“No, I will not be his ally. But I will respect the owner of this land. All I wish for is peace.”
“But there won’t be any peace. There’ll be destruction, suffering, death, and desolation.”
“Mérdmerén,” the empress replied firmly. “The God of Chaos is powerful. He will come and take what is his, whether you like it or not. The only way to survive is by not putting up any resistance to him. Moreover, we have no military capacity, least of all for fighting against Mórgomiel.”
“I see you’re well informed about everything. You’re in contact with Evil, aren’t you?”
“Your suspicions do not offend me, Mérdmerén. I even understand that it bothers you that I know more than you do. Grizna has always been and will continue to be a peaceful place, a center for culture and wisdom. The Lis towers are the symbol of her knowledge.”
The Empress now told the story of Mórgomiel’s advances and the consequences for the universe. Mérdmerén could not believe what he was hearing, but he trusted the woman and what had happened in Moragald’Burg left no doubt whatsoever. He would need a few days to take in so much information.
“That is why the wise thing to do is not to fight,” the empress said again.
“But you’ve spoken about an alliance between the Gods. Isn’t that enough?”
“Unfortunately, nothing is enough. Anyone who opposes Evil will be destroyed. Have you still not seen this, Mérdmerén? Here, we live well and in peace because we do not oppose it. As for the alliance, it has not yet been established. You have not even awakened the dragons. Everything is lost unless you join the new regime.”
“What did you say about dragons?” Mérdmerén cried. “I find it hard to believe you if you come to me with legends and tales. And tell me something else: how do you know so much? Who are you?”
“I know a great deal. Too much. Within me, I hold the sadness of all the worlds. I was one of the maids of the Black Queen of the Morelia Abyss. I possess a part of her powers, such as seeing further beyond and nearer within, tomorrow, and yesterday.”
“You’re talking of witchcraft and things I know nothing about. I don’t know who that black queen is. In fact, I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
“That dagger of yours,” the empress said, pointing at his chest.
“Eh?”
“It shows that dragons exist. It is made from one of Nordost’s scales,” she said thoughtfully. “It is already too late. They have not awoken from their eternal sleep and the universe will explode.”
The empress lowered her head. For the first time, Mérdmerén saw her as vulnerable. She began to weep.
“Everything is lost, it was always so. I am only the Empress of Grizna because I can foretell the future and tell the past.”
“Foretell, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps it’s just me, but I think you’ve lost your wits.”
“What?”
Sokomonoko was startled. She had never been treated with such rudeness like she was some village girl. She found it a compliment as much as an insult.
“As I see it, you’ve been alone for too long. You’ve come to believe the stories you foretell.”
“My predictions are very likely to come true and in all likelihood, Evil will win. Mórgomiel will destroy everything.”
“No. Mórgomiel will try, and we’ll give him the battle of the centuries. Stop believing your tales and listen to me. I was banished. In Mandrake, that’s the worst curse that can befall you and now I’m the king. You wouldn’t have bet on my future if you’d known me during my worst time, but look at me. I’m the leader of the most powerful military nation on this planet, and I’ve come to convince you that we have to form an alliance. If not, we’ll be lost. You might not be able to provide a good army, but you do have a naval force and a group of promising men we can train. I won’t leave here without a yes to my proposal.”
Sokomonoko burst out laughing. She even wept. The guards came in, surprised at their empress’s reaction.
“Oh, my! I can’t stop laughing!” she said.
“Now, I’d like you to tell me more about the dragons and that black queen.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Sokomonoko agreed. “More wine and olives?”
Mérdmerén smiled and went on smoking.
From then on, the conversation flowed as if between lifelong friends.
Chapter XXVII – Migration
Gáramond had spent months away from Háztatlon. He had retired inland to think and smoke. The house he had stayed in included a small plot that he had entrusted to a family of farmers so that they could cultivate it and make a living from it. The philosopher visited them now and then, and thus they had become friends.
Now, he was in one of the many towers of the Imperial Palace, staring up at a sky of colossal clouds. He was stroking his white beard as he smoked his pipe and thought about Strangelus Üdessa. It was a pity his sacrifice had not been witnessed by enough people to be recorded in the history books. They had quarreled daily, it was true, but their friendship could not have been more sincere. And now, without anyone to contradict him, he found conversation boring. Complacency ill-suited him. He could not stand people agreeing with him, still less to make him shut up.
He could not count on his other friends. Leandro was always too busy in his role as a father. Elgahar had left for Omen to continue with his training. Lulita and Luciella had gone back to San San-Tera and Balthazar to Devnóngaron.
The philosopher took a piece of potato pancake with egg, accompanied by a sip of red wine from the king’s cellar. Upon his return to the capital of the Empire, his gluttony had reawakened. How could he resist the free, delicious food provided by the court?
He took the last bite, patted his large belly, and finished the wine. He moaned with pleasure and got up to attend the first meeting with the king after his diplomatic journey. It would also be the first council to take place with the new members. Only Togo Hull, the Duke of Merromer, would be missing with the excuse of launching several ships. In the palace corridors, it was said that he was offended because Mérdmerén had occupied his castle without prior warning.
