Hate has a reason for everything: But Love is Unreasonable (MobuSeka/Hamefura)

Spreading Shadows 10-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Spreading Shadows

    The power of love is a curious thing
    Make a one man weep, make another man sing
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    We ought to fear a man who hates himself, for we are at risk of becoming victims of his anger and revenge. Let us then try to lure him into self-love. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche​

    “These claims of dark magic affecting the fleet are nonsense.” Malcolm Fou Frampton shook his head sorrowfully. “I remind the council that my ministry has had a dark mage in captivity for some time now and while he’s certainly dangerous when it comes to the ill-prepared, we’ve had nothing to suggest it can do anything on the scale that Lord Redgrave and Lord Bartford report.”

    And hopefully no one would want access to the damned man. Frampton was setting up a cover-story for how the man had died under interrogation, but it’d be another week or two before he could plausibly make the claim without being tied to it if the mage turned up again. His escape was infuriating - the more so as he wasn’t sure if Brode had managed it alone or with help.

    “Are you suggesting that they’ve lied to us?” Count Arclight was as sharp as his sword, lean and deadly. His eyes, locked upon the older man, spoke of duels and deathblows.

    Good old Malcolm shook his head in sympathy. “No, no. Nothing like that. But they’re both very young, and with respect to Lord Redgrave, I could understand stretching the truth a little to cover for his father’s errors.”

    “I wonder if you’d be saying the same if Duke Redgrave was in condition to attend this meeting,” the count asked flatly.

    “If he was then we’d not be having to deal with reports from a pair of youngsters who were clearly in over their heads.”

    The queen gave Frampton a gimlet stare. “I’ll remind you, Marquis, of the last time that you under-estimated Lord Bartford.”

    Behind his veneer, the marquis would have liked nothing more than to slap the smug expression off the foreign woman’s face. Except perhaps to see young Bartford dragged in front of a block to have his head taken off. How the letters had been replaced was still a mystery. How he’d somehow got copies of letters Frampton had burned with his own hands was a greater one.

    But this was no time for that and letting that matter rise again would be a terrible error. Not a mistake he could afford when playing for these stakes. “I am beginning to admire the young man in question, your highness. He duelled Sir Vandel Him Zenden to a standstill. Only one other knight alive - if the mysterious Masked Knight of our last war is indeed still alive - can be said to have done as much. But Lord Bartford… Perhaps to become Sir Leon at the next opportunity, he certainly merits the accolade for that alone? …he was commanding the escorts for the supply ships so he wasn’t in a position to see this alleged dark magic first hand.”

    “I believe,” he continued, “That what we are dealing with here is more simply explained. Duke Redgrave was disinclined for whatever reason to wait until Marchioness Dieke and I had the time to assemble our levies to reinforce his forces. He attacked too soon, without assembling sufficient forces and without gathering enough information.” And he’d let people draw their own conclusions about why the Duke had decided to do that.

    “It’s easy to blame someone that isn’t here.”

    Duke Auld Rafa Ades leant forwards. “Count Arclight, blame is not really what we should focus on. Let us deal with the facts. Princess Hertrude’s fleet has defeated ours. Whether or not Duke Redgrave was at fault or not, he is in no position to rally his forces for a second attempt. In fact, barely a quarter of his warships have returned and the enemy’s losses appear to have been significantly lower. They might well have been negligible if it were not for Count Seberg’s heroism.”

    Good, Frampton thought. Praise the dead man, it takes credit away from Redgrave. Ades was dull but he could remember advice. And Augustus Fou Seberg had been a friend of King Roland, of Count Arclight and of Viscount Marmoria. The three of them were naturally predisposed to think well of him.

    “The question is, what do we do now?” observed the queen. “I’m not prepared to discount the claims of dark magic. Quite a number of other lords returning with the fleet have supported Lord Redgrave and Lord Bartford’s reports.”

    “I have no doubt that monsters were involved.” Marchioness Dieke was the only woman present except for the queen. “Fanoss is known to have lost items that allow them some control over monsters. This may be some new device or some new aspect of a lost item that we haven’t seen before, but the idea that they can simply turn people into monsters is… unlikely. Some degree of caution is merited through. Another disaster like this one could leave the kingdom’s core open to direct attack. None of us want that.”

    “The fact that the Fanoss fleet hasn’t moved from Field suggests that they’re digging in,” Frampton picked up smoothly. “Has there been any more news from the barons and viscounts along the border?”

    “Some,” admitted Arclight. “We know two of them have fallen. An attack on Baron Sullivan’s island failed - we believe that the Principality didn’t expect the Royal army forces sent there after the Claes’ abduction and pulled back when the numbers looked too even. Most likely they’re using small detachments to consolidate their position without weakening their main force.”

    “That matches the Marquis’ assessment,” decided Ades. “That being the case, I believe I can risk removing some of my forces from guarding the north and joining them with the Frampton and Dieke levies to provide us with a fleet. But whoever leads it must be more cautious than Redgrave.”

    “We can take the time that it’ll take to send out scouting expeditions,” the queen agreed. “As well as repairing damaged ships that made it back under Bartford’s leadership.”

    Ades nodded in agreement. “Will the royal family be bringing out your lost item to lead the fleet directly?”

    The queen hesitated, but King Roland spoke for the first time. “We will withhold any decision until we understand better what Fanoss is using. If they do have some weapon targeting the crew of a vessel, then I must consider how to best address that rather than risk losing it to a trap.”

    Frampton cleared his throat. “I would have to agree, your highness. While I don’t claim detailed knowledge of your family’s legacy, we cannot afford to risk such a potent lost item falling into the wrong hands. But if you won’t be leading the fleet then someone else must be selected. Duke Redgrave is unavailable, and the same is true of both his vice admiral and his rear admiral.” Almost exactly as planned. It was just a shame that Bartford had saved Redgrave - the duke would recover, and the young man was almost certainly the heir to the Bartford county now that his father and brother were missing. A clean sweep of the red admiralty would have been better, but the world was imperfect and if Redgrave was simply dead then his son would have inherited immediately.

    Arclight arched an eyebrow. “Are you volunteering?” he asked in a threatening tone.

    “I would,” Good Old Malcolm agreed patriotically. “But with the way my name was dragged through the mud over those forged letters, I fear I lack that credibility. I will gladly subordinate myself to whoever is appointed to command.”

    “Our commanders lost heavily in the last battle,” Queen Mylene admitted. “Lord Bartford and Duke Redgrave are the only flag officers to return.”

    “One too young, the other too injured,” murmured the Marchioness.

    Viscount Marmoria glanced at the king and after an unspoken message was exchanged, he turned to Duke Ades. “You suggested that you would require a degree of caution from anyone taking charge, and with the other dukes forced to focus on their own borders no one of equal rank is likely to send ships. You appear to have a plan?”

    “I have some ideas,” the duke agreed.

    This was true, Frampton had spent hours putting them into his head.

    “But before committing to anything, more information will be needed.”

    King Roland raised his hand. “Duke Ades, our admiral of the red has failed to defeat this attack upon the kingdom. I offer you the opportunity to serve Holfort as our admiral of the blue.”

    Duke Ades inclined his head respectfully. “Your highness honours me with your trust.”

    Good old Malcolm put his hand over his heart, “My levies are at your service, your grace.”

    “As are mine,” Marchioness Dieke lowered her eyes demurely. “As a mere lady I cannot presume to command the levies, directly. However, I shall accompany them to ensure that my vassals comply with your orders as if they were my own.”

    “That being the case,” the duke said, as if he had only just decided upon it, “I must ask that you serve as my vice admiral, Marquis Frampton. I realise that this will take you away from the Ministry, but your experience will be a valuable asset to me.”

    “We are in a crisis,” the marquis agreed. “And in this case my military obligations must take priority.”

    “And as your rear-admiral?” asked Count Arclight.

    Frampton smiled slightly. Putting yourself forwards, are you?

    “How many ships can you provide?” Ades asked the count bluntly.

    “Ah… three.” Arclight was a court noble, of course. Unlike the feudal lords he had no domain to guard and thus maintained far fewer forces than other counts.

    “Ah.” Ades let the moment hang for a moment. “While I would welcome your sword at our side, I fear that as even Lord Bartford - a mere student - was able to bring more forces, I could hardly appoint you as rear-admiral.”

    “Speaking of Bartford,” Frampton murmured. “Despite his youth, he did well guarding the supply ships. If he is willing, I would suggest retaining him in the role, perhaps reinforced by any Redgrave levies still willing to fight.”

    After all, young Bartford’s ship was huge and an obvious target. While it would be foolish to risk their entire strategy on it, if he did wind up over-run by Fanoss it would eliminate him as a future problem, along with more of the Redgrave’s military strength. And if he did not, he could be ordered to sign off on a new treaty with Fanoss, which would raise suspicions again from those letters. Frampton might have to pass off the credit thanks to that disaster, but as long as he cleared away his opposition, he’d still have come out ahead and there would be other chances.

    -

    Sophia Fia Ascart hadn’t stopped crying since Katarina Rafa Claes removed the dark magic. It made the taller girl feel guilty - her friend had seemed happy just to see her when Leon brought her back.

    They were in Sophia’s bedroom and Katarina had lain down on the bed next to her best friend so she could hug her. It wasn’t wracking sobs, just sniffling and slow tears - the white-haired girl clinging to her like a lifeline.

    After a while, Nicol’s sister had fallen asleep. Katarina kept hugging her and considered doing the same. Sophia going missing had been terrifying. As bad as losing Keith - perhaps worse, because at least then there had been a way to follow.

    Olivia had brought out Alexander, and the little bear had pointed out Sophia’s direction to them. Leon’s trick with maps had worked enough to be sure that Sophia had left the continent going north-west but there were no ships available to give chase - almost everything in port that could be commandeered or hired had already been taken for Duke Redgrave’s fleet!

    Nicol had been quietly frantic and his parents scarcely better. Any claims that they saw their daughter as a shame or burden would have been disproved just by seeing the Ascarts.

    The door cracked open before Katarina closed her eyes. Looking over, she saw Angelica’s head poking around the door. “Hi Angie,” she said softly.

    The blonde smiled a little wanly. “Leon wants to talk to us.”

    Katarina looked at Sophia, in her arms. “I don’t think she should be alone. Have her parents arrived?”

    “The countess is here. And Nicol, of course.” Angelica shrugged helplessly. “I’m sure the count wants to be here, but with everything going on…”

    Of course. Katarina carefully worked herself free of her friend’s arms. The smaller girl clutched at her like a lifeline, but eventually - with Angelica’s help - a pillow was substituted. Nicol tiptoed in with his mother, both having removed their shoes. Countess Ascart sat down on the bed, while her son gave Katarina a smile that mixed sorrow and gratitude - she almost fainted, but Angelica supported her. When they left the room, Nicol had slumped into an armchair, far from his usual posture. The shadows gave him a brooding and dangerous look, far from his usual reserved kindness.

    Once the door had closed behind them, Katarina gave Angelica a hug too. “I hope your father will recover quickly.”

    The other girl leaned into her. “He should,” she said in a muffled and uncertain tone. “There’s a light mage at our home - more Lafan’s weight-class than Olivia’s, but better than most have access to. It’s strange to think that if Julius hadn’t gone back then he might not have made it at all.”

    “They were… very brave,” Katarina said. Should she have gone too? Her mother would have been furious - Katarina had asked for a knight-armour for her next birthday and got a lecture. It wasn’t as if she could keep borrowing from Leon - she’d wrecked Big Stein and Big Charznable!

    “It’s strange to feel grateful to him… and sorry for Greg and Brad.”

    Katarina gulped. She’d not really known Brad, and him beating her little brother in a duel hadn’t really inclined her to try to change that. And however brave Greg’s father had apparently been, he still wasn’t able to go home to his family. It was dreadful.

    They walked quietly to the lounge, where Leon was waiting with Olivia and Clarice. The older girl had her arm around Leon, who looked grim and serious. Katarina was glad that he had a girlfriend to look after him.

    “Is she alright?” the boy asked. “In hindsight, I could have been kinder when I brought her back.”

    “At least you managed to bring her back,” Angelica told him. She went and sat down next to Olivia. The scholarship student put one arm around the waist of the duke’s daughter in sympathy. “Gilbert told me that everyone who made it home was because you kept your head.”

    “If you can keep your head, when all around are losing theirs...” the dark-haired boy mumbled, sounding as if he was quoting something.

    It sounded familiar to Katarina. “That’s a poem, isn’t it?” She wasn’t sure where she might have heard it though. It wasn’t Japanese, but she was terrible at Holfort’s poetry as well. “Something about… every line starting with if.”

    “I don’t know it,” Clarice admitted.

    “It’s old,” Leon said quietly. “I don’t remember it all. Maybe I should write it down.” He took a deep breath and shook himself. “Right. I don’t suppose Sophia remembers who used dark magic on her?”

    “She didn’t say anything,” Katarina told him. “She’s pretty upset. Maybe we can ask her when she wakes up.”

    He nodded. “I can’t. I need to get back to the port.”

    “You’re leaving again?” Clarice exclaimed.

    He spread his hands. “I took responsibility for those kids. And having gone out looking for glory and seeing what it costs, I think most of them would rather quit but don’t dare be called cowards.”

    “Why are you calling them kids?” his girlfriend protested. “Most of them are older than you are!”

    He shrugged. “Besides, Nicks and dad are out there. I don’t know yet if they got away with the Roseblade division.”

    Clarice slumped. “I… I suppose I can’t argue with that. Just be careful. I don’t trust Frampton, and Duke Ades does. That’s a bad combination.”

    Leon pulled the girl closer. “I trust you, and you’re right. It’s a calculated risk - hopefully I got the maths right.”

    Katarina decided she should avoid calculating risks. It always took her two or three attempts to make numbers add up right.

    “I’ve got a request for the three of you,” Leon continued, using the hand not holding onto Clarice to indicate Katarina, Angelica and Olivia. “Partly for your safety, partly because I really think you may be needed.”

    The three girls exchanged looks. “What can we do?” asked Olivia.

    “Director Smith is looking at ways to counter dark magic,” Leon explained. “Originally to stop things like… well, what happened to Sophia. But with what happened to the fleet, it’s even more urgent. Frampton’s claiming that it’s impossible, but I know what I saw. We need some way to protect people.”

    “Of course I’ll help,” Olivia assured him.

    Angelica nodded. “I do have two questions though. Firstly, you said for our safety?”

    Leon looked tired. “The temple have officially requested that Marie Fou Lafan be sent with the fleet - they also believe dark magic is involved. Her brother agreed, so the best I could do is assign Julius, Jilk, Chris and Greg to protect her. I have to assume that a similar request will be made for other light magic users, and you’re the only ones with actual experience against dark magic.”

    “Shouldn’t we go then?” asked Katarina.

    “If we don’t know what we’re doing, we could lose every light mage available.”

    “I’m fairly sure mother wouldn’t let me go to war,” Katarina added. “And I don’t think I could protect many people.”

    “You might be surprised, but I’d rather know for sure. I’ve been talking to Larna for a while about this, if anyone’s going to figure it out then I think it’s her.”

    “Alright,” Angelica agreed. “But my other question is: why me? I’m not a light mage.”

    The boy smiled slightly. “That’s true, but with the temple trying to trace descendants of the Saintess, I decided to take a slightly wider view. The Redgraves were one of the first principalities to join the kingdom and there was no royal princess to marry into them to seal the deal at the time.”

    The girl nodded. “Yes, we did have one royal match a generation or two later. Not close enough that it mattered when it came to me marrying Julius.”

    “The heir of the first duke did marry a prominent noblewoman of the kingdom though,” Leon explained. “And the third duke, your ancestor, was therefore descended from her family.”

    “What’s special about that family?” asked Clarice.

    “They’re descended from the founder of the Temple, the Saintess’ sister Mary.”

    “...what?” Angelica exclaimed. “I didn’t know that!”

    Katarina winced as Ann started to complain about her little sister and how she had only started the temple to spite her.

    “Not a lot of people do.” Leon shrugged. “But at the time it was the most prestigious bloodline save for that of the king. The direct line of the family died out; but if the records are correct, your descent is unbroken. It’s a longshot, after all these generations, but if Olivia can inherit her ancestor’s magic then maybe comparing her heritage to yours will shed some light on light magic.”

    Angelica put her arm around Olivia, hugging her back. “My brother has to go home with father… the eastern border is seeing more raids now that word has reached them that we’re under pressure from Fanoss. He’ll leave some ships to support you. I guess this is at least a way for me to do something to help.”

    Who would look after her vegetables? Katarina wondered, blotting out Ann’s complaining. Her practice withstanding mother’s lectures was coming in useful. Yumeria, maybe? No, wait. “Yumeria can come with us and show me the gardens at the Ministry!”

    Clarice snorted. “Of course that’s a priority.”

    “Well, no. But we can still do it! Not everything’s about the war or dark magic.”

    Leon turned his head and kissed Clarice on the cheek. “She’s right, we shouldn’t let Fanoss spoil everything.”

    Katarina looked away. They were sweet when they did that, but it made her uncomfortable. What if Keith or Gerald wanted to do that. What if Gerald AND Keith wanted to do that? Ugh, was Ann putting ideas in her head? Harem routes were the worst!

    Ann huffed. ‘Like your brother or Holfort’s descendants are going to be any use. Go push that hussy out and give Lia a kiss.

    Repress, repress, repress. Katarina was getting good at this. She imagined a mish-mash of bands from back in her past life playing music, drowning out Ann with clarinet, tambourine, guitar and maracas.

    -

    “Are you sure about going to the ministry?” Keith asked as Katarina packed - or rather, as Katarina moved everything to the bed for Anne to sort out to be fitted neatly into the two suitcases that they’d be taking with them, or to be set aside for later.

    Katarina patted her brother reassuringly on the arm. She hated to leave him on his own without her to look after him, particularly after he’d been abducted, but there were only so many people that could be smuggled into the Ministry of Magic without the minister finding out. He’d been cracking down on security, but apparently there was a hidden annex to the ministry’s library which Director Smith had commandeered for use in her research.

    “I’ll miss you,” she told Keith. “But this is important. Mother won’t let me have a knight-armour so at least this way I’m doing something helpful.”

    “You did wreck the last one you were in,” he pointed out.

    “That was important. And Leon said he didn’t mind.”

    Keith bit his lip. “But maybe he’s holding a secret grudge. He is sending you off to the ministry to be experimented on!”

    What that research would involve hadn’t been made clear. Olivia had asked if the books in the annex would be useful, but Leon had laughed and told her that they weren’t that sort of book.

    For some reason, Katarina had a momentary image of the three girls being strapped down on beds while Larna Smith cackled (her glasses opaque with reflected light), throwing a great switch while lightning crackled down into coils and wires. But that was silly. That was mad science, and Leon had said it would probably be boring a lot of the time. Mad science would never be boring!

    “Director Smith is a nice person!” Katarina assured him. “She won’t do anything bad.”

    “When have you ever met her?”

    Katarina was about to remind him that she’d been at Ian and Selena’s wedding, but then remembered that it was supposed to be a secret. “I think it was at a party.”

    Her brother frowned. “I don’t remember that.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I heard that she’s the worst.”

    “There can only be one worst,” Scarlet pointed out from where she was leafing through one of the books on Katarina’s shelf. Her cousin had asked if she could borrow some romance novels… She was researching something but was curiously evasive except that it was about Violette.

    Perhaps she was going to try to help her twin sister with Sirius. Violette had been giving the new student council president looks all term. It was sort of like the way Mary looked at Alan lately. Gosh, Katarina hoped Alan wasn’t falling in love with Olivia right now. It might be a safe route for Katarina, but Mary would be broken-hearted.

    “Who else are you suggesting?” Keith asked their cousin.

    “If I understand the context of Leon talking to his familiar, he is.”

    “...his familiar?”

    “Wait, you hear Leon speaking to Luxion?” Katarina asked.

    Her cousin looked as serious as ever. “He talks to it quite often. It seems to think he’s the worst.”

    “Leon’s nice!” she protested. “In his own way.”

    Scarlet nodded. “I believe Luxion may be... cranky.”

    Katarina thought back to the one time the familiar had spoken to her and agreed that this was true. Although they had been helpful.

    Keith groaned. “His familiar that we’ve never seen?”

    “Luxion is shy,” Katarina explained. “And possibly invisible...?” She wasn’t sure about that, but it would fit.

    “...Leon Fou Bartford, the biggest playboy at the academy, has an invisible familiar?” her little brother - who would have been the playboy if it weren’t for her expert big sistering, Katarina thought - sounded horrified.

    “Why do you call him a playboy? He’s dating… er, courting, Clarice isn’t he?”

    Keith glowered. “As if that would stop that man from flirting with y… all the other girls he’s keeping eyes on.”

    Scarlet pursed her lips. “So you think that his being funny, rich, chivalrous, brave and clever doesn’t have anything to do with girls liking him?”

    “I really can’t tell if you’re serious or not,” Keith confessed after a moment.

    “Sirius is my sister’s fiance, I am her twin. It’s easy to keep us straight.”

    “I think we’ve packed all your essentials now,” Anne told Katarina. “I’ll take the cases down to the carriage, Nana will put everything away so if you want anything else, please put it into your handbag.”

    Katarina grabbed her handbag and trotted to the bookcase. She could get two romance novels into it, if she picked slim ones. Really she’d wanted a larger and more practical bag, but her mother had insisted that this was more ladylike.

    There was a knock on the door while she was trying to decide.

    “Come in,” she called absently.

    Nana entered, still looking adorable in his maid’s dress. “You have a guest, my lady,” the young demihuman announced, demurely.

    “Eh? Really?” Who would visit her now?

    “Lady Claes.” The man who entered the room had silver-blond hair cut short, and wore a thin moustache. If it wasn’t for the latter, he was pretty enough that he could have passed for a particularly broad-shouldered and flat-chested woman. Really, he was unfairly pretty. “Lord Claes… ah, Scarlet! I looked for you in your own room but no one knew where you were. I’m glad that you’re getting on with your cousins.”

    Oh! Katarina realised. This must be her uncle, Old Rafa Ades… er, no… that wasn’t his name. What was it again… he’d never shown up in the game, had he? She didn’t remember him…

    “Duke Ades.” Keith bowed politely.

    “Please, call me Uncle Auld,” the man said warmly as Katarina set down her purse and curtsied. Well, that sorted that out. Auld. Auld. She repeated it to herself to try to drum it into her memory.

    “Father,” Scarlet greeted him reservedly, but the duke was having none of that and walked over, hugging the girl around her shoulder.

    “Don’t be so formal,” he chided her. “You’re my little girl.”

    “Mmmm.” Scarlet murmured, but she hugged him briefly around the waist.

    “What brings you here?” Keith asked. “I’d have thought you’d be busy with your fleet.”

    The duke reached up and touched a blue ribbon on his lapel. Oh! Katarina realised, it was because he was the admiral of the blue! “I have an able vice admiral and rear-admiral; and my daughter always deserves a visit. However, I’m also at the academy on business - striking two birds with one stone, as it were.”

    Katarina looked back at the shelf. Aha, there was that copy of the script of the Countess of Monte Cristo. She could take that as well as two novels! And finally learn what lines she should have read. Even if Sophia said that she’d been just fine, it might cheer her up to have Katarina them do them right now.

    The duke cleared his throat and looked at her. “Katarina, I understand that you’ve added light magic to your talents. While the Minister of Magic is sure that the red fleet wasn’t attacked with dark magic, I’d rather not take the chance. I sent a letter earlier but it must have gone astray. Please come and join the fleet.”

    Keith’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly at the mention of a missing letter. “Absolutely not!” he declared, moving to stand between the duke and Katarina.

    Uncle Auld seemed taken aback. “I don’t recall asking you, Lord Claes. My sister’s husband may have adopted you, but it’s my niece that I’m inviting.”

    “My parents,” and Keith stressed those words, “Have given us both very firm instructions. Neither my sister nor myself is to participate in any more expeditions or adventures. Last term was quite disruptive enough to our education here.”

    “There are very few light mages in Holfort,” the man warned. “And it is our patriotic duty to serve as we best can. But perhaps an adopted child would not understand.”

    Katarina put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Keith.”

    “But…”

    “I’m pleased that you understan-”

    “No.” She glared at him. For this, for her little brother, she would embrace being the villainess. “You presume to speak to Keith like that, Duke Ades? You presumptuous creature. You’re a hundred years too late to walk into my life and make demands in the name of patriotism. That’s…” What was she going to say, what to do… “Why,” she laughed. “They say that patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel, and that fits you well. Go talk to the Duchess Claes about all the years you ignored your own sister and then maybe you can call yourself my uncle.”

    “I have never been spoken to like that!”

    “Then I’ll be the first.” In the heat of the moment, she jabbed her finger into his chest. “And how dare you say one word about my brother. He is a thousand times the brother you ever were to my mother, and he means far more to her than you!” Another jab of her finger. “Now! Get out of my room!”

    The duke swallowed, but - perhaps seeing something of her mother in Katarina’s face - he said nothing further to her. “Scarlet,” he said instead. “Come with me, please. I have something important to tell you.”

    His daughter looked at him steadily. Then she gestured towards the door. “Stand outside,” she told him. “You’re not welcome in Katarina’s room, but I am quite happy in my cousins’ company.” She emphasised exactly how she said cousins, to make it clear she included Keith.

    Auld looked as if he’d been slapped. “I’m your father!”

    “You seem to remember Violette and I - sometimes Violette or I - only when we are useful to you.” Scarlet trailed him to the door but remained inside the room. “I’m listening now.”

    The duke took a deep breath, face shaken. “Scarlet, I have arranged a new fiance for you. Someone who is deserving of you, unlike your last one.”

    Katarina thought that that might be a little harsh. Greg hadn’t loved Scarlet and he’d denounced their engagement, but he hadn’t tried to exile or kill her. Not even when she punched him! And hadn’t the duke been the one who engaged the two anyway?

    Seeing that his daughter had no obvious reaction, the man continued: “You’re to marry Prince Layne. When the war is over, King Roland will name him as the crown prince and you will be the crown princess… our future queen.” He extended his hand to Scarlet - it wasn’t clear to Katarina if he wanted her to join him or was trying to show off what he was arranging for her.

    ‘He’s selling her to a Holfort bastard!’ Ann declared ringingly. In Katarina’s mind’s eye, the saintess was flailing at the duke with a carpet-beater.

    “Prince Layne is some years my junior,” Scarlet pointed out. “And he also has a rather obvious crush on Violette. As you would be aware if you had paid any attention to them.”

    Ades shook his head. “But you will be the better queen, Scarlet. Not a girl taught such twisted things by her insane mother.”

    Scarlet clenched her right hand into a fist. “My mother was indeed insane,” she said with tranquil calm.

    And then she stepped forwards, her arm blurring into a punch that hurled her father across the landing, through the wooden bannister and crashing into the wall above the descending stairs.

    “And you’re the one who abandoned your daughter to her!” she added as her father slid bonelessly down the wall until his feet hit the stairs - unevenly so he pivoted until he crashed face-first down the steps. Katarina saw magical reinforcement forming around him, which probably at least mitigated some of the impact. Shock was probably impairing him at least as much as injury.

    Scarlet produced a pair of fingerless leather gloves from somewhere and slipped them onto her hands.

    And with regal grace she hopped off the landing and descended on her father like the wrath of an enraged twin-sister.

    With indignified squawk of terror, Admiral of the Blue Duke Auld Rafa Ades fled the dorm, pursued by an angry teenage girl and the war cry of “Come back, my punchbag!”

    Keith stared down at the trail of destruction and then turned back to Katarina. “On second thoughts, you’re probably safer at the ministry.”

    “Can I take your satchel?” Katarina asked. “I think I can get more romance novels in that than I can in my handbag.”
     
    Spreading Shadows 10-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Spreading Shadows

    The power of love is a curious thing
    Make a one man weep, make another man sing
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2

    While you are meditating revenge, the devil is meditating a recruit. ~ Francois de Malherbe​

    While Duke Ades had left the academy with his tail between his legs, and numerous contusions by way of Scarlet’s fists, the possibility that he might obtain some sort of royal order to Katarina had encouraged the duke’s daughter to head off the ministry right away.

    Olivia had volunteered to take care of Keith’s paperwork at the student council and catch up later. No one had mentioned her yet as a possible recruit. One part was the duke and his officers assuming that noble-born light mages would be inherently preferable and one part some hasty removal of her name from some records, according to Leon.

    The boy hadn’t told her which records she’d been removed from or how. There were some questions that were probably best not asked.

    The girl had watched Leon leave, Clarice holding onto him until the last minute and then sending him on the way with a kiss. Deirdre Fou Roseblade had been there too, and the older girl had teased her. “Don’t you want to take a chance and give him a kiss for luck? I did that once, and I don’t regret it.”

    Noble girls were strange. Some of them were good people, but… Olivia flushed. She could imagine herself kissing Leon, maybe. But she wanted to have more than that with someone, and she couldn’t see that with the son of Countess Bartford. He was too driven - always seeing another quest, another goal to set himself. It clearly didn’t bother Clarice, but Olivia wanted someone she could settle down with, not someone she’d always be worried about.

    Speaking of worrying…

    “Prince Julius,” she called, trotting towards where the young man was packing bags onto a carriage next to Jilk and Greg.

    He glanced around. “Campbell. What do you want?” There was a dullness to his voice, as if something had been sapped out of him.

    She held out the documents she’d brought. “The petition you filed for a memorial for Lord Field.”

    He gave her a blank look and then blinked. “Oh. Yes.”

    “Is something wrong?”

    Greg snorted. “He’s dead. Isn’t that wrong enough?”

    “Err…”

    Julius took the paper and looked at it. “Dieke approved.” Then he handed it back.

    “Um, aren’t you going to…?”

    The young man picked up the last of the bags. “Put it in my drawer, Campbell. We’ll avenge Brad first, then we’ll put up a memorial to him.”

    “What are you talking about!?” Marie Fou Lafan sounded appalled as she arrived on Chris Fia Arclight’s arm. “Julius, you can’t be serious!”

    Jilk strode over to Marie. “It is our resolution, Marie. We’ll take revenge upon the man who killed Brad. Only then can we say goodbye to him in our hearts.” The words should have sounded inspiring, but to Olivia they seemed lifeless… almost rote.

    “B-but isn’t that the Black Knight? Hasn’t he killed scores, hundreds of knights?”

    The green-haired young man put his hands on the small blonde’s shoulders. “I know it hurts, Marie. Losing Brad is a wound on you, as much as it is to all of us.”

    Marie swallowed, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t do this, Jilk. Don’t any of you. I lost Brad, I can’t lose you as well.”

    “I promise, we’ll always be together.” Chris looked serious. “We should never have left you behind, Marie. But now we’ll face Fanoss the way we always should have. The five of us together… no, the six. Because Brad is with us in spirit.”

    Olivia took a half-step back. Did Leon know they were acting like this? Weren’t the four of them only going to be Marie’s guards this time? Two of them didn’t even have knight-armours anymore! (Although she wasn’t sure which ones, off hand).

    “Promise me.” Marie grabbed Jilk and Chris’ hands. “Promise me that you’re not going to do anything reckless.”

    “I promise,” Chris told her. But his eyes seemed to be on something else, something distant.

    “It’s time to go.” Greg jumped up into the driver’s seat of the carriage. It was a battered one, Olivia wondered how they had come by it - not an academy carriage and obviously not from their families. “All aboard.”

    “Marie!” Olivia called, on impulse.

    The girl jerked around. “Campbell.” She looked as if she had tasted something sour.

    “Just… be careful. Dark magic… it’s real. It’s dangerous.”

    “I know that. I know what I’m doing.” Marie squared her shoulders and then climbed up in the carriage. The other three boys stepped up one at a time, joining them. The shadows of the interior seemed to engulf them, only Marie clearly visible inside.

    Greg flicked the reins and the horses set out, pulling the carriage behind them. From the back, the usually vibrant redhead seemed to blend into the faded carriage as it pulled away.

    Olivia shivered and then looked at the paperwork she was holding.

    It was a slow walk back to the student council offices, giving her time to think about the boys. It wasn’t as if seeing the war hadn’t affected Leon, but however much he regretted the deaths, it was different. He seemed… sharper. As if the experience had scraped away some of the sarcastic confidence he’d shown the world, revealing resolve beneath it.

    Being around Clarice had softened that, but even then… he wasn’t the same as he had been.

    Marie’s young men had all been closer to Brad, of course. That might explain it, Olivia admitted. She wasn’t particularly close to the young mage - some jostling for grades, or for access to a given textbook in the library. Not that she could really refuse if he wanted to take a book she was working from, or ask him to hand one over. But she knew he’d basically grown up as a friend of Julius and Jilk.

    Losing him must hurt them as much as her own father’s departure.

    Touching that wound, no longer raw but still not entirely healed, slowed Olivia’s pace. She remembered her mother’s words or actions that had assumed that her husband was there, the pain every time he was not. The way that the instances had reduced in number… but that the pain had not.

    Not until recently, at least.

    Somehow, the visit over the summer had eased things. Olivia wasn’t sure how - she wasn’t even sure if it was Keith, Lady Katarina or Angelica who had worked the change. But by the end of the summer, her mother had been taking more of an interest in keeping the house presentable. And over the winter they had worked in the kitchen again, making family meals for the two of them with more ambition and energy than either had been able to bring to any family activity since… since he left them.

