The Referee

“Ah! There it is!”

Some twenty-seven years later, I found a reference for what happens when someone behaves as Johan had. It took longer than I had expected, but there was a record of such a thing happening a long time ago. This made my decision quite a bit easier, as past precedent would allow me to choose my correct course of action without needing to discuss it with the higher-ups. I would rather spend a few hundred years looking up the answer than to see them in person again. Just the thought brought me chills.

“What does it say…ah! Most interesting. For the crime of interrupting a sacred duel, Johan’s punishment will be…”

Impartiality meant to follow rules regardless of personal preferences, not that one must not have personal preferences or prejudices. Thus, it is not shameful to admit that reading it brought a faint smile across my face. “I am authorized to use a Yellow Card, ” I said aloud, my voice filled with a certain joy. “It may progress to a Red Card if he does not accept his punishment fairly.”

God he might be, but even the strongest fencer in a tournament was weaker than the weakest of referees. A simple card could eject them from any competition. Here, the punishment was simple. “We shall cross blades every day for a year, without breaks,” I said slowly, reading up the rules once more. “If he neglects to show up to our agreed duel, I may impose a Red Card on him.”

And that thought was so beautiful it made me hope the accursed man would miss a day.

Valente

To many this was an oncoming storm they had never expected to see in their lifetime. To me, it was an expected disaster I had been preparing for my whole life. Not that there was much one could do to prepare themselves for when their son declared a rebellion on the Empire, but the topic came up in sleepless nights often enough it hardly surprised me to witness Valle declaring he was the King in Cresna and that the Terra Inglesa would rebel against the Empire. It surprised me even less to see the streets of Cresna thunder in boisterous support.

“They raised our taxes for the last fucking time.”

“We’ll be able to trade with Inglaterra once we’re independent, I say fuck the crown.”

“Valle never let us down before. Let’s support him!”

“Fuck the crown.”

“Fuck Johan!”

The weight of what they witnessed hadn’t fully hit them yet. No one understood what the death of stats meant for our society—nor had they really understood that their stats were gone yet, despite the half-broadcast show Johan had given us. I need to keep them from wasting their stats, I thought, but how do I do that? I can hardly impose that order on people…they would never listen to me. I don’t have my son’s charisma. And what charisma he had. He had dreamed of being an actor, once, before he fell in love with duels. Sometimes the thought still came to me at night—if he hadn’t met her, what would Valle’s life be like now? Would it be better without the weight he placed on his own shoulders, or does his purpose motivate him to rise every morning?

“If, if, if…if doesn’t exist,” I muttered to myself, alone in my office.

What had shocked me wasn’t that Valle had declared independence—but who he had done it with. Princess Nevada, crown princess of the Empire, had allied herself with him and their little display had left little doubt of such. It had been passionate enough that few would assume it to be a merely political union, even if it was one. Their kiss had been very public, to the point where either side would lose out on public opinion if they were to betray the other and would have a hard time arranging a marriage with anyone else at that point. I knew better than to expect the display to be factual—maybe they did have feelings for one another, but that the display had been public to force each other’s hand was explicit enough.

Valle…come home quickly, I thought. I don’t know what your plans are. But time is of the essence, and I will handle matters as you are hoping I will.

“Portna’s Lord sent us a letter, my lord,” said Verlance. Good assistant, that man. “He says he is interested in Valle’s declaration of independence and Portna might join the Terra Inglesa Independente, though he has a…rather strict list of demands, including near-total dominance of naval rights on the southern port.”

I shook my head. “Fucking Velize knows he’s got nothing,” I said, through a muttered breath. There was no need for polite language around my own assistant and the matter had stressed me out quite a bit. “Matter was settled once the Sun Wolf bent his knee to Valle. Portna adores the man like Cresna adores Valle—the only reason Velize got his City Lord title back is because the Sun Wolf was kept in Arcadia to be the royal executioner. The man hardly has grounds to bargain on. He blabbers about concessions, but he’s just trying to get the most he can before he capitulates. We’re going to give him nothing.”

Independence wasn’t a matter I cared about deeply, but if that was the path we were going to have to tread, then we were going to get the best deal for our people. If we have to deal with the burden of wearing a crown, then our people will benefit from it. It wasn’t as though I didn’t care about the rest of the Terra Inglesa, but Cresna came first and foremost. That kind of thinking hardly makes me different from the Emperor, I thought. That is why I never would have sought the right to rule over anyone else.

