Florette XIII: The Friend of Darkness
“I want to thank all of you for making this possible.” Florette addressed the villagers with conviction in her voice, trying to make it clear how much their efforts were appreciated. “Together we faced down a spirit older than the city we’re defending, and we won without losing any of our people.” Even if Glaciel lived through it, which might have made it all for nothing.
It had taken all of her willpower not to scream at Fernan for that, dragging an enemy into things just in time to screw up the plan and take the credit… But Fernan knew that. He realized he’d screwed up, and now he was going to help fix it. It’d be outrageously hypocritical to hold a mistake against him like that. It wasn’t like chewing him out would have been satisfying anyway; somehow he still managed to look like a sad baby goat even with trails of fire shooting out of his eyes.
Besides, even if things didn’t work out tonight, it wasn’t all for nothing. “Before humanity and spirits alike, you’ve proven your strength. You’ve mastered arms so advanced that even Avalon is only beginning to understand them, took down a spirit so powerful that even the flame spirits feared to face her, and swayed the Battle of White Night even more than trained knights and well-born sages could manage.”
Florette nodded to Michel, the solicitor who’d balked at taking up arms himself before she could convince him, in large part because of what it meant to show their strength before the aristocracy.
He smiled back, though the expression sat slightly strangely on his face, then produced a small wooden box from his cloak. When he opened the lid, dozens of pins were arranged in rows within it, each bearing the same flaming green insignia.
Florette picked up one of the pins and affixed it to her coat, having removed her old one for the sake of better theater here. “You are all Montaignards now, each and every one of you have proven it beyond all doubt. Now it falls to us to ensure that none forget it. Not the spirits, not Avalon, and not even the Fox-King himself.”
“Step forward,” said Michel, “and accept your identifier. All shall know that we protect our own.”
“Please be sure to thank Abel, son of Gézarde, for helping create these,” Florette added as she lifted one up. Closer in size to a cat, the little gecko couldn’t really understand speech yet, but he’d been fascinated by errant glass on the beach, and Mara had helped get the point across to him well enough to melt them into shape. Each was slightly different in color and shape, but clearly of a piece with one another.
The first up, amusingly, was Gaspard, the boy she’d spent so many hours practicing dueling with. Well, if hitting each other with sticks could even be called that. There hadn’t been time to show him how far she’d come, but that wasn’t really something she needed to prove anyway. He’d seen her tangle with Glaciel herself, surely even he knew he was well outmatched by this point.
It helped that he’d stepped up to help with this instead of staying a smug prick.
He smiled at her as she pinned the flame to his jacket, which she returned with a slightly awkward nod. Better to just ignore that.
Fernan’s mom was next to step forward. Eleanor, that was her name. She looked so much like him, with the same narrow face and black hair, though the years she’d weathered were plain to see on her face.
Florette pinned the flame to her collar and proclaimed her a Montaignard, which caused her to snort with amusement.
“I supposed now I’m truly from the mountains, as opposed to before?”
Florette shrugged. “It’s a name, that’s all. We want to look out for each other, and have people know they can come to us.”
“True enough. I suppose I’m a Montaignard and a Montaigne, if Fernan is. Unless names only go down lineages and not up? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”
“I don’t know either, to be honest. But either way, that title was granted by the Duchess. This, you earned yourself, keeping everyone safe who didn’t fight. Thank you.”
“Thank you. I heard what you did to save Fernan, and I won’t forget it. You’re welcome in my home any time.”
Florette blinked, not sure how to respond aside from a muttered ‘thanks’, then waved the next villager forward.
There’s a chance I won’t be welcomed anywhere, soon enough.
≋
“It’s the thirteenth day of the month. I’ve been keeping track ever since darkness fell.”
It was. “What does that matter?”
“You know, they didn’t do it very well last time, and things got so muddled they had to start the calendar all over.” Magnifico scratched at the crown on his head, letting out an irritated grunt when his fingers caught on the dark metal. “Thirteen is a venerated number, according to the ancient Grimoire tradition. Soleil took the first twelve hours, and Khali the next thirteen; the Great Binder separated out the thirteenth line in her call to action; the old calendar had thirteen months. It’s fitting that you would choose this day, that’s all.”
I guess being trapped in here alone will get to anyone, even him. Good. “I want an extension. I’m returning the Cloak of Nocturne and the Blade of Khali to you as promised, now that the White Night is over. But I’m hoping you’ll grant them to me again.”
“Do you have any news about Luce? Your purple friend refused to return my message to him.”
“Corro has better things to do, as do I. Are you going to equip me for this or not?” Sneaking in here again had been risky enough, even with the Cloak of Nocturne to cover her most of the way.
