Luce V: The Trailblazer

Announcing a New Change in Editorial Staff

-By Lady Camille Leclaire

Prince of Darkness Unveils Bold New Plan to Combat Starvation

-By Jaya Frampton

Clochaîne Candles to Introduce New Formula

-By Horace Greeley

Society: Lady Mary’s Four Essential Tips to Stay Fashionable and Warm

-By Lady Mary Perimont

Luce rolled his eyes at the final article, tossing the journal aside. At some point I should probably read more than the headline, but this is fine for now. Camille had really done it, and in an impressively short time as well. According to Simon, they were even selling better, not that that was the main concern anyway, but it helped with the enormous subsidies for staff time Camille had insisted she needed.

Still, hard to argue with what works.

The most significant impact was that it gave Luce the free time to actually study the real problem, and find the real solution.

The earth from the riverbanks that Fenouille had empowered was strange to study, definitely outside of his usual expertise, but he’d been able to coax it to expend its energy heating water, giving a way better handle on how spiritual energy could be measured in martins than the sloppier-by-necessity experiments he’d managed to get through with Camille.

More interesting, though, was the implication of converting energy into something usable by plants in lieu of their usual solar fuel. A synthetic photosynthesis, if you will. He smiled at the thought, turning back to the lamp he was trying to craft on the table in front of him.

Copper wire was extremely hard to come by here and now, with shipments from Avalon so few and far between, so he’d repurposed it from a motor he’d been messing with before darkness fell. Converting Fenouille’s power into light would be nice, and a significant breakthrough in its own right, but uncoupling food from sunlight and farming would be far more valuable still, and it seemed within reach.

Right now, spirits as a whole were an unfortunate necessity, but if their functions could be replicated on a human level, powered through the Nocturne gate… Even if such farms only supplied a portion of Avalon’s food, they would be that much better prepared the next time something like this occurred.

And it will. It had already happened twice in just over a century, and if Father’s words were any indication, the next Sun Spirit would be weaker still, even more susceptible to removal.

Desperation had forced him to deal with monsters, and it had already taken him so very far. To think what we could have done if we’d started earlier.

Luce held one end of the wire over a candle, getting it soft enough to fix it against the turbine he’d mocked up. The idea wasn’t new, using the way a wire heated up when filled with current to give off light, but most applications so far hadn’t been very practical. It was wildly more expensive than even the most elegant oil lamp for a light not half as bright, and logistically far more difficult to power besides.

But it could be a way to pass spiritual energy on, to stimulate growth in the same way the soil Fenouille’d empowered did. No guarantees it would work, but there were other avenues to try if not.

Still, a lamp seemed the most promising place to start, closer to the light that plants normally relied on.

To light a room, it wouldn’t be worth much. But a farm?

As long as the return justifies the power expenditure, and this certainly would…

Even now, laborers were collecting the first harvest from the river spirit’s soil to add to the city’s stores of grain. As long as it was indeed safe, they’d have another two weeks of life from that alone. And it’s just the beginning.

He directed a thought of thanks towards Fenouille for agreeing to help, and Camille for making it possible.

He must have passed another hour in his workshop trying to get the wire lamp to work before another damnable interruption imposed itself at his doorstep.

“Captain Anya Stewart and her son, Your Highness, here on behalf of Lady Perimont,” the voice rang out through his no-longer-sound-proofed door. Easier to let people shout things through it and hear his response than to interrupt himself for even longer every time someone wanted something.

And of course it’s her. The impossible day had arrived when Gary Stewart wasn’t the last person he wanted to see.

Luce steeled himself and opened the door. “Welcome to my workshop, Captain Anya. Please, come in.”

Though Captain Stewart towered over her son, the resemblance was otherwise plain to see. They sported the same sandy hair, give or take a streak of grey, gripped their swordbelt with the same defensive posture.

Gary looked guilty where Captain Anya looked severe though, which did not bode well.

