by Mark B Frost
Everyone else in the room seemed to be in agreement, all of them weary from the many hours of debate. Kinguin alone eyed the form in the Lord Councilor’s hand suspiciously. He was too shrewd not to recognize the game that was now being played. Atheme had filled out the document swiftly, with a great deal of energy. It almost certainly spelled out additional terms, some sort of bureaucratic trap into which Kinguin was about to step. If he played along, he would lose.
But the alternative could be far worse. If he held his ground and insisted on reading the form and exposing Atheme’s subterfuge, he ran the risk of the Lord Councilor returning the favor. As concerned as the councilors already were at Kinguin’s apparent attempt to use Gaspar’s death in his favor, the news of his private meeting with Atheme to arrange the vote in his own favor would be seen as crossing one line too many. He could be summarily removed from the Council, and even tried for Grand Treason, punishable by death.
Kinguin did not have the nerve for this level of risk, and Atheme knew it all too well. The Lord Councilor’s eyes stayed locked firmly on the Archmagus, daring him to call his bluff. Kinguin felt a slight tremor developing in his hands, and gave a nervous smile. “Yes,” he said loudly. “Let’s vote, then.”
A few confused glances were exchanged, but then gradually each council member laid a hand on the table. Three right hands and two left, as expected. Atheme nodded his acceptance.
“I document that the motion passes by majority terms. We will now proceed to the first of the expedited votes—the selection of a new Champion of the Knighthood.”
“What?” Terledor exclaimed. “That wasn’t under discussion. It takes weeks, sometimes months to select a new member for the Grand Council!”
Atheme handed the signed document off to Leprue, to seal and catalog. “We agreed that we wished to vote on the Heraldric Automaton matter immediately. We did not agree, however, that this need be done under a broken council. Kinguin argues that the Grand Council is a structure designed to function swiftly and efficiently under any circumstances. As Lord Councilor, I agree heartily with this assessment. Which is why I have confidence that we can swiftly and efficiently select a new Champion of the Knighthood, then vote on the matter of the Heraldric Automatons, before calling this meeting to a close.”
Leprue and Cildar sat grinning silently, thrilled by Atheme’s gambit. Aveni seemed amused as well, nodding softly in agreement with Atheme’s speech. Kinguin showed no signs of emotion whatsoever, having expected nothing less. Terledor alone seemed perturbed, and reiterated his concerns. “I feel that you have willingly deceived us, Lord Councilor. This is no way to retain the trust of those closest to you.”
“I offered you to read the terms of the vote,” Atheme reminded. “All matters were officially documented and kept completely above board, per our protocols. There are no secrets on the Grand Council. Do you accuse me of failing to follow proper procedure, Councilor Terledor?” The tone in Atheme’s voice made it clear that he did not wish to play further games. Terledor lowered his gaze and shook his head, acquiescing to the man’s iron will. “Then let us move on.” He cast a small illusory spell, and a timekeeping device appeared before him. “As it is just past midnight, I propose a short recess, then we will enter discussions for the next vote.” The councilors stood from the table and scattered, each heading to take care of personal needs and make arrangements for the next day, when they would likely be catching up on a night’s worth of missed sleep. Atheme moved himself to the upper levels of the Chamber Vesovia and waited in silence. Soon, Cildar and Leprue joined him.
“A bold and wise move, Atheme,” Leprue congratulated him. “But not without costs. Going forward, everyone will be more cautious of your tactics when they find themselves in disagreement with you.”
Atheme nodded. He wanted to tell Leprue that he knew the costs, that he knew the mistake he had made. He wanted to explain how he had put himself into this situation, by foolishly striking a prior deal with Kinguin. He wanted to express his outrage on what he saw as the Archmagus’ betrayal of that agreement, attempting a power play to take Atheme’s hand out of the situation. His thoughts turned to the methods he had used to attain to his current position, and all he had accomplished felt lessened, tainted by compromise and immorality. He wanted to swear to them that there would be no more back-alley dealings, no more secret alliances. Yet he could admit to none of it without further weakening the trust of his friends.
