Conquest of Avalon

Camille X: The Terminus

This was the end.

The last scion of Leclaire, the last sage of Levian, Camille Leclaire’s final act of any significance would be the signing of a humiliating treaty to keep the peace, such as it was. Though more likely than not it’s a twenty-year respite at best. Once Magnifico died—whatever Luce’s intentions—all bets were off.

As a political operator, it would be Camille’s most unpopular action by far, a definitive way to sully her legacy as Maiden of Dawn and Liberator of Malin, but if anyone in the Imperial government had to be tarred with that brush, better it be the one with a lifespan measured in hours.

Considering how close things had come, again and again, to the brink of a war they were sure to lose, the Empire could endure the disgrace of Guerron for a time. Thanks to the carefully worded commitment to honor Gézarde “for the rest of her life”, they’d keep receiving coal for essentially no political cost, and a moderate price in florins at that. Simon could build his damned machines and the Empire of the Fox could modernize without a combative Avalon retaliating.

In theory, anyway.

When Camille actually considered the next twenty years, her imminent death stripping all illusions from her eyes, it was difficult to be optimistic. Lucien was absent, gallivanting around the continent despite knowing Camille would only be able to run his empire for him until the end of the year. Even if her death finally got him to return to his duties, he would be a mess for months, with no one to steer the Empire in his time of grief.

Annette was a capable administrator, but not someone with an abundance of vision, or much inclined to reach for novel opportunities. Being so thoroughly outmaneuvered by Lumière that Fernan and Mordred had needed to rig a trial to save her was ample evidence of that, for all that Camille had failed against the same opponent. And now that Malin had pledged itself against military action to quell the rebellion in Guerron, she would be livid that Camille had sold out her birthright, probably cursing her name for years beyond Camille’s death.

And who else was there? Simon and Eloise, staunch votaries of selfishness and commerce? Mordred Boothe, the smooth operator of espionage so ungifted at politics that he couldn’t make it through his own brother’s peace summit without getting thrown out of the room? The fabulist, Scott Temple, who changed masters as often as coats and would no-doubt return to Avalon’s fold without missing a step? Laughable, all of them.

Camille would leave behind a sundered Empire, bereft of leadership at a time when it needed it most. Perhaps it could survive as long as Magnifico did, provided Guerron continued to honor the agreement—if Lucien could come to his senses, he and Annette together could make for passable rulers—but as soon as the king died, nothing was stopping Avalon from taking back what they’d lost. Every year until then would simply be borrowed time, no different from what Camille had bargained with Levian to get, this past year.

And it’s too late for anything else. My fate is written. A dead martyr, no different from her mother. And no less likely to be judged and cursed after my death, any gratitude buried under the weight of hard decisions and mistakes.

The end of a proud line of sages who’d spent centuries fueling the power of a vicious monster, the woman who’d liberated Malin but lost Guerron. Lost everything.

The only choice left I have is how I die. Not much, in the end, but Camille intended to make it count—for her own legacy, if nothing else. When tutors in one hundred years spoke of the Maiden of Dawn, be it as a savior or monster, there would at least be one point over which no doubt remained: the ties between Leclaire and Levian had been irreparably severed.

Camille finished The Last Will and Testament of Lady Camille Thérèse Leclaire with a flourish of her pen, a more passionate signature than its like on the Treaty of Charenton, then folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope, sealed with blue wax bearing her snake insignia. Everything she could leave behind—apologies and gratitude for Annette, validation for Lucien instead of the recriminations his actions warranted, instructions for Margot to ensure her continued professional success... All together, it stuffed the envelope thickly enough that Camille nearly had to divide it in two.

It wouldn’t be enough. Even if Mordred survived today and devoted himself to realizing her will—both prospects individually were vanishingly unlikely—it wasn’t likely to amount to much more than words on a page.

“You’re ready?” Mordred asked, seeing her seal the envelope.

