Notice: Due to an awards ceremony that I have to organise, foot questions over and chair in September, I'm going to be taking the week starting Monday 12th – Sunday 18th September off. I'll be back Monday 19th. I'd definitely rather be writing fanfiction than doing this as it's always so painful and I hate – well, it's less the public speaking and more the stress of the organisation. People call you at all hours with questions; prize winners say they suddenly can't make it; stuff goes wrong with parking; inevitable errors on Eventbrite. The usual. It's just a long, long week of stressful work so I won't have time to write.
Cover Art: GWBrex
Chapter 30
The city of Mistral stood silent and in order; its people did not roam the streets, nor did they sully the views of the oncoming visitors. Their people had made sure of it. As the group of six arrived on horseback, the gates swung open, soldiers in full regalia opening the way as trumpets blared from the walls. Two rows of women in uniform knelt on either side of the entranceway to create a channel, upon which had been laid a rich carpet and scattered white petals.
Willow Schnee stood tall at the far end of it, her white uniform crisp and freshly pressed and every scrap of silver and gold burnished to a mirror shine. Her pointed boots were freshly waxed, her white steed had been groomed and its main braided; even her children, Weiss and Whitley, had been meticulously fussed over. Weiss stood silent, hands clasped behind her back with artful decorum, but Whitley fidgeted as he tried to look, and asked, "Is the Eternity Queen coming? I can't see."
"You won't be seeing anything at all if you don't stop moving," hissed Willow. "Stand tall and straight or I'll have you whipped!" It was a cruel and unusual threat, and Whitley flinched in shock. Willow was deadly serious, however. There was no guarantee that the goddess was coming in person, but these people would speak with her grace and authority even if she did not. They were to be treat as such.
It was with relief and disappointment both that she realised the Eternity Queen was not among those who entered her city. Willow stamped down on both, standing properly as the chosen dismounted and approached, walking down across the carpet toward them. Winter was among them, and she was proper enough not to react to that save to meet her daughter's eyes briefly. Huntress Superior at her age – further proof, if any were needed, that their family deserved every honour they received.
The Chosen stopped some ten paces away and saluted; one walked forward, cloaked in black with a veil that hid her face. She carried with her a scroll, and she opened it artfully, declaring, "I speak on behalf of our Goddess, the esteemed Eternity Queen, ruler of all the lands of Remnant, her majesty: Salem."
Willow knelt slowly, turning her left foot at ninety degrees and lowering to her right knee, then sweeping her left leg back and under her. Weiss and Whitley followed her suit, on either side but a pace back, until they all sat on their knees with their eyes placed downward. "We listen," intoned Willow for her family's sake. "And we obey."
The Speaker of Salem nodded her head, unfurled the scroll and continued. "Mistral, the Schnee family, and all the peoples here, are hereby tasked with a holy mission. The Dark Lord, the beast known as Ozma, has surfaced once again – this time in Vale."
Willow knew the speaker was not done and that she should stay silent, but she couldn't help the pleased smile that spread across her lips. The Dark Lord hadn't come from Mistral, which should only go to prove her methods were working. It wouldn't do to show arrogance however, so she kept her head down.
"After striking the Goddess herself and fleeing the city, the Dark Lord had chartered a ship to Mistral, sinking an imperial vessel sent in pursuit, and leading to the deaths of eight men. The Goddess has proclaimed that he shall be stopped before he can ruin more lives, and the honour – and duty – has been laid upon yourselves, regents of Mistral, who shall carry out the Goddess' will." The woman paused, then added, "If you should accept your duty."
"I am a humble servant of the Goddess," said Willow. "I, and my family, can do naught but accept. Her will be done; we shall kill the Dark Lord."
"The Goddess wishes him taken alive, so that the realms might have peace."
"Understood. He will be brought to her alive. Speaker, if I may?"
"You may."
"In what state must he be in?"
"Living only," said the woman, a hint of cruelty sounding from beneath the veil. "Such were the instructions granted unto me and transferred unto you. So long as he draws breath, and his heart beats, her will shall be done."
Perfect. Willow nodded, placed one hand on her knee and rose to her feet. "Then by name," she bellowed, "And by the honour of the Schnee family, I hereby do swear that Mistral will not harbour the Dark Lord and his ilk. I shall burn down every forest; I shall uproot every rock; I shall burn Mistral to ash before I allow him to escape."
The Speaker of Salem inclined her head slowly. "See it done."
/-/
An Ren let him keep the Relic of Knowledge, but Jaune didn't doubt that it was a temporary arrangement. The way her eyes lit up on seeing it, and the guilty expression she wore as she changed her mind and let him stay, only went to show that she'd rather have thrown him out and left him to rot. The lure of two questions, two perfect pieces of knowledge on her enemies, was just too much to ignore.
