Conquest of Avalon

Charlotte I: The Shadow

“It’s simple, Luce. I win.” Prince Harold Grimoire, Regent of Avalon and Prince of Pantera, lounged in his throne as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “As fun as it was to see you debase yourself clinging to our aunt and her cronies, the Owls have officially lost their majority in the Great Council.”

Charlotte clung to the ceiling with the Gloves of Teruvo, listening closely. Rhan had made a gift of them to her for the remainder of her lifetime after her role in Levian’s death, which seemed strange given that Luce had done all the initial work, then Leclaire had finished the job with another of her signature betrayals. Charlotte couldn’t help but question it, though she’d known better than to express anything aloud aside from gratitude. Likely, the dual spirit had been so confident they could ascend to Levian’s seat that the Gloves’ power was wholly trivial to them, but that alone wasn’t reason enough to make a gift of them.

Far from the most urgent consideration, though. Her position would be difficult to explain if anyone spotted her, but after the attack on their ship, she had no intention of letting Luce walk in here alone. The Prince Regent had already sent pirates after him once, after all. A fact Luce seems all too willing to look past for the sake of his brother.

“It’s one seat,” Luce countered. “As soon as they fill it again—”

“Our majority will increase that much more.” The Prince Regent laughed. “Do you know why Ostian Astor’s seat is vacant? He resigned his post to take up arms against Micheltaigne, mad in his grief over his brother.”

Then I pity the Micheltine. Surely this one soldier will finally win the war for you where wave after wave have failed. Still, Charlotte listened closely. Luce was better at navigating these kinds of politics, but that didn’t mean he was infallible. Everyone benefited from a second set of ears in conversations like these, all the more so when family was involved. For Luce especially, his desire to see the good in people had a way of clouding his eyeline to the obvious conclusions.

“So it’ll pass to his daughter?” Luce realized something, then cocked his head to the side. “Maddy Astor’s Owl to the bone.” Indeed, Lady Madison had spent the summer working for Princess Elizabeth’s office, almost certainly a prelude to her own entry into politics proper. “That’s not going to help you.”

“The seat will pass to his chosen successor. I’ve arranged for him to pick someone more appropriate by the name of Sir Stuart Delbrook, another notable scion of the west. His mother was an Astor, and his family has a long history in Carringdon.”

Oh no. Charlotte tightened her grip, feeling the gloves bond further with the stone. I might need to pay a visit to Carringdon to head this off.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Luce asked, not yet recalling.

The Prince Regent laughed. “More precisely, you’ll recall his father’s sister, the Lady Agnes Delbrook, whose stewardship of Carringdon ended when you wrapped a rope around her neck.” After she starved thousands over contracts signed under duress, then had the gall to ask for Luce’s help defending herself. “But who’s to say? Perhaps Sir Stuart will be receptive to your political proposals.” A wide smile stretched across his face. “I know if someone hanged my aunt, I’d give them whatever they wanted.”

And it would be hard to blame you for it. Charlotte wasn’t much enamored with Luce’s brother’s stewardship, but his enmity with the elder Harold Grimoire and his loyal sister/daughter was hardly something to begrudge. If he hadn’t committed himself to the most foolish, destructive course at every possible turn, if he’d merely listened to the brother who by his own admission was smarter and more compassionate, perhaps there would be no need to humor Princess Elizabeth at all.

“I’m sorry about that,” Luce said, surprising Charlotte. “I have to use the allies I have, even if it’s distasteful. In an ideal world, I’d be working with my brother, but instead he tried to have me murdered by pirates. Then, when I didn’t have the courtesy to die, he decided to oppose my every effort out of some kind of misguided spite.”

It’s not spite, Luce. It's jealousy. Charlotte had done her research, probing not only Luce about his own childhood memories but also others from the era like Luce’s mother, Queen Mila, and his uncle, Lord Miles. She’d even pulled secondhand reports from people like Rebecca Williams, a school friend to Cassia Arion, who’d once been the brothers’ close companion. All of it pointed the same way—Prince Harold had been deemed disfavored, useless to the king and lacking in practical peacetime skills. Learning the truth had only exacerbated it.

“Simple pragmatism. You’d have us run out of Micheltaigne with our tail between our legs. Avalon has never lost a war, and I’m hardly going to be the first king to do it.”

“I’ll be sure to tell that to all the Micheltine peasants our soldiers are assaulting and mutilating; I don’t doubt that they’ll be comforted to know this is all about maintaining a streak.” Luce scoffed. “Father’s streak, no less! Why do you even care?”

