Conquest of Avalon

Luce IV: The Prince of Darkness

Putting the Grim in Grimoire, Prince Lucifer no Light Bringer.

by Scott Ecrivan

In those last quiet days before darkness fell, a man rose to power in Malin over the bones of his predecessor, proudly imposing his new vision upon the city just days before the world would crumble.

What do we know of Prince Lucifer Charles Grimoire, truly? Last month’s informal polling of our readers confirmed that less than half had even heard of him before his ascension. Of those aware of his existence, only one in four could provide a single fact about him. Next to the beloved Prince Harold, perhaps it is inevitable that the younger brother would keep to the shadows.

Or perhaps there is a darker reason for his silence.

Lucifer was appointed Overseer of Cambria’s Ortus Tower in the year 115, shortly after his graduation from the Cambrian College. An advanced research facility in the capital, Ortus is responsible for many of Avalon’s most important advancements, from cannons to trains to the airships one might see grace the sky on occasion.

All that, of course, before Prince Lucifer was appointed to his post. Instead, his greatest achievement in the years since is his recovery from a failed pirate abduction, enduring long enough for Prince Harold to bring the vile perpetrators to justice.

Still, the ordeal must have shaken Prince Lucifer, as he refused to return home to reunite with his family, instead insisting on administering Malin personally, even at the cost of Governor Perimont’s standing. One witness John, age 56, reported the former Governor leaving in a state “dripping with rage”, while taking care to mention “the blue woman” casually defenestrating several guards in order to grant the Prince entrance.

“I feared for my life, I did,” said Eustace, 34. “When a big wave comes crashing down like that, you’d better hope your affairs are in order, because there’s no telling if you’ll make it through.” Janine, 41, added, “I’d heard tell of them cultists before, you know. My husband saw one of the blighters light an entire field on fire, back during the war. To this day, he still doesn’t see right.” Her face took on a somber cast as she relayed the next words to this writer. “I thought we were past all that, but now the blue woman’s dredging everything up.”

Said “blue woman” turned out to be none other than Camille Leclaire, the daughter of the man who sank the better part of Avalon’s navy on the day of the Foxtrap, calling upon his fell power to drown thousands beneath the sea. Fueled by human sacrifices, these cultists offer souls to monstrous spirits in exchange for personal gain, power that can then be turned against any they might call an enemy.

Though betrothed to Lucien Renart, rump heir to the Erstwhile Empire, Leclaire is seldom seen outside Prince Grimoire’s company, prompting many to speculate on the nature of their relationship. Post Malin reported catching sight of the two of them at a restaurant under assumed names, feasting together as the city clung to life in the darkness.

Leclaire initially entered the city under an assumed identity, attempting to worm her way into several venerable city institutions such as the Convocation of Commerce and the Malin Historical Society. After that failed, Renart officially announced her presence, providing transparent cover for her actions.

Much remains unknown about Governor Perimont’s mysterious death, timed so conveniently for Prince Lucifer, or what role Camille Leclaire might have played, but it would not be the first time she was suspected of foul play.

The third month’s harbor bombing saw 72 people killed in the final death toll, with 407 seriously injured. An attack from the sea, the child of the last cultist to attack Malin’s harbor was an obvious suspect. The Territorial Guardians were contacted but declined to comment, though a verified confidential source from within their leadership confirmed that she had been the subject of months of investigation, with efforts having been aborted after her supposed death.

The source also mentioned that the matter is a topic of active investigation, and that Leclaire and Prince Lucifer were spotted coming back from outside the city walls alone at the same time as a verified spirit sighting. No other sources have yet confirmed this, but -

Luce threw the journal down on the table with a loud thud, the displaced air blinking out a couple of the closest candles. “How did this happen?”

“It’s a consequence of the marketplace of ideas,” Simon said. “Drivel like that competes with proper journals and proper journalism, and the public decides with their coin which is more deserving of merit. There must be muck for the outliers to rise above — that’s inevitable.”

Camille scoffed. “It’s a consequence of the marketplace of journals. Drivel like this is far easier to sell to the unsuspecting masses than anything true might be, and they’ll buy it accordingly. This same prick had the gall to ask me for comment on another story all about how terrible I am. He couldn’t even get the Foxtrap right, demeaning my mother’s sacrifice like that. It’s a disgrace to her memory, and the world would be better off if never again could his wrist hold a pen.”

