Prologue:
Grappa Hooker wondered if he looked as desperate as he felt. Walking down the street in his tattered jacket, alone, as flakes of snow drifted down, glittering whenever they passed under the glow of a street light.
The clubs and lounges on either side tempted the verile inkyar of his youth with bright lights and signs promising exquisitely beautiful dancers and a few hours of warm company for a modest fee. Certainly, more than a few sailors feeling down on their luck as he did would accept their offer, more than willing to buy into the fantasy they were selling in exchange for a few hours of peace and happiness before they faced their cruel reality again tomorrow. But Grappa hadn't been that young sailor for a long time. And besides, he had a wife at home to offer comfort, and she was far more lovely than any bought companion those establishments had to offer. Unfortunately, that only made his present circumstances all the more painful.
Ignoring all the brightly decorated establishments around him he turned a corner into a quiet alleyway. There, at the far end, the glow coming through a handful of windows illuminated an otherwise dark corner. Compared to the flashy businesses on the street, the small wooden plaque embossed with the name "Golden Queen" under a single flickering light next to the door made the place practically invisible. And yet, there wasn't a single trawler captain in Inkopolis who didn't know it.
A bell chimed as he pushed inside. The air smelled of old wood and fish, the latter smell dragged in by its patrons, of which there were distressingly few tonight.
The Golden Queen had, since his father's days, been the place captains went to hire help. Sailors who cared more about finding a job than drowning their sorrows in alcohol or succumbing to the illusory temptation of female companionship, had always come there to find honest work. Looking around the place though, the bar wasn't exactly bustling.
Baelar, the old priest who seemed as much a part of the place as the furniture, sat in one of the booths calmly drinking a pint of beer while a distraught young inkyar he probably didn't know told him a sob story as old as time. In another corner, a group of captains comforted another who had just lost his boat. If Grappa didn't get things together soon, he might be in a similar predicament.
The old spider crab behind the bar prepared his usual even as his other limbs busied themselves polishing glasses and wiping the bartop. By the time Grappa sat himself on his usual stool, his favourite beer was waiting for him. He slipped a few coins to the barkeep in silent thanks then settled into his drink.
"Haven't seen you in a while," the barkeep said. Like all crabs, his mandibles couldn't help but click as he spoke Inklish. Some people found it grating but he'd spent enough of his life around crabs to have become accustomed to it.
"Been busy tryin' to keep my head above water. I've got that new boat to pay off."
The barkeep made a few clicks and nodded slowly. "Heard about Gurhhk. Hope he gets better soon."
Gurhhk had been the only crab on his crew. After firing his head mechanic for negligence that cost him a few grand in repairs and another who tragically died in a strange accident while on shore, Gurhhk and his remaining crew had been forced to try and pick up the slack. Unfortunately, Gurhhk was not as young as he used to be and ended up hurting himself badly a few days ago. Although the doctor said he would make a full recovery, Grappa sensed that the old sailor was ready to call it quits and retire, leaving him with only two crew members left, not enough to run a fishing trawler as big as his.
"I don't 'spose you've heard of anyone needing work lately."
"Sure, but not anyone you'd want." He subtly gestured to the young inkyar still quietly babbling to the old priest, tears streaming down his face. "He's okay, but he needs to get over the girl first."
"Not sure I can wait that long," he said. "I don't even need anyone that experienced. It's 'ard work but it's not that 'ard. A kid could do it."
"Aye, but where are you going to find a kid willing to actually work?" The crab gave him the equivalent of a sardonic smile. It was no secret that modern youth seemed to care more about their games and cell phones than actually getting ahead in life. It filled him with pride as a father that his own children had been raised better.
His eldest son was captaining their new boat and had as much success as anyone else out on the sea; though, it had not been a great season for fishing, which was another one of the reasons for his current predicament.
