When Heroes Die

“—Twenty-three princes sit in a room

In walks a saint and it spells their doom

Twenty-two princes cower in fear

The blade came out and their end draws near

Twenty-one princes run for the door—”

— Excerpt from Twenty-Three Princes, a Callowan Folksong.

It was the last day of winter.

The sun had yet to peek through the shutters.

Despite feeling more dead to the world than I had been in the void, I hadn’t slept at all.

Will this work? I know Yvette told me she didn’t need a birthday present — or a celebration — but I still want to do something nice for her. I would have appreciated it when I was her age, but our cultures are so different. This isn’t something I want to mess up.

I… want to get this right.

No.

I need to get this right.

I turned the idea over in my mind once more, then pushed it aside when my focused wavered. My eyes watered. I blinked, reached up and brushed the tears aside.

The presence of my angelic family was comforting as always, but did little to push back the malaise.

Keep it together, Taylor.

The gaping maw of yesterday still threatened to swallow me whole.

I closed my eyes. Started to pray once again. It helped centre me.

The moment I calmed, I turned my attention back to my thoughts.

I was struck by an epiphany.

This is what kills us all. Compassion’s heroes all have the same types of flaws, and I’m not exempt from that. Right now, I’m caring too much about others and forgetting about myself. Helping people feels good, so I do it. Then I find myself doing it more and more, until there’s nothing of me left for me. Only a hero that belongs to everyone else. I’ve been falling into the same trap as the rest of them.

I’m moving too fast because of it. What happened in the Chain of Hunger left me unbalanced. It pressured me, made me feel the need to move faster to justify my own choice to myself. It’s made me become much more reckless, and I’m not giving every decision enough consideration as a result.

I… need to find something for myself. A hobby, or art, or craft that doesn’t involve my mission. Something to anchor me to me. If I don’t, I’m going to burn myself out. I need to take a step back and collect myself. Planning to live forever means nothing if I run myself empty today.

… A part of caring for others is going to be learning to take proper care of myself.

The question was, what could that outlet be?

Running used to be that outlet, but it wouldn’t be able to serve that purpose. I… wouldn’t be able to turn away from helping the people that I ran into while I was running, which would turn that hobby back into my mission once more.

Reading?

No, that wouldn’t work either. I couldn’t read just for the joy of it any more, either. Works of fiction were stories. Stories were relevant to the duties of a hero. I needed to pay attention to themes, patterns that repeated, the details about the characters. Besides, I spent so much time reading official documentation that I didn’t want to see more letters on a page when I relaxed.

What could I do just for the joy of it?

I bit the edge of my lip in consideration.

How about art? Painting, sculpture or even something like poetry… A part of it appealed to me, but… No. I needed something that didn’t involve thinking. A hobby that just involved doing. Most of my time was spent thinking these days and when I wanted to relax, I didn’t want to stop and think.

I required a way to bleed off energy.

One that didn’t consume my finite attention span.

What could that be?

Running would be great. I wanted to run, but I didn’t want to run in an enclosed space just to avoid meeting people. It would leech the joy out of the experience. Flying out into the countryside just so I could run there — or even flying by itself — felt like I’d just be avoiding my own problems.

So no… on third thought, running wasn’t great.

But what could I do instead?

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called out blearily.

I opened my eyes, then glanced up from the cluttered pages strewn haphazardly across the dark mahogany surface of my office table towards the oaken door.

The handle turned.

The door opened

The perpetually cheery, bedraggled redhead let herself in.

“S’pose y’don’t need me to tell you that you look like the wrong end of a Levantine whorehouse,” Songbird greeted me.

“You’re telling me.”

“Chin up. You won.”

“What are you here for, Song?”

“There’s a really handsome fellow outside the front door. Says he’s here to gab with you.”

“If you’re trying to set me up with somebody just to cheer me up…”

“No, m’serious.”

“Who is it then?” I sighed, then started to rise to my feet.

Songbird walked across and pushed me back into my chair.

