I really wished that my first visit to the Royal Palace would be under different circumstances. Like receiving a medal! From Her Majesty! And having her smile at me! Being commanded to report there by The Convention of Humanity is very far from what I’d hoped, even before taking into account why they have done so… It honestly seems strange that The Convention is able to commandeer the home of the Royal Family so easily, it’s a rather alarming sign of the times. I can tell that this 'Adjudication Hall' was once one of the many grand dining rooms of the Palace, hastily renovated into a makeshift court. Then again The Royal Family are part of these proceedings, they too have condemned my actions, so I suppose it’s appropriate for this castigation to take place in their seat of power… Even if I don’t like it.
“First to take the floor is the delegation from the Aeduian Restorationist Salon!” A well-dressed man in a white wig who is probably very important acts as the Master of Ceremonies for these proceedings. “The Honorable Minister Maximillian Roland is to speak!”
The first man coming to condemn me is a well-to-do man in a fine purple suit made from cotton, furnished with gold adornments, making his wealth clear to all around him. He looked bored, which was surprising to me considering he would have voted for me to be condemned like this. And yet he clearly wanted to be here as little as I do.
"Mademoiselle Pollineux, to flee in the face of the enemy is to show weakness. Life does not abide weakness, any crack in our armor invites the predation of others. This war will go all the longer if our enemies believe we are vulnerable."
I thought my public condemnation would be more painful but in truth it’s almost vindicating. On the week's long carriage ride back to Alesia I had time to read Mademoiselle Delphine's letter. And read it again, and again, it being a much-needed comfort in an emotionally tumultuous time. It had almost been enough to let me sleep soundly. As this gilded politician gave his theories, his reasons for standing me before the most boring-looking men in Avernia and slandering me publically, he put me in mind of a passage from Mademoiselle Delphine's letter.
"Miss Serena, your retreat was both utterly unexpected and entirely brilliant. That you managed to keep the army in such good order in the face of enemy fire is a feat of martial skill not many upon the face of La'an would be capable of! You have more than demonstrated your abilities to me, and I am proud to call you my rival. I would not in fact trust any commander other than myself to match you in battle."
It was perhaps a little much praise, but I must have made an impression on my opposing general. That or she’s simply flattering me, but what would be the point of that? Why try to earn the respect of a nineteen-year-old she barely knew, that she'd never even seen. Why would she want to be my rival other than being genuinely impressed by me? ... I maybe shouldn't speculate on those questions too long, they might go to strange or depressing places.
My thoughts overtake the words of another two purple-shirted speakers, their voices bouncing off me entirely. My attention only returns when someone whom I believe is the fourth speaker, a man wearing green woolen fineries and a wool-spun lawyer's insignia, takes the floor.
“The Delegation for the Constitutional Monarchist Salon shall take the floor. First to speak, The Honorable Minister Duke Bruno Vercinax!” The man running the proceedings was loud enough to rival the Marshal for sheer intensity.
The ’Honorable Minister’ in question looks nervous, seemingly trying his absolute hardest not to play with his hands as he gives his condemnation. What is he afraid of? He’s the one castigating me.
"Retreats go against the natural order of things, life does not allow retreats and we should not either! To violate these laws is anathema for the soul, and you have condemned your troops alongside yourself with your actions!"
I hold no respect for anything Wool considers 'natural'. Torn apart children, citizens forming militias and charging into professional soldiers, and the things that happened to Renee are what Wool considered 'natural'. I’m tempted, sorely tempted to shout the man down, to castigate and condemn him and his God for their sense of 'nature’. But I remember another part of Mademoiselle Delphine's letter, and it calms me enough to hold my tongue.
"To act so creatively and unexpectedly in the face of the enemy will always give you the advantage of surprise, and often more advantages besides. I have heard it said your brother Antoine is an innovator when it comes to the art of warfare, but I'm tempted to say that what I have seen of you implies a creative soul all your own! I eagerly anticipate our next meeting, and for you to act in a way I simply cannot predict.”
