by CM Raymond
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Winding his way through the Noble Quarter, Adrien kept his eyes trained straight ahead. Everyone he saw smiled and said a word of greeting. He only nodded in response. In his youth, he loved the attention that came with being the Chancellor. For an orphaned boy like him, it was an indicator that he had mastered his world.
Now, attention was only a nuisance—a hollow distraction from the work that needed to be completed.
Standing outside of the house that had belonged to his old friend Saul, he smiled, thinking of their days together before Adrien had “retired” him from the position of Governor. Over the years, he had convinced himself that the killing was necessary—even for Saul’s own sake.
He knocked, and the door opened immediately. The servant from his last visit stood, staring wide-eyed at the Chancellor. After a brief pause, he stepped aside, letting Adrien in. The man had learned his lesson, and Adrien wondered if he had been the one who had cleaned up the mess from the prostitutes who died during his last visit.
“The Prophet is downstairs, in his room,” the servant whispered with his eyes trained on the floor.
Adrien stepped by him and made his way to the stairwell near the back of the mansion. The place was quiet, as it had been the time before. He had met the nobleman who now owned the house, but didn’t remember his name or anything about him. It didn’t matter to him anyway.
Most of the nobles were no better in his mind than the scum in Queen’s Boulevard; they only smelled better. The nobles were fat and lazy, though, and that made them easy to manage. When necessary, Adrien only had to institute a festival to amuse them back into their complacent slumber.
Or shed a little blood.
Subtly enforced poverty had worked for years on the slum dwellers—that is, until recently. Hunger had a way of keeping people in their place. The system was strong, but now, with the return of Ezekiel and the rise of the Boulevard Bitch, he was starting to wonder if he had been short sighted in his oppression of the people.
Adrien descended the staircase into the basement, which was well lit with magitech. Standing outside of the Prophet’s door, he exhaled, hoping that things wouldn’t need to get messy again.
“Come in,” Jedidiah’s voice croaked from the other side.
Adrien entered to find the man alone, sitting at a little table with a bottle of mead and book in his hands. It was leather bound and looked as worn as the old Prophet.
Jed motioned to the chair across the table from him, which Adrien lowered himself into. During their last meeting, the Prophet was filled with hubris, intoxicated by his own self-importance. Now, the man looked different, exhausted. Almost humble.
“I used to collect these relics,” Jedidiah said, showing off the book to Adrien. “Harder and harder to find copies from before the Age of Madness. Hell, maybe they’re all gone. Used to lose myself in the old stories.”
Adrien grew impatient with the man’s foolish talk. He cared not about books or even Jedidiah and his damned interests.
“Tell me about the Boulevard. I hear there are problems forming.”
Jedidiah looked back at the book. “This one is interesting. Morality tale from the East. About a kid. Smart kid. Trained in the University. Not much unlike your school, I’m guessing.”
“I’m not here for a damned book report, Jedidiah.”
The old man nodded but continued. “He probably thought he was smarter than he was. That was the thing that got him into trouble, really. The kid worked it out that there were some people, because of their smarts or talents or whatever, that were above anyone or anything. He believed that extraordinary humans were above the law—above all else. You know what this man did?”
Adrien’s eyes narrowed, but his steely gaze did nothing to curb the Prophet’s meanderings.
“Damn kid went and killed an old woman. No reason other than to see if he could get away with it.”
Adrien sighed, deciding for the moment that it was more expedient to play along. “Does he?”
The Prophet slid a bookmark near the middle of the tome and placed it aside. With a wink, he said, “Guess we’re going to just have to wait and see.” Jedidiah drank from his glass and turned his eyes back to Adrien. “Now, what can I help you with?”
“The Boulevard.”
“Yes, of course. Things are… fine.”
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing,” Adrien snarled. “Sounds like you got made a fool by some damn kid. Were you drunk on the stage again?”
Jedidiah frowned. “Of course not, sir. You know that I’d never do that. It was those damn Unlawfuls. They had some powerful magic at their disposal. They brainwashed me.”
Adrien stared into his eyes, searching for lies. If he was brainwashed, then the mystics are involved.
“I say we leave them all to rot in the Boulevard anyway,” Jed said. “Surely, they can’t be a threat to you.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Adrien said. “Ezekiel is shrewd, and he’s setting all of his pieces in place. Those bastards from the Boulevard—they’re only pawns in his game. But even a pawn can be deadly. And he obviously has something in store for them. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be focusing so much effort to work against you. The question is, what is his next move?”
