by Rosie Scott
After everyone introduced themselves, I went on, “I'd like to open the floor to your questions, and we can discuss most things as we work our way through topics naturally. I may pass some of your inquiries onto my companions here if they are better suited to answer. Would anyone like to start?”
Quite a few people in the crowds raised their hands. I pointed to a human. “You. End of row, black hair. Question?”
“Yes...” the man nodded somewhat uncertainly and asked, “is Fremont a different name for Eteri? I've heard the name here and there, but you are referring to it like it's a nation. A few of you are wearing yellow, but Eteri wasn't mentioned.”
I glanced over at Cyrus, deciding to leave it up to him how much to reveal. “Cyrus?”
Cyrus cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We are originally from Eteri, yes. The Hammerton campaign was completed for Eteri's benefit, but many of our people disagreed with its leadership. Upon Hammerton's seizure, Eteri split in two sides with separate loyalties. Hammerton is now known as Fremont while Eteri remains across the seas.”
The human seemed appreciative of the answer, and I called on another in the crowds who enthusiastically waved his arm at me.
“How can we trust you when the people you surround yourself with are untrustworthy?” the man asked, his voice raised and angered. Others murmured nervously in anticipation of my response.
“In what way?” I questioned, unfazed.
“Your dark friend there stole my coin purse.” The man pointed at the balcony as he patted his pockets. In direct response, a few others in the crowds checked the locations of their own belongings.
“Which dark friend?” I inquired, one eyebrow raised at his wording. “I have many of them, two of whom are kings. You will have to be more specific.”
“The one standing right next to you,” he retorted angrily. “Your main assistant. The one who's been running all over Comercio working for you and probably stealing from the rest of us while he's at it.”
Though I remained calm, a ball of anger rose in my chest at the open attack on Azazel's character. I pointed at the human and said, “Come up to the front of the room.”
“No,” he retorted. “I'm staying here. I trust none of you. Ask him to give it back, or I'll raise a stink and demand the gold from you.”
“I won't ask Azazel to give something back that he hasn't taken,” I replied. “I know his character, and thanks to this false accusation, I'm learning yours. If you won't come up here, I will come to you.”
I turned toward the steps, and Azazel protested behind me, “Kai.”
“You have your bow ready if anyone makes a rash movement. Do not fear for me,” I replied, before jogging down the steps.
The murmuring rose as I stalked through the room toward the man's location, stepping between closely seated people. The man's nostrils flared as he watched me approach. Halfway there, I raised a hand, showing the people the coral-pink energy swirling over my palm. “Many of you have learned magic for free since I took Comercio. Would anyone like to tell me what this spell is?”
“Charm,” said a woman in the crowds.
“Charm,” I repeated with agreement, my voice loud to reach all the ears in the room. “Known to force honesty and loyalty from foes and dishonest folk by temporarily pulling them to your side.”
“I have done nothing but demand what is rightfully mine!” the human protested, abruptly standing like he wished to leave. He struggled to move around the other people in the crowd, inhibiting his ability to flee.
“Why are you so quick to leave, then?” I questioned. “If you are telling the truth, I promise you I will pay you double the gold you claim to have lost.” As I finally reached the end of the row the human was in, he stopped in mid-step right in front of a seated woman. “Now,” I continued, eyeing the magic in my palm knowingly before meeting his eyes again, “are you still claiming Azazel stole from you?”
“Yes,” the man hissed. “Just earlier when he was out here alone with your guards. And now to prove the faux innocence of this thief, you will resort to injuring an innocent man.”
“Such ignorance of magic and its effects is one thing I look to solve as ruler of Chairel,” I announced, thrusting the spell at the man and waiting a moment as he came under its influence. “Charm alone does not injure.” Talking only to the man, I added, “I ask you one last time: who stole your coin purse? And speak up.”
The human shook his head and proclaimed, “No one stole my coin purse. I didn't bring it with me today.”
