Fernan I: The Inferno

So much about this felt good. Great, even.

After watching the world languish in darkness, seeing people teeter on the brink of starvation, the sun had at last risen anew.

After suffering under the face stealer’s magic mask, feeling his body contort into a lie to match the ones coming out of his mouth, Fernan was himself once again.

After failing on my own merits, I endangered the entire world to arrange a murder through deceit.

Fernan had to hold on to that thought, because the scary thing was how easy it was to forget. With my patron spirit Gézarde ascended, you could even see it as selfish, if you forgot about all the devastation Flammare would have wrought. Maybe even if you kept it in mind. How could the baser incentive be fully ruled out? Even by me?

Every step taken after discarding the mask felt like marching along the edge of a cliff, where the ground would collapse beneath his feet the moment someone noticed the deception.

At least there was less risk of that literally happening, now that warmth from the sky was already beginning to permeate across the surface, stronger here for the proximity to Gézarde.

Fernan wanted nothing more than to collapse into a heap and let the enveloping darkness of sleep wash the guilt away for however few hours it could manage, but first he had obligations. Basic honor and decency, really, however much those concepts might elude people here.

Not that it will make up for anything.

Laura’s aura was flush with red, her breaths heavy. Clearly her sparring match with the Fox-King had been a spirited one, but Lucien Renart had left, so it would have ended already.

I’m not interrupting anything, but she’s still got the rush from battle; this might be my best chance to catch her in a good mood as I deliver terrible news.

“Laura?” Fernan called out cautiously, his entire body rigid with tension. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Her head turned instantly towards him, a raptor tracking her prey. “You? Always. I’ve been meaning to ask you if you could grab Mara for the next spar, actually. Lucien wants more practice against spirit-touched after the White Night, and Mara’s experienced fighting human opponents.”

You’re making this even harder. “I’ll pass it along. I’m sure she’d love it.” Right now, though, she was with her father at the site of his ascension. The site of my betrayal.

The thought came to Fernan once more that he could leave things with Laura here, retreat to the Temple and let her discover it in her own way, on her own time. Or have Mom or Florette write a note to her. Or…

Waiting isn’t going to make this any easier.

“You said you wanted to talk. What about?”

“I just came from the Convocation of the Spirits, where they chose our next sun. You probably noticed from the light outside the window.”

Her aura pulsed brighter at that. “I figured, but good to hear it from someone who was there.” Her head turned, looking out through the glass into the green abyss. “I guess that means I’ll be leaving soon, then. Flammare wants all his sages on hand for the great offensive.”

Fernan felt his throat somersault.

“Good thing I’ve been practicing, right? Didn’t even waste any spirit energy on it. Next time, Glaciel will have nowhere to run. Florette made a good show against her, and she doesn’t even have magic, so I think—”

“Laura.”

“Look, I don’t love it either, but I don't really have a choice here. Thanks to you and Aurelian, I can fly out ahead of the pack. I figure if we take out Glaciel first, cooler heads might win out on the prospect of her children. It’s the best option I’ve got, anyway. I can’t imagine you want to come, but I could really use your help, and you do kinda owe me after I got Flammare to come save the day during the White Night.” She paused. “Unless you’ve got another plan?”

I could still walk away. Spare myself all of this. “I do, actually. A way to prevent the offensive from taking place at all.”

“Hmm. What have you got, then?”

Fernan gulped. “Well, I was thinking that Flammare didn’t have to be the sun if we could get another candidate approved by the spirits. He’s spent so much time antagonizing them that they’d turn on him pretty fast as long as they had a good alternative. And as long as they knew they had nothing to fear from him.”

“Maybe… I doubt I could talk him down though, especially if the end result would be him stepping aside. Flammare’s waited for Soleil’s seat for millennia; he’s not going to just walk away now.”

Red lines bent as Laura’s eyebrows furrowed. “Plus, it would get me in huge trouble with my family, and I cannot afford to let that happen again. I’m already on thin ice as it is. You can try to talk to him if you want, but I don’t think it’ll go anywhere, and I can’t be involved.”

Fernan pressed his hands to his face, feeling the warmth of his eyes lick the palms of his hands. This is it, no going back. “You weren’t.”

“What?”

