Conquest of Avalon

No time for regrets now.

Camille glided through deserted city streets, chill settling in her skin. Her cloak, borrowed from Mary Perimont, had been tailored for a far shorter woman and stopped irritatingly above the knees. At least the hood did its job, with the added benefit of helping obscure her identity.

Not that there was any particular need for privacy.

After all, Prince Grimoire himself had asked for her help. For the first time in almost two decades, I’m not a fugitive in my own home.

Of course it would be at a time like this.

The Governor’s mansion spewed out guards like a beehive, tides of people organizing hurriedly as they dispersed from the central building, a grey box silhouetted by faint moonlight. As Camille ventured closer, it became clearer that Territorial Guardians didn’t account for all of the throngs gathered around the blighted structure, for many lacked the uniform, some holding small hatchets or axes in place of Avalon’s usual pikes.

“Governor’s mansion is closed, miss, on account of the crisis.” A burly guard tried to get her attention as she neared the door, plotting a path to duck between the waves of departures. He was one of a pair standing with their hands on their weapons next to the entrance. “Return to your home and await further instructions.”

You people destroyed my home. All that’s left of the castle is a few blue stones on an overgrown cliff. “Prince Grimoire is expecting me.” Her stride didn’t slow as she approached. “Move aside.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “His highness didn’t mention he was expecting any visitors. Wait here while we—” He was interrupted by his partner tapping on his shoulder. “What?”

“That’s the lady who was with him when the prince busted into the palace. WIth the… you know… the magic?”

Camille smiled, continuing to walk forward past the first guard’s dumbfounded face, him making no move to stop her.

Better to avoid explaining herself, regardless. Luce Grimoire would doubtless have come up with some lie or excuse for soliciting her help with that, and without knowing it, playing along could have been difficult.

The hallways within were no less crowded, and the manner of dress changed greatly. Colorful capes and doublets flared out against grey brick, clearly well born administrators of some kind.

Camille took careful note of several of their faces, good people to keep in mind for the future, but she had more immediate concerns.

Finding Luce’s workshop was trivial, for practically the entire hallway around it was choked with guards and messengers, each squeezing slowly past each other on their way to and from the room. No matter.

Keeping her eyes firmly forward, Camille ducked and slinked through the crowd, cutting ahead of forlorn messengers through heavily-breathing guards until she stood before the door. Not one to waste time, she rapped the back of her fist against it.

“What now?” a hoarse voice called out through the door. “Who is it?”

“Your savior, it would seem. And twice over, at that.”

The murmurings of the crowd died down as some of them turned to stare.

“Let her in!” Grimoire ordered, one of his guards opening the door in response.

Camille strode in easily, allowing them to close the door behind her.

Prince Grimoire stood behind an enormous wooden worktable, better fit for a craftsman than a prince, wrestling with two pieces of metal that seemed determined to repel each other. Massive coils of copper twine looped around the table from their spools, seemingly doomed to be tangled up with each other.

He set the metal bars down as Camille entered, looking up at her with a face covered in a film of grime. “Camille. I thought you were leaving?”

“That was the plan. But Guerron has more sages in the vicinity right now than you have spools of copper. They can manage without me for a little while.” I hope. “Malin, though? I’m sincerely worried that if I leave, everyone here will die.”

Grimoire frowned. “I’d ask for a bit more credit, but honestly, I’m worried you might be right.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. “I still can’t believe this happened.”

I find it suspicious, myself. To see the sky engulfed in darkness, on the day of the solstice no less… “The cause could prove important in informing the solution. I was planning my next steps in that direction, provided nothing more urgent arose here.”

“The cause?” The prince furrowed his brow. “Surely it's Khali, returned from the world where she was imprisoned? What else could engulf the sky in darkness?”

“The sun.” She folded her arms. “Or rather, the lack of it. Just as Soleil shone uninterrupted for weaks at the dawn of the Age of Gleaming, in Khali’s absence. Or as the tides ceased to move with the death of Pantera, before Levian was elevated to her place.”

His eyes widened. “You think someone banished the sun like the Great Binder banished Khali?”

“It’s a possibility. If so, the spirits will be convening at the seat of his power to choose a replacement. As important as it might be to ensure that they choose quickly, too must they also choose correctly, as they did with Levian.”

“Fuck me. If the fate of the world ends up resting on a bunch of monsters to make the right choice, we’re all doomed.”

“Right this moment, it doesn’t matter. These first days are the most important, before the temperature drops below the threshold for freezing.”

“I know. Father’s been preparing me for the possibility for years, the hierarchy of needs to keep people alive. Even if Khali is about nineteen hundred years too early.”

“What? Nineteen hundred years?”

Grimoire paled, as if realizing he had said too much. “It’s nothing. First, warmth, to ensure that none perish in the cold. I’ve got practically half the city out cutting wood while it’s still safe enough to do it. The Woodcutter’s guild organized their own forays, while the Guardians are gathering up any townsfolk who can swing an axe.”

“Guilds…” Camille sighed. “If they’re out on their own, you’re going to lose half the forest to their pockets before the wood gets back here.”

