RE: Monarch

I snapped back into my body, blinking several times.

There was no way of immediately knowing exactly how far back I’d gone, making this the most important part. It was still the same dew-crested morning. All the wagons and carriages were whole, meaning the drephin hadn’t made their move. I spun towards the overlooking mountain.

The drephin leader—the one who held his staff over his head, wasn’t there. And instead of a throng of wolves, there was a handful. But there was still a gods damned raccoon wandering into the camp.

Maya turned to the side, inclining her arm in practiced introduction. “There’s someone who wished to meet you.”

The girl gave me a shy smile that immediately set my nerves on edge and bent in a deep curtsy. “Melody, of House Vasemoux. It’s lovely to meet you, my lord.”

House Vasemoux. The noble tailors.

I returned a shallow bow. “Right. Vasemoux. Your family did wonderful work for the queen’s wedding. Before my time, of course, but the work is immortalized in the artwork that lines my mother’s hall.”

Maya expertly cut in. “Lady Melody has been regaling me with tales of her house’s mercantile savvy. Imports and exports of their designs and products have been successful in the Panthanian market…” She trailed off as I scanned the perimeter. The raccoon from before was hoisting its way up to the seat of the mobile armory.

I opened my palm, sending a tiny spark dancing down my leg and across the grass. It was easy to manipulate the sparks at this size. It was when they were most agile.

The raccoon half-expanded, then dropped dead with a throaty cry, its grotesque expansion immediately halted.

That they didn’t explode upon death was a mixed positive. It gave us time to deal with the animals. If they continued dying one by one, however, I was certain whoever was coordinating this among the drephin would take notice, and cut their losses by detonating the lot.

Melody turned around. “What’s—”

“Don’t look.” I hissed.

Melody froze.

“Situation?” Maya snapped. Her staff was already in her hand, held casually by my side. And while her head remained trained on me, I saw her barely visible pupils darting back and forth beneath the surface of her eyes.

“Drephin. Less than a half-hour. Using animals as bombs.” I recited mindlessly, running through my head for a solution. They had a relatively small force and only attacked once our number was decimated by the opening salvo.

“Sure, drephin, of course.” Maya paused. “Do you know—”

“Only what you told me.”

“Shit.” Maya said.

“Drephin, like the mythical shapeshifting elves? Those drephin?” Melody sounded bemused.

The drephin’s ability to change into animals was something Maya hadn’t mentioned. We both turned towards her slowly.

Melody flushed. “I read a lot. In my free time. Maybe a bit more than is proper.”

“Tell us what you know.” Maya said.

“Everything.” I added.

“Um, uh, I, uh.” Melody was bright red, more so than when I’d embarrassed her. In retrospect, I felt poorly for the way I’d treated her. Given her station, and the lack of powerful warriors in her house, she wasn’t used to being on the spot.

I gave Maya an apologetic look, then stepped into Melody’s space and took her hand. “My lady. The camp—no, the kingdom—is in danger. Any knowledge you have could be invaluable to us. To me.” I held her gaze, channeling reassurance and warmth.

Maya made a barely audible gagging noise.

Melody swallowed, and her blush diminished to her ears and button nose. “This is all according to legend—I’ve never seen one. I’m not sure anyone living has.”

“That’s fine. Anything you know could help us. Just start at the beginning.”

Melody took a deep breath. “In the dark era, before the formation of the world, there were a series of competing lights, no larger than a speck of dust, each with the potential to bring life. The gods were petty, and snuffed out these lights as they grew prematurely, concerned with their compatriots’ ability to influence the path of light aligned with their essence. This is commonly referred to as the deistic schism—”

“Maybe not that far back.” I amended.

“Right.” Melody bit her lip. “But if I don’t explain Meinhawk’s theory of cosmic regression and the rift that transpired between the old gods and new, the entire backstory of the drephin won’t make sense.”

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure it out from context. You’re doing great; keep going.”

“They’re commonly believed to be celestial elves, cobbled and transformed by the old gods—because of all the stuff you want me to skip—but really, it was only one god. Nychta—”

“The human goddess of the night?” Maya interjected.

Melody shook her head. “The drephin knew her by another name. Denmother. Nychta shielded their light, hid it from the other gods. This was how the celestial elves were born. Unbound by age and time, they were by far the most powerful beings in the world. Capable of understanding and speaking any language, knowledgeable beyond any mind alive today.” She was suddenly nervous. “That’s… um… technically heretical—”

“It’s fine.” Maya and I spoke simultaneously.

