Hi everyone! Slight delay with this chapter but here it is. Thank you to my regular reviewers Gyltig, bugging killer, and Jeremiah Hudson… your reviews keep me going!
I have a rant posted at the end of the chapter, so for my readers who do care what I think outside the story, take a look at that. It'll be part of my question section too… and please join in the discussion!
This chapter is written from Luxa's perspective.
Chapter 39: Redemption
Luxa's head lulled forward, her neck straining against the weight of her crown.
The cacophony of the War Council crescendoed into an unintelligible din.
The flames which lit the dark hall seemed to lick the air with restless desire, driven into a frenzy by the prospect of the madness that pounded resolutely at its doors.
And the crown, curse Sandwich, the crown… it sensed Luxa's anxiety, it breathed Luxa's fear, it had coiled itself together with her self-doubt in an unholy embrace and found the perfect nest in her mind. Luxa had spent years, decades, staving it off by refashioning herself as the fearless, conquering queen who wielded a carefully constructed notion of unshakeable resolve. But deep down, she knew it was merely a projection, a shadow on the wall. And the crown itself did not remain a static object - it was an ever-growing organism, accumulating the burden of thousands of creatures that clung to every word she said as if each word were a drop of water in the desert. There were times when this cross she carried threatened to break her, but she just kept walking forward.
Heavy was the head that wore the crown, but Luxa always told herself her head was born to wear it. Even when the crown seemed too big for her as a young girl, she had adjusted its ungainly nature to sit as gently as possible on her own crown of silver hair. If fate did not mean for her to wear it, she would bend fate with her will. That is what she had always done.
But of late, she had found her unfaltering resolve could no longer sustain itself. She could not fathom acceding to Ripred's requests so meekly, or admitting to mistakes she had made with such contriteness, and yet she had done both in the last few days. Was this weakness, or growth? The line between both was the hardest for a queen to tread, such was its narrow and imperceptible nature.
Whatever it was, there was no questioning that her fatigue was a product of a long, hard war. This conflict with the rebel gnawers was not simply a revolt that sprang out of the abyss of the Underland - it was a weed which had quietly grown in the seedy underbelly of Regalia, a vestige of the War of Time. The war did not end when Luxa and Ripred became bonds… it had merely postponed its rise, lurking in the shadows until Regalia was on the precipice of disaster. Luxa suspected she had always felt its presence, insidiously contributing to the decade-long disquietude that haunted her every waking moment.
Likewise, the war with the schemers and the Overlanders had been brewing for some time, but had remained completely invisible to her because she had allowed it to happen. The tension between Regalia and the spinners, crawlers, and diggers meant that even though the latter had encountered the encroaching villains, they made no effort to warn her or to check the advance. Now they had to rely on a miracle to survive this war on three fronts. And who better to play the scapegoat than the indecisive and fragile queen of Regalia? Even now the facade of strength she projected could barely stay upright against the withering scrutiny of her people.
Luxa closed her eyes.
She was in front of her mother's tomb, looking up at the stone effigy that barely resembled her mother. Or at least, barely resembled her memory of her mother.
Or perhaps it was fairer to say the effigy's face did not resemble her mother's. Everything else was familiar - the hands clasped together in front of her body, the gentle sloping of her shoulders, her head dipped slightly to meet the gaze of young Luxa… this was Judith the queen consort, who in some parts of the city held greater sway than her husband the king. But this was also Mama, whose smile nor loving embrace was never too far from Luxa. This towering figure of political eminence was also the gentlest and kindest soul Luxa had ever met. Her memories of Mama formed a small candle in her heart that always lit up when she needed it to thaw away the cold grip of despair. Her mother's warmth was never too far away, even as Luxa's memories of her became ever more obscure and hazy. She would never forget how Mama made her feel, even if Mama was only there for a fleeting moment instead of a lifetime.
As she had stood over Gorger, ready to take his life with a swift stroke through his neck, it had been her mother who spoke to her. As with any decisive moment in Luxa's life, her thoughts had turned to the stone effigy of her mother at the tomb. And whenever she turned to her mother for guidance, her mother unfailingly became exactly what she needed in that instance. Mama would always gently invite Luxa to still her emotions while reminding her to be a pillar of strength for herself and Regalia. Hands clasped together, head dipped slightly, but with a strong posture and a resolute look in her eyes to warn any adversary that she would not cave lightly. The queen was Regalia, and Regalia would bow neither to its foes nor its own weaknesses. But being queen also required her to check her own impulses.
