“May I introduce Arban Sen’Vollar, queen Lorien’s new advisor. We’ve lost Hardast at Nadellonia.”
I’m sad for the Queen of Darkness. So many of her people died in that wretched attack, including her closest counsellor. She’ll never rest until she settles the score with our enemy one way or another. I can understand, for I’m not much different in this respect, though I have my limits. Lorien does not. If she can hurt the Scourge, she’ll do it no matter who else gets in her way.
“My Queen,” hails Arban giving me a half bow. “I’m honoured to be one of the first to welcome your new Avatar.”
I bow slightly in return, still towering uncomfortably above the two advisors. This doesn’t seem to unnerve Maurien, who examines me brazenly from head to toe. We were always amiable, beyond the usual politeness commonly seen between a queen and somebody else’s advisor. This is my third Avatar he encounters, but Maurien seems to be one of the rare people who learned to appreciate me, the real person, the presence behind the flesh and blood bodies.
“I didn’t imagine humans can be so similar to the Haillar. If not for your height, you would have easily passed as a regular person. An exceptional one, to be sure. There is hardly anything ordinary about you, my Queen.”
Flattery is not unusual in the Council halls. It’s one thing I dislike about our seat of power, that makes me avoid spending much time with politicians. But in Maurien’s case, the flattery is backed by fifteen cycles of unwavering support, often at odds with his own suzerain’s whims.
“What can you tell me about this Conclave, Maurien?”
I don’t expect a straight answer, merely a hint. Faun Sen’Diessa is a member of the Council, hence one of this formal event’s organisers. Her closest advisor cannot be the one disclosing ahead of time its agenda.
“Beyond your introduction, Ashar, we would reassess our stance following the latest Scourge attacks. Following Nadellonia.”
We guessed as much. The need to change our war strategy was obvious after Nadellonia’s destruction. This still didn’t explain why a Formal Conclave was required. Such reassessment should be done in closed war rooms, not under the auspices of a public event. I can’t believe for a moment it’s only due to Asturien’s penchant for showy gestures. This was neither the time nor the place for a spectacle.
We enter the Conclave room. The central dais is rather small, accommodating a round table with twelve high seats, the stage of the actual meeting. Two lower chairs are positioned on either side of each seat, slightly behind them. The advisors’ places.
Lore adepts are recording the event, but other than this the rest of the room is mercifully empty. There will be a public announcement at the end of the day, but only thirty-six people will attend the Sen’Haillar Conclave. The queens and their most trusted advisors.
I take my seat and look around the table. I’m glad to see my outfit is not standing out, as each of the queens is equally adorned. Even Verdid wears make up and has abandoned the non-descript tunics in favour of a simple but elegant dress. A Formal Conclave happens on average once in one thousand cycles and is considered an important event. The particular significance of this one still escapes me.
“Welcome, my fellow Queens”, states Asturien, opening the meeting. “We are coming together in these dire times to decide the future of our confederation, to protect the very existence of the Haillar Dominion”.
The opening speech continues on the same note for quite a while. The Queen of Light loves stately occasions and enjoys long flourished discourses. We all get our share of accolades, Sen Haillar and Haillar alike, fleet and ground defence troops. The heroes are prized with elaborate hyperboles, the losses are mourned in tragic tones. It’s quite overbearing and in my opinion completely needless. I look around the table, and I’m convinced most of the queens are sharing my views. But Asturien speaks for the Lore records, so we let the discourse flow and suffer in silence.
It takes a while to come to the point.
“We all mourn Nadellonia loss. Its senseless destruction may well be the turning point of this war.”
The long pause following this last statement is the cue that the formal speech has finally ended, and Asturien is prepared to allow the start of the actual discussions.
“Nadellonia should be avenged.” The first call, short and to the point, belongs to Oriel Sen Diessa, the Warrior Queen. “We need to bring the fight to the Scourge. We cannot sit idle and see our worlds burn one by one.”
