“There is an ugly truth about life as a diplomat. Your greatest duty on foreign soil is to maintain the illusion that you’re not already planning your next betrayal.”
— Prokopia Lakene, first and only Hierarch of the Free Cities
----------------------------------------
The late afternoon sun beat down upon the two of us. I rolled my shoulders and circled around the flaxen haired man at a distance, examining him for an opening. He wore a green shirt with gold lace — with the sleeves rolled up exposing his muscled arms and the top button undone — and white woollen trousers. A light sheen coated his brow. His eyes were just as tightly focused as my own. I tensed as there was a subtle shift in Prince Frederic’s stance. There was a muted clash as the blunted edge of his blade struck my own.
“So,” Prince Frederic said as he stepped backwards, “tell me what’s gnawing away at your thoughts.”
The two of us sparred on an open arena. I spared a glance for the white sand floor. It was almost flat — except for a few obstacles — rocks that had been placed to keep the competitors on their toes. I had no intention of eating dirt during this fight. There was a light scuff in the sand as I stepped forwards. I waited for a moment — allowing his attention to return to the fight — before aiming a series of three aggressive strikes at him.
“Is it that obvious?” I replied.
I grimaced as my friend parried the third strike and landed a touch on my arm. It would have been easy for me to avoid it. I could have transmuted my arm to Light for a moment, or I could’ve stopped playing by human constraints and either overwhelmed him with brute force, or moved too fast for him to follow what I was doing. I wouldn’t do any of that.
“Point!” he exclaimed, giving me an attractive grin. “You’re tense,” he continued, “others might not notice it, but we’ve been arranging our hour-long spars twice a week for half a year now.”
Both of us halted for a moment and reset our stances.
The next bout started off with a misstep on Frederic’s part. A cloud of dust billowed forth and obscured him as he tripped over a loose stone, sending him tumbling to the dirt. An attendant would have stepped in had this been the early days when the two of us had first started sparring together. He’d evicted both them and his guards after the second week of our meetings.
“It’s the other heroes again,” I conceded.
I reached down and pulled him to his feet. He muttered a few words of thanks in reply. I wouldn’t take advantage of an opening like that. Not because I didn’t see it, but… because it would break the rules. I’d taken up duelling as a sport on Prince Frederic’s advice, and I was treating the rules as seriously as I could.
“They are still stirring the waters?” he inquired as he brought his blade into the guard position and the spar commenced once more.
Both of us started to circle once again. I studied his eyes. Prince Frederic tensed, then feinted. I took a step to my right and evaded the blow.
My decision to treat duelling as a hobby didn’t mean that I wasn’t competitive about it — I’d managed to earn my fourth sun only a fortnight past — but it did mean that I was playing by all the guiding principles of it. Both the spoken and the unspoken rules. I had more than enough ways to kill people without turning to the games I entertained myself with. I didn’t want to sour the last bastion of my sanity for myself. Prince Frederic had made it clear that he wouldn’t mind if I cheated a little — I’d caught the implication that he might even approve of it — then he’d grumbled when I’d chosen not to.
“Every day,” I complained, “there is another hero that needs to see me personally.” I feinted forward, then aimed another strike at his upper arm. “They’re apparently too important to raise their issues with anyone else.” Frederic blocked my strike, then performed a complicated twist that ended with him tapping lightly against my fingers. “Point,” I acknowledged.
“Third strike and match,” he said, smiling at me and extending a hand.
I spared him a mock glare for a few moments before smiling and shaking it.
“Still not good enough,” I grumbled, “haven’t won a round yet.”
Both of us walked towards a bench at the side of the arena and rested our swords. He sat down and lifted a silver pitcher of water on the accompanying ash side-table with grace and poured a glass of water, then extended it towards me. I took it the proffered gift and muttered a thanks, then sat down beside him while he poured himself a drink.
“It is remarkable how fast you learn,” he countered, “considering how little time you spare for yourself.”
Frederic took a towel from beside him on the bench and dabbed the sweat off his brow. He’d given up on offering me those after the fourth time I’d refused. I reached back and untied my hair, allowing it to spill over my shoulders.
“It’s always ‘Taylor, why can’t I poison the whole town and then withhold the antidote until the villain surrenders,’” I affected a high-pitched, whiney voice as I continued to rant, “or ‘Taylor, why can’t I use half the church budget for my personal project.” I paused and took a sip of the water.