Smiling, Jedidiah said, “Well, Chancellor, I guess the problem is in your hands then. I’ve done about all that I can. I don’t really see the point anymore. What else is there to do?”
Adrien thought for a second. “Jedidiah, there is something you can do for me, something of foremost importance. Are your followers still loyal, even after today’s failure?”
“Of course! My Disciples worship me. What can we do?” the Prophet asked.
“It’s a simple strategy, one that even your drunken mind can understand. If there is a piece threatening you, you simply remove it from the board.”
“Remove it? But how?”
“Escalation. It is time we remind these rats of their place—show them the true fury of the gods. If Ezekiel and his bitch care so much about the Boulevard, then I want you and your men to burn it to the ground.”
****
Hannah cut around the side of the mansion and entered in through the back. Julianne was sitting in the nook in the corner of the kitchen, drinking tea and staring into nowhere. The teas bouquet filled the room, and Hannah recognized it from the monastery in the Heights.
Even with Hannah’s entry, Julianne didn’t flinch. She sat like a statue—a perfect human form.
“Hey,” Hannah said, a little louder than normal.
Julianne snapped out of her meditative trance. “Hannah…” Julianne said with a dazed look on her face. “I didn’t see you there.”
She pulled out a chair across from the mystic. “Sorry to interrupt. You connecting to the, um, beyond or something?”
Julianne laughed. “Yeah. Guess I was. Didn’t even know it to tell you the truth. Things have been so hectic here; I guess I just kind of slip into the state anytime I can.”
“Really? You don’t even try?”
“For us,” Julianne replied, “it’s almost like breathing. You do something every day for all your life, and your body just does it sometimes. And good thing, too. If I don’t meditate, I couldn’t do what I’m doing all this time.”
Hannah grinned. “I have to make myself meditate, and it’s usually because I know that Zeke will kick my ass if I don’t.”
“He’s right, you know, you need it. We should take some time together. See how far you’ve come.”
Parker and Hadley entered, laughing and talking nonstop like a couple of Academy schoolboys. Hannah raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with the sudden bromance?” she asked.
“Jealous, Hannah?” Parker said with a wink. “I always thought you were a pretty good partner. But this guy…”
“It was nothing,” Hadley replied. “The Prophet just so happened to see a half-dozen dragons. Simple, really, but effective.”
“Ha!” Parke
r shouted. “Effective enough to get him to run from the square naked and screaming.”
They took the time to fill the ladies in on the day’s exploits, including the crowds’ response to Parker’s speech. While it would take more, they were chipping off the edges of Adrien’s control of the common people. Parker was convinced that they were at the breaking point, one way or the other.
Snorting and huffing filled the room as Karl trampled through the door.
“Speaking of the epitome of gentleness,” Hannah said, nodding to the rearick.
He narrowed his eyes and grunted. “We rearick have our own serenity, lass. But it don’t come from staring at our navels and connecting with ghost energy or whatever. Comes from working hard and kicking ass. And there’s some ass I need to kick right now.”
He dropped a metal rod on the table, which clamored and came to rest. Tossing a letter on top of it, he asked, “You wanna explain this?”
“What is it?” Hannah asked.
“That damn runt of a bastard boy of yours. Damn fool has run off. Sounds like he’s going to ruin damned near everything—and get himself killed in the process.”
Hannah picked up the letter and pulled the parchment out of the envelope, whose wax seal was broken. Her eyes scanned the words:
Hannah,
It took a long time, but I’ve finally done it! I’ve deciphered the blueprints you stole from my father’s office. Problem is, it isn’t good news. Adrien’s ship isn’t just powered by magitech. What makes it dangerous is the piece of ancient technology that gives it the ability to fly.
Hannah paused. “What the bloody hell?” she asked, looking up from the letter. “What ancient technology?”
Karl was steaming, but Julianne only nodded gently. “I gave it to them.”
“What?” Karl shouted.
“It’s the thing I brought back from the Frozen North. I didn’t know what it was at the time, or what it was for. But once I saw the drawing that Gregory had, it all made sense. The mission, it’s timing, the urgency, all of it. I brought that thing to Arcadia.”
“What the hell was it?” the rearick asked, his eyes growing sterner.
Julianne was unfazed by Karl’s language or aggression. She had spent most of her life as a neighbor to the rearick and had grown accustomed to their volatility.