    Julius, Jilk, Greg, Chris. They didn’t seem the same way about Brad. It hurt them, but it was less of an empty space in their lives and more something that… The girl shook her head. She didn’t have a word for it. Like a fire, perhaps… but one that drained rather than burned.

    They’d spoken of resolution, but it had seemed more like resignation. As if they couldn’t step off the path of revenge?

    Marie wasn’t like that. She was hurting, Olivia didn’t doubt it, but she was worried for the living first. Them, she could help. Or wanted to, at least. There was a practicality to her, under the ambition and the sharp tongue. Brad was dead, and she’d mourn him but she’d also move on.

    But the boys… no, it was as if they were bound by the death. Chained by it.

    Chained…

    Olivia stumbled at the entrance to the student council rooms, remembering another binding. One of shadows.

    This…

    “Miss Campbell, are you alright?”

    Startled, she looked up and saw the lord president of the student council standing in the hallway. He looked pale, rust-red hair and gray eyes standing out more than usual against his naturally light skin.

    “Ah, yes. I was… lost in thought.” She looked at the paper in her hand. “Prince Julius told me to put the paperwork for Lord Field’s memorial in his drawer until he comes back.”

    “Ah, by all means.” He ushered her towards the appropriate room. “We are seeing the council depleted all of a sudden. Half the first years gone, one way or…”

    “Sir, did you see anything… odd about Prince Julius? Or Lord Marmoria?”

    “Odd?” the older boy gave her a curious look. “How do you mean?”

    “I don’t know if you’ve ever lost anyone, the way they have…”

    “In a manner of speaking, yes,” Sirius said quietly, reverently. He produced a ring of small keys from his jacket and opened the lock on Prince Julius’ drawer with it. The Lord President and his Vice-President had duplicates of every council member’s drawers.

    Olivia nodded apologetically. “My father is… missing.”

    “Oh!” He blinked, then reached over and patted her arm. Sympathetically. “That’s very hard. I’m sorry.”

    “Yes, but the way they’re acting. It’s not the way I did. Nor my mother. It’s more as if…”

    “People do grieve in different ways.”

    “Yes. Yes, I know!” She was speaking faster. “But the way it feels around them! It’s not right. It’s as if their emotions are being drained to feed something. It looks entirely different, but the way it feels is familiar. It’s like the time we found Keith!”

    “The way you found… Lord Claes…” Sirius turned to her, face intent. “You mean, on Baron Sullivan’s island.” He turned back to the door and closed it firmly. “I don’t believe that this is a topic that should be shared with everyone, Miss Campbell. Not if you mean what I think you do.”

    Her breath left her body in a sudden gasp. “Lord Dieke, I think that the prince and his friends are being controlled by dark magic.”

    “Yes?” He was frozen at the door, still gripping the handle.

    “Yes!” She exclaimed. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but… I have to tell Director Smith!”

    Sirius Fou Dieke turned around, and the quiet shadows of the room shivered as he locked eyes with her. “I believe you, Miss Campbell. But I don’t think you should talk to Director Smith.”

    Olivia took a half-step back. Sirius took one full, measured step closer. And the shadows moved with him.

    “I’ll scream,” she gasped. Light magic flickered around her.

    “No.” The shadows swept up around her, snuffing out the light. Chilling her bones, leaving her feeling strangled and hardly able to breath. His voice wasn’t angry, if anything, the young man sounded more sad. “You won’t.”

    -

    Alan pushed open the door leading up to the attic of his dorm. “I really doubt she’s up here. Does anyone go in here except to store trunks?”

    “Occasionally,” Mary said coyly. “These attics do have other uses.”

    “Such as?”

    His still-technically-fiancee winked. “A young man and young woman might want privacy.”

    “...right. Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

    “More practically,” Violette added as she followed them up the stairs, “Trunks are large enough to hide someone inside. If Olivia didn’t leave the campus, she’d be imprisoned or…”

    The girl didn’t continue with the obvious alternative.

    “You know most of these are locked, right?” Alan pointed out, gesturing to the stacked trunks that filled much of the roof space.

    “There’s a difference in weight between a full trunk and an empty one.” Mary pulled on one and it moved. “So she’s not in that one - I doubt I could move it if someone was in it.”

    Alan nodded. “Try the top ones - they’re mostly stacked three high. Violette, you get the middle one and I’ll try the bottom one. If we can move them easily, they’re empty. If not then we can fiddle around checking if there’s anything in them.”

    “If only we knew where her bear is,” Mary muttered.

    Alan nodded. “We’re definitely getting some work out of that. Maybe we should see if the Magical Tools department can get us another. Jeffrey’s got some sort of connection there.”

    “His name is Alexander,” Violette reminded them, following Mary along the line of trunks and working each middle trunk systematically. “He’s technically another missing person.”

    “If she isn’t on campus, she could be anywhere,” Alan said morosely. “But who’d abduct Olivia Campbell. There’s no ransom and she’s the most inoffensive girl I know - no offense.”

    “None taken, a certain amount of offensiveness is required at our level of society,” Mary replied.

    “I hate to say it, but there are only two reasons I can think of.”

    He looked over at Violette, felt his heart jump at her bent over to pull at the trunks and jammed that feeling down. She’s engaged, he reminded himself. “Those being?”

    “The kinder is that whatever dark mage had enchanted Sophia to run off to war has captured her. She’s a light mage, after all.”

    “How is that kinder!” Mary exclaimed, reaching the end of one row of trunks. “Light mages and dark mages are natural enemies, he could do almost anything to her!”

    Violette sighed and straightened as she caught up with Mary and paused to let the other girl start the return journey down the long attic’s other side and its row of stacked trunks. “Because the other option is that she was taken because she’s a rather pretty girl. And that leads to a much more specific number of things that could be done to her.”

    Alan paled. “That’s sick.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    “Not you, but the fact there are people who act like that.” He shuddered. “I know it happens, but it shouldn’t.”

    “It can happen to young men as well,” Mary muttered. “You don’t think all those tales of evil marchionesses chaining handsome men up in their dungeons are completely made up, do you.”

    “It doesn’t matter if it’s men or women, it’s still wrong.”

    “A young woman on her own may be seen as vulnerable,” Violette told them. “I had to take extra precautions between my mother’s death and father returning to the capital.”

    “Then Olivia could have been just… randomly picked up between here and the Ministry.” Alan smacked his hand against the beam at the end of the attic, watching the girls move up until he could get in to check the lowest trunks. “Just random chance?”

    “While she wears her uniform, it would be assumed that she was a student and therefore a noble,” Violette mused. “Do either of you know if anyone's checked which of her clothes are missing?”

    “Clarice and Dierdre checked her room. A bag is missing,” Mary told them. “But they’re not sure how many clothes she has. Katarina or Angelica might, but she doesn’t really have close friends. The President says he saw her handing in papers in her uniform, yesterday evening.”

    “And no one expected her to be here overnight.” He almost rubbed his face with one hand but saw how dusty it was and reconsidered. “If Katarina hadn’t sent Anne back to look for her, it could have been days before we found out she wasn’t at the Ministry with them.”

    “We really don’t pay enough attention to Olivia,” Violette confessed.

    Mary shook her head. “She likes it that way - too much of her first term was people picking on her. If we forced our way into her time, she’d feel pressured. She’s opening up at her own pace.”

    “Yes, but right now she’s the strongest light mage we know. Leon was right about telling her to go to the Ministry.”

    “I thought you said…”

    “I said the worst case was someone targeted for her looks,” Violette told him. “But it’s not the most likely. The timing is suspicious. Sophia goes missing right as Duke Redgrave’s fleet leaves, now Olivia vanishes right as my father’s departs?”

    “You don’t think she’s snuck aboard the fleet for some reason?”

    The silver-blonde girl reached the end of the row. “If she was confused by dark magic, she might believe it was her duty to do so as a light mage. My father tried to convince Katarina that it was her patriotic duty to join the fleet. I don’t think Olivia would fall for that normally.”

    “Would dark magic even affect her?” he asked.

    “Good question. I imagine that that’s one of the things Director Smith wants to test.” Mary pulled out a handkerchief and dusted off her hands as Alan finished checking. “No suspicious trunks?”

    “Nothing weighing enough to have a body in it - living or dead.”

    She nodded. “Well, we’ve checked this room. Where to next?”

    “The academic buildings have been checked, and the staff buildings. That leaves student facilities.” Alan brushed his hands as best he could on his handkerchief and then scratched the side of his head where it was itching. Violette was examining her own hands critically, so he offered her the handkerchief - her own was too lacy to be practical for actual dirt.

    “Thank you.” She wiped her hands down. “Do you mind if I ask a question?”

    “You just did, so you’d better hope not,” Mary joked.

    “Very funny. It’s about your engagement.”

    The couple-by-technicality glanced at each other and then Alan shrugged. “Okay. I don’t think you’d ask anything too personal.”

    Violette exhaled. “Gerald’s clearly crazy about Katarina. Julius and his friends are all stupidly protective of Marie, except against each other… You two just seem comfortable with each other though. My only experience is Chris - and at least Sirius doesn’t actively avoid me. But I think I’d prefer something more like the two of you…”

    “Ah…” Alan gave Mary a nervous look.

    Mary put an arm around Violette. “The truth is, Alan and I are friends.”

    “Well, that’s good? I think?”

    “And only friends.”

    Violette blinked. “But… you're engaged.”

    “We just don’t feel that way about each other,” Alan admitted. “I don’t think marrying Mary would be dreadful or anything.”

    “Thanks, the same to you!”

    “You’re welcome.” Alan told his fiancee. “If we broke it off, we’d be engaged to other people, possibly people we don’t get along with. It’s… not perfect.”

    “I never guessed,” Violette admitted. “It’s sad… I hope you don’t mind me knowing. I won’t tell anyone.”

    “I trust you,” he told her.

    Mary also nodded. “We look out for each other. It’s not as if we’re going to end up like Jilk and Clarice.”

    “But what if one of you falls in love with someone?”

    Both of them looked away sharply. Betrayed themselves.

    “Oh. Oh…” Violette gasped. “Both of you?”

    Mary blushed. “Yes. Well, we’ve agreed that if one of us has the chance to be with the one they love then we’ll break it off. We’re friends - I want Alan to be happy.”

    “Same here.”

    Violette shook her head and gestured towards the door. “We should get going, but before we’re out somewhere public - I’m not sure if I should be sorrier for you two pretending or for myself that my own engagement is apparently so cursory that a fake engagement is more loving.”

    “Well, you’ve only been engaged to Sirius for a couple of months,” Mary pointed out gently. “Alan and I were engaged years ago. You may get closer.”

    Alan grit his teeth and looked away.

    “Perhaps,” Violette said dubiously. “But would you be really happy together if you wind up keeping this up until you get married? Both of you loving other people? I… I had to pretend to be a boy until I was too old for it to be convincing. Mother insisted.”

    “Why was that?” Mary asked. “Since we’re exchanging secrets.”

    The pale girl shrugged. “She missed father, and I looked much like he did as a child. She’d have clothes made based on portraits of him when he was six or seven. I don’t think I had a dress of my own until I started to… well.” She made a delicate gesture towards her chest. “It wasn’t really possible for even my mother to fool herself eventually. She couldn’t lie to herself about who I was. As it turns out, I’m rather happy to dress like a lady. It’s not always as practical, but at least now I’m not pretending to be someone else.”

    “It suits you,” Alan said and felt his cheeks flush.

    Mary kicked his ankle lightly. “Anyway, confidences exchanged, let's get on with the search.”

    “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

    Down the stairs, he ushered the girls out and then closed the door. “Where first?”

    “Let’s get some boots on and check the back of the gardens,” Mary suggested. “Lady Katarina isn’t the only one with a shed for her gardening tools. Other students have little buildings or plots for their own hobbies, Olivia might be in one.”

    They’d almost reached the dorm entrance when Keith burst in through the door, face set. “Alan, just the man. Write a letter to your brother, would you?”

    “What?” Alan asked. “Right now? We’re looking for Olivia. Aren’t you? And which brother?”

    “I was,” Keith told him, “But a letter arrived for Katarina.”

    “And you opened it?” asked Mary sharply.

    “What if someone’s tracking it?” the flaxen-haired boy asked. “If I just forward it to her, she could be traced.”

    “Um. Fair point.”

    He nodded. “The bloody temple’s only gone and given her bracelet away.”

    “What?” Mary half-shouted. “How dare they!?”

    Violette shook her head. “The silver one from the dungeon?”

    “That’s it,” Keith asked. “They want Katarina to sign off on it, to get out from under the contract that mother and father insisted on.”

    “I take it you don’t plan to advise her on doing so.”

    The boy snorted. “I’m going to write to my parents right away. The temple can’t get away with this.”

    “Wait until after we’re done searching for the day and write once we’ve calmed down,” Mary suggested. “I’ll contact my father - and Violette, you know the queen, don’t you?”

    The girl nodded. “Mother took me to the royal court fairly often.”

    “Who did the temple give the bracelet to?” asked Alan. He was fairly sure Jeffrey would be inclined to back the Claes. Letting the temple just steal from nobles was hardly going to be popular.

    Keith folded his arms. “They dressed Lady Lafan up like the Saintess with all the regalia and put her on display to raise morale for Duke Ades’ fleet.”

    “...I should have held him down for Scarlet to punch him,” Violette declared.

    -

    Christophe Vor Garrett looked at the Holfort fleet and smirked. The expression was about half-truth and half-facade to keep the sailors confident.

    The count didn’t claim to be a great military tactician, but he could count and this fleet was smaller than the last one and it had less order to it. The banners of Ades, Frampton and Dieke were all in the central body, along with two of the three admiral’s flags.

    And a smaller skyship in the lead was carrying a truce flag.

    “Well, it seems the Holfort dogs want to talk,” he declared. “Send a ship to meet them. Offer to bring the flagships alongside each other between the two fleets.”

    He wasn’t going to invite Frampton or his allies aboard one of his ships, not after that bomb they’d conned the princess into bringing home with her. And nor would he risk his precious self aboard one of theirs, for that same reason. But skyship-alongside-skyship, using speaking trumpets. That would be good enough to talk.

    It was possible they’d have something worth listening to. And if not, well, he’d have some of the leadership next to him.

    “They might send a decoy ship,” warned Viscount Darian from next to him.

    Garrett shrugged. “Possibly. We’ll see who is on deck when they’re closer.” He saw one of the courier ships serving as scouts for the fleet moving forwards, their own truce flag flying. “What do you make of their numbers, Vidal?”

    Darian liked to think himself a credible military man. The equal of Lord Kosigan, at least in his own mind. Garrett was of two minds whether it was a good thing that Kosigan’s more cautious father was proving long-lived and keeping the lord out of a viscountcy, or whether inheriting would take up more of the man’s time and energy. He wasn’t really in doubt which of the two leaders was the sharper military mind and that was why Darian was serving as his tactical deputy while Kosigan was left at home to watch their other borders with slightly fewer ships and knights than he’d requested.

    The viscount pursed his lips. “A hundred and seventy ships up front but a slightly better guard detachment for their transports. If we had the numbers we had last time then I’d say we could take them without any need for your witch.”

    “But you don’t think that we can now?” They were thirty ships down, the impromptu squadron that was still out chasing the ships that fled north out of Redgrave’s fleet.

    “Close enough to be costly either way,” Darian admitted. “Maybe a little in our favour but we’d lose a lot of our own ships - enough that we’d be doing well to hold what’s been taken so far. And Holfort might be able to get another fleet together.”

    “He could,” Garrett said confidently. “If this was the last throw of the dice then he’d be here himself. As it is, he’s sending out more troublesome vassals to do his fighting for him. If they win, he shares the credit. If they lose, there’ll be fewer to make trouble for him once he brings his own fleet into play. That’s what he’s thinking, anyway.”

    “What if they have a counter for the witch?”

    Garrett considered that seriously. “Frampton won’t. He doesn’t believe in anything he doesn’t control - or not that it’s important. He knows that dark magic and light magic exist, but he doesn’t have either so to his mind they’re not really useful.”

    “It’s Ades in command though.”

    Ades is a puppet, the count thought. “True, and while the man’s nine-tenths facade - he spent more than a decade hiding on his estates from his own wife! - he could have been persuaded by someone else that Redgrave’s defeat should be considered. However, any countermeasure would have to be either tactical or magical - do you agree?”

    “Of course. And if it was tactical, they’d not be repeating Redgrave’s approach,” Darian conceded. “But they do have some light mages.”

    “That, I’ll grant you. But because they love their famous Saintess, their Temple would want their hands on any such project. And do you see a single Temple sky-ship in their main fleet?”

    Darian took out a spyglass and checked. “No,” he admitted. “There’s three with their supply ships though - two more than last time. And they still have that big bastard of a ship with them too.”

    Garrett sighed. “I’ve told you, we know about that one. It’s a lost item, and for all its size, it’s most notable for its speed. Good for running away, which is exactly what their vaunted Lord Bartford managed in the last battle. It only has four guns.”

    “Four guns that may have been what cost us half our losses last time.”

    “Vidal, Vidal!” Garrett put his arm around the viscount’s shoulder. “Where are these nerves coming from? You know they’d have been doing well to hit something the size of an island at the range our ships were at. There might have been one or two hits but the bulk of that damage had to come from Roseblade and Seberg’s ships.”

    Viscount Darian shook his head. “Our guns have better range than the kingdom’s, there’s no saying that a lost item might have not cannon with even more range. And it doesn’t matter how many more guns we have than that ship if its cannon can reach us while we can’t hit them back. That speed would let it stay at range too.”

    “Calmly, my friend. Don’t worry the crew.”

    The two ships serving as heralds had met and flags were rising. Garrett scanned them. It seemed that Ades was accepting the proposed terms.

    The count pointed at the lost item in question. “Firstly, that ship won’t escape our ritual this time. And if they do have some counter-magic, it also has to play guard for an entire convoy of much slower freighters and transports. That ties it down, does it not?”

    “...a fair point.” Darian folded his arms. “Though I trust you’ll have no complaint if I tell Sir Vandel that he has a free hand to go after it?”

    “Hoho. We’d be hard pressed to stop him from doing so,” Garrett admitted. “He’s smarting after having to leave that knight alive last time so we may as well order him to do what he already wants to. Now do me a favour and go back to your flagship would you? I’m about to go meet Marquis Frampton and his pet talking monkey… duke, I mean. In the unlikely event that it’s a trap, you’ll be in complete command of the fleet.”

    “I hope it doesn’t come to that, Christophe… but if it does, I’ll see the matter through.”

    Garrett watched Darian and shook his head fondly. Ah, Vidal. Do you think I’d be doing this if I thought that there was a chance in hell of them ruining my plans?

    Fanoss was dancing to his tune and when the war was done, Holfort would be a broken wreck. While the princess could remain as a figurehead, her loyal lords who had bled so hard for her victory should of course be rewarded with rich lands from the conquests… that of any lord that didn’t bow fast enough to them.

    The southern duchies of Holfort might manage to band together, but the heartlands and the north would belong to the empire of Fanoss. He was not a greedy man, Garrett thought. A duchy and hereditary post as chancellor would be sufficient for him. Crowns were heavy things and pointed out who should take the blame, while the man behind the throne could steer things in the proper direction.

    Perhaps his sons or grandsons would wed Fanoss princesses and take the throne openly, but that was for them to decide when he was dead. Until then, he would lead his house, his principality and shortly his empire in the direction he saw as best.

    The battleship that came forwards to meet Garrett was a proud sight, sails armed with the arms of House Frampton but the banners of three noble houses and two admirals flying. Long gun decks with enough guns at close range to make his own ship suffer.

    But at the same time it had the high flat sides of old-fashioned ships, rather than the angled sides of deck casemates that Fanoss used on their newer skyships. And if the batteries of mid-sized guns would hammer away at close range, the larger guns mounted on Garrett’s own ship would be murderous as well. Neither side could afford to break the truce for a gun fight, particularly with both fleets looking on.

    And using his own spyglass, Garrett saw the cluster of nobles on the quarterdeck of the oncoming battleship. Marquis Frampton’s scrawny frame and weasel-like face. The handsome but vacant face of Duke Ades. And a woman, not someone he knew, but who would bring a woman into battle if they had a choice?

    No, no. He was quite happy with this. After all, his plans would only involve his guns if things went badly wrong. And it was his job to ensure they didn’t.

    Garrett checked the flags on the mast mounted for signal purposes on the island behind him. Yes, everything was ready there.

    “Bring us alongside the enemy battleship,” he ordered. “Quarterdeck to quarterdeck.”

    “That will mean crossing their broadside,” warned the captain, though he was already reaching for his speaking trumpet to give the orders.

    “I’m aware of that, captain. They won’t risk a gun fight with us with their leaders aboard. But be ready to steer us clear if you must, and have sharpshooters ready at my signal.”

    He was right of course. The two battleships moved past each other, a few yards apart, slowing the entire time so that it took an excruciatingly long time for them to come to rest relative to each other. Both ships had the bulk of their guns pointed away from each other, which was another relief.

    Garrett sauntered over to the side, accepting the speaking trumpet from the captain. “It would seem that I am honoured by the presence of a Duke, a Marquis and a lady…” he glanced up at the banners. “Marchioness Dieke, perhaps?”

    The woman curtsied towards him. Because of course the formalities must be observed. He didn’t bow in return.

    Ades had his own speaking trumpet. “Is Princess Hertrude Sera Fanoss aboard to negotiate?”

    What a fool. “Unless your king is aboard and hiding his banner, this is not a parlay between sovereigns, Duke Auld. I am her first minister and leader of her council. If you find that insufficient rank then…” He shrugged his shoulders, exaggerating the move to be visible to them. “We can end this parlay and move to settling this with the guns of our fleets.”

    Both Frampton and Dieke restrained the Duke, which said interesting things about the pecking order. Not that it would matter shortly.

    “You have to know you can’t win this war,” Frampton called back. “Your fleet won the last battle, but you’re outnumbered this time and even if you succeed somehow, the kingdom’s numbers will push you back. But the cost would be high enough that the Duke is willing to offer you terms.”

    “How very generous!” Garrett called. “It costs me nothing to hear you out, I suppose.”

    One of Frampton’s men carried a weighted bag over and threw it across and over the boarding nets hung along the side of each ship. It made it conveniently easy to catch such messages. Garrett waited for a sailor to recover it and hand over the message that was within.

    It was a scroll of parchment, not just a draft but a fully written up treaty. Ready to be signed - as if all that remained was a formality. Honestly, did Frampton think him so foolish as to think the deal was still on. After the bomb - that might have killed him! That could have killed Count Christophe Vor Garrett! And this puffed up stoat who boasted of being a marquis thought he could do that without facing revenge?

    The parchment crumpled in his hand slightly and he straightened it, reading the terms carefully. Would there be some hidden message? Some concession meant to buy him off?

    No. There was nothing.

    Nothing but what had been promised before. “So you’re proposing an acceptance of the current status,” Garrett called back, as if this was new to him. “We keep the islands we’ve taken but no more. And in exchange we must open our skyways to your merchants so they can trade within the Principality? Do I understand that correctly?”

    “And beyond!” Frampton corrected fussily.

    “Oh yes. Your merchants can cross us entirely, making it easier for you to trade and communicate with our other neighbours.” Garrett chuckled and lowered the speaking trumpet to take the document in both hands.

    Then he tore the parchment in two.

    Frampton’s face was a treasure. “W-what are you doing?” he shouted through his trumpet.

    “Captain, lower the truce flag,” Garret ordered quietly. “Raise the black flag and get us clear, sharpshooters can open fire.” He walked to the side of the ship, held up the two halves of the proposed treaty and ignited them with his magic. Fire, a terror on ships, but he held the parchment out, sending the ashes scattering out on the wind away from either of the wooden ships. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth. “That for your treaty, you treacherous scum! I know how little your word is worth!”

    There was a squeal of rope through blocks and the truce flag came down, a second and more vital signal ascending the mast on a second halyard.

    Duke Ades still looked uncomprehending when a rifle shot from Garrett’s ship caught him high in the chest. He spun. Fell to the floor. The man forced himself to hands and knees before a second shot pierced his back, probably severing his spine.

    Frampton’s head simply exploded. He’d been scrambling back - Garrett made a note to find out who made that shot. Whether it was skill or luck, it should be rewarded. What little brains the man had splashed over the captain of the Ades battleship, the man still scrambling his own wits to realise what was going on.

    The black banner should have been message enough. It was well known in warfare what that flag meant: no quarter.

    And there was another meaning, special to today.

    Marchioness Dieke had proven cannier than any of the men. She flung herself behind a bulkhead, vanishing from sight and probably safe for now.

    The two ships were pulling apart as Garrett’s flagship engaged the manoeuvring engines. More troublesome and expensive than sails, but for fine handling they were good.

    “We can come across their stern and rake them!” offered his captain.

    Garrett shook his head. “No, get us back to our fleet.” He crossed the deck, turning his back on the enemy and looked towards the island. “Come on, girl. You said you could do this…”

    He was rewarded by a dimming of light as the ritual circle he’d seen in tests and once in battle spread out from the island. Oily shadows reached out, spreading faster and faster as fear and anger fuelled them.

    His own fleet was surrounded by them, but they were unaffected. They knew what to expect and the witch had been told what her minders would do if she targeted Garrett’s ships. But she and Garrett had learned from last time. Focusing on just one area had allowed Duke Redgrave’s fleet to scatter and many ships to escape.

    But this time the dark magic swept across the entire Holfort fleet and Garrett smiled wolfishly as he heard the first screams.

    He wasn’t sure the monster - shark-headed, ape-limbed and with razor spines along its back - that burst into view on deck aboard the enemy flagship was Marchioness Dieke, but the ragged clothes that remained to it could have been her gown. And it wasn’t the only such abomination aboard, if the way a cannon was visibly yanked askew was any sign.

    On and on the blackness spread, until it seemed to engulf everything beneath the cloud sky.

    And this time the transports and their escorts were also caught, he saw. So much for that lost item that Vidal Vor Darian had feared. Perhaps Garrett would make it his own flagship if it wasn’t too badly damaged...
     
    Spreading Shadows 10-3
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Spreading Shadows

    The power of love is a curious thing
    Make a one man weep, make another man sing
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 3

    A man can lose sight of everything else when he’s bent on revenge, and it ain’t worth it. ~ Louis L’Amour​

    Leon felt his stomach drop at the sight of the darkness reaching out for the fleet.

    “But we’re not even over the island!” Lloyd exclaimed.

    “Last time they didn’t show us everything they had,” Leon answered, staring over at the oncoming shadows. “It isn’t stopping. Brace for impact!”

    He’d decided to use the negotiations to visit the ships of his little squadron rather than remain aboard the Dreadnought. Honestly, he’d been surprised Frampton asked for a parlay at all - surely he must realise that any treaty offered would be looked at with suspicion after the debacle of the letters he’d handed out at Leon’s abortive trial?

    “Duke Ades and Marquis Frampton are dead,” Luxion reported. “Marchioness Dieke has been transformed into a monster and is rampaging upon the flagship.”

    “Signal all ships to make best speed with the wind,” Leon snapped.

    Lloyd took the orders as meant for him and started shouting instructions to the signallers. He wouldn’t have time to get anything hoisted before the shadows reached them. Even Luxion was going to be pushed…

    Grabbing the ship’s rail, Leon wondered if he might be one of those transformed. What would Luxion do if he was?

    “Can you destroy the source of this?” he demanded.

    “The origin appears to be somewhere under the surface of the island. I would be firing effectively at random. I could expend my current stock of ammunition, but it would take a full hour and have no certainty of success without using the nuclear warhead.”

    Which would kill everyone not inside the Dreadnought. Besides that, there was only one warhead and no guarantee of finding enough transuranics to make another. “Denied.” Although it'd be better to risk not having it later if not using it meant no later to worry about.

    A spark of light caught his attention and he turned towards the source. On the foredeck of one of the three ships sent by the temple - the same one that had brought Julius’ group before - Marie was standing tall (or as tall as the tiny girl could), wearing a white dress, the Saintess’ Necklace and the Saintess’ Bracelet. She raised the Saintess’ Rod in both hands and the light was coming from the tip of the rod.

    Like a glowing bubble, the light expanded out to meet the shadows.

    They struck with the sound of a bell chiming and the light shattered in the path of the shadows. Despairing cries came from the sailors watching.

    But Marie threw another wave of light defiantly up at the dark magic. Leon saw that the four boys around her had dropped out of sight suddenly. The barrier met the shadows and for a moment it looked as if it would succeed…

    But no. The barrier broke apart, one section at a time, crumbling until the tendrils of darkness once again threatened to complete the ritual circle and engulf them.

    Leon saw flags rising on Luxion’s signal mast. The right orders - or at least those he’d given. “Luxion, you can open fire on Fanoss’ ships,” he ordered in the brief moment of respite. “Go for their faster ships first.”

    One more time, the rod blazed with light and Marie hurled her paltry light magic out. The regalia would enhance it, but Leon wished that he’d pushed to have Olivia come along rather than sending her to the Ministry.

    The bubble of protection contacted the darkness just before it first reached the cargo ships and their escorts. The ringing sound of the collision was deafening. So close that Leon thought he might be able to reach out and touch the interface between the two - if he wasn’t fighting to stay upright.

    The shadows pressed against the light and Leon saw the protection shrink back. He stumbled back and away from it, dragging Lloyd with him and away from the shadows as they pressed over the side of the skyship.

    Those of the crew that could see what was happening were doing the same, fortunately there weren’t enough of them to completely overbalance the skyship. Leon scrambled up onto his knight-armour, hoping to be able to get it into the air ahead of the slow advance of the darkness.

    The helmsman was spinning the wheel, staying at his post until the last minute, trying to turn the ship further into the shrinking area to be protected.

    An outcry from below suggested that someone hadn’t got clear and had suffered the full effect of the horrors. The inhuman roar that followed confirmed it.

    Leon saw the darkness reach the hand of his knight-armour as he started closing it. “Hold on!” he called as the hatch shut. “I’ll try pushing the ship!”

    No, I’ll pull, he thought as it locked shut. Not going out into that to push. Should have thought of that before I said anything.

    The knight-armour came to life around him and he looked at the coming wave of dark magic. Did he have time?

    It was still just grasping at the hand. Was the ship moving ahead of it? Firing up the knight-armour, Leon took to the air and looked for somewhere to grab onto the ship. With more perspective, the ship was gradually pulling free of the magic. Around him, he could see the bubble of light magic was still holding. It might even have stopped the shadows for now.

    Catching hold of one of the sturdier pieces of the rigging, Leon powered his thrusters up gradually - not wanting to rip his grip free.

    With agonising slowness, the skyship pulled out of the nightmarish tendrils until it was fully within the protected region. How much was due to Leon pulling and how much to the helmsman, he wasn’t sure. Honestly, as far as he was concerned, the man could have the credit.

    “Master, the new human skyships are clustering around me and blocking my fields of fire,” Luxion warned. “May I destroy some to clear my shots?”

    “No, just let them get past.” Leon checked the winds. Blowing from the south. They’d flee northwards then. The merchantmen and troop transports would need all the speed they had to say ahead.

    He moved in to congratulate the helmsman, but then the quarter-deck of the skyship erupted in broken planks. The helm was torn free as something vast and ursine, but with great antlers and a cat’s face broke out of the cabin beneath. It was also on fire, no natural flames but instead a silvery blaze that seemed to be agonising for it. The courageous helmsman was sent flying, crashing down onto the main deck, neck at an angle that couldn’t possibly be survivable.

    “Fuck! Off!” Leon snarled and drew his rifle from the weapons rack. He emptied all six shots into the head of the monster, blowing off one antler and half of the head before it stopped moving. As he’d seen on Sullivan’s island, once dead the monster shrank once more into the mortal man that had given birth to it, the flames vanishing as if they had never been. Perhaps the fire would have done the job in a few more moments, but how many more would have died before that?

    Lloyd stumbled towards the corpse and then Leon’s schoolmate fell to his knees, staring at it.

    “Lloyd!” Leon shouted. “Get up, we don’t have time!”

    The boy looked up at him. “L-Leon… You just killed my father!”

    “...” For a moment Leon was at a loss. “Dark magic killed him, Lloyd. Now get your ship closer to Marie before any more of your crew is taken!”

    The other student’s face twisted from grief to anger. “I…”

    “Do it!”

    Stiffly, bitterly, Lloyd forced himself upright and started shouting at the sailors.

    Commanders don’t get to have friends, Leon thought. I’ll have to apologise later, for what little it’s worth.

    “Master, Lafan’s protective area is still shrinking,” Luxion warned. “For now the diminishment is negligible, but as her fatigue grows I project that she will be unable to maintain it.”

    “Understood.” Leon turned his knight-armour towards the temple’s skyship. “Put me on loudspeakers.”

    “Done,” the AI reported.

    “This is Commodore Bartford. Some of us have been in this situation before. We’re going to get through this the same way, except now we have light magic guarding us. All ships cluster together around the temple skyships. Hold formation and ride the wind - this circle doesn’t go on forever.”

    From here he saw Marie standing alone, sweating and white-faced. Leon would have expected her four admirers to be supporting her, but all four of them were lying on the deck with crewmen just arriving to drag them aside. Whatever had happened had knocked the lot of them out.

    “Luxion, any ideas what’s up with the four of them?”