“What’s the next play, milord?”
Atheme shook his head. “No more plays, Cildar. We vote on a Champion, we wake him up and bring him here, then we force a vote on the Automatons. From there, we live with the results.” A thought occurred to him, and he quickly added, “But the two are not related. We will not choose a Champion to side with us and allow us to win this issue. We have to take our charge as the most trusted officials of this country seriously. More seriously, I fear, than perhaps we have. We must choose a Champion for the right reasons, not for our own.”
Leprue nodded his agreement and patted Atheme on the shoulder, sensing the man’s inner conflict, even if not fully understanding the weight of it. Cildar continued, “But surely you have someone in mind. You took a big risk to get us to here, you must have had a vision on how it would play out.”
Atheme held his breath for a moment, reluctant to admit that this sentiment was correct. The Lord Councilor’s mind worked so fast, he was always so many steps ahead, he wondered if it was even possible for him to stop being a manipulator. “Abaddon,” he said quietly.
Leprue raised an eyebrow at this. “Daemon? He’s not one of us, Atheme. He has no background in politics.”
“All the more reason,” he countered, his eyes on the council table below. “Abaddon hasn’t had to work his way through our ranks, he hasn’t served on a High Council, he hasn’t been forced to master the arts of double talk, deception, and compromise. He’s already a respected if not legendary figure in the Knighthood. No one would question his appointment into the Grand Council, especially under the title of Champion. But even more, I believe there is no one better suited for the role. The Champion is meant to serve as the conscience of Felthespar’s people, a balancing force against the agendas of the individual factions. I know that you do not know Abaddon as I do, but he is a man of significant conscience, and far more thoughtful than anyone knows. He will vote with his heart, for what he truly believes is right. As is befitting our Champion.”
Leprue shook his head. “I’m not as confident as you are, but I will follow your lead on this one.”
“Maybe it’s the concussion talking,” Cildar added, “but sure, why not? Having Daemon on the Council sounds like fun.”
Atheme smiled, his spirits slightly renewed. They returned to the lower level of the Chamber, and a quarter of an hour later the meetings resumed. Only a few candidates were brought up for serious discussion, and most were quickly discarded as having too little support. Once narrowed down, Abaddon’s appointment went over relatively smoothly—after only two hours of debate—with Terledor providing the only dissenting vote.
The new Champion of the Knighthood was fetched and brought to the meeting, offering little more than an accepting shrug upon receiving the news of his sudden promotion. The debate of the Heraldric Automatons was then resumed from the beginning, so that the newest Grand Councilor might be apprised of all points in the discussion. Finally, as the first fires of morning began to hint at the upcoming sunrise, the vote was called. The results fell in line with Kinguin’s initial prediction, with Abaddon as resistant to the matter as Gaspar himself might have been. Albeit with a sour taste in his mouth, Atheme kept true to his pact with Kinguin and scheduled a display of the automatons for three weeks out. If they could meet his terms, they would be allowed to participate in the assault on Revian.
Atheme sat alone in the Chamber Vesovia long after everyone else had finally gone, staring wordlessly out the high windows and watching the sky brighten as day blossomed. His hea
rt was heavy, and it was not the first time he had known this feeling. Calvin had once said to him, years ago, that the burden of the Lord Councilor was that he must always bear the weight of defeat, even after the most resounding victories. His entire life Atheme had never understood the man’s words. Now he felt as though they were the only truth he might ever know.
Chapter 13.
A Test of Weapons
Leprue came at Abaddon fast, striking at his right shoulder with the Sword of Serral with blinding speed. Abaddon took a subtle step back and caught the blade with a small dagger in his left hand. Ignoring the reverberations that shot through his arm, Leprue made three quick jabs at the big man’s chest, all of which were smoothly parried. He stepped back and gathered energy into his blade, then leaped forward and launched into a rapid fifteen-hit sweeping combo he had developed in his younger days. His moves were incredibly fast, enhanced by the magic of the Serral, but for each slice he made Abaddon responded with a smooth shift of his location and the blade never connected.