“As much as anyone can be. I don’t really have a choice.” Camille set the envelope down on her desk, then picked it up again. “But you do. If you want to help, I could very much use someone I trust to get this back to Malin. I know Luce is honorable, but sending it on without reading it is still a risk he might not take.”

“And leave you to face your demise alone? Who do you take me for?” Mordred smiled. “I’m no less doomed than you are, and this is the worthiest of deaths. Who knows? We might even make it through.”

You might. I won’t get the chance.

“Come on, we don’t want to lose our daylight.” He held out his hand, ready to lead the way, and Camille took it.

It was raining when they reached the deck of the ship, errant drops of water glimmering in the scarlet light. Camille savored the sight, the last sunset she would ever see, then descended towards the rowboat tied below.

In the distance, she could see lights above the Rhan, lanterns to celebrate the new year in the most intact remaining part of Charenton. Good, they could use a cause for celebration. And it would mean that people were clustered away from the beach, away from any danger.

Still, Camille directed the boat far to the west of any houses or tents, finding a rocky spot on the beach to dismount the boat and bid the oarsman return to the A.R.S Progress. She almost asked Mordred to go with him, but he’d made his choice. No further reason to push him away.

And, selfishly, Camille was glad she wouldn’t be dying alone.

Feeling the raindrops stain her face, Camille gave Mordred one last look. He nodded in agreement, content to join her in her doom. Very well.

“Great Spirit Levian, Lord of the Lyrion Sea, Guardian of Raging Waves, Torrent of the Deep, I call you forth to receive my offering.” Even after so many months, the words danced easily across her tongue, almost automatic.

Rather than venturing into the water, Camille kept her feet on the relatively solid ground of the beach, waiting for Levian to approach from beneath the surging waves.

The angular shape of Levian’s head emerged slowly from the water, untouched by the rain. Slitted blue eyes glared ominously into Camille, ignoring Mordred as if he weren’t even there. “Leclaire, my loyal servant. You chose a potent sacrifice to fulfill our pact.”

What? I’m hundreds of sacrifices short. Not that acting surprised was likely to help here. “I always give back what I owe.”

Mordred gave her an unmistakeable “what the fuck” look that Camille tried hard not to return in kind, for all that she was feeling the same bafflement.

“Call it as you will, human. But I granted you back your life so that you might realize my will in the world of humans, and you succeeded. My temple and control in Malin is restored, untold offerings returned to what they were before your predecessor allowed its fall. Not only are Soleil’s followers defeated, but the Sun himself is no more, replaced by a pliable hermit. You have done well, human.”

Camille had thought she’d prepared herself for anything. Death, for certain, or even eternal bondage, if things went wrong. But success? “I also promised you one thousand sacrifices, delivered by the end of the year. Here I am at the end, and...”

“And less than a score remains. Nine-hundred and eighty-four humans dead in your name, sacrificed to me by you and your loyal followers. Kill the last, and the service you promised in exchange for your life will have been provided.”

Someone was making sacrifices in my name this whole time? Camille felt her stomach drop, remembering the devastation in Charenton that apparently had been fueled in her name. If not worse... If the Charentine had been promised to Levian, the entire attack might have been for Camille’s benefit.

“My followers slew just shy of a thousand people for you in my name...” Barely, Camille managed to keep her tone from rising at the end as a question would. Not Aude and the Acolytes... Most of the ones from Malin barely countenance sacrifices at all, and the ones from Guerron don’t know my predicament. Even if they’d somehow found out, it was hard to imagine any of them going to such lengths behind her back.

“Well, I can’t say this is what I expected.” Mordred gave an incredulous look towards Levian, then back to Camille. “You might have asked me, Camille. My death serves a greater end, as yours would. I might even have agreed. It’s not so different from what I did agree to, after all.”

“I would never ask you to die for me like that.” If I’d known about this, though... Sourcing sixteen people worthy of death in Charenton would hardly be outside the realm of possibility. Mordred had even done it for her before, killing several of the more problematic Guardians back in Malin to avoid friction as power changed hands. Even now, they could almost certainly run back on shore and pick off enough people to meet Levian’s deadline. In the chaos of the new year’s festival, they might even manage it without being noticed.

