Conquest of Avalon

Florette XV: The Seeker of Secrets

“When I first met Srin Savian, he was nothing but a boy.” Lord Monfroy, sickeningly, looked radiant. Somehow his skin was brighter, clearer, all traces of grey in his hair convincingly dyed away. Even his movements were sharper, faster, as if speaking to the entire society was filling him with life. Smug with satisfaction over the construction workers he murdered by whatever gruesome means he could turn to. “He was a bit arrogant, but somewhat charming about it. Like a pyrefly floating in the corner of your vision, you know it would have to stop blinking before too long. Like many of you, I came to dearly miss his lavish New Year’s parties, but you may not know that I had a minor part in them myself: Savian actually turned to me for advice on keeping the decorations historically accurate to the traditional Mamela celebration, me being something of a scholar of ancient times. I’m proud to keep his memory alive with this gathering tonight, and by introducing his capable daughter Sabine, raised abroad but now come home.”

Florette held back seething rage as she walked towards the murderous lord, adjusting the Nocturne cloak on her shoulders in a gesture that spoke for itself.

“Her accomplishments for her age are peerless, almost suspiciously so.” He laughed, eyes locked directly on Florette. “Sir Thomas Alcock is planning to offer a summer position as his research assistant, I hear. To think, only twenty years old and already making new discoveries in the Giton desert! There can be no doubt that Sabine is a keen student of history, a deft hand at discovery, a seeker of secrets, who will be a tremendous asset to our order’s stores of knowledge.”

“Twenty-three,” Florette corrected, having heard none of this. Rebecca’s dad pegged me right from the start too. Was there some magical way of knowing someone’s age? Somehow used by both the head binder and a follower of Khali?

Or maybe I look twenty because I am twenty, and lying about my age was never worth bothering with at all.

And all that stuff about Alcock? He’d told Monfroy before asking her himself? Baffling, unless it’s a lie. But if not... Honestly, in a lot of ways, it was an appealing offer, doing some actual adventuring without compromising her disguise. Exploring the Giton Desert promised to keep her far away from any “archaeology” as morally dubious as Alcock’s theft of Nuage Sombre from Micheltaigne, and staying out of Cambria would reduce the need to talk to Monfroy and Cordelia both, which could only be a good thing. It wasn’t as if she had anything else planned for the summer anyway.

The only big downside was having to spend all that time with Professor Alcock, but a stuffy accessory to imperialism seemed downright tame next to the extortionary Lord who was happy to condemn those he “collected” to withering away in an instant—or however he’d really killed them. Well, that and being away from Rebecca, but that could be considered an upside too, in a way. Not really sure which.

For his part, Monfroy ignored the correction, placing his hands on Florette’s shoulders and lightly rubbing the fabric of her tattered Cloak of Nocturne. “In the place of our dear, departed Count Srin Savian, I am proud to welcome her into the Twilight Society!”

Florette resisted glaring at him, taking in the cheers and applause with a rigid grin forced to her face. “What an honor,” she supplied to Kelsey as she moved back down into the crowd, even managing to sound halfway sincere.

“Monfroy’s a pill, but don’t let that stop you from taking advantage when you need to. My father’s lands were losing income every year, leveraged beyond what they were worth, and the Society got him a Director job in Malin and covered my tuition at the College.” Kelsey let out a slight laugh. “They’re going to love hearing that he already blew it.”

“That’s not his fault, though,” Florette said. “He got outsmarted by a pirate crew; that’s an act of fate.” Even if the slapdash way he ran the railyard was a big part of why we could pull it off. “And that was right before darkness fell—that disrupted everyone.”

“I guess.” Kelsey shrugged. “We’ll see, anyway. He’ll definitely be pumping them for everything he can while we do our little wander through the woods.”

“Our what?” Why didn’t any of the Society members I asked about this tell me? Probably at Monfroy’s order. That fucker delighted in being pointlessly elusive.