    “If you mean Lafan’s admirers, I can only speculate at this time.” The AI didn’t sound as if it was being entirely honest. “However, I have a statistically significant finding with regard to those affected by this dark magic attack.”

    “I’m listening.”

    The little squadron of warships and transports let the wind carry them away as Fanoss warships broke through the disordered remains of Duke Ades’ fleet and began to tear the ships - already overrun by monsters - apart with heavy cannon fire.

    There would be no last proud defence like Count Seberg’s… As Leon looked back, he doubted even one skyship of the main fleet would get away.

    “Of the knights and lords who were not transformed by the attack, almost all are notable in not having their wives living in the capital and not having significant amounts of debt, to judge by the financial records I have examined as part of your economic analysis requests. The overwhelming majority of those who are transformed have absentee wives, significant debts or both.”

    Leon parsed that for a moment. “So, men who were likely bitter and resentful - fonts of negative emotion, particularly due to unhappy marriages?”

    “It is a plausible explanation of the facts available.”

    The boy groaned. “Fanoss has weaponized Holfort’s traditions of lousy marriages for the gentry and lower nobility. We’re in big trouble.”

    -

    Leon’s eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. He’d long since left his knight-armour in the hangar and relocated to the navigation bridge of the Dreadnought. The skyship was the only thing keeping the pursuing Fanoss ships from closing and overwhelming them. They’d outnumbered his force’s twenty-odd warships by more than two-to-one at the start of the chase, and even after Dreadnought’s guns had wrecked a dozen of them, they had kept chasing.

    Oh, they hadn’t closed in, but they had a pretty good idea now of what Dreadnought’s range was and they’d tested it constantly, probing with airbikes and knight-armours, paying the price to learn what his limits were.

    Luxion had suggested breaking out the nuclear warhead, but the shockwave would still be devastating to the Holfort ships. And leaving the little squadron to their own devices while he went back to use the nuke against Fanoss' island would be leaving them to their deaths, which was exactly what he'd promised not to do. Some of the warships might escape if they scattered, but the transports were too slow - the Fanoss fleet had managed to get around their flank once already.

    Leon had the nasty suspicion that if he yielded to his fatigue, that Luxion would just go ahead and fire a nuke the moment he wasn’t awake to forbid the AI from doing so. That might be lack of sleep talking, but he wasn't sure.

    “Master.”

    Leon glared at the display.

    “Master?”

    There had to be something - he’d tried lunging out to chase them off with Dreadnought but they simply scattered and tried to get around him to the convoy…

    “Master!?”

    “...oh. Sorry. What was it, Luxion?”

    The AI switched the screen to a map. They were somewhere near the southernmost vassals of the Ades now. If the area hadn’t been stripped to provide the core of the Blue fleet, Leon might have hoped for reinforcements. A blinking light sprang up ahead of him. “A new fleet of skyships is visible on radar.”

    “...who?”

    “At this distance, I cannot tell. However, they number almost sixty vessels.”

    “...dammit.”

    “Master, you need to sleep.”

    “I know. I know.” He rubbed his eyes. It was hard to think. “How long before you know who they are?”

    “Between one hundred thirty and one hundred and fifty minutes, assuming that the speed and direction of both formations remains consistent.”

    “Right.” He buried his face in his hands. If they were hostile, that would be enough warships and knight-armours to swarm over Dreadnought. Maybe not to kill them, but enough to rip the transports apart. “Luxion. I’m getting the transports home. This is my damn fault. Letting out the half-elf secret tore Holfort apart as much or more than anything Julius did. The least I can bloody do is get these poor bastards home.”

    Julius, Jilk, Chris and Greg had been knocked out by Marie’s light magic, according to the crew of their ship. And when they woke up, they didn’t remember anything clearly since returning from Redgrave’s defeat. Dark magic was the only explanation that made sense - Marie’s magic must have somehow purged it from them.

    If this was Sirius Dieke's work then he'd been subtle enough to do it without Luxion's surveillance noticing, which was worrying. And with no convincing evidence, Leon didn't feel he should act against the older boy. Innocent until proven guilty, and the new President's reputation was such that Leon wasn't sure he could have convinced even his closest friends that Sirius was up to more than brewing tea and doing paperwork.

    The girl herself had collapsed unconscious after her light barrier finally collapsed. Leon hoped she hadn’t strained something - she’d pushed herself to an unhealthy degree developing this much light magic to begin with as he understood it. According to Luxion, she’d also woken; but by that point Leon had basically locked himself in the navigation bridge.

    “I understand, master. However, killing yourself will not save them.”

    Leon nodded. “Signal the fleet to follow us, and then head right for the new fleet at our current speed. Signal our fleet, I mean.”

    “Directly for them, master?”

    “Yes. If they’re friendly, we’ll be safe - that’s enough ships the pursuit will have to break off.”

    “And if they’re hostile,” Luxion asked, sounding hopeful.

    The boy rubbed his eyes. “Then you get to kill as many of them as you can without going nuclear.” Hopefully that was enough incentive that he didn’t have to worry about Luxion doing anything too unexpected. “I’ll catch a couple of hours of sleep. And I do mean two hours - wake me at the end of that or when you identify the other fleet, whatever comes first.”

    “Yes master.”

    Leon leant back in his chair and closed his eyes, gathering his strength to go to his cabin. He’d get up and go to his cabin. He yawned widely. Cabin… right…

    “Master.”

    Leon jerked awake. Yikes, had he just dozed off in his seat? He’d at least meant to go to his cabin. His chin felt damp and he realised to his embarrassment that he’d drooled in his sleep. Wiping his jaw, he looked around. “Luxion, how long was I asleep?”

    “Two hours, master. I haven’t definitely identified the other fleet, but there are… mixed indications as to who they are.”

    He rubbed his head, then raked his hair out of its ponytail and started retying it. “How so?”

    “Radar returns from their hull shapes suggests a mix of Holfort’s traditional arrangements and the slightly improved superstructures used by Fanoss warships.”

    He did feel better after sleeping. Less fuzzy, although his head was definitely of the opinion that more than a couple of hours would be in order. But this wasn’t good news. “Must be hostile then. Fanoss transports would probably stick with the older hull design. It’s more spacious and they don’t need gun casements.”

    “Their speed isn’t consistent with transports,” Luxion corrected him. “It is possible Fanoss still has older warships in the same pattern as Holfort, but we have encountered none so far.”

    “Great,” Leon sighed. “Another mystery. I’m going to wash up. Hopefully we’ll have more idea by the time I’ve done that.”

    “May I suggest fresh clothes as well, master. I believe most humans of any breed would find your current odour unpleasant.”

    Leon glared up at the monitor. “Fine. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, Luxion.”

    “I can hardly operate the Dreadnought while limited to human processing ability.”

    “I said wouldn’t, not couldn’t.”

    Luxion wasn’t wrong, he reluctantly admitted after a quick but warm shower. It knocked away a bit more at his fatigue - probably not as much as the shock of cold water would, but that would have faded quickly in its effect. Stepping into the kitchen, he cut open a bread-roll and crammed some cheese and sliced sausage inside. Food might also help. When was the last time I sat down for a proper meal?

    “Master,” Luxion declared, leaving Leon almost dropping the sandwich as he re-entered the navigation bridge. “I have identified the new fleet.”

    “Who?”

    The screen lit up, displaying ships that Leon recognised. He fell to his knees, not caring that this time he really did drop his sandwich.

    -

    ‘The last person you’d expect, he’s like a background character that you always find in his office… and once you unlock the hidden route for him, you have to complete it at least once or every other route will just leave you and all the other main characters dead.’

    “Acchan!” Katarina exclaimed, jerking upright.

    For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was. This wasn’t her bed, either at the academy or any of the Claes houses. Then she realised that the bookshelves visible in the dim light were those of the hidden annex of the Ministry of Magic library. She was on a camp-bed in one of the alcoves formed by the shelves, screened off from the rest of the room by an improvised curtain.

    “What? My lady?” Anne rolled over on the other camp bed in the alcove.

    “Never mind. I just had a strange dream.” Katarina squinted at the clock placed between the two beds. Well before dawn. “Go back to sleep, Anne.”

    “Are you sure?” the maid asked, though her eyes were still lidded. She was caring for all of the little group hidden away here, which was more work than just looking after Katarina - no small task, as the girl herself would readily admit. “I can…”

    “It’s the middle of the night,” Katarina offered apologetically. “I’m sorry I woke you.” She huddled down under the blankets again.

    ‘Who is Acchan?’ asked Ann, inside of Katarina’s head.

    They were well past the point of the girl hiding that from the saintess’ ghost. ‘My best friend in my past life. She’s the one who lent me the game I was playing.’ Katarina tried to remember the girl’s face, but it was hard. Many of the details seemed to blend together with those of other people - particularly Sophia for some reason. At one time, she’d even had a dream of the best moments of her friendship with Acchan, except with Sophia in her place and Katarina’s current form in the place of her old Japanese self.

    The maid-saintess in her head nodded. ‘The game where Holfort’s descendant or your adopted brother would kill or exile you for the high crime of defending your legitimate interests?’ she asked. ‘I can see how that would be concerning.’

    Katarina frowned. ‘It’s not exactly like that.’ Then she shook her head. ‘And there was something else about the game. Something I’d forgotten about - I never played any part that involved it, but Acchan was telling me about it… dropping hints without actually spoiling it for me.’

    ‘Like a puzzle?’

    ‘Yes, it felt great to figure one out and move ahead with the game. Maybe that’s why Sophia reminds me of her - she does the same with romances sometimes.’

    ‘So what secret did this Acchan tell you about light magic?’ Ann sounded offended at the notion that Katarina’s past life friend could have known anything about the subject that she didn’t.

    ‘It wasn’t about light magic, it was dark magic… no, a dark magician.’ Katarina tensed suddenly. ‘Oh gosh! Leon’s right, there’s one at the academy!’

    She rolled over and looked at Anne. The young woman had gone back to sleep - or at least she’d closed her eyes and was breathing regularly. Katarina slowly pushed her blankets back, careful not to make any noise to wake her poor maid.

    ‘Who is the dark magic user?’ asked Ann. ‘The one who attacked your friend Sophia?’

    ‘It wasn’t an attack, exactly, but I think it was.’ Katarina pulled on yesterday’s dress over her nightdress and found her warmest socks. ‘Was them, I mean.’

    ‘Was who…? I mean, who is the dark magic user?’

    ‘I don’t remember, but I think I’ll know them if I see them. You know, knock the memory loose.’ She tapped the side of her skull with her knuckles and then winced and looked over at Anne.

    The maid rolled over. “No, Lady Katarina, don’t eat that, it’s been on the floor,” she mumbled without waking.

    Exhaling in relief, Katarina moved the curtain aside and slipped out into the moonlit library annex on her tip-toes. The tiled floor was cold even through her socks, but her boots would be too loud.

    Two more alcoves were curtained off, one Angelica (and Olivia, if she could be found), the other for Sora Smith. The man puzzled Katarina, he smiled at her familiarly now and then and claimed they’d met before… but then he wouldn’t tell her where! She was sure she’d remember someone as roguish as him, if only because Keith would probably have warned her off from talking to him.

    Angelica and Anne were both wary of him once Larna explained that he was a dark mage, but really he couldn’t do much. Even Katarina had as much magic and he’d tried to hide that he was sulking after she undid every bit of dark magic he tried on her - under supervision of course.

    If anyone was likely to notice her, it was him. Katarina considered leaving a note but decided that writing it would probably make enough noise to wake someone. Finding her boots in the dark was hard enough and she sat in a stack of books to lace them up, since moving a chair would make noise.

    Lots of books had been moved aside to make room for anything Larna could find about light magic or dark magic. Olivia had been very disappointed to learn that the annex wasn’t for magical books. Apparently a past librarian had used it to store books that his wife had disapproved of. Other ministry members had continued the tradition over what must have been at least a century until somehow it was forgotten about.

    Honestly, Katarina thought that they just looked like romance novels and had looked forwards to seeing if there was anything that might cheer up Sophia. However, Larna had shown one to Anne and the maid’s face had gone a shade of pink that Katarina had never seen before on the maid that was almost a big sister to her. The result had been some truly terrifying threats about no cookies, no buns and no gardening lessons with Yumeria.

    In the face of such potential horrors, Katarina had had to accept that she’d be limited to the books she’d brought with her. Although she had a sneaky feeling that Angelica might not be so restrained - there was something suspiciously book-like under the other girl’s pillow last time she had gone over to that alcove.

    Her hair snagged on her collar and Katarina realised that she’d left her hairclasp behind. Not wanting to go back for it now that she was in her boots, she pulled out the neckerchief she wore for gardening and used it to cover her hair.

    The hidden door didn’t squeak when she opened it. Sora had oiled the hinges, the latch and the lock to avoid that very circumstance. They didn’t want anyone knowing that there was something behind these shelves.

    Out of earshot of the others, Katarina broke into a trot towards the entrance of the ministry.

    ‘How do you plan to get to the academy?’ asked Ann.

    Oh yes… Katarina considered that and when she got to one of the long axis corridors that cut across the building she took a left rather than the right that would take her to the entrance.

    Kyle and his mother shared a room above what had once been stables. However, these days the ministry had less use for horse transport and most of the stables had been converted for other storage. Katarina remembered visiting Yumeria and seeing inside the old stables when she arrived.

    It was still dark when she went out the servants entrance and into the stable yard. A few horses whuffled at her from across the yard where the remaining animals were kept, but she didn’t have any apples or sugar for her. Perhaps she could get some before she came back.

    The door to the storeroom was just on a latch, as she remembered. Lifting it, she swung it open and saw the shadowy shape she’d hoped for. A dust sheet was thrown over it, but dragging it off revealed the familiar bulk of an airbike. Katarina scrambled onto it and consulted her memory. Right, so the starter was here…

    There was a rising hum and then the airbike took off, floating in mid-air. Her knees felt cold, sitting astride this had pushed her skirt up past them. Oh well. Cold knees weren’t a problem.

    She very slowly opened the throttle and the airbike skimmed obediently out of the door. Right, now for take off. She’d have to go up fairly steeply to get over the yard’s gate.

    Holding the brakes, Katarina opened the throttle wide. The engine roared loudly. Okay, now angle…

    “Hey!” Kyle’s window swung open and the little half-elf stuck his head out. “Do you know what ti-”

    “Bye Kyle!” Katarina released the brake and almost fell off as the airbike rocketed upwards.

    Behind her, a shrill: “That’s my airbike!” was left behind.

    Having navigated her way across the capital from the air before, Katarina was confident in her skills. All she needed to do was find the right road…

    Given that it was dark, it was impressive in her own view, that she only had one false start and two accidents. Hopefully no one really needed that weather-cock that she’d hit, but what were the chances of anyone noticing that a tree was missing a couple of branches.

    The sun was creeping up over the horizon as the familiar buildings of the campus came into view. Katarina brought the airbike down over the wall, not far from her vegetable garden, and cut power to just barely enough to keep it in the air. She didn’t want to wake anyone - they’d have a long day at school, no need to make them start early for her sake.

    ‘Are you sure you shouldn’t have told anyone where you are going?’ Ann asked mildly. ‘Your maid is probably awake by now and worrying.’

    Katarina looked at the sun. “It’s just sunrise, it’s not that late.”

    ‘Sunrise in winter is fairly late,’ the ghost of the Saintess pointed out.

    ...oh. She hadn’t thought of that, she saw the sun rise so rarely. ‘Well, I’ll be quick. I just need to take a look at the student records, figure out who it is and then I can go back and tell them.’

    ‘You’re not planning to confront the dark mage alone then?’

    ‘Of course not,’ Katarina assured Ann. ‘I need a proper adventuring party before taking on a boss. That’s just basic common sense.’

    ‘Thus my concern that you might not have thought about that.’

    Sometimes Ann wasn’t very nice, Katarina admitted to herself. But she was getting better.

    The student council offices were quiet, unsurprising at this hour. For a moment, Katarina worried that the door would be locked, but it swung open at her hand.

    A single lamp lit the hallway, leaving the wing full of haunting shadows. It was almost as if everyone was lying in wait for a surprise party. Katarina checked the door to the archives and found that this, unlike the outer door, was locked. Well bother.

    Maybe there was a key upstairs. The student council leaders probably all had keys, maybe they left them in their offices.

    ‘Which are probably also locked,’ Ann pointed out.

    She’d never know if she didn’t try. Katarina went up the stairs and was surprised to find the door to Nicol’s old office was ajar. The light of a second lamp was visible from within.

    When she knocked gently on the door, it swung open the rest of the way. “Oh, President Dieke.”

    The boy looked up from the paperwork. “Lady Claes?”

    “Uh-huh,” she agreed. “I’m sorry to bother you this early.”

    “It’s alright,” he said dismissively. “I’m keeping long hours.” There were bags under his eyes, as if he wasn’t sleeping well. “Would you like some tea?”

    “That would be lovely.” He made the best tea. It was one of the reasons she was glad she’d been given permission to visit the council offices whenever she wanted - besides having so many friends on the student council.

    Sirius Fou Dieke walked over to the side and activated a magical device on the sideboard. A small kettle was mounted above it and he removed the lid and checked inside before closing it up. “It heats the kettle,” he explained, indicating the device. “They’re expensive, but worth it. I was just checking I’d remembered to fill the kettle.”

    “It’s like a hot-plate!” Katarina declared in delight. “How clever!”

    “I’m not sure what a hot-plate is,” the boy admitted. “But I’ll take your word for it. Why are you back here, Lady Claes? I thought you’d gone back to your family, like so many other students.”

    “What? Oh, are they?”

    He nodded. “The loss of Duke Redgrave’s fleet and his family leaving the capital has demoralised many families. There’s been a rush of families calling their children back to domains away from the continent. Forty-seven so far. Although forty-six if that’s not where you were… but in that case, why haven’t you been attending classes and… um,” he indicated her hair.

    Katarina reached up and then remembered that she was wearing the neckerchief over her hair. “Oh, I forgot my hairclasp,” she said casually. “And it’s… a special project.”

    “Ah. And is that over now?”

    “No, I’m… looking for Olivia!”

    “Here?” Sirius raised his hand as the kettle began to whistle. “Just a moment.” He wrapped a towel around his hand and lifted the kettle off the magical device, pouring hot water into the waiting teapot. Setting the kettle aside, he put the lid on the kettle and gave it a little shake. “You like milk and sugar, don’t you?”

    Katarina nodded.

    “Excellent. And why are you looking for Miss Campbell here? We’ve searched the entire campus. I’m worried, but it seems most likely that she left the campus, willingly or otherwise.”

    “Ah, but…” Katarina broke off, remembering Acchan’s warning again. What had she said about the dark mage?

    ‘A background character that you always find in his office.’

    Sirius poured the tea into two cups and reached for the milk.

    “Lord President, are you the hidden dark mage?”

    There was a crash as Sirius knocked the jug of milk over onto the floor. It smashed on the polished wood and he stared down at it for a moment and turned to look at Katarina. “Why would you ask that?”

    “W-well,” she said apologetically. “Er, let me help clean that up…”

    “No, no.” He reached down and lifted the largest piece of the jug. “Why would you ask if I was the dark mage?” Was it Katarina’s imagination or were the shadows of the room moving? Surely it was just the lamp flame causing that?

    “Well you’re always in the office…” Wait that didn’t make any sense. “A-and…”

    He sighed and shook his head. “Your light magic, I suppose.”

    And then the room darkened, as if the lamp was miles away.

    “Are you going to save me as well, Saintess Katarina?” Sirius asked.

    Wait, saintess? She wasn’t a saintess.

    “Why don’t you get some sleep while I tidy this all up,” Sirius suggested, and it seemed like a… terribly… good… idea…

    Katarina felt the wooden floor against her knees for a moment and then her so-very-heavy eyelids closed. Her last thought was to wonder why there were tears on Sirius’ face.

    -

    “So this is your famous lost item.” Hertrude Sera Fanoss looked around as she boarded Dreadnought. “I saw it from the outside, but I rather assumed it would have a more imposing interior.”

    “Dreadnought is a working ship,” Leon told her. He’d managed eight hours of sleep since the fleet had arrived, with the reassurance that now the transports were safe.

    “You look like hell,” his father told him bluntly as he followed the princess aboard. Then he gave Hertrude an apologetic look.

    She shook her head. “I’ve heard the word before, Count Bartford. And you’re not wrong.”

    “It’s been a rough few days,” Leon admitted. “So, I gather that you’ve joined forces which is great news, but I’m missing context.” He knew far more than signals had conveyed, since Luxion had sent spy drones across to both his family’s ships - to ensure they weren’t being coerced - and to Hertrude’s - to ensure that no betrayal was planned. But they didn’t know that and he didn’t want to have to explain why he knew.

    “I was pushed into the war by Count Garrett. His regency council still essentially rule Fanoss in my name,” the princess admitted. “Letting him have the war was the only path I could find to loosen that grip - with so many of his supporters here, I hope that my sister and her allies are changing that. Until I get home, I won’t know.”

    “Your path has killed tens of thousands of people,” Leon observed quietly.

    “I assumed as much going into the war,” she replied equally quietly. “I assumed, in fact, that deaths would be more evenly distributed between our two nations. While I’d hate to think of my countrymen dying, I believe that the fact Garrett is unleashing horrors like this is proof that anything I do to get him out of power is justified.”

    Leon looked her in the eye and saw her resolve. “You may be right. And yet you’re here on Dreadnought, looking for a ride back to Holfort?”

    “Mind your manners, son.” Barcus Fou Bartford kept the reprimand mild. “She’s still a princess - and not all the ships with her were amenable to joining her. She had to fight her own people to get this far.”

    He tilted his head in acknowledgement of his father’s point. “My point stands, your highness.”

    “You may as well drop that honorific.” Hertrude smiled slightly. “Although does this vast vessel at least have somewhere to sit down?”

    “I think I can just about manage that level of hospitality,” Leon answered, mind racing. He led them to a lounge. “Quarters are being prepared - a little cramped, unfortunately.”

    “I’ve trusted you as my escort before, I’m willing to do so again,” the princess (whatever she had just said) assured him. “The reason I must go to Holfort is that the scale of Garrett’s victories force it on me. If the kingdom and principality were locked in a bloody deadlock, I could reasonably offer both sides a satisfactory way to back down. But it’s much worse than that. Hatred of Fanoss must be driving the royal court to be equally extreme in hitting back. Unless I can distinguish between Garrett’s actions and my people’s, the backlash will be just as severe. King Roland will have no choice about calling for a war to the knife.”

    “Just as you had little to no choice about this war?” Barcus asked curiously.

    “Essentially.”

    Leon nodded. “I see. So you’re going to present yourself as an ally. And recast Garrett as a renegade that Holfort and Fanoss can join forces against.”

    “Exactly,” Hertrude confirmed. “I’ll have to make concessions besides that, but the sooner I can get to Holfort, the sooner I can establish the narrative.”

    Barcus shook his head. “Politics.”

    “It is distasteful but also true.” She looked around. “I understand that your ship is among the fastest in the kingdom, Leon. I’m confident that my remaining ships will remain under Count Roseblade’s direction if not his direct command in escorting your force back to the continent. I do suggest that we depart as soon as possible.”

    Leon let a smile cross his lips. “We’re underway as we speak. It’ll take us a couple of days to reach Holfort.”

    Hertrude’s eyes went wide. “A couple as in two days? From here to the capital?!”

    “Dreadnought’s mostly engines and bunkerage,” he lied with the practice of frequent repetition. “Sails would just slow her down, even with the wind behind her. If you want to even see your ships again before they catch up, we’ll need to go back on deck right away.”

    “...I think that won’t be necessary.”

    “I didn’t think Dreadnought was quite that fast, son.”

    “I didn’t think it wise to draw attention to the fact. Hopefully we’ll make it back to the capital before news of the outcome of the battle,” Leon added. “I don’t think there were any other Holfort survivors, so at least there shouldn’t be a panic to deal with at the port.”

    “What do you mean about not calling you ‘your highness’, your highness?” his father asked Hertrude.

    She sighed. “I was recently given the chance to see the original treaty that separated Fanoss from the kingdom. Our copy was lost, probably deliberately. It’s suited my ancestors mostly to pretend that the cause was Holfort tyranny, but it seems that there was at least some wrongdoing on their part. Perhaps considerable wrongdoing. I’m sure that that’s the Holfort’s view. While I’m not enthused with some of their policies, any outcome of this war will leave us both badly weakened so…”

    “So…?” Barcus enquired.

    “Are you suggesting reversing the succession?” Leon asked bluntly.

    “If they’re willing to moderate some of their policies that seem a little too directly aimed at claiming the nobility,” Hertrude confirmed steadily. “I did start this war, after all. And my parents believed that the constant wars between principality and kingdom should be stopped. Their approach… hasn’t worked. Perhaps this one will.”

    “That’s…” the older Bartford shook his head in disbelief. “You’re going to surrender your crown?”

    “It depends how flexible King Roland proves to be. I do require some concessions on policy, as I said. I think the current war suggests that weakening the nobility has caused Holfort’s military might to be less impressive than it should have been, even discounting the dark magic used.” Hertrude rested her hands on her knees. “I imagine that they will ask you what I’ve said before they negotiate seriously - and there will be doubts of my sincerity since our recent treaty was betrayed almost immediately. Normally I’d hold some cards back, but when they ask you, please let them know that if they prefer I would be willing to also abdicate in favour of my sister - Hertrauda never had any part in past negotiations so her reputation is clean of that stain.”

    “...I guess that would help?” Barcus couldn’t really hide that he was feeling out of his depth.

    “Being a princess was only fun until I grew up to realise the responsibilities involved.”
     
    Spreading Shadows 10-4
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Spreading Shadows

    The power of love is a curious thing
    Make a one man weep, make another man sing
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 4

    Widows comfort themselves when they remarry, widowers take revenge. ~ French Proverb​

    Waking up on a stone floor was no fun, Katarina found.

    “Lady Katarina, are you alright?”

    “I think so,” she mumbled. “How are you, Olivia? ...Olivia!” She sat up sharply and inadvertently headbutted the blonde. “Owie… Oh no!” The other girl had fallen over backwards. “I can’t have killed someone with my head!” Katarina exclaimed, trying to remember how to heal someone with light magic.

    “I’m not dead!” Olivia protested. “I think…” She raised her hands to her head and rubbed it. “But please don’t do that again.”

    “I promise.” Katarina raised her hands. “Let me try and help with that.”

    ‘Healing oneself with light magic can be a little challenging,’ Ann noted. ‘But with the two of you, that’s not necessary.’

    The two girls applied their light magic to each other’s heads, and Katarina sighed in relief. “Thank you.” She hugged Olivia once the other girl confirmed that she was also feeling better. “I’m so glad I found you.”

    The blonde looked a little sad. “I wish I’d broken free so you didn’t need to.”

    “But we can leave now?”

    Olivia gave her a rueful look and then reached down to her ankle, revealing a manacle locked around it and chained to the wall. A second chain connected to a similar manacle on Katarina’s ankle. “It’s not going to be quite that easy, Lady Katarina.”

    “Oh.” Katarina focused on the wall. “Earth bump.”

    The wall didn’t so much as twitch!

    “Earth bump!”

    The same result.

    “No!” Katarina exclaimed. “How could earth bump fail me?”

    “I think the wall’s been reinforced against magic,” Olivia explained. “I’ve read about it but it’s the first time that I’ve actually encountered it.”

    The brunette sighed in frustration. “How did you end up here?”

    The other girl moved to lean against her. “I was getting ready to leave when I noticed something odd about Prince Julius and his friends. I wasn’t sure what it was until I got back to the student council and I told Lord Dieke.” She shook her head. “I was such a fool. And I was useless as well. I’m supposed to have the most light magic in years but it didn’t mean anything. He knocked me out easily. The next thing I knew, I was down here.”

    Katarina took the other girl’s hand. “There’s nothing wrong with having trusted him. He’s the Lord President of the Student Council. You didn’t have any reason to believe he was a dark mage.” She rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed, dislodging the neckerchief she’d still been wearing. “I kind of… guessed it when I was talking to him. I probably shouldn’t have just blurted it out.”

    ‘No.’ “No.” Both Ann and Olivia were apparently in agreement on that, although the girl added: “Although it is very like you, Lady Katarina.”

    “Is it just me, or did he seem a bit… sad?” She bunched up the neckerchief and pocketed it. The summoning pen for Big Stein was still in there as well, even though the giant robot had been destroyed months ago now. Katarina activated it anyway, just in case it helped somehow. It couldn’t hurt. She didn’t tell Olivia though, there was no point raising her expectations.

    “Let me help you with your hair,” Olivia offered.

    Katarina obediently moved around to sit with her back to Olivia, so the other girl could work at it. Apparently the other girl kept a comb in her pocket. She was obviously crazy prepared for this sort of situation - Katarina decided she should probably start doing the same.

    They were just about done working all the tangles in Katarina’s hair when the door to the room opened slightly. “Are you both decent?” Sirius asked politely.

    “Would you stay out if I said no?” Olivia asked in a tight voice.

    “Er, yes? But it might be hard for me to change the chamber pot and give you your food,” the boy pointed out.

    Food? “You can come in!” Katarina assured him.

    The boy moved in with a tray that he left tantalisingly out of reach on the far end of the room, before moving over and collecting a chamberpot from the corner of the room. Stepping outside he returned with a bottle and filled two cups on the tray. “I’d rather not give you a glass bottle,” he explained and moved the tray over into reach.

    Katarina crawled over and Sirius backed away while she carried it back to Olivia.

    “I’ll be back shortly,” the redhead told her. “Calling for help won’t do anything, there’s no one nearby.”

    She honestly hadn’t thought of that, the food was too busy reminding her that she hadn’t had breakfast. It was some sort of stew, in two wooden bowls. Katarina wolfed hers down and was scraping the bowl before Olivia was even halfway done.

    “Would you like some of mine?” the shorter girl offered.

    “But aren’t you hungry?” asked Katarina and licked her spoon clean.

    Olivia smiled and poured about half of what she had left into Katarina’s bowl. “It’s alright, you’re obviously hungry.”

    “You’re the best, Olivia!”

    The cups held wine. Katarina didn’t particularly like wine. She’d tried some before when she was younger and all she remembered of that occasion was that she’d had the most terrible headache afterwards. Keith said that it was probably for the best that she didn’t remember, but mother had been furious as well.

    Still, her mother wasn’t here and it wasn’t a lot of wine. She sipped it a little and then offered the rest to Olivia. It tasted rather watery.

    Sirius returned with the chamberpot. He leant against the wall and watched them finish the meal. “This should all be over soon. You ought to be safe here, until then.” His face, half in shadow, didn’t suggest satisfaction or relief.

    “Are you alright?” Katarina asked, after swallowing another mouthful of stew. “Do you want to talk about it?”

    He gasped out something like a laugh. “Talk about it?”

    “Do you? Want to, I mean?”

    He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

    “Why are you doing this?” Olivia asked. “Why use dark magic on the boys - or on Sophia? That was you, wasn’t it?”

    “Oh, they’re far from the only ones.” Sirius drew a shaky breath. “I suppose it started with my mother.”

    “Marchioness Dieke?”

    “That woman!” He broke off, seemingly overcome by the venom he’d injected into those two words. Another breath. “That woman is not my mother.”

    “Eh… but…?” Was he adopted, like Keith?

    “My mother was a maid on the Dieke estate,” Sirius continued. “After the marquis got her pregnant, she was dismissed and she had to bring me up alone. It was… probably harder for her than I realised. But we were happy. I didn’t need a father. And then… and then…” He seemed to choke.

    Olivia gripped Katarina’s hand tightly. When she glanced at her, the blonde’s face was pale.

    “We were taken somewhere on the estate,” Sirius managed, after a moment. “There was a dark mage there, working for that woman. I saw other children there. Heaped like firewood after the man was done with them.”

    She wasn’t sure if it was Olivia or herself who sobbed at hearing that.

    “She… the… that woman cursed my mother. Said, how dare she have a healthy child when her own Sirius was sick and dying. My mother begged her. Said she’d do anything as long as I wasn’t harmed. And then she… she said…” Sirius’ voice took a haunting tone: “‘That precious body won’t be hurt at all, it must be perfect for my Sirius to wear’.”

    Wet tears were rolling down Katarina’s cheeks, a match for those on Sirius’ face. Or whatever his name was.

    “And… and he did it and my mother joined those children… The last time I ever saw her… And I had to pretend!” He cried out, voice rising to a howl. “I had to pretend it didn’t matter! I had to pretend I didn’t care! I had to act like I loved that woman, that I was precious Sirius! That Rafael Walt was as dead as his mother!” Sirius… no… Rafael fell to his hands and knees.

    The boy stayed like that, head down, chest heaving.

    “R-Rafael?” Katarina wasn’t sure what she was asking. He wasn’t alright, that was plain. Could she help? But help him to do what.

    Slowly he pulled himself up, kneeling facing the two girls. “I had his memories, or some of them,” Rafael continued, voice steadier… although he didn’t meet their eyes. “I don’t know what went wrong with what they tried. I never saw the mage again, I’d never have trusted his words anyway. But I had something else. Enough dark magic to cloud memories if I slipped up. More than that as I grew practised.”

    “You said it would all be over soon?” asked Olivia nervously. “What do you mean?”

