Fallen Ambitions

by Vann, Eric J.

  Aziel raised an eyebrow. “You speak as if you were the victim.” He may have had some regrets as to how he had handled Whiteridge—not providing more warning before destroying the town, for instance—but Maiv had not been innocent in all of this. “It was Maiv who built Whiteridge in lands already inhabited by the Grauda. It was Maiv who brought their whole race to within an inch of extinction after their former queen told them to leave, or have you forgotten? Or perhaps it didn’t matter to you, since they were of a different race? Your feud with the Jannatin Empire may be more muddied, but the Fallen’s response to your faction’s aggression is clear-cut.”

  Lucienne seemed about to argue, but instead she just sighed. “Perhaps you are right. I have never liked the idea of Whiteridge, but my objections had nothing to do with its effect on the native populace.” She twisted on her chair to face him fully. “Still, I would much rather have solid numbers and expectations in place before I sign something like this.”

  Aziel smiled. “I believe I’m being more than generous with my promises alone,” he said, causing Lucienne to give him a flat look. “You don’t think so?”

  “You’re getting a whole people to join your faction.”

  “No,” Aziel said as he took a step closer to her, one hand raised. “I’m taking on all your problems. Correct me if I’m wrong.” He began to count off the issues on his fingers. “A several-year famine, a prolonged recession, a refugee problem, and—let’s not forget—an invasion by a far larger, far more power faction.” Aziel shook his head. “I understand Maiv is your home, Princess, but other than the land and perhaps the influence your territory provides, the Fallen is simply taking on your many challenges. Anything I offer you is more than what you can give, particularly in the short term.”

  The princess pursed her lips. “Not holding back this time, are you?” she said, as she shifted back on the chair to face the unrolled scroll.

  “No point in painting a different reality. You either accept the situation or you don’t. My hope is the cost the Fallen pay today will be more than paid back in the future by Maiv. Of course, eliminating the southern border is also a positive. Still, all you will receive is my good-willed promise that Maiv will have the support of the Fallen, since it will be part of it.”

  “Assuming this council of races of yours approve,” she replied with a frown.

  “Yes, assuming that.”

  Lucienne picked up the nearby quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and began writing on the scroll. She then straightened, nodded, and pulled a hairpin from the dresser. She pricked her thumb, and small droplets of blood dripped onto the dresser as she continued to stare at it. “If I…” she said before taking a small breath. “If I do this, there won’t be any reason to keep my father alive.” Her shoulders slumped forward as her thumb trembled over the page.

  “That is likely the case,” Aziel replied softly. Telling her otherwise was not going to comfort her. Her father’s situation was dire—hopeless even.

  Slowly, with an unsteady hand, she pressed her bloody thumb into the page. “Against my better judgement, I will put my trust in you, Lord Aziel,” she said as she closed her eyes.

  Aziel went to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she tensed at his touch, so he withdrew it. “Here,” he said, and Lucienne turned as he pulled Adara’s feather from his breeches. “Perhaps a familiar face will help,” he said, placing the feather in her hand before taking the scroll. “The decision will be made in the Conclave,” he added, as he rolled it up. “Perhaps you wish to witness the discussion?”

  The princess shook her head. “I’ll know what you decide by the Seed’s notifications, or lack thereof. I don’t want to witness others argue about the future of my country.”

  “As you wish,” Aziel said, and he left the room. Once he shut the door behind him, he leaned back against the frame and sighed.

  “If you don’t like it, then you can simply refuse.”

  Aziel looked up to see Celia draped over the silk-covered divan which sat in the center of the living room connecting the many bedrooms of the first floor. She had a book in one hand as she enjoying the warmth coming from the crystal-powered fireplace.

  “Gaining the provinces of Maiv has its benefits. So does getting an Ascended on our side,” he replied, as he crossed over to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “This is the first I’ve seen you sitting here.”

  “I’m just having a personal day—or at least until the Conclave.”

