered, let alone recovered before word got out.

    The sun began to rise just in time, illuminating a wooden wreck crashed into the hillside.

    Fernan felt a warm relief spread through him as he landed next to it, now certain he¡¯d chosen the right direction. But I haven¡¯t found them yet. For a moment, he feared that they¡¯d perished in the crash, but there wasn¡¯t any trace of a warm body anywhere, which meant that the escapees had survived the crash and walked away.

    It means they can¡¯t be far.

    Fernan flew a few feet above the ground in progressively wider circles, searching for any trace of the Valverts. If they¡¯d touched something long enough, recently enough, there was a chance he could see the lingering warmth and track them. Even if not, they would be on foot, possibly injured from the crash, while Fernan had the skies at his disposal. It was only a matter of time now.

    But that doesn''t mean they¡¯ll return without a fight. Valentine Valvert bested me the last time we fought¡ªif not for an opportune shot at just the right moment, I might not have survived the day. She ought to have less energy at her disposal now, but we¡¯ve already been wrong about that once, to disastrous results.

    Conserving his own energy, Fernan landed a few steps away from a small mountain cottage just barely within sight of the airship wreck, not all that different from the sort of slanted-roof houses found back in Villechart. If they¡¯re smart, they¡¯ll avoid talking to anyone who might possibly recognize them, but it¡¯s possible they¡¯re too injured to go any further without help. It was also possible that Guy Valvert assumed any random person would shelter him out of loyalty to the aristocracy, in which case he was in for a rude awakening.

    ¡°Fuck off!¡± an old woman¡¯s voice yelled through the door as soon as Fernan knocked.

    Another good sign. ¡°I won¡¯t be long, Madame. I¡¯m just looking for a couple people, a man and woman in their thirties who were on that airship when it crashed. I¡¯m trying to get them back safely. Did you see anyone like that?¡±

    Because I have a feeling you might have.

    The woman didn¡¯t answer, so Fernan tried knocking again. ¡°Would you mind letting me in? I¡¯d rather not have this conversation through a door.¡± He could force his way in if he had to, but that seemed wildly extreme given the circumstances.

    To Fernan¡¯s surprise, the door creaked open, revealing a hunched figure with a faded aura. In the single room of the cottage, it was plain to see that no one else was here with them. ¡°Tell your lies and be on your way,¡± the woman said, collapsing into a chair.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t told you any lies,¡± Fernan said. ¡°Though perhaps I was not clear enough about the truth. The people I seek are fugitives named Guy and Valentine Valvert, escaped from just imprisonment for their crimes.¡±

    ¡°Crimes!¡± The woman scoffed. ¡°Count Valvert is a confidant of Duke Fouchand, and kin to him.¡±

    Is? News must take a long time to get here, but that still seems extreme. ¡°Duke Fouchand is dead, Madame. The King of Avalon threw him off a balcony.¡±

    ¡°Ha! I¡¯m sure. And Soleil right alongside him, right?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, King Harold was also involved in Soleil¡¯s death, though there wasn¡¯t any balcony to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop it, boy. I see the flames in your eyes; I know you¡¯ve been touched by the spirits. Doesn¡¯t mean I have anything to fear. If you want to kill me, little lord, go ahead. I don¡¯t have much time left anyway.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt you at all! I won¡¯t, whether or not you¡¯re sheltering them.¡± Which I strongly suspect you are. ¡°And I¡¯m no lord. I¡¯m from Villechart.¡±

    ¡°Never heard of it.¡±

    Not exactly a surprise. ¡°It¡¯s a coal mining town¡ªI grew up in a house just like this one. I led the people there west to safety once we couldn¡¯t mine anymore, just in time considering the Summer of Darkness. When an ice spirit attacked Guerron, we rose to defend it while Guy Valvert cowered in his castle. Then, when we wanted to compensate the injured, he said they should be happy to die in the streets.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the rightful lord,¡± the woman insisted.

    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing. We built a new society in Guerron where people like us have a voice! Valvert had his chance to step back willingly, and instead he tried to bribe the Duke of Condillac into invading us.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s why you tried to kill him...¡± She slumped back, as good as confirming that she¡¯d at least come across them. ¡°Doesn¡¯t make you anything like me.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not. When the time came to leave the mountains, I did, rather than cling to my home. Some did, like you, and they might do the same thing you¡¯re doing now, what they believe is the right thing. But I promise you, I never wanted Valvert dead. He simply couldn¡¯t be allowed free after setting his guards against his own people, after flagrantly violating the law to persecute his uncle¡¯s creditor, denying him even a trial.¡± Fernan softened his voice, making one final appeal. ¡°I¡¯m not in Villechart anymore¡ªnow I¡¯m First Speaker of the Guerron Commune. I will personally see to it that you are not punished for trying to help. In your position, knowing what you know, I would have done the same. Instead, I assure you, the Commune will handsomely reward anyone who helps return the Valverts to face justice.¡± Please listen...

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± the woman shouted, perhaps unsurprisingly. Fernan readied himself to go fly up for a better look when he noticed her pointing down at the floor, the edge to her aura slightly softened.

    Ah.

    ¡°You may want to go,¡± Fernan whispered, beckoning towards the door.

    ¡°It¡¯s my damned house, boy. Blather all you want, but I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about that. But to keep you safe¡ª¡± Fernan cut himself off as a low rumble began rolling across the ground.

    The earth began to shake, the house rocking back and forth rapidly enough that Fernan felt compelled to rise into the air to keep himself steady. The woman couldn¡¯t keep her footing, falling painfully to the ground as her house steadily fell apart.

    Two warm auras began to rise into view, emerging from the stone floor just as Fernan lifted the woman to carry her out to safety. He set her down outside with a muttered ¡®Run¡¯, then darted back inside the cottage to keep his eyes on the two figures who¡¯d risen up from the floor.

    Unsurprisingly, it was Guy and Valentine Valvert, the latter walking with a limp. ¡°Good for nothing traitor,¡± Guy spat at the woman in Fernan¡¯s arms. ¡°Just like you, Montaigne.¡±

    ¡°I did everything I could to spare your life! If you hadn¡¯t conspired with foreign powers to invade Guerron, perhaps I could have even succeeded!¡± Loath as he was to do it, Fernan made the decision there and then that he wouldn¡¯t spare Guy Valvert from the consequences of his actions. It¡¯s not worth what it would cost the Commune.

    ¡°You usurped your rightful ruler and threw me in a dungeon, breaking your sworn oath as a knight. Do not act as if you were doing me a favor.¡±

    ¡°You slandered my sister so badly that she was disowned for it,¡± Valentine added, adding another questionable deed to the ledger of C¨¦dric Bougitte. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s still alive, Montaigne. You used her help, then threw her to the shadowcats the instant she wasn¡¯t useful to you anymore.¡±

    I wish what you¡¯re saying wasn¡¯t so true. Fernan¡¯s motives hadn¡¯t had any malice... It had seemed necessary, the only way to stop Flammare from waging a war of annihilation against Hiverre... But if I¡¯m honest with myself, there was probably another way. I just didn¡¯t look hard enough because I felt guilty about how I handled the White Night.

    ¡°You can¡¯t have gotten much sleep,¡± Fernan said, rather than address the accusation. ¡°You rode that airship straight into the ground, then clawed your way out of the wreck. My power has only grown since last we fought, Valentine Valvert, while you can¡¯t have much energy left after burning four years¡¯ worth of savings on your escape. Even if you use a sage¡¯s last resort, it will truncate a life that could yet last decades. Surrender now, and you¡¯ll be escorted back to Guerron with no further charges added to your ledger.¡±

    ¡°Or what?¡± Valentine¡¯s aura blazed bright, an earthy mix of red and brown. ¡°I think not. All I have to do is kill you now and I¡¯ll get away clean, my sister avenged. A few years of life is more than worth it.¡±

    Before Fernan could reply, a massive wall of earth shot up from the floor, splitting the entire cottage in half and surrounding Fernan on all sides. Then the floor opened beneath him as the ground continued to shake.

    Fine. I tracked you this far. I¡¯m not giving up now. If he failed, the entire Commune would be in jeopardy, absent a necessary moderating voice. And just as I can¡¯t sacrifice myself for Guy Valvert, I won¡¯t hold back against a sage determined to kill me.

    Fernan held himself in the air with a steady blast of fire from his feet, raising his hands aloft to break free with a blast of green flame. Shards of rock exploded outwards as Fernan blasted himself free, glowing red from the heat.

    If you want to burn your own life fighting me, I can¡¯t stop you. But I can¡¯t let it stop me either. The sooner the fight was over, the longer Valentine would have to live. That would have to be enough.

    No other option remained.

 Camille V: The Counter-Revolutionary

    Camille V: The Counter-Revolutionary

    The fires burned for two days before they could put them all out. Camille took a personal hand, for reasons both pragmatic and presentational. Never before had she so wished she could conjure water from nothing, but that ability eluded her even as a spirit¡ªone power of many she¡¯d left to die with Levian, not that she¡¯d realized at the time. After the storm, there wasn¡¯t much energy remaining anyway. But without it, the entire city might have burned down.

    Fortunately, the fires hadn¡¯t even come close to the royal nursery, but Camille had tripled the guard on the prince and princess just to be safe, despite the high demand for soldiers elsewhere. Dealing with all of this, Camille had scarcely even had the chance to see them, but that was no reason she couldn¡¯t keep her children safe.

    The rebels remained a serious issue, but for the moment, they were no longer close to home. Camille had promised them the night to deliberate on their response, a magnanimous gesture intended to prevent any bloodshed that was far more than such traitors deserved. Alvis de Sableton, that dastard, had taken the reprieve she¡¯d granted and used it to lead a midnight cavalry charge out Romain¡¯s Gate at the north of Malin, overrunning the guards stretched thin by the riots and the fires.

    Not to mention the fact that they were all trained to guard the city from external invaders, an issue that must be corrected most urgently. Be it Montaignards or knights, it was plain to see that the greatest threat to the Empire comprised its own citizens. Managing perceptions to ensure her own approval would be crucial, but leaving preventative measures to that alone would be the height of na?vet¨¦.

    Despite the fury she¡¯d felt hearing the news of their escape, after a few hours¡¯ reflection, Camille wondered if they hadn¡¯t made a mistake. In Guerron, the rebels had acted rapidly and deposed Guy Valvert in the space of a day, claiming legitimacy to rule Guerron with some level of practical control before there had been any time to contest it.

    If Camille had been among the blue rebels, she¡¯d have advised a similar decisive strike, seizing power in the name of the Fox-King and purging any of the loyalists or Greens who contested it before they could organize to fight back. Fortified on the Old Castle Hill, with loyalties uncertain and the city in disarray, they¡¯d had a chance of doing just that, low though it might have been. Now if they wanted Malin, they¡¯d have to lead an attack from the outside, menacing the citizens within as an hostile force.

    Of course, if she¡¯d really been in that position, she would have done everything in power to disperse the riots with a minimum of loss to reputation. The knights had once been deeply embedded in the Imperial government, granted offices and prestige in exchange for their acquiescence to the loss of their historic privileges, and possessed of Camille¡¯s ear. She¡¯d had far less at her disposal when taking Malin back from Avalon, and still managed to make it work with a mix of careful planning, having the right allies, and knowing when to seize the opportunity in front of her.

    But now, the closest thing these rebels had left to a real path to victory was slinking off to exile somewhere, begging for aid from one power or another with reason to oppose the Empire in the hopes of returning with an army. In my experience, it¡¯s not a course of action liable to grant you much success. That, or finding Lucien and winning him to their cause, which Camille knew¡ªbut they seemingly did not¡ªhad about as much chance of success as charging Malin naked with sticks in their hand.

    Now that the city was essentially safe, Camille could spare the resources to eradicate every last threat from the blue rebels. This wasn¡¯t how she¡¯d wanted it, but drawing any recalcitrant obstacles out into the light to be dealt with had always been one of her goals; this was simply a messier manifestation than she might have hoped for, coming from the side she hadn¡¯t expected.

    All the messier considering the timing. ¨¦tienne Cl¨¦ment had been invited in part to demonstrate the strength and stability of the Empire to him, and instead he¡¯d been provided with the perfect demonstration that they were anything but. He¡¯d helped with the fires, blowing the storm directly over the city, but as things stood, he would still almost certainly return to Condillac with news of the Empire¡¯s weakness and fragility, if not outright hostility to his hosts.

    ¡°I was happy to help,¡± Cl¨¦ment began, his dark clothes accented with green instead of the usual purple. Margot stood silently at his side, opposite Camille. ¡°But now that the commotion has died down, I must return to Condillac. I am needed there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d hoped you might want to stay longer¡ªto inaugurate the first chariot race after the abolition of the blue team, if nothing else. I know my stagi¨¨re would miss you terribly.¡±

    ¡°An inviting opportunity, to be sure, but I¡¯m afraid I must decline. Plagette¡¯s Senate just ousted Marguerite Merlan in favor of Bernard Aureaux, which means that the border is no longer secure. Guame needs to see that their Duke is there to protect them, Corva¡¯s magic protecting them from their foes.¡± He rubbed the back of his neck, looking in that instant far more like a child than any kind of ruler. Just as he did in that alleyway, frightened within an inch of his life due to nothing more than unfortunate timing.

    Fortunately, Camille had a way of turning this particular misfortune into an opportunity. ¡°I can¡¯t in good conscience let you embark on such a journey while the rebels roam the countryside. The risk is too high to allow it.¡± Moreso because of what you might do to us than anything that might happen to you, but it¡¯s not a lie. ¡°So long as you remain in Malin, you do so under my personal protection. I swear I will not allow any harm to come to you.¡± An easy enough oath to make when the alternative would mean an invasion from Condillac that we could never hope to repel.

    ¡°And I¡¯m grateful for your generosity, but I must insist that I leave. Immediately.¡± Just like you did in Guerron, fleeing the moment we encountered the slightest bit of trouble, abandoning all of us to our fate.

    Camille¡¯s face hardened, a chill whipping through the room. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must insist that you stay. You¡¯ll be under heavy guard here, for your own protection, while the road to Condillac is quite treacherous. Anything might happen to you if you think to chance it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s horseshit!¡± Margot yelled, leaping immediately to Cl¨¦ment¡¯s defense. ¡°You can¡¯t even protect Malin¡ªhow could you possibly think he¡¯s safer here than his own Duchy?¡±

    ¡°You are a child, and there is much you do not understand. Both of you. I¡¯m doing this for ¨¦tienne¡¯s own safety.¡± Who can say for certain what might befall him on the road, outside the bounds of guest right? Camille had no intention of sending anyone after him, not really, but the possibility of it allowed her to speak truthfully to the danger. ¡°And as for you, Margot, if you cannot act with respect, perhaps it¡¯s best that you end your service as my stagi¨¨re.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Her eyes widened in genuine shock, providing just the right performance in response to the crucial detail Camille had omitted. ¡°You can¡¯t do that! I didn¡¯t do anything. I¡¯ve done everything you asked!¡±

    ¡°Of course I can. What could you possibly do to stop me?¡± Camille laughed in her face, leaning into the cruelty. ¡°You are officially relieved of duty. I never want to see you as my stagi¨¨re again.¡±

    ¡°But... but... This is total crap! ¨¦tienne deserves to be free and you¡¯re punishing me for telling you to do what¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Come with me,¡± Camille ordered, her tone curt as she brusquely grabbed Margot¡¯s hand and led her away. Margot obeyed, leaving the dejected Duke of Condillac behind as she fell into step behind Camille, genuine perturbation writ clear on her face.

    Camille made sure that they were far beyond the building before flashing Margot a smile. ¡°Nicely done.¡±

    Margot bit her lip. ¡°I wasn¡¯t completely lying. If he really wants to go, I think you should let him.¡±

    ¡°Should? Most likely. But if he leaves now, Condillac is liable to stand against us. He needs to be convinced to be an ally before he goes, or all of the Empire will suffer.¡± Camille felt her words bounce off Margot like arrows on plate armor, seeing the dejection in her eyes, and knew she needed to take another approach. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with using your feelings to present the fa?ade that best serves your ends. I used to do it all the time; the best lies always rest close to the truth, incorporating whatever of it they can to best serve their ends. And it makes it far easier to keep track of the mirrored realities you construct, to ensure that no one has the opportunity to pierce your veil of deception.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a spirit. You can¡¯t lie anymore.¡±

    And what a tragedy that is. Camille lived, more powerful than ever, but she was reminded of that crucial part of herself that she¡¯d sacrificed on a nearly daily basis. The challenge her position presented was significant, but fortunately not insurmountable. ¡°True words can mislead just as well, if deployed in the right way. But I doubt I¡¯d be able to manage without twenty-five years of experience lying the traditional way under my belt. You¡¯ve made just as much progress in four¡ªtruly commendable.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, but... ¨¦tienne is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Genuinely in danger from the Blues should he roam the countryside alone.¡± Not much danger, probably, but the fact that it¡¯s more than none lets me say that truthfully.

    ¡°We could put him on a ship!¡±

    Camille sighed, shaking her head. Talent with deception was never enough to turn me away from my convictions; why should Margot be any different? ¡°And risk an assault by Robin Verrou? Or the Montaignards? He¡¯s safest here; I truly believe that.¡± If any serious harm befalls him, it¡¯s all over anyway. ¡°Margot, I trust you. If you think he ought to leave, you¡¯re welcome to help him escape the wicked Maiden of Dawn, tell him all about how cruel your mentor was, and set him up to invade Malin. Escape with him, become his Duchess if you so desire. I would not hold such scheming against you.¡± How could I, when it would be so massively hypocritical? ¡°But know what you would be doing to Malin. To me, and your sister, and all of the people who only just recovered from riots and fires and rebellion.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Margot didn¡¯t look fully convinced, but her resolve was definitely wavering. ¡°I don¡¯t think it would have to come to that... I wouldn¡¯t badmouth you or Eloise, not behind her back, anyway. That¡¯s not the point.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not. My first duty is to my people. Yours, you must decide for yourself.¡± Camille put an arm around her shoulder, hardening her skin to avoid the clammy wet touch that Lucien occasionally mentioned. ¡°I made it out to be a punishment with that bit of theater back there, but this is a reward. Make no mistake¡ªI¡¯m entrusting you with significant responsibilities because you¡¯ve proven yourself worthy of the challenge. It¡¯s time you moved into the next phase of your life.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Margot hadn¡¯t mentioned wanting to leave, but Camille had found ample evidence on her desk¡ªjournal clippings, literary magazines, mercantile ledgers, and the like¡ªto see that she was already seeking the next opportunity. As all children must. I was no different. Hard as it was to grapple with the fact that her defiant little stagi¨¨re was growing up, this was clearly the right decision.

    ¡°Absolutely. You¡¯ll have the opportunity to prove yourself, doing something crucial, outside of my direct supervision. I have no doubt you¡¯ll make me proud.¡±

    ¡°What, exactly?¡±

    Camille answered with a smile, then pushed open the door of the Daily Quotidien, trusting Margot to follow behind her.

    Not wasting any time, Camille marched straight into Scott Temple¡¯s office and laid down the journal with the incriminating swan engraving on his desk with an airy whap.

    ¡°I was protecting my staff,¡± Scott Temple tried as an excuse, his posture shrunken enough that his usually-large frame and extensive musculature did little to make him intimidating. ¡°Imagine if we¡¯d published an article decrying the knights and they¡¯d won? What would they have done to us?¡±

    ¡°You were hedging your bets when you should have been supporting your country, sitting on your fence in lieu of doing your job reporting the truth. That swan engraving was first used as an act of sabotage against Lillian Perimont, malicious incompetence. How could I possibly take it any other way when you do the same to me?¡± Camille drummed her fingers against his desk, sharpening them into spikes of ice to accentuate her point. ¡°After you showed such defiant courage against the Prince of Darkness, I¡¯m disappointed, Scott. It¡¯s clear that this arrangement is no longer working.¡±

    ¡°I-I agree, Your Grace. Managing the Quotidien has put me at too much of a distance from your esteemed government. Had I been the Minister of Truth, as you have so many times assured me that I one day would be, there would have been no chance at any such miscommunication.¡±

    Camille couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°You are a bold one, Scott, I shall allow you that. But next time, ask me for a promotion after you¡¯ve helped me, rather than making the bold decision to do nothing. You wanted to protect your staff? You¡¯ve done it. Every journalist employed by the Quotidien may keep their job, and no one will go after them legally either.¡±

    Scott practically flinched with shock. ¡°Even me?¡±

    ¡°Fecklessness is not punishable by death, nor is incompetence.¡± Much as it might make my life easier if it were. ¡°You¡¯ve committed no crime, merely proven manifestly derelict in your duty to the people of Malin. Fortunately for you, I¡¯ve found a solution.¡± Camille lifted a finger, extending it into a tendril of water pointed down at the desk. With a few taps of her finger, she left a damp imprint on the wood. ¡°It just so happens that my stagi¨¨re is ready to move on to her next phase of professional development. Unlike you, she can be trusted to be competent and loyal. As such, I¡¯m gently requesting that you appoint her onto your staff.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Your Grace.¡± Scott breathed an audible sigh of relief. ¡°I¡¯m still managing editor?¡±

    ¡°For now. You can keep your salary and your perks, keep telling whoever you want that you run the Quotidien. And you¡¯ll keep your life. But make no mistake as to who you work for. What Margot says, goes. Consider her my eyes and ears at this journal.¡±

    ¡°And your voice.¡± Scott frowned, but his posture relaxed at the news he would keep his job. In all likelihood, he was already planning how best to skirt around his new supervision and prove his worth, but that suited Camille fine. Either he¡¯d distinguish himself in the coming months, or the time would provide Margot with enough experience to replace him entirely. Dealing with a schemer of comparatively low danger would be good practice for Margot, too, especially without Camille right there to guide her directly anymore.

    The way she was handling the Duke of Condillac was proof enough that she was ready, but Camille couldn¡¯t help but feel an inexplicable melancholy at the thought of Margot moving on in her life. But it¡¯s time. Even the best stagi¨¨re can¡¯t compare to a loyal ally in the right place, and she¡¯s more than earned the responsibility.

    Ultimately, Camille decided to leave the children behind for her next objective, despite the value that having them along might have provided: for Margot, invaluable experience at acquiring information, for Cl¨¦ment, a demonstration of how seriously she was taking the rebel threat to his safety. And a look at what befalls my enemies. But she had no desire to antagonize him beyond the minimum necessary for keeping him in the city, and exposing him to the likes of this carried a strong risk of exacerbating the issue.

    ¡°Sire Raoul de Montgallet, the Knight of Cold Steel.¡± Camille shut the door to the prison cell behind her, allowing no one else to see what would transpire. ¡°Those rebels must not have thought too highly of you, leaving you behind to cover their retreat. What drives such a stalwart man to such depths of treason?¡±

    ¡°Treason?¡± de Montgallet inadvertently spattered blood from his lip with the exclamation. ¡°Is Lucien even alive? If he were, I know he¡¯d weep to see what you¡¯ve done to his realm. Slaying your own patron spirit is affront to every Leclaire who ever lived, and yet you prance around the capital as if the Fox Queen¡¯s blood runs in your veins. You left Guy Valvert to rot, even when it meant his execution at the rebels¡¯ hands, leaving Guerron in their unclean hands. I can¡¯t just sit by and watch as a brat like you pollutes our once-glorious Empire with the very machines and merchants that brought us to the brink of death. I swore an oath to King Romain Renart to serve him and his heirs faithfully, to protect the Empire of the Fox. I never thought I would have to protect it from a young girl like you, Camille, but I am bound by my honor. I didn¡¯t want it to come to this, but I had no choice.¡±

    ¡°You always have a choice.¡± Camille frowned, surprisingly hurt by the old man¡¯s words. He doesn¡¯t know how closely Lucien and I are still collaborating, doesn¡¯t understand the depths of Levian¡¯s evil... But his condemnations weren¡¯t without truth to them, either. Camille would certainly be lying if she said she weren¡¯t enjoying the opportunity to rule the Empire in Lucien¡¯s name, nor that she was discarding many of its hallowed traditions in the race to catch up to Avalon. How not, when the alternative was annihilation? ¡°Tell me where the rebels went, and I see no reason you can¡¯t be transferred to your home for the remainder of your arrest. A man charged with treason could scarcely hope for better.¡±

    Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but de Montgallet looked tempted. ¡°And if I refuse?¡±

    ¡°The Code Leclaire entitles you to reasonably humane accommodations until your guilt is ensured by a trial. Despite your own self-professed guilt, I shall continue to abide by it.¡± Camille smiled, chilling the room. ¡°However, given the danger you pose to the citizens of Malin, you shall remain bound tightly to the wall.¡± It wouldn¡¯t do if you could move out of the way. Camille pointed her finger towards the ceiling right above Montgallet¡¯s head, extending a tendril of water into the stone for long enough to imbue it with a steady drip for several days. ¡°You have my apologies for the roof¡ªit¡¯s not easy keeping all the prison maintenance up to date.¡±

    Montgallet¡¯s eyes narrowed as the first drop of water dripped into his nose. ¡°This pettiness is beneath you, Camille.¡±

    ¡°You will refer to your Empress as Your Grace.¡± Camille frowned. ¡°Treason is beneath you, Raoul. At this moment, I want nothing more than to allow an old man to live out the rest of his life free, secure in the knowledge that he did the right thing for his country, despite his mistakes. You still have that opportunity.¡±

    Camille didn¡¯t wait for his response, shutting the door and leaving the knight in nearly-silent darkness, punctuated only by the steady drip onto his head.

    She got what she needed after about a day and a half¡ªbetween the water and a well-timed reminder about the knight¡¯s beloved niece. Despite not exactly being forthcoming, Raoul de Montgallet had opened up enough for Camille to get what she needed.

    Crucial information in hand she assembled her ministers and advisors once more. ¡°I¡¯ve found out where the rebels slinked off to¡ªCalignac, a village of little import to the south. They plan to rally the countryside to their side as they retreat, ensuring a base of support for their return.¡±

    Despite the betrayal of so many stalwart knights, there were still aristocrats who remained loyal, Annette foremost amongst them, Simon Perimont not far behind. The most fervent voices of the aristocratic cause were with the rebels, which left the rest desperate to prove their loyalty, mostly wearing muted greys and blacks to melt into the background of overwhelming green. Under the circumstances, Camille¡¯s dress that day was green as well.

    To demonstrate sympathy for the poor misguided souls who were about to spend the rest of their lives ruing the day they¡¯d crossed her, and to distance the Leclaire coloration from the rioters, the sleeves were blue, as were the earrings. It wouldn¡¯t do to appear too unsympathetic to a movement that had gripped nearly half the city¡ªor at least, half of the chariot fanatics¡ªbut the lots had been cast. Treason could not be tolerated.

    ¡°How significantly does their rebellion impact our finances?¡± Camille directed the question to Simon, giving him a chance to prove his loyalty.

    ¡°Less than I would have thought. Few of them were paying taxes as it stood before, so the assets seized should result in a profit, if anything.¡±

    ¡°Just as I thought. Most of them are contributing about as much now as they were before. And they can¡¯t hold out for long without allies or fortresses. Calignac is a village our armies could knock over in a matter of days, but they know that too. They won¡¯t stay long.¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Eloise drawled. ¡°These people are so smart that they¡¯re going to war against the future, fighting a war they¡¯ve already lost. Why would they compound their folly by staying close, thinking they¡¯ll win the people to their side?¡±

    ¡°She has a point,¡± Annette agreed, one of the few times Camille ever had seen her opinion accord with that of Eloise. ¡°They were raised on tales of knightly honor as they endured the brutality of Avalon¡¯s occupation. If we wait for them to flee of their own accord, they might dig their hooks in enough to pose us problems.¡±

    I suppose so. Camille had her doubts that the peasantry would rise for the aristocracy who thought so little of them, but every day they remained at large was a blow to the Empire¡¯s credibility.

    ¡°Assemble the legions. I want a march on Calignac in three days. Arrest the alderman aiding them and kill anyone who violently resists. If they think they can close the village gates and endure a siege, I want the whole village wiped off the map. Make an example out of them.¡± Else Alvis de Sableton will only be the first. The time for peaceful solutions had passed, lest Camille lose everything.

    ¡°Yes, Empress,¡± they said, uniform in their obedience.

 Guy III: The Patriot

    Guy III: The Patriot

    ¡°You slandered my sister so badly that she was disowned for it,¡± Valentine spat defiantly at the mountain boy, wasting precious time they desperately needed to escape. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s still alive, Montaigne. You used her help, then threw her to the shadowcats the instant she wasn¡¯t useful to you anymore.¡±

    Laura was always on the right side of things, but she lived and died a careless fuck-up. Avenging her here and now accomplishes nothing. Valentine had very little energy left, practically none she could call upon without tapping into her own life, while Fernan Montaigne had melted Glaciel¡¯s castle into a pit the size of a mountain on the White Night. Even if she prevailed, gratifying as it might be to see Montaigne beg for mercy as the life drained from his eyes, they¡¯d still be bedraggled fugitives in their own homeland, still stuck on the run from rebel peasants and abandoned by the Fox-King and the wife piloting his every action.

    ¡°You can¡¯t have gotten much sleep,¡± Montaigne said, the green fire in his eyes surging far beyond his head. ¡°You rode that airship straight into the ground, then clawed your way out of the wreck. My power has only grown since last we fought, Valentine Valvert, while you can¡¯t have much energy left after burning four years¡¯ worth of savings on your escape. Even if you use a sage¡¯s last resort, it will truncate a life that could yet last decades. Surrender now, and you¡¯ll be escorted back to Guerron with no further charges added to your ledger.¡±

    All true, though surrender would only mean another mockery of justice before our deaths. ¡°We have to go,¡± Guy hissed, tugging Valentine on the arm.

    ¡°Or what?¡± she said, ignoring him. ¡°I think not.¡± Whether she meant it towards Guy¡¯s missive or Montaigne¡¯s declaration, it was clear she meant to fight. ¡°All I have to do is kill you now and I¡¯ll get away clean, my sister avenged. A few years of life is more than worth it.¡±

    Which means you¡¯ll lose, and thus we will too.

    Guy stepped back as the earth began to rumble, actively turning away from the conflagration as the earth split beneath Montaigne and breaking into a run once the fire began to fly. Ere long, the burn in Guy¡¯s legs felt no better than it might have had Montaigne hit him, his lungs fairing little better as he panted and wheezed his way south.

    Thank Soleil for that book of star maps, or I might have run straight back into the enemy¡¯s jaws.

    Several times, bursts of fire flew over his head, either a missed projectile intended for Valentine or a warning for Guy, directing him to stop. As if I¡¯d ever be such a fool as to listen to the man who took everything from me. Valentine¡¯s stupidity made the odds of success quite long, but surrendering left no chance at all.

    They¡¯d already voted to kill him¡ªhow could a failed escape attempt possibly improve anything?

    As he crested the top of a small hill, Guy chanced a look back, and saw the landscape wholly transformed. Six new ravines had been cleaved into the earth, massive spiky pillars of stone jutting out towards the sky at odd angles, though none of them had pierced the evasive Montaigne. Massive swathes of ground were scorched and blackened, including several of the pillars, but Valentine still looked unharmed.

    Not that I can be sure, exactly, at this distance. But she made her choice after I warned her it was foolish. If the most she could accomplish now was distracting Montaigne as Guy ran, it would still be the most his wife had ever done for him.

    Well, aside from pulling me out of my cell last night, Guy supposed as he turned and ran again. But that was hardly of her own initiative. Despite the rebel purges, it seemed there still remained allies sympathetic to the rightful Lord of Guerron. He hadn¡¯t shown his face, but Valentine had shown the letter left for her, explaining the airship and confidently declaring that Guy would be able to navigate it as far as Torpierre.

    Which means that they must have left me the star charts too, confident I would read them. Had it been one of Guy¡¯s guards, smart enough to duck under the thorough investigation of ¡°Paul the Wall¡±? A rogue infiltrator? A rebel defector? It was impossible to say.

    At the moment, it didn¡¯t seem particularly important.

    Guy kept to the shade of the rocky terrain, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible, but when Montaigne could fly, it seemed impossible to imagine doing so for long enough to escape.

    What I wouldn¡¯t give for a horse right now. Guy had never been an exceptional rider, but like all young squires he¡¯d acquired a baseline competency, and the extra speed would make a crucial difference. Perhaps Montaigne¡¯s soft bleeding heart would balk at harming the animal, too, though after the boy¡¯s vicious turn Guy could hardly count on that.

    After minutes or hours of running, getting far enough away that the battlefield was well out of sight, Guy felt the rumbling stop.

    And that, my dear wife, is why you were foolish to challenge him in such a weakened state. There was no doubt at all that Montaigne had triumphed, and now that Valentine was dead, Guy would be his next target.

    The urgency lent a burst of swiftness to Guy¡¯s legs, but his exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him already, far in advance of Montaigne doing the same. And I truly have no choice but to run. Chancing upon that hovel with the old woman had been lucky enough, and even she had betrayed them in the end. Hiding out in another home or village was sure to result in the same capitulation once Montaigne showed up, if Guy could even find one in the first place.

    It was impossible not to imagine Montaigne bearing down on him even now, patrolling the skies like a vulture awaiting the slow death of its prey. But Fernan Montaigne is no carrion-feeder. He¡¯ll be sure to kill me himself, an agonizing death as my flesh melts and sizzles in the flames. The same death that Valentine had surely endured, the results of her own poor decisions.

    Imagine if I¡¯d just married Louise, as I emptily promised her so many times. Valentine Bougitte had seemed so perfect at the time, prettier and more reserved than her sister Laura, but still bringing the might of a powerful House behind him. The Stone Tower was an ancient marvel, Torpierre a rich and prosperous city just across from the capital of Condillac, and their wealth and strength¡ªnot to mention the magical power at their disposal¡ªshould have been a panacea to the likes of Camille pushing him around. And the savings on Plagetine imports would have finally let me furnish Dorseille the way its Count deserves. Alas, intricately carved armoires were the least of Guy¡¯s concerns at the moment.

    Instead, Valentine had scarcely made it past their wedding before bringing everything to ruin. Had Guy not married her, Torpierre would no longer be a refuge to run to, Count C¨¦dric no longer with any reason to shelter him, but it wouldn¡¯t matter when Guerron would remain his. This foolish business with her poor, dumb, dead sister had cost Valentine everything, and now the same fate awaited Guy, just as soon as Montaigne caught up.

    Guy glanced backwards again, feeling his heart jump at the clear skies behind him, but it was only a matter of time before they were filled with green fire. Turning his head back caused him to trip over a rock, tumbling to the ground as the rocks slashed at his clothes and skin.

    And even after an inadvertent moment of rest, Guy found that he hadn¡¯t the energy to rouse himself. Now my vanishingly unlikely odds of success have diminished yet further. The only hope that remained now was Montaigne coming upon him and thinking him already dead, without bothering to verify it or retrieve his corpse as a trophy for the rebels.

    Not bloody likely.

    Bereft of options, Guy began to crawl. The rocky terrain bit into him with every inch he moved forward, his hands and knees soon slick with blood as the fabric of his clothes came apart, but still he moved, every rock ahead of him an inch closer to freedom.

    I¡¯ve never worked this hard for anything in my entire life, Guy realized as he lost a shoe, the spring sun high enough in the sky that his throat began to cry out for water. Who would have thought I had this kind of determination? Perhaps nothing so precious as his own life had ever really been on the line. If by some miracle Guy made it out of this, a comfortable life of caviar and champagne awaited, such a contrast to the charred bones Montaigne would reduce him to that Guy felt a tear in his eye.

