When Heroes Die

“One is not born either Good or Evil, one is simply born. It is insulting to imply otherwise. Our Tyrants and Chancellors strive just as hard to be Evil as the most diligent Good Kings or most virtuous of saints.”

— Extract from a Praesi repudiation of the Proceran religious text ‘Truths of the Shore.’

Thinking I was ready to decide how to organize the House of Light had been — in retrospect — a mistake. Fortunately — for both the church and myself — the existing administrators were able to keep it afloat while I floundered around and found my feet. One day I hoped to actually develop all those different skills. That day wasn’t today. I tried to make the habit of picking up new skills whenever I could. Just because it was unlikely that I would ever need them didn’t mean that I should dismiss their existence.

It had been reviewing the historical costs of fielding knights that had convinced me that perhaps I should delegate more. It was over ten times cheaper to train and arm crossbowmen than knights. That wasn’t even counting how long it took to train knights.

Knights were not what I wanted for my paladins. For one, I didn’t need them to own horses. I also didn’t need them to come from among the nobility or possess many of the skills that a knight would typically have. However, there were other costs that ordinary knights would not have.

I wanted my paladins to be able to wield the Light. I also wanted them to have equipment that was protected against sorcery. The plate armour worm by Callow’s paladins had been inscribed with scripture and allegedly guarded against magic. Those additional requirements — among a few others — made up for the savings in traditional knight training.

There was just too much that I did not know to manage this all on my own.

I’d ended up appointing my advisors first, then allowing them much more control over my plans for the restructuring of the House of Light. The number of representatives per principality was cut down by them to one. The representatives were elected by the priests in the capital of each principality once every decade. A warning was given out the year before, so that any priests in the surrounding towns and villages could make the journey if they wished to cast their own vote.

Those representatives then had a fair amount of leeway in how they managed everyone below them. They drafted proposals for the taxes in their regions, which were subject to the approval of both me and my advisors. Both what was taxed and the percentage of the tax. That wealth was then centralized at the capital of each Principality, and funds were apportioned from there into four main categories. The first was maintenance, which was an umbrella term for many things and included the coin for disaster relief. It was the most important category, and all other categories were determined based on the remainder. The second was projects undertaken within each principality on the recommendation of the people living there. The third was for trade investments, and the last portion was for greater church projects.

Those representatives then had assistants who were expected to draft and publish an annual church account that was available to the public to review. Esme had people under her authority who were responsible for auditing it. Once a decade — when the representatives changed — there was a review of which church holdings were eligible for taxation made by the new representatives. Any church holdings that felt were being unjustly treated by their leaders could also raise a complaint to the inquisition.

I had also decided that I wasn’t going to control the representatives by playing them against each other. I didn’t believe it would be right to do so. It would be establishing the exact kind of system that I was trying to remove.

Instead, a complicated system of rewards and incentives had been developed by my advisors to encourage the representatives to do the right thing. Funding for pet projects provided they meet the right criteria, personal allowances, ancillary privileges and the like. All the bonuses were dependent on how well they adhered to the goals I was laying out, and they varied from principality to principality based on the politics of those principalities. Representatives could then vote on greater church policy once a year, or bring any petitions before me.

That served as the carrot. The threat of me descending on them if they strayed from the path of good served as one stick, but I was hoping to find myself another.

I hadn’t realized just how much of a relief it would be to delegate responsibility of the minutiae to someone else until I’d gone ahead and done so. There was still a small niggling at the back of my head. A part of me insisting that I should be responsible for everything. But… I was doing my best to ignore it.

“There’s no need to subject yourself to this, Chosen,” one of the sisters said differentially from beside me.

“It’s about respect,” I replied.

“I’ll take my leave then,” she bowed.

I watched her depart the indoor garden along a path of soft sand, threading her way between rose bushes, past lavender and then through the arched concrete passageway. Turning, I stared at the pool of water behind me with the same enthusiasm as a cat preparing to bathe.

Nothing to it, Taylor.

I pulled off my robe, then stripped myself of my small clothes and bundled everything beside the edge of the water into a tidy pile. At last, I dipped my toe into the water.

It was about as bracing as I expected it to be.

The temptation to heat the water up rose once more. I squashed it. Cheating would defeat the purpose of this. I took a deep breath, then plunged into the frigid pool.

C.c.cold.

I turned towards the hourglass at the side of the pool and flipped it with a bit more vigour than necessary. I glared at the sands for a few moments, before reaching towards the soaps and oils.