“None of us sits idle,” responds Niam Sen Aesir, Mistress of Lore. “We have searched for the Scourge homeworld for generations. They don’t seem to have one. Even their stations are not assembling in large numbers in one place.”
“Aldeea was attacked by multiple stations,” observes my friend Favriel.
“Aldeea was the exception. Other than this, the Scourge lords never cooperated with each other.”
I don’t agree, and I’m not shy to say it.
“The siege of Aldeea marks a change in Scourge’s patterns, the same way Nadellonia does. This cannot be a coincidence. Nowadays, the Scourge coordinate with each other, they are coming under common control.”
“We still don’t have the ships needed to start looking for an elusive central command,” counters Favriel, currently in charge of the fleet. She’s right, we don’t have spare ships for an extensive search and even if we had the very idea is impractical. There are millions of stars in this arm of the galaxy alone.
“I do believe they now have a central command.” Support comes surprisingly from Faun Sen’Dorien. “In fact, we have been informed the Scourge had a period of internal strife that led to a quasi-acknowledged central leadership.”
By we, I assume she refers to the Council. The information must have come from our extensive network of agents. And yet, I am contradicted by Verdid, the mistress of the said network of spies.
“Who exactly provided you with this information, Faun? My people tried to make sense of Scourge movements over the past twenty cycles, without notable success. We could only predict the attack, but not the details. More to the point, we had nothing on Scourge internal politics.”
“The Scourge themselves contacted the Council.”
The penny drops. This was the reason for the formal Conclave. In twenty thousand cycles, the Scourge expressed no desire to discuss with us. Oh, they know our language, over time they had ravaged so many Haillar worlds. Until now, the only words we have heard from them were insults and threats.
“When did this happen, before or after Nadellonia?”, asks Lorien Sen’Vollar. For her, even more than for us, Nadellonia is the defining moment of the last campaign.
“Two ten days ago, after the end of the fight. We received a message from a Scourge warlord, one Xandor, son of Jael.”
Jael is some Scourge mythical figure from their distant past, though it’s entirely unclear what his role was in their history. He couldn’t have been a pleasant fellow since about half of the Scourge lords we came across over time claimed kinship with him in some form or another. This Xandor looked to be more ambitious than most.
“What was the message?”
“He claimed that the Scourge who attacked us were the losing side of their civil war, running from Xandor’s retribution. They want to cease the hostilities and are prepared to send a delegation to discuss terms,” clarifies Asturien.
“The Scourge are a bunch of lying scum,” responds Oriel. “We cannot trust anything they say, we definitely cannot trust their peace offers. There is only one way to fight this war. To its very end.”
I tend to agree. Scourge’s tactics were always based on misdirection and deceit. I find it hard to believe that an enlightened leader unified them and is now set to change their evil ways. If anything, this son of Jael was probably the most vicious bastard of them all. He had to be to get the upper hand.
“None of us trusts the Scourge”, intervenes the Queen of Light. “But in these negotiations lays the opportunity. We stand to
learn more about the enemy, about their leadership. We should be prepared for betrayal and ready to strike back.”
It is a bold plan, one that could easily backfire. Yet, what choice do we have? We cannot bury our heads in the sand and wait.
“And where are we supposed to meet this delegation?”, asks Reith.
“Right here, on Tao Bellona.”
I turn towards Pharor Sen’Dorien, my military advisor. He whispers.
“It’s too risky, my lady. Bellona is an open world. The system is well protected against a direct attack, but it’s not a direct attack we should be worried about. We should meet them on one of the fortress worlds, where we can have proper security arrangements.”
Other advisors probably give similar advice, as the Queen of Life raises this very concern.
“Bellona is too risky. Can you propose to them an alternative location? A fortified one.”
“We aren’t exactly engaged in an open dialogue with this Xandor. He contacted us through a third party with a message. It’s up to us to accept or reject. Discussing terms is impossible at this stage,” responds Asturien.