    Though it¡¯s just as likely from the pain. He¡¯d read about people going numb as their injuries escalated, too overwhelmed to feel any pain anymore, but it seemed that his body had other ideas, each grueling movement feeling like it must be his last.

    Until eventually, one was. As Guy felt his eyes close forever, he could only hope that he died before Montaigne could get any satisfaction from it.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ?

    Awakening in a soft featherbed, Guy¡¯s first thought was to wonder if those fringe cultists had been right about an afterlife paradise after all, a just reward for a life well lived.

    The strange unease only compounded once he craned his head towards the window and saw a dried riverbed lined with thousands of graves, a bronze spear poking up out of each one. I¡¯m dead after all, was his first thought, before his mind caught up to the view he¡¯d seen twice before in his youth.

    This is the Stone Tower. I made it to Torpierre.

    Fleeting memories of a tall woman on a white horse lifting him up filled his mind, though Guy couldn¡¯t quite place the knight in question.

    His whole body ached, hundreds of small cuts spread across it, but after everything, he¡¯d made it. Burn that, Montaigne.

    Countess Hermine Bougitte was the first to greet him, saying all the right words sympathetic to his captivity and appreciating that he¡¯d made it out alive, though she was notably evasive when it came to details. Though her hair was grayer and her figure stouter than the last time Guy had seen her, she carried all of the stern strength she¡¯d used to discipline them on far too many occasions. Even as an adult and a Count in his own right, Guy was so at her mercy that he couldn¡¯t help but tread lightly around his mother-in-law.

    ¡°It was Sire Ren¨¦e who saved you,¡± Hermine was at least willing to clarify, shedding light on Guy¡¯s foggy memories. Ren¨¦e Raspail, Guy remembered fondly, my white knight. They¡¯d taken a few tumbles on Guy¡¯s last visit to Torpierre, when they¡¯d only been squires, both despairing that they might never attain their proper knighthoods. I found a higher office, and it seems she got exactly what she wanted.

    ¡°Is she around? I¡¯d like to thank her personally.¡± For old time¡¯s sake, if nothing else.

    ¡°With the other knights, as it happens. You might consider joining them once you feel up to it.¡± Countess Hermine glared down at him ¡°When we received that letter from Guerron, my husband dispatched knights to patrol as far as we dared, hoping we might be able to direct Valentine to safety.¡± She paused, letting the name hang in the air, emitting a foul aura of disapproval. ¡°And her husband, I suppose. We were led to expect an airship.¡±

    ¡°It ran out of fuel,¡± Guy answered curtly, as your daughter did. He was suddenly aware that his primary tie to House Bougitte was naught but charred bones, which carried the risk that their shelter would be a temporary one. As soon as I¡¯m back to myself, finding an exit route ought to be the first priority. Not necessarily something to take immediately, but rather to keep in his back pocket should the need arise.

    Failing to do that in Guerron had been absolutely ruinous, and very nearly fatal.

    After a few more unspoken accusations regarding Valentine, Countess Hermine took her leave, and Guy took the opportunity to rouse himself. Bathed and dressed in the clothes the genial Lord C¨¦dric had provided, he felt the slightest shade more human. For the first time since Montaigne had torn everything away from him, his fortunes were improving.

    And not a moment too soon, by the sounds of it.

    ¡°This whole sojourn was a mistake! We should have stayed and fought, instead of slinking away into exile!¡± Guy could recognize the voice of the knight shouting, Sire Alexandre Varennes, from around the corner before he even entered the hall, so loud was the declaration as it echoed across the stones. ¡°In all that confusion and disarray, we never had a better opportunity.¡±

    ¡°We ought to have taken the pardon,¡± rebutted a voice that Guy was fairly certain was Lady Madeleine Lazarre, one of the first that the rebels had ransomed back to Malin, who¡¯d apparently had no compunction about leaving her liege lord behind as they did it. ¡°Camille promised as much for all but Alvis, Raoul, and myself, and I¡¯m sure that further negotiation could have rectified that remaining outrage. Even after Calignac.¡±

    ¡°You call her ¡®Camille¡¯, as if you¡¯re close enough to trust her, but I assure you, she would have found a way around her words. This is what she does,¡± a third voice added to the conversation, and not one that Guy recognized at all. ¡°A strong nobility is an obstacle to her dreams of absolute monarchical control, and no promise would ever change that.¡±

    Guy walked in just in time to see Madeleine shake her head. ¡°Tosh! She¡¯s always been one of us, and now she cannot break her word. Just because this whole thing has gotten out of hand doesn¡¯t mean there might not yet be a path back to reconciliation, as we ought to have pursued from the start. Her promises must be ironclad, which gives us untold power to ensure negotiations are held to.¡±

    ¡°This is Camille Leclaire we¡¯re talking about. No words can truly bind such a snake.¡± Wearing a crisp blue racing uniform with red on the trim and ¨¦paulettes matching his long red hair, Guy wondered briefly if the man before him wasn¡¯t Lucien Renart, but the resemblance was slight aside from the superficial characteristics.

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Guy added, watching with satisfaction as the whole room bowed at his presence. ¡°I can think of a half-dozen ways she could get around such a promise right now: pardon you for the one crime and then charge you for another; leave you intact and go after your families instead; dispatch you on some doomed mission sure to result in your deaths... Myriad opportunities are available, bound to the letter of her word or not. It¡¯s what I would do¡ªYou can¡¯t allow revolt to fester. It builds up gradually and then comes slamming down all at once when some minor infraction incenses them a hair too much.¡±

    ¡°Like the Chariot Championship itself. Such avenues would hardly be beneath her,¡± the red-haired man agreed. ¡°Well met, Lord Valvert. I am Alvis de Sableton, rightful champion of the Chariot Racing Grand Prix. We were all delighted to hear of your escape.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m delighted to see you stalwarts finally taking a stand against Leclaire.¡± Guy had yet to be filled in on the details, but the company present and the nature of their discussions, at least that much was clear. ¡°What happened in Calignac, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Flight,¡± Alvis answered grimly. ¡°It was our first redoubt after the riots, but soon Leclaire¡¯s legions were upon us, and we scarcely escaped with our lives.¡±

    ¡°More running,¡± Alexandre Varennes grumbled.

    ¡°From a fight we would surely have lost.¡± Alvis pressed his lips together, looking none too pleased at the results himself. ¡°As it was, it was a near thing. If Leclaire had been there herself to turn the Rhan against us, we would surely never have had the pleasure, Lord Valvert.¡±

    ¡°Duke Valvert,¡± Guy corrected. ¡°My cousin forfeited her rights when she signed away Guerron to the communards, leaving me as my uncle¡¯s heir, the rightful Duke of Guerron.¡±

    And none of them objected. I must be the luckiest man alive¡ªan entire company of brave and loyal knights, fallen straight into my lap. And he didn¡¯t even have to share them with Valentine.

    ¡°We must surely liberate Guerron,¡± Alvis agreed, ¡°but I hope you will forgive me for hesitating, my lord Duke. In time, absolutely, the communards must fall. But if we march north now, we risk strengthening the Treaty of Charenton and uniting Montaigne and Leclaire. Condillac may even backstab us from the south, now that Leclaire has their Duke captive.¡±

    ¡°Then the regency council should have no love lost for her. This could be an opportunity to win Condillac as an ally,¡± said Varennes. ¡°Send your letters and piss about for a few more weeks, then we can get right into the action! Surely that¡¯s an equitable compromise.¡±

    ¡°If you want us dead, perhaps,¡± Alvis told him soberly. ¡°For one thing, we might not even have weeks to correspond. Count C¨¦dric faces pressure every day to turn us out, from Malin and Guerron both. With Gaume just across the water, any of the Regent Councilors who wish to keep their Duke alive might join in pressuring him. None of them can be seen to be callous about the life of their liege. So long as Duke ¨¦tienne remains captive, they will not fight for us. Should we approach this wrong, they may even act against us.¡±

    ¡°Then what remains but taking our chances with Camille?¡± Madeleine shook her head. ¡°You say the Bougittes won¡¯t march with us, that they might not even let us stay. You say that Condillac is held hostage along with their Duke, that Guerron remains in the hands of traitors we cannot afford to incense, that Malin alone is a match for us. We have nowhere left to go, Alvis, no allies to support us. It¡¯s over.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± Guy said, a grin on his face. ¡°Avalon, those swine, have good reason to oppose Leclaire. They already propped up the communards for that very reason. Approached in the right way, they might at least send us arms, if not soldiers too.¡±

    Avlis nodded. ¡°Then I shall write the Prince of Darkness. Of everyone in Avalon, he has the most to gain from Leclaire¡¯s fall.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Guy shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s bosom companions with Fernan Montaigne. Even if you conceal my involvement, his most like response will be a politer version of ¡®fuck off¡¯. But his brother...¡± Guy chuckled, at once delighted and astounded that everything had fallen so perfectly into place. ¡°Prince Harold has no affection for the communards, nor is he like to balk at arming a thorn in Malin¡¯s side. He has the weapons and the ships to deliver them. As soon as we get what we need, we needn¡¯t depend on Bougitte hospitality a moment longer, nor risk being caught between enemies on all sides.¡±

    Alvis looked suitably impressed, and Varennes was practically drooling at the thought, though Madeleine still seemed skeptical. ¡°And then what?¡± she asked. ¡°Can we afford to stay here? If not, where would we even go?¡±

    ¡°I actually might have an idea for that,¡± Alvis said, matching Guy¡¯s smile. ¡°A way to cut straight to the heart of the Empire, winning hearts and minds all across the continent.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Madeleine questioned flatly.

    ¡°Of course he does,¡± countered Guy, having no idea whatsoever what Alvis was thinking. ¡°Assuming Prince Harold of Avalon is willing to help us, we¡¯ll make way as soon as the supplies are delivered. Perhaps we can even rouse the countryside in support along the way.¡±

    ¡°I see you know exactly what I¡¯m thinking,¡± Alvis said, mistakenly. Gently, he turned to Madeleine Lazarre. ¡°Why don¡¯t I tell you what I have in mind, and hopefully assuage your doubts?¡±

    As he began to talk, Guy struggled to maintain his jovial expression. It was an audacious plan, to be sure, and perhaps one that might even work, but the perils of such an approach were astounding.

    And I can¡¯t in good conscience oppose it. He almost hoped Prince Harold would turn him down, strangling Alvis¡¯ plan in the crib and leaving Guy to a luxurious but quiet life of exile. Even if Bougitte kicked out the rebel knights, he would surely allow his son-in-law to stay. There were worse places to be than the Stone Tower, with all the amenities required of Guy¡¯s station.

    But if this works... Leclaire could be undone, Guerron returned to its rightful ruler. Perhaps even more. There would be no greater opportunity. Guy wrote the letter as soon as the meeting was over, hoping despite himself that Avalon would deliver their aid.

    With everything coming up my way, why shouldn¡¯t I roll the dice?

 Luce III: The Pragmatic

    Luce III: The Pragmatic

    ¡°This isn¡¯t an interview,¡± the journalist realized, narrowed eyes peering over her notebook.

    ¡°More of a proffer,¡± Luce allowed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯m happy to answer any questions you care to provide ahead of time, but not without suitable time to review them first.¡± While he would still hardly call himself a gifted improvisational speaker, the scattered events across the past few years that called upon to perform had at least allowed him to improve on his disastrous first speech in Malin.

    Marie Laure, star journalist at The Charentemps, squinted through the warm red light streaming in through the window, then scribbled something into her notebook. With her small frame and short-cut red hair stuffed under a ragged cap, she more closely resembled the little boys running around selling papers than the journalists writing for them. But she hadn¡¯t balked at the Tower, nor at a personal invitation from the Prince of Darkness. If she feared him at all, she hid it well. ¡°Is this your first time talking to a journalist? Because it¡¯s usually best not to start with a lie.¡±

    ¡°Really? Most of the ones I met would appreciate the honesty of it. Your pal Scott Ecrivan, for one.¡± Charlotte had managed to turn up that connection two days after Luce had mentioned it in his letter, finding the time to prepare a detailed response and the dossier on Monfroy that could prove so crucial today, all wedged between her desperate attempts to slap sense into Maddy Astor before she threw the entire Great Council away.

    And if she¡¯s such a headache now, how can I expect a reliable asset even if she does win? It was looking increasingly likely that Luce would need to find another solution to that problem, so he filed it away in his mind to consider further.

    ¡°It¡¯s Scott Temple, now. It has been for a while.¡± Laure held up her hand to block the light from her eyes, touching a small pencil to her forehead.

    ¡°If only I could rely on the journal to keep me suitably informed.¡±

    His floor of Memorial Tower had his desk positioned just next to the largest windowed wall, and the springtime sun just perfectly positioned to blind the eyes of whoever was facing the Overseer for about an hour every morning. Luce hadn¡¯t so much designed that particular feature as much as allowed it to stand once he realized the pattern the sun would take. No one could rightly blame him for it¡ªafter all, who could possibly be so petty as to design it into the building?

    Someone who¡¯s come to understand that you need every advantage you can get. Luce reserved the mid-morning slot for the right sort of meetings, where he needed to leave the right sort of impression. The reputation of the Prince of Darkness, while far more often an anchor around his neck, did afford the occasional utility.

    ¡°Well, with your help, we can certainly make it happen. Starting with exposing the Twilight Society. You should know, Prince Lucifer, that I do not take Scott Temple¡¯s word on faith. I personally visited the test sites you claim don¡¯t exist, bombed with weapons you claim were never invented, designed by a scientist who cut her teeth trying to create slaves in your department, who belongs to a cultish society devoted to the Spirit of Darkness, all under the direct auspices of Prince Lucifer Grimoire, Lord Protector of Charenton.¡±

    She¡¯s actually trying to do the right thing, Luce realized, feeling a pang of disappointment that he wouldn¡¯t be turning corruption against itself today, as Camille Leclaire had managed with Scott Ecrivan in Malin. Though the benefits of this scheme will be more reliable with an honest person, if I can pull it off.

    ¡°Nothing to say to that, Your Highness? I¡¯m giving you your chance to comment on the story before it¡¯s published. I even pre-wrote the part at the end about how I disappeared into your tower, never to return. I¡¯ve got a few friends who promised to tack it on, just in case.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Luce barked indignantly. ¡°Why does everyone think I could conscience murdering journalists? You are in no danger from me, Ms. Laure. I do not give you leave to report on this conversation¡ªit shall not be added to any record of yours¡ªbut at the end of it, you will return to your journal hale and unharmed. Perhaps even enriched by a shocking twist to your story. But then again, perhaps you won¡¯t be allowed to publish it.¡±

    Laure bristled at that. ¡°Allowed? I sell more journals for Cordelier and the rest of those old loaves on the Charentemps board than the whole sports bureau combined. We have over a hundred thousand people reading us every day, learning about the world and their leaders from us.¡±

    ¡°Then you should know, Ms. Laure, that I do not find such power threatening. In Charenton and elsewhere, there have always been those who hated and feared me, more because of what I represent than anything I¡¯ve done. More grist for their mills shan¡¯t bring me down where armed rebellions have failed, and that presumes you¡¯d be allowed to publish it in the first place.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s that word again, ¡®allow¡¯. The editorial board is behind me, as is Mr. Cordelier. They understand that we can¡¯t shy away from the truth. We¡¯re the mirror held up to society, the searchlight in the darkness, the¡ª¡±

    Luce interrupted her by laughing, making him slightly regret doing it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean for this to be an ambush, but, well...¡±  He lifted his calendar from his desk, pointing to the tour he¡¯d given one M. Camille Cordelier and the better part of the Charentemps editorial board just a day earlier. ¡°They were honored by the invitation, and only too happy to excise the dubious and the libelous material planned for their next issue. They took heed of my words, as you have not.¡± Just as another Camille failed to do.

    Cordelier had actually put up more of a fight than that, insisting that nothing happen to Marie Laure or the story, but after he heard Luce¡¯s idea and the benefit it¡¯d bring to his journal, followed shortly by the profound approval of the other board members, the old man had finally acquiesced.

    ¡°He did look guilty this morning...¡± Laure frowned. ¡°I¡¯ll be following up on this. Don¡¯t expect me to just take your word for it.¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Not everyone¡¯s as credulous as Eustace Eserly. ¡°And once you confirm the situation with your superior, I¡¯d be happy to meet with you again. It¡¯s not as if there¡¯s any danger of that piece being published in its current state.¡± Unless you can convince the old man, or take it to another journal, or trade on your own reputation to publish it yourself... Luce had tried to consider all the avenues a disgruntled journalist might take when her bosses shut her down. Doing that made him realize just how precarious the situation still remained.

    ¡°You¡¯re talented, Ms. Laure. I¡¯ve read several of your articles and found them all to be well-researched. I found the one about temperature fluctuations over the last few years to be particularly compelling.¡±

    ¡°Thank you?¡± Her tone remained guarded.

    ¡°The problem is that you have no access. When you¡¯re on the inside, no one can beat you to the story, because without you, there is no story. Take Lord Ernest Monfroy, for example.¡±

    ¡°Monfroy? He¡¯s a factotum. Thirty years in the Twilight Society and he¡¯s risen as high as ¡®event coordinator¡¯. It¡¯s a little funny, but not really something I can print, like a royal scientist using the Lord Protector¡¯s money to create slaves with the Lord Protector¡¯s consent.¡±

    ¡°I shut the whole thing down the moment I found out.¡± The lie passed easily past his lips. The truth was that Luce had considered it, if only for a moment. Dismissing all possibilities without giving it proper thought was the province of the narrow-minded. And about two minutes later, when Luce had weighed the costs and benefits of the project, he¡¯d furiously stormed into the lab and shut it down himself. ¡°An inhumane monstrosity like that could not be allowed to continue, no matter the cost. And by stopping when we did, no human trials were ever performed. No one was harmed.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯d have me believe it¡¯s incompetence on your part, allowing it to get that far, rather than malice. Fine, say that¡¯s true. Why is Edith Marbury still employed at Memorial Tower? Why is she developing a secret DV bomb that you¡¯re testing on our oceans, arming cannons with on our walls?¡±

    Because if I don¡¯t hold onto her, she¡¯ll find a sponsor who delights at all her worst ideas, and she¡¯s brilliant enough to see them through. ¡°I can assure you that all rumors of this ¡®DV¡¯ bomb are unfounded. No such project was ever funded, no such mythical devices are lining the city walls.¡±

    With Edith¡¯s old human enhancement projects, the truth was impossible to deny. Somehow they¡¯d gotten equipment from the lab, old design documents, and, worst of all, an experiment schedule written in Edith¡¯s own hand. But their evidence for the DV bomb was much more dubious, primarily based on speculation from a few documents redacted within a letter of their life.

    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid? I went to two of the test sites your Tower let leak, and the islands were wiped out, every last crab and shrub withered half to dust. It¡¯s real.¡± It would make my life a lot easier if you were worse at your job.

    ¡°But the official stance of the Lord Protector of Charenton is that it¡¯s not.¡± Luce poured a glass of brandy using the bottle in his desk, then handed it to her. ¡°I¡¯m not an uncomplicated source to turn to, I¡¯m sure, but the fact remains that I can only help you if I can trust you. Can I trust you, Ms. Marie Laure?¡±

    ¡°With what?¡± she asked, not touching the glass.

    ¡°Sensitive information about the misdeeds of a prominent Twilight Society member. When this issue came to my attention, I had my best people look into it immediately.¡± I should have, anyway. Thank you, Charlotte. ¡°Enough to dwarf all these trivialities about cancelled projects and deserted little islands. A corrupt figure needs to be held accountable by the insatiable press.¡± And your inquisition needs to be directed elsewhere if you¡¯re going to stick around. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You want to buy my silence with another story.¡±

    ¡°You make it sound so transactional. I told you, your Twilight Society article is already dead. I hooked the Charentemps up with a few new sponsors and guaranteed their star reporter unprecedented access to the Lord Protector.¡± But you have other options. You could still try to bring me down, and it might even work. ¡°Now I¡¯m making good on that promise by providing you with information to do with as you like. Should it prove fruitful for you, I¡¯m certain that similar opportunities may arise in the future.¡±

    Laure¡¯s face curled into a frown, but when she spoke, all she barked out was, ¡°Opportunity? What is it?¡±

    It¡¯s an unusual time when you get a chance to get ahead, but that¡¯s not important right now. Luce kept his face straight while recalling Father¡¯s tired old joke, then provided his actual answer, lifting a sheet of paper from his desk. ¡°My investigator provided me with this bill of sale, which I¡¯m providing you with to verify that it meets all your evidentiary standards.¡±

    ¡°For Monfroy? Was he buying or selling?¡±

    ¡°Buying,¡± Luce answered, then handed her the paper. ¡°In the unlikely event you¡¯ve forgotten your exchange rates, know that there isn¡¯t an animal alive worth nine hundred mandala which can live for seventeen years and still be a ¡®sound and healthy¡¯ ¡®utility for life¡¯. My investigator dug up a seventeen-year-old kid that went missing days before the sale.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s... convincing,¡± Laure allowed, eyes poring over every inch of the document. ¡°But not definitive. If it¡¯s really that obvious, then the Carringdon Court would have stopped it.¡±

    ¡°For their city¡¯s own Royal Exchequer? In the wake of untold famine and darkness, with war declared? We Avaline may take pride in our dedicated civil servants, but surely it¡¯s not unthinkable that this could have come to pass.¡±

    ¡°But then why record it at the court at all?¡±

    ¡°Why not? Who¡¯s going to stop them? It¡¯s been four years and nothing¡¯s been done. He renovated his house and fourteen construction workers went missing¡ªthe entire crew, top to bottom.¡± Another finding from Charlotte, that. It turned out that the entire western construction syndicate had blacklisted Monfroy, and they¡¯d only barely held back from doing the same to the entire Twilight Society. Probably because of Sarah, but it¡¯s not particularly important. More useful was the concrete evidence such a blunder left behind. ¡°Here¡¯s the report on them, probably buried in the walls. Is that enough bodies for you?¡±

    ¡°Khali¡¯s curse...¡± Laure¡¯s eyes continued to widen as she tore through Charlotte¡¯s meticulously prepared evidence. ¡°Why hasn¡¯t anyone gone after him yet?¡±

    Luce smiled, feeling that he was pulling her in. ¡°Some have, to the extent that they can behind the scenes. I happen to know that Lady Vas Sarah has personally gathered the Twilight Society to discuss his ouster, under cover of night.¡± I wonder how the young Jay will feel when all of this comes out. She¡¯d all-but confirmed that going after Monfroy would be fine, so long as the rest of the Society were left alone. Did that mean she knew already? Clearly, she¡¯d possessed some inkling, at the very least, but perhaps her involvement went deeper. Had she or the rest of them had a hand in keeping it covered up?

    Perhaps. But they were in a position to do something about it now, while alienating the Jays was not even an option. Either way, this was the best way forward.

    ¡°But they¡¯re limited,¡± Luce continued. ¡°His is an ancient and powerful family, his personal wealth and holdings considerable.¡± Not all that much in the grand scheme of things, honestly, but a Charentine pauper isn¡¯t likely to know the difference. The truth was that any number of people could have brought Monfroy down long ago, including Luce, had they the knowledge and inclination to do it.

    But none had, because he¡¯d put himself beneath their notice. The closest Monfroy had ever come to making an impact in public was decades ago, when Luce¡¯s grandmother had been queen, being asked about his skincare routine. Most people in the capital probably couldn¡¯t place him even if one pointed him out¡ªthat had certainly been Luce¡¯s level of awareness, before Charlotte had uncovered the truth.

    ¡°No one¡¯s been brave enough,¡± he finished. ¡°At least, no one with the right information.¡±

    ¡°You realize this doesn¡¯t rebut anything about the Twilight Society¡ªEdith Marbury is a member too! Obviously this whole organization¡ª¡±

    ¡°Can be defined by two people in it? One of whom is soon to depart? That seems a very limited point of view for a student of humanity.¡± Luce shook his head, drawing on some of the defenses Sarah had offered him when he¡¯d pressed the point. ¡°None of them want Khali to return, they simply see it as inevitable. We forget, but she had sages and followers all across Avalon in her day; just as Charenton once looked to the Verrous, thousands of people looked to them. And then, once Khali began her rampage, they were cast out, castigated, marginalized. Before the Unification with the western isles, Oxton had a law allowing citizens to kill them on sight.¡±

    Laure¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that¡¯s true, but these people chose to support Khali even after her defeat. They chose¡ª¡±

    ¡°To keep looking out for each other when the world was against them. The whole Twilight Society is 90% networking association. They¡¯re no risk to the world, but at great risk if old wounds are reopened.¡± And I¡¯m descended from them too, easy as it is to forget. Khali¡¯s mid-ranked followers on his mother¡¯s side, and Khali¡¯s high Grimoires on his father¡¯s, unified in their evil, or at least misguided loyalty. Somehow, it coexisted with the Great Binder¡¯s blood. ¡°I can¡¯t agree with it, but there is precedent. Organized resistance against the Fox-Queen centered around Khali, not that it worked. Even in the Age of Darkness, thousands of sages and temple orderlies turned against Khali and helped the Great Binder seal her in Nocturne.¡± If you believe Sarah, those are the ones who revived the Twilight Society and cultivated its intellectual tradition into the present day. And she¡¯s probably got an island to sell you, too.

    Still, the point was to get the journalist pointed elsewhere. ¡°And, before Pointe Gasparde descended into barbarism, Khali helped free them from Plagetine tyranny.¡± That last point came from Fernan, actually. It seemed the early days of the Condorcet Collective had been much more focused on freedom and self-determination than insularity and sacrifice. Strange that so little of that information had made it into the history books, but most contemporary sources had nothing but contempt for every aspect of Condorcet, so it wasn¡¯t overly surprising that they hadn¡¯t been properly nuanced about it.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to turn a blind eye to their misdeeds just because you think¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to! I¡¯ve given you Monfroy, and cleared up your questions about Edith Marbury.¡± Mostly by lying and downplaying the problem, but it looks like Sarah might want to kick her out of the Twilight Society, too. ¡°If others among them warrant suspicion, by all means, I hope you discover it. I for one would be keenly interested to learn of any suspicious doings on their part.¡± And if you want to keep that access, you¡¯ll come talk to me first.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t a deal, alright? We don¡¯t have any kind of arrangement. I don¡¯t owe you anything, and you get no say in what I write. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Luce smiled, offering her the drink again.

    This time, she accepted, then sipped her brandy with a forlorn look.

    ?

    Nearly evacuating Charenton of DV bombs was likely a good idea anyway, with suspicious journalists possibly still sniffing around, but the primary purpose of loading up fifteen ships with enough of them to depopulate Cambria was to acquire the necessary materials for the Nocturne Project, as Luce had begun to call it within the bounds of his own head.

    They would follow the Progress from a safe distance, just to be sure that there was no risk. Especially considering how many times those pirates have targeted me.

    Luce ensured that all of them of them were loaded off the dock he¡¯d built at the end of Harvet Point to allow easier shipping between the two Towers, then proceeded immediately to his first meeting scheduled, a crucial but annoying duty that he¡¯d at least been able to reduce slightly by scheduling his two Palace events right next to each other.

    Though I really wish Stewart had been willing to meet in the Tower. Presumably, she¡¯d desired more neutral ground.

    Or she wants Harold to be aware of it, perhaps tacitly seeking his approval before proceeding. Luce could only hope he stayed out of it, since there was no benefit to him whatsoever in obstructing the project, but that hadn¡¯t always been enough to stop him before.

    Elizabeth Stewart, presumably named after Luce¡¯s aunt, was taller than her brother Gary but otherwise resembled him closely, looking far more comfortable in the leather chair Luce had provided for her in the solar he¡¯d booked for the meeting. ¡°I won¡¯t waste your time, Your Highness. We possess mutually beneficial assets, and I¡¯m amenable to a deal.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Luce responded, surprised. The only Nocturne Gates far enough from any populated area not to endanger anyone in the tests are either far out at sea, where we can¡¯t practically conduct the test, or deep in the Fortan Highlands, at the very north of Avalon. Luce had cursed his luck when he¡¯d checked the map and found the perfect gate positioned squarely in Stewart lands, considering his history with the family.

    Lizzie Stewart, for whatever reason, seemed to be willing to look past that. ¡°I understand that this ¡®test¡¯ may prove devastating to the land¡ªFirst, you¡¯ll leave it as you found it, whatever it costs to restore the countryside.¡±

    ¡°Done,¡± Luce said, though the expense of such efforts was not inconsiderable. Even a frigid wasteland is teeming with life next to the aftermath of the DV bomb. It would have been better if there were another way to open a gate, another avenue to explore, but there simply wasn¡¯t the time. Father had them all subject to the whims of his clock.

    ¡°Next, there¡¯s the matter of family.¡± Oh no, here it is. ¡°My mother was exiled by royal decree, leaving me as the Lady of Forta. Of course, she cannot be allowed to return until her mission is complete, but you cannot stand her way as you have. Allow her to interview this pirate you have chained up in Charenton. She¡¯ll never catch Verrou if even Avaline princes stand in her way.¡±

    I¡¯d be happier if she never caught him, as long it meant she stayed exiled. But it was an easy enough concession. ¡°Done.¡±

    ¡°See if you can get her an official role in the war effort, too. Mother does best with a purpose, and she may want for one should her pursuit of Verrou end.¡±

    ¡°But not in Forta.¡± Luce nodded, understanding the thrust of her demand. Considering how Anya Stewart had treated her son, Gary, perhaps this shouldn¡¯t have been so surprising. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll want some office for your brother, as well?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not cut out to be an officer, that¡¯s plain. But he¡¯s experienced guarding royal persons; surely you can find room in your Shadow Guard for him?¡±

    I¡¯ll have to make sure he¡¯s never on the schedule protecting me, but I¡¯m sure we can work around it. ¡°Fine.¡±

    Lizzie read his face and laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s got a friend who wants to join up, too. I¡¯ve seen him spar¡ªit should be more than enough to cancel Gary out.¡±

    More likely, it¡¯s another incompetent you owe a favor to. But still, Luce accepted. He wanted this issue behind him before he talked to Harold.

    Lizzie didn¡¯t waste time with long goodbyes, either, so Luce managed to see her off and arrive in the throne room twenty minutes early.

    ¡°Ah, there you are, Luce.¡± Harold grabbed a paper from a man beside him and collapsed into a heap on the throne. ¡°Everyone out! My brother and I need to have words.¡±

    On that, I¡¯m afraid I must agree.

    And then it was just the two of them standing there, opposite sons from opposing lines entwined, the Avalon¡¯s glistening Crown Prince and its ruthless Prince of Darkness.

    ¡°Alright, Luce. Let¡¯s talk.¡±

 Florette V: The Feckless

    Florette V: The Feckless

    ¡°Then what was the fucking of point of all this?¡± Ciq Prashant, Jay candidate for the Carringdon seat on Avalon¡¯s Great Council snarled. ¡°You told me there was a real chance of getting somewhere. You gathered all these people around me and it doesn¡¯t even matter.¡±

    ¡°I told you the odds were long,¡± Florette insisted. Bordering on impossible. ¡°As long as Astor and Delbrook stayed close enough in the vote count, you had a shot at squeezing out both by surprise.¡± Technically. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re looking at this the wrong way. A year ago, the Jays had nothing. They weren¡¯t even competing. Now this new system allows us to try. We¡¯ve done the outreach that could get us there in the future.¡±

    That didn¡¯t seem to bring much comfort to Prashant. ¡°That¡¯s all very well for the Jays, but I¡¯ll still be the one who lost. It¡¯s only going to hurt me that I tried and failed. Especially if people keep calling me a latecomer, a stranger to Carringdon.¡±

    ¡°Well, you sort of are though. You were born and raised in Nymphell, then spent most of your adult life following Robin Verrou all over the world with Anya Stewart.¡± If the Jays weren¡¯t so thin on the ground here, I¡¯d never have picked you at all. Florette had done her best to seek out the real people in Charenton, of the sort a Delbrook or an Astor would never deign to speak with, to court support for her Jay candidate, but without any expectation that they might succeed.

    This entire election scheme had been engineered from the top down to consolidate more power in royal hands; democracy had nothing to do with it. They do love their self-righteousness in Avalon, their veneration of liberal values, but only up to the moment they need to back those beliefs with action.

    That was why Florette hadn¡¯t tapped the experienced Vijay or the charismatic Ciaran to run for the office¡ªthey deserved better than being the figurehead for this failure as a reward for stepping up. This ¡®democracy¡¯ business made the appearance of weakness even more devastating than conventional politics, and had a common-born candidate been chosen, their life might well have turned worse than it started once they lost. In that respect, a knight who¡¯d served Avalon¡¯s foremost pirate catcher was the perfect one to burn on this hollow show.

    Due to whatever unknown disputes had led to Ciq Prashant taking up residence in Carringdon, fractures which Florette¡¯s old roommate, Opal, had hinted at without ever elaborating on, Prashant¡¯s failure would be unlikely to create issues with Sarah or the others, either.

    Lady Astor would lose a few votes from people angry at the status quo, enough to put her out of the running against the man whom Lord Monfroy could crush like a bug with a single letter to a journal. And with it, hand over half of Avalon¡¯s government to Monfroy.

    That had been the plan.

    Instead, Charlotte de Malin had dug up the compromising document and distributed it to the world, rendering any leverage derived from it wholly pointless. And Monfroy himself now had his position imperiled. And he¡¯d be likely to blame Sabine, whom he¡¯d sent to the area and provided just enough information to believe she could do it.

    But not enough to tell me what I already know of your monstrosity. A seventeen-year-old was a new low for Monfroy. Fernan had only been seventeen back on that fateful day when both their journeys had begun, when Mara burned away his eyes and Florette had charged her to try to save him. They¡¯d all come to an understanding in the time since, but Fernan was still dealing with that damage today. That boy from Carringdon would never even get that chance.

    Florette had met his cousin at one of the Jay meetings and heard her talk about his disappearance before the news had broken, but it was another thing entirely to learn that Monfroy had stolen his life. Ciq Prashant and Lady Astor had both paid her a visit after the news had broken, providing her generous offers of support, but Delbrook remained at large.

    Since he had no title with Carringdon any longer, there was no position to be stripped from him, and Charlotte had apparently refrained from making arrests in the interest of avoiding the appearance that she was there to tilt things in Luce¡¯s favor. As if anyone would ever believe that. The Carringdon City Guardians had followed her lead, but it wouldn¡¯t be long before Delbrook was denied that defense.

    I suppose I should count myself lucky that Charlotte focused on that instead of me, at least. Srin Sabine was a robust and well-connected identity with little in the way of holes or inconsistencies that could be pressed to the breaking point, but none of that would matter if someone recognized her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve lived in Carringdon for two years! It¡¯s home now.¡± Prashant scowled. ¡°This lot could use an outside perspective, anyway. Maddie Astor¡¯s just going to hand the Great Council over to the Prince of Darkness, no different from her father.¡±

    And you¡¯re no different from a hundred other aristocrats. ¡°Probably. There¡¯s nothing to be done about it now aside from conceding. Maybe you can wheedle an office out of Astor in exchange for your endorsement, though I wouldn¡¯t bet on it. She doesn¡¯t need you anymore.¡±

    Prashant scratched his chin, taking her words under serious consideration. ¡°But there¡¯s a chance. It¡¯s all about approaching her the right way. Don¡¯t you think I could do it?¡±

    I don¡¯t care. Florette shrugged.

    ¡°It would be something, at least! A voice for us in their halls of power is a potent thing on its own.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Florette said, rather than her true opinion, in the interest of staying polite.

    The particular people in the government didn¡¯t matter at all when their whole system was set up to exploit and brutalize. Malin was the easiest example to point to, where assassinating Gordon Perimont had cleared the way for the soft spoken Prince Luce to take his best shot at reforming Avalon¡¯s occupation, apparently sincere in the regret he¡¯d expressed in captivity.

