The Column of Ash [Epic Fantasy]

Voiakh welcomed him as a long-lost friend. He was respectful to Kapitalena and perfectly deferential to the tsaritsa, and he bore a grandfatherly kindness to the children. The thin, unassuming man titled Commander of the West grinned his way through their formal greetings like he'd practiced it a hundred times, white teeth flashing with disarming charm. Like he was genuinely glad to see you again. Laczlo didn't know if he was. Or just set up to deliver the sword blow when he had the advantage.

They ate together, pleasantries and formalities slow to work through. Soon, it was late, and after talking things over with Kapitalena, Isak, and even finding time to meet with Mikha—sharp in his judgment of the situation and their risk-taking, yet wise in his advice to seek multiple avenues of success, rather than be hemmed in by one perilous ultimatum—, Laczlo found a moment alone with the commander. They were in the dead voivode's hall, standing before the hearth, drinks in hands, smoke thick in the air, children running about with servants close behind, a certain tension hovering over the adults with forced smiles and tensed shoulders. Laczlo clutched his hand-carved cup and sipped rarely, cautious with the wine.

Voiakh frowned over the brim of his into the flames. "I know why you're here, Laczlo."

"I wish I didn't have to come."

"Yet here you are." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I suppose it's my fault for my hospitality. Where else to turn but Voiakh? He can keep a secret. Ah, well, I don't blame you."

"What have you heard?"

"A man rose from the Column and took the tsar by the balls, they say… excuse the language. A Sorcerer almost burned the city down. Daecinus, as I recall Emalia warning me about—all the good I could do there." He gave Laczlo a long look. "And a most violent display from someone I considered a friend. Not just Ygon, which might be bad enough, but Iarek. Both dead by his hands. A man they call the Warrior Prince. That frightened, fresh-faced man dashing out west and back, I trusted as an ally."

Laczlo said nothing but just looked at the fire. Eventually, he made himself meet Voiakh's gaze. That's when the commander continued, "I heard why you did it. In both cases. Ygon was a traitor. I thank you for ridding me of that bastard. I should have seen it myself, but I thought he was too dull to do something like that. Arrogant of me. Iarek is a more difficult one."

"He was going to get the tsar killed," Laczlo said, feeling cold and hot at the same time. Remembering the sensation of blood slicking him wet as he knelt on the floor of Nova's hall, staring at the pooling crimson. "I had no choice."

"A lot of things went wrong that day, I heard. A lot of people claiming the inability to choose a more ideal outcome."

"Don't compare me to those rebels."

"No? Is that not why you are here, Laczlo?"

"I have the tsaritsa of Vasia, Voiakh. Ask her about that day. Ask her if I did what was right in killing Iarek. She'll say the same as I." He felt anger well in him, overpowering worry and shame that typically would dominate. It was empowering, yet vaguely frightening, yet he continued all the same, "Ask her about the tsar now, if you would. How he whores and drinks and lets himself be that priest's puppet. We have no tsar, Voiakh. He's lost."

"You feel betrayed."

"By Deus's blood, I do!" he shouted, then leaned in with a harsh whisper. "They demand I submit myself to Rodezian justice. How can I do that?"

"You can't," he said, shrugging. Those wiry shoulders bobbing up and down with honest admission in his voice like a man submitted to the headsman's axe. "Now you come here and make an ask of me. A large ask. I see how it will play out, Laczlo. I'm a general, of course. This is my trade. We can't defeat Vasia, my friend; we lose every time. They have a navy to protect Nova and keep you isolated in the west. That would be that, but they also have the men and money. And your domain is hostage on the other side of Nova, so we don't have time on our side."

Laczlo felt gutted. He hadn't even considered fighting across the straights flanking Nova. He'd assumed they would make do with rafts and low tide, but of course, that would be insufficient against an entire navy. Even just a few galleys would hold him, let alone the full weight of whatever ships Nova could still muster.

Voiakh's eyes danced over the hall's interior to Alasa. "The only advantage you've got is the tsaritsa and the heir."

"We've kept it quiet. But the tsar would have heard by now, surely."

"Good. It protects you."