A soul all my own... Mademoiselle Delphine knows exactly what to say. Or perhaps she’s simply a gifted amateur when it comes to writing letters for foreign generals... I wonder what she looks like. I wonder if she's this charming in person. That rude cavalry officer, Siobhan, was utterly devoted to her. Maybe I'll have just as many nice things to say if I ever see her for myself.
Another handful of green-clad speakers have come and gone while I’ve been lost in thought. There were so many of them and a lot of them seemed to wear very similar clothing. Almost like army uniforms, denoting different armies from different nations. The next speaker that I managed to pay attention to looked the part of a priest, wearing a cotton and wool robe adorned with steel discs, like the scales of a fish.
“The Delegation of the Representatives of Steel shall take the floor! To speak, The Honorable Minister Adrien Arbour!”
This man carries himself with a severity that looks very uncomfortable, and frankly impractical. It’s as if he’s anticipating being tackled to the ground at any second, and attempting to stand as firmly as possible.
"To deny yourself, to deny your men the glory of sacrifice to the king of all gods is blasphemy of the highest order, Mademoiselle Pollineux. I pray for your soul, and yet I struggle to imagine Steel will forgive this cowardice!"
Steel. Steel, the God who dares to say he stands above Her Majesty. The God who swallows me and my enemy whole and forces us to fight our way out of his stomach. The God who demands I become a monster, who venerates and justifies the monster that tore its way through Alsace… I'm starting to get sick of the demands and pretensions of this supposed 'king of gods and god of kings'. And I believe that Mademoiselle Delphine agrees with me.
"I have always appreciated the courage it takes to take reality as it is. You saw the world for how things were, you saw an impossible battlefield, and you acted as was necessary to save what you could. The press and politicians, those who have never so much as glimpsed the world with clear eyes and a realistic lens, may condemn you for your actions, but know that to those with whom you share the same view, you are a hero. And no man or God can convince me otherwise, Miss Serena."
Mademoiselle Delphine can be remarkably poetic when she wants to be, and remarkably sweet. Come to think of it, she always calls me 'Miss Serena'. Maybe she'd prefer to be Mademoiselle Anastasia? It sounds strange to be so informal with someone I'd never properly met, and yet with her it feels normal. So maybe this is yet another thing that could be our own, new normal... I like that thought, having a rival seems to be much like having a friend.
“The Delegation from the Royal Family shall take the floor! To speak, The High King of Avernia, Phillip Crixis, the 29th of his name!” A little less enthusiasm from the shouty man in the wig, perhaps he has no love for the royal family.
The final speaker takes the stage... And takes the Queen with him, her standing behind and to the side, and her attention solely on me. My attention is solely on her, I can barely parse a word of the High King's castigation of me. I have to know, I simply have to know what Her Majesty, Her Divine and Radiant Majesty thinks of me. I need to know if she hates me as much as the boring men of The Convention do. I read her face, trying to find any sign of what she’s feeling…
And what I found is a stone-faced expression... And the slightest hint of her eyes darting to her chambers, before returning to me... Is this an invitation? Did this actually happen? Did I dream this? Am I reading too much into this? Her Majesty may have done something that may have been an invitation to maybe invite me into her chambers! ... Standing before the High King, standing before his presumably pathetic performance, I experience just about every emotion I have ever heard of in one titanic burst, hope and trepidation crashing against each other in my heart and threatening to take me right to the floor if I can't withstand both.
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And as I struggle with the mere possibility of speaking to Her Majesty alone, the last of Mademoiselle Anastasia's words return to me, as if to help me stand my ground.
"You are alive. You and your men, you escaped the field of Canstatt alive. And because you are alive, you can always try again, you can always take another chance, a new path. Can always meet me on the field of battle again or pursue your other endeavors again. Anyone who cares about you will always be glad that you are alive, Serena. That you can try again with them."