There was a knock on the door.
“The council is gathered; they’re waiting for you. Let me remind you that it would be advisable if you were to be punctual.”
“I’m coming, by the life of the mandrakes! I’m coming! I haven’t even had time to get used to my room again!
“How time flies. I’m almost sixty. You damned mage, you gave your life so that we could go on with ours. You left me alone,” the philosopher grumbled as he arranged his grey tunic before the mirror. He wetted his fingers and combed his eyebrows. “All right, that’s it.”
***
Mérdmerén looked closely at the thirty counselors, most of them being new faces. After having been one himself decades before, he found it ironic to be back at that table and in the position of king. Lord Falan was there to represent the Baron, Turi had told him.
His squire had changed. Ságamas used to say that the sea changes a man and the truth was that Turi’s gaze was different as if he were able to see further. Unlike his cousin Cail, he already looked like a small nobleman. As the king’s squire, he was seated beside him, dressed in green and red with a domed hat that looked quite ridiculous. Macadamio had insisted that it was part of the attire he must wear. What bothered the young thief the most, though, was going without his dagger. He felt rather naked. But entering the hall without weapons was the rule for all, ever since a fight had broken out with a tragic end.
Around the table, eight cities were represented: Érliadon, Démanon, Omen, Vásufeld, Bónufor, Aldebarán, and Narkalagh. Ágamgor and Kathanas had still not chosen new dukes after the death of Nurimitzu and Thoragón Roam. The philosopher Gáramond was there too. The place of his old friend was taken by Ulfbar Üdessa. Mérdmerén would have preferred Elgahar rather than Ulfbar, as he trusted someone who had lived and overcome adversiti
es more than an old man who preferred talking to acting. His flat backside said it all: he spent too much time spent sitting on it.
Among the counselors was also General Leandro Deathslayer, who had gained several pounds, as could be seen from the roundness of his face. He needed action, Mérdmerén could tell from his dull gaze.
They all weighed one another up in silence. Too many new faces.
“Welcome to the first meeting of the new Council of Kings.”
Mérdmerén was wearing the crown set aside for meetings rather than the one for celebrations, which he kept in a safe place.
“The new council has been created to assist the king and only that. The right of veto doesn’t exist anymore. Now the king is the one who decides and commands. In this way, we’ll avoid businesses running in parallel and nepotism. At the slightest proof of corruption, I’ll put my Lion’s Fist up your ass. I might not be the most nicely-spoken of kings, but you’re going to respect the rules and the government. I’ll reign with iron justice and my hand won’t shake when I’m faced with anyone harming the people. The punishment will be banishment or imprisonment. Is all that clear? Togo Hull, henceforth, is demoted from his position as Duke of Merromer. He has insulted the crown by defying the order to meet in Háztatlon. Let it be noted that Togo Hull must leave the castle immediately. A new Duke of Merromer will be chosen by me within the fortnight.”
“Is he banished? Will he be a Deserter, my king?” asked Macadamio, who was taking notes.
“No. The punishment of banishment is too harsh for that old fool. I’m simply taking away his lands and privileges.”
“My king, that may be worse than being banished,” complained Macadamio.
“Do you wish to be a Deserter, big-mouth?” asked Mérdmerén.
“Apologies, my king. It has been inscribed and documented. The order will be executed immediately.”
“Good.”
There was silence. It was not easy to understand how a duke could fall from grace by defying the king. It had not happened in nearly two hundred years. No duke had ever been demoted from his position by a king, as the Council of Kings was too powerful. But things had changed, and all council members understood that.
Mérdmerén clenched his fists. He was seated at the head of an oval white table. At the other end, there was no-one. His chair was on a dais so that he was higher than the other counselors, fifteen on either side. The hall was a small one. It had a few small windows near the ceiling to let in the light and avoid sniper attacks. Outside, guards had been posted.
Most of the counselors were the Baron’s men and would support the king in all his decisions. The Faceless Baron had assured him that the council would be gradually dissolved, and Mérdmerén agreed. But it was still too soon for that.
“I’ll come straight to the point. As you know, I’ve just returned from a journey of several months. We found Moragald’Burg destroyed with no leader. The population is suffering many shortages and that’s the perfect hotbed for evil to take root.”
Mérdmerén recounted their discoveries in the land of stone and iron, the unfortunate experience with the necromancer and the orcs, and the tyrant’s revelations. The dukes were uneasy; the other counselors remained impassive.
“I don’t know why we don’t decide to invade the Castle of Árath,” thundered Tenos Domaryath, Duke of Vásufeld. “We should exterminate that accursed race once and for all.”
“That would be suicide,” Leandro replied. “Several generals have attempted to attack the perimeter and lost their lives miserably. Némaldon is an inhospitable wasteland and its underground castle is impregnable.”
“And as long as we let them live,” added Joaquin Murayas, Duke of Aldebarán, “those sons of bitches will go on wreaking havoc.”
“That’s not true,” Mérdmerén said. “The threat doesn’t come from Árath, it’s much worse than that. Némaldon, like other regions, serves Mórgomiel, the God of Chaos. It won’t matter if we destroy Némaldon, evil will continue to spread and make more alliances. Because that’s what counts now: getting allies for when the Times of Chaos break out again. It’ll be the darkest era of our life and the universe since its creation.”