“Yeah, it’s part of the initiation. You drink a carafe of nightshade and journey through the forest to Khali’s Great Temple to see your truth or whatever. Personally, every time I’ve tried it it’s just about managed to make my vision wobbly and the sky prettier, but it didn’t exactly turn my head upside-down.”

“Same for me, pretty much.” Psyben root had been banned back in Malin, which made it inherently interesting on some level, but unlike the banned Naca extract absolutely making the Wood Nymph an exquisite drink, Florette didn’t think psyben tea was worth the hassle of getting it. She’d mostly just wandered around the beach humming a couple of her favorite songs and amusing Ysengrin, hardly the sorts of the life-changing visions of truth that seemed to come so naturally to Fernan.

Of course, I wasn’t a binder then. If there really was magic involved—and the way Fernan had conjured that flaming image of Camille Leclaire certainly seemed to suggest it—maybe Florette could find a way to get more out of it now than she could have then. Ice tableaux with the Ring of Glaciel, perhaps. Though she’d have to be subtle about it. “We’re just supposed to wander high through the dark forest by ourselves?”

“Well, it’s not dangerous or anything. The wylls died out decades ago, and no one ever got hurt doing it even back when they were around. Apparently they respected the journey you were on.” Kelsey shrugged. “The temple’s up on the ridge, so as long as you can find the moon, you can’t really get lost. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

I wasn’t worried, I just wanted to make sure I could take advantage without risking any eyes on me. “That’s reassuring, thanks.”

“We just need to get through it. Plenty of holiday vacation left to bounce back.”

“I’d hope you get more out of it than that,” Monfroy said, sweeping ominously into view, a woman following behind him. “Visions are a message from the heart of the world, expressing profound truth untainted by avarice and desire. And this is a two-hundred-year-old Samsar nightshade I’m providing for the purpose, clean and potent. Sabine, especially, as a seeker of knowledge, you would be a fool if you failed to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“Let them make their own decisions, Ernest. They aren’t mere initiates anymore.” Stepping into the light, the woman was stunning, glossy black hair styled up and around her head while split to touch her shoulders. Several inches shorter than Florette, her deep purple dress perfectly captured the majesty of twilight and her own form both, either a lofty standard to reach for. Stone grey eyes loomed large across her face, open and inviting despite the fact that they didn’t seem to move. “Seeing into the heart of truth is not without its own dangers, should you stumble across something damaging enough.”

“What happened?” Florette couldn’t help but blurt out, though Monfroy’s nose wrinkled when she spoke. And who are you?

“If you have not already heard, I won’t endanger your eyes by planting the idea in your head. After, perhaps, though I would not recommend delving into your visions again if you cannot dismiss it from your mind.”

“Doubt it makes any difference, when the closest I’ll get to a magical vision is traces of light staying in the air longer than they’re supposed to.” Kelsey dipped his head, clearly angling to leave. “Lady Sara, Lord Monfroy. Sabine, I’ll see you up at the temple. And don’t let them scare you. It’s fine, really. Nothing you haven’t done before.”

If I want to waste top-shelf psychedelics giggling my way through the forest, maybe. But Fernan had never mentioned any danger to his person, nor his vision, and if he’d managed to figure it out while burning in agony as a captive in Gézarde’s lair, Florette didn’t see the point in worrying about a little jaunt through the forest.

Though granted, Fernan did lose his normal sight at the exact same time. She was pretty sure that had more to do with Mara damn-near burning his face off than the visions that followed, though. And Camille did the same thing all the time, apparently also without any fear of losing her sight.

Florette looked back at Lady Sara’s radiant face and unmoving stone eyes and resolved that it was worth the risk. She was here to learn, after all, and this opened up a new angle that she’d probably never be able to use without it. It’s the smart decision here. Even if it meant denying her curiosity about Sara’s dangerous visions a little longer.