    “Fanoss is coming,” he told them. “The island-breakers, they used to be called. In the old histories. There are centuries of hatred between them and Holfort. They only need an opportunity and they’ll break this whole rotten kingdom. Send all the lords and ladies screaming down into the oceans below. Avenge everyone they’ve murdered and robbed over the centuries. So I gave them that.”

    Olivia swallowed, “What have you done?”

    “That woman thinks I’m her son. She introduced me to all sorts of people.” He looked up, and there was a cruelty on his face that did not belong with Katarina’s memories of the kind student council president. “A little push, here or there. Making rumours of half-elf line-theft seem real.” He laughed sharply. “Who knew that it was actually true at times? Convincing that woman’s good friend Malcolm that his plans could still work after his letters were shown in front of court. Sending your friend out with the prince and his pack of fools, so that her father wasn’t paying attention to foreign affairs.”

    So he had been the one who did that. “Did you want to hurt her?” Katarina asked.

    “What about the other people?” Olivia burst out. “The people who’ve already died? The people who’ll be killed if Fanoss smashes the entire continent!? People like your mother!?”

    Rafael’s eyes went shockingly wide. “I…” And then a shadow fell over him. “I don’t care any more.” Dark magic flared into being around him, a halo of nightmares around his hair, expanding until a rink of black clouds filled the room. “I don’t care about anyone since she died. I don’t care! I don’t care! I want my revenge and then I want it to END!”

    “No more lies.”

    “No more pretending to be Sirius fucking Dieke.”

    “No more of ANYTHING!”

    Olivia blazed with light but the shadows cut through it as they tried to swallow her. “No!” the girl protested. “I don’t know how to fight this!”

    ‘Guard yourself!’ Ann warned, and Katarina envisaged the saintess brushing the dark magic back with a mop.

    She reached out and caught Olivia’s hand, the other girl having released her in her panic. “Like this.” Her own light flared up. Weak compared to the blonde’s magic, but she had Ann to guide her.

    ‘I said ‘yourself’,’ the saintess protested. ‘You’re not strong enough…’

    “Oh,” Olivia exclaimed. “OH!” And, eyes wide with understanding, she raised their conjoined hands. “Yes, Lady Katarina!”

    Light met darkness! The collision was like a thousand discordant bells!

    -

    While Marquis Frampton had dismissed reports of dark magic being used against Duke Redgrave, and the student council president had diligently maintained the official line, there was no way to prevent rumours from spreading through the student body.

    The students who’d gone out with the fleet were mostly well known - and no one had even tried to hide that Brad had died. Both Marie and Katarina being asked to go with Duke Ades fleet as a light mage was also common knowledge.

    So when a veritable storm of darkness erupted from the trees at the back of the academy, the result was panic. Classes were abandoned, teachers who stood in the path were simply knocked aside (in one case trampled to the point he’d need medical aid) as students reacted in whatever manner they felt best.

    “Is Fanoss attacking?” Yulia called to Violette as she stood on a flower bed to stay out of the way of a flood of young women, servants and a few male students who would probably be quite embarrassed later that they were among those fleeing for the academy exit - either to take shelter in the capital or to take ship for their homes.

    Violette glanced at her sister, who should be at least a little more informed as she was on the Student Council.

    Scarlet glanced up at the grey-and-black sky. “I see no skyships up there,” she reported matter-of-factly. “I’ll investigate.”

    Guessing at her twin’s likely intentions, Violette caught her arm. “Wait, you shouldn’t go alone. I’ll go with you.”

    The younger of the two blinked and then relaxed slightly. “Certainly.” Then she scooped her loose-haired twin up in a princess carry.

    “Waaaait!” Violette cried out as Scarlet simply leapt across the panicking students with a single standing leap, rebounding off the wall of a classroom and towards the roof of the dining hall. She was reminded again that Scarlet was - among other things - one of the biggest experts at the academy in physically reinforcing herself. Even the instructor for that class had just given up and granted her immediate completion of the course with perfect results, saying that there was nothing more he could teach her. Not the sort of admission a teacher liked to make.

    Scarlet paused, balancing on the edge of the dining hall roof. “Sorry, what was that?”

    “Stop at my room first! I want my sword.”

    “Ah.” Her sister nodded and then started jumping from building to building again. Violette was glad she had a fairly strong stomach, because otherwise she might be wearing her lunch right now.

    It only took a few moments for Scarlet to land on the balcony of Violette’s rooms. “Can you open this from the outside?” she asked.

    “I didn’t really plan on needing to…” She broke off as Scarlet drove her fist through one of the glass panels of the balcony window, letting her reach through to unlatch the doors. “Well, what’s a little more broken glass right now,” Violette figured out loud.

    She went inside, careful not to stand on the glass, and found her sword where she had left it in the umbrella-stand near the door. Just as she was buckling the sword belt around her waist, someone knocked on the door. “Violette, are you in there? I heard glass breaking.”

    Violette unlocked the door and opened it, finding Sophia on the other side. “Scarlet was in a hurry and broke a window,” she replied. “You’d better stay in your room.”

    “Wait!” the albino girl exclaimed, pointing at the sword. “You’re going to investigate, aren’t you?”

    “Yes.”

    “I’m on the student council! I should go with you!”

    Violette examined the smaller girl and then asked, not unkindly. “What can you do?”

    Crimson eyes narrowed. “I’m a wind mage! And I’m not going to be useless again.”

    “You realise that this could be the same dark mage that caught you before?” Scarlet asked, walking in from the balcony.

    Sophia nodded. “That’s another reason to go.”

    Violette took a deep breath. “We may not have time to discuss this. Scarlet, you’re in charge.”

    “I can manage two,” the other silver-blonde declared. “But it may be a little rough.”

    “What do you mean ro---aaaaugh!” Sophia’s question was interrupted when Scarlet scooped her up and threw her over one shoulder. Violette had just enough warning to brace herself for winding up in the same position on the other shoulder.

    And then they got the even more nauseating experience of being carried backwards as Scarlet ran out of the room, leapt off the balcony and started running for the back of the campus

    “This is - not what - I had in - mind!” Sophia exclaimed. “Urk! Oh- ugh - not again!”

    One advantage of being carried like this, Violette thought, was that Sophia’s lunch was left behind rather than being plastered all over them.

    At last the wild ride ended and her sister put the two of them down at the edge of the trees. They turned around and saw the shadows of the forest twisting and maddened by the magic being unleashed.

    “Didn’t we search the trees after Olivia vanished?” asked Sophia

    Violette nodded. “Sirius looked there.”

    “Leon and I were searching the woods back when Katarina was abducted,” Scarlet remembered. “There’s a ruined building in there, but before we reached it the ransom note arrived so we never went inside.”

    “There must be something!” protested Sophia.

    “Let’s find out!”

    The three girls forced their way in, Sophia and Violette flinching away from the crackling bolts of dark magic. “This doesn’t seem under any sort of control,” Violette exclaimed. “Look out, Scarlet!”

    Her sister grabbed hold of a tree branch and swung it against the streamer of magic, sending it scattering back and away from her. “I thought dark magic affected minds. This doesn’t seem anything like that.”

    Sophia shivered. “Is that the ruin?”

    Violette nodded. “It is… and it’s where the magic is coming from!”

    Sure enough the magic was blasting up out from behind the roofless walls of what looked like no more than an old supply building. Something left behind by some old student project, perhaps? They crept closer and peeked through the empty doorway.

    Violette saw the darkness was rising from one of the flat paving stones on the far side of the overgrown interior that made up the floor - or rather where it should have been. It had been levered up and she could tell that there were stairs leading down.

    “How do we get down there without getting hit by the magic?”

    Sophia cupped her jaw. “We can see the stairs, so they lead back towards us, right?”

    “I guess?”

    The albino girl indicated the floor. “Then why not just go right down? Whatever’s down there, it’s likely just a cellar so it probably fits right beneath the whole floor.” She paused. “Er… wait, we’d need an earth mage. Maybe if we found Keith…”

    “I have another idea.” Scarlet raised her right hand and then slowly curled her fingers together. Magic began to lightly glitter around the hand.

    Violette grabbed Sophia and threw them both off to the side as her sister brought her clenched fist down on the floor right inside the door.

    Dirt and stone exploded upwards in all directions. Sophia yelped and threw up her hand, a gust of wind deflecting most of what would have landed on them.

    “That… was not what… I had in mind?” the smaller girl admitted, looking up. “But… it seemed to work.”

    Scarlet brushed herself down and gestured to the crater that had formed. “There’s something down there besides dark magic.”

    Sure enough, what was visible through the hole at the button wasn’t entirely black shadows. The glitter was a familiar hue.

    “Light magic,” Violette concluded. “I think we’ve found Olivia.”

    Sophia scrambled and looked over. “No… Well, yes! But we’ve also found Lady Katarina!”

    “Sophia!” a familiar voice came from down the hole. “We’re down here!”

    Grabbing another of the paving stones, Scarlet levered it up and started to expand the hole until it was large enough for them to get down there. Violette and Sophia helped with the smaller debris filling the space between the paving slabs and the roof of the room below.

    As soon as there was enough of a hole they dropped through, finding themselves in a corner of the room, shielded from the raving dark magic by a bubble of light magic. Scarlet grimaced at the chains restraining their classmates, but Violette’s eyes went directly to the source of the dark magic.

    She wasn’t sure at first if he was the source or its victim. Sirius’ eyes were hidden by shadows, and others formed something like a cloak around him as he screamed wordlessly at the centre of the storm. “S-sirius?”

    “No,” Katarina corrected her. “Well, yes, kind of. But also no. It’s complicated.”

    “He’s the dark mage?” Sophia exclaimed. “My god, it really is always the last person that you’d suspect.”

    Violette’s twin gave up on breaking the chains free of the wall - apparently that was beyond even her - and she snapped some of the links instead. “So we knock him out and bring him to justice?”

    “I’ve no idea what light magic will do to him,” Olivia admitted. “But I don’t think walking into the middle of that would be… Lady Violette!”

    Stepping out of the bubble, Violette felt the magic tear into her. Felt it burrow into her, looking for memories and the pain inside of them.

    Every time her mother had screamed at her for not being Auld.

    Every time she’d been oh so politely reminded that her father had abandoned her.

    Every time that man came back and demanded she be a perfect sister to Scarlet and Vermilion, never bothering to explain how.

    Every time Chris turned away from her.

    Every time she’d hidden and cried in shame.

    In anger.

    In fear.

    On trembling feet she took a second step. Then another, tears pouring down her face.

    Again and again, feeling every moment over again.

    And finally, after what seemed like eternity, she was standing in front of her fiance, or whoever he was.

    “What is it you want?”

    For it all to end, part of her begged.

    But there was another part. A part she kept hidden away.

    A part that watched her sister dance - or Alan composing music - or even Vermilion playing with his toys.

    A part that still hungered for all the cruel lies of love and beauty, even if she’d never have them.

    “What do you want?” she asked, forcing the words out. “Tell me.”

    For a moment there was another face visible over Sirius’. An older man, dark bearded. Foreign, she thought. “I want revenge. My…”

    The next words were tangled. As if too many people were trying to speak with one throat. She could make nothing of it.

    “Revenge?”

    “Yes.” Two voices, in agreement. One a grown man, the other a child.

    Violette took hold of him, one hand on either side of his face. Her thumbs seemed to crackle, so close to the black voids over his eyes. “Leon says that the best revenge is to live well. I think… he’s probably right.”

    “I… no… mother… what…” His lips spat words. She felt sweat on his face. And for a moment one eye was clear. Grey. Innocent. Terrified.

    And like searing light, hands settled upon her shoulders. Reflected in Sirius’ one visible eye, she saw Katarina on one side of her, Olivia on the other. And behind them, Sophia and her sister had followed the two light mages into the heart of the darkness.

    “Rafael,” Katarina asked, her voice barely audible over the roaring in Violette’s ears. “Let us help you.”

    Rafael? His real name, Violette guessed.

    “No, I… I want…”

    “Rafael,” Violette asked. “Has revenge ever, even once, made you feel any better?”

    Crackling light reached down her arms, scorching them as the magic wove itself into the shadows most directly around Rafael, the cloak around his face, her hands clinging to it.

    His head tried to shake. Couldn’t. He mouthed one word.

    No.

    “This will probably hurt,” she apologised. And closing her light-wreathed hands upon the shadows, she yanked them away from him.

    From the way Rafael screamed, she’d probably been right.

    God knew, it hurt her.

    Violette fell to her knees keening as the shadows gave way and searing pain blazed through her hands and arms.

    Her sister’s strong arms caught her, which was the first comfort.

    Olivia’s healing magic was the second confort.

    Rafael - or Sirius - had also fallen. His head lay in her lap as she knelt over him.

    “I’m breaking off our engagement,” she told the unconscious boy, taking a third comfort for herself.

    It was about time she did something for her own sake.

    -

    Leon came down on the academy, braced to fight whatever was causing the dark magic to fountain up out of it, only for it to gutter out as he landed. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

    “Did you scare it off?” Marie Fou Lafan asked hopefully from his lap. There was only a fairly thin cushion between them and even her fairly light weight was enough to make that uncomfortable at this point.

    “I hope not, because hunting whoever that was would be a pain,” he grumbled and landed his knight-armour on the edge of the woods, not far from where the dark magic had seemed to be coming from - and also where Katarina’s signalling pen was transmitting from. Most of the students seemed to have sensibly headed away from it, but a number of students - mostly younger members of the student council were approaching - led by Nicol and Clarice, clutching weapons intended for the dungeon.

    “Leon!” the blonde called up. “When did you get back?”

    He cracked open the hatch. “Get out, Lafan. I’ve had quite enough of your perfume.”

    “You just don’t know how to appreciate a lady,” she protested, but she did scramble out.

    Clarice looked up eagerly at the hatch but then her face took a dangerous look. “Lafan? What are you doing in my man’s knight-armour?”

    The little blonde scrambled down. “He wasn’t going to try fighting dark magic alone, Atlee. I was the only light mage he had to hand.”

    “A painful requirement,” Leon confirmed, climbing out with more difficulty than he liked. His legs ached. “Knight-armours are not made for carrying two people. I should probably have considered that when it was being rebuilt.”

    Clarice grabbed hold of him and kissed him. “We won then?”

    He met her gaze, arms encircling him.

    “Dammit,” she sighed and rested her head against his. “I figured you’d survive a loss, you did last time. But Lafan managed too.”

    “Giving her fair credit, she saved a lot of lives,” he admitted and glanced around. No Ades twins, no Sirius Dieke… “Where’s the president?”

    “Missing,” Nicol told him. “And it couldn’t have been a worse time. Deirdre’s looking for him and I wouldn’t want to be him when she finds him.”

    “The vice-president?”

    Clarice snorted. “You’re holding her.”

    “Promotion?” he asked? The vice-president was another boy, son of a southern count. Hefner? Something like that - he wasn’t really memorable.

    “His family called him home.”

    Leon winced. “Right. And does anyone have any idea what happened to that?” he gestured to the woods.

    Nicol gestured for them to follow him and started walking into the woods.

    “No, but someone saw Scarlet heading towards it, carrying her sister and Sophia,” Gerald added.

    That… didn’t make much sense. “Before the dark magic?” Leon asked, walking with one arm around Clarice.

    “No, after.”

    “Hmmm.” At least that ruled out some sudden plot-twist like Scarlet being the secret dark mage. Leon had a pretty good idea who it was, but he’d not picked up on the young man actually doing anything… and there had just been no time to investigate further after bringing Sophia back. “And what was that about Olivia?”

    “She didn’t make it to the Ministry,” Clarice told him soberly. “We all thought she’d left, but the next day Director Smith sent a messenger looking for her.”

    “...dammit.” That suggested that this was close to the book’s events around Sirius. And if Katarina was at the Ministry, then no one was likely to help snap him out of his semi-possession by the dark mage who had tried to transplant the real Sirius over to him - assuming that that was remotely accurate. And assuming that she was at the MInistry. It was her signal that Luxion had picked up as Dreadnought arrived in radio range of the continent. So she might be in the middle of this.

    He started walking faster, Clarice hastening her own steps.

    They’d almost reached the overgrown ruins - an old laboratory building, if Leon remembered the original plans of the Academy correctly - before they saw movement. Two heads of silver-blonde hair, one of the owners carrying the missing student-president and the other being supported by both Olivia and…

    “Katarina!” Gerald exclaimed, rushing forwards to his fiancee.

    “Violette!” his twin called in almost the same tone and he too ran forwards, taking over supporting Katarina’s cousin as the brunette was pulled away by the blond prince.

    “Oh my god!” Marie squealed, “When did this - ow!”

    Leon removed the hand that he’d chopped down on the crown of her hand. “Read the moment, brat. What happened?” he asked Scarlet.

    “We broke into the cellar, rescued the kidnapped girls and smote the villain,” she explained.

    “Sophia.” Nicol pulled his own sister into a hug. “You worried me.”

    “I’m sorry, big brother.” The albino buried herself against him.

    Clarice looked at the unconscious redhead that Scarlet was carrying under one arm. “So was he a villain or are you taking him with you as a trophy?”

    “He is the dark mage,” she said blandly, and then added. “Or I think so. Cousin Katarina said it was complicated.”

    “Uh, speaking of Katarina…” Marie pulled off the Saintess’ bracelet and offered it to Katarina. “This is yours?”

    “My bracelet!” she squealed and put it on immediately.

    The little blonde gave her an apologetic look. “I got the impression that the temple didn’t ask you before giving it to me.”

    “It’s okay, you gave it back.” Then Katarina gave her a big hug. “And you came back safely. That’s great.”

    “Ah…” Leon coughed into his fist. “This… Um, Scarlet, Violette… about your father… I have bad news.”

    The twins exchanged looks. “If you’re going to say the bad news is that he made it back safely, I may kick you,” Violette said tiredly.

    “No,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Scarlet. Your punch bag is gone.”

    “Ah.” She dropped Sirius unceremoniously. “I…” The girl swallowed.

    Violette hobbled towards her, supported by Alan. “It’s okay to cry, Scarlet.”

    “Even for him?”

    “Even that man.”

    “Oh.” Scarlet leant against her sister and a tear did form at the corner of the normally stoic girl’s eye. “I’m going to miss him.”

    “That’s okay.” Violette wasn’t crying but she put her arms around her sister. Her sleeves were gone, Leon was surprised to see, as if they’d been burned off, but her arms were unscathed. Alan put his arms around both of them.

    Reaching down, Leon picked up Sirius Fou Dieke. “His mother didn’t make it either.”

    “She wasn’t his mother,” Katarina corrected him.

    “What?” asked Gerald.

    “Well, you meant Marchioness Dieke, Leon? She wasn’t his mother.”

    Olivia spoke up. “The real Sirius must have died years ago. He told us that he was Sirius’ half-brother - the Marchioness tried to move her son’s soul into his body.”

    “Is that even possible?” Clarice exclaimed, a horrified expression on her face.

    “I don’t know,” the blonde admitted. “I don’t think it worked. Or not entirely. He said he had some of Sirius’ memories… but the way he was acting, I think the dark mage who carried it out left something of himself there as well.”

    “He’s the one who enchanted my sister?” Nicol asked quietly, but with a note in his voice that drew all eyes.

    “Leave it to the Ministry,” Leon told him firmly. “Frampton’s gone, I suspect Director Smith will be happy to keep your father informed - he was the previous minister, so she likely knows him well. And we need every source of knowledge he can contribute about dark magic. Garrett’s destroyed two fleets, he has to know that the kingdom is on its last legs. And Fanoss is rebelling against what he’s done to accomplish that. He’s got little choice now but to roll the dice and finish the war in victory so he can go home.”

    “Who is Garrett?” asked Katarina.

    “Count Garrett,” Gerald told her. “Leader of Princess’ Hertrude’s council. But what do you mean Fanoss is rebelling?”

    Leon glanced north and pointed at the distant but visible shape of Dreadnought in the distance, as visible for the thin contrail behind as its huge hull, so far away it was. “Princess Hertrude is on her way to offer an alliance against him. Her sister is trying to clear his supporters out of the principality.” And Luxion’s best guess at lie detection suggested that the princess was at least grudgingly sincere.

    “That’s… huge.” Gerald admitted. “But now that two fleets have been destroyed… How bad was it?”

    “Worse than last time,” Leon admitted. “My best estimate,” Luxion’s, rather, which was likely very accurate, “Is that between this time and Duke Redgrave’s defeat we’ve lost something close to a ninety thousand sailors and knights.”

    “Ninety… thousand…?!”

    The number was mind-boggling. And what made it worse was that close to half of Garrett’s own casualties so far were those of his supporters that had been with Hertrude’s forces. Holfort had been mauled and they’d barely managed to hit back at all.

    Marie reached out and handed the Saintess’ Sceptre to Olivia. Then she reached up and removed the Necklace, offering that as well. When Olivia was obviously too startled to take it, she secured it around the larger blonde’s neck. “I thought I could be the heroine,” Marie admitted. “But it was all I could do to protect a few ships. I’m not good enough.”

    “No one would have made it back without you,” Leon pointed out.

    “The - A real heroine would have saved everyone.” The little girl swallowed. “I’ll do what I can to help, but the kingdom needs the Saintess’ real heir.”

    Olivia stared at Marie, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she looked at Katarina for direction.

    “Looks like there’s a few people who need to go to the Ministry,” Leon told them. “Back to the Ministry, in one case. What were you doing here?”

    “I had an idea to find the dark mage!” she said proudly.

    “You got chained up in a dungeon,” pointed out Scarlet.

    “But I still found him!”

    “Katarina!” Gerald cried out. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?!”

    “It was the middle of the night!”

    “Wake me up! I don’t care what time it is!”

    “But I’m not allowed to go into a boy’s bedroom!”

    Leon sighed. “Gerald, would you take your fiancee, Olivia and your cousin’s little bit of fluff….”

    “Hey!”

    “Shut it, brat. Look, take our three light mages here, and Dieke to the Ministry,” Leon continued. “I’m pretty sure that you, at least, won’t get distracted.”

    The prince nodded.

    “Nicol, Alan, can I trust you with the intrepid rescue party here?”

    “Sure,” Alan agreed. Nicol said nothing, but he was still holding onto his little sister, as if afraid she’d slip away if he let go. Given recent events, he might have a point.

    “What are you going to do?” asked Marie, pointing at him.

    “I am going to escort my lady to her rooms and possibly do some things with her that are none of your damn business.” He gave Clarice a quick look, “If I may?”

    “I thought you’d never ask.”
     
    Compare and Contrast 11-1
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Compare and Contrast

    But do be glad baby when you've found
    That's the power makes the world go 'round
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 1

    By taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing over it, he is superior. ~ Francis Bacon​

    Leon woke up warm and the scent of Clarice’s shampoo was the second thing he noticed.

    His arms were around her, the two of them buried in her bed’s blankets, his face resting against the back of her head. When he craned his head back he saw that there was light streaming through the window, glittering condensation on the glass.

    “It’s cold outside,” she told him. “Stay in bed.”

    “How long?”

    “How about forever?”

    “It’s a tempting idea.” He kissed the back of her head. They hadn’t done anything that might lead to conception - they both knew they weren’t ready for that - but there was a part of him that was seriously tempted. “Love you.”

    Her hand crept back and gripped his thigh for a moment. “You big romantic.”

    “Eh, I ought to be good at something.”

    Clarice laughed. “Mr ‘I got into the student council even though I flunked every practical magic class’ is good at something. I’m shocked.”

    “Hah. I wouldn’t be on the student council if it was decided after this term. Actually, I might face academic suspension from the council. I’ve been playing truant all term.”

    “There’s a special exception for being called away on service of the crown,” she told him drowsily, “Dieke had us file all the paperwork for you and the others. Your grades from last term carry forwards for that sort of purpose. I think yours may actually be boosted because you’re a commodore.”

    Leon laughed. “Funny that.”

    “Not really.”

    “No.”

    They lay like that for a while.

    “If the worst comes to worst, what will you do?” she asked. “For a given value of worst where we’re both alive?”

    “Run away on Dreadnought, with you and anyone else I can get aboard. Assuming that holding onto something in the north isn’t a possibility, probably head for Alzer at first. They’re not fond of foreigners, but that tree of theirs might be enough of a protection against Garrett.”

    “Yes, I’d considered going there as an exchange student this year. But Jilk was starting at the academy… And their nobility are a bit…”

    The Alzer Commonwealth was one of the nations that more or less bordered the kingdom, off to the south-east. They were a comparatively safe border - their nobility bore seals from the ‘Great Tree’, that shielded them from hostile magic as long as they were within a certain distance of the tree. Thus that demarcation was more or less the border of the Commonwealth. Within that line they were near enough invincible, but beyond it they didn’t do so well. Too used to having that defence.

    Leon knew from the books that some of their nobility also used their seals to exploit the non-nobility. And foreign guests were non-nobles. There would be a certain amount of diplomatic protection for exchange students, but without the kingdom behind them…

    “I was thinking about that for next year,” he admitted. One of the books’ side-stories had explored what had happened there if the book’s Leon didn’t go there. It wasn’t good. “But that also means not being here with you.” Clarice couldn’t exactly spend her final year as an exchange student - it was only open as an option for your second year at the academy.

    “You really want to go there?” she asked. “What’s so great about the Commonwealth?”

    “Want would be a strong word. But after duelling Jilk, the idea of a reason to be out of sight for a year had some merits. And then there’s the expectations now that I’m a commodore. But there’s also some reasons to stay here.” Leon lowered his head and kissed her shoulder. “One of them right here…”

    Clarice squirmed around and their lips were about to meet when someone pounded their fist against the door.

    Her green eyes met Leon’s dark ones in frustration. He leaned in and kissed her lips anyway.

    “Mmm.” She sighed when they were done. Whoever was knocking hadn’t gone away.

    “Come on!” The source of the shout was a familiar one. “It’s almost lunchtime, how long can you two stay in bed?”

    “I dunno, let’s find out?” Leon suggested in a quiet, playful tone.

    Clarice’s eyes, narrowing in irritation, began to twinkle. “If you tickle me, I’ll kick,” she warned and then raised her voice. “None of your business, Jilk! Get lost!”

    The knocking stopped. “I need to speak to Bartford! Please, Clarice!”

    “Am I going to have to send all the children down to the theatre everytime we want some privacy?” Leon wondered. “That could get expensive.” He kissed Clarice again and then slipped out from under the covers, shivering in the cold air. “Hold your water, Marmoria. I’m getting dressed.”

    Pulling on his pants and shirt, he stood on a rug while he tied a sash around his waist to keep the pants up. It took him a moment to find his boots and he kicked his feet into them. “Sorry, Clarice.”

    “I knew what I was getting into.” She pulled the blankets around him but watched him go. “Come back to me when you can.”

    “I will.”

    Outside, Jilk was looking harried. He’d tied his hair back and was wearing a sword at his hip. “Shouldn’t you at least get engaged first?”

    Leon closed the door. “Clarice has trust issues about engagements. Is that all you got me out of bed for?”

    “How can you lounge around in bed at a time like this?”

    “It might be the last chance I have for a while. Or ever.” He combed his own hair back from his face.

    Jilk shook his head and then looked away. “What happened?”

    “You’ll need to be more specific. I’ve had a very busy year.” It hadn’t been that much longer than that since he’d found Luxion, less than a year and a half - although not by much.

    “To me, to the others. After we came back from the first battle, how could I have taken Marie out into that?”

    Leon rubbed his face. “Do you want the easy answer or the hard one?”

    “Which is the truth?”

    “Both.”

    “Then tell me both,” Jilk demanded. “I need to know it all.”

    “The Dieke’s have been meddling with dark magic for years. The student council president used it on you, the same way he did on Sophia earlier. Encouraged you to head off to war again and to take Marie along. Which worked out pretty well for most of us, but I doubt that that was the plan.”

    The other boy rubbed his face as they walked. “That easily?”

    “You’re not the only one to get affected.”

    “So, what’s the easy answer?”

    Leon snorted. “That was the easy answer. It puts all the blame on someone else. How much attention do you actually pay to Marie? How much do you listen to what she says… and what she does say?”

    “I listen to her all the time!”

    He nodded. “So why weren’t you the one to do something about the way her family was exploiting her financially?”

    “...” Jilk stopped walking.

    “Yeah.” Leon shook his head. “Try talking to her, Jilk. I don’t know how much time you’ll have to do so.”

    “But you sent her off somewhere!”

    “...okay, that’s fair,” he admitted, looking back. “Shall I let her know you want to talk?”

    Jilk trotted to catch up. “Where is she?”

    “Can you keep a secret?”

    “Because so can you?”

    “Exactly!”

    -

    Leon rode his knight-armour back to the Dreadnought, now anchored in the port once more. Ships were busy loading all across the small island. Some were warships preparing for the battle that was presumed to be inevitable. Hertrude’s squadron was docked alongside those of the Roseblades, Bartfords and other northern houses that had fought with Duke Redgrave.

    Others were being packed by nobles moving their valuables and loved ones - sometimes overlapping with their families and sometimes not - back to their domains to ride out the storm. Or perhaps out of the kingdom entirely.

    “The new humans claim that they’re not obligated to stay and die for the kingdom,” Luxion informed him. “This does not match my understanding of the feudal contract.”

    “Can you honestly tell me that when the new humans arose, that all the old humans rallied to the cause? That not one of them hid away, figuring that they could wait it out?”

    “A message was delivered inviting you to a war council at dawn tomorrow,” the AI changed the subject. “Do you intend to attend?”

    “I’d better.”

    “I could monitor the chamber so you can understand what is said, without exposing yourself. It is probable that the kingdom’s authorities are eager for a scapegoat. As a surviving leader of both battles, you would be a candidate. Particularly given the prior accusations of conspiracy with the princess, who has now returned in your company.”

    Leon made a face. “That’s true, but there are strong reasons for them not to do that. It would alienate my father and to an extent, Count Roseblade and Princess Hertrude. Unless they have an absolute certainty that their trump card will be effective it would be stupid for them to alienate the main military supporters. It would be different if the Claes, Stuart and other major feudal nobles could bring their forces to bear… but they can’t afford that on several levels.”

    “On what grounds do you believe that the kingdom’s leaders won’t behave stupidly?”

    He laughed. “Point. And I will take some precautions. The other issue is that if I’m not there, I won’t have any say in what’s being done. And given what you just said about the kingdom’s leaders…”

    “It is undeniably true that if your goal is to avoid a mass death among the new humans, an intelligent old human providing advice could improve their chances. If only we had access to one.”

    “Yeah, we might have to settle for an old human. Intelligent could be asking too much.” Leon slumped into a chair. “And speaking of trump cards, what does Cleare have to say?”

    “Do we have to ask?”

    “Open a channel, Luxion. If I have to, so do you.”

    The AI grumbled something that Leon didn’t make out and then Cleare’s voice came from the drone. “Hello, Commodore. Do you wish to be put in contact with Director Smith.”

    Leon shook his head. “Not just yet. Firstly, how much progress have you made with the vessel under Holfort castle?”

    “The repair drones provided by Luxion were able to force entry easily,” the science AI reported happily. “There is no indication that they have been detected and repairs were completed three days ago.”

    “Good work.” The ‘legendary warship’ that had been the Holfort’s ultimate deterrent had been unused for generations. Unsurprisingly, it had deteriorated as a result but there was nothing that the royal family could do: the ship was a literal loveboat and would only open for two people whose mutual affection it judged as strong enough. (As Leon understood it, the married couple who had commissioned it for a honeymoon back in the distant past had divorced after just a few years, leaving the ship abandoned until one of King Roland’s ancestors found and somehow activated it. Presumably not the first king, as his ‘great love’ had run away from him.)

    For some mysterious reason, political marriages hadn’t produced such feelings on any reliable basis - and the Holforts were understandably unwilling to bring in outsiders who might reveal that their ‘ultimate weapon’ was a bluff.

    Fortunately, Leon didn’t give a damn about the stupid sealing mechanism and he’d told Cleare to have the drones to cut the ship open, fix it up and then hide their presence. “Has anyone tried to access it?”

    “Two individuals claiming to be the King and Queen of Holfort attempted to break the seal. Their affection numbers were insufficient. I would characterise their reactions as amusing by human standards, and valuable experimental data for me.”

    Leon sighed. It would be too much to hope for that he’d get back before anyone else tried. “Can you override the seal?”

    “Of course.”

    “I suppose they’re not likely to come back and try with the two of them, but if any more couples try, just fake the numbers to let the next pair in.”

    Cleare sounded amused. “Of course, Commodore. It is interesting that you do not find this to be a romantic solution. It would be easy for you to use your chosen reproductive partner to obtain access and then claim political power as a result.”

    “You assume that I have time or energy to run this dumpster fire of a kingdom. Besides, putting numbers on feelings doesn’t sound at all romantic to me,” Leon told the AI. “If anything, I’d expect it to be the death knell of any relationship I have with Clarice. Oh, did you leave the note on the command deck?”

    “Of course,” the AI said matter-of-factly.

    Leon smirked. “That ought to deal with any suspicions. Can you put me in touch with Director Smith now?”

    “Of course!”

    The image of Director Smith popped up in front of him. She was currently changing her clothes.

    Leon covered his face with one hand. “Dammit, Cleare.”

    “You never said…”

    “Who is that!” Larna snapped, looking around. “Lord Bartford?!”