“What of the other three?” I asked. “Have they talked to us?”

There was hardly a need to be more specific than that; there were three other major cities in the Terra Inglesa that amounted any significant influence. Cresna held the northern ports and Portna held the southern, while the other three were more centered, bearing land trade routes with each other and the rest of the Empire.

“The City of Dimburgo says they will support us—no demands or second thoughts,” Verlance said. “Their declaration of support came only a few hours after Lord Valle’s declaration, my lord. Their loyalty appears very strong.”

“Of course,” I said. It was better not to say it aloud, but loyalty was not the reason for their eagerness. Sounds about right. They are the furthest away from the Empire—least likely to see any armies marching on their walls even if we lose, and they can always betray us and offer our heads on a silver platter to save their own skin if that’s what it takes. Johan had done much in that style, proving that he would handsomely reward betrayers of their own kind in the last war. This behavior would surely come in handy once more. And if they were against us, they would be most vulnerable to an attack. “What of the others?”

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“The City of Doblen is—their letter is very chaotic,” Verlance said, frustration dripping from his words. “Frankly, their letter doesn’t make a lot of sense. Seems like they don’t have an official stance. They congratulate us for our independence, but come short of joining us. I believe they are waiting to see what Cardente will do—it’s their most important trade partner, after all.”

“And what of Cardente?”

“Cardente—the city of Cardente,” Verlance began, hesitantly, “has rejected our call for independence. They—they side with the Empire and urge us to retract the claim.”

I nodded. “That is to be expected. They are technically the closest city to the Empire, after all.”

This time I asked for the entire letter to be read aloud—the details would matter a lot here. As expected, after pleasantries the argument came down to the same thing. “Lord Iremar thinks that his city would be most in danger in case of war as it’s the closest to the Empire,” I said dryly. “What a buffoon.”

“My—my lord?” Verlance asked hesitantly. “I—I know that Lord Iremar is not very bright, but would that assumption not be correct? They are indeed the closest to the Empire.”

“For civilians, sure,” I replied, failing at masking a deep sigh. “There is a narrow route that allows civilians to reach Cardente from Clawfort by horseback or carriages—but it is hardly conducive for an army to pass through. The mountain pass would slow them down and kill them, even Iremar could probably hold Johan himself back at that narrow pass if the Empire was stupid enough to try it. Not to mention even feeding an army across that pass would be disastrous, no villages to request aid from and hardly much in the way of natural food sources nearby…they would be entirely dependent on supply trains, which would be vulnerable to just about anything.”

Not to mention…what about those monsters? Johan spoke of them briefly and we hardly had much to go on about them—written reports of their existence dated so far back most considered them a legend. I do not think I would have believed in them myself if not for the bones beneath our manor. If they were back, marching an army slowly would surely make them vulnerable to it? “Cardente is safe. Cresna is the closest target with a viable route. Their issue isn’t that they are the most geographically close city to the Empire. No, their issue is that they are the culturally closest city to the Empire.”

“Their population has the largest mix of the two,” Verlance admitted. “For years they have been trying to distance themselves from the Terra Inglesa and lean closer to the Empire.”

A deep sigh was the only answer to this. There was nothing wrong with mixing the two populations, far from it—that was something I very much enjoyed and encouraged, for I believe you should choose your homeland rather than have it assigned to you at birth. What I took issue with was that Iremar appeared more than happy to erase our culture for the sake of buddying up with the mainland Empire, often mocking the Terra Inglesa with our overlords so he could be given a reluctant seat at the table. They mocked him still, surely, but they mocked him as the best of a set of clowns. Humiliating to me, perfect to him—so long as he gets what he wants, he is willing to put up with that.

And it had been a good strategy, at that. Portna’s tenuous hold of the Terra Inglesa was going to come to an end no matter what, and Cardente was likely going to get Provincial Lord status over us all. It was only Valle’s actions—as well as the Sun Wolf making the crown terribly afraid of another horrifying rebellion— in the last war that prevented this from happening.

It was not as though the entire city had been converted over, but propaganda certainly took its effect and though I imagine some of them were won over by Valle’s speech the place likely held the lowest amount of support for our cause. It was by far the most imperial city in the Terra Inglesa.

