The
ripples that spread from a momentary choice can last a thousand years.
In
the east, a great white jackal finds a dying man in the desert. With his last
breath, he curses the wetlanders who have driven him from his home. With His
first breath, He seeks vengeance upon them.
In
the north, a rain of lead spatters against a stone wall that coruscates with
orange light. From its battlements, a lone figure swathed in red looks down
upon a great army, his face concealed behind an impassive demon's mask.
In
the south, children dance in a wasteland of broken glass, their voices raised
in song to a tower of obsidian crystal.
In
the west, a man with hands of frost and flame dies in his house of spiraling
thorns, before it too shatters and becomes his tomb.
The
ripples that spread from a simple impulse can reach across the ages.
* * *
Armando
Cuvier kneels before Alain-Yoshito Bellatrix. "Though my folk have
wandered for ages, it need not always be so. If Your Grace would grant me this honor,
I would be a fool to refuse it."
The
Marquis of Abbelaine inclines his head approvingly. "Then let your example
serve to inspire your people to the glory they once held. I name thee Armando
Jitani, Baron of Whisperrun. Serve me well."
Armando
bows his head, but his face shines with pride. "I will, Your Grace, as
long as blood runs within my veins. I so swear."
* * *
"Most
of all, I think I miss seeing the stars in the nighttime sky."
The
lacquered rail is cold against her skin as she grips it. Winter is early this
year, and a light fall of snow covers the rooftops of Komaru City, spreading a
blanket of white before her from her hilltop vista. The view is beautiful, but
overhead there is only Lucien's pale glow against a sea of blackness.
Her
brother shifts beside her, listening patiently as she fails to lie to him.
"There are still stars, Adry. They're just hidden behind the
mountains." He turns and leans against the rail, pointing to the
southeast, to distant Ishiki. "We could go there, you know. If you want to
see the stars, we can go to the mountains, to the old capital. Mother couldn't
refuse that."
She
makes a particularly unregal face at him. "You're so naïve. Of course she
won't refuse it, but it won't keep her from bringing up you know what again. If
she's so fond of that Minamet boy, she should just marry him herself."
Hideo
laughs, gratifying her. "I don't think I'd count on that happening any
time soon. Mother misses Father very much. She's trying very hard to do what
she thinks he'd expect of her, and that includes finding you a husband.
Besides, Kuro Minamet isn't your only choice."
Years
of etiquette schooling are designed to prevent the Crown Princess from making
the noise she uses to greet that suggestion. "I would sooner marry a Yuasa
sheep than someone twice as old as me! I am the Crown Princess of Komaru, in
the name of the Light!"
"The
Light is entirely the problem. With the Minamet defying the Church and now
raising little idols or whatever it is they're doing, it's no wonder the Church
is supporting a cooperative Yuasa. If you marry a Minamet while they still
stand against the Church, well," he spreads his hands helplessly.
"Clearly,
my only recourse is spinsterhood." She sighs, her breath swirling about
her face in the chill air. "According to the stories, I am supposed to
have handsome boys half my age seek my hand for the power my favor will grant
them, not be married off to some geriatric goat-herding schemer from the hill
country!"
"I'm
sure that if you'd expressed your preference for seven year olds a little
sooner, mother could have obliged you."
She
finds herself sputtering with outrage, and considers throwing him off the
tower. "That's disgusting. Father never had this problem—"
"You
know that's not true. Father had to marry Mother."
"When
he was as old as Dante Yuasa!"
"But
when he was Crown Prince, and when there was no clear heir in line for the
throne."
"There
is a clear heir, though. Her Grace is a fine Royal Heir. If I were to die
today—"
Hideo
snaps, "Don't say such things."
She's
pleased to have him on the defensive, "No, really. I could jump off
this—"
"Stop
it, Adriana."
"Or
we could run off to the countryside and live like peasants. Except I hear Glory
Touraine already did that, so I'd have to come up with something better—"
"Stop
it!" The note of injury in his voice brings her up short.
She
sighs. "You know I never would, Hideo, but I lie awake at night dreaming
of what my life might be like if I were just Adriana, not the Crown Princess.
I'm sure peasant girls do the same but dream of being me. But still…"
Hideo
reaches out and pats her hand. "Adry, Mother has the kingdom's interests
in mind. She worries about the succession, she worries about Father's dream,
and she worries about you. And I think everyone worries about the End Times,
about the black sky—"
"What
about you, Hideo? What do you worry about? What do you want? What do you want
for me?" The question is sudden, sharp. She pins him with it, her eyes
imploring him for the truth.
Hideo
meets her gaze, taken by surprise. He begins to speak, but then pauses, his
lips pinched in uncertainty. She knows the expression, knows that it means he
is discovering that he has an answer within himself, one of the sourceless
revelations that make him so different, so special. But she has never before
been the one to cause him to hesitate, and she feels a new tightness around her
heart. She seizes his hand in her own, and presses it against her cheek.
