Conquest of Avalon

Charlotte V: The Kingmaker

"Representative Althi."

"Aye."

Charlotte nodded with satisfaction at the first vote going Luce's way. Althi was the first name on the roll call for the vote, and one of the more fractious Jays, according to Vas Sarah. The fact that she'd voted to affirm the will all but guaranteed that the rest of the Jays would fall in line, just as promised.

The Great Council chambers were arrayed in a series of ascending circles five rows deep, two hundred and twenty-five representatives all surrounding a central dias where the parliamentarian called for the votes. Only a single aisle broke pattern, a place for the representatives to enter and exit, whose dividing line traditionally separated the Owls and the Harpies. Next to the parliamentarian was Princess Elizabeth Grimoire, First Speaker of the Great Council. Luce had sat himself in the King's seat, as if daring his brother to come contest it.

Charlotte lurked on the fringes, allowed to be here with an escort of two dozen shadows only as Luce's personal guard. Such a thing was common when a member of the royal family sat in attendance, and Harold would have no doubt brought a similar force if he'd been present, but it was a tenuous position. They were to be silent observers, not to interfere with the proceedings.

Rays of light shone through the stained glass of the exterior, massive vertical portraits of Avalon's founding and the first meeting of the Great Council under King Harold I, stretching from the floor to the roof far above, a ceiling high enough to hold five stories beneath it.

The parliamentarian moved to the next name on the list. "Representative Bellingham."

"Aye."

But jumping to B for Bellingham doesn't bode well. By now, Madison Astor should have been here to tip the votes in Luce's favor. Most likely, Prince Harold's agents had delayed her just long enough to count, which meant that the votes would be deadlocked unless some of the Harpies defected. Even one abstention would be enough, but it could be ruinous if every last one of them held firm.

"Representative Bortimer."

"Aye."

That was a relief, at least, confirmation that the Owls bought and paid for by Versham Paruna would indeed do as they'd been ordered to. Though it would have been better if they'd been able to do the right thing without being bribed. Their patron would take umbrage once she realized Luce had no intention of keeping his promise, but by then it would be too late. Only fitting for the likes of her. You can't wallow in the muck and be surprised when you get dirty.

Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, Charlotte had hoped to reform the Malin Territory from within, rising up through the ranks of the Guardians to put a stop to their abuses of power. Her very first real attempt at that, catching out corrupt Guardians stealing food out of the mouths of starving Malinoises, had ended in disgrace and disaster. Nothing worse than a rat, words she could never forget, had been painted on her locker, her front door, and even her forehead as she'd lain on the ground, beaten and bruised by people who were supposed to be her brothers and sisters in arms.

To people accustomed to fear and deference, being held to any kind of standard is a betrayal.

Charlotte had learned quickly from that, taking the lesson even closer to heart when Luce's own trust and kindness had been repaid in deceit and betrayal. With her broad authority over Luce's shadows, she'd instituted a rigorous training regimen, ensuring that shadows drawn from Fortescue, Cambria, Charenton, and all over the world could act with deliberation and respect.

They were held accountable for any abuses of their power, even arrested in the most severe of cases. Those who reported the misconduct of others were rewarded, rather than punished, ensuring that no shadow could ever get too comfortable in their position, lest an ambitious underling or rival jeopardize it in the name of truth. The abuses that had been so common amongst the Guardians could never be repeated on such a scale, nor given tacit endorsement by the systemic lack of accountability.

That led to its own set of challenges, of course, but it was preferable to the alternative. There were no shadows who could steal without punishment, violate with impunity, or enact violence against the people amongst whom they were meant to keep order. And the real rats, the true traitors to Prince Luce rather than the righteous reporters of misconduct, were punished just the same as they ever were.

It's a distasteful game we play, but there's nothing to gain from sitting on the sidelines and yelling that it isn't fair. Better to win. When Luce took the throne, he would do more good for Avalon and its territories than Charlotte could have ever hoped to on her own, with an unshakeable commitment to bettering the world and the power to match.

"Representative Charborough."

"Nay."

Scant surprise there. In the absence of Baron Williams and the Prince Regent, Sviesa Charborough had taken up the clarion call of the Harpy cause, giving a passionate speech on Prince Harold's virtues and the dubious authenticity of the king's will. The magma caverns of Mt. Glastaigne would have frozen over before she voted in favor.

