Conquest of Avalon

“...So they feed the coal into the box, and then it pushes the train?” Mara looked like she’d gotten even bigger, though that might have been the cloud of vapor emanating from her warm body.

Florette’s breath matched it as she spoke, standing out against the cold night air. “It’s called an engine, and it’s like the least important part of what I’m talking about. I told you, it’s a heist! We had to trap the rear of the train on the other side of a mountain from the rest of it using these explosives, and—”

“But how does it move? What does it eat?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Florette turned, better taking in the gecko’s curious eyes. She sighed. “Alright, fine. I’m not an expert, but I did my best to decipher those plans I stole from the railyard before selling them to Jacques. Basically, the coal heats up water, turns it to steam, and then the steam turns a big wheel. That wheel’s connected to a ton of other stuff that makes the train go, including its own wheels along the tracks. They all move together, fueled by the coal.”

“That is so cool! They’re like mechanical geckos!”

“Mecha-geckos,” Florette supplied.

“That’s perfect!”

“I don’t know if it rolls off the tongue as well as ‘train’, but at least this way there’d be no confusing it with supply logistics or long dresses. You should send Luce a letter about it; I’ll dictate for you.”

Her head tilted to the side. “Really? Can we do it right after you deliver that letter?”

“Uh, maybe once all of this shit has settled down a bit. I don’t think it’s at the top of his priority list right now.”

“Oh…”

“We can still write it out right away, if you want. I’ve got a bit of time.” It felt strange, smiling at a creature who’d burned Fernan’s face and probably eaten people she knew personally, but after everything they’d done for the villagers and Fernan, it felt a bit easier to look past it. Or rather, take the bad and the good together. It wasn’t as if one erased the other.

“Duck down!” Mara hissed quietly. “You’re so tall, it’ll see you!”

“What will?” Florette whispered, dropping to a crouch behind the corner of a villa’s wall.

“I’ll meet you at the castle, alright? Let them know that you’re coming.”

“Sure, but—”

“Wait a few minutes, then go ahead. They won’t hurt you.”

“But who—” Florette couldn’t even get the question off before Mara had skittered off into the distance. And I can’t even look myself without being exposed.

The Spirit Quartier was nearly vacant, most of its occupants probably moved into the castle or the greater city for better warmth together. There weren’t many people it could.

After what was probably close enough to ‘a few minutes’, Florette poked her head up, and instantly everything became a lot clearer.

One of Glaciel’s monsters, the ice creatures Fernan had fought with the Fox-King.

They sure look weird, don’t they?

Florette approached the icy figure warily, debating whether or not it was worth it to take another path through town entirely.

It was taller than most men, but shaped in a noticeably feminine way, its proportions longer and thinner. Flakes of snow dusted its hair, though it was hard to be sure whether that was a result of the weather or its nature, and its face lacked all trace of warmth. Strangely, it wasn’t all-white, the way she might have expected an ice monster to appear. More clear, transparent, with a hint of blood red running beneath it, more visible in three rings around its wrist. Did ice replace their skin?

At its feet were two halves of a fire gecko, separated by several feet and a blade of ice embedded in its flesh. It was smaller than Mara, closer in size to a goat, and no fire remained in its eyes.

Even after everything they’d done, it was hard not to wince at seeing that.

“Move along, girl.” The voice had that same ethereal quality that the geckos’ did, like it wasn’t quite meant to come out of that mouth. “Her Majesty’s agreement protects you humans.”

“I believe it protects everyone in the city,” Florette said, having no idea whether or not it was true. “It definitely wasn’t meant to allow this.”

The spirit-touched creature shrugged in a surprisingly human way. “Humans might be bound by intentions, but Her Majesty is bound only by truth. She agreed to cease hostilities with the people of this city until the spirits have assembled, but made no such vow against spirits and their spirit-touched followers.”

Florette resisted the urge to swear aloud. Well, shit. She met the creature’s eyes with her own.

“I won’t say it again. Move along.”

“What did the gecko do?” Florette found herself asking despite herself. “Did they provoke you?”

“Their very existence is provocation. Servants of flame, they prop up flame spirits with their power and offerings, and in so doing, give succor to monsters like Soleil and Flammare.”

Fernan had mentioned Flammare, another flame spirit whom that Laura girl served. He was the one hovering in the sky right now, acting as a beacon to guide travelers to safety. “I know Soleil was a monster. I believe it was one of us pathetic humans that killed him, actually. Did you and your queen a huge favor.”

