Conquest of Avalon

They were keeping him in his own chambers, worse than any cell. Cassia’s blood still stained the floor, hardened to streaks of red and brown.

I asked her to come.

Julius had needed to stay, to keep the Tower under control. Luce had required someone trustworthy to help with Malin. Required a friend, when Perimont and the Territorial Governors were the worst that Avalon’s self-destructive streak of barbarism had to offer.

She’d been so excited to help him put them in their place. So eager to be a hero…

He could still see her lying there, eyes glazed with surprise and determination. Perhaps with feelings of betrayal too.

Cassia wouldn’t blame him for this; Luce knew that. But that changed nothing. He was the Prince, she his subject. It was his responsibility. That was how this worked. Who else was to blame, save the hardened killer who had plunged the blade through her innocent heart?

She stood there even now, watching him for hours each morning as the ship sailed to whatever forsaken place they were taking him. Likely Guerron, or perhaps the Arboreum, since they would need a place sympathetic to their treasons to shelter him until an agreement was worked out to exchange him for ransom money. Perhaps the Village of the Exiles, if they could sneak their way into Paix Lake, although that might be prohibitively far.

It might even be Cambria. He had asked the pirates to have his brother ransom him instead of Perimont, for all he knew that they would balk at the prospect of confronting Avalon’s navy in its home waters.

But such speculation was useless. They could be dragging him down into Khali’s world for all he knew, and it would make little difference.

Governor Perimont would pay his ransom, and Luce would enter Malin a failure, unable to reform anything either there or back in Cambria. Perimont had already brought the city to its breaking point, or Father wouldn’t have required such speed above all else.

For all the good that did. The fastest ship in Cambria, and it hadn’t managed to evade the Seaward Folly for even an hour. Robin Verrou was probably laughing himself silly right now, surrounded by the corpses of those he’d slain.

Luce had pictured a cold man, from all the stories of Verrou’s betrayal. The sort of self-centered snake that could turn on his comrades in wartime without a shred of remorse. What little he’d seen of the pirate captain had been even more unnerving: a warmth that completely belied the trail of murderous destruction he left in his wake.

He hadn’t even seemed to notice the people he’d so effortlessly cleaved through, even as they lay dead at his feet.

I hope it was worth it, Father. I came as fast as I could. If he’d simply taken a mail convoy as he’d wanted to, he would have been in Malin by now, instead of confined to this tomb, this monument to failure.

The murderous pirate woman with the long dark hair seemed to notice him staring at the floor, tracking his eyes to the bloodstain with her own. “I still see her too.”

Luce blinked, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. “Good. It’s the least a killer like you deserves.”

“She was attacking me!” The pirate stomped her foot. “I had no… I couldn’t…”

“She was protecting me,” Luce mumbled. “Hold on to that guilt,” he spat, louder. “Let it consume you, drag you into perdition, and you may earn a fraction of what you deserve for murdering her.”

“Is that what you plan to do?” She bumped her head back against the door in clear frustration. “Elllll…even people have said that this is just how things work. It’s all part of the game. She should have surrendered. You should have surrendered, and none of this would have ever happened.”

Luce clenched his fists. We should have. Captain Wetherby had insisted on protecting him, insisted that they could never yield a prince to mere brigands. But would he have forced the matter, if Luce had told him otherwise? It was doubtful. He might have lived too, then. “So this is a game to you? Just the way things are?”

“I don’t know!” She pounded her fist against the wall, sending a booming vibration through the room. “I don’t know…” she said again, more softly.

“People always say things like that, and they’re always wrong. Nothing has to be the way that it is. There’s always room for change.”

“Tradition is naught but a set of manacles to the progression of society,” she quoted. “What value it might provide must always be questioned; never must we follow it for its own sake.”

“That’s from Unity.” Luce raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t much like a brigand to read, let alone memorize passages. “You’ve read the first Fox-Queen’s memoirs?”

“You’ve read the Fox-Queen’s memoirs?”

“Of course!” Luce waved his hands. “I was tutored by the best the world had to offer in science and history alike. And it was the most interesting way to practice my command of this language, once I learned enough to read the histories in their original tongue. I owe Avalon nothing less than total understanding, that I may serve it best..” The arts, admittedly, he had neglected. Father had always insisted on the value of writing, of music, and even painting. But it had always seemed so irrelevant to anything important.

What difference would a story make to the fate of the world, or a new tune composed for the organ? At least the pulsebox was advancing science in a direction totally divorced from Avalon’s darker side, but even then, it was the technology that mattered, not the compositions.

The pirate exhaled sharply. “Learning from your enemy, I suppose.”

Clasping his hands together, Luce recalled another passage. “It is from my foes that I learned the harshest lessons, but also the most important ones.”

“Yeah, well, look where that got her. The entire empire splintered into pieces before her body was even cold.”