For what greater foe was there but oneself?
Luxa opened her eyes. The Council had gradually come to an equilibrium, sorting themselves out as audience members slowly filed in to watch Luxa decide the fate of the Underland. Just another day in being the queen of Regalia, she supposed.
She caught Gregor's eye as he found his way to the side. His brows were furrowed aggressively and the barely perceptible scowl of consternation on the edges of his mouth revealed he was more than slightly troubled, as if ill news had reached his ear.
Nevertheless, when he noticed Luxa's gaze fall upon him, the darkness that haunted him abated quickly, and he smiled at her ever so slightly, careful not to produce an overt display of affection. Gregor, thank Sandwich, understood that he could not afford to allow their intimacy to diminish her standing in the eyes of her people. A lesser man would have been insecure, defying the customs and traditions of her people in the pursuit of displaying his relationship, perhaps even possession, of the queen of Regalia.
Gregor was no such man. He was Luxa's rock. And even when she doubted herself, Gregor was there to remind her that doubt was not a weakness for her - it was an indication of her growth as a leader. It had stayed her hand against Gorger, and had prompted her acquiescence to Ripred's earlier demands, a move that surprised even herself. It was sad that so many saw Gregor simply as a killer, instead of as a Warrior. The nobility and chivalry of a Warrior was a concept slowly lost to time, ebbing away with the birth of every generation. Gregor, however, encapsulated exactly what a Warrior was meant to be - noble, honourable, loyal to a fault. Naive perhaps, but a good man. And certainly not the bloodthirsty monster that Regalians expected their mythical hero to be.
So as the love of her life slowly made his way over to have a seat, she afforded him a brief smile in return.
A slight flutter to her right alerted her to Daedalus' presence. She turned to him. "Daedalus."
"Your Majesty," the bat bowed deeply. "The plan you requested."
He cocked his head to the right, and to Luxa's surprise, Howard came up to her with a thin sheet of paper, with writing scribbled all over it.
"I did not expect to see you here, cousin," she said. "I had assumed you were running the affairs of the Fount in your mother's stead."
"Your welcomes are warm as ever, cousin dearest," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he said that. The playful sarcasm subsided quickly against the memory of his father. "My father would have wanted me to have a say in this, as it concerns the future of the Underland… a future we share together."
"Your mother told you of this plan?"
"I did, your Majesty," Daedalus chimed in. "My plan involved cooperation from the Fount, and so I thought it prudent to seek the approval of Lord Howard."
"Need I remind you, Daedalus," Howard said with a snort, "that I am not yet Governor of the Fount? I am still a doctor of Regalia."
"Precisely why I needed your help in designing this project," Daedalus replied. "The Warrior was right - too often we have soldiers and generals dictating Regalia's future. The time has come for men of science and diplomacy to chart our path forward."
Luxa raised an eyebrow. Daedalus spoke a truth few would dare to admit in war-hungry Regalia.
"Prudent indeed, Daedalus," she said, as she quickly contemplated the document in front of her. "Are you certain of the success of this plan?"
"No one can be certain of the success of any plan, your Majesty," Daedalus replied candidly. "But Lord Howard and I were thorough, and we certainly think the plan is feasible if all parties cooperate with each other."
"Feasible, albeit ambitious as well," Luxa murmured, as her eyes reached the bottom of the page. "Thank you, Daedalus, and thank you, cousin."
The both of them bowed. "Your Majesty," they said in unison, as they departed quickly to allow Luxa to soak in the contents of the document.
Calling the plan "ambitious" was a disservice to how impossible it seemed - the plan wasn't impossible to execute, but it seemed impossible to garner the support and approval of all parties involved, including Luxa herself. She was a warrior, raised to answer blood with blood. All Regalians were governed by this principle - it was their duty.
"If there's someone who can change that, it's you."
Gregor's words chimed in right when she least expected them to. The words were simple, but perhaps that reflected just how simple the solution could be - find a way to put down the sword.
The same way she had put the sword down when faced with the opportunity to separate Gorger's head from his shoulders.
