I Only Love My Greatest Enemy

Eris gazed out the carriage window as it rolled down a country road, fields of wheat surrounding it. Her family was with her, but her eyes were fixed on a massive castle that was being built in the distance.

“I remember going to the banquet Count Staufer held when he finished building it. That was when Rozwiazly made his first appearance. He was smart for a commoner, somehow able to get into the king and queen’s good graces. I’d have assassinated him for not knowing his place, but someone got to him before I could,” she thought.

Eris gazed at her parents for a moment.

“They died twelve years before I did. They died in an accident, but I was able to use it to accuse one of my rivals of assassinating them. Well, I’m happy to see them, so I should keep them alive. I just need to keep that accident from happening.”

Having reassured herself on this point, she was able to refocus her mind toward her main objectives.

“That’ll be easy, so I can focus on my main goals: Marrying Armand, getting more power, and figuring out who killed me. Armand’s father has a lot of leverage now that Armand saved me. He’s going to pressure my parents into arranging a marriage between myself and Armand. I have no brothers, so my parents’ property will go to me and Armand through me. His house has essentially won our feud, but I don't care. My personal power and relationship with Armand is all that matters. It’s amazing how much can change from an action as pointless as saving a life. To get more power, I can just recycle my old plans. I’ll just make sure to fix my mistakes and find some way to get Armand to go along with them. He loves me, so I might be able to use that to manipulate him. Of course, if we’re going to romance each other, I’ll need to help him with some of his schemes. Maybe I’ll support him in ending serfdom? I thought that was a bad joke until he actually did it. Ending serfdom is a terrible idea, but I won’t be harmed too much now that I’ll have access to his lands too. That means I just need to figure out who killed me and kill them first. I’m certain that a man killed me, he looked like a man, but he could have been a hired assassin or a masculine woman. So, I should consider women who wanted me dead too.”

A list of suspects formed in her head. The first was a red-haired duelist woman with a rapier.

“I shot Lady Abene’s boyfriend in the back and later strangled her girlfriend to death. She has every reason to hate me, but she’s the type who’d want to kill me herself. She’d never let an assassin take away the pleasure of killing me.”

Another image formed in her head, this one of a mustached man wearing a black wig and elaborate clothing.

“It could have been Duke Brutus Medici. He was one of my biggest political rivals, second only to Armand. His family’s very old and well-respected. If he hired an assassin to kill me, he’d have access to the best.”

Then, she thought of a thin old man. He was clean-shaven and wore priest’s robes.

“Primate Jean hated me ever since the Capital Massacre. Of course, I can’t be blamed for that incident. Commoners shouldn't have the right to seek sanctuary in churches, so nobles like myself should have every right to ignore their rights. I doubt someone as devoted to the gods as he would assassinate someone, but I can’t rule him out.”

Eris pictured a young woman with blonde hair and courtly robes.

“I always hated that bitch, Countess Theresa Lorraine. She thought she could dominate the royal court with her charm and feminine wiles. I tried spreading rumors to break her down, but the bitch endured them. She might have hired an assassin to kill me. Well, I was about to hire one to kill her, so I guess I should have had her killed earlier than I planned.”

The image of a young, clean-shaven, well-dressed man came into her head.

“Diomedes Robespierre, a disgusting commoner who should have been beheaded. He always went on and on about the rights of the commons and the nobility and having to kill us all and being bad and blah blah blah. If I had the time, I’d have scoured the countryside to find that rat’s hiding hole and had him hung, drawn, and quartered. But I didn’t. Well, I doubt he’d arranged my assassination. The fool had bigger things to worry about. He ruined his reputation among the commons after he called for Armand and the other nobles who ended serfdom to be murdered.”

Then, Eris recalled a well-built man in plate armor.

“Sir Edward Charny, a commoner knighted by Armand and who served Medici. As a subhuman commoner pretending to be one of his betters, he had every reason to hate me. He also owed everything he had to two of my enemies. I also hired bandits to raid his lands to keep him from aiding his lord. And as much as I hate to admit it, he would have had a chance to kill me in an even fight.”

An image formed in her head of a middle-aged bearded man wearing the garments of a judge.

