Conquest of Avalon

Florette III: The Spy

“I reinforced the tunnel Corro made so it should be pretty safe, but if anything goes wrong and we need to make a quick exit, we should take a window. You don’t want to take chances with cave-ins.”

“Reinforced…” Captain Verrou repeated, somewhat skeptically. “I don’t mean any offense, but even trained sappers can mess this up sometimes, and you don’t exactly have the expertise. This very year, Gordon Perimont got himself killed because he skipped a tunnel inspection.”

Yup, and no other reason.

Florette couldn’t help but snicker. “Captain, I grew up in a little village called Enquin, out in the mountains. It had absolutely nothing going for it except its coal mines, which I’ve been in and out of since I could walk. When I say I reinforced it, trust me that I know what I’m doing.” Florette walked out ahead of him, inviting him to follow. “A secret tunnel to a valuable prisoner seemed like something worth keeping even with Corro gone.” In fact, I should probably tell Fernan about it before I go, so that the Montaignards have it in their pocket.

“Good thinking. However this goes, it’s useful to have an entry into Château d’Oran for the future. You’ve seen yourself how quickly authority can shift between friendly and unfriendly to the likes of us.” Not without some hesitancy in his step, Captain Verrou followed behind her. “I thought you were from the city, the way Eloise picked you up mid-pilfering. Enquin, you said?”

“Yeah.” Not that it matters. The mines are dry, with more prosperous territory ceded back to the geckos. Everyone who wasn’t waiting to die followed Fernan here.

“Is that why you came back? Visiting home?”

Florette shook her head. “That place was never home to me. Guerron isn’t really, either. Not sure I’d say I have one. I’m like you in that way, I think, going where the wind takes me, you know?”

“I’m not sure about that.” His words echoed off the tunnel walls. “Wherever Seaward Folly sails is home to me as long as I have my crew at my side and passion in my heart. If you really feel that way, you need to find your crew. People you know will back you up.”

I thought I had that, but then she stayed behind to line her pockets. Corro had left for Hiverre; the Fallen wasn’t talking to her; even Fernan, soon, would be unreachable. “I tried,” she said, leaving it at that.

“I’m impressed that you got a spirit to work with you,” Captain Verrou said after a few silent moments. “We tend to stay out of their business as much as we can. Most don’t have any interest in humans unless we’re doing their bidding or fueling their power.”

“Three spirits, not one,” Florette corrected. Sometimes I forget that you were raised in Avalon, Captain Verrou. You oppose it so fervently, but then occasionally you say something like that.

“Three? All the more so, then. I doubt many people have even talked to three spirits and made it out with their life, other than maybe sages and binders. But even Beckett would have been impressed by someone dueling Glaciel.”

“Beckett?”

Verrou’s posture straightened. “Sorry. Baron Beckett Williams, the Binder Dominant of Avalon. I knew him briefly in my navy days. One of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met—and there’s stiff competition—but an incredibly potent binder. Between the artifacts he’s amassed and his skill, he might be the best in the world.”

And you haven’t been able to kill him, either, which says a lot on its own. “Better than King Harold?”

“Harry’s a binder?” Verrou shook his head, befuddled. “He would have learned it after I knew him, so I couldn’t say. Regardless, you did well to even make it through a conversation with this spirit, Corro, let alone successfully calling on his help.”

“Corro and the Fallen were both key in the White Night, actually. I’d probably be dead without them, and I definitely wouldn’t have been able to fight Glaciel.” And as for Lamante’s contribution, I think it’s best I keep to myself. “I’m not sure you’re wrong about them, if you define ‘doing their bidding’ so broadly that it doesn’t mean anything anymore, but they weren’t ordering me around. I asked for help and they gave it, just like the Montaignards, or the crew for the railway robbery.”

Verrou let out a sharp exhale, half choking and half laughter. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

“I had to,” Florette answered. Eloise ditched me in Malin almost as soon as we left you, and I wasn’t just going to sit around doing nothing.

Avoiding guards and sightlines was so routine at this point that only the presence of an extra person forced Florette to spare the infiltration any thought at all, and before long, the two of them stood just outside Magnifico’s richly furnished tower cell.

When Captain Verrou reached for the door handle, Florette placed her hand on his. “He deserves death more than anyone alive, but if you kill him now, it means war. Nothing would remain to stop Avalon from invading. Having the king captive is our best asset against them, and we can’t ruin it on a whim, even for the most just of reasons.”

“You believe I want to kill him?” Verrou asked, withdrawing his hand. “The thought has certainly crossed my mind. The King of Avalon deserves nothing less, and the young Harold isn’t nearly as capable of sowing destruction as his father is. If any trace of my old friend remains, trapped in the husk of that royal monster, then perhaps it would be better to free him of his mortal shell, for everyone involved.”

Florette reached out again, but he held up his hand. “But then, perhaps not. Making an informed decision on that front was the purpose of this visit. Then, if it’s warranted, I’ll plot his assassination for a later date. I didn’t survive this long in my chosen profession by acting rash.”

“Good,” Florette said, opening the door and leading the way inside.

