The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

In a large stretch of meadowland, unfenced and flat, sat a pavilion built by the imperialists. It was a rectangular structure of linen, with the flaps flanking the sole entrance dyed red. The steady northern winds caught the fabric and flapped it against the interior wooden poles holding it aloft. The wind tussled Laczlo's hair, tossing it about as he stared across the plain at the meeting point, one hand on the reins, the other gripping his sword's hilt. He looked back. In his party were the tsaritsa, Kapitalena, and Voiakh—all three to join the negotiations, though more for support than anything. He also brought along Stanilo and Isak, the latter holding Laczlo's helmet. A dozen druzhina trailed further back.

Laczlo took in a deep breath and continued forward at a trot. It didn't take much time at all to get there. Less than he would have hoped. Weeks to plan for a conversation like this, and he still didn't really have a clue what Varul might say, if he was even present, that is. Information had been poor in that regard. It's because Vida isn't here, he thought sourly. She was his eyes and ears for matters like these, and now he felt like he was going in blind.

"If Varul's there, your best approach is cool confidence," Kapitalena said in a hushed voice beside him, riding sidesaddle with a fine blue dress, golden one-shoulder cloak, and a headdress under a fur-lined cap, more for show than the cold. "And the tsar will heed strength and assumed authority."

"Right. Authority." He adjusted his mail shirt so the weight sat more evenly. Under his lamellar armor, it was not easy, but at least Isak was holding his helmet, for now.

"You've done more difficult deeds in the last months than this."

He nodded along. "I have."

"You've won their war for them and defeated every enemy before you."

Even when they expected him to fail! "And what right do they have to claim more of me?"

"Precisely. You have empathy, Laczlo; this is good. But do not forget the threats they wield against you and yours. We are depending on you."

He swallowed, galvanized. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." She reached across and gripped his arm briefly. "Let us finish this."

They dismounted when they came closer. A few druzhina were already outside, including the man Laczlo had sent back after he'd delivered his false response to the tsar's demands some time ago. He gave the two men respectful nods, and they gave him proper bows fitting for a voivode in turn. Expecting insubordinate rudeness, it took him off guard. He tried not to let it show on his face as he entered the pavilion, leaving Isak and Stanilo outside, with the other man further back with the horses. There were only a few men with the tsar's side's horses, it seemed. We have them outnumbered. Good, he thought, preparing himself as he walked inside.

Yet once more, whatever he was expecting was not the case, for inside the candlelight interior was only one individual: Vicarr Varul. He expected Commander Sanei of the east, any other voivodes, and maybe even the tsar to be present, but just Varul? He's a Sorcerer; don't let your guard down, Laczlo told himself, continuing forward with scarcely a pause in his step. But where's the tsar?

He took a seat opposite the self-titled Vicarr of the Column in a low chair with armrests and a padded back and bottom and observed the strange man opposite him. The others filed in and sat in the row of chairs beside Laczlo atop a large rug covering the grassy ground. Varul's features were distinctly nondescript, possessing a face of a man you could almost forget if you looked away for long enough, though the Vasian in him was certainly evident. Nevertheless, he had a scholar's build and wore rather simple robes of a typical Column priest. The one notable thing about him was the slight disfigurement. After whatever happened in the Column prior to his appearance with the tsar in the great Nova hall, he'd taken a severe beating. The man was missing a few teeth, which was not unusual to see, but also a slightly bent nose and a few slight scars upon his face. Sorcerers weren't known to be able to heal at any magical rate, but after repairing Stanilo's arm, one might have thought he would be able to repair himself; but evidently, there were limitations on what Varul could do for himself.

The vicarr stood and bowed to Alasa. "Tsaritsa." Then Kapitalena. "Voivodess." A nod for Voiakh. "Commander." His eyes settled on Laczlo, who sat still, poised, and ready. "Voivode Vilsky. We presume you are heading these talks?"

"I am."

