Conquest of Avalon

Camille V: The Guardian of the Future

Camille had never met Magister Jules Ticent in person before, but her mother had some choice words about his feckless treachery in years past. Why wouldn’t she, when the man had seized the Count of Charenton and his family in the dark of night and handed them over to the enemy?

That had been decades-old history even then, though, and the withered man standing in their council chamber now hardly looked the part of the scheming villain. White beard left to grow long, he moved with such agonizing lethargy that Camille almost wondered if he were doing it on purpose, as a kind of ploy for leverage.

Doesn’t change anything either way, though.

Annette seemed to be on the same page, fortunately, opening with a brusque question the moment they’d all sat down. “Magister Ticent, as your visit here is extremely unusual, I will be blunt. What do you want from us?”

That’s even more terse than I would have been. “Mordred Boothe told us that you represent all of Avalon’s Territories?”

Ticent coughed, then slowly reached for the glass of wine in front of him. It was probably minutes before he composed himself enough to speak. “It would be more accurate to say that I represent a league of governors and officials from all throughout the Territories, petitioning for aid on their behalf.”

“Aid?” Camille scoffed. “To Avalon’s governors? You do know what happened to Perimont, right?”

“What happened to Perimont was inevitable, given the course he took. He never learned the lesson that good rulership is to be felt but not seen. If you present public executions on a weekly basis, and conscript the people to fight their kin, what surprise is it when the walls fall down on your head?”

“And your fecklessness is the model alternative?” Camille laughed.

“And why you?” Lucien asked, stroking his chin. “If you truly wish to break from Avalon’s chains, why send a known collaborator instead of one of our own?”

“Because…” Ticent coughed, then spent another moment straightening himself out. “Because I am old enough to risk. If you seized me or killed me, the league would not be dealt a grave blow. And I remain Lyrionaise, Your Grace, and Charentine. The Fox-Queen’s blood flows in my veins, as it does in yours.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, but Camille jumped in for him. “The Fox-Queen lived half a millennium ago. There are probably cobblers with her blood, but that does not make them kin.”

Ticent gave a slow nod, conceding the point. “Still, as displeased as you are to see me, I can’t imagine Horace Willaims would have earned a better reception.”

“The Governor-General of all Territories? He’s part of your little conspiracy?” Camille could scarcely keep her disbelief in check. “You can’t possibly expect us to humor this.”

“I bring you nothing but the truth, Lady Leclaire. Williams is dissatisfied with Avalon’s rule over Lyrion, as are all members of our league. A once-great nation’s resources are being plundered to feed a nation giving us nothing in return. Our governors are granted no place in Avalon’s Great Council, and our rule is recognized only as agents of the Crown. Their taxation is tyranny, and all but the greatest loyalists and fools see that this conflict will inevitably come to a head.”

Reason enough for the self-interested to balk, perhaps, but it sounds thin as the motive for such a dangerous conspiracy.

“I guess I still don’t understand,” said Annette. “Why send you instead of a true Lyrionaise, instead of one of the oppressed? Why is it you who turns to us instead of the people?”

Ticent stared her down and answered, quickly and clearly. “Because scarcely any of them are left. When darkness fell, the fields were worked to their limit while they still remained fertile, using whatever dregs of spirits and artifacts remained, making whatever deals had to be made, just as I’m sure you did. And the fruits of that labor? That sacrifice? All taken, and shipped across the water in icebreaker ships. What peasants remain are with us in opposing Avalon, I am sure, but if we do not act quickly, they will instead for certain be against us.”

“Then we’ll eagerly await that day,” Camille said coldly.

“Lady Leclaire, I’ve lived as long as I have because I can read the winds.” He flicked a pin on his coat that was presumably his personal insignia, a stylized weathervane. “In Charenton, when I surrendered in Verrou’s name, there was no will to fight. Not after the Fall of Refuge. A distant overlord was a minimal concern when I could keep things running there much as they had before. Now we’re facing mass famine is not even as a disaster, but as a deliberate policy decision, handed down from across the water and left to us to enforce. The old people of the land are largely gone, and now colonists bear the brunt of starvation, their hard labor stolen by those who no longer consider them Avaline enough to protect.”