Calm and steady, Luce radiated strength and poise for all to see. In his finery, black as Nocturne with regal purple trim, he looked sharp enough to puncture the hull of a battleship. His crown of dead wood paid homage to the spirit Cya, who'd once saved him, while the gemstones ensured that he looked every inch a King. All we need is to make it official.

"Representative Czirco."

"Nay."

That, however, was some cause for alarm. Sir Bello Czirco hailed from Naudion, close to Forta in both location and politics. Elizabeth Stuart had promised to talk to him, along with six or seven other Harpies that might be persuaded, but at least in this case, apparently, she'd failed to make a compelling case. I should have gone with her, Charlotte thought, and not for the first time, but Luce had insisted that her presence could have been taken as intimidation rather than persuasion, ultimately counterproductive.

He also said that I have higher priorities to attend to, and in that, at least, I can't disagree. Keeping Luce safe was no small task, and she'd already had to arrest four hooligans throwing bricks at their procession, no easy feat in such a large crush of people. Luce seemed to have vast swathes of Cambria behind him, but his supporters and enemies both were far outnumbered by people quietly keeping their heads down, waiting for the affair to resolve one way or another.

It recalled nothing less than Lillian Perimont's failed coup in Malin, though this time it was the righteous force seizing power from the morally corrupt instead of the inverse. Still, I wouldn't be shocked if The Cambrian printed a swan engraving in lieu of their usual issue. That cloud of uncertainty enveloping the city was precisely the reason they needed to act quickly and decisively. There would never be a better moment than now.

Her shadows had made a botch of Prince Harold's apprehension, frustratingly, but it would probably have been naive to expect anything else. Mild structural damage to Ortus Tower and three deaths were unfortunately a small price to pay to get the elder prince out of the Tower and keep him away from the Great Council Chambers a little longer.

His intervention could well explain Astor's absence, but if so, he's blundered. The presence of the Prince Regent's own person would do more to deter Harpy defectors than Astor's single vote could ever compensate for. Luce himself had given a stirring speech, a more erudite version of the tale he'd spun for the Cambrian masses, looking genuinely humbled by the weight of the responsibility his father had pressed upon him for the good of Avalon.

If Charlotte had harbored any private doubts about the will's authenticity, Luce had firmly dispelled them then. Not that it really matters, in the end. King Harold was an immortal monster, his true will essentially irrelevant to ensuring Avalon's good governance. But she knew it mattered to Luce, whatever his protestations to the contrary.

I can't blame him for loving his family, even if they've done nothing to deserve it. But that meant that it fell to her to protect him from them.

"Representative Dalliard."

"Aye."

"Rep—" The parliamentarian choked on his tongue as the sound of a gunshot rang out.

"Proceed," Luce commanded him, even as the sound of another shot echoed through the chambers.

"Your Highness, I—"

"My shadows will ensure that all Representatives are kept safe from this... distraction." Luce turned his eye towards Charlotte. "My very best will handle it. Proceed."

The parliamentarian swallowed nervously, but proceeded to the next name. "Representative Darcey." Princess Elizabeth did well appointing this one. Ostensibly a neutral functionary, his official role was more procedural than political. In practice, obviously, he couldn't forget that the First Speaker was the reason he held his position at all.

"Nay," Darcey voted as Charlotte gathered a squad and exited the chambers.

"Representative Dedora."

Charlotte was gone before she could hear the answer, marching rapidly down the halls as the sounds of gunshots filled the air. I need to deal with this quickly, or they'll have no choice but to suspend the vote. No doubt that was precisely Prince Harold's intention, for he was obviously the person behind this blunt but effective plan to disrupt the roll call.

It would buy him precious time and dissipate Luce's momentum. With the margin so narrow, that alone might be all it took to keep his throne.

She emerged into bedlam: the shadows who'd been charged with supervising the gates to the palace grounds had retreated inside, their guns aimed upward at the roof of the chambers. Those shots were our people? Charlotte grit her teeth. They could have cost us everything. She channeled her frustration into the clarity of the battlefield, trusting that she'd trained them well enough that they wouldn't do something so seemingly foolish without a very good reason.