The boat his son was captaining had been Grappa's attempt to expand the fleet. Although used, the ship wasn't that old and had been well kept. For the price, it was a reasonable bargain and the bank had been offering rock-bottom interest rate loans due to the state of the economy. Unfortunately, due to all the previously stated issues, he had been having trouble keeping up with those payments, and now, with only one boat able to work, he was in serious trouble if he couldn't find some new crew to work for the coming season.
The bell rang again, and Grappa turned. The creature that entered appeared to be an opie crab that looked even older than Gurhhk. He stood slightly hunched, and walked with a stiff-legged gait. His carapace was unusually dark and rough for an opie, resembling peeling tree bark.
The barkeep moved to the other side of the bar and greeted the old crab in their native language. As they exchanged their clicks and gurgles, Grappa returned to his beer, taking a long swig and letting it settle him.
He tried not to think about what he'd do if he really did run out of money to pay the loan. Buying the new ship had been a gamble but one that would have normally paid off if not for his string of bad luck. With fishing as bad as it had been, he thought about gambling on some fishing spots he would normally never attempt, but again, his problem of lack of crew came up. How was he going to solve that?
"Captain Hooker?"
Grappa turned his head and found the old crab that just come in sitting on the stool next to him.
"Aye?"
"I understand you're looking for some work for your ship. I'm also told your ship has a crane."
Grappa's mantle rippled at the odd question. The barkeep had probably told him something, but this crab didn't strike him as a sailor. If he was looking to hire a crane there were ships better suited.
"Aye, she's a pot fisher, so we use the crane to pull up the pots from the sea bed."
"Perfect. As it happens I need the services of a vessel capable of exactly that."
Grappa frowned. "You tryin' to hire me onto a fleet?"
"Nothing so grand. I'm actually running something of a salvaging operation in Inkopolis Bay and I need a ship to pull up crates from the sea and deliver them to my warehouse on one of the wharfs. Your skillset should be ideal for such work. I doubt the crates weight more than your pots."
"The pots weight about a ton each," he said.
"Oh, these crates won't weigh that much, I assure you, as long as you let the water drain out of them, that is."
Grappa's eyes narrowed and his mantle darkened slightly. Something about this was off.
"What exactly is in these crates?"
The crab gave him what he assumed was a coy look. "I'm not at liberty to discuss specifics, but as I said, it's salvage from the bottom of Inkopolis Bay."
"So, like, cleanup?"
"Yes, you could say that. I'm sure it's not hard for a sailor to imagine what sorts of things end up on the bottom."
Indeed it wasn't. Even just hauling pots up from the fishing grounds he'd drug up all sorts of things, including half a dead shark. But in all his years on the sea, he'd never heard of anyone slavaging stuff off the bottom using crates. Were they perhaps looting something off the bottom of the bay?
"Of course, you will be paid for it." The crab slid a slip of paper in front of him and Grappa stared at it, eyes widening with surprise. The amount written on the paper was a full week's worth of boat payments, and this was per shipment.
Resisting the urge to swallow, he put on his negotiating face. "And how often will you need this done?"
"Every couple of days there should be a new group of crates. The retrieval method is essentially the same as the way you recover your pots. I imagine it will require less crew too."
So he knew about his crew problems, and probably how dire his situation was, which meant he didn't have a lot of room to negotiate. Now he knew what one of his catches felt like.
"This is nothing we'd get in trouble for if caught, right?"
The crab chuckled. "Trouble? No, it's more for… competitive reasons that we wish to do things this way."
So this was some sort of under-the-table thing, probably to exploit some loophole.
This wasn't the sort of thing he was used to and his wife would probably call him an idiot for agreeing to something like this, but he was desperate and he had plenty of mouths to feed. Many of his crew on both ships had the same problem. If he remained ignorant to whatever was in those crates then, as far as he was concerned, he had plausible deniability in case Security or the Coast Guard took a closer look and something illegal did happen to be there.
"Alright, I'll do the job." He sounded more certain than he felt.
"Excellent. Why don't you come with me and we'll hash out the details that would, best not be shared in such a public place."