"Oh, Hideo," she gasps, "don't hide from me, not me of all people.
You know me better than anyone. Just tell me, please, whatever it is?
Please?"
She
feels all of the strength drain out of him, and he stumbles, a tired boy,
towards her. Half a step, and he stops, his golden eyes moist with tears.
"Oh, Adriana," he sighs, and she can feel the warmth of his breath on
her face, see herself reflected in his eyes. She is teetering at the edge of a
precipice, her heart racing, her blood like fire in her veins. She knows he
feels it too; she can feel his pulse racing where she holds his hand against
her cheek.
Suddenly,
he is strong again, resolute. He steps close to her, but pulls his hand from
hers to raise it to the sky, pointed towards the blackness. "You say you
miss the stars, but when I look to the sky I see a fire that drowns out even
their light." His hand moves hers, tracing an arc from the northeast to
the far south. "It dances and sparkles in the sky, like hunger itself. And
yet I never feared it. But now," he entwines his fingers with her own, and
points to the peak of the sky itself, "there I see true emptiness.
Nothing. And that I cannot comprehend at all."
It
is a gift, a view into his uniqueness, but she knows it is something else as
well. She looks to where their hands point, and sees only darkness. She thinks
for a moment, and then leans against him, asking only a simple question,
"Can you show me the fire?"
Behind
her, Hideo smiles sadly, and says, "I don't know. But I can try, if you
are patient."
"Of
course, my brother. Of course."
* * *
The
lacquered box is entirely too large.
It
is her first hint that something unexpected is about to happen, and it is
enough to rouse her to full vigilance. She takes a deep breath, and pushes the
annoyance and exhaustion she feels aside, laughing inwardly at the thought that
the Royal Tutor would be pleased with her attentiveness.
The
great doors of the Hall of Kings groan as they are flung open, and when the
force of their parting slams them into the marble-sheathed walls of the hall,
the sound of the impact rings through the great chamber. At the forefront of
the procession that steps through the doorway stands Lucien Skye, a towering
figure in a flowing cloak of blue and gold.
As
Lucien Skye walks across the hall towards her, his family follows close behind
him. Her training keeps her countenance benign and regal as they kneel and
curtsey before her, showing their respect to her while her heralds begin the
litany of honor that has brought them here today. While the heralds speak, she
studies the family that, by sunset, will lose its name and assume another.
Foremost,
of course, is Lucien Skye himself. He has grayed over the years, but has lost
none of the stature she remembers from her youth. She can remember her father's
face more clearly when she looks at his, and knows that once, they were close,
like true brothers. Most of all, she sees his strength, his power. She knows
that she fears him, but she is wise enough to not let it show.
Beside
him kneels his legendary wife, Glory Touraine. Even understanding the magic of
the Castle of the Sea, she still finds it startling to see how the current of
time has parted around her. With her sea-green eyes, her coppery ringlets, she
seems scarcely older than the first of her daughters. Yet where Lucien's wife
has escaped age, she has not avoided infamy. She knows all of the names that
surround her: witch, temptress, poisoner, oath breaker. She remembers that her
father loved Glory once as well.
Next
come their celebrated, ubiquitous daughters. For the past two years, they have
been the talk of the capital, a great brood of beautiful girls drawing ever
nearer the age of majority. She has met the elder sisters in the course of the
social whirl that surrounds her, and has memories of each: Serenity, a year
younger than she, surrounded by boys clamoring to dance with her; Verity
Touraine, standoffish and distant, even from her sisters; Victoria, turning her
nose up at the fiancé chosen for her at her birth; Alessa, who fumbled to speak
to her while Hideo won an archery tournament in her name; and even young
Lucilla, who hated her with a child's purity. There are others as well; she
sees them in the arms of their maids, Mei, Fiona, and Glory, and by the swell
of their mother's stomach, she can tell that there will soon be another. She
has met them all, but the walls between her family and theirs rise too high for
her to say that she truly knows them. But they have come, every single one, to
witness their family's triumph.
The
heralds finish speaking, and she rises. She draws forth the Royal Sword, and
its light envelops her as she raises it into the air and speaks, "In the
name of the Crown of Komaru, I, Adriana Komaru, Crown Princess of this realm,
do hereby recognize you, Lucien, as the son of the late Crown Prince Valentin
Komaru, and thus as an heir to the throne of Komaru. By the blood that binds
our kingdom together, I command you to uphold the name with honor. Accept from
my hands your crown, Lucien Komaru, Prince of Komaru."
He
rises, his eyes never leaving hers. The ferocity she sees in them is enough to
overwhelm her, but in this place she is queen. She sheathes the great blade,
and opens the lacquered box. Within sit two crowns.