"Good, that will simplify things," Varul said as he sat, fingers steepled under his chin that still bore damage akin to the other scars. "The first thing you should understand is that we are not your enemy. If we could hasten to this point, then the entire conversation will progress far more easily."

Laczlo chuckled in dry disbelief, then stared as Varul showed no signs of acknowledging his own joke. "You're serious? Of anyone in Vasia, you've opposed me the most!"

"That is hardly true, Voivode Vilsky. But we can see why you might believe that." The priest stared at him as he spoke, gaze eerily unwavering. "We would simply ask you to keep it at the forefront of your minds. Now, you may wonder why we are here and the tsar is not present."

"I do wonder that," Laczlo muttered. "Do you even have the power to speak for him?"

"You should know the answer to that."

"Where is he?" Alasa asked. "Or has my husband not even left Nova?"

Varul took in a deep breath and tilted his head toward her in a deferential gesture, eyes slightly downcast. "The tsar is dead."

The room was silent, all breaths held. What? Laczlo thought, utterly taken by surprise. Dead?

The tsaritsa stared and asked in a strangled voice, "Elan protect us. What do you mean, you wretch? How could he possibly… Explain yourself! And don't you lie to me!"

Varul seemed unshaken. "He died but a few days ago. And not of natural causes, we fear."

"What happened to my husband?"

He nodded somberly. It was shallow and forced, but then, he was a cold individual by nature. "He was killed by an assassin. A woman pretending to be a concubine, Tsaritsa."

Vida? Laczlo thought immediately, then discarded the notion. She simply couldn't have traveled so far so quickly, nor gained access to his chambers and trust so fast. It couldn't possibly be her.

"Who was this woman?" Kapitalena asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion, perhaps suspecting the same thing as him.

Varul went on, ignoring the horrified tsaritsa, "Unfortunately, she killed herself with her own blade before we could apprehend her. But the head of the tsar's guard, Paltas—I believe some of you are familiar with him—looked into it. She had connections to our enemies in the east. The Targul people, to be precise. Her identity otherwise was deemed irrelevant. You will be welcome to verify these findings independently—"

"And you just let him… him consort with some dangerous whore!" Alasa shouted, standing. "You were supposed to protect him! Radokh trusted you!"

"It is hardly our role to protect a tsar, Tsaritsa. We are steward of the Column and—"

"Damn you!" She took a step forward. Voiakh stood from his seat as if to restrain her, but Kapitalena got to her first, holding her comfortingly but firmly. She made eye contact with Laczlo across the room over the crying tsaritsa's shoulder.

Her gaze spoke of danger but also opportunity.

He understood immediately. "This is convenient for you, isn't it, Varul? The exact enemy you plan on fighting has sent an assassin against our tsar? If we lacked justification for war before, we don't anymore."

Varul smiled thinly. "And you think we would trade our security for a superfluous casus belli? Be realistic, Voivode."

"Superfluous? You're missing half the voivodes' commitment to your scheme. Voiakh here wouldn't pledge anything more than absolutely necessary, even if I weren't in the picture." Laczlo nodded to himself. "Yes, I do think you need justification."

"You are mistaking war with the Free Cities for war with the Targul. The former will be a quick affair; the latter will require all commitment, yes, but in a year's time, perhaps. Long enough we could have all support required in hand, and likely with sufficient support to declare an imperial Voiya campaign." Such a call for war was typically reserved for the most severe outsider threats, where a call for the final battle could be invoked for greater public commitment, albeit with the tradeoffs of appearing demanding and weak for making such a call to arms. The priest gave a dismissive wave. "But even if that weren't the case, military superiority ought not be gained by such a rash political sacrifice. You should understand that, Voivode."

Laczlo chewed on the man's words. What he was saying seemed plausible, but still, he just couldn't believe anything Varul said. He glanced to Voiakh.

The commander shrugged, leaned back, and grinned at Varul. "We don't have the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance, High Priest—"

"Vicarr."

