Florette I: The Burned
Everything still hurt, but, in a way, that was a good thing. It meant that she still had feeling in her arms and legs, which was far from a given after a gecko attack alone, let alone jumping on top of the sun and ending his life.
I still can’t believe I did that, really.
Glaciel was one thing; Florette might have been the one to take the largest risk, but Corro and the Montaignards had done the most damage there, and the Fallen had been the one to ensure that Florette was actually in position to execute the plan.
This was just Fernan, a mask, Mara, and me. Against an ancient spirit of the hearth, ascended to the sun, it didn’t seem like much, but somehow, it had been enough.
And I might be ruined for it.
Fernan seemed to hope that he’d be able to talk the Fox-King around, but Florette had her doubts. Otherwise it wouldn’t have been so important to keep Fernan’s involvement a secret.
She had meddled with a sacred spiritual ceremony, jeopardized the return of a role vital to humanity’s existence itself, and permanently tarred the reputation of a woman who, whatever her other flaws, was innocent of deceiving her patron spirit to facilitate his murder, a violation liable to make even alderman Jerome blush.
And for what? She could practically hear the Fox-King’s voice in her ears, speaking with the same tone of voice he used to correct her dueling form. Some ice monsters who attacked us first? The willing followers of the most evil spirit not to be sealed away in a prison world?
He hadn’t even been willing to rescue Fernan; how likely was it that he’d moved by the plight of distant Hiverriens?
Ordinary people called to fight and die on faraway shores for their overlord, nearly eradicated over something they had no control over…
We did the right thing, but is Lucien Renart a man who will accept that?
She’d already had Michel hide the pistols. There was a reason she hadn’t handed them to Renart in the first place, and nothing had given her cause to regret that decision.
Fernan was inside now, trying to argue her case without looking too much like he was affiliated, a high stakes deception that he of all people was singularly ill-suited for, but Florette being there would only make things more suspicious.
Even if he keeps to the story, I doubt that’s enough to save me.
If it weren’t for her Cloak of Nocturne, now a permanent possession, Florette wouldn’t even be this close to the castle at all. Certainly not waiting in the courtyard for Fernan to come tell her her fate.
But since I do have it, this is cleaner. I’ll know before anyone else, and can slip away without being detected. If necessary, anyway.
Waiting here wasn’t exactly helping to take her mind off of it, though. It certainly wasn’t very productive to stare at the door for what felt like hours while drumming her fingers against her leg, wincing every few minutes when her mind wandered too far and she hit a patch of burned skin.
The creepy guys in hoods lurking around didn’t exactly help either. They looked like they were ready to start chanting and sacrificing at any minute, so they had to stay dressed for it just in case.
And one of them was staring at her intently, trying to be subtle by looking away before she noticed and failing badly to sweep his gaze away in time.
“What, have you never seen a sunburn before?” she called out, trying to distract herself. “Mine is a bit worse than most, but you don’t need to stare.”
“My sincerest apologies, fair maiden. Though none can truly say what feeling dwells deep within a man’s heart, I assure you, as certain as the moon’s turn, my intentions were not nefarious.”
Fair maiden? That explained the staring, then. “The intentions aren’t really what matters here. Don’t they teach manners in… by the way you look, I’m just going to guess Nocturne?”
“I should be so honored. Though some do claim that the Condorcet Collective is the nearest place on earth to it, so your perception ought to be commended, there.” He pulled his hood down, revealing an angular face, with short black hair and brown-green eyes. “My name is Maximilien, though all who call me friend refer to me as Maxime. I should be privileged to learn how you call yourself, demoiselle.”
“Florette,” she answered, having no real reason to hide it. If they’re in town another night, I’m sure they’ll hear all about it anyway. “You’re really from Condorcet? I didn’t think you guys left your borders much. And I hope you realize that when people call your country the closest thing on earth to Khali’s prison world, they mean it as an insult.” Because you sacrifice so many people to Khali, you make Gordon Perimont look like the epitome of restraint.
Maxime only nodded, but apparently their conversation had provoked the other two to approach, the taller one already sweeping his arm indignantly before he even began speaking. “Those outsiders who levy such insults at us speak from a place of profound ignorance, locked within the shackles of their own hierarchically-trained minds. The Condorcet Collective is the only free nation on Terramonde, and the subjects of foreign oppressors would have you believe that this fact makes us evil.”
“I’m sure that’s it. Fanatically serving an evil spirit that can’t hear you and gets nothing from your sacrifices has nothing to do with it.”