    He hadn¡¯t been able to turn such a massive ship around on its own without tearing it apart, so Camille Leclaire had used the fracture to bury him under the waves as it capsized. Luce¡¯s next attempt had seen him roll up to Charenton at the head of a small army, seizing power without even the pretense of legitimacy and seeing all opposition crushed after an attack by Levian.

    You bend to the system or you let it break you, but either way it¡¯s still there to weigh down everyone else. Florette hadn¡¯t expected it at first, but she shouldn¡¯t have been surprised that it was no different within Avalon. The Harpies might be more committed to conquest and naked imperialism, but the ostensibly better Owls delighted in exploitation of another sort. They championed all sorts of freedoms, but none of them ever seemed to be quite so important to them as the economic freedom of a Great Councillor to enrich themselves, the freedom of a factory owner to lock people inside a building coated in grease.

    The Carringdon Astors were the perfect example, ostentatiously performing their nobility of character while staying rich off the backs of thousands of farmers and laborers who toiled from dawn to dusk without ever seeing any benefit from their own labor. Florette was willing to give Luce credit for forgiving the debt that tenant farmers had owed to their overlord, hanging the Delbrook who thought collecting was more important than keeping the city from starving, but he hadn¡¯t actually addressed the root of the issue. Every farmer around Carringdon was still just one bad harvest away from crippling debt, and they couldn¡¯t count on a softer-hearted prince being around every time they needed saving.

    The narrative around the Princess Lizzie¡¯s fire made even more sense in that light, especially once you knew how many Councilors were financially invested in the business. The Blue Bandit made it easy to pin it on someone in particular, but they were never going to hold Princess Lizzie¡¯s responsible anyway.

    Even the Jays had Monfroy as a notable black mark, either ignorant of his crimes or willing to sweep them under the rug so long as they remained private. Not that I¡¯ve been any different. Killing him wasn¡¯t simple, and doing it without breaking her cover would be a thousand times harder, but...

    But how many times have I told myself that this is the last job? That he¡¯s dead as soon as I¡¯m done? There was always something else to do: another ancient ruin to explore, crucial to making the Srin Sabine identity successful enough to be useful; another planset to discreetly retrieve from the College library for Blaise and the pirates; another vault to rob, to keep the neighbors fed through the latest indignity their bosses foisted upon them...Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Another reason to hesitate, when that was never my problem before. In that sense, it was hard not to feel like Florette had spent too long in Avalon, that she had hidden vital parts of herself so thoroughly that they risked atrophy from disuse.

    If I faced myself at nineteen and had to convince her why I was in Avalon, doing the bidding of a man who drained so much life that he reduced healthy children to wizened, desiccated corpses, what could I possibly say?

    Win or lose, that Florette would have stood in his way years ago, cover identity or no cover identity. Killing one person might not fix the real problem, but some people were really asking for it anyway, and it could still help a little at the margins. Like with Gordon Perimont, or Ernest Monfroy.

    But she also would have stolen from a tavern just because the barkeep pissed her off, dragged Fernan into the starring role of a lie he wanted no part in, and followed the first girl to give her a shred of attention onto her pirate ship to set sail for slaughter without a second thought. She¡¯d have stabbed Cassia Arion without the slightest hesitation.

    Florette left Prashant to his scheming and returned to her room so she could pack. Now that Delbrook was finished, there wasn¡¯t much reason to stay.

    Though I must be careful before returning to Cambria. Monfroy won¡¯t just let me walk back into class. His pale coach would be waiting at the harbor the moment her ship landed; Florette was absolutely certain of that. How he would want to deal with her, Florette was less sure about. She didn¡¯t trust him for a second, obviously, and the Delbrook news breaking out would do him no favors, but it wasn¡¯t impossible to imagine him being rational enough to realize Florette had no part in it. He had to know this was his own fault, though that gave about even odds between him taking responsibility and projecting all the blame onto her.

    And I don¡¯t think it¡¯d be wise to pay him a visit and flip that particular coin. But staying out of Cambria wasn¡¯t an option either, not with final exams fast approaching and an urgent letter from Professor Alcock telling her to visit the archaeology lab at the College to verify something sensitive for him. Running away would be devastatingly deleterious to Srin Sabine, and waste everything that had gone into getting her this far.

    And all the people who died to make it possible.

    That sort of reasoning was usually what pulled Florette back from the threshold when a potential opportunity arose, whether it made for a good decision or a bad one, but considering the damage Monfroy could do with the information he knew, pouncing now might genuinely be the safest option.

    Florette was so immersed in her rare moment of introspection that she almost missed Rebecca lurking in the hallway, tapping her foot nervously. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± were the first words out of Florette¡¯s mouth, for all that they weren¡¯t the most tactful way to pose the question.

    ¡°I was worried about you,¡± Rebecca admitted, following Florette into the room once she unlocked the door. ¡°Monfroy¡¯s dangerous, you said. He could ruin your life. Then I read that he was exposed buying people from one of the Carringdon candidates you were sent here to help the Jays contest. I¡¯m probably overreacting, but I wanted to see you, and I wasn¡¯t sure Cambria would be safe for you.¡±

    It¡¯s like you read my mind. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about it. But thank you. It¡¯s good to see you.¡±

    Surprisingly, Rebecca frowned at that, creases forming on her soft face. ¡°You don¡¯t have to pretend with me, Sabine.¡±

    ¡°Pretend?¡± asked Florette, who¡¯d built an entire relationship with her by stacking deception atop deception.

    ¡°You think you always need to be strong and alert and ready with a plan, but none can do that all the time for everything. I know how impecunious your father was by the time he died, the debts he took on. There¡¯s no point in acting like this is a trivial issue.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°I want to help you, Sabine.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you pay the debt. It¡¯s too much, and Monfroy wants me under his thumb more than he wants the money anyway. It would only draw you into¡ª¡±

    Rebecca shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡±

    ¡°Then what did you mean?¡± Because it¡¯s sweet that you came, but Monfroy isn¡¯t your problem. After everything I¡¯ve done to you, surely you don¡¯t need to entangle yourself in my mess.

    Standing there in the fading light of the Carringdon Inn, her red-orange sweater nearly perfectly matching the sunset behind her, Rebecca managed to look at once radiant and endearing as she falteringly grasped for an answer. Before long, it was clear that she¡¯d had no idea what exactly she meant. ¡°The details aren¡¯t the point. You have a better head for that stuff than I do anyway. My point is that we can lean on each other. I want to help you, and I bet if you actually thought about it instead of dismissing me, you¡¯d agree that I can help.¡±

    I already tried that, planting the desiccation bomb idea as a weapon against Monfroy. Only Monfroy had just moved to the top of her list before Florette even had the chance to get one. If Rebecca could get her hands on one¡ª

    ¡°See, you just thought of something! What are you thinking?¡±

    Florette sighed, cornered, and began to explain her plan.

    ?

    They landed directly at Harvet Point, heading directly into Ortus Tower without any need to worry about Monfroy lurking at the harbor. Prince Luce was apparently away, visiting his brother at the palace, but Florette didn¡¯t feel inclined to take any chances.

    She stayed on the ground as Rebecca went up, taking a walk through the experimental gardens until she found a spot where she was hidden enough to avoid Luce coming if he returned.

    It felt selfish sitting here to smell the flowers, plotting a way out of her own problems, while hundreds of workers were striking for their life. Christophe had already had to step in once to frighten off a Guardian who¡¯d been getting too aggressive, naturally framed in the Avalon journals as a savage spiritual beast rising up from nowhere to support the immoral, lazy strikers. At least it hadn¡¯t come to violence.

    Making contact would risk dragging Monfroy into that whole mess, and Florette honestly believed Christophe and the others would understand her need to take another day or two before stepping in to help, but it still was hard not to feel guilty about it.

    Fortunately, Rebecca returned just in time to pull Florette out of her wallowing. She emerged back out of the black stone tower with a slightly red cast to her face, panting, as if she¡¯d run up and down twelve flights of stairs herself. ¡°Elevator was being used,¡± she explained. ¡°I think they¡¯re loading up all those DV bombs from Charenton, though I¡¯m not sure why Prince Luce would want something so dangerous kept on this side of the Lyrion Sea.¡±

    ¡°Did you get it?¡± Florette asked, her nerves feeling steadier.

    ¡°Of course! It¡¯s my project from my lab. All I had to do was squeeze by the haulers on the stairs.¡± Rebecca paused, reflecting carefully on her words as she shifted her grip on the bundled object. ¡°Are you really sure this is the only way to keep you safe? I could talk to Prince Luce, or Lieutenant Charlotte. Monfroy¡¯s on the back foot now. He¡¯s cornered.¡±

    ¡°That only makes him more dangerous.¡± Florette examined the bundle, flipping the cloth up to reveal a nest of copper thread and metal plating which clearly had yet to be sealed up. ¡°If you get your boss involved, I¡¯d have to explain myself. I¡¯m not sure I could.¡±

    ¡°You were grieving! Deeply in debt! You could tell them the truth, like you did with me.¡± If only. A frown traced its way across Rebecca¡¯s face. ¡°Killing someone is a big step to take. I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s a good idea.¡±

    It¡¯s a step I took long ago, Rebecca. That¡¯s the reason I can¡¯t be honest with you¡ªyou might blow everything up the second I tell you. Nothing would really be stopping her, at any rate.

    ¡°You¡¯re unsure of his guilt? I guess I can understand that. You didn¡¯t see his inner sanctum like I did, all those withered corpses that had been strong and vibrant mere hours ago.¡± There was certainly more to it than that, not least of which was Rebecca¡¯s in-her-context-sensible desire to involve the Prince of Darkness and his authorities.

    And if I really were Srin Sabine and I could withstand Charlotte¡¯s detailed scrutiny, maybe that would even be the right choice. As it was, though, it wasn¡¯t even an option. ¡°Try to listen closely to what he says, then. I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t make him confess before he dies.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not just that.¡± Rebecca thumped her hand against the bomb, causing Florette to flinch slightly as she made contact. ¡°Crete might have done most of the design work, but I built this one. I had to crunch for weeks getting the size of the blast to condense like Prince Luce wanted. Spiritual energy works on completely different rules, and until five years ago no one was even studying it. It¡¯s... I don¡¯t like the thought of such a beautiful masterwork getting someone killed.¡±

    Then I may have some bad news for you about your profession. Florette held back the glib comment, though. With her body count, she was living in a chateau made from glass when it came to death. And working for Luce Grimoire meant that none of Rebecca¡¯s bombs had actually been used to kill anyone yet, though adding them to Avalon¡¯s arsenal practically guaranteed their eventual misuse.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the thought of you killing anyone,¡± Rebecca continued, shedding considerable light on her prior reluctance. ¡°I want to help, but I can¡¯t... I just don¡¯t think...¡±

    ¡°Say no more.¡± Florette pushed the bomb back towards Rebecca, then jerked her head up towards her lab up in the Tower. ¡°I¡¯ll handle this myself.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Rebecca shook her head, then set the bomb down on the grassy ground. ¡°If you think this is the right thing to do, if you think you can pull it off, I trust you.¡±

    And you know just the perfect words to send a dagger of guilt right through my heart. Florette forced a smile, pecked Rebecca with a quick kiss, then grabbed the bomb.

 Luce IV: The Second in Line

    Luce IV: The Second in Line

    With the room cleared, Luce could hear rumbling from outside, weak waves of chants and jeers washing over the Palace walls. Fernan was absolutely right about the benefit of going directly to the people.

    Leveraging Luce¡¯s own black legend to win hearts and minds would have been a fool¡¯s endeavor, of course, but it didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t get his resources to people who would use them to help. Several weeks ago, workers from the Princess Lizzie¡¯s garment factory had begun striking rather than renew their contracts, each of them banding together to ensure that work slowed to a halt.

    With Harold in the city opposing his every move, Luce couldn¡¯t leverage the Grimoire shares in the factory to do as he¡¯d done in Carringdon. But that didn¡¯t stop me from covertly donating funds to keep the workers from starving a little longer, then requesting their help with another great issue of our time. It didn¡¯t take much convincing, when so many of them were opposed to the war in the first place, though Luce had obviously gone through an intermediary rather than show his own face.

    While the workers themselves remained in front of their factory, the cramped apartments in Brickston made for close neighbors, and it turned out that there was no shortage of people willing to protest at the palace in their stead. It helped that the strikers were already well set-up for this kind of organization, and that they had newfound access to funds.

    Ideally, it would put pressure on Harold to end the war in Micheltaigne. Considering what a pittance Luce was paying, it was easily worth the risk. Better yet, after the first demonstration Luce arranged, they¡¯d continued to do it on their own, marching all the way from Princess Lizzie¡¯s to the Palace and back to show their solidarity with each other. And it was a very good sign that their chants could be heard from within the Throne Room.

    ¡°Alright, Luce. Let¡¯s talk.¡± Harold slouched on the throne, brandishing a too-full glass of red wine above the paper on his lap. The portrait above him had been replaced once more, no longer the first King Harold nor the moving, abstracted waves, but instead a larger-than-life portrait of Harold himself, waving a scepter off towards the right of the throne.

    Though it might as well be Father again, considering how similar they look. Luce couldn¡¯t help but frown with pity as he took it in. Imagine having your very identity tied so intimately to your own cessation of existence. It was important not to forget what Father had intended for his eldest son, all the more so when said son insisted on rank folly and careless cruelty in the name of his own glorification.

    ¡°I saw that the City Guardians wished to conduct an inspection of Ortus Tower,¡± Luce began, wanting to head the largest issue off as early as possible. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be happening.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d refuse a direct order from your king?¡± Harold seemed amused at that. ¡°You can keep your precious Charenton for now, but Ortus Tower remains on Avalon soil. I could burn it to the ground if I care to¡ªan inspection is nothing.¡±

    ¡°Prince Regent,¡± Luce corrected. ¡°We both know that you will never be the king.¡±

    Face curling into a snarl, Harold tightened his grip around his wine. ¡°Bluster all you want. Anything could happen while you¡¯re dallying off in Forta. Or did you think I wouldn¡¯t find out?¡±

    I met Lizzie Stewart mere minutes ago in this very palace; I expected you to learn of it eventually, but it¡¯s worrisome that you apparently knew in advance. Could that mean a surprise in store for Luce in Forta, courtesy of the same brother who¡¯d once sicced a rowdy band of pirates after him?

    Or he¡¯s just messing with me, trying to get me to call it off, or leave more guards behind than I should. If anything, that only strengthened Luce¡¯s resolve to arrive in force, Charlotte at his side. ¡°You know that I¡¯m doing all this for you, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°All for me? The perfect brother once again, eh?¡± Harold took a hurried swig of his wine, spilling a few drops onto the paper in front of him. ¡°I wonder if even you believe that.¡±

    ¡°Why else would I risk opening the gates to Nocturne by detonating a bomb in front of them, you ass?¡± Luce walked closer to the throne, ascending the steps until he loomed over his brother. ¡°I¡¯m trying to break Pantera¡¯s curse. I have been ever since I found out.¡±

    ¡°Heh, sure.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s true. When Khali was sealed in Nocturne, all her energy went with her; all her spiritual workings ceased to function; every last one of her sages lost their magic, never to return. If you and Father were separated, each alone in a world cut off from the other, it might just free you from your curse.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Harold sputtered with disbelief. ¡°For me?¡±

    ¡°Who else? Yes, of course, I want to save you.¡±

    He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. ¡°Would that even work?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no way to be sure until we try, and even the attempt carries its fair share of danger. Charlotte¡¯s tried to talk me out of it. She doesn¡¯t think you¡¯re worth it.¡± Nor worthy to rule Avalon. ¡°But I know that this isn¡¯t your fault; it¡¯s the position Father put you in.¡±

    ¡°Well, if the mighty Charlotte doesn¡¯t think your own brother is worth it, I guess you have no choice.¡± Harold finished his wine, then poured himself another glass, not offering any to Luce. ¡°Though I do find it a bit disturbing that throwing me to the wylls is apparently the sort of suggestion that tickles your fancy.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not! I just told you that I refused her.¡±

    Harold laughed, spilling slightly more of his wine. ¡°But it didn¡¯t stop you from inviting her into your bed, nor from doing your bidding in Carringdon. Honestly, Luce, you plucked her from obscurity in Malin¡ªyou, a prince of the blood, second in line to the throne of the most powerful nation on the planet. And now she works for you. She¡¯s never going to tell you anything but what you want to hear, nor will she ever refuse you any request.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true at all.¡± Luce frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t know her. Or me, it seems.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a question of character. What¡¯s she going to do, say ¡®no¡¯ to you? Run back to her farm in Malin or wherever? Come on!¡±

    With Camille Leclaire in power, I can¡¯t imagine she¡¯s welcome in her homeland, either. But Harold was still being ridiculous, poking his nose into things he knew nothing about. He was wrong... Wasn¡¯t he? ¡°I can¡¯t make Charlotte do anything she doesn¡¯t want to. She could snap my spine like a twig in the space of five seconds, for one thing.¡±

    ¡°And what would happen to her then? Your guards walk in the room, find her standing over your corpse, and crown her Princess of Darkness?¡± It¡¯s not a completely ridiculous idea. They¡¯re about as loyal to her as they are to me. ¡°Or maybe she could slink away to a life of disgrace and exile.¡±

    Only then did Luce realize why his brother was prodding at him like this, trying to drive a wedge between him and Charlotte. He wants me paranoid, bereft of allies. As if it weren¡¯t hard enough to stand back from that precipice after what Camille had done to him in Malin.

    ¡°All of that applies just as much to your paramours,¡± Luce felt compelled to say, though turning it on Harold felt like an admission of failure. I saw through your intent, but as for the content of your argument... This current arrangement wasn¡¯t fair to Charlotte, whatever her own professed feelings on the matter.

    ¡°True enough, though I don¡¯t typically hire them into my service.¡± Harold shrugged. ¡°It hasn¡¯t stopped the odd few from refusing to see me any more before I had the chance to do the same to them, and the lack of retaliation serves as permission for the rest. Not keeping anyone around too long also helps.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    Even comparing Charlotte to those one-and-done wastrels is an insult of the highest order, Harold. You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m so practiced at holding my tongue around you.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give your Charlotte Carringdon, at least. She really messed that one up for me. Delbrook is still refusing to concede for whatever reason, but he¡¯s got about as much chance of sitting on the Great Council as that bull of yours has of being Queen.¡± Harold reached for the bottle of wine, only to frown as he found it empty. ¡°So I suppose you¡¯ll have the Great Council for a little while, by the barest of margins. I look forward to vetoing what I¡¯m sure will be many softhearted decrees and power-grabs for your Tower.¡±

    ¡°I had nothing to do with that, and neither did Charlotte,¡± Luce lied. Delbrook is probably only keeping himself in the race to delay Charlotte or the Guardians going after him directly. Well, he could delay all he wanted, but it wouldn¡¯t save him. ¡°What Delbrook and Monfroy did was bound to come out eventually; this was just fortuitous timing.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Harold rolled his eyes, then leaned forward. ¡°But is it really true? What would Monfroy want with a child slave?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Luce admitted. ¡°But I trust the evidence. Yes, it¡¯s true.¡±

    Nostrils flared, Harold set his empty glass down next to the throne. ¡°I thought Monfroy was a friend. Without him, I¡¯d still be prancing around thinking I was Father¡¯s heir instead of his vessel. He¡¯s the only one who¡¯s ever been honest with me.¡±

    ¡°Ernest Monfroy? Him?¡± Luce wasn¡¯t quite sure how that made any sense. Did Monfroy know about Father, somehow? But he kept it to himself... until he told Harold? To what end? Alone, none of those pieces seemed likely; together, the whole chain of events was functionally impossible.

    ¡°My shadow followed Leclaire until he realized she was just another Father, grasping for immortal tyranny no matter the cost. I can¡¯t help but wonder if I haven¡¯t made the same mistake.¡± Harold seemed to make a decision there, flicking his hand across the paper on his lap and leaving red streaks where the drops of wine had touched it. ¡°If you truly wish to do me such a favor, Luce, then I shall be generous to you as well.¡±

    Why don¡¯t I find that reassuring? ¡°Is it related to that paper?¡±

    ¡°As a matter of fact, yes!¡± Harold stood, clapping Luce on the shoulder. ¡°This is a letter from one Alvis de Sableton, an Imperial aristocrat and something of an athlete, I¡¯m given to understand.¡± Harold wiggled his eyebrows, a smile wide across his face. ¡°He¡¯s started a rebellion against Camille Leclaire. Ha! Her little Empire is going to be torn apart without losing a single Avaline life. And then it¡¯ll be ours once again. Yours, if you want it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Frantically, Luce tore the paper from Harold¡¯s hands and pored over each word.

    ¡°With Charenton, it makes sense, doesn¡¯t it? You¡¯d be Governor-General of the Southern Territories. Of course, you¡¯d have to cede Ortus Tower back to the crown, but one tower for an Imperial capital is more than a fair exchange.¡±

    That¡¯d be convenient, wouldn¡¯t it? Get me out of Avalon and away from the Great Council so you could do as you please unimpeded. ¡°Malin is already pacified, in case you forgot about my landmark feat of diplomacy. I¡¯m not going to toss aside the Treaty of Charenton.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come now! Like you wouldn¡¯t enjoy seeing Camille Leclaire¡¯s head posted outside Malin¡¯s walls? Guy Valvert told me¡ª¡±

    ¡°Valvert? He¡¯s a prisoner of the Guerron Commune.¡± Fernan wouldn¡¯t have released him... But how could he have escaped where Father failed to?

    ¡°He was.¡± Harold nodded. ¡°Once Malin is secured, these rebel knights have volunteered to clear out Guerron for us too. From there, who knows? I might just be the first man to unify the world, under my own name.¡± He smiled. ¡°So many times, our forces have been held back because they don¡¯t know the land. The peasants are against them, sheltering in hidden caves and shrouded forests. But now we have collaborators on our side! Locals! With none of the image issues that arise when sending our own soldiers.¡±

    My plan worked. It wasn¡¯t hard to find people against the war in Cambria, but finding one willing to tell a Prince that was considerably more difficult, so the protesters had been an excellent way to force the issue. ¡°They want weapons, Harold. Cannons, guns, even bombs! We can¡¯t give them anything.¡±

    ¡°You want me to tell them to fuck off? Why? They¡¯re half the world away, fighting against our enemies.¡±

    ¡°The Empire are not our enemies! We signed a peace treaty.¡± Luce sighed, holding his hand to his forehead. ¡°All the problems with this war in Micheltaigne, and you want to open up another front? Our technology is our power, Harold. We can¡¯t afford to give it away. It¡¯s been hard enough to comb through all the scientific knowledge we shared to ensure it couldn¡¯t be used for weapons against us.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason to be sure we hold those lands ourselves, no?¡±

    ¡°No! This is a bad idea. Don¡¯t do it.¡± Especially not while thinking you¡¯re doing me a favor. ¡°You¡¯re thinking about this the wrong way. If you want me gone for a while, let me go to Micheltaigne. I can take command and negotiate a peace.¡± It¡¯ll play merry ruin with my plans for a while, but I can¡¯t miss what could be the only moment to change his mind. ¡°Father would never dream of it.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t talk about that man in front of me,¡± Harold barked. ¡°We both know he¡¯d do exactly that. Just look at the Unification, or the arrangement with Guerron after the Foxtrap. He left half the Lyrion League standing! Look where that got us. What he would never do is launch a full-scale assault on that barbaric continent and not let up until they all submit or die.¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s foolish, Harold! It¡¯s impatient and short sighted and wrong. If you burn away all our goodwill with the people and feed army after army into this thresher, the whole continent could rise up against us! You could ruin everything.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine by me too.¡± Harold flopped back down into his seat, putting his hands behind his head. ¡°Either I realize Avalon¡¯s purpose better than its architect ever could, or tear the whole project down with my own two hands. My name would go down in history forever either way, the sort of immortality that matters most, while Father would die a forgotten footnote.¡±

    ¡°Or you could live. I told you what I¡¯m trying to do¡ª¡±

    ¡°And I love you for that, Luce. Really. But it won¡¯t work. Pantera¡¯s Curse is inevitable, Undying. All you¡¯ll accomplish by throwing Father into Nocturne is killing him instantly, and with him, me.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t risk your life until I was sure I¡¯d be successful.¡± Unlike you, so carelessly throwing away mine because you thought the worst of me. ¡°You need to listen to me. Not just about the curse, or the rebels, but everything. You can¡¯t keep ruling like this! Avalon isn¡¯t just some inheritance from Father you can set on fire to spite him. Isn¡¯t that what you hated about Jethro?¡±

    Harold leaned further back in his chair. ¡°Honestly, Luce? What I hated most about Jethro was that I didn¡¯t get to be him. When darkness fell just as I was thrust into ruling Avalon, I felt the need to step up. For the people. They wanted war, and now they hate me for trying to win it. Just listen to them.¡± He went silent, letting the low murmur of chants rumble in the background, then shook his head. ¡°No, now that Jethro¡¯s gone, I find myself wondering if he didn¡¯t have a point.¡±

    ¡°Then there¡¯s nothing more to say.¡±

    Luce emerged from the palace into the fog, letting the riotous chants wash over him, growing louder once they saw he was there. I don¡¯t want war either. But as long as my brother rules, he won¡¯t stop.

    And yet Luce still couldn¡¯t leave him to his fate. I would not wish such a thing on my worst enemy, let alone my brother. All of this... cruel, irrational carelessness that the Prince Regent had been possessed of stemmed from the horrific position that Father had put him in. Being a better king didn¡¯t make him a better man.

    But I can¡¯t let things continue like this. Perhaps once Harold was saved, he would see reason and begin to accept Luce¡¯s guidance, but that could take months. Years. Perhaps his ingratitude will last a lifetime.

    Avalon couldn¡¯t afford to wait that long.

    Luce sent two letters as soon as returned to his office, personally escorting his messengers to their ships so as to take no chances.

    The first, he sent to Carringdon. Charlotte¡¯s work was finished, now, successful as always. Luce would have liked to give her a bit of leave before launching back into work, but the Nocturne Project had to continue. We need to set up that experiment in the Fortan Highlands and get things moving as soon as possible. With bold, decisive action, the project could be complete by the end of the year, and with it, the worst of the danger. Charlotte would meet him there with a detachment of Shadows while Luce organized the scientists.

    After Marie Laure had broken the story about Monfroy and the Twilight Society, Crete Marbury had been expelled, and Luce was trying to keep her out of the public eye. Being seen with her in Forta, with Lizzie Stewart of such dubious loyalty and Harold having ominously alluded to bad tidings if Luce went, he couldn¡¯t take any chances. Rebecca and myself will lead the project, with Russel and Kelsey to manage energy storage and infrastructure, respectively. Crete, regrettably, will be assigned elsewhere. We need to keep the team small, and the latest DV for the project was Rebecca¡¯s anyway.

    The second letter he wrote was to Fernan, with instructions concerning what to do with Father. It¡¯s not what I wanted, but it¡¯s the only way I see to stop Harold from destroying Avalon. Luce could only do his best, and hope that his brother would forgive Luce for his treachery in time.

    Charlotte had the right of it, though I wish it weren¡¯t so. It was time for the regency to end.

 Camille VI: The Inheritor of Raging Waves

    Camille VI: The Inheritor of Raging Waves

    ¡°Most Puissant Spirit Levian, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.¡± Leclaire shouted to the sea, blue hair whipping in the wind. ¡°In accordance with our ancient pact, I present this living human, born to the name ¡®Pelleas¡¯, the last Grimoire of Giton.¡±

    Camille slithered closer to the shore, feeling the tantalizing contours of the bound human¡¯s soul.

    ¡°A servant of Khali, he stood in the way of your High Priestess¡¯s rightful conquest of these lands. He called upon fell darkness to oppose his rightful liege and slew two dozen loyal followers.¡± Leclaire lifted her sword above her head, turning her stern eyes towards the sacrifice. ¡°For your crimes, Pelleas, Grimoire of Giton, you shall pay the ultimate price. In the name of the Fox-Queen, Marie Renart, by the power of my patron, the Torrent of the Deep, I sentence you to death.¡±

    As soon as Leclaire¡¯s sword parted the sacrifice¡¯s head from his body, Camille began to feel the surge of power. Human souls were fragile things, as soon as they were parted from their mortal bodies, easily crushed and consumed to make Camille even stronger. And this one provides more than most. Sages always absorbed traces of their patron¡¯s power as they used it, saturating their body with enough magic to make a hearty meal of their soul. Some of them could even burn their own life to fuel their magic, but the Grimoire had fortunately chosen to die at the height of his strength.

    My strength, now. Sated, Camille turned back away from the shore, slipping through the water fast enough that the frozen lands were soon beyond her senses. And far enough to know I¡¯m being followed.

    As Camille twisted, poking her head above the waves, she saw a black and yellow lion with a magnificent dark mane, bounding across the surface of the water with its semi-ethereal tail flicking behind it. As soon as she breached the surface, the pursuer moved even faster, fading halfway beneath a sharp yellow aura as they skipped from the crest of one wave to the next.

    Camille didn¡¯t wait, drawing on her newly acquired energy to turn the sea against him, snatching him from the air with jaws of water and feeling the life within it die at the moment of contact. Perhaps another poison spirit, like Corro of the Wastes. Camille could only hope this lion spirit didn¡¯t share Corro¡¯s affinity for those nearing their end.

    They darted from the water into the air in a golden streak, rising high enough that such a quick maneuver wouldn¡¯t be enough to pull them back under again.

    No matter. Camille rose from the water at the top of a new wave, pulling the water higher and higher until she could look the other spirit in the eyes, her wave casting a massive shadow over the water. She continued forward, but the lion merely matched her pace, flitting through the air.

    ¡°Stay still or begone,¡± Camille hissed, still assessing how best they could be fought. The reason they were here was of minimal importance.

    ¡°Then I shall stay, servant of Pantera.¡± The words flowed upward, dark droplets almost like rain once Camille turned her head down to get a better look. Hanging in the shadow of her wave was Khali, the Arbiter of Darkness, her power apparently sufficient to escape Camille¡¯s sense of the water itself. ¡°And you must listen.¡±

    ¡°This is quite a time to fight me,¡± Camille hissed, holding the wave in place long enough to watch with satisfaction as the lion sprinted past. ¡°My servants have just won a great victory; my power has reached new heights on this day.¡±

    ¡°But you remain a lesser spirit, like me.¡± The lion spirit spoke through crackles in the air, the yellow on his body flashing blue an instant before each word. ¡°We must not fight amongst each other.¡±

    ¡°I do not know who you are, but I have no desire to discover it when it would be so much more satisfying to be rid of you forever.¡± Camille dropped downward through the water, until she was facing Khali directly. ¡°You have dealt with spirits who endangered your humans before, Arbiter of Darkness, as is your right. I merely empowered the humans to fight their enemies.¡±

    In the textureless darkness of her form, a single white eye opened. ¡°Do you know what that human did, Levian? She flooded our domains with water, only to freeze it in place. Your human will kill most of the vegetation in their conquered land before the frost melts. Killing the sages of Gemel and shadowcats of Indru will only weaken their hold on their domain, withering the darkness that keeps the sun at bay.¡±

    ¡°Let the land bake. Such a thing is a problem for Leclaire and the humans, not the likes of us.¡± The trick with the ice had admittedly been clever, an example of appropriating the magic of other sages when it could be made to fit well enough under Camille¡¯s domain. What did it matter if it killed a few plants?

    ¡°The health of our domains is of crucial importance.¡± Khali rotated one arm of many to gesture back to the verdant plains of Giton. ¡°If my Grimoire led a war against the sea, stripping back your power and your means of regaining it, the consequences would be devastating. What you have done is no different.¡±

    ¡°I find it difficult to see how this could truly threaten the Arbiter of Darkness.¡± Khali had killed more spirits than any other Camille knew of across her many millennia of existence. If Pantera told it true, her latest victim was a spirit sworn to serve her, slain solely because she had killed a few of Khali¡¯s favored humans. ¡°But if you wish to fight, let it be known that it was Khali who broke the peace.¡±

    ¡°I wish to make you understand.¡± Khali¡¯s dark words cut through the water, rising high until they dissolved in the sky. ¡°Even the Arbiter of Darkness is not above the needs of her domain, nor the humans that tend to them. Without my presence, the whole world would slowly begin to bake under Soleil¡¯s light, each year hotter than the last. Your actions today are just as much an assault on spiritual balance as if you¡¯d cleaved apart the land yourself.¡±

    Not if I can get away. Camille was confident she could deal with Indru, the sparking lion, but Khali was another matter entirely. Even swollen with the Grimoire¡¯s power, fighting both at once was far from a certain victory. Why shouldn¡¯t I be patient, when Leclaire is giving me more souls every day? The human she served wanted to conquer the entire continent, after all. There would always be new sacrifices, each of them a new source of magic to deal with Khali more permanently.

    Amusingly, it seemed that Khali¡¯s threat was news to Indru as well. ¡°Would you really curse the world so?¡± the lion asked from the sky above, mane blowing heavily in the wind as they approached.

    ¡°Not a curse.¡± Khali shook her head, a human gesture that Camille recognized from Leclaire. It meant Indru was wrong. ¡°An inevitability.¡±

    Camille took advantage of the moment to dive into the water, slithering deep beneath the waves. Khali could try to catch her, but none could outspeed the Torrent of the Deep this deep into the recesses of her domain. Her eyelids fluttered awake as her serpentine form was swallowed by the darkness of the deep, fading entirely by the time she pulled herself awake.

    She still felt the energy from the chase, the thrill of facing down the Arbiter of Darkness and living to escape. And the power... Pelleas Grimoire had been a truly exceptional sacrifice.

    For Levian, not me, Camille forced herself to remember. Things were always hazy when she woke up, the history of the magic inside her blending with her own sense of recollection.

    Another Levian dream already. It¡¯s only been two days since the last one. Most likely, it had something to do with the upcoming Convocation to replace his seat, but Camille had no way of knowing for certain.

    But I hope so. That would mean they¡¯ll end once the Convocation is over. The dreams were seldom a pleasant experience. So many involved berating and punishing whichever Leclaire had failed him in that particular century, or wanton slaughter at Levian¡¯s own initiative. Camille had yet to see the massacre at Charenton, thankfully, but a part of her suspected that it was only a matter of time.

    Still, there was no doubt that the visions were true, with potentially invaluable information. Camille flipped open the coded journal beside her bed to fill in notes on this latest dream while the details remained fresh in her head, foremost among them being the apparent falsity of the phrase, ¡®Khali¡¯s Curse¡¯.

    In retrospect, it made more sense than the alternative. Of course sealing the Arbiter of Darkness away would have adverse effects on the world¡¯s climate, just as slaying Khali¡¯s erstwhile partner had in the Summer of Darkness. And unless Lamante has been uncharacteristically responsible with her stewardship of her domain, it¡¯s an issue we may still need to deal with now. Just as Lamante was no Khali, G¨¦zarde was no Soleil, so Camille could only hope that the decrease in power would balance out and leave the temperature intact.

    And Magnifico must have been hoping for that too, timing his murder when he did. Camille still remembered his chilling words from the vision she¡¯d seen, an unhinged declaration of intent to exterminate the spirits, fully eliminating their influence over every aspect of the world. A world you¡¯d promptly keep under your thumb, the last immortal. It would be wise to keep his agenda in mind now that his eldest living son seemed so determined to follow in his father¡¯s footsteps. Their ideal world necessitates my death, alongside every spirit save perhaps Terramonde himself. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    Any and all of it had the potential to be a crucial edge once the Convocation of the Spirits began, so close now that Camille would soon have to depart lest she give up all claim to the Lyrion Sea. After betraying her patron, winning spirits to her side would be difficult, but she had a plan in mind.

