Conquest of Avalon

Harold V: The Rightful Heir

"He's lost his damn mind." Harold gripped his wineglass tightly, trying to understand what could have driven the bookish, levelheaded Luce to such extremes. "I told him to leave the gates alone." I cannot be the King of Avalon who welcomed Khali back, or else left the door open for her through my brother's recklessness. Living in infamy as the King who took down Avalon was one thing, that meant destroying Father's project root and stem, but Khali threatened the entire world. Whatever remnants of humanity who might survive would be ill-inclined to split hairs about who bore what share of the blame.

"It wasn't open, exactly." Lizzie Stewart had returned from her homeland with a black leather glove she'd refused to comment on and a nervousness to her demeanor that she'd never displayed before. "He was leeching power from the other side."

"Well, then we have nothing to worry about!" Harold flung his hands apart, spilling a bit of wine on the throne room's purple carpet. "Do you think Khali would fail to notice that? Forever? He's inviting the destruction of the entire world." And he thinks he's doing it for me... None of this would have happened if I'd let him stay in Cambria.

Stewart turned her head away, gripping her gloved hand with her bare one. There's something she's not telling me about what happened up there. Harold could force her to answer, but that didn't mean it would help. His allies needed to be kept close, all the more so if they'd recently witnessed the horrors of Nocturne alongside the Prince of Darkness.

"Reckless." Clarine noted, as ever a woman of few words. She looked as if she'd been resting better, since the circles under her eyes were only half as dark as usual. "And you say he kissed his mistress right in front of everyone?"

"It's not like him," Harold agreed, though that was hardly the most surprising part of the story. "But we all knew what was going on there. Confirming it doesn't change much."

"It tells us something about the state of his mind."

True enough. But if Luce had truly been stricken with the same arrogant confidence that afflicted their father, revealing his affair seemed quaint next to trifling with the Nocturne Gates. And worse, he succeeded.

Harold turned back to Stewart. "What about this announcement of his? You can hardly be ignorant as to its purpose."

Her hand clenched tightly around a scrap of paper. "He asked for my help."

Help with what? Before he could voice the question, Clarine ripped the paper from Stewart's hands. She frowned, then handed the paper to Harold.

"I, King Harold... titles... do hereby disinherit—" Harold choked on the word. "I disinherit my firstborn son, manifestly unfit for my crown." The crown on your head right now, perhaps. It suits you well in the prison I put you in. "And he's abdicating? This must be a forgery. My father would never give up a scrap of power." Not even for his favorite? Not even if he thought he could get it back once he stole my body? No. Father had wrought his schemes for a hundred years, building kingdoms with one hand and toppling them with another. Four years of prison wouldn't break him, and Luce was just one child to him of many.

"Luce gave this to you?" Harold stepped around the spot where his wineglass had shattered, hardly noticing the shards of glass. "Let me guess—he hopes to win some of the moderate Harpies to his side so he can acclaim this mockery at the Great Council." If so, he's still the same fool at politics that he always was. They'd say whatever they needed when they returned home to their burrough, but there was no such thing as a moderate Harpy. If any made too many strides in that direction, the Baron would see to it that they lost their seat. Every manjack of them would stand behind the Prince Regent, no matter how much time Luce wasted in courting them.

Still, at a moment like this, it's best not to take anything for granted.

"Lady Stewart, you will visit such Councilors as heed you, starting with your elder brother... Clarine, you shall accompany her to keep her safe." And to ensure she says the words we need her to, but Harold left that part unspoken. If Luce could bring the Jays to his side, the Harpies only held a razor's edge majority in the Great Council, and only until Maddy Astor inevitably took her father's seat. As confident as Harold was that there would be no mass defections, every vote counted in a moment like this, and Lizzie Stewart was too clearly hiding something to be entirely trusted.

Clarine nodded crisply, falling into silent step behind the quivering Fortan as they left the throne room.

He was more than passing fond of Clarine, and knew a part of her felt the same way, but she'd drawn her line and refused to cross it. Under the Baron's tutelage together, it would have been messy enough, and now that he was the ruler of Avalon, sovereign commander of her brother, their mentor, and herself, it would only be worse. Harold could respect that. Considering the state of his past relationships, there was a good chance that the boundary was the only reason they could still be so close right now.

Luce will learn that one day, when sleeping with his top lieutenant inevitably blows up in his face. The way this day was going, with any luck, that moment might even come sooner than later.

But I have to see it for myself. "Clarine?" Harold stopped her at the door. "Might I borrow your Sieglinde once again?"

She turned to face him with a dead-eyed stare. "If you promise not to visit your brother."

You know me too well. "I have to be certain. The Luce I know would never stab me in the back like this. I have to see it for myself." He flashed a smile, jumping from the throne and landing with a roll, then sprang back onto his feet in front of her. "You know I won't be in any danger."