    He sighed. “Cleare, let her know before opening a video channel. My apologies, Director.”

    She held her ministry robes up in front of her half-dressed body. “If I were to call for a duel, I would represent myself.”

    “That’d be a painful experience for me,” Leon admitted. “Do you want me to contact you again in a couple of minutes?”

    “No,” Larna said shortly. “Let’s just get this over with. You want to know what we have on light magic and dark magic?”

    “As much as I’d like to be just calling you for some social reason…”

    “I’m sorry to tell you, but no matter how much you flirt, my one true love will always be magic. You are at best an interesting conversationalist.”

    Leon laughed. “I don’t know why people think I’m always flirting with every woman I meet. Is being nice to someone really that unusual?”

    “I keep forgetting how young you are,” the Director noted. “But we have made some breakthroughs now that we have access to the Saintess’ regalia. I still don’t know how Fanoss is managing to cast dark magic on such a scale, but we can at least locally counter it.”

    “How locally?”

    “Enough to shield a city or an entire fleet - but we may struggle to do so in more than one place. Miss Campbell’s level of magical ability is unusually high. Unless you know someone with a similar talent for light magic…?”

    Leon shook his head. “Unfortunately not.”

    “I didn’t think it was likely. Offensive use of light magic is another matter.”

    “I see. I had a feeling that that would be more difficult. I hope there have been no difficulties with the Saint’s Sceptre?”

    Larna smirked. “If you mean the spirit that was hidden within it, no. Between Cleare and Katarina’s mysterious mentor, it stood no chance.”

    “Good. I’m sorry I forgot to warn you.”

    “Forgot. Of course. Or were you testing me? This is why I detest working for others.”

    “A dubious claim,” Cleare cut in. “I have analysed the Director’s productivity and it rises substantially when engaged in projects for members of her social circle, as compared to those for political gain or mandated by instructions from her superiors. In particular, requests from Duke Stuart…”

    “Pernicious device!” Larna accused, face flushing - something that hadn’t happened when revealed half-bared to Leon. “I’ll dissect you yet!”

    “You are centuries from being capable of comprehending me,” taunted the AI.

    “I’ll just let you get along, shall I?” he asked drily. “Oh, and let Marie know that Jilk and the others want to talk to her. I don’t see much harm to it - they might want her help to try activating the Holfort’s hidden lost item.”

    “I suppose that that would justify her absence for a while,” the Director conceded. “Do you have anything else to say or can I get my dress on?”

    “I’m not stopping you,” Leon pointed out. “Nice dress, by the way?”

    She snorted. “I’m making an appearance to persuade some of the court that the Stuarts haven’t abandoned the capital. Now get lost, or I’ll tell Lady Clarice on you.”

    Leon chuckled. “Cut the feed, Cleare. And next time you connect me to Larna without checking that she’s ready, I’ll let her dissect your drone.”

    “And I won’t build you another,” Luxion threatened his fellow AI.

    The scientific AI sniffed. “You gave me repair drones. I have back-ups now!”

    -

    The war council took place in a room behind the throne room, with a similarly high and vaulted ceiling - though the chamber was vastly smaller. Banners hung from the ceiling, many torn and stained to the point that they weren’t really presentable enough for a more open setting. Hertrude Sera Fanoss had rather pointedly seated herself beneath two banners bearing the arms of her family - trophies from previous wars.

    Leon thought that every banner except the one immaculate Holfort arms above the king’s seat was a trophy, even those of houses currently sworn to the kingdom. Conquest, civil war… there were many reasons. The throneroom’s grand array was a boast of solidarity for the kingdom. This room was the Holfort’s statement of their own dominance. It was interesting which they had made public and which they shared with their own allies.

    There was no Bartford banner present, and while there was one from the Roseblades, Leon found his father and Estian Fou Roseblade flanking Princess Hertrude. Whether that was to give the appearance of guarding her or of a subtle shift in allegiances, he wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, he took a seat next to Barcus.

    “Do you have a clever plan for this occasion?” the older Bartford asked him.

    “To solve everything, no. But big things are made up of small things, so I may have the occasional suggestion.”

    His father nodded. “Try and be somewhat respectful. Besides it being the king’s council, everyone’s a bit on edge.”

    As if on cue, the doors opened to admit King Roland Rafa Holfort, flanked by Count Charles Fia Arclight and Viscount Francis Fia Marmoria. Everyone rose respectfully, even Princess Hertrude, and waited for the king to take his seat.

    “My apologies for the wait,” the Viscount offered - the king was unlikely to apologise. “We’ve had a new report from one of the scouting cruisers. The Fanoss fleet - pardon, Count Garrett’s fleet - has been sighted. As expected, they are towing their island after them, which is slowing them down.”

    “How much of their fleet?” asked Count Roseblade.

    Arclight leant forwards. “Most of it. We assume that Garrett has left very little to protect the Field’s island. He has no need of it as a forward base with their towed island - even if Marquis Hunt was able to push north to retake it, there’s no strategic significance: if we win here, it doesn’t matter to Garrett what happens to the Field domain. And if he wins then he can turn back and retake it.”

    “Unless both sides are shattered,” pointed out Viscount Catley nervously. Leon didn’t know the man well but his daughter Marsha was a second-year at the academy. The Viscount had arrived with the scant ships that could be spared by the Bergs and Claes, appointed to lead them simply because neither duchy was quite willing to place their ships under the lead of one of the other’s vassals. The Catleys, neighbouring both, were a compromise.

    He’d at least made it here. Marquis Hunt - Mary’s father - was considerably closer but he had pledged that his forces were fully required to contain the Fanoss threat against the western extremes of the kingdom - now flanked by Garrett’s approach towards the continent. That could be true, but it hardly fit in with the all-or-nothing strategy that appeared to have been adopted by the invaders.

    “If both sides are shattered, we win,” Count Roseblade informed the viscount. “Perhaps not personally, but the kingdom can rebuild from a pyrrhic victory. Thanks to Princess Hertrude and her sister, Count Garrett has nothing to rebuild from.”

    Or so they assumed. There was no news from the principality - but even if Hertrauda failed, a civil war would leave the lords there unable to provide reinforcements to Garrett.

    The king looked to Leon. “Commodore, do we have any way to defeat the enemy before they’re close enough to use their ritual on the capital?”

    Leon straightened slightly. “The Ministry believes that we can shield a fleet with light magic. Or defend the city. But unless the fleet is over the city, we can’t defend both at once - currently there is only one light mage we know of with that level of power.”

    Roland nodded. “So we could gather our remaining ships and strike for the enemy island right away, and engage it directly.”

    “To play devil’s advocate, the longer before we fight, the stronger we are,” pointed out Count Arclight. “As I understand it, we’re still looking for more sailors and soldiers. Saving the troops sent with both fleets leaves us reasonably well off with ground troops but many of the ships that returned damaged from Duke Redgrave’s fleet are also understrength in sailors.”

    “I do have one suggestion there,” offered Leon cautiously.

    “In the short time we have available?” asked Viscount Marmoria sceptically.

    “Amnesty the elves that turned bandit,” the boy suggested. “If they fight for the kingdom just this once, they’ll be shipped home to the elves’ island with some sort of payout.”

    Count Arclight snorted. “Criminals - and they aren’t even human.”

    “It’ll get rid of them,” Leon pointed out. “They either die in the fighting or they’re sent to their home with very little way to leave. Merchants don’t exactly visit them much now that they’re not valuable as servants. And we’d don’t have them running around as bandits.”

    “Or this plan would give them arms to be more effective bandits,” objected Viscount Marmoria.

    The king raised his hand. “That may be a risk that we have to take, but only if we fight here - over the capital. There is no time otherwise. So, do we fight here?”

    “Even a victory here would damage the city,” warned Barcus. “We wouldn’t be out over the ocean or a lake, ships would plunge out of the air directly onto the city. Unless light magic would help with that?”

    Leon shook his head. “Not as far as I’m aware. And there’s another risk. What if Garrett brought their island above the city and then destroyed its suspension stone somehow?”

    Faces paled around the table. “That’s unthinkable!” Viscount Catley clasped his hands before him. “That would destroy the city, it might even damage the continent itself.”

    “We must stop that from happening at all costs,” Arclight agreed.

    Hertrude cleared her throat. “Moving the island requires the commitment of most of the fleet to tow it. If they come under attack then they will be forced to cast off the tows - or depend entirely upon the dark magic to defeat the attack. Unfortunately, we cannot expect Count Garrett or Viscount Darian to be so foolish - we must assume that they expect the use of light magic to defend against that.

    The king nodded. “However, we lack the ships to both carry every available knight effectively and to carry enough troops to land on the enemy island. If we launch such an attack away from the continent, we will be fighting with less than our full strength.”

    “Speaking of our full strength,” Count Roseblade asked. “May I enquire as to the Holfort’s legendary skyship? Surely if it is not used now, there will be no other opportunity.”

    Count Arclight didn’t quite manage to hide a wince.

    “Activating our royal treasure requires two qualified participants,” King Roland answered smoothly. “The queen and I have tried to unseal it but unfortunately, her highness does not meet its requirements.”

    Leon bit back a response. That was technically accurate, after all - it merely omitted the minor detail that nor had the king.

    “The queen has taken charge of gathering other candidates,” the king continued. “And it will be fielded if at all possible. However, since we cannot count on that, I will lead the battle from the front.”

    “...your highness.” Arclight spoke hesitantly. “Roland. I love you like a brother, but you haven’t used a knight-armour in years. No one here doubts your courage, but please at least command from a flagship.”

    “That is where you are wrong, Charles. We can hold nothing back, and so I must share with you one of my closest secrets.” Roland reached into his ermine-trimmed cloak and produced a mask, which he placed triumphantly upon the table. “For I… am the Masked Knight!”

    There were gasps around the table. Leon lowered his face and did his best to hide his amusement.

    “The one knight to have battled the Black Knight to a standstill… Ah, my apologies, Lord Bartford. One of two…” Marmoria exclaimed.

    “The only knight,” Leon corrected him, without looking up. “I’ve… never been knighted.”

    “Are you alright, son?” his father asked.

    “I’m just… overcome by emotion,” he answered - not technically lying. “To think our wise king is also such a glorious hero.”

    The king smiled a little smugly and stood. Everyone pushed their chairs back and did likewise, as Roland circled the table towards Leon, lifting the sword of state. “Well we can take care of your status, at least. I’ll knight you myself. I trust that you will understand that I cannot make a seventeen year old one of my admirals.”

    “Sixteen, your highness,” Barcus corrected him.

    “Don’t correct me, Bartford,” Roland warned under his breath. “Lord Bartford. Your knee.”

    The ritual’s protocol was well known and Leon stepped back a little before dropping to one knee before the king.

    “I see before me Leon Fou Bartford, son of Barcus and…”

    “Ruth,” Leon’s father prompted.

    “Ruth Fou Bartford,” the grey-haired monarch continued. “Who attests to this man’s courage?”

    “I attest,” offered Count Roseblade. “In battle against the traitor Olfrey and against our current foe.”

    Roland nodded. “I acknowledge his courage. And who now, will attest to this man’s virtue?”

    Barcus began to say something but he was interrupted by Princess Hertrude. “I attest,” she declared proudly. “This man has won duels, found treasure as an adventurer and rescued maidens. If he has no virtue, who else here can claim any?”

    Leon regretted that he couldn’t look back and see Hertrude’s face - Roland’s eye was twitching slightly, suggesting that the princess wasn’t being entirely respectful. However, the king extended the sword of state and rested it upon Leon’s shoulder - uncomfortably close to his throat. “Your oath, Leon Fou Bartford.”

    He swallowed and met the king’s eyes, one liar to another. “I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to the lord king, never cause him harm and will observe my homage to him completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit.”

    Roland raised the sword and then patted it lightly upon the other shoulder, before lifting it again. He rested the point of the blade on the carpet and set both his hands upon the quillons. “Rise, Sir Leon.”

    The boy obeyed, not entirely unmoved by the ritual. “As you command, my king.”

    “Good lad.” Roland released the sword with one hand and patted him on the shoulder.

    “Congratulations, son.” Barcus hugged Leon briefly.

    No sooner had his father let go, than Hertrude leaned over and also embraced him briefly, kissing him on the cheek. “Merely on behalf of Lady Atlee,” she told him, blushing slightly.

    Count Roseblade offered Leon his hand. “I’m not going to hug you, but well deserved.”

    “Alright, back to business,” Roland declared as Leon shook hands with the Count. Leon wondered if the king was a bit miffed that he wasn’t the centre of attention.

    They all sat down again. “As I said, I will take command, carrying the banner of the admiral of the white. The queen will serve as my vice admiral, aboard my family’s legacy or such other vessel as is fitting. She will also serve as custodian of the succession if I fall.” King Roland steepled his fingers. “Count Roseblade, I ask that you serve as my rear-admiral of the white

    The dark-haired count nodded calmly. “It will be my honour.”

    “We will fight at the edge of the continent. I recognise the risk to the capital, but the advantages to bringing our full forces to bear are undeniable. Sir Leon, I entrust you with gathering elves and other volunteers to bring our crews to sufficient strength. You will be directly answerable to the queen and her division.” The king smiled grimly. “Try not to offend her again.”

    “I accept these duties, your highness.”

    Roland nodded in appreciation. “Princess Hertrude, Count Bartford. I ask that you continue to serve under Count Roseblade’s division.”

    It was Hertrude’s turn to twitch at being subordinated to a Count. However, it was the only practical solution even if it breached protocol: she was still foreign royalty so she couldn’t be given one of the admiral’s banners, and having her ships operate at her sole discretion would be even worse. “As your ally, I am willing to support Count Roseblade.”

    “Your forbearance is noted, your highness,” Viscount Marmoria noted urbanely.

    “Breaking with normal tradition, the other warships will be assigned to the queen’s division,” the king continued. “My division will be made up solely of knight-armours - the royal knights, temple knights and such knights and lords that lack skyships of their own. Sir Leon’s account makes clear that the dark magic unleashing monsters aboard our skyships was devastating, but a force made up entirely of knights would provide fewer targets - and if the monsters created cannot fly then bursting out of a knight-armour will leave them falling to their death anyway.”

    “That’s… probably correct,” Leon admitted. Some monsters probably could fly, but not all those he’d seen could do so.

    “As such, my division will storm their fleet before the island can reach the continent,” Roland explained. “With less to worry about from dark magic, we’ll force them to break off the tow - and they can hardly spend hours getting towlines back to their ships, while we are in position to harass them. Count Garrett will have no choice but to launch a conventional attack - perhaps outside the reach of his dark mage, or at least stretching it. The queen’s division is charged with protecting the capital, Count Roseblade’s division is to hide beneath the continent until Garrett is engaged - and then strike at the enemy island to remove it as a threat and to kill the dark mage or mages in Fanoss’ employ.”

    “Garrett’s employ,” Hertrude corrected him.

    “Of course,” the king agreed with an insincere smile.
     
    Compare and Contrast 11-2
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Compare and Contrast

    But do be glad baby when you've found
    That's the power makes the world go 'round
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 2

    Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. ~ Confucius​

    “What do you mean you won’t let both of us on your ship?!” Jilk protested. “We’re escorting Lady Marie!”

    The captain bore a not inconsiderable resemblance to Leon Fou Bartford, which wasn’t that surprising since he was the newly-dubbed knight’s elder brother. He seemed quite unimpressed by that claim. “Lady Lafan is welcome aboard Pelican, but volunteers go to the ships they’re assigned and we’ve space for one dismounted knight on board. I don’t care which of you lads comes with us, but the other will ride on the Revenge.” He pointed across the quay at a second skyship, this one showing the recently applied colours of the Ades duchy.

    Greg gave the Revenge a suspicious look. “I thought all the Ades ships were destroyed?”

    Marie looked closer and then gasped. “That’s the Lafan’s Pride!” Her family’s one remaining skyship, the bare minimum that they’d maintained as part of their feudal obligations… and mostly disarmed so it could carry goods and generate a little income for her parents. As she watched, a cannon was being lowered onto the deck by a dockyard crane.

    “It was,” Nicks Fou Bartford confirmed with a bitter snort. “Your brother sold it for ready cash so he could flee the country. I’m not sure he still owned it, but the Ades weren’t asking too many questions.”

    “Can’t you send one of the elves?” Jilks suggested, indicating one of the young-looking and good-looking crewmen being drilled by Nicks’ petty officers. “That way we could split up.”

    The Bartford heir sighed. “I don’t have time for this. Look, my brother tells me you’re not bad fellows.”

    The two boys brightened but Marie heard a qualification coming to the statement.

    “But he also tells me that what wit and common sense you have diminishes markedly when you’re together,” the dark-haired young man finished. “I don’t care which of you comes aboard, but decide now or I’ll leave you both behind with the other children.”

    “You wouldn’t dare!”

    “Do you know who I’m engaged to?” Nicks asked Greg, rhetorically. “If so, why do you think I’d find you intimidating?”

    Marie didn’t know, actually. But Jilks winced so it must be bad. “Who?”

    “Lady Dorothea Fou Roseblade.” The green-haired boy shivered. “You should know her little sister from the academy.”

    The big-chested sadistic girl from the council? The small blonde did indeed know. “Greg, Jilk, we can’t argue now. What’s important is that we have to do our duty. Even if it’s hard.”

    “Alright,” Greg sighed. “Since you say so, Marie. But which of us do you want with you?”

    Urk. “I love you both, don’t make me choose.” She clasped her hands before her. “Can’t you decide together?”

    The boys mock-glared at each other and then Greg smirked. “Rock-paper-scissors?”

    “Fine, meathead.” Jilk extended his hand. “Three, two, one - now!”

    “Argh!” Greg cried out as his paper was cut by Jilk’s scissors. “Best out of three?”

    Jilk took Marie’s arm. “No time!”

    He was right. Even as they said that, bells began to chime and Nicks bounded up the gangway. “All aboard!” he shouted down. “That means we’re casting off.”

    “Come back safe,” Marie called to Greg and let Jilk escort her up the gangway.

    “Of course I will!” the redhead shouted back. “I’ve got a lot to do!” Then he turned and ran for the Revenge, catching the gangway just as the crew began to retract it. She saw them cursing at the boy as he ran up it, then he turned around and threw his weight into helping the crewmen pull it back aboard the skyship.

    “I hope he’ll be alright,” Jilk muttered.

    “I hope you’ll all be alright,” she said, clutching the bulwark and watching as the Pelican pulled away from the dock. “You, Greg, Julius and Chris.” The other two still had knight-armours so they’d joined the king’s division for the battle. She’d given them her blessing to do so, though only because they’d looked like lost puppies - and all four were carrying handkerchiefs she’d given them as her ‘favours’.

    Where she was going to get another handkerchief, she had no idea. Those were the only ones she had and she was flat broke. Again. She couldn’t even afford a dessert at the academy dining hall.

    “I’m trying not to think about the battle,” the viscount’s son admitted. “Brad was…” He broke off and gulped. “I still look around, expecting him to be there. If one of the others… or worse - if I lost you!”

    Marie paused and then moved her hand to interlace her fingers with his.

    Jilk looked down at their hands, then smiled at her. “Thank you.”

    “What for?” She tossed her hair, as if it was nothing. “But if you’re not thinking about the battle, then why did you say that about Greg?”

    “Marie, that’s the Ades ship. Where do you think the Ades twins are going to be?”

    Her eyes went to the Revenge, itself now pulling away. She could see the deck, where Greg was helping some of the crew to hoist the newest cannon down a hatch to the main gundeck. Two silver-blonde heads could be seen up on the quarterdeck. Duke Ades was dead, his wife and son back at their stronghold far to the north. Which meant that the Ades who’d bought the skyship had to be Violette Rafa Ades or her twin Scarlet - who was Greg’s former fiancee. “Oh my.”

    The docks fell behind, and then the Pelican began to descend and turn towards the continent.

    Jilk looked around. “I’m… surprised that you chose to come, Marie. After the way we pressured you last time, I would have thought that it was the last thing that you’d have chosen to do.”

    “I was useful last time,” she told him. Not as useful as she’d expected - she’d thought her light magic would be more than enough to handle everything but she’d been barely able to shield a part of the fleet. Hitting back had been impossible. “And I don’t blame you for what you did under Dieke’s influence.”

    That was a shiver. Dark magic hadn’t even been part of the game - unless Fanoss’ fleet counted for that. Mind-control magic? That was… Marie hunched her shoulders and leaned more heavily on Jilk. It made her think of some of the more rabid speculations on forums discussing the game, reading way too much into a few minor script choices.

    Probably reading too much. But what were the saintess’ relics anyway? What had they done to Katarina Rafa Claes?

    “How much of that was Dieke?” Jilk asked. “And how much was me? I’m not always a good person when it comes to my methods - you heard how I threatened…” He lowered his voice, perhaps remembering suddenly whose ship they were aboard. “What I said to Sir Leon at the end of our first term. I believed my cause was just, but how I handled that... The legends say that dark magic can only work with the darkness inside us.”

    “That’s what the temple says,” Marie agreed. “I don’t know how much they have right. But I did ask Lady Katarina about how you cleanse someone of dark magic.”

    That girl was just unfair. Tall, busty, had men all swanning around her without her needing to even do anything! If Marie wasn’t sure that it was Campbell that would have been the protagonist then it would be easy to think it was Claes. But who’d make a game with a brunette duke’s daughter as the main character?

    Shaking that thought off, Marie raised her hand and let light magic wash over herself and her escort for a moment. “We’re both unaffected,” she reported. “So I’m not here because anyone’s pushing me, Jilk. I’m here because I choose to be.”

    “Island in sight!” a lookout called.

    Marie frowned. “There’s an entire continent, of course there’s…” Then she realised what the call meant.

    “It’s too soon,” Jilk observed tensely. “We’re supposed to be under the continent.”

    Nicks snorted from behind them - Marie hadn’t realised he was so close. “That’s why a couple of dozen merchantmen were held back at the port island.” He snapped open a telescope. “They’ll be released to flee now - the confusion should mask the rest of our division getting under the continent’s shadow. It’ll look like we’re more rats scurrying away from the sinking kingdom.”

    The dark-haired young man raised the telescope and scanned the north-west. “Yes, there it is. Might be an hour or so out.”

    He passed Marie the telescope and she gazed out, scanning the horizon until she finally spotted the shape she’d seen once before, near the Field island.

    It wasn’t a large island, roughly star-shaped with five promentaries emerging from a central mass. Three sloped down, one was more or less level… and one reared up, a fortification erected upon it. What could have been a grassy plain, enough for a small baronet’s holding, was built over with sheds and skyship docks.

    And around it, tied by a hundred or more towlines, the fleet of Count Garrett was visible - sails out, not yet close enough for the distinct shapes of the hulls to be distinguished from those of Holfort’s more graceful but less advanced vessels.

    “They move that thing?” she asked incredulously.

    Nicks shrugged. “I wouldn’t have bothered myself, but let’s not kid ourselves. They’ve been winning so far.”

    “Not for much longer,” Jilk declared with barely a tremble of his hand to reveal how thin his confidence was.

    “That’s the idea.” The oldest Bartford son patted them both on their shoulders. “Unless the plan changes, we’ll be out of sight soon.” He rubbed his forehead. “I really hope my little brother has some oh-so-clever plan in mind, or this is going to be a very bad day.”

    -

    The sky around the mobile island was chaos and death.

    Knight-armours were flying or falling. Occasionally a skyship did the same - even the durable Fanoss-built ships could be crippled if they were hit in the right place.

    It was some reassurance that dark magic hadn’t been used yet - perhaps the dark mage was concerned that any knights who transformed by the magic would attack their own skyships, Alan wondered.

    Not that he had much time to think about that sort of thing. He’d mostly been trying to stay alive. He felt guilty from using any of the mental energy he had left for anything except keeping his comrades from getting killed, maybe that sort of focus came with experience.

    Julius reached the island first, turning as he landed to fire back with his rifle at the knight-armours chasing them.

    That took enough pressure off Gerald that he cut his immediate opponent’s arm off with a flaming sword, forcing the knight to withdraw.

    A second knight-armour opened up on Gerald with a rifle as Alan’s brother tried to join their cousin. The first shot missed and then Chris closed with the Fanoss’ knight and cut the rifle in half. Then the Fanoss knight kicked out and sent Chris tumbling.

    A shot from Julius punched through the torso of the enemy knight-armour and a spray of metal and blood erupted out of its back.

    Keith’s knight-armour crashed down next to Julius and the earth-mage brought a wall of rock up to guard them against a salvo of cannon-fire from the ships above them.

    Diving after them, Alan grabbed Chris’ knight armour and dragged it after him and away from the pursuit. A cloud of dust exploded up and away from the crude wall - for a moment he thought that it had been blasted apart but then he realised it was Nicol using his wind-magic to create a smokescreen.

    Chris had his knight-armour back under control and the two of them landed, six knight-armours huddled behind the cover of obscurity and a two-feet thick wall of hastily shaped stone.

    “We made it,” Alan gasped. “I thought we were goners for sure.”

    “A lot of knights didn’t,” Nicol noted quietly. “We may be the only ones to get this far.”

    Julius knight-armour nodded its head in accord with the young man’s own head. “Chris, I’m… I’m not sure you saw but…”

    The swordsman planted the tip of his sword in the dirt. “My father. Yes. I saw.”

    Alan looked at his brother, though inside their knight-armours he couldn’t really see Gerald’s face. No one, he thought, should ever have to see their father die. If Charles Fia Arclight, the man they called the Sword-Saint, had fallen, how was anyone else even alive after the melee?

    “We don’t have much time,” Nicol continued. “Some of the ships have cut their lines to fight but others are still dragging the island.”

    “Do you want to wait for reinforcements?” Gerald asked, seemingly casually. “The six of us could get over-run pretty quickly.”

    Julius rested one hand on the shoulder of Gerald’s knight armour. “That’s going to happen soon anyway. And we might be the only ones to make it this far.”

    “The hell with that,” the older of the Stuart twins declared. “I have too much to go back to.”

    Keith straightened his knight armour from where it was kneeling - placing the young man inside closer to the surface. “There are caves inside the island. I can feel them. If we can get inside them…”

    “Then we’ll be much harder targets,” Gerald agreed eagerly. “Great. So the rest of us hit as many cables as we can, while you make us an entrance?”

    The island being partially hollow would explain how it’s moved, Alan thought. The number of ships didn’t really match the comparative speed of it travelling unless Fanoss had far more powerful engines in their ships, or it weighed less than it seemed to.

    “Not here,” the Claes heir told them. “Further up the island - and we’ll have to abandon our knight-armours.”

    “If it’s that or death, it’s not a hard decision,” Julius pointed out.

    “We don’t have much time before the smoke dissipates,” warned Nicol stoically. Alan wondered if he should tell the older boy that he’d seen Count Ascart’s knight-armour descending rapidly, trying to save another falling knight. Probably best not, he decided. He hadn’t seen what had happened to Nicol’s father - he was probably worried enough already.

    Julius pointed inland. “There’s a signal mast further in. Taking that out might hamper their ability to control the skyships towing the island so it’s a viable target. We should operate in pairs. Keith, take someone to destroy it, then make an entrance. Chris and I will go left -”

    “Which left?” Gerald asked.

    “That left!” their cousin indicated, pointing again. “The other two do the same. Take out as many cables as you can, then regroup with Keith and head into the tunnels. It’ll be like going into a dungeon.”

    “I’ll go with Keith,” Nicol volunteered.

    Alan had taken a cue from Leon and was carrying an axe as a back-up weapon. He swapped it for his sword, figuring the heavy axe would be better for cutting cables. “I guess that means I’m with you, Gerald.”

    “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” his twin agreed. “Let’s go!”

    They darted out of the cloud of smoke in the direction opposite to that Julius had indicated, leaving the ships in that direction to their cousin and his friend. Gerald, focused on the tow-cables, drew ahead slightly as Alan assessed the situation.

    Knight-armours still fought among the dis-ordered fleet, but there were fewer than there had been only a few moments before.

    The focus of the fighting was around a brilliant white knight-armour that duelled a black counterpart. Alan felt a shiver go down his spine - his own knight-armour was black while his twin’s was white. As Gerald reached the first tow-line and slowed to hack at it with his flaming sword, Alan saw a green-trimmed knight-armour open fire on the black duellist with his rifle.

    The knight dodged adroitly and broke off from his ivory adversary to pursue this new foe. The white knight-armour tried to also give chase but three Fanoss knights blocked him.

    Alan flew past Gerald to the next tow-cable and hacked at it with his axe, devoting only half his attention to it and half to the battle in the sky.

    One after another, four knight-armours fell, their knights clearly slain. The white knight of Holfort had cut down all three his foes with clean thrusts of his sword - Alan was stunned to realise that the shield it bore was still recognisably faced the royal crest. It could only be his uncle, the king! But between the first and second kill, his green-trimmed ally fell - the knight-armour severed in two across the line of the cockpit. The upper and lower halves fell away as the black knight turned and waited for his adversary to catch up.

    A strand at a time, the cable parted, but he’d also drawn attention from the defenders and a pair of Fanoss knights were diving from where they’d been protecting the skyship on the far end of the towline. Another skyship was turning to bring its cannon to bear.

    The thick rope met the end of its ability to withstand the tension and began to unravel - Alan flew onwards, seeing Gerald doing the same. He zig-zagged, avoiding shots from the knights.

    “I’ll cover you!” his brother called, “You get the ropes.”

    “Who do you think you are? Jeffrey?” But he did as suggested. Usually it was their oldest brother protecting them - Gerald probably felt he should step up in the duke’s absence.

    Cannon fire crashed down against them and Alan saw ground troops rushing to try to intercept them - but knight-armours were generally too agile for heavy cannon to hit except by accident and few footmen were armed to take them on. He focused his magic on the next cable, the water soaking the rope strands and making them swell. The added strain made this one easier to cut through, he only needed about two-thirds as many swings of his axe to cut it.

    Gerald was trying to take on both the knights at once - Alan looked up and flung tendrils of water to seize one of them. It didn’t slow him for long but Gerald didn’t need very long to cut through both shoulder joints with his flaming blade (it was a cool effect, Alan admitted, almost enough to make him wish he shared his brother’s elemental affinity).

    With the odds evened, his brother would be fine. Moving on to the next cable, the silver-haired prince cut through it the same as the last. There were three more anchored to this part of the island but he could see more knight-armours falling back from the battle above.

    Hopefully, other knights had made it this far, but he didn’t think the two of them would get much further.

    “Just these three!” he shouted, rushing to the next one.

    “Got it!” Gerald had taken his own rifle out and fired it into the stern of one of the ships still towing - the shot blasted through the aft-cabin windows and up through the quarterdeck. The younger twin couldn’t see the results, but he imagined they were horrible - splinters of glass and wood were deadly unless you had enough warning to shield yourself somehow.

    His brother rushed ahead to try to cut one of the other cables before the next knights arrived to stop them. The flames from the sword caught upon the straining rope and strands began to burn - but it was too slow and Gerald had to finish it with his sword.

    Meanwhile, Alan had severed his own and moved on to the last. A shot from above slammed into his knight-armour’s shoulder, throwing him to one side and damaging the joint before he could take the last cut.

    “Damn!”

    He’d lost his axe and there were five of them, this time. Five on two…

    “Finish it and run!” Gerald shouted and sawed his sword against the cable.

    Alan gritted his teeth and raised his shield to cover himself, reaching out with his magic.

    Tendrils of water reached into the cable and he sawed them back and forth - some of it quenched the flames being started by his brother and some caused the strands to swell and weaken. But the main force of his spell reached into the core of the cable and then he tried something he’d only seen and never tried before: freezing the water.

    The young water-mage choked up, for a moment feeling as he had in his sickly childhood when every breath seemed like it was an unbelievable effort. He felt the taste of blood at the back of his throat.

    But then shards of white ripped out of the cable, the water expanding as it froze and sharp edges severing strands that his brother hadn’t reached yet.

    Another shot hit Alan, this time on the shield, punching a hole through the metal but slowed enough that it didn’t penetrate his knights armour. At the same time, he saw his brother stumble.

    The rope parted with a sharp crack, and Alan was about to take off when he saw Gerald’s knight-armour drop to one knee. “What are you doing?”

    “They hit the knee joint!” His brother’s voice was terse with self-directed rage. Blaming himself for not being perfect, again!

    The enemy knight-armours were almost on them - fortunately their rifles were older muzzle-loaders so they didn’t have much in the way of ranged ability. No time for Gerald to get out.

    Alan threw his shield aside and threw the one good arm his knight-armour had left around Gerald’s. “Put everything you have into your thrusters!”

    “I’ll be off-balance,” the minutes-older twin said - but it was a warning, not an objection. His knight-armour took off, though it was pulling to one side until Alan fired his own thrusters, carefully balancing the load so that they were somewhat under control.

    They weren’t going to be going fast enough. Not with the other knights having the altitude advantage. Alan braced to break away and fight when they had to. Perhaps they’d be close enough to Nicol and Keith to be helped? Four against five was… might be six against five, Julius and Chris were ahead of them he saw.

    He looked back and saw the pursuing knights hesitate. What for? Were reinforcements near?

    Alan was looking around for other knights when he heard the cheering, coming from scores of ships and at least a hundred knights.

    “Oh no.” Gerald’s voice was small.