“Mutilating? That soldier with the ear necklace was court-martialed. An individual issue, not systemic. If the damned press hadn’t gotten their hands on it before we could deal with it...” Prince Harold leaned back in his chair, sighing. “Do you want all of our soldiers to have died for nothing?”

They already have; all you’re doing is sending more of them to their fate to try to cover up your mistake.

“Of course not,” Luce said, instead of attacking his brother’s deeply flawed premise. “But the ones still alive can go home. You’re the only one standing in the way of that.”

“Well, that’s simply wrong. I have the majority of the Great Council behind me now, and the public besides. They’ve never lost a war either, and have no interest in Micheltaigne becoming the first. We’ve already extracted ancient treasures beyond compare, cemented our influence in the region, and protected Avalon’s interests abroad. Even the Micheltine have been liberated from their cultist oppressors.”

Luce groaned. “You can say whatever you want to the masses, but you know I know better than to fall for it. The Micheltine are still supplying Queen Mars, still fighting and hiding and blowing up your bridges. I heard they built a shrine to Laura Bougitte, who struck the first blow against us. You should know better. Do better.”

As imperatives go, honestly, that was pretty weak, Luce. Still, it was nice to see him stand up for himself a bit. Luce could be so uncertain sometimes, even though he was one of the smartest people alive and just about the only royal of any nation to be driven by compassion instead of ego. With a dorky smile that’s positively infectious, too. If only he had occasion to show it more often.

“Princess Mars, Luce, assuming she isn’t a pretender fabricated wholecloth. The succession of the High Throne is determined by the bequeathment of the royal sword, Nuage Sombre. Without it, she can never be High Queen. I think they fought a civil war over it. Shouldn’t you know your history better?” He said it smugly, as if splitting hairs over the rightful Micheltine succession didn’t run entirely contrary to his earlier point about ‘liberating’ Micheltaigne from its royal family.

“That is not the point,” Luce growled.

“No, of course not. You don’t really seem to have one, anymore.” Prince Harold stood from his chair, walking down the steps towards his brother. “All of Father’s grand plans for you won’t amount to anything. You’ve lost, again. And I didn’t even need to use a pretty sorceress to trick you.”

His petty envy would almost be sad, if he weren’t the one in charge. Lady Lillian Perimont had been somewhat similar, determined to investigate the truth of her husband’s death after, as Luce had later admitted in private, he’d played a crucial role in covering the whole thing up.

Not that I’m blameless there either. It still rankled, thinking of the bandit queen of the west flirting and cajoling all night right under Charlotte’s nose, only to assassinate the governor and rob his train soon after. If I’d been more vigilant, Lillian Perimont would never have been a problem, and Luce might still have control of Malin.

“I don’t care about Father’s plans!” Luce insisted, eyeing his brother as he approached. “I’m the one trying to fix the very things he broke, turn Avalon into the great nation of the future it can be instead of the hollow empire it is. The one who just made a massive breakthrough in saving you from Pantera’s curse. Me. You’re the one clinging to Father’s goals, trying to steal his legacy instead of renouncing it.”

“Legacy? Avalon is his legacy, and it’s mine. Not Lizzie’s and not yours, not even his anymore, no thanks to you.” Prince Harold loomed menacingly over his brother, standing a touch too close. “He tried to have his son killed. What kind of monster is even capable of such a thing?”

Stand strong, Luce. Don’t let him push you around. Charlotte couldn’t signal him, but somehow Luce seemed to pick up on the message anyway. “The same kind of person who tries to have his brother killed?”

The Prince Regent flinched, stepping back a half step. “That was all Jethro. And the point was to keep you out of the way, not dead. Which, I should note, is exactly what happened.” Barely even a denial. If a Malin peasant hinted at something so grievous like that, it’d be more than enough for the Guardians to take them in and, before long, execute them. But, as always, the ruler got special privileges.

“Even now you won’t admit to it. You’re right! I’m still here, and you’re still my brother. If I got an apology from you, I’d accept it.” Even though it would be a horrible mistake to do it. “Four years ago, I told you I was willing to put it behind us if you admitted to it. You put all the blame on Jethro, a spy who in your own words had your ‘complete confidence’. I’m renewing my offer. Take some responsibility for your actions.” Charlotte wanted to believe Luce was manipulating Harold, trying to lure him into exposing himself, but he was almost certainly being sincere.

Prince Harold hesitated, then sighed. “Jethro worked out the details himself. I didn’t even find out until he put that forged letter from Father in my hands and explained the plan.”

“Which you then carried out to the letter.”

