Conquest of Avalon

Florette IV: The Stranger

Florette had to admit, Cambria ’s skyline had taken her breath away when she’d first arrived.

Red brick towers that must have been six stories tall loomed above the marina, partially cloaked in fog. Past them, she knew, the palace lay at the top of the hill, but between here and there was an entire city, each building larger than the last.

Honestly, the decadence was astounding. They had trains inside the city! Just to take regular people from one neighborhood to another. There was a ‘park’ within the city boundaries, a type of garden meant to mimic true nature instead of being neatly arrayed, that was by itself larger than Enquin or any other village. The fake wilderness they’d put inside the city was bigger than most real towns in the real wilds.

Then, once she’d made it to Mourningside, where the College was located, she’d been able to glimpse Ortus Tower itself, dark stone stretching so far into the clouds above that its crest could not even be seen. Aside from the tower, the buildings were older here, somewhat more conventional, but even then, houses of plaster greatly outnumbered wood and stone.

It was all so big, so... I want to say ‘grand’, but that implies a goodness that I’m not sure I can say it has. Some of the streets were so wide that carts zoomed through the center fast enough to kill someone, while everyone else clustered at the edges. Several times, Florette had only managed to narrowly avoid being trampled to death, and no one on the street had seemed to notice. All of the roads were paved, at least as far as Florette had managed to see, and shockingly even in their grey expanse.

Up close, the towers that had looked so uniform and menacing in the distance seemed almost oppressive in form, grey stone instead of the red brick used near the marina, and tall enough to throw most of the streetscape into shadow. They definitely resembled the buildings Avalon had set up at the North end of Malin, though it was probably more accurate to say that those buildings resembled these. And it wasn’t as if there was much sun to begin with, only the traces that occasionally peeked through the fog.

Still, for all their uniformity in architecture, the people had made them their own. Colorful banners stretched across the street, reds and oranges evoking the same autumn colors that some of the trees displayed, though curiously many remained green even at this time of year. Laundry hung from windows and balconies, along with the occasional mural. Children played in the streets; families sat on the front steps drinking from steaming mugs and watching the world go by.

Florette wanted to stay longer and explore more of Westfall, as the neighborhood was called, but it was out of the way of her path, and she had to be sure to make it to the College on time.

And this is just a corner of Cambria. Florette hadn’t even glimpsed the old part of the town up on the hill, with the castle of ancient Cambrian kings and the meeting hall of the Great Council, or the massive district of factories that the ship had needed to steer far clear of, since their process spilled oil and poisons into the adjacent water. She’d barely had a chance to look at the marina before getting on the train, paying the fare with mandala coins that Captain Verrou had given her for the mission.

Though I have to be careful. Those will only last so long. What she’d stolen in Malin certainly hadn’t lasted, though that was mostly because it had gone into paying the crew for the train job, and then she hadn’t ended up seeing any money from the pistols. If the Montaignards put them to good use though, it will have been more than worth it.

Unfortunately, that didn’t help Florette any, here and now. And further thievery would almost certainly be too risky a method of refilling coffers, at least until she knew the city far, far better. Even then, the risk isn’t really worth the reward. Perhaps there would be a way to find employment in between classes, though the thought didn’t exactly fill her with excitement.

A small, guilty part of her noted that, in some ways, Cambria was everything she’d hoped Malin would be, a magnificent edifice at the heart of Avalon. Fitting, when the street that connected the train station to the College was called ‘Magnific Avenue’. Apparently King Harold hadn’t been terribly creative in choosing his alias.

But it was hard to take it all in when the wealth to build it all had been forcibly taken, countless lives ended or subjugated to extract whatever ‘value’ could be stolen from conquered peoples. Was it any wonder, with so great and terrible a machine resting beneath them, that Cambria would evince such splendor?

You’re allowed to be impressed, Florette. Srin Sabine is experiencing just as much of a shock as you are, and without the same reasons to have mixed feelings about it.

Srin Sabine, of course, was who Florette was now. Who she would have to be, for years on end. Lamante had once told her never to let the mask slip while wearing it, and that advice held just as true metaphorically as it did literally.