“The offensive isn’t happening. The other candidate was already chosen.” Fernan felt his eyes dim to the scale of candle flame. “It happened an hour ago.”

Laura practically jumped back, flashing orange. “What did you do, Fernan?”

“Flammare is dead.” No need to give away Florette’s involvement unnecessarily, even if that much was sure to get out eventually. “With broad consensus, the assembled spirits chose Gézarde, the Flame Under the Mountain, as the next sun spirit.”

“What? But…” She thrust her fist forward, the same gesture Fernan had seen a hundred times as her opener in a fight.

A tiny puff of smoke slipped out from between her knuckles, but nothing else. When she repeated the gesture again, it lacked even that effect.

“There’s more.”

“There’s more?” she roared. “You took my power to fight!”

“I know—”

“You don’t know shit.”

“Listen, Lamante was involved. She lent someone a face that looked like yours in order to trick Flammare and lure him into the trap that killed him.”

“Flammare believed an imposter?”

Fernan shrank back, choosing his next words carefully. “I was there, and it did look like you from far away. I didn’t even realize until afterwards, when Lamante started talking.” The first outright lie, but doing this at all is so bad that I doubt it makes much difference by comparison. “As far as the other spirits saw, you lured Flammare to his death and then disappeared.”

Laura glowed red with rage, fists raised against Fernan, but she didn’t attack. She just stood there, frozen as her intensity burned brighter and brighter, until at last she broke the silence. “Then I’m as good as disowned already. Useless to my family, useless to the Empire, and useless in a fight. I don’t even know what’s going to happen to my familiar. He could be dead.”

I forgot she even had one. “I don’t… I don’t think that’s how it works. Sick, maybe, but as long as he has a source of fuel for himself…” I hope so. “You might still be able to conjure fire, too, as long as it’s fueled with your life instead of Flammare’s power.”

“Do you think so, Fernan? Then help me understand why I shouldn’t immolate you where you stand.”

“At the cost of your own lifespan?”

“Some things are worth it,” she spat, a day’s worth of fire accompanying the words. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. What happened to the courageous sage that bluffed his way into earning his magic? Who saved the Fox-King from an Avaline infiltrator’s scheme, and snuck behind the front lines to help sink Glaciel’s castle?”

“I never said I was involved.”

She scoffed. “And yet it was your patron spirit who ended up jumping the line. Why would you do this?”

Admit nothing, that keeps you safe. This is only to soften the blow so she knows what’s coming. Florette would doubtless think that even this was too much of a risk. But… “Flammare wanted to kill all of Glaciel’s children, all the descendants. He called them abominations. Now they’re not in danger anymore.”

“You pulled this shit for a bunch of ice monsters you’ve never met? Not a chance. You just wanted the power for yourself.”

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I didn’t… “Listen, I feel terrible about all of this.”

“Do you? Gonna mope around feeling guilty as if that makes the slightest fucking difference? If you could at least own what you did, I’d have more respect for you. But this bullshit remorse is worse than nothing.”

“I could talk to Gézarde. Maybe he’d take you on as a sage. You could get your power back, maybe some standing with your family?”

“Go fuck yourself.” She blasted a ball of red fire, simmering with rage, that only narrowly avoided Fernan’s face. By the smell, it had even singed his hair, but a wave of his hand cleared that up, along with the burning tapestry on the wall behind him.

When the brightness had cleared, she was gone.

≋

“What happened to your hair?” Florette asked as soon as they could meet again.

“Nothing. It fell down into my eyes. Easy enough to clear the flame.”

“Well, maybe you should trim your bangs then. And shave that beard! I feel like setting yourself on fire is a pretty important thing to avoid. What if it had happened while you were asleep?”

“It didn’t! Look, it doesn’t matter. How did things go once I left?”

“Smooth as a stream. Lamante really stepped up to help direct the spirits, and she gave me a break she didn’t need to, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the terms of our deal meant that I had to return that Laura lookalike face to her within ten hours or she’d have the right to take mine. But she could have just fucked off and left instead of letting me return it. Realized that the second I handed it back to her.” She sighed. “I can see why so many sages get themselves killed. You can think you planned for everything, but all it takes is a tiny mistake and suddenly you’re a faceless husk. Even dueling them feels safer by comparison; at least you know where you stand.”