“What about the First Speaker? Elizabeth Grimoire? Any news of Avalon?” He scratched at his crown again, once again failing to even nudge it. Looks like his hair’s not doing so great, either. It couldn’t be easy to wash with that crown stuck to his head.
“Luce is alive, last I heard.” Though that was from Camille through Fernan after downing nightshade, so the reliability was a bit suspect. “Despite all the people he’s pissing off in Malin. I don’t know anything about Avalon’s council or its ministers, though. You’re on your own with that one. Now, please, could you make this official so I don’t have to go bury these artifacts again to keep my word?”
With the slightest tilt of head, the smug bard returned, his eyes alive once more. “Consider your extension granted. If you can pull this off, the Cloak of Nocturne is yours to keep. My gift to you, for a job well done. You’ve already excelled far beyond what I’d hoped for.”
“Good.” That’s all I needed. No reason I can’t leave now.
“Don’t feel bad about Glaciel, either. Even managing to grab a share of her power is an impressive feat for a novice binder. And now you’re all the better equipped to bind your next artifact.”
Florette’s mind jumped back to the moment of triumph, hacking away at the ice spirit like she were meat beneath a cleaver, focused on wringing out the benefit. Thinking like a binder. It sat ill with her still, but the plan would never work without it.
“In truth, the Blade of Khali wasn’t the best tool for the job, only the best I had available here. You want to hit a spirit with their weakness. Fire for ice, darkness for light, earth for wind… Once you build up a good collection, you shouldn’t be hitting spirits with anything less than a killing blow. It makes the fights less interesting, but in your case that would be worth it to let you stay alive.”
I’m not building a collection of macabre trophies like you, you prick. Once tonight’s work was done, there would be no need to keep using Avalon’s heavy-handed methods. The spirit crisis would be resolved.
“If you give me the details, I’d be happy to consult,” Magnifico offered, not even trying to keep the sinister tone out of his voice. “You have my artifacts, and now one of your own. I hear you might even have some guns at your disposal. Where do they connect? How do you plan to do it?”
“Nice try. I managed to beat Glaciel without your ‘consultation’.” Even if saying ‘I’ beat her is wildly understating what the Montaignards did. Best to tell him as little as possible.
“You caught her by surprise. You lost the fair fight, and rather badly, despite Corro going so far to help you. If you try challenging the Arbiter of Light to an honor duel, you won’t last thirty seconds before you’re cooked alive. That’s even if he doesn’t clear the area of your adorable little militia first.”
“I don’t intend to fight fair.” That was the most she’d give him.
“Then you do understand.” Magnifico grinned, managing to look five years younger just from the expression. “Fine, if you don’t want to give away what you intend, I’ll simply give you an example to follow. You can adjust things accordingly, or not, as you please.”
“An example?”
“I killed Soleil, didn’t I? I’m sure you don’t know the full story of how I did it.”
Just what Fernan saw, and what came after. “I’m listening.”
≋
“He asked about you,” Florette reported. “Apparently he wanted to pass a message back to Luce, and you refused.”
“He wants to reconcile with his offspring, when that son is on the cusp of opposing him entirely. No benefit is to be had in helping him.” Corro was smaller than before the White Night, his form more fluid. Whatever he’d gotten out of that explosion, he’d more than spent it. “That is why I helped set the pirate catcher against the young prince in the first place. In time, he may learn the value of turning Avalon’s knowledge against them, much as you are doing with your binding.”
“That’s…” I already stabbed his cousin to death, then Eloise spent months making money off of him. Now you’re going to destroy his relationship with his father? You’ve already stirred shit up for him in Malin? “Hasn’t he been through enough?”
“Your feelings of guilt are clouding your judgment, Florette.”
“Probably,” she admitted. “Knowing Magnifico, it’s probably healthier to have nothing to do with him anyway, even before you get into the greater good of a defector prince. I just… I can’t be making things worse anymore, or putting everything into something that doesn’t actually change things at all. I hesitated with Glaciel, and if things don’t work out tonight, then everything with that battle will have been for close to nothing. I feel like I’ve been messing everything up, and now I’m worried I’m going to do it again.”
Corro’s gaping maw twisted into a grin. “I disagree. Glaciel has been chastened in defeat, and you have earned her respect.”
“By using an underhanded trick in an honor duel?”
“How do you think she and Renart conquered the continent? Had it come down to raw power, sages of far mightier spirits would have carried the day.” His ooze rippled out from his mouth, smoothing itself out. “Ultimately, she retreated before the Convocation, just as I requested her to. You helped convince her.”
