Camille XI: With Heart of Ice
“So long as the sun remains gone…”
The visions were brief, for Camille was practiced at working through them to get to her objective by this point: a dark titan tumbling slowly to the earth, unable to stop its fall; uncle Emile standing in a pit of ice, trying to bridge his way out as walls of water crashed down beside him; a giant of purple ooze tearing his way through a frigid fortress, corruption seeping into every spot he touched.
All worth thinking about later, but nothing compared to what Fernan had to say.
“We failed,” he said, his watery image fraying near his face. “It’s all my fault, getting Flammare involved like that. Now he’s going to ascend in three days.”
Three days.
After everything, there it was, and yet the relief Camille knew she should be feeling failed to manifest itself. Perhaps because there was so much to do now, and so little time to do it. All the more uncertain for Prince Harold’s inexplicable arrival. But it wouldn’t do to show that uncertainty, least of all to someone who had just bled under Lucien’s banner.
“Don’t despair so, Fernan. In three days light will fill the sky again, warmth will return, and we can begin to rebuild the wreckage Magnifico left in his wake. A more amenable spirit would have been better, to be sure, but at least the night is nearing its end.”
“But Flammare’s going to lead the flame spirits to war against Hiverre. He even demanded that Gézarde join him.”
Ah. “Don’t worry, Fernan. Gézarde can’t compel you to join him, unless you left anything out when describing the vows you made. And if he distinguishes himself in battle, your position will improve in turn.” She pressed a reassuring smile to her face, hoping her flaming avatar in Guerron could match the expression. “You won the battle. The White Night is over, and soon the time of dark skies will have passed as well. Take some rest. You’ve more than earned it.”
“But all those innocent Hiverriens—”
“Are beyond your help. Glaciel endangered them by attacking a convocation of the spirits, and she’s to blame for what’s to come. Not you.”
“But Florette had it handled! And I didn’t trust her. If I’d just stayed out of it, Gézarde might be the sun right now. And none of this—”
“Rest, Fernan. Take it as an order from your future Queen if you like, but do it. Your trials, for the moment, are over.” While I still have much to do. “We’ll speak again soon. Perhaps even in person, if all goes well.”
The water of Fernan’s forehead wrinkled, giving the impression of a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming back to Guerron?”
“Better not to get ahead of myself.” Camille stood, starting to dismiss the image. “We’ll speak again in a week.”
“Wait—” He tried to say more, but his words faded away as the water supporting the figure crashed down to the beach, the real world seeping back into view.
Sorry, Fernan. But I only have three days, and the last thing I need to deal with right now is more guilt.
≋
“As long as Avalon is in control of Malin, I want you to be the one running things here…”
Deafening cracks split the air, each one a nail through Camille’s head that only set it ringing again.
Despicable contraptions. But potent, that could not be denied. And now I have them at my disposal. A weapon like that couldn’t be set aside, especially when the enemy was producing them by the dozen or hundred across the water.
“Khali’s curse!” Aude, the girl Camille had spoken to in the temple, dropped her pistol into the sand the instant after she set it off, its projectile sailing far above the target. Beside her, most of the other Acolytes weren’t having much better luck. “Shouldn’t we just be using swords? They don’t deafen you every time you use them.”
“It takes years to master the sword. My hope is that most of you will be passable with these in a few days.”
Across the darkened beach, the pistols fell silent as the other Acolytes turned to face her.
“In truth, even that might not be possible. But these are potent weapons, the thunderous power of a cannon in the palm of your hand. The Avaline will recognize that all the more, and rightfully fear it. You might well not need to do more than display it on your belt.”
“But we’re terrible at using them.”
“The firmest reality pales in the face of a strong narrative. The power of the spirits wedded to the finest fruits of Avalon’s mechanists presents an impossible foe.” And I’m really hoping you don’t have to use them. “That said, the more practiced you are, the better. Three days isn’t a long time, but Aurelian Lumière only had a few weeks of practice that he had to split between all his other duties, and it still would have been enough to kill me if not for Levian’s power.”
“But do we even need to do that? What’s so important in three days?”