"I wouldn't hurt her," he replied, surprised.

"The tsar doesn't know that. Even if Varul argues it, would he risk his family? Likely not. He doesn't have the bones for it. Few do." He swirled his cup in thought. "No, he'd have to come to you."

"What?"

"Think about it, Laczlo. Warrior Prince." That smile again. Were things turning around? "A tsar cannot hide away while his subject holds his wife and heir. It would be damning to his prestige, yes, but more importantly, to the certainty of the transition of power. Think of the other voivodes. Would they remain compliant with a weak tsar with no heir who attacks his own subjects? He's a fool for doing this."

"It's all Varul. He's behind it. He wants me out of the way."

"A clumsy method to do so," he remarked with another shrug. "I know little of the man besides his poor reputation and sudden arrival. But yes, you've become too influential for them, Laczlo."

"I'm just doing what I was commanded to do," he said, exasperated, exhausted. "When does that earn a man everyone's hostility?"

Voiakh laughed, never one to be stuck in the mire of reasonable worry too long, it seemed. "You've come a long way, but there's still a distance to go."

"Will you make the journey with me then?"

"Agh, you clever creature," he said, smirking, shaking his head. "I don't know. That's an ask, Laczlo. It's a big ask."

"I'm making it now with everything I have. I can give you more arguments—"

"Don't. I know them."

Laczlo frowned and thought, then said, "Talk to my wife. You think you know my arguments, but you don't know hers. Or how she'll say them."

"Shrewd, is she?"

Laczlo laughed. "Just talk to her."

He called her over and walked away, giving them time alone to discuss it. In no world would Voiakh be able to squirm away from her points. She saw the politics better than Laczlo, certainly, but there was something about her ability to ascertain motivations that would cinch it. And Voiakh seemed on the fence, which was better than expected. So Laczlo just had to wait, he figured.

Thus, he sat far from it all at a bench in the shadow of the corner, sipped wine, and stared out at nothing, too exhausted to talk to a soul. He thought about everything. About his responsibilities fulfilled, shirked, and failed, and now seized up again. He was changing. He was.

Something bumped into him. He looked down.

Amon Vadoyeski, running around with his siblings and Laczlo's children. A child, not just an heir of the tsardom.

"Uh, my apologies, Voivode," he said.

"You're just fine." The boy didn't move. "Is everything alright?"

The child wavered. "Do you think he will be our ally?"

"Who? Voiakh? Don't worry about that. It's our resp…" He stopped himself. Such explanations weren't befitting a boy his age, much less the tsaverich. "Ah, yes, I think he will. Do you know what that means for us?"

"A bigger army. Appeal among the masses."

"That's right. Where did you hear that?"

"Mother."

"Does she test you on these things?"

"Yes," he said, nodding like a pupil being tested.

Laczlo saw himself before his mother on her deathbed when he was twice the boy's age, yet feeling as afraid and helpless. "You don't bear the weight of it. Your time will come, Amon, but not yet. Not now." When he didn't reply, Laczlo asked, "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"This isn't a test. Be honest with me."

"I just… I need to be ready."

"You do. Unfortunately, you do." Laczlo sighed and ruffled his hair, then put a hand on his shoulder. He thought of his daughter and her mask of cold resilience borrowed from her mother, adopted to cope with it all. "You're strong. But you don't need to be strong yet. It's alright."

"How is it alright? We're running away right now." He flinched. "Sorry, Voivode."

Laczlo saw it and understood with a cold grip over his heart that made him want to cry and rage and hold the child. "Don't apologize for honesty. I won't hurt you."

"I will be ready, Voivode. I promise." He ran away before Laczlo could grab him and try to comfort him. He saw tears in those blue eyes.

Deus.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The tsar was a weak man who needed to feel strong. Of course. Children, boys especially, were molded with a firm hand and made to fear their fathers. That was the norm. But Laczlo hated it. He hated everything about it and never once put a hand on his children in such a manner. He wanted to march on Nova right then and show the tsar what fear was. But that was immature, wasn't it? He had to be a man in this. Steady, strong, composed. It was his responsibility.