  “Oh? What are you reading?” Aziel asked, suddenly interested.

  “Not one of those technical things you and Melody drool over,” Celia said, chuckling. “Literally drool, in Melody’s case.”

  Aziel laughed. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s a tale of lost lovers. I usually only read about history, but I find myself enjoying this one. It’s a nice change of pace. Duren is in your study,” she added, “as you requested.”

  “Thank you,” Aziel replied, but just as he was about to leave, a notification appeared.

  Your faction military has increased. Current rating: 12.

  Aziel smiled with pleasure. Kavali had embraced her role as head of the Fallen’s military arm completely, immediately starting to visit each race leader in turn to integrate their fighting forces and place them under her command. Aziel counted the races in his head: he knew she already visited Astrel, Rosaline, and the other Ogre’i khans. So, this increase was either from the humans, or the Arachne.

  “Are you well, Master?” Celia said, glancing over her shoulder at him with concern.

  “I’m fine,” he said with a smile before making his way to his study. “Absolutely fine.”

  * * *

  “Lord Aziel,” Duren said as he stood from his chair and bowed his head.

  “Duren. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

  “Of course—I am at your service,” the former Geskian priest replied.

  “Please, have a seat,” Aziel said as he took his own. “It is my understanding that you have some experience with managing the internal affairs of a faction.”

  “I do,” Duren said as he took his own seat and folded his hands on his lap.

  “Then what would you think of taking on the responsibilities of both my Foreign Minister and Interior Minister?” Aziel asked. “At least until I can find someone to lighten the load.”

  “I would say you are being shrewd with such a decision,” Duren said with a smile.

  “Oh? Not humble, I see.”

  Duren laughed. “Of course, you honor me with such an important appointment. Though I also know you don’t really trust me—or any human, not yet. These appointments are mostly a gesture,” he said with a shrug.

  Aziel chuckled. “It is that obvious, then?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t detract from the meaning behind it. Your appointment of a human minister says to all the doubters that you are true to your words to Issac. You will give the humans a fair chance at proving themselves to your faction.”

  “So, will you accept?” Aziel asked.

  Duren’s smile grew wider. “I was interested in being your Head Priest when I came here, but your rather unique position as both Divinity and Faction Leader merged that position with the responsibility of the Viceroy. I understand why you don’t want to appoint someone to that position yet—it is a powerful role which can bring the entire faction down, if abused.”

  Duren’s words echoed Aziel’s own thoughts. The Viceroy was in essence a second Faction Leader, with almost all the same responsibilities and authority. Just witnessing how he had been able to take advantage of Lucienne at Whiteridge showed how important the position was. Anyone he chose as Viceroy would need to be protected as if they were an extension of Aziel himself. Even more concerning, anyone he appointed as Viceroy would become a prime target for his enemies.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Aziel pointed out.

  “The answer depends. I am not one to be used as a p
uppet.”

  “And I am no puppeteer,” Aziel replied curtly. “If I offer you the job, I expect you to do it to the best of your ability. I may have other motivations, but I chose you because I think you can fulfill the role.”

  “Some of my methods may not be agreeable to you,” Duren insisted. “Keeping a faction together and united is a hard, sometimes brutal, business. Keeping a faction together when it contains so many diverse races… even worse.”

  “As long as there is a valid reason, and you have my approval for any extreme methods which may lead to someone getting hurt, then you may do what is necessary.”

  Duren licked his lips. “And my ministries? Will I need your approval for those, as well?”

  Aziel raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need my approval to appoint your own people, if that is what you’re worried about. Though I don’t see why my approval is of such importance to you.”

  “Your approval is certainly not the issue. I simply despise bureaucracy. One approval turns to two, then ten… If my ministries are to function, I need to be able to make decisions quickly and effectively. This is especially true for the Foreign Ministry—building an information network is a delicate job.”

  “You mean spies,” Aziel said.

