Conquest of Avalon

Florette XIII: The Impressed

I shouldn’t have done that, Florette thought, not quite managing to muster the regret she knew she ought to have. All this time lying and hiding had an excitement to it, especially once the Blue Bandit had entered the scene, but it was impossible to escape the isolation in it. Only Chistophe even knew her real name, and he still didn’t really know her; he just admired what she’d done to Glaciel’s greatest foe and was willing to help in return.

Playing the role of Srin Sabine was about to get a lot more stressful, if Lord Monfroy’s boasts about “owning” her were anything more than empty words. The struggling Mamela student was now under the thumb of some aristocratic creep.

But is that really much different from before? As the cold light of day shone through the apartment window, illuminating a crisp windy street in the waning days of the year, Florette felt a quiet calm. The Autumn Spring, such as it had been, would soon give way to another winter when the world had scarcely just recovered from the last.

But this time, the sun will still shine during the day. Compared to half a year ago, it would even be mild by comparison. Life would go on, including hers. No problem was unsolvable, and it was impossible to be sure how bad Monfroy’s ominous impressment would even prove to be.

Srin Sabine’s predicament was similar. At the end of the day, she wasn’t Florette, just a tool for Florette to use against Avalon. Monfroy had already had enormous leverage over the false identity as the holder of massive loans, now he just also had the threat of an arrest over head. Either way, refusing his requests would have probably been an unacceptable risk; either way, he could make her life extremely difficult if he cared to.

But not mine. Stealing swords was one thing, but if Monfroy really pushed his luck, asked her to go too far in service of his ends, to commit some wrong greater than the good she could accomplish embedded in Avalon… Well, Florette had ways to handle the problem, one way or another. Fleeing, if all else failed.

Though she was hardly eager to consider that as a solution. Too many people had died to get her here.

“You seem pensive,” Rebecca noted as she buttoned the front of her shirt. “Anything to worry about?”

Florette shrugged, not bothering to hide her stare. “Just a problem to deal with. Nothing I can’t handle.” She smiled. “This helped, more than you could possibly know.”

Though Rebecca’s back was turned, just enough of her face was visible that Florette could see her eyes scrunch up in a frown. “I’m glad I could be your glass of laudanum. And if it’s what you need, I’m happy to just… let this be what it was. But if not, it’d be nice to know what’s going on with you.”

Well, as far as you know, my father’s dying, so surely that explains most of it? Drawing on that lie here felt grimy, though, so instead Florette simply asked, “What do you mean?” genuinely not knowing the answer.

“I don’t know… You were acting really strange at the gala, sending me mixed messages, and then you kinda disappeared. I’m not saying I necessarily believe him, but my dad said he caught you stealing a sword from one of the closed off exhibits because you were too paranoid to trust the guards. I mean, I guess you were right since the Bandit attacked, but the whole thing is still bizarre.”

“What are you insinuating?” How does it look to you?

“Nothing.” Rebecca grabbed her hand. “I just want to know what’s going on so I can help, if I can. At least talk through the problem. People always say I’m good with advice.”

As smart as Rebecca was, Florette could believe it. And she’d already crossed one line she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Still, telling the truth here had too high a chance of ensuring that all those people had died for nothing.

As much as it would have been nice to be able to speak honestly for once.

“My father’s dead,” Florette said after a moment’s consideration. Give her as much as I can, at least. That was only fair. “Lord Monfroy told me last night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Florette nodded to herself, realizing how to frame this as honestly as she could afford to. “I didn’t really know him, to be honest. Ever since I got here, everyone’s been telling me ‘Sorry about your father’ but I only realized he existed recently. It felt like they were talking about someone else’s father more than mine.”

Rebecca’s lips curled inward as she considered her next words. “I felt the same way about my cousin, Eddie. He grew up across the sea with my uncle, so I’d only met him a few times before Robin Verrou killed him. Even when he got to the College, we never really talked. I wish we had, but he wasn’t much more than a stranger, and I can’t ever tell anyone.”

“Like you’re only an imposter.”

Rebecca let out a small chuckle, gone almost as soon as it began. “Do you know why I’m here, Sabine? I convinced my dad that the tools of our enemies couldn’t be left on the table, that we need to take advantage of every resource we could.”

“Enemies?” The Empire?

“Scientists. A hundred years ago, the Williams’ were kings, now we’re the lowest rung of nobility above mere knights. Cambria swallowed Oxton whole and called it Avalon. They pushed the binders to the side just as the spirits they drew their power from fighting were fading away. Father’s hardly the only one still bitter about it. And without the King here to mediate between them and the scientists, this war is the only thing keeping everyone pointed in the same direction.”

