The Burning Flowers

Chapter VIII

Ilirianna Iiji rode the silver disk that was the Citadel’s main lift all the way up to the second floor from the top, only canceling the wind magic surging through her hands when she had arrived. The crown princess then stepped off the disk and into the corridors, which were a stark contrast to the many levels beneath it. The majority of the Citadel’s hallways were silver, with large windows letting plenty of sunlight into the tower to brighten everything up. This level, however, was mostly colored gold, with the exception of the emerald green carpet. There wasn’t a single window anywhere to be found, and so the halls were given light by the numerous torches lining the walls, their magical flames flickering and their orange and red light reflecting off gold. In addition, as she walked, she passed by emerald sets of armor that had once been used by the royal guard centuries in the past but were now simply decorations for the royal levels. Between these suits were old paintings of past Iiji rulers, and Ilirianna could immediately identify each one, as well as what it was they were famous for.

And someday, I’m going to be one of them, she internally mused. This country will be mine to govern and my name will be added to the history books.

From the moment she was old enough to understand the meaning of being born the eldest princess of Ijiria, Ilirianna felt that burden hanging over her. Of course, she was prepared and ready to take up the responsibility fate bestowed upon her, but the more she learned about the Iijis of the past, the more she feared that she couldn’t live up to them. There were legends like Oralia Iiji and Jeffron Iiji, whose actions and decisions changed the course of history and the empire forever, setting them on the path to the world they found themselves in the present. On the other hand, there were those who failed to rule, like Ural Iiji, whose names were now cursed, their legacies nothing more than a country who despised them.

So what am I going to be? That’s what scares me the most, I think. Will I be a legend or a failure…or perhaps even just another ruler in a line that goes back hundreds of years, my name forgotten before the century reaches its end?

She wasn’t certain of anything, and all she could do was have confidence in her abilities. She didn’t necessarily want to be remembered for all of time, but she at least wanted to make her mark on the country—to be remembered in a positive light and to have a legacy that she could be proud of when her life came to a close.

And already, I need to start planning for my future and my eventual rule. That’s why choosing the royal team from the Academy is such an important decision to make, yet here I am on the eve of their orientation and I still don’t have even the first clue of what I’m going to do.

Ilirianna sighed, rounding a corner and continuing on her way as she pondered her predicament. The Academy always has talent, but talent isn’t what they want me to base my choice on. It’s all about politics and thus, I’m not expected to pick a team based on their attributes, rather they want me to pick who could benefit me politically in the future.

In many ways, she understood her parents’ point of view. It was crucial for the future ruler to gain the trust and respect not only of the citizens she ruled over, but of those who would work beside her and be at her command. One day, she would sit as the leader of the Masters and have command over them, so if the Masters didn’t respect her, then leading them would be challenging.

And I’m being given a chance to start gaining some of that respect. If I just choose Nigreos Noctis and Album Luz, as well as whoever winds up beside them, I can not only appease Viiro and Acostav, but I can build relationships with the future Master of Darkness and Noctalus Eraser. Mother and Father, and Uncle Nakoma for that matter, are all right, and yet…

Something about it all just felt dirty. What if there was another team in the matches that were superior to Nigreos and Album? What if their partners were weak and not well-fit to serve at her side? What if the rumors were true and Album Luz was unable to properly use light magic the way her ancestors did? Should she then still choose them even just to please the Masters?

I don’t know. I honestly don't. I suppose I should just hope that Nigreos and Album are the best of this new class of students, but if they’re not…would it be right to overlook somebody better?

Still no closer to an answer, Ilirianna decided once again that she was left with no option but to wait until the following morning’s fights and see what she was presented with. After all, she wouldn’t be picking her team right away. She would still have some time to consider what she saw, so she realized there wasn’t a point in dwelling on it any longer, and finally, the eldest princess came to a stop just outside the double gold doors of the throne room. Taking a few seconds to prepare herself, Ilirianna then pushed them open and stepped inside.