“Don’t worry, I sent a bunch of Perimont’s Forresters to shadow them and make sure everything gets back intact. Keeps them out of the city too, where they could do more harm than good.”

“Smart,” Camille admitted. “And what are you doing, exactly? Trying to wrap the entire city in copper?”

Grimoire rolled his eyes. “It’s a generator. With an appropriately magnetized core surrounded by coiled wire, we can convert force from turning a wheel into voltaic charge, which… This is too complicated to explain.”

“Clearly, and it doesn’t matter for the purposes of this conversation. What’s important is what it does. I would hope it’s significant, if you’re spending all your time on this.”

“Hopefully, address point two: food. I’m not an expert on this part, but too long without sunlight could ruin the entire harvest. Surviving right now only does us so much good if we all starve come winter. I’m hoping I can grab an optics specialist to help configure the lights, but ideally, it could mean reproducing sunlight using another means of power.”

“Reproducing sunlight, really?” Camille tried to contain her skepticism. Avalon had all manner of strange technology, but this seemed considerably greater a gap than even Fouchand had realized. “So your copper string… wire, it lights up? Is that supposed to be enough to grow plants?”

“No, this is just the generator. It converts kinetic energy to voltaic. We’d need to attach it to a turbine, or a windmill, or… You know, it doesn’t matter. It might not work anyway. No one’s had much luck scaling the illumination enough to be useful. But I have to try.”

And destroy the entire forest while you’re at it. “Aren’t you thinking a bit short-term?” she asked diplomatically. “Trees need sunlight to grow, too. Once you cut down all of the accessible forests, that’s it.”

He scoffed, turning his eyes back to his disorderly pile of copper. “What would you have me do, Camille? We have to keep people warm enough to ride this out. If it’s Khali, she’ll appear in Avalon, and it will fall to our binders to seal her away once more. Who knows how long that could take? Who knows if it even can be done? She’s had an entire world to feast on, to grow her power. Father said… I don’t have a lot of options here.”

“Don’t limit yourself. Now that I’m here, the possibilities are far greater.”

Grimoire slapped himself in the forehead. “What the fuck was I thinking? Of course, your magic! How much energy can you produce?”

Camille narrowed her eyes. “I’m quite capable. Lumière may have won our duel, but I assure you, it was only because of Magnifico’s weapon.”

He paused, staring at her. “Not what I meant. How many… Do sages have units for spiritual energy? Something I could convert to martins?”

“Units? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Measurement! The way one measures distance in feet or miles.”

How pointless. “I have intimate awareness of exactly how much energy I can bring to bear at any given time. Quantifying it like that would not only be pointless, but impossible. How would I apply a ruler to my reserves? The very prospect is nonsensical.”

For some reason, that made the prince smile widely. “You’ve never studied this scientifically? None of you sages?” He rubbed his hands together. “Alright, it looks like a new task just went to the top of my priorities list. Let’s see, a beaker of water to get the volume precise, would be better if someone could send over a good thermometer from the Tower, but there should be something around… Interesting…”

Scant surprise he’s the younger brother, with his priorities so far from ruling. “While you work on that, I’ll be determining the source of the all-consuming darkness filling the sky. The proper next steps could vary considerably, depending on whether or not Khali has returned.”

“Ok, good. I’ll try to have the diagnostic tool ready as soon as I can. If funneling power through your spiritual energy is more efficient than steam turbines, it might be better to use your magic than our… Hmm…”

“I need authority,” she interrupted, cutting through the technological babble.

“What, like, pathologically?”

“No, you fool.” Camille sighed. “I need to make inquiries and negotiations. It’s important that everyone be aware that I have your confidence.” Even if I surely don’t yet, not truly. But they were allies in keeping Malin alive, at least. That much trust seemed possible. “An official position would be ideal, something indicating that I’m in charge of all magical affairs. Spiritual Liaison, perhaps?”

“Fine, whatever. Just get back soon. If your magic works the way I think it does, we could have you turning water wheels round the clock in a matter of hours. That could make all the difference.”

Is it wrong to hope it doesn’t, then? “Say it. Make it official.”

“What? There’s not exactly time to make an announcement or anything. I’ll introduce you when I have time to gather up a cabinet, but—”

“Just say it, so I can move on.”

With no small amount of bewildered irritation on his face, the prince acquiesced, waving his hand in a sloppy salute. “You are now my official Spiritual Liaison. Satisfied?”

“Thank you.” Camille opened the door and exited into the murmuring throngs outside, each turning to stare as she walked by.

≋

“I, Camille Leclaire, High Priestess of Levian and Lady of Onès, do entreat you for a conversation, fair spirit. I offer you my full protection from harm for the duration of our discussion, and full secrecy to the extent you desire. I come alone, with none else to bear witness. My soul is yours should I lie.”

She shouted to the banks of the Sartaire, the third spot she’d tried that… night? Morning? Keeping track of time was already growing difficult, and this ordeal had barely begun.