“Yes,” Prince Harold hissed. “I thought you already knew, that you were already plotting with Father against me. I was wrong. And, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it out.”

“Cassia didn’t,” Luce said coldly.

Flinching, the Prince Regent took another step back. “I regret that. I told her not to go. I told you to tell her not to go. No one listened to me.”

“Right, it was all my fault.”

“I’m sorry! I regret it horribly.” Liar. If you actually felt that way, you’d have come forward years ago. “I’ve cut all ties with Jethro, and I expect that the only reason your bull of a mistress hasn’t found him is because he drank himself to death on some Lyrion beach, his only purpose fulfilled.”

Hardly the most creative insult a Cambrian has tarred me with, but it’s concerning that our secret is apparently open enough to have even reached him. Luce wouldn’t like it, but the right call was to put more distance between them for a while. His reputation was rocky enough without a foreign peasant for a companion. Hopefully he would listen this time, even though that hadn’t stopped him before.

“How dare you talk about Charlotte that way! She’s my Lieutenant, absolutely vital to my operations here and in Charenton, a consummate professional who’s proven her worth a hundred times over.” Even though Luce knew Charlotte was listening, she couldn’t help but smile at his words. Though as far as keeping our cover, it’s not exactly helping.

It was strange to be living such a classic fantasy, plucked from obscurity and swept off her feet by a gallant prince. Charlotte had never yearned for that, let alone believed it might happen to her. More practical to do what you could for yourself, doing as much good as you could manage along the way.

Nor was reality in every way a reflection of that cliched desire, with an awkward scientist instead of a charismatic warrior, thin and pale instead of sunned and strong. Charlotte had never thought of him that way at first, especially after he’d been so dismissive about her very real concerns over Leclaire. Time had vindicated her in that, but it had also allowed his deeds to win her over.

Sometimes it was intimidating, even. Luce was a better person than Charlotte was, and not by a small amount. He wanted to help people, to change the world, and it seemed like he always had, all the more remarkable given his family. Even his indulgences for them, wholly unearned on their end, reflected his kind and forgiving nature.

Charlotte liked the idea of doing good, and now she had a real chance to do it, but looking after herself had always been her first priority. After Luce’s well-being, it probably still was. Not an outlook to be proud of, or something she felt comfortable discussing with Luce, but she couldn’t help but notice what her first instinct was whenever priorities diverged.

No, instead of dreaming of the gallant prince, Charlotte’s ambitions had been more modest. Practical. If she’d gotten her way, she’d simply have continued rising through the ranks of the Guardians, sweeping their flaws under the rug to get ahead, perhaps even replacing Captain Whitbey, in position and brutality both.

Reality was so much superior to that, she could hardly even describe it. She had direction, righteous leadership that was actually making a difference. She had moral certainty behind her actions. And love, though it still felt strange to think of it that way. I’m not a mistress, Your Highness, but one piece in the glorious machine your brother built. From Charlotte, Luce got whatever he needed, whether he could articulate it or not. After they’d almost lost each other in Levian’s assault on Charenton, those duties had simply... expanded to other areas.

Luce seemed to realize how visibly defensive he was being, and changed the subject. “Jethro survived his duel with the Red Knight, Fernan assured me he saw him himself afterwards. He’s not dead.”

Prince Harold shrugged. “He wasn’t four years ago, but that’s a long time. Without me or Camille Leclaire to serve, with Father trapped, what’s left for him? He made himself redundant. And after his tantrum with Leclaire, I think even he realized it. It’s what I would do.”

“What you would do? It’s like you’re not even trying to hide it.” Luce strode up the stairs, staring his brother down. “Before you left on your trip with Father, you asked me about the Dagger of Gemel, if it was dangerous to use it. I told you it was, but all you seemed to take away was that the shadows weren’t magically compelled towards insanity or hostility.” He never told me about that.

“What of it? I ask you about all sorts of things all the time.”

“He impersonated you perfectly, not just in appearance but in demeanor, attitude, words. I caught him because he didn’t know something that you would, but that wouldn’t matter to a shadow doppelganger, would it?”

That kind of shadow? Like Ophelia the Dreaded? Immediately, Charlotte tried to reorient her understanding of Jethro from the lens of espionage to that of magic. It explained his familiarity with Luce, and his hostility, the way he’d managed to fool him so thoroughly, even throwing in with Leclaire out of the same misguided spite. All of his actions ostensibly on Prince Harold’s behalf, like helping Fernan Montaigne at the Debray trial or helping to trap King Harold, made if anything more sense once you granted him the same motivation, instead of him merely obeying orders from the Prince.