Amazingly, the creature smiled at that; nothing smug or menacing, simply an expression of joy. “Even as a third-ring descendant, I did not expect to live to see that day. Yes, humans have our own importance, our chances to prove our usefulness, but it pales before the overwhelming power and wisdom of Queen Glaciel. We can only inherit but a sliver, after all.”

‘Our’ importance? ‘Inherit’? Florette felt her stomach drop as she contemplated the origins of Glaciel’s followers. “You were human, once.”

“I am human now, girl. Much as your spirit-touched gecko friend remains a gecko. My great grandfather was blessed to be a consort of Glaciel herself, and so a share of her greatness runs through me, her power, her longevity.”

Pushing past her disgust, Florette drew her sword with her left hand, trying to make it look as smooth a motion as she could.

“Careful, girl. We wouldn’t want to break the peace now, would we?”

“My name isn’t ‘girl’, it’s Florette. And I’m not going to be breaking anything.” She patted her coat, hoping the thickness for winter would help at least a little. “You and me, right now. No ties to anything greater, no revenge, no breaking the peace. Just the two of us.”

The monster—the woman, really—began to laugh, all the more discordant for how warm and natural it felt. “A duel, then.”

“A duel,” Florette agreed, remembering back to hundreds of books she’d read. Somehow, they’d never seemed to have any regular people issue the duel, always an aristocrat on their behalf. “For your crimes against this innocent, I, Florette, challenge you to a duel for justice, dark skies above to bear witness.” She omitted the last name she lacked, but everything else was phrased perfectly.

“I accept your challenge, Florette of no surname.” That made her laugh harder, irritatingly, as if a fucking spirit monster had any reason to care about that. “A nameless child, daring to challenge a scion of Her Majesty, ha! As you failed to learn sense before committing yourself to your death, I shall illuminate you.” She smiled again, but this time her teeth were pointed, her fingers growing longer and sharp. “My terms are a duel to the death, all power allowed, with none else involved. When you meet Terramonde, tell him you were sent by Candice Valois, of the Third Ring.”

Florette took a deep breath, holding her sword as level as she could.

“Begin!” The spirit-touched lunged towards her, closing almost a third of the distance between them in a single jump.

Florette dropped her sword, jumping back.

Valois stopped, laughing to herself. “It’s too late now, I’m afraid.”

“You’re right.” Florette pulled her pistol out with her right hand, held her breath, and set it off.

The noise was easier to bear this time, now that she was expecting it. Better still was the fact that the icy murderer had been blasted onto her back, a fist-sized hole in her chest. “You…” she choked out weakly.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Florette tucked the pistol back into its holder, breathing heavily. “Offer your surrender, and I’ll accept it.” Even in a duel to the death, that was allowed, right? The alternative seemed idiotic.

Red dripping, steam hissing, Valois lifted her head in what looked like quiet acquiescence.

That was still too close. I didn’t realize she’d move so fast. She must have been drawing on spiritual power, or perhaps—

“Agh!” Florette felt chilling knives rake across her back as she dove forward. She turned back to see Valois on her feet, fingers dripping with blood.

“I said it was to the death. Did you forget the terms already?” She walked casually closer, a spring in her step. “That little artifice of yours is a fancy trick. It was nearly enough.” She held a hand over the hole in her chest, now emitting a trickle of red as steam hissed into the air. “But ice endures. It wears you down. Until eventually, inevitably, you succumb.”

The pain didn’t properly hit until Florette tried to stand, feeling a lattice of cuts ooze and tear all across her back.

“If you insist, I suppose I can kill you,” she bluffed, brandishing the empty pistol still gripped in white-knuckled hands. They’re people, right? They’ll want to live. “By your own admission, one was almost enough.”

Valois slowed, tensing into a crouch.

Florette forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural enough. “Trying to dodge? This thing has six shots, and I’ve only used one. You can’t run forever.”

Blue eyes narrow, Valois limped forward. Scowling mightily, she wrapped long fingers around Florette’s throat.

“You’re just making this easier.” She didn’t flinch, pressing the end of the pistol against the spot where her heart hopefully was. “Do you really think you can slice through my neck faster than I can slightly move my finger? If you do, please, by all means, go ahead.”

“Why wouldn’t you ‘go ahead’, nameless? Is it perhaps because you can’t?” She didn’t sound smug about it, didn’t sound certain, which was probably the only reason Florette wasn’t a pile of ribbons on the ground right now.

“Because this isn’t about killing you. I don’t care who you are, or who your great-grandmother was, or whatever. Innocents are off-limits. Human or otherwise.”