“Sit. Don’t hassle yourself here. Says his name is Prince Frederic.”

My first instinct was to refuse the alleged prince entry. I clamped down on it. It would set a bad precedent for the future if this truly was him and… I grudgingly admitted that I owed him a lot.

I need to apologize to him. Him, and the other two royals who assisted me near the end. I owe them all for what they did for me when I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.

“That’s exactly the time when I should be hassling myself.”

“Y’don’t actually have anything fancy enough here to properly entertain him.”

“I know. It wasn’t like I was expecting Princes to show up at my door when I settled on this place,” I grumbled. “Why haven’t you sent him up, then?”

“M’not so sure about if he really is Prince Frederic. He looks the spitting image of the kid, but I doubt a prince would darken your doorstep.”

“Is there a retinue with him?”

“There is, but s’not proper for him to be calling on you like this. There are rules, courtesies, and procedures that need to be followed. They’re all being tossed aside. Your two scary guards are keeping the crook waiting outside the door.”

“It probably is him,” I sighed again. “Send him up, I owe him an apology.”

Songbird left, humming as she departed.

I need to try to make myself presentable. There’s no way he won’t see through it, but… at least I won’t look like I’m falling apart.

I looked around my desk.

Noted the clutter.

Grimaced.

The room is not much better either.

I pushed my curls aside, fixed my hair and wiped away the tear stains. Then I started to straighten the documents on the table. I didn’t have enough time to do much more, so I did what I could.

The arrival of footsteps outside the door heralded my illustrious guest.

I rose.

Opened the door.

“Forgive me for disturbing you at this ungodly hour, Chosen. You appear…” he trailed off as if he was searching for the right words.

“I look awful,” I finished for him, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry about the venue. We can move somewhere more appropriate if…”

“You do not need to accommodate my sensibilities when it was me that disturbed you,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I was about to say that you look like a warrior who has raised her blade in the name of duty one too many times.”

He trailed behind me, pulled out the chair for me, then placed a letter on the table and took the seat opposite me after I’d sat down.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “Sorry for how I’ve been treating you. Sorry for the guards that kept you outside the door. I’ve been unfair to you. I know I have, but I’ll do my best not to be unfair to you in future. You helped me in the Highest Assembly when you could have taken advantage of my anger instead.”

Walking out of that room… wouldn’t have ended well.

“It’s no trouble on my part,” he gave me a sad smile. “In truth, I have treated you unjustly in turn. Allowing events to transpire on the floor of the Highest Assembly the way they did… was a travesty that should not be repeated.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He raised a hand and ran it through his hair, then grimaced.

“I come to you with a conundrum of sorts,” he began.

“I’m not in the best shape at the moment,” I admitted.

“It is not that sort of problem that darkens my door,” Prince Frederic gestured towards the letter. “I’d like for you to peruse the contents of this missive.”

I picked it up, opened it, frowned as I started to read it.

It only had three words.

Talk to Taylor.

“Do you know who sent this?”

“The Augur was responsible for delivering this missive to me. I’ve been troubled ever since.”

I stiffened.

“You want my thoughts on this?”

“While my first instinct is to treat the missive with the suspicion one might reserve for a venomous snake in light of your revelations in the Chamber of Assembly… I cannot in good conscience do so.”

What does the Augur want? Presumably whatever it is that Cordelia wants, so it’s best to start by asking what she wants. What does Cordelia Hasenbach get out of this conversation?

Conversation halted for a while as I considered the letter.

Cordelia Hasenbach was clever, she was persuasive, she could be charming when she needed to, but… she was also unyielding, manipulative, and prepared to do anything to safeguard her vision for the future.

I drummed my fingers in thought.

She’s the idealized version of what Procer actually is. Cordelia Hasenbach is the best version of what lies behind the mask. She’ll do her duty and protect the nation, but she’ll scheme and connive like everyone else while doing it. She’ll also sacrifice anything so long as she gets the things she cares about.