Camille paused, looking out over the Acolytes who had joined her here, all the ones who had followed her out to defend themselves against Whitbey. “Pierre Cadoudal gave them good faith and his word, and they stabbed him during parley. All of us are targets now, even more than before, but we can make sure that we are not defenseless before the threat emerges. "All of the Guardians are the same people they were before; as soon as Prince Harold leaves, they'll be happy to raze our temple to the ground and kill everyone inside. The Forresters might have been disbanded, but they remain in the city, ready to strike back the moment they feel they can find a suitable target. Nor does the Prince of Darkness have the power or influence to stop them. He’s already proven that. If we cannot defend ourselves, our entire order and everyone in it face extermination.”
“Well said,” a lanky blond boy said, his voice accompanied by obviously halfhearted applause. “Doubtless King Harold would do the same to you first, given half a chance. Extermination is rather a fixation of his, of spirits and their followers alike; though he isn’t much concerned about any innocents standing in the way. In that regard, the late Captain Whitbey and those aligned with him rather did manage to capture the Avaline spirit.”
Belatedly, Camille realized that he lacked the perfunctory streak of blue in his hair that Acolytes had taken to wearing. “Thank you?” This man is definitely not an Acolyte, and here he is intruding on our affairs.
“As it happens, I have some experience with these devices and their operation. Knowledge, such as it is, of a better stance to brace against the recoil, and training procedures to better safeguard one’s hearing. If I could be permitted to share my expertise, it would be my delight to ensure that the city’s true guardians are better able to defend themselves against any Avaline incursions.” He smiled, though the expression looked unnatural on his face, as if he wasn’t used to doing it. “Would you allow me the honor of assisting your order, Lady Leclaire?”
If he tells the wrong person about this… If this got back to Luce, she could tell him much the same as she had the Acolytes, for it wasn’t untrue, but things would be more convenient if it never came to that.
Given his expertise with the pistols, it was possible he was one of the recently disbanded ex-Forresters, but any of them with prospects back in Avalon wouldn’t want to scuttle them by consorting with sages.
And if he were truly a defector with ties to Avalon, that could prove invaluable this very night.
He’s seen this, which is a risk that can’t be taken back without killing him, but he’s exposed as well should any of his old friends find out.
After a moment of consideration, Camille nodded. “You shall not handle the weapons yourself, merely direct the Acolytes in their proper use. And first, I must have your name.”
“I accept your conditions. You can call me Mordred Boothe.”
A surname, interesting. Reputedly, more commoners possessed them in Avalon, but it still implied a certain kind of upbringing that would give him less reason to defect.
Now we just have to see if he’s as knowledgeable as he claims.
Whatever his motives, Boothe stayed true to his word, and after a few hours, most Acolytes could at least set the weapon off without flinching or losing their grip of it, which was frankly about as much Camille could have hoped for. With another session or two squeezed in, perhaps they’d even be able to hit the rough vicinity of a target.
“Your service will not be forgotten,” Camille said as the Acolytes finished packing the weapons up. “I’m pleased that my reputation didn’t scare you off.”
Boothe laughed. “I’ve no need to be afraid of you, Lady Leclaire. As I’ve just spent several hours demonstrating, I know my way around a pistol, and that has proven sufficient to defeat you in the past.”
Camille scowled.
“Oh, come now, that’s not an insult! You’re far from the most frightening creature I’ve ever encountered, that’s all I mean to say.”
“High praise indeed.”
The Acolytes had left by this point, sticking together with pistols at their belts to ensure that none tried to finish what Whitbey had started. Camille would have accompanied them, but she had a pressing engagement that couldn’t be delayed.
“You didn’t ask,” Boothe said once they were alone on the beach. “Most people want to know the most frightening creature I’ve met, when they hear me make such allusions. I’m quite well traveled, as it happens, from Cambria to Oxton to the Giton desert to Condorcet. And Guerron, of course.”
Camille pushed past his needling, beginning her walk towards her engagement. “Perhaps other people have more patience with your propensity to be needlessly mysterious than I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I must be going.”
“Your feast, of course. You’ve already hurt the Forresters so much by disbanding their organization, it simply wouldn’t do to make them wait as well. That would be terribly impolite.”
Camille stopped walking, steeling herself to avoid asking a stupid question like ‘How did you know that?’, which would inevitably be followed by a smug ‘because you just told me.’ She needed to figure this Boothe out without giving anything away. “Prince Grimoire disbanded their organization, which was well within his powers as Governor. After everything he’s been through, who could blame him? As a matter of security, it was only sensible, as were his personnel evaluations within the Guardians.”