It was miserable.

Not even the light of the sun helped stave off the chill.

Step by step, I cleaned myself.

None of this was strictly necessary. I could have decided to do otherwise. But… Cordelia was going through the same process. It was required of the would be First Prince when they met with the head of the House of Light in the days leading up to their coronation. I’d informed her that I wasn’t expecting her to follow through with this process.

She’d told me that she would follow the letter of the law.

Even if the law — in this case — was a stupid tradition that should be overturned.

I’d already drafted a proposal for the Highest Assembly to do so. It wasn’t high on my list of priorities, but if something was both easy to do and beneficial, then… it should be done.

I left the pool an hour later wet and miserable. After towelling down and changing into an austere white shift, I walked briskly towards the chamber where we would be meeting and took my place at the head of the table. I was alone in the room. The crackle of the hearth behind me did much to offset the cold.

Cordelia Hasenbach was led into the chamber a few moments later.

Duty. Forge the Principate into a tool that can withstand the Evils to the north. A weapon that can endure the test of time and will not fracture with Cordelia’s passing from power.

Her hair was unbraided and goosebumps stuck out along her arms. She wore a matching outfit and marched in with as much dignity as she could.

Her eyes narrowed.

Esme had spent some time lecturing me on the importance of etiquette. I wasn’t certain that I bought into her diatribe, but I was willing to bet that Cordelia Hasenbach did. I’d follow Esme’s advice as a consequence of that.

Our meeting began with an exchange of meaningless pleasantries, followed by a meal. It was a silent affair, and my thoughts wandered while we ate.

This would have been a much more grandiose event had the Holies still been in residence, but I didn't feel the need to grandstand. The two of us both had our duties and priorities that needed attending to. I’d do my best to put on the front that she would expect of someone in my position, but no more than that.

Cordelia had at last brought an end to the civil war. Princess Aenor and Prince Amadis had been betrayed and turned over to Klaus Papenheim by Prince Arnaud at Cantal. With them eliminated from the running, she had become the sole remaining contender for the crown of the First Prince.

She had been busy ever since then. This was the first time that the two of us were able to meet again. I did not begrudge her that. It was probable that she had been even more preoccupied than I was. I’d inquired if she would be able to allot more time to this meeting than what was legally required so that we could cover other significant topics of conversation. It had been an idle request made with the expectation that she would refuse, and I’d need to schedule a separate meeting later.

It had come as a pleasant surprise when she had acceded to my petition.

The meal ended and the formalities began. They did not take long to finalize. I followed through scripted lines prepared for me by people long dead, and Cordelia did much the same. Once the empty traditions had completed, and she had secured the approval of the priests, our attention at last turned to other matters.

“Have you resolved the conflict within the Chain of Hunger?” Cordelia inquired.

We had left the dining room and walked towards my office.

“I have. It’s complicated and there’s a lot I need to catch you up on.”

One of the sisters opened the door for the both of us. We entered, and I pointed towards the organized piles of documentation on the shelves beside my desk.

“Chain of Hunger,” my hand drifted left, “Fae troubles in Bayeux,” it drifted to the penultimate pile, “proposals for you,” and settled on the final stack, “proposals for the Highest Assembly.”

Despite the fact that she would likely oppose me on many proposals in the Highest Assembly, I didn’t truly see her as an enemy. We were both trying to do good, we just had a different perspective on what that was. I wanted to try to maintain a cordial relationship as a result. I’d do her the courtesy of informing her of my proposals in advance. Springing surprises like that on people wasn’t something that I thought made for a long term, amicable relationship.

“It would have been more expedient for you to have this delivered to my advisors.”

“I had other troubles first. Considered it later. My own advisors suggested I wait.”

Cordelia said nothing in response to that. She picked up my transcription of the Tumult’s proposal and skimmed through it in moments.

“You do not believe that the Principate should agree to this treaty.”

“Five years of uneasy truce is more than either of us was expecting,” I agreed. “Giving the Ratlings access to sorcery before they can choose not to fight sounds like a recipe for disaster. We know the source of their curse, we can work on solving it. If you do want to negotiate with the Tumult any further, then I can carry any correspondence.”

“It is unfortunate that the Gigantes will slay any Procerans who set foot across their borders. They are best suited to assist with unravelling this conundrum.”

“I could make overtures.”

“It is doubtful that they would hear you out.”

