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Monarch - Pyrrhic VII
🕑 Added 2022-08-24 01:16:59 +0000 UTC“Holy hells.” Guemon breathed out.
I glanced around the room, intentionally avoiding Maya’s expression for the moment. Guemon and Persephone were much as I remembered them, though there were minor changes. Guemon was still a rotund, brash looking man. At some point in my absence, one of his horns had broken off, making his appearance asymmetrical and slightly unhinged.
Persephone looked far worse for wear. I’d once found the bisected nature that reflected her heritage an interesting dichotomy—the left side of her face was demonic dark chitin, the right side a half-visage of a beautiful violet infernal woman. Terror and beauty isolated in features split directly down the middle. The demon hadn’t changed much, but the woman had dark bags under her eyes, and she toyed with a xescalt flask in her lap.
Despite being generally tough as hell, she was clearly still grieving the loss of her son.
Maya was utterly inscrutable. Her expression was set in an almost regal apathy, and her dark hair was cut short, tied back in a severe ponytail. The resemblance she shared with her mother was far more striking than before, and a self-assured air had replaced the kindly, nervous atmosphere she previously projected.
I spoke on instinct before anyone paid heed to my gawking. “I’d strongly advise against sending a messenger to sue for negotiations. Guemon is correct. It won’t end well.”
“The Sanctum was good to you.” Persephone observed quietly.
Guemon pressed a hand to his forehead. “Well, happy fucking resurrection and welcome back to the fray. What the hells, Ralakos. How long were you hiding this under your tabard?” He glared at the elder.
“I didn’t know.” Ralakos shook his head. “If I were to guess, only a few elders in the Sanctum were aware. And they tend to hold their secrets close.”
“Time is short.” I interjected, trying to skip over the initial shock.
“Yes. We do not have the luxury of mincing words.” Maya said, her voice perfectly even. “Thus, I would question the wisdom of bringing an outsider—in hiding for years, cut off from all information and news from the outside world—into a war council at such a critical moment.”
Persephone chortled to herself as Guemon stared at Maya, as confused as I was. “He’s the human heir. Groomed for that very purpose. Even if his knowledge is out of date, he still holds a far more profound understanding of their politics and more in-depth insight into the king than any of us.”
It was a strange inversion of how I expected this to go. Guemon defending me while Maya took the offensive, instead of the other way around.
“What Cairn holds,” Maya’s calm cracked, showing a hint of cold fury beneath. “Is an over-inflated sense of importance and self-aggrandizement. Any authority he possesses is immediately undermined by the man marching an army to the enclave. If anything, his presence places us in greater threat. Unless he’s willing to cut bait and return home.”
“I don’t see a way around that, to be honest.” I admitted.
“Because you have another angle.” Maya gave me an unimpressed look.
“No.” I shrugged. “I needed to return to Whitefall eventually. There are matters that require my attention, left unchecked for too long.” I glanced at Guemon and Persephone. “My intent was to do so after my accolades had grown—more leverage that way—but I suspect the only thing that will stay my father’s hand is the return of a son he thought dead.”
“Were we all so lucky.” Persephone took a long pull from her flask, and didn’t bother refastening the cover.
Unless I was reading her wrong, Maya’s disposition grew even more frigid.
“I’d like to fix the dimension gate before I go.” I said, holding out my palm and letting violet flame dance across my palm in complex patterns. “I’ve fully mastered the Dantalion’s third stage. Will we have time for the repairs before my father arrives?”
A sense of gloom overcame the inhabitants, answering the question before anyone spoke.
Ralakos placed a kindly hand on my shoulder. “There are scholars and engineers to help expedite the process, but will take a day at best, if not several.”
Damn.
“So, it’s pointless then. We will simply need to cut our losses.” Persephone said.
”No.” My voice held a vehemence that surprised me. “The council allowed me into the Sanctum for a singular purpose. Mending the dimension gate. Elder Veldani took me as a disciple and trained me, and it is all I have worked toward for years. I will not slink away like a thief, taking all the hospitality and training I have received on credit.”
“You want to negotiate with him.” Maya’s eyes narrowed.
“There is no other course.” None that I could think of on such short notice, anyway.
“May I remind you of how your last few attempts at negotiations went, in the Sanctum?” Maya said pointedly. I winced. She was referring to the deliberations with Thoth, which were, admittedly, abject failures. But my father wasn’t the immovable force in the same manner Thoth was. While he was almost as stubborn and sadistic, he was capable of making concessions if the negotiation was framed correctly.
“If push comes to shove, I’ll surrender. No reasonable person wants open conflict between Whitefall and the Enclave.” I looked around the room. “But we need a show of strength. Otherwise, he’ll just roll us over and take what he wants. It’s his way.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Guemon inclined his head to me. “Along with our armies, every infernal in the region is on their way here. Most have already arrived. No one’s forgotten the conquest. Even those we’ve had difficult dealings with in the past.”