Grappa quickly downed the rest of his beer and stood up, following the old crab out of the bar and hoping he wasn't making a deal with the devil.
Chapter 1: Ravalda Imperium
Avrika sat anxiously in a spartan hallway, doing everything in her power to keep her heart cycles under control and avoid panic as she awaited what might be her final fate.
The air was remarkably clear of dust, even for the inner domes. This was counteracted, however, by the single fish oil lamp above her. It filled the immediate area with an unpleasant odor, but even the Shromacci Imperium couldn't afford to waste electric lights unnecessarily. The only reason there was a light there at the moment was so that her guards could keep a better eye on her.
They stood on either side of her bench, their goggles like glowing purple eyes in the dim, a noticeably darker shade than the more common variants. It gave the impression they were staring straight ahead, as if they were guarding an inanimate object, but Avrika wasn't fooled; she knew they were watching her closely. The lax did not become elites.
Avrika absently rubbed the small, silver pendant under her synthleather top, thinking about her two precious daughters. Would they learn of this? Would this negatively affect their development or how they were treated? That wasn't the way it was supposed to work, that was distinctly un-Octarian, but recent events caused her to question virtually everything.
Avrika glanced up as she noticed her guards lift their chins and the way one tilted her head slightly to the side indicated they were receiving a radio message. They gave no verbal reply but the way they both looked at her prompted Avrike to rise, slowly. The senior guard motioned with one of her black tentacles and ushered her down the hallway.
Leaving the glowing area around the lamp, they marched into almost total darkness, perfectly in step. Avrika could just barely see the end of the hallway up ahead, where little slivers of light snuck around the doors. As they got closer, she could see the faint outlines of two more guards flanking the doors. They didn't have their goggles running on active, leaving them almost invisible in the darkness.
As they got close, the second pair of guards opened the doors, blasting Avrika with light and forcing her to close her eyes. Years of discipline kept her moving unabated, but she just barely resisted the urge to bring her hands up.
The air smelled dustier, but at least there wasn't the pungent smell of burning fish oil. Even with her eyes closed, the photoreceptors in her tentacles detected the large size of the room. As her eyes adjusted, she was able to see properly and found that the room wasn't quite as bright as it first seemed, but the all-electric lighting from large, bright bulbs dangling from fancy fixtures in the ceiling was quite a sight to behold.
The lower two-thirds of the room was in a U-shape, consisting of tiered seating and desk space. Sitting in those seats were people she recognized all too well: members of the Ravalda Imperium, the ruling body of the Octarian Empire.
Avrika resisted the urge to swallow her anxiousness and continued forward onto a small, raised dais with railings on three sides. It put her just below eye level with the lords and ladies on the lowest level.
She faced the middle of the U. At floor level was a series of old but exquisitely crafted desks with electric lamps. Clerks, male and female, sat at those desks, poised to write on their electronic tablets. Sitting in a raised seat that looked almost like a throne in its own right, the Speaker of the Ravalda sat like an old statue, watching her through century-old eyes that were neither judging nor compassionate.
He straightened slightly and broke the oppressive silence. "State your name and rank, soldier of the Imperium." His powerful voice echoed throughout the chamber and seemed to reverberate in Avrika's chest. Swallowing her fears, she summoned her professional officer persona and replied clearly, looking directly back at him.
"Septain Avrika Garath Wavecrest Summer Betanuss."
"Septain Betanuss, you stand before this Revalda to report on and explain what happened October 18th. Do you accept this charge and vow to speak the truth and only the truth, to the best of your abilities?"
"I do."
Avrika wasn't enthusiastic about being questioned again. She had spent the past week, or so, getting thoroughly ground by the intelligence division and any senior officer who thought they might glean something the dozen others interrogators somehow missed. But, at least it didn't seem like she was being charged with anything. That was a big load off her mind.
"On the afternoon of October 18th, my command was observing a small force of Inklings moving through our operational area, almost the entirety of their known force. I decided to use the opportunity in an attempt to free Lord Octavio before they returned. Technically, we succeeded and would have escaped; however, Lord Octavio thought it not worth it unless we eliminated the Inklings when they returned, so he ordered us to set up an ambush."