And it makes Prince Harold’s half-hearted deflections of responsibility all the weaker, when the man he claims did the most damage is a literal doppelganger of himself.

It also made Jethro far more dangerous. Charlotte didn’t believe for a second that he was dead, and Prince Harold’s wishful insistence to the contrary only aroused further suspicion.

“Only now,” Luce continued, “I think I might have been wrong. If you thought it was safe because of what I said, and then Jethro did turn on us? Some kind of magical degradation or corruption?” Then it still wouldn’t exonerate your brother. He made the decision. He gave the order. He’s trying to dodge responsibility now. Even Prince Harold knew it was a poor excuse, or he would have come forward with it himself. And as for Luce’s wishful thinking about magical corruption? It didn’t matter. Either way, the man was a danger to him. The only question was exactly how much of his malice was reflected in the original Prince.

Prince Harold frowned, his secret discovered. Instead of confirming or protesting, he simply moved past it. “It’s not unlikely. I thought the Blue Bandit might have been him, for a while, but Olivia Esterton caught a glimpse when her father’s vault was robbed, and seemed sure it was a woman.” Is that right? Interesting. “Hopefully we’ve seen the last of him. But if he shows his head, don’t hesitate to come to me. I have just as much interest in stopping him as you do.”

You’re the absolute last person to tell, when we still need to verify your story. And guard against your treachery, whether in one body or two.

“I’ll let you know,” Luce said, hopefully lying. “Now that I know the truth, I see no more reason for us to be opposed. If you renounce the Harpies, I’ll sever all ties with our aunt. We can rule Avalon together.”

“Just like Father wanted?” Prince Harold scoffed. “I was never part of that picture.”

“Forget what Father did or didn’t want. He doesn’t matter anymore. I want to put this conflict behind us. Don’t you?”

Prince Harold paused, then shook his head. “You’re doing great work at the Towers. But you’re blind to the politics, just as you always were. Plotting with Aunt Lizzie and pretending that you’re directing her instead of the other way around doesn’t change that. And hoarding your discoveries out of spite for me is just petty. Think of what Avalon could do with them! If half of what I hear of Crete Marbury’s project is true, we could win the war tomorrow with it.”

“Thinking about what you would do with them is exactly why I don’t share it all. Leclaire’s a close second. Once you put information out there, there’s no real way to get rid of it again. Like trying to put wine back in a bottle after it spilled on the floor. Whether it’s pirates or spies or princes. Anyone can use it. It belongs to everyone... Hmm...” Luce stroked his chin, clearly coming to a realization.

“If you really want to work together, help me win this war. And the next one, and the next one after that, until the world is united and free from the tyranny of the spirits.”

“United under our tyranny instead.” Luce shook his head. “Spirits don’t deserve extermination, and the world doesn’t deserve the kind of ‘unity’ you and Father want for it either. What you’re doing is wrong, done for the wrong reasons, and you have to stop.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Luce, but the world is moving on.” He flopped down onto his throne, kicking his feet up over the armrest. “This very day, my new majority will be passing a decree empowering the Crown to secure the defenses of our borders, at home and in Territories abroad, to combat the scourge of banditry and resistance from within and without. You have a place by my side, if you’ll join me there. Otherwise, truth or not, nothing’s changed.”

He’s telling the truth about that much, at least. Stringing Luce along with insincere overtures of friendship aside, the Prince Regent was still an enemy to everything Luce was trying to build. If he weren’t his own brother, Charlotte was sure Luce would realize that without hesitation. As it was, he might take some convincing.

“Your power might not be what you believe it to be,” Luce said, not looking as incensed as Charlotte might have hoped. “The rules of the Great Council state that each borough chooses its own representative, generally the noble heir to whomever last held the seat. But there’s nothing dictating that it need be so. Already, some elect their Councilor from among the Peers, or notables of the area. Fernan’s been talking my ear off about democratic reforms, and I think Carringdon would be an excellent test bed for a more universally available election.”

“Fernan? That tinpot peasant? He’s the magister of a woefully corrupt city, nothing more. I can understand your motives in creating that Treaty, but it’s baffling that you bothered keeping company with him afterwards.” Honestly, I’m not sure I understood it all too well myself. The Guerron Commune was hardly popular in Avalon, and every time Luce was spotted in public with its ruler, keeping his image clean became that much harder.

Then again, if Luce weren’t willing to ignore the strictures of whom he ‘should’ associate with, Charlotte wouldn’t be here at all. “He’s a good man, and our partnership has been a productive one. We’ve received invaluable spiritual insights for our research, sometimes directly from the source, sages willing to experiment with us, even findings drawn from his own spirit-touched vision.”

