Conquest of Avalon

Camille IV: The Conciliator

This was it, the moment Camille had been dreaming of for nearly eighteen years. Given how little time she had left, it was likely to be her crowning moment of achievement, so it made sense to savor it.

Multicolored banners hung above the streets, attached to buildings and newly verdant trees. At the sides of the streets, large planters of flowers only added to the beauty, reinforcing the message of life returning.

It hadn’t been inexpensive, but this would be the last time Malin needed to get by without the resources of the Empire.

Lucien was back.

Despite everything, Camille’s heart had still jumped when she’d heard that he was fording the Sartaire at the head of an army. It scarcely seemed real, after everything they’d been through.

He rode at the head of the procession, brandishing an ornate sabre with enormous rubies embedded into its hilt, his hair blowing back in the wind. At his flanks rode Annette and Sire Miro Mesnil, followed by a parade of knights fresh from the White Night, each of them dressed in colorful silks and finery, adorned by circlets and jewels and all that was suited for ceremony, the sunlight of the age gleaming off every piece of metal.

That was fortunate. If they’d arrived a day earlier, the sky would have been cast with clouds, the symbolism lost. As it was, they rose with the sun, and at last the Fox-King returned to his ancestral seat.

It was everything Camille had dreamed of, save the pit in her stomach, heavy with the news she would inevitably have to break to her beloved.

From her conversations with Fernan, Camille had known that Guerron’s food stores were better off than most, certainly better than Malin, thanks to the abundance of light spirits in its vicinity to ensure that the harvest remained uninterrupted. Far from a haphazard deal with a number of spirits countable on one hand, only two of whom were truly suitable to guarantee a harvest, Guerron had an entire temple of sun sages, myriad stored artifacts, and leaders who could focus entirely on maintaining what had been, rather than desperately scrabbling upwards to escape the earth spirit’s cold embrace.

Still, it was one thing to hear that and another entirely to see the massive chests of food that Lucien’s people were giving out as if it were nothing. Though, knowing Lucien, he’d give out his last crumb of bread to feed his people. This was the image they were presenting, he knew that as well as she did. The actual logistics of supply would have to wait until the King’s council could confer in private, after the festivities.

And after our festivities.

After so much time apart, knowing that there was so little time left, Camille had every intention of pulling Lucien into her room at the earliest opportunity, locking the door, and renewing their love in every way imaginable.

There was so much to do now, but she needed that, and had no doubt that Lucien did too.

≋

For want of a better location, Annette had set herself up in what had once been the Governor’s mansion, her small army of bureaucrats still in the process of unloading the boxes and boxes of papers she’d brought with her.

In the parade, Camille had extended her a bow to welcome her into the city, along with Lucien and the notable knights. Now, she wasted no time running up and wrapping her into a close embrace.

Annette let out a slight laugh, returning the gesture. “I missed you too, Camille.”

In truth, it hadn’t even been half a year, but that felt like more than a lifetime. And in my case, it is. “I’m so sorry about Fouchand. He was a titan among men, cruelly taken from us before his time.”

“Thank you. And likewise to you. I know he regarded you and Lucien like his own children.” Annette loosened her grip, voice faltering slightly.“I hope you two enjoyed your little vacation, because now we have work to do.”

“We did, but you’re right. Hopefully the Empire could afford to wait half a day.” Camille took a seat at one head of Perimont’s mahogany conference table, leaving the other for Lucien. “In fact, I came early because I needed to talk to you.”

“And here I was, thinking that you wanted to help me organize my files.” Smiling, Annette took the seat to Camille’s left. “Is this about your uncle? Because it might be for the best that he’s not here yet. He’s not entirely the man you remember.”

Not all reunions will be so straightforward. At least that’s an issue for another time. “No. He’ll get here when he gets here. I wanted to…” She bit her lip. “I have a confession to make, and I didn’t want you to be blindsided in the meeting.”