I stood up, then started to pace.

Frederic raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything.

Who was Prince Frederic?

He was well-spoken, charming, young, inexperienced, innocent. He was also…

He’s the idealized version of what Procer pretends to be. The good prince. The one who is honourable according to their code. He’s stubborn, and I don’t like a lot of what that code involves, but… there’s also a lot that I do like about it as well.

What was the Augur’s game here?

Begin by assuming that she wants Cordelia alive and in charge. She might not, but if that was the case, then I might as well throw everything that I know about both of them out of the window. She can’t afford for me to oppose Cordelia in the long term if that’s the case. Even if Cordelia did find a way to either kill me or wrest power away from me, it’s likely that she’d kill the nation in the process.

Prince Frederic started to hum a lilting tune while I walked. It was sad, mournful.

The only question is why did she allow the disaster in the Chamber of Assembly to unfold. She either foresaw a way for Cordelia to take advantage of all of this, or she was tricked by someone else. The Augur isn’t the only seer I've run into, the Tumult sort of counts as one as well, so… perhaps the latter is possible.

I stopped in my pacing.

Who benefits the most from the fallout? No, let’s take a step even further back. At what point did everything go wrong for Cordelia? I’ll assume that me failing to pass the motion was the plan. I’d have been unhappy, but I’d have lived with it. So, what next? I’m not sure how that would have ended in the long term, but I’d probably have allowed myself to be argued down much sooner if Laurence wasn’t in the room. Taking that into account… when she entered is the point of divergence from whatever the Augur’s vision for the future was, assuming somebody else interfered.

“Who benefits the most from Cordelia and I being at each other’s throats?” I asked the Prince of Brus. “Praes, the Kingdom of the Dead, the Free Cities?”

“I do not follow the lay of your thoughts,” Prince Frederic admitted.

“Humour me.”

“While there are many external actors who stand to gain from the Principate’s loss… It’s the Proceran House of Light that has come out of this conflict with the most to show from it.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” I stated.

“What is your vision for the Proceran House of Light?”

“It’s a religious institution. I want it to help people. Throwing the country into a state of chaos achieves the opposite. I’m aware that the church has political clout, but…”

“You do not seek to rule over the Principate,” Prince Frederic finished.

“Yeah.”

“Consider what transpired in a different light then. How might one view what occurred had seizing the reins of the nation been your intended purpose?”

“Fifteen princes died, along with four representatives. Many of the princes have heirs, but there are still probably going to be many succession wars. That means chaos, the nation is weaker over all and turns its attention inwards,” I bit my lip. “The House of Light is stronger than it’s ever been before. We’re organizing, have a formal leadership and have purged our ranks of corruption.”

I paused.

“That’s all I’ve got,” I admitted.

“Do you have the minutes of the assembly meeting on hand?”

“I don’t. Esme is going to get a copy of them to go over with me later, but I can recall everything. What do you need to know?”

“Turn your thoughts towards the speech you gave in the moments after my own.”

“The one where I talked about what a villain would do?”

That was really a low point for me. The whole chamber meeting was.

“Indeed. Consider that you threatened to stand down our armies.”

I’ve actually stopped an army before, so telling them I’d do that holds weight. They need to consider it a real threat, rather than just a hypothetical one. Armies are expensive. I know that much, considering all the work I’ve put into attempting to build up my own. Nobody sends one out on a whim, either. They do it because it’s cheaper to take what they want and then have the seized territory pay back the cost over decades, then pay the other party for what they want for decades or even centuries. Alternatively, they do it because they hate the other side’s guts, but that is neither here nor there. They’re worried about their borders becoming permanently locked if I choose to follow through with my threat.

“I see.”

“Procer has feasted upon its own tail for the past twenty years. It was not long before the House of Light began to consolidate its power once you arrived. You brought a proposal before the Highest Assembly with the stated intention of holding heroes responsible for their actions, then followed through on doing so even when your proposal failed. All of this is contained within the formal record, available to peruse for any who are possessed by the desire to do so.”

