When Heroes Die

“The only acceptable type of sacrifice is the type done by somebody else.”

— Dread Emperor Inimical, the Miser

“ENOUGH!” Frederic shouted.

“A nation with no people is no nation at all, and that is what we will have if the two of you should come to blows. When the Drow rise up, or the Empire calls or corpses rise out of the waters of our lakes only to breathe down our necks, who will stand with us? Do you believe the Chosen from other lands will flock to our banner after we’ve alienated our own heroes? Will they turn away from us and claim that we are nothing more than another example of Evil fighting amongst itself? We will die standing on our own, because we could not find accord when the call to war was given.”

He turned towards Cordelia Hasenbach.

“Perhaps you might consider it to be unfair, or beneath you, or unprincipled to compromise with the Aspirant, but you will find a way to make amends to her regardless. I do not claim to know the lay of your thoughts. I cannot judge why you decided not to offer her any advice before she approached the Highest Assembly, but all of us can measure the cost of it. We teeter on the precipice of destruction because the two people wielding the most influence within our nation cannot seem to find common ground.”

He paused, panted, looked between the two of us as if he was appraising two wild animals, before turning his attention towards me.

“And you might consider it unfair, or beneath you, or unprincipled to compromise with the First Prince, but you will do so as well. Think of all who will perish as a consequence of your feuding. More will suffer and die should the bells toll and the banner of war be raised once more. The only ones who benefit from this conflict are those who do not deserve for us to strengthen them.”

Silence fell over the Chamber of Assembly.

It was a spirited speech, and in other circumstances I might have paid it more attention.

But… not now.

Not while I was furious.

I need to get out of the room. If I don’t remove myself from this situation, then Cordelia will die. I can’t afford to do that. It would mean admitting that I’m wrong about good being able to achieve anything of worth through honest attempts at communication, and that’s… not a loss I’m willing to take.

My hands shook from the effort it took not to kill Cordelia.

“I’m leaving.”

I turned and started walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Frederic shouted once more.

I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t even slow down.

“Leaving this chamber would make the Saint of Sword’s death meaningless.”

“I’ve died twice. Death is always meaningless.”

“Could you truly be satisfied if you gave up on your own vision for the future?”

“If I don’t leave, then I’m going to do something that I think everyone will regret.”

“I believe that you would also regret departing with matters unresolved.”

I stepped around the pulped head of a prince I didn’t recognize. I was almost at the door.

“I’m not sure if I can stop myself from killing your villainous leader if she opens her mouth again.”

“Would it also offend your sensibilities if Cordelia Hasenbach were to hold her tongue, and you conversed with me instead?”

“Why do you care?” I spun to face Frederic Goethal. “You’re fine with throwing away an army of people simply because you were indoctrinated from birth to believe that it’s honourable, with no consideration given to the lives of the soldiers under your command.”

“If the two of you are unable to settle your differences, then the Principate of Procer will fail as a nation,” he murmured.

I glanced at Cordelia. The stone-cold bitch’s lips were pressed into a line. She still showed no sign of emotion, or even a sliver of empathy at the disaster around us.

“Laurence is right,” I clenched my fists. “It’s always failed as a nation. Let it die.”

“Would the Aspirant of yesterday be satisfied with the shape of your thoughts today?”

Fuck it. I’m so tired of all this.

“The Aspirant of yesterday hadn’t been forced to kill her own friend to protect a group of people she doesn’t even like! The Aspirant of yesterday hadn’t been backstabbed by someone else she considered a friend! The Aspirant of yesterday hadn’t been accused of being a tyrant for trying to hold princes accountable!”

I paused, then glared at Frederic.

“There are a lot of things that I don’t say. Not because I don’t think them, but because they are utterly terrifying. Things that are so scary that nobody would look at me the same way once I started talking about them. Congratulations, you’ve reached the end of my restraint. You get to hear me rant about all the things that I’d do to you if I was a villain.”

I breathed in, then out.

“Let’s begin with tyranny. You want to know what tyranny is?” I hissed. “Let me tell you what tyranny is. Let me explain the difference between what I did and what a villain might have done. You think Laurence is scary? The worst thing that she could do is kill you. It would be so easy for me to mindfuck you into doing what I want. I could make you run the Principate the way I wanted you to. Worst of all, I could make you like it as well.”

“But wait,” I licked my lips, “it gets worse.”