And by they, you mean ‘you’. It was obvious enough what had happened to turn the governors against Avalon, and it had nothing to do with liberty for the people. “They hung you out to dry, broke whatever promises assuaged you, and kicked the door shut on the last boat back. Now that the sun’s up again, you’ve realized you actually need to deal with this instead of crawling back to Avalon.”

“That is not the course we chose,” Ticent insisted. “I understand your suspicions here, but Lyrion remains our home, better protected and free than occupied and oppressed. And so we mean to act. The Countess of Dimanche still rules her isle as I do Charenton, and provided a space for us to meet privately and gather allies. Once the sun returned, we were able to loop in the governors of the old Lunette Duchy and much of the rest of Lyrion. Even Horace Williams knows that he’s weeks away from being hung up by his entrails. He just lost his son, and now he might lose everything else as well. Avalon left us to this position, I suspect, without so much as a thought for what it would mean for us, what impression it would leave of our rulership, and at just the time when Lady Leclaire successfully rose up against them. Even if rebellion means our annihilation, passivity would guarantee it just the same. But with your aid, your backing, we could take back what Avalon stole and grant the people freedom.” He finished, gasping for breath, and sank back into his chair.

Camille let him finish his diatribe; she’d been raised better than to be overtly rude, but she wasn’t impressed. “What I’m hearing is that you and your little Lyrion league followed orders to starve out the people of the land, seizing their food for your colonists and overlords, and now that you’ve run out of our people to condemn to a miserable death, you’re running here for our help before Avalon can do the same to you.”

Lucien nodded emphatically. “Camille has the right of it. We’d be—”

Annette cleared her throat, causing Lucien to pause.

“We’ll need to discuss this amongst ourselves.”

“I understand,” Ticent said, starting the long process of rising from his chair. “But do not forget what we offer in return. The members of our league have governed the Territories for decades, Dimanche and myself even longer than the rest. While the darkness has taken a toll, and many Guardians remain loyal to Avalon, we have thousands of men and women ready to fight. King Harold knew the wisdom of accepting former enemies under his banner, and I can only hope that you recognize the same. As soon as your captive dies, Avalon will be at your gates with cannons ready. Between you and them could stand a league of independent states, eternally grateful for your aid, or the colonized property of Avalon, a staging ground for the war against you. We seek your help, yes, but this is also a priceless opportunity for you. I urge you to fairly consider it.”

Annette shot Camille a look, but waited until the Magister had left to say, “I think he’s right.”

“Really?” Lucien’s face twisted. “They’re Avalon’s hatchet men, not friends in need.”

“So was Simon Perimont, and now he’s part of our council. Camille, remember when you took this city back for us? The whole bloody battle, where you slaughtered every last game piece of the Avaline Territorial apparatus?”

“You know that’s not what happened.”

“Exactly. You advised the bloody Prince of Darkness in this very room, and now he’s fled and we rule. If we can grab Lyrion the same way, without any need for fighting, why shouldn’t we?”

“Avalon, for one thing,” Lucien said grimly. “Having their king captive grants us leverage, but even that would not be enough to stop reprisals if we took the field against them directly.”

“What reprisals?” Annette wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead. “Think about this logistically: Avalon’s depending on these colonies for food to feed their homeland. They just mounted a massive, overextending war with the Arboreum. According to our man Jethro, they won’t stop there. We can’t just hole up and hope for the best. It would all come crashing down when Magnifico dies. What then? We could be surrounded on all sides. Camille, I’m really surprised you’re not on my side, here.”

Put that way, I suppose I’m surprised as well. “I just don’t want us to lose what we have. To overcommit, as it appears Avalon is doing now.” I need to leave behind something good, something that works. “And this Ticent is about as trustworthy as the snake on my lapel. Framing the debate this way depends on what he’s saying being true, and I’m doubtful that it is.”

“True enough,” Annette conceded, unless she was saying that Ticent’s words had to be close enough to reality. It was difficult to tell. “We should verify with Jethro, and Clochaîne as well. She’s the only one who’s actually lived under the occupation; she’ll know whether such actions in Lyrion ring true.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Camille paused. “I admit, I’m a bit surprised to hear you propose it, after the way the last meeting went.”

