“Why?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why does he regret that? It seems like a reasonable objection. Even if he wanted to rule over the better city, the Emperor probably wouldn't give it to him anyway.”
“You and my father both view that argument as decisive. The Duke of Dread did not – he only considered it an obstacle to be overcome. If his son was stubborn, and the Emperor unwilling, then he needed to do something to gain his family enough favor that His Imperial Highness would insist upon naming Vasco the Lord of Gama. And so, sparing no expense, borrowing whatever coin he could from friends and conniving businessmen, the Duke of Dread gathered together a fleet, taking his son with him in the smallest, but leading vessel. Care to guess where they went?”
Adam slowly shook his head. “No. Where did they go? To fight the Rot somehow, or kill monsters?”
“Monsters!” Solara let out a harsh laugh. “Perhaps that is how the Duke saw it. Vasco was unaware of the purpose of their journey, but he’d assumed it was an attack on a monster encampment, or at worst a conflict with another minor lord. My father’s relationship with his own father was often cold, and always frail. He interpreted their voyage as a clumsy attempt at a bonding trip, or perhaps an attempt to help Vasco gain more support from the Emperor before setting off to become a man in his own right.”
She showed no outward hesitation, yet appeared interested in her rum for a moment before resuming. “Maybe...maybe Vasco suspected its true purpose, yet refused to believe it – at least until they disembarked to see that their mercenaries had already started their work, and that his father did not hesitate to join them.”
“What did they do?” Adam asked, leaning forward. A pit of dread was settling within his stomach. “Where the hell did they go? Who did they attack?”
“Greenisle,” Solara muttered. “The last elven settlement on the continent. My homeland. There was no raid, no listening to cries of surrender. It was a massacre.”
Adam stared at her, open-mouthed. He started to form a theory of what had happened, but he didn’t want to believe his own ideas. “You—you mean—the Duke of Dread tried gaining favor with the Emperor by murdering hundreds of innocents?”
“No.” Solara’s voice was sharp, and her grip on her cup had grown so tight that the object would’ve shattered if it was made of glass. “Thousands. Very few of us could fight back. None expected a sudden invasion.”
Adam knew it was better to stay quiet. Their time was limited. He needed to sit still, let her talk, and get a complete picture of the incident as soon as possible in order to seal away the Curse.
But he couldn’t stop himself. “What the actual fuck does slaughtering thousands of innocent people have to do with gaining favor? Why the fuck did the Emperor...” He shook his head. That wasn’t the right thing to say. “You...were you there? Was your family? I’m so sorry–”
He shook his head again. That wasn’t the right thing to say either. What was the right thing to say?
Was there any such thing?
Solara smiled gently. “If my lack of emotion earlier surprised you, allow me to say that your display likewise surprises me greatly. Most would not even question why.”
“Well, I fucking do! Why? What the hell could justify that? I don’t get it!”
“After the incident with the Dragon Puppets, it was only a matter of time until the Emperor sought to deal with my kind. The Duke of Dread merely solved the matter for His Imperial Majesty – in a more final manner than Our Divine Ruler would have been politically allowed to do.”
Her lips twisted into a facsimile of a smile. “Even those who hated elves would have balked at the idea of the Emperor killing them all. But despite their loud protests, they all secretly praised the Duke’s solution.”
“Fucking monsters,” Adam barked out. “I can’t believe...well, I can believe, but I can’t understand...how do they sleep at night? Can’t they imagine what they’ve done?”
Solara’s smile hardened, and when she spoke, her voice was dry, amused. “They can. It delights them. Elves rode dragons, long ago. Stories about the Rain of Fire keep human children awake at night, and vermin used it to justify the expedition.”
“And Vasco...didn’t know about his father’s plans?”
“No. The Duke of Dread likely knew that his son wouldn’t have the stomach for it. He assumed that once they were on the battlefield, there’d be no way for Vasco to turn back. My father told tales of entering the battlefield in a state of disgusted shock, surrounded by desperate pleas and the putrid smell of death. He was stunned, in equal parts due to the horrific sight and the sheer shock of it all, unable to even question why his father had done such a thing.”