"Right, certainly, Vicarr." The smile didn't waver, but it did gain some bemusement that meant more than Laczlo could immediately tell. "Please, all I know is that you were one of the few survivors of the Column after the Sorcerer Daecinus's attack last year and somehow rallied your fellow priests into quite a rapid recovery. The tsar trusts… Ah, trusted you immensely, and you quickly gained influence in Nova. How did this all come to be?"

Varul's face bent at the mention of Daecinus, anger and disgust and determination all blending into a grimace more honest than Laczlo had ever seen in this strange priest. "We are no survivor… Quite the opposite, in fact." He looked at Kapitalena and Alasa, standing to the side, Laczlo's wife comforting the crying tsaritsa while watching the scene unfold, ever observant. "Allow us to be… hm, straightforward. We were raised of the Column, literally. When Daecinus Aspartes sought to resurrect his Demetria of Pethya from the Crown of the Column, we forced him to bring us back as well—a collection of disparate High Priests from the early days of Vasia, then called Vicarrs. We could list the names, and you might recognize some if you have a mind for history. This is why we are a Sorcerer unmatched by many in this newer age, though why common potency has diminished, we could hardly say. Our goals, varied as they might have been, all centered around the success and expansion of Vasia, and so it remains our guiding tenet in this new life."

Laczlo stared at Varul in confused shock. He remembered how Daecinus left the hall, spurred on by the wild promise the tsar gave him about returning a Soul to the current plane. He'd figured it was all a lie, but maybe the tsar was telling the truth. And if so, what Varul claimed was certainly plausible and even explanatory! But… Deus, it was all so insane! Returned Souls and Sorcery and different planes? Who was Laczlo to say if it made sense?

"You're insane," Alasa hissed from across the pavilion. "You killed my husband and now claim to be some… some reborn creature. You're just insane! A power-grabbing madman."

Varul sat still, unmoved. "We did not kill the tsar. We would never."

"You've been plotting it! Trying to find the right time to get rid of him and take power yourself!"

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"Incorrect."

"You want to rule Vasia, don't you? You madman!"

"Rescind your accusations." Varul stood suddenly, causing Voiakh to shift stances and Laczlo to drop a hand to his sword. Varul paid them no mind, focusing on Alasa. "We are loyal to Vasia! Flawed as the tsar was, we would never act against him in such a base manner. The tsardom is important to the success of the realm, and the position is sacred, even if the individual is not."

"You've done nothing but lie to us, you serpent. You tried to have Laczlo killed!"

"The Rodezian business?" He snorted dismissively, lip curled and brow furrowed. "Voivode Vilsky would never allow himself to be taken. That was your husband's decision almost entirely. We simply didn't seek to stop him, knowing what it would bring about."

"Bring what about?" Kapitalena asked before Alasa could reply.

Varul was about to speak, then seemed to change his mind and paced back, facing the small window of light at the exit. "You all need more coaxing than expected. Fine. Allow us to illuminate your ignorance." He turned and raised a hand to Laczlo. "Do you remember what we said to you when we first met?"

"You said the tsardom was in my debt."

"That we did. What else?"

Laczlo frowned, remembering back. "You said I would be the right hand of the tsar and that you could be a good ally or a bad enemy. It sounded like a threat."

"It was. But we are nothing if not honest. Why do you think the tsar sent you away to deal with rebels, acting as a commander ought to?"

"Because you wanted to get rid of me, of course."

Varul shook his head. "Hardly. It gained you prestige, loyalty, and most importantly, experience."

"And what use is that to you?" Laczlo asked, squinting, trying to see through whatever game was being played. "I don't understand what you're getting at."

"Because you see a stranger appear, take control, and therefore consider him an adversary." Varul sighed. "Everything we do is for Vasia. Everything. The future of the imperial tsardom is not one of Column domination. It can't be. No, a powerful tsar must reign to keep the voivodes in line—history reveals this to us. But Radokh was a weak man and a worse tsar. He let rebellion fester and imperial prestige fade away into nothing. Vasia was worsened for it. No, what the tsardom needs is someone capable."

