The three of them peered together over the polished railings of the aptly named Dragonsail as the breathtaking world below became darker and darker through the gushing wind.

Cedric stared in awe for as long as he could, and Faunia matched his stunned gaze. The world was so massive, so unthinkable huge... It suddenly made all of their issues feel so small. Even in the face of actual gods, Etherians and men with unthinkable powers posing as deities... Caloria was almost too big for it to matter.

They were beginning to sweat up there, with Hemah only ever-so-slightly out of reach. Cedric squinted his eyes at her dark silhouette for a long moment, her blindingly radiant light. Then he cast his eyes down into the blackness in which calamitous Calamon lay. He wiped his brow with the back of his wrist.

There is a way to undo Calamity. There is a way to patch the ley barrier. But it'll take work. It'll take…

Marisol placed a hand on his back. Her face was beginning to fade into the darkness.

...Friends.

“Ozzod knows the way. But you won't like what you see.”

“I see lights. Are those…?”

“Fires. For the bodies.”

His stomach dropped. “For the bodies…?”

“Those who've died from Caine. Those who've suffered pillage, theft, and murder by the rampant banditry. And those who've fallen in the second wave of the siege.”

“Second wave? It didn't end?”

Faunia was stood at his opposite side. She said, “The greatest sieges in this realm have lasted years, if not decades. Alisa in particular has fought a great many… and there are few they've lost.”

“What about the Etherian Knights? Are they—”

“They're well, Cedric.” Mari consoled. “I left them in the hands of Ekzire, I think you've met him. He's training them, keeping them well fed and active. They were on the frontline when the second wave of siege arrived, I heard they did well at learning their newfound abilities.

“Good,” Cedric muttered, swallowed burning saliva. “Good. I want to address them as soon as I can, I want to make sure… I want to be sure that they know the weight of the choice they've made. I want to give them the choice to surrender their powers just once more before we're too far gone.”

Faunia frowned slightly at him, and then all was dark. It had become blacker than night, impossible to see except for the burning lights approaching from below. The only sound was of the rushing wind, the flapping of wings beside.

The only stench was of death. Rot took the wind, acrid decay brought sickness to their stomachs. Calamon was changed — even more than it already had been. Calamon was worsening by the day. And those small problems once again became his whole world. A world he would carry upon his own shoulders.

Ozzod dragged himself to a halt, lurched the three of them forward into the railing. Two firelights lit at the gate beside Ozzod, then two more down the obscured steps, then two more, and more all the way to the cobbled ground below.

“This is the First Petal. We've built a landing platform here,” said Mari, stepping away toward the opening gates.

Faunia grabbed Cedric's wrist and pulled him to a halt. In a low tone, she asked, “...What did Rykaedi want?”

Cedric felt a twinge of anxiety, of panic at her mention of it. He said, “...I think she wanted to show me that Princess Arobella is still alive beneath her curse.”

Faunia's eyes widened slightly in horror.

“Arobella is… sinister in her own way, let's say. I suppose they're made for each other, the same way Serkukan was once made for me."

“Did something happen between you two?”

Cedric's mouth became dry.

Her next words were careful, slow. “...In the bedchamber?”

“She…” He paused. “No. No, nothing worth mentioning. Nothing important. Kylinstrom was already signed away — it wasn't like that was going to change anything…”

Faunia wore her worry in her calamity-hidden brow.

Then torches began to light up all over the surface of the petal, within the valley of stone walls upon which houses stood between winding staircases that climbed hundreds of steps high. There was a crowd there, too many people to count. Their faces were dark and sullen, worried, crying. Their voices were hoarse as they called out:

“It's the king…!”

“He's back.”

“Fucking useless sod.”

“...Is he going to keep them out?”

“Where was he?”

“While we're in need, he goes to hiding?”

“What’s that fucker’s name? Cedric?”

“I've seen him before—”

“—he's no damn king.”

“Looks more like a bandit.”

“Why's he wearing that robe…?”

Cedric stood in that dark robe between the firelights at the top of the steps. He stood where they could all see him, so that their voices fell quiet in anticipation of what he might say.

He was not anxious. He was not scared. He was no longer without words. He said, loudly and simply, “My name is Lorik Valenkir. From now on, I'll be acting as Calamon's king.”

And then came the stones.

55.

Bleeding Heart

Two squadrons of golden Aeonic guards clattered through the darkness to shieldwall the new king.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

First flew rocks, then torches, then bolts and arrows.

There were claps, too, but they died down all too fast as those welcoming few denizens realized what was happening.

Faunia pulled back on Cedric's arm, tugged him to the ground and out of sight.

A woman's voice shouted, “You won't take our fucking city! Not our fucking freedom!”

A small cheer.

“For the Adventurers’ Guild!” broke a man's cry.

A louder cheer. The shields clattered and clanged with objects of varying sizes and shapes.

Cedric lurched forward only to be yanked back into hiding by Faunia. “Don't, Cedric. Your power is—”

“Let go of me, you—” he snarled. Then his expression softened. “Sorry.”

Faunia looked hurt. Cedric averted his gaze from her, but did not leave her side. 'Your power is too great.' In this, I fear that she's right.

But the Aeonics began down the stairs, and Hunters followed. Bright magelights exploded like fireworks in the sky above, illuminated the congregation.

After all, a king only has to sit back and let his subjects handle his problems. He would never have to lift even a finger. And they should fear for when he would lift a finger… for that might bring startling consequences to them all.