“That’s why you’re here?” So you’re stealing secrets to use against them too? Propping up traditionalist binders like Baron Williams might manage to be an even worse cause than the scientists headed straight to the Tower.

“It’s why my father thinks I’m here, how I convinced him to send me. I came to the College because I wanted to learn.” She flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the night sky were unfolding before her. “We’re deciphering the fundamental forces of the universe, taking the world apart and learning to turn it to our ends.”

“I love seeing you so passionate about this,” Florette said, examining her slightly reddening face. Even if that exact ambition means the wrongs your country’s science can enact far outweigh a few evil binders. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself with ‘we’ though, aren’t you? We’re still in school.”

“Bah!” Rebecca waved her hand dismissively. “Already, I can mix a few compounds together and harness the energy within to tear a ship apart from the inside, to create an explosion visible from miles away. The Crown Prince himself tapped me for the pyrotechnics for his New Year’s party, but it’s capable of so much more than that. We can shape the very earth spirit to our liking, limited only by time and imagination.”

Tear apart a ship, huh? Florette was somewhat skeptical that the prince had only wanted that for a show at his party, though he had the whole of Avalon to draw on if he’d simply wanted a bomb for his war. Either way, poking at it isn’t likely to go well. Something to look into at another time.

“Father believes in strength and tradition, but that time has passed. You don’t have to look any further than the Murder Twins.”

“The… murder twins?” Is Avalon even trying to avoid sounding as evil as possible? “I take it they’re not known for their poetry?”

Rebecca laughed. “Right, probably sounds strange if you aren’t familiar. They’re just two of my father’s apprentices: Klein and Clarine Rivough, masters of the sacred twin artifacts. Some notoriety from a few years ago when they slaughtered every last pirate on a ship trying to board a merchant vessel in the Bay of Vellum, but you weren’t here yet. When my brother inherits Oxton, they’re sworn to serve at his side. In the meantime, my father sent them south to babysit the air fleet and hopefully pick up the family gauntlet we lent to the king.

“Even that doesn’t have unlimited power though. After a century, they might very well be going after scraps. And their specialty in sealing magic is the kind of thing that has them make themselves more obsolete the more successful they are. Avalon is already basically empty of spirits, or they wouldn’t be flying to the other side of the world to try to look useful.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “It’s such a waste, putting all that time and effort into training and equipping a couple people that a bomb could snuff out in a second. Everyone’s talking about the airships burning Micheltaigne to the ground, but no journal has even mentioned that two of my father’s apprentices were on the ships taking part in the fight. No matter how well trained, no matter what magic they stole from spirit corpses, their impact is fundamentally limited. Their outlook, even moreso.”

“Whereas Avaline scientists are clear-eyed and humble?”

Rebecca frowned. “You’re training to be one too, you know. This isn’t just a way to get a job, it’s a place where you can actually learn how to think, to solve the most complex problems, to really understand the underlying forces of the universe. Binders think they can stand alone against the world—that’s how the king ended up kidnapped in Guerron—but scientists collaborate and document. We don’t just win the fight; we can change the world.”

Probably not a good time to mention that I’m technically a binder. Florette still had the Ring of Glaciel on her, in fact, though she wasn’t wearing it in an effort to avoid turning her feet into impossible-to-explain talons of ice.

“Sorry, we were talking about you, not me.” Rebecca sat up, looking Florette dead in the eyes. “Even meeting him so recently, it can’t be easy to lose your father.”

“Thanks, but it’s not that. Count Savian was deep in debt to Monfroy, among others, and now that’s my burden to bear. Monfroy said he owns me now, and I have to watch him gather his Twilight Society in Mahabali Hall. He wouldn’t even let me take a different boat.”

“That’s horrible!” Her eyes bent with compassion, and perhaps a smack of confusion. “I had no idea Savian’s finances were so bad. It’s obvious you grew up poor; I’ve seen how you are around money, like you don’t really understand it, but I thought the Count… I don’t know much about the western isles, but the Srin family is an ancient and distinguished line.”

“Old money so old there isn’t any left,” Florette explained, employing words that Savian himself had bitterly used to explain his situation on the boat ride over. “That’s not really the problem. I just have to be careful about Monfroy. He’s having me do jobs for him to pay it off, but so far it hasn’t been anything I couldn’t handle.” She paused, weighing her next words. “If that changes, I might need to find a way out. Now you’ll know why.”