It was so close... the moment she had dreamed about for decades. In what would be her ultimate triumph, she would strike Gorger down in the name of her father and mother, having been robbed of that opportunity all those years ago when he had fallen to his presumed death. She could reclaim countless nights of crying and loneliness, years of pain and sorrow with one vicious swing of the sword. She could punish Gorger for offering items to Henry, coaxing her cousin to betray her with his lies and false promises. She could take back the childhood she lost.
Except she couldn't.
Taking Gorger's life would feel satisfying for an hour, maybe a day, maybe even a month. But it wouldn't give her those sleepless night back. It wouldn't absolve Henry of what he did. And it certainly wouldn't reunite Luxa with her father and mother.
As she looked down at the document in front of her, Luxa knew exactly what she had to do.
A hush descended on the crowd as one of the Council members, Isolda, banged her gavel three times. "Your Majesty, shall we proceed?" she asked.
Luxa nodded.
"Call in the prisoner!" Isolda declared.
The doors of the hall groaned as they were heaved open to reveal Perdita.
Luxa felt anxiety rise in her throat.
Perdita shuffled forward, her hands bound behind her back. Her clothes were black from the dirt of the prison floor, and her uncombed hair had finally been let down, instead of being in the usual bun that she tied it into. Her eyes were as hollow and cold as they were when she had taken Conrad's life.
Seeing the woman who had taken the light of her ex-husband made Luxa feel… conflicted. She held no romantic love for Conrad, but she had hoped to speak to him properly one more time, to forgive him, and to put their relationship to bed peacefully and with finality. All the words, both of love and resentment, that she never got to speak… even thinking about it sent a ripple of anger through Luxa's body. And the person she could blame for this anger was standing right in front of her.
But looking at Perdita, who appeared like a hollow shell of herself… Luxa's heart was also filled with pity and sadness. This was a woman whom she had looked up to all her life, who had even been a friend to her at times.
It wasn't Perdita who had taken Conrad's life.
It was the war.
Their bodies were not their own anymore - they were walking apparitions, their souls having been lost to time and hurt, their bodies merely receptacles to the monstrous ghouls that now inhabited them. Monstrous ghouls formed in the crucible of war.
And so as Luxa looked down on Perdita, she found her eyes brimming with tears. This was not a trial for her friend - this was a memorial ceremony, giving everyone the chance to mourn for her. Many would demand that her life be taken, not knowing that it had been taken years ago.
"General Perdita," Isolda began, cutting through Luxa's flight of thought. "You stand here accused of treason for deliberately disobeying your queen's orders. You executed the treacherous King Conrad despite Her Majesty's express command for him to be taken prisoner. How do you choose to plead?"
Perdita looked up, her jaw set and her eyes suddenly ablaze with fury.
"I plead guilty," she said through gritted teeth, casting a look of contempt in Luxa's direction. Luxa felt goosebumps break out across her skin.
"Do you not have a defence for yourself?" Isolda asked.
Perdita's contemptuous grimace turned into a vicious snarl. "I extinguished the light of a murderer. He brought our city to the precipice of ruin. Our queen could not take the life of her former spouse, so I resolved her dilemma."
The hall broke out in agitated murmurs. Luxa's throat constricted as she felt dozens of eyes fall upon her, willing her to speak in a moment when her anxiety clamped her voice shut. Perdita may have framed her act as a sacrifice to protect the queen's reputation, but the subtext of her words was clear - Luxa lacked the will to act when the moment called for it, and so Perdita had taken justice into her own hands.
As she scanned the Council, it became apparent what they expected - the clasped hands, the short breaths, the air of anticipation that was upheld by their stern glares - they all demanded blood. Luxa would have to take the life of her friend to make a statement to the whole city, that she was prepared to rule with an iron fist and root out the indiscipline that had set into their ranks. A bitter and heartbreaking decision, but a necessary one.
But as she looked down at Perdita, who now lifted her head up to meet Luxa's gaze with steely defiance, she questioned whether it was so simple. Was she simply granting what Perdita sought - an escape from this life? Was this who she wanted to be - a queen who struck down her own friends in the name of unflinching justice and "divine" authority? Was she merely a pawn of the Council, a mouthpiece for them to exercise their judgement and a puppet to enact their bidding? What did justice truly mean in this moment?