I spun and headed back through the murmuring crowds and to the balcony. “I rest my case. Let it be known that false accusations will make it nowhere with me. I will address honest concerns and questions, but my patience for bullshit is non-existent, even more so when directed at someone who has selflessly risked his life for me time and again.”
The room quieted as I ascended the stairs and took my place beside Azazel, who had relaxed due to being vindicated. We shared a mutually respectful and satisfied look before I peered over the crowds once more. A few hands were raised, so I called on another.
“Is it true that Glacia is gone?” one woman asked. Before I had a chance to answer, an Icilic man stood from his bench.
“Like it never existed,” he answered for her, his silver eyes attempting to burrow through mine to stare straight into my soul. “Wiped off the map. Do you not regret your attack on Glacia?”
“I regret not attacking it sooner,” I replied evenly.
The snow elf's nostrils flared. “You say that as if you did anything to prevent such a genocide.”
“Were you there?” I questioned. “I don't recognize you, so I don't believe you were there to hear my concerns about that mission. If it weren't for me, Glacia would have been under the seas a year earlier than it was. My refusal to go along with the plan to attack Glacia in the first place was the reason they were able to invade my ally's country and begin a genocide of their own. I'm assuming the unprovoked extermination of the people of Esen by the Icilic is not a concern to you. If you had been in my situation, what would you have done?”
“I would not have taken out an entire continent with a magical attack,” the man spat.
“And I didn't,” I replied. “I can't take credit for that. I've never had the ability to wield the sun. My part in the plan included keeping Ciro safe on the journey to Yseult and shielding our warships to protect my allies. It was a plan I only agreed to after Glacia's actions ensured our retaliation.”
“You could have fought,” the Icilic insisted. “Army against army.”
“As we did,” I replied. “Multiple times. In Esen, at the Battle of Highland Pass, and at the second fight in Esen. Friends and allies died in these battles, so they are still plenty fresh in my memory. When we retook Esen, we received intel that their armies were far more massive than we anticipated and would not stop coming. The options were few: go through with Glacia's destruction, or surrender to the Icilic and allow them to commit a genocide of their own. They didn't just kill soldiers in Esen; they killed civilians, proving their plan was the extermination of the Vhiri and the giants. In a situation of genocide of allies versus genocide of foes, which side are you going to choose?”
“Neither,” the man replied.
Cyrus chuckled dryly from a few places to my left. “Then congratulations, friend. Your idealism is so unrealistic it borders on infantile. You've proven to know so little of warfare that I'm shocked you care enough about this to criticize.”
“Who are you?” the man retorted.
“The king of Fremont, former Sentinel of Eteri,” Cyrus replied at once. “I was there in Glacia. I, too, wanted to avoid the whole fiasco. I had no qualms with Glacia until its armies exterminated my people to take our land.”
“So you condone Kai's decision to destroy it,” came the response.
“It wasn't just Kai's decision,” Cyrus argued. “We all had a part in that mission, and Kai thankfully joined in after
seeing proof it was unavoidable. If you're asking if I'm glad we followed through, absolutely yes. Glacia wouldn't have stopped until every native of my country was dead. Drastic actions require drastic reactions.”
“I find your moral superiority off-putting,” the Icilic seethed.
“As I find yours despicable,” Cyrus replied coolly. “You sit here and claim to know better than us when you are too frail and daft for warfare. Try picking up a weapon and callousing those flawless hands of yours before you criticize the actions of those who risk their lives.”
Cyrus's refusal to back down from the man invigorated me, and I chuckled dryly before I added, “Some resort to criticism of others because they aren't talented enough to do anything laudable worth criticizing.”