I started to pace to bleed off my fury. It was a distraction, and mostly an ineffective one.

“See, you’ve got laws against that, as that Ice Queen over there would point out, and well, we can’t have me breaking those, can we? Fortunately, I don’t need to. I just need to ignore the spirit of them the same way that she does. What would happen if I issued a proclamation? One that stated that any time two or more princes engage in war with each other… I would pacify their armies. Simply just… make them unwilling to pick up their weapons and fight. There are no laws against a hero doing something like that during a war, but the result would be the same.”

Cordelia had returned to her seat on the block of granite. I suspected its heart was warmer than hers. Princess Clotilde had gone whiter than the walls. Princess Mathilda had morphed into a vivid shade of green.

The floor was such a mess that it made it hard to pace. I started to shift the accumulating snow and rubble with panes of Light, then moved it towards the edge of the room. The corpses went to the far left, aligned in rows on the right of the door.

I deposited Laurence’s corpse on the opposite side. Best to set it apart from the rest.

“I’d be removing your ability to project force. If I was feeling particularly vindictive, I’d allow them to march their men all the way to the battlefield before I chose to act. All that coin spent arming them, feeding them and getting them to the battlefield all gone up in smoke. How long would it take until no mercenaries were willing to take up a contract with the Principate for fear of losing their livelihood? In less than a year, every single person from one side of Procer to the other would realize that I’m the person in charge. It would have involved no impassioned arguments. No standing before the Highest Assembly. All I would have to do is lower myself to your level.”

It was telling that Cordelia hadn’t threatened to try to rescind the ownership of land belonging to the House of Light when she first saw my proposal. Without having a way to enforce the declaration, it would be completely toothless. I’d already pacified an army once and… well, it wouldn’t surprise me if she considered it likely that I would do it again.

Why are people like this? I’m just trying to help them.

My eyes stung again. I hated everything about this.

It’s feels like I’m sitting here waging a war with an ant, using a grain of sugar as a weapon rather than the heel of my boot.

“And those two things?” I let out a choked laugh, “they don’t even make the list of the top ten scariest tactics that I’ve considered. Think for a moment about what I could have done compared to what I chose to do. I’m tired. Tired of being told to eat shit by slimy assholes who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. If you’re truly so much better than the people born beneath you, then prove it by looking after them.”

I finished speaking. My anger snuffed out like a fading ember. A hollow lassitude took me. I felt… empty… lost.

I turned towards one of the empty chairs beside the scribes.

There was a scraggly girl with long brown hair and mousy features seated beside it.

She swallowed as I looked at her.

Walked over.

Sat down in the empty chair.

I’m sorry Yvette, Max, everyone else, but… I’m just not good enough. Every time I try to work with these people, it just ends the same way. I can’t keep doing this.

I wiped away my tears.

It was no use.

More continued to fall.

“If you wished for the motion you proposed to pass, you should have allowed for compromise. Perha-”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“You have no idea how much I’ve compromised already,” I explained, cutting him off. “You know nothing about me, about where I came from, or what my life was like. You have absolutely no right to judge me with what little context you have, and compromise implies that both parties bend their neck. I’ve bent mine a lot already, but you’re expecting the Proceran nobility to get what they want out of me without bending at all in return. I’m not going to stand here with my neck bent and lick dirt off the floor just to make you people happy.”

This is all so pointless.

“Paint me a picture of the land that you came from,” Prince Frederic asked.

“What?” I mumbled, resting my head in my hands.

“Were heroes the sovereigns there?”

“I don’t see the point. We’re going to go through the same motions all over again. I’ll try to do the right thing. It will fail. I’ll be forced to pick up the pieces. Then all of you will look at me as if I am mad for even trying to do something that isn’t done out of rampant greed.”

“You accused me of approaching dialogue with you without sufficient context. You cannot expect me to establish the context I require without making an effort to amend the gap in my knowledge.”

“It’s all in a new church book. Besides, I talked to Cordelia about this. It isn’t as if she doesn’t know my story.”

“Consider the fact that most of us have not had the time to read through recently published House of Light literature.”

Fine. Not like this changes anything.

“Depends on the place. Where I lived, no.”

“Then why did you suggest they should hold power over the Principate?”

“Our society was different. We were closer to the gnomes. According to Cordelia the system of government that we used there wouldn’t work here. I listened to her. I’m not even sure if it worked there, either.”