“What on earth are you talking about, your Majesty?” Gáramond cried out. He had paled, as had the other counselors. “Those Times of Chaos are hearsay, religious superstitions to instill fear in us.”
“My lords, these are strange times where relative peace reigns. During my journey, I found out many things. Grizna, the Divine Providence, and Doolm-Ondor are on our side. Our armies will unite when it becomes necessary. Evil will invade us, do not doubt that. The prosperity we’re enjoying now is temporary and we need to take advantage of it to make ourselves stronger. Omen will receive generous economic assistance and the other cities will have to develop their armies. If you want peace, as a wise man once said, prepare for war,”
“Will all the cities form armies?” asked Philip Góndola, Duke of Érliadon. “We dukes have always had power over matters of defense.”
“The rules have changed. I’m in command and you dukes will obey. There’s no point any longer in this useless division between north and south. I don’t want to hear about civil wars. The dukes are the representatives of my will, but you’re not independent. Is that clear? The Mandrake Empire will be whole again and that’s the only way we can ensure our future. If you don’t like it, you can follow Togo Hull.”
There was silence.
“Who is Mórgomiel?” Ulfbar Üdessa asked. “I thought the leader of Némaldon was Legionaer and he was killed.”
“Legionaer was a pawn. The true governor of the shadows came back to life in that battle even though nobody noticed it.”
“It was when the God of Light arrived,” said Rigobert Arendis, Duke of Narkalagh. “Did he fight against this Mórgomiel?”
“It makes sense,” Gáramond muttered. “That’s why the battle was such a monumental one. I have a clear memory of the struggle between two beings and their extreme power. That would explain several things…”
“And does the king bring proof of his union with Grizna, the Divine Providence, and Doolm-Ondor?” asked Leor Buvarzo, Duke of Bónufor. “Or are these just tricks to keep us quiet obedient subjects?”
Several dukes looked aside at one another and began to murmur. The other counselors remained silent. The Baron’s efficient men played their part to perfection.
One of these new counselors said, “The proof is His Majesty’s word.”
“And who are you?”
More murmuring. There were protests about the number of new faces and the distrust this was generating.
Mérdmerén pressed the bridge of his nose and yelled, “Silence! Who the new counselors may be is irrelevant. I’ve chosen them for their clear thinking, as has just been shown. As long as they speak the truth, that’s enough to merit your attention.”
The tension relaxed a little, though the dukes went on glancing sideways at the other counselors who outnumbered them.
“The will of the king is one,” Leandro said.
Mérdmerén was inwardly grateful for the General’s comment since he was one of the most respected counselors. When all was said and done, he was new to power and he had to make himself respected and worthy, particularly among the distant and still living relatives of the late King Aheron III who were not happy about having had to give up the crown. For the moment, the king was counting on the prestige of having fought in a terrible war.
“He has to be believed,” boomed a voice.
The thirty counselors and the king turned to the double doors which were now open wide to the astonishment of the guards. They had no idea how to react in the presence of this tall man with broad shoulders and powerful chest, his face covered by a hood.
Mérdmerén gave a start in his seat, although what surprised him, even more, were those accompanying the visitor: a woman with silver hair, and behind her—two giant insects?
“This is an a
ttack! Beasts from hell! The king has joined Mórgomiel!” Tenos Domaryath cried. He was probably the one keenest on the overthrow of the new king above all because he was a distant cousin of Aheron III.
Leandro gave him such a slap that he forced the duke to sit down.
“Insult my king one more time and I’ll drag you to the dungeons myself.”
Mérdmerén smiled, grateful once again to be able to count on General Deathslayer.
“Can’t you see it’s a brother from the Wild Lands?” Leandro said, this time to the other dukes. “Don’t forget the help the people from Devnóngaron lent us when Háztatlon was about to fall. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”
“Come in,” Mérdmerén ordered without taking his eyes off those insects. “Balthazar, you’ve come at just the right moment like you knew what was going on.”
“You are not wrong,” the man said as he walked into the hall where no Wild Man had ever set foot. “Mother informed me that the men of the Empire had gathered to discuss the strange times we are living through; when great alliances must be forged against the terrors that are to come.”
Mérdmerén felt repulsion at the sight of the insects with their many legs. Behind them were two men in green togas.
“Allow me to introduce you to Queen Meromérila of the Gardak Empire,” Balthazar announced.
“Gardak? On the other side of the Early Sea?”
The dukes began to murmur again, this time commenting on the beauty of the young woman with her purple eyes. The other counselors remained silent, although their pallor and staring eyes showed that they were as impressed as the others.
“They are from another planet in another galaxy, Mérdmerén. Their world is that of Degoflórefor. It orbits around another sun and has different qualities.”
“What the hell is a galaxy!” demanded a duke.
“What even is a planet? They must be swindling us!” yelled Tenos.
“Silence, you fools. You are showing these newcomers a terrible example,” roared Ulfbar Üdessa.
Soulseeker’s Descent Page 19