Hasani laughed at our tenacious responses, his bright amusement somewhat calming the tense air. “I recommend you read more about the harsh realities of war, my friend,” he said, nodding toward the ignorant man. “Expand your knowledge because it is sorely lacking. Everyone feels they have moral superiority in times of war, and everyone is wrong. It is this common delusion that gives normal people the drive and willpower to do the crazy things required of them in warfare. At the end of the day that's all war is: a bunch of people thinking they know best killing others with different viewpoints. Those who have the mental fortitude to rise to the occasion are those who become legends.” Hasani swept a dark arm toward the rest of us on the balcony.
As the angered Icilic man stood up and prepared to leave, I said, “At least feel comfort knowing that our victory in Glacia doesn't mean you were killed on sight for being the wrong race and showing up here today. Had Glacia succeeded, many of the people I know and love would have been killed for their identities alone. You are welcome in Chairel under my rule, friend. You are free to dissent, free to challenge my decisions, and free to hate me as you please. In all of the ways you can be, you are free.” The other people were quiet as the dissenter left, so I finally joked, “He taught me something new today. The next time I face a threat, I can dispel my magic and surrender to let my enemies win. Silly me; I hadn't previously considered that as an option.”
A few chuckles sounded out from the crowd at the ridiculous notion, and the uneasy air in the room alleviated. One middle-aged human raised her hand, risking to be the first to speak after a tense argument.
“You,” I offered, pointing at her. “Go ahead.”
“I don't have a question,” the woman admitted. “I just wanted to express my support. I'm a native of Thornwell.” She swallowed hard and glanced over to where Cerin stood. “I remember you, Cerin. I haven't seen you in probably twenty years. You were just a kid, so I don't expect you to remember me, but you were as sweet and friendly as your mother. What the Icilic did to Celena was unconscionable, but when they came for her, they started killing everyone in Thornwell. Both my husband and daughter were killed in the attack, and they were innocent to the situation. I don't think any other ways occur to the Icilic.” The woman hesitated, grimaced, and added, “I don't mean for that to sound racist—”
“It is a culture problem, not a race problem,” Cerin said from beside me. “And no, other ways didn't occur to them. That was the primary reason my mother longed to leave Glacia in the first place. The Icilic were set in their ways, and not only did they believe in a purified bloodline, they wished to enforce those beliefs on the world.” Cerin addressed the entire room as he said, “My mother was Icilic. My father was human. An entire town was attacked in Glacia's quest to kill me because I am mixed. In that man's criticisms of our attack on Glacia, he failed to look inside himself and his own culture.” Glancing back at the woman, Cerin added, “I do remember you, Nadiya. You lived in the cottage two homes southeast of my own. You tended to a small garden with your daughter where you grew tea leaves that you traded with my father for fish.”
Nadiya nodded, her eyes teary as she reminisced. An abrupt sob sounded from her throat before she cleared it. “I am so happy to see you safe, Cerin. Most from Thornwell are dead. Sirius had the Twelve destroy our homes. Many were killed.”
“I'm happy to see you safe as well,” Cerin replied. “After everything that's happened, it is a miracle. I'm so sorry for your losses.”
“Thank you,” Nadiya managed thickly.
“Thornwell was taken over by the flood,” I said. “Is that why you moved here?”
“Yes,” Nadiya replied. “A messenger from Dagmar warned us of the flood. Many moved to where they were rebuilding French, but others came here. None of us went to Sera. Just thinking about that city makes me ill.”
“How have you been faring in Comercio?” I questioned. The capital had a far higher standard of living than Thornwell, so it was possible Nadiya's displacement had put her in dire straits.
“Well, I'm here,” Nadiya replied, before a stressed laugh.
“Come see me after we finish here tonight,” I told her. “I'll ensure you live comfortably in Comercio. Any friend of Cerin's is a friend of mine.”
“Thank you,” Nadiya said again. “Thank you.”
I called on a Celdic man next, and he stood to speak. “First of all, I'd like to thank you for making magical education free here. I fled Celendar some years ago because I learned life magic unofficially and was found out. I've offered my healing services to people in Chairel illicitly here and there. I'm a good healer; I'm just not licensed, and I could never afford a Seran education.”