“Can you shed light on how it functioned in greater detail?”

I looked up. Frederic was looking at me. He had a grin plastered across his face that I thought was supposed to be encouraging, but everything about it looked forced.

“I was too worried about the end of the world to learn enough about our politics to argue them properly, so don’t expect any meaningful discourse.”

“Sharing what little you know still elucidates more than telling us nothing at all.”

“We were a republic. It was a system with elected leaders. The citizens held the rulers accountable. It didn’t always work, and I don’t know enough to tell you how often it succeeded compared to how often it failed, but it was probably better than the Principate in that regard.”

“What role did heroes play in the leadership of your nation?”

“Heroes were under a separate system with a different set of rules. I could go into a lot of detail there — I was a part of that system — but it’s not currently relevant to this discussion. They couldn’t legally interfere with the actual running of the country, and… too much was different for us to make any meaningful comparisons between here and there.”

“What punitive measures were taken against criminals?”

“It depended on the crime, but punishments were almost always much laxer than here. Some people killed thousands and didn’t die for it.” I pursed my lips. “It wasn’t perfect. There were many punishments I wouldn’t have agreed to in retrospect. People forced to spend life locked away in… awful circumstances rather than be executed. I’d still argue it was better than the many creative tortures that Procer pretends serve as a meaningful justice system.”

“How long have you spent living in Procer?”

“Give or take eight months. About a year if you count the time shortly after I arrived.”

“Were you considered well-educated in the land that you came from?”

“No. The world was ending, and I was more focused on saving it than on acquiring an education. Most of the skills that I learned had combat applications. Most of the more academic knowledge that I have isn’t going to help me here either.” I gave Frederic a sour smile. “You don’t even know what a ‘computer’ is, so telling you about ‘programming’ doesn’t help. The languages do not carry over at all, the geography of Calernia is completely different, and I never learned political science.”

“Do you know offhand what was the total population of your birth nation?”

“I can’t give you a good estimate because it varied wildly due to refugee migrations coupled with frequent catastrophic disasters, but… somewhere north of two hundred million people before the end.”

Prince Frederic continued questioning me for a while, before eventually stopping in thought.

A tranquil silence fell within the Chamber of Assembly. It stood in stark juxtaposition to the state of the room.

“Would you have accepted Pascal having the right to determine whether you live or die?”

“No.”

“Then why did you campaign so hard to give him that right over others?”

“I knew that my solution wasn’t good, but I couldn’t come up with a better one.”

My shoulders relaxed as he continued to inquire after my motives. I was still angry and despondent, but not longer so tightly coiled that I would explode at a moment’s notice.

“Can you explain what you would be prepared to accept?”

“Anything that can hold the leaders of Procer accountable in practice. Poison doesn’t count. There is no difference between a peasant poisoning a prince and one of their family members doing it, but only the peasant is punished for it. You cannot expect peasants and heroes to follow the laws, but nobles to be exempt from them.”

That’s not how a functional justice system works.

“Would you be prepared to accept the passing of a proposal with a similar intended function that does not grant the authority to the Chosen?”

“I think we’ve moved past that argument,” I answered. “This is about trust.”

“Humour my inquiry,” he replied.

“Yes. The problem is that I don’t see it working.”

“Can you expound upon how you arrived at that conclusion?”

“The system of governance for individual principalities is autocratic and in practice comes down to who has the largest army.”

“The laws of our nation allow for the princes to be overthrown should the peasants find their rulers unlawful.”

“The peasants can’t hold the princes accountable because they don’t have a big enough stick to hit them with.”

“The rebellion in Aisne provides ample evidence that this is not the case.”

“That was an outlier. Everyone in the Principate knows as much. I tried to respect your customs. That’s why I proposed heroes being the stick as opposed to changing your entire system of governance. I didn’t suggest heroes were the enforcers because I need it to be heroes, I suggested heroes because I couldn’t think of a more palatable alternative that actually works.” I took a moment to brush falling snow off my lap.

“You are already aware about our thoughts on your original proposal.”

“The system of governance in my nation of birth had systems to both judge and depose rulers — or even lesser representatives — and the people within those systems were not by default the rulers themselves. Just because somebody can legally kill the Prince, doesn’t mean they’re the Prince. It means they’re the person who can kill Princes.”