    If only it were a better time to leave... Three black-sailed ships flying no flags had been spotted in Torpierre, with Camille¡¯s spy noting that several hundred knights and their horses had spent the better part of a week inspecting and boarding them, then departed. Another informant had spotted them sailing past Charenton, though where they were truly headed, there was no way to know.

    From Charenton, they might continue north to Avalon, or east towards the Arboreum, or down the Rhan, and none of them seemed to fit their goals. All I can truly be sure about is that it isn''t Malin. The immediate danger had passed, which made it all the more essential to ensure everything was stable before the Convocation began and Camille needed to leave.

    She had yet to find a good replacement stagi¨¨re, so for the moment, Camille was tending to her own calendar, truly miserable work for a woman as busy as she was. Half the time, she had to reread the last few pages of the datebook just to be sure she was even sure how her day would look, and constant interruptions and emergencies only served to make it more irritating.

    In the corner, she kept notes to follow-up on if there was time, which there seldom was: the previous page noted that the Marbury leaks had finally broken, taking a surprisingly lenient position towards the larger Twilight Society. Either Scott didn¡¯t know his friend as well as he thought, or he didn¡¯t give him the message I asked him to. Or, worse, someone had gotten to the reporter before she¡¯d published the story. None of the possibilities were good, but Marbury had yet to reach back out, and maintaining leverage would be vital to luring her in, so Camille simply copied the note to her current page and then added another beneath it.

    Giton historians, researchers may help shed light on Levian dreams, Khali. Have Margot... Camille frowned, then crossed out the name. Have Margot new stagi¨¨re compile list of foremost scholars and invite to Malin. Right beneath it, more thickly inking the letters, Camille added, Find new stagi¨¨re.

    Worse than the logistical issues of understaffing, the first item on today¡¯s list was sure to be unpleasant.

    Camille shook off the last traces of the dream and dressed, opting for practicality with navy slacks and a green blouse, viridian serpent insignia sewn into the collar. Anything nicer would have been wasted on visiting the prison.

    ¡°Anything interesting?¡± Camille asked the guard as she approached the cell of Raoul de Montgallet and his new neighbor, Yves Asselineau, the alderman of Calignac who had given the Blue Knights shelter until the legions had amassed in front of their gates. The hope had been that they might share things with each other that they would never reveal to an interrogator, especially with every listening ear kept firmly out of their sight.

    ¡°Nothing new, I don¡¯t think. Asselineau mentioned de Sableton¡¯s broad strategy was to win over the hearts and minds of the countryfolk, but he didn¡¯t have any details, and I¡¯m starting to doubt that de Sableton really had much of a plan in the first place.¡±

    ¡°That makes sense. Nothing about that rebellion seemed well thought-out.¡± Though it¡¯s concerning to hear that they plan to turn my people against me at all. Camille would have to get ahead of it somehow, though the best approach was a far from trivial decision. ¡°I¡¯ll speak with him now. Leave Montgallet out of it; he¡¯s already given me everything he could.¡±

    Erelong, she was facing the alderman, a stout man with a long beard of brown and grey. ¡°It¡¯s shameful, M. Asselineau. Calignac was once a great town; despite its size, it boasted no less than four heroes of notable renown across the histories, from the Spinnerette Sage to Claude Renoir. Even without Teruvo, I¡¯d only ever hoped for your success. Yet you rewarded me with treason.¡±

    ¡°I have no regrets. The misrule must end.¡± Asselineau placed his hands on the table. ¡°You rewarded Levian, the spirit you were sworn to serve, with a sword through his neck. You stole his power to fuel your own, making a half-breed abomination of the heir to the throne. On every level, you perverted the natural order, and when the Fox-King tried to rein his unruly wife in, you silenced him. While Avalon invaded our allies the Arboreum, you stood back and did nothing. When they bombed Micheltaigne to oblivion, you cut a deal with the Prince of Darkness.¡±

    You¡¯re wrong on both counts, though I see no need to correct you. Her Verdance of the Arboreum was Camille¡¯s honored guest, rescued on her orders, while the Red Knight was doing what he did best in Micheltaigne. I can only hope it¡¯s enough. ¡°You speak boldly for a man in chains.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s none braver than those with nothing to lose.¡± He shot her a defiant look, which Camille quickly extinguished with a spike of ice extending towards his eye. ¡°Alvis and the boys are just trying to do right by the Empire. King Lucien would say the same, if he were here. Of course I gave them shelter. That¡¯s not treason; it¡¯s honor.¡±

    Camille wrinkled her nose. ¡°There was honor in giving yourself up to spare Calignac, I will grant you. Even, in its own twisted way, the escape you allowed de Sableton and the other knights at the cost of your own freedom. But what they¡¯re doing is not honorable, and my Lucien would have their heads for it, along with yours. You can be certain I¡¯m telling the truth.¡±

    She didn¡¯t wait for his response, flowing through the bars and marching quickly out of the prison, taking a moment to add another note to her list: Hasten the dates of the Asselineau and Montgallet trials and ensure that the best solicitor in the city is the one prosecuting them¡ªtell Cynette Fields to stay away if she wants to keep her position as my legal expert. Such traitors could not be allowed to live, and the sooner they hanged, the sooner Camille could be sure that Malin was in a stable state.

    She picked up a journal on the way out, ignoring the newsstand clerk beaming at her, then frowned when she saw the headline. I need to have words with Margot¡ªshe¡¯s exceeded her mandate. Reining in signs of Scott¡¯s disloyalty was one thing, but this sort of radical shift in presentation was far from what Camille had had in mind. It wasn¡¯t insulting, exactly, and there could be useful angles to work with, but the fit seemed poor.

    Her next two visits were faster, inviting Her Verdance and the Duke of Condillac to accompany her to the Convocation so that they could represent their patron spirits. Neither Cya nor Corva were certain to support Camille, not in the slightest, but their presence alone would go a long way towards improving her odds. And what better way to entice them in than a request from their Highest of sages?

    Her Verdance had agreed without much question, but young ¨¦tienne was understandably more reluctant. Perhaps Margot could accompany him to sweeten the offer, if the journal could operate appropriately in her absence. But I¡¯d rather not. This was frankly a terrible time to be leaving the city, and the more loyalists Camille took with her, the greater the danger she¡¯d be leaving behind.

    She told her council as much when they sat down for their last meeting before Camille¡¯s departure. ¡°Everyone in this room is entrusted with the Empire¡¯s safety and well-being, but, to settle disputes and make any necessary final decisions, look to Annette and...¡± And Eloise, Camille would have continued, but stopped herself once she saw Annette¡¯s offended look at the mere presence of the conjunction.

    And why shouldn¡¯t she be offended? It sends a message that I don¡¯t trust her. Which wasn¡¯t really the issue, but after her known collaboration with Guy Valvert and full-throated support of the blues in advance of the rebellion, well... It¡¯s dangerous to leave her here unchecked, especially now that my court has grown so green.

    Camille found herself remembering Jethro, once a steadfast ally in retaking Malin, who¡¯d suddenly turned to attempted murder at the mere suggestion that Levian¡¯s power not be left to go to waste.

    You¡¯d be abandoning your humanity, withdrawing from all you¡¯ve known to embrace the world of the spirits. You haven¡¯t thought this through.

    A certain amount of paranoia was healthy for a ruler, as Mother had once told her. But distrusting everyone would leave you all alone, poisoned by your own fear.

    ¡°And don¡¯t be afraid to be decisive. If the rebels attack, you cannot afford to cede the initiative just because I¡¯m absent.¡± Camille gave Annette a warm nod, hoping she hadn¡¯t noticed the pause in her command. ¡°With that said, does anything demand my attention before I go?¡±

    ¡°If I may,¡± Simon began. ¡°There are public policies that could serve to head off future rebellions, grievances that can be addressed before they spiral out of hand again.¡±

    ¡°Good point,¡± added Eloise, leaning back in her chair. ¡°You saw what happened in Guerron when the people in charge got too careless with their looting. It¡¯s the same reason you could wrest Malin from Avalon. Why do we still have aristocrats? Their legal privileges might not amount to much anymore, but their titles are real, their lands still their own. They have first-refusal trade privileges that set them ahead of everyone else even if they do start paying taxes.¡±

    As is the natural way of things, was Camille¡¯s first thought. But then, I¡¯m already the greatest affront to tradition of any Leclaire who ever lived. Clinging to the past would do nothing to prepare the Empire for the inevitable conflict with Avalon, nor secure its leadership of the continent anew. She¡¯d almost killed that alderman when he called Fouchand an abomination, only barely holding herself back with the knowledge that breaking the Code Leclaire so flagrantly would effectively unravel it.

    Camille had spent so much of the last four years appeasing them, trying to dampen the outrage over the Code Leclaire, watering down countless laws in the doomed attempt to avert their ire. I¡¯ve been doing it my whole life, really. Ever since Mother raised me with proper manners. In Guerron, the need to win allies for an assault on Malin had only increased the need. But now... Why pander to the people who have already forsaken me?

    ¡°You raise an interesting point.¡± Though it¡¯s a surprise to hear it coming from you, of all people.

    Eloise shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s about time those aristo fucks got theirs, present company excluded.¡±

    ¡°That is not what I had in mind,¡± Simon clarified. ¡°The lowliest, most impoverished knight will die before they cede their position, because it¡¯s all they have left. After the Foxtrap, the countryside abounds with them, each of them sympathetic enough to the Blue Rebels without further antagonizing them. Rather, you should extend a hand. Amend the Code Leclaire to return their legal privileges, perhaps? We can ill afford to change the tax code, but it seems to me that some kind of peace offering is warranted.¡±

    ¡°Why not both?¡± Annette asked, shocking Camille by completely missing the point. ¡°We could reach out to the aristocrats and commoners both, each with a carefully tailored message to win them to our side.¡±

    ¡°Contradictory messages.¡± Camille shook her head. ¡°If one person wants oysters for dinner and another wants duck, you please no one by serving a plate of oyster-ducks; you simply make a mess. How are aristocrats to believe my leniency when I abolish their trade privileges? How are the masses supposed to respect my reforms if I walk back a key plank of the Code Leclaire before five years have even passed?¡±

    Simon seemed to accept it easily enough, though Annette looked slightly annoyed at being so blatantly gainsaid. ¡°What would you have us do?¡± he asked. ¡°Without your presence, I fear what might come to pass if we do nothing.¡±

    ¡°I think the time has come to change our approach. I tried to be a conciliator and ended up serving oyster-ducks.¡±

    ¡°So what do you want to do?¡± asked Annette, a hint of nervousness in her tone.

    ¡°It¡¯s time to serve up some oysters.¡± Camille pulled out today¡¯s Quotidien, tapping her finger against the headline that Margot had boldly prepared without consulting her: Empress Stands with Common Citizens, Clashes With Greedy Aristocrats.

 Fernan VI: The Jailor

    Fernan VI: The Jailor

    The air was thick with rain as Fernan arrived back in Guerron, forcing him to pour more energy into sustaining his fire, sizzling under the assault. Valentine Valvert¡¯s limp body rested in his hands, the crush of wind and rain dimming her aura to the point that Fernan couldn¡¯t be certain she was still alive.

    But she has to be. I know she is.

    Fernan could scarcely tear his mind away from the clash, the earth¡¯s power turned against the sun¡¯s. The ground had quaked and split open to swallow him, followed by massive pillars lurching towards him once he took to the sky, blending in with the ground they¡¯d been pulled from. Fernan had needed to navigate using Valentine herself, lunging towards the ground as two tons of stone missed his head by inches.

    The first time Fernan had been forced to fight against her, in the enclosed environment of the courtroom, surrounded by Valvert guards, he hadn¡¯t so much won as lost in a convenient position. Someone else had subdued her with a pistol, nearly killing her themselves.

    This time, in the open sky, it wasn¡¯t nearly as hard to find a path of safety, even considering the difficulties of visibility. This time, only the ground had been trying to kill him, rather than an additional four walls and a roof. Valentine herself was also far more lacking in power, unable to make offerings to Tauroneo to replenish herself in the intervening four years.

    Even with all his advantages, it had still been a near thing.

    Despite her distance, Mara had saved him, providing the only way Fernan could find to subdue Valentine safely. Even if it puts a pit in my stomach just to think about it. Valentine Valvert could no more resist an airtight sphere of flame surrounding her, draining her of air to breathe, than Jerome of Villechart.

    And I still can¡¯t help but wonder if I should have let her go. With Guy gone, there was no hope of covering up their escape. Worse, recapturing the woman whose only crimes were going too far in pursuit of a justified vendetta and attempting escape risked seeing her suffer for the very real crimes her husband had visited against Guerron.

    How could it not, when she¡¯s the only left they have to blame? The only alternative Fernan could provide would be himself, should he choose to leave them free and take the fall for allowing the escape. And then where would Guerron be?

    Can a sacrifice be worthy if it¡¯s made to save the unworthy? In principle, yes. And Fernan wasn¡¯t one to lightly discard his principles. But then he thought of what would follow, the barrier against bloodshed firmly swept aside. Executions would follow, growing in number, until Guerron was no better than Condorcet, a barbarous backwater where once stood a nascent government composed of and turned towards the good of its own people.

    It was like the Farmer and the Forager, forced into an impossible situation where every choice led to failure. Was it nobler to give the knight what he wanted and avoid spilling any blood, only to starve after losing everything? Or to make a defiant stand, doomed though it might be? Did it even matter in the end?

    Everyone had told him to stay away from pardoning Guy Valvert to save his life, and yet Fernan had been prepared to do it anyway. In theory, nothing ought to have changed save a reduction in the guilt of the Valvert. In practice, it was hard to escape the thought that it might be better to open the flood gates a few inches instead of allowing the dam to burst.

    He still hadn¡¯t fully made up his mind by the time he came upon a wooden box swinging from beneath the tallest tower, high above any earth that might be used for another escape attempt. Well done thinking ahead, Paul. Fernan lowered the unconscious Valentine into the cage as gently as he could, securing the door only once he was sure the entire cage was firmly lashed in place.

    Fernan doubted it was Paul¡¯s intention, but a secure prison would actually be helpful in arguing for clemency, showing that it was indeed to hold a sage of the earth securely, even if she felt vengeful enough to burn more of her own lifespan in an escape attempt.

    The assembly members and advisors Fernan had gathered in advance of his pursuit were still gathered when he arrived, and looked clearly disappointed once he told them of Guy¡¯s escape.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be safe in the Stone Tower by now,¡± Mom mused grimly. ¡°Unless we want to start a small war with C¨¦dric Bougitte, we have no hope of making him face justice.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not all bad news. Fernan found Valentine Valvert.¡± Michel raised an eyebrow. ¡°How did you manage that, anyway?¡±

    ¡°I flew south until I came upon the airship, wrecked. Ran out of fuel, just like F¨¦lix said it would. They were sheltering with an old woman in a mountain hut who pointed them out once I convinced her. Guy fled during the scuffle.¡±

    ¡°Well there you go: A failed flight, driven by idiocy and cowardice, where the bravery of one peasant managed to turn them back over to the proper authorities. All things considered, this could have been a lot worse.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Fernan could scarcely imagine that.

    Michel nodded. ¡°We have a narrative, at least. A Hero of the Commune stood up for what was right, while the cowardly Citoyen Valvert abandoned Guerron and his own wife. It should at least help us avoid some of the blame that would otherwise be splashed our way.¡±

    You¡¯re sounding a lot like Camille Leclaire, Fernan couldn¡¯t help but think, for all that Michel wasn¡¯t wrong. Politicking remains my least favorite part of politics.

    ¡°Then that¡¯s a start, but it doesn¡¯t solve our safety issues.¡± Someone coordinated Guy and Valentine to leave at the same time and served them up the airship, ready to go. Someone who almost certainly remains in the city, ready to work their mischief again. ¡°Continue managing the situation here. I need to talk to Paul Armand.¡±

    ?

    ¡°A threat from C¨¦dric Bougitte. You are to surrender his daughter to him in the next fortnight or face his wrath.¡± Maxime sighed, tossing the letter aside without even reading it in full. ¡°If the last four years were sufficient to dissuade him from taking such a risk with his daughter¡¯s life, it¡¯s difficult to see how Guy Valvert¡¯s escape would substantively change anything. His daughter remains in the very same position.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Fernan frowned at the news. ¡°Before, she was only a captive. Now we¡¯re putting her on trial, and he already knows what the result was for Guy. I¡¯m starting to think commuting her sentence is the only way to avoid going to war. Anything short of a pardon might still not be enough.¡±

    ¡°I fear you might be right, but such an act is liable to cost you dearly...¡± Maxime scratched his chin, beardless without any particular effort on his part to keep it so. ¡°So long as Valentine¡¯s sentence allows her to live, I believe the Bougitte status quo can be maintained. If it¡¯s death...¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s just a matter of time...¡± Surely there¡¯s a better option than hoping the result is what I want to be... ¡°What else?¡±

    Maxime lifted another letter from the massive stack on the table. ¡°This one¡¯s a status report from Paul Armand. All it says is ¡®the flower is blooming.¡¯ I presume you know what that means?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Fernan answered, not elaborating further. Paul Armand had been assigned to track down the mysterious mastermind of the escape attempt, whom they¡¯d given the name Fleur de Lune after the moonflower left tauntingly behind in the cell. ¡®Blooming¡¯ meant that Paul still didn¡¯t know their identity, but that he had discovered useful information.

    So it¡¯s worth finding a time to meet with him soon, but it¡¯s not direly urgent. Not what Fernan had hoped for, since catching the Fleur de Lune might be the only thing that could sate the Assembly¡¯s yearning for the righteous spilling of blood. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°This one¡¯s from Avalon.¡± Maxime¡¯s aura brightened as he opened the letter. ¡°It¡¯s in tactile type.¡± He handed it to Fernan to read himself, granting him privacy in this rare area where it was even possible.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Fernan ran his fingers across the paper, quickly identifying it as a letter from Luce Grimoire asking for a favor. And what a request it is... Fernan was always happy to help where he could, but what Luce was asking for had massive geopolitical implications. For one thing, it could mean losing the most important hostage in history, though after four years of cooperation under the Treaty of Charenton and his personal relationship with Luce, that didn¡¯t seem quite so vital as it once had. Still, I have to think about Guerron first.

    That didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t considering it. In a very real way, this would put Avalon¡¯s future in Fernan¡¯s hands, and being owed a favor from the most powerful nation on Terramonde was no small thing in its own right. I already managed to talk Luce into implementing elections in parts of Avalon... If I help him succeed here, it could set us up to spread reform all across the land.

    Fernan placed the letter in his pocket and hurriedly excused himself, filled with the need to verify if this would even work. None questioned him on the way to prison cells, his presence there hardly unusual after several recent investigations with Paul, searching high and low for evidence to catch the Fleur de Lune.

    But it wasn¡¯t the Valvert chambers Fernan was here for. Rather, the immoral, immortal King of Avalon.

    Surprisingly, Magnifico seemed happy to see him. ¡°Fernan! At last, a friendly face. I was beginning to worry I¡¯d go to my grave without having another conversation.¡±

    ¡°Magnifico.¡± Fernan kept all warmth from his voice. ¡°Or should I call you Harold?¡±

    ¡°As you like. I¡¯m happy with a bit of news and some interesting conversation. It¡¯s been so dreadfully dull ever since they started rotating out the guards. Was that your doing? Devious. I can barely get a word out of them these days that isn¡¯t ¡®Paulisade¡¯. What the hell does that mean, anyway? Shouldn¡¯t it be ¡®palisade¡¯?¡±

    Why is that what you¡¯re fixated on? ¡°Paul Armand is the man tasked with weeding out corruption. Since he stands in between the people and this treachery¡ª¡±

    ¡°Paul the Wall. I get it.¡± Magnifico let out the slightest chuckle. ¡°I can see why the guards like it so much.¡±

    They¡¯re not the only ones. I heard it most from the people gathered at the Guy Valvert trial, chanting it alongside calls for death. As soon as Valentine¡¯s trial began, they would no doubt do the same with her. Fernan was considering skipping the Convocation of the Spirits just to be able to keep an eye on everything, even if having a good reason to duck the trial would have provided him a bit of relief.

    It¡¯s not a responsibility I can shy away from. Mishandling it could mean war, and festering rot inside the Assembly.

    ¡°I¡¯ve met people like that before, the kind of wall that makes you want to break out the sledgehammer.¡± Like an immortal king who amuses himself by slaying spirits and throwing old men off their balconies? ¡°But enough trivialities. How fares Prince Luce?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s doing well with Charenton, and his research is proceeding in very interesting directions.¡± Fernan answered him honestly, seeing no reason to deny him the truth. ¡°As it happens, I just got another letter from him, one of the few actually printed on tactile type.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a gentle soul,¡± Magnifico agreed. ¡°And I¡¯m pleased to see that the two of you have grown so close.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it says something that you care for one of your sons, but it¡¯s not all that impressive.¡± Fernan shook his head ruefully. Should I even be standing in here with this monster? He¡¯d done enough damage for eternal condemnation even before I learned how old he truly is and what it took him to get there. ¡°Yet you never seem to ask about the one that bears your name.¡±

    Magnifico¡¯s purple aura darkened to the point that it was nearly black. ¡°You know, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Fernan nodded. ¡°Jethro told me. But anyone could find it, now that your crown has dissipated the magic of the darkness you used to try to hide it.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± he swore in Avaline, one of the several words Fernan had managed to pick up over the past few years. ¡°This damned cold steel had to foil me again, of course. You know, the woman who gave this to me has been dead for the better part of a century, yet somehow it feels like she¡¯s still getting the last laugh. Infuriating.¡±

    ¡°You should pay her a visit. You¡¯re overdue.¡± Fernan tried to contain the burning of his eyes. ¡°I knew you for an evil man, Magnifico, or Harold Grimoire, or Harry Martin. Whoever you are, I¡¯ve seen what you¡¯re willing to do when you think ¨ªt¡¯s justified, from conquest to deception to wholesale murder. You plunged the entire world into darkness for weeks, condemning thousands to starve!¡±

    Fernan paused, the fire in his eyes threatening to engulf his face. ¡°And yet, somehow, you still found a way to disappoint me. How could a man do that to his own son? Over and over again? It¡¯s despicable.¡± I should never have come here, Luce¡¯s request or no. There was nothing to be gained from losing his temper, but how could he possibly not when confronted by this nihilistic agent of chaos?

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that, Fernan,¡± he replied calmly. ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice.¡±

    Fernan scoffed.

    ¡°Truly. Every time I¡¯ve ¡®died¡¯, my heir has had children already. I tried asking them to stop, sending them away to scholarly orders or interrupting the marriages, but it was such insane dynastic politics that they all thought I was joking. The curse runs through my blood no matter what. And my eldest, he... I won¡¯t say he deserved his fate, because no one would, but he brought it on himself.¡±

    ¡°You must think I¡¯m still the same naive teenager you knew before darkness fell.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you the truth.¡± His aura pulsed emphatically. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve used the extra time I was given to better the world as I saw fit; yes, I¡¯ve considered the fact that theoretical apex of government is a wholly benevolent dictatorship with an immortal ruler; yes, I can¡¯t look those poor boys in the eye, knowing what¡¯s in store for them. That doesn¡¯t mean I asked for any of this.¡±

    It¡¯s not impossible, but I have no reason to believe you¡¯re not lying. Really, why wouldn¡¯t he try to frame his position more sympathetically, now that he was aware Fernan knew the truth?

    ¡°Besides, it¡¯s over now,¡± Magnifico mused melancholically. ¡°Harold knows, now. He¡¯ll never have children and subject them to the same fate. If this body should die before his, I assure you, Fernan, I will end the cycle once and for all myself. You can trust me.¡±

    ¡°Under no circumstances is that true. Including if this remorse is genuine.¡± Even if you¡¯ve been wholly honest, I find it hard to believe that an immortal polymath binder and scientist couldn¡¯t find a way out of the curse with over a hundred years to try. Either he was lying wholecloth, or it wasn¡¯t the priority he was making it out to be.

    ¡°I understand... I haven¡¯t exactly been a pillar of honesty. But this... I swear on my wife¡¯s grave, Pantera¡¯s Curse is not a fate I wanted for my bloodline, nor for myself. If I could think of a way to prove it to you, I would.¡± He snapped his fingers in realization. ¡°The crown! Simply remove it from my head, and you will see that I have no fell designs. No magic would be turned against you, and you would gain a powerful artifact for subduing sages in the Crown of Cold Steel.¡±

    ¡°I think not,¡± Fernan snorted, swatting the suggestion aside without further consideration. ¡°But if you¡¯re willing to make some small amends for your crimes, woefully short of ever making up for them, perhaps I will distrust you that slight bit less.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± The melancholy in his voice had quickly faded, replaced by curiosity. ¡°And what form might these ¡®amends¡¯ take?¡±

    Fernan told him Luce¡¯s plan, watching his aura sour with irritation, then quickly shift to a more optimistic indigo.

    ¡°So all I have to do is write this down and sign it?¡± He sat down at the small desk in his chambers, pulling out a pen and paper.

    ¡°And read it aloud as you go. I want to hear every word.¡± He¡¯d have Maxime take a look when all was said and done, too, to ensure that Magnifico stayed true to his word. But if there were any words to haggle over, it would be better to do it now.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Magnifico lifted the pen with resignation and began to write. ¡°I, King Harold of the dynasty Grimoire, fourth to bear the name, King of Avalon, Arbiter of the Western Isles, Slayer of Spirits, and Aegis of the Realm, do hereby disinherit my firstborn son, manifestly unfit for my crown. Harold, fifth to bear the name, may no longer claim Pantera Isle as his domain, nor the title, ¡®Prince of Pantera.¡¯

    ¡°I name as heir in his stead my second born son, Lucifer Charles Grimoire, Lord Protector of Charenton, Overseer of Ortus Tower, and Prince of Crescents. I grant to him the domain of Pantera Isle and the title, ¡®Prince of Pantera¡¯. When my reign reaches its end, it is my will that he succeeds me as King.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± said Fernan. As soon as you sign the will, I can keep it in my pocket until Luce agrees to Guerron¡¯s terms. Fernan didn¡¯t intend to deal in bad faith, nor to be punitive in the bargain, but it wouldn¡¯t be fair to Guerron not to ensure concessions in advance. Once Magnifico¡¯s part in this was done, how and when to distribute the will would be entirely up to Fernan. ¡°And?¡±

    Magnifico frowned. ¡°Is it truly necessary? Luce is surely a worthier Regent, and if I cannot be set free to assist him myself, I have no objection to smoothing his ascent from here. But I didn¡¯t build this kingdom just to cast it aside. Must my last death strip from me what defines me? I am Avalon.¡±

    Fernan folded his arms, eyes burning brighter, but refrained from saying a word.

    ¡°Then so be it.¡± He lifted the pen again, his strokes slower and more hesitant. ¡°Further, I hereby abdicate the throne of Avalon, entrusting this noble kingdom to my son and lawful heir. All hail Lucifer of the dynasty Grimoire, first to bear the name, King of Avalon, Arbiter of the Western Isles, and Aegis of the Realm.¡±

 Charlotte III: The Aegis

    Charlotte III: The Aegis

    Deep in the throes of Spring, the Fortan Highlands remained coated in snow, an endless expanse of white the likes of which Charlotte hadn¡¯t seen in nearly five years. Feeling that crunch under her boots while striding beneath a sunny blue sky felt downright bizarre, all the more so at a time of year when the Charentine had already discarded their various cloaks and jackets. Nor had it been any different in Malin.

    The Nocturne Gate hovered ominously about twenty feet in the air, surrounded by the scaffolding and platforms that Luce¡¯s team had erected around it. For all its mysterious black grandeur, at once glossy and impenetrable in its texture, the small village of structures surrounding it had the effect of making it look small, a feat even Ortus Tower hadn¡¯t managed with its own gate.

    Then again, the Ortus Gate had a diameter greater in size than the tower itself, while this Fortan one was perhaps five times the size of a breadbox. In the very worst case, if the resonance of the DV bomb with the gate cascaded out of control, that small size could prove a boon, as even a person would have to crouch down to make it through; for most of the spirits exiled alongside Khali, let alone the Spirit of Darkness herself, the aperture would simply be too small.

    Whirling cylindrical tanks of wet cement perched above the gate provided the other key precaution, ensuring that physical barriers were on hand to stop what metaphysical barriers, perhaps, could not. Charlotte had talked it through with Luce over and over, trying to probe for any risk factor that might have been missed while concealing her private disapproval that Luce had attempted to stimulate the Ortus Gate at all, however safe he thought it to be. This, at least, was an experiment conducted according to the scientific guidelines Luce lived by, as safe as it could possibly be made to be.

    And ultimately, safeguards for the experiment itself were beyond Charlotte¡¯s purview and expertise. More important than providing a sounding board for the project manager was ensuring the security of all other aspects of this installation, fitting in neatly to the area where Luce¡¯s own aptitude was comparatively lacking.

    On that front, Charlotte felt as confident and secure as she ever had; that was to say, she still felt a terrifying suspicion curdling in her gut after five laps around the complex. Kelsey Thorley had been handpicked by Luce right out of the College to revitalize Charenton¡¯s transportation infrastructure, and chosen again to oversee the infrastructure set up around the Nocturne Gate. Charlotte had pored over every inch of his plans, then searched each wooden pop-up from top to bottom as soon as it was standing, ensuring that nothing was out of place before allowing work to begin. Yet Kelsey was still the son of Celice Thorley, a decades-long member of the Twilight Society, and had taken leave during several of the periods Marie Laure had identified as their gatherings.

    Could Monfroy have put his hooks in him, positioning him to sabotage the experiment? Charlotte had watched him as closely as anyone could and turned up nothing, nor were there any surprises in the architecture, but that only provided the slightest bit of comfort because his role in the project was largely done.

    The project scientists were another matter, for all that leaving Crete Marbury behind had significantly diminished the issue. Kelsey¡¯s husband Toby might be reliable, but the respective satellites in each of their lives posed unaccounted risk. Verona Greenglass, for example, Russel Perl¡¯s partner of two years, had been arrested at an anti-war demonstration and spent two days in the Guardians¡¯ custody. Had Luce¡¯s brother promised her freedom in exchange for information? Might her radical sentiments position her against the hated Prince of Darkness without any need for Prince Harold¡¯s intervention?

    Srin Sabine was another concern, at best an agent of the Jays capable of wheedling information out of the Towers for leverage against Luce at a time when he needed every advantage he could get. And Charlotte couldn¡¯t help but suspect the issue went deeper. Rebecca had even asked if her girlfriend could accompany them on the trip, a plainly ridiculous assertion that felt uncharacteristic for someone always focused on the science above all else.

    Luce had already understood a few of these concerns himself, and listened thoughtfully to the rest without contradicting them, but he¡¯d judged the risk as one worth taking. ¡°You¡¯ll never find a scientist with no baggage, and these are the best there is¡ªCrete aside. In that case, the risk was too high, but omitting her leaves us with the people we have. This is the safe way to do it.¡±

    Charlotte could understand that well enough for a truly essential project, like rebuilding Charenton or consolidating control over the Great Council, but this business with the Nocturne Gates... You¡¯re doing all of this for a brother who tried to get you killed. But ultimately, it was his decision to make.

    At least the windows made it easy to check on them all in sequence, each patrol no longer than twenty minutes or so. Rebecca had her refined DV bomb split open on the table in front of her, a jar sitting next to it containing a withered white plant that Charlotte suspected had been pilfered, unauthorized, from Cya¡¯s forest.

    Her frown only deepened when she saw Russel Perl taking notes in the same workshop, gesturing to the massive tanks of energy in his own empty workshop. He wore glasses and a wristwatch, hardly an unusual thing for a tower scientist these days, but the steel chain had been replaced with gold. With his little mustache and slicked-back hair, he reminded Charlotte somewhat of Simon Perimont and the other entitled Avaline socialites that had decamped in Malin to live out their debauchery.

    Rebecca seemed much more composed, fully immersed in the task before her, but she, too, had a notebook propped open beside her project. Her earrings also seemed a bit long for this sort of work, and the design itself looked somewhat bizarre, a black circle with a single white dot off-center, bringing to mind the image of a single open eye. I feel as if I¡¯ve seen it before somewhere, but it¡¯s hard to place.

    A similar feeling had overtaken Charlotte when meeting Rebecca¡¯s paramour for the first time, and the explanation of her Jay mission hadn¡¯t entirely been enough for the feeling to fade. More investigation was warranted, but there would always be another million things to do once Charlotte returned home to Charenton. For the moment, keeping this operation running smoothly and safely was a more pressing concern.

    Charlotte rapped her knuckles against the window to get Rebecca and Russel¡¯s attention. ¡°No notes! Burn them all.¡± The risk of DV bomb secrets leaking to the Stewarts whose land they were borrowing would simply be too high if said secrets were simply allowed to linger in written form. Decades of piracy had proven that, not least of which was the Railyard Robbery back in Malin. That had given Leclaire the resources she needed to build a fleet of her own trains, however ramshackle they might be, and nearly given the Governor the excuse he needed to kill Charlotte.

    So they can use the designated scratch paper, burn it at the assigned hour, and stop complaining about it.

    Rebecca groaned, then tossed her notebook in the general direction of the fire. It fell just short, so Russel lifted it off the floor and spun around, adding it to his own in a more forceful throw. Charlotte waited until she saw the last pages curl away to nothing in the fire before moving on.

    Yet it seems that smoke must still vex me.

    Kelsey Thorley wasn¡¯t even pretending to work, resting his feet on his desk as he leaned back with the latest Arcadia Luna in one hand and a lit spliff in the other. ¡°Outside,¡± Charlotte commanded him as soon as she entered, feeling the pungent odor of stale naca assault her nostrils. ¡°My prince has been generous enough in allowing you this... indulgence.¡± Charenton is one thing, but possessing that substance is illegal in Avalon, and we can¡¯t afford any slip-ups this deep in enemy territory.

    Kelsey shrugged. ¡°Luce doesn¡¯t care. He has indulgences of his own, as you well know.¡± He cracked a smile, as if repeating a word were the height of comedy.

    Was that a threat? Charlotte felt her brow crease downward into a right angle as she strode into the smoke, then ripped the spliff out of Kelsey¡¯s hand and stubbed it out on the crowded ashtray in front of him.

    ¡°Hey!¡±

    ¡°My instructions were very clear. The Prince does not have time to manage this project and babysit the likes of you, and while he has allowed you to pollute your mind and body with the act itself, that does not entitle you to risk the entire operation by infecting your workshop with this stink.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s there to stink up? The only things in here are mine, and the whole cabin is coming down when the experiment¡¯s through.¡± He stared incredulously, as if doing so would change Charlotte¡¯s mind. When her silent glare was the only response, he relented, recollecting his spliff and rising from his seat. ¡°It¡¯s freezing outside. I don¡¯t know how the Fortans live like this.¡±

    ¡°No doubt you will have ample opportunity to find out.¡± Charlotte lifted his book and pressed it to his chest. ¡°Be sure to air out any paper that might have been contaminated as well, including your fictional pablum.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Curran Chupe, actually, with some extremely important urbanist theory to consider for my work. But go on.¡± He did, at least, have the courtesy to open the windows before departing.

    Perhaps I should have just let him go home now that his work is done. Luce had trusted him to come here after all, ties to the Twilight Society or no, but the risk that he might leak crucial information before the experiment could begin was simply too high to allow. All the more so without someone free to keep an eye on him.