    Looking up, Alan saw a white knight-armour tumbling from the sky. He liked to believe that he was imagining the trail of red that followed it. No human body could contain enough blood to be visible at this distance. But the entire front torso had been cut open.

    And above it, the black knight, Vandel Him Zinden, brandished his great sword triumphantly.

    Their uncle was dead.

    Their king was dead.

    Julius’ father was dead.

    Shouting a curse, Alan drove them the last distance and flung Gerald’s white knight-armour against the blue-black knight-armour piloted by their cousin. The two crashed to the ground. “Get us underground!” he shouted. “Now! The battle up there is over!”

    Julius Rafa Holfort, who could so very easily have just become king were it not for Marie Fou Lafan, struggled upright. “He… he killed my father…”

    “Go up there and they’ll kill you too!” Alan used his one good arm to grip the other prince’s knight-armour and slammed the beak-like helm of his own against it’s head. The front caved in, not enough to endanger Julius but pointedly enough to impair it.

    Chris’ aqua-painted knight-armour grappled hold of Julius’. “He’s right.”

    “My father’s dead!” the prince screamed.

    The knee of the light blue knight-armour smashed into the back of its darker counterpart. “So is mine!”

    Julius froze. Then, very slowly, he snapped one arm up, dragged his rifle out and fired it over Alan’s shoulder.

    Spinning on spot, Alan saw that the enemy knight-armours had stopped cheering for their champion and were charging upon them.

    The first of the five caught the rifle shot in the face. The ground reared up under the second as it landed, snaring the feet and causing it to tumble forwards. Before it could stand, Julius put another shot into the cockpit, but his rifle was likely empty before it came down.

    Alan was essentially disarmed, but Gerald tossed his sword towards him and he caught in his one remaining hand.

    The other three enemies came down together but as they landed, wind swept into them and they crashed against each other. Nicol, adding his magic to Keith’s earth magic, the musician guessed.

    He and Chris went in with their swords, the swordsman cutting the headless knight down ruthlessly. Julius joined the fight - three against three. A fair fight that they had no time for.

    Chris’s opponent launched two lances through magic, not as many as Brad had managed when he duelled Keith. But Nicol’s winds swept them aside and opened him up to the swordsman.

    The knight-armour facing Julius found a golem of equal size rising behind him and pinning him in place for a vicious, disembowelling cut that would have gutted a man and did about the same to the cockpit. Taking out his anger at King Roland’s defeat, perhaps.

    But Alan had his own opponent and he - like Gerald - was a fire mage. Flames cascaded along the two-handed flamberge the knight wielded and the young prince had to raise water around his own sword, which steamed away each time their weapons clashed, but at least kept his blade from being warped by the heat.

    He parried twice, giving ground and then on the third cut he feinted: backing away only to step close in while the other knight’s sword was out of position. The other knight tried to bash him away with his shield but Alan seized it with tendrils of water and wrenched that just far enough down to thrust over it and down. The tip of his sword caught the ‘throat’ and drove down into the cockpit. The shudder as it hit something soft told him that he’d scored a kill.

    “This way!” Keith called. Alan saw the flaxen-haired boy was already out of his knight-armour.

    Unceremoniously, he opened his own hatch and abandoned the knight-armour. He had a short-sword in the cockpit, and the team-jacket they’d adopted for the duels against Julius’ friends. Grabbing both, the silver-haired young man scrambled out and ran for his friend.

    He’d barely got clear when a cannon-shot from above smashed the remaining arm from his knight-armour and sent it spinning to the ground. Alan winced. Jeffrey probably wouldn’t object to buying him another, but there would be a lot of demand for new knight-armours or repairs. If they survived. He had to survive first.

    The others were bailing out too. Keith had opened a tunnel down into the ground and Nicol was still standing over him with his shield up, but his cockpit was open so he could get out quickly.

    Down the tunnel they went - Gerald first, then Julius. Chris next, Alan followed him, and heard Nicol’s light footsteps behind him. A moment later the tunnel closed up and they were in darkness for a moment before his twin raised a flame cupped in one hand, showing that they’d entered a stone passageway.

    “Keith?” he asked.

    “Here.” Katarina’s brother joined them, pulling on his own jacket. “Brace yourselves - I saw shadows.” In the firelight, his face was pale.

    “The dark magic,” Julius hissed.

    “Keith.” Gerald, despite his fractious relationships at times with his further brother-in-law, was first to reach out to the boy. “Keith, you’ve been through something like this and you survived. For days. You can do it again.”

    Chris nodded, jerkily. “What’s your secret?”

    The slightly built young man took a long, shaky breath. “Focus on… focus on someone you love.”

    “Makes sense. If dark magic draws on dark emotions then love should protect us,” declared Julius. “Marie will see Chris and I through.”

    The swordsman adjusted his glasses. “As always.”

    Gerald grinned. “Whatever works for you.” He was evidently thinking of Katarina.

    Nicol gestured down the passageway. “We should move, sooner or later they’ll come after her.”

    Alan nodded. “Let’s go.”

    His brother took the lead, Nicol at his side. “So, Alan and I are engaged, and Keith has a sister complex, but…” He almost stumbled as the shadows grew deeper.

    There was a shocking cold, a grimness that hit Alan like a wave.

    “...but who will you think of, Nicol?” Gerald continued, voice less confident than usual as he too felt the dark magic for the first time.

    “Also Katarina.”

    Alan focused on the girl in his mind. Keith was right, it did help a little. Someone to go back to, he thought. Someone to live for. Maybe with her, someday, if I can make it work. One thing I know, nothing will come of my feelings unless I act on them.

    “Not Sophia?” his brother joked.

    “I love my sister. I’m not in love with her,” the former-lord president of the student council told them.

    Keith stumbled. “...wait, what!?”

    “She isn’t my sister.”

    “I’m adopted!”

    “But she’s my fiancee,” protested Gerald.

    The black-haired man smiled quietly. “The mind knows, but the heart does not care.”

    “Dammit, I can’t even argue with that. At least I don’t have to worry about you turning on me like that, do I Alan?”

    He looked at his brother and then shook his head. “I love Katarina like a sister, Gerald.”

    “Fitting, because once we marry she’ll be your sister.” The older of the brothers gave Keith a slightly challenging look.

    “Although,” Alan added, “That’s also how I feel about Mary, so I obviously know nothing about love.”

    It was absolutely worth it to see Gerald almost trip over his feet.

    “Would you put your mutual fixation on Lady Claes on hold until we deal with the mildly important matter of surviving?” asked Julius irritably.

    Keith gave him a joking push and opened a wall up to let them through and into another chamber that didn’t open off the passageway. “I don’t think we have to hear that from you, of all people!”

    I should probably tell Violette first that I’m thinking of her like this, Alan thought. Preferably without acting like I expect her to return my feelings. She’s not exactly had great luck with fiances so far…

    -

    The mood aboard the royal skyship was sombre. Everyone in the control cabin (the way it was built into the nose of the ship reminded Katarina of a Flash Gordon rocket-ship or maybe a B-29 bomber like the ones from history classes in her old life, but no one would understand that if she said so) had friends, family or both outside and fighting in the battle.

    Trying to think of a good name for the white skyship wasn’t keeping her from worrying about Keith. Or Gerald. Or Alan. Or (looking at Sophia, who was clinging to a shotgun) Nicol and his father.

    Only Sirius… Rafael… looked more or less calm. More when Sophia wasn’t looking at him, less when she did. Probably because she appeared to be quite tempted to use the shotgun on him. Katarina was worried about that too - at least there were three other guards around the boy to stop him using dark magic or anything else. Clarice, Deirdre and Mary would keep Sophia from doing anything she’d regret later.

    ‘Or not regret later,’ Maid-Ann suggested in the background and was promptly ignored like most of her (to be nice) insane ranting about Katarina marrying Lia (aka Leon) and becoming queen.

    Honestly, if it wasn’t for the shotgun, Katarina would suspect Sophia’s looks of suggesting that her friend had a crush on Rafael. He was, after all, both nice and good looking - together with his tragic backstory he was practically a romantic novel’s male lead already. She didn’t think it was actually very likely, and Nicol would probably take it badly if that did happen, but the other three girls would also ensure nothing like that happened.

    Nicol… Katarina resisted the urge to join Queen Mylene at the front of the control cabin and watch the battle through a spyglass. Right, she needed another distraction.

    Sweeping her gaze around the cabin, she noticed that Selena Rafa Stuart was holding a letter. Aha! That might do! “What’s that, Selena?” she asked.

    The older girl (or was that woman now that she was married?) blinked and looked up from Ian Rafa Stuart, who was sitting beside her in one of the twin command chairs of the skyship. “What’s… oh?” She flushed and raised the letter. “This?”

    Katarina nodded. It was kind of odd for the princess - Ian was still a prince, so that made Selena a princess now - to bring mail with her into a battle.

    “We found it on the console,” Ian explained quietly and indicated the panel before the pair of them.

    Selena held up the letter. “Would you like to read it?”

    “Sure!” Katarina scrambled to her feet and went over to stand by them, seeing everyone watch her. Perhaps they also wanted a distraction?

    The young woman handed over the letter, which was unsealed. Unfolding it, Katarina read out loud: “To whom it may concern: I am gravely disappointed in the poor care and security of this vessel. I can only presume that the Holfort household is too impoverished to maintain a satisfactory cleaning or security force…”

    The brunette girl broke off as Clarice began to giggle. The redhead waved for her to go on.

    “In order to enjoy the depredations of a quality gentleman thief such as myself, proper standards must be maintained. I shall investigate other treasures to avail myself of, but I shall return and if I do not find your affairs in better order, I will make off with greater treasures than this tawdry vessel and its frankly pathetic seal. The queen’s booty comes to mind.”

    There was a quiet snort from Mary, but the queen didn’t move from the front of the command deck. Perhaps she wasn’t worried about her booty.

    “Yours disrespectfully, Carmine Sandiego.” Katarina looked past the signature and saw a small addendum at the bottom of the page. “P.S. I swept the seats clean. No thanks required, all part of the service.”

    Deirdre shook her head slightly. “Really? You’re not making it up?”

    “Swear to god and hope to stick a needle in my eye,” Katarina promised, and handed off the letter.

    “Well! The man has some style!” Deirdre admitted, confirming the contents. “But who in the world is Carmine Sandiego?”

    “Where on earth could she be?” Katarina asked. Then she paused. “Or he.”

    The blonde rolled her eyes. “It does say gentleman thief.”

    “Yes, but that’s a career choice, it’s not gender specific!” Sophia corrected. “It could be a woman - perhaps an illegitimate daughter of the Ades? They have colour-themed names! This could be the start of a convoluted scheme!”

    “The Principality has a price on his or her head for theft, or so I am told,” Larna informed them. “So the thief part would be correct. Perhaps Princess Hertrude would know.”

    “I still think we’re dealing with a man. Only a man would be interested in the queen’s booty,” argued Dierdre.

    Mary produced a fan and covered her mouth. “That’s not necessarily the case, Lady Roseblade.”

    The queen’s spyglass met the glass windows at the front of the control room. “No…” she whispered.

    “I’m…” Katarina was about to reassure Queen Mylene that she was sure she had very nice booty, but the woman fell to her knees, dropping the spyglass. The lenses cracked, clearly audible. “Your highness?”

    “No…” The queen repeated, looking back with a pale face.

    Angelica stepped forwards and put her arms around Mylene’s shoulders. “Your highness. Are you alright?” She looked up and out of the windows. “Is it Julius?”

    The silver-blonde queen rested her face against Angelica’s shoulder. “No, no I can’t see my son. But the Black Knight has just killed the king.”

    Katarina gasped. The king? She didn’t know him very well - her mother kept her away from court, given how bad she was at formal etiquette - but she still knew who he was. And he’d secretly been the Masked Knight, so he was automatically cool! She had a book about the Masked Knight’s exploits over the years!

    And the Black Knight had killed him?! Inconceivable!

    “I should have been there.” Katarina went to hug the queen too.

    “No!” Mary exclaimed loudly. She was obviously horrified at the king’s death too.

    Ian also leapt down from the command seats and for a moment Katarina thought he was going to hug his aunt as well. But he picked up the cracked spyglass and stared through it, out at the battle. “The island is slowing,” he reported. “I see… more of their ships aren’t towing it anymore. I don’t know if they’re cutting their cables or if knights got through but his majesty succeeded. It looks as if it’ll stop by the port island.”

    “Can you see if anyone else is hurt?” Olivia asked nervously.

    “No one specific,” Gerald and Alan’s brother said seriously. Which probably meant that someone else was. He just didn’t know who.

    “The twins are very skilled,” Selena reassured her husband. “And so is Katarina’s brother and their other friends.”

    “So was Roland,” Mylene reminded them, her voice bitter.

    Then Ian turned calmly. “Ladies, I see shadows forming. Fanoss is using their dark magic.”

    “Alright girls, time to go.” Larna Smith had been so quiet that Katarina had almost forgotten she was there. But now she moved up to stand beside Ian’s empty seat and clapped her hands sharply. “Angelica, Olivia, Katarina - you have the Saint’s Regalia. Follow me out on deck.”

    Katarina swallowed and obeyed. Olivia took her hand and joined her at the foot of the stairs upwards.

    Looking back as she climbed, she saw Angelica hesitate and then the other duke’s daughter squeezed Mylene once more and followed. Ian helped Mylene up and ushered her in a gentlemanly fashion towards one of the other seats, where Clarice took her in hand.

    Angelica was on the stair now, behind Larna, and then Katarina and Olivia were out on the upper deck of the white skyship. The sky was thick with dark grey clouds, threatening rain.

    The Director produced a pair of opera-glasses and stared through them. “Prince Ian is right. The shadows are reaching past their fleet. God help the boys now.” She sounded unaccountably worried and Katarina went to the forward rail, looking out for a sign of hope.

    As if summoned, a long sleek shape swept up to one side of the royal flagship - as long as half the capital, commodore’s pennant flying from its signal mast and the twin turrets already tracking. The hangar opened and a familiar crimson and black knight-armour took to the air.

    “Big Charznable!” Katarina shouted.

    “Sir Leon,” Angelica confirmed. “But he’s not alone.”

    Skyship after skyship was leaving the city’s own docks, as well as private estates. A few peeled away, racing ahead of the invasion, but most formed up into squadrons alongside the Dreadnought and the white ship - the Unicorn, Katarina decided. This would be the Unicorn!

    (Just as soon as she convinced Selena, Ian and the queen of that).

    “The relics!” Larna called out. “Just like we practised, but this time it’s for real.”

    The darkness was coming at them like a wall now, dark magic like an onrushing tide.

    Katarina looked down for a moment at the Saintess’ Bracelet on her wrist. Then Angelica was next to her, taking that hand. The blonde’s other hand clutched the Saintess’ Sceptre. On Katarina’s other side, she was already holding Olivia - and the studious girl had the Saintess’ Necklace on her neck - incongruous over the adventurer’s armour that all three of them wore. “We’re fully equipped!” the brunette called.

    “On three,” Angelica warned. “One.”

    Olivia’s lips moved, as if in prayer.

    “Two.”

    Katarina licked her lips. Thinking of her parents. Her brother, out there. Their friends, around her and around him.

    “Three!” Angelica shouted and pale flames licked around her, before rushing up their arms towards Katarina.

    It hit her like a tingling storm, pins-and-needles. Ann had shown her what to do, and it flowed through her, filtered and shaped, until it reached Olivia.

    The sceptre was glowing, the bracelet lit up.

    “I’m not alone!” Olivia screamed and a vast magical circle - so large it dwarfed even the Dreadnought - formed before them. Light streamed forth from it, so bright that Katarina was almost blinded.

    She didn’t need to see it though, only to feel it.

    Light smashed against darkness and hurled it backwards towards the island.

    For a moment it seemed as if it would be enough to vanquish the dark mage’s ritual entirely, but the darkness rallied and the shadows gathered, surging around and past the light.

    “Olivia, we need a wider wall!” Angelica called.

    “I don’t…”

    “I have it!” Katarina declared confidently. She was an earth-mage, not just a light-mage. She’d seen Keith do this before with the ground.

    Seizing hold of the light she broadened it, shaping it until it was a castle wall, marked in places with towers and flags.

    “Nnnggg,” she gasped as the strain caught her.

    But Angelica was on one side of her, Olivia on the other. Their magic was also part of this and they caught on quickly, following Katarina’s lead and carrying part of the effort. Most of the effort. This was hard!

    The darkness clawed forward, the light pushed back.

    After endless moments, an equilibrium was reached - the wall of light cutting across the city. The port island was lost in the darkness. Shadows claimed the docks. Mansions along the edge of the continent vanished from sight and Katarina was shamefully glad that she would not see what was happening there.

    But most of the capital was behind the wall.

    And as Count Garrett’s ships plunged in, trying to reform and strike into the city, Big Charznable rose to meet them, followed by dozens of ships and scores of knights.

    “For the light!” Leon shouted, his voice booming impossibly loud. “For a brighter day!”

    And a thousand cannon fired…
     
    Compare and Contrast 11-3
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Compare and Contrast

    But do be glad baby when you've found
    That's the power makes the world go 'round
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 3

    Ambition and revenge are always hungry. ~ Danish Proverb​

    “Where are we?” Alan asked, completely lost.

    They’d been jogging through the passageways for what felt like hours but was probably still only a matter of minutes. The Fanossian island wasn’t that huge - unless they were going in circles they should be getting somewhere.

    “Under their citadel at the highest point,” Keith told him.

    Chris frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

    “It’s the last place they’re likely to look,” Katarina’s brother replied. “And the best place to accomplish something more. Leon said he couldn’t tell exactly where the dark mage was, but there’s a good chance that someone important is using the keep up there.” He pointed upwards.

    Nicol nodded in agreement. “We could hide down here for days and not be found, but who knows who will win? If we can do more then we should.”

    Alan shivered. The dark magic was still around them, he could feel it faintly. And Violette was out with the fleet. “Even if there’s nothing useful up there, if we can trick them into sending soldiers after us then those soldiers aren’t fighting the rest of the kingdom.”

    “I was thinking more about capturing one of their leaders, or stealing uniforms to get off the island,” Keith admitted, “But that’s good too.”

    Gerald nodded, the flames in his hands flickering. “We’ll do what we can with the opportunities we’re presented with. When you say we’re under the citadel, do you mean directly?”

    “More or less. There are some galleries up ahead that look out the side of the island - I think they’re intended as a supplemental dock. The citadel itself has some cellars beneath it, but the stairs down to the gallery don’t connect to them and there’s some sort of substantial chamber that also connects to the stairs.” Keith indicated the wall he was standing next to. “The stairs between that chamber and the citadel are right on the other side of this.”

    Alan frowned and tried to sketch out the image that Keith’s description brought to mind on the wall (which was damp rock, giving him an obvious tool). “Something like this?”

    The earth-mage winced as he looked at it. “No… like… um…” He fiddled around and then a miniature stone gallery flowed up out of the floor, stairs climbing steadily up, a chamber coming off the side as the stairs doubled back and up further into a small stone keep with additional blocks - cellars, presumably - below it. “Like so.”

    Earth magic, Alan thought, was unreasonably good for this sort of thing - at least in the hands of someone like Keith. Katarina would probably have trouble drawing a duck in the dirt with her magic. But to be fair, she’d have trouble doing the same with a stick - and have fun either way.

    “Looks like a chimney,” he pointed out. “If those are flammable stores in the chamber, then smoke could go right up into the citadel, drawing air up from below.”

    “Aha.” His twin grinned. “Smoke them out?”

    “They’ll have their own mages,” Nicol pointed out. “But it would get their attention.”

    Julius nodded. “Could be non-flammables, but between us we can probably work out something. And there’s no way to tell what’s in there without looking.”

    “Is it guarded?” Chris asked, practically.

    Keith shrugged. “I can’t tell that. If so, well, there are six of us.”

    Numbers didn’t mean that much in close quarters, Alan thought. But unless the Fanossians had a better earth-mage with them than Keith, close quarters were only going to be the case if they wanted them.

    With Gerald extinguishing his illuminating flame, there was a moment of darkness that made Alan shudder before the Claes heir opened the wall for Chris and Julius to lead the way through. There was no immediate clash of arms, so Nicol and Gerald went next - then Alan and Keith followed them through, the latter closing the wall up neatly again after him. The stairwell was shadowy and while the dark magic didn’t help, Alan suspected that this would have been the case even without it. Not many lanterns hung to light it.

    Still, it was better than the pitch-blackness a moment ago. Alan had never considered himself claustrophobic, but fighting underground was for moles and earth-mages.

    They were wearing boots, so going down their fairly steep stairs silently really wasn’t going to happen. Hopefully anyone on guard would expect the occasional visitor or passer-by - and the lack of light would make their identities unclear. Pilot suits were fairly standard across all various nations, and three of them were wearing jackets that further confused their identities.

    As it happened, there were four soldiers guarding the landing and the door that opened off it. That spoke well of whatever was inside being important.

    Of course, it also should have made it easy for them to respond - or at least for one of them to call for help before they were taken out.

    That didn’t account for having a wind-mage and earth-mage of the calibre of Nicol and Keith. Before the men even realised that they were under attack, the floor beneath their feet jerked upwards and flung them down the stairs - or rather the slope where the stairs had been. A tornado of wind pushed them down so fast that even once the stairs were unaffected, they kept going - probably doing as much damage to each other as the fall was doing.

    Julius and Gerald rushed after them, sliding down in a rather more controlled fashion until they reached the stairs. Once they caught up, the guards were taken out quickly and efficiently.

    Even so, there was enough noise - including a shout of alarm - that someone on the other side of the door shouted a muffled question. He sounded angry - and as if he expected others to defer to him.

    Alan put on his best Fanoss accent. “Bloody idiot dropped his lantern.”

    He had to hide a smirk at the “I’m surrounded by idiots!” that came back. “Is he hurt?”

    “Looks like it,” he confirmed. “There’s oil down the steps too.”

    “Well get it cleaned up!” The order was shouted.

    “Right away, sir.”

    Nicol patted Alan approvingly on the shoulder.

    While his twin and his cousins gathered weapons and armour, Alan pressed his ear to the door. If there was a knight or lord in there, then it probably wasn’t just a storeroom.

    “How are they doing this?” the man complained. “Last time they could barely cover a few ships, even if one of them was that compensatory speed-boat!”

    Alan covered his mouth and fought back a laugh. He wondered how Leon would take such an unflattering description of the Dreadnought.

    “Perhaps it is some relic of the saintess.” A woman’s voice, younger than the man, Alan thought. “It’s interesting, don’t you think?”

    “It’s infuriating!” The sound of something clattering, as if it had been kicked over. “Can’t you do something about it? Their king is dead, but the bulk of their fleet is holding their ground behind the light magic!”

    “They should be despairing,” the girl agreed. “But, my lord count, if I focus on breaking down their barrier then…”

    “Yes, yes, do that!” The man laughed. “Push this trick aside and show them the monsters inside of them!”

    The woman sounded delighted. “I would be happy to. I simply can’t also exclude your own forces, so some of them…”

    “I don’t care. I don’t care! There’s an entire city of commoners that must hate their lords, not to mention all those men shackled to the degenerate scum the Holforts force them to marry. It will be a thousand times worse for them than for us!”

    There was an excited giggle. “What an interesting theory!”

    Alan drew his short-sword. “It’s the dark magic,” he reported, feeling that same thing touching him still. God, it was going to get worse? This was what it was like when he wasn’t even being targeted? “It’s coming from in here.”

    “Brilliant!” Gerald was holding a sword, while Julius was shrugging on a slightly-too-large brigandine. “Let’s stop that.”

    “We’d better.” He tried the latch and found the room locked - and no key. “I think the Ministry got light magic to protect the city - and they’re about to try to break through it!”

    Chris weighed his own sword. “Get us in there!”

    “Cast at the door together,” Nicol ordered, backing up. “Three, two, one…”

    A good two inches thick, iron-bound oak… the door didn’t stand a chance as earth, wind, fire and water ripped into it. As the four friends took deep breaths after the effort, Chris and Julius took point storming through the door.

    “Who the devil are you?!” a finely dressed noble man exclaimed, drawing his own sword.

    The room was choked by shadows, a circle of darkness somehow glowing on the floor - as if illuminated by the light was fleeing it so fiercely. And it flowed around dead bodies too: scores of them, Alan realised as he followed the other two.

    “Ah!” A slight, dark-haired woman in a plain black woollen dress waved at them with incongruous happiness. “My experiment came back!”

    “You!” Keith shouted.

    And the darkness pulsed like a heart-beating.

    Faster, deeper, stronger.

    Alan clutched the sound of Violette’s violin, the sight of Katarina’s smile and of silver hair, the feel of Mary’s hand in his own, sad blue eyes and the warmth of his brother’s presence.

    And they plunged into night.

    -

    “It’s lucky it was Ian and Selena that were first to try the skyship,” Leon thought out loud as he ducked back from the fighting for a moment to gather his breath, hiding behind one of the Holfort ships.

    “The male new human is at least capable of leadership.” That was more of a compliment than Luxion would normally extend. “And his spouse’s magic is comparatively trivial… so long as she does not obtain light magic as the other one did.”

    Leon smirked. Luxion had engineered Katarina becoming a light mage, but he still found her having it offensive. “I was thinking that no one would be surprised that those lovebirds could unseal the ship, but that’s also true.”

    Queen Mylene was in no fit state to provide leadership right now. However dysfunctional her marriage had been, she’d still spent more than half her life wed to King Roland and losing him had hurt her more than Leon had expected. Fortunately, Ian had taken up the leadership role upon the royal skyship and was ‘relaying’ orders from the incapacitated vice admiral of the white.

    “How much did Cleare have to up their ratings?” he asked and then chided himself for doing so. He didn’t want to go through that thing himself with Clarice, given one of them would almost certainly feel more for the other - however small the difference. It was none of his business ‘how much’ the security seals thought the married couple loved each other.

    Luxion answered before he could tell the AI not to bother. “It did not have to.”

    “...huh.” Well, that was better than hearing numbers. And good for the happy couple. “Nice not to be needed, I guess.”

    “Speaking of being needed, master, that enemy has taken the field.”

    Leon cursed and looked around. “Where?! No, I see him!”

    Vandel Him Zenden was at the peak of a wedge of knights moving up to reinforce the frontlines. He hadn’t been seen since King Roland’s fall - most likely catching his breath and having repairs made to his knight-armour. The knight was no longer a young man, after all.

    Unfortunately, that didn’t mean he was any less likely to cause utter havoc given the chance.

    “Do you wish to fight him alone?” asked Luxion.

    “Hell no!” But Leon was already flying towards the older knight. “But that sword of his will go through just about anyone else’s knight-armour like it was butter. Take out his back-up if you can.”

    The sad fact was that even Luxion’s targeting skills just weren’t good enough to hit a knight-armour if the pilot was good enough - and the Black Knight was definitely good enough. The mecha were just too agile.

    That wasn’t the case for all of the knights backing him up though. Dreadnought’s guns spoke, very loudly, and three of the four knights targeted accepted the irresistible argument that they should die now.

    Leon picked off the last of them with his rifle before Sir Vandel caught up with him, the two of them meeting right on the boundary between the light magic and the dark magic.

    “So, Sir Leon Fou Bartford.” Vandel didn’t halt in mid-air, staying evasive in case of more fire from the Dreadnought. He didn’t attack yet though - and he was close enough that Leon would rather that Luxion not take a shot. “I have cleansed my honour of one Holfort knight that escaped me before. Now for you.”

    “You have a weird sense of honour,” admitted Leon. “I mean, you betrayed your prince, you’re literally serving the powers of darkness -” He gestured with his axe to indicate the dark magic. “- and on top of that, you’re kind of a jerk…”

    The longer he’s talking, the longer he’s not fighting, Leon thought. Stalling for time works for me - Count Roseblade’s on the move and once his force hits Garrett’s flank they can roll it up. And I’m really not sure I can beat Vandel.

    The old man was past his prime, but he’d been killing knights for longer than Leon had been alive. Maybe even twice as long. There was a reason he was still alive and it wasn’t his sword.

    “Do you think I need one of Holfort’s dog’s to tell me about honour?”

    Leon laughed. “A dog? Neither of us is a dog, Vandel Him Zenden. Dogs are loyal to their masters. We’re wolves. We care about our packs and damn everyone else.”

    “Perhaps you’re right,” Vandel agreed and then pointed his sword at Leon. “But rejoice. When you’re in hell, your pack will be joining you quickly.”

    “I kind of doubt that.” There was something happening behind Vandel, but Leon wasn’t sure what - the dark magic was making the already dim sunlight even less able to illuminate the flying island behind them. Was something else launching to join the attack? Was it raining and…

    No, it wasn’t weather. Nor was it another attack. Or rather, not a conventional attack.

    The shadowy extent of the dark magic behind Sir Vandel was rippling like water. As if a wave was forming.

    “I don’t suppose you’d accept an invitation to look behind you?” he asked the older man.

    “What sort of fool do you take me for?!”

    “I don’t think we have that sort of time,” Leon warned. “Luxion, put me on speakers. This is Commodore Bartford! Pull back and consolidate around the flagship!”

    Keeping half an eye upon Vandel, who seemed startled, Leon obeyed his own orders, moving his knight-armour back from the divide between the two fleets. Other knight-armours and ships did the same.

    It was a dreadful risk - it would be too easy for that to become a rout or for Garrett’s fleet to take advantage.

    But discipline held. Perhaps because the flagship was a visible sign that their cause wasn’t lost, or because there was nowhere for most of them to run to.

    And their adversaries were caught entirely off guard. It would take critical moments for their leaders to signal what to do and individual captains and knights hesitated. Some advanced, only to find that they were singled out by fire from the withdrawing fleet.

    And before any coherent response could arrive, the wave of darkness did.

    Leon saw the same thing he’d seen before - ships falling out of line as their crews suddenly had new and immediate concerns, knight-armours exploding as their occupants were transformed. But this time it was Fanoss’ ships and knights that were caught.

    The darkness hammered against the protective light around the defenders, pushing it back across the city.

    Hopefully the districts beneath had evacuated - a battle above them was bad enough. Few of the defenders were caught though - and even some of those emerged unscathed.

    “BART-FORD!” a roar drew Leon’s view back towards his foe.

    Vandel Him Zenden had pursued him - but he had not entered the shrinking zone of light.

    It might have been better if he had. Armour and systems fell away, the knight-armour bursting away from a great, winged knight that emerged from within it - flesh like iron, head like a helm, feet taloned like an eagle’s… and still clutching that dreadful black sword in one hand.

    “...”

    “Interesting! He appears to be somewhat still in possession of his faculties,” Cleare declared.

    “Not the time!” Leon’s axe barely intercepted the flat of the sword and he found himself fighting right at the boundary between light and shadow.

    The monster that had lurked within Vandel was now released, a monstrous reflection of the knight he’d been. And still recognising Leon as his enemy.

    They clashed, Leon retreating with every exchange as the darkness drove deeper.

    And then, with a glorious chiming sound, the barrier of light brought the advance of the dark magic to a sudden halt. It ground forwards, clawing… but it failed to break it.

    “Sir Leon! Duck!”

    Cutting his thrusters, Leon dropped himself several yards.

    Cannonfire smashed through the air above him, smashing Vandel backwards.

    The ship that had been its source was a comparatively modest one - Lloyd’s ship. The young baronet - confirmed in his father’s title during the whirlwind of preparations before the battle - stood at the rail, a speaking trumpet raised. Leon saw the gun crews racing to reload.

    “BART-FORD!” the black knight roared again, still alive somehow, and dove towards the ship.

    Bringing his thrusters up to full power, Leon ascended and tackled the monster before it could reach the vessel, hurling both his knight-armour and his foe upwards into the sky.

    Flames of blue-white were streaming from Vandel’s body and Leon thought back to the monster that had been formed from Lloyd’s father back in the second battle. It too had burned, while within the reach of Marie’s light magic.

    Vandel’s form roared and wrestled, but Leon was too close for it to use the black sword and scratches to his armour plating weren’t an issue he was worried about. “Burn!” he shouted, “burn!”

    The pale flames were inside the fiendish knight as well as outside it. The boy saw them blazing inside the open throat, saw the dark eyes incinerate.

    He threw the bestial remains of Vandel Him Zenden back at last, let it swing the sword at him and avoided the enfeebled limb - its muscles half-consumed already by the fires - before lashing out and severing the wrist. With his spare hand, he snatched the sword before it could fall.

    “So much for your revenge,” Leon told Vandel and watched the monstrous remains of Fanoss’ greatest knight tumble away as the wings finally gave up.

    The howls of rage gave way to despair as the beast fell. Leon followed it with his gaze until, halfway to the ground, the shape collapsed back into that of a charred man, white-haired and lacking one hand. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and returned to take advantage of their momentary breathing space.

    -

    The enemy fleet was spilling through the magical separation between the dark magic and light magic, or rather the ships and knights were doing so as they each individually realised that doing so was a way to protect themselves from the dark magic that they were suddenly not proof against.

    This was forcing them into a point-blank battle with the queen’s fleet before they could get back into any sort of fighting order - the barrier wasn’t as far from the flagship as it had been, and the white skyship was reaping a harvest almost equalling that of the Dreadnought.

    Violette had an excellent view of this as the Revenge followed the leading elements of Count Roseblade’s little fleet as they crashed into the flank of the disorganised enemy fleet.