“The celestial elves were obsessed with light. Despite Nychta’s guidance to the contrary, the elves considered returning themselves to primordial light to be their ultimate goal. They believed if they returned to their original form multiple times, they could eventually gain power over the universe itself.”

“And?” I prompted, trying to speed things along.

“And then everything went wrong.” Melody said, looking sad. “When they returned to their original form, their nascent light shined bright. Too bright to not draw attention from the other gods. Before they could be snuffed out by the other gods, Nychta tainted them herself to ensure they survived. Made them low. Base. Though she robbed them of much, she granted them the ability to transform into various animals. And though their brilliance was a shadow of what it once was, and their skill for language was reduced to that of an average mortal, she granted them the ability to communicate wordlessly among themselves—and with the animals under their influence, so long as they hold an animal form.”

Maya gave me a meaningful look.

I swore. That wasn’t good. Even if we killed the animal intruders discreetly, realistically, at least one of them would warn the rest before it met its end.

“Anything else on their abilities? Their magic?”

Melody shook her head. “I’m not very knowledgeable about magic, but it’s believed to differ from human and infernal magic. Closer to the elves’ unstructured mysticism, but unique enough to stand on its own. Something to do with Nychta’s alterations.”

My mind raced through a series of ideas, discarding them as the flaws became apparent. The drephin’s ability to communicate psychically was a serious obstacle. Melody’s information had saved me a handful of repeats it would have taken to figure that out. Assuming I got my father’s men to take this seriously—which was a significant ask—I could call the alarm and hope we moved fast enough to slaughter the infiltrators, but if even a handful of people hesitated, there would be casualties.

If I mobilized a small number of troops and swept through the camp, the drephin would catch on easily.

There was also the issue of unity. If my father had intended to thin the herd, it was impossible to know without flagrant trial and error who I could rely on, and whom I couldn’t.

A hunter with the sigil of a fox on his shoulder strode by in the wake of several rangers, with a series of rabbits on a string.

That’s it.

I took Melody by the shoulders. “Forgive my ignorance. But what service does your house provide to the army? Why are you here?”

Melody’s face scrunched up in embarrassment. “Our hunters augment the ranged troops, but mainly, we provide fresh meat and food for the camp. With furred apparel almost required to survive in Whitefall, one can never have enough pelts. Or so my father says.”

As ideal as it would have been to have the army in on this, the Vasemoux alternative was appealing. Hunters specialized in clean kills, targeting vital organs in order to minimize damage to the animal and its pelt. It was common knowledge that meat from an animal blissfully unaware of its imminent end tasted better than that from one who died in terror.

“Will they listen to you?” I pressed.

“I think so.” Melody wavered, then nodded.

***

I threw open the tent flap. A few dozen humans froze where they stood, all dressed in dark robes. The colors were a hodgepodge of blues, greens and blacks, but on the chest of each was a dark red fist held skyward.

An elderly man with a well groomed beard and mustache stood to greet me. “Your grace?”

I looked at him with distaste, placing him amongst one of the leaders in the first group, keeping the mages from helping the second. He would not be an ally in this.

“In our initial encounter outside the enclave, a powerful void mage stopped the spread of demon fire. Who was it?”

There was a quiet murmuring, and Talmon—I think that was the bearded leader’s name—gave me a sympathetic smile. “There are few with that affinity among our number, your grace. None with that level of power.”

My expression darkened. “What?”

“What you saw was a result of the cumulative effort of the void mages we have, acting as one.” Talmon said, voice full of fake pride.

“This is not the time for lies.” I moved within inches of his face, until he leaned back minutely. “I sparred regularly with a void mage. It’s harder to identify their fingerprints, trace their power back to the wielder, but it’s possible once you grow accustomed to it. That was the work of one mage.”

“Perhaps so much exposure to the savages has dulled your senses, your grace.” Talmon said. He was careful to keep his voice even, while a few mages chuckled in the background.

“Fine. ” I hissed. “I need the void mages. All of them.”

“Ordinarily, I’d hand them over for a copper rod and a kind word.” Talmon shrugged. “They’re mostly useless. Shrinking violets amongst forces of nature. Sadly we are deployed, and during deployment, we answer to the king.”

“The king is missing.”

“Best of luck, finding him.” Talmon shrugged.

“You’re not concerned about his absence?” I asked, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“If I was concerned every time the king ‘disappeared,’ I’d never sleep.” Talmon said. “It’s best to simply bide your time.”