Finally Leprue finished by leaping into a massive downward cleave. The blade crashed uselessly into the floor, tearing cleanly through stone, and Leprue felt the tip of the dagger touch the right side of his throat.
“If we are to spar, the least you can do is offer enough of a challenge to force me use my sword,” the man remarked. In addition to the dagger, his other hand was armed with a small cutlass. He had not raised the weapon the entire battle, though they had been fighting for nearly a quarter of an hour.
Leprue straightened his back and sheathed his katana. He turned to his opponent with a broad smile. Though the magic of the Serral kept Leprue in his physical prime, he was far outmatched by the younger man. “Never has anyone made such a mockery of me,” he remarked. “Even Atheme found me a challenge, last we fought.” He scratched the back of his head. “I suppose he wouldn’t anymore. After all, he trained you.”
Abaddon threw the dagger and cutlass to the floor. “I confess, I am surprised at your level of skill. Your final technique was impressive, I may adapt it for myself. In your day you must have been one of the best.”
Leprue laughed and slapped the big man on the shoulder. “Ah, there was a time there that I was the best. For the few years after Calvin’s departure and before Kulara arrived in Felthespar, I was the mightiest swordsman in the Knighthood. But things change as time rolls on.” He paused, then bowed. “Thank you for sparring with me. It was an experience, but I must be going. I have a meeting with Atheme within the hour.”
Abaddon nodded curtly, then turned back to some young troops he was drilling for Kulara. While the Daemon began barking out orders, the elder councilor walked out of the building, rubbing his cramped shoulder. The Grand Council was still warming to its newest member, a difficult task given the man’s elusive and taciturn nature. Leprue had always considered himself a man of the people, and had opted to spend a few days going out of his way to get to know the young man better.
His experience had been surprisingly pleasant. While Abaddon did initially appear gruff and intimidating, Leprue soon began to realize that he was simply quiet, and easily bored. Although certainly not friendly, he was very accommodating, and willingly took to whatever favors were asked of him. He also possessed an intellect beyond what Leprue might have anticipated, and due to his time spent around Atheme was well versed in Felthespar’s political affairs. There were still some concerns about his emotional detachment, which perhaps bordered on apathy, but the former Lord Councilor now felt convinced that they had chosen their Champion well.
Once out of the building, he turned and headed east toward the center of the city. He was scheduled to meet Atheme in his personal office, so he headed directly there.
After being announced by Atheme’s assistant, he stepped into the sprawling central office—formerly his own—and bowed. Atheme smiled and waved him forward. “How goes, old friend?”
“I have tested Abaddon’s combat prowess, as we had agreed.”
“I trust he proved himself up to your standards.”
“You know the answer to that. He’s incredible, of course. I looked like a mere Silver against him.”
Atheme nodded. “Indeed, the Daemon’s skill is peerless, especially since I taught him finer control over his mysticism. But this upcoming fight with Kinguin’s devices still has me worried. He knows a good deal about Abaddon, and it’s likely that he designed his automatons accordingly. Abaddon, on the other hand, cannot know what to expect.”
“There’s something I must know,” Leprue interjected. “But you must be honest, this is not the time for modesty. Of the two of you, who is the superior fighter?”
He took a moment to consider his answer. “With no modesty, Leprue, I can say that he is my equal. Or perhaps more accurately, I am his. Abaddon is like no one I’ve ever met, nothing I’ve ever seen. When I first taught him about the magic he subconsciously used to enhance himself, he grew angry. He felt that his whole life he had been cheating in his fights, and wanted to know how to shut it down permanently. I pushed him to learn to control it instead, to make the most of the man he is instead of the one he wishes to be.