The trouble wasn’t that I didn’t have capable people I could delegate it to. No, I had those in spades. The real problem was that at least half the heroes I’d met were stubborn, hard-headed, unrelenting, well-meaning people who flat our refused to listen to the authority of anyone except the person at the top. It didn’t matter if I had skilled people who could do the job if heroes wouldn’t listen to them. It wasn’t true for every hero. Every day there were less of them making themselves my personal concern. Unfortunately, I suspected that I’d need to wait until the current generation were all dead before the cultural expectation went away.
“Were there more or less challenges for the leadership of the chosen this week?” Prince Frederic’s lips twitched as he replied.
He must’ve heard this rant or one just like it from me by this point at a dozen times. I winced in sympathy. He had his own issues in Brus. I’d taken to offering him an ear whenever he wanted to complain about them. Prince Frederic had refrained from grumbling about his angry bag of cats at first, but… it hadn’t taken me long to wear away at that particular foible of his. Granted, he was still much more polite when he lamented about the baby dragons that he had to herd in his lair than I was.
“Still only one this month,” I admitted. “Still want to bash some sense into the rest of them.”
It was bad enough that I’d started praying for smarter heroes. Not all of them lacked political acumen, but most did. A pattern had begun to emerge among the new chosen. One that didn’t surprise me at all. Those who suffered injustices were more likely to become heroes than those who did not. There were more peasants than nobles. Few among the nobility truly suffered to the extent of the peasantry. Putting both facts together, and, well… most of the new heroes weren’t the brightest stars in the sky. I didn’t blame them for that, but I wished they would make fewer problems for me.
“Should it come to pass that all the advisors who recommend I rebel against the First Prince were to find themselves sharing lunch with you one day-”
There weren’t only negatives. My reforms were working. Some heroes had tried remaining separate from the House of Light at first. They had folded after the first six months had passed and incorporated themselves into my system. In part because of the pressure to do so. The law required them to do so and although the systems to enforce that law were still being established, it had been obvious that with time it would be enforced.
“I’m not beating up your political advisors,” I interrupted, then scowled as he laughed. “Sometimes I wish I had twenty-four Cordelia Hasenbachs under me to foist on everyone who thinks they're too good to talk to anyone without a Name.” I furrowed my brow for a moment, “wouldn’t turn my nose at a few of her cousin either.”
However, it was not the only reason that heroes submitted. Those that were under my authority prevailed more often than those who were not. Not only that, but they frequently succeeded in ways that people were happier with than before. I’d heard rumours that in some towns, heroes weren’t welcome unless they could prove they were a part of the House of Light. That was a complication of another kind, but I was glad that my plan was working.
“The Principate of Procer couldn’t survive that much of our esteemed First Prince in one place,” Prince Frederic replied with a serene expression on his face.
There was a difference in the successes between those who were a part of the House of Light and those who weren’t. It was one that was so stark that stories were beginning to be told about it. That — in turn — had resulted in the victories becoming even more pronounced. People were starting to call it the golden age of heroics in the Principate.
“No,” I agreed, “but with one for every principality…” I trailed off.
Heroes won here. They won fast — with minimal collateral damage — and details of their opponents were recorded for others to take advantage of. Villains faced trials when they could, and death was only the penalty when it would be the penalty by law. It disappointed me how few villains were willing to try for redemption. However, the degree of my success was enough to make me consider the merits of Songbird’s Dream. I’d thought the Dream too ambitious — too far-fetched — but perhaps it did have a chance to succeed after all.
“They would have the strength your otherwise capable but not strong enough willed subordinates lack,” Prince Frederic finished.
The first few trials had been ugly. Peasants had been quick to petition for investigations against their least favourite rulers. I spent most of my time during the first four months just being called on to adjudicate matters involving important nobles after the resolution had passed. Fortunately, the witch hunting had more or less ended by now. Another trouble had reared its ugly head in the aftermath. The heroes. There had been a few heroes who looked downright miserable when they were told they weren’t permitted to steal from others for their quests. No, there was no such thing as the right of divine repossession. The House of Light could accommodate their needs, they didn’t need to take from others.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
A few nobles had tried to bribe heroes into ruling in their favour, and… that hadn’t ended well for the nobles. I was expecting that sooner or later there would be a major challenge to the rules I’d established. That challenge hadn’t happened yet — it was still the early days — but I expected the first hurdle to occur soon. A recent conversation I’d had with the First Prince hinted at troubles to come. Very little of my time was spent apprehending villains. Most of it was spent leading the House of Light.
“How proceeds your writing?” Frederic inquired.
My other projects were in their early days but were proving far more successful overall. Once I’d finally acknowledged to myself that I wasn’t suited to managing the minutiae and left reimagining my reforms to the right people, they’d started to show promise.