The hooded man thrust his arms back at that, puffing up his chest, but he didn’t get a chance to open his mouth before his partner interrupted. “Calm down, Citoyen Darce, I entreat you, please. Our florally-named young friend is simply laboring under the same delusions about noble Khali’s nature that plague the world at large. Here, at the erstwhile seat of Soleil’s power, we can expect nothing less than such ignorance in abundance. Is it not our responsibility to educate and advocate, rather than to judge?” Her voice sounded almost too sweet, teetering on the edge of condescension without ever quite reaching it.
“Of course you are right, Citoyen Courbet, though it pains me to acknowledge it. It behooves a duly elected representative of the Thirteen to comport himself in a more accepting manner, all the more so in this land of misinformed heretics, laboring under the cloud of their own delusions.” Is he just trying to find the longest, most obnoxious way possible to say absolutely everything? It sounded almost like Jethro, though the Condorcet representatives were all far more consistent about it than the spy had ever been.
“Some might say the people giving offerings to a spirit who doesn’t deserve and can’t receive them are the ones in a delusional cloud, but I suppose it’s debatable.” Florette leaned back against the castle wall. “Your whole nation is built on doing the illogical and the cruel, and no one’s allowed to leave. I wouldn’t exactly call that freedom.” Not that it’s so great here, either. Michel had brought up Condorcet as an example that could be followed in some respects, but more as a basis to learn from their, as he put it, ‘manifold mistakes and innumerable errors’. Camille had put it more eloquently, calling them ‘fucking freaks’. According to her, their first leader had been a six year old child, the second one a horse, and things hadn’t improved much from there. “Plus you tried to turn Robin Verrou over to Avalon, if what I read was right. I can’t help but take exception to that.”
“He robbed the manse of the most senior of the Thirteen of over eight million florins! All we were doing was prosecuting a criminal. So long as you obey the law, you have no grounds to object to that.”
Florette didn’t reply, suppressing a smirk as she shrugged, enjoying Citoyen Darce’s bug-eyed bewilderment.
“You should take care to examine your reading materials with a sufficiently critical eye,” Maxime said. “The reality of Verrou would likely fail to live up to the image you’ve built in your mind.”
“Well, it did a little. His hair is thinning, and I didn’t really expect the wrinkles. But at the same time, in the field he’s chosen, age alone is a boast.”
“You’ve met him?”
“Sure. He gave me my sword, helped me get out into the world. That’s true freedom, I’d say, not the prison to execution chute you’ve built over in Condorcet.” And I had it, until I decided to go with Eloise and it all came crashing down. It wasn’t like it had all been a mistake, but it still felt unsettling to realize she’d ended up right back where she started.
“Then you are at the very least a sympathizer for criminals, and I have little doubt that you’ve been wrapped up in his violations or similar ones of your own accord.” Darce shook his head. “It is fitting to see that the so-called Fox-King keeps such scoundrels in his court.”
Citoyen Courbet shook her head. “She’s been made to wait outside, Darce, at this moment as ill-esteemed by the Fox-King as we are, it would seem.”
“Or I’m enjoying the fresh air. It’s a nice day, for the first time in a while.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maxime cut in. “Darce, she obviously hasn’t heard what really happened, so berating her for it isn’t going to get you anywhere. Why don’t you just tell her?” He focused his eyes on Florette. “If you’ve traveled with Verrou, I think you’d like the story, and it’s not one that many have been inclined to spread outside our borders without so tainting it with calumnies that it bears only the slightest resemblance to the truth.”
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“Sure, go ahead.” This is certainly a better distraction than I could have hoped for.
“Then please proceed, Citoyen Darce.”
“Not that you are under any obligation, particularly,” Courbet said.
“No, no, I shall do my duty as a duly elected representative.” Darce removed his hood, revealing a shaved head and closely-trimmed beard, then puffed out his chest once more to begin his rant. “Two hundred years ago, the people of Pointe Gaspard labored under the same sort of callous overlords as you do now, none more menacing among them than the Lord of the Pointe, Georges Rive. He held the pointe for Plagette and paid his loyalty to the ruling Aureaux, eager to curry whatever favor he could from his overlord, no matter the cost to the people he ruled. No gift was too extravagant, no timeframe too short. Craftsmen who failed to meet his deadlines or refused his requests had their hands removed. Any who complained were not long allowed to keep their tongues. Rive taxed a prosperous gateway to the High Kingdom to the brink of ruin, and offered the souls of any who failed to pay their debts to Aureaux to sacrifice.
“Lord Rive represented Pointe Gaspard in the Plagetine Senate, but he did not represent its people. Indeed, one could hardly find a man who represented the people less, yet by the law and tradition of the Plagette Republic, his family held the seat. What right had he to play this role? Did the Senate not call for representation?