    They were fighting in three columns, each led the largest and sturdiest ships available to the three principal levies involved - Princess Hertrude’s, Count Roseblade’s and Count Bartford’s. Smaller ships and retinues had been divided up between them to keep the numbers more or less equal. The Revenge wasn’t large enough to join the spearhead, but that also spared it the battering some of the leading ships took.

    One Fanoss battleship in particular seemed to have taken a pounding from the inoffensively named Pelican, caught nose on where only a few cannon could fire back it had lost prow rigging and a number of shots seemed to have punched in through the bow and presumably crashed along the length of the ship.

    “It’s trying to hoist signals on the mizzen mast,” Scarlet observed, pointing at the rearmost mast of the damaged skyship. “It must be one of their leaders.”

    “It could be repeating a signal,” Violette told her twin, “But it’s as good a reason as any. Captain! Bring us across their bow and prepare a boarding party.” She reflexively checked her pistols were loaded and ready.

    The captain didn’t question the orders and soon the deck of the Revenge was crowded with soldiers aboard for this very purpose - including many of the elves, who mostly hadn’t had a chance to really learn the roles required of a skyship crew. Greg also took position among them, holding up a sturdy spear that Violette wouldn’t have thought was practical.

    “Prepare grapples!” the captain called out as they closed in. The enemy ship tried to turn to bring its side and the cannon facing that way to face the Revenge, but it was half-crippled by the loss of masts and turned too slowly.

    The two ships crashed against each other, bow against bow, the Revenge’s forward rigging tangling with the larger ship’s broken ropes and timbers. The battleship slewed further around as it absorbed the forward momentum of Violette’s ship, but then there was no time for her to take that in. The two skyships were locked together and Greg led their crew scrambling over the side to hack through the rigging and the boarding nets intended to keep them from getting onto the other deck.

    And Violette found herself swept up by her twin sister and dragged through the air as Scarlet leapt up into their own rigging and then across the gulf between the mid-ships sections of the two skyships.

    The enemy deck was a mess, the Pelican’s raking having swept it initially clear of living sailors and gunners. But doors and hatches opened, survivors coming out to give battle.

    Scarlet tossed Violette up into one of the boarding nets where she could land smoothly and dived into one of the hatches, kicking one sailor back down the ladder and sweeping his mates down beneath him.

    Yanking her pistols free of the cords that had kept them in their holsters, Violette drew the hammers back with her thumbs and opened up on the sailors emerging from the shattered gun-house. Each wrist-wrenching shot from one of the heavy revolvers yanked the gun up and out of line, but she alternated firing as she fought the recoil.

    Ten shots hammered out before she was dry, only two sailors had fallen to her fire but others were going for cover rather than advancing on the twins.

    And then, with a triumphant cry, Greg led the crew through the wreckage to join them. “Seberg!” the boy roared, driving his spear into the nearest foe man. He levered the luckless sailor upwards on it before wrenching the spearhead free. “Holfort!” The Fanoss sailor fell over the side with a despairing scream that Violette could barely hear.

    “Ades!” she cried, discarding the pistols and drawing her sword. Still caught alone, she cut loose one of the few lines still connected to the main mast of the battleship and swung on it, sweeping across half the deck before she lost her one-handed grip on the rope and fell feet-first upon a petty officer who was trying to push up one gangway at the head of a half-dozen Fanoss sailors. “Revenge! To me!”

    Her sword clashed against a cutlass and she drove it aside before hammering the basket-hilt of her sword into the sailor’s face.

    The petty officer beneath her feet groaned and she stamped her booted feet down, regretting the brutality but not willing to lower her blade’s guard.

    Violette parried another sailor and then a spear flew past her to skewer a second sailor.

    It was Greg’s spear and he joined her a moment later, flinging a soldier in the colours of a Fanoss noble into the mob of sailors before crouching to recover his spear. “Man, I wouldn’t have minded having Brad with us. …or Nicol or Keith for that matter. A good mage makes up for a lot.”

    Violette thrust the tip of her blade between the ribs of one of the fallen sailors before he could stand, then twisted it and withdrew it before it could get caught. “There are a lot of people I’d like to have with us.”

    “Yeah, I get that.”

    There was a cry of alarm and Violette looked up in time to see a volley of gunfire from the quarterdeck blast into the mixed squad pushing their way up the other side of the warship. A squad of enemy sailors had managed to form up on the quarterdeck rail, led by a nobleman wearing the same colours she’d seen before.

    “Reload!” the man shouted and waved his sword to indicate Violette, Greg and the sailors and elves behind them. “Aim!”

    Scarlet leapt up from where she’d been fighting the sailors trying to get out from under the quarterdeck and ripped the entire rail free. “Disembark?” she suggested sweetly and then swept the yards-long length of wood back in a savage horizontal arc that scattered the sailors across the deck with two of them quite genuinely going over the side.

    “You Holfort witch!” the noble crowded and hurled a bolt of flame at Scarlet as she recovered her balance.

    For a moment, Violette’s little sister disappeared in the flames… and then they faded, together with the magic circles that had shielded her. “Ades, actually.”

    “W-what?” the man asked.

    “I’m an Ades witch,” Scarlet said and tossed the rail up in the air to curtsey. “Lady Scarlet Rafa Ades.” And then she extended her hand to catch the rail. “Very much not at your service.”

    The man backed against the side of the ship. “To me!” he called frantically. “To me!”

    “Revenge!” Violette called out, her voice cutting through the clamour. She pointed her sword towards the stern and the boarding party followed her surging along the deck.

    “No!” the man protested. “I’m a viscount! Ransom! Ransom!”

    Scarlet paused, visibly about to swing the rail down upon him. “Violette, I’m conflicted.”

    “You need to set Vermilion a good example!” Violette called out, reaching the foot of the quarterdeck.

    Her twin pouted -

    Then the viscount drew a pistol suddenly and pointed it directly at Scarlet’s head. “Change of plan! Surrender or she dies!”

    “You coward!” Greg shouted furiously.

    “Better a live coward than a dead hero!”

    “And to whom,” Violette asked the man, still pointing her sword up at him, “Would we be surrendering?”

    “To Viscount Vidal Vor Darian!”

    She nodded. “When you get to hell, tell them that the Ades do not accept false surrenders.”

    There was just enough time for Viscount Darian’s eyes to widen in realisation before Scarlet slammed the rail down on him. The pistol went unfired as the hand, arm and brain required to pull the trigger were driven down through the deck by the crushing blow.

    “Clear the below decks!” Violette ordered.

    Warnings were called down, but no one offered a surrender, so her boarders followed the demands with grenades before they went down.

    Greg whistled slowly, pulling the pistol free of the dead man’s crushed hand. The weapon had survived better than the flesh and bone. The boy slammed the butt down on what was left of the side rail and the gun discharged. “Best not to leave it lying around unfired,” he explained. “Accidents, you know.”

    Violette nodded in understanding and looked for a speaking tube or some other method for the ship’s commander to communicate with the engine room below.

    “You know, I don’t regret breaking things off with your sister,” Greg told her. “Maybe how I did it, but I still don’t think it was ever going to work out.”

    “Is this really the moment for this conversation?”

    He shrugged. “There’s almost never a good moment for a conversation. Anyway, where I was going with that was: don’t take it the wrong way when I say that we make a pretty good team.”

    “Don’t worry.” Violette thought of another young man, one with silver hair and long musician’s fingers. Then she chided herself for thinking of someone engaged - and to one of her friends, at that! “I’m unlikely to fall in love with you, Seberg. But I can work with you.”

    “Great.” The redhead scrambled up onto the quarter-deck and looked around. “You talking about Vermilion - that’s your half-brother, right?”

    “Our younger brother, yes. The new duke.”

    “I guess I should try to set a good example for my own brother, him being the new count and all.” Greg shrugged. “Not sure I’m even welcome.”

    Violette decided not to ask him if he found Marie worth it. She’d found the end of a speaking tube but it wasn’t connected to anything, broken off by a cannon shot at some point. That might explain why this ship was so sluggish earlier.

    “...Lady Ades?” Greg sounded puzzled. “Is it just me, or is the dark magic… moving?”

    Moments ago, they’d watched in horror as the darkness seemed about to blast through the light magic barrier protecting the capital. But now, as Violette looked up, it was retreating. “I think you’re right.”

    “Then have we won?”

    Violette found a spyglass that had somehow survived the carnage and opened it. Through it she could see the tendrils and whorls of shadow pulling back towards the flying island - but they weren’t fading. No, they were coalescing. Forming into something new. Something vast and - she was sure - deadly dangerous.

    “No,” she whispered. “No, we’ve not won yet…”
     
    Compare and Contrast 11-4
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Compare and Contrast

    But do be glad baby when you've found
    That's the power makes the world go 'round
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 4

    No revenge is so heroic than that which torments envy by doing good. ~ Author Unknown​

    Night.

    Darkness.

    Alan felt water on his face, like the rain on the day his mother was buried. What sort of mage hates his own element?

    The room they had charged into was awash with tendrils of darkness, the same that he’d seen ensnaring Keith.

    There were guards inside, but they were rather distracted by the rat-like creature in their midst - from the way clothes and armour had been torn apart, Alan suspected that it had once been a guard.

    Moving through the magic was like wading through a river, if the water was up past your head and you somehow had no buoyancy. Tendrils of dark magic tried to snare at his limbs and Alan slashed at them with his sword, which cut through them without any effect.

    “Stop them!” a nobleman called, his tricorn hat almost falling off as he grabbed the nearest guard.

    Distracted, the guardsman took his eye off the monster, a critical mistake. It turned, faster than Alan would have expected, and gored the man with its tusks.

    The chamber was long and dark, the extent impossible to tell in the darkness. But Alan could see the circle that was the source of the dark magic. A circle, several yards across, from which the darkness radiated like a spider’s web or perhaps an octopus’ tentacles.

    Within the shadows, the woman danced. Her feet were bare, her face ecstatic.

    Alan stumbled as one leg was caught in the magic. His sword was too short to reach and likely useless anyway. He lashed out with his magic, a dart of frozen water tearing through it. The tendril wasn’t destroyed, but it was loosened enough for him to push further.

    Another guard fell, caught by the rat-monster’s tail and dragged around for the beast to chew upon him.

    “Must I do everything myself?” The nobleman drew his light fencing sword and frost formed along it, extending the blade until it was a heavier, jagged rapier of ice.

    Gerald met the man, his own blade surrounded by flames.

    Leaving the duel to his brother, Alan saw one of the guards swept off his feet as he buried the head of a glaive in the monster, trying to hold it in place. Lunging, the young musician grabbed the man and pulled him clear before one clawed foot could pin him to the ground.

    “Th-thanks,” the man exclaimed, and then his eyes widened as he saw who had saved him.

    “One thing at a time!” Alan shouted, lunging in and trying to stab the monster. It yanked its way back, but as it twisted away he was able to grab the shaft of the glaive.

    Lashing out with water, forming a web of strands linking himself, the weapon and the floor, the silver-haired boy barely managed to restrain the much larger monster. It wrenched away again, but right as he found his strength reaching its limit, the man with him grabbed hold as well.

    Razor winds tore through the monster’s fur, spraying blood from superficial wounds. But it was Chris who took the final step, lunging in while the monster was still pinned in place. His sword cut through its throat, spraying the floor with its blood.

    The glaive was forced out of the corpse as it shrunk back into the shape of a man.

    “You fools!” the nobleman called. “Kill them, that’s an order!”

    Alan turned to the man next to him, the pair of them both holding the same glaive. “Are you really going to die for this scumbag?”

    The guard’s face twisted in disdain. “I’m oathsworn to Count Garrett,” he said reluctantly and tried to pull the glaive away from Alan.

    So his brother was fighting the leader of the entire invasion? Better and better! “He’s a traitor to your crown,” the boy pointed out, wrenching the glaive back and wishing he hadn’t dropped his sword.

    Garrett jumped back to avoid a cut from Gerald’s flaming sword. “Liar!”

    “We know you are,” Nicol confirmed, moving like a shadow through the dark magic. “We heard it from Princess Hertrude!”

    “The princess is a captive?!” Alan’s opponent exclaimed in horror.

    “No… she’s our ally. Better Holfort than a dark mage,” he replied, wrestling the glaive away from the distracted man, just in time to deflect an attack from one of the other guards.

    The disarmed guard looked disgusted. “Allying with the kingdom? After they killed her father?!”

    “No, allying with the kingdom against the man who killed her father.” Alan swept the glaive around and disarmed the guard who’d attacked him, and then kicked him in the groin. He didn’t take any pride in that, but when you’re fighting for your life, you do what you must.

    “Lies! All lies!” shouted Garrett, barely holding off both Nicol and Gerald - and only doing so by frantic retreating.

    “We just heard you condemn your own sailors to be turned into monsters,” Julius pointed out and then his arm flashed forwards and Alan’s lost shortsword flashed across the distance between himself and the Count.

    The throw was good and several inches of steel embedded themselves point-first in Garrett’s throat.

    The man fell to the floor, spine likely severed. He tried to choke out words, but blood was gushing from both his mouth and the rent in his neck. Dark tendrils rushed into him eagerly, muscle bulging and bones twisting obscenely beneath.

    And then Gerald’s blade drove into the man’s chest, flames engulfing him, brought to a near white-heat that cast Alan’s brother in a brilliant light as Nicol fed air frantically into them.

    The blackened husk of a dead body died, human once more. And Gerald discarded the sword, blowing on his hand as it had apparently been too hot for even him to hold onto.

    Alan stared at the disarmed soldier in front of him. “Are you going to die for a dead man, a man who betrayed you along with everyone else?”

    “...no.”

    Keith picked up an axe. “You,” he demanded, pointing it at the still dancing woman. “Stop. Now.”

    She obeyed, swaying to a halt facing him. “My experiment.” The woman caught hold of her skirts and curtseyed as she crooned to Keith. “It’s as if you never left.”

    The boy shivered visibly. “My sister would want to give you a second chance. End this spell now. Because I think even she’d forgive me for not offering you a third.”

    Her eyes peered back at them. “Oh? Oh well. Alright then.”

    “Really?” asked Alan sceptically.

    “It’s not perfect,” she admitted, not sounding particularly bothered. “But it’ll do.”

    She raised her hands and the tendrils of darkness began to pulse and swell, drawing themselves slowly back to her.

    Alan swallowed. “What are you doing?”

    Mad eyes gleamed with absurd innocence. “I’ll do as I’m bid. I’ll end it. I’ll end it all!”

    “Stop! Kill her!” Gerald shouted.

    A hurricane of wind crashed into the girl - or rather, into the swelling darkness around her. It did about as much as the water that Alan wasted in the same way a moment later.

    “Always be yourself,” the dark mage declared in a sing-song voice. The darkness was swallowing her, Alan couldn’t see her bare feet any more.

    Then he saw a glimpse of the stone floor and realised with horror that her feet weren’t there at all.

    “Unless,” she added, “you can be the dragon.”

    Keith swore and raised a two metre-lance of stone from the floor, driving it into the cocoon of darkness. It broke apart under the expanding whirl of near-liquid malice.

    “In that case, become the dragon.”

    -

    “What in god’s name is that?” someone shrieked.

    Hertrude Sera Fanoss didn’t have to ask what the question was about. The black mass of dark magic had shrunk away, leaving only the natural clouds to obscure the light of the sun and that reflected from the barrier of light that the three light mages atop the royal skyship continued to project.

    But the dark magic hadn’t vanished. No, it had taken a new form. One that might be more deadly yet.

    She needed no spyglass to see that the mass it had formed around the citadel topping the mountain-sized island Garrett had ordered towed with her fleet was almost the size of the entire island. Whatever it contained was going to be vast, almost beyond imagining.

    The monsters that had broken loose amongst Garrett’s fleet were mostly gone and the rest had been drawn back towards the source of the darkness. As a result, the battle had slowed to a near-halt as all eyes went to the cocoon of magic. The warring fleets had become intermixed and scattered: some skyships were entangled with each other so their crews could fight each other, others descending to the city below as a result of their damage. One unlucky battleship was on fire and Hertrude could see at least three wrecks where ships had crashed down out of the sky without heed for what was beneath them.

    Knights had also fallen, but others remained - some fallen and others had taken their battles down into the streets. Hunting down those maniacs had drawn off a considerable number of the knights assigned to Count Roseblade’s division and when a red and black knight flew up alongside her flagship, Hertrude at first thought it was one of her escort of loyalist Principality knights returning. A moment later she recognised it as Leon’s - the Big Charznable battered but clutching a familiar sword in one hand.

    “Sir Vandel,” she murmured.

    The knight-armour reversed the great black sword and carefully placed it on the deck next to Hertrude. “I can hardly pledge you my own sword,” Leon’s voice called. “But this one is a legacy of your household, I believe. Or perhaps there’s a Zenden heir?”

    “My grandfather granted it to him for his lifetime,” she replied absently. “Sir Leon, do you have any idea what that is over the island?”

    “A million petty hatreds all piled into one place,” the young knight replied grimly. “As… here it comes!”

    The blackness expanded, contracted and then burst open like an egg hatching. The outer layers dissolved as they fell away, leaving behind them a black dragon that was easily the size of the Dreadnought - perhaps longer.

    Spreading its wings wide, the great beast roared… and Hertrude shivered. She could feel the malice of that scream.

    “You may need the sword!” she called out to Leon.

    “...I don’t know if that’ll be enough, but I appreciate the loan.” His knight-armour reached out and lifted the weapon again. “Do you think you can convince your countrymen to change sides now? Because we might all have a larger problem.”

    Hertrude looked around. “I can try. I think their flagship’s been captured - Viscount Darian’s ship looked like it was being boarded. That might help.”

    Leon landed his knight-armour on the deck and opened the hatch. “Here, I’ve got a device here that’ll let you address all the ships.”

    Hertrude ran to it and a sailor cupped his hands to give her a foothold. When she stood facing the bottom of the hatch, Leon tossed her a small device around the size of a pen. “Twist the top, push the ends towards each other and then speak into the top,” he instructed her. “It’ll shut down automatically if you don’t say anything for a while.”

    The princess lowered herself back to the deck and thanked the sailor. “Isn’t this much like what Katarina used to summon a knight-armour?”

    “Same basic principle,” the boy confirmed. He closed the hatch. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

    Her hair was whipped around by the wind generated as the knight-armour took off and she clutched the device. “I hope this works,” the dark-haired girl murmured and twisted the top. Before she could finish the activation programme, there was another roar from the dragon, this one perhaps as much frustrated as angered.

    Staring over the side of the ship, Hertrude saw that the flying island itself was changing shape, great hands of stone reaching up to seize hold of the dragon. Arms followed the hands, unthinkable amounts of earth and stone shifting to reveal a head and shoulders…

    An earth golem in the form of a young woman almost half the size of the dragon tackled the dark magic construct, which flapped ferociously as it tried to get free. Both the monster, the golem and the island - which was tearing itself apart as the golem formed from its substance - lurched towards Holfort’s port island.

    “I’ve never seen earth magic on that scale!” someone exclaimed.

    Hertrude saw the face of the golem and her jaw dropped. She could only think of one earth-mage who would give his golem the face of Katarina Rafa Claes - and she’d not imagined Keith Rafa Claes was so strong. It was a terrifying thought.

    She jabbed the top of the lost item down and heard a click. “Warriors of Fanoss!”

    Her voice boomed out from the Dreadnought, behind and above her as the flagship and its deceptively sleek escort ascended.

    “And all who fight today:” she continued. “ I am Princess Hertrude of Fanoss. I stand today with Holfort! I stand for the light and against the darkness that we see before us! See how the saintess fights for us!” Katarina would probably whine a great deal about being called the Saintess, but that golem was too good a rallying point to ignore. “Stand with us, stand for the light and against the darkness!”

    Lowering the device, Hertrude stopped speaking and wondered how long it would be before she could speak again without the words being repeated to everyone within miles.

    Over in the distance, the dragon finally tore itself away from the golem only to crash directly into the port island, flattening the docks along one side of it almost instantly. Warehouses collapsed, quays broke off and tumbled to the water below. Houses and shops shattered, supplies and goods disintegrated under the impact.

    For a moment, Hertrude thought that that might be the extent of the destruction, but the dragon clambered up upon the ruined side of the island, feet stamping deeper into the ruins, wings furling as it turned, head raised to face the golem.

    What remained of the flying island broke apart and the entire golem - Katarina Rafa Claes, hundreds of feet tall, carved of stone and earth - stepped onto the port, which tipped entirely over and spilled the dragon back into the giant work of earth-magic.

    Both fell, the golem’s hands closing around the dragon, and they crashed into the ocean below. Water fountained up to obscure them and waves began to spread from their location as the port island swung wildly back upright, over-correcting and causing more damage before rolling back and splitting in two under the colossal forces applied.

    Finally, the fountaining water settled enough to reveal the head of Katarina still above the water. The golem wasn’t moving, but its arms were still holding onto the dragon, keeping it from ascending again.

    “All ships!” Hertrude cried out. Her words weren’t repeated. She worked the device again, reactivating it. “All ships! Go after that dragon. Don’t let it go up!”

    There was a sharp crack and shots ranged down, the Dreadnought lowering its nose to bring its guns to bear.

    The royal skyship followed the larger ship, its own weapons firing at the dragon.

    Hertrude’s flagship began to descend and she looked around. For a moment there were just the three of them, before another of the kingdom’s ships followed - a small cruiser with its hull so battered it was hard to believe it could still fight - there were visible vines holding it together!

    Leon’s knight-armour skimmed past the little ship and Hertrude fumbled for a spyglass. There was a small boy gesticulating violently at the knight from the quarterdeck, a green-haired woman knelt behind him, her hands on the wooden boards, which were coming to life again.

    Then more ships began to dive, their forward guns opening up.

    Temple-ships, Holfort royal ships. Levies of the Redgraves, Roseblades, Bartfords… She recognised the Ades’ banner, now flying not only from the little Revenge but also the larger and half-wrecked battleship that had been Viscount Darian’s.

    And finally, Fanossian warships joined the attack, the blunt ugly gunhouses spitting fire at the dragon. Not just those that had followed her earlier. Ship after ship that had served Count Garrett were streaming behind their princess and their ancient enemies, for once joining a common cause.

    With a scream of hatred, the black dragon broke free of the earthen limbs and managed through frantic beating of its wings to take off, rising to meet them.

    -

    A fusillade of fire hammered relentlessly at the dragon from every direction as the ships circled it, firing their cannon as fast as they could reload. Not a moment went by that cannonballs weren’t hammering it…

    The sound and sight of the fury of over a hundred warships’ full might unleashed at once would have been awe-inspiring - if it had seemed to do more than pain the black behemoth. Shot after shot hit it, but there were no visible wounds and to Katarina’s eye, it seemed as if the cannonballs simply vanished into the shadowy mass rather than piercing any flesh.

    And the black dragon was hitting back. Its wings swatted knight-armours from the sky, its claws had smashed open two skyships that she’d seen. And its breath was dark magic. No one wanted to be touched by those streamers of darkness, so it was fortunate that the light magic barrier that Olivia was maintaining with Angelica and Katarina’s help had thus far kept it from hitting any ships.

    “This isn’t working,” Angelic worried between shots from the Unicorn’s guns. Like before, the cannon had sent the dragon shrieking away from the skyship it had been trying to seize hold of, but the respite was brief for it recovered from the pain almost immediately.

    “It’s not exactly a monster is it?” Katarina agreed, still gripping the hands of the other two girls. “Maybe it’s an illusion… no, in that case it couldn’t hit anything.”

    “I think it’s mostly dark magic.” Olivia was pale-faced. “But the barrier isn’t doing anything to it - I don’t think I’m even touching it with light magic.”

    That was a problem, thought Katarina. She wasn’t dumb, she knew light magic was the best thing against dark magic. It had shielded the city… well, mostly. But…

    Oh wait. She was being silly. You don’t hit people with a shield… well, except under certain particular circumstances and only if they really deserved it… Where was she going with that? Oh, okay, so think of it as a monster. Hitting a monster, you didn’t want to use a shield - they were heavy and blocked your line of sight. IT was better to use a pick or a sword.

    Ha, this must be how Gerald felt, figuring something out!

    Thinking of her technical fiance, Katarina turned to Angelica. “We need to use a blazing sword!”

    “A what?”

    “We need to use light magic like it’s a sword, not a shield.”

    The red-eyed blonde frowned in thought. “We tried doing that at the ministry, but it didn’t work.”

    Olivia made an apologetic noise.

    ‘That’s actually brilliant,’ Ann declared in Katarina’s head, apparently realising what she had in mind. Was she reading Katarina’s mind? ‘How else would I communicate with you?’ the saintess (still wearing a maid’s outfit in Katarina’s imagination) asked perplexedly.

    “But I think I know what we did wrong!” the brunette exclaimed to the others.

    Larna cleared her throat. “Normally I wouldn’t say that this is a good time for experimentation,” the researcher observed. “But we need some options. Even the black knight’s sword didn’t hurt the dragon.”

    “Oh, is he fighting for us too?”

    “No, Katarina. Leon has that sword now,” Angelica explained.

    She nodded. “Well we need to use our own.”

    “What sword do you mean, Lady Katarina?”

    “Angie is our sword,” she explained to Olivia. “Do you remember what Larna told her to do to help us focus the shield?”

    “Ah!” Larna exclaimed. “I see. That could work.” She pursed her lips. “Or possibly set you on fire.”

    “I’m sure I’ll be fine, right Ann?”

    ‘Probably,’ the Saintess declared calmly. ‘I admit I’ve not tried this myself.’

    Well, they had to do something! “Drop the barrier,” she directed.

    Olivia obeyed and Angelica stopped directing her own magic through Katarina to support it.

    Katarina tried to envisage the magic flowing through her the other way, and then gave up and let go of the other girls, turning around and then grabbing their hands again so that now her right hand was holding Angelica’s right hand, and her left holding Olivia’s left hand. It also meant that Katarina didn’t have to look at the giant stone golem with her own face that was under the battle, which was a relief. That was so embarrassing!

    This admittedly left her looking away from the dragon and towards Larna Smith, who looked amused. “Alright, Katarina. Are you ready?” the Director asked.

    “Uh huh!”

    Olivia began to glow with her magic and then focused it into the hand linking her to Katarina. The brunette could feel the hairs on the back of her hand and arm prickle as her friend’s light flowed into her, the Saint’s Bracelet visibly glowing as the power surged into her.

    Then it wasn’t just the hair on her arm, she felt her mane of silky brown hair rising up and a warm, strong, comforting light flowed through her.

    (Unknown to Katarina, her eyes were visibly glowing.)

    With a gasp, the girl repeated what she’d been doing before, taking the magic - so much magic, far more than what she’d felt when Angelica was helping to empower the barrier - and channelling it through to the braided girl.

    Angelica swallowed audibly as the tide of magic reached her. She clutched at the Saintess’ Sceptre and an aura of white flames began to form around her.

    “Amazing,” murmured Larna, eyes fixed upon the three of them as the flames around Angelica rose higher and higher, so intense that Katarina thought she could almost feel them. Pressure was building within the brunette, as if the magic was backed up and flowing into her faster than Angelica could accept it.

    “Oh god,” the daughter of the Duke Redgrave murmured. “It’s too much. I can’t take it!”

    “Let it go!” Katarina shouted, craning her head around to look at the other girl. “Don’t hold it in, use it!”

    Angelica Rafa adjusted her grip upon the sceptre, holding it like a sword’s hilt, and then she pointed it out over the edge of the sword. “HOLY SWORD!” the girl cried out, and swung the relic as if she was cutting at something.

    There was a flash of white light.

    A sound so fierce that it was as if thunder was rolling right upon them.

    Katarina felt the pressure ebb to something sustainable. Olivia sidestepped around, helping her to turn and see what they were doing, her left hand still in the taller girl’s, her right arm half-embracing her.

    A line of silver-white fire blazed down from the Unicorn’s deck, from the Saintess’ Sceptre, a foot across as it left the relic, a haloed by a scattershot of flames almost like a sword’s hilt. When it reached the dragon it seemed barely needle-thick - though Katarina wasn’t sure if it was diminishing in width or simply so far away that it looked like that.

    For a moment she thought that it was doing nothing more than the cannonfire. Angelica was trembling and if she’d had a free hand, Katarina would have given her a hug. The dragon wasn’t moving though - or rather, it was struggling as if the beam had skewered it and pinned in place - it wasn’t moving around, was what she meant!

    “It’s not enough,” Olivia gasped.

    “It’s doing something,” Larna disagreed. “Girls, I hate to say this… but you need to give it more oomf.”

    “I’m trying!” Angelica protested. “I can’t handle more.”

    “You’re stronger than you think,” Katarina told her. “We can do this.”

    “Lady Katarina, I’m not sure you can,” warned Olivia. “You’re glowing.”

    “I can do this all day! At this point I practically have.”

    ‘You can’t,” Ann corrected her quietly. “But the director is correct. I think a little more will be enough. Focus on happy memories. Positive emotions will help.”

    “We need to think happy thoughts,” she told the others. “Just a little more should do it.”

    Olivia leant against Katarina, perhaps strained by the impact, the taller girl thought worriedly. But then with a surge of joyous energy, more magic flowed through the bond between them. Unfortunately, there was the same pressure as before.

    “I… I can’t…” Angelica cried out.

    “Think of something happy, Angie!” Katarina demanded again, leaning forwards to speak into Angelica’s ear and whispering as discreetly as she could: “Is there someone you like?”

    The other duke’s daughter eeped slightly and the line of silver fire wobbled slightly… And then the pressure faded and the beam of light magic widened visibly.

    The black dragon threw back its head once more and roared, almost like Gojira.

    And then it exploded, wisps of blackness hurled across the sky and fading out. The clouds above parted, sunlight streaming down upon the golem and the massed skyships.

    For a moment, Katarina thought she saw a girl in a dark dress falling out of the midst of that but then she was unable to watch as she, Angelica and Olivia all fell over in a heap. It was hard to say which was on top and who was on the bottom, with how tangled they were. Angelica even dropped the Saint’s Sceptre and only quick action by Larna stopped the ancient relic from rolling off the deck and falling off the Unicorn.

    “Did it work?” Katarina asked, not even trying to stand. Her limbs all felt tingly.

    “It worked,” Larna assured them, resting the sceptre against her shoulder. “The dragon’s gone and I don’t see anything left of it. Or anything else appearing.”

    Olivia managed to work a hand free. “I should be able to heal any injury you took.”

    “No!” exclaimed the older woman, taking Olivia’s hand and then helping her to work free. “If there was any injury due to overuse of light magic then more light magic is the last thing to do.”

    The scholarship student gulped. “Oh no, I’m sorry!”

    “It’s okay.”

    ‘You’ll be alright with some rest,’ Ann told her. ‘I can’t tell about the other two, but my many-times-removed niece may find she’s developed some small ability with light magic the way you did. Or maybe not. I’ve never tried this before so it’s unexplored territory.’

    Katarina relayed this as she and Angelica untangled themselves slowly, staying flat on the deck.

    “Don’t experiment,” Larna warned Angelica. “Not now, anyway. Take time to recover and then we can try a few tests at the Ministry.”

    “I’ll be careful.” The girl reached over and put her hand around Katarina’s. “How bad are the casualties?”

    “That’ll be a while working out. Quite a few ships made it to the water and are still afloat, so not as bad as it could be.” Larna looked out over the side, then raised her spyglass. “Well… I’ll be deuced.” Her shoulders lost some of their tension. “Look who’s clinging to the side of that giant statue of you.”

    Katarina tried to sit up but her limbs still felt more like limps. “I’m not sure I can get up.”

    “Ah, well the good news is that unless my eyes deceive me, your brother is alive, not that I had much doubt. Only a very powerful earth mage could have created a golem that size. He must have exhausted himself, but… yes, it’s got to be him - he’s with my twin brothers-in-law.”

    “Your brothers-in-law?” asked Olivia.

    Larna unpinned her hair and combed it loose with her fingers. “I’m married to Gerald and Alan’s older brother. I prefer to keep it a secret because duchesses aren’t supposed to have jobs, and people start thinking that I got my job due to influence rather than being good at it.”

    “They’re alright then,” Angelica sighed. “That’s a relief. Where are they?”

    “Clinging to the statue,” Larna told her. “I see your former fiancee with them - I think I see Lord Ascart and Lord Arclight as well but I can’t tell. There’s a skyship headed down to recover them, so they should all be fine.”

    Katarina “That’s a relief.”

    Angelica giggled from next to Katarina. “I just realised, the temple will be completely convinced you’re the Saintess’ reborn now. You’ve got a giant statue of you right in view of the capital. Everyone will take that as a sign.”

    “Oh no!”

    Larna also chuckled. “Well, you two won’t get off scot free. What was it that you said Katarina. Sword and shield? So you’ll be the Saintess’ sword and shield or something like that, when the temple writes down their account of this.”

    Olivia cringed slightly, kneeling next to Katarina. She’d taken hold of one of her hands and was holding it on her lap.

    “Perhaps we could destroy the statue?” asked Katarina hopefully. “Not another fiery sword attack, but we could ask Ian to shoot at it with the Unicorn.”

    “No, Katarina.”

    “Or Leon could use the Dreadnought!”

    Angelica squeezed her hand lightly. “It would just get him into trouble for defacing it.”