“His? Not yours?” Boothe laughed. “How delightfully two-faced. As it happens, I’m rather gifted in that area as well.” He reached behind his back, causing Camille to tense. “There’s no need to be alarmed. I just thought I’d show you a memento from one of the top contenders for the scariest creatures I’ve ever met.” He pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle from his pack. “Have you ever met Lamante?”
“The face collector.” Camille blinked. He could be anyone, hiding behind a mask. “Who are you really?”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I told you what you can call me, and that continues to suffice. However…” He flipped around, unfurling the cloth bundle as he pushed it up to his face. When he turned back around, a nearly perfect replica of Prince Harold of Avalon looked back at her, between his long hair and acutely angled face, it was easy to see the resemblance to Magnifico. It was with Luce, too, but only in retrospect. “I got a face from Lamante, and now I can mimic Prince Harold’s appearance.”
“Is that really his face? Lamante can only collect from the dead. And—Wait, has it just been you this whole time?”
Boothe-Harold laughed, his voice different too. Higher pitched, thinner. “I assure you that Prince Harold remains alive. I met him on my way out of Guerron, gave my report, and we went our separate ways. Once his business is done here, he'll be back in Cambria just as he’s been before. This—” He tapped his face. “Well, I went to Lamante with a very specific look in mind, and she was happy to oblige. I’ve plenty of experience with disguises, and I’ve spent enough time around Harold to get a sense of his mannerisms. It’s good enough to fool the average person, like, for example, a noblewoman who has only met him a few times in passing, or an Avaline thug who’s mostly just seen him from afar. Good enough for my purposes.”
“That’s…”
Prince Harold’s presence here had complicated things for Camille, even if it had ended the fighting before Anya Stewart could kill her. Now one of his personal agents was turning his coat… Or goading me into a trap. But could she afford to turn down help? Just a little more than two days left, and then the sun would return. The term of her deal with Luce would be over, and she would be on her own once more.
“I make a point of never lying, Lady Leclaire, and I assure you this isn’t a trap. It’s not hard to see what your goals are for Malin, and it’s sure to give Avalon and her king quite the unpleasant surprise in the process. Should you succeed, at any rate. If I wanted you to fail, I could simply run to Luce right now and tell him you’re training your Acolytes in warfare.”
“For the purpose of our defense. You might recall that not long ago every armed body in Malin was calling for our extermination. They assassinated Cadoudal during parley, in view of hundreds of people. Not even subtle about it. I think Luce would understand.”
“And if not?”
Camille shrugged. “By the terms of our deal, he could ask me to stop, and I would.” Technically, I haven’t paid Eloise for them yet, anyway. “Luce doesn’t have many allies in the city, all the fewer once your patron leaves. And anyone working for me is certain not to turn against him as long as darkness rules the skies. This is just sensible.”
Boothe laughed again. “And in three days? I noticed you mentioned a specific timeframe.”
“That’s when Prince Harold is due to leave,” Camille lied. Though if all goes to plan, the Prince of Pantera probably will want to make himself scarce if he hasn’t left already. “We need to be ready then.”
“Is it?” With a wink and a smile, Boothe tucked the cloth back into his pack. “And your meetings with the very people who tried to overthrow our dear Prince of Darkness? I can’t imagine he disbanded the Forresters because he wanted you wining and dining with them.”
“Then your imagination is too limited. Many of them, perhaps even most, simply lack the moral fortitude to refuse an order even without otherwise objecting to his rule. Select officers could be taken into the Acolytes under strict supervision without much issue, but more importantly, I’m hoping most of the rest can be convinced to stand down. I’ll explain as much to Luce if it comes up, but he’s an incredibly busy man dealing with the aftermath of a coup, and my loyalty is more assured than anyone’s given the nature of our deal.”
“Pledged before a spirit? How terribly interesting. I wouldn’t think Luce to be capable of asking such a thing, but I didn’t think he’d be willing to make a deal with spirits either. I suppose you must be very convincing. I, too, can be convincing. If you’ll allow me, I’d be pleased to demonstrate it at your dinner tonight.” He smiled. “I need something to do, anyway. It’s this or paying a visit to the prince, busy as he is.”