Unless I’m in Praes, but that’s neither here nor there.

I looked at the hole in the ceiling once more, before turning my attention back to Frederic.

“Look, that line of argumentation is going nowhere, so let’s put it aside. I know that it feels like I’m putting a knife to your neck. That’s the whole point! Rulers shouldn’t have a sense of absolute security. I include myself in that. You want to pass laws against what I can and can’t do? Go ahead!”

“What prevents heroes from abusing this right in order to coerce rulers to accede to their demands?”

“What prevents us from doing that already?” I raised an eyebrow. “If you want a more considered answer, then look at how this ended. Two heroes lie dead so far. Both of them were killed by me. One of them was my friend. That should be proof enough. I’ve done my part. It would have been within my rights to stand aside and do nothing. I’m willing to hold heroes to account. What other show of good faith could you possibly want?”

And none of this really matters, since this is about trust, not about my proposal. My proposal failed, I’m fine with that. Now it’s time to salvage the mess. What I’m not fine with is working with Cordelia Hasenbach after she knifed me in the back.

Frederic turned away from me and faced the Master of Orders. The man had moved out of the centre of the Chamber of Assembly and was seated among the scribes. His face was haggard. It looked as if he had aged a decade in the span of an hour.

“I request leave to address the First Prince.”

He gave Prince Frederic a frosty glare, but nonetheless limped to the middle of the room.

“The assembly recognizes the Prince of Brus.”

Prince Frederic turned away from me and back towards Cordelia.

“It is not my place to make demands of the First Prince of Procer. The time for petitions is also over, so consider this more of an informal petition made during the closing statements. I hold that you should draft a proposal that satisfies both the letter and the spirit of the Aspirant’s requirements, and present it before the Highest Assembly. One that takes into consideration the foibles of our nation. Failure to do so at this juncture will see us splinter as a nation, and we cannot afford to do so.”

“The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.”

The bloodstained Princess climbed to her feet.

“Drafting such a proposal would set the precedent that the First Prince is expected to appease the whims of the Chosen.”

“Appeasing her is necessary for the survival of our nation.”

I signalled the Master of Orders.

“The assembly recognizes the Aspirant.”

“Frederic, I know that you’re trying to help, but you’re missing the point. I don’t want to be appeased, I want a solid reason why I should consider working with Cordelia Hasenbach, or with you for that matter.”

He blinked at that, then shook his head.

“What have I done to earn such distrust from you?”

“It’s not about what you’ve done, it’s about what everyone else in my life keeps doing.”

“Would you be prepared to trust that I’m acting in your best interest.”

“No. Your brother tried to rape me. Your father shielded him from justice. Prince Arnaud was probably a rapist, although he’s dead, so it’s not like we can try him for it. Cordelia stabbed me in the back. My trust of the Proceran nobility is at an all-time low, and that’s saying something considering how low it was to begin with.”

“Then I shall endeavour to prove to you that not all the Princes of our nation are rotten at the heart.”

“Good luck with that.”

Prince Frederic gave me a pitying look, then turned towards Cordelia Hasenbach.

“Did the Aspirant truly come to you for assistance, only for you to spurn her request?”

“The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia,” the white haired geriatric announced.

Cordelia climbed to her feet.

“While the Aspirant did present her proposals to the Prince of Rhenia, she made no requests for further amendments and threatened to bring an end to the Principate should she not achieve her goals.” Cordelia drawled.

She almost sounded bored.

Why doesn’t it surprise me that Cordelia Hasenbach misrepresented what I said?

Cordelia sat back down.

I signalled that I desired to speak. The pretence at order was flimsy, but I would not be the one to break it.

“The assembly recognizes the Aspirant.”

“I told her that time claims everything, even nations. That isn’t a threat, just an acknowledgement of reality,” I snapped.

“The assembly recognizes the Prince of Brus.”

“Did you make any further appeals to the First Prince for assistance beyond that initial meeting, or attempt to clarify your position?” Frederic asked me.

“No. I was exceptionally busy at the time, and I’d suspected that she would be as well, given that she ran an entire nation rather than merely the House of Light. My decision not to bother her was made as a courtesy. I thought of her as either a friend — or amicable colleague — and expected her to bring any major concerns to my attention in advance rather than to plot around me, considering the proposal intersected with both of our interests.”

“Did you ever make a direct request of her or anyone else to assist you in reviewing the proposal?”