“On a warm summer evening while Lord Rive was away, casting his vote for the next First Speaker of the Senate, the people of the Pointe held a vote of their own, to choose who among them would serve as a fair representative, to ensure that the Senate could function as it had always been intended to, or so they thought. Nicolas Condorcet, a prominent patrician of the pointe who had served the city faithfully for years, won eleven votes of every thirteen, and vowed to travel across the lake to petition First Speaker Aureaux.”
Florette grimaced. “I’ll admit I hadn’t heard that part before, but surely they didn’t think that would work out for them?” Even without knowing how things ended up, it wouldn’t have exactly been hard to predict.
“Just so.” Citoyen Darce nodded in agreement. “The First Speaker corrected their misconceptions quickly enough when she outfitted Rive with fourscore knights to mass outside the city walls, and sent the Condorcet’s head sailing back over them. All agreed that the ensuing siege would not be a lengthy one, but the will of the people was unbreakable. For thirteen days, the walls stood, and the lord’s knights failed to penetrate the city.”
“But they would not hold out forever. Despite the will of the people, the conclusion was forgone. If not tomorrow or the next day, then after the First Speaker gathered her ships to block access from the water and turn anyone who attempted to fish into pincushions with her archers.” Courbet smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Nicolas the elder may have been dead, but his son of the same name, only twelve years of age, possessed the same courage and spirit as his late father. He slipped past the besiegers and wandered deep into the desert to petition for aid. Khali answered his call, and bestowed upon him a share of her power.”
Darce nodded. “When little Nicolas returned, he struck from behind, wielding Khali’s power to drive the besiegers blind, freeing the people to rout them from the pointe and liberate themselves from the shackles of Plagette’s rule. First Speaker Aureaux never regained her sight, and the Senate rejected her soon after.” He said the last part with a bit of a smirk. “Every year after, the citizens elected one from amongst their number to venture into the desert and make a pact of their own, so that the collective would always be defended from outside threats. Each year their number grew by one, until Thirteen sages of Khali protected the collective and its people, chosen by the people.”
“Thirteen years on, Nicolas the younger retired from his position, knowing he was never elected to it, and willingly passed his seat and powers to whomever the people would choose in the next election. His first disciple followed after, and every single one of them since — thirteen elected representatives to govern Pointe Gaspard. So it was and so it has been. The Thirteen represent the people, are beholden to us, of us and not above us, and defend us from all threats to our freedom.” Courbet looked at Florette intently. “And let there be no mistake: without Khali’s grace, it would never have been possible. The Condorcet Collective would merely be another chained people, reminiscing about a failed rebellion. All that Khali wanted in return was souls, and so it behooves us all to grant her that which is her due, as much and as best as we possibly can.”
“Within reason,” Darce muttered.
“But she’s gone. Sealed away.” I’ve even got the book of the woman who did it, assuming it’s real.
Darce held up his hand again, so Florette cut in before he could get started. “Anyway, the rest is interesting, and I can certainly agree with a lot of what you’re saying.” It could definitely be instructive here, if we play our cards right. “Thanks for sharing it.” As delusional and bloodthirsty as they might be when it came to all things Khali, they had a point that the peasants needed force for their demands to be taken seriously. As a credible threat, if nothing else.
If only we had access to a few crates of Avaline super weapons that the Fox-King can’t touch. If only some dashing pirate had stolen them from a high-speed contraption in a daring heist.
“Might I request a moment of your time in private, Florette?” Maxime asked, his head tilted up eagerly. “That is, if you do not mind discussion of your acquaintance, Robin Verrou.”
“Why, certainmoniously! So long as your electedness would deign to speak with a lowly ignorant like myself.”
“Myself, I was not elected to anything,” he said quietly, leading Florette out of earshot of the other two. “The citizens elected Darce and Courbet to serve as our representatives at the Convocation, but I am only present on their journey to help keep them safe.”
“Ah, a guard, eh? Not what I would have expected. You don’t exactly look dangerous.”
“Exactly.” Maxime’s voice fell to a whisper, forcing Florette to lean in to hear him. “Legally speaking, I’m not even technically a citizen of the collective anymore, but traveling with them was the least conspicuous way to make it here under the prior conditions.”
“Anymore? I was under the impression that ex-citizens went straight to the sacrifice ritual most of the time.”
“Alas, so it is. My people took leave of their senses when Khali was sealed, if indeed we ever truly possessed them. With Khali under siege, we were at war, you see, though the people’s army never once left our borders. And in wartime, the Thirteen had no issues implementing temporary prohibitions against sedition and ‘anti-collective’ activities. When the next elections were held, few wanted to change boats mid-stream, and so the enforcement initiative carried forward long past the designs of its original architects. No crime was too small to merit punishment, so it went, and no punishment more just than fueling Khali.”