She paused, letting her words sink in for a moment, and to give herself time to prepare herself. She always hated explaining this next part. Her hand went to her pendant again, caressing it before she continued.
"Unfortunately, as we lay in wait, we were attacked from behind, spoiling the entire ambush. The inklings attacked us while we were still dealing with that and then captured us using non-lethal ink. We were held in captivity for about a week and then released, save for one hostage. When they released us, they gave me a single document to deliver to, well, I assume it was meant for the Revalda Imperium itself. This document was an offer of peace, specifically a document asking for the reopening of diplomatic relations. I delivered the letter to my superior and was shortly after incarcerated."
She gave a subtle nod to the speaker, indicating that her summary was over.
The speaker watched her for a second, his eyes betraying none of his inner thoughts. Then his hand gently grasped a wooden hammer and he lightly tapped it on a wooden cap attached to his chair.
"The floor is now open for questions."
Several people in the tiered stands stood up and the speaker casually gestured to one on his left side. The rest remained standing.
"Septain," a male voice said, "you say you allowed a small force of inklings to go by you. Why? Why not simply attack and kill them?"
Avrika was prepared for this question. She had been asked it so many times already. "Because I knew I couldn't stop them. My command was not strong enough, so I decided that it would be more worthwhile to rescue Lord Octavio, something I knew even my small and inexperienced force was capable of with the Inklings home defense weakened. It was going to be a quick in and out, and it worked very well."
"And did you disagree with Lord Octavio that you should wait in ambush?"
"Personally, I did. I thought it more worthwhile to get Lord Octavio away. He didn't think there was much point since the inklings would try to pursue us anyway, so he wanted to catch them in their own territory, when their guard was at its lowest."
"And what happened to Lord Octavio?"
"He was recaptured. He appeared to be well the last time I saw him. That is, he didn't seem ill or especially injured."
And these inklings that defeated your ambush, were they the same ones you tried to avoid in the beginning?"
"Half of them, yes."
The councillor paused for a moment then sat down, apparently satisfied with her answers.
Next, the speaker gestured to one of the standing councillors to Avrika's left.
"Septain, why did they take one of your soldiers hostage when they already have Octavio?"
Avrika hesitated a second, but remembered that she had given her vow. She only hoped it wouldn't reflect poorly on young Vella. "I suppose because the hostage they took was the younger blood sister of one of the Octarians in Inkopolis."
The air in the room seemed to shudder, and she saw looks of utter shock and disbelief on most of the councillors' faces, particularly the ones to her left. On the right, however, she noticed that it was well populated with officers from the army, and many of them looked less shocked and more… awkward and displeased.
Avrika's stomach tightened in a knot. While it wasn't widely known within the army that many octarians had deserted, it was pretty clear that it was common knowledge among the upper echelons, so surely the Ravalda Imperium should have known about it. Shouldn't they?
The speaker tried to calm everything down but it took several minutes of hammering and shouting before everyone calmed down enough for order to be restored.
"Septain," the speaker said. "I think the Ravalda would like to know what you mean when you say there were Octarians in Inkopolis."
Avrika clenched her jaw. She didn't think it was her place to explain. They were the governing body of the Empire, they should have been informed of something like this. She couldn't help the feelings of resentment churning inside her.
She glanced up at the officers in the seats, among them, she could see Executrix Gabralla Sever, the head of the Army, second only to Lord Octavio himself.
"Septain!"
The speaker's sharp rebuke caused her to snap his gaze back to him. His previously stoic gaze now regarded her narrowly, his forehead creased in a disapproving frown.
He made a gesture with his hand and Avrika's guards suddenly grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back. They pulled her off the raised dias and started forcing towards the speaker. Two additional guards followed behind. They stopped her about a metre from the speaker's chair and raised their octoshots, pointing them squarely at her back.