Clarine shook her head.

Ah, but you think I might massacre my way through Ortus Tower. She wasn't wholly wrong to worry, but Harold decided to set her mind at ease. "I won't strike anyone who doesn't strike me first. I just need a bit of elevation to reach him without raising an alarm."

Lips pursed, she drew her sword, sparkling with the light of the heavens, and pressed the handle towards his chest. "Be smart."

ꚁ

You treacherous curr.

A part of him wanted to carve through Luce right where he stood, decorating his fine black cloak with a splash of red. Steal my throne? The only thing I have left?

Harold's blood was boiling even before the announcement.

"Hail the Prince of Crescents, the Scientist, the Peacemaker, the eldest loyal son of your king!"

In that moment, he felt as if he might snap Sieglinde in half. Loyalty isn't a virtue when it's given to an immortal tyrant, you infuriating naïf.

It wasn't the hypocrisy that bothered him, exactly. Luce was allowed to learn and grow and change, even if it made things more difficult. After his humiliation in Malin, Harold could even understand why he'd leaned into the fearsome reputation of the so-called 'Prince of Darkness', ill-suited as it seemed for a scholar prince of little renown. It had ultimately suited Harold just as well, allowing him to frame himself as the amiable contrast, a Prince of Light who would stay the course that had brought Avalon nothing but success.

Until recently, anyway. Despite a promising start in the Northern Territories, the quagmire of Micheltaigne had gradually soured any sense of victory; now, the fall of Salhaute would cement the entire venture as a failure unless the Baron managed to claw it back. Clarine's brother Klein was in the Arboreum with him now, helping to prepare their next assault, but Harold did not delude himself as to their chances of success. We can win these conquests, yes, but we can't hold them for long.

Perhaps Jethro was more insightful than I thought. He'd been the one to slap Father in chains, to save Luce from the rebellious Perimonts and then ensure that he still fell peacefully from power in Malin. I knew his desire to burn Avalon down was childish, but I strove to oppose him in everything instead of just in that.

Such was the peril of contending with a doppelganger who got to live his life free, the master of his own destiny let loose into the larger world. I stayed right here, living a life not so different from what I was doing before, yet I feel today as if I am the shadow, and he the living flesh.

There was consolation in that thought, for a doppelganger crafted from shadows would not be the true progeny of Harold Grimoire, nor the inheritor of his curse. So I can hope, but it might be that the both of us are doomed. Or, if Jethro were dead already, that Father's soul would flee to any vessel left available to it, whether flesh and blood or shade and darkness. For a dark moment, Harold considered if it might jump to Luce in the event that all other sons were dead, feeling no satisfaction at the thought.

But I doubt it, anyway. I was spawned in his likeness, identical in form to every Harold Grimoire who ever wore the crown. Luce seemed determined to repeat their father's mistakes, but in form and temperament he was undoubtedly his own man. Would that I might say the same.

Too much remained unknown, and the best, smartest person to help make sense of it had declared himself an enemy. "Ambitious and reckless..." Harold muttered, wandering down the steps of the Tower. "It's not who my brother is. We've had our differences, but he would never..." Never what? He would never plot against me? He has, innumerable times over the past four years. He would never steal my birthright? He's gathering the whole city to watch him do it. He would never try to have me killed? Not if he saw it as a mercy, considering my fated end. He might even be right.

Perhaps it would be just as well, after Harold's folly with those pirates. Jethro had made the arrangements, but Harold's hands were just as stained by the blood they'd shed. If he really did drink himself to death on a beach somewhere, maybe he still had the right idea.

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"Your Highness?" one of Luce's guards, charmingly named after the shadows that had engulfed the planet, tapped Harold on the shoulder, prompting him to turn and look. Dressed all in black, he wasn't much to look upon, lanky in form and fair of hair, but there was something unnatural in his voice, a strange familiarity in his bearing.

"We'd like you to come with us," another guard ordered, pressing a pistol against Harold while his back was turned.

Oh Luce, you poor grasping fool. That's the worst thing you could have done for your cause. Harold sliced the pistol in half with a quick swing of Sieglinde, parting the guard's flesh with the same motion. That roused the others who'd been lurking on the other floors, waiting to pick their moment on the narrow staircase.

Whipping around, Harold swung for the first shadow guard, but the blond boy had vanished into the air, replaced by three more dashing down the stairs after him, all of whom were easily dispatched.

That finally got the rest to start firing at him, the boom of their guns hopefully fucking with Luce's announcement. But just as likely, the Tower's walls are thick enough to block it. Fortunately, Harold held in his hands an easy solution to both. He slashed upwards with Sieglinde, feeling the power flow through his body as he leapt far into the air, cutting upwards through two ceilings and landing on the sixth floor. He followed with the wall, rending the stone and securing his freedom.