“Faces of Virtue?” I checked. He nodded, so I continued. “I’ve finished my part of it. Need to find chosen of other choirs to continue.”
I’d spent enough time in the presence of Angels to realize that they could change, and that with time they did change. Faces of Virtue was my attempt to… document what they were like at the present moment. I’d recorded everything I’d felt about Compassion. There were rumours of a White Knight sworn to Judgement in the Titanomachy, but I wasn’t about to wander over their border and check for myself.
“Is there something else that is remiss?” the blonde asked. “There is a tightness to your shoulders.”
“It’s time,” I stated.
“The First Prince called upon you to assist in negotiations with Yan Tei?” he furrowed his brow.
It would’ve been an excellent guess if I hadn’t talked to him about this already. The kind of supposition I’d have made without further context. The Yan Tei arriving off the coast of Levant and seizing the city nearest to the Red Snake Wall had taken everyone by surprise. Cordelia had been forced to reinforce the southern borders against foreign incursion and had been locked in tense negotiations with our visitors from across the sea ever since.
“Not that,” I denied. “Didn’t you listen when we last talked,” I gave him a mock glare. “The Fae problem.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Cordelia Hasenbach’s warnings to our neighbours not to use Ravel Bank coin had fallen on deaf ears. The money that they had been pouring into Callow and Helike was starting to become a problem for Procer. Most of the Free Cities had enough sense not to use the poisoned coin. This common sense didn’t — it appeared — extend to Helike. While the Principate was the largest surface nation on Calernia and could supply most of its own goods and services without external trade, it wasn’t able to divest itself of foreign markets entirely. It didn’t matter if Procer refused to barter with Fae money if its neighbours were reliant on it. They wouldn’t trade with us if we refused their currency.
“Then you intend to journey through Constance’s Scar into Arcadia?” the handsome man inquired.
Constance’s Scar had been contained with an admirable degree of swiftness. Cordelia had passed a motion to build a wall around the crater. The phantom raids launched by the Fae were troubling major trade routes in the area, and none of the Princes were prepared to allow the wound to fester. The First Prince had staffed the wall with wizards from her new Order of the Red Lion. She had established the headquarters of the Order in Salia itself, but a secondary outpost was built just outside the crater to contain the Fae incursions.
“I’ll be gone for a while,” I told him. “Don’t know how long.”
It would be a trial of the system I’d established within the Principate. An opportunity to see how well it held up when I was not at the helm. Esme would remain behind and be responsible for most of my duties while I was away. She’d shown a lot of promise over the year and hadn’t tested any of the boundaries I’d set, so I was willing to extend her this much trust. There were also other heroes who were willing to work with her now. I’d have preferred if I’d had more time before it was tested but… I’d already admitted to myself that there would never come a time when I didn’t feel that way.
“Do you believe the House of Light can survive your absence?” Prince Frederic pressed.
Yvette, Roland and I would be heading into Arcadia. I’d have liked for Songbird to come along as well, but it hadn’t taken much thought to determine that she’d be better suited to investigating Mercantis itself. I felt sorry for Roland. He’d only just returned from investigating the Free Cities before being pulled into this new adventure.
“It’ll have to,” I replied.
There was a new Tyrant in Helike trying to cause trouble. So far he’d had little success. The Summer Fae were harassing his northern borders. They’d been launching raids into Helike from the Waning Woods. Yvette had claimed it had something to do with the Fae needing to remain in balance. If one court attacked one place, then the other court needed to attack somewhere else. I’d also been told there was also an important diplomat from Bellerophon that was wandering around from city to city, although I’d put it out of my mind. Nobody knew quite what he was looking for — and considering which city he represented — it was unlikely to matter anyway.
“Do you truly?” he raised an eyebrow at me.
According to Roland, there was little else of note occurring within the Free Cities aside from their usual squabbling. Callow — on the other hand — raised many concerns. They’d been stuck in somewhat of a cold civil war for about a year now. One where the supposed heroes were causing more harm than villains. The golden glow around me intensified for a moment.
Remember Taylor, one nest of vipers at a time.
I breathed out.
An icy breeze at odds with the Spring heat rustled my hair as it blew through the arena.
Both Cordelia and the Circle of Thorns asked me to solve this,” I sighed, “others are investigating in Mercantis but…”
We stood up. Prince Frederic rolled down his sleeves. I picked up the folded jacket from the bench beside him and helped him put it on. The two of us walked side by side towards the double doors marking the exit to the sparring yard. The Prince of Brus placed a palm on the door handle and waited for a moment. It was almost time for me to go.