Luce shrugged, conceding the point. “Personal strength can only take you so far. To make things last, you have to embed change deep into society’s systems. Reform them bit by bit until their weaknesses become strengths, their shortsightedness withered away in the face of forward-thinking pragmatism.”

She looked up at the ceiling, eyes squinting. “Harold I?”

“Me, actually. That’s what I keep trying to tell you. It’s the same thing Gordon Perimont doesn’t understand: Avalon’s current course is ruining us.” It was strangely refreshing, to speak of this so openly. In Cambria every word had to be so carefully couched in praise of Avalon’s greatness that Luce generally just left it all to his brother while focusing on the science.

“Of course.” The pirate rolled her eyes. “You’re just that good a person.”

“It’s not about being good. It’s about being smart.” He looked her straight in her puffy red eyes. “Infinite growth requires infinite consumption, and there’s only so much world to conquer. We’re looking outward when we should be looking upward, trying to do better with what we have.” He sighed. “That’s why I was going to Malin at all. Things will only escalate further without me.”

“Maybe they should,” she responded. “Push people to the breaking point and they might actually start tearing this shit down. Something needs to shake them out of their complacency.”

“Complacency?” Luce raised an eyebrow.

“Seems to me like most people will take any excuse they can to keep doing what they’re already doing. Even the people back in Guerron were happy to fawn over an Avalonian music box, despite the bard playing it working for the nation that killed so many of their friends and family not even twenty years ago. It’s disgusting.”

A bard with a music box… “You aren’t talking about Magnifico, are you? You met him?”

She smiled. “Did a lot more than that. We pried that fancy box from his dainty hands and gave it to the people.”

“That technology belongs to Avalon.”

The pirate shook her head. “It belongs to everyone. And now everyone can enjoy it.”

Wait. “You didn’t hurt him though, right? He’s ok?”

Narrowed eyes stared back at him. “He’s fine, as far as I know. Although I guess that depends on what you and your family do to him after hearing that he lost the pulsebox.”

Luce bit his tongue, holding himself back from breathing an audible sigh of relief. The last thing he needed to do was blow Father’s ruse in the middle of precarious negotiations.

“Honestly I’m surprised you care that much.”

“Magnifico’s… been with my family for a long time.” Not even technically a lie, that. Father had first created the disguise around the era of the Foxtrap, in order to turn the people of Ombresse against their Duke and get the city to yield even when its leader refused. “He’s a bit reckless, but we trust him to make it home safely.” Even if not by choice.

“Well, that’s your business, I suppose.” The pirate shrugged, tilting her head down at the floor and swearing softly as her eyes passed over the bloodstain again. She slumped back against the wall, visibly deflated.

Luce felt the guilt and grief come rushing back in the same instant, collapsing back down onto his bed.

“I’ll try to get you a book next time,” she whispered after a few minutes of silence. “My time guarding you is up right now, but I think I have something about the Winter War in the cargo hold.”

“Thank you,” he said, for what else could he say? What good would antagonizing her further do for him, no matter how satisfying it might feel in the moment?

His next guard didn’t say a word, no matter how many times Luce tried to engage her. She looked Cambrian, which made it all the stranger, but there was little point in speculating. Nothing to be gained from doing anything but waiting, really.

Even if he managed to escape his room, there was nowhere to go but miles of open water. That was already more worrying than any pirate standing guard, no matter how vicious.

His next guard after that was a new one, the short haired pirate who seemed to be the one in charge. He hadn’t seen her once in the time since the ship had been captured.

“So, Prince Lump, which finger do you like least?” She gave him a thin-lipped smile, gesturing to the pool of blood on the floor. “Asking for a friend.”

“You’ll reduce the ransom you get if I’m not returned unharmed.” His words were rote, automatic. Playing his part was all he could manage.

“You’re royalty; we could quarter you and as long as you still drew breath, we’d make out like bandits.”

“You’re quartering me now. In my own quarters, no less.”

She blinked. “I don’t see four horses and coarse rope, do you?” With a roll of her eyes, she stepped closer. “Perhaps the battle addled your mind.”

Luce squinted, trying to determine her meaning.

The apparent captain sighed. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. They tie each of your limbs to one horse and let them pull you apart. No opium wine to make it go down easier, either. Perimont did it to a few of the most zealous holdouts right after the Foxtrap.”

“Oh.” That was truly horrifying to contemplate.

She shrugged. “It’s only been the noose since then. A bit better, unless you want your death to mean something.”

“Everyone’s death means something.”

The captain tilted her head back in a chuckle. “You’re joking, right?”

Luce shook his head, which only made her laugh harder. “Are you going to cut off my finger?” he asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

“Maybe. If you aren’t cooperative. But there’s no need for that yet.”

“Then is there a purpose to your visit here? Perhaps you wanted the value of my company?”

“You’ve got it exactly right. They did say you were smart.” She exhaled, folding her arms.

“Have you reached an agreement for payment, or am I to be taken elsewhere while you negotiate?”