“I asked my advisors more than once. They focused their attention on amending the legal details of the proposal to make it function in its current form, rather than changing it into something else,” I furrowed my brow. “I never outright requested that Cordelia assisted me with my proposal in this specific instance when I presented it to her.”

“Do you believe that it was possible she misunderstood the nature of your request?”

“No,” I injected the word with some of the venom I felt. “Cordelia is smart. Politically savvy and good at reading people. There were excellent reasons for me to believe that she would understand me, given that we have collaborated many times in the past and had an established rapport.”

“Can you elaborate as to why you hold this to be true?”

“I've run my proposals by her many times before. It was the foundation of our relationship to begin with. This is the first time that she supposedly misunderstood my intent. It’s also conveniently the first time when there are any real stakes to misunderstanding me.”

It also looks like she’s the one who benefitted the most from all of this. Most of her rivals are dead, and she can pass whatever motions she likes until they’re replaced. Did the Augur help you achieve this, Cordelia? Is this your answer to my question about whether you intend to be a tyrant?

Frederic stilled for a moment. He turned his gaze to the sky and watched as clouds passed above. Then he shook his head. Golden rings of hair danced from side to side as he seemed to search for his resolve.

“Are you done?” I ground my teeth. “Have my answers satisfied you?”

“You do not lie, do you?” he whispered under his breath.

It sounded less like a question and more like him musing to himself. It felt as if he was ascribing more meaning to the idea than I would be comfortable with. I chose to answer it as a question as a result.

“I haven’t sworn an oath not to.”

“That is a very circumspect way of not denying my supposition.”

“I haven’t lied knowingly in a long time, but I did in the past.” I confirmed.

“Even when being truthful is to your detriment?”

“Yeah.”

His shoulders settled. It felt as if he had made a choice, but I wasn’t certain of what it was.

The Prince of Brus said nothing more. Instead, he paced in thought.

“The assembly recognizes the Princess of Aisne.”

“The Principate is weakened after twenty years of bloodshed.”

“I know.”

“Should the House of Light refuse to share bread with the First Prince, you would risk igniting a Liturgical War.”

“She was the one who broke confidence. I had every intention of working with her.”

“Conflict between the House of Light and the First Prince will only exacerbate the existing problems.”

“Perhaps she should have considered that before she tried to stab me in the back.”

“You would allow strife to run unchecked merely to accommodate your own ego?”

“It’s not about my own ego, it’s about trust. Why should I trust her not to repeat her betrayal? How do I know that the next time the Highest Assembly convenes, we won’t be looking at another stack of bodies?”

“The Highest Assembly serves to check the power of the First Prince.”

“Why would any of you do that? She’s got every reason to provide you with incentives to undercut the House of Light. It’s in your best interest to work with her against me.”

Princess Clotilde quietened for a moment.

“What do you believe the Principled decision would be to make? By setting yourself against the First Prince, you risk fracturing the nation of Procer.”

“The First Prince cannot afford to antagonize the House of Light on top of whatever disaster is about to unfold. We will not incite any hostilities, so long as we are not provoked and are prepared to open our doors to all, regardless of nationality. This remains true even now.”

“I inquired as to why it’s principled, not why you believe that it is a decision that you can afford to make by capitalizing on chaos.”

“What was principled about betraying my confidence?”

“You are right. It is not fair, or just, or principled, but only one of us is blessed by the heavens, and it isn’t Cordelia Hasenbach.”

“Why her? There is nothing stopping me from working with somebody else, should they take the throne.”

“We cannot afford another succession war right on the back of the last one.”

“She almost earned a villainous Name,” I hissed. “Perhaps Procer would be better off if it fell apart than if it was under her thumb. Tell me why I shouldn’t just march outside this room and declare the House of Light unwilling to recognize a villainous First Prince.”

“Consider the tools you have at your disposal,” she stated quietly. “The House of Light could see Cordelia Hasenbach declared Arch-Heretic of the West if she truly slid into villainy. That alone is sufficient motive for her to avoid earning your ire.”

Princess Clotilde returned to her seat.

“The assembly recognizes the Princess of Neustria,” the Master of Orders called out.

Princess Mathilda rose to her feet next.

There was a rustle of mail as she walked into the middle of the room.

She turned towards me.

“Look, I belong on a battlefield, not inside the highest assembly-”

Great, she’s about as useful in this room as me, then.