Khali’s curse, at least the world has small mercies. “Maybe Lamante didn’t think of it either.”

“No, we talked about it. She said she respects me now, and between that and the Fallen, she wouldn’t want to mess with a good thing. Obviously, I’m not just taking her at her word, but she can’t outright lie, so that was nice to hear.”

“And everything really went fine with the spirits? No one tried to go after you?”

“Nothing, Fernan. I think they all hated Flammare as much as we did, though I tried not to stick around too long just in case. Mara’s still with Gézarde, though. She can fill us in on anything we missed.”

“Alright.” Fernan sighed with relief, though he really had no right to. “Then we’re finally done. All of the hardship and suffering from the spirits and the darkness can finally be over.”

Florette clicked her tongue, but she didn’t voice an agreement.

Fair enough, maybe that’s just wishful thinking. But it helped to believe it, after what Fernan had done. It still had to be worth it.

It had to.

And either way, Laura’s right that feeling guilty about it doesn’t actually change anything.

Florette looked like she was readying herself to give a more detailed response, though whether to dismiss him or reassure him, Fernan could not be sure, since she never got the chance to speak.

“Sire Montaigne!” an armored rider called out as he pointedly maneuvered his horse between Fernan and Florette. “His Grace, the Fox-King Lucien Renart, requests your presence in the Château at once.”

“In a minute,” Florette said, hidden behind the bulky figure. “We need to wrap this up first.”

The knight’s open visor turned back towards her, his lance following the motion. “His Grace’s summons are not to be ignored. This is not a request.”

“You said it was, though. You literally used the word ‘request’ not a minute ago.”

“Florette, please.” Fernan approached the knight, barely able to contain his exasperation. “I’ll walk right over.”

“Walk? Do you mean to tell me you have no horse? A chevalier sans cheval is naught but a man.”

“I barely managed to ride the garron I was lent; a horse wouldn’t do me much good anyway.”

“None of us had horses out for the Battle of White Night, and we still managed that just fine. Though I suppose your knights didn’t really do much, so perhaps you’re right.”

“Horses would have been a liability on the ice, fair demoiselle. It was hard enough to keep our own footing.” The knight hoisted his lance. “Should you assail our contribution with such insults again, Florette de Montaigne, I shall have no choice but to make you answer for it.”

“No need for that!” Fernan hurriedly cut in. “We were done anyway, right?”

“Fine,” she hissed quietly. “Just be careful what you say. You wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about what happened. Remember what I said before about your reputation.”

Hopefully it’s not too late for that.

“I’ll meet you at the old Delune manor afterwards,” Fernan assured her as he began walking, running through the story again in his head.

I showed up late, after everything with Flammare had gone down. Everyone saw me arrive then, and not a moment earlier.

They all saw Florette too, but if they didn’t recognize her, so much the better.

Keeping his thoughts straight amidst the pounding thud of horseshoes against cobblestone wasn’t easy, though.

“Sire, would it not be more expedient for you to ride alongside me? I’m happy to assist you in climbing up, should it prove necessary.”

“Thanks,” Fernan said, hoisting himself up onto the saddle. “I’m sorry about Florette. She nearly died during the White Night, and it’s been stressful for all of us.”

“Indeed it has,” he called over his shoulder. “And your sister does not want for courage. I saw her haul herself out of the pit and waste not a moment before charging to confront Queen Glaciel herself, despite my objections.”

“Oh, Florette isn’t my sister. We’re not even from the same village.”

“But she is of your mountain, de la montaigne, no?”

“Sure, I guess. But that name was just to have something to use for the Duchess’s trial. It’s not really…”

“Do not be so quick to denigrate the title which King Lucien so generously bestowed upon you in recognition of your words and deeds. ‘Montaigne’ is yours, and you would be wise to treasure it as I do the name Mesnil.”

Wait, I’ve heard that before. “Mesnil… Are you Dominique Mesnil? I think our sickbeds were next to each other.”

The knight laughed. “Dom is my brother. My name is Sire Miro.”

“Oh, I see. And how is your brother faring?”

Miro’s head drooped. “He’s going to lose his foot. I suppose he’s lucky to be alive, but…”

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“He may never ride again. His knighthood is over in practice if not in title, and all chance of fighting at the Fox-King’s side is gone to ash.” He inhaled sharply, perhaps a sniffle, though it was hard to tell from behind. “It’s a tragedy, Sire Fernan, and I thank you for your kind words.”