Leaving the other nine-hundred unexplained. Back in Malin, Mordred had dedicated his kills to Levian in Camille’s name, contributing slightly towards Levian’s target. Had he somehow secretly been killing hundreds of people to add to that number the whole time? Then acted incredibly convincingly as if he had no idea what Levian was talking about? It didn’t seem likely.

“Do not mar your victory by wasting my time any further. Kill him.” Levian poked his head slightly further out of the water, the final fading light of the year reflecting in sharp blue eyes.

“And then?” You used this power I didn’t know I’d given you to destroy a city, to slaughter its people like animals for—as far as I can tell—no reason at all.

“Peace between the spirits was Soleil’s doing, and now he is just as dead as Pantera. The time of his weakness is over. This very night, another Arbiter shall fall, and soon, all but Terramonde shall reflect our new strength.” His tail darted out of the water, the tip stopping just short of Camille’s neck. “Continue to serve me well, and you shall continue to benefit. Or fail, and deliver your soul to me as soon as the day is done. Either is a victory.”

Is it? Because without followers, all that power you’re so proud of will wither away. It was hard to really believe he valued ‘her’ help while declaring it so easily replaceable with the fleeting bits of energy her soul could provide him.

It didn’t matter anyway. Camille had made her choice. The cycle of greed and oppression that her family had perpetuated with Levian for centuries ended here and now, one way or another. Repaying the Leclaires’ debt to the world, no matter the cost.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Camille ducked down as the tail slashed above her, so rapid it meant Levian hadn’t even slightly hesitated. It smacked down into the beach, sending a plume of wet sand flying into the air.

The sky split with a crack as Mordred thrust his arm forwards, lightning blasting from his gauntlet. A pale imitation of Eulus’s power, and unjustly stolen, but impressive in its own right. Camille had only seen it once before, during the coup against Luce, which had largely been a performance.

In a real fight, its drawbacks were quickly becoming clear. Levian had already darted back into the water, impossible to make out beneath the darkening surface of the sea he ruled. And without a clear target, Mordred was just blasting lightning aimlessly into the water, about as likely to be hitting Levian as he was his father back in Cambria.

Mordred stumbled as a wave crashed his ankles, nearly falling face-first into the water and his certain death, and only managed to stay upright with a gust of wind from the gauntlet.

Camille acted fast, pulling a wave closer to him and hardening its top to ice just in time to knock him back towards dry land. A moment later, Levian shattered her construct, sending sharp slivers hurtling towards them.

She tried to create a wall of ice to block it, but the closest water wasn’t close enough, and if Mordred hadn’t managed to swat most of them aside with a burst of wind, they would have left her with wounds far worse than a puncture in her thigh.

“I’m surprised he retreated. He’s supposed to be one of the most arrogant ones, and we’re just lowly humans, right?”

“He wasn’t expecting Eulus’s power to be used against him.” Camille bit her lip hard, pulling the shard of ice free from her leg with a grunt of pain. “But now he knows how to avoid it, especially your weakened version.”

As if to prove how little use it was, Mordred fired off another aimless burst of lightning into the rapidly-swelling wave forming out at sea, already tall enough to crash down over their heads.

Camille grabbed Mordred’s ungauntleted hand. “Take us up.”

“You’ll unbalance me if you’re holding on like—” He stopped as Camille stepped right next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Ok, that’s better.”

She held on tightly as Mordred let loose a massive vortex of wind, cutting ribbons into the beach where it flung sand as the wave started to break. Camille felt her boots soak with water as they barely skimmed the top of the wave, then watched it crash impotently against the blasted sands of the empty beach.

“I can’t attack while I'm using the wind to keep us up here. Can your magic—”

“Only what Levian doesn’t contest. It’s his power over his domain, so if I try anything big like tearing down the wave, he’ll notice and shut me down.” Camille could have explained that beforehand, she supposed, but all she needed to do was die, not win. She could hardly blame Mordred for trying, though, especially once the waves started to settle again.