The Ijirian throne room was a beautiful display of golds and greens that put even the outer halls to shame. Golden pillars lined the left and right walls, and velvet green banners displaying the Iiji crest hung from the twenty-foot tall ceilings and came all the way to the glittering gold floor. Torches were hung on the walls here as well, and with more gold in the throne room, their light seemed to reflect off of everything around her. Just ahead from where she stood in the doorway were the thrones themselves, placed on a platform a few steps up from the rest of the room. They were large gold and green chairs that sat side-by side, one for the king and one for the queen, and while Queen Toranei’s seat was currently empty, King Markreas Iiji was sitting tall in his throne, looking like the ideal image of a king.

His features were stern and serious and his emerald hair was shoulder length, though on that particular day, it was tied back behind his head, with only a few stray strands hanging in front of his ears. The man was dressed in high quality silk robes, as well as a cape that framed his large form and was draped over the seat, its tails reaching the ground in front of him. Each of his fingers had at least one ring on them, with some having even two or three, all silvers and golds. He didn’t react to her entrance and she realized it was because he was too focused on interacting with the two men standing just at the bottom of the steps.

“I assure you, My King, we are not attempting to overstep our bounds,” said the man on the left, his voice deep and almost threatening, though Ilirianna knew that for all of his confident and pretty words, he was powerless in the face of most mages. “But as it stands, I simply can’t concede to the queen. Sending a Master to Norania would only increase the already far too taut tension between us!”

“Yes, you’ve already said as much, Kloras,” Markreas said sharply. “But you need to understand that by doing nothing, we are setting a precedent for the rest of the independent countries that if they attack our borders, we will do nothing but sit by and allow it. If this is permitted to continue, what do you think will happen in Harunhein?”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I think you are exaggerating the situation,” Kloras retorted. “A few minor skirmishes are barely of any note. But sending a Master would almost certainly escalate the conflict.”

“Not if we’re thorough,” the king growled, his blue eyes momentarily flickering toward where Ilirianna was still silently stranding. He then smiled wryly and clapped his hands together. “Well, unfortunately, gentlemen, my daughter has arrived and thus, we’ll have to pick this up another time.”

At the king's words, both of the council members turned back to regard Ilirianna, and she could immediately see the irritation in Kloras Glaus’s beady little golden eyes. The man was short and skinny, hardly an imposing presence. His long, silver hair was pulled back in a tight braid that fell down to his hips and there was the ghost of a mustache on his upper lip. He was wearing the customary long green robes of the council that just barely allowed his feet to peek out from underneath. Beside him, dressed in the same attire, was an avid supporter of Glaus’s ideology on the council, a man by the name of Peyton Elliot, who despite being on the High Council was no older than thirty, his blonde hair in a similar style to Kloras and his brown eyes showing the same disdain for Iliiranna’s presence.

“Ah, Princess,” Kloras greeted curtly, bowing his head just a little. “I hope you are doing well.”

Ilirianna smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she looked between the two council members. “Oh yes, I’m doing quite well. And you, Council Member?”

The man forced a smile of his own, though it was cold and bitter, as if he had no interest in hiding the fact that he was only making such an expression because it was expected. “Yes, I am, too. But anyway…” He then glanced back up at Markreas, and Ilirianna couldn’t see the face he made. “We shall continue this tomorrow, My King.”

“If we must,” Markreas grunted, and with that, Kloras turned and made his way to depart the throne room, Peyton following silently at his heels like some sort of lost puppy.

Ilirianna watched them leave and it was only once they were gone that she turned back to face her father, but before she spoke, the third person in the room beat her to it.

“I honestly thought they’d never leave. Truly, that man is one of the most stubborn individuals I’ve ever met, and that’s saying quite a lot given I’ve got Liri as a sister.”

She’d noticed his presence when she first entered, but it was only once he broke his silence that Ilirianna turned and regarded her little brother, Reigious Iiji, with a cocked eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Rei?” she inquired. “I wouldn’t consider myself stubborn at all. Instead, I’d go with strong-willed.”