The speaker leaned forward, his dark robes shifting as he did so, and looked directly into her eyes.
"Do I need to remind you of your duty and your oath, Septain?"
Avrika swallowed. "N-no, Sir. I was merely confused."
"Does confusion not occur on the battlefield, soldier? Do you delay carrying out your orders until your commander spends precious minutes on giving you a full explanation? Do you believe you are due such consideration?"
Avrika felt blood drain from her face and her tentacles flattened against her head. "N-no, Sir. Please, forgive me."
"Then I won't ask again, Septain. Why were there Octarians in Inkopolis? Don't look at the officers, Septain, look directly at me!"
His admonishments made her feel all of two centimeters tall; nonetheless, she obeyed and answered.
"I do not have a full explanation for the Ravalda. All I know is that they all deserted from the army about two years ago, but I was on maternity duty at the time so I do not know what happened. I've only been with my current command for less than two months. They did tell me why and how they deserted, but I do not know what of it was true and what was propaganda."
"Did you tell these things to Army Intelligence?"
"I did, several times during my… debriefs."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Then why don't you tell us what you told them. We will determine the validity ourselves."
"Yes, Sir. They told me that during the battle between Octavio and the inklings two years ago, they heard the… Inkantation, I believe they called it. It was a song that seemed to free their minds and show them some kind of truth, like they had an epiphany, I suppose. They want all Octarians to understand the same truth. They admit that they willingly deserted the army but they insist they are still loyal to the Octarian people."
"It's brainwashing," someone to her right called out. "Pure and simple."
"I somewhat doubt that," a voice from the other side said. "It cannot be that simple."
The speaker banged his hammer, silencing the argument before it got out of control, then looked at Avrika again.
"Septain, did they appear brainwashed?"
Avrika frowned. "I-I'm sorry, My Lord. I don't know how to recognize if someone is brainwashed or not."
"Then tell us what they were doing. What was their behavior like?"
Avrika frowned deeper and her gaze lowered as she searched through her memories. "They were mostly doing activities, trying to survive in Inkopolis. They seemed to be flourishing. One of them was even among the upper class of Inkopolis."
That caused a stir among the seats. She heard gasps and anxious whispering, but she didn't dare divert her eyes from the speaker.
"You saw this?" He asked.
"I and my troops were not allowed to leave the warehouse in which we were imprisoned, but they did show us many things, and the Octarian I mentioned in the upper class did indeed have images of her all over the city as we were transported through it. I even saw Octarians walking freely amongst the other citizens."
The speaker tapped his finger on the arm of his chair. "And you saw this all with your own eyes? Inklings and Octarians associating with each other?"
"Yes, Sir… well, I did hear of one incident."
The speaker gestured for her to elaborate, all hushed conversation ceasing.
"There was an attempt by the Octarians in Inkopolis to assassinate Agent 3. They ultimately failed but the Inklings let them all live, and many of them have since sworn fealty to her as recompense."
This time the speaker couldn't stop the shouting from starting.
"Traitors or brainwashed!" yelled someone on the right.
"What happened to all troops being loyal?" Jeered one on the left.
"Loyal troops would never associate with Inklings!"
Avrika felt like a pebble bouncing down a deep shaft, not knowing when she would hit bottom. Why were they asking her about these details they could have just gotten from Army Intelligence instead of the letter?
After several minutes of jeering and hurling insults, the speaker managed to regain control.
"There will be no throwing accusations of treason in this Ravalda. I will remind the Ravaldi that we operate on facts and we do not condemn our citizens on speculation and hearsay."
Someone on the left side stood. "Lord Speaker, if I may, I do have some related facts to present to the Ravalda related to this, something I am certain most members of the Ravalda are unaware of but is vital information regarding this current direction of discussion."
The speaker leaned back in his chair and paused for a moment, as if waiting for a rebuke from the other side, but none came.
"Very well, Lord Sabbart, you may speak."
Avrika frowned. Lord Sabbart was the Lord of Education. What would he know about the desertions?