“Is he retreating?”

“No. Just repositioning...” Though even that isn’t like him. Why not crush them right away? He was surely capable of it. Even at the start, he could have slashed his tail just a bit faster and Camille would be dead.

Oh.

He still wanted her soul. Waiting them out would give it to him, which put the impetus on them to find him before the day expired.

“Dip me down. I can find him.”

“Camille, he’ll just grab you. I can’t—”

“Do it!”

Jethro angled the wind, building up more horizontal speed as they started to fall. Camille eyed their trajectory and started to pull water up to meet her, forming a dip that let her see down further below. She caught the barest glimpse of dark scales before her control was wrenched away, the water splashing back down despite her pull.

“Lower,” Camille ordered, eyes already looking ahead to the new intersection point. She shimmied down Mordred’s body, holding onto his waist, then legs, until eventually her hands were around his ankles as she hung below him, face just outside the roar of the wind the gauntlet was throwing behind them.

Have to catch him by surprise if I don’t want to be disrupted again. Camille swung her legs forward, then used the momentum from the swing to fling herself back, letting go of Mordred just in time to catch the wind he was throwing and fly even further in the other direction.

She spun her hands in a circle as she parted the water once more, this time keeping control long enough to land on a newly-cleared seafloor, wincing as rocks sliced into her hands and knees. Taking a quick breath, she pushed the gap back in a straight line towards the sea, fueling the magic with both Levian’s potent power and her own life.

Why not, at this point?

As soon as Levian started to collapse the new tunnel, Camille repeated the gesture, diving into the new clearing beneath the water just in time to avoid the one collapsing over her head. After a few seconds running down her corridor, she abruptly dived left and cleared another path, this time managing to get a good look at Levian’s head as it poked out of the curtain of water.

Perfect.

Camille couldn’t do anything to him herself, her power but a shadow of his own, but that didn’t mean she didn’t get anything out of exposing him. Throwing her hands up, she yanked the water above Levian up into the air, signaling Mordred his location.

They hadn’t talked about this, but hopefully he was smart enough to—

Camille shook as lightning once again filled the sky, rippling through the water as it hit Levian dead-on. Not a killing blow, to be sure, but—

In the moment of distraction, Camille’s entire corridor of air collapsed, the walls of water smacking into her hard enough to hurt, followed shortly by the strain to hold her breath as the currents threw her back and forth.

A swirling spear of air from above tried to reach her, but Levian closed the gap almost immediately, leaving Camille straining to breathe as she caught his dark shape approaching in a serpentine pattern, slipping out of sight and then back into view as he held her in place underwater.

Once he reached her, it was even worse. Camille could feel something sharp dig into her shoulder, giving it a wound to mirror the bullet’s scar on the other. His tail curled around her neck as she strained for air, hands flailing useless as her every attempt at magic was immediately reversed.

At least he’s decided to kill me now. The record would show that Camille Leclaire had died fighting against her evil patron, at least trying to right some small share of the wrongs her family had committed in his name. The wrongs I benefited from, lives fuel for my power just as much as his.

Crackles of lightning hit the water, only to stop short of Levian’s vicinity, dissipating in the water. Camille tried to disrupt him, but her limp gestures were barely enough to make the water tremble as she poured all her effort into breathing.

They began to slow down, hopefully due to Mordred deciding to save himself, though there was a good chance that Levian had simply carried them far enough away that his scattershot aiming was getting close enough to even see less and less often. Eventually, so far as Camille could tell, it stopped entirely.

Camille felt her eyes bulging, her lungs straining as Levian’s grip only tightened, his tail constricting around her neck. For a moment, she thought she could see the Leclaires’ tunnel in Malin, the same tube where she’d risked drowning on the day of a massive battle just to make her pact before she lost the chance.

But the image faded quickly, replaced by the twilight gloom of turbulent waters.

This is the best death someone like me could hope for. I did what I could. Camille’s mouth opened, straining for air that would never come, and she slipped away.