She put up a brave front, but I could hear the tremor in her voice.

“— but even I know how ugly this could get. What happens if you,” she pointed her thumb at me, “actually follow through with that idea of Princess Clotilde’s? The House of Light won’t splinter over that. They’ll see it as a chance to pull down the throne. Between that and all the other succession wars that are likely to occur, and… there won’t be a Principate by the end of the next year.” Her voice was gruff and she spoke fast.

It was as if she was pushing out her words as fast as she could.

“I’m not seeing a reason why I should trust her.”

Princess Mathilda gulped.

“Come on, you’re smarter than this. It doesn’t matter what the First Prince wants, you’ve made yourself into one of the keys to holding the nation. The deaths aren’t the fault of either of you, but now they’ve happened. She needs your approval if she wants to have any hope of staying in power at all.”

“The problem,” I replied, “is that there are very few threats that I am prepared to carry through. She knows that. She’s already shown that she’s prepared to exploit that.”

It feels like I’m in an unbalanced relationship where everyone I’m trying to help is the abuser, even though in every real sense they have less power than I do.

Princess Mathilda relaxed.

I felt a laugh of hysteria well up inside of me.

It only took those words for her to realize there’s very little I can do to her that I’d be willing to accept, so long as she doesn’t actually do something morally reprehensible.

“Look, I like you, Taylor. You did right by us in the swamp, but sometimes you need someone to make hard decisions.”

It’s so tempting to just show every person in this room my memories of Cordelia Hasebach watching over a billion people die and not responding at all. Let them see the stone-cold bitch that she is and drag her reputation through the mud. But… there is no going back if I do that. Might as well just kill her if I’m going that far in an effort to tear away her pretty mask.

“Cordelia Hasenbach would sacrifice the lives of everyone in Salia on an altar with a smile on her face, so long as it helped further her own ambitions. That isn’t the type of person who should be deciding the lives of the people of Procer,” I glared.

“She’s the head of this nation, you’re the heart of it. Let the head concern itself with the thinking, worry about the things that you’re actually good at.”

Wow, that is one insulting metaphor.

“I’m tired of having people tell me that because they’re more educated than everyone else, that they should be in charge.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.”

“That same argument was used by people in the world that I came from to oppress others. To take them, and lock them up in camps, and treat them as worse than slaves. Education makes somebody capable of ruling, it does not make them the right person to rule.”

“This is Procer, not Praes.”

“How about the old prince of Valencis? He did plenty.” I raised a brow at Prince Mathilda.

“I know you investigated Cordelia’s principality. Did it strike you as being that way? Nothing she’s done suggest she’d do anything like that.”

“Nothing I’ve seen about Cordelia Hasenbach convinces me that she would not do the same if it furthered her own ends, either.”

I’ve seen enough to support the possibility of it.

“If it weren’t for Cordelia Hasenbach, then the Proceran Civil War would still be dragging on.”

“She did that to further her own political ambitions and out of a toxic sense of national pride, not because she cares about whoever lives or dies.”

“Then why did she insist on her soldiers sticking to terms of engagement?”

“I don’t know,” I raised my hands to the ceiling. “Probably because it would help solidify her rule. If she upset the peasants, then they’d be happy to see her gone.”

“Doesn’t matter why she did it. The war is over.”

It’s so, so tempting to air Cordelia’s dirty laundry, much like she flung mud in my direction. To talk about her plans to start a crusade and sacrifice thousands on the altar of her own political ambitions. But no, one of us needs to have a moral backbone rather than a pragmatic backbone Cordelia, and it isn’t the woman on the throne.

“Would you approve if Procer started a war with its neighbours for the express purpose of population control?”

“Depends on the circumstances.”

“You think it’s fine to just kill people off?”

What is wrong with you people?

“Sometimes the village has to be burned down in order to save the citizens,” she shrugged.

What is the context of this metaphor? Perhaps disaster avoidance? Force people to move out of a disaster area by burning down their homes. Could work, but it’s not the same as killing inconvenient people.

“Burning down buildings to force relocation is not the same as killing your own people because the numbers on the population census are a little too high. The former is a tragedy, but still understandable. The latter is the kind of thing Praes does. Cordelia’s politics are inconvenient to my own, and you don’t see me killing her because of that.”

Not yet, at least. I’m so, so very close to it.