Solara’s recounting became subdued, clinical, as if she was purposefully distancing herself from the events that had occurred. “Vasco’s first memory of his awareness returning to him, he told me, was when he saw Belmordo charging up beside him, wearing full plate, whirling death onto every elf he could see, and grinning. Come on, brother, Belmordo cried out then. Don’t let me have all the fun! Pointy end into the pointed fucks! Before long, he’d disappeared in a sea of corpses of his own creation, but Vasco could hear the cries that followed long after the corpses blocked his sight.”
Her left eye twitched. “Worst of all was the Duke of Dread. He soon took command of the largest detachment of mercenaries, fighting like an organized unit against a modest isle of refugees that could barely defend themselves. It was here that he proved, once again, that he’d earned his name. The massacre he led grew worse by the moment, and he refused to listen to his son’s desperate pleas to end it.”
“How do you know...” Adam started, then stopped. That wasn’t a good idea to ask. No good could come out of it.
Still, Solara smiled. “How do I know Vasco truly tried to stop his father, and that he didn’t merely change the story to make himself sound better? Worry not; I take no offense. It is a fair point to wonder. As for the answer, I know it because I heard it.”
“You heard it?”
“Aye. There were few survivors by then, but we had gathered inside our Stone Square, a lightly defended building with few exits. It was a bad strategy, yet I pray you understand none of us were thinking straight at that moment. So thin was our only protection that I could hear much of the screaming as our last few fighters tried desperately to hold the line.”
She gestured at her pointy ears. “Our hearing is quite good, you know – and I could hear it all. His protests...his anguish...and his tears. Many of us cursed humans for attacking, yet we also prayed for the Dragons above the clouds to grant that one human a way to convince his people to relent.”
She stopped suddenly and solemnly.
“Did he?” Adam asked, after a long while. “Did Vasco convince them to stop?”
“No.” Solara’s voice was low and quiet. “His axe did. An argument ensued, and just as the first of the Square’s barred windows started to falter, Vasco – father, took his weapon and beheaded his sire. Everything fell quiet then; mercenaries, noble soldiers, and elves all staring as the leader of the reavers fell to his own son. We even dared to push open the windows to see what was going on. That’s when we saw Vasco, covered in his father’s blood, fists shaking and a boot stomped on the Duke’s severed head.”
Her eyes flashed with emotion. “And he cried out: ANY MAN WHO DIES WITHOUT SAVING AN ELF WILL HAVE THEIR CORPSE GIVEN TO THE DRAGON PUPPETS!”
Adam was left speechless. Eventually, Solara pressed on. “I do not believe for a moment that many of his men, mercenaries or noble, felt for the plight of elves then. But they feared him. I could see it in their eyes. Men who – until a moment before – were taking joy in killing my kind began desperately fighting others in the chaos, all swearing their loyalty to Vasco. He stalked—stormed—his way through the corpses of elves and his own comrades and found his way to the building where I and the other refugees were hiding.”
She began to mimic a short conversation. “ ‘Are there any survivors elsewhere?’ He had asked.”
“There was a silence, and out of everyone there, I was the one to break it. ‘I doubt it.’”
“ ‘I see.’”
“Without hesitating, he called upon his Lord Talent to summon a mighty barrier that would protect us all. He was unpracticed at the time, but the building was small enough for him to manage, albeit with effort. Then, without another word, he traveled outside the Walls he’d constructed for our safety. To search for survivors, and to end the attack.”
A note of conflicted pride entered her voice. “To this day and until my last, I will always say that the man I respect the most is my father. He is also the scariest. The Talent of a Lord protected us, but it did not imbue his axe with magic after he stepped outside the sanctuary of the Walls. What kept him alive – and his enemies dead – was his skill, the whirlwind of violence he became. In just a short time, between his orders, the unbreakable Wall, and the soldiers who now fought alongside him...the chaos had given way to obedience, and the battle was done.”