But Deus, that flinch.

Once more, he was broken from his reflections by someone approaching, but this time he saw her before she was next to him. The tsaritsa. Over the course of the last few days of travel, she wore less extravagant attire and could almost pass for a boyaress if not for the rich jewelry. She was still far from plain. Not exactly beautiful, but certainly pretty in an unassuming way, contrasted with the jewels and such. That and her station would allure any man, and Laczo felt it. He felt it with other women sometimes, but not since Delues had he betrayed Kapitalena. And he wouldn't.

Her attendants didn't follow her over. They were alone.

Oh no.

"Voivode Vilsky," she said with a small bow.

He stood up respectfully. "Tsaritsa."

"You may use my name."

"It wouldn't be proper."

"Little is, do you think?"

He sighed. "No. I suppose not, Alasa."

She smiled. He knew why. Did she suspect he knew about her feelings? "I appreciate your mentoring of Amon," Alasa said. "Others might do it for the power, but I see you care. It means the world to me. He needs a good father figure."

Laczlo understood all too well, grimacing and nodding, unable to meet her eyes. "He's impressive. Sharp. Attentive beyond his years."

"I think so, too. Everyone just sees him as strong and responsible, but he's more than that. Far more. I'm glad you see it."

He didn't know if he should sit or keep standing. Do I ask her to sit? It's too much. Deus, it truly is. He had to be respectful. Kapitalina's words rang true in his mind: keep her bound to us. "Would you like to sit?"

She smiled wide and sat beside him. They were in the corner, and it was dark, and her attendants hovered just out of earshot, yet close enough with their backs to he and her, casually blocking them from view like a shield wall. They talked about her children, then their situation, then she asked about him and he obliged. She listened as he spoke about his childhood and things he figured no one had a reason to care about. She listened attentively. After some time, he realized she was closer to him. Laczlo blamed it on the drink. One of her attendants brought them a jug of wine and left it for them to fill their cups with after they drained theirs. The fire was lower. It was darker. People far away. Drinking, laughing, chatting amiably with the kind of drunken enthusiasm spurred on as the night drew on. All hazy background noise. Alasa leaned in as he spoke as if to hear, the fine silver chains threaded through her hair swinging faintly with her nods and laughs. A foot apart at most, though occasionally, their legs touched. That alone was scandalous. He could be punished if caught doing that. Then again, he could be punished for a lot of things.

An hour of this dance. His anxiety subsided with time, or perhaps it was the drink.

Her foot brushed his. Knee against his own. A big laugh and her shoulder touched his arm, somehow lingering. His skin felt hot, cheeks flushed, pulse thumping in his head and chest. She touched him when she laughed and said something sincere. First on the lower arm, then upper, then chest. A progressive escalation that would only continue.

He should stand and walk away. He thought it. Excuse himself with some excuse. Kapitalena wasn't far. She'd understand his failure. She said so herself.

He swallowed and felt his throat tight and dry.

No, he had to be better. Whatever Kapitalena said, he had to be a better man than this.

"Stop," he said in a raspy whisper, standing. "That's enough."

"Oh." She blinked and bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"It's not you," he said hurriedly, realizing how harsh he was being. "You're great, and well… I just can't do this."

"Oh, gods, did she change her mind?"

"What?"

"I thought she was aware of it. I should have asked, but—"

He shook his head, confused. "You think she is aware of this? Wait, even if she was, it doesn't mean I'm okay with it."

Alasa paused, flustered, lip caught in her teeth and eyes narrowed in thought. "She knows, of course. How couldn't she? And if she hasn't said anything, then why would you…" Her mouth opened wide in a perfect O. "I didn't even think about it! Gods, you must feel so pressured, given our situation. I just thought… Well…"

He rubbed his face, trying to dispel the drunkenness that had allowed him to go this far. "I'm sorry. You think because Kapitalena might be aware of it, it's right for us to, well, ah... This is wrong, Alasa, plain and simple. I would be breaking my oaths. I would be using you—"

"Using me? I'm the tsaritsa; if anything, I should have seen how unfair it was to you. I was selfish. I'm so sorry." Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Laczlo felt horrible watching her shed herself in honest admission.