“Wars happen, people die,” she stated, before flinching.

It had the rote repetition of a proverb. Some kind of saying that she said out of force of habit.

“Tell that to your own soldiers,” I retorted.

“I do whenever I send them north.”

“This is what’s wrong with the Lycaonese. You’ve spent so long just doing things to survive that you’ve stopped seeing the tragedy in being forced to do so.”

“What we do isn’t pretty, but it’s still necessary.”

“No,” I shook my head. “There is nothing necessary about idolizing sacrifice.”

Princess Mathilda’s eyes hardened.

“What have you ever had to sacrifice for the safety of others? You can just walk in front of an army and tell them to stop fighting.”

My fists clenched. My jaw stiffened. My eyes narrowed.

Breathe, Taylor. Don’t do something you’ll regret.

It was monstrously difficult to retain my cool.

You could stack the corpses of every man, woman, and child from the birth of your nation until the present day into a single pile. That pile would still number less than the number of deaths I’ve personally witnessed over the span of a single day.

“Don’t belittle the suffering of others just because you’re still suffering yourself.”

“Tell that to our people when you’re not the one standing on the wall.”

“I went north. Fought against the Ratlings.”

“And you still think our measures aren’t necessary?”

“I don’t think it's necessary to idolize sacrifice. To indoctrinate children into believing that it’s good. Just because ugly things happen, doesn’t mean you should put them on a pedestal.”

Princess Mathilda shook her head, then walked over to her seat and eased herself into the throne.

I stood up.

What happens next?

I was tired of being told to work with somebody who had every reason to backstab me a second time.

What should I do?

I looked towards Laurence’s corpse beside the door. That… I could do that.

I’ll bury her, then start dealing with the fallout.

Step.

Step.

Step.

A hand fell on my shoulder.

“Would you regret it on the morrow if you cut ties with Cordelia Hasenbach today?” Frederic Goethal said quietly.

Something about the words struck at me.

I came to a halt.

Would I be happy about this? No… It feels like I’m giving up. Like I’m backing down from a fight and letting things burn just because it's fought with weapons that I’m not skilled at using. No, it’s not just that. There’s also the fear. The fear that I’ll snap and resort to force. It’s so hard. I know that I’m emotionally compromised. That even if I could argue well, I wouldn’t be making good arguments.

My hands shook.

“It would be wiser if I backed away,” I told the Prince of Brus.

“Can you afford to leave this wound to fester?”

“I… no. It will only become worse over time.”

“Then you should take this opportunity to finish addressing the First Prince.”

“What am I supposed to say?” tears leaked from my eyes. “My friend is dead, and I’m not thinking straight. I can’t argue my own position. I know that I can’t, but I need to do it regardless.”

“You do not need to argue your own position,” Frederic replied.

“It’s not like anyone else will.”

“I would not be so sure of that.” He almost sounded amused. “Why don’t you try asking the others who sit on the Highest Assembly? Make sure you ask them to amend your initial proposal, even if it is no longer why you are here.”

Prince Frederic returned to his throne.

I doubt the three remaining members are going to argue my case, but… there’s no point in not giving it a try. It isn’t worse than the alternative. In theory, they have the power to pressure the First Prince. Not that I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that that was a lie as well.

The marble floor echoed as I marched back into the middle of the room.

“You forfeited the right to petition the Highest Assembly when you moved to exit the Chamber of Assembly,” the Master of Orders declared.

The only reason you have a job is that Cordelia needed a stooge to rule in her favour.

“I’m tired, drained and don’t care to argue about this.”

“This irregularity will be marked on the record.”

Kiss her ass some more. Maybe it will buy you entry into a nicer hell.

“You are deliberately misrepresenting the regulations that govern the Highest Assembly,” I replied.

I might be politically illiterate, but I read a book on the Chamber of Assembly proceedings just to ensure that I didn’t mess up my courtesies before I presented this motion, and I’m literally incapable of forgetting the words. All proceedings within the Highest Assembly are considered to be emergency sessions when over two thirds of the sitting members of the Highest Assembly have perished. They have different regulations for closing statements. Regulations that were passed after the Seventh Crusade and which do not call for the session to come to an end. Technically, this session does not close until all who remain seated vote on it.

“The closing statements have been given and-”

“Cordelia Hasenbach doesn’t need to resort to this kind of procedural nonsense to beat me in an argument. So. Just. Stop.”