King Harold IV Grimoire looked markedly better than the last time Florette had seen him, dressed in fresh clothes with his hair tied up behind his crowned head. His smirk was back, too. “Ah, Florette, it’s good to see you again. And you brought me a present, by the looks of it. The notorious Robin Verrou. We meet at last.” He chuckled. “Thank you, Florette. I’ll let you do the honors of killing him. How did you trick him into coming here, into such an obvious trap?”

“Ignore him,” Florette ordered Captain Verrou. “He’s just trying to stir shit up.”

“Stir shit up? For such a stalwart ally? Florette, why would I want to make things difficult for you? You’ve been here at my side more than any other. You’ve become my apprentice in binding. I even gave you my Cloak of Nocturne.”

“Shut up.” Florette grabbed a corner of his bedsheet and ripped it from the bed. “I’ll gag you if I have to.”

“And prove the truth of my words?”

Fucker! With one hand, Florette ripped off the bedsheet, with her other, she drew her sword.

“Florette, that’s not necessary.” Captain Verrou stepped forward, putting himself between Florette and the king. “You should be careful, Harry. Lying that much is liable to wear out your tongue.”

“You don’t get to call me Harry, pirate.”

“While a king can speak as he likes?” Verrou scoffed. “I had to see it with my own eyes. What happened to you?”

“Life,” Magnifico answered, without further elaboration.

“Well, then there’s an easy solution,” Verrou said, hopefully bluffing.

“I’m not the man I was when I was twenty. Who is? You certainly aren’t. Perhaps who I used to be was better, but this is who I am. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, please—” His eyes went wide as the creak of the door filled a suddenly-silent room. “Hide, you fools!”

Captain Verrou wasted no time, diving under the enormous bed and wrapping the sheet around the foot to hide any trace of himself.

Florette followed after, since there was easily room for both of them, and it seemed better than ducking behind a chair or trying to explain herself to whoever walked through that door. She caught the barest hint of red hair right before she was fully hidden, but whoever it was that was entering didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

“Hello, Magnifico, you wretched beast.”

“King Lucien, what a pleasure to see you.” Renart is here? “I wish you would visit more often; I so love our conversations. You look just like your father, Romain, on the day of the Foxtrap, just a moment before he was cut down like a dog.”

“Don’t speak my father’s name,” the Fox-King growled.

“Romain.” Magnifico’s words were followed by a creaking sound that Florette belatedly realized was him leaning back in his chair.

“He would still be alive if it weren’t for your family’s boundless capacity for evil. So would Duke Fouchand, who was a better man than either of us. Fouchand died trying to stop you, and my father fought nobly and bravely, and secured a path for us to escape that we might fight another day. He slew your father and king, even if it cost his life. You have no right.”

“Well, that’s not true. I don’t think there’s anything I don’t have a right to, really. But yes, let’s talk of other matters. How is your fiancée? I did give Lumière that pistol, after all. Right before I threw that Duke from his chambers and watched his head splat open on the cobblestones like an overripe melon.”

“Silence!”

“The only true silence is death, fox-boy, and you are too much of a coward to impose it on me.”

I knew Magnifico was reckless, but this is something else entirely. Captive in a cell, entirely at the Fox-King’s mercy, and he was mocking him relentlessly, reminding him of loved ones that he’d harmed and killed… It was almost like he was trying to provoke the Fox-King, but to what end? What could he hope to gain by pissing off the one person who could call for his death without anyone above him to gainsay the order?

Florette exchanged a look with Captain Verrou, confirming that he was hearing the implication too. He’s trying to goad Renart into killing him. Only the need to be silent kept Florette from gasping when she realized it. Why any man would seek his own death was mystery enough, but Magnifico? The Crown Prince of arrogance?

He was probably trying with Captain Verrou and me, too. That would explain the strange turnaround, anyway.

But there wasn’t time to focus on that. Lucien Renart was still talking. “That’s not cowardice, only good sense.”

“It’s fortunate that Lady Leclaire survived, if only so that she could keep doing your thinking for you.”

The conversation paused, and for a moment Florette was worried that the Fox-King had noticed them, but he spoke again, softly. “How did you know she’s alive?”

I don’t think that was because of me, right? I wouldn’t have let that slip.

“How did you know?” he barked again.

“Because you just told me, fox-boy. Before, it was merely a suspicion.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, a woman like that, something else will kill her soon enough.”

Renart growled. “It matters not. Soon, the whole world will know. Why not you? And, to answer your question, the Lady Camille is quite well. I just received a message from her that Malin has been liberated from Avalon’s cruel grasp. The heart of the Empire is ours once more, as it was in days of old.”

That finally seemed to shut Magnifico up.

“And Luce? The Prince?”

“The message did not speak of him. Probably dead, though I suppose he could be another hostage. You Grimoires certainly like getting captured.”

Magnifico snarled, his response inarticulate.

“Well, I just thought I’d let you know. I wanted to see the look on your face. I might not be able to justify killing you, but this, I can certainly enjoy.” Footsteps sounded across the floor, moving towards the back of the room. “Just imagine if you’d never donned that disguise. You’d be sitting pretty in your palace right now, not a care in the world.”