What of herself, and what she wanted? Was Gregor right that she had never been able to act on her own behalf, to make her own decisions? Was being queen a role meant to ensure that the will of the people was enforced? Was she not entitled to act in the interests of the people, even if she held a different opinion than they did?
She looked down at the parchment handed to her by Daedalus and Howard. If she did not have the courage to discern and decide Perdita's fate, against the urging of the Council to send Perdita plummeting to her death, what chance did she have in carrying out Daedalus' proposal?
And on top of all this, the silence on Hazard's fate gnawed away at her inch by inch. How did any of this matter when she could not honour her promise to her uncle? How could she be the queen and a mother to the city when she could not even look after her own blood? Poor cousin, possibly in the clutches of the schemers, waiting for his cousin to come to the rescue… and all this time here she sat, ready to execute the Council's bidding because that was what a good queen did. Because if she failed to act in their interests, the threat of "democracy", or whatever it was that Ripred and Gregor had spoken of, loomed over her head like an ominous shadow. As each breath of hers became shallower, sharper, and shorter, she found herself looking through the crowd for someone she least expected to seek help from.
She found herself staring at Ripred.
The old rat was clearly deep in thought, consumed by some devilish conspiracy in all likelihood. But Luxa cared not for his potential scheming and machinations at that moment - she needed someone she could rely on. And offended as Gregor and Aurora may be that it was not them, Luxa had to be truthful to herself - what she needed right now was seasoned wisdom and an honest assessment of her will to act, not blind affirmation.
Ripred caught the look she shot him and his eye locked in on her. In a second, he seemed to absorb everything - the conflict, the confusion, the hesitation. And in return, all he offered was…
A smirk.
Regalia's Peacemaker just smirked.
And now Luxa had everything she needed.
"You resolved no dilemma of mine," she said sternly to Perdita. "The plan was always to place Conrad on trial for his crimes. That has always been our way, and my command. You are guilty of failing in this regard, General Perdita, and hence I strip your title and appointment from you."
Luxa knew this would provoke a response, and it did. As if on cue, the Council erupted into a cacophony of furious whispers, clearly confused by her decision. It wasn't long before Isolda spoke up.
"Your Majesty, the punishment for treason is death. General Perdita's position will be rendered void upon her death - there is no reason to strip her of her appointment and title."
Luxa took a deep breath. She pictured her mother's stone effigy on her right shoulder, leaning forward and gently brushing against her, a playful nudge reminding her to remain calm and not to let her emotions overwhelm her faculties.
For too many years, she had allowed reckless impulses to rule her. But a queen was not there to contest the archaic judgement of the Council with sound and fury. The Council defended Regalia's traditions - without a strong but measured monarch to challenge that, Regalia would remain in ruin. Luxa knew the consequences of this - by making herself an enemy of the Council, she would slowly erode the support base she enjoyed. But perhaps that was inevitable… a truly good ruler would sacrifice themselves for their people. And Luxa knew exactly what she needed to do to save Regalia's future.
Regalia had wanted an iron-fisted queen - they were about to get one.
"This city was built on bloodshed and violence," she replied calmly, albeit raising her voice so that every corner of the hall could hear her. "It is a stain that has been difficult to wash away. Our allies call us 'killers' for good reason. We have witnessed centuries of war with no abatement in sight."
The hall was deathly quiet. The silence that answered each word of hers sounded like a sword scraping against stone, shredding her nerves to smithereens.
But she was not about to back down now.
"I cannot help but think that this is a consequence of our traditions," she continued. "We inflict death as punishment, and we choose war as a solution. Lady Perdita has defied the command placed upon her, and has been adequately punished by being stripped of her appointment. She does not need to pay with her life."
Luxa now met Perdita's gaze with a fearsome staredown of her own. Where before she had wilted against Perdita's withering glare, this time she held her line. The fire in Perdita's eyes now subsided, replaced by an earnest curiosity.
"Your Majesty," Isolda spluttered. "Your word is sacred. You would be breaking with centuries of tradition by sparing her life."
Luxa now turned to eye the Council. "Are you challenging my sacred word, Lady Isolda?"
Isolda had no riposte.
Luxa cleared her throat. Now that she was in the fire, she might as well see it through to its conclusion.