Luce shut the door, waving them towards his work table, his draft lamp design still sitting atop it, burning a black streak into the wood. Shit! He dashed over and disconnected the wire from the waterwheel, then shoved it all aside.

“I see you share your father’s exacting standards for cleanliness,” the Captain noted, head tilted up with obvious distaste. “Though setting a fire is a new touch, I will admit.”

“How can I help you, Lady Stewart?” He set his arms down over the scorch mark. “As you can see, I’m quite busy.”

“Busy? You’re just playing with your toys again.” Gary turned to face his mother. “It’s like I told you, Mother, Luce is just a feckless child that couldn’t live up to Prince Harold. It’s not like—”

A dry crack echoed across the room, and Lady Anya returned her hand to her side. “You will speak when spoken to, Gerald, or you’ll never learn.”

“Sorry, Mother.” Gary rubbed his cheek, flicking his eyes towards Luce before hurriedly withdrawing them.

Am I a bad person if a part of me enjoys this?

Gary had darkened the palace for years as one of Harold’s guards, incapable of containing his imbecilic bravado for even a moment, but he couldn’t be dismissed without creating problems with the very woman before them now.

Harold leaving him in Malin was unfortunate in that it meant the harbor bombing investigation was guarenteed to be bungled, but he could only be blamed so much when Sir Gerald was otherwise so hard to be rid of.

Until Perimont saved me the trouble. Probably the best thing he ever did.

“Since you are so terribly busy, Prince Lucifer, I shall endeavor to be brief.” She examined the back of her hand, still slightly red. “I know what you did, and I have proof.”

What? Luce curled his nails towards his palms, straining to maintain a calm expression. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

The corner of Captain Anya’s lip curled into a hint of a smile. “On the day of Lord Perimont’s death, his train was robbed by pirates and criminals, stealing crates of advanced weaponry and spilling it out into our streets. One of these pirates, a girl named Florette, turned a stolen pistol against Lord Perimont and assassinated him. Then you covered it up because your heart is too soft to allow the necessary reprisals.”

Luce froze. “That’s… um… quite a story.”

“Oh, it gets better, my prince. As you must know, Florette was a close companion of your woman in blue. They vouched for each other, and helped each other with their criminal connections. My son and his partner even found evidence implicating her in the harbor bombing, a signature earring amidst the wreckage.”

“No.” He shook his head, glad to be on slightly firmer ground. “I knew about that already, and discussed it with Camille. Those earrings were stolen and planted to frame her, an attempt to falsely incite Avalon to war by none other than Lord Or…” What was his first name again? “Lord Lumière,” he finished. “He was a liar and a manipulator, never a friend to Avalon in truth. She explained she didn’t do it, and that’s the end of it.”

The Captain chuckled. “And you believed her?”

She was compelled to speak the truth or lose her soul. It was so convenient being able to do that, really. It made a reliable asset out of an unreliable snake. “I verified it myself. So if baseless accusations are all you—”

“Oh, I have proof, Prince of Crescents. You have been caught.” She looked him up and down briefly, nostrils flared. “It is out of respect for your father that I come to you at all. Leave this city, and return to Cambria.”

Luce scoffed. “Leave? My father appointed me governor here.” Possibly as part of a ruse to get me killed, but… “I’m certainly not going to truncate the important work I’m doing because an overzealous pirate catcher read too many sensationalized journals.” He pointed to the door. “You are dismissed, Captain Stewart.”

She stepped closer instead, leaning in so close he could feel her breath. “I witnessed you treat with monstrous spirits myself, conspire with their human collaborators and cover up the murder of a royal governor, and yet still I offer you this grace as a prince of the blood. Lady Perimont has ordered Captain Whitbey to gather the Guardians and apprehend you first thing tomorrow. That gives you the rest of this evening to pack your things aboard my Ferrous Ram and say your farewells to this city. Leave poor Lillian to grieve, and go hide behind your brother’s cloak. My son insists our future king would be distraught at your death, no matter how just. Harold was always a boy of extreme emotions, and it may well be that he’d prefer his traitor brother remain alive. I offer you this one chance. Otherwise, you will be brought to justice.”