“Like you?” Magnifico scoffed. “A king must serve his people. Sometimes that means taking action personally, unadorned by adulation and finery. We are a symbol before we are men, and the people recognize when their Lord is willing to fight alongside them. Or tip the balance of power without firing a shot, as the case may be.”

“A shot was fired. And your efforts were undone.”

“As will yours and Leclaire’s. If you want something done right, do it yourself. That’s the whole reason ‘Magnifico’ exists. But I don’t expect you to understand. Please, by all means, sit on your throne doing whatever your wife tells you as you grow fat and complacent and old. The moment I’m not a hostage anymore, Avalon will pour into your little fiefdom with the fury of a thousand suns.”

“Which is precisely why you’ll die a hostage, unless your son wants to pay a ransom that will bankrupt Avalon so badly it can’t raise an army for generations.”

“Will I, now? I am happy to face capital justice for my crimes. Today, even.”

“Nice try.” The door opened, then closed again.

Florette planned to wait a few minutes to be safe, but Captain Verrou jumped out seconds after he heard the door slam shut, so she followed.

Magnifico leaned back in his chair. “Well, now that we’re alone again, what would you like to talk about?”

Verrou shook his head sadly. “I have nothing to say to you anymore. But your time will come, and I guarantee that you won’t be as sanguine about it as you’re pretending to be now. And it will still be less than you deserve.”

“What a harrowing thought! Heavens forbid!”

“Let’s go,” Captain Verrou said, ignoring him, and so Florette followed once more.

They were halfway back down the tunnel before Verrou broke the silence of their uneventful exit through the cellar. “Didn’t you say that you came here from Malin?”

Florette shrugged. “Eloise dumped me there before her brilliant plan to lose her ship and wander through the wasteland. I was there for a few months.”

“So you decided to rob a railyard?”

“Yeah, and a train, and I helped Camille Leclaire infiltrate the Governor’s office, which apparently led to the city being liberated, so that’s good to hear. I didn’t really trust her to pull it off, to be honest.”

Verrou scratched his chin, staring pensively. “Gordon Perimont didn’t really die in a cave-in, did he? That was you and Leclaire.”

“Leclaire had nothing to do with that one. Eloise and I were ripping off this miliary train, and Perimont was ranting about how he was going to reduce Guerron to ashes, so I… I made a mistake, honestly. Just like with Cassia. I didn’t stop to think, and one of the soldiers saw my face. He gave me this—” She flicked her ear, indicating the triangle of flesh that was still missing from Whitbey’s shot. “—and burned the identity I’d been using. I had to get out as fast I could, stop everything I’d been working on there.” And split up with Eloise. “All to change one awful governor out for another just as bad. And this was the day darkness fell. It’s not like he could have actually mounted an attack. It didn’t do anything.”

Captain Verrou patted her gently on the shoulder. “That’s a lesson I’ve had to learn many times over. Sometimes it’s nice to make sure that their particular brand of odiousness can’t continue, even if the real change isn’t much.”

“It was still a mistake.”

“Undoubtedly. Still, without that mistake, you might never have been in Guerron when we arrived, and I wouldn’t have been able to meet you at so opportune a time. Perhaps it’s fate.”

Florette blinked. “What, overhearing that conversation?”

“No… When you were in Malin, infiltrating, did you learn the language?”

“As best as I could,” Florette answered in Avaline. “Especially once we stole those books and schematics. Can’t get a fair price if you don’t know what they’re worth.”

Verrou laughed. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s hard to find good people for jobs like that, and that’s a big part of why the Exile Queen and I refer people to each other where we can.”

“Like Maxime.” Florette nodded. “That Avalon mission of his sounds really interesting. Mastering their scientific craft to turn it against them, infiltrating the heart of their power, dismantling it all without anyone even knowing he’s there…”

Captain Verrou nodded, a smile stretching across his face. “Would you want to do it instead?”

“I—Me? Spying on Avalon? Learning their secrets?”

“It’s a slow-burn job. You can’t be impulsive, or your cover will be ruined before the year is out. Don’t make waves until and unless you can really make it count. For the first few years, that’s going to mean doing your schoolwork, going to bed early, and not messing with anything. I think for you, that’ll be the hardest part.”

If you’re trying to make espionage sound boring, it’s working. But so was all the prep work for a job. Planning the Railyard Robbery had meant weeks of chatting people up for information and lying on a roof looking at patrol patterns in the camp. The train heist had been even more involved, relying on ten times as many people for a priceless reward.

The work had paid off, and that made the boredom worth it.

“You can’t go assassinating Governors, even if they deserve it. I wouldn’t have even offered if you hadn’t shown that you understand the situation with Harry. You could have killed him whenever you wanted without anyone even knowing it was you, but you held back because you knew it was the right call. Do the same here, and know that it will take years. The job is yours, if you want it, but you have to be sure you can do it. You have to be sure that you want to.”

I’m a better fit for the job. Maxime’s Avaline isn’t great, and his face looked like he’d sucked on a lemon when he heard how long the job would run. I’d be doing him a favor, if anything.

And I don’t have anywhere else to go… “I can handle it.”