Camille had done a round of searching when she’d first been free to move about the city, but hadn’t been able to find any spirits remaining. Pierrot’s garden, Teruvo’s forest, and now the banks of the Sartaire river. Mother hadn’t taken her to every spirit’s domain around the city, but Camille still knew where many had resided. That was before the Foxtrap though. In the wake of Avalon’s invasion, many spirits had stood their ground and died, while others fled, but there had to be some still in hiding.

Avalon could hardly have wiped them all out, especially outside the city like this. And circumstances were different now, even aside from being able to shout safely and cover more ground. The sky was dark, a great spiritual reckoning on the horizon, and…

“I speak with the authority granted from the ruler of this city. You shall not come to harm, and word of your openness shall be passed to the Great Spirit Levian. All this I swear, with my soul in the balance.” If that didn’t work, she had two more sites to check, and then would have to venture further afield. The desert, most likely, since Avalon had surely not bothered to conduct a thorough campaign of extermination there, but that presented challenges of its own.

If only I could simply ask Levian… But it was impossible to see him before the culmination of their deal, unless she wanted him to steal away with her soul.

“I accept your offer, Camille.” A vortex began to form in the river waters, a large ball of dark green within the center. The head curled back, antennae unfurling behind it, revealing a lighter colored belly.

“Fenouille!” Camille carefully scrambled down the riverbank, approaching the frog-like spirit in the water. “I hoped you might be around! The Sartaire is more than just what borders Malin, after all.”

“Indeed.” HIs voice was impossibly deep, bubbling up from the muddy soil beneath. “Had I known it was you the first time, I would have shown myself then.” Atop his whirling cloud of water, he crept closer. “How long has it been? Fifty years? You humans grow so fast.”

“Seventeen,” she corrected, smiling up at him. “I’m really glad you’re still here. After I heard what they did to Pierrot…”

“Monstrous, indeed. Not many felt inclined to stay after that. Deeper east or further south, for most, though some few did stay. There was even a new arrival from Paix Lake, the Fallen.” Fenouille stroked the bottom of his chin. “I see that you yet live as well. Without Levian’s presence, it was difficult to be sure. How fares your mother?”

Camille bit her lip. “She died so that we could escape, back when Avalon first arrived. I’m the last Leclaire.”

Fenouille’s vortex dipped downwards, bringing him closer to ground level. “Such condolences as I have to offer are yours. Sarille was wise and strong indeed.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’d love to keep catching up, but I was actually wondering if I could ask you about something.”

“The sky?” Fenouille’s tongue, pale green, shot out of his mouth, gesturing towards the darkened horizon. “So soon after Khali’s rampage, no less,” his voice continued, unimpaired. “What is Terramonde coming to?”

“It’s all because of Avalon. They’re like a flood bursting through a dam, expanding their tyranny across the world without thought or care.” She smiled. “I have a plan for that, though. Now that I know you’re alive, I’ll talk to you more about it later.” She took a breath, staring at the stars reflected in the river. “Is Khali back? She wasn’t killed, only sealed away, but—”

“I cannot deny the possibility with certainty, but nothing gives me cause to believe so.”

Camille let out a deep breath, allowing herself a hearty sigh of relief. At least one disaster averted, for once. “It’s Soleil, then.”

“Indeed, indeed. I felt the call myself, an invitation to say my piece at the congregation of the spirits. But I have no great opinion on the next sun, and I trust Levian to speak for me in any case.”

“That’s smart of you.” She bounced on her feet as possibilities began to fill her mind. “Guerron’s going to have more spirits than sages soon.” Avalon could try to begin their attack if they desired, cruel though it would be in the face of this crisis, but it would be at their own peril. The convocation of spirits would not take kindly to their meeting being interrupted. “I think you can make more of a difference here, anyway.”

Fenouille stared in silence, an unspoken question resting in the air.

“I’m trying to keep the city alive as best I can. The first priority is keeping people warm, making sure that no one freezes to death before we can deal with the larger issue. But then the problem is food. Unless the spirits can make their decision soon, crops will start to fail.”

“And you hope to make use of my riverbanks to grow replacements, enriched by my energy rather than sunlight?” His tongue retracted back into his mouth. “Paul Cadoudal asked me much the same, when Khali covered the world in darkness. I granted my sage the privilege then, but circumstances have changed since the binders arrived.”

“Of course. It’s just a thought. I’m not asking you for anything yet. But I hope you can think about it, and think about what you would want in return.”

“What are you prepared to offer?”

Camille steepled her fingers. “I have authority within the city, delegated by the Prince of Avalon himself. I’m the official Liaison to the Spirits, and uniquely positioned to negotiate terms. I believe he might be willing to part with some of the artifacts that were so cruelly torn from fallen spirits. Perhaps even Pierrot.”

“Indeed? Then I shall consider your proposal, little Camille.”

“Could you pass it on to any of the other spirits still around, if you see them? And let them know I’m safe to talk to?”

“That, I cannot guarantee to them with certainty. But I shall pass your remarks along, and make your authority known.”

“Thank you, Fenouille. It was really good to see you again.” Camille turned and began to deliberately scale the riverbank, making her way back up to the road.

As dire as Soleil’s death was, it only validated her decision to stay. Guerron didn’t need her right now, and Malin absolutely did.

Play things right, and I just might save them.