“Assuming they show. Exagos bastards.” Persephone rolled her eyes.
“You were supposed to be keeping tabs on them.” Guemon said, concern leaking into his voice.
“And I have.” Persephone confirmed. “Thus far, they seem committed to upholding the pact. They’re set to arrive within the hour. So long as they haven’t tripped over every bar and brothel along the way.”
“Should Exagos renege, we still have more than enough manpower on our side to make invading a costly proposition. Even with King Gil leading the charge.” Ralakos reassured the room, shooting me a knowing smile.
Maya, who’d been watching the exchange in silence, suddenly spoke. “As it appears I’m no longer needed, I’ll take my leave. There are other preparations to attend to.” She gathered several reports from the table in front of her and shoved them into a leather satchel, which she threw back over her shoulder, pointedly avoiding looking at me.
“Stay safe, emissary. Your valor is noted.” Guemon said, not bothering to look at her as she left.
“Uh…” I glanced at Ralakos. “I should probably take my leave to the surface as well.”
Ralakos shook his head, an infuriating twinkle in his eye. “Let's get you cleaned up first. You’d pass better as a prisoner of war than a prince at this point. I can’t imagine negotiations going well if your father gets the same impression.”
“Fair enough.” I agreed begrudgingly. As much as I wanted to make amends with Maya and apologize for stepping on her toes in the meeting, we had bigger problems.
Not to mention, I needed to find out what Councillor Ralakos had heard from Bell.
/////
I was thrown in a proverbial blender of hairdressers, tailors, and attendants. In less than half an hour, my skin showed an angry pink. The bath attendants were exceedingly polite, but I felt the way their hands lingered on my scars, and the attention the dark inscriptions that framed much of my upper body drew.
They did an excellent job mimicking the sort of styling popular amongst human royals, and by the time they were done I barely recognized myself.
Kilvius stopped in briefly to welcome me back, though he didn’t stay long. It turned out he was working with Persephone now. Though he was vague on the specifics.
Ralakos stood with his hands behind my back in the parlor of what was once my rooms. A sense of nostalgia washed over me as I approached the bookshelves, running my fingers across their weathered spines. “I missed this place. The wealth of knowledge a matter of pages away. Found a few libraries within the Sanctum chambers, but they were mostly written in languages unknown to me. Or archaic demonic. Which is…”
“Devilish?” Ralakos joked.
“Yes. Almost entirely different from the language now.” I turned to him. “Any news from Bellarex?”
Ralakos’s expression darkened. “I can’t say I’m pleased with your handling of her. Especially considering what happened to her father. There is only so much a person can take.”
I cringed, a wave of familiar guilt resurfacing. “Our options were limited. But yes. It wasn’t ideal.”
Ralakos sighed, the darkness subsiding, and strode to the book case, seemingly looking for one book in particular. “There were sporadic letters. Coded. The cypher wasn’t particularly complex, and I imagine if she was caught sending them, that would have been the end for her. But the adversary seems to keep her on a long lead and well outside the inner circle. Still, Bellarex was able to confirm Thoth’s movements, eventually confirming her plans to leave the continent. Subsequently, nothing. That’s to be expected. The cost of sending a missive overseas is astronomical.” The councillor plucked a book from the bookcase and opened it, revealing a hollowed-out section that contained several letters, organized by date. “You might get more out of them than I did. Take them. I made copies.”
I took the letters gingerly, committing to comb through them at the earliest opportunity. It was the least I could do. A mix of guilt and curiosity got the better of me.
“Did she seem alright? In the letters?”
Ralakos rubbed his forehead. For the first time, the kindly visage fell away, revealing the tired person beneath. He looked almost frail. “She’s conflicted. Understandably. In her eyes, she killed a dear friend at his behest to save her people, only for those same people to exile and pelt her with stones. How do you think she’s doing?”
“I think…” I hesitated, the letters feeling heavy in my hand, “When Thoth returns to Uskar, we need to extract her as soon as possible.”
“Yes. Assuming she even wants to return.”
“What?”
“Just read through the letters when you can.” Ralakos waved my questions away.
I was about to push for more information when a knock at the door interrupted us.
“Come in.” Ralakos answered.
A violet, middle-age infernal in full xescalt plate stuck his head in the door. “Is he here?”
My jaw dropped as I recognized him as Ralakos’s son. A son that was meant to be dead.
“Xarmos? You’re alive?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.
Xarmos feigned hurt. “You wound me, Cairn. I never doubted your return. And from the look of you, I’ve been waiting far longer.”