“The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.”

“I recommend that you depart from the Chamber of Assembly. This blatant attempt at arrogation of power by the Chosen will not be tolerated.”

What are you going to do about it then? It’s not like you can kick me out. It wouldn’t even be legal to. I’m at my wits end and I have nothing to lose. You called my bluff, now I’m calling yours.

“I’m not here to talk to you,” I turned away from her, “I’m here to talk to them.”

“There are several matters of import — including the potential collapse of the Principate — which need to be addressed. Your tantrum on the floor of the Highest Assembly is putting them on hold.”

I ignored her. It was best not to engage her in an argument while I was still feeling so raw. Actually, it was best not to talk to her at all.

Princess Clotilde and Princess Mathilda looked at me from their thrones, then at Cordelia, then to the corpses piled at the door, then to me again.

Both of them paled.

Prince Frederic had the hint of a smile on his face and a twinkle in the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t have much to say.” I spoke quietly. “You’ve all read my proposals, and you’ve also heard the reasoning behind them. Prince Frederic suggested that I give this a second try, so…” I ignored Cordelia and addressed the remainder of the room. “You know what I want. I don’t want to be in charge, I just want something that will work. You’ve heard about the trouble that I’m trying to prevent. I’m asking you to help me, because I can’t do this on my own.”

I sighed, shrugged my shoulders, then continued.

“I don’t have anything to bargain with. I can’t promise you a prize for this. You only have my word that it’s the right thing to do. Help me fix this mess of a proposal, and… give me a reason to work with the First Prince instead of doing something that I regret because I do not trust a single word that comes out of her lying mouth.”

The Chamber of Assembly was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“Hey,” Princess Mathilda’s voice called out. “I called you the heart of the nation, remember? See, you’re forgetting something important. Just because the heart doesn’t think, doesn’t make it any less important than the head is.” Her voice hardened, “None of us can afford for the two of you to fight, so I’ll do my best to pull you through this swamp.”

The Princess of Aisne rose next.

“While you have presented no proof to support your allegations… If I am to choose between believing your word or the word of the First Prince, then I know where it is that I stand. You carried me out of the fire that was consuming my city. It is only fitting that I shield you from these flames in turn.”

At last my attention fell on the Prince of Brus.

“I did not work to pull you back into the Chamber of Assembly only to see you fall once more. It will most like to be many years before the two of us can see eye to eye. Your dismissive attitude towards our cultures and traditions rubs me the wrong way, but… I acknowledge that you have done what you could to fit yourself to them in the few months that you have spent within our borders. The principate cannot afford for the two of you to fight, and so you have my support.”

The three of them looked at each other. A silent agreement seemed to be reached between them.

Cordelia Hasenbach looked like she’d swallowed a vat of acid.

I walked back to the empty seat, collapsed into it, and allowed myself to breathe.

It was out of my hands.

Hours passed.

Three princes took it upon themselves to argue in my favour with Cordelia Hasenbach on the assembly floor. They could in theory have overruled her. They didn’t. Instead, it became a long, drawn out debate about how to address my many wants.

The hour waned.

Corpses were moved off of the Chamber of Assembly floor. Paper was brought in. People arrived, people left.

Eventually, I stopped paying attention to it all.

My adrenaline had faded.

What was left was all too much for me.

The sun set.

At long last something resembling a working proposal for mitigating the disaster was drafted, then passed.

Considering it was done with minimal assistance from advisors and with barely any records to reference… I strongly believed that my suspicions had been correct. Cordelia Hasenbach had entered the Chamber of Assembly with a plan on hand for after her betrayal panned out.

Her version of my proposal had needed adjustments. It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t pretty. She had needed to make changes to account for both my own demands, the remaining princes demands and the deaths of the other princes, but… the proposal could serve as a temporary salve over the wound in the Principate nonetheless.

Cordelia looked like someone had poured cod liver oil in her breakfast cereal. I was too tired to consider the potential ramifications of that, but I was certain it would cost me in the future.

Bone crushing fatigue pressed me down.

An accord between the two of us was at last reached.

There was an ache in my chest.

The hole that one friend had occupied.

And the stab wound from another.

But for once, the thundercloud had a silver lining, even if I couldn’t really appreciate it.

I’d obtained what I wanted.

I’d managed to eke out a win.