“Perimont impressed me with his plan when we met to hammer out the details, and a surprisingly astute assessment of the resources at our disposal. He’s not entirely the fop I first took him for, which shouldn’t have been a surprise given you recruited him, Camille.” Annette smiled, though something about it looked a slight bit forced. “Jethro’s aptitude and loyalty were already known to me, but in such company, I’m sure that Eloise must have much to offer as well, even if I’m yet to see it.”

Are they finally getting along? She hadn’t been able to attend their follow-up logistics meeting due to a fight that had erupted between an old Guardian and one of Mesnil’s men, handily ruining the day with extensive public addresses, amends made, and punishments levied.

Camille had her plans to help mend the rift in Malin, but hearing that Annette and Simon had managed to get through a meeting without her and come out on the other side better for it would be difficult to believe.

Lucien blinked, clearly even more shocked at the turn than Camille. “Very well, have a runner fetch them. We’ll reconvene in an hour.”

“Any objections if I bring my stagiaire? She can attend to our cups.”

Annette and Lucien shook their heads, so Camille added Margot to the list for the runner to fetch.

As Eloise had relented, the stage had finally begun in earnest, and it was truly nice to have a little helper running around. Margot still had enthusiasm for so much of the tedious duties of rulership, and it comforted Camille to pass some lessons on before she was no longer around to do it.

Margot had already proven her worth, too, suggesting a voyage of visions to the playwright they’d been speaking to, in an effort to demonstrate the harmless benefits of marigold wine. That particular gap was far from the top priority to bridge, but it hadn’t even occurred to Camille that they could catch two fish with one net, and the playwright had seemed quite enthusiastic about it, too.

That was all a matter for later, though. Jethro for whatever reason hadn’t made it, but they had waited long enough. Now, as Lucien noted when he called the meeting to order, they needed to commit to a broader strategy with Avalon, and determine what to do about the Lyrion issue.

“We should assume that they plan to invade as soon as our hostage dies, as a matter of caution,” Lucien began. “I mean to make our Empire a peer in might by the time that happens, or close enough to credibly claim it. My first thought was defense, in rebuilding our walls and our fleet, but with their cannons alone we could double their number and still lose naval battles, and our palisades might not last an hour. If they invade, and we reinforce our lands and stand our ground, we’ll die, just as our parents did.”

It was sobering, to hear it put like that, all the more so when Camille would not be there for any of this. Capturing Magnifico seemed like a victory, but victory grants peace, and this is naught but an armistice, no different from the seventeen years we’ve had since the Foxtrap. If Magnifico died young, it might not even last as long as that.

Simon, apparently having learned a bit of tact since last time, agreed with Lucien. “There is no level of mobilization and prosperity that will let us compete if the structure is left where it was. We need our own cannons, our own ironclads.”

Camille frowned, matching the expression of most of the room. “And our own factories, to produce them? Competing with Avalon there seems even more hopeless.”

Pouring wine for Eloise, Margot nudged her sister.

“There’s hope,” Eloise said, roused to action. “That trouble with defense goes both ways. I would know. If you strike hard, and first, you can get away with a lot, even with smaller numbers. If you can plant someone ahead of time, even better. They’re worth a hundred people fighting directly. It just takes one to jam up the right pipe to set the whole ship to explode.”

“Saboteurs and infiltrators…” Camille stroked her chin, admittedly somewhat shocked at Eloise’s contribution after her miserable display at the last meeting. “I had looked into it before, but a lack of plausible candidates was the principal issue. Now we have a large population of native speakers of Avaline, who have familiarity with the culture…”

“But would they be willing to turn on their homeland?” Lucien asked. “Would you want to employ such traitors for this vital task?”

“They will,” Camille assured him. “Malin is their home, not the distant shores of their parents, and I mean to make that clear in all manner of commissioned works, in addition to the narrative of the Quotidien. Even before that, I suspect there were enough opportunists for that sort of thing, and on the time scale we’re discussing, I have no doubt there will be many more by the time Magnifico expires.” But I won’t be around to train them, then… “Annette, would you like to work with me on this?”