“We don’t have a name for it. Must be from before the Age of Madness. But it is a device that makes the ship fly like a bird. And it’s powered by the charged amphoralds. Brilliant really. If it works. What else does he say?” Julianne asked, nodding to the paper.
There are only two ways to destroy the machine. It could be dismantled physically, but that would take a tremendous amount of magic and time, and there’s no way you could do that and hold off an army of Guards. Even if we could get into the factory, it would be next to impossible to destroy it on their turf. You could also destroy its magical core, but that would cause an explosion big enough to level the city. It’s too risky.
There’s only one person who might know how to safely dismantle the machine’s core, and that’s the person who built it—my father. I’m afraid that the only way he’ll listen to me is if he sees the diabolical effects of his actions first hand.
I am going to show him. I’m sorry for doing this without talking to any of you first, but I knew you’d only try to stop me. You all have given me so much, and there has, until now, been little I can do to give back. I can’t fight like Karl or cast like Julianne. I don’t have your power or Parker’s cunning.
What I do have is access. It is time for me to use that access for the good of Arcadia and, frankly, maybe even for all of Irth. I can’t say what is going to come of this and even if I will be able to talk my father into making the right decision. If I can’t, things might not end well.
The rebellion has changed my life and helped me to understand why I’m even here. I will never forget that—and will always be grateful to you, Hannah. If things don’t go well, I will see you in the beyond.
Best,
Gregory
PS
With this note, you’ll find a little gift I made for Parker. Tell him it is powerful, and versatile like he is. Might give him an edge, even against Karl.
Hannah’s throat tightened as she placed the letter on the table. It wasn’t clear precisely what Gregory’s plan was, but regardless, she didn’t like it. Adrien held Elon in his grips, and if the man were anything like his wife, he’d be allured by the promise of power and prestige. Son or no son, Hannah couldn’t imagine her friend swaying a noble in the ranks of the Chancellor.
Trying to hide her fear, she turned to Parker. “You gonna wrap your hands around that shaft or what?”
Parker looked at her sideward. “Funny.” He reached down and took hold of the metal spear on the table. As he raised it in front of himself, it glowed blue and hummed with the power of magitech. A grinned spread on his face. “I like this.”
“Scheisse,” Karl said. “Damn kid’s smarter than I gave him credit for. He asked me to bring him back some amphoralds from the Heights. Thought it was just a souvenir or something, but look at that damned thing.”
“Almost wish you had a magitech hammer, Karl?” Hannah nodded toward his weapon lashed at his hip.
Karl snorted. “No self-respectin’ rearick is going to use a tool like that. Our magic is forged through sweat and hard work.” He patted the hammer. “She’s all I need, lass! But judging from the number of crystals the boy asked for, I bet that stick packs quite a punch. The way Parker fights, he’s going to need it.”
Parker spun the spear in his hands, inspecting its detail. “Funny, rearick. I think I remember knocking your pint-sized ass to the dirt out in the open country not so long ago.”
“That,” Karl grunted, “was a training exercise. Designed to—”
“Guys!” Hannah shouted. “Can we remember that Gregory is missing, probably in danger?”
“I’m sorry, I’m a little lost here,” Hadley said. “So… what’s your little noble going to do?”
“I imagine he’s trying to stop the Chief Engineer as we speak,” Hannah said, still staring at the letter. “That’s what it sounds like, but he still believes his father can be saved.”
“And what are we going to do about it?” Julianne asked.
She looked up at Hadley and then at the rest of the room. “The only thing we can do…” Hannah said. “Save his ass or die trying.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hannah could hear the dishes clatter in the kitchen—a sign that the planning was about to commence. Everyone was gathered around the dining room table, except for Gregory who had taken things into his own hand.
Although he tried to hold back his emotions publicly, Hannah could tell that Ezekiel was not pleased with her friend's decision—but mostly the old man was worried. Ezekiel had come to respect Gregory’s intelligence and empathy, but he wondered if the kid had gotten in over his head.
There was, of course, a chance that Gregory could get close to his father. The slimmest chance still that he might be able to talk them into a different course of action. But that was unlikely. For someone to work so closely with Adrien for so long meant that they were under his spell. Not that Adrien had any use for mystical magic, but his rhetoric and charm were nearly as effective.
Worst case scenario, Gregory blows the whole thing open. She trusted her friend with her life, but not with their plan. If Gregory clued Elon, Adrien, and the rest of them into the plan of the rebellion, all was lost.
