Faunia Vleren stared down into the rolling river beside herself, stared at her pale skin, her shining, vibrant eyes…

Then she lifted the helm in her hand. Silvery, with two jutting horns. It fit tight to her head, concealed all but her glowing eyes, her angular chin, and her thin lips.

The river pulled the image apart and mended it, fell apart and re-envisioned it. It bubbled and crackled, small waves warping her in every direction, breaking her down…

And she swatted the water away with her hand.

THE SIEGE OF CROMER

Total Army Estimates:

~45,000 Aeonics

~2,000 Cromerians

VS.

~15,000 Hunters

"It began with only Cromer—nobody knew whether Aeon itself would involve its armies in protecting this uncontrolled mass of land..."

X

Cedric smacked two fingers down onto the center of a candlelit map. “This right here. This fireplace leads right into their meeting chamber. That's how me and Ekzire will get in. We'll procure disguises for the rest of you.”

“Already done,” said a sellish man, entering the dark tent with heavy red-black uniforms hugged between his arms. He dropped them down lazily over the map. Cedric twitched slightly at that, but let it go.

“Yes, but…” began Viltar, “where does Faunia arrive in this plan?”

They all turned to him expectantly.

“Faunia has her own plan,” he answered. “Consider her plan a Plan B to my plan, a contingency.”

Viltar nodded, though Cedric could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"If my plan succeeds, we'll subvert the need for as large a loss of life as was suffered in Calamon. If we can kill Arobella—or at least extract Rykaedi from her, maybe we can undo this whole mess, eradicate her claim for the land. Maybe."

Ekzire nodded in agreement. "We all witnessed first-hand what happened in Calamon. We want to avoid that. If you'd permit it, Lorik, we could bring in Tyverius again—"

"No." He remembered the image of Tyverius fully possessed by his Etherian, the horrible mass of flesh and wood he had become. "The Knight Project proved itself too dangerous. The only people who should be wielding Etherians right now are me and Faunia."

Ekzire nodded again, though more hesitant.

"Any questions?"

Cedric exited the tent after most of the others, out into the bright sunlight of a Cromerian morning. He shielded his eyes for a moment while they adjusted. Just when they did, he locked eyes with one Faunia Vleren standing before her housetent. When he blinked, she’d already gone inside.

He turned his gaze eastward through the maze of tents and soldiers milling around. They’d called almost their entire force of Hunters to Cromer, or as many as they could manage while still keeping the city fortified against possible follow-up attacks by Alisa. He could see Cromer’s farms from here. He could smell the familiar dark scents of the land like chocolate and mud, the new scents of honey and ginger that Calamon had brought along… and the smell of sulfur as their mages prepared for battle.

“King Lorik—”

He turned back as Viltar exited the tent immediately vying for his attention.

“—I cannot help but believe that you and Vleren are having a… falling out.”

“What gave you that impression?” Was it when she screamed at me in the middle of the street?

“I cannot help but believe that this Queen Arobella has something to do with it. You… had relations?”

“I wasn’t aware it was any business of yours.” he said at first. Then his expression softened. “Sorry. Yes; something happened while we were in Aeon. I don’t want to get into details, but… She’s only mad that my motives seem fuzzy. I’ve got my head on level.” I think.

“If I may suggest an additional point of view…?”

“Go on?”

“...I believe the girl is jealous of your relation—perhaps her heart is feeling betrayed?”

He scoffed slightly. “I highly doubt that. But anyway, it’s not as though we have time for relationships with all that’s been going on.”

“Relationships are what keep the people moving, my King.” Viltar smiled, rested a big paw on his shoulder. “If not for relationships in times of war and strife, I assure you I would not be fighting by your side now.”

“What do you…?” he asked, but Viltar was already heading away into the big encampment, west toward the river. Cedric sighed. He gave one last uneasy look toward Faunia’s housetent, then went back inside the war-tent to finish his plans…

X

Faunia Vleren used her forearm to push through the flap into her housetent, stepped into the wide entry. She politely removed her shoes and put them under the bureau beside her. Then she took the helmet under her arm and placed it on the adjacent coat rack. A wide-brimmed black hat was already hanging there.

Her housetent was lavish, even moreso than Viltar’s or Ekzire’s, with polished wooden floor in immaculate condition all throughout, and all the way up the staircase to her right which proceeded to the bedrooms. To her left was the archway which led into the small kitchenette, and straight ahead of her was the large living room. The fireplace was lit, and she could see the back of two heads jutting out from over the center sofa. One was bald. One was silver-haired, like her own.

Oelat stood and turned fully to face her, a glass of red wine in his hand. He'd clearly worn his nicest black-maroon Thelani robes for this meeting. “Ah, Faunia, dear! It's so good to see you! You've been well, yes?”

Then stood Yvesmalia, who turned on her heel like a soldier. She had her same cold gaze, wore a gown in two shades of blue that sharply contrasted her companion’s outfit. The patterns and fabric appeared to Faunia as Lluevi design; her hunch of Yvesmalia’s origin deepend. Her voice did not bear the same fanfare, as she only said, “Faunia.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oelat, Yvesmalia. I thank you both for coming on such short notice.”

“Nonsense!” said the bald priest, “With talks of war, we could hardly afford to stall.”

Yvesmalia said, “But her letter did not mention the war. Something changed?”

Faunia nodded. “Queen Rykaedi had made a claim for Kylinstrom. I don't intend to see her take it.”

Oelat raised his eyebrows, stroked his fat chin. “The Goddess of Death… how intriguing.”

Faunia stepped forward, gestured for them to sit. “Please. Let's talk.”