Fernan let a few minutes pass as they rode towards the castle together, not wanting to rudely break the silence.

You didn’t see anything. Remember that. Even if someone recognized Florette, she wants you to shut up about everything to avoid getting dragged into it.

Even though I’m the reason we did this at all.

“Do you ever worry that you could have prevented it?” Fernan asked. “I ask only because I have my own regrets over my part in that battle, not as any kind of accusation.”

Mesnil took a moment to consider it, then shook his head. “It was not my hand that chilled his foot to ruin, but I battled at his side. Doubtless there was more I could have done, and I have no choice but to live with that fact, but ultimately the battle was won. His sacrifice was not in vain, and there is no use to be had in ruminating on it any further.”

So if that’s how he feels, perhaps I should do the opposite. Even if he was right that there was nothing to be done about it now. With any luck, Laura would reconsider his offer once she had time to cool off, but Fernan wasn’t betting on it. “Do you know what the Fox-King wants with me, Sire Miro?”

“You are the only sage in the city he truly trusts. He wants an unbiased accounting of the Spirit Convocation.”

Great, so I am going to be questioned.

“Additionally, there is the matter of the confiscated Avaline weapons. Such powerful tools should not be left out in the wilderness for anyone to use.”

“What do you mean? Florette and the villagers have them.”

“Precisely. And by the end of the day, King Lucien wishes to be sure that all of them are in royal custody. You shall be granted one back, I am sure, but the safeguarding of them is of paramount importance.”

Florette’s not going to like the sound of that.

But it might be the only way to stay on King Lucien’s good side and make sure he doesn’t look too closely into the Spirit Convocation.

Hopefully that wouldn’t be necessary, but it was good to plan for the worst.

In the castle courtyard, three figures in dark hoods were gathered by the entrance, speaking with the door guard, who Fernan didn’t recognize.

“They came,” Mesnil gasped.

“Who?”

“Ah, excellent, it appears that individuals with the appropriate echelon of authority have at last arrived,” the tallest cloaked figure called out. “Good sires, would you be so kind as to grant us an audience with the Fox-King? We have traveled long and far to reach the Convocation of the Spirits.”

“After a fierce expedition through the endless snow, we moved as swiftly as any could aspire to in these deleterious conditions, only to miss it by one day.”

Fernan tried to get a sense of their aura, but it seemed muted in all three of them. “I was just on my way to talk to him, actually. Who should I say you are?”

“And what is your business?” Mesnil added, a slight hitch in his voice.

“We are duly elected representatives of the Condorcet Collective, here to represent our patron spirit in the most hallowed convocation and ensure that only the most appropriate candidate is chosen to emanate their solar flares across the face of Terramonde.”

The first speaker stopped, only for the next to jump in as if they’d rehearsed it.

“Alas, it appears we were too late. But perhaps not all is lost; that much remains to be seen. In the meantime, as diplomatic emissaries of the most free and sovereign nation, we wish to confer with the Fox-King and discuss the most appropriate actions to be undertaken at the next available opportunity.”

“We hope you will be so kind as to prepare us lodging as well, for such time as our visitation lasts. We do not intend to stay long.”

Mesnil still wasn’t saying anything, so Fernan nodded back to them. “I’ll let him know.”

“You have my gratitude, then, Sire.”

“Fernan Montaigne,” he supplied. “Who is your patron spirit, though? I would have thought they’d come themself, rather than relying on sages.” If they have more of a collaborative partnership, it could be a good example to follow with Gézarde.

“Alas, she has been unable to attend for some time now. Thus the task falls to her most devoted servants to see that her will is done in Terramonde.”

What kind of spirit wouldn’t be able to travel to a meeting? They make it sound like she’s not capable of doing anything. And sages can’t vote at the Convocation… Barring something like what Florette and I did, what could they even have hoped to accomplish?

Were they trying to pull something like what we did?

“Fear not, Sire Montaigne. The eternal night has passed, but it heralds a return to the natural order. Ere long, Khali shall return from Nocturne, and right the imbalance slowly throttling this world of ours.”

Oh. “I’ll… I’ll let him know.”