“Justiciar Tiberius, Duke of Basset. He was very dedicated to the law. His sense of duty was incredible. And incredibly foolish. Following the law is for commoners, not nobles. Basset always hated how I kept hiring bandits and using my influence to keep them from getting arrested. At least I can understand that. They were commoners, so they should have been executed for their crimes. But they were also useful to me. As far as I’m concerned, as long as they’re useful, they can rape and murder as many other commoners as they want as long as those commoners aren’t also useful to me.”

Eris continued her contemplation.

“Honestly, almost every commoner has a reason to hate me. The nobles of opposing factions at court probably wanted me dead too. There’s also Count…”

A sudden realization came to her.

“I had a lot of enemies. I probably also had enemies that I didn’t even know about. There’s no way I’d ever be able to figure out who killed me with all those suspects. Maybe Armand can help me with this? He’s probably worrying about it right now, how he can protect his beloved from her future death.”

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Armand sat in his carriage. His family was with him, but he was gazing at his lap. In his hands were a knife and a piece of wood. He scraped the wood with the knife. Bits were cut away.

“Once again, Eris is my biggest threat. She probably plans on marrying me, having a child with me, and then assassinating me. When I’m dead, the line of inheritance will pass to my son. She’ll have control of two noble houses and not one,” he thought. “And worse still, Eris is going to kill a lot of innocent people. No matter what, I have to stop her. I have to save as many of the innocents she killed as I can.”

Armand concocted a plan.

“Marrying Eris is dangerous, and I’m certain my father wants us married now. I wouldn’t be able to talk him out of this. But I could use ours to my advantage. It’d give me access to Eris’ family’s lands. I could use this to get rid of the bandits she used to do her dirty work. That alone would save a lot of lives.”

A look of determination crossed Armand’s face.

“I’ll also need to save the people I care about, and I’ll need to save the kingdom as a whole from the great disasters. They’ll strike one after the other, only separated by a few years. By the time I died, they’d damaged the kingdom so much that it was hanging on by a thread.”

Armand grimaced as painful memories flooded through him.

“The first disaster is the plague that took my parents: the Orlock Plague spread by the Bird of Death and his minions. It will last for a year. The plague will drain and kill adults. Children who get infected don’t show symptoms right away, but the plague will surface in them three years later, causing a second outbreak. That would be known as the second disaster. My parents were some of the first nobles to die. The plague also hit several areas at the same time. For a 9-year-old, stopping the entire plague is impossible. But I can at least stop it in some areas.”

Turning the piece of wood in his hands, Armand felt proud of his handiwork. It was a perfect wooden stake.

“I can find a mallet from anywhere. I’ll just need an axe. Still, there’s another problem. The king’s youngest son will be one of the people infected. The king and queen will bring in Rozwiazly to try to save him. Most people think Rozwiazly was just a con artist, but the truth is that he’s a genius of magic. He can use magic spells that most people wouldn’t even be able to grasp the basics of. He saved a lot of lives from the plague. However, he’d become the king and queen’s favorite after. They’d rely on Rozwiazly for advice, and his inexperience in politics and leadership would lead him to give them horrible advice. That damaged their reputation and the kingdom. Even Rozwiazly’s assassination damaged their reputation. Nobles and commoners alike were disappointed that the king couldn’t protect his closest companion. And that would cause the country to suffer even more in the fourth disaster. I don’t want to have to kill him. But if I do, he must die after the second disaster and before he became the king and queen’s favorite. It took over a dozen nobles to assassinate him, and half of them died. I couldn’t possibly get that many people together to kill him before he starts damaging the king’s reputation. It'd be best if I didn't have to kill him at all. He wasn't evil, just incompetent at politics. And his magic could have saved countless more lives if he was competent.”

“You haven’t said anything since we left,” Countess Concord spoke up. “Is there a problem, Armand?”

“Are you worried about the girl you saved?” his younger brother asked.

“Maybe they could help me come up with a plan,” Armand thought.

“I’m not, Charles. I was just thinking of a story I heard at the party,” he said.

“Is it a scary story?” his brother wondered.

“Yes, a very scary story,” Armand stated. “In a land far away, there was a big, tall man with a fire in his eyes. He had healing powers and used them to get the king to do whatever he wanted.”