“Fine, I suppose that explains it.” The Prince Regent rolled his eyes. “It says nothing for his chosen system of governance.”

“I disagree. Why shouldn’t democracy be something useful to pick up from him as well? Especially if it spares the Great Council a Harpy majority.”

Prince Harold let out a laugh. “Really? You’re just trying to weasel out of your loss, pretending to give a fuck about the people think.”

“Well, I do.”

“Do you? You rule Charenton as an autocrat even less checked in power than I am as king. Would the people of Charenton choose you if you held one of Montaigne’s vaunted elections? Would you ever risk finding out the answer?”

Years ago, before Leclaire, he might have. But he’s nowhere near that naive anymore.

Luce seemed to struggle constructing an answer, though, sputtering the first half of several sentences without mustering a proper rebuttal. Eventually, he seemed to give up. “When did you get so cynical, Harold?”

“Oh, probably somewhere around the time I found out that my very existence is only an incidental artifact of a monstrous scheme to further Father’s ego. Or maybe it was once I started having to rule the nation he built, devastated by the blackout he caused without care for the consequences. Fucking useless Jethro couldn’t catch him before that, and the whole world paid the price.”

“So let’s build a better one now!” Luce insisted futilely, appealing to exactly the wrong side of his brother’s nature.

“I am.” He flashed a smile. “Anyway, if you’re looking for my endorsement for this absurd election scheme, you do not have it. I loathe hypocrisy. That is all.”

Charlotte met up with Luce outside, quietly climbing out after watching him skulk out of the throne room in impotent anger. “Your election scheme is a good idea, though it might have been better not to mention it to your brother. Now he knows to expect it.”

Luce frowned, a small crease already forming around his lips. “I wish you could have come in with me—properly, I mean. I’m glad you were there to hear it, at least. How do you think he got Astor on his side?”

“Hard to say,” Charlotte admitted. “That story about him seeking revenge in Micheltaigne had a grain of truth to it, but it strikes me as suspicious. Prince Harold must be offering Lord Astor something important if he’s choosing a nephew over his daughter, and it can’t be as simple as an office or money. Otherwise Astor would simply turn his coat and remain in the Council as your brother’s creature.” Charlotte paused, feeling woefully out of her depth. “I’ll look into it, starting with this deceased brother. Whatever the truth, Prince Harold mentioning him as part of the reason implies he’s related somehow.”

Or I’m turning a political problem into a criminal investigation because I want this to be a problem I can solve for you. Charlotte didn’t voice her fear, since some basic diligence was still a good idea here, but she held onto it closely. One look at Anya Stewart was more than enough to show the dangers of obsession warping your perception.

“Thank you.” Luce nodded, relieved that Charlotte was on the case. “He mentioned securing Avalon’s borders. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Not to a satisfactory extent, since I only had time for the barest due diligence after our arrival here. “It’s a new decree the Harpies are circulating around their offices. Despite what your brother said, most of them seemed to be more concerned about the interdiction of ‘treasonous’ speech than stopping banditry or defending the new Territories.”

“That’s not good, but considering we don’t have time to stop it, he could have pushed something a lot worse.” Luce looked directly at her, showing her his own exhausted eyes, dark brown surrounded by a ring of green. “I think I can make some headway with the Jays; they’re popular enough in their home regions that they’ll actually win elections. And with the precedent in the west, Carringdon should be an easier sell.”

“Someone still has to go there and make sure everything goes smoothly,” Charlotte said. “That’s one advantage we’re sure to have over your brother.”

“Someone? We’ll go together.” Luce swore quietly under his breath. “Even though I really should stay in Cambria long enough to get the Nocturne Gate project into its next phase. I know you keep telling me to delegate more, but this project is secretive enough that there isn’t really anyone else qualified.”

“No, there isn’t. That’s why I should go to Carringdon, and you should stay here.”

“What? No. I need you by my side. I want—” He held up his hand to his face, regretting the slip.

“You know this is the right thing to do. The smart thing.” Else you’ll only be undermining your own position even more. “Send me to Carringdon. Give the order.”

“That’s not—If you think you should go, you should. I trust you.” He leaned in and kissed her quickly, not bothering to see if anyone was looking. “Once we have the Great Council again, there’s no reason we’ll need to be apart.”

“I’ll be quick and thorough,” Charlotte assured him. “I understand how vital this task is, and I won’t fail you.” And when it’s done, I’ll find Jethro in whatever hole he crawled into, and make sure he never causes you any problems again.