Camille I: The Maiden of Dawn
“Are you ready? Because I want you to pay attention. This is important. This is the beginning of something, not just for us, but for the whole world, and we are standing right at the center of it.” Camille adjusted the collar of her coat, looking with satisfaction at the long shadow the gesture now cast across the rooftop. “The reign of the Prince of Darkness is over, and with it, Avalon’s tyrannical grip over our fair city. The louring clouds of eternal night have been buried beneath the waves. Our time trapped in shadow has ended, and now the healing can begin.
“Malin shall at last be ruled again by its rightful ruler, as it was in days of old. Ere long, my betrothed, the Fox-King Lucien Renart, shall return to the city of his birth at the head of an army, to ensure that none can threaten our newly restored sovereignty. As I have defeated the Prince of Darkness, he has triumphed over the Queen of Winter, and together we shall lead Malin into the glorious summer sun of a new day.
“No longer shall the humble Malinois need fear her ruler, nor wonder whether she has enough food to survive another day. No longer shall the inhumane gallows loom over the heart of our nation. No longer shall Avalon extract its price of blood and treasure, leeching our wealth to fuel their own. Now we are safe. Now we are free.”
The sky was bright with the cold light of a blue dawn, the stars fading from view for the first time in almost two months. The new sun, Flammare, cast his light slightly differently, colors subtly off from what they should be, but perhaps that was just the jarring effect of seeing daylight again after so prolonged an absence.
Hopefully, anyway.
Knowing Flammare, though, he was probably pettily making his mark on things without caring or even noticing how it made things harder for humanity.
But that’s an issue for later. Fernan had done his part, and allowed the timing to be perfect. Not just for getting around her oaths to Luce, but also for what came after. Camille and the return of the sun would be indelibly linked for the people of Malin, however slight her actual role had been in its restoration.
“Any questions?” she asked, tilting her focus back down, signaling that she was done for the moment.
“Well, it looks like all those hours you spent rehearsing that didn’t go to waste. That must make you proud.” Eloise folded her arms, willfully appearing unimpressed. “I do have a question, though. Why is he here?” she added, pointing to Scott.
“He’s been invaluable at my journal, and controlling the narrative of this is essential.”
“Scott Ecrivan? Invaluable? Maybe if you need something to wrap your fish in.”
Camille blinked. “I’m surprised you even recognized him.”
“Well, it is easier in daylight. In fact, I might even take off my jacket.”
Would it kill you to take this seriously?
“If I may.” Scott stepped forward, shrugging off his coat to reveal an implausibly muscled physique for a journalist. I guess I’ve only ever seen him in winter wear. “Eloise and I go way back. She’s just messing with me. And, probably, you.”
“Me? Mess with someone? Surely not.”
Camille resisted the urge to roll her eyes and proceeded. “Scott, how soon can we get a late edition printed on the new day in Malin? I need to be sure that as many people know who their legitimate government is as quickly as possible.”
“If it’s just focused on that? I think we could manage it before sunset. We finally fixed the last press that Eserly mangled during the coup.” He tapped his nose. “Of course, getting it done so fast would require the right incentives.”
“Brilliant,” Eloise said. “Pay this lout through the nose to spread the word far and wide, so Avalon knows to come kill us faster. Why be cautious? It’s not like we have less than fifty people with pistols and they have hundreds.”
“She has a point,” Scott said. “Lady Leclaire, I serve at your pleasure, but—”
“You do serve at my pleasure. Don’t forget that. No matter your title on paper, you report to me.”
“What title? I’m a reporter.”
“Effective immediately, I’m appointing you acting editor of the Daily Quotidien. I’ll be too busy for the immediate future, and in the long run my duties as Empress will take precedence. Eventually, Scott, that could mean a position in the palace for you. Minister of Truth, perhaps?” Not anytime soon though, or probably ever. It was more valuable to have a journal in the pocket that appeared impartial, especially for a city so accustomed to Avalon’s way of doing things. But Scott didn’t have to know that.
“And Eloise?” Camille continued. “Avalon won’t attack us if we get the word out about our ultimate bargaining chip. It’s the ultimate security.”