“Send them all a letter,” I said, after a moment of consideration. “Have them all come here. Say that we will meet with them to discuss this matter—they want diplomacy? Fine. Let’s discuss diplomacy. Doblen might come around if we force their hand a little.”

“What—what about Cardente?” Verlance asked hesitantly. “Does my lord believe they will come around?”

“Aye. One way or another. Their claimed reasons for not siding with us are the reason why they will have to, one way or another.”

“My lord, what does that—”

“The Empire’s armies cannot make it over that pass at any reasonable speed, remember? This means they cannot reinforce them either. Cardente is the most defensible city against the Empire. Let us speak plainly here—the very same things that make them such a nearly impenetrable fortress of a civilization? Those twin mountains flanking it from either side, the two narrow passes at the rivers and the leftmost mountain? They also mean they are incredibly easy to siege from their eastern front.”

Verlance’s face went pale. “My—my lord, do you mean to point a sword to them?”

I smiled at this. “Deplorable, isn’t it? But it is a possibility I have considered. For the sake of my people, I am willing to do anything.” Here I looked out the open window with a nostalgic look, thinking back on being an optimistic youth filled with dreams, facing the summer breeze with an ambitious grin and uncompromising morals. Yet now the cold, harsh winter breeze made me see myself for who I was. “This is why Valle is more qualified to lead than I am.” That same optimism might damn my son to failure, however…should I encourage him to be more ruthless? To be more like me? Could I do that when I don’t like the person I have become?

Silence reigned until I took pity on Verlance, who stood awkwardly not knowing what to say, and decided to speak of more pragmatic concerns. “Two certain allies, one possibility, one pain in the ass. This isn’t the worst starting hand…but with those monsters roaming about, I am afraid we might need some more.”

“My lord, my deepest apologies!” Verlance shouted, so suddenly I nearly fell from my chair. “There—there is one more letter!”

“One more? Ah, one of the small territories, no doubt? Those hardly matter when considering the big picture strategy at the moment. I believe—”

“No, my lord—I—please read it!”

Here Verlance produced a piece of parchment from the leather bag strapped across his shoulders, and while before he had handled the documents with a certain amount of dignity, here he held it as if it were a priceless work of art. He unfolded it carefully, appearing to gently drag his thumbs across either end of the parchment before stretching it to a readable state and holding it gently from behind with his four fingers. Then, eyes wide, rather than read it aloud, he looked over at me nervously and set it on my desk with trembling hands.

At first it seemed like an overreaction. This seal—! Can it be—? Then it made sense.

Dear Master Valente,

It has been a long time since I have written to you, and I deeply apologize for that. My life has been quite busy since I left Cresna, but that is no excuse—I promise to never allow such a mistake to happen again! You will hear from me more than during simple holidays. My days in Cresna are still among my fondest memories and it is no small part thanks to you and Valle. I hope you are doing well.

The news about Cresna’s war of independence brightened my day, but I know better than to simply congratulate you for it. Time is of the essence and I doubt you have the time to waste on idle pleasantries, so allow me to be direct. The death of stats will make this war extremely difficult to handle for your side, as Johan likely has been preparing for this for a while. He has not prepared for Cresna to have allies, however.

I have spoken to the Queen and she is willing to hear the argument of allying ourselves with Cresna. She was—predictably—very impressed with Lord Valle’s rival, Carr, for his view on stats and perseverance is similar to her own. Moreover, my word counts for something and when I speak she listens. Valle’s presence is therefore requested here immediately. Sailing here will be a challenge, but he is now in possession of Harlock—that was one of our ships, originally. It should make its way across any waters without hassle, and I imagine the waters will be gentler after Johan’s actions anyhow.

It is not as though I speak this callously. I am terrified, of course, that God was killed by a monster like Johan and that stats will soon die out. But I was born in a land that taught me there is more to life than stats and I was raised in a land where they taught me that a Champion must stand proud for their people no matter what. As I have, and as Valle has done as well.

Tell him to sail here immediately. I will see that the Queen gives him an audience.

Tell Valle and Carr to come to Razil.

Yours Truly,

Estella, the Champion of Razil, the Champion of the World, the Swordmaster of Arcadia, the Second Blade of Cresna, Your Favorite Student