I stiffened. When explained that way…

If I tried to push to have the House of Light’s seat on the Highest Assembly reinstated, they might have to capitulate. Not because they want to, but because of how much chaos refusing would cause. I… don’t want that. It would be escalating a situation that’s already far too delicate. What is the goal of this hypothetical prophet? That is the question. Is this somebody trying to further the goals of the House of Light, or somebody trying to bring chaos to the Principate? Both are possible. Both could be true at the same time as well. Either way, if they exist, then their vision of the Principate and mine aren’t the same.

The Bard could probably do something like this, although it might be too fast to jump to conclusions. I need to talk to more people about her first. I’ve also just been burned for acting too fast, so… Better to approach that nest of hornets with extreme caution. One look at her dreams was enough to convince me that I don’t want to make an enemy of her unnecessarily.

Besides, I’m making many assumptions here. I’m not sure how the Bard would benefit from alienating one of the few other immortals on the continent. She might be acting out of spite for me breaking her dream, but she's thousands of years old. I think she's far more calculating than that. It’s more likely that the Augur is at fault.

“I probably won’t be able to trust the First Prince any time soon.”

If I assume that Cordelia doesn’t want the Principate to fall into chaos, then… She needs me to work with the system. I don’t like it, but I’ve worked with people I detested before if it was necessary to help save others. Upsetting the balance of power further at the moment would likely kill thousands more.

“Trust is not necessary for an accord to be reached.”

“But it’s the foundation for all good relationships,” I paused, “why do you think the Augur wants us to talk?”

“I cannot claim to know the lay of her thoughts.”

She didn’t tell him what to talk to me about, but I’m sure that she could have. That means that I’m likely to stumble over it by asking almost anything, or have stumbled over it already. Prophets really are the worst. Best to ask some other questions just in case.

“What do you consider my biggest failing?”

“You have learned about Procer in an academic sense, but do not understand who we are as a people.”

“It’s not something I can fix quickly.”

“You could perform diplomatic visits to each Principality and visit the Princes there.”

“I have duties.”

“Consider visiting Aisne and Neustria as part of an effort to thank them for their support on the floor of the Highest Assembly.”

Can I do this? Do I have time for this? Possibly. It’ll take some time to set things up so I can afford to travel, but… the advice bears consideration.

“I’ll think about it. For now, I’ve got other problems.”

“Then consider this a formal invitation to visit the Palace at Brus.”

“Thanks,” I hesitated.

You’re looking for a hobby anyhow, there’s no harm in asking.

“Do you have any suggestions for a starting point? Something important to your culture that I could learn more about. Preferably something physical.”

“I understand that you considered the Saint of Swords to be a friend. Perhaps you could begin by learning more about duelling in her memory,” his lips twitched, “I’m told that it was a sport she was most skilled at.”

That was… actually a good suggestion. Blaise and Michel were both talented duellists and would be able to teach me. I was not likely to ever use the skill in combat, which meant… if I enjoyed duelling, then I could develop the skill purely for myself.

“I will.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before Frederic Goethal departed.

I left my office, made myself presentable, then started my duties for the day.

Lunch arrived, and with it came Esme. She had acquired a copy of the minutes of the meeting as well as the final proposal that was passed and taken the time to go over both.

She reinforced some points made by Prince Frederic, then brought up some of her own. Some were obvious in retrospect. The Princes only offered to help me after I’d gone and asked them. All of them had been able to hear me, they could have offered at any time. They hadn’t, because they needed me to petition them in order to uphold the illusion that the Highest Assembly sat above everyone else.

Some things I had been able to note myself in retrospect, like the fact that they had been prepared to negotiate with me, but Cordelia had not. It was unlikely that they were any more excited to do so, which meant it was more a matter of her being First Prince that complicated proceedings.