My name is Srin Sabine, daughter of Srin Savian, Count of Mahabali Hall, on the Isle of Shadows. After a dalliance on an exploratory tour in his youth, my mother raised me in Malin until two years ago, when as she lay dying she bid me seek my father in Chaya, and he accepted me as his own.

Honestly, it was a bit overwrought, but it wasn’t like Florette was going to narrate the whole thing to anyone. It was a framework to keep in mind, to pull details from if anyone asked and it seemed more suspicious not to answer.

And it would hold up to scrutiny better than a simpler backstory. Captain Verrou had found a real gravestone in Malin for Sabine’s mother, a pauper’s grave with no kin to dispute any details. And Count Savian really had traveled to Malin twenty years ago, and he really had acted like he was hiding something for the last two years. In reality, that was the scale of his debts, not a secret illegitimate daughter, but if anyone went poking around in Chaya, they wouldn’t find evidence to the contrary.

Especially since, in a matter of months, Count Srin Savian would ‘die’, and Mahabali hall, along with his debts, would pass to his daughter.

A daughter raised in obscurity, new to Avalon, let alone Cambria, who would logically be just as shocked to see all of this as Florette actually was.

That in mind, she let her awe show as she passed through the gates of the Cambrian College, a modest building compared to the tower whose shadow was cast upon it, but certainly impressive in its own right. Especially impressive were several windmills mounted to the walls, presumably to make flour for the kitchens on-site.

Past the gates, the path opened into a courtyard with a fountain of water bubbling up in the center, which Florette hadn’t even realized was possible without magic.

Unless… She swallowed, hoping her imagination was running wild. If they’re willing to kill spirits, might they not enslave them, too? What unspeakable horrors might a water spirit be enduring down below, that we might enjoy the sound of running water in this garden?

Florette would have to find an unsuspicious way to ask, because she couldn’t stand walking by this fountain every day with someone being tortured beneath it.

Cautiously, she lowered her ear, then knocked against the stone of the fountain, but all she could hear was rushing water. Hopefully it’s just some technology, though. Florette was fairly confident that these massive buildings had nothing to do with spirits, and Captain Verrou had assured her that their airships didn’t either.

After going through the registration process, though, being tortured underneath a fountain almost seemed like a preferable alternative.

First, she’d had to wander around the College until someone pointed her to the library. Then she hadn’t been able to look at any of the books there because she’d had to stand in a line for what felt like hours, packed in a stuffy room full of what must have been the entire Cambrian College student body, only more people kept filing in after her.

Then, she’d been told that all of the housing at the school had been reserved, which meant that she had to find the off-site building in Mourningside, lugging her class texts with her the entire way. For some reason, they were far larger and heavier than regular books, and she’d been made to purchase them despite the fact that they were books sitting in a library, and the College clearly already possessed them.

The books alone had taken nearly a third of Florette’s money, and they’d had the gall to ask her for donations at the very same table!

It was impossible not to notice the frowns tracing their faces when they heard her accent, either. One woman assigning classes had asked if she was a ‘westerner’, which meant that the ruse was working, but apparently being from Avalon only went so far in Cambria if you weren’t from the right part.

I can see why Captain Verrou picked this for the cover identity; they’re such pricks that they can’t be bothered to tell the difference. But it was one thing to know that and another to experience it. Every time Florette needed to ask someone to repeat what they’d said, it felt like a dagger in her heart.

One mousy girl with a hook nose had even cut in front of the line, elbowing Florette out of the way as if she knew that Florette couldn’t afford to make trouble by contesting it.

Then, to top it off, her residence hall was woefully decrepit compared to the College, or even most of the other buildings in Mourningside, though tall enough that it could only be so old. Whatever its age, the construction was hardly robust, with a thin roof that let the wind chill blow straight through. That wouldn’t have been a problem, except her room was on the top floor, tiny, and shared with a girl named Opal who barely had anything to say save annoyance that she’d no longer have the room to herself.

Petty issues, to be sure, but it wasn’t exactly setting this mission off to the best start. This was going to be Florette’s status quo for years, and she’d have to hold herself back from doing what came naturally for the duration.

Was it too much to ask that it be bearable?

“Yes,” Opal said, eyes peering over the top of her book. “Get over yourself.”

Florette couldn’t help but laugh, more out of surprise than amusement. “Fair enough. I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

“Your accent could certainly use some work.” Opal turned to the next page. “Where on earth are you from, anyway?”