To his right, Luce was giving a speech the likes of which Harold would have never thought him capable. I suppose he learned something from Leclaire after all. Or perhaps from me. It was hard to be sure which possibility was worse.

It was hard not to see himself in Camille Leclaire, considering she'd lured in Luce and Jethro both, only to callously betray them when she thought it suited her purposes. And now she's been reduced to ruin, ruler of a rump state with an absentee Emperor and her knights in open rebellion. Perhaps Jethro had felt the same way when he let himself get attached to her.

Unconsciously, Harold cleaved apart clouds and sky, rising higher into the air with each slash, until Cambria was but a speck below him. He half hoped to see the airships who'd fled from Salhaute, loyal military officers that would be sure to support their Prince Regent, but they had yet to arrive, and the vast majority of loyal Avaline forces remained a continent away. I wonder how much of this is intentional for Luce, seizing Avalon from me the way Leclaire took Malin from him.

But ultimately it didn't matter. Short of bursting into the Great Council chambers and carving up the disloyal Jays and Owls himself, there weren't any real options left. Luce hadn't been lying—he'd made all the right preparations, then picked the perfect moment. As Harold descended, he could see Luce leading a march of rabble towards the Council Chambers, his shadow flanked by the very same peasants who'd decried him as the Prince of Darkness.

That's Cambria for you. In the largest city in the world, people were better informed, exposed to more perspectives, and all-too aware of what a disaster the quagmire in Micheltaigne had become. In the countryside, Harold knew he would find no shortage of stalwart supporters, eager to oppose the Prince of Darkness and his illegitimate coup, but that did him scarce good right now.

If I do manage to hold on, I'm moving the chambers twenty miles outside the city. The Councilors needed to be kept more isolated, clearly, easier to control and insulated from any Cambrian marches. Getting the chance to put that into practice was looking like a more and more unlikely prospect, though.

A spark of inspiration struck him when he recognized the Radiant Hawk in the harbor, the premiere ship of Carringdon. Luce timed Maddy Astor's arrival perfectly, too. Apparently it was too much to hope that there was anything he'd failed to consider. But that offered an opportunity too, perhaps.

I don't even need to hurt her. If she's delayed long enough, she'll miss the vote, and that should just be enough. As soon as Luce's forged will was repudiated, the rabble could be dispersed and Luce and his shadows could be exiled to Charenton, a suitable station for a prince that would be far from royal affairs. Though after pulling something like this, I'd be well within my rights to try him for treason. Considering what Harold had done with those pirates, though, it was only fair to offer Luce the same clemency he'd been given, even for a betrayal like this.

Harold swung toward the ground, parting the waves as he skimmed across the water, then pulled up to land on the deck of the Radiant Hawk. It wasn't long before Carringdon's newest Councilor stepped up from below and greeted Harold with a deep bow.

"Your Highness, I'm honored that you decided to welcome me to Cambria in person." Stuart Delbrook stretched his face into a wide smile, lifting his head back up. "I look forward to serving you in the Great Council."

"I..." I thought to stall Astor, but she lost? "You won despite Luce's election scheme? How?"

"Well, Your Highness's support was invaluable, of course." Harold had thrown no small amount of money his way for bribes, advertisements, and public benefit events, but considered it wasted as soon as the news of Delbrook's crimes had come to light. "Sir Ciq Prashant's support was also crucial, I will confess. And all he wanted in return was the office of Royal Exchequer, a small price to pay."

"But still..." If half that exposé is true, that should never have been enough.

"It was a near thing, to be sure. But we managed to get things close enough to close the gap, and that left things ambiguous enough that my victory wasn't a true surprise." He signalled to the ship crew to prepare a landing party, then winked at Harold. "Tragically, there were a few fires at the polling stations your brother set up, but I'm sure that had no impact on the results."

Why would you tell me that? Most likely, Delbrook was trying to prove his aptitude and worth, but his lack of discretion only served to do the opposite. And yet, if I can get into the chambers in time, he might just be my salvation.

"Belay that order," Harold commanded the crew. "I'll be escorting Councilor Delbrook personally."

"WIth your... sword?" Delbrook gulped, losing half the color in his face. "You honor me, but..."

"There's no time to waste. My brother plots to steal my crown with a forged will from my father. He's presenting it to the Great Council as we speak." Harold turned around, inviting Delbrook to climb on his back. "It's not the most comfortable arrangement for me either, but if you take the train, you'll arrive too late to stop him." Technically, the votes would be tied without his presence, assuming no Owls defected, but with a rabble outside and Aunt Lizzie behind him, there was a good chance Luce would be able to win the Council over in a second vote. Defeating his motion immediately would undercut his plan and show the Council that his schemes were doomed to failure. He wouldn't get a second chance.

