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Monarch - Pyrrhic VI
🕑 Added 2022-08-19 15:25:19 +0000 UTCAs we approached the exit to the tunnel, I felt a small weight lift from my chest. Jorra had clearly matured. He even walked different, his gait confident and self-assured, albeit hurried, considering the circumstances. But more noticeably, he seemed to have shed the petty twist in his personality that led him to brooding and holding grudges.
We’d regained some of our previous camaraderie in a matter of hours.
“One for the lift.” Jorra called ahead.
“Groups of four or more unless it's an emergency, precept. You know the rules.” The answering infernal was wearing xescalt armor, his helmet placed aside as he leafed through an aging document.
I caught Jorra’s arm before he could bring attention to the obvious. “Just one?”
Jorra paused, confused, before understanding filtered into his expression. He smiled. “It’s been years. You expected to just come back after years, and I’d follow you like nothing had changed?”
“I expected nothing.” I tilted my head from side to side. “Probably more accurate to say that I hoped. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side when the cards are down.”
Jorra nodded thoughtfully. “And I will be. But that won’t be for some time.” He gave me a curious glance. “Where are you headed next?”
“With the way things were, I intended to fix the dimension gate and then depart for Molheim. Or Naikolhdur. However…”
“King Gil on the warpath screws with that plan.” Jorra mused. “It’d be hard to leverage the dwarves for aid if you’re publicly on the run. How are you going to deal with your father?”
“Still piecing it together.” I studied him discretely as he mulled over the problem. “There’s nothing I can offer you? We both know I’m not above bribery.”
“Now that you mention it, I’ve always wanted a horse. The crabs we use for transport down here are unsettling.”
“Done. Runic short-hair, superior bloodline.” I immediately offered.
Jorra laughed. “If that meant anything to me, I’m sure I’d be impressed—“
“You would.” I interjected.
“—but no, Cairn. I have to stay. As a precept, I have responsibilities. There’s more than a dozen children in my care. And wherever you end up going, I need access to the enclave’s resources that I’d lose access to if I left. I wouldn’t be able to train and prepare the same way I could here. And I cannot forgive myself if, at the end, I am found lacking.” A shadow darkened his face.
The guilt he was feeling was a mirror of my own. I tried to comfort him. “Nothing that happened was your fault. We all fought like hell. Thoth had an untenable advantage.”
Jorra’s lip curled. “That doesn’t change reality. That we—I stood by, helpless, as she tore you to pieces. And I will never let that happen again.”
There was a ferocity in his voice that resonated. His determination reminded me of a similar drive I’d felt after witnessing the desolation of Whitefall. A burning fire that had never dimmed.
I clasped his arm. “Then I look forward to seeing the man you become. Whether it’s months from now, or at the end of all things.”
He gripped mine in return, some darkness leaving his expression. “Keep me in the loop. I’ll keep scouring the libraries and the sanctum, meanwhile, searching for anything that might help tip the scales.”
I turned away from him, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.
“Lord below.” The guard attending the lift stared at me, gobsmacked. It was an expression I’d probably be seeing a lot of, once I entered the enclave.
“Do we need to go back and grab three more?” I jerked my thumb at the tunnel.
“We could talk three of the children into returning to say a second tearful goodbye to their parents, if you’re really going to be that much of a stickler.” Jorra added dryly.
“I uh—I didn’t—Right this way. Happy to make an exception for the Bearer of the Sacred flame.” The guard extended a hand towards the platform. I inwardly groaned at the moniker. Of all the things they could have called me, it had to be that.
Jorra snorted, accompanying me to the platform, stopping at the edge. “Your legend precedes you.”
“Don’t start.”
The guard rang a dark brass bell covered with inscriptions. There was a series of grinding clicks, and the platform began to rise.
As the platform ascended, I waved down at Jorra. “Goodbye for now, my friend.”
“Be well, brother.” Jorra tilted his head. As the lift rose ever higher, his features became harder and harder to make out. Once I could barely make him out in the darkness, he was gone.
/////
The enclave was different than I remembered it. While the massive, convex cavernous ceiling and faux sun were the same, much of the surrounding city had changed. It still reminded me of the cliffside ocean cities of the far east, but there was a militarization that overtook the once trade and magic focused city, with two new-looking blacksmith shops in sight from the moment the lift ground to a halt.