She went to leave, but Laczlo grabbed her wrist and said, "You're in a hard position, Alasa, and you're reaching out for support. For companionship. It's… It's okay."

Her eyes gleamed with hope. "What if you speak to Kapitalena? Would that change things?"

Oh, Deus. "That sounds like a good idea. But not because we should… Not that I don't, uh, want to… No, I mean. Ah, damn my tongue. We aren't doing this, Alasa." He turned and fled the corner, brushing past the tsaritsa's attendants to find his wife separating from conversation to meet him in relative privacy.

"How is it going?" she asked.

"How is it going? What does that mean? It's terrible, is what it is. She has this notion that you have given her permission to seduce me! And now she's about to break down in tears because I turned her down like an ass!" He tried to keep his voice down but it was difficult. Fortunately, people in the hall were quite loud in their celebrations. "You need to talk her down and out of this nonsense."

"Are you drunk?"

"Of course I am!" he exclaimed. "Well? Will you help?"

She sighed and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Of course. I figured this might happen. I hoped she wouldn't go so far, but I should have seen it coming."

"Don't tell me you pushed her to—"

"Of course not. I just hinted that her feelings aren't unjust."

"And she took that as a command to charge ahead," he muttered, rubbing his face once again. "There has to be a better way to handle this. Agh! Well, did you sway Voiakh at least?"

"He wants to think about it. I asked Mikha to keep an eye on him. I have a portion of the druzhina sober and watchful."

"That's wonderful."

"It is. But never mind that. I have it in hand." She glanced back to the dark corner where Alasa still lingered, speaking with some of her attendants. "You're right. We need to handle this. Sleeping with her would bring complications should she become pregnant, regardless."

"Pregnant! Deus, Kapitalena!"

"Quiet," she hissed, pulling him further away from people. "I'm trying to be pragmatic."

"Well, it won't come to that because I won't do it. I won't betray you."

"Laczlo, it's not—"

"Fine. Then I won't betray myself or my oaths," he said, grimacing. "Isn't that what you want? Me to be better?"

She sighed and nodded along. "Yes. I'm sorry I placed you in this circumstance; I just figured she wouldn't be so… headstrong, let's say. I'll speak with her and defuse this. We can't have her breaking down over this, much less resenting us for it."

He hadn't even thought of what this might do to their cause if he wounded her. Or maybe he had, and just forgot? Shit. It was all so complicated. So confusing! "What do I do? What's the right thing anymore?"

"We tried to play with emotions, but it backfired. It was risky. That's okay. Now we just move forward." She gestured to the hall's main doors. "Gather a guard and take a walk. Clear your head. I'll take care of her."

He did. Stanilo was sober, of course, being the unshakable statue he was. It was cooler than expected, and he was more drunk than he'd realized, walking with some dizziness, everything turning about oddly.

"Do you think there's such a thing as right and wrong?" he asked Stanilo, standing under the cool night sky, staring up into the heavens. "As in… Say, black and white? Morality set in stone?"

"I used to think so, sir."

"And not anymore?"

He looked over when Stanilo didn't respond right away, finding the man frowning over the land, square jaw tensed, eyes narrowed. An uncharacteristic expression of conflict across his face. "We do what we can, but things are more complicated than right or wrong. Deus guides our path, but the path is not always clear. We are too flawed to see the truth."

"So it's a matter of perception?" Laczlo asked, nodding along. "We are too ignorant?"

"Maybe so, sir."

"I don't know what to do with the tsaritsa, Stanilo. We need her on our side. We need her loyal. And yet…"

"She wants you, sir," he finished.

Laczlo blinked, staring at him. "You could tell?"

He cracked a small smile. "Everyone can."

"Oh." He bit his lip and looked away. "Shit. Okay. This is even worse."

"Be honest, is what I'd say. Everyone worth respecting respects honesty. And she is a good woman, if flawed. But who is not?"

Laczlo patted Stanilo's shoulder. "You're a good man, you know that? A good druzhina. That's good advice."