I wanted to throttle him. The enclave had its share of politicians, but at the slightest hint of an existential threat, the infernals put petty differences aside and dug their heels in. Humans seemed to revel in obstruction.

But I couldn’t keep throwing people around.

I ignored the man in front of me and addressed the room. “You heard what he called you. Now let me pose a question. Who among you with the void affinity will stand with me?”

The room was silent, all eyes averting to various walls and floors.

With a frustrated sigh, I spread my hands wide. “Alright then. Who would like the opportunity to study the Dantalion flame and serve as my attendant throughout my time in Whitefall, and have your research projects funded by the crown?”

Several heads snapped over, and a number of hands raised.

“Treasonous bastards!” Talmon thundered.

Never underestimate the opportunism of mages.

“Good. All I need you to do is quench this flame.”

I approached the mages who volunteered, holding a flame in my palm. Discreetly, I forced more magic into the spark than necessary, raising the small flame’s temperature.

The first mage—an average looking man—was unable to affect the flame at all.

The second—a stern woman—reached a hand out. The flame died to a pinprick, but remained steady until she collapsed backward in a sheen of sweat.

My hope waned. Quenching the third stage of the Dantalion flame with void magic was no easy task. The fire wasn’t fueled by mana alone. From Veldani’s description, it pulled from everything around it, including the ancient magic that maintained the separation between realms. But I’d used the third stage when I’d faced off against my father. If the void mages were truly this limited, there was a possibility Talmon was telling the truth.

I approached the next mage, not expecting much. He was still a boy, maybe four, five years older than me. There was a dreamy look in his gray eyes, and in a sea of silken shoes and leather boots, his feet were clad in peasant’s sandals.

He didn’t immediately attempt to quench the flame. Rather, he studied it, reaching a tentative finger. Understanding dawned in his eyes as he focused not on the flame, but the space between my palm on the fire.

The mage held his hand palm out and clenched a fist.

Before I could add more mana to the fire to maintain it, the spark died.

The mage began to rise.

“Sit your flea-ridden ass down, Eckor.” Talmon warned.

Eckor sat. “Pardon my insolence, Master Evoker. But with word circulating certain individuals in the administration would be willing to sell us for copper, I think it’s best to explore my prospects.”

Talmon stoodover the boy, leaning down. “Ungrateful. Your selection was a gift. And it’s the closest you’ll ever come to nobility. Without it, you’re nothing but a common-born cur.”

“I sleep in a broom closet.” Eckor said, his tone more matter-of-fact than spiteful.

“With a mattress.” Talmon argued. “And it’s only temporary, until the Crimson’s Brand’s garrison is expanded.”

“There’ve been several expansions.” Eckor said quietly.

“Consider your future.” Talmon insisted.

“Will the Crimson Brand fund my agricultural initiative? I’ve submitted several well documented queries.”

Talmon squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Crop and alchemical production is not a proper focus for Crimson Brand resources.”

Lazily, Eckor’s head swung in my direction. “Will you fund my agricultural initiative?”

It wasn’t much of a question. I’d have funded research into the aromatic qualities of horseshit if it got me a void mage. At the very least, Eckor’s proposition sounded beneficial to the kingdom. “Done. Along with a minor title to open doors that would be closed to you as a commoner.”

“Wonderful. Then consider me at your disposal.” Eckor smiled, then looked suddenly concerned. “I only packed robes. Do I have to give them back, or—”

“Get out!” Talmon thundered.

***

Eckor stretched as we emerged from the Crimson Brand tent. “Air’s so fresh outside the city. So clean.”

“Enjoy it while you can.” I muttered, surveying our surroundings. A number of hunters bearing the Vasemoux sigil had spread out within the camp. Melody and Maya were keeping a safe distance from them, walking the perimeter of the camp. Maya had mastered the art of looking without looking; Melody’s head was on a swivel.

Perhaps finally picking up on the mood, Eckor stopped mid-stride, glancing around the camp at the hunters, his gaze landing on a mouse that scurried across our path. I held my breath, only letting it out once the mouse had passed.

“We should probably talk about why you needed me, my lord?” Eckor asked suddenly. His expression hadn’t changed, but the faraway look in his eye had vanished.

“Good news and bad news, Eckor.” I gave him a grim smile. “Good news is, you won’t be sleeping in a broom closet anymore.”

“My thanks.” He inclined his head. “And the bad?”

No use in sugarcoating it.

“Your life’s about to get a lot more complicated.”

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