Conquest of Avalon

“There!” Fernan shouted, pointing down at the glowing blobs below, distance obscuring their shape. He lessened the flame emanating from his hands and feet, carefully descending towards the people he’d managed to spot, making sure not to jostle the bag strapped to his back. As the fire lessened in its intensity, he felt the drain on his power reduce in turn, spiritual energy flowing more slowly from his eyes downard, more restricted.

It still felt excessive, using so much of it like this, all the more so knowing what it had cost, but ultimately it was for the better. A small sacrifice for a larger benefit, no matter how repulsive it still felt, knowing where it came from.

With the last traces of sunlight days old by this point, the ambient warmth of random surfaces had already mostly faded, making it even harder to parse the landscape, but it also made sources of warmth stand out even more.

Especially people.

Up close, it seemed like they were clustered within a house. Not unlike the ones back home, though without the same slope to their roof. They better hope they don’t get any snow, or it could collapse in on them.

Hopefully this could help with that too, but it was always dangerous to take risks based on assumptions.

Fernan landed as softly as he could manage, at least keeping his footing.

All this flying was rough, even when he could get the landings right. He inhaled deep, trying to catch his breath before entering the house.

Laura Bougitte landed beside him as he walked towards the door, her body rolling haphazardly as it hit the ground. “Fuck.” She righted herself, spitting out dirt as she dusted herself off. “I can’t believe you got the hang of this so quickly,” she panted, even more winded than he was.

“I had to,” Fernan said, offering her his hand. “Things were so dire then, it was the only way out.”

“This is dire enough, I’d think.” She ignored the offered hand, pushing herself off the ground. “Was that when your patron spirit was trying to kill you? I think I heard something about that.”

“After Camille’s duel, actually. Florette and I had to get clear of the fire and the fighting.”

Laura’s aura curdled, cracking with lines of purple amidst the red. “You didn’t have to. You could have stayed to fight. Might have saved Adrian.” She shook her head. ”That fucking duel… Even winning it wasn’t enough to save Aurelian from dying in another few months. I can’t believe that bastard did him like that.”

Unbidden, the image returned to his mind: Lord Lumière crawling forward, clouds of warmth and smoke trailing up from his body as the smell of searing flesh filled the air. His skin browning and then blackening, the streaking white trails of his eyes melting down his face.

“Fernan?”

He shook his head free of those thoughts. “Sorry. I’m just thinking about it. What he looked like, after. He was in so much pain. He suffered for so long. I just…”

A dim trail slid down Laura’s cheek, a tear. “I can’t believe he would do that. How could any sage turn on their patron? And for what? A gruesome death? Failure?” She clicked her tongue. “I have no fucking idea, Fernan. It’s like I never knew him at all.”

“He did it for his son.” Aubaine, that was his last word. “For power and revenge and everything else too, I’m sure. But I think that’s what mattered most to him in the end. At least he succeeded at that much, I guess.”

“Fernan, what the fuck are you talking about? Aubaine was set to succeed him as the high Priest of Soleil. Aurelian ruined that. Eventually he can pledge himself to another flame spirit, maybe even Flammare, but he won’t be the High Priest of the Arbiter of Light.”

“I think that was the point. Have you ever actually met Soleil?”

Laura shook her head. “I suppose I never will, now.”

“Count yourself lucky, then. He was horrible. Every second it seemed like he was seconds away from leveling the north end of Guerron, or blasting Lumière apart for failing to do it himself. Based on what he said, I’m pretty sure that the duel was all at his behest. He didn’t want to subject Aubaine to that.”

“Or he just wanted the sun’s power for himself that badly. Soleil doesn’t sound pleasant from that, I’ll grant you, but he had every right to expand his influence, and Aurelian had every obligation to help in turn.” She scratched her chin, seeming to give it genuine consideration. “If he really had this planned all this time, I’m amazed he managed to keep it from Soleil. It’s a delicate line when you have to be truthful and they ask you questions. Silence can be just as damning.”