“Luce?” she asked dismissively. “Because I don’t think we’re going to find him. Yse’s guys searched the mansion top to bottom and didn’t find a trace. He hasn’t popped up at the opera house or the beach, either, and if he made it onto Stewart’s ship before it left, there’s a good chance he’s gone for good.”
“Not Luce.” Better to dwell on that as briefly as possible. It made things easier. “His father. Do you remember Magnifico? Arrogant bard, murdered the man who raised me, plunged the world into darkness? Turns out he was King Harold the entire time. Now he’s locked in a cell in Guerron, powerless. If the Prince Regent has his troops set one foot in our sovereign territory, he can say a fond farewell to his fearless father.”
Scott’s mouth was hanging open dumbly, so Camille assisted him. “Be sure to print that. It wasn’t just Avalon’s agent condemning the world to darkness, but her very leader, the embodiment of the nation. Makes it easier to tie things to Luce, too. Let’s say… I don’t know, he was trying to make the darkness last forever, conspiring with the Winter Queen? Making his father’s work stick? We can work on the details, but it’s absolutely vital that Avalon learn we have King Harold in custody as soon as possible. Otherwise they might try to retake Malin before they understand the consequences.”
“And you’re the valiant hero who put a stop to Grimoire’s evil machinations…” Eloise scoffed.
“We are. You helped.”
A guilty look flashed across her face; understandable enough given their trip through the wasteland together, but that was acceptable. Where it counted, Eloise had been on the right side of things. An ally, however cantankerous.
“Try to think of a good title for me too, Scott. You coined ‘Prince of Darkness’, so my expectations are high. We want as little association with Luce’s reign as possible. The Dawnbringer, or the Warrior of Light or something. And let me see the text before it goes to print.”
Dopey smile plastered across his face, Scott bowed. “At once, my lady.”
“Oh, and, this probably goes without saying, but please be sure not to mention or allude to sacrifices anywhere. That’s not the narrative we want, and it could engender resistance.”
“Of course.” He turned towards the door. “We’ll keep things looking heroic.”
The last traces of scarlet in the sky had faded by the time Scott left, leaving Camille and Eloise alone on the roof of the mansion, the spot where Malin had been liberated, if it could really be attributed to any one place.
“I need your help, Eloise.”
“Oh, again? What a surprise. You still haven’t even paid me from the first time.”
“Is liberating your home from the oppressors that killed your mother not payment enough?”
“No.” She folded her arms. “And I’ll be telling Margot to keep her mouth shut about our personal business, too. She should know better.”
She knew better than you, since learning that made me respect you more. “She’s a smart kid. You did a good job with her. I don’t know if she mentioned it, but I actually offered her a ‘stage’. It’s a traditional apprenticeship that I think will help her go far in life, though I’ll be breaking with tradition to pay her, too.”
“Keeping her close in case you change your mind about me, huh?”
If you’d asked me a year ago, probably. “Not at all. I just want to help her live up to her potential. If she says no, I’ll leave it be.”
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“The answer is no.”
“From you, but Margot—”
“Is fourteen. This discussion is over.”
“Fine.” Camille held up her hands placatingly. “You’ll get your payment once Lucien arrives, like I said before.”
“I’ll need extra for my crew, too, since we can’t ransom Luce anymore.”
Because you failed to secure him. Aside from which, you and your underlings would never have been the ones negotiating a ransom for him. But it wasn’t worth fighting her on it. “Fine. They can have an extra ten thousand florins each.”
“That’s all?”
Camille grit her teeth. “You can haggle with Annette when she gets here if you want. For now, come with me.”
Though she threw out a few more sarcastic protestations, Eloise did follow, fortunately.
Rivulets were already flowing down from the snow into the street, but it was easy enough to move them out of the way.
“Listen, Lucien is coming, but he doesn’t know that yet. I need a few hours to talk to him, and it’ll leave me vulnerable. Can you stand outside the door while I talk to him?”
“Talk to… your fiancé in another city? Do you only write letters to him drunk, or something?”