He hoped that Raven would not hate him too much for having offered them away – oh, who was he kidding? She probably wanted him dead already, and that wouldn't change just because he'd lost her this. The question was whether she would want to risk herself and her tribe against him, especially when she might believe Ozma was in control.
They're just bandits, thought Jaune. They'd have to be suicidal to come after me for the Relic – unless they think they can capture and hand me over to Salem and claim double the reward. He wasn't convinced they'd try, not after they had basically had some guilt in letting him into Vale in the first place. Safer by far for them to melt away into the darkness and use the chaos he was causing to continue their raiding activities in obscurity.
An had granted him a small tent off in a distant corner of the cavern, a meal, and strict instructions not to move, talk to anyone or reveal himself – or, and Relic be damned, she'd throw him out of Kuroyuri and leave him to the Schnee. "Not exactly the most welcoming of people, are they?"
"I believe it my fault," said Ozma.
"They certainly do. I don't suppose handing them the relic is help enough for our bargain, is it? It'll be a big deal for them."
"No. I want to make amends. I need you for that."
"Figures…"
"It will not be an uneven partnership," said Ozma. "As promised, I shall teach you to better use the magical gifts at my disposal; though I am not sure Lady Ren will appreciate you practicing those here."
That was an understatement if he'd ever heard one. She would probably deliver him to Salem herself. Jaune finished his meal of mushrooms and root vegetables and tubers, then set aside the wooden bowl they'd been served in. His domicile was less a tent and more two bits of cloth strung up in a corner of the cave; he had the wall to his back and the two curtain partitions before him, but what it lacked there it made up for in decoration. The rug was soft, the numerous cushions bouncy with feathers, and he even had a heavy woollen blanket and a chamber pot by the cave wall. A book had been left, of children's stories in Mistral, and Jaune flicked through that until the curtain was pulled back and someone, or two someones, entered.
He had expected An Ren and was a little surprised to realise it was the two who had led him here, now with their hoods down and faces revealed. One was a full and pretty girl with orange hair and bright blue eyes, and the other – he was pretty, too. Undeniably pretty, in a way that had Jaune looking twice to make sure he was a man at all. He had long black hair, a smooth face and distinctive pink eyes that matched An's. Her son, he recalled. He was sure he'd heard the name. "Lie?"
"Call me Ren."
"Isn't that your family name?" asked Jaune.
"I'm more used to it than Lie thanks to Nora," explained the boy, nodding to his companion. "She came here a foreigner, mistook the custom and called me Ren so much that it's become second nature."
"Are you really the Dark Lord?" asked the girl, suddenly.
"Nora," chided the boy.
"It's just that… You don't look like a dark lord."
"And what, perchance, does a dark lord look like?" wondered Ozma.
Jaune didn't ask. "I'm not him; I'm just the unlucky guy who inherited him." He touched his knuckles to his head. "Up here, as an annoying voice and an even more annoying tax on my mind."
"Can you use magic?"
"Nora!"
"Yes," said Jaune. "But it's not worth the downsides."
"Forgive her," said Ren, shooting his friend a meaningful look. Nora stuck her jaw out stubbornly but did stop asking questions. "We don't get a lot of newcomers down here for… obvious reasons. Even less so one with such a reputation."
"He's the one with the reputation." said Jaune. "Not me."
"True." Ren lowered himself down to sit cross-legged, and Nora mimicked him. "I feel like I should apologise for my mother's treatment of you – and the treatment you're likely to receive from others. Nora and I were too young to remember the last Dark Lord, and what he did in Mistral. We've heard stories, but it doesn't cut as deeply for us."
The last Dark Lord must have died before he was born, or close to it; the exact mechanics by which Ozma had ended up in his head weren't known to him. Was it an at-birth thing, or had he simply invaded his mind when he was young, and he couldn't remember? His parents had said he'd had the nightmares – the visions – since a very young age, but it was strange to think how Ozma never materialised until now.
"I have no answers for you," said the man in question. "It as a hazy dream to me; I may have been lost to the madness that claimed Mistral's opportunity at freedom."
It was about what he expected, and while he could probably use a question by the relic to find out the truth, it would be a wasted question. Nothing more than idle curiosity. An Ren would probably tear his head off for it as well.
"Do you have any idea what your mother plans for me?" Jaune asked Ren.