“There are few who can risk venturing into the lands of the Fae,” Prince Frederic nodded to himself as he finished my thought.
I felt the tugging of every location where people could use my help at the back of my mind. It was an endless sea of scintillating stars. A sea so dense that it was impossible to navigate without assistance. Not that there was a good way to navigate it regardless. There wasn’t any feeling of direction to any of them. Some stars shone brighter than others. They were places that could use my help more, but they could be anywhere from the Brocelian Forest to the Dread Empire of Praes.
“And even fewer who can attempt what I’m planning,” I agreed.
There were so many of them. Even if I solved one complication every heartbeat, I’d never run out of stars to assist. I’d made a promise to myself as a consequence of that. I’d concentrate on the Principate first. Even if there were people elsewhere that might require my help more. There was too much suffering for one person to alleviate all of it. It was one thing to know that at an abstract level. It was another to feel it brushing at the edge of my mind at all times.
“Then I will pray for your safe return,” he said.
The sentiment made me feel warm inside. Prince Frederic had a kind heart, Over the year I’d come to value both his opinions and his friendship.
I hope that nothing bad happens to you while I’m gone, Frederic.
“Thanks,” I gave him a quick hug.
My plan was to finish establishing a working system in one place with the hope that others would adopt it. I’d consider breaking that rule if a star shone so brightly that it drowned out its neighbours. That hadn’t happened yet, although there were a few times it came close to it.
“My advisors would have a conniption if they ever saw you hugging me,” he mused.
“Let them,” I smiled mischievously, “I better not catch you wrestling any crocodiles when I next visit.”
“That was only once,” he sputtered, “I swe-”
I need somebody somewhere near Constance’s Scar, but not so close that I disrupt the warding.
I gave a silent prayer, consumed a ghost, and all but a handful of stars winked out.
There!
One of the dimmest stars called out to me. A small conflict. Something that would be easy for me to resolve, but would put me close to where I wanted to be.
Prince Frederic’s voice cut off as I disappeared.
I was standing beside a wagon with a broken wheel when I reappeared. A dark skinned woman and two children stood crowded around a man on the ground. The wagon had slumped over and squashed his leg against the ground. All four of them froze and stared at me with wide eyes as I appeared beside them. It was the work of a few moments to help shift the wagon — heal his leg — and then wish them luck on their journey.
The ground fled as I surrounded myself in a sphere of light and ascended until the twenty-foot tall line of black granite appeared on the horizon. There had been some complications in its construction. There were no nearby mines, which meant the stone had been pulled from a quarry near the base of the Whitecaps. Workers could only toil during the day due to the Fae’s nighttime incursions and the area had to be kept under constant guard, but… after ten months, Constance’s Scar had been completely enclosed.
Wind battered against my barrier as I flew towards my target. Yellowed indentations marred the grass where the construction site had been abandoned. The clouds above Constance’s Scar roiled like boiling water. Small figures walked atop the barrier. A man I didn’t recognize hailed me as I passed. I waved back in turn. I circled the barrier until I reached an imposing stone tower with an adjacent stables built beside the gate leading in. It wasn’t long before I touched down on the soil and started walking towards the door to the building.
I stopped some distance away and dispersed my bubble as I rested my feet on the ground, then launched a fountain of Light that was more decorative than functional up into the air.
Now, to wait.
I tapped my foot against the cobbled road. There were some justified concerns that I might disrupt the warding scheme of the wall if I drew too close to it. I had no intention of permitting the Fae free rein inside the Principate again now that they were contained.
The door opened. A blonde haired figure dressed in a green robe hesitated for a few moments. My lips twitched. She’d been trying to decide for a while now if she was too old to hug me. It wasn’t long before she made up her mind. Yvette seemed to blur as she rushed out of the building, before slamming into me.
“Ma!” Yvette exclaimed, hugging me tight.
She's just a little taller every time I see her.
Yvette had grown in the year that had passed. Her eyes drew level with my mouth now. I’d bet that at the rate she was growing, she’d be taller than I was in a year or two. Cordelia had not so subtly sent her an invitation to the outpost the moment it had been finished. Yvette had pounced on the opportunity to study the Fae incursion at its source.
“Hey Yvie,” I reached up as I greeted her and brushed her hair out of her eyes.
“You’re here now that means we’re going now right at least I think that-” she cut off, before grimacing and beginning again. “We’re finally ready to leave?”