Florette blinked.
“I am pleased that you allowed her to live, Florette, though I would not have blamed you had you slain her.”
“If you were human, I’d say you’re just saying that to make me feel better…” Wait. “She technically did what you asked, you said. Doesn’t that mean you have to follow her to honor your word?”
“Indeed. Once your business tonight is complete, I shall depart at once for Hiverre. I believe Glaciel will be more receptive to my proposals now, but if she is truly obstinate, I will be in position to bring things to their natural end.”
“After tonight… So you will be here?”
“I am a spirit of death, of corruption, of decay. In my best moments, I see the imbalance and injustice and bring it to its natural end. Spirits are in just as dire need of that as humans.”
“Well said,” sang Lamante with her wings as she reached the cave where they were to meet. “It is so terribly constricting, following the old ways at the behest of the eldest and strongest.”
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“Thank you for coming, Lamante. Will the Fallen be here too? I asked them, but…”
“They are still recovering from the battle, gathering the strength to hold on to their self after so many have joined them. They will not be arriving tonight.”
“I see.” Fuck. Florette already owed them a lot, and wouldn’t want to interfere with that, but they were the one who had the history with Lamante, who might actually be able to convince her to help.”
“I promised I would pass on their wishes to you, and so I shall. They are concerned for you, all the more so if you embark on this path. Already you have taken so many lives, easier each time. Scarcely weighing on you at all. Do not allow yourself to become comfortable with it. It cannot be your first solution to every problem.” Lamante pulled a mask from her pack.
“Is there another solution to this problem?”
The face stealer held the mask up to her face, and in an instant took on the same blonde form she’d worn at the Convocation. Then, using her human shoulders, she shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything. That is what they think, and as promised, I have conveyed it to you.”
“What do you think?”
“I am less unimpressed than I was. Though I do not think your success is likely, there remains enough of a possibility that I am inclined to help.”
“Despite the Fallen’s wishes?”
Lamante inhaled, looking into the distance. “They never truly understood the way of things, despite my best efforts. Sometimes people need to die for you to get what you want. I understand their perspective, but it is not one that I share. That was why we went our separate ways in the first place.”
“Oh.” Florette glanced at Corro, who smiled in turn. “So you are willing to help? What will it cost me?”
“The Fallen asked that I grant it to you, in recognition of the time we spent together. No cost.” She peeled the mask from her face, reverting back to the pink-streaked mantis. She returned it to the sea of hollow faces on her back, then withdrew another and handed it to Florette. “Swear to return this when you are done, or within twelve hours. Whichever is first.”
“Or you’ll take my soul?” Florette grabbed the mask. The Fallen called in a favor to help me do something he didn’t even want me to? There was a puzzle there, or maybe a lesson. Or maybe they just realize that I have to do this.
“Your face, dear. I cannot imagine the appeal of an eternally servile companion. No chance to play the game, to truly get inside someone’s skin… There’s the energy, but I have never unduly wanted for that. No, I do not want your soul, but you have connections enough to make your visage interesting. I can think of several uses for it. Perhaps I’ll take a cue from Olwen Chevoloeur, and make you an eternal exile, a legendary symbol of defiance. I imagine you would like that.”
From Olwen’s Song? That’s not how it ended, though. “Great…” Florette sucked in air through her teeth. Just in case, I should warn everyone I know that being impersonated is a possibility.
She looked down at the mask in her hands, with its short brown hair and vacant eyes. “It doesn’t look that much like her. I don’t know her that well and I can tell the difference.”
“Lookalikes are not my trade. I am a collector of the interesting, not mere imitations of it. You are fortunate I possessed something even this close.” Lamante tilted her head, forelegs pressed together in a way that managed to look inviting despite how creepy it was. “If you want the genuine article, bring me her face with the body attached, and I shall convert it for you, provided it passes to me when you are finished. Otherwise, content yourself with this.”
Kill her, you mean. “Be honest, do you think this will fool Flammare?” Apparently Soleil could barely tell Lumière apart from his ancestors, and Flammare was easily as arrogant when it came to humans. But a lot was riding on that. If he saw through the mask…
“With a convincing performance, I believe it will. But if it does not, that falls on you.”
“Then we have a deal.” I hope it’s enough.
≋
“How does it feel?” Florette asked cautiously.
Fernan’s eyes were normal again, though she could still feel the heat radiating from his face. “Awful,” he said with a high-pitched voice. He didn’t really look that much like Laura, but the basics were there. The silhouette and height were fairly close, and the hair matched well enough. From a distance, it might even fool someone that knew her, though certainly not up close. “It’s not my body, Florette. The only things that aren’t subtly wrong are unsubtly wrong.”