“Don’t worry about the details.” Though word is bound to get out eventually. Luce practically figured it out already, and he’s not the sort to let that opportunity lie. “More importantly, I was hoping you or Margot could get me some psyben root. Malin’s been dry as a bone with no shipments in, and I’m running so low I might not have enough.”
“Khali’s curse, I wasn’t far off the mark! You’re a weird one, Leclaire, but yeah, I can get you enough for the night. On the house, because that is just a hilarious image.”
“Thank you. Meet me back at the Governor’s mansion three hours after noon?”
“Sure.” Eloise blinked. “Weird to be able to say that again.”
“Things are going back to the way they should be; that’s only part of it. And it couldn’t have happened without you.” Drive it in.
“...Alright. See you then.”
≋
“I don’t know, Camille. That doesn’t sound like Luce. Not that I knew him that well, he was so boring to talk to when he started droning on about his gears and gizmos, but there was nothing sadistic about it.”
Alright, so Mary didn’t buy the Prince of Darkness narrative, which isn’t a great sign, but she actually knew him personally unlike most people here.
“You’re right.” Camille nodded sagely. “I don’t believe for a second that his heart was in it. But Governorship wasn’t for him at all, especially in a crisis. I think this was just a fatalistic way of abdicating his rule. It wasn’t about actually maintaining darkness or hurting anyone, just taking any excuse to get on a ship and go home.”
Mary nodded, sipping her wine.
“But that still leaves us here, without an official Governor.”
“And your first thought was me? Camille, I’m so flattered! And I would be honored, of course, but it sounds like such a drag. All that paperwork and meetings and everything. Luce left for a reason! I’m not going to second-guess his wisdom.”
“He had your mother executed, Mary. There’s plenty to question.”
Mary continued drinking until her glass was empty, leaving a long silence in the conversation. “Prince Harold was the one that ordered that, I thought. And…” Tears in her eyes, she collapsed back into her chair. “What am I going to do, Camille? I’m sure I’d be great as a Governor, but I don’t want to do it! I can’t go back home since those awful princes took our lands away. Am I supposed to go back to Avalon as a failure? The orphan of a traitor?”
As Mary sobbed, Camille wrapped her arm around her. “Everything is going to be alright. I have a plan.”
“You do?”
“This city was once the heart of the Empire. My betrothed still has a claim to it. If I took over in his name, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Avalon would read about you in the journals as the smart, successful, beautiful woman at the side of the Empress. They would look to you for inspiration. Lady Mary, the soul of Malin as before.”
“That’s a nice thought.” She sniffed. “But as soon as Avalon loses control of the city, they’ll send in the navy to reduce it to a smoking crater.”
“Not if we have King Harold in custody.”
Mary blinked. “Do we?”
“My Lucien does, in Guerron. He was the one who put out the sun in the first place, and he was promptly arrested for it.”
“But… but doesn’t your empire do all those gross human sacrifices and stuff? I thought you came here to get away from that.”
“I did, and I have,” she lied. “But Lucien defers to me on policy. He’s more of a warrior than an administrator. Bringing all that stuff back to Malin wouldn’t work at all, people hate it. No, when I’m in charge, nothing essential will change. Avalon’s businesses and gentry can stay if they want, their holdings are theirs, none of those backwards traditions would come back.”
“But what about Simon?”
“I talked to Simon this morning. He’s in the same rough spot you are, and he doesn’t have any interest in being Governor either.” Camille had done no such thing, but after Luce and ‘Prince Harold’ had spread the word of Lillian Perimont’s folly and treason, Avalon would be in no hurry to elevate a Perimont anyway. “He’s going to be our new Minister of Finance, finally getting to spread his wings and really dictate policy. I just want to make sure that you’re on board with this, too.”
Mary looked up with her watery eyes, lost and alone with so much stripped away from her. Which I had no small part in, regrettably.
“You don’t need to answer now. Just think about it.”
≋
Mary was secured; even if she decided to refuse the offer at first, by the time she was in a position to, Camille’s grip on the city would be uncontestable. At that point the choice would be too obvious to get wrong.