"Report," she barked at Niko Vohyez, the son of a wealthy Naudion peasant family whom Charlotte had personally plucked from the Avaline Army to serve, since he appeared to be the highest ranking shadow at the scene. Vohyez interrupted his unit's massed firing with a flick of his wrist, a note of annoyance visible on his face. By way of answer, he pointed upward, apparently trusting that it would better convey the situation. Unfortunately, he was correct.

Above the roof, Prince Harold and a cloaked opponent were dancing in the skies. The assailant, dressed in the dark uniform of the shadows, let loose a burst of lightning from his hand. As the wind rippled around him, his sleeve flew back to reveal the Gauntlet of Eulus, considered lost after Jethro's disappearance. Could it be him, returned after all? It was hard to tell at this distance, though the fair hair falling from his head indicated that, at the very least, it wasn't Jethro wearing his true face.

Avoiding the lightning, Prince Harold flew past him in an instant with a single swing of his blade. Sieglinde, according to my reports from the Tower, a sword that can pierce the heavens. Clarine Rivough was a close companion of the Prince, so it wasn't exactly a surprise to see him wielding it.

The Gauntlet of Eulus was the more interesting artifact by far, firing off deadly bolts of energy nearly instantaneously. But it seemed that 'nearly' wasn't quite fast enough, failing to catch Prince Harold's dashing attacks with Sieglinde. Seeing his lightning miss, the false shadow changed his approach, blowing himself into the air with a massive gust of wind from the Gauntlet and scattering a plume of dust where it impacted the roof.

Neither fighter seemed particularly concerned about the bullets flying their way, nor did any of the shadows seem particularly optimistic about hitting them. They've done it again. After their failure at the Tower, it was hard not to be disappointed in their performance on this, the most crucial of days.

But it was impossible to avoid the trade off between quality and quantity. An elite core force of shadows could fight sages and binders without flinching, secure Luce's most sensitive projects, and be trusted to protect his person from all who meant to do him harm. But, alone, they would have been wildly insufficient to secure Luce's assets in Cambria and Charenton, let alone ensure a smooth ascension to power. So instead I must deal with shadows that Prince Harold can cut down by the dozen, unable to hit a single shot. After today, it would be useful to do a bit of reorganizing, drawing clearer lines between the elite shadows and the grunts needed for their numbers.

But for now, I must make do with what I have.

By the time the air was clear enough to see, the wielder of the Gauntlet was a dozen feet above his foe.

Prince Harold followed him into the sky, slashing his sword upwards in a clean stroke across the bridge of his nose. The flyer's face split in twain, sliced cleanly down the middle, and he let out a scream as he plummeted back towards the roof. Two halves of a mask in the perfect likeness of his visage landed on the roof ahead of him, shattering into thousands of pieces that crumbled to dust before five seconds had passed.

The Prince slashed back towards the roof, landing without a scratch, and surveyed the damage he'd inflicted. As soon as he's done, he'll storm into the Council and shore up his support at a crucial moment. That could not be allowed to happen.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Stop firing," Charlotte ordered, realizing what she had to do.

"But, Lieutenant—"

"The Representatives need to feel safe if the vote is to proceed. You already scared the parliamentarian half to death. We can't have any more gunshots."

Vohyez frowned. "But—I mean, yes, Lieutenant. But you aren't just going to let them keep going, are you?"

"No." Charlotte shook her head, pulling out the Gloves of Teruvo from the pockets of her dress and sprinting towards the walls of the Council Chambers. You have to look your best, ma'am. There will be hundreds of shadows to keep you safe, ma'am. Sewing holsters into garters is an affront to my profession, ma'am. That tailor had hardly spoken a word that wasn't folly, but this was yet another case where Charlotte would rather have been secure than correct.

She leapt towards the wall and began scrambling up as fast as her gloves would allow, carefully avoiding a metal panel that might have let out a loud clang if she'd banged her hand against it. Her feet, not enhanced with the power of a spider spirit, were still capable enough of finding footholds in the texture of the walls to help her along. Really, after doing it with Luce on her back, this was nothing.

She stopped a few inches above the line of the roof, just high enough to peek out without much risk of being seen. Harold was gloating, brandishing his sword at the fallen foe. "It looks like you won't have to live with your choices after all." He shook his head ruefully, but with a hint of a mockery. "I will do you that kindness, since you were so eager to grant me the same fate."