That didn’t surprise me. Proceran heroes did not have the best of reputations and had attacked the Gigantes in the past. I might qualify as not Proceran by technicality, but I doubted that the Gigantes would be willing to make that distinction.

Cordelia turned her attention towards the missive on the Fae. She said nothing in response to it, then turned her attention towards the third pile.

“The suggestion that the yet to be instituted Proceran order of wizards should be founded beside Constance’s Scar has merit.”

“Something will need to be done about the Scar anyway.”

“Why do you recommend that Yvette should occupy an important role in this new institution?”

Yvette needed an outlet to help her learn more about sorcery. She’d reached the end of what I could teach, and this was an opportunity to discover more on her own. I hoped that with sufficient adult supervision, she wouldn’t cause any major trouble. While I didn’t like the idea of being so far away from Yvette, I expected that Proceran sorcerers would solve the problem of scrying sometime soon. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but I didn’t want to stifle her own dreams out of a desire to keep her close.

“She has a Name centred around sorcery and an academic interest in things like the Scar. She can help teach your wizards. That way the order has a better foundation. She gets an opportunity to investigate the Scar as an incentive to help.”

Cordelia put that suggestion aside and seized the next one.

This was where matters became more complicated.

“Why should the Highest Assembly formally recognize you as the leader of the Proceran House of Light?”

Don’t lie, beat around the bush or scheme. She can outwit you at all of that anyhow. Just be honest, forthright. You’re a hero, not a politician.

I breathed in.

“It gives you leverage over the House of Light. There are provisions in that proposal allowing the nobility to seize the lands of any branches of the House of Light that splinter away from the main organization.”

It was a risk. The problem was that I could not be in every principality at once if I wanted to enforce my rules. Esme’s inquisition would only be able to do so much. But… while I didn’t have an army, the princes did. They would also pounce at any opportunity to take away lands from the church. Cordelia was no exception to that. I knew that she’d remove all power from the church if she could do so without an uprising. I hoped that I could get the princes to acknowledge me as the legal authority over the House of Light in exchange for strengthening their position against the priests.

It was the kind of stick I needed to motivate the more ambitious priests to do the right thing if I wasn’t going to have them scheme against each other.

“This would also consolidate your position of power by granting you legitimacy.”

“That’s true, but I have that already in every sense except the legal sense. There’s been twenty years of civil war. Nobody likes the princes. It doesn’t matter that you won the war as cleanly as could be done. I toppled the Holies from power in a little over a month while smothering another conflict in the crib, and brought attention to many other issues in the process. If it comes to a popularity contest, then I’m always going to win. If I declare war against the princes, their own soldiers might turn on them in my favour.”

“That is not an argument in support of this proposal. Recognizing you as the leader of the House of Light would position you as a credible opposition to the throne.”

“There are also benefits. I want to work with you, not around or against you.”

“Why do you believe that granting you legitimacy makes for a more stable Principate than one where the House of Light remains divided.”

“If you recognize my authority, then I can actually help you with your own projects. You wouldn’t need to worry about the House of Light betraying you. It’s a way to wield the full power of the Proceran House of Light without fighting us tooth and nail for it.”

“That is only true so long as your interests remain aligned with those of the crown. Even should you remain a paragon of virtue for the remainder of your life, it remains to be seen whether the same is true of your eventual successor. Should this proposal pass in the Highest Assembly, then another Liturgical War is one day all but assured.”

“Make the recognition provisional on me remaining the leader and up for consideration when I either abdicate or perish.”

Cordelia set the motion aside and said no more about it, then picked up another page. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

“You did not write these amendments to the proposed education reforms yourself.”

“No,” I admitted. “I passed them on to my advisors and then threw in my own ideas. They made them feasible.”

“It would reduce the burden the original proposal would place on the nobility by apportioning a part of it to the House of Light.”

I’d come to realize that many of Cordelia’s teachers and advisors were priests, and that the same was true for every prince. The House of Light probably had the highest concentration of educated people out of any institution in the principate. While that education did not cover every subject and the nobles undoubtedly had a much higher level of education overall, it did cover reading, writing, and arithmetic.

“It only helps with less specialized skills. Your original proposal involving trade schools makes more sense for anything beyond the first few years of schooling but…”

“You have stipulated that you do not wish for spiritual education to take place during the allotted teaching time, despite the role of teacher being given to priests.”