“Here you are.” Monfroy handed her a small carafe made out of a glossy seashell, thin enough to be partially clear, with a nocturne-dark liquid swirling slowly inside. “Savor every drop. This is from the same batch King Pelleas the Second was so fond of, despite Cambria seeing the Mamela as their sworn enemies. Fortunately, his loyal servant, Lord Monfroy, was able to trade on his behalf as a covert mediator, and everyone got what they wanted.” He smiled, looking all the more strange and hollow for how uncharacteristic it seemed.

“Thanks,” said Florette, letting Glaciel’s ring turn her hand to ice within her pocket as she tipped the shell back, feeling the cold liquid pour down her throat. The texture wasn’t exactly pleasant, just a bit thicker than it seemed like it should be, but the taste was surprisingly sweet. It wasn’t hard to imagine Gérard from Le Viaduc in Malin mixing up an outstanding drink from it, though in its raw form, it wasn’t quite there.

Still, much better than I expected. Just like with the psyben root, nothing happened right away. It would hit properly once Florette started walking the forest, she imagined.

“You’re going to do great,” Lady Sara said in a tone of voice that managed to sound encouraging instead of condescending, placing her hand on Florette’s arm. “Just think about what you want, and let it take you there.”

“I second Lady Sara’s estimation of your progress, Sabine, but your own skill does not fully obviate all need for caution. A few words can change everything, when spoken in the right ears. Harold Grimoire and his descendants both have proved the truth of that many times over.” Monfroy’s face darkened as he mentioned Avalon’s royalty, his disdain so clear that Perimont probably would have taken it as evidence enough to hang him.

And I can’t say I disagree with you there, Monfroy. Magnifico had helped teach her binding out of mutual opposition to Glaciel and the spirits, but that didn’t change what he’d done or who he was.

“How so?” Florette asked, though she knew better than to expect a straight answer.

“If you care to know, you’ve been given the means to find out for yourself. Good-seeing to you.” Monfroy didn’t bother inclining his head, striking off towards the other end of the room in a strangely smooth motion without another word.

“It was nice to meet you, Srin Sabine. If you’re ever in Nymphell, I do hope you’ll find me.”

“Same to you, Lady Sara. Uh, but not in Nymphell, obviously, because that’s where you—I mean in Cambria. If you’re in Cambria, I’d love to see you again. That’s—Yeah.” Fuck! What was that? Florette bit the inside of her cheek, trying to avoid meeting Sara’s clouded eyes.

“Until then,” Sara said gracefully, then followed Monfroy.

Kelsey, by the looks of things, had already headed outside, so Florette crept out into the courtyard, falling the trail of footsteps into what Cordelia had insisted was called the Forest of Darkness, though everyone here seemed to call it Irul Katu.

The deeper Florette wandered into the forest, the quieter the sounds of the party grew, until only the rustling leaves could be heard, great gusts of wind roaring louder and louder as they bent the trees beneath the moonlight.

Her footsteps felt harder and harder, the thunderous vibrations rippling up through her leg in ways that felt uncannily similar to the sensation of channeling Glaciel’s power down through her feet.

Hesitantly, Florette pulled out her hand, curled into a talon of ice that glimmered in the moonlight, and gave it an experimental wave. As Kelsey had said, the light stayed in the air longer than it should have—or perhaps Florette was just slower to process it, but either way, the effect was a trail of blue and white lingering in the sky long after Florette’s hand had returned to her side.

And with the rustling leaves behind it, it looked—for only an instant—like a woman crossing swords with a skeleton, and a familiar one, at that. Let me try that again. This time, Florette matched the wave of her hand with actual ice, watching it twist more thoroughly into the shape of two dueling figures dancing and swaying above a roaring waterfall.

Florette smiled. Keep up the good work, Captain Verrou. Maybe there was something to this after all, even for the likes of her.

But if so, this is probably the least important thing I could be looking at. What was it that the scheming bastard had said? A few words can change everything, when spoken in the right ears. And apparently the royal family had everything to do with that.