“Promising start.” Despite her words, Annette didn’t look particularly annoyed, just exhausted, as she often did. Coordinating an army across a river grown swollen with snowmelt couldn’t have been easy, but the worst of the crisis had passed. Camille had hoped she’d be a bit better rested. If not now, when?

“Retaking this city wasn’t free, even if I managed it without spilling a drop of blood. I had to make promises to people to get them on our side. Payment. And I’m not in a position where I can grant it personally…”

“Ah, of course.” Annette drummed her hands on the table. “Wealth, or lands?”

“The recipient is a pirate by trade, and puts more stock in hard silver. But she’s with us now, plying her trade as a candle merchant, and my thinking was that lands would better bind her to our side, invest her in our success.” Besides, with all of Clochaîne’s riches at her fingertips, I’m not sure that a big chest of silver would have much value to her beyond the symbolic. “A title would be too presumptuous, for both ends of the deal, but if there’s anything we can part with…?”

“Hmm… My lands around the pass have been unproductive since before darkness fell, but in their time, the revenues were substantial. A sliver of them around the Villechart village was granted to Sire Fernan for his service, but your pirate collaborator could take the rest. It’s a gift that none would balk at, even with the mines lying fallow right now, and if she has any talent as a merchant, she could be just the person to whip them back into productive shape.”

Camille breathed out a loud sigh of relief. She and Annette had always been friends, partners, willing to support each other, but making a promise like that without being able to consult her had bordered on presumptuousness. “Thank you. I hope I didn’t overreach in offering.”

“Camille, the last time I saw you, you were plunging to certain death after suffering a grievous wound. You didn’t just survive, but you retook your homeland and Lucien’s, the crown jewel of the Empire, and you did it all on your own. I’m delighted that I even have the chance to help retroactively. There’s no impropriety.”

“I’m grateful.” Camille grabbed Annette’s hand, working up the courage to speak the unspeakable truth. “And I’m afraid that’s not all…”

“Camille, you can tell me anything.”

“After I lost that duel, my injuries… I…’ I can’t break the spell. She and Lucien only just got back. I can’t. Not yet. Switching her approach, Camille pulled the top of her dress down slightly, revealing the scar that the pistol had left in her shoulder, a jagged red circle that only recently had stopped hurting at the touch. “I don’t think it’s ever going to fade.”

“Yeah, and it’s a gigantic eyesore. Totally overshadows everything else.” Annette rolled her eyes. “You’re still beautiful, Camille. All that means is that you survived. I’m sure Lucien told you the same, when he saw it.”

Camille smiled, withdrawing her hand. Lucien didn’t even notice it. Or if he did, he chose not to mention it. Perhaps, in his own way, that was a kindness, but it did help to hear something more explicit from Annette. “You’re right, of course. Thank you.” You might take my other news just as well, but I can’t bear to say it.

“My pleasure.” Suddenly, Annette rose from her seat, dipping her head towards the door. “Ah, you must be the famed Lady Mary Stewart of Carringdon. It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Eloise turned towards Camille, then back to Annette, then burst out laughing.

Camille stood, moving between them to facilitate the encounter. “Annette, please allow me to introduce Eloise Clochaîne, merchant extraordinaire. I do not exaggerate to say that retaking the city would not have been possible without her aid, and the help of the men and women under her command.”

“Nice to meet you,” Eloise said, holding out her hand in the Avaline custom.

Annette raised an eyebrow, leaving the hand to linger. “The pleasure is mine. I’ve never before met a merchant with soldiers to command.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call them soldiers. They need to use their brains instead of just following orders.” Eloise shot Camille a look, then stepped towards the table, hovering in front of the seat at the opposite end of the table from Camille’s, the one obviously reserved for Lucien. “Camille here tells me that you’re the key to her finally paying some long-overdue debts.”

“We were just discussing that, in fact,” Camille cut in before Annette could reply. “You’re to be awarded lands to the East of Guerron, surrounding the pass through the mountains.”

“Productive lands,” Annette said. “They’re rich with coal ore, whose export kept Avalon off my grandfather’s back for nearly twenty years. Of course, it wasn’t enough in the end.”