"A queen does not possess a monopoly on good judgement," she declared, her voice rising above the silence of the Council hall. "I can punish those who disobey a command, but their life cannot be forfeit for such a trivial offence. I intend to change the way we act in this city… and I have no intention to stop with Lady Perdita's amended punishment. Bring the other prisoners in."
The brittle wall of silence was now pierced by Luxa's determination, and the wall came crashing down to the sound of furious debating and gnashing of teeth across the hall.
Luxa gulped. She had to stay rooted in her cause.
The doors swung open yet again, and the rebel gnawers stumbled into the hall. They were shepherded by Regalian soldiers on all sides, their feet and snouts bound by rope.
Luxa glanced over at Howard and Daedalus. They both gave her an encouraging nod.
She looked over at Gregor, who leaned forward intently, his hands clasped tight together. His head was craned slightly, but the resolute look in his eyes showed how he was willing her on.
She would not cave lightly.
"This document," she said, lifting up Daedalus' parchment above her head for all to see, "contains a proposal that will change the future of the Underland. It calls for the construction of a new gnawer home, in between Regalia and the Fount. We will build a canal that will reroute water into the hinterland, allowing us to build a flourishing community north of Regalia and the Fount."
No one had any idea how to respond to that. Silence engulfed every corner of the hall.
"If this project should be successful," she continued, "we intend to offer terms to the schemers. If they are prepared to build a canal of their own, they will build one leading to a territory further inland, equidistant from Regalia and the Fount. This will allow both cities to join forces should there be a need to quell an insurgency from either community."
Now someone responded.
"That is our land!" one man from the audience angrily yelled.
Before anyone had a chance to chorus in, Luxa responded.
"It was their land before!" she exclaimed back. "We killed them… we took their home and their resources. We can live together, but it takes sacrifice from both sides. And we must be willing to offer that sacrifice first."
She turned to the rebel gnawers. "You will help us build these canals. Work with us, and your lives will be spared."
The audience now raised a furore.
"They killed our fathers!" one woman screeched. "Our brothers, our sons! Justice must be served, your Majesty!"
"And you killed theirs!" came a deafening response.
Gregor was up on his feet, almost as red as she would be when anger surged through her veins. "You killed innocent gnawers in your streets, and you want to talk about justice?" he said, balling his fists.
"Gregor," Luxa said sternly.
He turned to face her, and she cocked her head to the right. An understanding flashed across Gregor's eyes and he unclenched his fists. He took a deep breath and sat down.
She turned back to the old woman. "The Warrior is right - they have killed many of us, but we have killed thousands of them. If we continue down this path, there will be no Underland left to speak of in a year, let alone a decade or century. The only way to end this cycle is to move on from the sins of the past. This gnawer community will not be for gnawers alone - it will be for all creatures who would be prepared to live side by side with each other. The canal and the community would be a project involving all in the Underland. It will be a new Garden of the Hesperides."
The mere mention of the Garden of the Hesperides was enough to shock everyone back into silence. Talk of the incident had become taboo in Regalia, whispered in dark alleys and a haunted tale told by decrepit old fishermen. But Luxa knew that it was time to move on - from pain and loss, suffering and death, hatred and vengeance.
She looked at Ripred's face, which remained stony and unmoving. In a strange way, that was the most emotional she'd ever seen him - the constant snark and sarcasm were all part of his facade, carefully curated to project a manicured image of himself. To see his face form a blank canvas… Luxa had never gained access to his heart in that way before. This was everything he had worked towards since losing his family. This had become his life's purpose.
"I know," Luxa said, "this is a difficult decision to accept. We have only ever demanded the payment of blood in return for the losses we have endured. A father for a father, a brother for a brother, a son for a son. As long as both sides persist in this manner, your thirst for vengeance will never be satisfied, and we will lose this city."
"Blasphemy!" another man yelled. "Regalia will never fall!"
"We are at war with the schemers and the Overlanders," Luxa replied firmly, unshaken by the interruption. "The latter possess weapons that will bring an end to all of us."
Luxa's eyes now fixated on the rebel gnawers. "That is, unless we unite together and take the fight to them."
She gestured at one of the guards to untie the ropes around a gnawer's mouth. Once he was ungagged, he looked up at her once more, but without the manic fanaticism which had earlier gleamed in his eyes.
"You will build a home for us?"