There. About as straightforward as I can be, under the circumstances. “This helped,” she added, honestly. “Sorry if I’ve been weird.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’d love to help, if there’s anything I can do.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think there is, anyway. Nothing for it but meeting Monfroy at the harbor and seeing what he wants.” And if I don’t like the sound of it, doing something about it. “I think it should be pretty easy for a little while, at least. He mostly wanted Count Savian’s house for his club meeting, and it seems like all I have to do is show up.”

“I doubt it’s that simple, but you won’t know until you go.” Rebecca leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Assuming I do. “Definitely.”

≋

The boat ride had been fairly short, at least, and Monfroy hadn’t tried to talk to her during the trip. With the deluge flooding the decks every waking moment, Florette had mostly just stayed locked in her cabin reading Kelsey’s book, The Mists of Lethe.

It wasn’t a favorite, exactly. Having the main character be so unlikeable made it a bit hard to get through, even if the shiftiness of the world around her did some work to obscure it sometimes. The setting, Pheme, was a bit like Cambria, wealth and power hiding rot and evil, but more glamorous and less destructive to the larger world, not that that was much comfort to the children swallowed inside it. It was still a nice gesture from Kelsey, sharing an obviously used copy he’d probably read through a hundred times himself.

Port Chaya, on the other hand, was much more impressive. A massive bridge stretched over the gate to the harbor, three steeply slanted pyramids stretching up above the stone. Florette heard some of the sailors complaining about the old bridge, not designed to let modern ships pass comfortably underneath it, but their cautious speed allowed her a good look at the intricate decorations carved into every inch of the towers. The paint was heavily faded, but the echoes of bright colors were still there if you looked carefully, paled reds and oranges that lit up the dreary harbor.

Each tower had three figures sitting cross-legged on an ornate throne, inset several feet into the tower, looking down at the crowded mass of ships pulling into the city they guarded. Some were holding scepters or staves, some had hats twice as tall as their heads, and several didn’t have heads at all.

The figures were impressive in their own right, but the entire tower was carved into the shape of people and figures, each scaled and proportioned realistically, supporting each other in a massive human tower to the grey skies above. Looking closer, Florette could even see some that had the heads of a bird or a striped cat or multiple faces looking different ways from the same head.

Mahabali Hall was far enough away that Monfroy had to supervise a lengthy unloading process for all his various furniture and art at the docks, especially with the steep hill stretching up from the coast that it would need to be hauled up. Fortunately, that meant that Florette was left to her own devices until they settled in for dinner at sunset.

Monfroy probably knew she had nowhere to run on this island, unless she felt like stealing a ship.

Which wouldn’t be beyond my skillset, I don’t think, but I wouldn’t be able to navigate to any islands farther than the horizon, let alone back across the Lyrion Sea. It wouldn’t be productive either. For now all she had to do was pay attention and wait, which ought to be easy.

Accordingly, Florette tried to keep an ear out after she disembarked, remembering Alcock’s assignment to better learn about ‘her’ ancestral homeland, and most people seemed happy to oblige her. Certainly, they were more friendly than Cambrians, at least.

The path up was a long one, considering that the Hall was supposed to be above the city, so Florette took her time, grabbing a sea green bandana to tie up her hair, which had been whipping into her face all day. Why not spend the money, when Monfroy was going to keep her under his thumb no matter how much debt she paid down?

Her next stop was a bakery just above the harbor, selling some kind of spicy stuffed pastry she could carry with her as she trekked up. She asked the boy behind the counter about the headless statues, struggling to hide her accent, and was pleased to see him respond. “Yeah, they used to be spirits. Khali, Master of Darkness, Pantera the Undying, Eulus the Stormbringer. There’s more, but I don’t know the names.” Probably the storekeeper’s son, he looked maybe 15 or 16, alternating between animated excitement and suspicious looks out the window. “The Inferno Arion had them bashed off when he raided Chaya. He assaulted our shores for three days, but each evening we beat them back, until their soggy ships limped back to Cambria.”

Presumably, the statues left intact had been too high up for the Inferno to reach in time, which Florette and the whole city could be grateful for. An Arion was the first governor of Malin too, the Butcher of the Foxtrap. He’d been the one Captain Whitbey reported to when he killed the original Blue Bandit, so apparently being evil to the core ran in the family.

According to a headless statue of the Inferno himself a little deeper into the city, they’d actually limped back to Fortescue rather than Cambria, but that didn’t make much difference now. Thanks to an insufferably pretentious book from the library called The Precipitous Rise of United Avalon, used for the drudge work Professor Alcock had excused her from, Florette knew that the Isle of Shadows had officially joined with Avalon in Year 50, Age of Gleaming, but it wasn’t hard to see the bad blood between east and west stretching back to long before that.