“Florette’s homeland,” Camille clarified, trying to move the conversation forward. “Once the mines are operational again, their incomes will far exceed any one-time payment we might have been able to give you.” And it gives you a seat at this table that a landless merchant could never realistically get.

“Hmm, Camille actually delivering on promised payment? I should check the Sartaire, just to make sure it hasn’t frozen over.” Eloise pulled out the chair, but Camille tried to dissuade her with a frown and a subtle shake of her head.

Which she ignored, brazenly plopping herself down in Lucien’s seat.

This may have been a mistake. The idea had been to include city representatives, at least in some of the earliest meetings, to ensure that the consensus of Malin was still behind their decisions, and to avoid any unpleasant surprises after issuing edicts and setting policy. But if it sowed discord amongst the leadership, the benefit would not be worth the cost.

“Eloise, I believe you’re in the Fox-King’s seat,” Mordred Boothe said as he entered the room, wearing his true face. “Show some decorum, or you’ll make poor Camille regret inviting you at all.”

Camille worried that would only cause her to dig in her heels, but apparently it was enough, since Eloise quickly shifted herself to the seat to her right. “I should have known you’d be such a killjoy, Jethro.”

“Jethro?” Annette’s eyes went wide. “After you fled Guerron, I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to see you. I know I have you to thank for planting the cloak that secured my freedom, and for that you have my sincerest gratitude. If there is anything at all that I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.”

“The consequences of my actions are their own reward.” Boothe bent down to kiss Annette’s hand, then took the seat across from her, to Camille’s right. “I’m pleased I could limit even some small part of the damage that King Harold wrought.”

Annette smiled at that, then began asking him more questions about the details of the trial, which, astoundingly, Boothe was only too happy to provide. The whole thing was quite educational, given that Camille had only directly heard Fernan’s account of things, but largely irrelevant to any current concerns.

Aurelian was dead and buried, Laura likely condemned to a traitor’s exile, Magnifico in irons, and Lucien and Annette’s status restored. Ultimately, everything had concluded, and about as well as could have been hoped for.

Simon arrived soon after, and then Lucien, the last in the room.

That necessitated another long round of introductions, and by the time they actually could begin the council meeting proper, the sun was already beginning to set, casting scarlet light through the window.

“Sire Miro sends his regrets, but the journey has left him exhausted,” Lucien began. “He felt confident that we could handle this without him.”

“My sister would like to convey the same,” Simon said. “She thought it important that at least one of us remain in the vicinity of the festival that cropped up around your parade, Your Grace.” And probably also thought she would be bored stiff. Camille would have to talk to Mary about that; despite the pretenses between them, she had been a staunch ally, and such friends were hard to come by.

Perhaps it was just as well though, since the table only comfortably seated six. Something would have to be done about that before they gathered the full coterie.

“I would like to begin by offering my profound thanks to every one of you in this room,” Lucien said, using the same warm but firm ‘king voice’ that he reserved for politics and the bedroom. “Without your efforts, we would not be sitting here, at least in command of the city of my birth. Jethro, without you, I might never have been fully restored to my power. Annette, you’ve kept our people together through the nightmare of darkness and the White Night, holding their starvation at bay. Lady Clochaîne, I’m told that you provided aid to the starving Malinoises, languishing under Avalon’s yoke, and then helped my beloved snatch our city back from them. Lord Perimont, you were key to pacifying Avalon’s remaining forces, and ensuring that our victory here would hold until I could arrive and reinforce you.” Most of his words were just repeating what Camille had told him, but she could tell that it helped to hear him say it, especially in Simon’s case.

“And Camille…” He smiled at her from across the table. “I love you more now than I ever have before. You took our dreams as dispossessed children and made them reality. I have no doubt that you will be the greatest Queen that our nation has ever seen.”

If only that could be true, but in four months, I’ll be dead. Camille bit her lip. “To begin with, I’d like to invite our new Minister of Finance to speak on his economic recovery plans. Annette, you’ll love this. Lord Perimont?”