"We," Luxa replied. " will build a home for you. All of the rebel gnawers who fought in the Bane's name will build this, together with Lady Perdita. For your work in making this happen, we will spare your lives."
The gnawer snorted. "I have heard your people, Queen Luxa. They want us dead. What will stop them? Disobeying you will not result in their execution."
Once more, fierce chatter rippled across the hall.
Luxa raised her hand, and the hall once again descended into silence. "You are right in that - I stand by what I declared earlier, no one should be executed for disobeying me. But I have already arranged for the city's finances to be directed towards this project. And in exchange for the people's cooperation, I have reduced the levies placed on all farms and forges in Regalia, so that production can increase for both. Any attack on gnawers will result in reverses of both decisions."
She took a deep breath. She would hold her ground.
"In fact," she continued, "any attack on gnawers will result in heavy fines, and not just the imprisonment of the perpetrators, but that of their families as well."
A gasp arose as quickly as it was subsequently stifled.
And then murmurs once again broke out across the hall, but from what Luxa could hear, they weren't necessarily murmur of discontent.
"You drive a hard bargain, Queen Luxa" the gnawer replied. "You would trust us?"
Despite the internal screaming in her stomach, Luxa swallowed her fear, and spoke loud and clear.
"I do not trust you, yet. It remains for you and my people to convince me that I have made the right decision. I am under no illusion of your state of being - you are murderers, loyal to Gorger and the Bane. But you are also fathers and sons. Your families are situated within Regalia's and the Fount's vicinities. What do you think will happen should you choose to display any sign of rebellion?"
Luxa held her breath as the last words escaped her lips. She knew she had to use both steel and coin to prompt a change. But it was a delicate balance to be struck, and she frankly had no confidence this would work.
The gnawer's eyes flitted up and down, roving to find any sign of weakness or doubt.
And then he spoke.
"I speak for my brothers when I say this," he began.
Luxa fought the urge to clench her fists as the lump in her throat swelled.
"We will build the canal, and the new home," he said. "No harm will come to any human, and we will put the wars behind us. It seems we have a common cause… your Majesty."
Luxa had to stifle the sigh of relief that almost burst out of her.
"This session is adjourned," she said, casting a sidelong glance at the disgruntled Council. "We will meet on the morrow, to discuss our plans for war against the schemers and the Overlanders. Guards, bring the gnawers out and escort them to… alternative accommodation. Unbind them from their burdens there."
As the audience quickly dispersed, carried out of the hall on a wave of discussion and debate, Luxa finally allowed herself an audible sigh of relief. She sat back down on her chair with an ungainly plop, unable to stop herself from slumping down slightly. She stared down at her lap, struggling to comprehend the series of events which had just unfolded.
The soft clacking of claw against stone alerted her to an approaching presence. Luxa looked up to find Ripred pacing forward. The old rat stopped in front of her and offered her a faux bow.
"You do drive a hard bargain indeed, your Majesty," he drawled. "Although, might I add that I don't seem to recall you making any adjustment to our finances or the city's levies."
"It will be done upon the vacating of this hall," she replied wearily.
"I must say," Ripred said with the barest hint of a smile, "that was rather well-played. Entice the people with incentives, and threaten the prisoners' families. Would it be too impertinent of me to suggest you finally took a leaf out of this old rat's book?"
"Is that grudging admiration I hear in your voice, Ripred?" Luxa fired back, too pleased with herself to contain the smile building on the edges of her mouth.
"Now is not the time to rest on your laurels," Ripred responded, his smile slowly turning into a grimace. "You may have won the cooperation of your people, but you lost the support of your Council. And if you don't start delivering results quickly, you will lose the support of the people too."
"I am forever doomed to anger one person in pleasing another," Luxa sighed. "I might as well do what is right, at the expense of my own popularity."
"Aye, your Majesty," Ripred said, "but don't forget that your throne isn't a birthright. The people may not come to their senses today or tomorrow, but some day they will realise that it is only with their consent that you inherit the crown."
"And what of the Council too?" Luxa retorted. "Will they come to their senses as well?"
Ripred stared at her. "Your Council is not to be antagonised, Luxa. It must be managed. That's what makes a good queen."
Luxa wished she could have slumped further down her seat. "I do not believe that I am truly meant to be queen, Ripred," she said, looking up at the ceiling of the hall. "I am a soldier, like my grandmother."