Valois snorted, probably, though it was hard to be sure when it was laced with what sounded more like wind.

“Spread the word, and I’ll let you live.” Florette tried to avoid injecting too much bravado, nothing that would oversell it.

For a moment, the hissing steam from the spirit-touched’s wound was the only sound in the air.

Then, gingerly, Valois unwrapped her fingers. “This is not the end, Florette of no name. Another day, when the convocation is ended and Queen Glaciel reigns, you will pay for this insult.”

“Wow, so if the whole world is already fucked anyway and nothing matters, I’ll also have to fight someone I’ve already beaten. Scary stuff, Valois. Now move along.”

She waited until the spirit-touched was out of sight, then waited another two minutes to be safe.

Only then did she allow herself a breath, staring at the bloody tatters of her winter jacket lying on the cold ground.

I can’t keep living like this. I need to do better.

≋

A gray-bearded man stood beside the door as she approached, arms folded menacingly. He looked around forty or fifty, something like that, with posture so stiff it looked like he had a pole running up his ass.

“Uh, I’m here to see the Fox-King?” she tried. Last thing I need is another fight here. “I have an important message for him.”

“I have an important message for you, girl: tread carefully.” The light caught his beard just right, illuminating faint traces of blue. “I don’t much enjoy my time being wasted.”

Oh, I know who you are. “Lord Leclaire, I presume?”

“Well, I’m no lord at the moment, with the Leclaire homelands under occupation. I was never born to lead them anyway; that was Camille’s mother. But I suppose you’re close enough.” He sidestepped, planting himself firmly in front of her only way in. “Are you going to tell me what you want, or must I remove you?”

“I really see the resemblance with your niece,” Florette said, doing her best to put it diplomatically.

“That’s good to hear. I would hope I looked the part.” Breaking his posture, he held his hand in front of himself, admiring it in the light. “Are you here about the bard?”

“The bard? Magnifico? No, why? Did something happen with him?” Fernan had told her about his imprisonment, but that would be old news to these people. “Are they finally executing the fucker?”

Leclaire grinned, his mouth just wide enough to look slightly off. “Soon. That wee little flame sage refused the offer of his power, and so the Fox-King was at a loss as to whom he ought to give it to. None of the other sages could be trusted, after all. They all bowed to Lumière and refused to help him. Fortunately, I helped resolve that dilemma for him with my arrival.”

“Oh…” Given what she’d heard of the trial, it made sense that Fernan would have been offered the bard’s energy, and given what she knew of Fernan, it was no surprise at all that he’d refused, but still… All that means is that this prick ends up holding the reins instead. How is that better?

“It’s good to hear that he’s not long for this world, at least. Are you going to drown him, like Camille would?”

“I suppose that would be the sensible thing to do.” Leclaire chuckled. “Of course, if I had my druthers, it wouldn’t be nearly so quick. I’d love nothing more than to rip his face off, confront him fully with every horrible thing he’s done, every life he’s ended.” He shrugged. “Politics, though.”

“He would deserve it, I guess. After what he did.” Although the whole thing felt more than a bit grotesque.

It made her think of Perimont, for a moment. He’d surely deserved worse than the quick end she’d given him, right? After everything he’d done, a bullet to the heart was surely too good for him.

But did that even matter?

I shot him to stop him, not to punish him. Perhaps that was the difference, although Magnifico’s evils were on another level entirely. Perimont had oppressed a city, while the bard might have doomed the world. And for what?

Fernan was friendly with him too, for some reason. Can’t forget that. “I guess it’s good you came back from the dead when you did, then, Lord Leclaire.”

“I was never dead.”

Florette rolled her eyes. “It’s a figure of speech. Returned from your absence after faking your death, then.” Which, really, is a completely insane thing to have run in the family. You and Camille just both did this independently, at the same time, with no coordination?

“I never faked my death either. People are always quick to assume.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.” I wouldn’t have been allowed to roam around Malin for months with Camille, otherwise.

“It can be an asset,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “In politics and elsewhere. Say the right things, and they’ll assume they can trust you with anything.”

Florette scoffed. “Earning people’s trust is a lot of work, whether you’re genuine or not. It takes fucking forever.” Especially if they’re stupid standoffish jerks who aren’t really worth your time anyway. Then it might actually be impossible, and it’s definitely not worth trying.

“You might be surprised at how readily people will spill their secrets, if they find a sympathetic ear. I find it best to hold back, allow people to supply their own fears and desires, then you can use that to proceed. Don’t ask, but rather, let them tell. Then, once you know, you can use the information as you see fit.”