  “Spies, informants, sympathizers, saboteurs, revolutionaries. Call them what you will, they are all useful.” Duren shrugged.

  Aziel thought about this for a few moments. Not knowing what events were occurring beyond his faction’s borders was perhaps one of his weakest points at present. He did not know the true strength of the Jannatin Empire, or the motives of Odana. His only information on what was happening in Fermont came from Tijar, and this was the case for so many other things.

  “I still want you to come to me if you are going to take any action that might get someone hurt, whether foreign or domestic. That is non-negotiable,” Aziel said.

  Duren nodded his head a few times as he considered this, then smiled. “In that case, I accept.” Dusting off his robe with his hands, Duren stood and bowed, then knelt. “I, Duren Killien, swear to you, Lord Aziel, my fealty and my life. May you find my service satisfying if you deem me worthy of wielding such authority.”

  “By your oath, I appoint you as my Interior and Foreign Minister. May you dispense the faction justice fairly and serve the varied peoples of the Fallen in their country and abroad,” Aziel said.

  Both their marked wrists flashed in response.

  Faction officer position: Interior Minister has been assigned.

  Faction officer position: Foreign Minister has been assigned.

  “Good,” Aziel said as Duren stood. “Do attend today’s Conclave, I have an important task for you.” He produced the scroll Lucienne had marked, along with the scroll containing the details of the rebel supplies from Tijar.

  “And these are…?” Duren asked as he unrolled the Tijarii scroll.

  “I want you to bring them up in the Conclave for a vote.”

  “Mmm,” Duren made a noise as he skimmed through the contents. “Interesting,” he said, then unrolled the Maivan scroll. His eyes opened wider the longer he read through it. “Even more interesting. Adara, I presume, but the princess approved it… You’ve been busy, my Lord.”

  Aziel pointed to the Maivan scroll. “Start with that, and only bring up the Tijarii scheme if the first is approved.”

  “I understand, but why do you want me to bring them up?” Duren asked.

  “They are both related to other factions—the domain of the Foreign Minister, I had presumed.”

  “Indeed. But that is not the only reason, is it?” Duren said with a smile.

  “No, it is not. If I introduce it, the others will feel obligated to vote in favor. It would make it seem that voting against it is a vote against my will.”

  “Will it? Be voting against your will, I mean?”

  Aziel shook his head. “I have my own mind and preferences as well as my own doubts regarding both. But that is secondary. I am not the king or the emperor. The Fallen is to decide its fate by majority consent.”

  “And yet you still hold the final decision, even after the vote,” Duren replied as he placed both scrolls on the desk.

  “Indeed, but I do not plan on going against the Conclave’s decision—not unless the decision is disastrous for the faction as a whole, or aimed at harming a race within the faction without cause.”

  Duren smiled.

  “You disagree?” Aziel asked.

  “Disagree? No. But your powers are awfully vague in this context, are they not? You wish the Conclave to decide the fate of the faction and collect the rewards and face the consequences of these decisions. Yet you must approve their decisions and have the power to overrule them alone, if you feel the need to do so. Any reasons or justifications for this is secondary.”

  Aziel thought about this. “You’re saying that I am a king in all but name.” He had not wanted this power—it was something Astrel had insisted on. “Whether that makes me king or not is irrelevant. I fully intend to respect the Conclave’s decisions,” Aziel said, before gesturing to the two scrolls. “Will you do it?”

  “I will do as you command, my Lord,” Duren said with a bow.

  With that, all major faction positions were now filled, with the exception of the Viceroy. It was time to bring the faction leadership together for the first time. There were important decisions to be made—decisions which would have massive ramifications for who the Fallen would become.

  * * *

  Within the great circular room of the Conclave, all was dim. The only light came from an opening in the ceiling, where a shaft of sunlight penetrated the dark and created a bright spotlight in the center.