The walls seemed to shrink in, the workshop all of a sudden far too small to fit so many within its confines, sucking the air away.

Stewart stepped back, lifting her coat to reveal a pistol on her belt. “Now get packing.”

Luce shut his eyes, pressing his hands to his temples.

She’d almost cornered him at Perimont’s ceremony of departure, but Camille had swooped in to save him then with the perfect mix of truth and lies, effortlessly conjured in the moment without her even knowing the full context.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Why am I always a week from disaster? It felt like years since things had been remotely normal, and every time things finally stabilized enough that he felt like he could get his feet under him, start improving the machine instead of just keeping it running, some new calamity had to arrive and smash it to pieces.

Enough is enough. “Do you know who I am?” He slammed the table in front of him. “I am the son of the King, the Prince of Crescent Isle, second in line to the throne, of the blood of the Great Binder herself! I am the Overseer of the Tower that invented the device you’re pointing at me, and a thousand more important things besides. I am one of seven living people to have gazed beyond the veil to Nocturne. I am saving the fucking world right now, you small-minded thug. Now begone from my sight or you’ll be stripped of your rank. Move too slowly and you’ll face trial for your illegal investigation as well.”

Gary’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropping, but his mother remained in place.

“Are you finished with your tantrum?” She approached him, her weapon still visible. “Once I leave this room, I warn you, it shall be too late to run.”

Luce turned around, walking slowly towards the water-wheel at the back of the workshop. “Don’t you have more important things to be doing, Captain? Robin Verrou remains at large. No one’s seen him since he left me with my kidnappers. The ones from whom I escaped, now hanging from a noose in Cambria thanks to Harold, who takes a hard stance against those who thwart his brother.” Other than Eloise, anyway. But I’d have died in Refuge without her.

“And that gives you license to plot Avalon’s downfall with Camille Leclaire?” she asked, approaching to keep him within close range of her weapon. “She’s a monster, you know. She’s sacrificed those it was convenient to sacrifice since she was a child.”

“You’re a monster, and we still keep you on Avalon’s payroll.” He lifted the lid of the tank, dipping his hand into the water beneath. “My father has deemed you more dangerous to Avalon’s enemies, more use to us inside the system than out. Leclaire is no different.” And I’d sooner be rid of you than her.

“Then you are a traitor or a fool.” She placed her hand on her belt near the handle of the pistol, the threat unspoken. “Either way, I have proof of your treachery. Perhaps not enough to grant permission, but certainly enough for forgiveness. Think very carefully about your next action.”

“I just don’t think so, Mother,” Gary let out, hesitantly. “He was messed up by those pirates, never the smartest or the bravest to begin with… Harold would never forgive you for killing him.”

“He’s not some child playing scientist anymore, Gerald. Even if it stems from stupidity, he remains responsible. You would understand that if you’d ever once been held responsible for your own foolishness. Now be silent.”

I am responsible; that’s why I can’t just run away. “Do you know how that weapon you’re holding works, Captain Stewart? My Tower developed it, though the basic idea has been around as long as the cannon. Striking the flint ignites the gun’s powder, compacted into a space so small it builds up enormous pressure, until it bursts, expelling its projectile from the pipe. An explosion in miniature, even smaller than that of a cannon.”

“Do you have a point?”

Gritting his teeth, Luce slammed his fist into the tank of water, splashing a trail of water all over the Captain. And her weapon.

“My point is that the powder can’t ignite if it’s wet.” He walked back around the tank, trying to control his breathing. “I… You know I could have you killed for threatening me like that.”

“Good luck finding a Guardian who would seize the crown’s agent, acting on orders from Lady Perimont.” Frowning, Anya Stewart brushed what water she could from the front of her coat, jingling her medals against each other. “That was a mistake, boy.”