“That really works?”

“How do you think I talked Glaciel down from her folly?” Well, you couldn’t talk her out of trying to exterminate the geckos. “I made her trust me, and I made it look like backing down was her own idea. The key is to listen, above all. She made it clear what she wanted, and I made it clear how she could get there. You’ll seldom be able to trick anyone if you don’t first hear how they want to be tricked. But if you wait, they will usually tell you.”

Florette sucked in air, nodding along. If Camille learned manipulation from this guy, that explains so much. It’s good advice, too. That’s how I got Magnifico to show us where and when to steal the pulsebox, what feels like a fucking eternity ago.

But then, if a confessed manipulator is speaking, and you’re listening along, taking him at his word, what does that make you?

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Leclaire, but I really must be going. The Fox-King needs to hear what I have to say.”

“I would say the same, but I remain unimpressed.” He did step out of the way, though, returning to his post at the side of the door. “Run along, Florette.”

Wow, thanks!

She took the opportunity to move on, stepping into the room to find the Fox-King dripping with sweat, sword in hand. He wasn’t fighting anyone in particular, by the look of things, just practicing each form, dashing and sliding across the room as he maneuvered through them.

“Uh, hello, Your Majesty.” Florette walked further into the room. “I was just here to—Fuck!”

She almost smashed her head on the ground as she fell, only managing to block it with her arm at the very last second. Bit my tongue, too. At least she hadn’t fallen onto her back. “Is that ice on the floor?”

The Fox-King nodded, offering her a hand to help her up. “I wasn’t satisfied with my performance against Glaciel, and I know she’ll only be more trouble down the road. I thought it best to practice accordingly, and fortunately Emile obliged me. He didn’t tell you on your way in? He was supposed to wait right outside.”

“No,” she grunted spitefully, hauling herself up. Fucker. “He was there, but he didn’t say shit.”

“Ahhh…”

“Fucking Leclaires,” she muttered. “Ugh.”

The Fox-King’s face twisted into a frown. “I remember you. You were insulting Camille the day she was killed.”

Oh, fuck me, of course he’s the one noble that does recognize me. “You remembered that?”

“It would be hard to forget, on such a tragic day. Honestly, it’s a bit distasteful of you to insult her memory like that. If Fernan hadn’t vouched for you, you’d be answering for it, I assure you of that.”

“Hey! I wasn’t insulting her! I was just… complaining… that she’s super annoying… just like her uncle apparently is.”

His eyes hardened, the point of his sword lifted to face her. “Draw, now.”

Florette couldn’t help but laugh, nervous chuckles erupting as she backed slowly away from the sword in her face. “Alright, listen, we’re going about this all wrong. I earned the right to talk about Camille that way, because I’ve been there with her. I know her. You could too, if you wanted. I think it’s the least anyone’s entitled to after enduring her presence.”

“What?”

“I helped her lie and steal and… I guess not murder, though. Huh.” Even fucking Camille managed to avoid killing anyone while we were in there. “She survived her duel, King guy, washed up on the shores of Malin.”

The sword remained where it was, the grip tighter.

“I found her in disguise. Well, sort of. I think almost dying just kinda made her look like that. But anyway, I didn’t say a word! I helped her keep her cover, until the time came that I had to leave.” Florette reached into her jacket, flinching back as the King brandished his weapon at her. “She gave me a letter! To give to you! And Fernan, and the trial girl, Annette, who apparently isn’t a kid, which admittedly does explain a bit, but—”

“She’s alive?” The sword clattered to the icy floor.

“I’m positive. Seriously, I hung out with her for months while she was pulling this scheme on the governorship, helping back up her cover.”

“Months…” He bent down to pick up his sword, then stopped himself. “Let me see the letter.”

Florette flicked it towards him with two fingers, the way she’d been practicing with playing cards, then smiled as it arrived perfectly in his hands.

It only took him a minute of reading to gasp.

“What?”

“It’s really her.” He took a deep breath, jittering in place. “She’s alive.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told you. What finally convinced you?”

“Uh, nothing.” He turned his head away quickly, trying to hide his reddening face. “Just let me finish this.”

“Sure.” Florette shrugged, then rubbed the arm she’d fallen on top of.

What followed was an excruciating stretch of time that felt like half an hour as he read the letter in silence, making no effort to acknowledge her at all. She considered saying something, or looking around more at least, but the last thing she needed right now was to faceplant on the floor again.

“You killed Perimont?” he asked, finally.