    Luce¡¯s cabin was larger than the rest, draped with purple and black cloth. Oliver and Irene stood watch in front of the door, parting as soon as they saw Charlotte approach. Much as Lord Arion¡¯s swords had proven invaluable for their lack of conflicting loyalties in Charenton, so too were the Charentine shadows an excellent layer of security in Avalon. Elizabeth Stewart could offer them what she liked, but they had no ties to this land aside from their employer, Luce, and no reason to trust foreign aristocrats to be true to their word.

    Charlotte rapped the back of her hand against the wood, then waited for Luce¡¯s response. ¡°Just a minute,¡± he fired through the door, though all told it was about five before he finally opened the door.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Oh, Charlotte! Sorry, I thought it was Russel again. Come in, please!¡± Despite the cold, Luce was dressed fairly casually in denim pants and a black shirt, long sleeves rolled up past his arms. His eyepatch was slightly askew, revealing a sliver of the cold blue flesh around his missing eye. ¡°Actually, this is perfect timing. I want to know what you think.¡±

    Charlotte followed Luce¡¯s gesture towards his desk, covered not in the usual mountain of active experiments, notes, and papers, but instead with three journals laid out side by side, each from a different location. ¡°It happened the day after Rebecca left,¡± Luce told her, frowning. ¡°I expected news to come slower this deep in the highlands, but now I¡¯m beginning to think we should have set up telegraph towers.¡±

    Charlotte scanned the journals as fast as she could, noting the slight variations between each of them, though the underlying story was essentially the same: a massacre at the Cambrian Marina. His crimes discovered, Lord Monfroy had refused to go quietly, detonating a small device that killed him along with three dozen bystanders, all of them withered to dust.

    ¡°How did he get his hands on a DV bomb?¡± Charlotte matched Luce¡¯s frown. ¡°From the sounds of the blast radius, it would have to be one of the new prototypes too. You¡¯re certain Rebecca had already embarked?¡±

    Luce nodded, pulling out the ship¡¯s travel log from under one of the journals. ¡°None of them describe the device the same way, and The Cambrian doesn¡¯t mention it at all. Hopefully that gives the project some cover, but now there¡¯s a tear in the veil concealing it. Not to mention that we have no idea how heavily it might have been modified.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. No one outside your organization should have been able to get their hands on one.¡± Which points a suspicious finger at Lucretia Marbury. Charlotte would have to find her as soon as they returned.

    ¡°Our organization,¡± Luce gallantly attempted to correct her. ¡°I¡¯m worried we should push the whole thing back until we get a better handle on this. Lizzie Stewart¡¯s supposed to come watch the fireworks with her retinue tomorrow, but I¡¯m sure she could be convinced to wait another week.¡±

    Or cancel the whole thing, Charlotte thought but did not voice. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to be away any longer. As soon as Maddie Astor swears her oath to the Great Council, Avalon is yours. You need to be there when it happens to properly consolidate control, no matter the cost.¡± Of course, your brother will still be there, standing in the way as always, but invoking his name right now would be a mistake. ¡°If it comes to that, it might be better to postpone indefinitely.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Luce sighed, running his hand under his eyepatch. ¡°We¡¯ll proceed tomorrow as planned.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Damn it, Charlotte, how many times do I have to tell you to call me¡ªWait. You disagree, don¡¯t you? That¡¯s always when you go for the titles.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡± That¡¯s not a pattern I would have liked to show. ¡°My apologies.¡±

    ¡°This whole thing, everything we¡¯ve built, it works because of you. Building things up doesn¡¯t do us any good if Monfroy or Leclaire or my brother are just going to knock it down. You¡¯re the reason that hasn¡¯t happened. You keep me safe, Charlotte. I can¡¯t... I trust your judgement. You don¡¯t need to hold your tongue around me.¡±

    ¡°I know...¡± Charlotte perched on the arm of his chair, leaning on his shoulder. ¡°But you already know what I think, and I¡¯ve already heard your commitment to do this anyway. I didn¡¯t see any good that could come of it.¡±

    Luce nodded slowly at that, seemingly coming to a realization. He threw on a black down coat and purple scarf, adjusted his eyepatch, then laced up his boots. ¡°Come with me.¡±

    ¡°What? Where are you going?¡±

    He grabbed her hand and pulled her gently towards the door, only releasing his grip once the door was open to avoid anyone seeing. Not that we can do better than ¡®open secret¡¯ at this point, apparently. Kelsey¡¯s crack about ¡®indulgences¡¯ was still bothering her, though not nearly as much as Prince Harold¡¯s crueler jabs at his brother.

    The wind slapped them in the face as soon as they stepped outside, growing only more intense as Luce led her further and further from the compound. Eventually, their path wound its way behind a tall plateau, at which point Luce grabbed her hand again.

    The warmth was startling after the long, silent walk through the cold, the view only more so once they crested the summit. The Nocturne Gate was too small to make out, but the little village they¡¯d built up around it looked surprisingly cozy at such a distance, not unlike a model.

    ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Luce grinned as he looked straight at her. ¡°I wanted a place to talk privately. You never know who¡¯s listening.¡±

    ¡°Sensible.¡± Charlotte matched his expression. ¡°What did you want to talk about?¡±

    ¡°Us.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Charlotte tried to conceal her disappointment. I knew this day would come eventually. ¡°Say what you need to say, then.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªwait, I think you¡¯re taking this the wrong way. I¡¯m saying I finally listened to you about my brother.¡± What? Then why are we still in the highlands trying to save him? ¡°Fernan passed a message along to my father with a request from me. He¡¯s going to name me as his rightful heir, then abdicate.¡±

    ¡°Cutting your brother out,¡± Charlotte finished the thought, then hugged Luce close. ¡°I know it couldn¡¯t have been an easy decision, but it¡¯s the right one. He won¡¯t be able to do any more damage once he¡¯s out of power. You can finally begin healing your nation, as you did in Charenton.¡±

    ¡°I hope so.¡± Luce tugged at his scarf, then adjusted his eyepatch again, correcting the crooked angle imposed by the wind. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to stop trying to save him. We¡¯re not shelving this experiment for anything. But I can¡¯t just stand there and watch him destroy Avalon any longer. He practically told me he doesn¡¯t care what happens to it.¡± Luce shook his head ruefully. ¡°So long as he makes his mark on the world.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Charlotte told him, and meant it. That fundamental goodness was one of the things that made her notice him in the first place, all the way back in Malin. She wouldn¡¯t want him to discard it, just... to be a bit more pragmatic about it. This seemed like the perfect compromise. ¡°You said this was about ¡®us¡¯. Did you want to plan out what to do once this new will is released?¡± Conversationally, it seemed like a bit of a stretch, but¡ª

    ¡°No. Not now. What I meant was... Harold also talked about you, and our... current understanding.¡±

    Instantly, Charlotte felt the warmth drain from her face. ¡°And? What do you care what he thinks? He¡¯s just trying to isolate you so you¡¯re under his thumb again.¡±

    ¡°Probably. Maybe.¡± Luce turned his head, looking out over the distant horizon, then turned back to Charlotte. ¡°But he was right about one thing: this isn¡¯t an equitable partnership. There¡¯s a power I have over you that just can¡¯t be¡ªI can say whatever I want, but it doesn¡¯t change the facts.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a Prince of the Blood, and I¡¯m a foreign commoner,¡± Charlotte finished for him, trying to make it clear with her voice just how little that mattered to her. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be done about that.¡±

    ¡°Do you think so? Because I had something in mind.¡± His cheeks reddened as he stepped back. Once there were about three feet between them, he removed his eyepatch, showing her all of his face. ¡°Charlotte, there¡¯s no one in the world like you, so driven, so capable. And you¡¯ve always looked out for me. It¡¯s time I do the same for you.¡±

    ¡°You already have,¡± she tried to cut in. ¡°You took me from an expelled Malin Guardian to the commander of your shadows, the shield that keeps you safe. I could ask for no higher honor.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t ask, that¡¯s for sure. But that doesn¡¯t stop me from offering.¡± Luce pursed his lips, staring deep into her eyes. ¡°With Monfroy dead, all his lands and domains are forfeit. His heir is a child, easily set aside in light of his fathers¡¯ crimes. I want to make them yours, to officially ennoble you as a Grimoire vassal.¡±

    Charlotte was taken aback. ¡°That is a most generous offer, Your¡ªLuce. But are you sure it¡¯s wise?¡±

    ¡°Essential,¡± he affirmed. ¡°I saw what happened with my parents once their relationship soured. Or, really, once my mother noticed her husband had been replaced. If not for Uncle Miles in Fortescue, she would have had nowhere to run, entirely at his mercy. I want to make sure that can never happen to you.¡±

    ¡°As if I¡¯d ever need to run from you,¡± Charlotte scoffed. ¡°Luce, this is very kind, but you shouldn¡¯t let your brother¡¯s barbs get to you like this. You don¡¯t owe me anything.¡± She paused, taking in the weight of all he¡¯d said. ¡°Why are you comparing us to your parents, anyway? We¡¯re not married, not even officially paramours. It¡¯s a totally different... Circumstance...¡± Wait, is this really why you took me out here?

    ¡°Until it isn¡¯t.¡± Luce nodded. ¡°There¡¯s no one else I¡¯d rather spend my life with. I want to make you my Princess of Darkness.¡±

    ¡°Are... are you saying what I think you¡¯re saying?¡± Please, Luce, be smart.

    He nodded. ¡°I want to build an equitable partnership. I want you to feel like your voice is as valid as mine. And... I don¡¯t want anyone ever trying to pull us apart.¡±

    And for a moment, Charlotte lost herself in the fantasy. Being able to hold him close in the open, having their love affirmed and officiated, ruling alongside each other in Charenton and Avalon... It was everything she couldn¡¯t dare dream of. And that¡¯s why it can never be.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want it either, but responsibility compels us to do things we do not want.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Charlotte took his hand in hers, affecting the softest tone she could manage. ¡°Luce, you need alliances now more than ever. The Great Council could throw out that will if they felt like it, and your brother will ask them to do it. You need to be making inroads with allies, sealing alliances with firm pacts... and marriage. I bring nothing to the table in that regard.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t seriously think that. You¡¯re the only reason I¡¯m still alive!¡±

    How can someone so smart be such a fool? ¡°Exactly. We didn¡¯t need to wed for that. There¡¯s nothing I can do for you as your Princess that I couldn¡¯t as your Lieutenant. It¡¯s bad politics, bad optics. This will deal you a grievous blow at a moment when you need to marshall your strength. We can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not one to let that stop me.¡± His voice grew colder, his posture more rigid, sending a shiver down Charlotte¡¯s spine. ¡°This is a problem to be worked through, like any other. I¡¯m not just going to give up because it¡¯s hard.¡±

    Charlotte leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips, pulling back before it could turn into anything more. ¡°You have to do what¡¯s best for the realm. It¡¯s your duty and mine.¡±

    ¡°Does it have to be? Can¡¯t we just this once be happy?¡± He sounded so earnest, so desperate that Charlotte couldn¡¯t bear to answer. She couldn¡¯t silence the voice in head asking the simple question, What if you just said yes? Damn Avalon, damn the consequences. If this was what Luce really wanted, then who was she to stand in the way? Was her job not to protect his vision, to nurture it, and shield him from the harms the wicked would wish to visit on him?

    But also to protect him from himself, as I tried and failed to do in Malin. Charlotte couldn¡¯t let him burn his future down in the name of love, no matter how passionate, no matter how much she desperately wanted to agree.

    Instead, not voicing a word, she pulled him close and didn¡¯t let go. All their other problems could wait until tomorrow.

 Luce V: The Project Manager

    Luce V: The Project Manager

    As soon as he parted from Charlotte, Luce had no issue keeping himself busy, quietly ignoring the part of his heart that had withered as if afflicted by the day¡¯s experiment.

    I made an offer so compelling that she dismissed it without a moment of hesitation. And why wouldn¡¯t she? Charlotte was pragmatic, like Luce. That sort of gallantry had seldom had any place in their relationship before. What had changed, that made him think that was ever a good idea? It hurt all the harder knowing just how right she was.

    If Harold contested Father¡¯s will, it¡¯d be nothing more than a piece of paper until the Great Council affirmed its legitimacy and acclaimed Luce as the rightful king. As soon as Maddy Astor won her seat, Luce¡¯s coalition would barely be able to scrape out a majority, but one seat was an incredibly thin margin to pass such a radical upset to the succession.

    And I doubt I can peel off any of Harold¡¯s people. Ever since the Foxtrap, the Harpies had been buzzing in Father¡¯s ear, pressuring him to renew the offensive. Harold had given them everything they could have ever wanted, while Luce, they surely knew, would rip it all away from them in the name of peace.

    The Owls had benefited greatly from free trade with the Lyrion League and other nations to the south; they had the right incentives to back him, but every last one of them would have to fall in line, which seemed a tall order.

    Aunt Lizzie had told him there were about fifteen Owls whose ideology better aligned with the Harpies on most policies, but who would always vote with the party on the most crucial votes. It didn¡¯t get any more crucial than recognizing the next King of Avalon, but that didn¡¯t guarantee their total obedience. It would only take one.

    Lizzie had brought it up in the context of appearances, allowing two or three of them to vote down popular legislation that the Owls had to be seen to support, but which she had no intention of passing. The Decree for Civil List Reform, for example, had proposed drastic reductions to the royal family¡¯s share of Avalon¡¯s national budget, proving for all to see that the Owls were no mere pawn of the Crown, nor Elizabeth Grimoire herself an extension of her brother.

    With over a century spent accumulating lands and investments in ventures as various as transportation, medicine, garments, and arms, the Civil List itself was a drop in the ocean of royal incomes, but allowing its reduction would have subtly shifted the balance of power between the Great Council and the Crown, and neither Father nor Lizzie could allow that. Thus, the decree failed on account of four defectors, each given explicit permission beforehand.

    It worked well for her, but Baron Williams had taken the opposite approach, demanding absolute loyalty to Harold and the Harpies, no matter the cost. No small part of why it took the king¡¯s abduction and a Summer of Darkness to get them the barest, briefest majority. Peeling off even one Harpy Councilor to support Luce seemed nigh impossible, while there was a good chance that his coalition would hemorrhage support in turn. He trusted his aunt to keep the Owls in line with the aid of Father¡¯s own words, but the Jays had never been beholden to him before; they¡¯d more been allies in denying Harold¡¯s agenda.

    It just takes one...

    Damn it all, why did Charlotte have to be so correct all the time? The right marriage alliance could bring the numbers for a commanding majority to his side, instantly making a queen of whomever Luce offered himself to. Vas Sarah could firmly bind the Jays to his side, more closely integrating the western isles with his new realm and eliminating any chance they¡¯d abstain from the vote. A Harpy bride could secure victory by other means, subtracting from Harold¡¯s numbers and adding to his own, if only he could find one agreeable to such a deal. He shivered as he realized he had to consider Lizzie Stewart.

    And either way, I¡¯d wind up married to a woman I could not trust. Everything that Luce had built with Charlotte rested atop that trust, the confidence that each of them could see each others¡¯ vision through. Marrying alone carried no small risk of tearing all that apart.

    Let alone if I must invite into my bed the Mamela version of Camille Leclaire, or the spitting image of the woman who kidnapped me in Malin, who shares a name with my aunt. In truth, no one in the world could compare to Charlotte. Her stature cast a shadow so long it wound its way around the planet, her resolve within as strong as her body without. They had already built such an amazing life together, and the succession would be a challenge greater than any they¡¯d faced yet. Was it truly so foolish to want to face it together?

    She would do anything for me; I know that. Anything, it seems, but that.

    At least the experiment was poised for success. Luce had spent the whole morning fine-tuning every last detail. Small vibrations had proven insufficient to reach the proper resonant frequency of the Gate, which meant that they¡¯d be using the full might of the DV bomb. But they had ample space to distance themselves from the blast across the endless moors of the Fortan Highlands, and Luce was confident that the design could be further refined to allow a safe opening of the Gate atop Ortus Tower.

    Thanks to Luce¡¯s ample precautions, the risk of a resonance cascade was effectively miniscule, and hundreds of tons of concrete were positioned to seal the Gate through more mundane means even if that unexpected scenario did come to pass.

    Luce completed his final circuit around the test site by mid-morning, verifying that there wasn¡¯t so much as a hair out of place. He saw Charlotte completing her own security check, and their eyes met for an instant before they went their separate ways. She made her opinion extremely clear, and challenging that would only make things worse.

    He returned to his quarters to change, noting that his black coat had served its purpose in hiding most of the grime and sweat he¡¯d built up while tinkering with the vibration mechanism. But to greet Lady Stewart and her retinue, a higher level of presentation was warranted.

    I know she probably only let me use the lands so that Harold could get me out of the capital, but the Stewarts are influential Harpies... If I can convince her to back me, as many as ten Councilors might follow in her wake. Even one or two could be enough to make the difference, which made it a worthy effort no matter how low the odds of success were.

    The initial encampment hadn¡¯t had hot water available without building a fire to heat a basin, as if it were still Year 18. Luce had wasted no time in rectifying that by hooking the heater up to one of Russel¡¯s battery tanks for the experiment, powered by a small field of windmills. It wouldn¡¯t have been fair to his scientists to march them out into this vast snowy expanse without even allowing them a nice bath, especially considering how hard he¡¯d been working them.

    Luce availed himself of it for a short while, then dressed in royal purple and his now-signature black. He kept his goggles¡ªone lens shattered on the side where it made no difference¡ªtucked away in his pocket, instead using a fresh eyepatch from the drawerful of hundreds he took wherever he went.

    It had only taken one occasion where it had caught fire in a lab and he¡¯d needed to hole up in his office until Charlotte could fetch a fresh one, lest anyone see the frosty blue coloring permeating the flesh of the wound; his reputation had issues enough without introducing the touch of the spirits into the mix. The scar running up and down his face had taken on the slightest hue of it too, but it was nearly impossible to notice.

    Levian might have given me something to remember him by, but I ensured he passed into memory. Leclaire took all of the credit and all of the blame, but Luce sincerely doubted that she could have successfully betrayed her patron if he hadn¡¯t had a massive bomb expend all of the power Levian had harvested from the souls of Charenton. According to Fernan, he and G¨¦zarde had come to Leclaire¡¯s rescue after her own scheme had horribly failed, which was amusing to imagine, if nothing else.

    Yet she still profited in the end. He could only hope some skillful binder could deal with her in time, because the prospect of a woman like her with a lifespan like Father¡¯s was truly horrifying to imagine. Otherwise, in five hundred years, my most noteworthy legacy might be enabling her rise by losing Malin. At least she¡¯d kept to the terms of the Treaty so far. There was some hope she might be acting in good faith for once, though Luce knew far better than to entertain that thought as it pertained to his own plans. Leclaire¡¯s inability to tell explicit lies would hardly even slow down her relentless torrent of deception.

    As he made the final adjustments to his vestments in the mirror, he could almost feel Camille standing there watching him, silently judging his appearance. His lone eye stared out from the cloak of darkness enveloping him, a green beacon amidst the black expanse. A younger prince can disdain the sheen of the quicklime stage light, but a king could never dream of it. Making this claim for power was also committing to the pageantry necessary to entertain it, along with the force of arms to exterminate all challengers to his reign. And, the way things were looking, trading any happiness with Charlotte for the material gains of a suitable marriage alliance.

    If Harold could have only listened to me before... The Prince Regent could not even conceive what Luce was risking in order to save him, nor could the denizens of Terramonde comprehend what Luce was giving up in order to spare them from his brother¡¯s rule.

    But now was not the time to falter. If anything, this was the moment Luce could least afford to hesitate. So he forced his face to a neutral expression, donned his coat and scarf, and ventured into the snow to greet the Lady of Forta and her retinue.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ?

    ¡°You built out more than I would have expected.¡± Lizzie Stewart narrowed her eyes at the small village built up around the Nocturne Gate, sticking out harshly from the white moors where the snow had been cleared aside. ¡°My understanding was that you¡¯d be testing a new bomb next to the gate; surely that wouldn¡¯t necessitate all of this.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the Tower for you¡ªnever spend one mandala when ten will do,¡± Ronald Esterton tutted dismissively. ¡°Consider yourself lucky that he isn¡¯t also running three months behind.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± squeaked the youngest of the retinue, a boy of fifteen. Behind him lurked his personal guard, a tower of a man dressed in blue with a sword and whip on either side of his belt. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that you were so... familiar with Ortus Tower, Ronald.¡±

    ¡°Familiar? I was the bloody Overseer.¡±

    ¡°Briefly,¡± Luce clarified, not wanting to let the blockhead cement himself in the group as some kind of expert. ¡°When Julius first fell ill, my brother tapped him to fill in until my return.¡± The intent had clearly been to keep him in place for significantly longer, contesting Luce¡¯s sway over the Tower, but the Shadows had been enough to consolidate firm control, leaving no need to step lightly around Esterton.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t wish to stay on?¡± the boy asked, the hint of a smug grin threatening to curl from his lip.

    Luce didn¡¯t answer for him, letting Esterton dig his own grave. ¡°No, Terry, I did not. Once the hour of need had passed, I had more important matters to attend to.¡±

    ¡°We were lucky to have a man of his expertise here to help us develop our academy,¡± Lizzie offered charitably¡ªor perhaps she was truly grateful. Oafish rejects like Esterton weren¡¯t fit to sweep the floors of Ortus Tower, but his stint as Overseer had apparently bought him enough cachet to swim out to the small pond of northern Avalon and carve himself a niche as an expert. That in mind, it seemed far more likely that Lizzie had brought him on to survey the technical details of the experiment, rather than as an attempt at provocation.

    Not that that¡¯s better, necessarily. Technically, this sort of research was forbidden within the borders of Avalon, and the DV bomb alone was the sort of weapon that could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.

    Fortunately, most of the internal mechanisms for the vibrations had been hidden hours ago, obscuring the connection between the bomb vessel and the Gate¡¯s resonant frequency. Charlotte had done another pass while Luce was in the bath, seeing boards nailed in place to obscure nearly everything.

    And I have every intention of keeping them far away. ¡°If you would, please follow me to the bunker. Once the bomb is armed, we must be miles away.¡±

    ¡°Potent,¡± Terry noted. Honestly, why did Lizzie think it was a good idea to drag a fifteen-year-old along to a weapons test? Showing up herself made sense regardless of her motives, to personally witness what exactly Luce was doing to her lands. Even Esterton was clearly here to act as a loyal expert. The rest comprised various lower-level northern nobility like Jen Fluorspar and Bill Garnet, little more than filler for the retinue so its numbers could even further exceed Luce¡¯s own.

    But Terrence Monfroy hailed from the Isle of Shadows, geographically and politically as distant from Forta as anywhere in Avalon could get. It was hard to see what benefit Lizzie Stewart got out of bringing him here, nor was it clear what he was doing so far north at all.

    But then, perhaps I merely feel guilty. It wasn¡¯t as if the boy was behaving inappropriately. His father had been exposed for heinous crimes, then wiped himself off the face of Terramonde with a blast that killed thirty people. Not a month later, he¡¯d been dragged up here to see a man who had every intention of seizing his lands.

    It wasn¡¯t an unjust act after what Monfroy had done, nor could Luce afford to leave Charlotte landless and common for another moment if there was to be any hope of cracking the layer of ice building up between them. But it¡¯s harder to keep that plan in mind when I have to look at him.

    ¡°Might I get a closer look, first?¡± It was Ronald Esterton who asked the question, but Lizzie affirmed it an instant later, insisting more firmly when Luce tried to refuse.

    We knew this might happen. We took precautions. Nothing for it but to carefully bring them closer. Six Stewart guards followed behind them, as did Monfroy¡¯s bodyguard, so Luce made sure to signal eight shadows to join them as they approached the Gate. It meant leaving fewer shadows at the perimeter of the test site, but Charlotte would want him to have the numbers advantage here, even if it made her job harder.

    Lizzie¡¯s eyes widened as they grew closer, seeing as if for the first time how otherworldly the dark floating disc remained, more than a century after Khali¡¯s sealing. ¡°You aren¡¯t planning to tamper with the Gate itself, surely?¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± And don¡¯t call me Shirley. Father¡¯s old joke came to mind unbidden, an unwelcome reminder at such a portentous moment. Luce cleared the memory from his head and focused on the story he needed to tell. ¡°It¡¯s merely a power supply. When the Gate vibrates at the right frequency, we¡¯ve noticed energy emanating from it that bears further investigation with an appropriate power supply. Hence, the bomb.¡±

    ¡°Best hope it doesn''t power off the vibrations themselves then.¡± Esterton chuckled. ¡°You might not realize, but if it keeps resonating in a feedback loop, you could end up with a failure cascade that tears the whole Gate apart.¡±

    ¡°It was the very first consideration.¡± Luce refrained from rolling his eye, staying on task. ¡°I assure you, the chances of that sort of resonance cascade are functionally zero. We have precautions aplenty for every conceivable scenario. And all of us will be miles away from the blast.¡± The sooner the better, really.

    ¡°Is it truly a blast?¡± Monfroy mused as he stepped up the stairs to a raised platform roughly three feet above the ground. ¡°I was given to understand that this project was derivative of proper magic, fueling itself with the vitality of all that it consumes until it at last collapses, exceeding its reach.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s...¡± Where did you get such an accurate understanding of the Desiccation of Vitality mechanism? ¡°Not relevant either way, when it comes to safety. The effects will be destructive enough that we cannot afford to stay.¡± Luce stepped close to Monfroy, trying to impress his point on the boy. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that we must go now if we¡¯re to keep to the schedule. Delays, too, are destructive, and I¡¯m sure we¡¯d all rather avoid them.¡±

    ¡°If I might simply examine¡ª¡±

    ¡°Give it up, Terry. This is as far behind the curtain as we¡¯re allowed.¡± Ronald Esterton reached up to tug on his shoulder from behind, and his face paled. ¡°What¡ª¡±

    ¡°You will address me as Lord Monfroy.¡± Monfroy wrapped his hand around Esterton¡¯s wrist and tightened his grip, expression neutral as Ronald¡¯s hair went grey, then white. His skin began to sag, then tighten back, his posture crumpling, until Monfroy threw him to the ground.

    Luce was already running, eyes scanning the test site for any signs of Charlotte. ¡°Alert!¡± he cried out to the first shadow he saw, crying out to anyone who would listen that they had to sound the alarm.

    Charlotte was nowhere to be found, which would have been concerning enough without a murderous child on the loose.

    Or is he? Luce risked a glance back towards the Gate and saw that Monfroy had grabbed hold of Lizzie Stewart, who presumably hadn¡¯t been captured so many times that her very bones knew when to bolt. It was hard to be sure, but his face looked slightly rounder, his height a hair lower. Why would a man like Monfroy buy a child? To keep himself young.

    Suddenly it all made sense. The cover-ups, the disappeared construction workers, the massacre in Cambria using the same drain on vitality as the DV bombs... And now he was here. Now¡ª

    He has the Gate and the bomb, Luce realized, cursing. Where is Charlotte?

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t run too far, Prince Lucifer,¡± Monfroy called out, his high voice discordant from his menacing posture. He tightened his grip around Lizzie¡¯s hand, then pulled it away, revealing a skeletal hand, more obviously touched by the spirits than Fernan¡¯s flaming eyes. ¡°All of you will stand down, unless you wish to see these fine young lords and ladies wither to dust.¡±

    Can I afford to do that? This whole arrangement with the Stewarts had already felt a bit like a trap, albeit one intended to glean information for Harold and keep Luce out of Cambria more so than... whatever Monfroy was doing here. And Lizzie had been the one who invited Monfroy along... could she be in on this plan?

    If so, I¡¯m sure the hand was a surprise. Ceding control was exactly what Monfroy wanted, and Luce couldn¡¯t trust that Lizzie and Harold didn¡¯t want it, either. I sincerely hope that Harold wouldn¡¯t stoop to allying with a man like that, knowing what he¡¯s done, but they were friends. He said he owed him...

    ¡°Is this all about revenge?¡± Luce asked Monfroy, signalling his Shadows with a tilt of his head. All but three of them took off across the hillside, scattering out of Monfroy¡¯s sight to ready their next move. ¡°I dug up the bill of sale and Ernest Monfroy had to ¡®die¡¯?¡±

    ¡°There is a certain appeal to that; I won¡¯t lie. You¡¯re meddling with spiritual forces beyond your comprehension, just like your father did. It seems a fitting end for you to be swallowed up by your own creation, forever a laughingstock, the careless prince who perished through his own ineptitude.¡± Monfroy beckoned Luce closer, keeping the retinue wedged between himself and the bomb carriage. ¡°But I can¡¯t have you opening the way to Nocturne, not even for your oh-so-limited aims.¡±

    ¡°I was never going to¡ªOw!¡± Luce felt a flash of pain on the back of his head, like a nail through his skull. He turned back to see Monfroy¡¯s bodyguard, whip in hand. Three Shadows were dead on the ground beside him, killed so silently that Luce hadn¡¯t even noticed.

    It seems there¡¯s no end to my failures today. They would be awarded the highest posthumous honors, their families generously compensated... provided that any of them made it out of this. Luce lunged to the side, but the whip caught him again, tripping him.

    He squirmed with all his limited might as the blue bodyguard hoisted him into the air, but went still when he was dropped at Monfroy¡¯s feet.

    ¡°Ah, thank you, Richard. You¡¯d best get away, now.¡± Monfroy tapped his finger against the back of Luce¡¯s hand, leaving a fingerprint of grey-brown skin, then shoved him against the wall of the bomb case next to the other hostages. ¡°I will confess that I¡¯m surprised. Despite your respective... reputations, somehow, you¡¯re even more foolish than your brother.¡±

    The insult galled Luce, the desperate circumstances bearing down on him from all sides. But his mind wasn¡¯t on the hostages, or the bomb, or even Monfroy.

    Charlotte, stay safe. Don¡¯t toy with your own life to save mine. Please. Luce held her image in his head as if he could speak to her, as if he could pass the order on... But it accomplished nothing, of course. Even if she had been able to hear him, it wouldn¡¯t have changed her mind. So here I am, counting on you yet again.

 Florette VI: The Blunt Instrument

    Florette VI: The Blunt Instrument

    ¡°Do not believe that you were successful in concealing your failure, Srin Sabine, nor that evading me was advisable.¡± Monfroy didn¡¯t sound accusatory so much as tense, icy words trailing out of his smooth-skinned face. They¡¯d had to meet in a different carriage, unassuming wood in lieu of mourning white, which Florette would never have even found without the menacing Richard beckoning her into it once she dared to show her face at the marina. ¡°The reduction in your debt that we discussed, of course, will not be granted for tasks you were unable to complete.¡±¡¯

    Florette felt a bead of sweat form at her nose, the warm spring air, too many layers, and stress of the situation making it difficult to keep it in check. Still, that¡¯s more lenient than I expected. Had the revelation of Monfroy¡¯s crimes truly pushed him onto the back foot? It would explain why he was taking care not to alienate his asset, at least. Though, unfortunately for you, it¡¯s far too late for that. ¡°It was out of my hands.¡±

    Monfroy nodded, though he failed to relax the judgemental slant in his eyes. ¡°Rest assured, the Prince of Darkness shall pay for meddling with my affairs. When his father thought to try the same, I gave his precious Avalon its greatest enemy, forcing him to watch the kingdom he¡¯d built crumble at the hands of his sons. Lucifer¡¯s downfall shall be swifter, by necessity.¡± He laughed, as if at some private joke. ¡°That fool wants to undo all the good work it took to remove Khali in the first place. If his reckless experiments reopen the Gate between worlds, every last one of us shall pay the price.¡±

    Open the Gate? Florette¡¯s mind jumped back to the visions she¡¯d seen on the Isle of Shadows, the great black hole opening in the sky, Khali¡¯s devastation following immediately behind it. I know what I saw, a city of the distant future brought low by her inevitable return. But the Twilight Society believed that Khali would return sooner, a mere twelve years from now. And even that¡¯s based on guesswork about exactly how long the first Age of Darkness lasted. All they really knew was what the Great Binder had written about her visions, what Florette herself had witnessed while deep in the throes of her nightshade visions: when the year 2000 arrived, Khali would return to tear apart everything humanity had built.

    Had Prince Luce seen it too? Was he trying to defy fate by opening the Gate early, before there were glass towers and red metal bridges? Surely he realized that destroying the world early wouldn¡¯t actually improve anything, right? But then, he¡¯s a scholar, forever bound to the task of winning petty arguments on the basis of technicality. It took only a moment to imagine Ticent the Sable-Eye, for example, laughing smugly at his nominal victory as the world withered in darkness, and there was no sure way to know that Prince Luce did not feel the same.

    Could the Prince of Darkness seek to live up to his name? He¡¯s not the same timid captive anymore, that¡¯s for certain.

    ¡°You see the danger too, Srin. I had thought to dispatch you to the Fortan Highlands once your work in Carringdon was done, to better keep an eye on his progress and¡ªif necessary¡ªensure that Khali remains sealed.¡± His voice hardened. ¡°But this insult demands a personal response. You¡¯ll remain in Cambria while I settle things. Do not think that this exempts you from judgment for your own part in this disaster.¡±

    Then this conversation is coming to an end. Florette casually ran her hands across the bag positioned on her lap, Rebecca¡¯s bomb sitting unassumingly within it. For the very last time, she considered delaying, allowing Monfroy to clash with the Prince of Darkness while she composed herself for her next move. For her cover, for her well-being, it was the obvious choice.

    And for her morals, just as obviously wrong. I¡¯ve let you get away with too much for too long; the withered faces of your victims are my responsibility as well, and there is only one way to rectify that injustice. She found the button Rebecca had built in to start the timer, then pressed it down through the canvas of the bag.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± she said, trying to draw the conversation to a close.

    Monfroy tilted his head. ¡°A most uncharacteristic remark, nearly as unusual as your incuriosity. I suppose it is all too easy to overestimate the intellect of even a talented youth such as yourself.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Florette couldn¡¯t help but ask, keenly aware of the bomb on her lap.

    ¡°Creating Avalon¡¯s greatest enemy, of course. I wouldn¡¯t have mentioned it if I didn¡¯t expect you to inquire.¡± A rare smile crossed his face. ¡°With a few conversations, I created a potent weapon aimed straight at Harold Grimoire, privy to his darkest secrets, and wholly deniable. And Jethro has yet to fail me, nor does he plot towards my demise.¡±

    Jethro? Immediately, Florette tensed, hand drawn to the Ring of Glaciel in her pocket, the only artifact inconspicuous enough to carry on her person at all times. ¡°I never¡ª¡±

    ¡°Spare me the lies.¡± Monfroy¡¯s smile faded. ¡°This is such a shame. You might have been far more useful to me.¡± He lunged for Florette faster than she could blink, wrapping his hand around her throat. ¡°But there¡¯s always your youth.¡±

    No time for hesitation. A hammer of ice formed around her hand, sharpening to a spike just in time to embed itself in Monfroy¡¯s neck. His grip slackened as he gurgled, which Florette took as an opportunity to pull away. Monfroy was screaming something incoherent through what remained of his throat, flesh already beginning to knit back together while the glow drained from his face.

    Florette brandished her icy warhammer with one hand while the other fumbled for the door of the coach, almost losing her grip when they passed over a bump. Her bag, obviously, she left in the seat next to Monfroy. One minute. She chanced a glance out the window of the carriage, then swore when she saw that they were travelling above the railway tracks, with next to no space on the overpass to roll and recover from a jump out the carriage.

    But it¡¯s still better than what that bomb has in store.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be in such a hurry to leave,¡± Monfroy rasped, his throat still in the process of reassembling itself. ¡°There remains much to discuss.¡± He thumped the roof of the carriage twice, prompting a series of footsteps to sound from above.