  Aziel sat on a wooden stump. Flanking him on either side were his faction officers, already here and waiting as the representatives of each race filed in. Each came and bowed before him, then took a seat on one of the wooden stools.

  “Lord Aziel,” Trikk said, as she rose higher upon her many legs.

  “Queen Trikk, you’ve changed,” Aziel said approvingly as he examined her larger abdomen and brighter streaks of red. Her face seemed to glow, and a beautiful bright white silk dress covered her torso and arms, which contrasted with her long black hair and spider abdomen.

  “I am growing into the queen’s body,” she replied, her fangs making an appearance as she smiled.

  “I’m glad things are progressing. How have the Arachne fared?”

  The Arachne Queen lowered herself again, her black eyes studying him. “I have laid the first of my brood, but a full recovery will take time and resources. Resources we are struggling to acquire. The Central Wild has become desolate of late.”

  Aziel frowned. “Desolate?”

  “With the rise of one race comes the fall of another,” the queen answered. Aziel followed her gaze, which had landed on Astrel, who was busy discussing something with Rosaline and Issac.

  “You blame the Grauda?” Aziel asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Trikk shook her head. “The Grauda do what is in their nature, as do all other races who call this valley home. But a balance which once ruled this place has been utterly destroyed. The Grauda are just one of those who have benefited from it.”

  Aziel mulled over her words. “You’re saying the Fallen did this.”

  Trikk winced at his words. “Of course not. The Fallen are the greatest—”

  “Queen Trikk,” Aziel cut her off, “please don’t patronize me. If there is something wrong, I wish to know it.”

  The queen chewed on her lip, the tiny hairs on her legs standing up straight. “The Grauda numbers have been expanding, and with the armor and weapons you provide them, their natural predators cannot compete. We Arachne who have traditionally,” she paused, “… fed… on the Grauda are now unable to do so. Add the large parts of the inner valley cleared for this city…” She shook her head. “The valley cannot sustain such a growth in population in such small a time. Food has become scarce.”
r />   Celia had been telling him about the food problem for some time now. Even Melody had noticed it, which was why she had negotiated with Tijar for food to be delivered. But Aziel had not realized the issue had reached a point where races like the Arachne had to think ahead if increasing their population was to be sustainable. The Grauda had intended to become self-sufficient with their fungal farms, but since they still sourced most of their food from hunting, and the dwindling supply of food stored in Soul’s Rest, that had not yet come to pass. The reason was likely the same; given the earth crystals and resources provided by him, the Grauda population had exploded in a very short time.

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Queen Trikk. I assure you, it will be handled. Please take your seat.”

  Queen Trikk bowed her head and went to her appointed place. She paused there a moment, looking at the tree stump. It was far too small, Aziel realized. Trikk looked around, then quickly kicked aside the stump and laid her belly on the floor. She grinned and looked smug, as if she had gotten away with something. Aziel huffed a quiet laugh before noticing Neruul step into the room.

  “Young Master,” the old Ogre’i said as he bowed his head.

  “Neruul.”

  “I have been elected by the other khans to represent the Ogre’i in the Conclave.”

  “I see,” Aziel said. He had thought one of the two other khans might have taken the job, but he had delegated the choice of representative to the races themselves. He was not going to go back on his decision just because he did not like Neruul. “I welcome you then. Please have a seat.” Aziel scanned the room. “I believe you are the last.”

  Neruul bowed again before taking his seat.

  Seeing that everyone was now present, Aziel stood and walked to the dead center of the room where the shaft of sunlight fell. “Each of you have been chosen to represent an entire race’s interests,” he announced, “and decide upon the path this faction will take. I trust you will embrace this responsibility.” Aziel made a point of looking directly at each and every leader. “As detailed in the documents I have given each of you, you will all be given a chance to speak if you wish to do so. My ministers will also have the chance to speak and give you a view of their plans, of which you may ask questions. Is there anyone who has any concerns over this format?”