... For as long as I am alive, I can live for Her Majesty. Anastasia is right, even if Her Majesty seeks to condemn me herself... I am still alive and could win her favor in some other fashion. I could do better for her, take other chances to impress her. So, no matter what, I'd stand tall. For her.
His Grace finally yields the floor, and it seems the old men are now more interested in bickering and gossiping amongst one another to pay much attention to me. I see the Queen make her way to her chambers, and when it becomes certain that I am no longer the focus of the day's meeting I slip in to join her, hoping against hope that she has in fact invited me in.
Her Majesty, Her Divine Majesty, sits upon her bed, staring at the door, smiling as I slip inside. "Serena..."
She said my name! It takes every bit of restraint in the entire world to not squeal, and to gracefully walk over to her rather than sprinting. "Your Majesty."
"Hehe..."
Her giggle is the most radiant giggle I have ever experienced, and I know full well that next time I am given the choice I will die for this woman. By rights I should kill for this woman. It almost makes me think that perhaps she isn't here to castigate me like everyone else, to say mean things about me...
The resolve that Anastasia had gifted to me quickly evaporates, now that I am in the Queen's presence. I'm not certain I can survive her ire, not even for a moment. If she frowns at me I will burn, if she yells at me I will bleed. I stop in place while walking towards her, it seems even the mere concept that my own personal goddess might be displeased with me is enough to freeze my legs in place. I am stuck, stuck in a place between life and death, waiting on Her Majesty's word.
Her face retains its smile, albeit one laced with concern. "Serena, I know what you're thinking, and I have no intention of castigating you like those tiring Convention politicians. I know you did your best for me, and I am proud to have such a devoted general in Avernia's service."
I didn't expect her kindness and understanding could be just as lethal as her potential scorn, but in the face of absolution from Her Majesty I find my legs going weak and my vision studded with stars. I worry I’m smiling more intensely than anyone has ever smiled in human history, it seems possible that my skull will shatter in the face of sheer, inexpressible joy. Her Majesty gestures to a nearby chair, and I find myself sitting upon it before I even realize I’ve moved, obedience is as natural as breathing in my awestruck state.
She can't help but laugh, although it ends on a slightly somber tone. "You just spent the last hour being criticized by some of the richest and most powerful people in Alesia, possibly in Avernia, and yet you can still smile."
"That was an hour?" I'm surprised that I can still form words in this state, and yet here I am, conversing with Her Majesty for what I realize is the very first time. "I must confess I really didn't pay much attention to them."
"They demand respect, but they certainly don't seem to earn it very well." Her Majesty beams at me; I must have said something that made her very happy. "The best they can provoke is fear, and yet you seem utterly immune to the threat they pose. It's refreshing, Mademoiselle Serena."
I'm refreshing? I've been called nicer things, and yet every compliment I have ever received pales in comparison to Her Majesty's attention. "I've already been shot at for you, Your Majesty. The figurative snipes of the grown-ups in the stands pale in comparison to the actual bullets I would take at your command."
"Hehe, I am but a Queen Consort you know. You're a strange one, Mademoiselle Serena, to call someone as humble as myself 'Your Majesty'."
Self-deprecation? Who dared give the Queen the impression that she is anything other than majestic, that she is anything less than a goddess upon Lutice?! I cannot stand for this, a world in which she can feel humble is not a world that can justly be allowed to exist!
"Your Majesty, I swore my oath to you. You are the one who is owed my respect, not Steel, not the High King, not the politicians. I cannot stand to see a world that would make you 'humble'. Not when you are so kind, and beautiful, and kind, and forgiving, and smell nice, and beautiful, and-"
"That's... That's enough I think." She's blushing! ... I just told her she smells nice, didn't I?
At least I didn't tell her how warm she was on a cold night, thank the Gods. "It's all true though... You are more a Majesty than your husband ever will be to me. I'll fight for a world that could see you for what you are.
She blushes just a little deeper, before taking a deep breath in an attempt to brush off my hagiography. "Hehe, you are kind. I must confess, since I was made Queen Consort I have been given thousands of little compliments, hollow niceties from uncaring people. And yet you have given me something so few ever have. Sincerity. It's... Nice."