“Is it not better to have the accusations out in the open, where the truth might disperse them, the subtle hand of commerce guiding the public to the proper conclusion?” Simon’s tone wasn’t confrontational, more curious. “Without my father’s intervention, I’d have had enough gossip rags written about me to fill the Grimoire Archives. Now that Luce has laxened the censors, they’re probably making up for lost time as we speak.”

“This is not a joke!” Luce pounded the table, sending several screws flying off the work surface. That’s what I get for having the cabinet meetings here. Moving them out of Perimont’s villainously imposing conference room to the workshop had seemed like a great idea, but having to complete every experiment before guests arrived was only slowing it down more, if anything, and it pierced the mental barrier between his productive space and the meetings he had to endure, half of which could have been summarized in a two page report instead.

And what a time to have work interrupted so constantly! The river spirit Fenouille had casually revolutionized agriculture in a few weeks — which was more than an entire tower of the world’s best scientists had managed in three generations — and no one else even seemed to realize it.

“You don’t hear me laughing,” said Camille. “My mother would have had this man hanged by his tongue until he learned to use it with respect. I’d wager Simon’s father’s form of discipline was not dissimilar.”

“Other than the details, not really.” Simon scratched his chin. “How would that even work, though? It’s not like you can tie a noose around a tongue.”

Camille greeted his inquiry with a roll of her eyes. “They put an iron bar through the tip, obviously. No one needs to hang long, just enough for the message to sink in. And they walk away with the lesson forever etched into their body.” She shrugged. “Not that I ever saw it personally. Such things were ‘inappropriate for a child’, apparently.”

“But why not just cut out their tongue? It seems like that would save a lot of time and effort for a similar result.”

“Well, that would be overkill, and it’s difficult to be sure you’ll keep them alive. Regardless, it’s more about the impression of—“

“Ahem,” Luce cleared his throat quietly as he gathered up the stray detritus that had fallen. “Can we please focus on more pertinent matters?”

“What’s to deal with? Let it lie; they’re just making a living in their own way.”

Luce shot Simon a glare to melt steel.

“Fine! I get it. But it’s not as if anyone of even moderate intelligence would put any stock in it. I mean, you and Camille? It’s absurd. Not to mention all that spirit stuff.”

“Be that as it may, we have to deal with it somehow. Even the insinuation is dangerous.” How would anyone ever accept my reforms if they’ve already tarred me as a cultist making deals with spirits? “And we’ll do it without any maiming, to be clear.”

“Obviously. That wasn’t a serious suggestion.” Camille flicked a blue-tipped strand of hair from her face. “Silence him in so public a fashion, and you only lend truth to his words. Better establish your own narrative, and take control of the public discourse. It’s the first of the three pillars of rule my mother taught me.”

“The same mother that ripped people’s tongues for speaking out of turn?”

Camille’s eyes narrowed for an instant, gone almost as soon as it appeared, then she laughed. “Oh, Luce, if you live in a castle made of sand, take care where you pour your water. If we’re to judge each other by our parents, I assure you that my list is far longer than yours could hope to be.”

There’s nothing wrong with my mother, she just wasn’t around, he thought briefly, until his brain turned to Father, playing his games in faraway lands to make them his own, and empowering the person who’d plunged the world into darkness. “Fair enough. But that doesn’t mean I’m all that inclined to listen to any advice telling me to execute people for speaking ill of me. We’ll be dealing with this another way.” Somehow. There were options, obviously, like sending the censors after the journal, or arresting its leaders for fomenting sedition, but all of them came at the cost of a society where people could speak without fear. It was the exact opposite of the reason he was here, and yet now that was biting back at him. “So, what were those pillars of rule?”

Leaning back in her chair, the lady pressed her thin spider-leg fingers together as a wry smile filled her face. “One,” she said as she flicked her thumb out. “As I mentioned, maintain control of the narrative. You establish a version of reality that suits your needs, and live in it so long as you are in public, as must any who follow you.”

“Let the truth speak for itself.” Simon nodded, not realizing that Camille was implying the exact opposite. We really did sneak away to meet with spirits, and I made a deal with them. Luce would have to live with that.

“It’s not as if it would be necessary here,” she continued without giving anything away, “but this strategy has been known to work even when disseminating lies to counter truth. Mother once got Lord Cornès’ entire keep thinking he was infertile, despite his having a daughter in his spitting image. Mother didn’t even have to reconcile it for them, they came up with their own justification that the daughter was illegitimate, a product of an affair. The lies were so constant and consistent that people had no choice but to doubt their eyes. The lord had to disinherit her to avoid the backlash, and my mother would tell you to this day that even he had begun to believe her lies.”