It didn’t help that he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.
“I can wear it instead. There won’t be any of that discomfort.”
“Have you tried it on? It might not be as bad of a disconnect for you, but it’s still not your body.” He shook his head. “No, they’ll be looking for her magic. It won’t be convincing otherwise. Especially if he has a way to see my aura. It won’t match, but yours won’t even be close.”
“I think the mask covers that. Lamante would have warned about it, otherwise.”
“Still…” He sighed. “I can suffer through a few hours of this to make up for what I ruined. You dove through worse to save me; it’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you.” She reached out to hug him, but he flinched from the touch. Understandable.
She had tried it on, and even just seeing from lower than normal in the shorter body was enough to create a sense of unease. Fernan was facing far worse.
We just need to make sure it counts.
“Laura’s accounted for?”
“Sparring with the Fox-King. She’s not exactly excited for Flammare’s crusade. And Mara’s sister will run and signal if she leaves, so she can’t catch us off guard.”
“Good.” Florette took a deep breath. “I guess that’s it then.”
“Oh, you should know, Gaspard said he saw the Seaward Folly pulling into the harbor.”
“Captain Verrou? Here?” He’d practically disappeared since the raid against Luce. “Did he say what he wanted? I suppose the Duchess might still be willing to buy from him in her grandfather’s stead, but I can’t imagine this is the best time to get a good price.”
“No one’s disembarked, so it’s impossible to say. I’m taking people’s word for it that it’s even the same ship. Do you think it’s going to be an issue?”
“It’s too late for him to stop us even if he wanted to, and I can’t imagine he would. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“Alright.” He glanced past the rim of the crater, doing that thing where he saw through it. “You should get into position. It looks like they’re going to start soon.”
“You memorized the—”
“Yes. Come on, it’s time to go.”
Florette paused a moment. “Are we doing the right thing, here? We’re intervening in the fate of the world, interfering with a primal, essential force. If the Duchess found out, or the Fox-King…”
“We’re not jeopardizing anything; we have a replacement. One who will live, unlike the one Magnifico planned. It’s completely different.”
Florette tensed, readying herself to run to her position. “If they do have a problem with it—and I’m hoping they won’t, finding out after the fact when there’s nothing to be done anyway—but if they do, I’m taking all the heat, alright? Deny involvement however you can. Use that caution you love so much.”
“I—”
“Promise me.”
His lip curled. “Fine. Now go!”
She took off, fading into darkness with the Cloak of Nocturne as she sprinted around the ridge.
Mara was already in place when she arrived, finishing off a pile of coal as quietly as she could. “I have the energy. Just tell me when it’s time, and I’ll go!”
“Not yet. They haven’t started.” Florette pressed herself down against the ground, shimmying forward until she had a decent view of the spirits below.
With so many flame spirits, the darkness’s reach was limited, and she had no trouble seeing the arrangement. Many of the others from the Convocation were absent, though about half of them still seemed to be spirits from outside light’s domain, all of them kept separate on the other side of the crater.
Flammare was at the center of it all, descending from the sky above with his metal wings fully unfurled. “The time has come to seize our destiny. Mine is to be the Arbiter of Light, while you flame spirits all shall live to serve. We have too long remained scattered, alone.” He started to rise higher into the air, metal glowing brighter. “But now each spirit shall be forged anew, all strong together where we’re weak alone.”
The edges of the horizon were beginning to turn just the slightest bit purple, the most marginal change from the vast dark emptiness, but still a change.
“Now I, Flammare, the Spirit of the Hearth, do claim my role as Arbiter of Light, to rule as Soleil dictated I shall, with full support of the Convocation.” The higher he rose, the brighter he glowed, slowly making his way into the sky.
The spirits below simply watched, and for the moment, Florette did the same. It wasn’t time yet.
After about ten minutes, the bars around his chest were glowing white, so brightly that Florette had to look away to avoid blinding herself.
When her eyes moved to the horizon, she gasped.
“Does that look as beautiful to your sight as it does to mine?” Mara hissed.
“I can’t know for sure, but it’s really something,” Florette whispered back.
Dawn stretched across the horizon with radiant red light, the hint of sunlight already bringing warmth.
Eight minutes, that was the lag time between anything happening to the sun and seeing it from Terramonde, at least according to Magnifico.
Seeing this meant that Flammare had already claimed the seat. He was the sun now, as much as Soleil had ever been.
As far as he was concerned, it was over.