“Then you shall reject,” intervenes Oriel. “It will be a serious mistake to let the Scourge dictate the terms of this negotiation.”
“The proposed meeting is still in one of our strongholds, a place we can control. We risk little, it’s not as if the enemy is unaware of Bellona’s location.”
I’m surprised Faun is in favour of the meeting. I would have expected the Queen of Spirit to adopt a prudent stance. But I guess she regards a meeting at Tao Bellona as the less risky path compared to an all-or-nothing war.
Reith and I look at each other and shake heads. House Dorien will oppose to this meeting.
Various queens continue to consult with their advisers. Eventually, Asturien calls the tally.
The Queens of Light and Spirit raise their hands in favour. Tourin Sen’Galahad the Mistress of Fire follows suit. Her partner Favriel, the third council member, places her hands on the table. My friend is no less averse to bring the Scourge to the Council World than I am.
I’m not surprised when Lorien Sen’Vollar raises her hand. The Queen of Darkness would do anything to avenge Nadellonia and her wounded pride. Despite earlier reservations, Ethun Sen’Shahar supports the meeting.
“The opportunity is too good to pass,” says the Queen of Life. “We will learn more about the Scourge, maybe better understand how their control works.”
Nobody else seems eager to cast her vote. With only five votes in favour, the negotiation will not happen.
“I also support entering these talks.”
To my dismay, the last voice is Verdid’s. After furious consultations with her advisors, the Spy Mistress decides to take the risk.
“The vote is tied,” concludes Asturien. “As two out of three Council members are in favour, we will inform the Scourge we are open to meet with them on Tao Bellona. Rest assured we’ll take all precautions to ensure they will be permanently under surveillance. Any unauthorised attempt to contact their brethren will be swiftly dealt with. They will be in no position to attempt anything against us.”
I still believe it’s not a good idea, but the votes were cast. There is nothing I can do about this. The last part of the Conclave regards me directly.
“We take this opportunity to welcome amongst us the new Queen of Chaos, Elizabeth Ashar Sen’Dorien.”
I stand, and one by one, the others acknowledge the new me. Faun is the last and can’t resist chastising me for my choice of Avatar:
“Greetings Elizabeth Ashar. May the choices you’ll make in this life be better thought than the choice of your new body.”
I’m livid. Faun has no right to reprimand me during a formal event, and she knows it. But she also knows there is little I can do about it without seeming petulant and out of control. Which may be precisely what she hopes to achieve.
I stand and respond in what I hope to be a dignified manner, also making my case for human race’s acceptance in the Dominion, under Sen’Dorien sponsorship. The Queen of Spirit cannot outright refuse me. Two can play this game.
“I’ve chosen this name and avatar to honour a friend who died on Aldeea. A friend whose actions saved the colony and the lives of half a million Haillar. In front of this Conclave, I honour Elizabeth Hamilton and formally petition the Council, asking protection for humans under the Dominion’s Shield.”
Faun throws me a cutting glare and mumbles something to the Queen of Light. Both are well aware of my invitation, making the humans my wards, and implicitly of Sen’Dorien’s stake in any future relationship. Both their houses are potentially affected by a rise in Sen’Dorien’s fortunes. Yet the Council has no grounds to refuse my petition.
Without bothering to consult with Favriel, notoriously my ally and friend, a sour-faced Spirit Queen recognises my petition on behalf of the Council.
“The Council confirms in principle that humans will be welcome as part of the Dominion … However,” she continues, “in order not to affect our negotiations with the enemy, we recommend delaying the effect of such a decision until the end of the talks. We cannot let Dorien’s interest in the matter affect our chances to end the Scourge threat.”
That crafty bitch! She turned the tables on me, using the pending negotiations as a pretext. Next to her, Maurien mimes an apology, but unfortunately, there is nothing he can do. To be fair, expanding our presence on the rim can be a threat to the coming negotiations, provided they were real peace talks. Which I’m quite confident they are not.