Laczlo stared at Varul, then glanced over to Kapitalena. She seemed as taken aback as he, but the way her squint widened slightly, she meant there was something there. So he said, "Go on."

"Why do you think we allowed the tsar's jealousies to grow so that he ordered you to submit to Rodezian judgment?"

"You're asking me to believe it wasn't your orders."

"It was a fine opportunity that we seized. Voivode Vilsky, think objectively about this. Clearly, you would never submit to such a foolish demand. It would be suicide."

He had to know I wouldn't accept—we figured as much ourselves before. "What if the Rodezians attacked because I denied their demands?"

"If we recall correctly, you did more than deny their demands. You send them home as tongueless eunuchs. Creative." For the first time, he smiled wryly. "Those worms know nothing of rightful rule. Their king is a simpleton to imagine a denied demand could do anything but weaken him. They are fractured and factious. Already, they draw blades upon each other to determine the succession to replace the ignorant pig of an heir, Karnys. No, the Rodezains do not bear an immediate threat, and you correctly identified this."

Kapitalena nodded slightly, Laczlo noticed. That was her theory, too, after all. But what does Varul have to gain from weakening Rodezia and making me rebel?

Commander Voiakh, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile, answered, coincidentally, "This isn't about raising a pretender for Vasia to rally against, is it?"

"Hardly. Voivode Vilsky here has faced nothing but abuse from the tsar. His retaliation is justified. Even the tsaritsa agrees. Do you truly think we were blind to this? To your various efforts?"

"You're saying you let me escape, aren't you?" Kapitalena asked.

"We wouldn't let the tsaritsa, let alone the tsarevich, out of our sight in such times accidentally," he explained almost patiently. Like a tutor teaching their student. "To allow the tsar's family to flee if we were opponents would be an ultimate failure. No, we allowed their escape because it weakened the tsar and lent you legitimacy for the tsaritsa's eventual public—"

"Stop your lies!" Alasa shouted. "You killed my husband and now pretend to be our friends. You should die for what you did!"

"I need not reiterate this, but we did not lift a finger against the tsar."

"No? And how did this assassin succeed? Because you let her!"

Varul answered her with silence.

"See! You might as well have killed him!"

Laczlo stared at the vicarr. "Is it true? Could you have saved him?"

He paused, thinking, then answered with a forced expression of neutrality, though the frustration and annoyance seeped through clearly enough, "It is not so simple. Tsar Vadoyeski the Second would have led to Vasia's downfall. Even we couldn't offset his incompetent rule forever. We did not explicitly know of the assassination threat, so putting in efforts to prevent it was unfeasible enough—"

"You fucking monster!" Alasa shouted. "You killed him! You killed him through inaction!"

"You're being reductive, we did not—"

"Kill him, Laczlo!"

Laczlo went still, frozen. "What?"

"He betrayed Vasia. You need to kill him!"

Varul squinted at her, then turned to Laczlo. "This is a peace negotiation. Let's be rational, please."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. He stood and faced Alasa fully. "Listen, we can't do things this way. I can't do that. We can't… Agh! Kapitalena?"

"He's right, Alasa," she said as the tsaritsa broke from her attempt at a comforting touch.

"You're loyal to me, aren't you? This is my demand!"

"Stop it and think!" Kapitalena barked. "Look at me!" The other woman did. "Let us hear Varul out. This is too important to act so hastily."

"You would abandon me? Just like this?" she cried out, tottering as if her legs were giving out.

"Radohk didn't care about you, Alasa. We do. Will you throw that away so quickly?" Those words hit her like a slap, stunning the tsaritsa into silence and stillness. Kapitalena continued, "Think of your children. This is an important junction you must navigate as the Tsaritsa Regent of Vasia. Not a woman, not a wife, but as a mother to your children and your people. This is your duty."

"I just…" She almost collapsed, but Kapitalena caught her and, with Laczlo's help, placed her in her chair. "Is he really dead?"

"He is," Varul answered. "We confirmed it."