All three of us had done what research we could in preparation for this journey. Yvette and Roland had both learned more about the magics of the Fae. Roland could help counter their abilities in a tight space and Yvette knew more about both Summer and Winter than any other sorcerer on this side of the continent. As for me… I’d put my hands on every story that I could. I doubted that anyone could outfox the Fae in a game of stories. That didn’t mean I couldn’t arm myself as best as I could to avoid any traps. Blaise and Michel were both sullen that I’d told them they couldn’t come with. I didn’t believe it was wise for people without a name to enter the land of the Fae, no matter how skilled they were with the sword.
I shouldn’t count as a princess any more. At least, I don’t think that I should. Running away from the Prince of Nightfall, however, is going to cause a whole host of problems.
“We are,” I confirmed. “I’ve said my goodbyes and temporarily handed over my duties. All that remains is…”
I felt a prickle at the back of my neck and turned my attention towards the door again. The chocolate eyes of Roland met my own. He was dressed in his usual leather coat and trousers, with silks hanging off his shoulders. He walked towards the two of us at a more sedate pace.
“It’s good to see you again, Taylor,” he greeted me, then smiled.
“You as well,” I replied.
I let go of Yvette and gave him a hug as well, then moved away.
“Learned anything new?” I checked. “Like, which court is at fault?”
“Did I not shed light on that already?” Roland raised an eyebrow as he replied.
Yvette’s cheeks went scarlet. She danced from one foot to another.
“No…” I answered, “but perhaps Yvie can explain what happened? After all, the ground isn’t that hot.”
She averted her eyes and mumbled something while examining the paved road.
“I didn’t hear any of that,” I told her and grinned.
“I said I forgot to tell you,” she admitted, shifting from one foot to another. “I was too busy experimenting with trying to replicate Winter. Did you know that Winter is more Essence than anything else? I think that it can actually freeze anything if it’s concentrated enough. Even time. Maybe the hunger inside Ratlings can be frozen? Why, I’ll-”
“Yvie,” I interrupted, “focus. Which Fae Court?”
“Winter is to blame,” she blushed again as she returned to the topic at hand. “Roland took the magic from a coin and matched it to Winter.”
“At least we don’t need to march all the way to Summer, then,” I muttered.
“I do not believe that which Court is to blame is significant,” Roland explained, “considering that you intend to bring an end to the current Fae cycle.”
“I disagree,” I shook my head as I replied. “Every little thing we can learn matters. The coins will vanish once the seasons change, but-”
“They aren’t going to disappear until we change the courts,” Roland interrupted.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Did either of you learn anything else?”
“I haven't been able to confirm this because somebody wouldn't let me go into Winter on my own,” Yvette glared at me, “but I think Winter is winning the war.”
I folded my arms and ignored the glare.
“That… what does that even mean?” I asked. “Doesn't Summer always win?”
“As far as I know, there is no historical precedent for Winter winning this conflict when it comes to an up front battle,” Roland confirmed.
“Is this a battle, or just trickery?” I inquired.
“That remains to be seen,” Roland replied.
A chill ran down my spine. If Winter was winning a direct fight, then it was significant, and I wasn't certain what to think of it. What would happen if Winter won a war? Did it matter? All we needed was for the seasons to change. Support the winning side until Spring and Autumn arrived, and then the Fae Coins would disappear. That would not end the problem. Every nation that was trading in them already was liable to face trouble in the aftermath, but… the scale of the calamity would only grow if the boil wasn't lanced.
“Either way, we’re ready to go. Mind fetching the horses?” I asked, “I’d do it myself, but-”
Time functioned according to arcane rules in Arcadia. It was the largest risk with this venture and what made me so nervous. We could enter for only one day and exit a decade later, or enter for a year and leave only a day later. I’d chosen to enter mounted rather than fly as a result. There were stories that benefitted from riding on horseback. I’d take any advantage I could in a land where time had little meaning and story had plenty.
“You do not wish to chance disrupting the warding scheme,” Roland finished.
I was expecting trouble within Arcadia and despite that I was still eager to go there. It was a place where stories had power above all else. A place where a brief visit could make lasting change. A place where — with the right story — I wouldn’t have to claw for months for only the smallest of victories.
“Indeed,” I agreed.
Roland left and brought three saddled mounts laden with goods. Pandora took one look at me and snorted. The other two horses were far more demure. I flew up high into the sky and over the walls, then descended beside the others. There, I mounted up.
The sun dipped below the horizon.
Dust billowed behind as all three of us rode towards the crater’s edge.
Our stride carried us past the boundary and we entered a winter wonderland.