“Is it a true story?” his older sister questioned.

“It’s a fairy tale, Lucia,” he assured her. “They’d never believe me if I told them the truth. They’ll probably just forget about this story anyway.”

“This man slept with all the women at the palace…” Armand said.

“Who told a child like you this story?” the Countess Concord interrupted him.

“I don’t remember.”

His mother sighed in exasperation.

“This man began destroying his host kingdom, so a bunch of nobles decided that he had to die,” Armand stated.

“You should stop telling this story,” Countess Concord said. “Children like you should at least have some innocence.”

“Now, now, let him continue. Stories like these will help him prepare for the brutal realities of life,” Count Concord insisted.

“The nobles invited the man to visit them at one of their manor houses,” Armand continued. “They put magic poison in his wine. He drank it all, and he was fine.”

“It’s definitely a fairy tale. No one could be fine after drinking magic poison. Even if they lived, they’d be injured,” Count Concord said.

“Great. I’m not scared anymore,” Charles huffed.

“But it gets scarier. After the poison didn’t work, they shot him in the back of the head. He used a magic spell to create a blast of wind that slammed one of the nobles into the wall. His spine shattered into a hundred pieces!” Armand said.

“Eek!” another of his sisters huddled back.

“Don’t worry, Eleanor,” Countess Concord assured her. “That’s impossible. Even the fastest spells take half a minute to cast. If magic seems instant, it’s only because it was set up ahead of time. This man didn’t have the time to do that, correct?”

“Yes,” Armand nodded. “He didn’t.”

“Then it’s just a story.”

“How did they kill him?” Charles asked.

“The nobles shot him four more times and then pulled out their swords and stabbed the man a dozen times, but that didn’t stop him. The man wasn’t wearing armor either. He used his magic to kill them one by one. Their magic wasn’t fast enough to stop him. But the noble who owned the manor house expected a war to start soon, so he kept a loaded organ gun in his bedroom,” Armand said.

“What kind of paranoia lunatic would go that far?” Count Concord questioned.

“Marquis Felix of Barboa.”

“I dunno. It’s just a fairy tale,” Armand shrugged.

“Did the organ gun work?” Charles wondered.

“No. It put all sorts of holes in him and stopped him from moving, but he was still alive. And that’s just because the nobles already hurt him. The nobles threw him into a river, and he froze to death.”

“He’s a scary man,” Armand’s third and youngest sister said.

“He really is, Cat,” he replied.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about anyone like that,” Countess Concord stated. “If this was real, he wouldn’t have made it to the organ gun. No man can survive getting shot five times, stabbed a dozen times, and hit point-blank with an organ gun. Even if he was a powerful sorcerer, no magic could save you from all that.”

“Yes. Most defensive magic manipulates luck to keep you from getting hit in the first place. Magic that makes a human more durable can’t make you strong enough to take a gunshot to the head. You’d need magic that reinforces armor to do that, and that won’t protect you from the power of an organ gun,” Count Concord added.

“You have no idea how wrong you are. Rozwialzy was the most durable spellcaster, but he’s far from the only one who used magic to survive getting shot in the head,” Armand recalled a searing pain he once felt in his forehead. “I hope Eris doesn’t do that again.”

“Armand, you’re clutching your head. Are you alright?” his mother asked.

He pulled his hand away. Armand hadn’t even noticed that he put down the stake and grasped his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he said. “When I think about that story, I wonder if the scary man could have become a good guy? Is there any way to stop him from making the king his pawn?”

“I know! We could tell him to stop being a bad guy!” Charles smiled.

“Charles, I’m not sure if I would classify what he did as evil. He manipulated the king, yes, but there might not be anything wrong with that. The king might have needed someone like him to make decisions,” Count Concord stated.

“And even if he was bad, louts like him don’t change. Anyone who’d sleep with that many women will never be anything more than a degenerate,” Countess Concord said.

“Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. But I don’t want to kill him or anyone else if I don’t have to,” Armand thought.

He picked up his stake again and looked out the window. An idea formed in his mind.

“I have a plan. It might not work, but I think there’s a good chance that it will,” a slight smile crossed his face.