Reluctantly, Delbrook grabbed hold, and before long he was screaming with terror as Harold flung them through the sky, tearing through clouds and fog to land in front of the Great Council Chambers just in time.

Two of Luce's shadows were guarding the door, so Harold wasted no time in killing them, urging Delbrook to run inside and swear himself in as fast as possible.

"And you, Your Highness?"

"Stall as long as you can. I'll join you when I can." Harold could see the mob gathered just beyond the walls, eagerly cheering on Luce's lawless larceny of the crown. "First, I need to tell my people the truth they've been denied." He noticed other shadow guards emerge from the side doors of the chambers, clearly preparing themselves for another arrest attempt. "And light up some shadows."

Four of them drew pistols, which should have made them easy to ignore, but after what he'd done today, Harold wasn't as sure as he wanted to be that Luce wouldn't order them to fire on him. Instead of lunging straight towards them, he cut his way off to the side, then charged behind them, slashing a deep gouge in the earth beneath their feet that sent them all stumbling. Another slash and they were half-buried in collapsed dirt.

But by then, ten more guards had scurried out of their anthill. Where does he find so many recruits? I've had to dig deeper and deeper for soldiers while he swells his ranks. From Charenton, most likely, since Harold had no real influence there. Perhaps it would be a mistake to let him keep it, despite the elegance of exile as a punishment.

In one fluid motion, Harold sliced cleanly through six shadows who'd foolishly lined themselves up in a straight row, then propelled himself into the air for a better look at the forces arrayed against him. At least I'm distracting them from going for Delbrook. As long as he could get sworn in and the Harpies held firm, Harold's rule would be secure from Luce's treachery.

As he oriented himself to survey the ground, Harold felt a sudden gust of wind from above, slamming him hard into the roof of the Great Council Chambers before he could react.

How? Who?

He raised his head in time to see a jolt of lightning miss him by inches, then used Sieglinde to pull himself out of the way. Someone's using the Gauntlet of Eulus against me... Klein and Clarine had spent months trying to recover it, to no avail. The Baron had eventually recalled them back, stating that it would turn up on some enemy they could kill eventually. Harold hadn't been quite so sure, considering it had last been left with Jethro, but it looked like the Baron's prediction had been proven right.

Naturally, at the worst possible time. Worse, now that Harold could get a better look at its wielder, he recognized the blonde-haired guard from Ortus who'd tried to arrest him and then vanished, his motions as smoothed and practiced as Harold's own.

How could Luce have trained a Binder? He certainly wouldn't be able to recruit one without me knowing about it. And someone so skilled... "Ah," Harold realized, pulling himself to a standing position as his opponent landed in front of him. "I was wondering if you'd turn up again, Jethro."

He said he bargained for a mask from the Face-Stealer. I should have remembered that.

"If you hadn't lost all sense of purpose, perhaps I wouldn't have to." Jethro levelled the Gauntlet in Harold's direction, the other shadows on the ground straining to see what was happening. "You should have been content in victory. Father in chains, Avalon in your hands, Luce... alive, despite your best efforts."

"Our best efforts." Harold grit his teeth, readying Sieglinde to dodge the next attack. "But you were the one to compound them in Malin. I wanted to let Luce be, but you had other ideas."

Jethro snarled at that, the expression intimately recognizable despite the different features of his borrowed visage. "I paid for that, while you reaped the benefits."

"Benefits? Luce has been at my throat for years, undermining my every effort, culminating in a coup! If you'd just left him alone, it never would have come to this."

"If you'd just listened to him, it never would have come to this. Instead, you're compounding Father's crimes, spreading death and misery all across the world, surpassing even Father's cruelty—"

"How dare you?" Harold lunged, slashing a shallow cut in Jethro's back before he could move in time. "As long as you still inhabit your own body, you'll know that I could never equal his evil." Harold slashed again, but this time Jethro was ready, blowing him off course with a strong gust of wind just in time. "Why now? Why would you help him steal our birthright?"

"Our birthright? It's to be doomed by fate, overtaken by a parasite in our body. I gave that up long ago, and you would have done the same." If I'd been given the opportunity, but you snatched that away from me, Jethro. In your shoes, I would have done better, and avoided your folly. "We've done far worse than forging the will of the greatest monster in the world," Jethro insisted, sounding faintly desperate. "This is penance."

"Penance?" Harold echoed, incredulous. "You killed over a hundred people in that harbor bombing. You think making Luce king is going to make up for that?"

"You say that as if your own hands are clean." Jethro grit his teeth with determination, but it was clear that the reminder had gotten to him. "I own my mistakes, and yours, for I know I would have made them just the same in your place. I'll have to live with that." He readied a charge of lightning in the Gauntlet, then let it loose across the sky. "You won't."