“Yes.”

Fuck you. “Which one?”

The pirate only smiled, letting silence hang in the air while her aura of smugness permeated the room.

“Is this about the girl that killed Cassia? She’s not taking it well.”

The captain’s eyes widened, mouth opening slightly, but she didn’t respond to the question. After a moment, her bewildered expression was replaced with a stern frown. “That’s for me to deal with. It’s none of your concern.”

Luce felt a pang of remorse at possibly getting her in trouble with a superior, irrational as it was. She deserved far worse, if anything, but he hadn’t done it on purpose; the isolation had loosened his tongue.

“What’s that in your ear?” the captain asked instead of continuing the conversation naturally. “Looks valuable.”

“It was a gift from my brother,” Luce sighed, reaching up to remove the blue earring that Harold had given him before he set out. It wasn’t hard to tell why she had asked.

“Looks like I don’t need to tell you it’s mine now, then.”

He handed it to her with a frown. “Is that all?”

“Obviously. I’m just that enamored of wasting my own time.” She drummed her fingers against the side of the wall. “Perimont gave up a clean million for you. Must really want to get in good with your Father.”

“I suppose so.” Luce covered his face with his hand to hide his smile. “You’re taking me to Malin, then.”

The pirate tilted her head back and forth. “You, and a bit of cargo from Guerron. You’re going to help us get it into the city before we turn you over to Perimont.”

“Cargo? You mean contraband.”

The pirate nodded. “Probably better if you don’t know what.”

Luce shook his head. “If it’s another bomb, I’d rather you kill me.”

“What? Another?” Her eyes widened for an instant before she regained her composure. “It’s just forbidden substances. Marigold wine and the like. You won’t be getting anyone hurt. No need to worry your sensitive little head about it.”

“Brilliant,” Luce sputtered. “The million wasn’t enough? You have to smuggle drugs into Malin on my ship too?”

“It’s my ship, and you’ll be the one doing the smuggling. I’m given to understand that nothing is illegal if it’s a prince doing it.”

You must think I’m an idiot, he almost said. If they’d really reached an agreement with Perimont, then the Territorial Guardians would know he’d been kidnapped, and they’d never let the ship leave Malin unmolested. Trying to smuggle goods into port in a recognizable ship known to hold a kidnapped prince would be beyond hubris; it would be completely moronic.

Which meant that she was lying, either about the ransom agreement or the smuggling. He could call her out, but that might be tipping his hand. Something strange was afoot here, but the less he appeared to know, the better his chances of getting out of this safely.

“Lost in thought, there? Don’t worry. It won’t be long before you’re back in your gilded palace sipping brandy and lamenting how much poorer you are.”

“How long?” he asked, not daring to hope.

The pirate kicked the door back open, gesturing through. “Come see for yourself.”

The fresh sea air filled his lungs as he stepped out, shielding his eyes to give them time to adjust to the light. By the time he reached the deck, the intoxicating breeze had invigorated him.

Out in front of the ship was a sandy coastline, great blue step pyramids rising out of the water. It looked like children were climbing it, or perhaps monkeys, but either way the walls seemed almost alive at this distance.

This would be the Great Temple of Levian, the seat of power for the Leclaires in Malin. From what Luce had read, they must have sacrificed countless thousands of people there over hundreds of years. Drowning them in the water to fuel their own magic in one of the closest acts to pure evil that he could conceive of.

Spirits were vile creatures, monsters bent on destroying humanity to enrich themselves. Pantera the Undying, from whom the military isle off the coast of Cambria drew its name, had ventured from its lair every decade to feast on Cambrians, not stopping until its brutal hunger was sated. Binders did what they could to protect people, but the attacks had not stopped until Harold I had finally killed it, venturing onto Pantera Isle alone and returning with a bloody sword and shimmering pelt.

The sort of people who could ally themselves with creatures like that were nothing less than traitors to humanity. Especially when it required turning on their fellow humans, sacrificing them to the spirits for personal gain. Whatever overzealousness Gordon Perimont brought to his rule of the territory, he was right about that much.

Seeing the temple vacant was strangely comforting, in a way. As overly emotional and stupidly managed as Avalon’s occupation of Malin might have been, at least there were real accomplishments to point to, none more significant than the outlawing of human sacrifice. No matter the cost, that savage practice had to end.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Luce slid his gaze away from the temple. Closer along the shore, a series of sturdy wooden platforms were built into the sand, with thick beams raised above them. Could they be replacement docks? Apparently, after the explosion in the harbor, there had been nearly nothing left to salvage, but the traders had to have worked out something by now.

“Oh…” His gaze reached the last platform in the line.

“I wonder if there’s anyone I know there,” the captain pondered aloud with inhuman calm. “Suppose I’ll see when we get closer.”

Luce simply kept staring, transfixed by the limp bodies swinging from the gallows, the blue tint to their faces visible even from the deck of the ship.

“Welcome to Malin.”