"Fellow councillors, I have recently learned some frankly disturbing information that, at Lord Octavio's orders, a captive inkling was raised to the position of Legate and given all the authority and power of that position, even to the point of having Octarian soldiers under her command and control."
There was no gasping this time, only a stunned silence, as if the news were so shocking that none of them could process it. Avrika didn't blame them; it was hard to believe. Had she not heard it, met with the former prisoners from Pollup Prison, then she likely would have not believed it herself. She had still harboured some doubt, but now, with confirmation from a member of the Ravalda Imperium, it was virtually indisputable in her mind.
"Lord Sabbart," the speaker said, "You say it was at Lord Octavio's orders?"
"Yes, I did. I'm curious, Septain Betanuss, did you meet this inkling during your capture?"
Avrika tensed. She kept her eyes firmly on the speaker as she considered her answer.
"I believe I did. Tall, long, black tentacles, gold eyes with cross-shaped pupils?"
"Yes, that's her. I wonder what state secrets she brought back with her to Inkopolis."
"She doesn't know any such things!" This voice made Avrika flinch, because it was the voice of the executrix. "She was under hypnosis the entire time and there was never any risk of losing control of her. She was virtually a slave. The title of Legate was merely an expedient. Lord Octavio would not make a mere inkling a true legate. She was a useful tool for dealing with the enemy army, nothing more."
"Really?" Lord Sabbart asked. "Yes, I had heard she did quite a good job dealing with logistics, improving the quality of living for our soldiers overall and improving the power situation here in the inner domes. I'd say the Empire benefited quite handily from her service much more that way than anything she did against the inklings. I wonder if she isn't responsible for the similar prosperity Septain Betanuss reported the deserters experiencing."
"She only saw a glimpse and I'm sure it was staged," another voice from the right countered. "You can't trust inklings."
"Apparently we already did and we benefited from it," Lord Sabbart countered back. "I wonder if, perhaps, we have Octarian sympathizers in Inkopolis. This is a great opportunity to seek a lasting and meaningful peace."
"Never!" A female voice declared from the right. "We will stand defiant until the end!"
"You'll ruin us!" A male voice from the left side shouted back. "You've spent so many resources already! We're barely surviving as it is. It's time to start looking at other options."
"You would have us grovel at the inklings feet?"
"Of course not! But isn't this offer to reopen diplomatic relations an opportunity to bring us out of this darkness? You seemed perfectly willing to accept the help of one inkling."
"Only because it seems the army is incompetent."
Avrika's hands clenched. Incompetent? Did they have any idea how hard it was to do anything in the army? How little they were able to train because of the lack of resources, how they could sometimes go a whole day without food or sometimes even water? And they had never faced Agent 3. Everything she heard from first-hand accounts proved the Green Demon was worthy of her epithet.
"Besides, this is obviously a trick by the inklings to get us to lower our guard or stall for time while they prepare."
"Prepare for what?" Lord Sabbart demanded. "If the Army is as incompetent as you think they are, then what's stopping the Inklings from conquering the domes right now?"
"Since when did you support the army?"
"The army was never the problem, the problem was the fact that the army was always prioritized over everything else and now, even they are running out of resources. Maybe we've put too much of a burden on the army. It's time to start looking for other solutions."
There was silence for a moment before someone else on the right side asked. "And what would that solution be? To allow ourselves to become a puppet state wrapped up in the inklings tentacles?"
"Ideally, no."
"If I may."
All eyes fell on the executrix as she stood, and addressed the assembly. Her expression could have been carved from stone: resigned, yet resilient.
"The army is ready and willing to do whatever is necessary to protect the integrity and the safety of the Empire, and either way, it would be useful for us to determine the inkling's true intentions. Therefore, as Lord Octavio's acting representative in the Ravalda, I insist that we learn those intentions before we come to any decision. We've been at war too long to trust the inklings by word alone. We need proof they're serious."