Ripred stayed quiet for a short while, but when he spoke, Luxa could hear the years of wisdom in his words.
"Maybe so," he said. "But you reminded me of your grandfather today."
Luxa pulled her eyes away from the ceiling and faced Ripred.
The old rat continued. "There was almost no one better suited to rule than he was. It is a great shame he never sat throne, but you Regalians are so concerned with the line of succession… I suppose it never could have happened."
"Traditions," Luxa said, rolling her eyes.
"I will say something, though," Ripred continued, ignoring her. "He made many, many mistakes as a younger man. When he was your age, I don't think he could have made the decision you just made."
Luxa sat up in her seat, taken aback by Ripred's sudden outpouring of kind words.
"Simmer down, pup," Ripred growled. "I wasn't praising you, I was criticising Vikus. The man was played like a fiddle by other Council members when he was your age."
Luxa smiled. "Thank you, Ripred."
Before Ripred had a chance to protest, they were interrupted.
"Your Majesty!" a guard exclaimed, his face bright red as he panted heavily. "We met a digger outside the walls with news. I rushed over here to relay it to you."
"Does he wish to join our forces?" Luxa inquired.
The guard shook his head, his hands trembling violently as beads of sweat rolled down his face.
"The digger passed on a message from Lord Varius, your Majesty. The rebel schemers will treat with you."
"Very well," Luxa said, rising to her feet. "They will treat with us inside these walls."
The guard shook his head again, the red of his face dissipating against an icy pale complexion.
"They will meet you at the Arch of Tantalus. They have Lord Hazard."
And that's it for the chapter!
So what I wanted to write is this - I read a fic on this site (which I won't name), criticising other writers for not doing Gregor justice by failing to depict PTSD and for not depicting what war is really like (specifically, for not depicting the desire to lay down your life).
Let me address the first point. PTSD is a VERY subjective experience, and as someone who has gone through counselling and therapy, I can simply say that there is no right way of depicting PTSD, especially since it would be fair to assume that most people here have not experienced PTSD as a result of combat. To accuse someone of not respecting Suzanne Collins on these grounds is deeply unfair and is a great disservice to the writers who make an effort (whether you like it or not, it is an effort) to inject their own selves and opinions into these stories, which is PERFECTLY valid since every writer does this. No one is so objective that the writer can be divorced from the stories they write. Meaning is produced particularly in the engagement between the reader and the text, and no one has the right to privilege one meaning above all else. To do so would simply be the antithesis of writing as an art. Furthermore, I don't think Suzanne Collins gives a damn about the writing on this platform, so to mention that it disrespects her is a step too far, even if I believe that people can get characters wrong and have written them differently (as I have! To a fault, many times).
Secondly, and more importantly, I reject this notion that war is about people ready to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause. Having served in the army for a few years, I think I'm relatively qualified to say that war is often terrible, and while I don't stop people trying to glorify it, I think Suzanne Collins was trying to tear down this concept that it was glorious - it is a consistent theme in her work to show the deplorable effects of war. Now that's my interpretation, and it's really up to you guys to see it in a way you deem fit. But accusing writers of not understanding war while clearly not having participated in a war yourself is incredibly unfair and is a sad reflection of how this fandom has deteriorated. There is perhaps a certain irony that this individual claimed to only understand Collins' work while concurrently arguing in favour of a concept which Collins (again, in my humble opinion) clearly sought to argue against.
I am not the perfect writer, and I think I have made innumerable mistakes in past writing (which I own up to, and seek to correct). But I do hope for the people who read my story, that there's a world you can aspire towards changing for the better, and that this story helps to capture the imagination and reinforce the themes of the original. And I do see other writers (especially in the past) working towards this as well, so to see their work disparaged for this is disheartening.
So my question is this: How do YOU feel about it? Talk in the review section and I'm happy to encourage a lively discussion! I have more thoughts but I felt they attacked the purveyor of these ideas too personally, so I wanted to focus on creating a space where open dialogue and different interpretations are encouraged. That, in my humble opinion, was one of the major ideas that the original series proposed as a way of stifling the outbreak of war. I criticised these ideas because as much as they mean well, they are dangerously close to distorting this fandom into a very very problematic space, which really hurts for me to see.