"Not to kill or hand you over to the Schnee or Salem," he replied. "Beyond that, I'm afraid I don't know. If anything has been decided yet at all; they were still arguing when we left. I'm sure that you will be allowed to stay, if only to serve as a distraction. There will likely be rules. No magic-"
"Aww, but Ren!"
"No magic inside," stressed the boy, both to Jaune and to Nora. "If you really must see it then take him to the surface where it will be safe."
It wasn't like he'd planned to out himself in front of all these people, each of whom had an axe to grind with the previous Dark Lord. Jaune wondered if An planned to keep him a secret or not, because he couldn't imagine everyone would be as accepting as these two were. There was no chance to ask, as the curtain slid back again and a broad man entered, paused briefly on seeing Ren and Nora, then said, "Lady An wishes to speak with the traveller. Lie, Nora, I am sure she would accept your presence as well."
"We will escort him there," said Ren.
The man bowed. "Very well."
Time to face the music, thought Jaune, rising with a sigh. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be easy if An was making him come to her instead of the other way around. At least the guard didn't react to me, which means she's probably keeping what I am secret.
For now anyway.
/-/
An Ren ushered her generals, advisors or whatever they were out the tent and welcomed him, Ren and Nora in. He was aware of angry looks sent his way, confirming some level of knowledge from them, but they let him be.
"We have decided that you may stay." said An. "But that you will be subordinate to us during that time."
"What does that mean exactly?" asked Jaune.
"You will do as we ask and when we ask it. You will not be a soldier, nor a true member of the rebellion; you will be closer to a member from an allied faction. You will have freedom to move around and pursue your own goals, but only so far as they align with ours. You are welcome to depart us at any time and are not a prisoner."
The way she said the last part made it sound almost like a request he do so right now, but without coming out and saying it. She even waited to see if he would, only continuing once it was clear he wasn't.
"In the meantime we will shelter and feed you, and you will assist us in some minor ways. You will cast no magic in Kuroyuri, both to avoid detection from the Schnee and because your true heritage is being kept secret from all but our commanding officers."
"All of them?" asked Ren. "It won't be a secret for very long."
"Only the upper echelon," said An, smiling faintly. "I'm not an idiot, my little flower." Her smile for Ren didn't last long. "We will strive to avoid using you in a manner that makes you believe we are abusing you," she told Jaune. "You claim you are here not to fight, but to evade Salem-"
"I don't claim that." said Jaune. "That's the truth."
"It may be the truth for now, but madness has a way of forcing another conclusion. The last Dark Lord's truth was helping us, and then he went on a rampage. Know that it is not you we don't trust. It is the voice in your head." It didn't make him feel any better. "While we won't try and put you in danger, there will be some. You are sheltering with an active rebellion after all, and the Schnee will doubtless be looking for you. The stronger we are, the easier a time we will have hiding you."
"She is asking you how much active help you are prepared to give," explained Ozma quietly. "It is a roundabout way of leading you into asking her, so it does not seem as though she has requested you risk yourself."
Really? He'd personally thought she was telling him to stay the hell out of things.
"An cannot be seen asking the Dark Lord for help without weakening her position and implying they need us - or you. They do need help, however. Things may look well, but they are trapped like rats underground."
He could see that. Jaune drew a breath and decided to place a small amount of trust in Ozma, saying, "I'm not above helping out in return for the hospitality. As you say, I'm going to be in danger anyway, so I don't mind acting as a member of the rebellion. As long as you're not throwing me on a suicide mission."
"Helping out?" An tapped her chin and hummed but, with Ozma having pointed it out, he could see her relaxing a little. An accepted the offer all too quickly for it to not have been premeditated. "I suppose that could work. We could have you disguised and masked so that no one knows who or what you are, and then you would just be another rebel."
"I'd be fine working with him," said Ren.
An did not approve. "Lie, no-"
"Who else, mother? Anyone else would either have to be told what he was, and resent him for it, or would discover it in the field were he to use his powers. A moment of shock could jeopardise whatever mission they were on. Nora and I know the truth and won't freak out should he use his power." He looked to Jaune and said, "It will also show him that we are not risking his life needlessly if I go with him."
It wasn't what she wanted, that much was obvious, but she was trapped now and left looking between him, Ren and Nora unhappily. An eventually nodded, saying, "Very well. I have a job for the two of you already and he can tag along. Some of the weapons you brought in are destined for another cell a few miles on. You will be transporting them there. Go prepare while I explain more to him."
Ren and Nora nodded and departed, and Jaune didn't need Ozma to tell him they'd been lured off.
"Lie is my son," said An, "And Nora is as a daughter to me. That they risk themselves to accommodate you is a graciousness on their parts that I do not share. Let me make one thing clear: I am loyal to the rebellion, but I am also a mother. Betray me and I shall hunt you down. Betray them, hurt them, and I shall go directly to Salem."