Alasa began to cry, no longer in a rage for vengeance but a consuming sorrow that made something in Laczlo waver. He looked at Kapitalena, and she at him. An understanding passed between them. It could have been us. He shook his head and walked toward Varul, pausing halfway across the pavilion to observe this strange priest.

"You let it happen—why?" Laczlo asked, watching closely.

"Vasia needs a new tsar. A stronger one." He glanced to the women and lowered his voice. "But our plans were hurried along more quickly than we would have preferred. We did not help or support the assassin in any way, but simply let the tsar take risks in his pursuit of foolish passions. We did not even know there was a scheme until it was over."

Laczlo sighed. "Say I accept this… Why come to us with a host for war if you just want a stable peace under a rightful tsar?"

"The time had to be now. Word of the tsar's death has not spread just yet, and we needed to ensure the armies were in hand to prevent rebellion. And, of course, to proceed with the eastern campaign."

This was all so insane, so far from his expectations. "But Amon is just a boy…"

"Do not be daft, Voivode."

"But…"

Commander Voiakh walked up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Not the child. He means you, my friend."

"But… I'm not of the lineage or the…" Laczlo laughed and swallowed a wave of terror. "What of Amon? He can be tsar, and we can watch over him." Laczlo nodded hurriedly to Varul. "You want to be regent over him! You get what you want, right? More power—"

"We already said that our loyalty is to Vasia. All else is irrelevant. The Column can guide the tsar, but the voivodes would rebel if the Column's power rose too greatly. It happened but a year ago. Besides, it is in Column code that none of its rank achieve position above boyar, and even then, it is a practice we disapprove of."

"Fine then. I can be regent over the boy!" Laczlo shouted, almost begging. "That works for all, right?"

Voiakh, still with a comforting hand on Laczlo's shoulder, shook his head, somehow already accepting things Laczlo couldn't. "We'd still be weak. Amon could be disobeyed and your influence questioned. Vasia needs permanent stability, now more than ever. I've worked with enough angry voivodes to see that half a decade of a child tsar's rule could only make things worse. Even the Rodezians might smell blood, to say nothing of the Targul."

"But we could make it work! We can be strong! We can fight any damn rebel!"

"The point, Laczlo, is that we do not have to."

"Deus, not you too!" Laczlo said, staring into the commander's eyes. So determined. So convinced. "You're sold on this."

"It makes sense, friend. I saw it from the day you showed up with the tsar's family in tow. Your wife is the one who convinced me, you know."

"What?" He turned on his heel to stare at Kapitalena across the room, standing near her chair, holding Alasa's hand. "What does he mean?"

She sighed, patted the tsaritsa's hand, and faced him, poised and regal. "There was a possibility that things would work out such that you would have to step in."

"Step in? What the fuck does that mean?"

Her lips thinned. "Vasia needs stability, yes. But we need it, too. What do guardianship and the promise of regency over Amon offer us? Even if Varul here is not our explicit enemy, there are others who would be, and for only temporary benefit. You've made enemies in the last few years, Laczlo; the gods know it, as well as I. Regency would make you into a target with only temporary strength to defend yourself."

"And with the Rodezians riled up…" Voiakh muttered. "Well, once they finish their spat, they might make a move if we are seen as weak, knowing them."

"And me being tsar is any better?" he blurted. "What are you thinking?"

Vicarr Varul stepped forward. "Laczlo Vilsky, if you took the solemn oath to protect Vasia and pick up the mantle as tsar, we swear the Column's support. Wholly and entirely. We would subdue the Free Cities, gain a buffer against the Targul, and then turn and break any Rodezian plots. You would have the prestige and power of our resources and Sorcerers. We've been busy at work this last year in more than just preparing your ascension."

Lazlo collapsed into his chair. "What is happening?"

Voiakh chuckled, turning from him to the vicarr. "Ah, so you were never planning on Sanei leading the campaign. You wanted Laczlo to take the helm."