“No one tried to stop them? Isn’t that the foundation of your identity?”
“There is an opposition faction, to be sure. Citoyen Darce numbers among them, in fact. His ilk take issue with the rampancy with which these sacrifices have been conducted, espousing a policy of moderation. Sometimes, they even hold the majority of the Thirteen. But all that means is a few years where things stop getting worse, the people grow tired of stagnancy, and the pace picks up once more. The problem is never that we execute more criminals than nations thrice our size, nor that criticizing the Thirteen is grounds for criminality, only that some people are a bit too enthusiastic or careless about it. We ought to declare the war against Khali over, in their words, but the measures passed because of it may stand forever.”
“Useless,” Florette summarized, nodding her head. Though if criticism is grounds for execution, it’s curious that you’d feel so comfortable doing it in front of a stranger. The distance doubtless helped, but it still seemed curiously reckless.
“They hold a bandage in their hand and an open wound on their breast, but the solution they arrive at each time is to tie on a blindfold. To think, I once hoped to rise to the Thirteen as a moderating influence! I believed I could help steer my nation back to its ideals from above.” He smiled ruefully at the thought. “Fate had other plans for me, of course, but I might as well have wished to flap my arms and fly to Nocturne.”
I need to introduce this guy to Michel and the Montaignards; this is a gold mine of insight. “What happened?”
“A duly appointed officer of the Thirteen found a pamphlet I’d never even read in my bag, calling for an end to death as a punishment for criminality. If Robin Verrou had not been in town at the same time disrupting, distracting, and delaying, I would be nought but ash on the wind today. Fate snatched the future I’d planned on away, but it granted me the opportunity to flee, and the Realm of the Exiles welcomed me, as it does all those who escape oppression. Though I may be able to re-infiltrate the Collective for this purpose or that, I’ll never again be able to live there openly, and so many more shall never be permitted to live at all.”
He’s a spy for the Realm of the Exiles?
Florette blinked, looking Maxime from a new angle. A thousand questions sprang to mind: Have you met the Queen? Is it true that she rides a pegasus? What’s your mission in Guerron? How closely does Captain Verrou work with the Exiles?
But before she even had a chance to pick one, Fernan stumbled out of the main doors, and that had to take precedence.
He’d never been the best at hiding his expressions, but since his injury he’d understandably lapsed even further, which made the dejection plain to see on his face.
Florette approached cautiously, readying her Cloak of Nocturne to cut and run if needed. “How did it go?”
Fernan shrank in on himself, posture wilting. “Duchess Annette was livid that you jeopardized the return of the sun unilaterally, with no prior discussion of risks and benefits, nor sanction from the Crown.”
“Sanction I’d never have gotten.”
Lips pressed firmly together, Fernan nodded. “But she and the Fox-King both agreed that you cannot be seen as affiliated with them in any way. After fighting together in the White Night and planning the operation, it could send a message that the Empire is deceitful, espousing bad faith with the spirits, which could ruin all credibility with humans and spirits alike.”
I wish I could have expected any different. “So he’s going to arrest me?”
Fernan shook his head. “I talked them into giving you three days to leave the city. No contact with them starting now, and they don’t want you anywhere near the castle, but they’ll wait until you’re out of pocket to start publicly condemning you.”
You mean calling for my death. “That’s still better than I would have expected.” And it means you didn’t give away that you were involved, which also counts for something.
“There’s something else. They want us to turn over all the pistols to them, with the same deadline.”
“Fuck off! I’m the one who rightfully stole them.”
“But—”
“Look, we can talk about this more when we’re further from prying ears. Let’s head back for now.”
“Miss Florette, if you have a moment, I would dearly like to finish our scintillating conversation. Might I accompany the two of you on your excursion? Presuming the representatives feel secure for a few hours here?”
“Oh yeah.” Fernan snapped his fingers in realization, pointing towards the Condorcet representatives. “The Fox-King said that the servants will show you to your chambers, and that you are welcome to stay. I think he’s sending someone to tell you that, but now you know a bit earlier.”
“I have no objection.” Darce shrugged.
“Nor I,” Courbet added. “Take care to stay out of trouble, Maxime. We may be in a savage land, but you must take care not to comport yourself in a savage manner nonetheless.”
“Of course,” Maxime assured her, not fully hiding the annoyed tone in his voice. He turned to Florette and Fernan, an expectant look on his face. “Shall we?”