Simon clearly balked at being referred to that way, but it was important that he be treated like a peer, and that started with his title. “Thank you, Camille.” He cleared his throat. “Ultimately, as always, it comes down to revenues and expenditures. I’m told that Guerron weathered the darkness well, drawing on magic, but Malin lacked the same resources, and its people are in dire need. I leave the process of magical cultivation to Camille and the sages, but securing a stable food supply must be our first priority.”

“Our army ate most of what we brought on the way over. Honestly, it’s a miracle we even made it with any supplies to spare,” Annette said, tapping her fingers against a pad of paper scribbled with illegible notes. “But four ships are already en route to supply us from Guerron. Depending on the remaining population here, that might get us through until the next harvest.”

“Might,” Camille repeated. “But Guerron must remain well-supplied itself, and all the surrounding countryside. Too, we ought to gather more than the bare necessities for winter. If the people here are eating rats and shoe leather in six months, the shine of liberating Malin will wear off pretty quickly.”

“It shall not come to that,” Lucien agreed. “Annette, I don’t think you’ve ever spent a winter here, so you should know that they are mild. With Fenouille’s aid, we should be able to keep production up through until spring, and hopefully get back to self-sufficiency by this time next year.”

Simon smiled. “Excellent. Then with that in mind, I’d like to turn to capital improvements. Our infrastructure is almost a century behind Avalon’s, and it’s limiting our ability to effect change. As of now, the Empire has exactly one railway, partially destroyed, and…” He swallowed, probably thinking of his father. “And four trains. If we can expand the network across the empire, grain and troops alike can move overland without mules eating their way through all the supplies. Regions can specialize, with each contributing to a greater, integrated national economy. And, should these spiritual farming techniques remain commonplace past the crisis and depress the cost of grain, the project would offer employment to any farmers that might otherwise be dispossessed. I believe this should be our foremost goal, after keeping everyone fed through this winter.”

Annette furrowed her eyebrows. “Lord Simon, we are no stranger to borrowing Avalon’s technology to aid our own people. My own grandfather secured schematics for your airship designs right before his passing, sure to be an invaluable aid to our military. But I can’t help but wonder if this ought to be a priority. Something like ninety percent of our people live within fifteen miles of a coastline, and ships serve much the same purpose without requiring such expensive investments. Frankly, I doubt that Crown revenues are sufficient to cover something of this scale.”

This is getting too granular. We should have everyone cemented on the same side before we start getting into the details.

“Which is where we turn to other sources. Plagette has capital to spare, and interest in the political leverage that comes with carrying our debt.”

“Interest,” Lucien repeated derisively. “They’d want to make us their client state, with me as their puppet. Lady Merlan can only be negotiated with from a position of strength. If we go begging before we’re even certain to feed ourselves, we risk losing all autonomy.”

“With respect, Your Grace, this is silver, not land. Owing money is not the same thing for a state as it is for a man, and it invests Plagette in our success to ensure that it’s repaid.”

“Are you an expert on Plagetine politics, Lord Simon? I wasn’t aware.” Annette crossed her arms.

“No, but I’m extensively trained in economics, and I feel qualified to recommend—”

“Recommendation noted,” Lucien said, cutting him off.

I need to step in, or this coalition is going to fall apart. “Simon, when you were telling me about this, you said that that was just one option, right? Maybe the others are less politically contentious.” Lucien has a point, but if we’re not a viable competitor to Avalon before the king dies, it won’t matter what our relationship is with Plagette.

“There’s nothing contentious about graduating from feudalism to a real economy,” he grumbled. “But yes, I have other proposals to increase Crown revenues, ideally implemented alongside significant borrowing, but not dependent on it. Many were already in place in Malin under Avaline control, but could be spread to the rest of the Empire, like business licensure and sales taxation, provided you have the bureaucracy to enforce it, but—”

“Don’t impugn my bureaucracy.” Annette’s expression darkened.