“But… surely that isn’t normal? Your spirit isn’t like that, is he?” You called him ‘presumptive heir to Soleil as Arbiter of the Light’. If Flammare were a true heir to Soleil, in temperament as well as domain…

Laura held up both hands, miming a scale. “Flammare wants me to defend his influence, of course. If for whatever reason I refused, or failed him greatly, he probably wouldn’t take kindly to it. But he’d never threaten to kill me. That would be so pointless. It wouldn’t help him any, it would just be spiteful.”

“I think spite defined the relationship between Soleil and Lumière, honestly. Based on the way he talked about him, probably between Soleil and Levian too.”

She sighed. “Maybe. Much as it pains me to say it, you probably know better than I do. I just wonder how it could deteriorate so badly. Lumière brought him a lot to be satisfied with, and he was never open in his insubordination, right?”

Fernan shook his head.

“Well then I don’t get it, I guess. Shit, maybe I never will. As complicated as it is dealing with one spirit, you can learn them, get to know them. Once they start bouncing off each other, there’s no way not to go in blind.”

“I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm… Right, your Gézarde is a hermit. He missed all of the previous convocations, and I’m sure this won’t be an exception, right? Flammare barely even remembered him when I brought him up. I can see why you wouldn’t really understand the push and pull between different spirits.” She tilted her head back and forth. “Although I guess none of us really can, not truly.”

He’s surrounded by his children, Fernan almost said, but it would have been pointless. The greater point still stood. Mara hadn’t even heard Gézarde mention another spirit, not once, let alone clash with them in a bid for power. Given his predilections, Gézarde was probably as much an outsider to the rest of the spirits as Fernan had been to the sages when he’d first arrived.

That’s a thought.

“Come on, let’s go.”

They walked up to the door of the house as the people within cowered back from it, Laura a half step ahead of him. She banged her fist against the door. “Open up!”

Fernan narrowed his eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice. “We’re sages from Guerron, here to help.”

After a moment, one of the figures crept forward and opened the door. “Begging your pardons, milord, milady.” It was impossible to read her face, but based on her height and proportions, the curve of her aura, she seemed to be in her teens, the two others huddled further back in the house adults, probably her parents. “Had to be careful about anyone with a mind to come foraging here. My name is Lucie.”

“It’s fine. A pleasure to meet you, Lucie.” Fernan held up a hand dismissively. “Do these fields belong to your family? You’re the ones who tend the crops?”

“The fields belong to Count Valvert, Fernan,” Laura said, disbelief clear in her tone. “They’re just tenants.”

“Fernan? Are you Sire Fernan Montaigne?” Lucie stood straighter. “I heard all about how you bested that evil binder in a duel! Is it true that he killed the Duke trying to summon Khali? Is that why the sun—?”

Laura scoffed. “It’s Magnifico’s fault alright. Bastard. Should have stopped him when I had the chance.” She shook her head ruefully. “But you’ve got most of the rest wrong.”

The girl’s aura dimmed. “I’m sorry. It takes so long to get any news here.”

“I know what you mean. My mother said it took us half a year to know that the Foxtrap was lost, back in Villechart.” He shrugged. “The sun’s gone because Soleil was killed. It’s supposed to return once the spirits choose a replacement.” It better, or we’re all dead. “But we don’t know how long that will take, so we’re going around to try to make sure this year’s harvest can survive. Does your family handle the fields around here?”

“W-We do work it, Sire Montaigne. Everything from here to the coast.” She turned her head away. “If milady is worried about our rent—”

“Your rent to Guy? Toss it into the ocean for all I care.” Laura laughed. “Nah, we’re here to make sure we don’t all fucking starve.”

Fernan nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out one golden spirit sundial no larger than his fist, freshly infused with power. “This is infused with the power of flame, along with a shard of the sun spirit’s essence.” At least he hadn’t had to harvest it from Aurelian’s body himself, small mercy though it was. “If you have a file, or something else that can shave off—” The girl nodded. “—Ok, good. Sprinkle a pinch of the dust over your crops every morning, and it should help them get the day’s sunlight.” It had apparently worked a hundred years ago, at any rate. It wasn’t exactly worth waiting to test it again when entire fields were liable to fail.