Leaning up against one of the pillars on the right side of the room, Reigious glanced her way and chuckled. Just like the rest of their family, the boy had emerald hair and deep blue eyes, and he was dressed in a finely woven green coat with large golden buttons running down the front, as well as dark red-leather boots that almost reached his knees. His youthful features made him appear slightly younger than he was, and the mischievous glint in his eyes as he faced his sister was a common expression for the boy of sixteen.

“Strong-willed, huh?” Reigious laughed. “Sounds to me like that’s just a different pronunciation of stubborn, so I suppose we agree, Sister.”

“That so?” Ilirianna moved further into the room, making her way toward the foot of the throne, and as she did so, Reigious pushed off of the pillar and moved to approach her. “Well, I take offense that you would ever compare me to Glaus at all. I may be strong-willed but that man is an idiot, and far more fitting of the word stubborn.”

Reigious nodded. “I agree. He is far more fitting of it, but that’s what I said to begin with, was it not? You’re stubborn, but he’s even more so. Though, given how much you clearly want to argue this point, perhaps I should amend my earlier statement. Maybe the two of you are tied.”

Ilirianna clicked her tongue at the smug look on Reigious’s face, feeling the strong urge to keep bickering before reminding herself that doing so would only prove his point, therefore, the princess instead turned away from her little brother without another word and instead faced her father, who was watching the two of them with mild amusement.

“You summoned me, Father?” she asked in an effort to change the subject.

Markreas chuckled to himself before leaning back in the throne and sighing. “Yes, I did. As you know, I’ve been quite busy these past few days dealing with the council, and unfortunately I haven’t had the time to speak with you. That being said, I thought it best that we touch base in regards to tomorrow morning’s orientation down at the Academy.”

Ilirianna barely repressed the cringe that she felt as the subject was yet again brought before her. In many ways, Kloras Glaus’s incessant protests against the Cortes Proposition had actually been quite helpful to her due to the amount of attention it had been demanding of her parents. It had allowed her to escape what would have otherwise been constant badgering as to what she planned to do, and she would have been forced to listen to the same arguments that she already knew quite well. Part of her had suspected that her father’s sudden summons would be in relation to her royal team, but she had silently hoped that it wouldn’t be, only for those hopes to be quickly dashed.

“Touch base, huh?” she muttered, averting her eyes from where Markreas sat. “Well, unfortunately, I’m still undecided. But why wouldn’t I be? I haven’t even seen the students in action, so how could I possibly have any idea of what I’m going to do?”

“Don’t play dumb, Liri,” Markreas grumbled. “You and I both know that talent and skill have nothing to do with this. This decision is all about building relationships and making deals. Which is why—”

“You want me to choose Nigreos and Album,” she interrupted with a sharper tone than she had intended. Silently cursing herself for allowing her irritation to break through, Ilirianna cleared her throat and went on before her father could speak. “Both Mother and Master Nakoma have already lectured me about this plenty of times. I’m well aware of the usefulness of the two of them, but politics aside, wouldn’t it be smarter to wait and see their performances? If there’s a team that’s better, why shouldn’t I pick it?”

As she spoke, the young woman finally turned back to look up at her father’s exasperated features, hoping that at least he would come to understand where she was coming from. Her mother would never budge from her stance, but her father had always been more flexible with her. Unfortunately, however, all she saw in Markreas’s eyes was annoyance.

“Set politics aside, you say?” he snapped. “No, Liri, that is not something someone of your status will ever get the opportunity to do. Everything you do will have political consequences.”

“But—!”

“Imagine what message you are sending to Viiro and Acostav if you pass over the opportunity to work alongside their children,” Markreas went on. “You will be telling two of our most important Masters that you believe their children are not good enough for you. You will be running the risk of offending them, and of all the Masters to offend, Light and Darkness are the worst to choose.”

Ilirianna bit her lip, knowing that her father wasn’t wrong. The succession of Masters was traditionally chosen by the Masters themselves. They would either take on apprentices to someday replace them should they retire or die, or they would name a successor themselves. If a Master died without doing so, it would fall to the king or queen to pick the successor. However, this didn’t apply to the Masters of Light and Darkness. When the old country of Nocta had been defeated and integrated into the Ijirian Empire, the treaty formed with the Noctis kings made it so that their family would forever hold the title of Master of Darkness, and this tradition carried over to the Luz when they joined with the Noctis. Therefore, succession for Light and Darkness was hereditary, and the royalty had no say in who took over the roles. Combining that fact with their rule over Noctalus made appeasing the Noctis and Luz families even more important to future kings and queens.