"Indeed." Lord Sabbart's response sounded like he didn't believe her. "I certainly can't object to the suggestion. I therefore move that we send someone to the inklings to determine exactly that."
Someone on the right side snorted. "You expect one of our troops to simply walk up and ask the inklings if they are telling the truth?"
Someone on the left made a gruff noise and then stood. "As Lord of Trade, and the one who has been handling relations with the Salmonids, I suggest leaving the 'how' to me."
He spread his arms in dramatic fashion. "We have all read the letter, and after much consultation with Lady of Law Protor, and Lord Sabbart, it is quite clear the language being used in the letter is not that of one speaking down to us, but respectfully to an equal. They are not assuming us broken or downtrodden, they are treating us with dignity. We must, therefore, respond in an equally dignified manner, as a nation worthy of respect. I motion that a letter be officially drafted to be delivered to the inklings asking what kind of arrangement they think would suit peace. That could give us more to work with on a negotiating front."
"You would have us show such weakness?"
The Lord of Trade – Lord Hobber, if Avrika remembered correctly, let out an aggravated sigh. "Do you not understand? Responding properly means we are not showing weakness. The executrix is right, we have to determine the inkling's intentions and we aren't going to be able to do that hiding behind our walls. If their intentions are true, then maybe we can end this stupid war."
"Dealing with the inklings is treason!"
Lord Hobber then slammed both fists down on the desktop in front of him, causing some of the councillors near him to jump in their seats.
"No! Doing nothing but the same thing we've been doing for a century while our people suffer, die, and wallow in darkness is treason. We're being offered a way out. To not at least try to make something out of it would be a betrayal to all our people, or have you forgotten your duty, Lord Stonefeller?"
The angry male voice, whom Avrika now knew was Lord Stonefeller, Lord of Public Security, stood. "Have you forgotten that it was such thinking that got us here in the first place? Have you forgotten that at the end of the last war, it was people like you who decided to deal with the inklings instead of fighting on, creating a deal that resulted in us being trapped here in darkness, over the objections of Lord Octavio, who insisted we fight on?"
"Don't lump us in with them," Lord Sabbart shouted back. "Had they not let their pride take priority and tried to sue for peace earlier, we could have gotten much better terms. Instead, their pride caused the downfall of all our people."
"They gave up," Stonefeller shouted back. "Lord Octavio, the one who actually guided us, molded our society into one that could actually survive the horrible terms of that accursed treaty, told us to fight on, that the inklings were close to breaking."
Sabbart snorted. "Is that so? While I do admire and remember fondly the days when Octavio was indeed the hero we needed, that time is not now. He is no longer that person."
"Treason!" A female voice from the right, shouted."
The speaker banged his hammer. "Enough shouts of treason! That is not a word to be thrown around so lightly."
"And the symptom of a syndrome we're seeing too often." That voice was one Avrika knew all too well: Lord Aaran Haruul, Lord of Health and Welfare. He went on.
"I suspect that some of your loyalties are to Lord Octavio and his obsession with fighting the inklings rather than the benefit and welfare of our people. Recent events and information have also brought into question into just how broad in scope this war actually is."
Stonefeller fell silent, as did many other members on the right. Another figure stood, this one sitting in the top tier and almost in front of Avrika, just to her left. She didn't recognize her, but the emblem on the chest of her nearly threadbare, grey robes, a single severed tentacle grasping a set of scales, identified her as the Lady of Law.
"As far as the actual law is concerned," she said with emphasis, "there is nothing treasonous about the government pursuing information about the inkling's intentions. If they are an enemy, then I believe the army will support my saying that it is only more important that information be gathered."
Out of the corner of her eye, Avrika saw the executrix nod, and Lady Protor continued. "As for diplomatic relations, they can only take the form of negotiations for peace or the conduct of the war. No other types of agreements can be made until a state of war no longer exists. However," she raised her index finger, "if we are merely in a state of hostile relations rather than open war, there are more possibilities."
"Hostile relations?" Someone spat. "We are at war! You cannot fake hundreds of our brave soldiers dying to mere 'hostile relations.'"