They sat down, Oelat more eagerly than Yvesmalia, and Faunia was fast to begin: “I’d like to propose a Calamoni-Thelani pact. The title is alphabetized, I’d be happy to swap the names around if you see fit.”

Oelat wore his interest on his face. “Ooh! And what, perchance, might this pact entail?”

Her expression hardened as she sat forward. “We need funds—Marisol has done well procuring them through donations, but they only go so far. Many of our newest soldiers are using scraps for weapons and armor after what happened in Calamon.”

“A tragedy,” he added.

“We need men too, any Thelani worshippers who are interested in fighting alongside the Hunters. As many as we can get. Of course, we’d take any supplies you’d be able to send soldiers with if you had rations or kit at your disposal already… We really just need anything we can get. The Alisan war was brutal… Let’s stop the Kylinstromi war from going the same way.”

Yvesmalia looked disinterested. Oelat scratched his chin; “That’s quite a lot to give. And what would you provide us in return?”

“A share in the stake. Our coffers become your coffers as well once this siege is through—that is to say, the Azafel Cult becomes the mainstay religion of Calamon. It becomes the state-sponsored religion. I offer this only on the pretense that I know your gods are real, I know firsthand that your religion has more merit than any other cults I’ve pursued in my time as a Hunter. I’m proposing, essentially, that we merge these two entities into one. I'm asking you to make an investment.”

“Faunia, you’re repeating yourself.” said Yvesmalia, still not turning her attention back.

She shut her mouth. After a tense moment, she asked, “So?”

Oelat rubbed his chin for a long time, such a long time that Faunia thought the skin underneath his hand might be red by the time he removed it. Eventually he said “Yes. Yes, I like this idea! The Calamoni-Thelani Pact, then. You’d be sacrificing quite a lot of power to our people if you do this. Are you okay with that?”

“I view it as a necessary… sacrifice.”

“A necessary evil?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Oelat choked up a thudding laugh, reached over the coffee table and placed a warm hand on her knee. “When was the last time you were in Calamon?”

“I don’t know; why?”

“I wanted to report that your dear Marisol has done a fantastic job of outreach on behalf of your ‘government.’ Many of the Calamoni people hadn’t the slightest of what any of you intended, many of them hardly accepted it.” He sat back again.

As we well knew from our last visit there…

“But Marisol has been lending succor to the needy. They’ve deposited many of their funds into hospitals and churches and orphanages especially. They’re doing good work, the people are beginning to see.”

Faunia began to light up.

“But you’ve still got a long way to go. Before you can call yourself a government, there’s a lot more work which needs be done. I’m prepared to begin my own people in assisting Calamon at once, should we alter the conditions just a hair more.”

“Name your price.”

He lifted up one fat finger. “We get succession to the throne once Lorik has run out of heirs.”

Faunia cocked her head.

Another fat finger went up. “We dictate the practices and rituals performed by the king and his subjects.” Then went his third fat finger. “We become the oligarchy, my own men elected to my sides.”

Faunia thought for a moment. “Do your rituals include anything I should be aware of?”

He smiled. “Only things you already are aware of.”

She thought of the time Cedric communed with Azafel. Or, attempted to. “What will your succession mean if we establish an oligarchy?”

“A figurehead trained up from my tutelage.” He shrugged. “It certainly lines my family’s pockets, if nothing more in the end.”

“You certainly wear your desires on your sleeve.”

He smiled, “As Azafel intends.”

“...How much of the oligarchy do you want? All of it?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Half to Thelani, half to Calamon.”

“Sixty-forty in my favor.”

Faunia narrowed her eyes. “That’s awfully steep.”

Oelat sat back in his seat, swirled his wine and took a whiff. “You’re asking for us to provide our entire militia, our own supplies to bring to the front… you’re adopting an ancient and powerful religion into a fledgling government that hasn’t even learned how to stand up yet. If we so chose, we could take Calamon by force with our equipment—so long as we weren’t challenged by any Etherian interference.”

Her eyebrows tightened.

“I’m speaking theoretically. You’ll notice that we haven’t done that? My only intent is to elaborate that this offer is extremely generous. Calamon would be officially under our governing body within the month if you went for this deal. When you both return, you’d be King and Queen—”

“We’re not married.” Faunia did her best to restrain her scoff.

Oelat smiled again. “My apologies. Lorik could be established as King, and my men his servants.”

Faunia took a silent moment to think about it. Then she stuck out her hand. “Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal, pending Cedric’s approval.”

“And Yvesmalia’s, of course. Yves?” asked Oelat, turning to her.

Yvesmalia was staring idly at the wall. She turned back to the conversation as though she’d been involved the whole time. “I’m thinking.”

They waited for her. Faunia folded her hands before her mouth, rested her elbows on her knees. And they waited.

Oelat said, “Come now, Yvesmalia, Faunia is a busy woman.”

“Shut up. I…”

When Yvesmalia trailed off again, Faunia said, “This deal is important to me, Yves.”

“I know.” She glared.

“Is there anything else we can offer? Anything at all that would help you come around?” We’re already prepared to give up so much…

After another long bout of waiting, Yvesmlaia said, “No. No, I don’t accept.” She stood up from the sofa. “The deal is off.”

“B-but…!” stammered Oelat.

But she was already storming away. She pulled the door open, and slammed it forcefully shut behind herself.

They awkwardly returned their gazes to each other.

“I apologize, Faunia, she’s…”

“No, not at all. I appreciate you both coming out here and lending your time. The evacuation of Calamon will be more than enough for now. We need to save as many people as we can.”

“I agree. This evacuation should have been handled much sooner… N-Not to imply it’s any of your fault, of course! The dragon, I mean.”

Faunia returned her blank-faced stare to him. “Oelat. It’s fine.”

And she stood to dismiss him from the chamber.