“You've risked a lot just to do what you felt was right,” I told him. “I admire that.”
“Because you do the same,” the Celd replied with a smile. “I offer healing for trade or for cheap; it's part of how I've made a living in Comercio all these years. Now that you've made magic more accessible, I doubt my skills will be so in demand. I understand you've done away with magic licenses, but how much control do you claim over free mages? If I wish to continue making a living by charging modest fees for healing, can I?”
“Excellent question, friend,” I complimented him, impressed by it. “I claim no control over any mages unless they have sworn service to me in my armies. Having a thriving market of healers offering their services is my goal, for medical costs should drop to record lows and they must keep their skills in top shape to stay competitive. You can charge whatever you wish for your services, and people will decide whether to pay it or take their needs elsewhere. If you are looking for guaranteed income, feel free to apply for a position in my army with Calder Cerberius.” I motioned to Calder before continuing, “Otherwise, you are free to continue practicing in Comercio, and I hope you'll consider training with my mages and surgeons while we're here to expand your spell repertoire and surgical knowledge if you desire it.”
“Where do I go for this training?” the Celd inquired. “Does it cost anything?”
“Training is free. For life magic training, you can see Cerin Heliot in the temporary school just two blocks south of the castle. For surgical training, Uriel Anemone has classes on the second floor.”
After the Celd thanked me and sat back down, I called on a dwarven woman who regarded me with more fear than admiration, and she hesitated for a while before speaking. “The dead surround Comercio. I...I don't like this. It ain't natural for us to leave bodies out t'rot. Is this what we have to look forward to under the rule of a necromancer?”
“You're right,” I told her. “It is unnatural. But we aren't living in normal times during this war. I have kept the dead out on the fields not only as a defense but also as a visual intimidation tactic to the Seran Army if they arrive. I apologize that this tactic has affected some of you, though I understand why it has. Seeing necromancy in action can be frightening. In times of peace, those plains will be unmarred and we will bury or cremate the dead. For now, however, I need those corpses for Comercio's defense. If this city is attacked, I hope that the only casualties will be those who are already dead.”
“This last battle rose many corpses from Comercio's cemeteries,” the dwarf repl
ied, still appearing uneasy.
“Yes, and if this has affected any of you personally, I offer to have your loved ones cremated free of charge so it doesn't happen again. Many necromantic spells cover a lot of ground indiscriminately and can otherwise disturb their corpses. I plan on exhuming a body of a loved one myself in Sera to do the same.”
The dwarven woman frowned and asked, “Bjorn Berg?”
“Yes. I consider him my father,” I replied, curious as to the woman's intentions. Though still uneasy, she seemed to relax at my open vulnerability.
“Why protect his body from necromancy if ya wield it freely?” she asked, more confused than argumentative.
“Grave-sites are not for the dead; they are for the living,” I told her. “I can no longer protect Bjorn from anything because he is dead. Whether someone uses his body to abide by a necromancer's will is no concern to him now. Given that Bjorn's loyalties were with me, I know Sirius would have buried him in an unassuming place unfitting for a man of Bjorn's character and importance. Exhuming his body allows me to place it somewhere more fitting. Cremating him ensures that I always know where to go to pay my respects because ashes cannot be risen from the dead and moved.”
The woman nodded, respectful of my answer. I was pleasantly surprised given our differences. She asked one final question. “Does yer offer of free cremation stand for those of us who have family buried in the city even if they weren't affected by the battle?”
“Absolutely. I won't put the financial burden of this change in culture on the people. If any of you wish to take advantage of this offer, see Azazel or Chance.” I motioned to the two men as I said their names.
Some conversations later, I took a final question from a human who seemed apprehensive. He remained respectful as he asked, “How likely is it that Sirius will attack Comercio while you are away in the west? What precautions are you taking to prevent this city's fall?”