Protor gave the other councillor a contemptuous stare that sent a chill down Avrika's back. "We've been fed so many lies that we don't know what to believe. However, I can certainly believe the Army's desire to stop losing its soldiers to a conflict that might otherwise not need to continue. I'm curious to know the Inklings perspective on this. If our army has done enough damage, we might be able to free ourselves from some of the concessions from the old, and hated, treaty."
"And what's stopping us from just taking it?" Stonefeller demanded.
"That's a question for the army, no me." And with that, Protor sat down, leaving that loaded question out in the open and Avrika with an awful feeling in her gut.
She had already known it, but having it laid out to her bare, was something else. Perhaps, with whatever misinformation the Ravalda had been given, many of them didn't realize it, but Avrika did, she had known since before the Inklings had let her and her troops go: they were already beaten. The letter offering the reopening of diplomatic relations was a mercy to a foe the inklings already considered defeated.
"Septain?" Avrika slowly looked up at the sound of the Lord Speaker's voice. His expression appeared grave. "Do you believe it possible to somehow deliver a letter to the inklings? From your observation and your treatment, do you believe peace is possible?" He sighed. "I realize I'm asking for your opinion, young soldier, but moments are rare when the Ravalda is able to hear the words directly from someone who has been and seen the situation first-hand. Do you believe the inklings are genuine?"
Avrika had to consciously hold her head up, her tentacles drooping limply. "I do believe they want peace, My Lord. To be honest, I believe our entire perception of the inklings is… tainted. I can only speak of the ones that I met. Regardless of the rest of them, I believe that these inklings want peace, and they are the ones who have been fighting us. As for Lord Octavio's policies…" she hesitated, almost hating what she was about to do. Once again, she imagined that pebble bouncing down the long, dark shaft. "I do not believe he is thinking about the people anymore. As the last person who saw him, he seemed more obsessed about destroying the inklings than the welfare of our nation."
"Silence!" Stonefeller demanded. "You are obviously weak and defeated, Septain. You've allowed yourself to be tainted and broken by the inklings. Your words are that of a defeatist. You should be carried out of here in chains and executed!"
"If only we had metal to spare for chains anymore," Lord Hobber replied dryly. "Besides, it certainly seems to follow Octavio's pattern of behavior from what we have seen."
"You can't trust the words or feelings of a defeatist. Everything out of her mouth will be slanted in a way that –."
"I am not a defeatist!" Avrika shouted, the bark she had developed from years of commanding soldiers lashed out. It even took her guards aback.
"I am a mother! I have two young daughters that I was ripped away from early because the army was desperate for officers to lead barely trained soldiers. My own daughters, who are barely old enough to speak, might have to grow up to live in ruins, hoping for a better future that might never come. When I saw the deserters and how happy they were, living better under the rule of inklings than they would here with their own people, all I could think about was trying to find a way to give my girls the same opportunity as them."
She turned and glared at Stonefeller. "Octarian society has always been one of merit. You say dealing with inklings is treason but Octavio himself appointed one as a legate, and she clearly had merit based on what she accomplished. Maybe that is why the deserters deserted. Maybe they felt that those inkling 'monsters' cared more about them than you do. Maybe they were tired of all the lies."
The tension in the air hung like a precarious piece of debris. Avrika didn't even realize what she'd said until several seconds after the fact, and she found herself too stunned by her own actions and words to be horrified at what she had just done.
She was dead now, she was certain of it. They would execute her without trial and she would be forgotten. Her daughters would be burdened with the terrible stigma of being the children of a defeatist and a traitor, all because she lost control for a single, critical second.
The banging of the speaker's hammer broke the stunned silence. "The Septain is dismissed. Return her to her accommodations."
With that, Avrika was hauled out of the room, back into the same dark hallway and past the same smelly lamp. When she eventually reached the small room that had been her cell almost since her incarceration began, the door had barely closed behind the guards before she broke down and cried.