Camille narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t send him away. Even talking to Lamante, let alone bargaining with her, showed a disdain for everything Avalon that couldn’t be faked. At minimum, he was clearly the enemy of an enemy. So long as she didn’t forget that he wasn’t necessarily more than that… He has the potential to be so useful I can’t pass up the help.
“Yes? Excellent. Lead on, Lady Leclaire.”
≋
“I’ll defend you against enemies from your own nation trying to supplant your rule…”
The crowd was less than Camille had hoped for, but about what she expected. Former officers of the Forresters had no cause to love her, but the smart ones knew where the balance of power in Malin now lay, and understood the value of enjoying good food and good wine while the world froze beyond the walls. They understood the importance of hearing her out, rather than spitefully refusing.
“I appreciate you all coming tonight. I know in these turbulent times, it can be difficult to know who to turn to. I want to be clear that I begrudge no one for following their orders,” she lied. “Disbanding the Forresters was a heavy-handed measure, and one that I recommended against, but the Prince of Darkness was resolute in his decision. On some level, I hope that it is at least understandable. As for the Guardians—”
“I’ve got a question for you, Leclaire,” a woman’s voice called out from the far end of the table.
“There will time for questions, but please allow me—”
“What do you think you’re doing?” The woman stood up, revealing herself to be Charlotte, the overly suspicious Guardian. “What possible reason could you have to gather these people here?”
Khali’s curse.
“It’s simply to regroup after everything that’s happened. I want to give these people a chance to make their voices heard.” Or whatever’s plausible enough. “I’ll be doing a similar meeting with some of the Guardians tomorrow, which you are more than welcome to attend.”
“Oh, am I? Are you going to pitch your betrayal at me, too?”
“I’ve made vows before the spirits not to stand with Luce for the duration of this crisis. I fought for him during the coup, I arranged to discover his location to better mount a rescue. That information from Eloise was how you found him so quickly, was it not?”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Whitbey was just as much an enemy to you as to Luce.”
“As is the darkness. Yet there’s nothing untoward about me meeting in it. I’m not going to sit here and bear these accusations in company. If you’d like to have a conversation in private—”
“Come with me, right now. You’ll have your chance to explain everything to the prince, including why you’re playing hostess for an array of officers who were dismissed for extremely good reasons.”
Damn it, Charlotte, just walk away. “Are you sure you want to do this?” One last chance.
“I’m just doing my job, protecting the Prince.”
“Your job…” Fine, if you leave me no other options. “Was it your job to rat out your fellow officers too? I seem to recall three Guardians being arrested after doing a supply mission with you. And then right after, the Prince elevated your position personally.”
Charlotte blinked. “The… thieves? They were stealing aid supplies, not even being subtle about it. People were going to freeze and starve as a direct result. Yes, absolutely, it was my job.”
“Four bright futures abruptly ended because they got between you and your career goals.”
“Because they were guilty!”
I’m afraid that’s not going to help you, with this crowd. “Guardians have to look out for their own. How can anyone trust you to have their back? Forresters are under the same constraints. It’s a life-or-death struggle, and they have to be absolutely sure they can rely on their camarades at all times.” Including when they’re fucking over innocent people. As often as Camille lied, adopting this rhetoric felt particularly dirty, exceptionally distasteful. The ex-Forresters in this room certainly weren’t worthy of the defense, nor the Guardians beyond who’d be in this room tomorrow, hearing the same pitch.
But you left me no choice.
One of the ex-Forresters snorted. “Whitbey told me all about this one. So self-righteous all the time.” He shook his head. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
I know.
“I didn’t do anything wrong! They were thieves, criminals. Stopping that is what the Guardians are for.”
Another of the officers shook his head. “We’ve got to look out for each other, or the whole thing falls apart.”
“But… She’s trying to overthrow the Prince. You have to see that!”
Everyone in this room already tried to overthrow the Prince, and all they regret is that it didn’t work.
Camille bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure. “You are dismissed, Charlotte.”
Around the table, most of the ex-Forresters were nodding, muttering “nothing worse than a rat.”
Charlotte snarled, but she could see that the room was against her. “Fine. We’ll see what Prince Luce thinks about all of this.” She did leave, which turned an immediate problem into a merely urgent one.
If only she were on my side.