“I’d love to.” Annette smiled, though it faded quickly.

Lucien’s face looked downcast as well. “Spies alone won’t be enough, even if we can get them placed where we want them. Distasteful as such mechanisms might be, Simon has the right of it. We need our own cannons, and what they represent. Our own pistols, our own ironclads. With the power of the spirits, we need not match their number in kind, nor their industry. We only need to prove that we can strike at their shores and destroy what they hold dear. For there to be peace, we need war to be too grim an alternative for them to consider it.”

Simon, alone in the room, looked almost giddy to see that his points had sunk in. “The first step is knowledge. No one in this room has the scientific expertise to even begin to work on this, nor do we have the texts and documentation needed to smoothly copy other designs.”

“Yup, totally without them. Florette didn’t steal tons of books and train engine designs from the railyard before Lady Leclaire even got here.” Eloise leaned back in her chair. “Jacques’ people looked it over, and with a bit of expertise, we could build our own trains.”

“Florette?” Lucien tilted his head. “The girl who slew the sun?”

“The what?”

“Yes,” Camille answered Lucien, not wanting to get sidetracked. “Annette, did you bring any of the bureau’s mechanists with you?”

“Most of them, just left a couple for Félix.” She turned to Eloise. “If we lend you three mechanists and rent you the old rail yard, can you build more of those trains and give us the plans to study?”

“Should be fine.”

“Excellent,” Simon clapped his hands. “Then the next issue is our factories. We need a suitable site, close to the water for cooling and power, and—”

“Don’t we already have one of those? That train yard?”

“Yes, one, designed for one specific function. Eloise can get started building engines there, but if we want a fleet that can threaten Cambria, we’ll need more. Orders of magnitude more. I want to start with five or six, and ramp up to ten by the end of next year.”

“Ten? Don’t be absurd.”

“Cambria has half again that many alone in its production district, with another dozen scattered throughout the city. None of that is used for building ships; there’s a specialized facility on Crescent Isle. And then there’s another city’s worth in Oxton, Barrowton, some in Fortescue—”

“Yes, I get your point.” Camille bit her lip. “If we’re truly to build on this scale, then all of these projects must be placed far from the domain of any spirits we could call friends. I’ve seen what poison those contraptions spew out. If we fill Fenouille’s home with it, we’ll starve the next time we need his help.”

Simon frowned, wrinkling his brow.

“Is there a spirit of the bay?” Margot asked, after enough silence that she apparently felt comfortable ignoring her instructions not to speak. “Fenouille is the Sartaire, but what about past the mouth of it? Would he care?”

“Levian holds sway there,” Camille answered, feeling that same pit form in her stomach. “He has proven himself an enemy already. Why should we bow to his whims?”

Lucien’s eyes went wide. “Camille, are you sure? The White Night was a terrible thing, but—”

“Trust me.” I’ll be dead before it matters. “We could build across the river, far enough away from Fenouille’s domain.”

“I was just thinking the same thing!” Simon exclaimed, pointing towards a map he’d brought with him. “Look at this village here, Monne Flankwin.”

“Monflanquin,” Camille corrected, stifling a laugh.

“Yes, that one. It used to be separated by a border, the Empire on one side and Avalon’s occupation on the other. Now there’s no reason to separate. If we built a bridge across, we wouldn’t even need to depend on ferries. Honestly, it seems like such an obvious thing, I’m surprised no one did it before the Foxtrap.”

“Some tried even before the Fox-Queen,” Camille said. “They blocked Fenouille’s course, so he tore them apart stone by stone. You can still find what’s left of them on the seafloor sometimes. We won’t be bridging the Sartaire.”

“Well, can we negotiate? In Avalon we have bridges kept high above the water, to allow our ships to pass beneath. One in Oxton even folds up to allow a fully clear passage through.”

“Folds… like paper? A bridge?”

Simon held his hands flat, longest fingertips just touching, then flipped them up. “Splits in half.”

Did you find a sense of humor, Simon, making up something this fantastical?