She
fluidly takes one, speaks the ritual words, and crowns Lucien as a prince, peer
to her own brother. But she sees that Lucien has also seen the second crown,
spied its delicate arcs and graceful lines. She knows that he is wondering,
even as she is, at its presence there. It takes every ounce of her will not to
look from it to Lucien's wife; she can tell from his expression that it is what
he expects – what he commands. But somehow she resists him.
She
raises her voice, lets it carry across the hall, "Rise now, Your Highness,
and let—"
She
never finishes the sentence, for at that moment the doors of the Hall of Kings
thunder open again.
The
sound stuns the crowd for a moment, but then an uncertain murmur rises among
the assembled lords and ladies of Komaru. Outside the doors, she sees the Royal
Guard kneeling, but with pikes crossed in front of a group of nobles in Sone
colors. She only has a moment to wonder at this, because not all of the nobles
have been halted at the door.
She
recognizes Cole Soieko at once; she has seen him looking uncomfortable and
annoyed in Midoko Komaru's company at more than one Royal gathering. She notes
that he has been allowed to keep his sword, and then turns her attention to the
unfamiliar woman he follows closely behind, and the horde of children trailing
behind her.
Seeing
the woman, she feels an inexplicable shock of familiarity. She wears a flowing
gown of golden silk trimmed with ivory, and the golden jewelry that sparkles in
her blood-colored hair is the same color as her almond-shaped eyes. As she
meets those eyes, she realizes why the woman seems so familiar: she sees them
every time she looks into a mirror.
The
woman strides boldly up to the foot of her throne, and then kneels before it
with striking grace. "Your Royal Highness," she pronounces, her voice
filling the hall, "forgive my interruption, but I could find no better
time. I am Mirabelle Komaru, your father's elder sister."
The
Crown Princess is stunned, and so is everyone else within the hall. Behind her,
she hears her mother rise from her seat and begin to speak. But it is Lucien –
Prince Lucien Komaru – who breaks the silence. "Oh, really? How
astonishing for you to turn up now after nearly thirty years of absence. I
don't suppose you have some evidence that you are who you claim to be."
Behind
her, Cole Soieko snickers coldly, and passes the woman a crumpled piece of
metal. The woman holds it in front of Lucien's face for a moment, but pulls it
out of his reach when he grabs for it. Lucien's expression turns black, and his
fingers drop fractionally towards the blade at his hip. The movement stops when
Cole Soieko clears his throat loudly in Lucien's direction. She sees it all,
but the woman seems oblivious. She simply passes the object over with a
curtsey, "Here, Your Royal Highness. I believe you might recognize
this."
She
examines it. It is heavier than she expected, and she can see that some of its
settings still hold jewels. However, it is practically flattened, its once
graceful circle now a doubled-over arc. Suddenly, she understands the box, the
second crown, the drama playing out before her and beyond her control. Part of her
writhes with fury at being manipulated, but she has been a pawn all her life.
Here, at least, she sees a chance to play a part in an entirely new game. She
speaks, "It is the shattered remains of the crown of a princess of Komaru.
If this is true, then this is a welcome day indeed, for it seems I have gained
both an uncle and an aunt. Kneel, my aunt, and let me grant you a new crown,
restoring what was so long believed lost."
She
takes the second crown, vowing silently to herself to identify the Sone spy who
placed it there, and places it upon Mirabelle's brow. She again speaks the
formalities, and when she finishes, she bids both Lucien and Mirabelle to rise
and receive their accolades.
The
lords and ladies applaud politely, but their uncertainty has blunted their
enthusiasm. She is unsurprised when Lucien speaks in the silence that follows.
"If Your Royal Highness accepts her identity for now, that is enough for
me. And yet I still find myself wondering why you have chosen this moment to
return, my newly-discovered sister."
Mirabelle
smiles, and her words are parry and riposte to Lucien's accusations, "My
brother, while he lived, did not need my existence hanging as a cloud over his
reign. So, I remained cloistered, pleasantly pursuing my time with scholarly
studies while the Sone sheltered me. I have married, I have been a mother, and
now I am a widow. But I have seen that my time for reflection is past, for the
Crown now faces threats from both within," she marvels at the serene gaze
Mirabelle directs at storm-faced Lucien, "and without. If the power of the
Crown of Komaru is to be maintained, I could not remain apart for the world. It
is my hope that I can be of some service to Her Royal Highness."
As
she listens to Mirabelle speak, an idea strikes her, and she smiles openly at
the thought of it. "Pray then, let the Crown give you both a chance to be
of service to it. To celebrate your presence, I bid you speak on how the Crown
can better serve its kingdom. Ask a boon, and I will grant it. Please, Prince Lucien,
speak first, as this day was first yours."