As for the man on the roof, losing his mask had transformed him. Gone were blond locks and rounded cheeks, replaced with long dark hair and an all-too-familiar set of angular features with a deep gash bleeding down the middle of them.

The doppelganger, now, of all times. Charlotte felt the beginnings of a terrible headache. Last time she'd faced down Jethro, he'd inflicted her arm with lifelong scars and left her too weak to fight Leclaire at the moment she seized control. If I'd been hit a little harder, I wouldn't even have been able to rescue Luce from her clutches. Jethro had been the one to set the pirates after Luce, to flip Malin to Leclaire's control and then stay to follow her whims through the Treaty of Charenton. Even with the last four quiet years since he'd left Leclaire's side, it was difficult to say which of the two Harolds had done more damage.

At least the two of them are fighting each other. United, they'd wrestled control of Avalon away from a king who'd been playing politics for over a century and nearly gotten Luce killed in the bargain. Apart, they'd been floundering.

And now, it seems, they've degenerated to infighting.

Jethro tried to pull himself into a standing position, wincing with pain at every motion. "Not eager, no. If you'd been willing to stop on your own, I wouldn't have needed to do anything."

"You didn't need to do anything. You might have left me alone, as I did for you. Instead you try to kill me? Hurting us both? You're Mordred Ji—"

"Boothe," Jethro coughed. "I'm Mordred Boothe. Jethro. While you're still stuck as Harold Grimoire, fifth to bear the name."

Charlotte crested the roof, taking care to only show the very top of her head as she surveyed the scene.

"I can take any regnal name that I please," Harold protested weakly, knowing that the name Harold Grimoire constituted a significant portion of his legitimacy. "I could even take your name if I wanted."

Jethro laughed, erupting into a cough. "King Jethro? That would be a sight to see. But I'm afraid it will never come to pass. Our brother will take the throne and rule more wisely and justly than either of us could ever hope to."

What? Charlotte nearly fell off the roof.

"You know I'm right," Jethro continued. "He was always the smart one, and he's proven himself more moral too."

"Moral? He's on Father's side in all of this. He always has been. I once thought otherwise as well, but this coup exterminates all doubt." Prince Harold, at least, was acting just as Charlotte expected him to, but Jethro...

Is this for my benefit, somehow? Does he know I'm here? It didn't seem likely, but it was hard to imagine another reason that Jethro would so completely change his allegiances from the man casting his own shadow to the brother he'd deposed and attempted to kill.

Positioning herself carefully with one hand affixed to the edge of the roof, Charlotte removed her pistol with the other, training it carefully on one Harold, then the other.

Jethro shook his head. "But he didn't know. I know he would never support Father in that, and you know it too. Sending those pirates after him was folly, a betrayal built on rash action and misunderstanding. You told me not to compound it in Malin, and I should have listened. Why do you even want to be King, anyway? That path has never held any promise for you but oblivion."

Just stand up a little straighter, and I'll have the shot. Charlotte could end the threat to Luce once and for all with a single bullet to the Prince's head. And then what? She imagined the fallout, Luce forcing himself to distance himself from her lest the world think he'd had a hand in his brother's death... If he'd even have to force himself.

In her mind, she stared deep into the concentric rings of his sparkling hazel eyes, telling him that the brother he'd worked so hard to save was dead by her hand. Both of them, perhaps. In time, perhaps, he might come to understand. Maybe. But even that feels like wishful thinking.

And yet, if putting him on the throne came at that price, was it not a cost worth paying for the good of the world? For the good of Luce?

"I defied that fate! You and I defied that fate together!" Harold bristled, tightening his grip on his sword. "We won, and you want to throw it all away!"

"For a better world. For the debt we owe to Luce."

Her pistol was trained on Prince Harold's head, ready to end the threat he posed once and for all. Ready to tear a rift between myself and Luce that can never be mended. And what of Jethro, apparently remorseful enough to kill the man casting his shadow to support his brother? If he was capable of that, didn't that mean it was possible for Prince Harold as well?

"We don't owe him anything. That debt is forgiven." The Prince's eyes narrowed. "It's too late, anyway. All these theatrics of yours will amount to nothing. Stuart Delbrook already made it inside to cast Carringdon's vote in my favor, and Luce's coup will go down like a flaming zeppelin above the Rhan."