"Naturally," Varul replied. "Sanei is fit for static defense and peacekeeping but not for leading such a significant action. And Radokh was entirely unsuited for the task. This requires a leader with fresh experience and loyalty who would heed good advice when applicable. You obviously came to mind, but we needed someone with more centralized support."

"Of course. It also gives Laczlo an opportunity for victory and prestige."

"You're sharp, Commander."

Laczlo imagined that Voiakh grinned proudly, though he couldn't say with his head in his hands. "We figured there was something we were missing," the commander replied, "but never this much. Well, I am glad it's worked out this way."

"As are we. Your loyalty and acuity would be recognized, of course."

"I expect no less."

"Wait," Laczlo muttered, "none of this is decided yet."

Kapitalena knelt before him, abandoning Alasa. "What is there to decide? This is what we need. It is the obvious choice."

"We're siding with Varul," he whispered. "How is that acceptable?"

"I don't trust him. But I don't need to. Look at what he's offering, what's at stake. He's bound to us, and he knows it. The Column can't survive independently of the tsar, Laczlo."

"But… Deus give me strength. What about Alasa? What about her children? As long as there are claimants…"

Kaptialena nodded, hand brushing his cheek. "I know."

"And what of them?"

She stood and faced Varul. Laczlo watched her subtly gesture to the distracted and inconsolable tsaritsa, and understanding crossed the priest's face.

"There is an obvious solution," he said.

"Out of the question," she replied.

"You would endanger our endeavor so quickly?"

"Laczlo would be seen as a monster. He built his reputation on loyalty. Think it through."

"We see." He nodded. "An interesting point. But that requires a creative solution."

"I have one."

"We are open to your insights, Voivodess."

Kapitalena faced Alasa, no longer as the understanding, supportive friend, but the unswayable noble of power and certainty. "Alasa. Look at me, please." Meekly, the tsaritsa did, tears in her eyes, wavering between an attempt at resoluteness and utter collapse. "The situation has changed. Your children are in danger. If we proceed and make Amon tsar, Vasia will be weakened, and invasion and rebellion will surely commence. It also threatens my family to try to protect yours in that position. I cannot abide by that danger nor let harm come to yours. We do not have much room to maneuver here, but merely to react."

Alasa nodded slowly, barely meeting Kapitalena's eyes. "What do you propose I do?"

"Renounce your claims. All your children shall as well. Publicly and formally. Then Amon and his siblings will enter into Column's service." She looked to Varul. "If any of them leaves, they will be branded a heretic and traitors. Like that Emalia girl."

"Do not remind us," he said with a scowl that didn't last long. "But yes. That is true. They would also be forbidden from ever seeking the tsar's throne. And if they did, the Column would be forbidden from supporting them. It would fundamentally undermine their already tarnished claim while keeping them close at hand and under our watch. It isn't permanent, but it is a fine solution. If this is your demand, then we accept."

"It is," Kapitalena said.

"Very well."

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice," Alasa muttered.

Kapitalena looked up as if to summon up the will to continue. "This is better than risking your children in the Vasian court. After everything, do you really want to subject them to such a life? With war and turmoil before us? Do you want your son to lead wars before even becoming a man?"

She sighed. It was the sound of a defeated enemy finally submitting. Laczlo knew it well, and it almost broke him to hear his tsaritsa, his sovereign, his friend make such a sound. "And what of me? Shall I disappear? Kill myself? What would satisfy you, Kapitalena?"

"Stop!" Laczlo shouted, leaping to his feet. "Enough!"

"Laczlo?" Kapitalena asked.

"I haven't said my piece. I haven't agreed to any of this." He shook his head. "Voiakh and Varul, get out." He raised his voice. "Isak! Enter, if you would." The druzhina followed soon after, hand on his sword and face grim beneath his helm. The others were short behind. "Escort Tsaritsa Vadoyeski outside. Stanilo, watch over the vicarr. Return at my command."

Everyone complied easily and quickly. Even Varul, who smiled and gave Laczlo a nod of respect before leaving the tent as if he approved. Damn him. Damn them all for making him do this.