“But,” Simon continued through grit teeth, “the single most significant, simplest improvement we could implement is an adjustment to your property taxes. I have no doubt that all Imperial lands are already assessed, your nobility practiced in granting the Crown its due. All we’d have to do is adjust the rates, and—”

“Out of the question,” Lucien said with narrowed eyes. “Our nobility fought and died to save Guerron in the White Night. The second King Harold dies, they’ll be asked to do it again against a far more powerful foe. I can’t stab them in the back and then ask them to fight at my side.”

Eloise and Jethro, wisely, weren’t getting in the middle of this. They have nothing to gain by throwing themselves into the crossfire. That was understandable, certainly, but it meant that they weren’t doing anything to help.

Camille felt a trickle of blood on her lip, the first time she’d bitten so hard in quite a while. Some part of me must have known that this wouldn’t be everything I dreamed of, but still… “Lucien, I think you should consider his proposal.”

“Camille, I understand that you did what you had to do to retake the city. Lord Simon, per the terms of your deal, you have a seat at my table. I will respect the word of my betrothed. But as to the specifics of what you propose, it seems to me that you wish to turn our fair nation into a replica of your own tyrannical homeland, and I’m afraid I cannot abide by that.”

“Lucien, my love, please listen to me.” Camile wiped the blood from her lip. “I did not win your capital back for you by doing what we’ve always done. That’s what got me shot and tossed beneath the waves. I adapted, and worked with the people who’ve actually been living here while we were exiled. Like Eloise, and Simon, both of whom are here on their merits, not simply as a political favor.” Kind of a lie, but we’ll never get anywhere if half the room thinks that they have no need to listen to the other. “And you must know, in your heart of hearts, that the Empire will need to adapt as well if we are to succeed. Think of the military, if nothing else! In twenty years, do you want to be facing down Avalon’s professional army with a coterie of knights and levies, each sworn to a limited term of service?”

Lucien took a deep breath, keeping Camille’s eyes locked in his own. “I would have killed for some professional officers in the White Knight. As soon as Levian showed up, one wave disrupted our entire command structure. If I’d died there, the day would have been lost, just as it was when my father died in the Foxtrap. That’s not the Empire I’d wish for.” He turned back to Simon. “Find a middle ground with Annette. We can adapt without compromising our identity, build without compromising our sovereignty.”

Camille smiled across the table at him, but his face remained hard.

“I should find Miro. If we’re going organize an Imperial army, this is the time to do it, with so many knights dead from the White Night. Even he will see the necessity, I’m sure. Winning Malin will do no good for us if we set ourselves on the path to another Foxtrap.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Simon nodded stiffly to the Fox-king, then shot Camille a grateful look. “Duchess Annette, we should probably meet in private to hammer out the details.”

“I suppose,” Annette said.

“I’ll come too,” Camille added. If only to ensure that you two don’t rip each others’ heads off.

“Then before we adjourn, we should discuss the matter of the Magister of Charenton.” Boothe seemed to have finally figured out how to speak now that the conflict was over. “I spied his party assembled outside the walls, around thirty strong, and told him I would bring his concerns to the Fox-king. He claims to represent a covert coalition of Lyrion, Ombresse, and Île Dimanche, along with his own Charenton.”

“The Territories…” Simon’s eyes went wide. “Magister Ticent’s been in Avalon’s pocket since before any of us were born. He’s the one that turned Charenton over to them in the first place. What could he possibly have to say to us?”

Boothe smiled. “It seems our winsome Lady Leclaire set a dangerous precedent. Now that they know that Avalon can be defied, the prospect has become less unthinkable for the other Territories.”

Or it’s a ruse. There ever remained the danger of overextension, of pushing the leverage that their captive king gave them further than it could hold, and pushing Avalon to war against them. That kind of subterfuge came easily to Avalon, if Magnifico were anything to go by.

We could be ruined before we’ve even begun, all because we weren’t content with what we have. “I think—”

“Invite him in,” Lucien ordered, a pensive hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps reassembling the Empire will not be a task for our children after all.”

Camille glanced back at him, trying to force a smile of her own to match his.

Perhaps. But this could also undo everything we’ve worked for.