That corrupt degenerate is going to stand in the way of the better world Luce wants to build? Immediately, Charlotte's priorities changed. She needed to get back down there and deal with Delbrook before he could thwart the rightful course of the vote. There was no more time left to listen.

"It won't matter if you're dead," Jethro said as Charlotte fired.

A spray of blood and bone erupted from the Prince's arm as he shrieked with pain, slumping down onto the roof. His eyes caught hold of Charlotte, following the smoke back to the muzzle of her gun, and he let out a pained grunt that could have almost been a laugh. "Very well," he muttered softly, then whirled his sword and disappeared into the horizon in a streak of light.

For his part, Jethro whirled his head, stupefied, as Charlotte dashed up onto the roof and pointed at the Gauntlet of Eulus on his hand. "Take that off and hand it to me," she ordered. Prince Harold was grievously wounded, but that doesn't mean he won't come back to try something, nor that this one can be trusted.

Jethro nodded weakly, slipping it free at the wrist and tossing it forward. "Thank you for saving me."

Of course you'd say that now. Charlotte glared down at him as she retrieved the Gauntlet. "Do I need to shoot you, too? Or perhaps a jolt of lightning, to repay you for the one you sent my way in Malin?"

Jethro winced as he curled back into his lying position, clutching at his side. "If you insist. I've done what I needed to with my life. But if you heard what I said, I meant every word. I never lie. If nothing else, I'd like to apologize to Luce in person."

Oh, of course, something a liar would never say in their own defense. She could end things now, eliminate this threat if not the other, and blame the whole thing on Prince Harold. Luce would believe her, if she could bear to lie to him, to put that crack in the trust at the foundation of their relationship...

But there was no time, and it was impossible to ignore that Luce would want her to leave him be. I hope I don't regret this. "Don't move. I'll send up a medic to help. If I see your face in the Great Council Chambers, I'll blow it off. Understood?"

"Quite thoroughly."

The rest, I can figure out later.

Wasting no time, Charlotte leapt from the roof and swung herself downward with a single touch from the finger of her gloves, crashing through the stained glass and landing in the center of the Council Chambers with a roll.

"The threat has been taken care of, Your Grace." She bowed to Luce, then stood, scanning the stunned expressions of the other Councilors.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Luce loudly declared, playing along, but Charlotte didn't miss him flicking his eyes towards Stuart Delbrook, sitting with arms folded in the chamber and a smug expression on his face. "Please continue the vote."

The parliamentarian didn't waste another second. "Representative Runcol."

"Nay."

"What happened?" hissed Luce quietly. "I couldn't stop them from swearing in Delbrook to vote against me, even though he couldn't possibly have won the election."

Perhaps he did. I didn't stay to see things though. Rather than dwell on a past that couldn't be changed, Charlotte answered the question. "Prince Harold tried to follow Delbrook in to support him, but his shadow doppelganger appeared from nowhere to stop him in his tracks."

"Jethro?" Luce erupted, a touch too loud, earning confused looks from the Representatives.

"They fought, and both were wounded. Prince Harold fled into the distance, unlikely to return any time soon, and Jethro is too infirm to pose a threat." The other details could wait. This wasn't exactly the time to burden Luce with them. "How do the votes stand?"

"Representative Stewart."

"Nay." Edmund Stewart announced without a shred of hesitation. Younger brother to Elizabeth, he'd been the most promising of the Harpies to win to Luce's side. If he's voting 'no'...

Luce shared a look of dread with her, confirming that they hadn't won a single defector. That damned criminal is going to cost us everything.

"Luce, we can't just sit and watch this happen."

"Representative Tash."

"Aye."

"What are we supposed to do? They have the votes, even without Harold here."

"Representative Vas."

Vas Sarah drew a skeptical eye over Luce and Charlotte's mutterings, then stoked her chin. "Aye."

"Representative Volbrook."

"Aye." And there goes the last vote in our favor. Now, the only three votes left were Xynder, Ylla, and Zanarkand, all Harpies.

"Do you trust me?" Charlotte asked, a touch louder than she should have.

"Always," Luce answered without a second thought.