I'm nice? I'm nice! I want to cheer and celebrate; I want to jump out of my chair and scream my love to the world. I just a little bit want to kiss the Queen forever, but that simply is not what I deserve from Her Divine Majesty. I stay in my chair and try to keep my smile from being overwhelming.
Her Majesty looks down, something appears to have upset her, and I immediately try to think about what it might be, and what might make it better. "... If I could only reward your sincerity with something greater than what I must do to you."
"Do... To me?" To my shame those words would make my Velvet mind race with possibilities if she said them with a smile…
"Yes... Serena, I called you in here to let you know that unfortunately, the Royal Family will be unable to provide you lodgings or money during your furlough here in Alesia. The press would hound us for using taxpayer money to subsidize a failure and-"
"Is that all?" It seems odd to me that she is so upset about something as ridiculous, as fake as money. "I don't serve you for pay, I serve you because... Because you are My Majesty."
"You being sweet about this is only going to make it harder, Mademoiselle Serena..." She nervously plays with her fingers as she sits on her bed, unable to meet my gaze. "We... We also will not be able to meet in any public place. The press is going to make you something of an enemy in the eyes of the people and we in the Royal Family get enough bad publicity already. To associate with you is just going to give them ammunition."
... Okay, that part stings. That part almost sends me off my chair. I grab my stomach as if clutching a wound, as if I've been shot like so many of the men who followed me had. But if I'd been shot I might just bleed out and die, this lingers and offers no such relief.
"O... Oh..." Those are the only words I can muster, the only words that will obey me.
"It won't be permanent! ... Hopefully. The people are fickle, stupid things, they can only really focus on one devil at a time. Soon they will find someone new to hate, and you will no longer be a... A potential threat to those who you wish to associate with."
I can tell Her Majesty is trying her absolute hardest to say that in the gentlest way she possibly can, and yet she may have said the worst thing she could possibly say. If there is a single thing upon Lutice, a single possibility that scares me more than having to be apart from Her Majesty, it is possibly bringing her harm. A threat... I am a threat to Her Majesty. I am... I am…
"I am so sorry!" I fall forward off the chair, knees on the ground, face joining them, bowing as deeply as I physically can. "I am so sorry to have endangered you, I will never allow it to happen again-"
"Serena... Please get up." She sounds more sad than anything else… "You haven't endangered me yet, nor have you disappointed me. I know you did what you thought was best, and you made sure Avernia was safe."
"I made sure you were safe, I-"
"You did what you had to. You were brave... And unfortunately, we live in an age that celebrates vanity more than it does bravery. At least while you're here I am permitted to celebrate you... But once you leave that door, I'm not sure when I will next get the chance. I am sorry, Serena.”
I want to cry... But so does the Queen. I remember the Grove of Steel, I remember how that man, whoever he was, made her want to cry, and how I stood resolute in defense of her... Now she wants to cry because of me. I must stand resolute in defense of her again, against myself. It would be a sin to make a woman as beautiful as her look sad.
I make it to my feet slowly and try to give her a smile. "Her Majesty is too kind to her supplicant regardless. You risked a lot to explain these things to me in person. I will never believe you are not brave, brave as anyone on a battlefield."
This seems to strike a chord with the Queen, one which causes her a wound of her very own. "... I'm sure we'll meet again. Something somewhere will redeem you in the eyes of the miserable reprobates that wander our Alesia, I know it will."
"Then I suppose it is my duty to take my leave then, to get to it, to make a normal where I am no longer... A threat to Her Majesty."
"Till then, Serena."
My composure is just enough to get me out the door, my resolute desire to protect the Queen from all harm, including myself, is enough to get me out of her sight. To get out of a door I might never, ever enter again. Now, where she can no longer see, where my sorrow can no longer hurt her, I can finally break apart. I can finally let myself crumble. I can finally-
"... Kitty?"