“After that, he began to drive himself hard. Once or twice he nearly killed himself. Myself as well, actually. For months I had an advantage over him. Then he rose to my level and surpassed me with frightening ease. I had to start putting in hours with Kulara so Abaddon wouldn’t know he had gained the advantage. It would have spoiled the fun. In time, I leveled things out and I’ve managed to keep up with him since. Barely.”
He laughed, then continued, “I’ve never been so fit in my entire life. A few days ago, out of curiosity, I had him fight using all of his magic, and I likewise used all of mine. At his full power he’s significantly stronger and harder to injure than I am. It’s amazing how the currents respond to him. Using a careful balance of advanced black magic and regenerative white, I matched his pace.” His eyes sparkled as he recalled the event. “It was remarkable. We fought for over two hours in the coliseum, and in the end had to call a stalemate. Neither of us could gain an advantage. I cured the wounds he inflicted on me, and his wounds practically heal themselves.” He looked up and seemed to remember that Leprue was in the room. “It’s more than fair to call us equals. If Abaddon is somehow unable to handle Kinguin’s constructs, then I would be equally useless against them.”
“Perhaps,” Leprue replied, unconvinced. “You still hold superior experience and a more versatile fighting technique.” He sighed and slumped in his chair. “I’m concerned, Atheme. These automatons could be the undoing of everything our nation has stood for. I recognize the challenge that you have presented to Kinguin is a stiff one. Even if his automatons win, if the crowd is displeased we will be able to dismiss the matter for now. But even with the odds in our favor, so much depends on the result.”
Atheme walked over to Leprue and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Three days, friend. All we can do is wait three days and see how things go. It’s out of our hands now.”
Leprue looked at the young Lord, so composed on the outside. He knew that within they wrestled with the same turmoil, but Atheme would never show it. It was a burden the elder statesman understood all too well. He resigned himself to trust to his Lord Councilor’s lead, and nodded reluctantly.
* * * * *
The cheer of the crowd drowned out all other sounds. Three days had passed, and Atheme sat surrounded by his citizenry. People from dozens of surrounding villages and farming communities had come to see this event, its popularity bolstered by the reviews of the previous training exercise. Rumors had spread that Felthespar’s ferocious warrior, the dreaded Destroyer, was to be pitted against the Knighthood’s future secret weapon. The rumors were somewhat inaccurate, but over forty thousand people had come to see a fight. Atheme had no intentions on denying them.
Once more the exhibition was held in the Emle Royal Coliseum. Though the structure was as large as the main Cathedral of the Church, ev
en on short notice every seat was filled. The three attending members of the Grand Council sat along with Kulara and Vesovius in a special section providing the best view. Aveni had refused to witness the brutality, expressing that he would instead tend to duties at the Church.
Terledor, for his part, had stepped down from his position only days after the events of the Automaton vote. He had graciously cited health reasons as the cause for his retirement, but the councilors knew that his trust in Atheme had been irreconcilably broken. Atheme most of all was haunted by this, and had since expended a significant portion his energy trying not to dwell on it. He swore inwardly to be a better leader in the future, but could not repair the breaches of the past.
He watched the grounds below, where Kinguin was running a check over his Heraldric Automatons. He had assembled twelve of the suits, but Atheme could tell little from their appearance. They seemed to be standard suits of plate mail equipped with swords, shields, and helmets, with runes sketched over them. Their advertised opponent was not yet on the battlefield, a deliberate choice. Atheme had requested to allow the Daemon to make an entrance, to heighten the suspense.
Kinguin waved up to the councilors, signaling that he was ready to begin, then moved twenty yards behind the line of soldiers. The Lord Councilor stood to his feet and launched a massive fireball into the air. When it was directly above the center of the coliseum he struck it with a lightning bolt, causing an explosion of light and sound. There was some mild applause at the display, then the crowd grew quiet.
He gave a small speech greeting the audience, then introduced His Grace Vesovius. The exhibition had turned into such a huge event that the Lord of the Senate had decided he should make an appearance, as the figurehead ruler. The Lord Councilor did not care much one way or another, and was focused solely on the fight ahead.