BTOOOOOOM!

An explosion rocked Kyrrith’s east wing, shook the world around it, lit up the dark world in a huge flare of fire.

One.

Two.

Three.

A short, young woman with pointed ears and minty hair lifted her head slightly. “No Knights. See? I told you they were out north. Bastards are busy with the siege.”

The man beside her nodded twice in agreement, started chanting quietly to a palm-sized stone. The stone began to glow, and he handed it to her.

She took a deep breath. “They don’t care about our freedom. They don’t care about the rights that Kasian bestowed upon us when he built this city… So let’s show them just how much we give a damn about theirs.”

They stepped out from the alleyway, put the western wall of Kyrrith within view. She held the stone tightly in her palm.

“Don’t throw it too close.”

“I know.” Her hand went backward over her shoulder.

And then someone grabbed her wrist tight.

“Kanese!” screamed the scraggly man, unkempt with big black hair like a pompous adventurer.

The girl spun backward; L-Lorik…!

There he was: the self-appointed King of Calamon. Within arm’s reach, touching her skin. She clenched her fist tighter, easily tore her arm away from him and lunged backward.

The stone flew at him, flared bright with incendiary magic...

…And it faded into the darkness where his face was.

“What…?” she gasped, her heart pounding in her chest.

The man beside her stepped forward, extended two fingers in a flash of lightning. “Thoom!”

BZZT!

The bolt shot to Cedric. His own two fingers caught it, dispelled the crackling electricity through the ground beneath him.

The girl grabbed the big knife at her hip.

“Would you both relax for a second?” Cedric snapped his fingers. A cluster of magic bulbs appeared around him, illuminated him in white. “I'm not here to start a fight, but I won't hesitate to end one.”

“Won’t stop me from trying!” She drew the blade.

…And again, her weapon vanished into thin air. She glanced around in abject confusion.

“The next one of you to try something foolish is going to wake up in an infirmary.” he snarled. Then he relaxed. “What are you doing here?”

“Tearing down your fucking government!” shouted the girl. “Calamon isn't yours to take! Calamon is our—”

“I'm not here to take your city away. But without some kind of figurehead, a better one than Kasian, this place would already have crumbled beneath Alisa’s might or Aeon’s. I'm not doing this to take your rights or to stifle your freedoms. If I can just get you to listen to reason—”

“Fuck your reason!” blurted the man, though his voice was shaky. “We won't bow!”

Cedric didn't speak for a long moment. The man still quivered slightly, twitched and breathed funny in his anxiety. The girl's breathing was heavy but controlled — ready for a fight.

Cedric do you want me to—

—No. I don't want to manipulate them like that. I… I want to know for myself that I'm doing the right thing. I need to prove it to myself.

"I don't want you to bow." He looked to his boots. "I..."

Clatters of steel footfalls resounded down the labyrinth of alleys and streets leading to their location. They all looked, the girl and man tensed up.

“The guards will find us here soon, and I don't have much a mind to lie to them about your purposes. I'll give you this one chance — show me the cause of your pain. Show me what I've done to turn you against me, take me somewhere that I can help you.”

Her brow lowered over her gaze. “You're a damn liar. You want to root us out of your city, you just want to find where we're stationed.”

Ithlo spoke soft into Cedric's mind. Then the king said, “If I may — they're stationed in the Diplomats’ Hall. At least the bulk of them are. There are many smaller groups in different locales around the city, many are hidden underground in places that’ve been abandoned since the end of the Etherian Age; old schools, old dungeons, and old taverns. Am I right?”

She staggered backward. The man put a hand on her shoulder, mumbled, "The guards, they're...!"

Cedric nodded to the approaching guards, then to the pair. “So, then; last chance.”

It wasn't long before they were walking into an old, shabby cellar that acted as a makeshift infirmary, full to the brim with a stench of rot and a cacophony of wailing cries. They stood on the wooden catwalk overlooking the beds of wounded, the curtains between them. Kanese leaned on the railing — he could finally see the softness of her features, the youth in her tired expression beneath the warm light of the bronze chandeliers. His heart ached with guilt.

“This is where you've failed us. These people aren't just victims of your petty war, they're suffering from bandits, and from Caine!” She shook, gripped the railing. Then she spun to face him, looked up to him with a sour, hateful snarl: “Your legends say that you’ve fought gods and won, they say you've stood up to insurmountable power in the Petalfall. So where’s your power when it matters most? Why won't you save us?”

"I... I thought I was."

Her teeth grit harder.

"Mari said she'd take care of things..."

The man appeared disinterested, absentmindedly leaned on the railing. "Who?"

Cedric meandered slowly to the railing. He gently placed his hands on the old wooden beam, gazed over into the squalid pit below.

“...Okay.” he said. “This once, I can allow it. I know repercussions that you don’t; but I’ll allow it.”

In a sudden, startling wave… the room became silent. The cries of pain and terror and misery all died down into a low chatter, a perplexed assembly of suddenly mended individuals; no more was their Caine, and no more were their fatal injuries.

...Just this once?

Cedric looked to her without words. Her astonishment fell again once their eyes met, and her ferocity was regained.

Is it fair of me to safeguard this power?

She hissed something at him, stormed back out of the room.

For fear of Kogar, I should let these people suffer...?

He looked to the man, who only clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

...What would a real king do?

And the weight of their lives pressed harder into his shoulders.