She closed her eyes. “I remember how he looked when he came back. We all cheered when he returned to the Wall, but stopped as he held out his hand and shook his head sadly. At the time, I remember thinking, He just killed his own father. This will haunt him for the end of his days. I would learn later that this thought was only his second-largest regret that day. Not killing the Duke sooner to save more elves was the first.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Questions whirled in Adam’s mind, but he stayed silent. Solara was already giving him everything he needed. With every word she spoke, a picture was forming in his thoughts.
“I was among the youngest then. Vasco knelt down, remembering that I was the one to speak up before, and talked with me as I informed him of everything I knew. There were older elves there, but none seemed able – or willing – to confer with the bloodsoaked human, even if he was our savior. To them, he was closer to a demon than a hero.”
Her tone shifted to one of genuine fondness. “To me, he was both. If that noble monster is a devil, then I thank the flames for embracing me that day. Vasco looked me in the eye then and asked if my parents were alive. I told him no. He didn’t comfort me, but instead nodded firmly and said softly: Then from today on, I shall be your father. And I shall care for every surviving elf of this massacre.”
She sighed. “Not every elf was willing to go back with him, and more’s the pity. Later, I heard, slavers and raiders finished off the last few survivors in Greenisle. For the rest of us, he took us to his own residence – and then later to this city, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Of course, this wasn’t met entirely without resistance, even before we left Greenisle.”
“KINSLAYER! Belmordo had screamed, brandishing a longsword and stalking toward Vasco. YOU KILLED OUR FATHER!”
“Vasco grabbed the incoming blade with his gauntlet and squeezed it, disarming Belmordo as he brought his boot upward and kicked him in the stomach. When the dazed bastard looked up, Vasco glared at him with the tip of his axe. Aye. And think not that I will hesitate to commit that sin again, brother.”
Solara fell silent. The candlelight flickered, then returned as if summoned back. “You can surmise the rest, Adam?”
He nodded. “I believe so. Vasco felt responsible for the elves, and decided he needed as much power as possible in order to take care of them. And so – although he loathed it – he took credit for the Greenisle Butchery.”
“Correct.” Solara nodded. Some color had returned to her face. Maybe this topic was impersonal enough to not make her think of...everything. “Father always told me he felt too ashamed of it all to admit this to Aspreay. Whenever he tried to do so, Aspreay would lash out at him with words of betrayal, and father wouldn’t bother to defend himself. He said it was easier if he was hated.”
Adam could infer the rest. Aspreay’s dreams of rescuing his fallen hometown were shattered, and he was saddled with the debt and Rot-ridden Penumbria. At the same time, his trusted partner seemed to betray everything they stood for, stole his position, and refused to lift a finger to help Aspreay when his city needed it most. Because Vasco needed the Orbs to care for the elven refugees. It was almost understandable that Aspreay had become disillusioned with the idea of doing good.
But that doesn’t make him innocent, Adam told himself, firmly. He couldn’t let himself waver. He wasn’t being a good lord to them. Aspreay had tried, most likely. For a long while. Until he couldn’t. I feel sorry for him...but whatever the reason, he wasn’t capable enough to lead his people.
He exhaled, refocusing his thoughts. “Gama’s elven refugees – are they all from the Greenisle Butchery?”
She shook her head. “No. Many traveled east after hearing of Gama’s elven district and its kind lord, despite father’s involvement with the butchery. Better here than the cities that allow outright hunting of our kind.” Solara let out a bitter laugh. “Can you imagine how hard it is? To be so desperate that you seek refuge in a city led by the son of the man who butchered your last haven?”
Adam shook his head. “Even saying that I can imagine what it feels like would be a terrible, rude lie.” He paused. “But I can at least understand things a bit better in general. Like how Vasco decided to name you his heir as a form of repentance. Maybe he thinks that will change things for the better. I also understand Belmordo’s motivations for wanting you dead – he hates elves, and considering his father’s death, I don’t think he’s overly fond of Vasco either.”