Esme also talked about the changes she predicted in the political landscape at large. She claimed that while none of the nobles would care that Cordelia had backstabbed me, they would care that she was caught out for it. She suspected that they would have approved of Cordelia’s plan, had she been able to follow through with it.

Esme also suspected that they approved of the stance Cordelia took against my proposal. That while some of them might care that their leaders had died… many would see it as a promotion. She believed that Cordelia’s position was both weaker and stronger. It had strengthened because the nobles who replaced the now dead princes would have much less experience. It had weakened, because she had managed to position herself against me.

Cordelia's plan — according to Esme's speculation — was likely for my proposal to fail and be seen as a House of Light grab at power, then for her to bring out her own proposal on the back of mine. Had events proceeded without Laurence stepping into the room, that plan might have worked. The play was to reduce both the House of Light's reputation and influence through her original unamended proposal, then strengthen her own by being seen as going the extra mile in the wake of our own failure. A reasonable “proposal” that both satisfies my demands but also weakens the House of Light would have been seen as a fitting political response.

I didn’t like what that said about Cordelia.

The biggest sticking point was her almost becoming a villain. Heroes in Procer had a reputation for accusing people of villainy only as an excuse to kill them. It made my accusation hold much less weight than it would otherwise carry. How much weight that historical reputation held in comparison to my own personal reputation remained to be seen, but… it could become ugly. It was not likely the nobles would care either way, but it could cause an uproar among the peasantry.

Time would only tell how it all played out.

Her thoughts on the motion itself were more interesting.

The proposal was long and featured plenty of minutiae, but the important parts could be summarized as follows:

Benevolent Heroes fell under the authority of the House of Light. They had to register to be counted, but it gave them legal protections that they otherwise would not have. There would be specific badges unique to each registered hero to identify them.

The House of Light was legally allowed to assist Heroes with their quests.

Heroes were allowed to render judgement on peasants.

Heroes otherwise had to follow the rule of law, but could only be judged by Princes, Royal Magistrates or me.

Peasants were allowed to petition the House of Light to have a hero investigate the nobility. A petition requires the support of between two hundred and five thousand peasants — depending on both the importance of the noble and the population of their holdings — for the noble to be investigated. It also had to be filed at the capital city of each Principality and witnessed by a Royal Magistrate.

If the hero found a prince guilty, they could bring the prince before the Highest Assembly to be tried.

Princes may only be tried once a year, and never for the same accusation twice.

The First Prince may not be tried or investigated by a hero.

Regular nobility may be taken to be tried before a Royal Magistrate.

Priests may produce arms and armour blessed by the Light, provided they do so on lands that are not owned by the House of Light and while under supervision from someone among the nobility.

A large armed force would be recruited from among the unemployed fantassassins, then trained to serve as executioners for the less dangerous hostile Named. The exact details on unit composition had been left up to me and Klaus Papenheim to hammer down later, but it was likely it would primarily be composed of crossbowmen.

That armed force fell under the authority of each Prince within their principality.

The proposal preserved the illusion that the First Prince was above heroes, but it was very much an illusion. If heroes were unhappy with the First Prince, the chances were high that the Highest Assembly would see the First Prince deposed.

I wasn’t certain how the rest of the proposal would hold up in practice, but my biggest concern was what happened when a noble resisted arrest. It hadn’t been well-defined in the proposal, and I could already see that there would come a time it became a point of contention.

Esme had been more concerned that poison would remain the preferred solution for princes. I was worried about it as well. Achieving justice this way was slow, and if the nobility would rather kill their own than face justice, they had plenty of time to choose to do so. What it did do is potentially curb something like another Proceran civil war. Peasants that were tired of having their lands pillaged could petition to investigate a Prince, and the chances were high that the hero would find something to hang them for.

While it was possible that the princes might all vote against meting out justice, they all knew in practice now that if a hero wasn’t happy with the result, all of them might die anyway.

What surprised me the most is that the proposal had set hard numbers for the petitions, rather than percentages. Esme had told me that they were trying to skew it so that it was hard to try certain nobles based on the numbers they had set, but… percentages would hold up better with time than hard numbers would.