"I'm not planning on betraying them."
"Then let that threat be instead to the Dark Lord that I know is listening. I will destroy you and your host both if you place my children in danger."
"Understood." said Ozma.
Jaune echoed it.
/-/
It was hard to keep track of time underground, which was why Jaune was surprised when they came back up to the surface to find that it was night. The sky was clear, the stars sparkling, and Ren and Nora had a wagon ready with a single draught horse to pull it. There was only a single crate of smuggled weapons in the back this time, most of them having been meant for the people in Kuroyuri.
Jaune tugged at the loose wraps of dark blue cloth around his face. The uniform, if one could call it that, of the Kuroyuri rebels seemed to be an incredibly loose set of dark blue clothing, with baggy pants and a tunic tucked into them, then a long strip of cloth wrapped both around the head, hair, and tugged down to cover the mouth so that only your eyes and a flash of skin remained visible. The colour felt off, blue being so obvious, until Ozma explained it.
"Black creates harsh outlines and stands out. You will find that dark blues, greys and browns do a much better job at blending into shadows."
The rebels knew better than he on this, having stayed hidden in Mistral most his life. Jaune climbed up onto the wagon as Ren took the reins and Nora hunkered down in the back with him.
"Where is this place we're headed?" asked Jaune.
"The rebellion is spread out and our command structure is fragmented," explained Ren. "This is on purpose; it reduces the risk of captured informants being able to impact other cells, and if one falls or goes traitor then they will have less information on others."
"But we know where this one is?"
"Only the leaders and a select few know, and each must be trusted to take their own lives rather than give it up. We are headed to a drop-off point," he explained, "So none of us will actually find out where the cell is hidden. It's for their protection."
"Is it near a village like Kuroyuri?"
"No."
"We've had to move away from other people," said Nora sadly. "The Schnee made a practice of punishing villages for having harboured us, and we couldn't put that pressure on people. They would demand one person from each family and kill them."
"It made some rat us out," said Ren. "They were afraid for their families and called the SDC forces on us. Others sought to drive us out themselves, the fight gone from them. It's brutal," he said, "But I can't deny it worked for them. The people lost what little fight they had in them, and we were driven away from potential supporters. I hate them, and they're evil, but they're not stupid. The Schnee know exactly what they are doing and the best way to manage it."
"It doesn't look like they're doing a good job to me," said Jaune. "Mistral has a rebellion, the people hate them, and the other kingdoms are run much smoother. Vale is faithful to the Goddess." He winced, half-expecting them to criticise his words, but they didn't.
"Many of us are as well," said Nora. "It's not the Goddess we hate, only the ones who rule in her name. If the Schnee weren't here then we probably wouldn't be rebelling at all."
"Doesn't that prove my point? They're making Mistral worse."
"You're not wrong," said Ren, "but that doesn't matter. Salem chose them, they rule, and no one sees fit to stop them. Maybe things could be better, both for us and for the Church of Salem, but things aren't better. This is what we have, and we need to do something about it. Wishing for better won't fix anything."
The rest of the journey was mostly silent and accompanied by the sound of chirping cicadas, the occasional hoot of an owl and the creaking rumble of the wagon's wheels. Mistral's forests looked faintly different from those back home: taller, slimmer and with brighter leaves. A fox peered at them from a bush, the moonlight reflected in its eyes, but it darted back under and there were no wolves to threaten their journey.
By the time the sun had begun to rise, the sky was bathed orange and then blue, and the forests began to thin out into long meadows and stretching farmland. It was as they reached the end of the treeline that they saw the smoke rising up in the distance – not smoke from chimneys, but three huge plumes of blackish smoke too large and too pronounced to be from any single hearth.
"No," gasped Ren, dropping the reins and standing up on the seat. "No, it can't- how could they have?" He leapt from the wagon, hit the grass and started running, ignoring Nora's cries for him to stop. She jumped wagon and went after him, and Jaune was left to chase, knowing he'd get hell from An if anything happened to them.
They reached the rebel camp in time to see the last of the smoke die out, and the last of the embers from the piles of bodies stacked up and set alight dying out. A hunted bodies, perhaps two, stacked end to end in three large piles, blackened and charred and unrecognisable.
Jaune retched and threw up into the charred grass.
They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!
But no, seriously, this more accurately just comes from real life events. I looked up some of the most oppressive methods used of "crushing the spirit of conquered nations" in the medieval and prior times, and came up with far too many horror stories from history.
Next Chapter: 4th September
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