"Uh, thank you, sir," he said with a nod, trying not to look uncomfortable.

Ah, I am drunk, and so he thinks I am dishonest. "I mean it. You know. Fully. I'm glad to have you back."

"I am glad to be back, sir."

Well, that didn't help. Laczlo laughed a little to himself and tried not to worry about it as he found his way inside and didn't even touch a drink until someone offered him one with calls of celebration for the siege, and he gave way immediately. Time passed in a blur.

Later, everyone around him quieted down, and he realized Kapitalena was behind him. She had a way of quieting men like boys caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

"Come," she said.

He stood to some playful jokes from the men, which he rebuked with a befittingly rude gesture, following without a single stumble, new cup in hand. She led him to the corner where Alasa remained, sitting quietly, watching him approach. He suddenly wished he hadn't drank anymore.

"I wanted to apologize," Alasa said, standing and bowing. "I hope you can forgive me, Voivode Vilsky. I was not acting as a proper tsaritsa should."

She was still drunk, too, he realized.

"No, ah, no…" He glanced to see Kapitalena standing beside him, eyebrow raised. She nodded him along. What does she expect out of me? What does she want me to say? He went to call Alasa beautiful and maybe comfort her with compliments, but stopped himself. He recalled Stanilo's words. Kapitalena's reassurances from before. "It was a misunderstanding in a difficult time. I should have been open with you about our situation. I'm sorry I… I'm sorry I can't be there for you like that, but I can be here as a friend. Both of us can." He glanced at Kapitalena, who was smiling back at him encouragingly. "And yes, we're all here aware of our situations, but that doesn't mean we can't just talk… be human, right? We'll figure it out." He licked his lips, feeling as if he were close to it. To the right words. To the right thing to say… Or maybe just the right thing. "We will protect you, Alasa. I swear it. We'll protect your children as if they were our own. We'll do right by you."

She began to cry as he felt his own tears well up. Deus, she'd been so afraid, hadn't she? Maybe it wasn't just attraction but desperation? His tools for power were war and political force, he realized, whereas hers had been… What? Influence through her husband? She hadn't come into her own sense of power like Kapitalina had, swaying others with words of subtle influence and deception. Alasa, as a tsaritsa, must have defined herself by her role. Her feminine wiles, her ability to win trust and favor through attraction and devotion. She was ruled by her station as a woman, even Kapitalena was. He hadn't really thought about that before. That wasn't everything, of course, but it was a big piece he hadn't seen. No wonder she felt like her only recourse was seduction, particularly if he was somewhat the opposite of the tsar. And somehow, she thought him attractive. He still didn't quite know why or how. Maybe it was the scar?

He felt like a fool and, yet, was bolstered by these realizations. I'm growing. I'm learning, he thought, standing there awkwardly as Kapitalina hugged her.

People were complicated, yes, but in the end, he wasn't so different from most of them. A lot of people were simply afraid, feeling alone, and weak. Such things drove people more than they seemed. He just had to open his eyes and see the truth.

Everyone was weak. And everyone wanted to be feel safe. It was just a matter of how.

He and Kapitalina retired soon after, leaving Alasa comforted as best they—or mostly Kapitalina—could manage. They left her with her children, buoyed by their presence, with a smile on her face. He didn't want to think of her as a political tool but as a friend. He hoped she was okay. Maybe not happy, but not so alone and afraid as he'd been on so many nights before.

"That was… a lot," he muttered as they drifted off in bed.

"You did well," she whispered.

"Did I?"

"You found a balance there I didn't see… I should have been a better friend. Thank you for making me realize it."

Laczlo rolled over to stare at his wife in the darkness. "You are a good friend."

"I wasn't, but it's okay. I thought I was doing the right thing by prioritizing the family," she admitted, voice soft, vulnerable. "Yet, I was too short-sighted. It is not so binary."

"I love you," he said.

"I…" She hugged him in the dark. "Thank you, Laczlo, for still loving me. Sometimes I worry that… Nevermind. I love you too."

For the first time in a long time, he relaxed and was able to sleep peacefully.

Of course, if only he knew what the next days would bring, then peace would not come so easily.