“Prioritize food,” Laura added. “And whatever needs the least sunlight. You’ll need to make it last at least two weeks before Lord Valvert can coordinate resupply from Dorseille. Understand?”

“Yes, milady.” She grabbed the sundial from his hands, taking a strangely long time to do it. “Is it true that you were born a farmer, Sire Montaigne, and the Duchess granted you your title?”

Fernan blinked. “I was never a farmer, no. I handled scouting for my village, making sure the route was safe when we had coal to trade. But Duchess Annette did grant me peerage, yes, so that I had proper standing to defend her in the trial. Usually all sages are nobles anyway, so we weren’t sure I’d be able to represent her otherwise.”

“Wow… And look at you now.”

“Heh, well, I can’t, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He gave her a nod, then gave another look to the older figures still in the back. “Are your parents shy, or something?”

The girl shook her head. “Dad can’t get up until his leg heals. Mom’s just staying by his side, just in case.”

“Heals?”

“When the sun first went, he was out watering, wanted to finish before going back inside. Only he couldn’t see the hole the mole had burrowed until it was too late.”

“That’s terrible! Of course I understand.” Fernan twisted an arm behind his back. “Laura, could you wait outside for a moment?”

Her aura flared at that, bewildered, but she did step out the door and close it behind her.

“Sire Montaigne, if I may ask, what—”

He pulled another sundial from his bag, then tossed it to her. “Hide the extra one, for now. I’m only supposed to give out one each. But if your dad’s hurt… This way you can spare some extra savings to sell, or keep more of your crops for longer.”

“Thank you!” Her light pulsed bright. “I hope we might be fortunate enough to see you again, Sire Montaigne, that I might properly convey my gratitude.”

“Maybe.” He opened the door. “I hope things… Good luck, Lucie.”

He stepped out to meet Laura, closing the door behind him.

“That was quick.” Her arms were folded, aura muted. “But hey, it happens. Nothing abnormal. Especially given the circumstances. Mind’s probably elsewhere.”

Fernan blinked, securing the bag behind him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Fine, play it that way if you want.” She laughed. “It’s not like I’m one to judge your business. Nothing to do with me.”

“Laura, what the fuck are you talking about?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “That girl? Come on, she was all over you! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that look in her eyes.”

“How exactly would I see that?” he asked, before his brain caught up to the implication of what she was saying. “Wait, are you serious? That’s what you think I needed an extra minute in there for?”

“Well, I thought it might be a bit longer than a minute, but again, that does happen.” She folded her arms. “Can we go now? We’ve got like thirty more of these to go. I can’t exactly tell what fucking time it is, but I do know I want to be sleeping some time in the next twelve hours.”

“Yeah, sure.” He checked the bag again, making absolutely sure it was secure, then projected flame down from his feet, lifting himself slowly off the ground. “I would never do that, though. Not when I have so much power over her. Wouldn’t be right.”

Laura jumped up next to him, trying and failing to start her own launch off the ground. “You’re a peer now, Fernan. You’ve got more power than anyone we’re seeing today. That’s just how it is. It’s not supposed to limit you, man, it’s supposed to free you. Don’t you know anything?” She blasted fire from her feet, slightly misaligned, and spun into the ground with a thud.

Fernan allowed himself to float back down to the ground, offering her his hand once more. “Not with this. It’s too… It’s not right.”

She refused it again, sitting hunched over on the ground. Probably scowling, though there was no way to be sure. “Was it the girl? Because I’m sure there’ll be other comely milkmaids as we go. And farmhands, and what have you. You’ve got your pick, holding their lives in your hands like you do.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” He sighed, sitting down next to her. “There’s this inn, The First Post, down in the pass near my old village. I used to go there all the time on my scouting runs.” I hope they’re doing alright in all of this. “Tax collectors would stop there too, sometimes, post up for a night. Sometimes they’d bring locals with them up to their room, you know, giving them reprieve on what they owed.”