“Well, rat-catching business out of the way, I wanted to extend my hand to you brave defenders of peace. I’m aware that Lillian Perimont’s coup put us on opposite sides of a fight, but I have no doubt that you, too, were simply fighting for what you believed in. Now I’d like to offer you the opportunity to continue that fight on new ground, to pick up your arms once more and have the whole city know that you are the arm of the law.”
“Really? ‘Opportunity’, when you’re just putting things back the way they were always supposed to be? Did the Prince of Darkness finally realize how much he needs us, so he sent you to grovel?”
“Your name, sir?”
He rolled his eyes. “Captain Banon, Chief of Investigations. Unless Jimmy got released, I’m the highest ranking Forrester not locked up right now.”
“Well, Captain Banon, I assure you, I’m here of my own accord, not on behalf of anyone else. And things will not only be as they were. I intend a great many reforms, not the least to your budget and standing. With relaxed oversight from Avalon, I see no reason to limit you, nor your return to the employ of Malin.”
“Relaxed oversight? The Prince of Pantera’s in the city right now. He’s the one who called off Stuart and Perimont. You’re acting like this is some forgotten colony, but we’ve got eyes on us right now, watching all the more closely after what happened.”
“Scrutiny, but not appreciation. Judgment. Charlotte ratting you out to the prince was just one example.”
“You’re hardly offering any different, making us bend over for your fucking temple headed prigs. We used to mean something, damn it!”
If the world were fair, you'd mean nothing more than food for the sharks. Alas. “You stand to mean far more than ever before, and all you have to do is stand aside. How do you like the sound of ‘Sir Banon’? Avalon would never grant a knighthood to lowly colonial servicemen, but I know who my friends are and treat them accordingly.”
Banon scoffed. “Great, a fancy title to carve into the slab I’ll be lying on when Avalon executes me for treason. Get off it, Leclaire. We’re not some lustful prince of darkness you can lead around by the nose. You’re lucky we don’t grab you right now and march you to Prince Harold.”
“Ah, but why march all the way there when I could come to you?.” Boothe sauntered in calmly, taking a seat next to Camille.
And thank fuck. Without his help, Prince Harold’s presence in the city could have really ruined things.
Surprised as they were, the entire room of thugs fell over themselves to bow before this cheap imitation of their prince.
“Is Avalon not a land of freedom?” Boothe asked, despite the answer being an obvious ‘no’. “Your contracts of service were severed. You no longer work for Prince Lucifer or the Territorial Governor. You are free to do as you like. Lady Leclaire’s Acolytes were crucial to combatting that vile coup and enforcing the Crown’s justice. And they’ve got a great fashion sense! Should you wish to join their noble ranks, I would celebrate you for it. Certainly, I wouldn’t execute you because of that!” He laughed, and the thugs laughed too, taking it as permission. “My father is indisposed at the moment, but I know exactly what he would think of this. Just imagining his expression brings a smile to my face. Don’t be so quick to count Leclaire out. I’m looking forward to seeing what she does next. Should be interesting!”
Camille smiled, picking up where he left off. “The Acolytes welcome all who are willing to join our ranks, and have every intent of treating you with the respect you deserve. But if you refuse? Stand aside. Go back to Avalon, or find another of her territories. You could even be private security if you like; I know Clochaine Candles is short on bodies at the moment. But stay out of politics. Stay home, have a drink, I don’t care. Don’t cross me, unless you want to end up like the peerless Captain Whitbey.”
With that, Camille stood to go, Boothe immediately following her out.
She could hear Captain Banon whispering to the others even as they left. “...Anyone takes her up on that, they’ve got me to answer to. Whole thing’s a damn trick, testing our loyalty.”
There were more to talk to, more guardians, more training with the Acolytes, and all of it had to be kept plausibly deniable. I have to stay true to my vow, or even Luce might condemn me to eternal torment. Still so much to do, but none of it was treading new ground anymore. Just tightening things up more and more until there could be no failure.
Or as close as I can get, anyway.
“Well, that went pretty well,” Boothe said once they were clear of the building.
“Banon’s keeping them in line. They still defer to rank. I heard him threatening them about it the second we left.”
“Ah, shame. Well, you can’t always win everyone over.” Boothe scratched his chin. “Do you want to take care of him, or shall I?”
Even if you’re just playing a role here, you’re certainly committed to the part.
Camille nodded, already focused on the next thing she needed to do.