“Now,” Florette signaled, cloaking herself in darkness as she plunged into Nocturne.
Taking her cue, Mara began blasting out a simmering, continuous jet of fire, carefully molded to keep the flame red and orange instead of the usual green. Which costs her more, and there’s a chance she’ll have to hold onto it for a long time.”
Nestled in Nocturne’s dark embrace, feeling that call to the other side, Florette was facing an endurance test of her own.
This is his moment of triumph. He thinks he’s already won and there’s nothing to fear. Lumiére had felt the same way, and Soleil before him.
Flammare returned to earth in a flash of brilliant golden light, his form too bright to look upon any longer. “And now, spirits, our fight begins in truth. Ere long, we shall destroy the Winter Court, and rid ourselves forevermore of she who would disrupt the natural way of things, the mother of abominations and a challenger to my newfound domain. You spirits of the flame all stand with me, or you are naught but obstacles to us. And so our fight begins right here with you. Before we strike, we must burn out the rot.
“Corro, Lamante, Peauvre, and Miroirter. Corva and Fala too, and all the rest. All those who stood against me, soon you’ll pay. I see your fear kept you from coming here. That course was wise, but one you shall regret. The more scarce years you steal to live, the worse your final punishment shall be from me.
“Gézarde, I see that you at least were wise. You have the will to face your death this morn. For that, I shall be quick about my work.”
Florette felt herself sinking deeper, so deep into Nocturne that she felt she could almost see it. A world of darkness, towers of glass tracing their way across the sky. She could almost touch it, and all she’d have to do is let go.
Gézarde looked surprised to hear that, his head shrinking back. Sorry we couldn’t loop you in on the plan, but a conspirator who can’t lie isn’t a good asset. Hopefully this wouldn’t make his trust issues worse, but at least this surprise would be a pleasant one.
“Come hither now and face your fate, Gézarde. You should have stayed beneath your mountain home, but now your death shall serve to feed my strength. You ought consider it an honor, speck.”
“Far greater than the likes of him deserve!” Fernan called out as he flew into the center of the gathering, adding a new line to better segue from Flammare’s words. “Great spirit of the hearth and sun, I come bearing grand news on this auspicious day. The vile sage Gézarde took in is mine!” He was doing a decent job sounding confident, almost boastful. Even though the voice didn’t totally match, it was a passable impression of Laura, which would hopefully be enough. “Fernan Montaigne is bound, over that hill, awaiting sacrifice to you, Flammare.” He pointed back towards them, towards the fire Mara was still valiantly spitting out. “The pyre is blazing now, awaiting him. It’d be the greatest honor for our house if you bore witness to his death, Flammare. To see his eyes go wide with certainty, that even in his death, he’ll fail Gézarde.”
It was hard to see what Flammare was doing, since looking at him for even a second burned, but the pause implied he was looking back up the hill. Come on.
“It would be but a moment of your time, and grant in turn a peerless honor to the House Bougitte, and your High Priest, and me.”
Flammare seemed to glow brighter at that. “A change of plans, Gézarde. Now you will watch. Witness your greed destroy your sage before succumbing to your own ignoble end. The boy who came to me instead of you, for only I possess the strength to rule.”
Deep in Nocturne, Florette smiled, gripping the blade of Khali tightly. Got you. Despite the pain to her eyes, she forced herself to look. This had to be lined up perfectly.
Fernan flew towards them, the new sun spirit following behind with one effortless flap of his wings. He led the spirit down, until they were close enough to see that it was only Mara, at last able to release her breath.
Florette jumped down onto him, feeling the rush of sensation as Nocturne faded away.
“You dare to—” He gasped, feeling the Blade of Khali embedded in his chest.
Florette felt her arms and legs burning where they touched the spirit, but she kept her grip, swinging the blade back and forth within his metal bars, ensuring that he would not survive it.
“Florette!” Fernan called. “Get down, you’re smoking! It’s done!”
It’s done…
She let herself fall, thudding against the ground with her arms and legs still burning.
Fernan helped her to her feet, still wearing his disguise. Good. Wouldn’t want him implicated.
“Get Gézarde, right away.” She pulled out a dagger, ready to redirect the flow of energy, the white hot metal circling a dark void where the blade had cut.
There was still a binding to be done, hopefully the last one for a long time. Passing some of the energy directly onto Gézarde would help strengthen his claim, and then hopefully another vote of the spirits could happen right away. If they managed it quickly, the interruption to the morning would be slight.
Only once the sun was in the sky again would their work be truly over. Only then could they be sure they hadn’t made a horrible mistake.
It’s not done yet, Fernan.