    Time to go. Florette pulled the handle, only for her eyes to widen in horror as the door remained jammed in place.

    Monfroy laughed. ¡°Knowing what you know about me, it couldn¡¯t have come as a surprise that my carriage doors lock from the outside.¡± He continued rasping, slowly sliding closer towards her across the seat, as if savoring every moment. ¡°Then again, I expected you to have a better plan when you unwisely chose to oppose me. You¡¯ve been a disappointment on many fronts this day.¡±

    Florette smashed the door with her icy hand, tearing open a hole that immediately filled the cabin with the roar of the wind. Glancing back at her bag, she guessed there were only seconds left, so she wasted no time in jumping out the window towards the perilous railroad tracks.

    She only made it a few feet before the whip caught her around the stomach, hauling her up towards the roof of the carriage where Monfroy¡¯s bodyguard, Richard, lurked with the same stone face he always bore.

    ¡°A bomb?¡± she heard Monfroy exclaim from below. ¡°How dreadfully uninspired.¡± Florette could only watch helplessly as Rebecca¡¯s contribution sailed out of the hole in the carriage, detonating uselessly above the railroad tracks with no visible effect save the instantaneous demise of some twenty ravens.

    Fuck! I knew I should have just planted it under the carriage. That had seemed riskier at the time, considering how close an eye Richard kept on the exterior, but it would have almost certainly accomplished more than that.

    ¡°Ah, so you did plan ahead,¡± Monfroy addressed her from below. ¡°You thought to harness my power with machines, undo me with my own strength.¡± He waved his hand down and Richard brusquely tossed Florette back into the cabin, his whip still bound around her arms. ¡°Better, but not good enough. These articles of glass and metal can never match the true power of the spirits. But now that I know such a thing exists...¡± His smile widened, splitting his entire face. ¡°I do not expect that we will meet again, Srin Sabine. But your debt is not yet paid.¡±

    Bound and defeated, Florette struggled to muster the energy to fight back. There was no way left to kill him now, not even if she¡¯d had the Blade of Khali. I missed the best chance I was ever going to get... As Monfroy approached her, Florette smashed her head into his own, momentarily stunning him, then spun around to send a blade of ice through his abdomen.

    Not enough to stop him for long, but it might just¡ª

    Richard leapt past his master in an instant, slamming his fist into Florette¡¯s already-battered face. For an instant, the world went dark, but when Florette managed to open her eyes again, Monfroy was still bleeding on the seat, his guard readying another blow.

    If Florette hadn¡¯t thought ahead, she might have died right then and there, another wizened corpse for Monfroy to throw onto the pile. The thought was haunting, fear and despair amplifying as she drew on the darkness of the Cloak of Nocturne wrapped around her waist, hidden beneath her jacket.

    She phased through the floor of the carriage, then the overpass itself, pulling back from Nocturne¡¯s just in time to land atop a speeding train to carry her off to safety, free as the wind.

    ?

    It was only the next day, when she read the journals¡¯ account of Monfroy¡¯s ¡®demise¡¯, that Florette realized just how badly she¡¯d failed. Thirty-six people died because of me. Worse than that, bringing the bomb had clearly given him the idea to do it in the first place. His carriage must have doubled back to retrieve the casing from beside the railroad tracks before he staged his end.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    All because I couldn¡¯t kill him when I had the perfect chance.

    She¡¯d held herself back after discovering the dead construction workers, committing to making a plan that would work instead of recklessly charging Monfroy and hoping for the best. And what had come of that patience? Nothing.

    Monfroy was free, believed to be dead, having lost none of his power or influence. There was little doubt he¡¯d pop up again somewhere under a new name, ready to take his vengeance on all who¡¯d crossed him.

    Starting with me, Florette thought at first, but then she considered what he¡¯d actually said.

    ¡°Rest assured, the Prince of Darkness shall pay.¡± He was planning to handle it personally, going after him in the Fortan Highlands. With Rebecca right there, ready to get caught in the crossfire. Florette would have to find some way to get her to safety, unlikely as that prospect seemed.

    Now that Monfroy had slipped her grasp, it didn¡¯t seem like there were any good options.

    Nor do things look much better here. The strike was continuing apace, only occasionally thwarted by an overzealous Guardian before Christophe put them back in their place, but the negotiations seemed no closer to resolution.

    The workers could only last so long on the funds they¡¯d pooled, and the bosses knew it. Their factories were vacant, their textiles lying unprocessed in their warehouses, precious profits plummeting. In strict financial terms, they were losing a hundred times more than all the workers combined every day that the strike continued, yet they still held firm.

    This isn¡¯t just about the money. They can¡¯t let a single strike succeed, or workers everywhere will rise up to defend themselves. Already, Versham-Martin had tried dragging people out of their assembly lines in other areas of the company, pulling workers used to processing laudanum, steel, and pistols into factories about which they knew nothing.

    Christophe had managed to wrangle that, convening the relief workers with the strikers long enough to work out an agreement, and now Versham-Martin was facing the risk of work stoppage across three of their most profitable industries. Yet, if anything, the prospect of settling negotiations seemed even more distant now.

    The Blue Bandit could put the fear in them, perhaps, and Florette had of late grown tired with restraint, but that didn¡¯t mean they¡¯d get the solution they needed. Slaying executives left and right carried the risk of hardening their resolve further, perhaps closing the factories entirely. The entirety of Versham-Martin could crumble to dust and most of its largest shareholders would still walk away wealthy¡ªeven wealthier, perhaps, than they would by granting all their workers a fair wage, fair hours, and safe employment.

    And I¡¯ll never be able to steal enough mandala to feed them all.

    Christophe hadn¡¯t had any better ideas, unfortunately, for all that he¡¯d stepped up in Florette¡¯s absence. Worse, his time in Cambria was coming to an end.

    ¡°Sunder¨¦ and Volobrin are one thing, but now Plagette is arming itself for war. Condillac dissolved its regency council in favor of a single Lady Regent, and it¡¯s rumored that C¨¦line Cl¨¦ment wants to raise an army to invade Malin in revenge for her cousin¡¯s capture. We could have a second Winter War in a matter of months, and I¡¯m just... Sending supplies is one thing, but I worry for my kin.¡±

    ¡°I get it,¡± Florette had told him, placing a hand on his cold shoulder. ¡°You want to protect your homeland.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m worried, if I don¡¯t, that there won¡¯t be a homeland left to protect. Queen Glaciel has always looked out for all her descendants. Without her, I wouldn¡¯t have this mission¡ªI wouldn¡¯t have this face. I know I owe you much, Florette, but I can¡¯t... can¡¯t stand here helpless any longer.¡±

    Florette had remained supportive, but internally cringed. I can¡¯t begrudge him that, but his timing is terrible. The strike was still in full swing; Monfroy was still on the loose; Alcock had urgently directed her to his lab for momentous news about the Giton dig; and final exams were mere weeks away.

    And now it seems I¡¯ll have to protect the strikers too. As overwhelming as that was, Florette felt the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. At least, in this, I can be myself. She was tired of wearing the skin of Srin Sabine, tired of bottling herself up in the hopes of some future boon. Tired of this assignment I should have known better than to choose.

    ?

    The soonest ship for Forta didn¡¯t leave until tomorrow, so Florette decided it was finally time to answer Professor Alcock¡¯s summons. It might be a little while before I can make it back to Cambria¡ªthis should help shore things up for when I get back.

    Yet still, with everything going on, jumping back to archaeology felt dizzying, so distant was the history of ancient Giton from her current travails. The disconnect never felt stronger than the moment she burst through the doors of Professor Alcock¡¯s lab, earning a raised eyebrow from Ticent the Sable-Eye. ¡°Where have you been? The Professor wanted you here for the pistol examination.¡±

    ¡°Duties in Carringdon. I couldn¡¯t avoid it, unfortunately.¡± All the more unfortunate because my being there didn¡¯t accomplish anything. Even Monfroy had been exposed without any involvement from Florette, the product of some Charentine journalist and Charlotte de Malin. All she¡¯d succeeded in was dragging Rebecca into the line of fire, forcing herself to run north when a million other concerns were pulling back towards Cambria. Worse yet¡ª

    ¡°Pay attention, Sabine.¡± The Sable-Eye glared judgmentally. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough it took you so long to get here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Florette dipped her head, trying to free it from the stressful reality of her current situation. ¡°What did you find out?¡±

    The Sable-Eye frowned, then pulled out the ancient pistol they¡¯d uncovered in Pelleas Grimoire¡¯s tomb. ¡°It¡¯s functional. Your Rebecca tested the mechanism herself. In some ways, it¡¯s better than our current pistols, apparently, though I¡¯ll admit that most of that mechanist talk flew over my head. I trust we can count on her aptitude and discretion?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Lately, she¡¯s proven even more discreet than I thought her capable of. ¡°Do you think that knowledge was lost?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± he admitted. ¡°When the Grimoires were driven from Giton, many of their texts were lost amidst the sands. Others burned when they attempted to take it back. But then...¡±

    ¡°If they had pistols, why did they lose? Why didn¡¯t anyone mention it in their accounts of the Fox-Queen¡¯s conquests?¡± Florette shook her head. ¡°No, I can¡¯t imagine they used these for war. We only found one, anyway, buried with the ¡®Grimoire of Grimoires¡¯. It was a treasure, not a common weapon. But why not build more?¡±

    Ticent started to answer, but Florette interrupted him with the answer to her own question. ¡°They didn¡¯t. They never built this one, either, else they would have known how to make their own.¡± Which only further reinforces the idea that someone caught a glimpse of the future and built it from there. Such visions were supposed to be impossible, of course, but that hadn¡¯t stopped the Great Binder from witnessing the horrifying moment of Khali¡¯s return, nor Florette from seeing the same when she plunged her head into that dark pool in the temple. ¡°Which raises the question of who did.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the Sable-Eye reluctantly agreed, returning the pistol to its protective case. ¡°The only other new discovery of note was a carving expressing gratitude to Voleur, spirit of the horizon.¡±

    ¡°The Bridge of Earth and Sky,¡± Florette recalled. He¡¯d raised a floating armada for his sages to fight the Fox-Queen, whole mountaintops ripped from the earth spirit¡¯s skin and hurled into the sky. It was a matter of some debate where those mountains actually were, but considering the geography of the war, most agreed on Micheltaigne. Those floating stones had crashed down in the desert, somewhere, but no one had ever found them. After Voleur had been sealed in Nocturne alongside Khali, it had looked like no one ever would. ¡°Did it have a map? Any indication of location?¡±

    Finding out where they¡¯d originated would be a massive scholarly achievement, proving the old story and sourcing a crucial piece of history, but finding where they¡¯d crashed would be even more momentous. Especially with that pistol in mind... If the ancient Grimoires had had access, however limited, to pistols superior to those of the modern day, what did that say about the Armada of Stone and Sky?

    ¡°We have yet to fully reconstruct the text,¡± Ticent answered, looking absolutely certain they would discover what it meant in due time. ¡°In any case, Sir Thomas requests that you return to Giton as soon as your examinations are complete. Another artifact was uncovered as the dig progressed, but it cannot be moved from the tomb. Your assistance is requested in examining it at the earliest opportunity.¡±

    Sure, not like I have anything else going on. ¡°What was it?¡± What could they have uncovered that couldn¡¯t be moved? Something fragile? Built into the tomb itself?

    ¡°Something we¡¯d never have expected to be found in the Erstwhile Empire: A Nocturne Gate.¡±

    ?

    From one Gate to another, Florette thought as she examined the dark circle from afar. With Monfroy¡¯s ominous promise and Rebecca¡¯s abject refusal to step back from the project, there hadn¡¯t been any choice but to follow. No one else will protect her first, nor do they know what¡¯s in store.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. I have no idea how no one¡¯s caught you yet.¡± Rebecca had been surprised, to say the least.

    Not hard to hide when you have a Cloak of Nocturne. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t either. Monfroy¡¯s coming after your Prince, and he specifically said he was coming here. We need to leave. Now.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t walk away from this,¡± she¡¯d insisted, ignoring all the danger that their failed attempt on Monfroy had put them in.  ¡°We¡¯re piercing the veil between worlds, breaking a seal that held back the greatest of spirits!¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯re not worried about what will happen when you do?¡± Florette had tried, only to get absolutely nowhere. Rebecca had only been here a few days when Florette arrived, but she already seemed rooted in place as firmly as a Refuge husk.

    ¡°We know exactly what will happen: the Gate will open a crack, we¡¯ll take all the readings we need, and then the counter frequency will close it. The risk of a resonance cascade is practically nil, and even then, we have countermeasures.¡±

    ¡°Do you have countermeasures for Monfroy?¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant Charlotte seems to have things in hand. We have dozens of shadow guards with pistols, and we¡¯re miles from the nearest town.¡±

    After that, no argument had been able to change her mind. Florette had scampered back into the night, leaving Rebecca to complete her work. What else could she have done?

    It hadn¡¯t been too difficult to set up camp near enough to keep an eye on Rebecca but far enough not to be spotted¡ªthe moors were largely void of trees, but the rolling hills formed enough of a ridge to stay out of sight. It was hard not to resent the decision a bit when it meant imposing another week in Cambria on Christophe and tearing herself away from the strike, but Florette¡¯s frustrations were nothing next to the risk to Rebecca¡¯s safety.

    I dragged her into all of this¡ªI can¡¯t stand by while Monfroy goes after them all.

    ¡°I knew it,¡± snarled a familiar voice. Florette turned to see Charlotte de Malin standing menacingly, hand hovering next to a pistol at her belt. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡±

 Charlotte IV: The Erstwhile Guardian

    Charlotte IV: The Erstwhile Guardian

    ¡°This isn¡¯t my fault, you know,¡± Srin Sabine feebly protested, looking appropriately concerned but not particularly guilty. ¡°Monfroy would have done his thing whether or not I snuck in to visit Rebecca.¡±

    Perhaps, but you¡¯re certainly the reason I wasn¡¯t there to stop this. Tracking down this frivolous nonsense, blatantly violating the security that Charlotte¡¯s team had so painstakingly developed for this highly confidential experiment, had dragged her out of position at a crucial moment. So crucial, in fact, that I can¡¯t help but wonder if it was always part of the plan.

    ¡°What¡¯s important now is that we work together to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡± Charlotte kept a close on Srin while examining the area around the Gate. With Luce and Elizabeth Stewart both held hostage, both sets of guards had been made to stand down. Monfroy had pulled Stewart¡¯s guards close to the Gate while directing most of the shadows to guard the perimeter, making it clear what consequences would befall their liege if they defied his orders. ¡°I¡¯m figuring out how to fix this.¡±

    And I can¡¯t risk giving away any plans to the enemy.

    Going by Charlotte¡¯s training in the Malin Guardians, the mere fact that Srin and Monfroy were both Mamela qualified as ¡®evidence¡¯, in much the same way that all Malin crimes, mysteriously, seemed to be committed by the native population while the Avaline remained pristine. Somehow Charlotte¡¯s own origins had never factored into that; she was an exception by virtue of belonging to the Guardians at all. Right up to the moment she¡¯d reported their malfeasance to Luce... ¡®Nothing worse than a rat.¡¯

    Charlotte had taken particular lengths to rectify that particular absurdity in the Shadows, mixing Avaline and Charentine recruits in their grouping and emphasizing fact above bias for the investigators, but with most of the senior officers hailing from Butcher Arion¡¯s own retinue, there was only so much that could be done. And now that we¡¯ve built up a real force from fresher faces, I still can¡¯t risk inciting conflict between Luce and his uncle by dismissing them, let alone the risk incurred by cleaning out our most experienced commanders.

    It galled her, leaving them in place, for all that crucial officers like Graves and Mayana numbered among them. Fixing this was the reason I wanted to rise up the ranks in the first place. Now Charlotte answered directly to the rightful King of Avalon himself, and she still couldn¡¯t get rid of that old sense of helplessness, an apathy in the face of injustice that had threatened Charlotte for her entire adult life.

    In any case, Srin Sabine¡¯s purported reason to be here, visiting her beloved at the far edge of the world, seemed plausible enough. The scientists always seemed to flouting the regulations created for their own safety, of late resulting in this mess, but beckoning a girlfriend to a bomb test site was exactly the sort of carelessness Charlotte had come to expect. Rebecca Williams, in particular, was not one for understanding the gravity of her situation.

    Yet the possibility of treachery could not be dismissed. Srin¡¯s name had come up on Marie-Laure¡¯s list of Twilight Society members, suppressed as part of Luce¡¯s bargain with the journalist and Vas Sarah, which created an undeniable, direct tie to Monfroy. And she was working for the Jays in Carringdon; holding Lizzie Stewart hostage and maiming her like that could very well be an attempt to damage the Harpies. Though in that case, it was hard to see what the Jays would gain by maintaining their alliance with Monfroy after the total destruction of his reputation.

    ¡°Look, we¡¯re on the same side here! I¡¯m just saying¡ª¡±

    ¡°What did I tell you?¡± Dealing with Monfroy would be hard enough without a lovestruck civilian getting in the way. And that¡¯s the most charitable way to describe you, Countess Srin. Letting her out of sight for even a moment risked freeing her to aid Monfroy and set off the bomb.

    Something about the whole situation recalled a years-old memory, brandishing an officer¡¯s pistol at Camille Leclaire in the tunnels beneath Malin. Charlotte had known her for a traitor, though she hadn¡¯t yet had the proof, but nonetheless had let the sage go on account of their common enemy in Lillian Perimont.

    And soon after, she soiled my reputation in the Guardians and consolidated enough power over the city to force us to flee. If Charlotte had shot her then and there, consequences be damned, Leclaire could never have taken Malin. Luce would have never been forced out, nor branded as a miserable failure back in Avalon. A reputation he still can¡¯t fully shake, even after assuming the Protectorship of Charenton.

    Srin sighed dramatically, making a grand show of turning away from her.

    Approach openly, and I¡¯ll be just as powerless as the other Shadows. Any disobedience to Monfroy, and Luce could get hurt. Not an option. But trying to pick him off from afar carried the same risk; Charlotte would have to hit Monfroy with the first shot, or he might retaliate. But then, if he wants to set off the bomb, we¡¯re all dead anyway.

    Charlotte pulled out her pistol and began lining up the shot. Breathe. She steadied her hands, lifting the pistol just above Monfroy¡¯s head to account for the bullet¡¯s descent through the air. The air was calm of wind, at least, but it was still putting far too much risk into a single shot than she felt comfortable with.

    ¡°What are you doing? That¡¯s not going to¡ª¡± Srin cut herself off when she saw Charlotte aim the pistol back at her. ¡°Right, ¡®shut up¡¯, I know. But a bullet won¡¯t kill Monfroy, and it¡¯ll give our position away.¡±

    It will, but that won¡¯t matter if he¡¯s dead. But would it truly be insufficient, or was this woman trying to talk Charlotte out of shooting her collaborator? Admittedly, after seeing Monfroy drain the life from Ronald Esterton with a single touch, then strip the flesh from Stewart¡¯s hand, it wasn¡¯t hard to believe that he was keeping some of what he drained, nor that it would protect him from a single bullet. ¡°What alternative is there? We can¡¯t approach without endangering the Prince.¡±

    ¡°Not if there¡¯s any risk of being spotted,¡± Srin agreed. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a Cloak of Nocturne, do you?¡±

    If only... Avaline officers of sufficient seniority and rank were awarded the artifact, but Charlotte held no formal position in the Avaline military hierarchy, nor had she had any other opportunity to get her hands on one. Luce had acquired one for testing, but it was back in Ortus Tower. ¡°No,¡± she answered.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a shame.¡± Srin let out a laugh, her entire body darkening slightly. ¡°I guess my father¡¯s inheritance was even better than I¡¯d thought.¡±

    Immediately, Charlotte¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Inheritance. Your father, Srin Savian, who never once served in Avalon¡¯s armed forces, had a Cloak of Nocturne?¡±

    ¡°Well¡ª¡±

    ¡°And you decided to take this precious heirloom with you into the frozen north, traveling vast distances in a strange land with a priceless artifact in your possession, all to visit your girlfriend?¡±

    Srin scowled, then took a moment to consider her response. ¡°Yes, I did think it would be useful to be unseen when sneaking into a royal test facility that no one¡¯s supposed to know about. As for my father, you¡¯d have to ask him. But he belonged to a professional association that¡ª¡±

    ¡°You think he got it from the Twilight Society, where Monfroy was an honored member.¡± Not a bad answer, but don¡¯t think I missed how long it took you to get there. ¡°You do realize that your theory doesn¡¯t actually divert any suspicion.¡±

    ¡°Well, maybe if you stopped interrupting me, we wouldn¡¯t be having these communication issues. All I know is that he left it to me. I¡¯d be happy to look into where it came from, but I think we have more important things to deal with right now.¡±

    True enough, but that doesn¡¯t actually answer the question. ¡°Hand the Cloak to me. I¡¯ll sneak up to Monfroy and choke him out before he understands what¡¯s happening.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so you¡¯ve practiced using one? Because the call of the void is a powerful thing, and I could barely manage thirty seconds on my first try. I guess that¡¯s your choice to take, my lady; you¡¯d only risk being lost in Nocturne forever.¡± Charlotte might have suspected another convenient lie, but the Cloaks of Nocturne were common enough that their peculiarities weren¡¯t exactly impossible to learn about, and that particular bit of research had seemed like it could prove essential. ¡°Even if you made it, as soon as you revealed yourself, Richard would just crack that whip and pull you away.¡±

    ¡°Richard...¡± Charlotte muttered, following Srin¡¯s pointed finger towards a large man dressed in blue, a white headband tied around his forehead. She¡¯d seen how he¡¯d subdued Luce, and it wasn¡¯t too hard to believe he was the threat that Srin was making him out to be, especially considering that he¡¯d been the only one Monfroy had brought in order to take over the whole site. ¡°Is a bullet going to be insufficient for him, too?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Srin admitted. ¡°It¡¯d be better to lure him away, so we can deal with Monfroy on his own.¡±

    Don¡¯t think I failed to notice that ¡®we¡¯, Srin Sabine. You remain a suspect. Charlotte tried to twist her thinking, looking for a solution above an indictment. If Srin Sabine was working for Monfroy, what would happen if she was allowed to slink off in her Cloak?

    Not much, Charlotte realized. I¡¯m the only one left that can put a stop to his plans. Most likely, she¡¯d simply run away, or perhaps join her master by the Gate. It wouldn¡¯t substantively make the situation any worse unless she put Luce in danger, which would have been easy enough to do by calling for help.

    Please don¡¯t let this be another Malin, another Camille Leclaire. Charlotte took the measure of her for another moment, examining this woman who¡¯d followed her lover to the end of the world. Something about her put Charlotte ill at ease, though it was difficult to pinpoint what exactly it was. Lithe and lanky, she didn¡¯t look like much of a physical threat, nor was she dressed for a fight; in her slacks and grey sweater, she wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in the Tower.

    The single curl on her sweater in a darker shade of grey even matched the glyph for wind they¡¯d been using for the lethiograph, not dissimilar to the way many of the scientists had latched onto the imagery once they learned of the project, especially those who¡¯d been tapped to help test it. Rebecca Williams, for one, wore earrings with the dark circle and single white open eye that they¡¯d been using to represent darkness. Easy enough to see where she¡¯d gotten the idea.

    It¡¯s nothing unbelievable, but nothing particularly indicative of innocence either. It rankled, but it didn¡¯t seem like there was any other choice. Perhaps Malin was no different¡ªwith Leclaire¡¯s help, we managed to stall Perimont¡¯s forces long enough for Harold¡¯s doppelganger to arrive and end the fighting. Perhaps. That didn¡¯t mean Charlotte had any intention of repeating it.

    ¡°You¡¯re prepared to sneak up to Monfroy under your Cloak? To confront him?¡±

    Srin let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Yes! As soon as you stop pointing that gun at me.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± Charlotte lifted her pistol, pointing it up towards the sky, and watched as Srin remained in place, not making any kind of move now that she was free to do it.

    ¡°Good, now if we could¡ª¡±

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Charlotte interrupted her by firing into the air, letting out an earsplitting crack that echoed across the snowy moors.

    ¡°What the fuck? You¡¯re going to give away our position!¡± Srin frowned, looking genuinely pained. ¡°Fuck me, you just set off the bells.¡± She pressed her hands to her ears, tapping the back of her head with her fingers. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡±

    ¡°We have to draw Richard out.¡± Charlotte began reloading her pistol, readying herself for the fight. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be going? You don¡¯t want to be here when he arrives.¡±

    ¡°What if Monfroy sends the guards instead?¡± Srin spat out, hands still fixed to her head.

    ¡°They all report to me. The more I can draw away from his line of sight, the more shadows I have at my disposal to act.¡± People I can actually trust, unlike you. ¡°I doubt he will, though. Monfroy doesn¡¯t want any risk of witnesses escaping, and he knows they¡¯re not actually loyal to him. Sending Richard makes more sense.¡±

    As it happened, Monfroy sent both. Six shadows and three of Stewart¡¯s guards followed Richard across the frozen plains, headed straight for the ridge they were hiding behind.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Charlotte flicked her pistol in the direction of Monfroy. ¡°I just gave you your opening.¡±

    Srin blinked, then phased into shadow, her cloak visible for an instant before it, too, slipped into Nocturne. No footsteps appeared in the snow, which was reassuring in one sense and worrying in another. If there¡¯s no way to know where she went...

    As they approached, Charlotte spotted Oliver among the shadows, flicking his head briefly over to Charlotte but refraining from saying anything to Monfroy¡¯s guard. If the others are smart, they¡¯ll do the same.

    As soon as they passed beyond the ridge, Charlotte was ready to fire at Richard, but he called for a halt at the crest. Damn it.

    ¡°Why did we stop?¡± Oliver asked, the other shadows nodding beside him. Richard didn¡¯t respond, so Oliver continued with his best guess. ¡°To stay in sight? You don¡¯t have to worry about us, sir. Every one of us would die before allowing harm to come to Prince Luce.¡±

    ¡°As we would for Lady Elizabeth,¡± a Stewart guard added, though her tone sounded much more perfunctory. Unless I¡¯m just hearing what I want to hear. ¡°The highland folk are spread thin; they aren¡¯t much ones for heeding messages. One probably wandered too close and started a racket.¡±

    You¡¯d better be lying, because otherwise you¡¯re saying that your Lady agreed to an unacceptably high risk of one of them wandering into the blast radius. If it was a lie, though, it failed to convince Richard. He even turned back from the vast expanse, narrowing his eyes as they reached his master, and the grey-sweatered Countess confronting him.

    Now or never, then. Charlotte pulled the trigger, hitting Richard square in the chest. Immediately, all six shadows dropped to the ground alongside him, though the Stewart guards were slower to react. Charlotte began running forward, removing herself from cover to assume control before Monfroy could jeopardize Luce¡¯s safety any further.

    ¡°Lieutenant Charlotte! I didn¡¯t¡ªyou saved us.¡± Oliver began to get up, face drenched in sweat despite the cold.

    ¡°We¡¯re not done yet. Check if he¡¯s still breathing and bind his arms if he is,¡± Charlotte glanced at the Stewart guards, conveying the order to fall in line without need for words. ¡°We need to move quickly. Monfroy was always the bigger threat. As soon as he starts struggling, be ready to move. Get¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s up!¡± someone shouted.

    Charlotte felt a leathery tendril around her throat, pulling her back off her feet and twenty feet into the air. She could scarcely breathe as she landed in a heap, nose down in the snow. It was enough of a struggle simply to hold her head up. When she finally managed it, she was greeted with the sight of a Stewart guard face down in a circle of red snow. I didn¡¯t even hear her cry out.

    Two shadows were dead beside her, while Oliver was clawing at the whip coiled around his neck as it choked him out. Painfully, Charlotte hauled herself to her feet, trying to get Richard¡¯s attention.

    She succeeded, but it was too late for Oliver, whose blue face finally went still. Another shot from her pistol went wide, her aim still shaky after Richard had tossed her around like a cat with a wounded bird. She reached for her second pistol to avoid any need to reload, but Richard was faster, snapping out his whip fast enough to open a gash on Charlotte¡¯s hand.

    Fuck. Charlotte grit her teeth as she saw the second pistol fall, landing in the snow with a muted thump.

    How is he still up and fighting? Most people could barely manage to stand after a shot in the chest. And whatever his patron¡¯s invulnerability or lack thereof, the heavy red stains in his blue tunic showed that he was hurt. Just fighting through the pain to serve his master. I can¡¯t do any less for Luce.

    Letting out an inadvertent roar, Charlotte lunged for him, slamming her empty pistol into his knee and getting him to drop down. Seizing the opportunity, she whipped it up towards his face, hearing a chillingly satisfying crunch as it impacted his nose. He reached out for his whip, but Charlotte was ready with the Gloves of Teruvo, snatching the end with a firm enough grip that he wouldn¡¯t be able to use it.

    Someone handed her back her fallen pistol, but Charlotte didn¡¯t even turn to look, shoving into Richard¡¯s mouth to ensure there was no chance of survival.

    ¡°Please,¡± Richard grunted, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn¡¯t used it in a long time. ¡°Please.¡±

    Please what? Please don¡¯t shoot? Or... Charlotte looked into his eyes, searching for any meaning, but all she found was pain, hatred, and shame. His head snapped upwards when she pulled the trigger, as if he were nodding in approval.

    A Stewart guard helped Charlotte back up to her feet, the both of them soaked in the blood of the fallen. Now that the blood was fading from her eyes, Charlotte had the chance to look around, to sigh with relief when she saw that Luce was still unharmed, pinned back against the Gate while Monfroy struggled with Srin. Up on the ridge, no one else had survived.

    Oliver. Idun. Porro... The other three shadows had been savaged so brutally that Charlotte couldn¡¯t even identify them under the blood and tatters. ¡°Thank you,¡± she eventually managed to say to the sole survivor of Richard¡¯s search party, the words coming slowly as she struggled to reclaim her breath. ¡°We need to get back right now.¡±

    I may have taken too long already. At least Srin had stayed true to her word, and Monfroy hadn¡¯t had the chance to make good on his threats. Charlotte leaned on the Stewart guard, whose name she learned was ¡®Jane Velin¡¯, and the two of them began hobbling back towards the Nocturne Gate as fast as they could manage.

    Luce hadn¡¯t stood idle, rallying the shadows to his side upon Monfroy¡¯s incapacitation, but they couldn¡¯t fire on him without hitting Srin, her hands around his neck. A bullet wasn¡¯t good enough, but you expected that to work? Attacking him up close at all was a massive risk, considering what he could do with a simple touch. Then again, it was keeping him distracted, at least.

    Monfroy managed to get his hand around Srin¡¯s wrist briefly, forcing her to jump back lest she end up like Ronald Esterton. Surprisingly agile for an archeology research assistant. She hadn¡¯t seemed particularly hesitant about charging into the thick of the danger either, though Rebecca provided sufficient motive for that.

    Sufficient, perhaps, but not exculpatory. Still, there were larger problems to deal with right now.

    With sufficient distance between them, Charlotte took the opportunity to fire a bullet directly into Monfroy¡¯s head. A spatter of blood and bone erupted out of the opposite, head swinging wildly from side to side, but by the time he straightened his posture, the wound had already healed.

    She tried not to think about the sight, a child¡¯s body torn apart by her own bullet, and focused on the mission.

    ¡°My instructions were so simple. Now you¡¯ll have to watch your precious prince wither to dust.¡± Monfroy let out a laugh, uncannily high and whimsical. A dozen shadow guards stood between him and Luce, but that didn¡¯t seem to deter him. Nor did he stop his march when all of them opened fire, each shot tearing apart more of his child¡¯s body, before he reformed the flesh.

    Charlotte seized the opportunity, scurrying over to the scaffolding around the base of the Gate to find the solution to this madness. Srin seemed to have disappeared, to Charlotte¡¯s scant surprise, but at least she¡¯d done what she promised to. The rest, I can take from here. I hope.

    ¡°The arrogance!¡± Monfroy let out a squeaky laugh, wildly discordant with the image of his tiny body being ripped apart by gunfire, his stride barely slowing. ¡°Do you truly think that your little trinkets can stand up to my Undying magic? You truly are Harold Grimoire come again.¡±

    Charlotte grabbed what she needed from the supplies, heavy enough that Jane had to lift the other end. They moved slower than she would have liked, especially with the need to stay out of the line of fire, but they were still on track to reach Luce before Monfroy could touch him.

    It was a near thing, though. Luce and the shadow were walking backwards, trying to maintain a retreat in the face of Monfroy¡¯s implacable advance, but he was still catching up. Charlotte managed to slip behind them, depositing her solution in easy reach as Jane split off to join the shadows firing at Monfroy.

    Then she saw the shadow, a sliver of Srin slipping back through Nocturne. ¡°Hold fire!¡± she called out, causing several shadow and Luce to whip their heads back around with surprise.

    ¡°Charlotte?¡± Luce snapped out of his confusion rapidly, then reinforced her order. ¡°Stop firing!¡±

    For an instant, the guns fell silent, and the only sound in the air was Monfroy¡¯s laughter and the squelches of his flesh as it knit back together.

    ¡°Why did you¡ª¡± Luce cut himself off as he saw Srin fully emerge from the shadows, swinging a massive, pale blue blade into Monfroy¡¯s neck. With one clean stroke, she sent his head flying down into the snow.

    ¡°That¡¯s why.¡± Charlotte dashed forward and scooped up the head, careful not to touch it with anything but her gloves, and ran it towards the steel box she¡¯d so painstakingly hauled over, throwing it down inside before Monfroy managed to grow anything more than his neck and shoulders, then slammed the lid shut and locked it tightly.

    ¡°Good thinking ahead,¡± Srin offered, looking surprisingly unperturbed by what had just happened. There was even a hint of a smile on her face. Certainly an odd reaction if she¡¯s here for exactly the reason she said she was. Could she have double-crossed Monfroy to further her own power, as Leclaire had done with Levian?

    That wouldn¡¯t make her an enemy, necessarily, but certainly a threat that couldn¡¯t be ignored.

    ¡°Likewise.¡± Charlotte signalled to the shadows to look after the dead while Luce gave orders to collect the Monfroy box and begin walking it back towards the gate. ¡°Where did you get that sword? I didn¡¯t see it on you back at the ridge.¡± Nor have I ever heard of you training to use one. Why would a History student need to?

    ¡°What sword?¡± Srin held up her empty hands, a ring on her finger glinting in the sunlight. Was she wearing that before?

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. The one you just used to decapitate Lord Monfroy.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah, of course. I found it near Monfroy¡ªassumed it probably belonged to him or Richard. But it disappeared as soon as I made the cut. Do you have any idea where it could have gone?¡±

    No, but I¡¯m thinking that you might. Srin Sabine had yet to pass the realm of plausible deniability¡ªno individual excuse was insufficient, but the multitude of them collected all at once and laid at the feet of the Nocturne Gate made for difficult words to swallow.

    ¡°It¡¯s not important. We need a permanent solution to Monfroy.¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more. This DV-bomb seems perfectly suited to¡ª¡±

    ¡°We, meaning myself and Prince Luce, will confer and arrive at a decision.¡± But I can¡¯t just leave you free to roam around. ¡°Jane, take three shadows and escort the Countess Sabine to Rebecca¡¯s cabin. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll want to reconnect after this harrowing event.¡± And don¡¯t let them leave without my word, she didn¡¯t need to say.

    ¡°Oh, is that how it is? Why don¡¯t you do it, then? There¡¯s no time to waste while his flesh is mending.¡±

    Why don¡¯t you do it, then? Charlotte frowned. Something about this seemed familiar. ¡°Haven¡¯t we met before?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, in Carringdon.¡± Srin let out a faint laugh. ¡°Can¡¯t blame you if it didn¡¯t stick in your memory; what I was up to there didn¡¯t amount to much once that Bill of Sale went public.¡±

    That¡¯s not what I was thinking of...