“Mother—”

She slapped him again, spraying water from his face as the wet smack connected. “I instructed you to be silent. Has this simple task somehow eluded you?”

“No, Mother.” Half of Gary’s face was so red the blood looked ready to burst from his skin, red enough to make Luce feel guilty about his amusement at the first blow.

“The Prince has made his choice, and now we shall leave him to the consequences.” She turned to give Luce a final glare. “Remember that I showed you mercy, Prince of Darkness. It is a luxury afforded to few, and one that you may yet use. In a matter of days, your tenure here will be over regardless.” He lip curled. “It would be more convenient if you were to survive it, but not insurmountable in the alternative case.”

“Goodnight, Captain Anya.” Luce opened the door, waving her and Gary through.

“Goodbye, Governor Grimoire.”

≋

“We are so fucked, Camille,” Luce whispered, handing out another basket of food from behind their enormous table.

The whole exercise was honestly moronic. Anyone could pass out baskets of food, but only he could conduct his research. The job was worth doing, but doing it himself was just a waste of his all-too-limited time. Essential to maintain goodwill with the public, apparently, so he would suffer through it.

Charlotte sat at one end of their table, the only guard he could really trust, while one of the Quotidien reporters sat at the other, scribbling notes into a small book.

Other Guardians were there to help manage the crowd, but it was hard to be sure with them. Almost a third had refused to show up to their post after Camille had arrested the thieves, and the forresters had been reporting to Whitbey instead of him, defecting en masse.

Which left Camille sitting next to him, able to hear what the others could not. “I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re worried about.”

Luce blinked. “She got practically everything right!”

“But where’s the proof?”

“She said she had—”

“If she had any, she would have shown you.” Camille paused long enough to pass a basket of her own without prying ears.

“She saw us meeting Fenouille herself. She must have followed me or something…” Even though we were so careful to ensure that no one was.

“Or perhaps she learned of our meeting place and set up there to observe. We would have seen someone walking behind us through the snow.”

“How would she even know to look outside the city like that?”

Camille shrugged. “I couldn’t say. But that’s one of the safest things for her to uncover. I’m already warming the city up to alternative sources of food. Another few weeks of the right messaging, and I’ll be able to publish Scott’s My Interview with a Spirit piece.”

“You want to admit it?”

“Set a precedent, like you said. You’re not doing anything wrong, and when we control the narrative, we can ensure that everyone knows that. Fenouille’s the best, anyway. He’ll make a good impression.”

“I don’t know…”

“Trust me, please. I’ll defend you against people like her, just like I promised. But unless there’s something big she isn’t saying for some reason, I really think that—”

“Excuse me,” a dry voice spoke from beside the table, rather than the front where the public approached. “I was wondering if I could have a minute with the Prince of Darkness.”

“Oh, hey, Eloise.” Camille nodded to her. “You two go ahead; I’ll hold down the fort.”

Eloise? Since when does Camille talk to her?

Luce blinked, rising from his seat and stepping back from their station. They’d filled the opera house again, so getting clear was as simple as exiting through the doors and walking until none were around to listen in. Unless Stewart is hidden behind a potted plant or something.

Eloise followed after, until they were alone in an alley, far from prying ears. Her hair had grown out a bit, though it was still quite short. She’d filled out back to her normal proportions, still thin, but a far cry from the wasting slip on the edge of death she’d been when he’d seen her last. Not that I was any better, then. Tramping through the wasteland on a diet of only fish wasn’t exactly a boon for one’s constitution.

“What do you want, Eloise? I didn’t say anything. That was our deal, right? You wanted a fresh start?”

She sighed. “And fortunately it was that easy. No other weight to carry, no complications to deal with.”

“That’s all on you. I gave you what you asked for.” He took a deep breath. This is the last thing I need to deal with right now. “Well, what is it? Because I really can’t be dealing with—”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just get to the point, please. My understanding was that we were even now, and even that’s more than a bit generous to you, frankly.”