“My advisors weren’t happy about that. I want people to do good and to worship the Gods. I think that I’d be more likely to chase people away by putting the Gods into every element of their life, then convince them to join the church.”

Besides, there were other ways to teach the virtues I wanted kids to learn without the message being so blatant. Teaching children to read with stories that had specific themes and lessons within them was a much better way to instil values without just beating their head with a holy book. It appealed to a wider audience. Convincing people who worshipped the Gods Below to live by good values was far more important — and likely far easier — than convincing them to worship Above.

And once they adopted those values…

They were far more likely to join groups that held similar virtues close to their heart.

“This proposal would likely pass in the Highest Assembly even without my weight behind it.”

“I worked with you before taking over the House of Light. I don’t want to throw away that relationship. There are some differences now. I can no longer reshape Creation on a whim. It changes the nature of any alliance we might have. That doesn’t mean there aren’t new benefits to working with me.”

I hope that being honest and forthright works here, because trying to outwit Cordelia certainly won’t.

“You should send this document to my advisors. They will return an amended copy of it once they have examined it further.”

Cordelia put it aside and picked up the next proposal. She remained silent for a good ten minutes before finally choosing to reply.

“The House of Light does not require the approval of the Highest Assembly to offer many of these services.”

The proposal detailed many ancillary goods and services that I believed the House of Light could offer, that no other institution could. They all involved the use of the Light in some way. From entertainment — firework displays using the Light — to esoteric construction work, to tools. Some of my ideas might not be feasible. I suspected that a large proportion of them would not generate much income either, but that wasn’t the point of it.

The point was to illustrate just how much she stood to potentially gain by agreeing to work with me.

Some ideas were only theoretical. I’d need to do my fair share of innovation to prove the Light could be used that way, then teach the method to others. I’d marked those ideas as unproven on the proposal, as well as provided my reasoning for why I believed they were achievable.

It had taken some asking around to learn the historical reason for why most priests did not experiment with the Light. It surprised me that I hadn’t worked it out on my own. Excessive use of the Light burned every priest except for me from the inside out. Draw too much and it became fatal. Pair easy guidance for already known miracles with a sensible aversion towards self harm, and over time a culture of conservatism towards experimentation had developed.

I hoped to chip away at that attitude.

“We can’t manufacture arms or armour without something changing.”

“The Principate moved away from fielding heavily armoured knights towards mercenaries due to the comparison in cost-effectiveness.”

“I know. I obtained records that prove as much. Five to ten crossbowmen per knight, ten to twenty infantrymen per knight. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t cases where having access to specialized equipment isn’t beneficial. You could have crossbowmen outfitted in protected plate specifically to counter Praesi wizards. Specialized units dedicated to killing enemy sorcerers in the event of an invasion. Priests are effective at countering wizards, but only a few of them will ever volunteer for war.”

“You have included many stipulations whereby the House of Light may refuse service.”

“I’m not planning on funding an anti-wizard crusade inside the Principate itself, nor am I planning to incite offensive wars against other nations for the purpose of obtaining territory.”

“Equipment imbued by the Light does not retain its investment for extended periods of time, unlike enchanted equipment manufactured by sorcery.”

“It can be renewed. There isn’t a reason to maintain the effect outside wars with Praes. It’s better to have the equipment for when it is needed, than not have it at all.”

This proposal more than any other was one that I hoped was approved. Armour that protected from sorcery was not cheap to manufacture. It was also something that the House of Light would by default have a monopoly on. The fact that the defensive effect would need to be refreshed would make it a renewable source of income during times of war. While nothing would make me happier than a world at peace, I didn’t doubt there would be many more conflicts in the future.

“Have this drafted into a missive and sent to my uncle so that he may review your ideas. However, it is unlikely that it will garner much in the way of interest unless you develop a more affordable measure of anti-magic defence.” She paused, frowned in thought. “He has several requests of his own for the House of Light. You should expect him to approach you sometime in the near future.”

Cordelia continued to pick up, read through and comment on many proposals. Some she set aside for review by one person or another. Others, she outright dismissed. It must have been over an hour later before she finally reached the final two.

“My eyes and ears in other principalities can confirm your warning of the increase in number of both the chosen and the damned. More than one Principality has become rife with discord over the past few weeks.”

“It’s the reason for this proposal.”

“You appear to be far more appraised of this situation than anyone else, despite having spent a significant amount of time within the Chain of Hunger.”

“The new names come from the stories of my world. The Gods asked me to share them. This was the result.”