Around me, a small crowd of children were gathered at the lift. Like the group Jorra had escorted, they were all incredibly young. I spotted a few toys and stuffed animals clutched in their hands, as they bade panicked goodbyes to their families.
After my reception in the sanctum, I was expecting to make more of a stir. It was more anxiety than ego. A fear that the infernals would simply stop their preparations and turn to me for answers, answers I had yet to ascertain.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the fear was naive. A few gawked, while fewer still followed behind me with bewildered expressions. But most gave me nothing more than a momentary glance before they returned to their preparations.
Some markedly less friendly than others.
It was simple, really. The enclave was preparing for war.
I passed a long line of infernals queued before a wagon. A military officer stood atop the wagon, passing out the contents. Weapons and armor. Arming the masses wasn’t uncommon in times of conflict, but what surprised me was the gear itself.
From the chest-plates to the variety of swords and spears, every weapon was a dark, honeyed gold.
Xescalt.
It was the same metal that augmented Maya’s staff. Aside from its strength and toughness, it also conducted magic, which was perfect for a magic-centered race like the infernals. Despite the upsides, it was relatively uncommon, seeing as how the metal was astronomically expensive and exceptionally rare. Or at least it used to be. Something must have happened in my absence, if they were arming the populace with gear of this quality.
Fifty soldiers in Guemon’s armor jogged passed by me. They were too disciplined to break formation, though I felt their eyes.
I watched with a frown as they hurried through the winding streets, heading towards the portal that served as the enclave’s main entrance. Several equally large groups followed behind them.
They’ve already begun deploying troops.
Deploying a defending force too early was an amateur’s mistake. A commander wanted his defensive regiments sharp and ready, not bored and mentally fatigued. And the infernals were anything but inexperienced. Which meant either Nethtari’s timeline was off, or my father had picked up the pace.
If it was the latter, I wasn’t sure what to think. It wasn’t like King Gil to be reckless. He was ruthlessly efficient, wringing the maximum effectiveness out of even the simplest strategies.
Had it been anyone else, I would have read it as an emotional miscalculation. A grieving king, pushing his troops at a foolhardy pace to avenge his fallen son. But this was my father we were talking about. He didn’t give a damn about his children. Only what they could offer him, in life or in death. And my death had given him leverage.
Why the hurry?
I shoved the question away from the moment. Regardless of reasoning, judging from the troop movements and air of barely restrained panic around the Enclave, we had a matter of hours rather than days.
If father succeeded, and his assault on the enclave prevented the repair of the dimension gate, everything drop of blood and sweat I’d poured into mastering the flame would be for naught. An outcome that could not be allowed to come to pass.
My heart raced in my chest as I broke into a jog, leaving the trade district behind as I navigated the crowded road towards Ralakos’s estate.
/////
The towering violet infernal wrapped me up in a bone-crushing embrace and swung me around in a circle. “The flame-bringer returns!”
The worry lines that creased his forehead had multiplied ten-fold in the interim. I grunted. “Surprised you didn’t retire to the Sanctum while I was gone, old man.”
“How did you do it?” Ralakos asked, ignoring the jibe. “Another deal with a demonic legion? Did Infaris herself shine her light upon you, touched by your sacrifice? You must tell me everything.”
An embarrassed warmth trickled into my cheeks. I’d picked up a few more followers every on the way to the council district, who now collectively formed the curious crowd arranged on the street and were watching Ralakos swing me around like a lost bride. “When we have time, I’ll fill you in on the details. Mind putting me down?”
Ralakos released me immediately, and I managed to land on my feet, his brows furrowed in regret. “Of course. Now isn’t the time for pleasantries, much as I wish it was otherwise.” Then, he smiled mischievously, “Though there is someone I’d like you to meet.” His servants pushed the large double-doors open, and I followed him through the sprawling expanse of the estate.
There was plenty I wanted to ask. What happened while I’d been gone, what he’d heard from Bellarex. But we needed to stay focused on the matter at hand. “How long until the humans get here?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean your people?”
“Yes.”
“They’ll arrive by nightfall.”