“Regardless, we can find a site. Even without a bridge, we can ferry what’s needed to Malin’s core, and localize production to that district to avoid any issue of poisons or other… issues, with such machines.” Annette looked at Simon, seemingly offering to collaborate once more. “Will fuel be an issue? I remember Félix telling me that was the big problem with the airships.”

“Normally, but you’ve been blessed with rich veins of ore in the mountains to the west. Ships can transport it from Guerron to Monflanquin easily enough, I’d imagine.”

“Really? I looked over the accounts Annette gave me, and the mines in my land haven’t had any revenues in months,” Eloise said, shooting Camille a glare. “Almost as if they weren’t worth anything, yet were given out as a reward.”

Fantastic… “It’s just a staffing issue. Fernan took most of the miners with him to Guerron, I think to have a powerbase behind him before confronting Lumiére in the trial, and then when darkness fell, they stayed. It’s just a matter of getting them back to work.”

“Oh…” Eloise blinked. “Ok…” Either she didn’t believe Camille, or had some other hesitation.

“It wasn’t a booby prize, Eloise. You’re a shrewd merchant, and exactly the woman we trusted to get things running again. And when you do, you’ll profit the most from it.”

“Though the Crown will benefit just as much,” Annette added.

“You did valuable work getting Malin into the right hands. We wanted to give you something valuable in return.”

Lucien nodded. “It’s so valuable, in fact, that we should consider the danger of banditry, or privateers answering to Avalon. Even if they don’t invade directly, they could sabotage us just as easily as we might them. Even more so, with their greater resources.” He turned to Eloise. “I’ll order Guy Valvert to lend you fifty swords, for the protection of your lands. In time, I’ll augment that with some of my own.”

“You’re going to send your own soldiers to occupy my land that you just gave me?” Eloise shook her head. “You’re dead on that there’s money in this, and pirates will come knocking as soon as I get things running again. But I know the business, and I have my own ways to protect it. I don’t need your people looking over my shoulder.”

And you started so promising today, Eloise… “Are you going to send your little tunnel gremlins? I know you’re too paranoid to spare your best, like Ysengrin.”

“Yeah, I’ll send every last one of them, then hang out in the square waiting to get shot again.” She shook her head. “The Châlice Mercenaries just finished their last contract, and I’ve worked with them before. And against them. Mirielle Delune knows how to protect shit from pirates. Though I probably will send Ysengrin to supervise.”

“Protecting private property with private soldiers,” Simon said. “That does seem fitting.”

“And it would put them on our payroll, indirectly, better ties.” Annette said. “That might make it easier to call on them if we need more direct help in a fight.”

“Fine,” said Lucien. “Though I’m still writing to Guy.”

“Good.” Mercenaries fought for the highest bidder, putting them in charge of defense against theft seemed like the most absurd notion imaginable. Having loyal soldiers around would help to keep them from trying anything. “Then we’re in agreement?”

“Yes,” Annette said. “We need to scale up if we want to survive.”

“Yes,” said Simon. “Nothing’s stopping us from surpassing Avalon in any area, given enough time.”

“Yes,” said Eloise. “Got to hand it to you, Leclaire, it took a while, but you finally paid me right.”

“Then let this new era begin.” Lucien dipped his head. “As for Lyrion, I think it best we wait for an occasion where Jethro can contribute. Ticent can wait a few days for our answer.”

“I agree. I want to know how feasible this build up is before we make a decision.” Annette looked at Simon as she said it.

“Then, for the moment, we’re adjourned.”

Eloise lingered after the meeting, until it was just Margot and the two of them. “Can you help me? I’m not really sure how this works. Never had land before, or people living on it. Do I write them a letter? Issue a decree? Or just send a note with the mercenaries? Will they even want to go back? What if I need to find a whole new crew of miners?”

Strange to see her like this. It hadn’t been the intent of it, but perhaps Camille sharing her mortal secret had eased some of the tension between them. “Don’t worry. Most lords keep someone like you around to do the actual work anyway. You’ll be fine.” She put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll reach out to Fernan about the miners for you, Eloise. Better the news comes from him than from mercenaries.” We’re due for another conversation soon anyway. “I can’t imagine it will be a problem.”