“Malin, by way of Chaya.”

Opal set her book down. “You’re Count Srin’s little foundling, aren’t you? Ho ho, wait until my brother hears about this.”

Florette’s eyes widened. “Is word already going around about that?” Did Captain Verrou spread rumors so that I wouldn’t have to explain it myself?

“Well, it’s not every day that someone plucks an heir out of obscurity. That pirate attack must have scared your daddy shitless.”

A sensitive one, aren’t you, Opal? “He’s dying. The medecin— the doctor says he only has a few months to live, at most. Robin Verrou is thorough.”

“But not enough to end the bloodline.” She smacked her lips together, clearly trying to decide what to say next. “Sorry about that, I guess. I met your father a couple times, and he seemed like a dough-brained ninny, but no one deserves to die like that.”

“No.”

Opal picked her book back up, but Florette didn’t want to miss the chance to connect with the only person here she’d shared more than six words with, so she asked, “where are you from, then? And why would your brother care?”

“Oh, just because he’s serving as a pirate-catcher right now. He’s hunting Verrou with Captain Stewart. Sir Ciq Prashant of Nymphell, if you’ve heard the name.”

“No, sorry. Would that make you Ciq Opal, then?” Putting the surname first was generally the custom in the western isles, but each of them was different, and Nymphell hadn’t come up too often in Florette’s Avalon-related information binge on the ride over. Learning about the Isle of Shadows and Khali syncretism and the union with Avalon had been plenty, let alone all of the cultural signifiers that she’d have to evince to maintain her cover.

Returning to her book, Opal didn’t dignify the question with a response. Fair enough. For Sabine, the answer would probably be obvious.

“What do you like to—”

“Look, if you’re so desperate for something to do, maybe go find a tavern. You can get your readings done and still be out of the house. Lunacy is my spot though, so find somewhere else.”

Fuck off, in other words. “Sure. Fine. Not a problem.”

“Look, I don’t mean any offense, but I was supposed to graduate last spring, and then a week before the final examinations, evil spirits plunged the world into darkness, and somehow that means now I have to come back and do a whole other term. It’s bullshit.”

“Soleil was killed by a binder.” By your king, she almost said, though who knew what the official story was in Avalon?

“Yeah, whatever. The point is, I already have friends, and I don’t really have time to coach someone fresh off the boat. No offense. I’m just here to get my work done and get out.” She pointed towards the door. “Speaking of ‘get out’...”

“Yeah, I get it.”

At least exploring Mourningside was more interesting. Right before the sun set, the fog finally started to lift, casting the whole city in a glowing scarlet light.

Florette found Lunacy by sound more than anything else, as that same electronic music Magnifico had been playing was blaring out of it loud enough to hear from a block away.

She couldn’t help but smile as she entered, thinking about the fact that, thanks in part to her, now everyone the world over would have the chance to enjoy it.

This did sound slightly different though, in a way that was difficult to be sure about. Richer? More layered? Clearly I’m not much of a music expert. Fortunately, unlike the many other things Florette was here to learn, ignorance there wasn’t something she’d need to hole up and study rigorously. Thermodynamics, however, wasn’t an area where she would be so lucky.

Inside the tavern, covering the entire back wall, were massive painted words in strangely bubbly script, as if drawn with a single enormous calligraphy brush, reading The Midnight Madness. Which… Was that not just a clumsier way of saying the same thing as the tavern’s name?

But then, in Avaline, it was considered best practice to use as many synonyms as possible, whether you needed to or not. It made learning it a million times harder, since there were like four alternatives for every single word and you’d hear all of them in conversation. And you have to throw into your own speech if you want to avoid looking like a stupid foreigner.

The tavern-keeper had an incredibly strange manner of dress, clad entirely in black from head to toe, with several circles of metal embedded into each of her ears in asymmetric patterns. Florette thought briefly that she might have been flirting as she served her drink, before remembering how tavern-keepers made their living. The friendly look disappeared the moment Florette paid, regardless, as if she’d expected something else but hadn’t received it.

Why Opal had suggested this place to read, Florette hadn’t the slightest idea, because the music was far too loud to focus, and it wasn’t as if there was much space to place down the enormous text books either.