Luce had to pull his mouth shut to avoid it stupidly hanging open. How could she say something so horrifying without even realizing it? “Why?”

“His inheritance passed to his brother instead, who happened to be her aunt Flarielle’s husband. And that poor girl got out of the marriage to a fifty-year-old her father had arranged. Everyone got what they wanted.”

Luce sighed. “I suppose.” If only I could say my father had never done something similar, but the Siege of Ombresse disproves it handily. “Dare I even ask what the other pillars are?”

Camille smiled. “It’s nothing that would offend your sensibilities, Prince Lucifer. Two, for example”—she held out her index finger and thumb—“is to know and maintain the sources of your power. That includes social groups. Each has to be kept in its proper place, with everything not in yours to be cast out.”

I guess that’s not so bad, though it did seem obvious. And yet…

“Like people without even a single course in economics talking as if they know how to fix everything?”

“Sure, that would be one example. If they can’t say anything informed, they shouldn’t be part of the conversation. And it’s an important part of pillar three.” She popped out her middle finger in addition to the others, making Luce realize that she’d been counting the whole time and he’d somehow missed it. Idiot. “Cement yourself at the top of the hierarchy.”

“Your mother has a talent for stating the obvious,” Simon noted idly. “Any ruler would tell you that.”

“It’s the broader principle, there are obviously details about how to ensure it.” She bit her lip. “She might have told me more of them, had she been given the time to do so.”

“I’m not at the top of the hierarchy anyway. There’s Harold, and Father, and Aunt Elizabeth, and - wait, your mother wasn’t either. She was a vassal to the Fox-King, wasn’t she?” The worrying feeling was beginning to creep up on him that Camille’s entire speech had been a joke. Or worse, that it hadn’t.

I can’t forget she could be trying to bring me down. Even if that advice did seem to fit with her personality, if genuinely given.

“That’s the point. You have your place in the greater scope, so your corner of it must be impeccable for you to excel there. Your hierarchy, the lines along which this city you rule is drawn, has to accept you as absolute sovereign, or your power will crumble.”

“They accepted Perimont as such, and his grip was wrested away all the same.”

Camile frowned, flicking her eyes over to a visibly uncomfortable Simon.

Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking about that. “I’m sorry, Simon. No offense was meant.”

“It’s fine,” he said when it was clearly not, the words hanging in the air for a long moment after.

“Anyway,” Camille said, mercifully moving the conversation forward. “You could do all three in one stroke. What if the journal had to work for you?”

“Oh, yes!” Simon sat up. “Buy it from them, overthrow their leadership by making the journal yours!”

“Or fold it into the Governor’s bureau as an arm of your power.”

Simon glared at her as if she’d just caught fire, then turned to Luce. “Are you hearing this?”

“I couldn’t do that,” Luce said to Camille. “Avalon has a reasonable right to property enshrined in our laws. Seizing it would violate that.”

“And? Do you think anyone’s going to enforce it on you? The only person they can appeal your power to is miles away, unreachable by all but the best-equipped travelers. Your word is law within these city walls. The sooner you realize that and start acting accordingly, the faster you’ll see obstacles like this Écrivain disappear. If you’re ridding them of scoundrels and liars, the people will love you for it. You can do whatever you need to do to save them.” Her eyes were filled with energy, electric blue.

You want me to tell them about Fenouille and the spirits. The message was unspoken, but that seemed to be her meaning. You want me to stain myself in public so I lose my grip on power, he thought first, before considering the alternative. Or you want to acclimate them to the thought of these partnerships without blood. This could be a real, long-term solution.

Even the latter was self-serving in a way, but it was certainly a nicer thought.

“No need to rule as a tyrant for that.” If his suspicions about spiritual energy were correct, spirits might not need to be involved at all. At least, not in this world. Every second I’ve put into the Nocturne Gate project would be rewarded a thousandfold.

“As you wish, Prince Lucifer. I’m simply offering my advice.”

“And don’t call me that! It’s bad enough that all the journals do it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not fond of your pre-name?”

“It’s… embarrassing, that’s all. Lucifer is such an old man name, it’s hard to take seriously on someone my age.”

“My great-grandfather was a Lucifer,” Simon added. “Sweet old man, he lived to be almost a hundred.”

“Oh, sure, like Agnès. It’s a product of certain names being popular for babies at the same time. When they hit a critical mass, it becomes indelibly associated with the specific generation until after they pass from living memory, and then it’s often fashionable again. I saw it all the time going through the birth and death records from the temple.”