And I know this. I know I would be setting myself up for conflict if I risk pissing off Viiro and Acostav, but…

“Not to mention,” Markreas growled, and even before he said it, Ilirianna knew what other detail he had in mind. “It is and will always be imperative that we keep a close eye on the Luz and their Erasers. They have the power to alter the very fabric of reality, and thus they must be regulated. We cannot allow an Eraser to turn against us, and as it stands, Album Luz is primed to take Lady Clara’s place as the Luz Eraser. Yes, befriending Nigreos Noctis is beneficial, but having the Eraser as your close ally is even more so.”

“I know that…” she muttered with a huff.

“Then what else is there to discuss?” the king demanded. “Your presence at the Academy orientation tomorrow will be nothing more than for your image. Attend. Enjoy the fights. And when it ends, no matter how pathetic or useless Nigreos and Album’s partners might be, or if the Noctalus are disappointing, you will return to the Citadel and select their team. Is that understood, Liri?”

“Y-yes…” she said meekly, knowing how pointless it would be to press the issue.

“And remember, you might not get to properly make your decision, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get along with them,” he told her. “It was your mother’s team that I chose and it was because I chose it that I got to know her and fell in love with her. Not to mention, it’s where I met Nakoma as well, a man who became a close friend of mine. I didn’t want to pick that team, but your mother was from a very prominent, powerful, and wealthy family, and it was important to build those relationships. You have a Noctis and a Luz at your disposal right now. You couldn’t ask for a better setup.”

“I know. Understood.”

“Good. Then you’re excused.”

The exhaustion of the day finally creeping into Markreas’s features, he motioned for his two children to leave. Ilirianna and Reigious then both gave quick bows of respect before the siblings turned and made their way through the throne room’s door and out into the hallways. She did her best to keep her irritation from showing, but the moment they were back in the corridor by themselves, her younger brother glanced at her and chuckled.

“I honestly don’t see what the problem is, Liri,” he said. “Last time we talked about this, you said you didn’t even have anybody else you’d rather take over Nigreos and Album, so why is it such a big deal to pick them? Father’s right, after all. They’re good relationships to have.”

Ilirianna sighed, having already had her fill of lectures from her parents and not wanting to hear the same talking points from her little brother. “I know that. Trust me, I do. It’s just that…” She paused, trying to think of how to phrase the conflicting feelings going through her head. “It just feels wrong. I’m sure Nigreos is talented, and regardless of Album’s shortcomings, she is still probably an above-average mage. That being said, if there's a team that’s superior to them then I should pick them, right? To be told that skill doesn't matter and it's all about pleasing a bunch of self-entitled…” Noticing the nervous look on Reigious’s face, she opted not to finish her comment, instead huffing out her irritation. “What are you so worried about? It’s not like Acostav and Viiro are around to hear me all the way up here.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Reigious grimaced with exasperation as he shook his head. “Even in private, should you really say such things about the Masters you’re going to lead someday?”

Ilirianna shrugged. “Probably not. But am I wrong?”

“I mean, yeah,” her brother stated. “Sure, Viiro and Acostav can be…opinionated, but I wouldn’t call them self-entitled. They’re powerful mages and they’ve earned their places as Masters. I think, even if they aren’t going to overhear you, you should still speak about them with respect.”

She regarded Reigious for a moment, deciding that pressing the matter wasn’t worth it. She loved her little brother dearly, but she also knew that he was far too trusting of an individual, and was the one who had taken their mother’s teachings to heart the most. To him, just the fact that Viiro Noctis and Acostav Luz were Masters meant he should like and respect them despite the fact that both men were quite entitled. Whenever they believed that a decision by her mother and father harmed Noctalus or any of their interests, they didn’t hesitate to march up to Markreas’s office and voice their complaints, regardless of whether the decisions benefited the rest of the Empire or not. For as long as Ilirianna could remember, the two Noctalus Masters only ever had their own interests at heart, and would sooner sacrifice the whole of the Ijirian Empire if it meant that Noctalus would come out on top. In that sense, they weren’t too different from Kloras Glaus and his sect of the Council.