Lucien's
eyes burn into her, but she feels giddy. He then turns to the nobility and
speaks, "My boon is not for myself, but for the people of Komaru. You may
have heard of the Collegium of Althea. I ask that the Crown grant an
entitlement of money to the Collegium that will allow it to triple its staff of
instructors and students within a decade, thereby spreading wisdom, the Light's
truest gift, to all of the Kingdom of Komaru."
She
inclines her head and speaks, "It is granted." She is pleased, twice
so when she realizes he could have asked that Serenity be engaged to her
brother. She glances briefly at the breathtakingly beautiful younger girl, and
feels a brief moment of envy for her and her freedom. She resolves to request a
new wardrobe of court gowns as soon as the day concludes, and turns to
Mirabelle. "And you, Your Highness? What boon would you request?"
The
elder woman smiles and curtseys again. "Like my brother, I ask a boon not
for myself, but for the people of Komaru. I have heard tales from the Minamet
that in the days of old, a Royal Champion watched over the Crown, guarding her
against all harm. With our land so plagued by trouble," and the Crown
Princess thrilled to see Mirabelle again glance deliberately at Lucien,
"it seems like a tournament to determine a Royal Champion would bring us
all more closely together, and having a noble warrior in such a position would
do much to ensure your safety. I would, in truth, be happy to organize such a
thing myself."
She
smiles radiantly at Mirabelle's request. The naming of a Royal Champion had
been brought before her before, of course, but plans had remained vague,
particularly in the face of the Church's present crusade against the Minamet
family. To have a Royal Princess organizing the matter solved that problem
entirely. "Your boon is granted, Your Highness, with pleasure. Is there
anything more?" It is impulsive, she knows, but she cannot help it, for
she is caught in the lady's charismatic spell.
Mirabelle
serenely returns her smile. "Yes, one last thing. I wish to introduce you
to your cousins. These are my children." The introductions leave a swirl
of impressions: Himiko, older than her and beautiful like her mother; pale-eyed
Yuki, whose name makes Victoria Skye—Victoria Komaru, now – start and stare,
then look angrily away; Yaeko and Ryoichi, the youngest, twins like her and
Hideo.
Then
she starts. "Wait. Marius – Marius Sone?" The boy in question looks
up, an embarrassed expression on his face. "Weren't you one of the boys
being paraded in front of me?" She is not being queenly, she realizes, but
it's a topic that brings out the worst in her.
Mirabelle
tips her head in apology. "He was, I am sorry to say. Your Royal Highness
may not be aware of it, but you are quite the beautiful young woman, and my son
is quite smitten with you. Against my better judgment, he asked the Sone family
to see if you might think well enough of him to accept his engagement."
She flicks her eyes briefly to Marius, who is slowly turning purple and making
faint strangled noises, before continuing to address the Crown Princess.
"For my part, I consider any serious engagement at your age preposterous,
but my son was not to be swayed. While a princess may have to marry in time, she
should first have the chance to find a life for herself."
Mirabelle's
smile weaves magic about her, and she feels a surge of irresistible happiness.
She knows that the other woman is as much a threat to her as Lucien, but she is
fascinated by her nevertheless. Mirabelle's strength, her mystery, her sheer
existence is a wonder: perhaps, perhaps, she has found herself another ally.
She
cannot wait to tell Hideo all about it.
* * *
Armando
Cuvier stumbles before his murderer's feet, his hands clutched across the
sticky wetness that is spreading from his opened gut. "Why, brother? Why
must it be like this?"
His
brother weaves his fingers into Armando's hair, and pulls his head back.
"Because you are a fool. Because you do not understand the doom veiled in the
false glory you seek. Because the Jitani should remain dead."
Armando
gasps in pain, and already the sun's light dims. "I do not
understand."
The
blade slices through his throat cleanly, and his brother mourns for a moment as
the empty husk that was Armando spills its blood across the castle floor.
"I am sorry, brother. But you are the fortunate one."
An
hour later, the servants enter Armando's chamber. There, they find his corpse,
and a message written in his blood.
FOR
SOME CRIMES THERE CAN NEVER BE ATONEMENT.
* * *
To
the bravest of the brave,
To
the noblest of the noble,
The
Crown Princess of Komaru calls forth across the land for the finest and most
honorable of Komaru's heroes to gather at the Royal Capital, there to compete
in tournament for the title of Royal Champion. All are welcome, peasant and
noble alike, save that they display the grace and courtesy due to Her Royal
Highness and show willingness to do sport for Her honor and their own. The
tournament shall be fought in the Royal Capital on midsummer's day, and all are
welcome to gather to pay audience to its spectacle.
Long
live the Crown Princess!
Mirabelle
Komaru
The
ripples of a queen's decision can rise and fall like the tide, but never
entirely fade away.