Hands raise in favour of Faun’s amendment. Reith and I, Norian Sen’Shahar and Oriel Sen’Diessa are the only ones who oppose it. Favriel glances me apologetically and raises her hand too. We lose by four votes to eight. If talks are to happen, we should do our best to achieve our objectives. Unfortunately, humanity’s fate is marginal to Dominion’s goals. As I feared, my looks don’t help, reminding everybody that I have a vested interest.
The Conclave ends with the mandatory long-winded speech. I’ve lost both votes today. While the second loss is painful and personal, I fear the outcome of the first even more. We are inviting the Scourge to the heart of our confederation, hoping to beat them at their own game.
CHAPTER 8 (PETER)
It took us a little more than two days to arrive at Tao Bellona, the centre of the Haillar Dominion.
According to our hosts, we were now three thousand light-years closer to the galactic core and slightly above our galaxy’s plane. Three thousand light-years covered in fifty hours. At this speed, we were only three days away from home. Three days that might as well had been an eternity.
“The Valliant Heart will return to the Sen’Diessa base, in the outer reaches of the system.” Amon, who remained the most approachable Haillar officer, was seeing us daily and keeping us up to speed. “But first we’ll drop you and Serrruin at the Central Exchange, Mirror World’s main gateway.”
Just like this, our group plus a sentient cat found ourselves in the transport bay, watching the Haillar capital world. An entirely new world full of life, quite different compared to Aldeea not to mention compared to Earth. The sphere below was silvery blue, mixed with cloudy white wisps, a far cry from Earth but beautiful, nevertheless.
“This planet looks to be an ocean world,” said Mateo Fiorelli.
“Quite the contrary, it’s one giant continent covering the entire planet. The silvery sheen comes from a milliard of shallow lakes spattered all over its surface. Tao Bellona has no oceans, but nine tens of it are covered by water.”
“Have you ever been down there, Serruin?”, asked Hank.
“I’ve been once. Every sentient race in the Dominion maintains a presence in the capital.”
“Does this mean your people are represented in the government?”
“We are, to the extent that any significant decision affecting the entire Dominion requires the consent of all twenty-five races. Other than this, each member of our confedera
tion governs itself.”
“What about the Dominion as a whole? Is it led by the Queens?”
“The Queens govern their own race and lead our entire defence. Which is pretty much the same thing, as the military fleets are all provided by the Haillar.”
“How does this work for you?” asked Koslowski. “You rely entirely on their navy?”
“We used to have our own fleet, thousands of cycles ago. We gave up maintaining it eventually, as it was too costly and couldn’t even match a single Sen’Haillar swarm carrier.”
I was surprised the kalan talked so lightly about this. It looked the other races were entirely dependent on their defenders’ goodwill. There have been alliances like this in Earth’s history, but they have only endured as long as the stronger player could be trusted not to abuse its power.
“Did you ever had disputes with the Haillar?”, asked Koslowski, apparently investigating the same angle. “Who would be the ones settling them?”
“The Dominion has a multi-species Settlement Board empowered to sort out any incidents. But their cases are individual disagreements rather than serious issues involving entire races. Any dealings between our worlds are governed by the Dominion Accords, unchanged since the dawn of our confederation, drawn seventy thousand cycles ago and guaranteed by the Queens.”
“And who watches the watchers?” asked Charles. “Who watches the queens?”
The cat appeared confused. It didn’t seem to occur to him that the Queens might one day decide to abuse their position, as so many leaders have done through Earth’s history. I was wondering how open and benevolent the Dominion government really was. To me, any system, be it political or religious, that conditioned its people to blindly trust their leaders was highly dubious, no matter its appearances. But then again, I couldn’t reconcile this with my image of Ellandra, nor with her sacrifice while defending Aldeea.
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