    It was beginning to dawn on Charlotte why her mind had been drawn back to Malin after clearing her head of it for so long. ¡°You were deft with that sword, especially if it wasn¡¯t yours. I wasn¡¯t aware that you had studied the blade.¡±

    Srin let out a nervous laugh. ¡°Not really. I¡¯ve got enough going on without trying to learn fencing too. Call it beginner¡¯s luck.¡±

    ¡°All the more impressive then.¡± Charlotte nodded to the shadows as they fell into formation around Srin Sabine, ready to escort her. ¡°If you¡¯re that good without practice, maybe you should try. I bet you could even master Diced Digits.¡±

    Srin¡¯s step faltered, her face going slack with horror for only an instant before she forced a smile. ¡°Never heard of that, sorry.¡± It didn¡¯t matter. That pause had given her away, the memories coming into focus.

    Got you, Florette.

 Luce VI: The Destroyer

    Luce VI: The Destroyer

    ¡°How could I not see it?¡± Luce paced the floor of his cabin, not breaking eye contact with Charlotte. ¡°This is Jethro all over again. Damn it!¡±

    ¡°Jethro was who he said he was, in a way. You can hardly be blamed for not guessing he was a doppelganger.¡± Charlotte tried to keep herself composed, but it was obvious she was exhausted. Richard¡¯s whip was coiled at her belt, more to keep it close than because they truly understood how to use it yet. ¡°For that matter, you¡¯d never laid eyes on Srin Sabine until this morning. I¡¯m the one who didn¡¯t recognize her in Carringdon.¡±

    She didn¡¯t hold you captive, though, or slip you her copy of Olwen¡¯s Song to pass the time. She didn¡¯t kill Cassia in front of you, then fall to her knees in shock and guilt. ¡°No wonder she was ducking my dinner invitations.¡±

    Charlotte cracked a smile at that. ¡°She made a mistake exposing herself. I have her trapped with Rebecca in their cabin now. We can take her into proper custody as soon as we get that Cloak away from her. Ideally we¡¯d also get that disappearing sword out of her hands. And whatever else she might have.¡± Charlotte held up her hand to her face, head drooping. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be easy.¡±

    ¡°And then what?¡± Luce couldn¡¯t help but ask. ¡°Do you have any proof but our recollections?¡±

    Charlotte¡¯s eyebrows slanted downward. ¡°You¡¯re a prince of the blood. Surely your own testimony is enough.¡±

    ¡°You know my reputation.¡± Luce frowned. ¡°The issue isn¡¯t even convincing the High Court Judge. I¡¯m counting on Vas Sarah for the Jay votes on Father¡¯s will. The Great Council won¡¯t have the numbers to declare it legitimate without them.¡±

    ¡°So tell her she was tricked, taken in by an imposter. She¡¯ll be grateful to you.¡±

    ¡°If she believes me.¡± Luce pulled out a book from his shelf, a history of Avaline Law he¡¯d brought in preparation for assuming his rightful kingship, then changed his mind and returned it to the shelf. ¡°We already clashed with Monfroy, twice now. How is it going to look if we¡¯re throwing her star initiate in prison right afterwards? We need actual proof.¡±

    ¡°If Vas Sarah finds out.¡± Charlotte flicked her thumb towards the window, gesturing in the direction of Monfroy¡¯s metal prison. ¡°There are other options. And it would spare us any risk of her escape.¡±

    ¡°After she saved us?¡± Monfroy had earned his impending demise with everything he¡¯d ever done, and there was no other practical way to dispatch him besides. Florette, though, after riding to their rescue? ¡°Could you have stopped Monfroy without her?¡±

    Charlotte gritted her teeth. ¡°I am well aware of my failures today. The blood of thirteen people is on my hands. That has nothing to do with this pirate.¡±

    ¡°That pirate just cut off Monfroy¡¯s head! What if she hadn¡¯t come? We¡¯d all be dead.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s...¡± Charlotte shook her head, bewildered. ¡°She held you captive. She murdered your cousin. If half the rumors are true, she was behind Gordon Perimont¡¯s death, too, and all the mess that it made for you.¡±

    ¡°She is,¡± Luce allowed. ¡°But it was my choice to cover it up, one mistake of many in my tenure there.¡±

    ¡°You¡ª¡± Charlotte blinked. ¡°You¡¯re saying that Anya Stewart and Lilian Perimont were right? You countenanced and covered up the assassination of your predecessor?¡±

    ¡°To avoid a war breaking out!¡± Luce threw up his hands, his pacing interrupted. ¡°And I already said it was a mistake.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t make it again. Don¡¯t let Florette d¡¯Enquin leave this place alive. We don¡¯t even have to confiscate her artifacts, just keep her locked inside, ignorant, long enough for the D.V. bomb to go off.¡± The words emerged from Charlotte¡¯s mouth, but it was as if a stranger had spoken them.

    ¡°When did you become so cruel, Charlotte?¡±

    That offended her. ¡°It¡¯s cruel to stop your enemies? Was it also cruel when you had Agnes Delbrook hanged?¡±

    ¡°After a trial! I didn¡¯t trick her into sitting next to a bomb that would vaporize every cell of her flesh.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that trial.¡± Charlotte let out a faint laugh. ¡°I remember when you gave the order. Hang her. You didn¡¯t ask me to arrest her, to prepare the courts. You wanted her dead, and everything else was a formality.¡± Could that really be true? I was only trying to save Carringdon. ¡°How is this any different?¡±

    ¡°Agnes Delbrook didn¡¯t save my life.¡±

    ¡°She didn¡¯t murder your cousin, either.¡±

    ¡°Shut up about Cassia! You never even met her.¡± Luce angrily knocked a pile of papers off his desk. ¡°You weren¡¯t there... when she died. I was. I saw everything. Florette knocked on the door, asking us to surrender. Cassia burst it open and threw a dagger into her shoulder...¡± And knowing what I know now... ¡°That was only because Harold set us up. They¡¯d have never found the ship otherwise. He¡¯s just as responsible as she is. As I am.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you shouldn¡¯t be saving him!¡± Charlotte erupted, her professional facade finally cracked. ¡°There comes a point when virtues twist to vices, Luce. A big heart full of forgiveness does not mean you need to let thieves and murderers roam free. And if you let her go, she¡¯s only going to cause more problems for you later. She needs to die. Today.¡±

    Is this really about Florette the pirate, and not my brother? Luce took a deep breath, trying to let his rage subside. ¡°That¡¯s not the kind of king I want to be.¡±

    Charlotte straightened her posture, her breathing slowing to match his. ¡°What alternative is there?¡±

    ¡°We need to be pragmatic about this. Let me feel out Sara, find out if there¡¯s any proof she¡¯d need beyond my word. We can¡¯t afford to antagonize the Jays right now.¡± Luce paused. ¡°Florette doesn¡¯t know that you know, right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t... think so.¡± Charlotte paused, considering the question. ¡°She¡¯ll suspect it. I asked her about ¡®Diced Digits¡¯, a pirate game she taught me in Malin, which she might have realized was¡ª¡±

    ¡°You knew her in Malin?¡± Luce blinked, trying to think back to those days usually better left forgotten.

    ¡°Briefly,¡± Charlotte answered. ¡°And not under her own name. Remember Leclaire¡¯s ¡®bodyguard¡¯ named ¡®C¨¦line¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± From before I¡¯d arrived, when I was still stranded with Eloise. Camille had twisted that tale into a wicked lie for Simon, and she¡¯d done it right in front of Luce. How did I ever think I could work with her? Had he truly been that stupid? ¡°How well did you know her?¡± Luce asked, trying to move away from his own follies.

    A deep scowl traced its way across her face, oddly discordant with the hint of red in her cheeks. ¡°Not well. We met at one party, then she disappeared. I think I could smooth it over if I had to, make it seem like a coincidence. She hasn¡¯t officially been put under arrest.¡±

    ¡°Then do it,¡± Luce ordered.

    Reluctantly, Charlotte nodded. ¡°And what about Rebecca? She could be compromised.¡±

    Anyone could be compromised. Monfroy had posed as a child, with no way to recognize it until he revealed himself. Florette of Enquin, a half-forgotten ghost, just emerged from a nondescript Jay and cut off his head right in front of me. It was beginning to seem as if absolutely anything could happen, and precious little of it could be planned for. ¡°Nothing, for now. Her only job today is pressing a button, and there¡¯ll be eyes on her the entire time; she could hardly sabotage that. As far as information, she already knows everything sensitive about the experiment. You can figure out how much she knows about ¡®Sabine¡¯ when we get back to Cambria.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± She frowned, but nodded her head. ¡°Your Highness.¡±

    ?

    Somehow, it only took a few hours to reset everything back to where it needed to be. For all of Lord Monfroy¡¯s grandstanding, he hadn¡¯t actually done any meaningful damage to the experiment itself. Aside from the lives he took, at least.

    If Luce had never set Monfroy up through the Charenton journal, they might still be alive. And Monfroy would still be free, unconstrained from killing far more over a longer period of time. Exposing him wasn¡¯t something worth regretting, nor feeling guilty about. Charlotte would say the same, obviously, but Luce didn¡¯t even need to talk to her to understand that.

    Still, I mustn¡¯t forget what it cost. Especially since it had nearly been so much worse.

    Lizzie Stewart had barely moved since the end of the attack, sitting on a rock a ways away from the test site and staring out at the moors. His technical preparations complete, Luce found himself walking towards her. She didn¡¯t even react until he sat down on the rock beside her.

    ¡°If I might have a moment alone, Your Highness.¡± Her skeletal hand was pressed flat against the rock, white bone standing out amidst the grey.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go if you ask me to,¡± Luce allowed. ¡°But we¡¯re done setting up for the test. You¡¯ll need to follow us to the bunker when we depart.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re still doing the test?¡± She snapped her head around, baffled. ¡°After everything that happened?¡±

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t get to take that away from me,¡± Luce answered coldly. He already tried to drive a wedge between my brother and me by leading Harold to Father¡¯s secrets. We survived that, and if this test goes well, he¡¯ll survive Father too. ¡°Don¡¯t let him take anything more from you, either.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Hah!¡± Lizzie tilted her head back, sandy brown hair catching the wind. ¡°What¡¯s left to take? Sir Reynard¡¯s been protecting me since I was in swaddling clothes, and that Richard brute tore him apart so badly I couldn¡¯t even recognize him. I didn¡¯t know his squire Frederick as well, but by all accounts he was a good lad. I ordered them to their deaths, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°You have nothing to feel guilty about. I gave the same order with twice the count and no survivors. Monfroy gave us no choice, and getting loyal guards out of his sight was our best hope of stopping him anyway. If we hadn¡¯t, Charlotte couldn¡¯t have stopped Richard, and we might all be dead right now.¡±

    ¡°A convenient excuse.¡± Her carefully neutral expression curled into a frown. ¡°But I do understand what you mean. Sir Reynard always knew that duty might call upon him to die for me, and I doubt he did so with any regrets. It doesn¡¯t change the fact that my life is over now.¡±

    ¡°I thought the same thing after Leclaire drove me out of Malin,¡± Luce confessed, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure why. ¡°A failure, a laughingstock, the only example anyone would need to point at to justify a more brutal occupation. People say worse about me now, but after taking control of Charenton, I¡¯ve seldom had to worry about them saying that. And you have nothing to atone for.¡± Save inviting Montroy along in your retinue, perhaps, but I can hardly blame you for not suspecting that he was posing as his own son. Luce might not have made that particular mistake though, knowing what he did.

    But Lizzie only shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not concerned about that. Monfroy will take all the blame for this, and deservedly so. Knowing your reputation, you might catch a bit of blowback too, but I can¡¯t see it affecting me. That¡¯s not the problem.¡± She drummed her bony fingers against the rock, wincing as they moved. ¡°I¡¯ve been touched by the spirits, no longer fully human.¡±

    Ah, that¡¯s it. ¡°I read that Eulus branded his sages with crackling, electric eyes to set them above other humans.¡±

    ¡°Sages?¡±

    Right. ¡°Cultists. I know Eulus wasn¡¯t the only one, either.¡±

    Lizzie nodded glumly. ¡°But he¡¯s the one who fought Harold Grimoire, so he¡¯s the one who ends up in your books.¡± She held up her hand, letting the wind whistle through the bones. ¡°Our memories aren¡¯t so short up north. Less than a century ago, those cultists were hunted down and burned alive. Even before that, it¡¯s been a mark of ill portent, a sign that you¡¯ve been cursed to draw the attention of the monsters.¡± She set her hand back down. ¡°Gary made a failure of himself in Malin; my mother was exiled for doing even worse; Wallace has held our seat in the Great Council for five years and he still doesn¡¯t have a single leadership position, not even a committee. I was the last hope for the Stewarts, and now that¡¯s all over.¡±

    Briefly, Luce was taken aback. Why would she tell me that? How would it benefit her for me to know? She had only allowed him use of this land in the first place so that she could try to ascertain secrets about the DV bomb, he was sure, whether it was for Harold or merely herself. Once he shifted his thinking from politics to humanity, though, it was far easier to understand. You¡¯re unburdening your woes.

    Luce wasn¡¯t sure how to deal with that, exactly. Camille would say to exploit the weakness, to try to manipulate this low moment into support. Charlotte might instead advise caution, holding himself back from saying anything that could be used against him. Harold would probably lean in to kiss her or something, and somehow get away with it too.

    Instead, Luce lifted his eyepatch, revealing the deep blue color of the scar Levian had left him. ¡°It¡¯s your life, Lizzie. It ends when you say it does, and not a moment before.¡± He flipped the eyepatch back down, then pulled off his right glove and handed it to her. ¡°Tell anyone who needs to know that you were burned. It healed, but you¡¯d rather avoid showing the scar.¡±

    She examined the glove skeptically, then darted her eyes towards Luce¡¯s face. ¡°Is that what you said?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything. Charlotte was there; she already knows. And it¡¯s considered polite anyway, when you lose an eye.¡± And now that I¡¯ve told you, that knowledge might make its way out into the wider world, another demerit for the evil Prince of Darkness. Somehow, that didn¡¯t bother him. ¡°But maybe you shouldn¡¯t hide it. Own it, like I took ownership of my epithet.¡±

    ¡°What, walk into Cambria with a skeletal hand and petition the Prince? Arrange the trade deals with southern merchants while looking like this?¡± She waved her hand in front of him as if that alone would prove her point.

    ¡°All I know is that I¡¯m sick of hiding. We have nothing to be ashamed of. But it¡¯s up to you.¡± He offered his hand. ¡°But we should really be getting back.¡±

    Hesitantly, she accepted it, her bony fingers cold and dead against his flesh. Immediately, she ripped it free. ¡°My apologies, Your Highness.¡± She slipped on the black glove, then fell into step alongside him. By the time they reached the bunker, she¡¯d composed herself enough that there was no trace of despair left in her face.

    From the bunker, all that was left was arming and detonating the DV bomb through the mile of wire they¡¯d laid. A simple electrical signal would travel through the copper until it reached the detonation mechanism, tuned to flash at the resonant frequency of the Nocturne Gate. As soon as the bomb detonated, its energy would force the Gate open just enough to get a glimpse of the other side. Closing it again would be much simpler, from the calculations they¡¯d done, only requiring a slight jostle out of its new equilibrium to return to its natural, closed state.

    The chances of a resonance cascade, where the energy aligned with the gate continued indefinitely, were so small as to be disregarded in the first place, yet Luce had still taken precautions. There was nothing left now but to make his announcements and begin the experiment.

    ¡°I want to begin with a dedication to the fallen: Oliver Laurent, Laq Idun, Porro Helswath, Michael Flume...¡± Luce continued the list, thirteen names in all, including Ronald Esterton and the two Stewart guards killed by Monfroy¡¯s manservant. There would be a service for them in Forta, but none of the Shadows who¡¯d perished called this place home, so their remains would be returned to their families to do with as they saw fit. ¡°Monfroy perpetrated an unspeakable evil upon our ranks, for which he paid the ultimate price.¡±

    To avoid any potential complications with the courts, the official narrative would be that Monfroy had died upon decapitation, an immediately necessary act to defend everyone there from his wrath. Nearly everyone here had seen otherwise, but none were eager to haul his box south for a trial, especially when he might still have agents who¡¯d attempt to free him.

    A few nervous snickers emerged from the crowd of shadows, but no one contradicted his words.

    ¡°He tried to stop us because he feared what we could accomplish.¡± And for personal revenge. ¡°Even Monfroy, in the depths of his depravity, believed we would succeed. And he was right about that much. He also believed he could stop us, and all of us proved him wrong!¡± Luce held up his fist as the shadows began to cheer, though Stewart and her guards remained impassive.

    ¡°On the other side of that gate stands an entire new world, rife with untapped energy.¡± And disconnected enough from Terramonde, I hope, that we can save Harold from Father when I slam the door shut. ¡°This is but the first step of a wholesale revolution to our technology, our industry. Generations will live and die in the shadow of what we started today.

    ¡°The Nocturne Gates have stood untouched for one hundred and twenty-three years. Even when the Great Binder sealed them herself, it was not without great cost. Today, we prove that we have nothing to fear from the other side if we simply manage the risks. Today, we take the first steps towards unlimited energy. Today, we make history!¡±

    Luce elided the most important parts of the truth, just he¡¯d planned to, but it grated; in the face of what Monfroy had done, it seemed inadequate. They deserved to know what their brothers and sister had died for. Even Lizzie deserved to know why she¡¯d been maimed.

    They already took their best shot at us, and they failed. All that remained was seeing things through. ¡°Begin countdown at sixty seconds.¡± The timer activated with a satisfying electronic chirp.

    Rebecca flipped open the cage around the switch and pressed the button down. ¡°D.V. is armed.¡± Her tone was colder than usual, almost certainly because her paramour had been sent away, but that didn¡¯t necessarily speak to any disloyalty.

    At thirty seconds, Russel read out the results of the dial in front of him. ¡°Detonator holding steady at 440, 880, and 1760.¡± He looked satisfied with the result, eager to finally pay off all the work he¡¯d put in. ¡°Stable at resonant frequency.¡±

    Luce stepped up to the console they¡¯d assembled, a mess of lights and switches, and inserted his key into the cage of his own button. He turned it, then lifted the cage in one fluid motion.

    Above the console was a viewport, barely larger than his head, padded with six layers of carefully tinted glass. Even looking at the explosion through all of that would have risked blinding them without the black goggles they were all wearing to further mute the impact of the flash they were creating. For once, it meant he didn¡¯t have to wear an eyepatch, though he still had three in his coat pockets just in case.

    In the distance, so obscured by the layers of darkness that it was practically imperceptible, was the Nocturne Gate, little more than a speck on the darkened horizon.

    ¡°Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six...¡±

    Luce placed his thumb over the button.

    ¡°Five. Four. Three. Two. One.¡±

    He pressed down on the button. ¡°Detonation.¡±

    The flash cut through all of the darkness, twice as bright as he¡¯d planned for. Only the Nocturne Gate¡¯s silhouette interrupted the bright flash still lingering in his eyes, pulsating and vibrating wildly enough to be visible even from here. A single white dot penetrated the Gate¡¯s overwhelmingly dark circle, just to the right of the center, remaining in place as the rest of the flash dissipated.

    Luce screwed his good eye shut, trying to avoid any damage, but the image lingered. Somehow, it was even getting clearer¡ªthe Gate was growing, swelling to twice its diameter, then twice again. As it expanded, the color began to shift, impenetrable black to a softened sable.

    We didn¡¯t plan for that, but it shouldn¡¯t be an issue.

    For a moment, he thought he was looking at Cya¡¯s wasteland once more, for the husks of long-dead trees were just as plentiful, hardened to dark brown and stripped of their leaves, but they lacked the white traces of the blight. A great river was flowing far below, closer to the blue than purple in the dim light, with snowy mountains arcing into the sky on either side.

    A whole other world, unseen by human eyes. Untouched by human hands. Ripe for the taking.

    A way to save Harold¡¯s life.

    Luce tried opening his eye, and found that the searing flash had mostly faded. At the moment the Gate surpassed the size of the one on Ortus Tower, Luce rolled the dial to destabilize the frequency. After a few seconds, his view of the dead forest subsided, replaced by the monolithic black Gate, successfully closed.

    I told you we wouldn¡¯t have to worry about a resonance cascade.

    Despite his confidence, Luce felt himself laughing with relief. Once he broke the silence, the rest of the room released the breath they¡¯d been holding. ¡°Russel, check the battery readings.¡±

    Russel bent down, examining the cells he¡¯d assembled to siphon power from the other side once the gate cracked open. ¡°3.6.¡± He frowned, seeing the panel smoking from a short. ¡°That¡¯s what it froze at when the cells were overloaded.¡±

    ¡°Martins?¡± That would be so minimal it¡¯d more likely result from instrument error than any successful power sapping, most likely from the short that caused the smoke.

    ¡°3.6 Million Martins.¡± Russel started to laugh. ¡°3.6 Million! I felt like a fool even building out the display that far. No wonder it fried the battery.¡±

    Luce felt the smile overtake his face. ¡°We could power all of Cambria with that.¡± He turned towards the other scientists and raised a defiant fist. ¡°Success!¡± Erelong, the room was filled with laughter and cheering, erupting even stronger when Luce signalled for the sparkling wine to be brought out.

    Charlotte remained off to the side, hesitant to join in.

    We¡¯ve debated before, but it¡¯s seldom become an argument like that. No wonder she¡¯s reluctant. But Luce, for one, was not going to let Florette of Enquin spoil the moment. ¡°Come over here,¡± he beckoned. Once Charlotte was close enough, he pulled her close and whispered into her ear. ¡°Did you see the world on the other side? Did anyone?¡±

    ¡°Do you think everyone would be so calm if they did?¡± Charlotte raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait, did you?¡±

    Luce smiled, not answering the question. Not with the eye I have left, but the one that was taken. Beyond the power, it was a way to save Harold, finally within his grasp.

    ¡°What?¡± Charlotte matched his smile anyway. ¡°What did you see?¡±

    ¡°You,¡± he answered, then pulled her into a kiss, not caring who saw it.

 Camille VII: The Lady of the Lyrion Sea

    Camille VII: The Lady of the Lyrion Sea

    ¡°Calm down,¡± Camille assured the young Duke of Condillac, shivering as the wind sliced through their cloaks. ¡°I have a plan.¡±

    ¡°You do?¡± Margot impertinently asked, having apparently not yet learned the virtues of silence, all the more so in a sensitive web of deception. ¡°Because things seemed pretty dire. Didn¡¯t Yse say that the Blue Rebels were spotted landing in Volartre, with Guy Valvert alongside them?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Camille admitted through grit teeth. I always forget how close they are. In her head, Ysengrin was her loyal spymaster and Margot her energetic stagi¨¨re, but in truth they¡¯d both known each other for years under the Malin occupation, connected by the then-absent Eloise. ¡°But Guy abandoned his wife, which is certainly why the Count of Torpierre hasn¡¯t joined his forces to theirs. And Volartre... such inexplicable folly is cause for celebration, not alarm.¡±

    The southern tip of ¡®Empress¡¯ Hermeline¡¯s Rhanoir holdings, Volartre¡¯s defensible position between the Rhan and the eastern coast of the continent made it a useful border fortress for any clashes with Micheltaigne or the splinters of Rhanoir on the Isle of Soleil, but little besides. During the War of Three Cubs, the first Hermeline had launched an assault on Salhaute in an attempt to bind the High Kingdom to her cause. She¡¯d penned up the High Queen long enough to force a peace settlement, but only succeeded in pushing Micheltaigne out of the war entirely. Even Avalon had scarcely bothered with it, maintaining a token force to cut off Princess Mars and the Micheltaigne loyalists from any supplies by sea and otherwise focusing their attention on Salhaute.

    Still... If the Blues had truly given up and fled to exile, the edge of a warzone was hardly the place to do it. Perhaps they intended to raise troops from the Isle, drawing on Guy¡¯s connection to the Lumi¨¨res and Soleil, however tenuous, or sell their swords to Avalon in exchange for aid. If so, their threat could cling to life for years to come, a constant thorn in Camille¡¯s side. The only other possibility she could think of would be even more damaging, however uncharacteristic of Guy Valvert it might be to do it.

    ¡°But what if they¡¯re allying with Avalon?¡± Margot asked. ¡°What if Avalon draws on their other client states to oppose you, like Condorcet and Guerron? Can we really afford a two-front war?¡±

    Camille glared, trying to shock her into silence lest she shake ¨¦tienne¡¯s confidence in the Empire at this crucial moment.

    ¡°Not to mention the prospect of Condillac joining against you. Didn¡¯t ¨¦tienne¡¯s cousin C¨¦line say she would fight his captors, no matter the cost? And she¡¯s exchanged envoys across the water with C¨¦dric Bougitte. If Avalon makes a move, Malin would be surrounded by enemies on all sides.¡±

    Inviting you to hear Yse¡¯s report was clearly a mistake. Margot seemed so deft at politics¡ªafter years of tutelage from the very best¡ªthat it was sometimes hard to remember she was only eighteen, a novice still. ¡°Once I am confirmed in my power, Lady of the Lyrion Sea and Torrent of the Deep, such earthly concerns will be crushed beneath my spiritual might.¡± That was the hope, anyway. In practice, Camille had reason to believe it wouldn¡¯t be that simple, but it at least offered a path out of this morass of failure and defection. Handled right, it would offer her far more than merely that.

    ¡°Do any of those spirits even like you?¡± the young Duke asked, clearly following Margot¡¯s lead.

    ¡°Power,¡± Camille answered dismissively, ¡°is about more than merely being liked. Not to diminish the importance of that, of course, but alone it is insufficient.¡± Else I would have slain Aurelian Lumi¨¨re where he stood instead of falling to his pistol. Mother had told her once that the firmest reality paled in the face of a strong narrative, but, if Lumi¨¨re had cracked that idea, the rebel knights had nearly split it open. As potent as an image could be, the right leverage in the right place seemed to be more than capable of contesting it.

    That didn¡¯t make it any less important to project strength to ¨¦tienne, however. ¡°I have made the right deals and inquiries to win a cadre of spirits to my side. Your own Corva, for example, still pines for her departed love, cruelly slain by an Avaline binder. I have vowed to retrieve the Gauntlet of Eulus, from Mordred Boothe or whomever might have snatched it from his corpse, and return it to her. Even if it should take me the rest of my life.¡±

    There hadn¡¯t been a bargain, exactly, since Camille didn¡¯t yet have the Gauntlet to give. If I¡¯d managed to snatch it from Boothe in the first place, there wouldn¡¯t be any uncertainty at all. Still, Camille was confident that it would tip Corva in the right direction when the decisive moment arrived, along with no small number of opportunists eager to back the victor.

    Fernan¡¯s account of the prior convocation painted a portrait of staid spirits, to the point of near-indifference. All but a few had fallen in behind Flammare and his doomed war of extermination, only to shift their loyalties to G¨¦zarde before his metal corpse was even cold. Once Camille proved that she was destined to win, to seize the power of her erstwhile patron and turn it, perhaps for the first time, towards truly benevolent ends, the remaining spirits would fall in line.

    ¨¦tienne frowned in disbelief. ¡°She truly promised to back you?¡±

    I didn¡¯t say that. Even nodding would go against her nature, now. Instead, Camille leaned on a delightful loophole. ¡°Would I be here if she hadn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just one spirit, though,¡± Margot unhelpfully cut in once more. Perhaps I set her off on her own before she was ready. The younger Clocha?ne was little like her elder sister, Camille had found, which had historically been naught but cause for celebration. At the moment, though, a bit of Eloise¡¯s comparative restraint would have been appreciated. ¡°Who else did you get behind you?¡±

    ¡°If Her Verdance didn¡¯t come, I¡¯m assuming that means you had no luck with Verdure or Feuillance.¡±

    ¡°I doubt they¡¯re even coming,¡± Camille admitted. Her Verdance had begged off the whole affair, showing about as much interest in the balance of spiritual power as she had in ruling the Arboreum. Some High Priestess she is. Nor would most of the numerous woodland spirits who coexisted in the Great Northern Forest have any particular interest in which spirit ascended Levian¡¯s watery seat. ¡°But Cya has been a collaborator before, and her domains are closest anyway.¡±

    ¡°Cya¡¯s dead,¡± ¨¦tienne contended, confused and wrong. ¡°Do you have Teruvo and Eulus behind you as well? Or Voleur and his floating fortresses? Soleil?¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been directing offerings to G¨¦zarde for years,¡± Camille answered, ¡°A sun is a sun, as some say.¡±

    ¡°Who says that?¡± Margot asked, genuinely curious.

    I did, just now. Perhaps in time it would become ancient spiritual wisdom; more likely it would have little purpose beyond her own rhetoric in this particular moment. It didn¡¯t particularly matter. Camille glared, trying to admonish Margot with her expression without giving anything away to ¨¦tienne, a rare challenge.

    Instead of answering, Camille continued. ¡°Glaciel has reason to be grateful to me as well, after my help in her war effort. Corro and I already had a working relationship from my time as Luce¡¯s Spiritual Liaison, and I shared intelligence reports with them about the movements of Volobrin and the Sund¨¦r¨¦ army. Further, I invited the spirit Peauvre into Sund¨¦r¨¦ to wreak havoc among the enemy ranks, a favor to her and Glaciel both.¡±

    In truth, Camille had hoped to win Sund¨¦r¨¦ as an ally against Avalon, but reinforcing her spiritual power came first. As the Hearth Spirit¡ªapparently due to the combat prowess of Laura Bougitte, of all people¡ªCamille had little to offer him spiritually, and if Glaciel prevailed in their war, she would doubtless consolidate control over the veterans of Volobrin¡¯s army. Further, she would have just as much reason to ally against Avalon, if not more, now that Camille had helped lead her to victory.

    And Volobrin is just one spirit, while this way, I can get three behind me. Too small for a majority, to be sure, and not a cohort that would be particularly persuasive to the other spirits in attendance, but Camille had another plan for that.

    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± she announced, feeling the heart of Levian¡¯s domain beneath the water. Their boat was of Lyrion make, a victim of their usual tendency to prioritize low costs above safety or efficacy, but here, in the heart of her domain, Camille had seen no reason to fear it. And taking a Lyrion boat had allowed them to travel north by train, eliminating any risk of the Avaline navy catching a glimpse of them hugging the coast, let alone sinking them wholesale.

    Nor had it gone amiss to meet with Horace Williams, the elected President of the Lyrion League. A farce of a title if ever there were one. Even Condorcet did not stoop to naming their executive title after that of a joint-stock company. The indignity alone was galling, all the more farcical for the fact that Horace Williams was the brother of Beckett Williams, the Binder Dominant of Avalon. How any of the assembled Lyrion states could possibly trust him eluded Camille, but he must have made a convincing argument for his own commitment to their independence somehow.

    Greeting Camille outside the walls of Lyrion at all was statement enough of that, with the offer of a ship only further evidence. The Countess of Dimanche, Williams had regrettably told her, was away in Ombresse, seeking to negotiate their entry into the Lyrion League. He seemed hopeful at the prospect, but Camille knew all too well how the denizens of the moon had turned on their Duke and torn him limb from limb after the siege was broken. Some said they¡¯d even eaten him. After months of disorder and starvation, most Ombresiens had welcomed the arrival of Avaline soldiers marching into their city with precious victuals.

    Tearing them away from Avalon would be no small feat, but removing that furthest southern holding from their grasp would only be a boon to Malin, so Camille had sincerely wished them luck. Better a motley assembly of fractious plantation owners and merchants have it than Avalon. As soon as King Harold¡¯s body perished, his spirit would travel to his son, a king in his own right rather than a mere Prince Regent.

    And what bloody vengeance he¡¯ll seek on Malin with the might of the world¡¯s most powerful nation behind him...

    The United Lyrion League had less to fear from Avalon, with deeper cultural ties and beneficial trade relationships, but Camille had not forgotten the rebellion Simone Leigh had raised against Lyrion¡¯s erstwhile suzerain, and King Harold wouldn¡¯t either. Avalon colonists had fought and died for liberation from their overlords, halted in their wrath only by the successive actualities of Levian¡¯s attack and the Treaty of Charenton. That enmity could be prodded at in the way a loyalist nation never could be, all the more so if the hated Prince of Darkness continued occupying Charenton.

    Or perhaps, once I am confirmed in my powers, I will obliterate them, as they obliterated the native Lyrionaise. Simon¡¯s research had been clear enough about that. Instead of contenting themselves by starving the population they occupied into oblivion, then-Avaline officials had documented all of it themselves, noting which regions, which neighborhoods, which groups of which blood would eat and which ones would starve. In their arrogance, they hadn¡¯t even disposed of the documents, though few seemed willing to speak of it openly. Even now they made a mockery of their atrocities, limiting their ¡®universal¡¯ suffrage to only those with Avaline blood, aside from ?le Dimanche. As absurd as this ¡®democracy¡¯ was in the first place, the Lyrion League had somehow managed to make it worse.

    Rejuvenating her energy after conjuring the storm above Malin would be the least of it. The entire continent was crying out for better leadership. Camille stepped onto the rail of the boat, beckoning her retinue over to the water. ¡°Now, we descend.¡±

    As a courtesy to her air-breathing companions, Camille created a staircase from the waves, a tunnel to the seafloor not unlike the channel she¡¯d once used to send Levian his sacrifices. Ice coated the top of each step, allowing their feet to find purchase on it. Camille had traveled underwater in similar fashion many times before, to impress courtiers or safely transport Lucien and Annette; Yet somehow, in this moment, she couldn¡¯t help but slip her feet into the sacrifices¡¯ tracks.

    The deep of the Lyrion sea was the very heart of her domain¡ªher blood flowed dark blue with its salty waters. So why couldn¡¯t she shake the image of that final, doomed march into the sea? The sickening inevitability of Levian receiving his due?

    I haven¡¯t even sacrificed anyone for years. Jacques Clocha?ne and his guards had been the last, at least where humans were concerned. But that hadn¡¯t been any kind of ritual, nor was it where her mind felt stuck. Jean of the Harbor. He was the last true sacrifice, his life merely a prize to be snatched out of Lumi¨¨re¡¯s hands. He¡¯d faced his death with nobility far above his station, confident that his family would be provided for.

    Camille kept calm as she flowed through the water, ¨¦tienne de Condillac and Margot descending through the tunnel of air she¡¯d left for them. Margot shouldn¡¯t really be here, in truth, but she¡¯s the best hold I have on Condillac right now, and she ought to learn how this is done. Her elder sister had a basic, self-serving cleverness, but it wasn¡¯t in Eloise to plot, simply to grasp at whatever she saw in front of her. In her own fashion, that made her more straightforward to deal with. Reliable. But Margot was capable of more.

    Including today; she might be the only human down here who isn¡¯t a sage. Even the sages were thin on the seafloor. The Convocation looked to largely comprise a smattering of lesser ocean and river spirits, perhaps every seventh or eighth spirit accompanied by a single sage. Camille recognized Fenouille and Aude, of course, along with the twin forks of the spirit Rhan. By custom, the High Priestess of the Norforche was appointed by the Rhanoir ¡®Empress¡¯, while the High Priest of the Sufforche was selected by the Temple itself. Yet neither were in attendance now.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The Northern fork is easy enough to understand¡ªHermeline has her hands full balancing her sovereignty with Avalon¡¯s demands. Losing one of her most powerful supporters on a date that Avalon might ascertain could have proved disastrous to the fragile independence she¡¯d carved out for her Rhanoir. The other High Priest had doubtless stayed behind as well, to keep things balanced.