Defeated, Florette left the tavern and returned to her new residence just as the last rays of light disappeared beneath the horizon.

Opal was gone when she returned, a note left on her bed imploring Florette not to touch any of her stuff.

I guess she didn’t want to invite me, wherever she went.

In an effort to prepare for her classes, Florette read by candlelight for a few hours, and actually managed to get through all of the passages that had been assigned, though her head was swimming by the end.

The history was easy enough, and any new words could be looked up relatively easily in the dictionary book she’d also had to purchase. Interesting stuff, too, looking at Avalon’s perspective on what would now have to be called the first age of darkness and the sealing of Khali. Apparently the first King Harold hadn’t had anything to do with it, being a baby at the time, but you wouldn’t know it by the way they talked about him here.

One page had even implied that his mere presence had inspired the Great Binder to action, which was almost as absurd as the fact that such ridiculous fabrications were in an assigned reading at all.

The scientific texts, though… The books she’d stolen from Director Thorley had legitimately been easier to grasp, and they hadn’t been assigned as novice readings. Most likely, they were assuming a level of prior knowledge that Florette simply couldn’t gather in the time it took to sail to Cambria and also memorize everything about Chaya and Count Srin and her own origins.

And this is what I’m here to learn. I’ll need to figure something out. The chances were that the students here had already learned the basics from their tutors, so perhaps Florette could do the same. Provided she could fund such a venture, which was looking more and more unlikely by the minute.

A problem for later, though.

The hour was late enough that Florette couldn’t trust that she’d wake in time, and she certainly couldn’t trust Opal to wake her up for classes, so she elected to keep trying with the books for another few hours more, until at last dawn arrived, radiant in its splendor but for the fact that it was basically fucking invisible underneath all the fog that had apparently crept back from the sea overnight.

I should have packed more of my winter wear. The sun had returned, yet there was barely ever a chance to see it.

Squinting through the fog, Florette glimpsed one of Avalon’s airships low in the sky as she approached the College for her first day of classes, probably coming from Crescent Isle. She kept walking until she saw four more follow it through the sky, seemingly headed towards the same destination.

If I follow them, I might get turned around in the fog. But she had hours, and gathering information was the main reason she was here at all. That, and infiltrating her way up the ladder. In a few years, she might actually end up with some power in the Avaline apparatus, something she could use against them at a key moment. At a minimum, though, she was going to learn their science if it killed her. Once Florette was able to parse their plans, understand their structure, that knowledge would be invaluable for targeting important technology and engineering it properly in the Empire.

By the time the ships stopped and landed, Florette was nearly at the shore. Ortus Tower stretched up above, the impossible void of the Nocturne gate just barely visible at the top of it through the gloom.

A few floors below, an airship was moored loosely to the balcony, the ones Florette had followed slotting in on each side around it as she watched. In a few minutes, they cast off their rope and departed East, headed for parts unknown.

Another few minutes after, four more docked with the Tower, then set off again.

Florette stayed to watch for probably an hour, and counted thirty-six dirigeables, each outfitted with some unknown cargo from the most advanced facility in all of Avalon, flying across the Lyrion sea. And Avalon is at war.

That had been a nasty surprise from a train station journal. It almost made Florette regret putting herself here, where she couldn’t do anything about it without jeopardizing her cover.

But it’s too late for regrets now. Srin Sabine is your identity, and if you don’t use it, everything that Captain Verrou prepared will go to waste.

Still, even knowing about the fighting in the Arboreum, seeing this many ships in the sky was bizarre.

The way their journals spoke of the war, it sounded as if they’d already rolled through the Arboreum, and sacking Lorraine was just a formality yet to be realized. Certainly nothing that would require a fleet of airships raining down some horrific ordinance. That could have been unwarranted optimism on the part of the journals, but why lie about something where word would get out from Lorraine so soon? It would be incredibly short-sighted, and completely ruin the journals’ credibility once the truth came out.

Were they greatly overreacting to the final siege of Lorraine? The same country that broke the Siege of Ombresse without firing a shot by sending Magnifico inside to turn the people against the Duke? It was possible, but it didn’t seem likely, even with Magnifico in chains in Guerron.

But what was the alternative? Where else would they be going?

And what atrocities are they planning to do there?