“So they’d do a favor and people were grateful. I don’t see the problem.”

Fernan tilted his head back, sighing towards the black sky. “It’s not like any of them would have done that if they didn’t have to. It was all about surviving, keeping going one foot in front of the other. My village always had enough coal, but others weren’t so lucky. For some people, it was the only way they could really pay.” At least, the few who had actually talked to him about it, but it wasn’t difficult to see how the issue applied to the rest. “It’s exploitation. An abuse of power.”

Laura’s flame had dimmed, her head cocked sideways. “Did these tax collectors force them to do anything? Hold them at swordpoint?”

“No, but that’s not the point.”

“And they had a right to collect, granted by the owner of those lands?”

“I assume so.”

She stood up. “By that logic, paying them with money’s just as exploitative. Or any of the work peasants do to live. I think you might be confusing the issue.”

“It would feel wrong.”

“Hey, it’s your choice.” Laura shrugged. “Wait, but then what did you want? Why’d you stay back?”

“Uhh… I just wanted to make sure that she’d… that they would… you know, with the father injured, they might not have been able to tend to all the fields.”

“Uh huh.” Laura folded her arms. “And you needed to send me away for that? Come on! What was it?”

Fernan stood, looking her in the eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it, alright?” He double-checked his bag once more, tightening a few of the straps.

“You gave her an extra one, didn’t you? Or money or something?”

Fuck. “I’m going to make it up out of my end, alright? I have enough energy to make an extra. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“How much difference do you think it makes to that one family, that one patch of land? Now think about your people, back in Guerron? Everyone! You’ve got to be efficient, like Annette was talking about.”

“Maximum benefit for minimum expenditure,” Fernan repeated the instructions from their briefing. “I get it, I do, but I don’t want them to starve. Can you keep this to yourself?”

“Fine, whatever.” Her aura shimmered red, energy vibrating under the surface. “Noblesse obligé has to be learned, it doesn’t just come naturally. There’s a balance to it, taking care of your people without confusing them about everyone’s place in things. You’ll get the hang of it eventually, I’m sure.”

She jumped, blasting red flame from her hands and feet, trying to reach a stable equilibrium. “Come on, let’s go.”

That doesn’t seem like the right approach. He couldn’t articulate why, though, and they did have to get going. “Next one should be a few more miles north.”

Laura nodded, blasting herself further into the sky.

Fernan followed, wishing he’d had a better answer.

≋

It was hard to know what time it was supposed to be, but almost certainly late. After all of those deliveries, Fernan felt dead on his feet. Only the spiritual energy blasting out from beneath him had been enough to keep aloft for the final stretch. Even these last few steps, he took with leaden legs, sore from uncountable landings.

Laura had looked even worse when they’d parted ways, looking ready to collapse at any moment. He’d accompanied her to Guerron to make sure she reached it safely, but that last landing had still been rough.

And then he’d had to set back out again, even as he could feel his body begging for sleep.

Still, this last stop was important. Possibly as important as any of the families he’d helped.

It’s strange revisiting this place. For all the differences in the darkened world above, Gézarde’s cavern had barely changed. There were fewer geckos, especially the larger ones, but that was because Mara had taken so many to Guerron with her.

“And so you return once more, human-spawn, brimming with power anew. Why?”

Fernan faced Gézarde, taking in his enormous winged form through the heat it cast into the cavern. “I don’t know if you saw, but the Sun needs a replacement. All the other spirits are meeting to decide its successor.”

“It has not escaped my awareness. What of it?”

“I’m hoping you can help. I want you to come to the convocation.”

“Why should I waste my time listening to those scoundrels chatter and fight? I care not which among them shall be the next Arbiter of Light. One is much the same as another. My words make no difference.”

Fernan took a deep breath. “I’m not just asking for you to speak. I want you in the running. You could be the next Sun Spirit.”