“Sure.” Florette smiled, folding her arms smugly. “Wait, she put that in there?”

The Fox-King laughed. “No, she just said I should ask you; that way you’d confirm it. A bit less incriminating that way, in case of discovery.”

“Not much.” She frowned. “Anyone getting their hands on that letter would probably already have killed me anyway; I don’t really see the point.”

“You don’t need to get your hands on it to read it, necessarily.” He threw the letter into the hearth, watching as the flames devoured it. “Sages can sometimes glimpse information like that through their visions; that’s what she tells me, anyway. It’s hard to do and usually they don’t get much control over it, but you’re better off ensuring it’s not an issue at all. Burning helps, blotting out any useful information with a wash of light, but it’s not always perfect, and you’d have no way of knowing if it failed. If you really need to keep something secret, don’t write it down or say it. Ever.”

Thanks for mentioning that now, Camille… It’s a good thing most of what I need to hide isn’t from sages.

Come to think of it, had Camille omitted that info just to be able to keep tabs on Florette? A creepy possibility, but not one easy to dismiss, given they’d been in a criminal fucking conspiracy together for months and it somehow hadn’t crossed her mind to mention it.

“You finished the letter then, I assume. Would be pretty stupid to burn it otherwise.”

“Yes.” He breathed deep, then exhaled. “I—I suppose I should thank you, for helping her as she stayed there all those months instead of—Thank you.”

This is where Eloise would ask for money. “Pleasure was all mine. It was for a good cause, right?”

“Yes.” He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “I’ve been dreaming of revenge for seventeen years and the first blow is struck by some nob—by someone I’ve barely even talked to.”

“Do you want me to say ‘you’re welcome’ again?” Ingrate. She rolled her eyes. “There wasn’t much of a blow, anyway. Luce covered the whole thing up to avert a war. The journals all said Perimont died in a cave-in.”

“Fuck.” The swear seemed strange, coming out of him. “How will that inspire anyone? They need to know that Avalon’s power can be broken. Hopelessness is the worst of this.”

“Yeah….” Florette tilted her head. “Yeah, exactly. I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

“Why? It’s a pretty obvious thought.”

“Uh, because you’re married to Camille. And she seems to like you or love you or whatever. So I sort of figured you’d be more of a… Uh… I mean…” What is wrong with me?

The Fox-King laughed. “We’re not much alike, but that’s a strength. You ever hear that opposites attract? If she says he had to stay in Malin even now that I’m free and there’s nothing stopping us from being together… If she has to stay, she has to say.” Khali’s curse, she did a number on him. “She plans, and I execute. I like to think I understand people, and she capitalizes on that understanding much better than I do. I run hot, and she runs cold.”

“I don’t know, she’s a lot hotter than—” Florette interrupted herself with her own fist in her mouth. Did you just completely forget how to filter yourself, once you stopped playing a role?

Luckily, the Fox-King only smiled at that. “I don’t disagree. In any case, you’ve done me an immense service in helping her. Her letter said we don’t owe you anything after the shenanigans you pulled, but I’m inclined to disagree.”

Bitch. “That’s nice of you, but all I did was help reinforce a lie and then deliver a letter. It’s not like I rescued her from a tower or anything.”

“What would be an appropriate compensation?”

“Hmm…” She glanced down at his legs, bare muscles standing firmly even on the floor. His sword lay on the ground next to them, a gleaming ruby embedded into its handle that was probably worth more alone than her entire florete. “Would you pick that up?” she asked, pointing down at it.

“You want my sword?”

“I want you to pick it up, and I want you to help me learn how you fight.”

He picked up his sword, eyebrow raised at Florette’s own. “Have you been carrying that thing around without knowing how?”

Oh, fuck off. “I’ve been practicing with sticks since I was old enough to walk, and I’ve had this sword for months.”

“But no training?”

“The pirates taught me enough to get by. I’ve been in two battles, sort of, and I’m still here. It’s usually better to avoid direct combat anyway, if I can. But Fernan said you were spinning through Glaciel’s spirit-touched like a dancing top with blades. Camille said you’ve fought sages and won, even Lumière.” Florette pushed her left foot back, dropping into a fencer’s profile. This is how I can help. “Teach me.”

The Fox-King smiled warmly, adjusting his own stance to match. “It would be my pleasure.”

The Great Binder’s books had useful information, though much of her strategies for fighting spirits used artifacts that Florette lacked, but a real, experienced teacher would be far more valuable.

And the Fox-King isn’t the only one I can talk to, either.