So if I really can gaze into the truth of the past... Florette waved hand anew, scratching an icy scar into the trunk of the nearest tree, reflecting moonlight back into her face. And within it...

A purple cloak sat in an open plain, casting a long shadow in dawn’s scarlet light. Rapidly, the plain was flattened, then trimmed, then paved over, buildings springing up around the cloak and shadow that left them untouched, until Florette could recognize that it was sitting on the streets of Mourningside, in the shadow of the Tower.

But no one’s saying anything. And he said it was about the royals. Something about how fucking evil they are, probably. The wind picked up, sharpening to a crisp whistle as Florette walked onward, the vacant howling of the dead echoing after her.

The ice bent and twisted into the shape of a serpent, exactly like the one Camille had worn on her lapel. But it was following another shape, accepting the invitation of an empty suit of red armor. The old ways died with Soleil, the wind seemed to whisper. What’s to stop you?

None of this is helpful or interesting; it’s hardly seeing the profound truths at the heart of the world.

Or maybe it was, somehow, and Florette was either too inexperienced or too impaired to get anything useful out of it. Somehow, even with magic finesse, this was still amounting to little more than an amusement.

The forest was already beginning to thin as Florette climbed, her spiritual journey tonight apparently coming to an end. It seemed too soon, like her mind had skipped over parts of the trail through the forest, but the Agada Ridge was unmistakable, as was the darkened temple sitting above it.

Twisted murderer that Monfroy was, his grandiose speech had still conditioned her to expect a little more from this. Something interesting, but lost to history, worthy of the high-quality nightshade that had been so delightfully, illegally provided.

The moon shone bright enough that Florette could see her own shadow stretch out over the ridge. And—with another wave of her hand—she could see a dark purple dagger plunged into the ground right at the shadow’s head, pulsing as total darkness leaked from its wound in the earth.

Her shadow began to distort, swirling around the dagger like a leaf circling the drain.

Florette kept moving forward, certain that this was just another part of the vision, even as she stopped casting a shadow on the ridge. When she looked back, she saw a dark apparition standing where the dagger had struck, a lithe figure with long dark hair and a menacing smile, brandishing a bloody sword that was all too familiar.

She wasn’t sure exactly when she’d entered the temple, or who it was that led her through it. She wasn’t even sure if she could find her way out of the darkened stone labyrinth on her own, but right now her role was to go deeper, descending further and further down the tiny staircase, straining not to bump her head. She looked back once and saw the same shadow doppelganger lurking menacingly at the top of the stairs, aiming a pistol directly at her.

From then on, Florette kept her eyes looking forward.

And then, on the bottom, there was only darkness, the floor a uniform void as empty as Nocturne, pristine as the sky above. Florette followed her instructions, whose source she couldn’t recall, and plunged her head down through the floor, gazing with eyes wide open into the world beyond the veil.

On the other side were massive towers of glass, piercing the sky with condensed lights flashing all up and down them, colored beams criss-crossing the sky in artful patterns. There were people everywhere, drinking and murmuring and staring up at the splendor. Some of them were wearing strange paper glasses on their face, oversized and lensless, with extra symbols hanging off either side that didn’t seem to mean anything on their own.

At least, not until Florette realized that the eyeholes were part of the message as well, all of it together forming a 2000 sign right on their face. As if to emphasize the revelation, the lights above condensed as well, further explosive luminations filling the air, reflected in the light of the glass towers.

Until a dark figure appeared through a hole in the sky, and the lights began winking out one by one.

For all their mistakes about the old calendar, these Khali people were right. It’s just like the Great Binder said. The truth at the heart of the world.

The descendants of humanity today will build out this dense, spectacular society, only for all of it to be smashed apart by a spirit they’ll probably have long forgotten. The world, plunged back into darkness with no spirits strong enough left to contest her. This summer would look like nothing next to that, even the last Age of Darkness. Humanity itself might not make it through.

And if I’m seeing this, then there’s nothing anyone can do about it.