    Yet their absence could deprive Rhan of vital support. Did the twin forks of the river think they didn¡¯t need their sages to succeed? Were they truly so confident?

    Despite herself, Camille smiled. Humans, at last, have learned to stop underestimating me. Spirits, on the other hand...

    P¨¦riplage of Paix Lake had neglected to bring her sage as well¡ªMarianne d¡¯Artre, if she still lived, though perhaps it would be her daughter now. That much was less of a surprise; the balance among the spirits and nations bordering the lake was perilous enough without the sage at the center of it choosing sides in conflicts on the other side of the continent. Bernard Aureaux had likely stayed out of it for the same reason, though as he wasn¡¯t High Priest, perhaps he simply hadn¡¯t been invited.

    Probably for the best that no sages from the lake showed up. Between the Condillac business, intervening in the war between Glaciel and Volobrin, and the Red Knight¡¯s ventures into Micheltaigne, Camille¡¯s relationship with that particular wobbly table of a region was... strained.

    She recognized a few of the other sages from distant childhood memories, more from the context of their patron spirits than because they could truly be recognized after more than two decades. Lady Caroline Aigle¡¯s family had once hailed from the southeast coast of Micheltaigne, but been driven to exile after Volobrin seized their lands in the Winter War. Alfred de M¨¦rignac and the Peychotte sisters had much the same story. Once, they had spent their exile in Malin, but as far as Camille knew, all of them had scattered after the Foxtrap, mostly among the Rhanoir.

    That was better than Camille had hoped for, in all honesty. Their patrons were lesser spirits of the Coul¨¦e Verte, less than potent in the strength of their domains, but each with a vote at the Convocation nonetheless. If even a few of them could be peeled off from Rhan...

    I should speak with them now, Camille resolved, trying to figure out how best to present herself to a group of sages she scarcely remembered, none of whom had lifted a finger to help the King who had once taken them in. She didn¡¯t make it halfway before all thoughts of the Coul¨¦e spirits fled her head.

    Standing on his own in a large bubble of air, with no spirit nearby, a familiar face was there to greet her. His hair and beard remained grey, almost blue, but his face hadn¡¯t aged a day since last Camille had seen it.

    ¡°Uncle ¨¦mile?¡± Camille failed to keep the incredulity out of her voice. I thought you were dead. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the uncharacteristically smug grin he was greeting her with. And perhaps you are.

    ¡°Camille. I wasn¡¯t sure if you would come.¡± His tone was too flat, expression lacking in emotion.

    ¡°Lucien said you helped Guerron against Glaciel. Then you disappeared.¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± He smiled. ¡°You seemed to have things under control, by that point. And I¡¯ve been helping you in ways you weren¡¯t aware of, too.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s really you?¡± Perhaps she was being paranoid; perhaps she simply couldn¡¯t believe it after five years without so much as a word of his whereabouts... But then, perhaps not. ¡°Beneath that visage, are you really ¨¦mile Leclaire, brother to my mother Sarille?¡±

    ¡°Come now, Camille!¡± He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Would I have journeyed here to help you if I weren¡¯t?¡±

    A question is not an answer, but it lets you direct the conversation as if it were. Camille had taken to the technique quickly once she¡¯d become a spirit, for it was her greatest tool at maintaining her aptitude for deception. The apparition before her, no doubt, thought it was the height of cunning.

    ¡°Perhaps, or perhaps not. I would be surprised if you were truly here to help me, Lamante.¡± She¡¯d admitted performing ¨¦mile¡¯s alleged heroics in Guerron, which meant her uncle had likely never made it back to the city at all. Dead, just as I¡¯d always feared. ¡°You dishonor his memory, making such pathetic attempts at deception while wearing his face.¡±

    Lamante¡¯s eyes flashed with indignation and rage for an instant, then rapidly smoothed into the same self-assured expression. ¡°I had anticipated this possibility, Leclaire, hence my aversion to exposing this face to you. Deceiving you was far from my primary purpose in wearing it today.¡±

    Likely as not, she needs the power of a sage of Levian to survive on the seafloor. If so, that knowledge would prove useful very shortly. ¡°Were you there when he died?¡± Camille couldn¡¯t help but ask, though the answer would carry no tactical benefit.

    ¡°I was. He died thinking only of you,¡± Lamante offered, though nothing about it was comforting. ¡°I promised him I would grant you one wish in exchange for his face. And now here you stand, an immortal spirit, beholden to Levian¡¯s brutality no longer.¡±

    And you expect me to believe you had anything to do with that?

    ¡°I¡¯m pleased to say that I no longer owe you anything.¡± She smiled, stretching ¨¦mile¡¯s mouth further than he ever would have done himself, especially to accompany a statement like that. ¡°Convenient, isn¡¯t it? I wouldn¡¯t want my hands tied when it comes to selecting who should fill Levian¡¯s seat.¡±

    I take it that you don¡¯t plan to endorse me, then. Alone, that was nothing unexpected. The new Arbiter of Darkness was no Khali, nor even her daughter Lunette. Slaying a spirit and stealing their seat doesn¡¯t mean that you can fill their role, you upjumped thief. Camille would argue as much when the time came for the domain of darkness to hold its own convocation; for now, it wouldn¡¯t do to get ahead of herself. The greater issue was Lamante¡¯s influence over several of the other upstart spirits, G¨¦zarde foremost among them.

    Yet he wasn¡¯t here at all. ¡°I notice that the Sun Spirit isn¡¯t with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that our fair G¨¦zarde has lived too long beneath the earth and sky, and failed to account for the venue. His power is sufficient to burn the waves away and manifest himself for the Convocation, but doing it even a minute earlier than he needed to would be a considerable waste of his power. He might have considered as much before having his High Priest make the long journey from Guerron, but our G¨¦zarde has never attended the Convocation of a water spirit, and isn¡¯t much one for planning besides.¡±

    Fernan is here? Camille tried to think about whether that would disrupt her plans or not... ¡°Will Sire Montaigne be making an appearance?¡±

    Lamante barked out a laugh, a crueler echo of ¨¦mil¡¯s own jovial chuckle. ¡°Even if G¨¦zarde¡¯s High Priest could somehow survive long enough to make his case for him, the water would surely blind him, smothering the flame in his eyes. In its own way, that¡¯s a shame. Montaigne has proven more inspiring than G¨¦zarde ever could, but he¡¯ll have to content himself with waiting on the shore, lamenting the fact that this Convocation tore him away from his precious Commune for nothing.¡± Despite her words, she didn¡¯t seem particularly shaken up about it.

    Probably because that leaves the duty of orating G¨¦zarde¡¯s position to her instead.

    Camille managed to tear herself away from the ghoul wearing her uncle¡¯s stolen face, forcing herself to focus on gathering the allies she needed. More than half of the spirits present weren¡¯t even willing to talk to her, let alone to hear her arguments out with an open mind. Rhan seemed to have collected a potent bloc around themselves, drawing in myriad spirits from waters all across the continent, and several from the Great Northern Forest. Even Tauroneo, Bull of the West, had ascended out of a rocky cavern to show his support. Camille had heard that the East Wind, patron spirit of the Micheltine sages, was behind Rhan as well, but she was nowhere to be found.

    Right now, that¡¯s a benefit, but it concerns me to imagine where she might be instead. What could possibly be so important? Miro Mesnil had never made any mention of her helping directly with the Micheltine resistance, nor was Princess Mars her sage. And yet now, with the Blue Knights landing in Volartre...

    There¡¯s no time to waste on considering this. Not until after the Convocation. Shaking her head, Camille moved on to the spirits willing to speak to her. Aude had traveled separately, to avoid any appearance of deference to Camille, but she was sure that her Acolyte was behind her in spirit. Fenouille, on the other hand, was unwilling to make any direct commitments. ¡°There is no greater crime for a sage than the slaying of their own patron spirit. You have never dealt in bad faith with me, young Camille, but the Lord of the Lyrion Sea must treat fairly with all the waters of Terramonde, and you have yet to show yourself worthy of that honor, nor potent enough to defend the domain. In a few centuries, perhaps.¡±

    That was close enough, Camille judged, to count him among her allies, though he certainly wouldn¡¯t be voting for her today without the right push. Corva was similar, willing to believe in Camille¡¯s commitment to rescue the gauntlet but dubious about her assuming Levian¡¯s mantle permanently. And I can hardly blame her when I haven¡¯t given her anything yet. Who would accept payment in promises?

    G¨¦zarde was a spirit she¡¯d actually helped directly, but he wasn¡¯t here to talk to, nor was Fernan Montaigne. Nor did Camille have the power to stop him from casting a vote against her, if he so chose. Nothing for it but to hope my words can convince them, she resolved, then moved on to the other spirits.

    Miroirter was the most pleasant surprise, acknowledging Camille¡¯s suitability to fight ¡®the direst threat laid before the spirits¡¯, and even offering to help her make sense of her Levian dreams. Which I never even mentioned to him. It wasn¡¯t clear how a spirit of reflections¡ªa shimmering rabbit with the skin of ten thousand mirrors and crystal fangs but no bubbles or gills¡ªwas surviving beneath the water, but Camille was certainly glad he was here.

    Despite her hopes, however, the sages of the Coul¨¦e refused to speak with her. Caroline Aigle literally turned her back rather than face her and Alfred de M¨¦rignac hid behind Tauroneo¡¯s massive stone chest, while the Peychotte sisters at least had the decency to look apologetic. But in the end, it amounted to the same thing. Camille had no choice but to group them among the problems to be dealt with. Lamante, obviously, was much the same.

    Glaciel, on the other hand, was vocal in her gratitude, which only made sense. Soleil had always been the most potent enforcer of peace between the spirits, and it had only been with his death that Glaciel had attempted to seize power by scattering the Convocation and ensuring a replacement could never be chosen. And I¡¯ve seen glimpses of what it looked like before, when spirits clashed against each other directly to seize control of their domains, tearing Terramonde apart with the destruction of their fighting. Camille¡¯s plan might skirt the line of that peace, but it wouldn¡¯t break the letter of it, which was the most important thing for a spirit bound to truth.

    ¡°I never put much stock in Peauvre¡¯s mischief,¡± Glaciel conceded. ¡°But between her sabotage and the arms my thirteenth-ring descendant has sent my way from Avalon, we should be able to mount an assault on Serpichon before summer¡¯s end, and drive that arrogant snake back to hiding inside his volcano.¡±

    Glaciel has an agent inside Avalon, sending her guns? That was definitely worth following up on, but Camille didn¡¯t have the time, so she simply thanked the Spirit of Winter for her support.

    Her partner Corro was more vexing. ¡°I am the spirit of corruption, of ignoble ends. It is my nature to see spirits through to the fate that awaits them, but your moment is not yet come, Camille Leclaire.¡± She¡¯d tried cutting through with follow-up questions, but his answers had been just as cryptic. Still, he was Glaciel¡¯s consort, and liable to support her in her decisions, so Camille kept him in the same mental group as her allies.

    Tenuous allies, she couldn¡¯t help but acknowledge. Not one of them has promised to support me. And the trick Camille had planned would likely only work once. In the future, she had to consider gathering a faction of spirits behind her more formally. If the existing ones didn¡¯t serve, that might mean elevating others. Something to think on for later, at any rate.

    But it was clear that she¡¯d done what she could, made what connections were available to her as a spiritual pariah. There was nothing left now but to make her play and hope that they fell in line. There wouldn¡¯t be any other way to keep her hold on Levian¡¯s domain, no other way to amass enough power to solve her political problems by force.

    ¡°Let us begin!¡± she called, earning a vicious glare from Tauroneo as she cut off his conversation with the southern fork of the Rhan. ¡°I, Camille Leclaire, Lady of the Lyrion Sea, Empress of the Fox, and High Priestess of the Waves, call to order this Convocation of the Spirits.¡±

    Maddeningly, most of them ignored her, then turned back to their discussions. I know you find it customary to wait for weeks or months before deciding things, but the Empire can¡¯t afford my staying absent for such a lengthy period of time. One might have hoped they¡¯d have learned something from replacing Soleil, but apparently not.

    ¡°Attention, Spirits of the Waves,¡± Camille attempted again, making sure that her voice flowed from her mouth as smooth as a stream. ¡°The time has come to begin the Convocation, and choose a successor for Levian¡¯s seat. As the heiress to his power, last scion of a line of sages stretching back more than six centuries, I invite you to make your choices in my domain.¡±

    ¡°Rhan,¡± began the bull embedded in the earth. Nothing I can do about that one, really. But he would soon be outnumbered.

    ¡°Rhan,¡± echoed Lamante, putting an unbearably smug expression on ¨¦mile¡¯s face.

    Those two were only the beginning. Stretching around the circle after them were all three spirits of the Coul¨¦e, followed by P¨¦riplage, then the twin forks of Rhan themself. They¡¯d have a majority before a single vote was cast in Camille¡¯s name.

    Camille smiled. I invited you into my domain, and now that invitation is revoked. She clasped her hands together, then ripped them violently apart, flinging water and spirits in every direction. As soon as the spirits realized what was happening, Camille had already frozen them in place, far from the site of the Convocation.

    She¡¯d burned all but the last scrap of Levian''s energy to do it, and every one of these water spirits would be able to free themselves in time, but by then it would be too late.

    Save for the stone bull, only Camille¡¯s allies remained. Fenouille looked bewildered, Corro implacable, and Corva annoyed, but Camille had the numbers now. Victory was within her grasp.

    ¡°Leclaire,¡± Glaciel voted, letting out an uproarious laugh. ¡°Well done.¡±

 Fernan VII: The Peacekeeper

    Fernan VII: The Peacekeeper

    Something was wrong. The water had rumbled and sprayed, waves rippling violently outward from the center of the Convocation, but none of the spirits had surfaced, nor had the Lord of the Lyrion Sea been chosen.

    Fernan tensed, trying to figure out what had befallen the spirits beneath the waves. Lamante might have gotten up to any amount of mischief on her own, and Tauroneo has ample reason to hate me, if he knows anything about how the Commune treated his High Priestess, but I¡¯m most worried about Camille Leclaire.

    Having attended exactly one of these Convocations, Fernan had little reason to hope. Flammare had seen himself chosen with heavy handed threats and recriminations, alongside the argument that he would be continuing Soleil¡¯s tradition of tyranny and eradication. To be fair, maybe the spirits confused ¡®acting like Soleil¡¯ with keeping the Sun¡¯s Peace.

    ¡°You have met Soleil yourself, Fernan, so I need not inform you of his shortcomings,¡± G¨¦zarde had told him before he departed Guerron. ¡°But before his pact with Khali, the situation was far worse. Spirit fought spirit, cleaving through earth and sky, until Terramonde¡¯s skin had been so mutilated that we risked waking him from his stone slumber. Soleil kept the peace between spirits, first with Khali at his side and then without her. The Sun¡¯s Peace.¡±

    For G¨¦zarde to know of it, to have experienced it himself, that must have been long ago indeed. Even Flammare¡¯s intent to war with Glaciel had been framed in those terms, as though she had given up her right to the Sun¡¯s Peace when she invaded Soleil¡¯s seat, an aberrant threat rather than a spirit worthy of equal consideration. And he was wrong; his crusade of annihilation would have done more damage than Glaciel¡¯s failed attempt.

    Worse, however ignoble Flammare¡¯s methods to ascend the seat might have been, Fernan had taken a personal hand in setting an even more underhanded precedent. It wasn¡¯t Flammare who first broke the peace, but me.

    You opened the door for me, little coal miner boy, he could hear Leclaire taunting him. You think you¡¯re so moral, but that didn¡¯t stop you from stabbing Flammare in the back to get your preferred Sun in the role, nor from leaving Laura to take the fall. Whatever was happening down there, Fernan was not above the blame, though none of the spirits save Lamante had any reason to know that.

    He could stay waiting up here, wait for everything to settle out, and plead his case to whomever ended up taking Levian¡¯s seat in the aftermath. The victor could hardly be as bad as Levian himself, to be sure. And who was Fernan to interfere, after all the harm he¡¯d done last time?

    All the harm to one human and one spirit, with hundreds of thousands of Hiverriens saved from a brutal war...

    Except they weren¡¯t, were they? Killing Flammare had opened his seat up; framing Laura¡ªnot only monstrous on its face¡ªhad put her in position to help Volobrin win it. Wasting no time, Volobrin had led an army out of the Plumards across the southern flats, a full-scale invasion of Hiverre before Flammare¡¯s body was cold. In a very real way, Fernan was to blame for that as well.

    Glaciel was holding her own against Volobrin, to be sure, making his Dominion of Sund¨¦r¨¦ fight for every inch of land across these past four years; such resistance from Hiverre would have crumbled against united opposition from Flammare and the other flame spirits.

    Probably. Possibly. Or perhaps they would be fighting still, holding together against impossible odds. Florette and I could have fought with them in the open, won other spirits to our side with honor instead of deception... Maybe. Glaciel seemed to feel that way, considering that Christophe boy she¡¯d sent to help Florette in her name. But a tyrant Queen was hardly the arbiter of what was best for her people, even if they were also her descendants.

    For all the uncertainty Fernan felt, he couldn¡¯t believe that the war Hiverre faced was anything close to what Flammare would have given them. Killing Flammare had to have been the right choice.

    Perhaps whoever is behind the trouble below has a similar justification. That was all the more likely if Leclaire were the cause.

    G¨¦zarde hung in the air above, waiting for his moment to descend. But if not now, when?

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Fernan called up to him, fearing he already knew the answer.

    ¡°It is not my nature to intervene in a clash between spirits. Had I my mountain to return to, I would be separated by miles of earth and flame.¡± Put that way, it was a wonder that Lamante had talked him into coming at all. ¡°You would do well to follow, Montaigne. You barely survived one clash with the Torrent of the Deep.¡±

    Wait and hide, like you¡¯ve done for the last thousand years. Fernan understood his trepidation, but the Sun had a duty.

    And it seems it must fall to his High Priest.

    ¡°Burn a circle downward!¡± Fernan called out. ¡°Block the water from flowing in and I can enter in your stead.¡±

    G¨¦zarde hesitated, obviously confused at the request.

    ¡°That¡¯s what sages are for! To represent their patron spirits!¡± Or kill them, in the case of the two sages I knew best, but I would never do the same. The mountainfolk owed G¨¦zarde and his children far too great a debt to even consider it. ¡°Let me help!¡±

    With a flap of his wings, G¨¦zarde called down a pillar of fire from the sky, burning so pale it was almost white. A sizzling splatter erupted from the water where the flame touched it, gradually settling to a dull roar once the circle reached the floor of the sea.

    Fernan wasted no time, jumping from the boat and throwing himself towards the fire. He spun his hands just in time to part it in front of himself, flying into the circle and diving downwards towards the spirits below.

    Where are the rest of them? was Fernan¡¯s first thought. He recognized Glaciel, Corro, Corva, and Tauroneo, who were joined by a large frog spirit with a brown-green aura and a small pink pink spirit dancing around the edge of the circle.

    And, of course, Camille Leclaire.

    ¡°Leclaire,¡± voted the imp, leaping over the frog¡¯s head as she said it. ¡°You must let me know when you plan to do this again. What fun!¡±

    Fun? Fernan felt his eyes flare outward, realizing for the first time what was really going on. It¡¯s not an accident that all the other spirits are gone; Leclaire did this. ¡°Camille, stop!¡± he yelled, landing on his feet with a wet thud.

    Glaciel was the first to respond to his presence. ¡°You¡¯re that boy who sank my castle, aren¡¯t you? A sage, not a spirit.¡±

    Camille turned to face him, hair floating up behind her as if it were still underwater. ¡°You don¡¯t get a vote, Fernan Montaigne. G¨¦zarde may join us, as is his right. But I¡¯m afraid that the vote is already underway. If he can¡¯t make it back in time, well... I suppose the vote will have to stand as it is.¡±

    She¡¯s trying to steal it out from under them. Somehow, that was still a surprise. I got complacent after the Treaty of Charenton. She left Guerron alone, but made no such commitments with the spirits. Levian would only be the first of many, apparently.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to win like this, Camille. Even if you pull it off, they¡¯ll hate you forever. An exile, an¡ª¡±

    ¡°An abomination?¡± she smiled, her lips an icy blue. ¡°They¡¯ve already tarred my children with that particular brush, shunned me for doing my duty as a sage and serving justice to that violent monster. Why should I care what they think?¡±

    ¡°Forever is a long time,¡± Fernan tried, remembering what Edith Costeau had said about immortality. ¡°Is this who you want to be for the next eon? A usurper standing arm-in-arm with the Winter Queen, shunned by all as your children and grand-children die before you?¡±

    Her pupils narrowed into slits at that, which at least counted for something. Fernan had feared she would simply brush it off. ¡°Needless to say, my vote is for Leclaire as well. Queen Glaciel, would you kindly remove this interloper?¡±

    Oh shit. Fernan sprang into the air seconds ahead of a spear of ice erupting from the ground.

    Camille frowned. ¡°Nonlethally, if you please.¡±

    ¡°Marie would have killed him for that insult.¡± Glaciel made no move to attack him further.

    ¡°As would her descendant, I fear. Yet I am not the Fox-Queen, Empress of her domains though I might be. I do not wish for him to die today. ¡±

    Wow, thanks. The conversation distracted Fernan long enough for the pink imp to surprise him from behind, wrapping a tightly-bound rope around his neck. Where did she even get that? ¡°This... is... wrong...¡± he choked out, not sure whether he was appealing to Camille or the spirits around her. ¡°Supposed... to be... better... than... Levian.¡±

    His head felt light, but Fernan swore he saw the frog react to that, a hitch in his belly as expanded with his breath. Corva followed, raising her wings above her head. ¡°This was not the deal we made, Leclaire.¡±

    ¡°We didn¡¯t make a deal, as such. I kept you here because I know you to be ancient and wise. You¡¯ve suffered more than most after what happened to Eulus, and I want to make that right. You, in turn, could recognize that I have more to offer in my patron¡¯s seat than out at the fringes.¡±

    ¡°The Arbiter of the Waves must be chosen by the spirits, not stolen by a human,¡± the frog croaked, his voice a rush of mud and water. ¡°Taking on Levian¡¯s power does not need to mean taking on his cruelty. I never thought I would see you become like this, little Camille. I choose Rhan.¡±

    ¡°What? Damn it, Fenouille, the whole point was¡ª¡±

    ¡°Rhan,¡± Corva echoed, apparently deciding the matter. As she finished speaking, a whistle of the wind through her wings, an echo sounded across the seafloor.

    A moment later, a great wave burst through G¨¦zarde¡¯s pillar of light at the surface, causing a cascade of water down the sides. Instead of a wall of flame holding the waves at bay, now it was a wall of flowing water, slowly pooling and rising on the seafloor.

    Fernan felt the cord around his neck slacken, and pulled it free. By the time he caught his breath, the pink imp was gone and the water was up to his knees. Corva had taken flight alongside her sage, while Tauroneo had encased Camille¡¯s arms and legs in stone.

    Why couldn¡¯t he have done that earlier? Fernan thought indignantly. He suspected he knew the answer, though. He was waiting to see how this all shook out. If Camille had prevailed, it wouldn¡¯t have been wise to provoke her then and there. Nor would the bull necessarily have been able to stop her.

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    ¡°You were quite correct, girl.¡± Glaciel stepped lightly above the rising water, ice forming beneath her every step. ¡°I well knew Marie Renart. I fought with her. I conquered in her name. You are no Marie Renart, more alike to the oafish descendant you married.¡± She reached out and seized Camille¡¯s hair, sending ripples of ice towards her head. ¡°Levian borrowed ice from my domain to complement his power over water, and you held that power too. No more.¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Camille¡¯s eyes widened as she futilely tried to contest it, but she couldn¡¯t even break free of Tauroneo¡¯s stone bindings, let alone contest the Winter Queen.

    ¡°Now, I take back what is mine.¡± Glaciel swelled in size, until she towered above the water¡¯s surface, the rolling waves crashing against her shoulders. ¡°For providing me that, and a dose of amusement, you have my gratitude.¡± She let out a chilling laugh, chiming with malice. ¡°Now you can kill her, Tauroneo.¡±

    ¡°It is not your place,¡± the frog croaked, sounding somewhat disquieted at the thought.. ¡°Rhan must have that honor.¡±

    ¡°Must she, Fenouille?¡± the bull rumbled, tightening the earthen manacles around Camille¡¯s wrists. ¡°It was the Sun¡¯s Peace she broke. G¨¦zarde must judge her.¡±

    ¡°He would kill her just the same.¡± Glaciel shrugged her shoulders, a strangely human gesture from the frozen giantess. ¡°It makes no difference.¡±

    G¨¦zarde would spare her life if I asked him to. I think so, anyway. For that to even be an option, though, he had to get down here. Somehow even Rhan¡¯s waves breaking through his fire hadn¡¯t stirred him to do it. Moreover, once everyone arrived, would he even be willing to grant that clemency if Lamante poured poison in his ear?

    Considering what she¡¯s done, I doubt any one of them would want to. Fernan could limp off, satisfied that Leclaire¡¯s ambitions had been thwarted, and leave her to her fate. The fate I arranged for her, a punishment for crime I myself have exceeded. Unlike with Flammare, after all, no spirits had died for this.

    ¡°G¨¦zarde is absent,¡± Fernan found the strength to say, despite knowing it might weaken his patron¡¯s influence. ¡°It was the Sun who set the terms of the peace, but it fell to the spirits to live up to it. Your votes already thwarted Leclaire¡¯s designs. Now let them spare her life.¡±

    The air shook with gales of icy wind, Glaciel¡¯s laughter rebounding over the falling water. ¡°She tried to seize Levian¡¯s seat for herself after treacherously killing him, imposing herself above the will of the spirits.¡±

    ¡°And you supported her in doing it.¡± Lamante was the first to ride over the waterfall, buoyed upward by G¨¦zarde¡¯s light. Not a good sign that he would think of her first. She put on a mask as she fell, changing into the form of¡ª

    ¨¦mile Leclaire? Fernan narrowed his eyebrows as he tried to think back. Was that her the whole time? He had disappeared after the duel, but...

    It doesn¡¯t matter.

    Lamante used Emile¡¯s form to land on top of the water, looking confused and annoyed that she hadn¡¯t been able to create a platform out of ice.

    ¡°Were you not attempting the very same thing when you invaded Guerron?¡± Fernan added, watching G¨¦zarde descend from the sky after the mantis. To keep above the water, he began blasting fire from his feet. ¡°Unlike you, Camille Leclaire did not take any lives in her callousness. Nor should any of you do the same. The Sun¡¯s Peace isn¡¯t just about peace between spirits, it means respecting humanity as well.¡±

    ¡°Were you there when Soleil made this declaration, boy?¡± Glaciel was shrinking down to better fit in the cavern, several ocean and river spirits following after her from above. ¡°Who are you to ascribe motives to a dead spirit?¡±

    ¡°You would not exist for millenia more yourself, Glaciel.¡± With the water rising so high, Tauroneo had slipped beneath the waves, but his voice could still be heard from below as the earth rumbled. ¡°The Sun¡¯s Peace was a peace between the spirits, between Soleil and Khali foremost of all. But humans were part of it, ensuring that no spirit would war against another¡¯s stock of humans directly, lest they provoke an overt conflict. He saw the benefit of empowering humans to do such work; they could never mar Terramonde¡¯s skin nor end spiritual lives in the same destructive fashion.¡±

    ¡°He might have paid better attention to what befell Khali and Pantera, if he truly believed that. It might have been enough to avoid the same fate for himself.¡± With ¨¦mile¡¯s face, Lamante sounded exactly as Fernan had remembered him, even in the way she spoke. ¡°We owe Leclaire nothing. Nor is she truly human anymore.¡±

    The various river spirits were arriving behind Lamante, signalling their assent. The more of them who return, the lower my chances.

    ¡°Then consider Glaciel!¡± Fernan shouted, deliberately provoking the Queen of Winter. ¡°Was she killed for her part in Soleil¡¯s Convocation? No.¡±

    ¡°Flammare wished it so,¡± rumbled the earthen bull from below. ¡°But he was not given the chance.¡±

    Because Florette and I killed him...

    Fernan thought he had seen Flammare once, shortly after reckoning with Levian. His flaming metal wings had sung a song of agony and betrayal, halted only when his form shifted to that of Jerome, giving Fernan a look less angry than disappointed. Those phantoms would be sure to haunt him again after this, Camille¡¯s voice joining the rest of them in judgement.

    ¡°This usurpation cannot go unpunished.¡± A deep blue-green streak flitted across the cavern, Rhan gone as soon as they arrived. But they continued dipping in and out, never in a single place for long enough to take them in, bringing more and more small spirits together with every motion.

    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± announced Fernan, suddenly struck by an idea that could cut through the vicious momentum that was building. ¡°Camille Leclaire has already lost her grip on the magic of ice and winter.¡±

    ¡°Insufficient.¡± Now the water was deep enough that Tauroneo¡¯s words took on a strange muted quality.¡±

    Of course, but here¡¯s the solution. ¡°She will swear to honor the Sun¡¯s Peace, as the elder spirits did. She must swear never to attend a Convocation ever again. She won¡¯t have the chance to try this or anything like it again.¡±

    ¡°And then we would let her walk away?¡± Rhan asked, incredulous.

    ¡°This sets a precedent,¡± Fernan answered. ¡°Spirits who kill other spirits break the Sun¡¯s Peace, whatever the crimes of the victim. If Camille is no longer a human to be judged as such, then judge her as a spirit. Let her live, as you all would wish to live. What¡¯s important is taking away her power over you, and we¡¯ve done that already. Force her to swear those oaths, and you¡¯ll cement it forever.¡±

    ¡°It is no small thing to bind a spirit so.¡± Lamante tilted her head, looking utterly unnatural doing it with ¨¦mil Leclaire¡¯s body. ¡°I would be amenable to such a solution, provided I can make her swear those vows myself.¡±

    Why would it matter to you? Fernan thought, but it didn¡¯t really matter as long as she was willing to accept it. ¡°G¨¦zarde, Flame Under the Mountain, Sun in the Sky, I¡¯m sure that you would agree.¡± If you don¡¯t want to do anything actively, at least jump in when I set you up.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± he offered, managing to sound hesitant as he pulsed with blinding light. ¡°Rhan, spirits of the waves and waters, has there not been sufficient death? The binders of Avalon seek to rend the material world from the spirits by killing us, one by one. Soleil, Levian, and Pantera all died by human hands, by such means too was Khali sealed.¡±

    ¡°We must stand together,¡± Tauroneo¡¯s muffled voice agreed. ¡°Make her swear her oaths, and let her live.¡±

    ¡°Let her live,¡± Fenouille echoed.

    ¡°And perhaps she¡¯ll wish she hadn¡¯t.¡± Lamante smiled, ¨¦mil¡¯s mouth stretching uncannily wide. ¡°Spirits of the water, follow me, and watch me see this through.¡± She let out a faint laugh, then dove under the surface of the water.

    It wasn¡¯t long before Rhan and the other spirits followed, leaving Fernan alone on the surface with G¨¦zarde. Glaciel was already striding across the sea towards Hiverre, ice sprouting beneath her feet with every step.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Fernan told his patron earnestly. It took you a while to speak up, but it seems like you really were listening to what I was saying. That thought was even more comforting than the knowledge it had spared Camille¡¯s life.

    ¡°You did well to stop her. A newborn spirit wielding such power could have been disastrous.¡± G¨¦zarde flapped his wings, orienting himself to ascend back into the sky. ¡°And yet she is a spirit still. We have suffered too many losses to impose another upon ourselves. We shall speak again in Guerron,¡± he said, then took to the skies.

    We shall, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m done here.

    Fernan flew back to the shore, landing near a piece of driftwood large enough to sit and wait a while. The green tint to the setting sun combined mingled with the blue of the water as G¨¦zarde receded, the wind beginning to pick up.

    Still, Fernan waited.

    The last dregs of twilight had nearly faded by the time Camille emerged from the deep, aura looking sickly slender and not fully corporeal. She collapsed on the beach with a wet splat, rage and exhaustion and despair writ plain across her body.

    Fernan approached her cautiously, watching as his breath warmed the air around him. Camille, by contrast, scarcely seemed to be breathing at all. Glaciel must have taken more out of her than I thought. He bent down and offered his hand, prompting her to stir.

    ¡°You¡ª¡± Her aura crystalized to ice-cold blue, granting her a sense of life and fortitude. ¡°You just threw the continent away, you honorless scourge.¡± Slowly, painfully, she pulled herself to her feet, still dripping in viridian and turquoise. ¡°I signed your infernal treaty, granted you your little commune. I have left you alone, and in return you stab me in the back!?¡±

    ¡°I was keeping the peace,¡± Fernan tried, before Camille¡¯s invective forced him to step back.

    ¡°What peace were you keeping? The same one between the spirits that you broke with your friend Florette?¡±

    Fernan¡¯s eyes flared out. She wasn¡¯t there for the White Night. We spoke before the Convocation, but I never told her anything about that plan. ¡°How did you know that?¡±

    Camille snorted. ¡°As if it weren¡¯t obvious enough from the fact your patron just happened to replace Flammare, you¡¯ve just confirmed it yourself.¡± Damn it. ¡°Why should you punish me for doing something no different than what you did? You handed me the sword to cut off Levian¡¯s head.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the same. Levian was¡ª¡±

    ¡°A threat we needed to deal with, no matter the cost. A monster without peer, and I could have saved the Empire with his power! Turned to good ends; now, Rhan will waste it wallowing in the shallows. And as if that weren¡¯t enough, now I lack the power to stop these rebels before they overrun the continent.¡±

    ¡°What? The Blue Knights?¡± Fernan had heard about them, of course, but once he found out that they¡¯d willingly brought Guy Valvert into their leadership, he¡¯d ceased to fear them entirely. They might be trained killers, but from all he¡¯d heard, Malin had a professional army, legions that could stand against the rebels.

    ¡°And our mutual adversary Valvert. Do you know what I saw as I struggled through the water, the edge of my body melting away into the sea? Do you know what¡¯s in store for your precious Commune?¡±

    ¡°War?¡± Is that why she tried this? Did it make any difference? ¡°What did you see?¡±

    Camille sighed, aura relaxing slightly as she firmed up her form. ¡°The Avaline have been driven from Salhaute. Princess Mars launched an assault from the mountaintops as the knights rode up the road, firing pistols at the soldiers on the walls. By the time they got the airships into the sky, they were using cannons as well.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re in Micheltaigne? Why would they¡ª¡± Oh, Fernan realized as he thought back to Guy¡¯s escape. That woman gave them shelter even though they didn¡¯t care one whit about her safety. Avalon was little liked across the continent, but few had been brave enough to stand up to them directly. Camille had outmaneuvered Luce from Malin, and the Treaty of Charenton had liberated Lyrion in a limited sense, but Micheltaigne was a Territory, a garden of exploitation and cruelty, taken by overwhelming force.

    And somehow, Guy Valvert struck that blow. Even knowing that Camille was incapable of lying, Fernan could scarcely believe it. If it¡¯s true, it¡¯s only a matter of time before he tries to take Guerron back for himself. Without an army behind him, Guy had had no choice but to flee. Now...

    ¡°Now they have a kingdom behind them, the only to rid itself of Avalon by force of arms, and thousands of disaffected knights waiting for any excuse to take back what they think is theirs. Hundreds of thousands of peasants confused by anything they can¡¯t understand.¡± Camille whipped her arm, slashing a wave of water over the beach that left a deep, crisp gouge in the sand. ¡°And they have the Red Knight, fighting right alongside them.¡±