Especially now that Cambria took the lord’s portion of their colonial wealth and used it to weather the Darkness while leaving the western isles out in the cold. Even this many months into the sun’s return, the streets had an eerie emptiness to them, ominousness only magnified by the distant plume of smoke drifting into the sky from up the hill. No one answered directly when Florette asked about it, but it wasn’t hard to guess.

Still, the city lived, and every old man reading a journal in a café or group of children bouncing a ball off the wall was proof of that. Small alleyways with long staircases crossed up and down the hillside, suddenly giving way to magnificent seaside views without any warning. Every inch was built out with a house or a shop or a tiny park, a lopsided fountain dribbling down one side. Florette knew there was supposed to be a forest up on the ridge, but she couldn’t even see it from down here, let alone Srin Savian’s Hall.

Really, it didn’t resemble Enquin at all, but the sheer verticality was something Florette hadn’t realized she’d missed. It wasn’t often she thought about Enquin at all. They’re even trying to resist withering away and dying too. Hopefully they have better luck. Considering how much she was panting even at the halfway point, apparently her body had fallen out of practice climbing too.

The higher she ascended, the more the shops gave way to houses—small cottages of a similar size, at first, but larger and larger the further she went up the hill. The narrow passages and stairways gave way to wider paths, exposed to the air, with a precarious drop looming beneath them. Higher into the hills, a metal railing started guarding the edge, clearly a later addition for the scared well-to-do, but Florette had to concede that for a carriage in the rain, staying clear of the edge wouldn’t be quite so trivial as it was for her.

Fortunately, the rain had let up in the morning, so Monfroy’s carriages only had to contend with the existing slick ground as they trotted by. One of the drivers offered Florette a ride, but she was happy to be on her own for a bit, happy to feel the soothing pain in her legs as she took in the new city. A few minutes in, the sun even poked its head out, warming up the windy cliffs and drying off any lingering dampness from the morning.

Mahabali Hall was, if anything, even cooler than the city beneath it. The grounds were massive, stretching from the cliffs back to the edge of the forest behind them, and seemed to be reclaiming the land from the buildings erected atop it. Several were clearly abandoned, with vines and verdure entwined with the stone, and one tower even had an entire roof collapsed in on itself. On closer inspection, a family of birds had made their home there, despite the dark patrolling cats that seemed to be everywhere.

One of the outbuildings had that same abandoned look, yet had a carriage parked outside it anyway, which merited a closer look.

Florette poked her head in and was shocked to find Cordelia, Robin Verrou’s shipmaster, dressed in the garb of a doctor. “Oh, good, I heard you’d be coming. Here, make yourself useful, would you?” She held out a basket to Florette, its contents jingling with the motion.

“Sure…” Hesitantly, Florette took the basket, glancing down inside it to find a collection of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, along with other jewelry. “What are we doing, exactly? I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“Swapping the accessories out.” Cordelia pointed a finger towards a person-shaped box up on the table. “I found someone in town that sells fakes, and it’s not like the real ones are going to do him any good.”

“Oh.” Of course they’d need a body for the departure rites; I didn’t think about that. Considering how unhesitant Verrou had been to kill students to free up a slot, Florette didn’t want to think too hard about who’d be Savian’s replacement in the ground. “That will convince them? It looks believable?”

“There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.” Cordelia nodded sagely. “At a later time, I expect a full debrief of your progress, and any valuables or schematics you’ve obtained so far. I know it can’t be easy to keep things safe in your position.”

“Sure.” Not that I really have much of anything, yet. But I’ll figure it out. “Why are you still here, though? I thought the plan was just to keep up appearances until Savian ‘died’, then get back to the Seaward Folly. There’s not really anything left for you to do here.” Stealing from the dead aside, I mean.

“This is a delicate operation, and I needed to see it through. Once Savian’s in the ground, I’ll take my leave, rest assured. I doubt Monfroy would take me on as his doctor, and remaining embedded with whatever steward he leaves in this place would be a waste of my valuable time. Here, grab his anklet.”

Cautiously, Florette approached the table, girding herself to look at the latest victim of her infiltration scheme.

The Srin Savian lying dead in the box was utterly indistinguishable from the man Florette had met, body adorned with a mix of real and fake jewelry. “How did you get a fake that looks this good?”

“Seriously?” Cordelia laughed. “That’s him in there. No point in keeping him around as a risk, and we got to make it convincing, right?”