    She would have hung her head, if it wasn’t already resting on the deck. “What was Keith thinking?!” Her villainous face wasn’t just going to be in the history books, it was going to be on view to everyone forever!

    “Probably about you?” Larna suggested. “He is in love with you, after all.”

    Katarina groaned. And she still had no idea what to do about that! Would rejecting him be a death flag? She might as well discard all her notes about the game because right now, her life had nothing in common with it.
     
    Compare and Contrast 11-5
  • drakensis

    Well-known member
    Compare and Contrast

    But do be glad baby when you've found
    That's the power makes the world go 'round
    ~ Huey Lewis​

    Chapter 5

    Living well is the best revenge. ~ George Herbert​

    The day after the battle, the city of Holfort was still marked by the damage done. But the fires were out, the wounded recovered and so too were most of the dead. Those who had survived would have a great deal to do… but today, with the most immediate actions taken, had been declared a day of celebration.

    The city’s great square, between the palace and the temple, had been cleared of market stalls to serve as a landing place for skyships during the battle. Now it was crammed with thousands upon thousands of citizens, with many more aboard skyships that hovered in ceremonial ranks low above the city.

    A hasty but heartfelt service giving thanks for the victory had brought almost every surviving knight and noble into the temple - the citizenry had shared in it from outside, the prayers and preaching relayed by loud-voiced priests. They were occasionally drowned out by cheers as someone caught a glimpse of Katarina, Angelica or Olivia - or thought that they had.

    Leon didn’t get cheers like that, and he was quite happy with that. Ultimately, the three of them had saved the day, while he was - at best - one of the many other people that had contributed.

    Marshals had kept the temple’s stairs clear as much as they could and now the nobility filtered out to stand to the left and right of the broad front of the building, wearing whatever finery they had been able to obtain - borrow in several cases, where their homes had been among those destroyed. Leon had been sitting with his family inside but as the family left, he broke off and joined Clarice in helping Count Atlee.

    Bernard Fia Atlee was missing most of one leg. Even some care from one of the few adult light mages available, he probably shouldn’t be out of his bed, but he was stubbornly intent on not missing this event. The older man was leaning heavily on his daughter and Leon, the two of them carrying him as much as they were supporting him.

    He wasn’t the only wounded person and Leon would have preferred to just carry the man in a chair, but there wasn’t enough room with the nobles crammed onto the stairs. Knights and other gentry had to actually watch from inside the temple, which didn’t give them a very good view.

    “People of Holfort,” Queen Mylene declared, her voice carried across the square by Count Ascart’s wind magic. “Together with allies we never expected, we have triumphed over Christophe Vor Garrett and the dark magic that he unleashed upon our kingdom. Many are the heroes who have played a part in this victory -”

    She had to pause as cheers rose up, along with chants of “the Saintess!” “the Saint’s Sword” and “the Saint’s Shield.”

    After a moment, Mylene raised her hand for silence. “Many are the heroes,” she repeated once she had something close to quiet. “And not all of them are with us today. Too many to name, too many to ever forget. One loss is personal to me, and significant to all of you. King Roland Rafa Holfort is among the many who fell in battle, opening the way for the brave knights who slew Count Garrett. It may be only one loss among many… but it leaves our kingdom without a king.”

    The queen lowered her head for a moment, then squared her shoulders. “Before the battle, his highness told me his wishes in terms of the succession.”

    For many of the crowd, this would be the first they heard about the succession. It was less than a year since Prince Julius had been removed as Crown Prince and many probably assumed that he would still become the new king, both because no one else had specifically been named and because he had been among those who found and killed Garrett.

    Taking out a scroll, Mylene held it up for all to see - not that anyone would be able to read it. “This is the last decree of King Roland, in which he formally adopts our nephew Ian Rafa Stuart as his son and the new crown prince of Holfort. Prince Ian, please join us.”

    Wearing the same white suit he’d worn for their marriage, Ian walked forwards with Selena on his arm. Fortunately she had something to wear other than her wedding dress - unlike the Stuart mansion, the Berg estate had suffered only minor damage.

    “Is that true?” Clarice asked very quietly. “I know Ian and Selena activated the royal ship, but…”

    Leon smiled. Luxion had worked the document up for him to give to Mylene. It should look genuine. This was hardly the place to admit the falsehood though. On the other hand, lying to Clarice would be an unfortunate step. “Truth, justice and love are all human creations,” he told her instead. “It’s true if we all accept it as so. And look out there.”

    He pointed out at the crowd, where cheering was rising up at the sight of a young, handsome prince and a beautiful princess being presented to them.

    “They’re off to a good start,” Count Atlee murmured. “The royal ship is good, but a real king has to have support as well as fear.”

    Leon nodded.

    “Tell me, Leon,” the man asked. “Did you ever consider trying to unseal the ship along with my daughter?”

    The boy glanced at the man. “I suppose that if no one else managed to open it, we could have tried. But I have to say, I don’t think it would have done us any favours as a couple. Can you think of anything less romantic than putting numbers on love? What if one of us scored less than the other by whatever the standard the seal measures by?”

    Clarice made a face. “It doesn’t seem to have worried the happy couple.”

    “By sheer chance, they both scored exactly the same,” he told her. “Perhaps it wouldn’t have harmed their relationship, but… it makes me nervous. I’m not going to blame you if you disagree with me.”

    The girl looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I guess if I’d gone through it with Jilk thinking that we loved each other and found the truth out like that…” She shook her head. “Although, I don’t think your feelings are fake.”

    “Fake or not, do you think we love each other as much as they do?” Leon asked, pointing at the pair now standing before Mylene.

    “Perhaps not,” she admitted, reaching up and touching the choker she was wearing. “Before we…” Then she frowned. “Who’s that?”

    Leon followed her gaze up to the stairs, where a hooded figure was carrying a crown on a cushion. “Hard to say, I presume that the hood is to keep us from knowing?”

    “It’s traditional at a coronation for the daughter of a high noble household to carry the crown to the king,” Count Roseblade told them.

    “But who?” asked Clarice. “It’s not one of the Ades twins, or Angelica - I can see them. But they’re too small to be Mary or Katarina.”

    “They’re not that short,” Leon pointed out. The long blue hooded robe hid features but not so much height or - “...oh.”

    “You’re slow today,” the girl said with a little laugh. “But seriously, I think I know every viable candidate in the capital.”

    “Be patient,” her father told her with a slight smile. “She’ll lower her hood once he’s crowned.”

    Queen Mylene accepted the state crown from the cushion and raised it high. “Ian Rafa Holfort, do you swear to defend and govern the kingdom of your ancestor in the light of the Saintess?”

    “With god’s help, I shall,” the young man pledged solemnly.

    “Will you rule in accordance with the laws and customs of our land, exercising the justice that is the marriage of law and mercy?”

    Ian glanced sideways at Selena, a very slight smile touching his lips, before replying: “With the help of the lords and ladies of this kingdom, I shall do so.”

    The queen - or rather, the queen dowager now, Leon thought - lowered the crown until it was just above the golden hair of the prince. “People of Holfort, do you accept this prince as your king?”

    It was a formulaic question, there was no constitutional right of the people to object, but the stage management had more or less ensured that the crowd cheered enthusiastically at the notion.

    With what appeared to be relief, Mylene placed the crown upon Ian’s head. Count Roseblade and Leon’s father stepped out, holding an ermine cloak that they quickly secured around the young man’s shoulders. It didn’t take two of them to carry it, but securing the heavy garment quickly went much easier with four hands working. Leon thought that Barcus looked quite bemused to be part of the hastily organised coronation.

    Mylene turned Ian around before moving to stand at his side, mirroring Selena. “People of the kingdom, I present your new king. And then she reached up and removed her own tiara, letting her silver-blonde hair fall loose around her shoulders, handing it to him.

    Ian accepted the tiara, but before turning to Selena, he leant over and murmured something to the dowager (who looked of an age that she could as easily have been the woman married to him). Leaving her blinking slightly, the new king held the tiara before him. “My people, it is our custom that no man should be without a wife to stand beside him. And I am blessed to have at my side the wise, kind and beautiful lady you see before you.” He settled the tiara on Selena’s bowed head, then gently pushed her straight so he could kiss her cheek. Both of the royal couple were flushed as Ian proclaimed. “My people, your new queen!”

    The cheering hid Clarice’s gasp as the girl who’d brought out the crown finally threw back her heavy hood, freeing long dark hair. “Hertude?!”

    “Indeed,” her father told her. “You’ll understand shortly.”

    “Fanoss is rejoining the kingdom?”

    “Or immediately, I suppose,” he admitted.

    Clarice smiled him brightly and then glanced at Leon. “Did you know?”

    “It was mentioned during the war council, but I didn’t know she’d be carrying the crown,” he admitted. “I wasn’t involved in planning today’s ceremonies.”

    “Better to keep a low profile,” the count agreed as Mylene moved around to kneel to Ian in homage - just the first of the many who would do so. The newly crowned king raised her back to his feet and insistently drew her back to stand at his side when she tried to retreat. Clearly he had not the slightest intention of letting Roland’s queen depart court - at least until his reign was well-established “Speaking of which,” Bernard added. “I believe you should be aware of the academy’s upcoming exchange programme with its counterpart in the Alzer Commonwealth?”

    “I am.” And Leon was planning to sign up for it, however much it risked hurting his relationship with Clarice. The prospects of what would happen if matters were left to follow their natural path were clear in the books. He could hope that - as here - there would be other unexpected factors that could save the day. But trusting to hope alone when millions of lives were at risk was not something Leon liked the idea of.

    The count sighed. “I’m going to ask you a large favour, Leon.”

    He gave the man leaning on his shoulder a curious look as Julius led his half-siblings up to swear to their adopted brother. Both Layne and Erika seemed rather bemused at the events, wearing mourning colours for their father - although Leon saw the boy give Violette Rafa Ades a long look as he went up the steps. “I’m listening.”

    “It would be a great reassurance to me if you were one of next year’s exchange students,” the one-legged man admitted.

    “Daddy! Are you trying to get rid of Leon?” asked Clarice, barely keeping her voice down.

    “No, dear. I’m going to Alzer. I’m the kingdom’s treasurer, and we paid a very heavy price to win this war. Keeping our finances stable will require large loans and the Commonwealth is our best shot at that. The pension reforms Leon suggested to me will be necessary just to keep the costs of what we must pay to the widows left by two major defeats under control and that’s only one part of the financial burden.”

    “And you want me there too?”

    “Not officially, but the Commonwealth’s nobles can be difficult.” The count looked regretful. “Their great tree provides them immense defence advantages so they’re often arrogant. Out of the original seven noble families who rule Alzer, we previously had close ties with the Lespinasse household, the leading house. It was an advantageous relationship but after their downfall we’ve lacked access to the six remaining families. If things go poorly, I may need to leave quickly and if any skyship can get out of the Commonwealth then I believe it would be the Dreadnought.”

    Clarice’s face grew stern. “Are you serious?”

    “It is a huge favour,” her father admitted. “I’m not trying to keep you away from Clarice, Leon. Or to use that relationship as leverage… But I would feel much better about this if you were available as a hidden asset.”

    “You just lost your leg! You shouldn’t even be here! Much like going to Alzer!” Her voice was rising, drawing attention as Hertrude joined the other ducal representatives to wear allegiance to Ian. The princess was the only one representing herself - the new Duke Ades was a child, Duke Berg, Claes and Stuart were guarding the borders and Duke Redgrave was still recovering from his own wounds. It was likely the five dukes didn’t even know what the outcome of the war was.

    “Clarice,” the count said quietly, “The kingdom’s survived, but only just. And between the travel times and leaving my regular duties behind, this is the closest thing I can take in terms of light duties.”

    Duchess Suzanna Rafa Stuart knelt to her brother-in-law on behalf of Duke Jeffrey. She looked immaculate and Leon couldn’t tell just by looking how frustrated she was that she had to attend this instead of ‘doing something useful’, even though he knew via Cleare that she was eager to go back to examining Angelica for the after-effects of her use of light magic against the black dragon.

    Leon’s lover bit her lip. “Alright, but I’m going with you.”

    “It’s dangerous. And besides, it’s your final year.”

    She raised her chin. “I’m sure an exception can be made. And if it’s so dangerous, then you need someone to to look after you, father.”

    “That’s what Leon’s…”

    “Leon can’t make sure you eat and rest.”

    Hertrude pledged her own fidelity to Ian, ending without much fuss the long rift between Fanoss and Holfort. Once her oaths had been given, she made way for Keith Rafa Claes and moved over to stand near Leon and the two Atlees.

    Bernard gave Leon a hopeful look as Keith not only swore allegiance but was knighted for his part in the

    “I’ll go,” the boy said. “But if you’re arguing with Clarice, I’m sorry - you’re on your own. I’ll disagree with her often enough, I think.” He really wasn’t happy about her going to Alzer, given the entitlement that their nobles felt to anything and anyone that caught their eye. But he also had precisely zero authority to forbid her. “However, I’d be really grateful if you promised me one thing, Clarice.”

    “I’m listening.”

    “If I say we’re leaving the Commonwealth, help me drag your father aboard the Dreadnought.”

    She nodded decisively. “Deal.”

    “You’re not supposed to gang up on me until you’re married,” complained the count.

    Hertrude reached them and then took Leon’s other arm. “Sir Leon, I trust that you’ve recovered from yesterday’s exertions?”

    Leon looked over at Bernard and mouthed ‘help?’

    The count smiled. “I’m sorry, you’re on your own.”

    -

    After swearing her little brother’s allegiance to the new king, Violette found herself standing next to Alan and Mary. She gave the other girl an apologetic look and was about to move on, but the brunette caught her arm. “Do keep Alan company while I represent father,” she requested.

    Before Violette could respond, she was left behind with the prince. They stared at each other for a moment.

    “Is she alright?” the girl asked, indicating her companion’s fiancee.

    Alan shrugged. “I thought so, but she’s not exactly happy with the sudden idea that she’ll be the next Marchioness Hunt.”

    “Not that there will be many Marchionesses.” Of the six marquis households, only the Randalls and Hunts seemed to have much future. The Field family had been essentially eradicated, while most potential successors to the Dieke and Frampton titles had been with the Blue fleet when it was destroyed by Garrett. That left the disgraced Mason household, which seemed likely to be demoted to ‘mere’ Counts in the near future.

    Lord Isak Randall pledged his brother’s allegiance to the new king and Mary followed suit on behalf of her father. As the two of them withdrew, Alan’s elder brother addressed the gaping lack of two-thirds of the marquis households directly.

    “In the absence of clear heirs to the Frampton and Field marquisates, and the continued absence of Marquis Dieke; I will be appointing royal governors to administer their domains for the next two years,” Ian announced. “These officials will exercise all the responsibilities of the marquis and in two cases will investigate irregularities such as the whereabouts of Marquis Dieke and allegations of Marquis Frampton conspiring with Count Garrett. Anyone who wishes to make a claim that they are the rightful heir to the three marquisates may present their case to my court for consideration.”

    Violette smiled slightly. “That’s shrewd of your brother. If no convincing claims are made then he can potentially bestow those islands on whoever he chooses.”

    The silver-haired young man nodded. “Yeah. God, I’m glad I’m not in his shoes. Hopefully he and Selena will give me lots of nephews to spoil.”

    “And to stand between you and the succession.”

    She saw him smile. “And that, yeah.”

    Somehow they’d moved closer together and Mary, rather than returning to Alan, had vanished into the temple. “Do you see Mary?”

    “I suspect she’d gone looking for Katarina.”

    Violette nodded. Her cousin was trying desperately not to be dragged into the spotlight, despite the best efforts of the temple to win her over.

    While Ian announced the new governors and their royal governors - the one surprising name to Violette was that Lord Nicol Fia Ascart was named as vice governor of the Field domain to assist Baron Wulfenbach in re-organising the ravaged lands - she found someone on her other side, someone she wasn’t entirely eager to see.

    “Shouldn’t you be waiting to be knighted?” she asked Chris Fia Arclight drily.

    He nodded ruefully. “I’m not really sure I deserve it - I didn’t do much.”

    “I think you have a skewed sense of scale there,” Alan told him, looking past Violette. “I’m not turning it down and you did about as much as I did.”

    Chris shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. But I do have a question for you, Violette. If you don’t mind, that is. It’s just, you’re going back to Ades after the coronation, aren’t you?”

    “I’m going there.” Though not back, as such. Violette had no recollection of the duchy - she might have seen it as a baby but she wasn’t sure she’d ever actually been there. Her entire life, home had been the Ades mansion here in the capital. But Scarlet wanted to show it to her, and her stepmother - thankfully, without her father she no longer had to force herself to think of the woman as her mother at all times - would need some help taking up the reins as regent for Vermilion. “A chance to get to know my brother and stepmother without father getting in the way.” That had sounded less harsh in her head, but she didn’t take the words back either. “What do you want to know?”

    “I realise it may be too personal,” her former-fiance admitted. “But looking back, while we were at the academy you did stop following me and pe… ah, and seeking my attention.”

    “Pestering,” she said flatly.

    The swordsman pinked. “My apologies.”

    Alan pulled her slightly closer, almost protectively. Wait, when had she put her hand on his arm? She didn’t remember doing that. “It’s not an unfair description of my behaviour,” Violette admitted. “Your question?”

    “I’m not saying you didn’t have reason to stop, but… I’d like to know why - because,” he added quickly, “I can make guesses but I’ve misconstrued your actions before. As Prince Alan once pointed out, and for which I apologise. It seemed… simplest to ask.”

    Violette exhaled slowly. “Alright.” She sought words for her feelings, and found some that sounded right to her. “I was behaving much like Marie did.”

    Chris frowned slightly but declined to protest, letting her continue.

    “At first I resented that you responded to her rather than me,” she admitted. “But I was also curious as to why she acted as she did. And when I investigated, I concluded - perhaps wrongly, we’ve never discussed it - that she saw the five of you as a way to escape her family. Who are awful.”

    “Yes,” the boy admitted. “There is probably something to that. I do think that there’s more to it than that, but that probably was part of her motive.”

    “And then I looked in a mirror, and realised that whether that’s true or not, it’s why I was chasing you. As an escape from my family.”

    “I thought you had a happy family?” Chris asked. “Was I really missing that much?”

    “I hated them,” Violette told him simply. “I was supposed to treat Lady Elfa like my mother - or what my father considered to be proper treatment of a mother, which was nothing like the only mother I’d ever known. A brother and sister - don’t ask me how a sister is supposed to treat siblings because until then I’d never known I had any. And a father who decreed we would all be one big happy family but never shared how that was supposed to work, just punished me for not meeting his unstated standards.” She met Chris’ eyes and he flinched back. “You missed one hell of a lot.”

    “I… see. I’m sorry.”

    She smiled slightly. “Perhaps it’s for the best that we’re not engaged any more, Lord Arclight. I don’t think you’re a bad person overall, but we’re not suited to each other. I hope that you find happiness with Marie, and I will seek my own happiness.”

    Chris nodded. “I hope you succeed, Lady Ades.”

    “Why are you asking about Violette’s feelings?” asked Alan. “Is it really your business now?”

    “Perhaps not,” the aqua-haired boy admitted, adjusting his glasses. “But since I failed so miserably in my previous relationship, I should at least try to learn from it. I suppose I can’t really blame Marie if one of her reasons for looking at me was as an escape from her family, when I turned to her as a less literal escape from my own. It’s one reason that I agree that we’re ill-matched, Lady Ades.”

    “Because I wanted your family instead of my own? Yes, I see that.”

    “Thank you,” Chris agreed. “I’ll see you at the academy I suppose. Perhaps next year will be a little less adventurous.”

    “I hope so. I don’t think the kingdom can handle much more.”

    Violette watched him move away. Counts and their families were still offering their submissions. Perhaps Chris had also wanted to distract himself from the fact that his father wasn’t leading the line for that. Count Atlee had to be half-carried, which also slowed things down a little - but his wound was honourably received and Count Ascart, who was next after him, had brought his fellow court lord back from the battlefield and didn’t seem to mind.

    “If you don’t mind another question on that topic?” Alan asked her cautiously.

    She gave him a smile. “You can ask, I may not answer.”

    He nodded. “If you felt such… resentment for Scarlet, what changed there?”

    “Talking to you.”

    “To me?”

    Violette smiled. “You used to resent how you were compared to Gerald, isn’t that what you told me?”

    “When I was younger, yes. Mind you, I resented everyone back then. I even resented Katarina for being Mary’s friend, if you can believe it?”

    “You resented Katarina?” That was hard to believe.

    He gave her a wry look. “I hadn’t met her back then.”

    “That would explain it, yes. But yes. Your reconciliation with Gerald persuaded me that perhaps I was blaming Scarlet when she had no more say in our parents’ behaviour than I did.”

    Alan nodded in understanding and fell silent. He didn’t move away and Violette continued to hold his hand. It was… nice. Mary was lucky to be marrying him. But at least Violette was free to try and find someone now. It wasn’t as if her father would be forcing someone else on her.

    -

    It was the same room that Queen Mylene had castigated them in before the treasure hunting expedition they’d gone on over the winter, and mostly the same people were present. To Marie’s mind, it might as well have been all of them. By unspoken agreement, Brad’s seat had been left empty.

    “His highness, King Ian, has agreed that I can deal with the five of you in any way I please,” the now-dowager queen told them in a subdued voice. “His only requirement is that you are to avoid further scandals, to the extent that you can.”

    Greg bristled. “It’s not like we’re trying to cause scandals.”

    “The fact that you’ve managed it without trying doesn’t say much for your ability to avoid them,” the silver-haired woman pointed out. Her voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. Marie didn’t think she was really even being critical of them. “But you’ve earned a second chance.”

    It wouldn’t have surprised Marie if that had led to exclamations of triumph from the boys, but what it elicited was actually a thoughtful “A second chance for what?” from Jilk.

    Mylene smiled slightly. “There you have some choices. A limited number, but choices. Be aware though, whatever you decide, you will have to live with it. As will I.”

    Marie leant forwards. “Could I ask what those choices are?”

    The woman met her gaze evenly and then, to Marie’s surprise, she smiled slightly. “Firstly, you can continue at the academy as you are. In the special class, with all the expectations of that. Expressly, that means that you will be expected to be married within a year or so of graduating. As many concerns as there are about that custom, it isn’t something to change over time.”

    “I don’t have a problem with that!” Julius told his mother and then beamed at Marie.

    “Even though only one of you can marry Lady Lafan?” Mylene asked gently.

    “Well … yes…” Julius looked at the others. “Ah…”

    Chris adjusted his glasses. “It also means that three of us would have to marry other people.”

    “Those who attend the special class, yes.” The woman shrugged lightly. “You don’t have to all choose the same option. But the special class is too high profile for you to continue without conforming to some social expectations.”

    The prince’s face was pink with embarrassment. “But - !”

    “Julius.” Marie looked at him steadily. “Let’s hear the other options before we jump into anything.”

    With an approving look, Mylene continued: “You could also transfer to the general class. As knights without any expectation of inheriting anything, that is where the four of you technically belong. Lady Lafan’s status would normally require that she stay in the special class as a noblewoman but I believe an exception can be made if she wants. I can’t definitively promise that you wouldn’t have to make marriages when you’re older, but it would be considerably easier to look the other way about such customs if you’re simply knights. It certainly allows any decisions to be pushed off for a few years and the situation may be better then.”

    “So no promises,” challenged Jilk. “Just…”

    “Time and space to see how things develop,” the dowager confirmed mildly. “I’m not trying to get rid of Lady Lafan, or of telling you that you must marry someone else. But so long as you remain part of Holfort’s society, that pressure and expectation will exist.”

    “What else are you suggesting?” asked Chris.

    “The last option I’ve discussed with the new king is that you simply drop out of the academy. We can arrange for a small island to be divided between you as baronets. There would be very few expectations of how you behave there, but other than some supplies you would need to support yourselves for a few years. No purchases, very few luxuries, and you would have to remain there for at least the next two years.” Mylene rubbed her forehead. “Any finances would have to be in the hands of someone responsible, since your conduct over the last year means I have very little faith in your ability to not waste money frivolously. Lady Lafan would be acceptable, boys, but none of you would. After you’ve reached the point that you’d have graduated, the restrictions could be eased.”

    “It sounds like we’d practically be prisoners there,” Greg explained.

    Mylene nodded serenely, “That’s right.”

    “That can’t be right!”

    “We are all prisoners of our station, Greg,” the woman told him. “At least you have a choice in your cell. And, if it helps, with the last option there would really be no limits on your relationship. In fact, the five of you would be stuck with each other. How that turns out would be entirely up to you.”

    “How are you trapped?”

    “Ian insists that I serve as one of his royal counsellors.” Mylene looked very weary and Marie remembered suddenly that she had essentially lost everything over the last year. Her husband’s death left her no defined role, and Julius’s rebellion against his old life meant that she now had little place with it. “It’s not a role I ever sought. But he was insistent.”

    “He couldn’t exactly force you.”

    “Jilk, why do you think she can offer us options?” Marie asked him sharply.

    Julius looked up at her sharply and then over at his mother. “Is that true?”

    “I don’t know what options might be offered if I declined,” she told him. “But if you would rather have had the conversation with… well, Klaus is off to look after the Field marquisate, but one of the other heralds…”

    “You didn’t… you shouldn’t have to do that!” the young man protested.

    “Julius, I’m your mother. If I don’t look out for you, who will?”

    “Thank you,” Marie told Mylene, sincerely. The woman looked surprised at the response.

    “...yeah,” Greg conceded. “You’re right. Thank you, your highness. And… I don’t regret what I’ve done, but I’m sorry it hurt you.”

    “What’s done is done,” she told him. “If you need some time to think about your options, I’ll give you as much time as I can. But it’s only a few weeks before the academy starts again and we’ll need to know before then.”

    Julius frowned. “You want us out of sight and out of mind?” he asked, his tone curious rather than confrontational.

    “...uh, essentially, yes?”

    The prince drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Mother, I’ve heard a rumour that Princess Hertrude will be going to the Alzer Commonwealth for a year rather than returning to Fanoss.”

    “That is correct. If she remained here and attended the academy then it would smack of her being a hostage, but at the same time, if she returned home then too many people would suspect that she was simply going to secede again. Unlikely in the extreme, as things stand but politics are a matter of perspective. A year with her away on the far side of the kingdom will hopefully smooth matters over.”

    “I’d think you’d be worried about her sister stealing the throne away from her,” Marie pointed out. “Isn’t Hertrauda being left ruling in her place?” She’d never met the girl, of course, but she was the main threat in the third game.

    “She’s younger than you are and apparently devoted to her sister,” the former-queen informed her. “Count Barra has also pledged himself to the reconciliation process, and he’s agreed to swear himself directly to Ian. Ultimately, we’re confident that we can hold onto Fanoss for the next generation. If need be, the princess has suggested that she’ll even stand aside for her sister - although in that case we’d probably grant her Garrett’s domain as her own county.”

    That could be bad, Marie thought.

    “In that case,” Julius suggested, “Why don’t we go to Alzer as exchange students. It would keep us out of sight for a year and no one there will care about our relationships.”

    Mylene considered that for a moment. “I hadn’t considered that. I don’t see a problem with it, though. Yes, if you want to become exchange students for a year I’ll accept that - we can look at what happens next year when you return.”

    Marie gritted her teeth and thought frantically. On the one hand, it meant plunging right into another game’s events, because the second game in the series took place at about the same time as the first one, spinning into high gear next year. Assuming, of course, that there hadn’t been another spanner in the works. But…

    But the second game had a cash-shop too. And if she could find that…

    “I think the temple would rather I was out of the country for a while,” she admitted. “If that’s alright?”

    The queen nodded. “Yes, Lady Lafan. I’m not trying to separate you.”

    Chris adjusted his glasses. “I’m not convinced that it’s the best idea. From what I’ve heard, the knights of Alzer are less skilled than those of other realms. They rely heavily upon their great tree and its seals. I don’t think that their academy will be as good as our own.”

    “What are you saying?” laughed Greg. “You’re giving up on Marie?”

    “Never,” the swordsman declared. “But I want to be worthy of her, and I don’t think going to Alzer will help with that.”

    Jilk steepled his fingers. “I think you’re right, Chris.”

    “Jilk?!” Julius exclaimed looking at his foster-brother.

    “I’m not asking you to choose, Marie,” the green-haired boy said seriously. “And I’m not going to tell anyone else what to do, but I believe our love can endure separation. If I take anything away from the last year, it’ll be that I have a lot to learn.”

    “Hell, I’m going!” Greg declared, putting one arm around Marie. “You think I want to be separated from our princess? Come on guys, we should stick together.”

    Chris looked torn for a moment and then shook his head. “No. I’ll write to you, Marie, and if you’re in trouble then just send word. But I can’t just follow you around and neglect everything else. You deserve my best, and the only way I can be the man who deserves you is to stay here. Your highness, I’ll take your offer to join the general class. Let’s face it, my father was as much a sword instructor as he was anything else. I can do that as a knight.”

    Julius looked stricken. “Jilk, Chris…”

    “Julius.” Marie looked him in the eye. “I trust all of you.” She looked for something fitting to say, corny enough to be one of the heroine’s lines. “And this doesn’t mean that we aren’t together. We just won’t be in the same place for a while.”

    -

    “Jilk, is this why you aren’t signing up for the exchange programme?”

    Leon sighed as he looked across the student council offices. The sign-ups had to take place here and be witnessed by multiple members of the student council, just to ensure no one was being sent off to Alzer. And having skipped much of this term to take care of non-academic chores, Leon had been charged with being available for sign-ups by the new Lord President. After all, he wouldn’t be available all of the next year so they wanted to get some work out of him.

    “What are you talking about, Julius?” the green-haired boy asked. He’d apparently come along to be one of the witnesses for Julius, Greg and Marie signing up, but wasn’t going along. That surprised Leon, but it might be a good thing. Perhaps with only two of Marie’s harem around, their collective intelligence wouldn’t be so impaired.

    He could hope, anyway.

    Julius pointed at the list of students who’d signed up to go to Alzer. “Clarice is going.”

    “...are you kidding? The exchange is for second year students.”

    “Maybe she got held back,” Greg suggested.

    “Unlike you, she’s not a moron,” Jilk told the muscular boy. “But if she’s going, that’s… huh, Bartford is going as well. I bet she pulled strings to go with him.”

    “I’m flattered that you think I’m so appealing to the fairer sex,” Leon drawled, walking over. “So which if you will I be stuck looking after for the trip to Alzer?”

    “We can look after ourselves! We did fine during the war!”

    Julius covered his face for a moment. “Greg, I don’t think Bartford’s going to be impressed with that. He’s a commodore, remember.”

    “I had to give the pennant back now that the war’s over,” he admitted, checking the signatures. “Lafan, Holfort, Seberg… okay… none of you are being coerced? Lafan has checked the two of you for dark magic?”

    “Hey!”

    Marie’s hands glowed slightly where she was holding hands with Julius and Greg. “There’s no dark magic,” she assured Leon. “Can you just witness their signatures? We’ll have to spend enough time together in Alzer, I’m sure you’d rather we didn’t spend the rest of the afternoon here.”

    “You make a surprisingly good point.” Leon signed next to Jilk’s signature, confirming that two different council members had authorised their inclusion. “You and Chris aren’t going, Jilk.”

    “We have our reasons. And I imagine Clarice will be happier without me along.”

    The dark-haired boy nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right. You’re probably not her favourite person either, Lafan. For some reason she’s paranoid about flat-chested girls trying get close to me.”

    “Hah! And Princess Hertrude is going!” Greg gloated. “You’re doomed, Bartford.”

    “...I’m pretty sure her presence is political and nothing to do with me.” He was mostly convinced of that… but if she suspected him of being Carmine Sandiego and was hunting for evidence… Leon shuddered. “Anyway, do try to stay out of duels while you’re in Alzer. We’ll be at a profound disadvantage against the local lords given their little magic tree cheat.”

    “How bad can it be?”

    Leon pinched the brow of his nose and counted to ten. “Lafan, just keep them from wagering anything they don’t actually own. They’ll be magically bound to hand it over anyway if they lose, which is a really good way for them to get killed.”

    “Why are you telling her this, we’d be duelling anyone who starts anything with Marie!”

    “Because she’s the only one of you with a fully functional brain?” He sighed. “Look, try to keep these two out of trouble, will you? It’s a whole new game out there.”

    Marie stared at him and then her lips moved. “...’whole new game’…?”

    Leon winked at her. He’d suspected that she suspected, and with the prospect of being in confined quarters with her for the trip to Alzer and the stay there, it was better to let the revelation come out now than later when it might cause havoc at a sensitive moment.

    “Whole. New. Game.” She was literally shaking.

    “What’s wrong?” Jilk enquired, trying to put an arm around her shoulders.

    The enraged girl shrugged him off and jabbed her finger in Leon’s direction. “Bartford! You’re… you’re the worst!”

    “You really are, master,” Luxion commented as the three of Marie’s lovers tried their best to work out what had just set her off.

    Leon grinned, caught the inkwell that Marie flung at him, and let the AI have the last word.

    -

    A/N: And that's the whole story, folks. No final decision yet on whether I'll rewrite the last few arcs, I have some ideas but I'll give them time to develop and see how I feel. Also, golf clap to the fine folks on SB who got the thread there for this story locked. I don't think I've ever had that happen before.
     
    Top