“So you are to blame for the chaos that has spread across Procer?” her voice intensified.

“Would you refuse a request of the Gods?” I retorted, looking away from the blonde at the unlit candle on the desk beside her.

“If a soldier acts on the orders of their superior, it does not absolve them of responsibility.”

“I’m not denying responsibility. But… I believe there must have been a reason. Some good that came of this. They wouldn’t have asked otherwise. In fact, I can confirm as much. There’s a hero. A bard. She’s immortal, and I don’t even have the faintest idea how old she is. She planned to blow up the continent, and my decision ruined her plans. Considering how detailed her scheme was… I’d have given her a good chance of succeeding.”

“There is no way for anyone to verify the veracity of the claim, while the chaos that plagues the Principate is evident to all.”

It also wasn’t possible to verify that I was to blame, but that was not the point. I wasn’t going to avoid responsibility.

“I know,” my voice was subdued. “It’s everywhere, not just here. Praes, the Principate, in the lands over the sea.”

I turned my attention back to Cordelia. Her face was a mask. Inscrutable. At last, she spoke once more.

“You should understand that the reason for the ban against the House of Light maintaining a standing army is to prevent further conflict.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem with me in charge.”

“There is also no reason why your proposed policing force would need to fall under the control of the House of Light.”

“Heroes wouldn’t listen to the princes.”

“Your argument is founded on the preconception that many of both the chosen and the damned will pose a lesser threat, and are thus containable by those without a choosing of their own. Should that be true, then there is no reason for that force to fall under the authority of the church. The principle would remain the same. Only those who pose a sufficient threat would require the intervention of heroes.”

“There is a benefit. The faithful have access to the Light. It gives them a weapon that helps bridge the gap. The force would be trained to fight named combatants, not to wage conventional wars. They would need to learn stories and tactics to combat esoteric abilities.”

“You have yet to make a convincing argument that the church is instrumental in solving the problem. There are soon to be many dispossessed fantassins wandering the Principate now that the war has ended. They have already made violence their trade, and thus they could be put to the same purpose now.”

“Could you even do that? They don’t fall under the authority of the First Prince except during times of a crusade.”

“While both motions would face opposition within the Highest Assembly, only one of them would infringe on the sovereignty of the princes of Procer.”

Cordelia turned her attention towards the final proposal. It was the one that I expected would receive the most criticism.

“There is not a single prince in the Principate that will vote for this motion in the Highest Assembly.”

“It’s important. There’s going to be lots more heroes and villains now. If you want me to hold heroes accountable, then they need legal permission to hold princes accountable.”

“This is the Principate of Procer. We mete out the same justice to the highest soul and the lowest. Agreeing to this proposal would be tantamount to a declaration that the Chosen and the Damned stand above the law. It would undermine the principles that this nation has been founded on.”

“Heroes do stand above the law. If I walked into the Highest Assembly and killed everyone there, nobody except the Gods would be able to stop me. Pretending otherwise is a lie. I’m offering you a way to make it less of a lie.”

“It does not matter whether one is born a peasant or a prince. From highest to lowest, we are all taught one truth. Our nation is one where the laws are fair and all are treated equal when they stand before the magistrate. We often fail at achieving this, but the belief is still there. Not one person from the gutters in Iserre to the throne in Salia will entertain this proposal, for it is anathema to the truths that we hold most dear.”

“You’re the first person I’m approaching. I’m going to be trying to convince the others of the necessity of the agreement as well.”

“This measure would be more likely to pass were you not the leader of the House of Light, not that it has any hope of succeeding, irrespective of your standing. It is a short step from being the leader of the House of Light to leader of the Principate once you have the right to depose the First Prince.”

“Then that’s fine.”

“You do not intend to press the matter when you fail to achieve your goal?”

“The Principate is founded on a lie. One day a hero will find the princes objectionable and make my point for me. All I’ll do is withhold judgement against them until you amend the laws.”

“You would consign the Principate to the fire only to see your point made?”

“One day Procer will die. Not because I have anything against it, but because one day something better will replace it. That’s just the way things are.”

“Not so long as I remain standing.”

“That wasn’t a threat. I’m not planning to move against Procer. It’s just that… time changes everything. Only one of us plans to live forever, Cordelia.”

And it isn’t you.

A few more courtesies were exchanged before our meeting came to an end.

Cordelia departed the Starlit Cloister not long afterwards.