"Rep—"

"Stuart Delbrook!" Charlotte called, signalling all the shadows in the room to mass behind her. "You're under arrest."

"What?" Delbrook blinked, as if the thought of consequences for his actions had never crossed his mind.

"Lieutenant Charlotte," the parliamentarian feebly protested. "Please, if you would respect the decorum of Great Council procedure—"

"You stand accused of high crimes against Avalon, trafficking children, aiding a cultist in his sacrifices, and treason against the Crown." I doubt Monfroy used that poor boy's life as a sacrifice to anyone but himself, but there's no benefit to expositing the details of that right now. "By the authority of King Lucifer, first to bear the name, I charge you to come with me or be destroyed."

"She can't do that!" Delbrook looked around, bewildered, seeking help from any of the Harpies beside him.

Unfortunately, Sviesa Charborough was willing to come to his defense. "Prince Lucifer is the younger brother, while Prince Harold is obviously his father's heir. As soon as this illegitimate will is voted down, that will be uncontestable Avaline law. I call upon the parliamentarian to eject Lieutenant Charlotte and her shadows from this chamber and proceed with the vote."

"Well... Um..."

Charlotte ignored them all, striding forward towards Delbrook and pulling her other pistol from her dress. "Mister Delbrook, if you do not come with me willingly, I will use lethal force. You have defied your true king and sullied the name of Avalon with your crimes. I would be well within my rights to do it."

The parliamentarian looked on the verge of a stroke, but thankfully Luce stepped in to back her up. "Stuart Delbrook's crimes are well known to all. Even rightfully acclaimed Great Councilors must face justice. If any of you suspect a political motive, keep in mind that my Lieutenant allowed him to be sworn in and cast his vote before making the arrest." More by necessity than by choice, but it should help to say it.

"Then surely this can wait until the vote is concluded!" Charborough insisted. "You are not the King, Prince Lucifer, to dictate the policies and procedures of the Great Council, nor arrest its sitting members in the middle of a crucial vote!"

"Last chance." She pressed the pistol against his ribs. Behind her, the other shadows had begun surrounding Charborough, each brandishing their pistols. "Treason against your rightful king carries a lethal sentence."

"And Delbrook will face justice for his treason, along with all other traitors great and small, even those who themselves possess great power." Luce's voice hardened as he backed her up, the purple games in his crown glimmering in the light from the shattered window. "Prince Harold is gone, fled. If he took issue with the will, he would be here to say as much. Instead, he left the decision to all of you, and to me. I'm sure you'll do the right thing." He directed the last words directly at Xynder, shadows falling into place surrounding the next representative to vote.

"Can't you see what he's doing? He's making a mockery of the Great Council, usurping his brother's throne. He—"

"Continue the vote," Luce ordered the parliamentarian, who wiped a heavy layer of sweat from his brow before calling the next name in the rolls. "Representative Xynder."

Xynder didn't look much better off, petrified of the armed shadows lurking menacingly around him. He couldn't have possibly missed Luce's point, blunt as it was. "Abstain."

"What?" Charborough cried out. "Xynder, you coward! Feckless, spineless, imbecilic—"

"P-Please remain silent while the vote proceeds," the parliamentarian requested. "Representative Ylla."

"Abstain," she muttered, staring directly at the guards still surrounding Charborough and Xynder.

"Representative Zanarkand."

"Nay," he spat defiantly, daring anyone to object.

But it's nothing but a futile gesture. We've won.

"Th-The motion c-carries, 112 votes to 111."

Luce let out a sigh of relief, giving Charlotte a crisp nod that spoke volumes about how badly he wanted to embrace her. "And so, as King of Avalon, I shall sign it into law." He adjusted his crown, then stepped forward to put his signature on the decree recognizing his father's will with the full force of Avaline law. "Charlotte, take the traitors into custody." For a moment, she thought he meant all of the Harpies who'd voted against him, but following his eyes made it clear he only meant Delbrook and the two upstarts. Smart. Making an example of them will be enough to cow the others.

As she led Delbrook, Charborough, and Zanarkand away with an escort of shadows, Luce took a set of papers from his aunt and set them down on the dias. "As for the rest of you, you'll stay to vote on several other decrees, past midnight if we must. We have a lot of ground to cover on my first day as king."

Charlotte flashed him a smile, then left him to his work.