Though to be honest, I suppose they aren’t that different from anybody here.

As Ilirianna got older, she started to notice more and more how the people of Citadel were only there to further their own desires and ambitions. That applied to almost all of the Masters, as well as the High Council, and even King Markreas and Queen Toranei. They would all go on and on about the good of Ijiria and how they must preserve the Empire’s image and protect their people, but she had come to realize that it was all just an act. They put up a front of patriotism to hide the greed and selfishness lurking beneath. The “good of the people” often translated to “whatever allows me to benefit” and that disgusted the young princess.

And I suppose, that’s the reason I don’t just want to pick Nigreos and Album. I’d be potentially passing up a team better suited to helping this country to benefit me and my position. If I do that, then aren’t I being a hypocrite when I get angry at the others? Wouldn’t that make me no different from them? Ilirianna internally grimaced, but kept her feelings to herself, not wanting them to leak out for Reigious to see. If the two Noctalus are the best options then I’ll pick them, no questions asked. But if not…

If not then she wasn’t sure what she would do. Disobeying her father, and especially her mother, would not come without consequences. They already made it clear to her what they wanted, and she didn’t have even a slim chance of convincing them otherwise. To make matters worse, she couldn’t even turn to anybody around her for advice. Nakoma, while certainly being one of the few truly selfless individuals in the Citadel, still saw the other Masters as people deserving of high praise while also being well aware of the necessity of playing the political games that being a ruler brought to her. He wouldn’t take kindly to her so easily turning her nose up at the Masters.

And Reigious isn’t much different, she thought sadly. Nor is Anna. In many ways, I’m sure mother would have preferred one of them to be the heir. They’ve always been much more obedient.

Ilirianna loved her little brother and sister more than anybody else in the world, but she knew that they both idealized their parents. Reigious sought to be more like their father and, for better or for worse, Piura wanted to live up to their mother, and because of this, the two of them took the king and queen’s words as gospel. If either of them were the heir, the second they were ordered to choose Nigreos and Album, they would have done so without a single utterance of complaint. They were exactly what Markreas and Toranei wanted Ilirianna to be.

But I can’t be… This Citadel…is diseased. If I’m going to rule over this empire then I want it to be a home I can be proud of. I want Masters who actually give a damn about the people. I want a council that won’t spend every waking moment challenging the royalty just because we slightly inconvenience them. I want to be a queen that the people can look up to and respect, not just because I’m the queen but because I’ve earned their respect.

As she and Reigious continued to walk in what had become an awkward silence, Ilirianna’s eyes shifted to one of the many portraits of past kings and queens hung on the walls, specifically to one just on her left, depicting a young and confident Oralia Iiji—the famed queen who rose up against the tyranny of her uncle to stop the genocide taking place in the magicless realm of Kaira. In her time, Oralia did what she did for the people not only of Ijiria, but for the ones being slaughtered in Kaira. She wanted Ijiria to be exactly what Ilirianna wanted it to be: A home she could take pride in.

And she was willing to go to war against her own flesh and blood to see that dream come to fruition… She was able to risk so much and I’m standing here, hesitating over whether to disobey my damn parents or not. I’m so pathetic sometimes that it disgusts me.

“Liri…” Reigious began hesitantly, finally breaking their silence just as they stepped onto the silver lift.

“Yes, Rei?”

The boy didn’t respond right away, probably sensing the irritation in her tone, but when he finally did get himself to speak, his voice was soft.

“Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Iliranna snorted, realizing that he was truly scared that she was going to go against their parents’ orders, and she supposed his fears were not misplaced. Yet, she couldn’t promise him anything, and instead simply prayed that Nigreos and Album would be the best choice, thus satisfying all parties involved.

Yeah…that’s about all I can hope for at this point…