“Oh.” Luce turned his head. “I guess that explains it, then. Most of them would have been born just after Khali was sealed away, and Lucifer means light bringer.”

“Oh.” Camille nodded her head up and down slowly. “So that journal’s headline was a game of words. I suppose I can respect that, where it’s due.”

Simon shook his head. “That just makes it all the more despicable.”

“I agree. But, speaking of the journal, if we could please get back to the matter at hand?”

“Of course.” Camille waved her hand, as if the whole matter were a trifle. “Simon and I are telling you the same thing. One way or another, you need to gain control of the journal itself. You need not touch the offending writer if the institution rejects him and his ilk as a matter of course. And then, afterwards, all the better to establish your narrative.”

“All the better to establish the truth,” Luce corrected.

“In this case, they’re one and the same, are they not?” she maliciously taunted. “Simon suggests purchasing them, which will work for a time. But bonds of silver are always weaker than bonds of authority. They would be mercenaries in your hire, of the word rather than of the sword, but just as unreliable, for mercenaries seek not to serve but to profit.”

“You should come to Avalon, Camille, and see what bonds of silver have built. I think you would change your attitude.”

“Is that an invitation, Simon? I’ll confess I have at times imagined my arrival at Cambria’s gates.” At the head of an army, no doubt.

“Could I buy it, Simon?”

“Well, in a sense, you already have. Shares of it, at least, from your uncle, assuming he wouldn’t mind you acting on his behalf. It’s less than half, though. Father’s shares passed to Mother, so they don’t belong to the Governor’s office anymore. You could try to buy her out, but…”

But she thinks I killed her husband. Like as not, Lilian Perimont was behind this anyway, or at least had lent her protection to the effort.

Why oh why must I spend my time on this instead of advancing science by centuries? In twenty years I could have an automatic farm, in fifty a self-sustaining airship island in the sky. The power that was coming out of the Nocturne Gate on the Tower roof alone…

“These shares still entitle you to consideration, even if less than half, do they not?”

“If they’re printing this, apparently they don’t.”

Camille shook her head. “It’s because no one representing you has reached out to them. They chased their silver with salaciousness because they could, all you’d said on the matter was that you were suspending several duties of the censors. They took it for free rein, and that was their mistake. We must simply correct it.”

Since when is it my job to manage every business in the city? I have more important things to be doing. Luce frowned. “What do you propose?”

“Reccomend the hiring of a representative to set the editorial tone. Even having one in the room will make them think again before printing something like this. It’s projecting your power, demonstrating it without needing to lift a finger.”

“Fine, you do it.” He waved his hand dismissively. “If your advice is true, you’ll make sure I see the results of it soon enough. Otherwise we’ll try something else.” If I start in the next hour, I can start processing that sample of earth from Fenouille’s first batch by the end of the day. “Are we done?”

“Um, just one more thing,” Simon said, at least having the decency to sound guilty about it. “This was kicked upstairs from the permit office.” At Camille’s puzzled look in response, he explained, “Every city in Avalon has one. They review new buildings and developments to ensure they meet specific standards. The whole thing ought to be abolished, if you ask me. It’s criminal not to let people build as they please on their own land.”

“Well, the one who runs it reports to you. Do what you want. Was that all?” Please can we just be done?

“I’ll instruct them to allow the expansion, then. Thank you, Luce.”

“Wait, what expansion?” Luce asked. “Is this a new granary or something? I’d imagine it’s not worth building with things as they are unless it’s truly essential.”

“It’s a new office for Euler Maritime Insurance. With so many ships lost at sea, they’ve had to deal with a surge in claims, so they need to hire more underwriters to help find ways to mitigate their losses.”

Luce blinked. “A disaster happened. I’m not going to let them hire more people to get them out of doing their one job. Fuck that!”

Camille snorted, grinning up at him.

“The rule of law is still important, and I’m given to understand that our office evaluates according to objective standards,” Luce said eventually. “So if the project can meet them, I won’t stand in the way. Their job is to find a way to ensure it doesn’t, no matter what. They can have a solicitor on my dala, if they need it.”

“An excellent solution, Luce.” Camille nodded approvingly, unless she was happy because she thought it was a bad idea, and wanted him to fail, or… Gah, it’s maddening just to think about this. The sooner he could find a way to link food production to the energy from the Tower’s Nocturne Gate, the sooner he could stop relying on her and have no more need for her riddles. “Shall we adjourn?”

“Yes, thank you!” Luce knocked his fist against the table. “We’re done. You both may go.”

Simon nodded stiffly and marched right out the door, but Camille lingered, draping her arm across the doorway. She turned around and closed the door.