There were more considerations that were brought up. The proposal was long and there was too much to notice all the finer details with only a single glance but…

It was an in. Five thousand people banding together for a petition against the most egregious outlier was a lot, but it was much less than how many were needed to stage a proper revolt.

Our meeting came to a close. The day marched towards its end.

All five of us gathered beneath an aged oak behind my residence, clustered around a stone.

Two had nothing to say. They were simply there to offer support.

Laurence de Montfort.

Made no compromises with Evil.

There was little noise, despite being near the heart of the city. Just the understated tweeting of birds from the bare branches above.

“She spent her life the way she would have wanted to, and made Procer a better land with her passing,” Esme smiled, then tossed back a drink.

“I thought that I didn’t like her, but miss her now that she’s gone,” Yvette added.

“She was single-minded, uncompromising, stubborn to a fault and… committed to doing good no matter what it cost her. She often frustrated me, but I cared about her regardless.”

I gave the grave a melancholic smile, and finished my own drink.

Songbird — the perpetual pain in my boot — had suggested I invite all surviving princes to our little gathering. That idea had been promptly dismissed.

I hadn’t spent long thinking about what to do to celebrate her life. Not because it wasn’t important to me, but… because it was easy to work out. Laurence lived an ascetic life on the road. She would have rolled over in her grave if I’d made an event out of her funeral.

So I kept it small, quiet.

I would have invited other people that she cared about if I’d known who they were, but…

I didn’t know who they were, or where they lived.

The sun set, night arrived.

We all parted once more after dinner.

I sat down in my office on the ground floor, considering my idea for a gift.

My resolve firmed.

I’d decided on the final shape.

A ghost vanished, and three books appeared on my desk. One was empty.

I picked up a quill and started to sketch on the first page.

Is this good enough? It has to be.

My sweaty palms and erratic heartbeat made the result far more messy than I would have liked.

The night passed.

Dawn rose.

I ascended the stairs and made my way down the narrow corridor.

Every step felt like a full journey.

I stopped at the second room and the right. I knocked on Yvette’s door.

A bleary-eyed kid opened it and looked up at me from below.

“Morning ma. Is something the matter?”

“Nothing.” I gave her a heavy grin. “Come on, I wanted to show you something.”

“Did you have to wake me up for this? I was working on refining my idea for spacial manipulation last night and didn’t get much sleep.”

“I think you’ll like it. I promise.”

She stared at me dubiously, but still followed behind me.

Both of us entered my office.

“What are you wanting to show me? It better be important, because otherwise I want to go back to sleep. Some of us are still mortal, you know.”

“So I know you said you didn’t care about receiving a birthday gift but… It was a big part of my culture, and I wanted to do it for you anyway.” I pointed towards the books on the desk. “Go on, take a look.”

She opened the first book. Squinted at the page, puzzled.

“So, I spent a lot of time thinking about what would be meaningful to you. Finding new tomes about magic would be hard, and they lose their value with time, so I had to decide on something else. I considered exotic items of clothing and a few other things as well but…” I realized I was rambling, “The first is a photo album of some of my memories from before I arrived here. People I cared about. Moments that meant things to me. The second is-”

A wet eyed Yvette barrelled into me and squeezed me in the tightest of hugs.

“Thank you thank you thank you how did you get this it's amazing it’s-”

“I experimented a lot with the guidance of angels,” I patted her back awkwardly. “It's a photo album taken from your memories of the people that you care about. I didn’t actually look at any of them, since I didn’t know if you’d want me to, but I assumed you would like it.”

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, squeezing me tighter.

“The third is mostly empty. I drew a picture of my memory of when we met. I thought that the two of us could alternate. We could take turns putting one image at a time of moments we care about onto the page.”

Yvette said nothing, just sniffed and hugged me for a while.

My cheeks were wet, but my heart was warm.

It was the first day of spring.