So, it was true then. Father was rushing this. Voices echoed through the estate as we approached Ralakos’s drawing room.
“We should attack before they exit the Everwood.” Guemon’s voice rang out.
Another voice, coy and feminine. Persephone. “Quick to violence as always, surprising absolutely no one.”
“It’s the most strategically sound option.”
“For simple minds, perhaps.”
“Oh, please, tell us. The floor is yours. What would the common criminal propose?” Guemon scoffed.
“Anything but common, though I accept that stooping to personal attacks is the only manner in which your unexacting ego can negotiate. My operatives within Whitefall can be signaled in a matter of hours. The queen is unreachable, but the potential heirs are a simpler matter.”
There was a moment of silence before the room exploded.
“You have spies inside the castle walls?” Guemon sounded like he was choking.
“Take a wild guess where the early warning came from.” Persephone shot back.
Another voice spoke. If I hadn’t just left her behind in the sanctum, I could have sworn it was Nethtari. Calm and collected, with just a touch of monotone. “We are not taking the late prince’s sisters as hostages. Or anything worse, for that matter.”
“Shocking. The bleeding-heart emissary couldn’t leave her sentimentality at the door.” Persephone mocked.
“You dare to command your betters?” Guemon snarled.
The voice snapped back. “As my betters, you should both be intimately familiar with potential consequences of what you are proposing. King Gil’s son died in our care. Whether that care was negligent or otherwise is besides the point. He wants recompense, but he likely desires the truth beyond all else. That is our leverage. I imagine you would pay almost any sum to know the truth of why the adversary chose to kill Bacchus—“
“Do not speak his name.” Persephone hissed.
“From the woman launching accusations of sentimentality. Perhaps it would be best to tend your own garden first. Returning to the point, human royalty died in our care. That is bad enough, but as I said, we have leverage. That leverage disappears the moment we act against his heirs. Even if he backs down for the moment, there will be no quarter. He will not stop until we are eradicated.”
“Surrounded by mewling women.” I could almost hear Guemon rolling his eyes. “Fine, emissary. What is it that you propose?”
The emissary paused. “I intend to take a small advance caravan to open negotiations with King Gil.”
Persephone snorted. “More death warrant than plan. There’s a reason the diplomatic core advised against sending someone to intercept.”
Uncharacteristically, Guemon dropped the bluster. “King Gil has a history of killing messengers. To the point it’s a near certainty.”
“Yes.”
“Yet, this is the course you’re advising?”
“I have several pieces of information that are invaluable to him. A detailed account of the prince’s final days, a first-hand chronicle of the adversary, as well as a proposition he cannot overlook. All of which may be enough to stay his hand.”
“And naturally, you refuse to tell us what that gilded arrow is?” Persephone sighed.
When the emissary didn’t answer, Guemon picked up the slack. “It may not come to that. If he kills you before you’re able to impart your message. He’s done it before.”
“Then you and your regiments can still ambush the humans before they emerge from the Everwood. They outnumber us. If negotiations fail, that may be our best hope.” There was no doubt or fear in the woman’s voice, even as she took the possibility that my father might kill her in stride. Based on what she was saying, it had to be Maya. But she sounded so different, I could barely connect the voice with my memory of her.
“The thought of dying doesn’t scare you, emissary?” Guemon sounded genuinely curious.
“If we don’t unify and keep the corruption at bay, I’m already dead, councillor. We all are.” Maya said, matter-of-factly.
The weight of realization bore down on me.
Towards the end of our time in the Sanctum, Maya had pulled back. The discovery of the leyline corruption leading us towards the inevitability of Ragnarok, coupled with her revelation of the monster she became in the original timeline, would have been too much for anyone. Learning the darkness she was capable of had scared her so badly she’d planned to stay in the sanctum permanently.
Only after I died, her plans had changed.
Maya had taken my mission on her shoulders. And she’d been preparing for it all this time. What does a person even say about that? Thanks and appreciation weren’t enough. All the apologies in the world weren’t enough. Suddenly, I wasn’t remotely ready to see her. I needed time to sort through it.
But as was so often the case, time wasn’t on my side.
Ralakos threw the doors open. “Look who I found, darkening our doorstep.”