She looked down, scratching her nose. “No, I mean, that’s what I’m here for. I wanted to apologize to you.”

Luce scoffed. “Is this a joke?”

“Yes, of course it is. Happy anniversary!” She rolled her eyes. “Look, the kidnapping… That was a setup, apparently, and I didn’t know that. I mean that part’s all in the game, you know, but keeping you after that wasn’t. Should have just ransomed you right away.”

“Oh, because then you’d still have my ship to your name.”

“No, because keeping you like that was unnecessarily prickish.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The whole thing, honestly, but especially that.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Look, I’ve been doing some re-evaluating and… My whole life’s been going in circles, and I’m no better off for it. It’s time to make a change, go back to the reason I got into this business in the first place. As soon as I can, I’m getting my family out of here.”

“To go where? Back to Verrou?”

“Probably Lyrion. Maybe Ombresse.” She shrugged. “Lots of good places to start. I just… I wanted you know that I… Well, I wanted you to hear what I said.”

Could it be that she was telling the truth? She was no serpentine manipulator in the wasteland, nothing like Camille, although those had been very different circumstances… It helped that there didn’t seem to be anything for her to gain from doing this.

“Thank you, Eloise. Really.” He reached out a hand for a shake, but changed his mind and used it to scratch his neck instead. “Good luck, wherever you’re going.”

“I appreciate that. If you—” She blinked, turning her head back the way they came. “Did you hear that?”

“No. What was it? If you could explain—”

“Shh!” She glared at him like he was an idiot. “Listen.”

He stepped gingerly back towards the entrance of the alley, trying to identify whatever she was talking about.

Oh.

It was a dull roar, chanting or shouting people, though far enough away that it could barely be made out.

“It’s coming from the beach,” Eloise said.

“Who would start a gathering at the beach anymore? It’s cold as shit. Pitch dark. There’s so many better places to meet inside.” Luce rolled his eyes. “Can you tell what they’re chanting?”

“Let’s get closer.” She grabbed his wrist and led him closer to the sound, something he was honestly grateful for in this strange city. He’d been trying to learn his way around when the world had plunged into darkness and made everything even harder to recognize, and with most of his time spent inside now, Malin’s layout was still very much foreign.

Eloise’s short nails dug into his skin as they reached the beach, and took in the cursed wooden structure erected on the sand.

“I took all of Perimont’s gallowses down…” Why set up another one?

Lillian Perimont, Captain Whitbey, and Anya Stuart were all standing atop the platform, surrounded by dozens of forresters and several guardians as well. So much for their vaunted loyalty.

“I must thank Captain Stewart for her valiant efforts in tracking down this scoundrel,” Lady Perimont announced. “A servant of dark spirits, this criminal not only robbed from the very city all of you call home, but conspired with other pirates and crooks in the assassinsation of my dear husband. A confession was obtained for proof, as were the names of the co-conspirators, soon to be apprehended. Starting with Camille Leclaire.” She turned to Whitbey and nodded. “Now he pays the ultimate price.”

They need to have a trial first. It doesn’t matter what he did. That questioning sounded suspiciously like the sorts of interrogation that Avalon’s officers were banned from employing. Did they just stop caring completely? Even Gordon Perimont had known to toe the line enough to stay in power for over a decade.

Whitbey pulled the lever, and the prisoner dropped.

“Who do you think that was?” Luce asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

“They found Claude.” Eloise wiped her eyes, her voice breaking over the words.

“Who’s Claude?”

“The last one I’ll ever let them get.” She clenched her fists. “Goodbye, Luce.”

“Wait, can you just stop and explain what…” He trailed off as she turned and ran, back away from the beach.

Stewart said she had proof.

Luce took a few half-hearted steps, but Eloise was already long gone. He turned back to the beach just in time to see Perimont wave a lighted torch against the night sky, almost as if it were pointed directly at him.

Dozens of faces turned his way, and Luce realized his mistake.

He made it twenty feet before they were upon him.