Simon, though… Simon was proving more difficult. “No surprise that Mary agreed without thinking things through, but what you’re talking about is treason.”
“So was what your mother did, and you followed her in that. For that matter, your father trying to expel Luce wasn’t exactly him acting in Avalon’s interest, nor do I think the King was happy to hear about it.”
“And they’re both dead!” Simon spat back. “Why would you try to follow them in that?
“I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation.”
“Huh,” he scoffed. “Sure. And your solution just happens to involve you being in charge.”
Fair enough, honestly. “Simon, let me run through your options here, and please do tell me if there’s anything I’m missing. Option one: you do become Governor. The Forresters and Guardians will back you, I’m sure, or at least the same ones who backed your mother and have more bloodlust than sense. Then, illegitimate as you are, you can count the days until Avalon sends a force to relieve you of command. If you’re really good at negotiating your surrender, you might even survive it! But I have my doubts, especially with the family precedent.”
Of course, if you did go that way, it could still completely fuck things for me here. Until Lucien gets here, until word gets out about Magnifico, this is so fragile…
Simon scowled, but fortunately he didn’t object. After Lady Perimont’s pathetic coup, the name was mud in Avalon, and little better here.
“Option two: you return to Avalon the son of traitors, your lands and titles stripped away. Luce will soon be back there, and if he’s got any hard feelings about things, he could make things even harder for you. Even if he decides to help you, his influence is limited, especially now that he’s such a public failure. He could give you a comfortable life, at best, but not power.”
“And you could do better?”
“I can and I will. You’ve been playing in a tiny pond, dealing with whatever budget is left after the bulk is sent back to Avalon. You never had the chance to influence things on a global level, but I’m offering you a position for an entire nation, not a mere Territory of one.”
“And then what?” He smacked his chair. “Avalon is starving because they did things the way I was always taught you’re supposed to: Austerity, growth of enterprise, playing things smart. Now they’re going to have to fight a war just to keep the peasants from rioting. From everything Prince Harold told me, it’s a disaster! And he was the one overseeing it! How much more do you think he kept back?”
“Plenty, I’m sure. But you’ll learn from their mistakes. Or if you truly feel you can’t, you are still welcome to remain a gentleman and an aristocrat of good standing in the Empire. Certainly, your lands and titles will be recognized where Avalon would not. But I believe in you, Simon. You can be more than a comfortable lordling, whiling away your time with wine and parties. You have a vision, and all it needs is some refining. Then, at my side, you can execute it.”
Simon didn’t respond right away, which was good. It meant he was actually giving it proper thought.
When he did, he spoke softly, his voice unsure. “I accept.”
≋
The sun was high in the sky by the time Camille felt like she could catch her breath.
Simon and Mary were hardly committed, but they seemed unlikely to make trouble in the near term, which was most important.
Aude and the other Acolytes were patrolling the city as word spread of the change in leadership, and tomorrow there was to be a massive celebration. A true festival of the sun, though spring was long in the past.
“Looks like your plan worked.” Mordred Boothe stepped out from behind the building, blond hair falling down beside his true face. His arm was in a sling, and his clothes were stained with blood. “I was worried that the whole ‘Curse you, Leclaire!’ thing was a bit too much, but apparently not.”
“It wasn’t a ruse that needed to last, anyway. Though if I’d realized Luce would be so perceptive, we certainly could have gone about things better. But that’s behind us, either way. How did things go this morning?”
“Had to kill maybe twelve Forresters kicking up a ruckus in a tavern, but that should silence the rest of them for a while. I’m assuming you’ll invite most of them to leave once the roads are clear?”
Camille nodded. “Where did you put them?”
“By the water, like you said.”
Then that’s twelve out of a thousand, if I can do it discreetly. Public sacrifices could bring a swift end to liberated Malin, that much was clear after living here for so many months.
Twelve out of a thousand.
An absurdly low amount. Were there even a thousand die-hard partisans of Avalon left, let alone ones who would make enough trouble to justify ending their existence?
Is there any possible way I could honor my deal with Levian?
Perhaps not.
But what was the alternative?