“My dear old uncle is fantastic, isn’t he?” Solara asked dryly.
“Oh yeah. If there is one thing I’m glad about, it’s that I told that bastard to eat shit.”
At that, Solara truly and heartily laughed. It was the first unrestrained emotion she’d shown since her near-outburst before their fight. “Well, Adam? Do you think you have a measure for who I am? Enough to take this curse away from me?”
“Frankly, not really. Most of what you said relates to your father. To Gama. It explains a lot, and yet...doesn’t really tell me much about you. Can you tell me anything else?”
“No.”
“Sorry, uh...did you say no?”
“Aye, Lord Adam.”
“Ah. I see.” Adam drew a deep breath. “Fine, not gonna waste our time complaining.” Especially when he didn’t know how much long they had before the curse resurfaced. “Guess you’re going to make me work for it a little.”
“Forgive me.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I kind of expected something like this. You must have a good reason for not wanting to say it out loud.”
Which, in and of itself, was already a huge hint. Solara knew their time was limited, and she definitely didn’t want to remain cursed. If she was still playing coy, there must have been a damn good reason for it. Let’s assume she’s not suicidal...what else do I know about her?
Notes on Lady Solara
— She was cursed while trying to obtain a stronger talent.
— According to herself, she has a very ambitious dream.
— Solara is a survivor of the Greenisle Butchery, being saved and adopted by Lord Vasco.
— Whatever her dream is, it is likely at the core of her person.
— Whatever her dream is, she does not want to reveal it despite the urgency of the matter.
It stood to reason that if Adam figured out what she was after, everything else would come into place. What could she want? Revenge? No...the Duke of Dread was dead already, and she truly appeared to love her father. Maybe she wanted Belmordo to die, but that wasn’t so dangerous of a thought that someone would risk their life to avoid saying it out loud.
What if she does want revenge? Adam reasoned. Revenge or...change. Something to make sure elves aren’t massacred like that again, if their population ever grows to a significant point.
Who would her target be in that case?
For what reason would she need to gain a stronger Talent?
Unless...
“Excuse me,” Adam said, grabbing a piece of parchment and retrieving his painting supplies. His drawing pen was still bloodied from the fight, and he figured his Talent should work on any surface as long as he had his tablet with him.
And most importantly, he didn’t want to waste any time. “I believe I understand now. Based on the way you act, the lofty dreams you speak of...and why you’re afraid of saying your goals out loud, even to the guy who nearly died saving your life...I can only think of one thing.”
His sketch was incomplete, almost impressionistic, featuring only gray shades to represent the people, and a dark sort of blue to represent the sky. It was a moody, dry piece, that seemed to lack in saturation by design – except for the bright, savage red that drifted from the shades, serving as the only connection between their bodies and their decapitated heads.
Adam had been vaguely inspired by the French Revolution.
He calmly took a picture of the art, transferring it to his tablet, and then gave it a title.
JUSTICE
“Please,” he said, passing his tablet to Solara. “My Talent requires that you take a look.”
She did. Her eyes narrowed. “Hmm. This seems...perhaps accurate.”
“Solara,” Adam began. “The thing you don’t dare say out loud, even with your life on the line...your dream – no, your goal...”
He smiled. “You want to kill the Emperor, don’t you?”
She smiled back and said nothing, but the curse being sealed into his tablet told him everything he needed to know.
Name: Adam
Talents and Rank:
Painter [Apprentice]
Wager of the Heart — The Talented may wager a Talent in order to reduce the difficulty in painting a portrait of a person’s soul. If unsuccessful, the wagered Talent is given to the target and only returns to the Talented upon the target’s death.
Stained Ink [Apprentice]
Lord [Baron]
GAINED: Stained Flames [Viscount]
The Talented may travel through open flames within 10m of each other, and hide their entire self within the very flames, for as long as twelve hours. This Talent is given to those Haunted by the Ghost of Flames. The Ghost of Flames will not haunt someone possessing a higher ranked Talent.