Oh great, yet another thing before I can get to work.

“You know this won’t stop, right? If Lilian Perimont is attacking you in the journal, then she already has no qualms about opposing you before the public. Captain Whitbey stopped attending your meetings the moment she arrived. You currently have no one in your council, other than myself I suppose, to maintain your monopoly on force. The perception of legitimacy, you ruling by royal decree, is all that’s keeping you in power here. Lose control of the narrative, and you have nothing. You need to take this part seriously too, Luce. It’s not all going to be magic experiments and clandestine meetings in the snow.”

Luce flopped back in his chair with a sigh. “I know. I’m so bad at this! I just - This is never who I was. I always had Harold for stuff like this. And I can see a solution right here in front of me, if only I could have the time to work on it. Not just to this crisis, but so many of humanity’s ills.”

“If you lose your power, you might never get the chance.”

Reluctantly, he nodded.

“You just need to take a breath. We have crops growing on the Sartaire banks right now. Peauvre is cycling soil to the neighboring fields, and our food stores only need to last until the harvest, instead of forever. Those farmers are helping the city and they love you for it, since you’re bailing them out at their darkest hour. Almost no one within city walls is starving or freezing. We have peace. All of that is because of you.”

“Well, I think you deserve some credit too, but thank you. Do you really - “ He was interrupted by the sound of a knock against the door. “Who is it?” he called out, then cursed, because he’d soundproofed the workshop.

He got up and opened the door, only to find the muscular guardian girl from before looking up at him.

“Hello, Your Highness. I-I have something rather sensitive to tell you. In private.”

“Ah. Camille, would you mind?”

“Of course not. Until next time, Luce.”

Charlotte stepped aside to let her through, then waited a moment to let her pass from earshot before speaking. “It’s about some of the Guardians.”

Luce blinked. “Not the harbor bombing? Or Camille?”

“No, she has nothing to do with this - “

He poked his head out the door and called out to Camille, gesturing to invite her back into the room.

“Really, Your Highness? I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s wise to trust her.”

“On this, I can be sure that our interests align.” He stepped out of the way to let Camille back in, then closed the door behind all of them. “So, you were saying that this involves the Guardians.”

Charlotte looked quickly at Camille, then back to him. “Yes, Your Highness. I was part of a squad of five providing security for a supply run on the north end. But before we were halfway there, the Guardians I was with absconded with the lord’s portion of what we were there to distribute. We ran out ten minutes after we got there, because there was so little left. I… I notified my superior, but he insisted I keep quiet about it. Guardians have to look out for their own. But I couldn’t abide by the injustice of it.”

“Nor should anyone.” Camille’s voice was cold. “You don’t need me to tell you what I recommend, Luce.”

“No.” He felt for the first time like he actually understood her, even if only for a moment. “Apprehend them, Charlotte. Once they’re in custody, we’ll arrange as fast a trial as possible. We mustn’t let this rot set for long.”

“Um, I’m afraid my word in that matter would not be respected, even if I told the truth that this order came from you. A superior officer - ”

“Ugh, the one time I need Whitbey and he’s nowhere to be seen,” Luce muttered. “Fine, then I need names. Tell me who did this.”

“I’ll also need to know where I’ll be able to find them,” Camille added. “Obviously we can’t trust the Guardians to apprehend them.”

“Agreed,” Luce said. “Tell Camille what she needs to know.”

Charlotte’s mouth hung open for a moment, but she recovered quickly and began reciting the names. No one Luce had ever heard of, though that was scant surprise.

“You’ll need to go to the Guardians,” Camille said to him once Charlotte was done. “They need to know that mine is a sanctioned operation.”

“I’ll do it now.”

“No, take an hour. You’re appearing in person to impose the law, appearances need to be just right. Wear royal regalia, if you have any. Perhaps try to style your hair after the king, though it’s a bit short for that. Purple, for certain. Your king’s always in purple.”

“Right, right, ok.” Luce thumped the table as he rose. “I can’t fucking believe people would pull something like this in a crisis! It’s so despicable. So - So - I just - Who would do such a thing?”

“Most people, if they thought they could get away with it.” She put her hand on his shoulder, her fingers cold. “You have to show them that they can’t.”

But right now you’re the only reason, he thought with dread. Clearing out corruption from the Guardians could help make the remainder useful in time, but in the meantime they were showing themselves to be completely unreliable.

It’s a good thing I have Simon to help put her opinions in check, balance things out. Otherwise this problem might just be too dangerous to solve.